Storytime with Rachel F Hundred

The banging on his apartment door was loud and angry.

Tony dragged himself out of a bed he’d barely gotten into and pulled a long-sleeved fleece jacket over his sleep sweatpants and the tank-top he’d worn. 

He checked the clock and grimaced at the early hour. He’d spent the better part of the night planning with Mike and Betty. He went to open his apartment door.

Baker was flanked by two patrol officers in their uniforms, hands on hips, guns ready to be drawn.

Tony cocked his eyebrow at them all. “Can I help you, Officers?”

“Antonio Bianchi, you’re wanted for questioning at the station in the matter of an explosion last night at Carson’s Carnival,” Baker snapped brusquely. “You can either come peacefully or we can slap some cuffs on you and take you that way.”

“Let me find some shoes,” Tony quipped. He kept his expression befuddled. He hadn’t been seen at the caravan, he was sure of that. So why, he wondered, was he being arrested for it? It wasn’t part of the plan.

The positive was that he could bring Baker up to speed instead of having to do a whole visit to the church to drop the emergency signal and hope it got to him in time, Tony mused. Or at least bring Baker as much up to speed as Baker could be given he was the straight arrow in the mix.  The negative was that he was being arrested and really didn’t have time for it. 

Clint was going to freak at the news. He’d barely let Tony leave the Macaluso estate. Tony couldn’t blame him for wanting to have Tony around like a security blanket. Between the caravan, Laura’s abduction, the reveal of the Macaluso plan to take down the gang, and Betty’s mothering as they handled getting a plan in place to look after Clint, the teenager had dealt with a lot in a few hours.   

“Mind if I come in and take a look around?” Baker asked briskly. 

Tony shrugged and opened the door wider.

Baker and the patrol officers made a cursory search of his apartment as he stuffed his feet into the running shoes that he kept by the door and grabbed his wallet and keys.

They came back from the bedroom area with grim faces.

“Problem?” asked Tony.

“No problem,” Baker snapped.  “Let’s go.”

Baker walked beside him as they headed out of the apartment building and towards the Detective’s car which was parked on the street. Baker placed him in the back of his own car and gestured for the patrol car to follow them.

Tony waited until they’d pulled into traffic before he spoke. “What’s going on, Baker?”

“You threaten a hood called Charles Barton last night at the circus?” demanded Baker angrily.

Tony lifted his eyebrows and stared down Baker’s angry glare in the rear-view mirror as they came to a stop at a red-light. “He was beating on his kid brother, so yes, I threatened him a little.”

“And did you follow through? Did you kill him?” Baker pressed.

Tony’s surprise was genuine. “He’s dead?!”

“Carson’s office caravan exploded last night with Charles Barton inside,” Baker said, his anger was notched down a touch with the truth that Tony hadn’t killed the guy evident.

And Tony was never telling Baker the truth, Tony decided. Baker would not understand Tony torching evidence (even if he had removed the black binder) especially if it had ended up with an accidental death.

“You really had nothing to do with it?” Baker asked.

“We should save my story for when you have me in a box,” Tony commented, keeping his tone light. “I need to let you know what I’ve found out in the last couple of days.”

Baker frowned. 

“There is a rival gang moving into Philly, Baker,” Tony said. “Dangerous. They were the ones who had Hatton arrange the grab on Laura Macaluso; they are coercing Steffano into supporting them in a bid to take out Mike.”

Baker huffed. “Yeah, I got wind of the same,” he admitted. He sighed. “I think my old partner might be on the take for them. I tracked back the changes to your file. I think he was the one who removed the reference to the abduction attempt.”

Tony let himself visibly wince. “I’m sorry to hear that, Baker.”

“Me too,” Baker said. “Paul was a good cop once.”

“They’re making their move today, Baker,” Tony said. “There was a meeting about it at the circus last night with the main player a guy called Ludwig.”

“Ludwig Beck?” Baker’s startled gaze met his in the mirror.

A car blew their horn and Baker drove forward, belatedly realising that there was a green light. 

“Didn’t catch a surname,” Tony said. He provided a description and saw Baker nod.

“That’s Beck,” Baker confirmed. “He’s a SAC of a field office here for one of the more obscure federal agencies.”

“Good cover,” Tony murmured. He registered a nearby landmark and sighed. “Look, we don’t have much time. I have Carson’s black book, or rather binder. There’s enough in there to put Steffano away for sure, with some tough questions for Mike to answer. I’ve left in the bus station locker.”

Baker nodded. “I’ll pick it up later.”

“Mike’s intending to counter-move on this gang,” Tony continued. “Take them out before they can do their own power grab.”

“You have the details?” asked Baker.

“I have them,” Tony confirmed. He took a breath, kept his eyes steady in the rear-view mirror.  “Bianchi is going to help Mike take them out and then Bianchi is going to disappear before the police arrest Mike.” 

Baker sighed. “DiNozzo…”

“You do not want this gang instead of Macaluso,” Tony said firmly. “They’re dangerous, organised and cultish. Mike Macaluso is a teddy bear in comparison. Not only that, but they have too many officials in their back pocket already; too many cops.”

Baker was silent at that.

“We let Macaluso take care of ensuring this gang don’t get Philadelphia and we take Mike down for it,” Tony reiterated. “That’s the best outcome.”

“And the rest just get off Scot free?” Baker demanded furiously.

“Mike already has plans for Steffano; he’s going down for being in cahoots with the enemy,” Tony shot back, “Mickey is already on his way out of town because he’s literally in bed with the enemy and Mike expects that’s a death sentence and so do I!” He took a breath. “Bobby isn’t strong enough for the criminal end of business, Bono’s still in school, and Frankie wants to be D.A. so that leaves Betty to take over. Believe me the New Jersey mob will scent blood in the water and move for the territory – which was always going to be the outcome of taking out Mike. You know it and I know it.”

Baker pulled into the precinct parking lot and turned off the engine. “I don’t like it, but you’re right.”

Tony breathed out slowly. “Then we’re agreed? We take Mike down after he’s dealt with his rivals?”

“Agreed,” Baker grimaced. “Goddamn mob.”

Tony nodded. “The plans I know are with the binder at the bus stop.” The plans were the ones Mike and he had worked out that they’d tell Baker. “I’ll provide written and sworn testimony once I’m clear. You’re going to have to find some cops you trust with the take-down. According to what I overheard last night, Beck plans to use dirty cops to raid Mike and shoot him.”

Baker huffed. He glanced to his left where the second police car was parking and nodded.  “I’ll start the exit plan. You’ll be OK getting out of town?”

“As long as you don’t throw me in jail, sure,” Tony quipped. 

