The Mary Sue Virus: Lights, Camera, Avengers!

[ladydeathfaerie]

Title: The Mary Sue Virus: Lights, Camera, Avengers!
Chapter Eight: Fireworks
Fandom: something like the Marvel Universe, leaning mostly toward the Movie!Avengers branch
Rating: 18 and up
Warnings: lots of sex and violence, language, anything else i can toss in. probably some drinking.
Disclaimer: the recognizable characters and places contained herein are the property of Marvel and whoever the hell else owns them.. i'm merely borrowing for the sake of entertainment. no money is being made from this venture. the Sues are the sole property of their originators, dazzledfirestar, mistress_o_muse, ginevrasm, rylan_m, and ladydeathfaerie. the concept and title of The Mary Sue Virus are used with permission from Dazzledfirestar.

The Mary Sue Virus: Lights, Camera, Avengers! - The Index

Miri sighed and reached up to rub at the back of her neck. She'd been sitting in the same position for far too long. But digging through the computers left behind at the HYDRA base had brought up a large grouping of files that she had to go through. Which was what she'd been doing for the past few days. And sitting in one place was starting to make her crazy. As it stood, she'd lost track of how long she'd been going through the HYDRA files.

The job shouldn't have taken this long. Not exploring the abandoned base and not going through the computer data. She should have been in and out in a couple of days, then on a plane back home to New York. But someone hadn't really thought about what they were doing when they'd tried to wipe the files out of the computer's memory. Whoever had been in charge of erasing the hard drives had done a really piss poor job of it. It had taken her a while to get through all of the crap to find the hidden files, but she'd done it. Far too well. Because she'd never before come across such a massive treasure trove of information in one place before.

Not that any of it made sense. There were reports in at least a dozen different languages, which had prompted MI6 to bring in some linguistics experts to read and translate the reports she in languages she didn't speak. Most of them were of no importance, documents detailing shipments of supplies between several bases. That might have proven to be a find, but none of the bases were ones that they didn't already know about. In most cases, each of them had been abandoned and unused for months and years. Those shipping invoices made Miri wonder how the hell this base had gone undetected by MI6 and other British agencies for so long. The general idea she'd gotten from everything she'd read so far indicated that the base had been here for quite some time.

Setting the print out down on the table before her, Miri stood so that she could stretch her muscles and work the kinks out of her spine. A paper coffee cup with a familiar logo suddenly appeared before her face. Turning a look of thanks toward Wisdom, she wrapped her hands around the cup and took a long drink of the hot liquid. "Thanks. That's good. Just the way I like it."

He offered her a crooked smile, then tipped his head toward the door. "How about a walk? Stretch the legs a bit before getting back to all that." His hand indicated the stack of piles that awaited her on the table.

"I really shouldn't. The sooner I get those files done, the sooner I can get home," she replied. There was a wistfulness in her voice that she couldn't disguise. She wanted to go back to the States so bad, she felt it as a burning pain near her heart. At the same time, the long hours sitting in a hard chair, straining her eyes with page after page of small print, was taking a toll on her body. Stretching sounded like a really good idea.

"C'mon, luv. A few minutes won't make much difference. Will they?" Wisdom asked. She gave it a few seconds of thought, then shook her head. They really wouldn't, in the grand scheme of things. It was just that she was so anxious to get home. Wisdom smiled at her obvious agreement, then motioned toward the door with one hand.

It took some time to reach the exterior doors. The base not only sprawled across a good expanse of Scottish countryside but had been dug down deep into the earth, as well. The surrounding landscape was a mix of tall trees and craggy mountains. It was a beautiful location and did much to soothe her battered senses. She took a deep breath, pulling mountain air into her lungs. That same air was fresh and had a bite to it, prompting her to shiver ever so slightly.

Wisdom must have seen it because he was suddenly dropping his coat around her shoulders. It smelled of cigarette smoke and some spicy cologne that he had likely splashed on before leaving his hotel room that morning. She appreciated the warmth, but not the cloying scent that curled around her. As if it was claiming her for him. For just a moment, she wished that Phil was here and that it was his coat she was being warmed up with.

"Its beautiful up here, yeah?' Wisdom asked. He stood right beside her, almost touching. Miri thought nothing of it, her mind caught up in simply unwinding from business for just a moment. The break was much needed, whether she was really willing to admit it or not. Lifting the paper cup, she swallowed down some of the coffee and felt it run heat into her chilled body.

"It is," she agreed. She let her gaze skim the towering trees, let them pick out the spots where grey stone poked through the green. Most of the ground surrounding the base had been cleared of rocks and trees, leveled and smoothed over. But outside the fence's perimeter, she could see what this area must have once looked like. Verdant green wild grass grew long and tall in places where the trees had not yet gained a foothold. Said trees were rough with bark, so tall that she had to crane her neck to find the tops. The rocks and boulders that jutted up from the ground had clinging plants like lichen and moss growing on them, their colors ranging from bright yellow to rusty red to fiery orange to lime green. It was a veritable feast for the eyes and Miri had to wonder why she hadn't taken the time to stop and appreciate her surroundings more before now.

Those thoughts were shattered when a hand curled around her arm. She felt the weight of Wisdom's arm settled across her back. He slowly, carefully, tugged her closer to him. Miri glanced up at him out of the corner of her eye. The man wore an expectant expression, as if he felt that all he had to do was say the right words and she would strip down, then spread herself for him. Boy, did he have another thing coming.

Wordlessly, Miri stepped out of his hold and turned to face him. As she did so, she whipped his coat off her shoulders and held it out to him. "I believe I've told you before to keep your hands off, Wisdom," she said, voice curt and controlled.

He gave her a smarmy smile as he took his coat. "Oh, come on, luv. Why fight it? You're a beautiful woman. I'm an attractive bloke. I see no reason why we can't just go back to the hotel and shag the night away."

