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“Bobbi,” someone says. “Can you hear me?”Another voice. “That looks bad. We should get her to a hospital.”“What’s the point? She’ll just...” the voice trails out as everything goes fuzzy and then black.—“This is the third time this month.”Luke and Jessica have moved down the hall, near the vending machine, but Bobbi’s hearing is just this side of superhuman, and they’re not as good as they think they are at keeping their voices down.“I know, sweetie,” Jess says. She sounds tired. It’s probably Bobbi’s fault. “I’ll talk to her.”Luke sighs. “She’s doing it on purpose. You know that, right? When I first got out of jail, with my unbreakable skin, I went through a—”The nurse comes over with Bobbi’s discharge papers, disrupting her eavesdropping. Ines, that’s her name. She remembers her from last time.“Here you go, Ms. Morse,” she says, handing the papers to Bobbi. “Signed and ready to go. Where’s your punch card? After four concussions, the fifth one’s free.”Bobbi cracks a smile at that one. “Even if they heal by the time the doctor sees me?”“Your fancy Avengers insurance gets charged for it just the same,” Ines responds.Bobbi shrugs. “If it were up to me, I wouldn’t waste your time. But my friends...they’re a little overanxious.”“Lucky you.”Said friends approach then, and Ines leaves her in their hands. “Coming back to the Mansion?" Luke asks.Bobbi shakes her head. “I think I’m just gonna go home.” Jess opens her mouth, probably to say that the Mansion is her home, too, so Bobbi adds, “To my own place.”Luke and Jessica exchange a look, and Luke says, “I’m gonna go get a coffee.”Bobbi raises her eyebrows as Luke walks away, then turns to Jessica. “Real subtle.”“He’s addicted.” Jess smirks, not even pretending to believe her own words. “It’s a curse.”“Mmm.”“Listen, do you want someone to go with you to Brooklyn?” Jess asks. “I can call Dom.”Bobbi shakes her head. She hasn’t assigned a label to whatever’s happening between her and Dominic Fortune, whether they’re just hooking up or if it’s a fledgling relationship, but they definitely haven’t reached pick-her-up-at-the-hospital levels of closeness yet. “Clint?” Jessica offers tentatively.Bobbi gives her a sideways look. “If I weren't fine, they wouldn't be releasing me. I don't need a babysitter, Jess.” She walks out the automatic doors of the hospital, the smoggy August heat greeting her like a brick wall.Jess follows her outside, and they stop next to a parking sign near the entrance. Jess’s hand automatically goes to her pocket, looking for a nonexistent cigarette, and she smiles sheepishly when she catches herself. “I know, but it's just—you're scaring me, Bobbi,” she says. “Three concussions in a month can’t be good for you, infinity formula or no infinity formula. It seems like you’ve been taking more and more risks lately.”This afternoon was pretty wild. They were fighting some sort of giant monster from a different dimension—there was a lot of fire involved, so either a dragon or a demon, sometimes it’s hard to tell them apart—and Bobbi leaped off a fire escape onto its back. The fight was great, but the only problem was, once they knocked the creature out, it went down heavy. Bringing her with it.“Yeah, well.” She clears her throat. “My body can take it, obviously.”“Until it can’t.”Bobbi turns away, but Jess keeps talking. “The super-soldier junk that Clint and Fury gave you gives you peak strength and resilience, but you’re not Wolverine. You’re not invincible.”And if she were Wolverine, she wouldn't be getting this speech. But Mockingbird, she's the weak link, the one with no powers. The one who foolishly got herself captured by aliens and came back with her head all screwed up, then went and got shot, wasting the team's precious time and resources finding a solution.“I know what I can handle,” Bobbi bites out. Jess opens her mouth to retort, but she doesn’t want to hear it, so she just...walks away. She knows it’s a shitty move. She's been a shitty friend lately, just like she's a shitty Avenger and a shitty wife/ex-wife/girlfriend, but she can't put the anger aside for long enough to do anything about it.“Come on, Bobbi, don't just leave,” Jess calls. Bobbi lashes out in response, punching a newspaper rack and leaving a dent in the metal. She doesn’t look back at Jess’s disappointed face, just keeps walking forward for three blocks, until she's stopped shaking, then hails a cab.