Baker rolled his eyes at him in the mirror and got out of the car. He ushered Tony out and they perp-walked him through to an interview room where he was left alone. Tony cocked his chair back, put his feet on the table and catnapped.

It didn’t take long for Baker to return with a growly Detective who was overweight and puffing, his florid face sweating. Gunerson slid into the chair opposite as Tony righted his own. Baker placed a tape recorder on the table and went to stand at the wall opposite, arms crossed.

“Detectives Hal Gunerson and Jonathan Baker interviewing Antonio Bianchi,” Gunerson rattled off Bianchi’s address and the date. “Mister Bianchi, do you understand that this interview will be recorded?”

“I do,” Tony said, sliding himself into Bianchi’s skin. “To be clear, you haven’t read me my rights and I am here co-operating as a person of interest.”

Gunerson glowered at him. “Where were you last night?”

“Any particular time you’re interested in?” asked Tony pointedly. 

“How about between midnight and one in the morning?” Gunerson shot back.

Tony shrugged. “I met up with Clint Barton after his performance and took him to Mister Macaluso.”

Gunerson frowned. “Barton is with Macaluso?” He darted a look at Baker.

“He felt unsafe staying at the circus given his brother’s ire towards him,” Tony responded with a shrug. “Mister Macaluso had already extended the invitation to stay with them after the incident with Laura Macaluso last year.”

“Where did you meet with him?” asked Baker.

“Practice range,” Tony said. “We went back to the caravan he usually resides in, picked up his belongings and left.”

“Mister Carson did not give permission for him to leave the circus grounds,” Gunerson said.  “As his legal guardian of record, he would like Mister Barton returned to him.”

“He can certainly file with the Department of Social Services to request his return to his guardianship,” Tony countered, “Mister Macaluso called Director Standing to confirm a temporary guardian arrangement last night.”

Baker and Gunerson exchanged another look. 

“Look, guys, Barton wasn’t provided with basic essentials or shelter by Carson. Anything he used or consumed was charged to him as debt he had to pay back under a very dubious contract that his mother signed off on at the same time as the guardianship,” Tony looked at both cops. “Now I don’t know about you but that alone makes Barton’s living conditions a matter of concern, and that’s before you factor in the recent addition of Charles Barton to the circus and his belief that he had every right to physically abuse his brother.”

Gunerson cleared his throat. “Witnesses said you had an altercation with Mister Charles Barton, also known as Barney, earlier in the evening.  Tell us about it.”

Tony shrugged. “Not to a lot to say. I was at one of the practice arenas talking with Clint about a trip to the range. His brother came storming over, visibly angry and attempted to take a swing at Clint. I stepped in and restrained him.”

“One witness says you almost killed him,” Gunerson said.

Tony shrugged again, affecting an unconcerned air. “I can see how it may have looked like that to someone who hasn’t been trained in security.”

“They said you threatened his life,” Gunerson continued.

“I may have explained how continuing to attack his brother wouldn’t end well for him,” Tony said.  He shifted. “What’s this about?”

Gunerson looked towards Baker.

“Did you go near Carson’s office last night?” Baker asked sternly.

“No,” Tony shook his head. 

“Did you speak with Charles Barton after your altercation?” demanded Baker.

Tony shook his head.  “No.”

“So you claim you know nothing about the caravan exploding around one in the morning, killing Charles Barton?” Baker followed up.

Tony affected the shock and surprise that he’d felt earlier in the car. “What?!”

Baker sighed. “Do you honestly expect us to believe that you and Clint Barton had nothing to do with this?”

“How do you even know it was him?” asked Tony. “Positive identification of a burn victim takes time.”

“A witness saw him enter,” Baker said.

“Right,” Tony drawled. “Let me guess, this witness also named me as a potential suspect, although I would guess he didn’t go as far as saying he saw me there.”

Baker was silent and stoic, but Gunerson flushed bright red.

Tony straightened and looked him straight in the eye. “I did not kill Charles Barton,” he spread his hands out, “I’d have to be very, very stupid to have fought with the man in front of witnesses and then kill him without a solid alibi.”

That rang with honesty and Gunerson winced.

“If you have any evidence, please charge me and I’ll call my lawyer, otherwise I think this conversation is over,” Tony stated implacably.

Baker and Gunerson exchanged another look.

“I’ll have patrol officers drive you back to your apartment,” Baker said. “Don’t leave town.”

“Could they drive me to the Macaluso estate instead?” asked Tony. “Someone needs to inform Clint Barton about his brother’s death.”

“We’ll take care of that,” Baker said snippily.

He and Gunerson left.

Tony settled back into his napping position. He wasn’t surprised when it was almost a full hour later that he was hustled back out of the station and into the care of the Macaluso attorney, Godfrey Bellington.

“You should have called me as soon as they asked you to come in,” Bellington chided him as they drove back to the estate.

“I can handle a couple of cops,” Tony replied. He slipped on his sunglasses and closed his eyes.  He opened them again when they got to the security gate.

The estate loomed ahead of them and Bellington parked up in front of the main house. He all but harrying Tony through the foyer and into the main family room.

Tony’s eyes swept over those present – Mike, Betty, and Frankie.

Betty swept Tony into a hug.  “Antonio! I can’t believe the police questioned you!”

“I can,” Mike said, “they’re idiots.” He nodded at Bellington. “Godfrey, let’s go into my office, we have a number of things to get sorted today.”

Frankie was next to hug him. “Clint didn’t take the news well.”

Tony sighed. He couldn’t imagine that Clint would.

“He was shocked,” Betty said soothingly. “He’s out in the garden.”

“I’ll walk you out to him,” Frankie said. She looped her arm around his and led him out of the house.

They crossed over the stone patio, skirting the ornamental pool. 

“Mama said you know that they asked me to date you to bring you into the circle,” Frankie said, conversationally as they headed for the woodland area to the left.

“They mentioned it,” Tony said lightly. He was still a little disturbed by the admission. “I didn’t think you had anything to do with the family business.”

“I don’t, not really,” Frankie said, “and I was honest when I told you I want to be District Attorney and put the family firm in the rear-view mirror.”  She sighed. “But Mama thinks she’s going to need help once Daddy goes away, and we both know my brothers are not going to step up.” She snorted. “That’s if Mickey even makes it out alive.”

Tony winced. “We could still try and save him.”

“He’s made his bed,” Frankie said simply. “My nephews are the ones who deserve to be protected. The one I’m concerned about is Laura. She is in their hands, and she didn’t ask for her Dad to be a douchebag.”

“We’ll get her out,” Tony promised. “They need her to control Steffano; they won’t kill her.”

Frankie nodded, ducking her head a touch to hide a flash of tears.