"We can't go back to the hotel and shag the night away because I have no desire to sleep with you, Agent Wisdom." Miri made sure she put as much ice into her voice as possible. She'd hoped, after the last time he'd tried to convince her to sleep with him, that mentioning she had a boyfriend waiting for her back in the States would have made him realize that she'd never get naked with him. She should have realized that her hopes had been in vain. "When are you going to realize that I won't ever sleep with you? Ever?"

In true Pete Wisdom style, the man only smiled at her and dug a cigarette out of his pocket. He was silent as he lit it, inhaled deeply and let the smoke out his nose. "One should never say never, luv."

"I haven't said never, Wisdom. I said it isn't happening. Get it through your thick head that I want nothing to do with you." Miri crossed her arms over her chest, wondering yet again how much paperwork would be involved if she shot him. She was starting to think that violence was the only thing he would fully understand. Especially if it left him bleeding profusely from one of his limbs.

The man was obviously hard of hearing. That was the only excuse she could give for him not paying attention to what she'd just said. Because despite her saying out loud, in easy to understand words, that she would never want to sleep with him, he was reaching for her again. Intent, she thought, on pulling her into his arms and hugging her close. Maybe copping a feel. Her hand dropped slowly toward her hip, where her firearm was holstered. As she'd intended, his eyes followed the progress of the extremity.

"You won't shoot me, luv," he said, sounding certain of his prediction. She hoped he wasn't a gambling man. If so, he'd be losing money big time.

"Touch me again and I will. Stay away from me and leave me alone, Wisdom. Or I promise I will hurt you," Miri told him, voice low so she knew he had to pay attention to hear them. He offered her a smile. She only stared in return.

"Agent Grant?" It was woman's voice and it came from behind her liaison. Miri let her hand fall away from her weapon, then schooled her face into a mask of bland curiosity. Without looking at Wisdom again, she slipped past him and made for the doorway.

One of the linguists was standing there, staring at her with bright eyes and a look on her face that suggested she'd found something of interest. "What is it, Fiona?" Miri asked, already caught up in the promise of something good to justify all of this time spent away from home. There had to be some kind of information here that S.H.I.E.L.D. could use.

"I think we've found something big," the woman told her. The smile that cracked her normally stoic face was enough to transform a woman whose normal appearance was bookish into a ravishing beauty. "I was going over one of the files when I noticed that there was a list of odd components. And there was mention of some large weapon."

That got Miri's attention. "Show me," she ordered crisply, promptly forgetting about her little problem with Pete Wisdom. Fiona nodded her head and turned to once more enter the base. Miri followed after her, mind turning over what they could have found. The implications such files might have. What it might mean to S.H.I.E.L.D. and MI6.

The two women wove through a warren of dark, dusty halls, toward what they'd determined to be the central file room. The wide corridors were strewn with forgotten items that had been left behind when HYDRA had left, as well as tall stands with lamps affixed to them and the wiring that fed electricity into them so that they had light inside the buildings. Even with the excitement growing inside, Miri was careful to mind where she put her feet. The last thing she needed to do was fall and break her leg.

The file room was buzzing with excited chatter. People were looking at a series of screens, fingers pointing and talking to one another. Obviously they thought that the find was as significant as Fiona did. When they saw Miri, they cleared away from a central monitor and gave the chair up to her. She nodded her thanks, then settled into the seat and began looking over the files that the linguists had found.

The more she read, the wider her eyes got. Never in all of her time as an agent had she ever seen anything as damning as this. HYDRA almost never left anything behind, leading her to wonder why this base hadn't been destroyed instead of simply abandoned. She was still reading when she barked out an order for someone to get this copied to a jump drive for her. She had to see to it that the information made it directly to Director Fury and Mr. Stark.

Even as someone complied to her orders, she was dragging her phone out of a pocket. It rang three times before it was picked up. "Agent Grant. How is your mission progressing?" Coulson's voice was calm and cool as ever. The use of her last name let her know he was with someone. Not that she cared. This information was too important not to share.

"Sir, I think we may have hit pay dirt here," she told him, eyes still raking over the mountains of information flashing across the screen. She glanced at someone over her shoulder. "Print this one out. I want it on paper. I think this is some kind of blueprint."

"Yes, ma'am," a voice agreed.

"Agent Grant?" There was curiosity in his voice.

"MI6's linguistics department just uncovered information that I've never found in HYDRA files before. What looks like a partial list of supplies for something. Parts of a blueprint. Files referring to a weapon of some sort. Its huge."

"The weapon is huge?" he asked, letting her know that he wanted clarification.

"Forgive me, sir. The file is huge. So is the weapon, I believe. Its hard to tell just looking at the screen. I want to print all of this out and go through it by hand. I've got someone copying all of this information to a jump drive and as soon as I've found a secure terminal, I will send it all to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s mainframe for our people to look over."

"And you're sure about the weapon? Any idea what it might be or what the intended use is?" There was excitement in his voice. No one else might have detected it, but she knew him well enough that she could hear it.

"No, sir. I haven't had any time to really study these files. The team has only just found them. I'll do that as soon as I have it all on paper," she told him. Frowning, she studied the bit of blueprint that covered her screen. "But based on what I'm seeing here, sir... This thing, if its real, could be big enough to bring down something the size of the helicarrier."

"Excellent work, Agent Grant. I expect a full report when you've--" Coulson began, but his words were lost under someone calling out her name. She glanced up from her screen to see one of the men from the linguistics team was staring at her, waving a hand at her frantically.

"Agent Grant! You really must see this!"

"Hang on, sir. They've found something else," Miri told Coulson, already rising from her chair. She hurried to the console, coming to stand next to the man who'd called her over. Frowning, she glanced at the screen and struggled to make sense of the jargon she saw there. "What is this, Fields?"

"We're not sure, ma'am. We're still working on deciphering it. It was buried under several other files that yielded nothing. We had hoped, because of that fact, that it was something important. All the file contains is this program, which appears to be... counting, ma'am," Fields told her. He was frowning as he said it.

"Counting?" Miri echoed, her gaze locked to the screen. Sure enough, it seemed that the last character in the row was changing every -- she counted the spaces -- every second or so. And she recognized a pattern that led her to believe.

Fucking hell!

