A/N1: Lots of people this chapter. Also, this is late because I got hung up on writing a press conference that...didn't actually make it into this chapter, for pacing reasons. . Annoying. Things are moving along though...

Jasper Sitwell rubbed at his eyes as he fell more than sat in his office chair. It was no wonder Phil had always been pissed off at the people who didn't fill out paperwork in a timely fashion; it made the job of handler at least three times as difficult.

He had the reports from everyone from the bridge crew to the medical personnel who had seen to or interacted with Barton or Romanov in the past seventy-two hours. The only people he didn't have reports from – and actually really, really needed them – were Barton and Romanov themselves.

The worst thing, though, was that it was his own fault. He'd practically shoved them out of the door with their go-bags, Director's Fury's ominous words about the Council looking for scape-goats to cover their stupid-ass mistakes ringing in his head.

The last thing he had wanted was for either of them to have to shoulder the guilt for something that wasn't their fault, especially so soon after losing Phil. Barton, especially. Jasper knew better than most agents how resilient the archer was, considering he had worked with him several times before. But dealing with his guilt over the Loki incident on top of mourning a handler that had been one of his best friends? And then to have to try to defend himself from the asshats on the Council? From people supposedly on the same side as he was?

No, that might have broken him irreparably. Jasper hadn't been about to take that chance. Phil would have come back from the beyond the grave just to yell at him for breaking one of his best agents, to say nothing of what Romanov might have done if her partner had been charged with anything.

So here he was, instead of taking some well-deserved time off, trying to reconstruct enough of the battle from the footage available and the comm recordings to fill in what didn't need actual input from either agent. Jasper glared at his computer screen before he sighed and gulped down some of the coffee he'd had the foresight to get before he came in to their New York offices.

He could handle being on duty so soon after a massive, stress-filled mission if he had enough decent caffeine to keep him going until he could in good conscience go collapse in his bed. The stuff in the break room did not qualify.

"So," he mused, opening his email out of the vain hope that one of his two newest responsibilities had thought about their non-existent reports and filed them while he was catching a few hours of sleep extremely early this morning, after the worst of the potential security leaks had been contained behind a perimeter of SHIELD agents and NYPD and Army personnel, the latter two of which didn't actually know what they were guarding, only that contamination was an issue. Caught up in his ruminations, he felt a chill go down his spine when he saw the single new notice in his inbox.

Coulson, Phil it read, Contingency Plans.

"You are a…were a…" Screw it, he still was, even beyond the grave. "You are a bastard, Phil. Some warning would have been nice."

Still muttering to himself, he opened the email, blinked at the opening line, and then snorted a laugh despite himself.

Jasper, if you're finished calling me names, I'd like to get down to business, now.

Only Phil. Only Phil would set up a post-mortem email and then write it as if he were conducting the conversation in person. As if he were still alive to have this conversation.

I have no way of knowing how I may die or when, so feel free to save the irrelevant portions of this email for a time when they will be relevant. Because I assure you, everything I'm sending you is. I've kept this as up-to-date as time and missions have allowed me. In the attached documents you will find my notes on how to handle Agents Barton and Romanov, as well as some suggestions for getting them to work with you.

Trust me, they're going to try your patience, and they're going to deliberately push your buttons. If you thought they were annoying to work with on a provisional basis…well. You'll see, if you haven't already. I trust you can do this well, though, Jasper, or I never would have approved your designation as their secondary handler.

The only thing you need to know right this moment, however, is that while I pulled Agent Romanov off her mission at the start of the Loki incident, Agent Barton still has an active alias. There are certain actions he has to take in order to keep it up, or people will notice. If this thing blows up as big as I think it will, then you're going to need to do some damage control with the Impossible Missions Force. Hopefully, Barton will be able to help with that.

In the event that he's unconscious in Medical, or that we were unable to recover him, though, here's what you need to know.

Jasper read with a growing sense of disbelief. Of course his biggest problem wasn't the missing reports. It was the active alias that had just been blown sky high and the IMF team that was going to be demanding answers of SHIELD once they knew where to come.