“Quincy and Thomas in Bed-Stuy,” she tells the cabbie. The traffic will be hell at this hour, but to be honest, the traffic is hell at all hours. She just hopes she makes it home before the sun starts setting.After SHIELD absorbed the WCA, she needed to find a new place to live. There’s always the Mansion, of course, but sometimes she needs to be alone. Brooklyn is completely new to her, and she’s finding that she likes it. It’s still city life, but not quite as metropolitan as Manhattan. In Bed-Stuy, she can breathe. Metaphorically, that is. The air is just as humid here as in the city, but the people don’t move quite as fast.As they approach the building, Bobbi can see Ivan, her landlord, and her neighbor Simone arguing on the sidewalk. Simone is holding her toddler on her hip while the six-year-old, Charlie, tugs on her arm. Ivan is gesturing angrily and yelling, and two of the guys from his “tracksuit mafia,” Ivan’s Russian pals whose closets seem to be one hundred percent velour Adidas jogging suits from the 1970s, are carrying shit out of the building—presumably, Simone’s belongings.“Uh-oh,” Bobbi says.“You know her?” the cabbie asks.“Mmm.” Bobbi pays him and steps out of the car. She walks toward them and shouts out, “Hey! What’s going on?”“Mind your business, girlie,” Ivan says. “Lady is not paying rent. I am landlord, I decide what happens.”“He’s tripling our rent!” Simone exclaims, outraged. “Don’t they have laws against this type of thing?”Bobbi is proficient twelve different styles of martial arts, has a PhD in biology, and speaks seven languages fluently (including two different dialects of Skrull), but one thing she is not well-versed in is law. But right now, she doesn’t care. She is so futzing sick of watching the strong prey on the weak and getting away with it. She looks at Ivan’s contemptuous face, and in it, she sees the faces of all the rest of them: Superia, the Skrull who’d pretended to be Clint, Lincoln Slade and William Cross and everyone else who ever thought they could hurt her and get away with it.But punching Ivan in his smug mouth isn’t going to help Simone right now. “Listen, I have money, I can lend—” She turns to Ivan. “I can get you the money to cover the new rent.”“Oh, you can get me, yeah?” he laughs scornfully. “I have heard ‘I can get you’ before, Bro. No deal.”Asshole. “Do you have somewhere to go?” she asks Simone.“My sister.” Simone shakes her head and sighs. “I hate to do this to her.”“I’ll take care of it,” Bobbi promises her, a plan already forming in her head. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”—-On Bobbi’s first evening in the apartment, her neighbor across the hall invited her up to the roof to socialize with the rest of the tenants. She was skeptical—New York in the twenty-first century and people actually know their neighbors?—but it turned out to be a pretty nice gathering. There was food and beer, and everyone introduced themselves and welcomed her in. She told everyone that she did research for a living, which wasn’t a total lie, and since then, they’ve accepted her as one of them.These gatherings happen once or twice a week. Not everyone shows up every time, of course. People have their own things going on. Except for Grills, so named because he’s always grilling. They all chip in for the food, and sometimes someone brings out a guitar, and they stay up there until the neighbors threaten to call the cops.Bobbi really enjoys these evenings. She usually shows up a little late, because she’s waiting for the sun to go down completely before going out. Sunsets still trigger flashbacks for her occasionally, and she’d rather not deal with questions.Tonight, the atmosphere is tense. Everyone’s talking about how Simone is only the first one to go, that they’re all going to be muscled out of the building because the mafia has some sort of nefarious plans for the place. The rumors get bigger and bigger as the hour gets later.She really doesn’t want to move again so soon. The sense of community in this place is something really special, for one. Aside from that, it’s just a hassle. It’s not the money. Money, she’s got.“It’s happening all over the neighborhood,” Deke says. “Gentrification. They’re going to build a bunch of high-rises.”“They’re going to burn this all down, collect the insurance money, and then build a bunch of high-rises,” Tito corrects him.Deke takes a beer from the table and pops it open. “Nah, Ivan wouldn’t bother evacuating us before setting the building on fire.”Ivan needs to go, is what Bobbi’s hearing. She can—she can do that. She gets things done. That’s what she needs to remember. Even without powers, she was a force to be reckoned with. Now? She’s unstoppable. Let someone come and try.She looks up at the others. “Where can I find him?”—-Ostensibly, she didn’t come to start a fight.Ostensibly, she was just planning on showing up with a suitcase full of money to pay the new rent for the entire building.But Ivan’s not a reasonable man, and before she knows it, she’s fighting off ten, fifteen guys in maroon-red tracksuits, barely breaking a sweat.