To his surprise, she pulled him to a halt and met his gaze intently. 

“I’m sorry for the pretence of dating you,” Frankie began, “would it help if I said I wished it wasn’t a pretence by the end?”

Tony reached out and tucked a lock of hair back behind her ear. “I was pretending too, Frankie.  It was why I ended it. I didn’t want you hurt in the crossfire when the truth came out.” Because he genuinely liked her; had started to become fond of her in a way that was dangerous for an undercover.

Frankie smiled. She clasped his hand in hers. “Well, you know I know now.” 

Tony turned to her with an arched eyebrow. “Yeah, I know you know.”

“So,” Frankie said pointedly, squeezing his hand, “you know I know, and I know you know so maybe we can try again without the pretence?”

Tony raised his eyebrow. “Your Mom mention the beautiful grandbabies again?”

Frankie burst out laughing. “She really did!  Oh, my God!”

Tony raised their joined hands and kissed her knuckles. “You don’t really want me, Frankie.”

“I don’t,” Frankie admitted, “but you’re the best man I know, and we could get there in time.”  She met his gaze with a rueful grin. “Daddy’s right that you’d be best for the business.”

“You can still be D.A.,” Tony said. “Mike got the business out of most of the really dodgy stuff; it wouldn’t take much to get it clean for real.” He shrugged. “You don’t need me for that, for any of it. You’re pretty great on your own.”

Frankie blushed, but she nodded. They turned back towards the wood and walked on until she paused again and pointed at the top part of a tree. 

Tony spotted Clint sitting at the edge of an old platform; the teenager was staring into the distance.

“Our old treehouse,” Frankie smiled, her eyes dimmed with sadness. She reached over and kissed Tony’s cheek. She brushed her thumb over the area she’d kissed, her eyes sweeping over his face as though to memorise it before she turned and left.

Tony watched her walk away.

Letting her go was the right thing to do, Tony mused. Not giving into the pull of family, of somewhere to belong. He was a cop; he had to hold onto that and…

His eyes flickered up to the treehouse.

And, there was more than just him to consider in the equation.

He climbed up to the platform, pleased to see that it had clearly been professionally made and installed. He still tested the planks before crossing over and lowering himself to sit beside Clint.

“Is he really dead?” asked Clint.

“The police said there was a witness to him entering the cabin,” Tony said.

Clint huffed. “The idiot was probably going to steal from Carson.” He shook his head. “I don’t know why I’m sad.”

“It’s OK to feel whatever you feel,” Tony said simply. “He was your blood, your brother, for all he was a crappy one.” He stared out at the grey sky. “My Mom was an alcoholic. Some days were bad, but the days she was good. She’d sign me out of school and take me to the afternoon matinee at the movies. That’s how I like to remember her.”

Clint sighed. “I think I’d like to remember Barney the way he was when he’d spend the day with Mom and me. I thought he was so cool then.” He brushed a hand over his right eye furtively.

Tony placed a hand on the back of Clint’s neck and squeezed lightly. “It’s good to focus on the good memories.”      

Clint nodded and took a deep breath. “I guess knowing Barney is…gone, it makes it even easier to leave.” He darted a look at Tony. “Is that…”

Tony nodded himself. “We’re going as soon as it’s done.”

Clint swiped at his face again. He pinned Tony with surprisingly clear eyes. “I don’t get it.  Why are you helping the Macaluso family with the gang if you’re really a cop?”

“Because the world isn’t black and white,” Tony replied. He held Clint’s gaze. “This isn’t a decision I made lightly.  Some will say I’m dirty for working with them, but…” he sighed and rubbed his forehead. “The way I see it is that this is the best option that protects Philadelphia, that protects its citizens, and that’s my mandate. Helping Mike take down the gang in exchange for Mike going down for it…it’s not a perfect solution but it keeps a gang who are much, much more dangerous than Mike and the family from taking control and I still achieve the letter of the mission I was given, if not the spirit of it.”

Clint nodded again slowly, understanding creeping into his decision. “You’re still completing the mission.”

“From a certain point of view,” Tony quipped, musing that there were worse role models to quote than Obi-Wan Kenobi. “Truth is undercover is all about hard decisions; missions even without an undercover element are all about hard decisions. Sometimes the rules say one thing and you have to make a different call.”

Clint took a breath. “Like helping me get away from Carson?”

“It’s the right call,” Tony stated, holding Clint’s eyes firmly. “You deserve a better life than being an indentured servant to a corrupt circus owner or being beholden to a mob family, even one like the Macalusos.”

Clint ducked his head and gave a mumbled word of thanks.

Tony checked his watch. “I have to get back to the house; the scouts Mike sent out should be back.” The morning was slipping away and there was still a lot to do if they were going to foil the gang’s plan to take over.

“I’m coming with you,” Clint said immediately.

Tony sighed. “Clint…”

“Laura’s my friend, my best friend,” Clint argued, “I should be with you when you go to rescue her!” His mouth firmed, his jaw setting in a stubborn slant. “I can help.”

Tony shook his head, wished he believed in Bianchi’s God because God knew he could do with some patience. Unfortunately, he had a feeling even if he left Clint tied up and locked in a room, he’d find a way to get involved. It was probably safer if Tony took him with him where he could keep an eye on him.

“Let’s go and see what the scouts have found and we’ll discuss it,” Tony allowed.

Clint gave a small whoop and without hesitation leaped to a branch and clambered down the tree like a monkey. Tony grimaced and reached for the rope ladder.

o-O-o

Tony checked his watch. 

Five minutes to showtime.

He swallowed hard as he considered what he was about to do. No, Tony corrected himself, what Antonio had to do. He had to be Antonio to Beck; he had to act with the ruthlessness that Antonio had from years of scrapping on the streets.

Tony tapped his steering wheel impatiently.  His eyes strayed to the building across the road where Clint was already in place, perched high up on the roof, ready to enter the vents to collect Laura who they had established was being kept inside in the attic. Clint had climbed the rickety fire escape as easily as he had the old tree.

Paddy signalled him from further up the street, headlights flashing briefly. Paddy would take the kids to safety as soon as they were clear of the house.

It was time to make a move. 

Tony DiNozzo had gotten into the car; it was Antonio Bianchi who got out.

He headed to the townhouse, striding purposefully towards the building. He’d changed clothes, dressing in black jeans, a black t-shirt and short leather bomber jacket. He’d used his shoulder holster for his primary and strapped a secondary weapon to his ankle. He had wrist holsters with Bianchi’s knives within easy access.

He skipped up the steps and rang the doorbell.

The door was opened by a minion, a thin guy with a scruffy beard. Tony knew he was one of three people on the premises.