His head thunked down onto his desktop, narrowly missing the keyboard. "I hate being a handler. I never should have agreed to this."

Jasper let himself have a few moments to lament his life choices, and then he sat up again and started reading the documents and profiles Phil had arranged to be sent to him. He was going to need all the information he could get to handle this mess.

"James, come listen to this! It's the most astonishing thing!"

Clint managed to suppress the flinch at Natasha's tone as he obediently turned to see what his partner had found to exclaim over. Or really, what Shari had found.

He wasn't sure if having to assume a different name and identity right now was a good idea for his mental state, but they couldn't just go around using their own names, and they couldn't just disappear into their rooms and not come out. People everywhere they went were hungry for news and the comfort of a group. Those who hid out stood out, and the media had enough ammo what with all the photos from the battle and this morning's prisoner transfer. Clint would not be surprised if some enterprising correspondent connected them to SHIELD. Hopefully it would die there, but it never paid to let your guard down.

Eyes round with what seemed a mix of astonishment and avid interest, Shari grabbed his hand and dragged him over to the counter of the small restaurant and bar the hotel they had stopped at boasted. James stumbled along in her wake, surprised and not ready to be yanked around by his hand. The bartender didn't try to hide his smile very much, surveying the both of them with the superior air of someone who knew something others didn't.

Ah, so that's it, she's found the local king of gossip, Clint thought, safely hidden behind James' grumbling at his wife's rough handling.

"Tell him, Kyle, tell him!" Shari demanded, one stray curl escaping the handkerchief that kept the rest of her hair out of her face. James jerked his hand back, rubbing it and exchanging a rueful glance with Kyle the bartender.

"Well?" he asked, his accent firmly farther South somewhere. "Shari's about jerked my hand off, might as well hear what was so important."

"Well," Kyle returned, leaning on the bar and smiling, slow and wide. "I know you folks were in the air when all that crazy went down in New York," he began. James obligingly leaned forward, pulled in to the tale like a child during scary stories. "But we've been getting the most up to date information here, none of the crazy stuff the news wants you to believe. You see," and here Kyle leaned even farther over the bar, lowering his voice conspiratorially. Shari bounced excitedly. James firmly sat on Clint so he didn't call the man an idiot, and nodded eagerly.

"Yeah?"

"We've got a contact, up in New York. The owner's sister lives up there, some sort of scientist in Stark Industries. She was in the Tower when all this stuff went down."

Clint nearly lost James then, startled as he was by the information. Shari shifted next to him, pressing into his side, eyes still bright, but hand tight on his wrist, pressing a message into his flesh. This was what she had wanted him to know.

Warn Stark.

"She saw this…those things?" James asked, disbelief and curiosity blending in his tone. His right arm twitched, looking to Kyle as if he had tried to bring it up on the bar and been prevented by Shari's renewed grip on his arm.

We need information.

"She even saw the rest of those Avengers!"

Shit.

Natasha-as-Shari let loose a mostly suppressed squeal of excitement. "Tell him about that…that giant!"

Kyle smiled indulgently at Natasha, and Clint had to suppress the smirk that suddenly wanted to be let out. This had all the hallmarks of a repeat of the Happy encounter Natasha had described to him after her assignment to Stark was done.

Only, sadly, they didn't want to draw attention to themselves right now. So no throwing patronizing men over her shoulder or hip.

Her hand squeezed in rhythm on his wrist again, reading his mind with the ease of long practice.

Can't. Unfortunate.

"They call it the Hulk, you know," Kyle confided, secure in his position as dispenser of knowledge. "She heard it. And it talks."

Clint remembered that. It had not, sadly enough, been the weirdest part of his day.

"So, I'd totally just fly up there, but I think my thrusters gave out somewhere around the mesosphere, and also, not everyone can fly. So, walking it is."

Yeah, and Clint was not accepting a ride from Thor this time around. He'd take the stairs and just ignore the aches and pains of his overtaxed body. He'd had enough problems getting out of the building he'd used as a vantage point during most of the battle, what with all the explosions making it a bit unstable on most of the top floors. He really did not need to add a freak out on a teammate to the list of things he wished he'd never done the past two or three days.