"Everyone out! Take everything you can carry and get the hell out. This place is set to explode! HYDRA left a protocol in their files. Its been activated and now the timer is ticking the seconds down," she ordered, phone still clutched in her hand.

For just a few seconds, everyone stared at her with that deer in the headlights look that often came with big surprises. Then people were on their feet and moving, gathering up everything around them. Voices rose in shock and fear, one trying to talk over the next to be heard. She vaguely heard Phil calling her name, his voice tinny and distant. She didn't answer him, simply kept urging people to get the hell out before they got blown up. "Someone go make sure the second and third teams get out! Do it now! I don't know how long ewe have. Move people!"

"You should go, too, Agent Grant," Fiona insisted as she shoved a jump drive into Miri's hand. The woman offered her a smile. "Go. Get out. I'll see to it that the other teams are on their way out."

"Fiona, I want you outside with everyone else," Miri insisted.

"Go. I'll be fine. I'll be along after you. You'll see," the woman replied. Miri might have argued more, but there was a hand on her arm, dragging her toward the exit. She noted dimly that the hand belonged to Wisdom, that the man was seeing to it that she got out of the building before it went up.

"See that you do!" Miri shouted after Fiona, then turned her attention toward running.

"Agent Grant! Answer me!" Coulson's voice cut through the rush. For just a second, she stopped and looked for him, forgetting that she'd called him and their call was still connected. "Damn it, Miriam! Answer me now!"

It was the use of her first name that reminded her where she was and what was happening. She lifted the phone to her ear. "Sorry, sir," she panted. "I'm trying to get the building evacuated. I should have known that they'd do something like this. There were too many files and..."

"Forget about the files. Get out of that base and get to safety. That's an order, Agent Grant!" Coulson snapped.

"Yes, sir." She responded immediately to the command in his voice and began running again. Wisdom still had a hold of her arm and led her toward the exit, his long legs making her work to keep up with him. They broke out of the building at a run, just heading away from it. The sun was bright and made it hard to see where she was going. She had to trust that Wisdom knew where the hell he was going.

It seemed like only seconds had passed since they'd cleared the exit of the base's main building when she felt the ground rumble under her feet. Heard thunder close in around her. Tremors tried to knock her from her feet and if not for Wisdom's hold on her, she might have tumbled to the ground because it shook so fiercely.

There was a roaring sound behind them, something that reminded her of a tornado she'd once had the chance to witness in person. It was like a freight train screaming down the tracks. Only this was so much worse than what she'd experienced. Wisdom grabbed hold of her and threw her to the ground, all the while shouting at people to get down and take cover. His body landed on top of hers just as a violent explosion burst behind them. She had a vague sensation of heat and heard Phil's voice in the distance, damn near yelling her name and demanding once again that she answer him.

Then his voice was gone as debris rained down from the sky to pelt them and the world spun away when pain ripped through her head...

~*~

Ten hours. She'd lost ten hours. Miri had found that out upon waking up in the emergency ward of a Scottish hospital. She'd also lost her phone, the small device having been thrown from her hand when she'd hit the ground and the blast had rocked the clearing. She'd also found out from MI6 higher ups that they'd lost half the damn people they'd sent with her into that base. Almost fifty percent of third team and a quarter of second team hadn't cleared the doors. Neither had Fiona. That had smarted because Miri had grown attached to the other woman.

She'd suffered a few minor abrasions. A minor concussion. The doctor had informed her that her skull had gotten to know a rock up close and personal. That had accounted for her short trip into unconsciousness. They'd made sure there was no internal bleeding and, after a few tests to ensure that she was as okay as she looked, they'd sent her on her way with a small packet of pain killers meant to help with the headaches.

Wisdom, looking unusually somber, had been there to give her a lift. Their first stop was at the Scottish branch of MI6 for a debriefing. That had been a very dark affair. She'd learned just how badly things had gone. No one from MI6 had laid blame at her feet, but that hadn't stopped Miri from blaming herself.

They were once again sitting in Wisdom's rental, not even music from the radio to cut the silence. Miri's hands were in her pockets, her fingers wrapped tightly around the jump drive. Somehow, despite all of the crap they'd gone through, that little bit of technology was still in one piece. She'd forgotten to mention it to MI6. Now, with her hand on it, she couldn't bring herself to mention it to Wisdom. She'd have it all sent to them when she got back to New York. If anyone asked why it had taken her so long to send it to them. she'd lay blame on the concussion. She just wanted so badly to go home. She hoped like shit that it would be soon.

The rental pulled into the car park and Wisdom cut the engine. Miri didn't look at him, simply crawled out of the car and headed for the walkway that would lead into the hotel. He caught up with her only a few feet from the car and brought her to a stop with one hand on her arm. She refused to look at him. One hand reached up to curl fingers under her chin, then he lifted her face so that she'd look at him. "It wasn't your fault, luv," he told her softly.

It was. And they both knew it was. He was just trying to be nice to her. Just trying to get on her good side. She stared at him and let him see in her eyes that she knew it was her fault. She should have fucking known. Wisdom sighed at that.

"It wasn't your fault," he repeated, this time with more emphasis. And she might have believed him. Except he chose that moment to cover her mouth with his own. And he tried to shove his tongue down her throat. Arrogant son of a bitch.

Miri jerked back from the kiss, pulled out of his hold. "I warned you what would happen if you touched me again," she snapped at him. Her weapon was at her side. It wouldn't take much to heft it and put it to his head. But that would be far less painful and humiliating than having to explain how a woman shorter than him had bested him. Her hand curled at her side and then she swung, putting all of her guilt and anger and rage into the punch. It caught him dead in the face and she heard a crunching sound that told her something had been broken.

She pulled back and watched as his hands reached up to cover his nose. Blood dripped down his chin from between his palms, landing on his shirt and the ground. "You crazy bitch!" he snarled, voice garbled from blood and pain. Miri shot him a look.

"Don't you ever fucking forget it, either!" she snapped, then whirled away and headed for the door that would let her into the hotel.