Tony smiled at him sharply. “I’m here to speak to Special Agent Beck.”

Thin Guy blinked at him, but before he could reply, Tony heard a voice calling out to show him in. The guy stepped back and Tony took a step forward.

The townhouse had a narrow hallway passage, the staircase leading up to the right. A door to the left was open giving Tony a view of an empty den.

Beck stepped out from behind the staircase and jerked his head in a motion to follow. 

Tony walked sedately into Beck’s office. He sat down in the visitor’s chair while Beck resumed his own. Tony was aware that the minion was by the office door, waiting. He kept the man’s position noted even as he regarded the blond Agent in front of him coldly.

“What can I do for you, Mister Bianchi?” Beck asked briskly. “Are you here to confess to the killing of Charles Barton? The local police update this morning was rather interesting.”

Tony arched an eyebrow. “You think I’m here to turn myself over to a SHIELD Agent rather than local law enforcement?”

Beck leaned back, affecting an unconcerned demeanour. He steepled his fingers in front of him. “Perhaps you are unwilling to keep working with Mister Macaluso after the unfortunate disappearance of Maureen Scott.”

“Maureen is exactly where she’s supposed to be,” offered Tony with a sharp smile.

Beck peered at Tony, his gaze hard and angry. “Then, I am at a loss as to why you are here.”

“Really?” asked Tony dryly. “You can’t think of any reason why Mister Macaluso might have sent me to speak to you?”

Beck stiffened almost imperceptibly. He was clearly surprised that the dots had been joined and that he had been identified. Tony could see Beck’s mind spinning, trying to find a way to deflect.

“I’m not sure what you mean by that,” Beck demurred calmly, although tension seeped into his tone anyway. “Mister Macaluso and I have had no dealings with each other.”

“No, but your unfortunate predecessor did,” Tony remarked coolly. “Doctor Albert Noone. Head of Research for Noone Science and Technology. I believe he was killed in a warehouse explosion.”

Beck arched an eyebrow. “I have never heard of Doctor Noone.”

“That is possibly true,” Tony allowed with a wave of his own hand. “We’ve don’t know your organisation’s internal policies on communication.” He tilted his head taking in Beck’s tightening jawline. “Let me educate you. Noone was the last head honcho sent out by your organisation to get Mike Macaluso to rollover and cede Philadelphia. He was told that this is Macaluso territory and if a war was wanted, a war is what you’d get.”

“I don’t…”

“Mike’s an easy-going guy for the most part,” Tony cut in, “but finding out that there was a shadow move to take him out? Well, that irritated him.” He pretended to remove some lint from his jacket.

The minion at the door shifted weight.

“Subverting Mikey?” Tony gave a shrug. “Mikey is Mikey. Mike knows his son.”

Beck had stilled into a dangerous kind of motionless.

Tony ignored his inner cop and channelled Antonio instead. “Hatton really pissed him trying to grab Laura to get Steffano to comply.”

Beck’s eyes flickered upwards briefly, swiftly, almost too swiftly to be caught, but Tony was paying attention. Good to know that they were right about Laura being in the house, he mused.

“And you,” Tony pointed at him, “you’ve really pissed him off actually kidnapping Laura.”

Beck stared at him with the blankness of a man desperately trying to keep his expression blank. Beck was better at it than most.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Tony continued conversationally. “We’re currently dismantling your operation here in Philly.”

Beck raised his eyebrows and did not speak.

“It’s over,” Tony continued. He checked his watch. “Well, give or take a few explosions.”

The phone on the desk rang.

Beck looked at Tony. Tony looked back at Beck.

“You might want to get that,” Tony suggested.

Beck snatched up the receiver. He spoke in rapid German.

Tony did not understand a lot of German, but he understood the snarl in Beck’s voice as he ended the call, slamming the receiver back down into the cradle.

“You do not know who you have fucked with!” Beck snapped.

Tony saw the movement from the corner of his eye. The knife released from its holster and slapped into his hand. He kicked the desk towards the rising Beck at the same time as he threw the knife at Thin Guy.

He didn’t check to see if it landed in the guy’s throat, the strangled gurgle was enough to know it had done damage. Instead, Tony leapt for the desk, eyes on Beck who was reaching for a gun.

He kicked the weapon away from Beck and snapped his foot back and into Beck’s face. Beck stumbled back, crashing into the wall unit behind him.

Tony was on him before he could recover. The second knife found its home in Beck’s chest before Tony jumped away.

Beck slid down the wall unit. His pale blue eyes blinked rapidly. Disbelief was written all over his face.

Tony waited a beat. He slowly checked on Thin Guy who had face-planted in the entry. He had apparently taken the knife out of his throat. Tony grimaced. He pulled latex gloves from his pocket and tugged them on.

The phone rang again but Tony ignored it.

He crouched down and carefully picked up the knife. He wiped it off on the dead guy’s shirt and put it into his pocket. He moved over to Beck. The corrupt agent was dead. Tony shifted to stand back as he reached down and tugged the knife free. A spray of blood arched out of the wound briefly before stopping abruptly.

Tony followed the same rough cleaning method and put the second knife into his other pocket. He unholstered his gun and made his way through the house, clearing it floor by floor until there was only the attic left.

He carefully stepped up the steep ladder staircase and poked his head carefully through the open hatch.

A woman was tied up with duct tape writhing around on the floor facing away from him. There was an upended chair with the remnants of rope around its back and legs. In the corner there was a bare mattress, a breakfast tray with its contents uneaten in one corner and a thin discarded blanket in the other. A faint hint of urine emanated from the bucket in the corner.

Tony wrinkled his nose as he took a relieved breath. It looked as though the kids had kicked ass and gotten out.

A faint draft hit his skin. He looked up at the skylight. It was open a bare crack.

He left the woman and made his way down the stairs. He made his way out of the front door and back to his car. A quick check of the street confirmed Paddy was gone, hopefully with the kids. He didn’t allow himself to think about what he had just done as he peeled off the gloves and stuffed them into his jacket pocket, careful of the knife there, he fired up the engine, put the car into gear and drove away.

It was time for Antonio Bianchi to leave Philadelphia, but he had one more detour to make first before he picked up Clint and they skedaddled.

o-O-o

The church was preternaturally silent and looked empty. There was no sign of Maria or Father Avery.

The small hairs on the back of Tony’s neck bristled with warning as he stepped through the door into the small entry space with its long table filled with pamphlets and stacked with prayer books.

He breathed in deeply as he took steps towards the aisle.

The scent of the flowers filled his nose first; a fragrant perfume tinged with green. The wood polish that the cleaning crew used was next, waxy lemon. And then…the faint metallic smell of blood hit him.

