Like Home
Title: Like Home, part one
Universe: something like the Marvel Universe, leaning mostly toward the Movie!Avengers branch.
Pairings: Miri/Phil, Alex/Clint
Rating: um... i'm going to have to say a solid R. mostly language. lots of language.
Warnings: language and violence.
Disclaimer: the recognizable characters 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. Miri belongs to dazzledfirestar and i'm only using her for the purpose of this fic.
Author's Notes: this is an... AU of the canon LCA 'verse. which is going to sound really weird when i say that it mirrors the events in the movie right up until the end. this story takes place after the fact and just throws some of the movie Sues into the mix.
~*~
"Agent Grant!" Hill called out, dragging Miri's attention her way. The woman looked battered and worn, but based on the way the bridge of the helicarrier looked, she had good reason. Miri wasn't that much better off herself, having battled with Loki's goons on one of the lower decks during the invasion. Clean up had followed after that. She was absolutely wiped and wanted nothing more than to find her quarters, shower, and sleep for a month. "Director Fury wants to speak to you in his office."
Miri nodded and rose from the seat she'd taken. She marked the exhaustion in Hill's voice. It echoed the expression that had come to rest on her face. The entire day had been hell and Miri knew that Hill had been in the middle of it all. She let her gaze slide to the side, toward the seat Alex had taken. Her best friend gave the appearance that she was calm and in control, but Miri knew better. She could see it in the tightness around Alex's eyes, in the blank expression. In the way Alex's hand lay clenched in a fist in her lap. Miri knew that there was a small piece off of one of Clint's arrows clutched in her fingers. And she knew that Alex was wondering. Worrying. Afraid.
"Quinn. Your presence is requested, too," Hill ordered. Alex jerked, as if she hadn't been expecting anyone to talk to her, and turned to give Hill a confused look. Maria jerked her head toward Miri. Alex blinked a couple of times, then nodded and rose. Her movements were slow and measured. Precise. As if she didn't trust herself to not fall or spasm or do something else to give herself away. Miri watched Alex come, watched how she placed her feet with intent. She was teetering, had been ever since Loki had shown up and taken the Tesseract. Had taken Clint.
Maria watched Alex move across the bridge, her gaze soft with understanding as it followed the other woman's progress. She, like Miri, knew that Alex had been having a hard time holding it together. Ever since this whole mess had started. When her friend reached her, she let her gaze slide past Alex to where Maria stood. Hill nodded at her, then turned and began issuing orders to the helm. Miri followed Alex out into the hallway.
"What do you think Fury wants?" Alex asked, her voice empty and hollow.
Miri shrugged. She knew that tone of voice well enough. It was the voice Alex used when she was asking a question to which she didn't really want the answer. But she couldn't help herself. It was the urge to question everything that helped make her a good agent. In this instance, Miri was sure she knew what Alex was thinking. And what she was asking. They both knew that the Avengers had fought Loki's alien army to save New York and the world. "I don't know, Alex. I'm sure he's okay, though. You know he's that damn good."
Alex glanced at her, green eyes filled with appreciation. "Thanks, Miri." She bumped her shoulder against Miri's and fell silent, leaving Miri to her own thoughts. She couldn't imagine why Fury was calling them to his office unless he had some kind of news to share. Alex's fears took root and crept through her. If Fury had bad news for one of them, he'd no doubt want the other of them there as a shoulder to lean on. Miri had missed most of the action that had taken place in the city, but she had no illusions that it had been dangerous. And she worried that Fury was calling them down so that he could tell Alex that something had happened to Clint and Miri could catch her friend when she fell.
The silence built between them, thick and heavy and oppressive. It was a hint of things to come. She was sure of that. And it made her wonder just what kind of news awaited them in Fury's office.
When they arrived, they glanced at each other. Miri could see the emotions clouding her friend's green gaze, could read them easily. She was sure that the same emotions filled her own eyes, darkening the lavender to deep purple. Alex shrugged her shoulders before reaching out to rap solidly on the door with a loose fist. Fury's voice called out from the other side of the closed portal, short and terse and empty. "Enter!"
Miri reached for the knob and turned it, pushing the door open wide. Alex motioned her in with a hand, let Miri step in before her, then pulled the door closed behind her as she entered Fury's office. The director sat behind his desk, a group of files spread out before him. One hand held a pen and he scribbled furiously across the surface of one sheet while the other hand rested on the paper, keeping it in place so that his writing would be smooth and steady.
They both knew that Fury would speak to them when ready. There was no pushing the man when he didn't want to be pushed. Miri fell into parade rest, hands clasped behind her back. Alex stood with her arms loose at her sides, a deceptively relaxed position that she'd seen the other woman use only moments before going for her guns and taking an enemy down with a single shot to the forehead. She wasn't any more at ease than Miri was, obviously trying to prepare herself for the worst.
Silence stretched thin and taut, an ominous cloud hanging over their heads. Something had to be seriously wrong because it wasn't like Fury to call them into his office like this. They usually reported to Maria. Or Phil. And there was something decidedly unhappy about the way Fury held himself. She could see it in the tension that pulled his shoulders tight, in the lines that bracketed his mouth and eyes. Something really bad had happened.
The sound of his pen hitting the surface of the desk was loud in the room. Fury rose from his chair and looked them both over, then headed toward a flat screen television mounted on the wall. "I want to thank both of you for coming so quickly," he told them, his voice even and flat. Empty. That definitely meant bad news. Miri was sure of it. There was always some kind of emotion living in Fury's words. Something really, really bad had happened. He leveled his gaze on them, his one good eye sharp and intent as it took them both in. Then he motioned to the screen. "Before I explain why I've called you here, I want you both to see something."
One finger hit a button and the television screen flickered to life with color and action and sound.
Someone had managed to capture raw footage on their phone or a video camera that was being alternated with footage shot by television and security cameras. Fury remained silent as they watched the Chitauri drop from the portal opened in the sky over Stark Tower and fan out across the city. They watched as Thor summoned lightning to strike the aliens down. They watched as Hulk leapt from building to building, catching hold of the enemy and slamming it into concrete walls or into the ground. They watched as Stark, brilliant in his suit of red and gold armor, zipped through the air and used blasts from his repulsors to knock the Chitauri out of the sky, as he fired miniature missiles and other things. They watched as Captain Rogers battled the foe that ended up on the ground, his shield a spinning disc of freedom and vengeance as it whipped around a pre-determined circle and took down any enemy stupid enough to get in its way. They watched as Natasha stood tall and fired her guns at the aliens, as she used their own weapons against them, her red hair burning like flames despite the dust in the air. They watched as some of the alien craft exploded far up in the sky when no one was near it.
The city was in ruins. Buildings were crumbling to dust, large chunks of walls scattered on the ground like boulders. Slabs of the road had been sent flying, as if a child had thrown a tantrum and tossed their toys down. Some cars had been crushed under the falling debris or the giant alien corpses that had fallen from the sky. Some cars were burning brightly, flames licking at their bodies hungrily while others still smoldered and smoked after the flames had died away. Glass was sprinkled on the sidewalks and the streets, glittering like shattered gems left out in the sun. Vehicles were left scattered in all directions on the roads, some of them upside down or on their sides. There was destruction everywhere.
It was in the faces of the police and military. It was in the faces of the firemen and the EMTs. It was in the faces of the survivors, who could do nothing more than stand and stare at what was left of their homes and businesses and lives. Alien bodies and technology, broken and beaten down, were limp rag dolls and useless weapons. The city was a war zone and the streets were a cemetery.
The television went off and Fury gave them his full attention. Miri could feel the weight of his stare resting on her before it shifted away. "You were both aware that we had Loki here under lock and key."
It wasn't a question, yet they both nodded in response. "Yes, sir," Miri added for good measure.
"The attack that took out the number three engine was a carefully crafted plan designed to see us broken apart." He moved to retake his seat, settling in the chair and resting his elbows on the desk so he could steeple his hands in front of him, before he continued on. "Agent Barton led that attack."
Miri felt Alex tense beside her, felt her struggle not to make a comment or a sound. It had to be hell because she'd been worried for days about Clint. To find that he'd been instrumental in all of the chaos and destruction must have been more than she'd expected. "Agent Romanova was able to knock some sense into him. By doing so, she released him from Loki's hold. As far as I'm concerned, Barton's part in the attacks was done under duress. Loki was in his head and forced him to act against his friends and colleagues. Naturally he's going to have to sit through some psych evals until we can be sure there are no lasting effects. But after seeing what he did against Loki's army, I have no plans on doing anything to him."
Miri heard Alex sigh. "Thank you, sir."
Fury looked at them both for a few moments before he heaved his own sigh and began shifting the papers on his desk around. "During the attack, some of Loki's people were able to free him from the cage we had him in. Agent Coulson attempted to stop him from leaving."
There was so much heaviness in those words that Miri felt her heart stop beating and her stomach dropped to her feet. "Sir?" she asked, careful to keep her voice steady.
"I'm sorry, Agent Grant. There's no easy way to say this. Agent Coulson is dead. Loki stabbed him in the back."
Miri blinked, sure she'd just heard him wrong. "I'm sorry, sir. I don't think I heard you correctly. You must be mistaken. Phil can't be..." her voice trailed off, her mind utterly incapable of even thinking the word, much less making it come out of her mouth.
She had the vague impression that Alex had moved closer to her, though it was only an abstract sense of heat to her left. Her friend was there to offer her support, but she hadn't yet physically touched her. It was something Miri was grateful for because she felt that she'd lose all control if Alex put a hand on her in sympathy.
"While everyone was busy fighting off Loki's minions," Fury began, one hand lifting toward the television as if he was going to turn it on again. His eye glanced her way and the arm lowered, as if he'd decided it was a good idea to simply speak and not show. "Coulson headed to the armory and armed himself. Then he proceeded to the containment cell where we had Loki and faced him down."
"He went up against Loki?" She made sure her voice was soft and calm. If she gave in to hysterics or emotional outbursts right now, she was afraid she wasn't going to stop. Alex moved closer but still didn't touch her.
"He had orders, Agent Grant. Just like you and everyone else on this boat. He was following them. It was unfortunate that Loki doesn't play by the same rules as everyone else." Fury's voice hardened down just a little, allowing some of his impatience to leak through.
"Orders. He was down there on orders?"
Fury regarded her quietly with his one eye, his face impassive. "I needed someone down there to try and keep Loki contained."
