Clint/Natasha/Skye

Hi People,

I am taking over this story from soulmates shorts by ozhawk. Please credit her for for the amazing first chapter, however the rest is my own work.

"Make the call, Phil," Melinda stared him down. "The way I see it, we have two choices. We let Skye fulfil her father's prediction and go to him because no one else can help. Or you can make the call."

His grief-filled eyes met hers, and she sighed. "I know you love her like a daughter, Phil; Skye's damn good at working her way into people's hearts. But we're going to lose her to that crazy bastard unless you make the call."

He'd known for weeks that he would have to do what she was suggesting. He'd been avoiding it, knowing that the aftermath would be ugly. But finally, he nodded and picked up the phone.

Barton and Romanoff were the ones who came, of course. Stark was too angry, and Banner and Rogers never knew him well enough. But Hawkeye and the Widow knew that after all this time, he wouldn't have made the call unless he genuinely needed their help. The meeting wasn't pretty, but finally they agreed to meet with Skye.

At Skye's own request, Fitz and Mack had taken a shipping container and mounted it on the biggest shock absorbers S.H.I.E.L.D.'s budget would stretch to. She spent most of her time in there, working hard on trying to get a handle on her powers. Often she would only join the rest of the team for meals.

"Skye?" Phil rattled the container door. Clint and Natasha stood behind him, waiting quietly, in that unnervingly still way they both had. "Can I come in?"

The container was shaking slightly. Clint tipped his head to look at the flexing shock absorbers, glanced at Natasha. She twitched a red eyebrow, but said nothing.

The container stilled, and Skye's voice said wearily; "Yes, AC, come on in."

She looked up, shading her eyes against the brightness as the door opened. The only light in the container was a single hurricane lantern on the floor, and the sunlight outside silhouetted the three figures stepping inside until the door thudded shut behind them and she saw who they were. They really did come. May, when she told Skye that she'd pushed Phil into making the call, had been unsure whether his former strike team would be able to forgive him enough to agree to help.

"Skye," Phil said kindly, "We have some visitors. This is Agents Barton and Romanoff…"

"I know who you are," Skye spoke directly to them, to the beautiful redheaded spy and the solidly muscled blond archer. They glanced at each other, then back at her.

"Do you really?" Barton asked, and at the exact same moment, Romanoff said;

"Are you quite sure about that?"

"Wh-what?" Skye staggered backwards, the container shook, and they both moved fast, jumping forward and catching an arm each, easing her to sit down on the floor.

"Fucking hell," Natasha cradled Skye's face gently in her arms as Clint sat down beside her, pulling her to lean on his broad chest. "You poor sweetheart. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"It's all right," Clint murmured soothingly as Skye began to cry, great heaving sobs that shook her small frame. "It's all right. We're here now. We've got you."

"Um," Phil said, utterly bemused, "What the hell just happened?"

"She's our soulmate, Phil," Natasha looked up at him, eyes shining with her own tears. "We've been looking so long for her. And to find her like this, after you told us what happened to her…"

Phil winced, remembering suddenly the blunt, stark way he'd described Skye's past, her father, her issues with Ward and what had happened to her in San Juan. He hadn't minced his words, knowing Clint and Natasha had no tolerance for prettying up harsh truths.

But realising you'd just told two assassins about their soulmate's brutal past – well. Phil looked at the three of them, huddling together on the metal container floor, Skye almost in Clint's lap, Natasha curling like a cat around both of them, stroking Skye's tearful face as Clint held her close.

"I'll leave you alone for a while," he said. Natasha ignored him, focussed on Skye, but Clint looked up and met his eyes.

"I'll come talk to you later," he said, and Phil winced. He could almost see the list beginning in Hawkeye's mind. Ian Quinn. Grant Ward. 'Cal'. Barton liked to make lists. And then he liked to cross them off.

Phil retreated hastily, wracking his brain, hoping he hadn't said too much already. Barton and Romanoff on a rampage to avenge the wrongs done their soulmate would be bad enough, but the rest of the Avengers would probably want in on the action as well. He shuddered at the thought of the possible widespread destruction. The Avengers weren't exactly a precision instrument.

"It's gonna be okay, darling," Clint whispered tenderly to the sobbing girl in his lap. "We're gonna take care of you. We've got you now."

"We'll never leave you," Natasha promised, wiping tears from Skye's cheeks with her thumbs. "You'll never have to be alone again."

Skye couldn't help it; she was so overwhelmed with emotions. She hated herself for being a stupid sobbing kid but she just couldn't seem to stop. Not that Clint and Natasha seemed to care, though, Natasha quietly validating her right to feel angry and upset, Clint just holding her and murmuring soft words of comfort.

"I'm sorry," Skye gulped at last. "You two can't want a silly girl like me in your bond. Coulson's told me about you…"

"Has he told you that I like women just as much as men?" Natasha interrupted smoothly.

"Or that there's quite enough of me to go round?" Clint wiggled his eyebrows salaciously.

Skye couldn't help but laugh at that. Natasha silenced her with a kiss.

"I am the luckiest man alive," Clint murmured, watching, until they both turned and simultaneously punched him in the ribs.

As I said earlier this chapter was written by ozhawk, the next chapter will be written by me.