If anyone noticed that she was pale and bandaged, that she looked a little worse for the wear, they said nothing. She made it to the elevator without being stopped and questioned. And she was lucky when the lift arrived empty. She hurried into the car and pressed almost madly at the 'eight' button until the door closed. She needed the ride up to compose herself and she didn't want to have to face Wisdom again. Not after she'd broken his nose like that and...

Dear god! She'd broken his nose. She'd assaulted an employee of the British government. Granted, he'd asked for it. But still... Shit. She was in such trouble, wasn't she? Composure didn't come. She was just as wound up when she reached her floor as she'd been when she'd stepped foot into the elevator. Miri practically threw herself out of the car and hurried down the hallway to her door.

Somehow, the key card for the door had survived and she swiped it quickly through the slot. The light blinked green. Her hand turned the knob and tugged the door open, then she stepped inside and pulled the door closed behind her. She leaned against the closed panel, closed her eyes, and simply breathed deeply. When she finally had herself under control, she opened her eyes on the intent to place an overseas call. And stopped dead in her tracks.

Phil sat on the end of her bed, arms resting on his thighs while his hands dangled between his legs. His jacket was off and his tie had been loosened. He looked tired, as if he hadn't slept in days, and his eyes watched her closely. Miri blinked at him, wondering if she was hallucinating. She had hit her head, after all. But a suitcase in the corner said she wasn't, that he was really there.

"Agent Coulson, sir. Why are you here?" she asked, grasping at formality to keep from breaking down and crying on his shoulder. "Have I done something wrong? I... I don't think I did, but some of the things that happened are kind of fuzzy. Did I do something wrong?"

"No, Miriam. You didn't do anything wrong. Not professionally. Personally, however, is another matter," he told her, coming to his feet slowly. She stood there and stared at him, wondering what it was she'd done. Either he read the confusion on her face or saw it in her eyes. Either way, he shook his head and explained himself. "You were involved in an explosion. I was on the phone with you when it happened. When you didn't answer me, I became concerned. Director Fury sent a team to England to assist MI6 with any problems they might have and to check on the welfare of his agent."

"Oh," she blinked. That wasn't the answer she'd expected.

"I was worried about you, Miriam," he said softly. "When you didn't answer, I could only imagine what had happened to you. I had to come and see with my own eyes that you were okay."

"I've got a concussion," she reported. "And people died. Because I was too blind to see that it was a trap. People..." she trailed off, willing the tears not to fall. She was tougher than that. She'd seen worse. Been through worse.

"It wasn't your fault, Miriam," he reminded her. She wanted to deny his words, say that it was her fault, but he never gave her the chance. He crossed the room in a few steps and tugged her into his embrace. Held her so tight that she was glad she hadn't broken or bruised any ribs. Held her until she thought he didn't plan on letting go. Then he kissed her, mouth hungry and demanding on her own while being tender at the same time. When he broke from her, he urged her toward the bed.

A second, shorter kiss reminded her of her encounter with Wisdom. "Um... You might have to do some paperwork before we leave here." She gave him a sheepish look. At that, he simply cocked an eyebrow in her direction. She heaved a sigh. "I kind of broke my MI6 liaison's nose. He was being a fresh dick."

He just stared at her, which made her squirm just a bit.

"Um... sorry?" She wasn't sorry at all. And he knew it because he merely chuckled and shook his head at her. Then he dragged her down into the bed with him and helped her forget all about Pete bloody Wisdom.

~*~*~*~*~

Phoebe threw herself into a series of back flips that took her half way across the mat covered floor until she was in the middle of the gym. Coming to her feet, she launched into a series of kicks that saw her legs sweeping in wide arcs toward imaginary opponents. Imaginary opponents who wore Tony Stark's face.

Damn the man for finding a way under her skin without really trying. Ever since that damned function, he'd had one excuse or another to see her. And he was proving far too persistent for her own good. One day, he'd brought her an expensive and decadent lunch. Another, he'd taken her to some ridiculous art show that looked as if it had been done by a four year old. One night, he'd rented out the entire Bronx Zoo and treated her to a visit where they were the only two people. And she never meant to say yes to his outrageous ideas. She always meant to tell him that she wanted nothing to do with him. But the man's tongue was so silvered, he could take the Devil out of Hell.

And, much against her will, she'd enjoyed every single bizarre thing he'd come up with as a method to woo her to his side. Just like she enjoyed his company.

If she was being honest, she could admit that she was falling for him. To some degree. She knew it was insane. There was a part of her that was madly attracted to him, that wanted him to throw her down on the bed and do lots of kinky sexual things to her. They were ideas she couldn't remember ever having for anyone before and they were confusing. And she really couldn't explain them. It was almost as if there were two of her living inside her head. If she ever listened to that other part of her, she'd have already had him in her bed. Part of her still wanted it. Very much.

But the drinking. That turned her off of him like nothing else could have. And she just couldn't explain it to him because she knew that he wouldn't understand what she was talking about. She knew that he wouldn't see it. Alcoholics never did. It was highly likely that he didn't think he had a problem to begin with.

As if suddenly sensing her wayward thoughts, she frowned and sent herself through a series of complex flips that saw her crossing the floor to a training dummy on the other side of the gym. This was one of the few good things about being cooped up here. The gym was positively state of the art, with every piece of training equipment known to man housed in it. There were numerous machines covering the spectrum from simple stationary bicycles to ellipticals to tread mills. There was plenty of boxing equipment, including heavy bags, punching bags, gloves and guards. There were open mats for any form of martial arts and wrestling. She'd even seen a few people training with blunt edged weapons, though she wasn't allowed to use those.

She loved coming to the gym here and working out her frustrations. It helped her relax and maintain her calm. It helped her to think. It was one of the few things that she could do that didn't see her being watched by no less than ten agents. Apparently, assured that she couldn't do any damage in the gym, Director Fury hadn't placed many restrictions on her use of it.

There was one, however, that she was having problems with. She couldn't have her beloved dogs with her. That was one allowance that she couldn't get the man to make. And she supposed she could understand his point. The gym was a shared space and other people might not feel as comfortable with the dogs as she did. It still made her feel a touch... uneasy to be walking around without them. It didn't matter that this was one of the most secure facilities in the country. She didn't like being without her dogs.