"You sent one man down there to keep a fucking god contained? Really? Did we learn nothing about him after the New Mexico incident? How the hell did you expect Phil to keep Loki contained? Thor's brother is batshit insane and we already knew he doesn't play by the same rules we do."
"Agent Coulson was armed with the prototype built based on Destroyer's technology. He was well capable of--" Fury began, only to be interrupted by Miri when she slammed her fist down on the edge of his desk.
"You let him take untested weaponry up against Loki? And you let him go alone? Pardon me, sir, but is your eye patch on too tight? I think its cutting off circulation your brain. Because I could swear it sounds like you're admitting that you set him up to fail."
Fury drew himself up to his full height and glared at her. Any other time, Miri would have taken it for the warning sign it was meant to be. But not now. Not when she was hanging on to her sanity by a thread. The only thing she could do was lash out and hope she hurt him with her words as much as he'd hurt her. "I'm going to let your insubordination go because I know you're in shock and grieving, Agent Grant. But I suggest that you don't push your luck. You won't like it when I push back."
"You haven't seen anything yet, sir," she snapped off, making sure to put a touch of sarcastic bite into his title. Fury scowled, letting her know she'd hit home with her barb.
"Agent Quinn. Get your partner out of my office before I have her thrown in the brig for insubordination." The tone of his voice saw Miri lunging for him. but Alex's hand on her arm drew her up short. She turned to shoot a glare at Alex, only to find that her friend wasn't looking at her. She was staring at Fury, green eyes spitting sparks as anger simmered in them.
"We're going, sir. And just so you know, this was the dickiest thing you've ever done, sir. Agent Coulson might be a badass, but he deserves back up as much as anyone else. Sending him after Loki alone was wrong and I really hope I'm there when Miri puts you on your ass." Before he could say anything, Alex was tugging Miri toward the door. She shoved Miri through roughly, then made sure to slam the metal door as hard as she was able.
"You shouldn't have stopped me, Alex," Miri snarled, but she turned and started up the corridor. Alex fell in behind her.
"There'll be a better time, Miri. He was expecting it. You want him off kilter when you punch him." Alex paused, giving her time to think her words over. After a few minutes, she spoke again. This time, there was a hint of a snarl to her words. "And I really want to see you put that man on his ass, Miri. Its no less than he deserves."
It was too quiet in the hall, Fury's words echoing loudly in Miri's head. She swallowed hard and gave Alex a look. "Get me the hell out of here. I don't care where we go. Just get me out of here."
~*~*~*~*~
Alex stared at the television, watched the never ending cycle of images being played and replayed on every major news media channel. She'd long ago turned down the sound, but she couldn't quite force herself to turn off the picture. The beer in her hands had gone warm long ago, but she still drank from the bottle in an attempt to make her brain shut off. To put an end to the words that circled mercilessly around her head. "I'm sorry, Agent Grant. Agent Coulson is dead.
It just couldn't be.
She lifted the bottle to her lips, took a deep pull off of it, made a face as the piss warm liquid slid down her throat. Fury was an asshole. A giant fucking asshole and she couldn't repress the urge to return to the helicarrier with her wrench in hand. Assaulting him would see her ass landed in the brig, but it would feel really fucking good to whack the mother fucker upside the head. Because she really hated him right now. Hated him for putting Coulson's life on the line the way he had. Hated him for putting that lost look on Miri's face.
Fuck. Miri. She should be sitting with her friend right now, not sitting at home on her couch, watching the news and waiting for the sound of keys in the door. Miri needed her. And she'd been fully prepared to go home with her friend, to hold her and cry with her and help her deal with the pain of loss. But Miri had closed herself off and told Alex to more or less fuck off when she'd offered her friend a shoulder. So she'd been forced to leave Miri alone and she hated that. She hated that she couldn't help her friend cope with the loss and the grief and the rage. She hated feeling fucking useless.
She went to take another drink and found the bottle empty. Fuck. Why weren't these things bottomless? Rising to her feet, she shuffled to the kitchen and dragged another long neck out of the fridge. The action brought to her attention, yet again, that she was still in a standard issue S.H.I.E.L.D. jumpsuit, still covered in dirt and grease and maybe even some blood. She should go shower and clean up. But she just didn't have the energy. Truth was, she was still on edge, still waiting. Clint would be home soon and she wanted to be waiting for him when he showed up.
That made her feel guilty all over again and, without meaning to, her thoughts turned once again to Miri.
Fuck it. She brought the remainder of the six pack from the fridge, carrying it with her in that cheap ass cardboard carrier back to the living room. The beer thunked satisfyingly when she set it down on the wooden coffee table. Taking her seat once more, she popped the top off her beer and took a long drink off of it. Her eyes glued themselves to the screen once more and she continued to watch the same thing over and over again. Continued to drink. Continued to try and keep her thoughts at bay. Continued waiting for the sound of keys in the door.
~*~
She was half asleep, half waking, when she thought she heard the metallic jangle of keys in the lock. Alex dragged her eyes open to find that the news was still reporting on the alien invasion in New York, on the Avengers' daring battle against the alien forces. The same images flashed again and again, ones she'd seen a thousand times before. One hand went searching blindly for the remote, which she never found, while her other lifted the bottle she still held in her fingers. There was a slosh of beer at the bottom that told her she hadn't finished it. Naturally she rectified that immediately, before the memories of the day could settle in.
"Why are you watching this shit, Lexi?" Clint's voice was rough and drawn. The sound of his keys landing in the dish near the door brought her head around to see him standing there, blue eyes studying her intently. Watching her carefully. She let her gaze slide over him, took note of the raw patches of skin showing through on his arms and the way his hair haloed his head haphazardly. He was in a t-shirt and jeans, jacket hanging from one hand.
"Nothing else on," she replied before setting the empty bottle down on the table. It took its place up next to the other five empties. Clint's eyes followed her motions and he frowned to see the drained six pack.
"Lexi." His tone was filled with displeasure.
"I thought I'd lost you," she replied quietly, gaze sliding back to the television. It was an actual live shot, the sky behind the reporter dark. Fires still burned and lights burned brightly to show every last scrap of rubble that cluttered the fractured street. "When Fury told me that Loki'd taken you... I thought I'd lost you. I thought you were gone for good. I've been teetering on the razor's edge ever since. The higher the body count got, the more I worried that you'd never come back. Even if we got you back. I was afraid I'd lost you." She whispered the last so that her voice was barely audible in the room.
"I'm here, Lexi. I'm not leaving again," he promised. A stupid promise, because they both knew it could all go to hell tomorrow or the next day or the next. But she accepted it and held it close to her heart. The emotions she'd worked so hard to keep locked behind iron walls burst forth in a spate of tears that left her hiccupping and sobbing almost immediately. She rose from her seat and stumbled across the room to him, let him pull her tight into his embrace and hold her close.
"I thought I'd lost you," she repeated, over and over again until he was left with no recourse but to cover her mouth with his own. Until he kissed her fears away and left her knees weak with relief. She clung to him and sobbed into his t-shirt and felt the guilt eat her up even more.
"Its okay, Lexi. I swear I won't let you go," he whispered, the words spoken right beside her ear. His hands stroked her back. His fingers tangled in the length of her hair. He was solid and real and there, holding her tight to his body. She thought of the conversation with Fury from earlier. She thought of Miri's blank stare, of her friend's disbelief and shock. She thought of Miri left alone and how it must have hurt to learn that Clint was coming back and Coulson wasn't. The dam broke and she shook with the force of her tears.
Clint forced her back and away, forced her to look up at him. His hands held her face, palms rough against her cheeks, while his thumbs reached up to wipe the tears away. "Shhhh. Lexi. Its okay. I'm right here. I'm not going to leave you again. I promise. Please don't cry, sweetheart. I hate it when you cry."
"Miri," she managed to get out before the tears spilled over again. "C- Coulson..."
"I know, baby," he whispered and tugged her into his embrace again, hugged her tight to his chest again. "I am so sorry. I can't imagine what Miri's feeling right now. I half expected you to be with her."
"She didn't want me around," Alex admitted, still stung by Miri's refusal of her company.
"She's got a lot to absorb. She needs time, Alex. She'll come to you when she needs you." She nodded her head against his chest, unwilling to let him go just yet. Clint stroked his hands down her back and dropped a kiss on her head. She nodded and clutched at him even harder.
"Have you eaten?" he asked her quietly.
"No. I haven't had much of an appetite lately. I probably wouldn't have eaten at all while you were gone if not for Miri and Phil..." her words trailed off a moment before she started crying again. She felt him sigh.
"Shower first, followed by food. And then bed," he told her, using the tone of voice he'd always used with her whenever she'd been in need of someone to play the adult with her. Pulling back from his soaked, snotty t-shirt, she looked up at him to find that he was watching her with concern. She tried a smile, but it wouldn't come.
"Shower with me, baby," she pleaded. His gaze slid over her face, taking in the dirty, disheveled mess that was her hair, before moving on to the smudges that marred her clothes. The frown that came when he saw dried blood here and there made her wonder what he was really seeing. She lifted both hands to his face, forced him to look up at her. "Please, Clint. Shower with me. Hold me. I'll hold you. We'll figure everything else later."
He nodded and stepped back, took her hand in his, and tugged her after him toward the bathroom. It was a long damn time before they left the shower and, when they did, they skipped food to curl up in the bed. Clint held her close and slowly stroked her hair with one hand. She fell asleep with the heat of his body against hers and the clear, gorgeous sound of his voice singing in her ear.
~*~*~*~*~
"Hey. You wanna go get some lunch?" Alex asked, head poked into Miri's office because talking to her face to face seemed to be the only way to get an answer out of her these days. Her friend looked up from the paperwork on the desk before her and gave Alex a blank stare. Alex held back the frown and tried to put a smile on her face. It was a hard sell because she'd watched Miri withdraw from her more and more with each passing day.
"I've got a lot of work to do, Alex. Thanks, though. Maybe next time," Miri replied, voice dull and flat, utterly lifeless. It had been this way ever since Fury had given them the news and nothing Alex did seemed to help. She sighed and tried to come up with an excuse to drag Miri away from her desk, something that would actually work. But nothing came to mind and, even worse, Miri wasn't even paying her any attention anymore. Alex heaved a soft sigh and pulled out of the door, tugging the door shut after her.
Fuck. She was losing her best friend. This called for some serious thinking on her part.