“Is that all you got?” she shouts, as another one falls. “This is your best shot?”A shadow falls over her, but before she can react, there’s a bark from behind her, and then a scream. She turns to see a tracksuit mobster holding a pipe, hunched over in pain, bloody tooth marks on his hand. The dog, the one she stopped to pet on her way in, is barking angrily at the guy, whose face is red in anger. He shouts a very rude word in Russian and kicks the dog, who goes flying across the room. Bobbi gasps.“Did you just kick a dog?” she says, livid. “You—you know that’s a trope, right? In a movie or a book, if someone kicks a dog, you know that they’re not just a regular villain...they’re the worst kind of bad guy there is.”The guy responds with a snarl.“Go to hell,” she says, punctuating the sentence with a spit.He tackles her, pulling her sideways and sending the two of them right through the front window. They fall onto the sidewalk in an explosion of shattered glass, and Bobbi rolls on top and knocks him out with a single punch.She looks up. Some pedestrians are staring.She feels kind of dizzy.“It’s okay!” Bobbi announces, standing up. “I’m an Avenger.”Outer borough or not, it's still New York, so most of the bystanders go back to what they were doing before the commotion. Ivan walks out the front door, his white sneakers stepping indiscriminately on the broken glass.He looks her over, possibly taking her seriously for the first time. “You crazy, Bro,” he says in disbelief. “I know law, Bro. Is my right to raise rent.” He looks around at the mess on the sidewalk. “What kind of Avenger does this?”A crazy Avenger. Yeah, she’s considering owning that one.Bobbi slides a hidden stave out of her sleeve, letting it hang loose in her hand. “You know, it's a funny name, ‘Avengers,’” she muses. She slides. “Considering that what they really do is defend. They see an attack, they stop it. You know? The Avengers don’t go around tracking people down, starting fights. They just contain the damage. They certainly never kill anyone. They’re heroes.”She grins, showing her teeth. “Me, I got kicked out of the Avengers.” She pauses for effect, twirling a stave over the back of her hand and catching it. “Killed a guy. They didn't take it well. I guess I’m just too violent for their pristine asses.” She reaches into her pocket and pulls out an envelope with a check inside, handing it to him. “Anyway, here's the rest of your money,” she adds cheerfully.“What money?” he asks. She already left the duffel bag with the rent cash inside.“For the building. It’s two million more than your original buyer was going to pay. I’m your new buyer.” It's a good deal. If he tries to turn it down, she'll know something’s up.Ivan looks like he’s about to piss his pants, but he puts on a decent show, grunting, “Not—not looking for new buyer.”Bobbi taps her stave against her thigh and repeats herself slowly. “I'm your new buyer.”

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“Bobbi, I’m retired,” Jess says, for the third time.“Yeah, I know, but this is barely—”“Re. Tired,” she repeats. They walk through the Mansion hallway into the dining room, where they find Luke and Danny eating takeout. “What about Danny?” Jess suggests.Danny looks up. “What about Danny what?”“I need a partner for an extracurricular project,” Bobbi says.Luke looks put out. “Why Danny and not me?”“Not you because I need you home at night,” Jess retorts. “You know how I get when I’m sleep-deprived.” She turns to Bobbi. “Dani is going through a growth spurt and a sleep regression and I can't even talk about it.”“I wish I could,” Danny says to Bobbi. "But between the Avengers and work...”“Don’t worry about it,” Bobbi tells him. “I’ll find someone.”“Disgusting,” Jess says out of the blue. It takes Bobbi a few seconds to realize that she isn’t talking to her. She looks over and sees Jess holding up an issue of The Pulse that she picked up off the table. There’s a photo of the Young Avengers splashed across the cover, and in big white letters: YOUNG AVENGERS: WHERE WILL THEY GO FROM HERE?Jess clicks her tongue in disapproval. “Using Cassie’s death to make a quick buck.”“I read it,” Danny says. “It was actually a pretty respectful tribute.”Jess scoffs. “You don’t know Jonah like I do.”Bobbi keeps her mouth shut. There’s some history here that she’s missing—she knows that Jess has been a kind of mentor to the Young Avengers, but she doesn’t know what the connection is with Jameson. She takes a second look at the magazine and something catches her eye.