He paused in the aisle to make the sign of the cross using the time to take a good look around. His eyes arrowed in on a spot of blood on the floor. His gaze skipped to another spot.

A blood trail.

It led towards the confessional box.

That did not bode well.

Tony closed his eyes and listened.

There was someone in the priest side of the confessional, panting, likely hurt. He had a horrible suspicion it was Baker.

He heard a movement by the statue of Mary on the other side of the church. It marked a private prayer space tucked away to the side; a windowless small square with two rows of tiny pews and an altar with candles lit to remember the dead. It made for an excellent hiding place and Tony gave whoever it was, and he figured he had a good idea who, kudos for the choice.

He side-stepped into the pew and sat down, using the move to cover pulling his gun, and cleared his throat. “Why don’t you join me, Detective?”

There was a beat of silence.

Finally, the scuff of a shoe against the stone-flagged floor echoed loudly as Paul Cain stepped around the statue.

“Never figured it was you,” Cain said gruffly. He stopped at the end of the pew, his gun pointed at Tony. There was a fierce bruise on one side of his face and his left arm was hanging limply.

“It’s over, Cain,” Tony said. “If you turn yourself in for corruption, you might have a chance to salvage something.”

“I’ve got nothing left to lose, kid,” Cain said in a tone that left no room for debate. He raised his arm…

Tony fired his own gun even as he ducked out of the way of the shot.

Cain staggered back clutching at his throat, the blood spray across the wall of the church felt like sacrilege.

Tony hurried from the pew and kicked the gun away from Cain. He didn’t bother to check if Cain was alive, to render assistance. He made his way instead to the confessional box and yanked open the door.

Baker sat on the floor, panting. His hands were pressed over a belly wound, too much blood pooled around them. He looked up at Tony with a fierce glare. “Bastard shot me!”

Tony tried to keep his expression from showing how worried he was. “There’s a phone out back, just hold on, and I’ll call for an ambulance.” He got to his feet.

“You need to get out of here,” Baker snapped with a grimace. “Gunerson will take in Macaluso. I read him into the op when I heard about Holden catching a bullet from another shooter, left your name out of it.” He huffed. “It’s too late for me. Everything’s in place in Baltimore for you. Saw to it myself. You have a safe place to land, Tony…” he gasped. He nodded at his pocket.

Tony huffed. He reached into Baker’s pocket. There was a slim piece of paper there with the name of a Captain. There was a Baltimore address printed in block writing.

“Gus is expecting you on a week Monday,” Baker said, swallowing hard. “Everything’s in order in our files here. You’re a vice Detective transferring. Nothing else to see.”

“Jon…” Tony put his hand on Baker’s shoulder for a moment. “I’ll send help,” he promised even though he knew that they both knew it would be too late.

“You’re a good man, Tony, a good cop,” Baker said with a pained smile. “Go! Get out of here.”

He took a step back, and another. He gave Baker a final salute and turned for the door. He stuffed the paper into his pocket and didn’t look towards Cain’s body. He strode out of the church, down the steps, and across to the parking lot.

He got to his car and stopped as Steffano stepped out from behind a nearby van.

“I might have known you were the cop!” Steffano growled.

Tony raised his hands. “Do you even care that we saved Laura? Mike knows Steffano. It’s over.”

Steffano’s face crumpled for a moment before he shook his head. “Even if Laura is safe right now, even if Mike survives what they plan, you just need to be dead!” He raised the gun he held and…

A sharp crack sounded through the air.

Steffano’s forehead bloomed with a bullet wound to the centre, blood and brains spilling out to the ground as he fell backward onto the concrete.

Tony drew his gun and whirled in the direction of the shooter. His heart pounded.

James stood by the side wire fence. He tugged the bill of his Eagles baseball cap down in a short acknowledgement and faded back into the bushes so fast Tony almost wondered if he’d imagined him.  

Tony lowered his gun and glanced at Steffano’s body. He felt a twinge of guilt for Laura, but he wasn’t going to feel guilty that James had saved his own life. He had no doubt that given Steffano’s hate for Antonio, Tony would have died if James hadn’t intervened.

He got into his car and drove away.

He stopped a few streets away at a payphone. He made the 911 call, directing them to the church, claiming he’d heard shots fired. He put the phone down before the operator could quiz him further. He made another call to the security office for them, giving them the grim message of Steffano’s death to pass along to Mike.

He turned the car around and drove back across town in a completely different direction to the one he’d chosen leaving the church.

The drive to the safehouse Mike had organised was tense.

Tony pulled into the driveway of the residential house in the suburbs and stopped the car. He sat for a long moment, his mind racing with too many thoughts, too much adrenaline.

Clint opened the side door to the house’s utility room. He hovered in the doorway, his sharp eyes finding Tony’s through the windscreen of the car.

Tony took a breath and got out. He followed Clint inside.

He stripped in the utility down to his boxers. He cleaned off the knives thoroughly in the sink before drying them and setting them aside. He took the gun apart and wiped it clean.   

Paddy turned up with clothing and Tony pulled on jeans, a white t-shirt, and a denim jacket. There was an Eagles cap he eschewed. He stuffed his feet into the new boots which had been provided and laced them up.

He drank the bottle of water that had been left out for him and made his way into the house properly, following the voices he could hear.

He stepped into a spacious den with a sofa facing a large television. A corner bar was stocked with a myriad of bottles. Paddy and a security stood either side of the door. Bellingham was tucked over by the bar with Mike with Betty and the kids on the sofa.

Betty took one look at him and pulled him into a motherly hug. For a long moment Tony let himself sag into her arms and take comfort in her. He eased back.

Laura threw herself at him. She was dressed in clean clothing and her wrists had been wrapped competently in bandages suggesting that she’d had bad bruising or scrapes from the ropes. She was faintly trembling, and he hugged her tightly trying to convey without words that she was safe.

“I’m sorry you lost your Dad, kiddo,” Tony said softly.

Laura’s grip tightened on him a fraction and she hiccupped a sob.

Clint fidgeted nervously a step away. Tony lifted his arm to invite the kid into the hug. Clint darted forward and wrapped himself around Laura and Tony like a limpet.

Mike cleared his throat.

Tony glanced over as Clint and Laura stepped away.

Mike was dressed in a good grey suit, crisp blue striped shirt, and a silk blue tie. He straightened his stiff cuffs. He stood at the bar, a whiskey at his elbow.

Laura swiped at her face. She looked at him with haunted eyes. “Beck’s dead?”

Tony nodded.

“Good,” Laura stated fiercely. She touched her throat where the shadow of a hand was painted in a bruise.