Taking a moment to draw air into her lungs, Phoebe worked a pair of gloves onto her hands. They weren't boxing gloves, as they weren't that thick. There was, however, enough padding on them to keep her from bruising her knuckles when she began punching the dummy. And now was the time to do some arm work. The burn would stop her mind and give her peace from the never ending race of thoughts that tumbled through her head. She needed that peace so badly. There had been such strange thoughts in her mind lately.

The first few jabs were warm up punches. Not much strength behind them, they were more a guide to see what would be the best method of attack. After half a dozen of those weaker jabs, she began punching the torso of the dummy with more strength and speed. There was intent behind each forward thrust of her arm, and she imagined that she was punching Tony Stark in the face, even without meaning to do so.

Sweat beaded up on her forehead and cheeks, along her spine, down the length of her arms and thighs. Salty drops of moisture rolled across her skin as her arms kept punching and jabbing. She gave an occasional kick to break things up, spice up her routine, but for the most part, she simply relied on punching to work through the negative emotions. To get them out of her system. To purge her of the strange thoughts she'd been having lately.

None of them had made any sense to her. Ever since the day that Stark had walked into her life, she'd been having odd dreams. During her night's sleep and during the day, when she was supposed to be concentrating on other things. Two people as one. Two minds residing in one head. Two sets of thoughts that did and didn't mesh together. She still hadn't made sense of it and she knew that it was something more than a simple dream, that it meant something more than any simple dream did. That was another thing that she blamed Tony Stark for.

Anger swelled. Phoebe channeled it into her punches, delighting in the solid feel of her fists hitting the dummy. Loving the jolts that slid up her muscles. Relishing the sweat that trickled in tiny rivers down over her cheeks, the hollow between her breasts, her arm pits and her thighs. They were pleasant sensations. Familiar and comforting. This was one thing she could do while hiding out at S.H.I.E.L.D. that made her feel normal. Like herself.

The sense that she wasn't alone saw her turning to face the rest of the gym, a snarky comment on the tip of her tongue. Damn Tony Stark for disturbing her during her only alone time. Except it wasn't Tony Stark, which prompted the words to die before she spoke them. Instead of her mortal enemy, she was faced with some ninja want to be in all black. The only part of them she saw was a pair of eyes glinting at her through the opening in the mask the person wore. They obviously weren't there to ask the time. She figured she didn't need to beat around the bush. "What do you want?"

The person said nothing. It took a quick flick around the gym to see that they were all alone. Which meant her would be attacker wasn't there to shoot the breeze. Too bad for them that Phoebe had long ago determined that she'd never be anyone's victim. "Very well, then. Go ahead and make your move. Let's get this over with so I can go back to my quarters and take a shower."

She saw nothing in the attacker's eyes to let her know that they'd registered her words. But they were just suddenly in motion. If not for Phoebe's training, she'd have gone down with the first punch. But she was trained and she was capable. And she wasn't going to go down without a fight.

Thought stopped as she let herself slide into the space her instructor had once told her would come if she ever found herself in a real fight. Her body moved without being told what to do, following paths of memory that had been beaten into her through years of training. She flowed from one move to the next, an arm lifted to block her opponent's blow. A leg brought up to deflect a kick. Jabs and punches thrown meant to drive him back. Kicks meant to floor him. Attacks that he avoided or simply shrugged aside.

He drove her back until she found herself in a corner. How it had happened, she didn't know. She'd done her best to keep herself away from the walls and things that would inhibit her actions. Her attacker's hand flashed behind his back for just a few seconds, then reappeared with a knife. Phoebe's eyes tracked the blade as it made a few test slashes through the air. A weapon changed the playing field, leaving Phoebe trying to both work a way out of the situation while at the same time trying to avoid being injured or killed.

The two of them danced. He tried to slash her with the blade and she leapt out of the knife's way. There was no escape plan coming to mind, leaving her to wonder what the hell she was going to do. Any time she tried to shift to one side or the other, the knife made a quick slash her way. She was effectively penned in.

"Phoebe? Are you in here?" The voice carried through the door before the owner came. It caught her attention and drew it toward the door in question. Her attacker apparently wasn't distracted by the voice and chose that moment to strike. The blade sliced her arm, which had moved up to block even though she was focused on the imminent arrival of her visitor. The pain raced along her nerves, clouding her mind and leaving her vulnerable to a second attack. A fatal attack.

The door swung open and Tony Stark stepped into the gym. His eyes went from her to her attacker. Then he was on his way across the floor toward her. For just a second, she wondered what the hell he thought he could do when he wasn't armed. But the thought was gone quickly when she realized that her attacker was coming in for another blow. Phoebe dropped to the floor, then brought a leg up to sweep into the man's arm. The blade went flying when her foot connected with his wrist.

Realizing he hadn't achieved his goal, the attacker dashed across the gym. Tony tried to stop him, but the man shoved Stark out of his way and kept going. She rose to her feet and lifted her arm above her head in an attempt to stop the bleeding. Tony paused for a moment, obviously debating whether he should go after the attacker or not. But his gaze came back to her and saw the blood and that decided him. He finished his trip across the gym and dropped down beside her.

"How bad is it?" he asked, already ripping his shirt off so that he could wrap it around her arm.

"Not as bad as it could have been," she replied, shifting her gaze from his bared chest. Now was so not the time to be staring at his chest. Her eyes ignored her rational thoughts and slid back to his chest.

No. Now was definitely not a time.

~*~*~*~*~

"Why are you making such a big deal about this? I told you I was sorry and that it was an accident. Why can't you accept that and let it go?" Barton asked her from the bathroom. He was shaving. She ignored him and turned her attention back to the listening equipment. She still had a job to do. And she was going to do it. Even if she was mad as hell at him. For no apparent reason.