The gym was empty when she stepped in, having stopped long enough to change into her work out clothes. She pondered grabbing the portable stereo, but decided against it. She'd only have to turn it off if someone came in. Besides, she needed to be able to hear her thoughts. Taking on the heavy bag with Godsmack or Metallica playing in the background didn't necessarily guarantee such a thing.
She took a minute or two to fit her sparring gloves in place, then headed over to the corner where the heavy bag hung waiting for her. She took a few minutes to warm up, jabbing at the bag with slow, steady strikes that stretched her muscles out for more a strenuous work out. When she was warm and loose, she went after the bag with intent, her fists thudding sharp and hard so that the force of the blow vibrated all the way up her arms.
It hadn't been long since the helicarrier had nearly been destroyed and the subsequent fight on the streets and in the skies of New York City. Just thinking about those events made her heart pound in fear. She lived with the secret fear that someone would demand Clint be made to pay for his part in Loki's assault. If he was taken away from her again, she didn't know what she'd do.
Alex shoved those thoughts aside and turned her attention back to her main focus. Miri. And how Miri was dealing with the loss of Coulson. Or rather, how she wasn't dealing. In the first few days after Fury had told them, Alex had watched as Miri had remained numb and silent, had hoped that it was nothing more than a phase as she dealt with her grief. It had been acceptable and expected at the memorial and funeral services that had been held for Coulson. But as the days between then and now had passed, she'd only withdrawn further. From everything.
The silences had stretched and grown longer until she almost never talked anymore. The numbness seemed to spread until she wasn't even the same person as she once had been. Alex had tried to reach her but Miri had kept pushing her away. Phone calls went unanswered and voice mail unreturned. When she wasn't working, she locked herself away in the apartment she and Phil had shared. It wasn't healthy. Not at all. Alex didn't know what to do.
Frustration at not being able to give Miri the support she so obviously needed rose to the surface. Alex's jabs and punches came faster and stronger, her fists hitting the heavy bag harder than before. Sweat had broken out on her skin, dripped down her cheeks and ran off her nose. Trickled between her breasts and trailed down her spine. She pounded the bag until her knuckles ached and her nails felt as if they were cutting through the material of the glove to score her palms. She welcomed the pain and kept up the punishing pace.
She hated this. She hated the fact that she couldn't do a god damned thing to help her friend. She hated that Miri was pulling away from her. Even her mother had noticed and asked some awkward questions that Alex hadn't known how to answer. She felt helpless. Useless. Unwanted. Not needed. Fucking Loki. She wished they'd let Clint end it. Or Hulk. Fuck. Any of them. It was only a fraction of what the arrogant mother fucker deserved for the lives he'd destroyed and the mess he'd made. She'd love to take her wrench to his weasely face and really fuck him up.
Her arms kept swinging, fists connecting with the heavy bag despite the fact that her muscles trembled with fatigue. She could tell by the sticky feel of her knuckles that they'd split and were bleeding. The gloves had only protected her so far. Her shoulders were tight and ached and the breath sawed in and out of her lungs like a bellow working. Sweat stung her eyes and blurred her vision. But she didn't stop. Couldn't stop. Because the anger still bubbled and boiled in her chest. She had to end it somehow.
"Come on, Lexi. That's enough punishment," Clint's voice hit her ears only a second or two after one of his hands curled around her shoulder. Alex was lost in the moment, her mind set to react to any threat. The touch of a hand on her shoulder when she was in this state was always a threat, no matter who put his hand on her. She spun, wrenching herself out of his hold while bringing a foot up. It was aimed for his mid-section, but it never impacted. Instead, his arms were there to block the kick while one of his own legs lashed out to kick her other foot out from under her.
She went down and immediately rolled up into a crouch, hands ready to strike. Clint sighed heavily and advanced on her, body loose and ready for anything. He didn't crowd her and he didn't rush at her, simply bounced on his feet and waited for her to come at him. Had she been thinking, she would have realized that they'd played this game before, several times. And Clint always won when they did. But she wasn't thinking and, even if she was, she wouldn't have given a shit anyway. She just needed to hurt someone.
Alex launched herself at him, fists flying in a complex series of blows. Naturally he blocked each and every one of them, his arms absorbing the abuse she tried to rain down on him. He gave her five minutes to tire herself out before he caught hold of one arm and twisted it, pulling her into his body at the same time. Before she could attempt to stomp on his foot or crack his nose with the back of her skull, her feet were taken out from under her again and she found herself face down on the floor, her arm still grasped in his hold and one knee pressing into her spine. "Enough, baby. Quit punishing yourself."
"Fuck you," she spat. But she didn't try to fight her way clear of his hold. Too much movement would see her shoulder wrenched from its socket. Instead, she willed the tension to leave her body and did her best to shove the anger and the rage back down. Clint didn't let go of her until she'd been limp and still for nearly five minutes. And he only released his hold on her so that he could pull her to her feet and into his arms. She went without complaint.
"What's got you all pissed off?" he asked softly, turning them so that they were heading for the locker room.
"I thought you were in a briefing. What are you doing here?" she asked, blatantly ignoring his question.
"I saw junior agents running from the gym in screaming fear," he grinned, his voice teasing. She punched him none too gently in the side, satisfied to hear the air run out of him. "Seriously, sweetheart. Tasha came and found me. She said you were in here abusing the crap out of yourself. She might have taken care of it herself, but you would likely have ended up in medical with a concussion. So what's going on?"
"Just trying to sort out my thoughts," she replied. She could feel his gaze heavy on her face, letting her know he didn't believe her for a second. But he said nothing, simply kept his arm around her as he steered her into the women's locker room.
"Shower. Get cleaned up. I'll give you fifteen minutes. If you're not out by then, I'll assume you're trying to drown yourself and I'll come in to get you." There was a leer in his voice and, when she looked up into his face properly, he waggled his eyebrows at her. Alex chuckled softly at his blatant innuendo before reaching up to tug him down into a quick kiss.
"I still need to spar. By all means. Come in and interrupt me. We'll see how that goes."
"Get cleaned up and out in the hallway in fifteen minutes and I will treat you to dinner." He gave an extra eye waggle.
Alex rolled her eyes and jabbed a finger into his belly none too gently. "You always treat me to dinner. I can't cook, remember?"
"How can I forget? The last time you attempted to cook, you gave everyone food poisoning," he reminded her. She shot him a smile that quickly faded when she recalled that the dinner he was speaking of had been one to which she'd invited Miri and Coulson. "Alex?"
"Rain check, babe. I have something I need to do before I can eat. I'll meet you at home, okay?"
"If I find out that this something you have to do before you eat is punish your hands further, I will let Tasha beat the ever loving shit out of you," he warned. The concern in his words warmed her heart. She gave him a soft smile and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him close to her. There was tension in his body, the same tension that was always there now after everything that had happened with Loki. The same tension that she felt every time they had some sort of disagreement. Like he expected her to walk out on him. Like he expected her to blame him for all of it. Didn't he know that she'd never laid blame for anything at his feet?
Didn't he know that he was her heart? The air she breathed? Didn't he know that she couldn't, didn't want to, live without him? Didn't he know that she loved him more than she loved life itself?
"I have no plans to further abuse my hands, baby. I just... I need to go talk to Miri. I feel like I'm losing her. I'm losing my best friend and I don't know how to help her. I have to try and fix things or..." she trailed off, looking up at him with eyes that she knew were far to big. Clint sighed and closed the distance between them, resting his forehead against her own.
"Lexi. Sweetheart. There's nothing to fix there. Nothing that you can fix, anyway," he told her and she could hear in his voice the blame that he'd already laid on his own head for all that had happened that day. "You didn't do anything wrong." Its my fault that Phil is dead. He didn't say it, but she heard it there anyway. She drew free of his hold and glared at him.
"It isn't your fault. Stop blaming yourself for something you didn't do."
"Baby, I was the one who--" She didn't let him finish the words, just swung her fist and caught him unaware. Her hand screamed at her for the action, but she ignored it. Simply stood there and watched him stare down at her with a vaguely shocked expression on his face.
"You say that again one more time, Clint Barton, and I will end you. It isn't your fault!" she snapped. Then she whirled away and headed into the women's locker room. She'd deal with him when she got home. But first, she had to go deal with Miri.
~*~
Alex gave up after the third knock and went for the keys in her pocket. She'd been standing out in the hallway for the better part of ten minutes, waiting for Miri to answer the door. She knew Miri was here, had sat in her car and stared up at the apartment's windows looking for lights and movement just to be sure. It bothered her that Miri hadn't let her in yet, sent fingers of dread climbing down her spine. She made sure to rattle the keys loudly so as not to startle her friend, but she felt no guilt about sliding the key into the lock and turning it. She felt no guilt what so ever about letting herself in.
The apartment was dimly lit, littered with crumpled up pieces of paper and empty beer bottles. There was a slew of file folders spread across the coffee table and Miri's laptop sat open. Even from where she stood, Alex could see the flickering light of the screen. What she didn't see was dirtied plates, crumpled food wrappers, take out cartons, and abandoned drink cups. The worry and concern clutching tightly to her heart ramped up a notch and left her breathless.
She also didn't see any sign of her friend. "Miri?"
"Go away, Alex." Miri's voice came from the direction of the bedroom. Alex turned to find the other woman standing in the doorway, body illuminated from behind by the dim light of a bedside lamp. Alex crossed her arms over her chest and leaned up against the wall behind her.
"Not a chance. Not until we talk."
"There's nothing to talk about," Miri replied evenly. Tonelessly. Alex frowned and shook her head.
"There's plenty to talk about. Like how you're obviously not eating. And how you're obviously not coping. And how you're pulling away from me and Clint and everyone. You can talk to me, Miri. You can share your pain with me. I can help you with-- "
"There's nothing to help me with, Alex. There's nothing to talk about. There's nothing you can do! There. Is. Nothing!" Miri snapped, bringing Alex's words to an abrupt end. "Just get out. Get out and leave me alone. I'm fine."
The lack of emotion in the other woman's voice hurt Alex's heart. She pushed off the wall and crossed toward Miri. The closer she got, the more frightened she became. There was nothing, absolutely nothing, living in her eyes. It was like looking into the glassy stare of a corpse. "You're not fine, Miri. You won't talk to me. You won't let me offer you my support. You do nothing beyond work. My mother is asking after you and I can't tell her you're falling apart because I can't tell her the whole story. You're my best fucking friend, more like my sister, and you won't let me in to help you."