Tony felt the urge to go back to the townhouse and kill Beck all over again.

Betty put an arm around Laura. “You’ll have your vengeance on them all one day.”

And Tony was suddenly remembering how terrifying Betty could be in her own way. He had a feeling the Macaluso family was going to be just fine with her at the helm.

“I need the room,” Mike stated, his tone clearly conveying he would not hear any protests. “Tonio and I have things to wrap up.”

Paddy and the other security guard immediately stepped out. Bellingham glanced at Mike before he walked out.

Betty put her arms around Clint and Laura and shepherded them away.

The door closed leaving Mike and Tony alone.

“It’s done,” Mike said succinctly. “All four of their warehouse operations are toast.”

“I eliminated Beck and another guy at the townhouse,” Tony said pushing a hand through his hair. “I left a woman in the attic, tied up.” He pressed his lips together. “There was a complication at the church.”

Mike raised an eyebrow.

“Cain shot Baker before I got there, tried to shoot me too, but…” Tony sighed and rubbed his forehead. “I got him, but Baker was barely hanging on when I left.”

Mike nodded slowly. “That’s unfortunate. I was hoping Baker would oversee the arrest.”

“Baker said he’d read in Gunerson,” Tony said.

“I’ll ask for him at the station,” Mike said.

Tony swallowed. “I’m sorry about Steffano, Mike.”

Mike shook his head, picked up his whiskey, and swallowed it. He set the glass down. “Steffano chose his bed.” He grimaced. “This operation, Tony, they’re insidious. It feels like they have their hooks into everything. It could take years to sever all the…” he waved a hand searching for a word.

“Heads,” Tony supplied without thinking.

Mike looked at him curiously, but he nodded and pointed at him. “Exactly. Heads.”

Tony frowned. Hadn’t he heard something about heads recently? Something mythological? He sighed.

“Well, we got one of them,” Mike said satisfied, “taking them out today slowed down whatever they had planned for my city.”

It had been the right thing to do, Tony reminded himself.

“I’m going to have to say your life is forfeit if you step foot into Philly again,” Mike said almost apologetically.

“Probably best I don’t,” Tony replied easily. He’d been expecting it. If Mike was going to protect Betty and the rest of the family, he couldn’t let the idea that he’d allowed a cop take him down with no consequences to lie unchallenged.

“Did Baker manage to get your exit sorted or do we need to do that?” asked Mike briskly.

“He got everything arranged,” Tony said. “I start in my new place on Monday.”

Mike huffed. “You’re completely wasted as a cop.”

Tony shrugged, amusement bubbling up at Mike’s disgusted expression. “You knew what I was when you had me hired.”

“So I did,” Mike held his gaze. “Your father is a fucking idiot.”

Tony startled at the reference to Senior.

“If I wasn’t on my way to jail, I’d half a mind to pay him a visit and impress exactly how much of an idiot he is,” Mike continued.

Tony swallowed hard as a rush of emotion swept over him, chasing the amusement away and leaving him with an ache. “He’s not worth it.”

“Maybe not,” Mike conceded, “but you are.” He straightened and opened his arms. “Get over here, Anthony.”

Tony hesitated but gave into the emotion storming through him. He walked over and hugged Mike.

Mike clasped the back of his head. “You have a place in this family, son. Whenever you want it. That price on your head within Philly disappears the moment you want back.”

Tony nodded because he didn’t trust himself to speak.

Mike patted him gently. They eased away from each other.

“Call Gunerson,” Mike instructed, gesturing at the phone on the side table. He headed back around the bar to pour himself another drink.

Tony went over to the phone and dialled the station. It didn’t take him long to get to Gunerson. The detective growled a terse greeting down the phone.

“Detective, this is Italy calling,” Tony said, changing his accent to New Jersey.

Gunerson went silent for a long moment. “You safe, kid?”

“Safe,” Tony agreed. “Macaluso is going to turn himself in for the events today.”

“That’s quite a body pile he’s taking credit for,” Gunerson said lightly. “He’s just going to confess?”

“He is,” Tony said, “we made a deal.”

Gunerson harrumphed. “I’m not going to believe it until I see it, but fine. Jon read me in. You getting out of Dodge, kid?”

“Already on my way,” Tony hesitated for a moment. “Is Baker…?”

“In surgery,” Gunerson said succinctly. “He’s got a chance. Slim, but better than none.”

“I’ll be hoping for the best,” Tony said. “I’m gone.”

“So you are,” Gunerson said, “tell Macaluso I’ll be waiting for him.”

The dial tone sounded loudly in Tony’s ear.

“He’s waiting for you,” Tony dropped the receiver back into the cradle.

Mike raised his glass. “Then we’d better get Betty back in here and get you and Clint on the road.”

Betty operated with the efficiency of a well-oiled machine. In no time at all, Tony found himself out the back of the house at the second garage standing in front of the non-descript Ford sedan that they’d organised. The Macalusos stood off to the side. Mike had a comforting arm around Laura, content to let his wife take the lead.

“We’ve booked you into a motel by Toledo,” Betty said. “Clint has the details.”

Tony hid his unhappiness at the stop, but it was going to be a long drive to Iowa.

“Lulu’s expecting you both,” Betty said. “She and Coop are looking forward to having Clint stay.”

Clint grimaced, running a hand through his hair.

Betty patted his shoulder. “You’ll find them good people, Clint.” She gave him a brief hug which Clint endured stoically with only a hint of a wide-eyed stare of panic in Tony’s direction.

Tony wasn’t surprised when a moment later, Betty let Clint go and pulled Tony in.

“Thank you for saving my family, Tonio,” Betty said aloud.

Tony hugged her back. “You’re welcome, Betty.”

“You come back to us anytime,” Betty said, cupping his cheek with a firm hand and an even firmer stare.

He nodded solemnly although he knew he’d never return – not of his own accord despite the grief of losing her maternal comfort already settling into his gut.  

“Your things have been packed away into the trunk,” Betty informed him briskly as she stepped back. “There’s food packed into the cooler on the back seat.”

“Then we should get going,” Tony said gesturing to Clint.

Clint shifted beside Tony. “Are you sure you want to take me?”

Tony nodded. Iowa was in the wrong direction for him, but that was all to the good. It would lead a false trail for anyone looking. “The drive will be good for me.”

Laura gave a small cry and darted away from Mike to hug Clint.

Tony exchanged a glance of amusement with Betty and Mike at the teens.

“Thank you for saving my life,” Laura whispered to Clint. She moved back and…suddenly she was kissing him.

Tony’s eyebrows shot up.

Clint flailed before he enthusiastically responded.

The kiss went on.

Tony coughed loudly.

