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Chapter Twenty-Four: Firebyrd

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I sat with my head between my knees against the wall outside of Clint's room, where I hoped Nat was. I didn't want to see anyone else.

Well, maybe Thor. It would be great to see Thor. But he was miles away, maybe hurt, maybe dead. I groaned, raking a hand through my curls and pounding my head against the wall in frustration. Not my best idea. Pain rattled my already bruised skull, as even more chills crept down my spine. This cold was deadly, more intense than any I'd ever experienced.

Several moments passed, and finally, the door slid open. I didn't look up.

"Al?" Nat's voice, concerned and soft, came from above me. Only then did I look up and meet her eyes. Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she stooped, helping me to stand. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up."

She led me into Clint's room, sitting me down in a chair opposite the bed. While she rummaged through the bathroom, Clint nodded a greeting.

"Agent Barton," I mustered, "Good to meet you."

"Heard you saved Nat's ass back there," he said, extending a hand to shake mine, "Pleasure to meet you, Alivia."

I stayed quiet, wringing my hands as Nat came back with a wet cloth, which she used to clean the blood out of my skin and hair.

"This probably stings like a bitch, but it won't need stitches," she remarked, as she finished cleaning the wound on my forehead. "Are you alright, Al?"

I shrugged. "I've... God, this is going to sound so stupid to you two, it's just—I've never seen someone die before, and Coulson, he... He died right in front of me. You just cleaned his blood off my hands."

Nat squeezed my shoulder, sitting down beside me. "This has been our whole lives, Alivia. You're new to this, and its scary. Even I still get scared, you saw me back there with Bruce. I wouldn't be here right now if it hadn't been for you."

I forced a weak smile at her. Coulson's death weighed heavily on me, of course. But I couldn't tell her what truly bothered me. Seeing Loki that way. Seeing what he had done to Thor. Watching someone die at his hand. Being completely at his mercy. It terrified me.

Suddenly, the door slid open, and Steve entered, clad in his uniform. "Time to go," he nodded at Natasha.

"Go where?"

"I'll tell you on the way. Can you fly one of those jets?" Steve asked her.

"I can," Clint answered.

"You got a suit?" Clint nodded. "Then suit up."

With that, Steve was gone. Natasha looked down at me. I looked right back at her. The fight was far from done.

"You don't have to come with us," she told me, rubbing my arm comfortingly.

I shook my head. "I'm not going to walk away from this now. I'm not letting him get away with everything he did. With killing Coulson."

Nat nodded sharply, and the three of us followed where Steve had gone.

We rounded into an armory, where Nat and Clint did just as Steve had instructed. I stood uselessly aside, eyeing the racks of arrows, guns, and other equipment I couldn't even name.

"Little Al," Stark's greeting came with a slap on the back. In his hand he held his Iron Man mask. I folded my arms and looked up at him. He lifted his eyebrows up and down, "Got something to show ya'."

I quirked a brow, and followed him deeper into the armory, past Steve and into a large empty space. He extracted a remote from his pocket, and from the floor, emerged armor stands. Most were empty except for two. One held the rest of Tony's Iron Man suit. The other...