"I told you. There's nothing to help me with. I don't need your shoulder or your sympathy or your support. I'm just fucking fine. Now run along and go home to Clint. I'm sure he's worried about you." There was a spark of something in her words. Alex couldn't figure out what it was. Jealousy or hurt or anger. But it was there for a fleeting moment and it never touched her eyes.
"Clint knows where I am," she replied shortly. "I'm worried about you, Miri. Please. Just... Just talk to me."
"Go home, Alex. There is nothing to talk about. Nothing. I don't need your help and I don't need your fucking sympathy."
"You need to talk about this, Miri. I can see how its eating you up from the inside. I-- " she began, only to have her words come to a screeching halt when Miri threw herself into Alex and shoved her up against the wall. Put the muzzle of her Glock dead center against Alex's forehead. Alex swallowed hard and kept her gaze locked on the other woman's face. "Miri. Please. It doesn't have to be like this. Just talk to me. Please."
"I will only tell you this one more time, Alex," Miri ground out between clenched teeth. The barrel of the gun dug in. Just a little. "There is nothing to talk about. Nothing! You can't help me. You can't do anything for me. You can't fucking help. So leave me. The fuck. Alone! Get out of here now and go home. Do not come back. Just go. Because if you don't... I swear to god, Alex." Miri cocked the hammer back to drive her point home. The metallic click was loud in the silence of the apartment.
Alex swallowed hard again and lifted her hands in an 'I surrender' kind of gesture. Miri backed up, pulled her gun away from Alex's skull, but she didn't lower the weapon. It remained leveled dead center of Alex's forehead, ready to put a hole there if the need arose. Alex paced backward, back toward the hallway that would take her to the door. She didn't break eye contact the entire time, let Miri see the hurt and the betrayal on her face. She wanted to say something. Anything. But she couldn't find the words.
In the end, there was nothing to say at all.
~*~*~*~*~
The fact that he didn't have to dodge gunfire when he picked the lock on her door was sign number one to him that no matter what Alex had said, he was right. He'd seen this woman take down a dozen HYDRA goons with a pocket knife and a broken ankle. There was no way she didn't know he was there.
He'd decided to see for himself what was going on after Alex had come home and refused steadfastly to talk about what had happened with Miri. All Alex had been willing to tell him was that the other woman had no need for compassion or companionship or anything else at all. Then she'd polished off the rest of the six pack in the fridge and had started muttering to herself about what she'd seen in Miri's apartment. All of it had sounded a touch odd to Clint, had started him thinking about what was really going on. Especially when Alex had let it slip that Miri had put a gun to her head.
He didn't like the picture he'd come up with because it was absolutely fucking suicidal. And it was exactly what he wanted to do himself.
"Miri?"
Her voice was soft, just loud enough to hear and barely enough to track her to where she was sitting in her living room. "Get out."
He took paused at the end of the hall and took in the scene. Gone was the mess Alex had described. It had been replaced with a new one. Most times, he'd say she'd been keeping busy. Looked like half her personal gun safe was cleared out and laid out on the table, all freshly cleaned and ready for use. Several blades sat amongst the guns, as well, and the sharp glint of the street light from the window of the blade in her hand told him there was something different about that one. He really didn't like what he was seeing. "No."
"I said, get. Out." Her tone didn't change, not really. He sighed to himself. Sign number two that he was right in what he was thinking. He knew how she operated. And Alex had said a thousand times that she never got worried if Miri yelled or showed how pissed off she was. It was when she was like this, controlled, quiet. That was when she was dangerous. And he thought he knew where that danger was going to get aimed. "Now, Clint."
"No, Miri." He picked up the Glock resting on the corner of the table where she'd left it. It wasn't loaded. Yet. It looked like the end of the muzzle matched up to the faint bruise Miri had left on Alex's forehead. He flicked his gaze her way. "Looks like you've got something in the works."
"Go home to Alex."
"No." He cocked the gun, inspected it for a minute before turning his attention to the knife in her hand. "Taking S.H.I.E.L.D.'s toys with you? That's not steel."
"No. Its not." She lifted her head and glared at him. "And its not S.H.I.E.L.D.'s. Its mine."
"Yours?" That was curious. Clint sat down on the far end of the couch and he was very, very aware of how intently her eyes followed his every move. His eyes skimmed over the blade again. He'd seen that metal before and there was no way in hell that it was any kind of steel. "Come on, Grant. Unless I'm wrong, that's-- "
Miri cut him off with curt response. "It is."
He blinked at her. "Where the fuck would you get-- "
"It was a gift." Her eyes dropped back down to the blade in her hand, but he didn't miss a beat.
"A gift. Who the f-- " His words trailed off because even before the phrase had fully left his mouth, it sunk in. "Oh."
"Yes."
"Jesus, Miri. I'm-- "
"If you say you're sorry, I'll bury this between your eyes, Barton. I swear to God," she snarled, adjusted her grip on the knife
Clint put his hands up and inched back on the couch to let her know he'd meant no harm. "Okay. Okay. Just relax."
Miri watched him for a few moments before she shifted the knife back around. The blade moved in her hand like it was part of her and he breathed a little easier when she didn't have it in immediate attack position. Not a lot easier. but a little. "How did--"
She stared at him for so long that he thought she wouldn't answer. Then she sighed and ran her thumb along the super sharp edge of the blade, careful not to slice her skin open on it. "We... did a mission to Wakanda. The king was so damn impressed with him that he gave us these... It was a matched set, actually." There was nothing in her voice to give away what she might be feeling about it. Clint's suspicions only solidified further with it. He was sure she was planning something. And he was sure that he knew what that something was.
"I didn't know about you two until Alex told me," he admitted softly, careful to keep any pity he felt out of his voice. He didn't want to set her off if he could help it.
"Nobody did." She let out a dry laugh, shook her head. Clint was sure that she didn't find any of this funny. "Well... Fury did. Alex did. I'm pretty sure Natasha had it mostly figured out."
"Stark said something about a cellist..." Clint told her, watched her carefully for any signs and just managed to catch the blush on her cheeks before she spoke again.
"What did he say?"
"That there was a cellist in Portland. That he wanted to track her down, let her know what happened..." Clint trailed off when something in Miri's gaze softened. Just for a second or two. Then it was gone and her stare went back to being hard. Impenetrable. Empty.
"It was me." He stared at her in morbid curiosity, not quite able to help himself. Miri shrugged and glanced down at her hands. "It was part of the cover. I... We were on this mission, deep undercover about six months ago."
He nodded. "I remember."
"He... That's when we kind of... figured all of this out. That it wasn't just--" Her words faltered only a moment before she squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. He knew what that meant, could see the signs as plain as day even though she was doing her best to hide it. Hadn't see seen it before, on another face? Miri had loved Coulson and, if Clint felt like placing a bet in that moment, he'd put money on the fact that Coulson had loved her right back. This whole fucking mess had to be killing her and it couldn't help that he was in her face, alive and breathing after being taken by Loki. He was alive and Coulson was dead. Anger he'd tried hard to quash in the weeks since the attack started boiling under his skin. It took Miri's words to pull him back from the abyss that he seemed to be teetering on. "I was posing as a cellist. I'd played through school and... Well, it seemed like a nice way to hid what was really going on."
"And Portland?" he asked, voice soft and gentle.
"I was born there." She shrugged like it was no big deal, twirling the glittering knife in her hand once again. Clint's eyes dropped to it and watched it for a few seconds. "It was easy to remember. Technically, I am a cellist from Portland..."
"Hiding in plain sight. What better way than to disguise the truth than by using the truth?" That sounded like something Coulson would have come up with. It was definitely his style. They lapsed into silence, which seemed odd given the fact that Miri had been trying to get him out of her apartment since he'd walked in. Maybe she'd listen to him. He glanced down at his hands, hanging limply between his splayed knees, remembered the bow in his hand as he'd destroyed life after life because it was what Loki had wanted of him. Then his gaze went distant and he stared at the far wall, at a blank spot. "Alex is worried."
"I told Alex I was fine. I meant it. I'm fine. If she sent you here to check up on me, you can get right the fuck out," Miri snarled at him. Clint shook his head and lifted a hand to run it through his hair absently.
"I meant about me. Of course she's worried about you and nothing you say is going to change that. She's more like her mother than she's willing to admit. The Catholic in her can't let it go," he replied. Shook his head and chuffed out laughter that held no mirth in it. "But I see it in her eyes when she thinks I'm not looking. She's worried that I'm going to snap or something after... everything."
Miri was silent for a good long time, absorbing what he'd said to her. She shifted slightly, returning the knife to the table with the rest of her weapons. He wasn't fool enough to think that she still didn't have something on her with which to inflict pain. He had no plans to find out what it was, either. "You were under Loki's control. You can't be held responsible for what you did." He was heartened by the certainty he heard in her voice.
"I hold myself responsible. Loki's control or not, I did those things. I have to live with that, Miri. And it fucking kills me every time I think about it. Every time I close my eyes, I see myself pulling back the bowstring and... " His voice choked as he trailed off and his hands fisted until his nails bit into his palms. He shook his head and turned to look at her. "I'm teetering on the edge, Miri. There's so much rage and hatred building up inside of me. And not a god damn thing I try will take it away."
She looked at him, didn't draw her gaze away from his. Good. He wanted her to see what he was thinking and feeling. He wanted her to understand that he got it, that he understood. "I keep thinking that maybe, if I put an arrow through the fucker's eye, it'll end all of the guilt and hate and self-loathing that I feel. But then I stop myself before I actually make any plans. Because I think about what would happen to Alex if I went off half-cocked and did something foolish. I think of how she'd feel, how she'd react, if something happened to me. If I died. Who the hell would take care of her if that happened? Worse, what if she decided to go off and do something insane? What would I do without her?"
Miri stared for a moment. When her answer came, it was soft and almost inaudible. "You'd go on."
He nodded. "It'd hurt like hell, but I would." She said nothing more. Clint rose to his feet, indicating with one hand that he was going to leave. "I know it hurts like hell, Miri. And I know you figure there's nothing left for you. But Alex loves you. She'd never be the same if something happened to you. Promise me you'll think about that before you consider doing anything rash. Please."
He didn't expect an answer and he didn't get one. Nor did he get a blade or bullet to the back. In fact, he didn't hear anything from her as he let himself out of the apartment. And that was far more worrisome than any other response she could have given him
~*~
Like Home, part two
Universe: something like the Marvel Universe, leaning mostly toward the Movie!Avengers branch.
