The Right Partner

Chapter 15

"Mind control."

"What?"

"That's why she turned on you when you started to run. She was impersonating Betty Ross, Talbot figured it out and told a terrorist organization he was working with. They captured her shortly before you fled to India, implanted something in her head. She figured it out once, there's an incident report where she came out of hiding and tried to contact someone. Then they got smarter and created sonic frequencies attuned to her genetic code that would allow then to control her. Nat and I took out the main broadcaster so they had to resort to using portable guns. She's fine now. But anything she said to you, anything she did? it wasn't her."

It made sense. Her attempt to turn him in to General Ross, her dull eyes. He had never understood what had made her the like that, and now that an explanation was put in front of him, he held into it with both hands, using it to pull him out of the river he'd been drowning in.

"May I see her?" Clint smiled from his spot on the bed, settling himself further into the covers.

"I'm a master assassin doc, you know the big brother speech. Though, I think if you hurt her, she'd be more than capable of returning the favor." The doctor nodded a little, not smiling, but not looking too scared.

As promised, there was a car waiting outside the tower for him, he slipped in and they were off to the secret compound that was not so secret anymore. Just like the FBI and CIA, SHIELD had a public headquarters and a not so public headquarters. They were going to the not so public one.

He felt surprisingly calm, his rage just barely perking up more than usual, but that had more to do with the left turns than where they were headed. Her picture made her look older, lines more refined, but still as beautiful as ever. Her hair had changed, it was russet, not as sable as it use to be. Her eyes hadn't change a bit, their hazel blue remaining vibrant after all this time. He supposed they had chosen her specifically because she looked the most like his daughter, but still, she was striking.

The ride gave him time to think, so when the car pulled over and he got out, he laughed when he was met by three armed men. It never ceased to amuse him how armed men seemed to comfort others. They were nothing to him. More of a nuisance than anything else.

After a fairly long elevator ride and walking around several hallways, they came to a steel door, labeled D-7. Bruce was surprised she was held in such a low detainment level, the only people he knew that fought better than her were her brother and Natasha.

"You get an hour. She is not to be killed. If you are to turn, we have security measures in place." The guard beside him piqued up before they turned and walked away. He noted how he said not to be "killed" instead of "harmed." Useful information.

He turned the handle and was met with quite a sight. She was handcuffed to a metal table, covered in papers. They were everywhere, with every possible thing written on them. He wondered why she didn't just type it, but remembered that she always preferred paper to electronics. The table had been bolted to the floor, so when her pen had rolled off the table, she was incapable if reaching it. She knew he was there, but made no move to talk to him. By the look in her eyes, she was in the middle of a though and couldn't be pulled out till she was done.

He leaned over and picked up the pen, handing it to her before closing the door behind him and sinking to the floor with his back propped against the reflective metal. Her hand was going a mile a minute, scribbling so hard at the paper he thought it might rip. He crossed his legs and waited. Twenty minutes passed before the incessant scratching stilled and she looked up.

Her face, which had been blank, looked as though it wanted to form words, but was incapable of expressing anything through speech. She looked down at the work in front of her, and then back at him, her mouth opening slightly before closing.

"Your hair has gotten hoary."

"Yours has gotten more haematic than I remember."

"That's not the color, I just haven't showers in a while."

"No wonder you smell so pleasant." Dry laughter bounced around the metal walls, causing him to crack a smirk and make his way over to the chair across from her.

"I'm sorry. You know that don't you?" He found himself nodding as he leaned back in the uncomfortable confines of welded steel.

"Clint told me what happened. It was not your fault. If anything it's I who should be sorry. Your assignment would've ended had I gone earlier, you shouldn't have been there." She shook her head and looked him dead in the eye.

"We're not playing the "if it wasn't for me" game. I've played enough of that. What I want to know, is where the hell you've been. It's been more than ten years, Bruce. You may have read my file, but that doesn't excuse you from not telling me yours."

Bruce told her everything, from running through India, to the battle of New York. Every child and parent he lost, every time he almost slipped, every time he tried to end it all. There were no secrets between them, because he hadn't fallen for Betty Ross, he'd fallen for Barbra Morse.

After their parents had died in a crash Clint and Barbra got separated when put into foster homes. Barbra had been with the Morse family for some of her first years and had taken the name when Clint came to get her. They had fled in the road, taking what they needed, until getting stopped by a farmer, who said he'd hire them as hands. He taught them everything, from tying knots, to shooting arrows. When he passed, he left them the farm. It was around that time that in the next town over, a drug ring sprung up, dealing some arms on the side. Their barn was big enough to fit thirty men, which made it prime real estate for the ring.

There was a siege that lasted four days before any law enforcement could intervene. When the cops finally did appear, it was just Clint and Barbra, sitting in the second story window, broken furniture all around them, walls covered in bullet ridden mattresses. They had four shotguns, two hand guns and an arrow a piece, plus some knives. They'd used the guns sparingly, and when they ran out of arrows, they cut more out of the wooden furniture in the house. It looked like a war zone. Hell, it had been a war zone, and both of them were fine except a bullet wound a piece.

When a list of several reports crossed Fury's desk for potential threats, these two were in the top twenty. So he hired them.

Barbra's assignment as Betty would be her last, though she hasn't known that. At the time, she had been trying to recruit Banner for SHIELD, so he never believed the facade. After the accidental burning of his work, saved only on a single flash drive, he ran. They had planned to go together, but she had fought with him the day before and when he had looked for her, she had been gone.

By the end of his recount, Barbra had a strange expression on her face. Bruce had never seen it before, it was strange, not sad but almost pained. He figured the room had a security team watching, and that the people watching this little spectacle had to have been removed as soon as he started discussing classified information.

"Well. I guess all that's left to know is, why are you here?"

"I wanted to see you. It's been so long. I was going to ask where you'd go once you are let go, well, free of this room. When I saw it was you I... Clint explained it to me." She nodded, folding her hands on the table and interlacing her fingers.

"I don't know where I'll go. I suppose I could ask to bunk with Clint, but someone told me he didn't live in the compound. Where do you want me to go?" The answer was immediate.

"With me. I want you to come join all of us at Avengers tower. At least, I think that's what it's called now..." A slow smile spread across her face.

"I'd like that. I'll see you when I'm sprung."

A buzz came from behind him as the door opened. The guards no doubt had instructions not to startle the doctor and the motioned for him to leave. As he was leaving, Barbra motioned for him to come closer to her, just for a moment.

She curled her fingers around the collar of his reddish shirt and pressed her lips firmly into his. He smiled, his muscles remembering exactly what to do as they move together as one. Just like the good old days.