It really was such a little thing. It shouldn't have been such a big deal. All he'd done was leave the toilet seat up. Typical male behavior. Something she was used to. Something her brothers had done to her constantly. There'd been many a night that she'd had to go to the bathroom at home as a child that had seen her nearly falling into the toilet. She should have been used to it and she should have let it slide off her back like water. But it had been enough to set her off. She'd been cooped up in the fucking house with him for too fucking long.

"When you fall in the toilet and end up with a wet ass, then we'll talk about why this is a big deal," she replied tartly and turned her full attention back to the window. When the hell would this mission be over? She needed to get away from him in the worst possible way. She was going insane being locked away with him. Not like this mission had gotten them any really important information. Beyond a list of people who had come and gone, they hadn't learned a thing that would be useful to their superiors.

"Can I help it that I'm single and male?" he asked her, the question sounding almost absent. As if he wasn't really even paying any attention to her. That rubbed the wrong way though she didn't dare consider why.

"Male? I guess I can go with that. You didn't say anything about what species of male. I was thinking pig myself. And you're definitely an asshole."

"You think I'm an asshole?" That got his attention. She smiled to herself and made an adjustment to the monitoring equipment. "Why do you think I'm an asshole? What have I ever done to you?"

She wasn't going to go there. That was just asking for trouble. And she knew it. If the touch of amusement in his voice was anything to go by, he knew it, too. Best to stay clear of it. "And you know what? You're a bad kisser. A horrible kisser. I've gotten better kisses from my grandmother's blind poodle."

"You're comparing my kissing to a poodle?" She heard the razor hit the counter top.

"Yes. And the poodle is better." It was nice to know she'd hit a nerve. Barton was always so cool and calm. So with it. He deserved to suffer through just a small amount of the emotional crap he'd put her through. "And how sad was it that you were totally getting off on that pathetic kiss?"

He leaned out of the bathroom to stare at her. She could feel his eyes on her back. "You're going to sit there and tell me that you felt nothing during that kiss? You didn't feel a damned thing?"

"Nope. I didn't feel anything," she told him smugly. "Well, unless you want to count your hard on. I felt that. It was poking me insistently. Someone seemed to be enjoying himself. That's... kind of embarrassing. Don't you think? Do you always get hard when you're kissing a woman you know doesn't like you?"

"Don't like me? Really? I seem to recall a time when you were practically begging me for it, sweetheart." He leaned up against the entry into the bathroom and crossed his arms over his chest. The intensity of his gaze deepened. "Tell me another lie, Lexi."

The use of that name grated on her nerves in a way she couldn't fully put into words. Lexi was a shortened version of her name. A pet name. The kind of name that someone close to her would use. The name a lover used in intimate situations. The last person to call her Lexi was dead. Her current partner had no right to use that name with her. "Call me Lexi again and I'll shoot your dick off, Barton. Now fuck off and let me do my job."

There was malicious glee in his voice when he spoke again. "I'm sorry. Did I hit a nerve I? What's the matter, sweetheart? Don't you like it when I call you pet names?"

"What I'd like is for you to shut the fuck up and let me go back to doing my fucking job. Is that really so much to ask? Because, really. That's about all I fucking want right now. And let's not get into what I need because that involves being thousands of miles away from you. I hate this job! I hate this place! I fucking hate you!"

That brought a laugh up his throat. "You hate me. That's news. The last time you and I were alone together, you couldn't keep your hands to yourself, Lexi. You wanted me so bad that you couldn't get our clothes off fast enough." Smiling at her, he closed the distance between them until he was close enough to touch. He stared down at her, let eyes gone dark with a mix of emotions rake over her frame from head to toe. The heat in his gaze sent need stabbing through her. She swore he could see right into her soul when he looked at her like that. "You know what you need, Lexi? You need me to throw you on the bed and fuck you until your brains leak out your ears. You need to stop thinking for five god damned seconds and just feel. And you know what else? You want me to do it to you. You're just too fucking chicken shit to admit it. Maybe if I'd done it the first time, you wouldn't have gotten up and walked away in the middle of the night."

"I was drunk! I don't do casual sex!" she shot at him in defense.

Barton snorted. "Right. You don't do causal sex. Then what do you call what happened between us? Don't tell me that you don't do casual sex. Baby, you were so casual, you wanted me to screw you six ways until Sunday. I've never slept with a more obliging woman in all my life. If that wasn't casual sex, what was it?"

Heat flooded her face, letting her know that her color was high. She narrowed her gaze on him, then crossed her arms over her chest. She was going to let him know just what that night had been. "A mistake."

He blinked at her, some of the heat in his gaze cooling immediately. It was a mortal wound to his ego, one that she relished. "A mistake? You think screaming my name so loud that my neighbors thought I was murdering you was a mistake?"

"Of course it was a mistake. Why else would I have left you in the middle of the night?" She gave a laugh and turned away from him to once more stare out the window into the darkness. "What? Did you think I was going to wake at your side in the morning and confess my undying love to you? Do I really seem that naive and simple to you? I told you. I was drunk that night. I would have likely screamed like that for Coulson if he'd offered to fuck me. Don't flatter yourself and think that you're special. You aren't."

"You are a cold hearted bitch, Quinn." She heard him stalk away from her, back across the floor toward the bathroom. Good. The less she had to look at him or talk to him or be near him or even think about him, the better. The bathroom door slammed shut behind him.

"Coming from you, I'll take that as a compliment," she whispered before giving her full attention back to the HYDRA house.

Alex slipped the headphones back on and, after listening to the sound for a moment, began adjusting knobs to better hear what was going on. The listening device she'd planted was something Stark had come up with and had the ability to cover the entire house. Which was good, because it made this job that much easier. Now if only the god damned thing would make them say something important and useful, she'd be happy. So happy that she might consider giving the infamous Tony Stark a blow job for getting her away from this mission.

Ugh. What was it about Barton that always rubbed her the wrong way? He could so easily bring out the absolute worst in her and she didn't understand it at all. She didn't like him. At all. He was arrogant and so damned cock sure. He had a smart mouth. He had no respect for her. He was absolutely everything she hated. It didn't matter that he was good looking. It didn't matter that the sound of his voice made her knees weak and a single glance from his baby blues did weird things to her insides. None of that mattered.