Pairings: Miri/Phil, Alex/Clint
Rating: um... i'm going to have to say a solid R. mostly language. lots of language.
Warnings: language and violence.
Disclaimer: the recognizable characters 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. Miri belongs to dazzledfirestar and i'm only using her for the purpose of this fic.
Author's Notes: this is an... AU of the canon LCA 'verse. which is going to sound really weird when i say that it mirrors the events in the movie right up until the end. this story takes place after the fact and just throws some of the movie Sues into the mix.
~*~
"Agent Grant!" Hill called out, dragging Miri's attention her way. The woman looked battered and worn, but based on the way the bridge of the helicarrier looked, she had good reason. Miri wasn't that much better off herself, having battled with Loki's goons on one of the lower decks during the invasion. Clean up had followed after that. She was absolutely wiped and wanted nothing more than to find her quarters, shower, and sleep for a month. "Director Fury wants to speak to you in his office."
Miri nodded and rose from the seat she'd taken. She marked the exhaustion in Hill's voice. It echoed the expression that had come to rest on her face. The entire day had been hell and Miri knew that Hill had been in the middle of it all. She let her gaze slide to the side, toward the seat Alex had taken. Her best friend gave the appearance that she was calm and in control, but Miri knew better. She could see it in the tightness around Alex's eyes, in the blank expression. In the way Alex's hand lay clenched in a fist in her lap. Miri knew that there was a small piece off of one of Clint's arrows clutched in her fingers. And she knew that Alex was wondering. Worrying. Afraid.
"Quinn. Your presence is requested, too," Hill ordered. Alex jerked, as if she hadn't been expecting anyone to talk to her, and turned to give Hill a confused look. Maria jerked her head toward Miri. Alex blinked a couple of times, then nodded and rose. Her movements were slow and measured. Precise. As if she didn't trust herself to not fall or spasm or do something else to give herself away. Miri watched Alex come, watched how she placed her feet with intent. She was teetering, had been ever since Loki had shown up and taken the Tesseract. Had taken Clint.
Maria watched Alex move across the bridge, her gaze soft with understanding as it followed the other woman's progress. She, like Miri, knew that Alex had been having a hard time holding it together. Ever since this whole mess had started. When her friend reached her, she let her gaze slide past Alex to where Maria stood. Hill nodded at her, then turned and began issuing orders to the helm. Miri followed Alex out into the hallway.
"What do you think Fury wants?" Alex asked, her voice empty and hollow.
Miri shrugged. She knew that tone of voice well enough. It was the voice Alex used when she was asking a question to which she didn't really want the answer. But she couldn't help herself. It was the urge to question everything that helped make her a good agent. In this instance, Miri was sure she knew what Alex was thinking. And what she was asking. They both knew that the Avengers had fought Loki's alien army to save New York and the world. "I don't know, Alex. I'm sure he's okay, though. You know he's that damn good."
Alex glanced at her, green eyes filled with appreciation. "Thanks, Miri." She bumped her shoulder against Miri's and fell silent, leaving Miri to her own thoughts. She couldn't imagine why Fury was calling them to his office unless he had some kind of news to share. Alex's fears took root and crept through her. If Fury had bad news for one of them, he'd no doubt want the other of them there as a shoulder to lean on. Miri had missed most of the action that had taken place in the city, but she had no illusions that it had been dangerous. And she worried that Fury was calling them down so that he could tell Alex that something had happened to Clint and Miri could catch her friend when she fell.
The silence built between them, thick and heavy and oppressive. It was a hint of things to come. She was sure of that. And it made her wonder just what kind of news awaited them in Fury's office.
When they arrived, they glanced at each other. Miri could see the emotions clouding her friend's green gaze, could read them easily. She was sure that the same emotions filled her own eyes, darkening the lavender to deep purple. Alex shrugged her shoulders before reaching out to rap solidly on the door with a loose fist. Fury's voice called out from the other side of the closed portal, short and terse and empty. "Enter!"
Miri reached for the knob and turned it, pushing the door open wide. Alex motioned her in with a hand, let Miri step in before her, then pulled the door closed behind her as she entered Fury's office. The director sat behind his desk, a group of files spread out before him. One hand held a pen and he scribbled furiously across the surface of one sheet while the other hand rested on the paper, keeping it in place so that his writing would be smooth and steady.
They both knew that Fury would speak to them when ready. There was no pushing the man when he didn't want to be pushed. Miri fell into parade rest, hands clasped behind her back. Alex stood with her arms loose at her sides, a deceptively relaxed position that she'd seen the other woman use only moments before going for her guns and taking an enemy down with a single shot to the forehead. She wasn't any more at ease than Miri was, obviously trying to prepare herself for the worst.
Silence stretched thin and taut, an ominous cloud hanging over their heads. Something had to be seriously wrong because it wasn't like Fury to call them into his office like this. They usually reported to Maria. Or Phil. And there was something decidedly unhappy about the way Fury held himself. She could see it in the tension that pulled his shoulders tight, in the lines that bracketed his mouth and eyes. Something really bad had happened.
The sound of his pen hitting the surface of the desk was loud in the room. Fury rose from his chair and looked them both over, then headed toward a flat screen television mounted on the wall. "I want to thank both of you for coming so quickly," he told them, his voice even and flat. Empty. That definitely meant bad news. Miri was sure of it. There was always some kind of emotion living in Fury's words. Something really, really bad had happened. He leveled his gaze on them, his one good eye sharp and intent as it took them both in. Then he motioned to the screen. "Before I explain why I've called you here, I want you both to see something."
One finger hit a button and the television screen flickered to life with color and action and sound.
Someone had managed to capture raw footage on their phone or a video camera that was being alternated with footage shot by television and security cameras. Fury remained silent as they watched the Chitauri drop from the portal opened in the sky over Stark Tower and fan out across the city. They watched as Thor summoned lightning to strike the aliens down. They watched as Hulk leapt from building to building, catching hold of the enemy and slamming it into concrete walls or into the ground. They watched as Stark, brilliant in his suit of red and gold armor, zipped through the air and used blasts from his repulsors to knock the Chitauri out of the sky, as he fired miniature missiles and other things. They watched as Captain Rogers battled the foe that ended up on the ground, his shield a spinning disc of freedom and vengeance as it whipped around a pre-determined circle and took down any enemy stupid enough to get in its way. They watched as Natasha stood tall and fired her guns at the aliens, as she used their own weapons against them, her red hair burning like flames despite the dust in the air. They watched as some of the alien craft exploded far up in the sky when no one was near it.
The city was in ruins. Buildings were crumbling to dust, large chunks of walls scattered on the ground like boulders. Slabs of the road had been sent flying, as if a child had thrown a tantrum and tossed their toys down. Some cars had been crushed under the falling debris or the giant alien corpses that had fallen from the sky. Some cars were burning brightly, flames licking at their bodies hungrily while others still smoldered and smoked after the flames had died away. Glass was sprinkled on the sidewalks and the streets, glittering like shattered gems left out in the sun. Vehicles were left scattered in all directions on the roads, some of them upside down or on their sides. There was destruction everywhere.
It was in the faces of the police and military. It was in the faces of the firemen and the EMTs. It was in the faces of the survivors, who could do nothing more than stand and stare at what was left of their homes and businesses and lives. Alien bodies and technology, broken and beaten down, were limp rag dolls and useless weapons. The city was a war zone and the streets were a cemetery.
The television went off and Fury gave them his full attention. Miri could feel the weight of his stare resting on her before it shifted away. "You were both aware that we had Loki here under lock and key."
It wasn't a question, yet they both nodded in response. "Yes, sir," Miri added for good measure.
"The attack that took out the number three engine was a carefully crafted plan designed to see us broken apart." He moved to retake his seat, settling in the chair and resting his elbows on the desk so he could steeple his hands in front of him, before he continued on. "Agent Barton led that attack."
Miri felt Alex tense beside her, felt her struggle not to make a comment or a sound. It had to be hell because she'd been worried for days about Clint. To find that he'd been instrumental in all of the chaos and destruction must have been more than she'd expected. "Agent Romanova was able to knock some sense into him. By doing so, she released him from Loki's hold. As far as I'm concerned, Barton's part in the attacks was done under duress. Loki was in his head and forced him to act against his friends and colleagues. Naturally he's going to have to sit through some psych evals until we can be sure there are no lasting effects. But after seeing what he did against Loki's army, I have no plans on doing anything to him."
Miri heard Alex sigh. "Thank you, sir."
Fury looked at them both for a few moments before he heaved his own sigh and began shifting the papers on his desk around. "During the attack, some of Loki's people were able to free him from the cage we had him in. Agent Coulson attempted to stop him from leaving."
There was so much heaviness in those words that Miri felt her heart stop beating and her stomach dropped to her feet. "Sir?" she asked, careful to keep her voice steady.
"I'm sorry, Agent Grant. There's no easy way to say this. Agent Coulson is dead. Loki stabbed him in the back."
Miri blinked, sure she'd just heard him wrong. "I'm sorry, sir. I don't think I heard you correctly. You must be mistaken. Phil can't be..." her voice trailed off, her mind utterly incapable of even thinking the word, much less making it come out of her mouth.
She had the vague impression that Alex had moved closer to her, though it was only an abstract sense of heat to her left. Her friend was there to offer her support, but she hadn't yet physically touched her. It was something Miri was grateful for because she felt that she'd lose all control if Alex put a hand on her in sympathy.
"While everyone was busy fighting off Loki's minions," Fury began, one hand lifting toward the television as if he was going to turn it on again. His eye glanced her way and the arm lowered, as if he'd decided it was a good idea to simply speak and not show. "Coulson headed to the armory and armed himself. Then he proceeded to the containment cell where we had Loki and faced him down."
"He went up against Loki?" She made sure her voice was soft and calm. If she gave in to hysterics or emotional outbursts right now, she was afraid she wasn't going to stop. Alex moved closer but still didn't touch her.
"He had orders, Agent Grant. Just like you and everyone else on this boat. He was following them. It was unfortunate that Loki doesn't play by the same rules as everyone else." Fury's voice hardened down just a little, allowing some of his impatience to leak through.
"Orders. He was down there on orders?"
Fury regarded her quietly with his one eye, his face impassive. "I needed someone down there to try and keep Loki contained."