He was having enough issues not side-eyeing the Hulk as they walked as it was. It was one thing to fight with him, and another to just be here with the creature, with nothing much to distract him from the Hulk's overwhelming presence.

"Stop debating it and just get up here," Natasha's voice echoed through the comms, exasperated and amused to Clint's practiced ear. "He's not going to stay unconscious much longer."

Considering they'd been walking even as Stark complained about his ruined suit, and Natasha knew that, no one took her snapping very seriously.

"We're coming; just kick him in the head if he wakes up." Clint responded anyway, wanting to avoid any possibility of Stark poking Nat to get a reaction. The man had that slightly-unfocused look to him that likely meant he either had a concussion and was trying to hide it, or he was looking for a distraction to take attention off of himself so he could lick his wounds in private.

Clint was familiar with both responses to stress and injury. He didn't want to bet that Stark would not default to poking at his partner. He hadn't been particularly impressed with her spying on him. Stark had been incredibly vocal about that.

Not that Natasha had cared, but still…

"Hulk smash puny god again."

The deep, rumbling voice had not been expected, because Clint had only ever heard the Hulk grunt or roar before this. Also, he hadn't known that the Hulk retained the ability to talk once Banner was out of control. How the hell was that missed?

Judging by the fact that Stark and Rogers had both just jerked around to stare at the Hulk, he wasn't the only one surprised. Stark's expression was gleeful and Rogers looked thoughtful.

Right up until they both almost ran into the doors of Stark Tower's eastern entrance, since they weren't watching where they were walking. Clint really tried to hold in his smirk, but he was tired.

"You…smashed Loki?" Rogers asked, staring up at Hulk as he walked, head turned enough that he could see in front of him and behind. Some brave Stark Industries employees who had been cautiously coming out of whatever cover they found hurriedly ducked behind furniture and through doors when they saw the Hulk muscle his way through the doors, not phased at all by the necessity. Clint couldn't blame them.

Hulk grinned, the sort of grin that promised mayhem. "Hulk smash," he agreed.

Stark blinked, and then started laughing. "Big guy, no one deserved a smashing more! C'mon, kids, elevator to the top is this way. Or mostly to the top, the Hulk won't fit in the regular ones, but there's freight elevator that gets up pretty close and we can-"

Natasha's elbow to his side brought him back to the present conversation. He tuned back into Kyle's commentary, trying not to wince because his partner had managed to nail one of his bruises.

If you weren't paying attention during a mission, you deserved what you got; he'd get no sympathy from Natasha for spacing out right now. He'd probably missed something important, too, but he couldn't bring himself to care as much as he should. It would be easy enough to figure out who this loose-lipped scientist was. Stark Tower had only just come on line, all of its various bits and pieces finally put together the same night Loki had hijacked Clint's brain. There were a limited number of personnel who would have been in the building before it was online, and even then, any male staff member could automatically be eliminated, along with anyone who wasn't a scientist. Getting the name of the hotel owner wouldn't be hard, and from there, scanning Stark's employment files would net them the name.

"You know, that press conference earlier had Stark making some valid points, but I think it's a load of crap, honestly."

"Press conference?" Clint leapt on the phrase, only just remembering to keep to James' Southern accent. Kyle gave them both a surprised look, eyes flitting from one face to another. A faint frown creased his brows as his eyes narrowed slightly.

Damn, he's going to make us in another minute…

"I thought you would have heard. Stark gave a press conference at about 11 this morning. About the Avengers."

"He did?" Shari pouted up at her husband. "We missed it! James, I just knew something interesting would happen after we turned off the TV!"

James smiled indulgently and shrugged. "Yeah, but you know how the noise keeps me up. It was a long day and I wanted some sleep, since I didn't manage any at all last night." he defended, before turning back to Kyle. "So, can you tell us what he said?"

Kyle had started smiling again at their byplay, suspicion eased. James' smile didn't budge, but that had been far too close for comfort.