She didn't like him. She wasn't attracted to him. She wanted to get away from him. Before he drove her insane and she did something rash, reckless, and stupid. Like start a fight with him and maybe kill him. Or fuck him. Again.

"We have new orders." The voice came across the line clean and clear. It was a new one, one that they hadn't heard in the HYDRA house before. It left Alex wondering if she'd missed the person's arrival when she'd been fighting with Barton. Just another reason to want to go home and get the fuck away from him. She couldn't do her fucking job around him.

"New orders? What does command want of us now?" That sounded like one of the guys they knew had been there for some time. There were no more than three HYDRA agents ever living in the house at any one time. Alex had named them Tom, Dick, and Harry. Based on the vocal intonations, she thought it was Dick.

"The weapon is almost complete. It should be operational within a month. The target has already been picked, as have a time and date." Alex heard some rustling of papers for a few seconds, then silence fell. She assumed that the two talkers were reading whatever was written on the papers. "As you can see, there is nothing that will stand in the way of our success. Already, we have agents working to make it easier to destroy our enemies."

"What of us?" Dick asked. A few more sheets of paper rustled.

"We are to await further instructions. At the moment, there are plans to strike against our enemies in place. HYDRA has lured MI6 agents to their death in Scotland while an agent works to put an end to a threat to our security." There was a sense of smugness to the stranger's voice when he spoke. Alex had no clue what the threat to their security was and so pushed the topic aside. But the mentions of Scotland brought fear screaming to life in her belly. Miri had gone to Scotland at the request of MI6. A base had been discovered in the Highlands and... Shit! She had to call someone and warn them.

Alex tugged the headphones off and made to retrieve her phone. She didn't care about anything that those men had to say. She had to make sure nothing happened to Miri. But the movement of a shadow caught her attention. She found herself staring down at the sandy ground, straining to see into the shadows. She didn't have to wait long. Only a second or two later, several shadows cut across the beach behind their neighbor's house, heading in the direction of the rental she and Barton were using.

Damn it. They were about to have company.

Alex was on her feet in the blink of an eye, heading for metal case that had, so far, been left undisturbed in the closet. The numbered dials spun crazily as she thumbed in the combination. When the dual latches popped open, she lifted the lid and began loading up. It took less than a minute to work the shoulder rig on. A pair of Glocks were tucked into the holsters, putting one under each arm. Then she added a belt that held extra clips and a few other surprises. She was halfway down the hall before she remembered that she had a partner.

"Clint! We have company!" she called out as she flew down the stairs toward the first level. She wasn't sure if he heard her because her attention was grabbed by the sound of the front door knob jiggling as someone tried to let himself in.

Alex faded into the shadows and drew one of the guns. It was pointed at the door when a hard shove saw the frame shattering to allow the door to swing open. The light from outside streamed in through the opening, silhouetting the figure that stood in the entryway. The man wore all black and was pointing something very automatic and very lethal. Alex gave a feral grin and fired. She felt the recoil all the way up her arm. The man in the door fell, his fingers squeezing the trigger of his gun to send a spray of ammunition up into the ceiling. She gave a brief thought to her partner, then headed for the kitchen.

She moved on silent feet. She'd already drawn the second gun and had both weapons at her sides. They'd be harder to see but since gunshots had already been heard, it wouldn't fool her enemies for long. Not that she needed long. It didn't take more than a second to pull the trigger and kill someone.

Shadows moved across the broad expanse of glass that made up the lower floor's back wall. It showed a really fantastic view of the beach and the ocean and Alex had spent more time than she cared to admit watching the waves roll in through those windows. Now, it showed her where more of the HYDRA agents were. In her rush to get downstairs, she'd forgotten that there was a set of stairs leading up to the balcony on the second level. Now there were men on their way to the upper level where Clint was waiting. To kill him.

Emotion washed over her, turning her heart to a block of ice in her chest.

For just a moment, memories stole her ability to think or act. She could barely even breathe. She saw a hotel room that was bright, vivid red. Everything had been washed in the color of crimson, the floor and bedding soaked in it. Sprays of blood painted the walls and ceiling. Empty eyes and cold skin. The room had smelled badly of death, of shit and piss and cordite. There had been at least two other bodies but she'd barely seen them. All she'd seen was his body laying in the midst of so much savagery.

The memory was bad enough. She'd had it locked away for years and hadn't thought of it in a long damn time. Because it hurt like a mother fucker and she couldn't function when she thought of it. But it morphed and changed, grew into a mix of past and present. And suddenly those dead eyes that stared empty at the ceiling were a different shade of blue. No longer did they sparkle with deep intent or casual arrogance. They didn't sparkle at all. There was nothing in them. Nothing except accusation. Dead as they were, they stared at her and laid the blame for their emptiness at her feet.

Oh, God. It was going to happen again. And she'd be too late to stop it again. And he'd die again.

She could already feel her mind closing off against the idea, could already feel the numbness growing inside of her. It would be so easy to just shut it all off and go away. Let all of it slip by her unnoticed. Just let her mind go to that same place it had gone to before. Forget that she cared...

Anger reared up inside of her and bellowed in her head to break the spell. No! She wasn't going to let it happen again. She was older. More experienced. She wasn't a scared little girl who didn't know what she should do. She had the means to end this in her hands. She was going to do it and, by God, she wasn't going to see another man fall for her inadequacies.

She burst out of the back of the house to the sounds of fighting echoing out into the night from the French doors that opened up out of the master bedroom onto the deck. Half a dozen HYDRA agents were streaming down the beach toward their rental house. Some looked as if they were armed. Some looked as if they weren't. She didn't think about it, simply took aim and started firing. One body fell, prompting the five others to scatter. That made it harder to fight the enemy because she could only sight one at a time.

Gun shots sounded from the upper level of the house, then all went silent. In the distance, Alex could hear the wailing of sirens. Someone had called the police. They would be there soon and things could get sticky. She didn't want any civilians harmed in the fire fight, which meant she had to wrap the whole mess up quickly. She didn't want the cops shot when they arrived.

