Code Of Conduct

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Avengers. All recognisable characters, content or locations belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended.

Part One: Living With Ghosts

"Life is about choices. Some we regret, some we're proud of. Some will haunt us forever." - Graham Brown.

Chapter Fifteen: Briefing

6th April, 2005

Nursing coffees, they arrived at the appointed briefing room shortly before six. Natasha was already there, draped over a swivel chair apparently made for her, a temptress without trying. She wore a pair of skin-tight jeans and a leather jacket over a plain black tank top, and Gwen wondered - not for the first time - why Clint hadn't gone for her.

She'd not yet mustered up the courage to ask.

Also present were Agent Coulson, a number of other senior handlers, Deputy Director Sean Donoghue, and Director Nick Fury. It was somewhat perplexing, but as she settled into the seat beside Natasha's, and Clint propped himself on top of a filing cabinet in the corner, Gwen asked no questions.

"We're waiting for a few more agents," Coulson informed them. Clint nodded tersely, Gwen slumped into her seat, and silence prevailed.

Unfaltering in the certainty that Clint had her back, Gwen lost herself in her thoughts, perturbed by the prospect of a multiple-team mission. Herself, Natasha, and Clint had only recently settled as a cohesive unit, and Gwen wasn't sure if she was prepared to work with others. Moreover, she was bothered by the fact more than one team was even necessary. How bad would their mission be, that one strike team - arguably one of the best operatives SHIELD had to offer - was not enough?

She was disrupted from her musings by the arrival of Strike Teams Alpha, Beta, and Gamma. They arrived within minutes of each other, loud and rambunctious in ways Strike Team Delta was not. Under the critical glares of Fury, Donoghue, and the various team handlers, however, they settled quietly in the available chairs, or against the walls, and waited.

Among the group was a familiar face - Brock Rumlow - who repeatedly glanced at Natasha, not at all covertly.

Undoubtedly, Natasha was very much aware of his attention, but she was very much unruffled by it, and neither did she seem remotely interested in returning his scrutiny.

Gwen didn't ask if Rumlow was a terrible lay, but she was thinking it, and when she glanced at Clint, the smirk on his face told her he was thinking the same thing.

Clint met her gaze, and arched a knowing, suggestive eyebrow. Gwen grinned, unfettered and humoured, but she schooled her expression a moment later, and turned back to her superiors with an artfully impassive look on her face.

Fury, predictably, began the briefing. "You all know, to one degree or another, what has been uncovered about Cross Incorporated." He received a series of affirming nods. "SHIELD intends to bring them down before they can do any more harm, and we need all four strike teams to do it."

It turned out the mission involved a variety of simultaneous strikes on key Cross Inc. locations, and Strike Team Delta found themselves with the dubious honour of hitting William Cross Sr's luxury home in California.

It went without saying that Fury and Donoghue expected them to bring in William Cross Sr, dead or alive - preferably the latter - and also that the home in question would surely be chock full of traps and crawling with security, and subsequently, absurdly difficult to break into.

In a way, it's almost flattering, but mostly, Gwen just wants to beat up some bad guys and be done with it.

"We've managed to acquire the floor plans of the house," Donoghue informed Clint, Gwen, and Natasha, "But most of the security is unknown. What we do know is that there's a roving patrol of security guards around the grounds, and also a number of guard dogs nearer the house. Everything else, you'll have to work out for yourselves."

Essentially, they were going in blind.

"Can you guarantee that he'll even be there?" Clint asked, doubtful.

"Our eyes on the house have confirmed he arrived last night, and intel indicates he'll be grounded for a few more days. Of course, if he isn't there, you can stakeout until he is."

Gwen suppressed her grimace at the thought. Clint saluted, his expression stony, and flipped through the information packet while Donoghue and Fury briefed the other teams. Beside Gwen, Natasha was silent and watchful, and the last few minutes of the meeting dragged.

"Get moving," Fury eventually ordered, "Your rides take off in half an hour, with or without you."

Predictably, none of them lingered.

-!- -#-

Author's Note: I kid you not, I've been sitting on this for two years, trying to chip away at the chapter, but it just hasn't worked. At this point in time, I've lost the, I don't know, thread of this story? Does that make sense? I don't really know how to explain it, but these characters are sort of strangers, and, at least for the moment, I can't really write them properly. I thought about deleting this story, like I do all of those I have no intention of completing, but I can't bring myself to do it. I have a soft spot, you see?

Also, I've somehow lost the copies stored on my laptop, so if I delete it, it'll be gone for good, but that's not quite as important to me.

Anyway, maybe I'll come back to it at some point (if I don't find myself cringing over the writing style, and the excessive number of thuses', that is), but for now, I'm labelling this officially discontinued.

That said, I just wanted to thank everyone for getting this far, and if you're reading this chapter, thanks for sticking with it so long. I'm sorry to let you guys down like this.