"You sent one man down there to keep a fucking god contained? Really? Did we learn nothing about him after the New Mexico incident? How the hell did you expect Phil to keep Loki contained? Thor's brother is batshit insane and we already knew he doesn't play by the same rules we do."
"Agent Coulson was armed with the prototype built based on Destroyer's technology. He was well capable of--" Fury began, only to be interrupted by Miri when she slammed her fist down on the edge of his desk.
"You let him take untested weaponry up against Loki? And you let him go alone? Pardon me, sir, but is your eye patch on too tight? I think its cutting off circulation your brain. Because I could swear it sounds like you're admitting that you set him up to fail."
Fury drew himself up to his full height and glared at her. Any other time, Miri would have taken it for the warning sign it was meant to be. But not now. Not when she was hanging on to her sanity by a thread. The only thing she could do was lash out and hope she hurt him with her words as much as he'd hurt her. "I'm going to let your insubordination go because I know you're in shock and grieving, Agent Grant. But I suggest that you don't push your luck. You won't like it when I push back."
"You haven't seen anything yet, sir," she snapped off, making sure to put a touch of sarcastic bite into his title. Fury scowled, letting her know she'd hit home with her barb.
"Agent Quinn. Get your partner out of my office before I have her thrown in the brig for insubordination." The tone of his voice saw Miri lunging for him. but Alex's hand on her arm drew her up short. She turned to shoot a glare at Alex, only to find that her friend wasn't looking at her. She was staring at Fury, green eyes spitting sparks as anger simmered in them.
"We're going, sir. And just so you know, this was the dickiest thing you've ever done, sir. Agent Coulson might be a badass, but he deserves back up as much as anyone else. Sending him after Loki alone was wrong and I really hope I'm there when Miri puts you on your ass." Before he could say anything, Alex was tugging Miri toward the door. She shoved Miri through roughly, then made sure to slam the metal door as hard as she was able.
"You shouldn't have stopped me, Alex," Miri snarled, but she turned and started up the corridor. Alex fell in behind her.
"There'll be a better time, Miri. He was expecting it. You want him off kilter when you punch him." Alex paused, giving her time to think her words over. After a few minutes, she spoke again. This time, there was a hint of a snarl to her words. "And I really want to see you put that man on his ass, Miri. Its no less than he deserves."
It was too quiet in the hall, Fury's words echoing loudly in Miri's head. She swallowed hard and gave Alex a look. "Get me the hell out of here. I don't care where we go. Just get me out of here."
~*~*~*~*~
Alex stared at the television, watched the never ending cycle of images being played and replayed on every major news media channel. She'd long ago turned down the sound, but she couldn't quite force herself to turn off the picture. The beer in her hands had gone warm long ago, but she still drank from the bottle in an attempt to make her brain shut off. To put an end to the words that circled mercilessly around her head. "I'm sorry, Agent Grant. Agent Coulson is dead.
It just couldn't be.
She lifted the bottle to her lips, took a deep pull off of it, made a face as the piss warm liquid slid down her throat. Fury was an asshole. A giant fucking asshole and she couldn't repress the urge to return to the helicarrier with her wrench in hand. Assaulting him would see her ass landed in the brig, but it would feel really fucking good to whack the mother fucker upside the head. Because she really hated him right now. Hated him for putting Coulson's life on the line the way he had. Hated him for putting that lost look on Miri's face.
Fuck. Miri. She should be sitting with her friend right now, not sitting at home on her couch, watching the news and waiting for the sound of keys in the door. Miri needed her. And she'd been fully prepared to go home with her friend, to hold her and cry with her and help her deal with the pain of loss. But Miri had closed herself off and told Alex to more or less fuck off when she'd offered her friend a shoulder. So she'd been forced to leave Miri alone and she hated that. She hated that she couldn't help her friend cope with the loss and the grief and the rage. She hated feeling fucking useless.
She went to take another drink and found the bottle empty. Fuck. Why weren't these things bottomless? Rising to her feet, she shuffled to the kitchen and dragged another long neck out of the fridge. The action brought to her attention, yet again, that she was still in a standard issue S.H.I.E.L.D. jumpsuit, still covered in dirt and grease and maybe even some blood. She should go shower and clean up. But she just didn't have the energy. Truth was, she was still on edge, still waiting. Clint would be home soon and she wanted to be waiting for him when he showed up.
That made her feel guilty all over again and, without meaning to, her thoughts turned once again to Miri.
Fuck it. She brought the remainder of the six pack from the fridge, carrying it with her in that cheap ass cardboard carrier back to the living room. The beer thunked satisfyingly when she set it down on the wooden coffee table. Taking her seat once more, she popped the top off her beer and took a long drink off of it. Her eyes glued themselves to the screen once more and she continued to watch the same thing over and over again. Continued to drink. Continued to try and keep her thoughts at bay. Continued waiting for the sound of keys in the door.
~*~
She was half asleep, half waking, when she thought she heard the metallic jangle of keys in the lock. Alex dragged her eyes open to find that the news was still reporting on the alien invasion in New York, on the Avengers' daring battle against the alien forces. The same images flashed again and again, ones she'd seen a thousand times before. One hand went searching blindly for the remote, which she never found, while her other lifted the bottle she still held in her fingers. There was a slosh of beer at the bottom that told her she hadn't finished it. Naturally she rectified that immediately, before the memories of the day could settle in.
"Why are you watching this shit, Lexi?" Clint's voice was rough and drawn. The sound of his keys landing in the dish near the door brought her head around to see him standing there, blue eyes studying her intently. Watching her carefully. She let her gaze slide over him, took note of the raw patches of skin showing through on his arms and the way his hair haloed his head haphazardly. He was in a t-shirt and jeans, jacket hanging from one hand.
"Nothing else on," she replied before setting the empty bottle down on the table. It took its place up next to the other five empties. Clint's eyes followed her motions and he frowned to see the drained six pack.
"Lexi." His tone was filled with displeasure.
"I thought I'd lost you," she replied quietly, gaze sliding back to the television. It was an actual live shot, the sky behind the reporter dark. Fires still burned and lights burned brightly to show every last scrap of rubble that cluttered the fractured street. "When Fury told me that Loki'd taken you... I thought I'd lost you. I thought you were gone for good. I've been teetering on the razor's edge ever since. The higher the body count got, the more I worried that you'd never come back. Even if we got you back. I was afraid I'd lost you." She whispered the last so that her voice was barely audible in the room.
"I'm here, Lexi. I'm not leaving again," he promised. A stupid promise, because they both knew it could all go to hell tomorrow or the next day or the next. But she accepted it and held it close to her heart. The emotions she'd worked so hard to keep locked behind iron walls burst forth in a spate of tears that left her hiccupping and sobbing almost immediately. She rose from her seat and stumbled across the room to him, let him pull her tight into his embrace and hold her close.
"I thought I'd lost you," she repeated, over and over again until he was left with no recourse but to cover her mouth with his own. Until he kissed her fears away and left her knees weak with relief. She clung to him and sobbed into his t-shirt and felt the guilt eat her up even more.
"Its okay, Lexi. I swear I won't let you go," he whispered, the words spoken right beside her ear. His hands stroked her back. His fingers tangled in the length of her hair. He was solid and real and there, holding her tight to his body. She thought of the conversation with Fury from earlier. She thought of Miri's blank stare, of her friend's disbelief and shock. She thought of Miri left alone and how it must have hurt to learn that Clint was coming back and Coulson wasn't. The dam broke and she shook with the force of her tears.
Clint forced her back and away, forced her to look up at him. His hands held her face, palms rough against her cheeks, while his thumbs reached up to wipe the tears away. "Shhhh. Lexi. Its okay. I'm right here. I'm not going to leave you again. I promise. Please don't cry, sweetheart. I hate it when you cry."
"Miri," she managed to get out before the tears spilled over again. "C- Coulson..."
"I know, baby," he whispered and tugged her into his embrace again, hugged her tight to his chest again. "I am so sorry. I can't imagine what Miri's feeling right now. I half expected you to be with her."
"She didn't want me around," Alex admitted, still stung by Miri's refusal of her company.
"She's got a lot to absorb. She needs time, Alex. She'll come to you when she needs you." She nodded her head against his chest, unwilling to let him go just yet. Clint stroked his hands down her back and dropped a kiss on her head. She nodded and clutched at him even harder.
"Have you eaten?" he asked her quietly.
"No. I haven't had much of an appetite lately. I probably wouldn't have eaten at all while you were gone if not for Miri and Phil..." her words trailed off a moment before she started crying again. She felt him sigh.
"Shower first, followed by food. And then bed," he told her, using the tone of voice he'd always used with her whenever she'd been in need of someone to play the adult with her. Pulling back from his soaked, snotty t-shirt, she looked up at him to find that he was watching her with concern. She tried a smile, but it wouldn't come.
"Shower with me, baby," she pleaded. His gaze slid over her face, taking in the dirty, disheveled mess that was her hair, before moving on to the smudges that marred her clothes. The frown that came when he saw dried blood here and there made her wonder what he was really seeing. She lifted both hands to his face, forced him to look up at her. "Please, Clint. Shower with me. Hold me. I'll hold you. We'll figure everything else later."
He nodded and stepped back, took her hand in his, and tugged her after him toward the bathroom. It was a long damn time before they left the shower and, when they did, they skipped food to curl up in the bed. Clint held her close and slowly stroked her hair with one hand. She fell asleep with the heat of his body against hers and the clear, gorgeous sound of his voice singing in her ear.
~*~*~*~*~
"Hey. You wanna go get some lunch?" Alex asked, head poked into Miri's office because talking to her face to face seemed to be the only way to get an answer out of her these days. Her friend looked up from the paperwork on the desk before her and gave Alex a blank stare. Alex held back the frown and tried to put a smile on her face. It was a hard sell because she'd watched Miri withdraw from her more and more with each passing day.
"I've got a lot of work to do, Alex. Thanks, though. Maybe next time," Miri replied, voice dull and flat, utterly lifeless. It had been this way ever since Fury had given them the news and nothing Alex did seemed to help. She sighed and tried to come up with an excuse to drag Miri away from her desk, something that would actually work. But nothing came to mind and, even worse, Miri wasn't even paying her any attention anymore. Alex heaved a soft sigh and pulled out of the door, tugging the door shut after her.
Fuck. She was losing her best friend. This called for some serious thinking on her part.