They broke apart, blushing furiously.

“Write me!” Laura instructed. “I’ll write you!”

Clint nodded speechless.

Tony hid a smile as he ushered Clint into the car. He walked around to the driver’s side and looked back at Betty and Mike. He gave a silent nod of acknowledgement to them and got into the car.

They slowly drove down the back drive, the gates opening automatically to let them leave.

Clint squirmed around and stared out of the back window, his eyes on Laura until Tony turned onto the back road and she disappeared from view.

“First kiss?” asked Tony archly.

Clint went bright red as he settled back into a more natural position in the seat. “First kiss that mattered.”

“Good answer,” Tony replied. He grinned suddenly. “You do know Betty’s going to be planning the wedding already, right?”

Clint’s horrified look had Tony chuckling, and if the laughter edged into hysteria, well, that was his own business. He took a breath and focused on the road ahead.

It hurt leaving behind the sense of family he’d developed with Mike and Betty; his friendship with Frankie, the what-if that lingered because of their failed romance. But the road out of Philly was the only road he could take and keep his badge. He was a cop. Tony just had to hold onto that.

o-O-o

Epilogue

June 2012

“Thanks for coming,” Laura enveloped Tony in a warm hug.

“How’s he doing?” asked Tony, easing away.

Laura had grown-up into a beautiful woman. She’d been a lethal SHIELD agent, but she’d resigned when she’d fallen pregnant with Cooper. She’d taken over running the farm in the wake of Lulu’s death and it suited her. She was a savvy businesswoman. Tony wasn’t foolish enough to believe that running the farm was all she did, but he was intelligent enough not to ask questions.  

He glanced around for Clint. He hadn’t been surprised when the childhood sweethearts had married. He’d been one of the few people at their small wedding in the backyard of the farm. In the end it had been them, the couple who had taken Clint in all those years before, and the officiate of the wedding from the local county office. The rest of Laura’s family maintained a public distance and always would in order to keep Laura and Clint safe.

Betty had taken a firm grip on the city, and it was under Macaluso protection as much as it ever had been. Frankie had made District Attorney a few years before and the two women were a formidable force.

“Clint’s out back at the target range,” Laura stepped away, wrapping her arms around herself. She shook her head. “He’s been quiet. Doubly so since Nat went back to D.C.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t get out here sooner,” Tony said apologetically.

Laura raised an eyebrow and motioned for him to follow her into the kitchen. “We heard about the bombing.”

Tony made a dismissive gesture. “I hardly got a scratch.” Even if he had been stupid breaking protocol and getting into the elevator with Ziva in the middle of an emergency. There again, if they hadn’t been in the elevator, they might have suffered worse injuries.

Laura cocked her head. She picked up the kettle. “I heard Dearing was dead.”

“Gibbs doesn’t think so,” Tony shrugged and raised his voice a touch as Laura refilled the kettle with water from the sink. “His gut doesn’t lie.”

“When are you going to leave that old curmudgeon?” Laura asked, setting the kettle back onto the stove and lighting the burner.

Tony grimaced. He didn’t regret all the years he’d spent at NCIS, but things hadn’t been right for years, ever since Morrow had dictated that Gibbs expand their partnership into a Major Case Response Team. Maybe they might have weathered the changes in dynamics better if Kate hadn’t been killed, but if wishes were horses…

He knew stayed primarily because of the screwed up paternal relationship he had with Gibbs. It had felt the closest he had gotten to real paternal care and approval since Tony had driven away from Philadelphia. The return of Senior to his life had only underscored their lack of relationship, no matter how much Senior charmed the people around Tony into believing otherwise.

The bombing had taken out a number of NCIS agents. Vance had approached Tony after the previous day’s latest memorial service about taking on a team of his own. The NCIS Director had somehow come to respect Tony’s abilities after the Michael Rivkin debacle. Maybe seeing Tony outsmart Vance’s old friend Eli David had actually made the man rethink.

Tony was seriously considering it. Their team worked fine, but Gibbs kept the hierarchy flat apart from in exerting his own leadership and expecting Tony to take care of all of the paperwork. He showed no signs of retiring. Tony knew if he stayed with the MCRT, he would stagnate. Hell, he was already stagnating. He really should have left the team when Jenny had offered him Rota. Or gone with Jeanne when that op had literally blown up in his face. Or not come back after the Agent Afloat thing. Or…he sighed heavily. He’d passed up chance after chance; gotten weirdly too comfortable with, yet increasingly stressed by, the dysfunction in their little team.

It wasn’t the only offer he had received.

He’d been approached the week before by an Assistant Director of the FBI. They had lost good agents in the hunt for Dearing. AD Ford had offered Tony his own team in the Criminal Investigations Division. It was a good offer.

He’d also had an approach by SHIELD at the end of May. That one he had turned down. He knew they were hunting to bolster numbers in the wake of the alien attack on New York – and he could not believe that he had actually had to think those words – but he knew enough of what they did from Clint and Laura to know the agency’s shadowy work wasn’t for him.

“Maybe I’ll be moving on soon,” Tony said, trying the idea out loud for the first time.

“I hope so,” Laura said. “And don’t apologise for not coming out. We couldn’t have had you here with Nat staying unless you’ve changed your mind on bringing her in on your connection to us.”

“I haven’t,” Tony said firmly.

He couldn’t think of anything worse than giving a Black Widow something they could use against him. He admired Clint’s decision to bring Natalia Romanova in from the cold, but he didn’t trust her the way Clint did.

“Where are the kids?” asked Tony, realising he hadn’t heard the clatter of tiny feet nor their chattering voices. He didn’t find children easy, but Cooper and Lila were fun and didn’t seem to mind Tony’s fumbling awkwardness.

“At the neighbour’s,” Laura said. “Joanne thinks Clint and I are having a romantic night alone.” Her eyebrows waggled expressively.

Tony pulled a face at her. “Did not need that imagery, thank you, Laura.”

Laura laughed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Go see Clint.”

Tony headed out, making his around the house to the target practice range Clint had set up at the back of the old barn. He didn’t cover his approach. He shivered and wished he’d worn his warmer jacket. He’d kind of assumed Iowa would be warm, but despite the sun shining overhead in a clear blue sky, the air was crisp.

Clint stood in a classic archery position facing the target. He let loose the arrow as Tony walked up and it hit the target dead centre, embedding in with the other arrows already there.

“Laura call you? You didn’t have to come,” Clint said, lowering the bow.

Tony rolled his eyes and motioned at him. “I called her after New York. I knew it was you from the footage. She called yesterday to give me the all-clear.”