"Well," Kyle said, back in his role of gossip handler. "Stark didn't really say much of anything. He danced around more questions than he answered. He had some funny name he called those aliens – Chitty-somethings – and he's claiming the guy who organized the attack is a Norse god!"

"No!" James obligingly exclaimed. "Seriously?"

Kyle nodded emphatically. "Loki, apparently. And his brother," Clint could hear the sarcasm dripping of off the word, "was apparently that red-caped dude with the lightning. Even called himself Thor." Kyle waved a dismissive hand. "Or Stark called him that, but anyway. The really interesting thing is, even though Stark refused to name any of his teammates besides the Thor dude, our contact lady thinks she's actually seen the Hulk in…well, it sounds crazy, but in human form. Like he's…I dunno. Some sort of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde."

Shit, again, Clint thought. He felt Natasha tense next to him and they didn't need to speak with each other to know they had to get out of here, now. If that woman had seen Banner, and saw no problem in sharing the information, she needed to be shut up, and the quicker the better.

Since his hand was already out of sight, Clint slipped it into his pocket, speed-dialing a number that was always programed into his phone, no matter which name the phone itself was listed under.

In her purse, abandoned on the counter in favor of the stories, Shari's phone began playing a cheery pop tune.

It would take at least five minutes to get out of here without raising suspicions, but they couldn't afford to cut and run now. They very last thing they needed was someone connecting the new couple stranded in Richmond by the attack with Hawkeye and Black Widow.

Part of Clint wished it would take longer, even as he wanted to be out of these people's lines of sight right now. He wasn't especially looking forward to telling Sitwell that they'd found trouble so soon after being released for a supposed vacation.

Or to having to tell Stark one of his employees apparently didn't know the meaning of the word discretion.

Those fireworks would be spectacular, to say the least. The man might not have any shame about sharing the details of his personal life with the media, but he got down right possessive over his tech and his employees. It was one of the only good things Natasha had had to say about Tony Stark vs. Iron Man. No one messed with his employees without feeling the full wrath of SI fall on their heads. Likewise, those who messed with SI tech in a way that wasn't officially approved of, or messed with other employees…well, it was probably fortunate they were only metaphorically thrown out the door given the dim view Stark and Potts took on such behaviors.

But first, James and Shari had a flight to catch.

Benji sat and stared dumbly at the files on his screen, a damning ID photo taking up most of his attention.

He wasn't sure what to think of this, to be honest. He'd known, in some carefully ignored part of his brain, that it was a possibility, of course. It had to be one from the moment they saw such uncharacteristic behavior out of Will in that footage. And the notes in his file, about SHIELD vs. IMF missions…well, that only added believability now, didn't it?

He hadn't wanted to believe, though, because the thought hurt. And he couldn't see a point to it, even now. None of them had been…well, Ethan had at…several points, to be honest, but not now. Not after Moscow, and Dubai and Mumbai…

It didn't make sense. There was no gain. No goal or mission objective achieved that Benji could figure out, even with access to the SHIELD files he had hacked.

"Benji?"

Starting slightly, Benji looked up to see that Ethan and Jane were both twisted around to stare at him in concern. The car had pulled off to the side of the interstate, safely out of the way of the speeding cars.

"I-" Benji started, and then shook his head. Shifting, he passed the laptop to the front seat to let them look for themselves.

Jane blanched as she saw the picture and read the documents currently queued up on his screen. Ethan's face went tight and blank.

"I-" Benji began again, having to swallow against the hurt rising in his throat. "I don't think William Brandt actually exists."

On the screen, William Brandt's face stared out at them, a SHIELD logo in the background, and plain black text underneath.

SHIELD Agent: Barton, Clinton F. Level 6

A/N2: I'm student teaching for the next five months, so while you probably WILL have a chapter at some point, it will not be soon. Please bear with me, I won't forget this story, I promise, but my degree comes first.

And on that note... *ducks for cover* Don't hate me for the cliffhanger! You knew they'd have to find out at some point!