The gym was empty when she stepped in, having stopped long enough to change into her work out clothes. She pondered grabbing the portable stereo, but decided against it. She'd only have to turn it off if someone came in. Besides, she needed to be able to hear her thoughts. Taking on the heavy bag with Godsmack or Metallica playing in the background didn't necessarily guarantee such a thing.
She took a minute or two to fit her sparring gloves in place, then headed over to the corner where the heavy bag hung waiting for her. She took a few minutes to warm up, jabbing at the bag with slow, steady strikes that stretched her muscles out for more a strenuous work out. When she was warm and loose, she went after the bag with intent, her fists thudding sharp and hard so that the force of the blow vibrated all the way up her arms.
It hadn't been long since the helicarrier had nearly been destroyed and the subsequent fight on the streets and in the skies of New York City. Just thinking about those events made her heart pound in fear. She lived with the secret fear that someone would demand Clint be made to pay for his part in Loki's assault. If he was taken away from her again, she didn't know what she'd do.
Alex shoved those thoughts aside and turned her attention back to her main focus. Miri. And how Miri was dealing with the loss of Coulson. Or rather, how she wasn't dealing. In the first few days after Fury had told them, Alex had watched as Miri had remained numb and silent, had hoped that it was nothing more than a phase as she dealt with her grief. It had been acceptable and expected at the memorial and funeral services that had been held for Coulson. But as the days between then and now had passed, she'd only withdrawn further. From everything.
The silences had stretched and grown longer until she almost never talked anymore. The numbness seemed to spread until she wasn't even the same person as she once had been. Alex had tried to reach her but Miri had kept pushing her away. Phone calls went unanswered and voice mail unreturned. When she wasn't working, she locked herself away in the apartment she and Phil had shared. It wasn't healthy. Not at all. Alex didn't know what to do.
Frustration at not being able to give Miri the support she so obviously needed rose to the surface. Alex's jabs and punches came faster and stronger, her fists hitting the heavy bag harder than before. Sweat had broken out on her skin, dripped down her cheeks and ran off her nose. Trickled between her breasts and trailed down her spine. She pounded the bag until her knuckles ached and her nails felt as if they were cutting through the material of the glove to score her palms. She welcomed the pain and kept up the punishing pace.
She hated this. She hated the fact that she couldn't do a god damned thing to help her friend. She hated that Miri was pulling away from her. Even her mother had noticed and asked some awkward questions that Alex hadn't known how to answer. She felt helpless. Useless. Unwanted. Not needed. Fucking Loki. She wished they'd let Clint end it. Or Hulk. Fuck. Any of them. It was only a fraction of what the arrogant mother fucker deserved for the lives he'd destroyed and the mess he'd made. She'd love to take her wrench to his weasely face and really fuck him up.
Her arms kept swinging, fists connecting with the heavy bag despite the fact that her muscles trembled with fatigue. She could tell by the sticky feel of her knuckles that they'd split and were bleeding. The gloves had only protected her so far. Her shoulders were tight and ached and the breath sawed in and out of her lungs like a bellow working. Sweat stung her eyes and blurred her vision. But she didn't stop. Couldn't stop. Because the anger still bubbled and boiled in her chest. She had to end it somehow.
"Come on, Lexi. That's enough punishment," Clint's voice hit her ears only a second or two after one of his hands curled around her shoulder. Alex was lost in the moment, her mind set to react to any threat. The touch of a hand on her shoulder when she was in this state was always a threat, no matter who put his hand on her. She spun, wrenching herself out of his hold while bringing a foot up. It was aimed for his mid-section, but it never impacted. Instead, his arms were there to block the kick while one of his own legs lashed out to kick her other foot out from under her.
She went down and immediately rolled up into a crouch, hands ready to strike. Clint sighed heavily and advanced on her, body loose and ready for anything. He didn't crowd her and he didn't rush at her, simply bounced on his feet and waited for her to come at him. Had she been thinking, she would have realized that they'd played this game before, several times. And Clint always won when they did. But she wasn't thinking and, even if she was, she wouldn't have given a shit anyway. She just needed to hurt someone.
Alex launched herself at him, fists flying in a complex series of blows. Naturally he blocked each and every one of them, his arms absorbing the abuse she tried to rain down on him. He gave her five minutes to tire herself out before he caught hold of one arm and twisted it, pulling her into his body at the same time. Before she could attempt to stomp on his foot or crack his nose with the back of her skull, her feet were taken out from under her again and she found herself face down on the floor, her arm still grasped in his hold and one knee pressing into her spine. "Enough, baby. Quit punishing yourself."
"Fuck you," she spat. But she didn't try to fight her way clear of his hold. Too much movement would see her shoulder wrenched from its socket. Instead, she willed the tension to leave her body and did her best to shove the anger and the rage back down. Clint didn't let go of her until she'd been limp and still for nearly five minutes. And he only released his hold on her so that he could pull her to her feet and into his arms. She went without complaint.
"What's got you all pissed off?" he asked softly, turning them so that they were heading for the locker room.
"I thought you were in a briefing. What are you doing here?" she asked, blatantly ignoring his question.
"I saw junior agents running from the gym in screaming fear," he grinned, his voice teasing. She punched him none too gently in the side, satisfied to hear the air run out of him. "Seriously, sweetheart. Tasha came and found me. She said you were in here abusing the crap out of yourself. She might have taken care of it herself, but you would likely have ended up in medical with a concussion. So what's going on?"
"Just trying to sort out my thoughts," she replied. She could feel his gaze heavy on her face, letting her know he didn't believe her for a second. But he said nothing, simply kept his arm around her as he steered her into the women's locker room.
"Shower. Get cleaned up. I'll give you fifteen minutes. If you're not out by then, I'll assume you're trying to drown yourself and I'll come in to get you." There was a leer in his voice and, when she looked up into his face properly, he waggled his eyebrows at her. Alex chuckled softly at his blatant innuendo before reaching up to tug him down into a quick kiss.
"I still need to spar. By all means. Come in and interrupt me. We'll see how that goes."
"Get cleaned up and out in the hallway in fifteen minutes and I will treat you to dinner." He gave an extra eye waggle.
Alex rolled her eyes and jabbed a finger into his belly none too gently. "You always treat me to dinner. I can't cook, remember?"
"How can I forget? The last time you attempted to cook, you gave everyone food poisoning," he reminded her. She shot him a smile that quickly faded when she recalled that the dinner he was speaking of had been one to which she'd invited Miri and Coulson. "Alex?"
"Rain check, babe. I have something I need to do before I can eat. I'll meet you at home, okay?"
"If I find out that this something you have to do before you eat is punish your hands further, I will let Tasha beat the ever loving shit out of you," he warned. The concern in his words warmed her heart. She gave him a soft smile and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him close to her. There was tension in his body, the same tension that was always there now after everything that had happened with Loki. The same tension that she felt every time they had some sort of disagreement. Like he expected her to walk out on him. Like he expected her to blame him for all of it. Didn't he know that she'd never laid blame for anything at his feet?
Didn't he know that he was her heart? The air she breathed? Didn't he know that she couldn't, didn't want to, live without him? Didn't he know that she loved him more than she loved life itself?
"I have no plans to further abuse my hands, baby. I just... I need to go talk to Miri. I feel like I'm losing her. I'm losing my best friend and I don't know how to help her. I have to try and fix things or..." she trailed off, looking up at him with eyes that she knew were far to big. Clint sighed and closed the distance between them, resting his forehead against her own.
"Lexi. Sweetheart. There's nothing to fix there. Nothing that you can fix, anyway," he told her and she could hear in his voice the blame that he'd already laid on his own head for all that had happened that day. "You didn't do anything wrong." Its my fault that Phil is dead. He didn't say it, but she heard it there anyway. She drew free of his hold and glared at him.
"It isn't your fault. Stop blaming yourself for something you didn't do."
"Baby, I was the one who--" She didn't let him finish the words, just swung her fist and caught him unaware. Her hand screamed at her for the action, but she ignored it. Simply stood there and watched him stare down at her with a vaguely shocked expression on his face.
"You say that again one more time, Clint Barton, and I will end you. It isn't your fault!" she snapped. Then she whirled away and headed into the women's locker room. She'd deal with him when she got home. But first, she had to go deal with Miri.
~*~
Alex gave up after the third knock and went for the keys in her pocket. She'd been standing out in the hallway for the better part of ten minutes, waiting for Miri to answer the door. She knew Miri was here, had sat in her car and stared up at the apartment's windows looking for lights and movement just to be sure. It bothered her that Miri hadn't let her in yet, sent fingers of dread climbing down her spine. She made sure to rattle the keys loudly so as not to startle her friend, but she felt no guilt about sliding the key into the lock and turning it. She felt no guilt what so ever about letting herself in.
The apartment was dimly lit, littered with crumpled up pieces of paper and empty beer bottles. There was a slew of file folders spread across the coffee table and Miri's laptop sat open. Even from where she stood, Alex could see the flickering light of the screen. What she didn't see was dirtied plates, crumpled food wrappers, take out cartons, and abandoned drink cups. The worry and concern clutching tightly to her heart ramped up a notch and left her breathless.
She also didn't see any sign of her friend. "Miri?"
"Go away, Alex." Miri's voice came from the direction of the bedroom. Alex turned to find the other woman standing in the doorway, body illuminated from behind by the dim light of a bedside lamp. Alex crossed her arms over her chest and leaned up against the wall behind her.
"Not a chance. Not until we talk."
"There's nothing to talk about," Miri replied evenly. Tonelessly. Alex frowned and shook her head.
"There's plenty to talk about. Like how you're obviously not eating. And how you're obviously not coping. And how you're pulling away from me and Clint and everyone. You can talk to me, Miri. You can share your pain with me. I can help you with-- "
"There's nothing to help me with, Alex. There's nothing to talk about. There's nothing you can do! There. Is. Nothing!" Miri snapped, bringing Alex's words to an abrupt end. "Just get out. Get out and leave me alone. I'm fine."
The lack of emotion in the other woman's voice hurt Alex's heart. She pushed off the wall and crossed toward Miri. The closer she got, the more frightened she became. There was nothing, absolutely nothing, living in her eyes. It was like looking into the glassy stare of a corpse. "You're not fine, Miri. You won't talk to me. You won't let me offer you my support. You do nothing beyond work. My mother is asking after you and I can't tell her you're falling apart because I can't tell her the whole story. You're my best fucking friend, more like my sister, and you won't let me in to help you."