“Nat got recalled,” Clint huffed as he led the way over to a nearby picnic table. “I’m on medical leave.” He set the bow down against the nearby picnic bench.

Tony opened his arms and Clint walked into the hug, sagging into Tony’s embrace.

“God, Tony,” Clint murmured, choked up. “I’m a mess.” He sounded just like the teen Tony had extracted from the circus; young and terrified.

Tony rubbed his back comfortingly. “Mind control?”

Clint nodded, his head bumping against Tony’s shoulder. “He had some kind of glowing stick thing. He touched me with it and it was like I was trapped in my own head. He’d order me to tell him something and I’d tell him. He’d order me to do something, and I’d do it. I fought and I fought and…”

Tony clasped a hand at the back of Clint’s neck as he sobbed out his hurt.

When Clint was done, he eased away and swiped at his face. Tony pushed him to sit on the bench and he took a seat beside him.

“There was nothing you could have done,” Tony said softly.

“No,” Clint concedes, “but I’m still going to feel guilty anyway.” He took a trembling breath. “Loki killed Phil. The attack on the carrier killed more agents I counted as friends in addition to Phil. I almost killed Nat.” He sighed. “She knocked me out, saved me.”

And maybe Tony owed Natalia Romanova for that, at least.

Tony put a hand on Clint’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Clint. I know you and Phil were good friends.”

“He was the only one I told about everything when Barney turned up alive,” Clint said. “Well, everything except you.”

Tony nodded. “You seeing a psychologist?”

“Online, every day,” Clint grimaced. “Fury insisted. Won’t let me back without clearance.” He sighed. “I’m not sure I want to go back.”

“Well, you only joined SHIELD when Coulson approached you, because Laura was already there,” Tony reflected with a hint of his usual teasing about how Clint had followed after his wife.

Clint huffed. “I stayed because I wanted Nat to feel like she had someone.”

“And now?” asked Tony.

“Fury has her working with Steve,” Clint gestured. “Captain America.”

There was a note of awed incredulity in the way he spoke the name.

“He’s still just a man,” Tony pointed out dryly.

Clint offered a small smile. “Phil thought otherwise.” He shook his head. “Nat said Phil fanboyed all over him. I wish I’d seen it.”

“So, you think Nat doesn’t need you at SHIELD,” Tony concluded.

“Maybe it’s about time I retired,” Clint said in the same way Tony had tried out his own idea of leaving NCIS when talking with Laura.

Tony nudged him. “Or maybe you give yourself time to heal and grieve properly before you make a decision.”

Clint grimaced, but he gave a slow nod. “Maybe.” His eyes met Tony’s with surprising clarity. “What about you? The bombing new got drowned out with everything that happened in New York, but I heard enough to know it was bad.”

“Dearing took down a lot of good agents,” Tony sighed, pushing a hand through his hair. “Gibbs thinks he’s alive.”

“What do you think?” asked Clint.

“I think Gibbs is right,” Tony said simply. “About this anyway. Dearing was clever. He wasn’t going to let himself just be caught.”

Clint’s gaze swept over him. “You thinking of finally moving on from NCIS?”

“Vance offered me my own team,” Tony told him. “I’m thinking maybe.”

Clint’s shoulder nudged his. “Just don’t let any of them guilt you into staying where you are.” He smiled. “You’re still the best cop I know.” His smile fell away. “I have a feeling we’re going to need more like you.”

Tony arched an eyebrow. “A feeling?”

Clint grimaced. “I see best at a distance, right?”

“Right,” Tony agreed cautiously.

“I was trapped in my head, but I could still see,” Clint said. “And I was suddenly seeing SHIELD from the outside, from a distance.”

Tony stilled at the way Clint’s tone vibrated with constrained fear. “What did you see?”

Clint shook his head. “Something’s off.” He turned away from Tony, looking out into the distance across the rolling green field that stretched out in front of him. He shook his head. “I don’t know what. Just…you remember the gang in Philly?”

“Can’t exactly forget them,” Tony said dryly.

“I was thinking SHIELD was exactly like them,” Clint said quietly.

Tony’s eyes widened.

“And I can’t help remembering how they pulled Laura from Germany when she thought she was getting close and redirected her to New York,” Clint continued.

“You think the gang who tried to take Mike down are somehow messing with SHIELD?” asked Tony.

“It sounds crazy,” Clint shook his head. “Maybe I saw things that aren’t there. I wasn’t exactly in my right mind.”

“Maybe not, but I trust your eyes, Hawkeye,” Tony said.

They were both silent for a long moment.

“I think I need to go back,” Clint said eventually.

“I could go with you,” Tony offered, worry rushing through him at the idea of Clint facing off against that gang alone. “I turned their offer down last month, but I could change my mind.”

“No,” Clint said, “you should stay out of SHIELD.” He looked back to him and held Tony’s worried gaze with his own. “I’ll be fine and I need you to be what you’ve always been.”

“And what’s that?” asked Tony with a touch of dryness.

Clint clapped a hand on his shoulder. “The ace in the hole.”

Tony found himself grinning despite everything.

“Come on,” Clint said, “we should head back inside before Laura sends out a search party.” He jumped up from the bench and grabbed his bow. “You staying the night?”

“I am,” Tony said, getting to his feet. His body ached from the day’s travel and he suddenly felt his age. “Gibbs isn’t expecting me back until Tuesday.”

“Which means he’ll call you tomorrow,” Clint pointed out wryly. He reached out and brought Tony to a halt with a hand on his arm. “Just…don’t tell Laura about this whole gang thing? I don’t want to worry her.”

Tony looked at Clint with sudden alarm. “Clint, it’s Laura. Don’t you think she already knows?”

Clint looked back at him for a beat. He swore roundly, whirled, and started for the house at a fast clip.

Tony followed at a slower pace. He breathed in, the sharp air rasping against his scarred lungs. He still remembered Beck. Still remembered the haunted look in James’ eyes. He’d never seen the man again, and he’d looked. He’d found nothing but whispers and fragments.

The Winter Soldier.

He’d thought it was all myths and nonsense.

But.

But the world was changing. Aliens and superheroes back from the grave. It was Stark saving the day in an iron suit, and hulking monsters battling it out in Harlem.

Beck’s team had been only one facet of something larger and hidden. If Clint really had seen something familiar…Tony could believe it.

They’d have dinner and they’d plan for dealing it, Tony determined. He knew Clint and if Clint really believed that the gang was in SHIELD in some way, Clint would be going back into the fray. Tony couldn’t stop him from doing that, but he could do what he’d always done for Clint, for Laura.

He could be their ace in the hole.

It was a plan.

Tony cast one last look at the sunny sky and headed into the warmth of the farm and his family.

fin.

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