Sand shifted behind her and Alex spun. Even before she'd come to a full stop, she pulled the trigger. The man dodged and the shot went wide, then he was crashing into her at full speed. The two of them tumbled to the ground in a flailing mess of arms and legs. The HYDRA agent landed on top of her and tried to choke her air off, but she brought one hand up and smacked the butt of her gun against his temple. It left him dazed enough that she threw him off of her. She gained her feet and took aim at the next target.

A dark shape threw itself at her from the shadows, caught her in the gut and propelled her backward. They hit the water and went down. It was shallow enough that there was no danger of drowning, assuming she could get him off of her. One hand lifted up to press the Glock to where she believed the man's head to be. Even with water washing over her face, she felt the warmth of blood and bits of brain matter splatter against her skin. The weight of the body slumped over her, pinning her under it for the few seconds it took to kick it off of her.

She rose from the water spluttering, trying to wipe water and hair out of her face without relinquishing her hold on the guns in her hand. Another HYDRA agent took the opportunity to sweep her feet from under her. She went back down into the salty water. Before she could think about getting up, a foot came down hard on her chest and pinned her there.

The salt burned her eyes when she opened them, but there was enough light from the moon in the sky and the surrounding civilization for her to see the blurry image of the man standing over her. This time when she took aim, she did so with both guns. And when the pulled the triggers, both rounds took her assailant right in the crotch.

Dragging herself from the water a second time, Alex decided that enough was enough. That house seemed to hold a never ending supply of HYDRA agents. The best way to stop them was to blow them sky high. Maybe, if she got lucky, she'd take out the owner of the new voice she'd heard not long ago. And any kind of important papers he'd brought with him. By rights, she should make an attempt to steal said papers for her superiors, but the safety of the general public was more important than those papers. While her weapons were loaded with hollow tips, she couldn't say the same for the weapons carried by the HYDRA agents. If even one stray bullet tore through an innocent bystander's body, she'd never let herself forget it.

Alex holstered one of the Glocks, making sure to secure it in its place, as she was running helter skelter down the beach toward the HYDRA house. It was brightly lit now, the mellow golden light that poured out its windows painting the beach behind it with squares of yellow. She could see people moving around inside of it, letting her know that they were trying to clear out and do it fast. There was no time for stealth.

Her empty hand went to the belt she'd put on and fumbled open one of the pouches that hung from it. When she had the flap pushed aside, she dipped her fingers in and came out with a hand grenade. Even as she reached the stretch of sand behind the house, she was working the pin from the thing so that they'd have very little time to react to its arrival. She brought herself to a halt in the same instant that she threw the grenade, lobbing it with perfect aim through an upper window. Three more followed in quick succession, each one coming out of its own pouch. Then she hauled ass down to the beach and threw herself into the water.

The four explosions shook everything around her and rattled her brains.

Alex rose from the water to find that the house was destroyed. Pieces of the building were still falling out of the sky toward the sandy ground. Lights had come on up and down the length of the beach, curious faces pressed to windows. Hopefully people wouldn't be entirely fucking stupid and leave the safety of their homes to see what was going on. That would be nothing but a disaster.

More gun fire rang out, dragging her attention back to the rental. Shit. Barton. She'd forgotten about him for a few moments. Trudging out of the water, she reached for her holstered gun and, both weapons in hand, took off running down the length of the beach toward the rental house.

A foot came out of nowhere and Alex went airborne. When she landed, she landed hard and her guns flew from her hands. Even before she could curse her luck, she rolled onto her back, then rolled herself up until she was once again on her feet. A hulking brute of a man leered down at her and swung a meaty fist. She jumped away from him, then darted in and drove a punch into his kidney.

Her hand made contact with his abdomen and he grunted, but it didn't put him down. His hands grabbed at her and dragged her into him, pinning her against his chest. She kicked a foot back into his shin, making sure to angle her heel against it. The move did nothing to deter him and she soon felt an arm coiling tightly around her throat. Fuck. If she didn't get out of his hold, and soon, she was a goner.

Going limp wasn't an option. She'd just choke herself faster. Maybe she could throw him over her shoulder. Except he held her so securely that she couldn't even bend at the waist. So she brought her hands up and curled them around his arm. Dug her nails into his flesh. Tried pulling while introducing enough pain to get him to loosen his hold. None of it worked, even though she could feel her nails cutting the skin. Could feel his blood trickling against his skin and hers. What the fuck? Was this HYDRA's poster boy for steroid use?

A slight breeze stirred against her cheek, barely a caress of air that didn't even disturb her hair. She heard a solid, meaty sounding thwack. The body behind her jerked, then simply slid away and toppled to the ground. She dropped to her knees, coughing and trying to pull air into her lungs. Alex turned to find the man flat on his back, the fletching on an arrow resting against his forehead. Blood oozed from the wound.

Wow. Holy fuck. She'd heard stories but... Holy fuck!

Alex turned back toward the beach house to see Barton tearing across the beach toward her, a quiver of arrows resting against his back and a bow clutched loosely in his left hand. He reached her when she tried to stand, his free hand reaching out to curl under her elbow and help pull her to her feet. Even in the semi-darkness, she could see the worry and fear in his eyes. Her heart did a flip in her chest, even though she told it to ignore that because it wasn't anything but concern for his partner. "You okay, sweetheart?" he asked her. She never got the chance to answer him, though, because he dragged her up against his chest and kissed the breath right out of her.

Oh, God. So good. She melted against him and moaned her approval into his mouth.

When he pulled back, he was smirking at her. That brought her temper back to a boil and, disgusted with herself, she shoved him away from her. "Its about fucking time you did something. Here I thought I was going to have to do all the killing."

"Glad you're okay, too, sweetheart," he told her. Alex shot him the finger and stomped away. His soft chuckle followed after her as she made for the house. They needed to have their S.H.I.E.L.D. IDs handy for the cops.

As she went, Alex decided that Clint Barton was a fucking asshole. And he'd better stop smirking at her or she'd add one more kill to the list.