"I told you. There's nothing to help me with. I don't need your shoulder or your sympathy or your support. I'm just fucking fine. Now run along and go home to Clint. I'm sure he's worried about you." There was a spark of something in her words. Alex couldn't figure out what it was. Jealousy or hurt or anger. But it was there for a fleeting moment and it never touched her eyes.
"Clint knows where I am," she replied shortly. "I'm worried about you, Miri. Please. Just... Just talk to me."
"Go home, Alex. There is nothing to talk about. Nothing. I don't need your help and I don't need your fucking sympathy."
"You need to talk about this, Miri. I can see how its eating you up from the inside. I-- " she began, only to have her words come to a screeching halt when Miri threw herself into Alex and shoved her up against the wall. Put the muzzle of her Glock dead center against Alex's forehead. Alex swallowed hard and kept her gaze locked on the other woman's face. "Miri. Please. It doesn't have to be like this. Just talk to me. Please."
"I will only tell you this one more time, Alex," Miri ground out between clenched teeth. The barrel of the gun dug in. Just a little. "There is nothing to talk about. Nothing! You can't help me. You can't do anything for me. You can't fucking help. So leave me. The fuck. Alone! Get out of here now and go home. Do not come back. Just go. Because if you don't... I swear to god, Alex." Miri cocked the hammer back to drive her point home. The metallic click was loud in the silence of the apartment.
Alex swallowed hard again and lifted her hands in an 'I surrender' kind of gesture. Miri backed up, pulled her gun away from Alex's skull, but she didn't lower the weapon. It remained leveled dead center of Alex's forehead, ready to put a hole there if the need arose. Alex paced backward, back toward the hallway that would take her to the door. She didn't break eye contact the entire time, let Miri see the hurt and the betrayal on her face. She wanted to say something. Anything. But she couldn't find the words.
In the end, there was nothing to say at all.
~*~*~*~*~
The fact that he didn't have to dodge gunfire when he picked the lock on her door was sign number one to him that no matter what Alex had said, he was right. He'd seen this woman take down a dozen HYDRA goons with a pocket knife and a broken ankle. There was no way she didn't know he was there.
He'd decided to see for himself what was going on after Alex had come home and refused steadfastly to talk about what had happened with Miri. All Alex had been willing to tell him was that the other woman had no need for compassion or companionship or anything else at all. Then she'd polished off the rest of the six pack in the fridge and had started muttering to herself about what she'd seen in Miri's apartment. All of it had sounded a touch odd to Clint, had started him thinking about what was really going on. Especially when Alex had let it slip that Miri had put a gun to her head.
He didn't like the picture he'd come up with because it was absolutely fucking suicidal. And it was exactly what he wanted to do himself.
"Miri?"
Her voice was soft, just loud enough to hear and barely enough to track her to where she was sitting in her living room. "Get out."
He took paused at the end of the hall and took in the scene. Gone was the mess Alex had described. It had been replaced with a new one. Most times, he'd say she'd been keeping busy. Looked like half her personal gun safe was cleared out and laid out on the table, all freshly cleaned and ready for use. Several blades sat amongst the guns, as well, and the sharp glint of the street light from the window of the blade in her hand told him there was something different about that one. He really didn't like what he was seeing. "No."
"I said, get. Out." Her tone didn't change, not really. He sighed to himself. Sign number two that he was right in what he was thinking. He knew how she operated. And Alex had said a thousand times that she never got worried if Miri yelled or showed how pissed off she was. It was when she was like this, controlled, quiet. That was when she was dangerous. And he thought he knew where that danger was going to get aimed. "Now, Clint."
"No, Miri." He picked up the Glock resting on the corner of the table where she'd left it. It wasn't loaded. Yet. It looked like the end of the muzzle matched up to the faint bruise Miri had left on Alex's forehead. He flicked his gaze her way. "Looks like you've got something in the works."
"Go home to Alex."
"No." He cocked the gun, inspected it for a minute before turning his attention to the knife in her hand. "Taking S.H.I.E.L.D.'s toys with you? That's not steel."
"No. Its not." She lifted her head and glared at him. "And its not S.H.I.E.L.D.'s. Its mine."
"Yours?" That was curious. Clint sat down on the far end of the couch and he was very, very aware of how intently her eyes followed his every move. His eyes skimmed over the blade again. He'd seen that metal before and there was no way in hell that it was any kind of steel. "Come on, Grant. Unless I'm wrong, that's-- "
Miri cut him off with curt response. "It is."
He blinked at her. "Where the fuck would you get-- "
"It was a gift." Her eyes dropped back down to the blade in her hand, but he didn't miss a beat.
"A gift. Who the f-- " His words trailed off because even before the phrase had fully left his mouth, it sunk in. "Oh."
"Yes."
"Jesus, Miri. I'm-- "
"If you say you're sorry, I'll bury this between your eyes, Barton. I swear to God," she snarled, adjusted her grip on the knife
Clint put his hands up and inched back on the couch to let her know he'd meant no harm. "Okay. Okay. Just relax."
Miri watched him for a few moments before she shifted the knife back around. The blade moved in her hand like it was part of her and he breathed a little easier when she didn't have it in immediate attack position. Not a lot easier. but a little. "How did--"
She stared at him for so long that he thought she wouldn't answer. Then she sighed and ran her thumb along the super sharp edge of the blade, careful not to slice her skin open on it. "We... did a mission to Wakanda. The king was so damn impressed with him that he gave us these... It was a matched set, actually." There was nothing in her voice to give away what she might be feeling about it. Clint's suspicions only solidified further with it. He was sure she was planning something. And he was sure that he knew what that something was.
"I didn't know about you two until Alex told me," he admitted softly, careful to keep any pity he felt out of his voice. He didn't want to set her off if he could help it.
"Nobody did." She let out a dry laugh, shook her head. Clint was sure that she didn't find any of this funny. "Well... Fury did. Alex did. I'm pretty sure Natasha had it mostly figured out."
"Stark said something about a cellist..." Clint told her, watched her carefully for any signs and just managed to catch the blush on her cheeks before she spoke again.
"What did he say?"
"That there was a cellist in Portland. That he wanted to track her down, let her know what happened..." Clint trailed off when something in Miri's gaze softened. Just for a second or two. Then it was gone and her stare went back to being hard. Impenetrable. Empty.
"It was me." He stared at her in morbid curiosity, not quite able to help himself. Miri shrugged and glanced down at her hands. "It was part of the cover. I... We were on this mission, deep undercover about six months ago."
He nodded. "I remember."
"He... That's when we kind of... figured all of this out. That it wasn't just--" Her words faltered only a moment before she squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. He knew what that meant, could see the signs as plain as day even though she was doing her best to hide it. Hadn't see seen it before, on another face? Miri had loved Coulson and, if Clint felt like placing a bet in that moment, he'd put money on the fact that Coulson had loved her right back. This whole fucking mess had to be killing her and it couldn't help that he was in her face, alive and breathing after being taken by Loki. He was alive and Coulson was dead. Anger he'd tried hard to quash in the weeks since the attack started boiling under his skin. It took Miri's words to pull him back from the abyss that he seemed to be teetering on. "I was posing as a cellist. I'd played through school and... Well, it seemed like a nice way to hid what was really going on."
"And Portland?" he asked, voice soft and gentle.
"I was born there." She shrugged like it was no big deal, twirling the glittering knife in her hand once again. Clint's eyes dropped to it and watched it for a few seconds. "It was easy to remember. Technically, I am a cellist from Portland..."
"Hiding in plain sight. What better way than to disguise the truth than by using the truth?" That sounded like something Coulson would have come up with. It was definitely his style. They lapsed into silence, which seemed odd given the fact that Miri had been trying to get him out of her apartment since he'd walked in. Maybe she'd listen to him. He glanced down at his hands, hanging limply between his splayed knees, remembered the bow in his hand as he'd destroyed life after life because it was what Loki had wanted of him. Then his gaze went distant and he stared at the far wall, at a blank spot. "Alex is worried."
"I told Alex I was fine. I meant it. I'm fine. If she sent you here to check up on me, you can get right the fuck out," Miri snarled at him. Clint shook his head and lifted a hand to run it through his hair absently.
"I meant about me. Of course she's worried about you and nothing you say is going to change that. She's more like her mother than she's willing to admit. The Catholic in her can't let it go," he replied. Shook his head and chuffed out laughter that held no mirth in it. "But I see it in her eyes when she thinks I'm not looking. She's worried that I'm going to snap or something after... everything."
Miri was silent for a good long time, absorbing what he'd said to her. She shifted slightly, returning the knife to the table with the rest of her weapons. He wasn't fool enough to think that she still didn't have something on her with which to inflict pain. He had no plans to find out what it was, either. "You were under Loki's control. You can't be held responsible for what you did." He was heartened by the certainty he heard in her voice.
"I hold myself responsible. Loki's control or not, I did those things. I have to live with that, Miri. And it fucking kills me every time I think about it. Every time I close my eyes, I see myself pulling back the bowstring and... " His voice choked as he trailed off and his hands fisted until his nails bit into his palms. He shook his head and turned to look at her. "I'm teetering on the edge, Miri. There's so much rage and hatred building up inside of me. And not a god damn thing I try will take it away."
She looked at him, didn't draw her gaze away from his. Good. He wanted her to see what he was thinking and feeling. He wanted her to understand that he got it, that he understood. "I keep thinking that maybe, if I put an arrow through the fucker's eye, it'll end all of the guilt and hate and self-loathing that I feel. But then I stop myself before I actually make any plans. Because I think about what would happen to Alex if I went off half-cocked and did something foolish. I think of how she'd feel, how she'd react, if something happened to me. If I died. Who the hell would take care of her if that happened? Worse, what if she decided to go off and do something insane? What would I do without her?"
Miri stared for a moment. When her answer came, it was soft and almost inaudible. "You'd go on."
He nodded. "It'd hurt like hell, but I would." She said nothing more. Clint rose to his feet, indicating with one hand that he was going to leave. "I know it hurts like hell, Miri. And I know you figure there's nothing left for you. But Alex loves you. She'd never be the same if something happened to you. Promise me you'll think about that before you consider doing anything rash. Please."
He didn't expect an answer and he didn't get one. Nor did he get a blade or bullet to the back. In fact, he didn't hear anything from her as he let himself out of the apartment. And that was far more worrisome than any other response she could have given him
~*~
Like Home, part two