“What’s this?” she asks, pointing. The kids are all in their uniforms, Wiccan and Speed back-to-back in the middle, with Hulkling on Wiccan’s right and Hawkeye on Speed’s left, standing in between him and Patriot. Hawkeye’s arms are folded over her chest, her chin pointed up so that she’s staring down the camera imperiously, and for the first time ever, Bobbi notices that strapped to Kate’s left thigh are a pair of white battle staves that look exactly like her own.Jess looks over her shoulder. “Oh, yeah. They’re an old pair of yours. She found them here in the Mansion, the first night—did you ever hear about how the Young Avengers formed?”She knows the gist. After Wanda’s literal break with reality, the Avengers disbanded, and a few months later, a bunch of superpowered teenagers had found each other and started a new team, against Captain America’s wishes. Kate had invited herself along, despite having no powers, and the chutzpah she’d shown in standing up to Cap had earned her the Hawkeye name.“I never noticed them before,” Bobbi says. She thinks back to all the times she’s fought next to the Young Avengers, and she can’t recall ever seeing her use them. It’s kind of impractical to switch back and forth between a bow and sticks. She wonders why Kate still carries the staves, when the bow has become her signature weapon.“The other kids teased her about it at first,” Jess says. “Called her Hawkingbird.”The corner of Bobbi’s mouth curls up. “Hawkingbird, huh?”“That’s right.” Jess meets her look and it’s clear she knows what Bobbi’s thinking. “I have her number, if you want it.”—She makes the call later in the day, from the corded landline phone in the kitchen of her apartment. It rings three times, and then Kate picks up. “Hello?”“Hi. Kate?”“Yep.” Casual. Confident. She likes that in a partner.“This is Bobbi Morse.” There's a beat of silence, so she adds, “Mockingbird.”“Yeah, of course, I know who you are.” Now Kate sounds a little flustered. “Cool. What’s up?”“I’m looking for a partner for a job.”“Oh?” Kate says.There’s another pause, and then Bobbi adds (in case it wasn’t clear), “I was wondering if you would be interested.”“Oh!” A note of surprise enters her voice. “I mean—why me?”She has to take a second to think about how to answer that. “Well, Jessica Jones says you’re pretty sharp.”Kate laughs. “Jessica Jones is pretty sharp herself.”“She’s also, unfortunately, retired.” Bobbi pauses again, trying to figure out a way to phrase what she wants to say. There isn’t really a good way, though, so she just spits it out: “I noticed that you carry around a pair of staves.”“Um,” Kate says sheepishly. “Um, yeah.”“Well, I was wondering,” Bobbi continues. “Do you know how to use them?”There’s silence on the other end.“Would you like to learn?”—“What’s your dog’s name?” Kate asks.Her dog—Bobbi hasn’t quite started thinking of him that way yet, but she guesses it’s true. After saving her life, the dog from Ivan’s underground casino had followed her home. None of the guys inside had protested, so she he probably wasn’t exactly a cherished pet before. She took him to a vet and made sure he was healthy and up-to-date on shots, stopped off for dog food and a leash on the way back, and he’s been with her ever since.“He’s...between names,” Bobbi says. It’s not a lie—the tag on his collar had said “Arrow,” but she doesn’t need any reminders of her ex-husband in this house. And anyway, he doesn’t answer to it.Kate scratches behind the dog’s ears, and he puts his front paws on her lap. “He’s friendly,” she says.“That he is.” Could be useful to have a dog around. Bobbi wonders if dogs can sniff out Skrulls. Probably not, she decides, if Wolverine and Tigra hadn’t been able to do it. Well, no matter. There are other ways of picking them out.She fills up the dog’s food and water and then turns to Kate. “So. You ready to get started?”They start with some basic Kali techniques, reviewing and drilling various angles of attack. Kate’s a fast learner, which doesn’t surprise her, and after a while, they move on to more practical drills, Bobbi setting up attacks for Kate to defend against.“Watch your elbow,” Bobbi warns after Kate makes the same mistake twice. “You’re leaving your torso open.”Kate sighs, and they take it from the top.Afterwards, Bobbi puts on a pot of coffee. “How do you take yours?” she asks, opening the cupboard.“Black,” Kate answers from behind her. Bobbi can hear her rifling through the cut-up newspapers on the counter. “What’s all this?”“Well, they’re either clues or they’re garbage.” Bobbi pulls out a pile of photos. “See, as a spy and a biologist, I’ve been trained to notice patterns. Take a look at these.” She opens her laptop while Kate peruses the pictures.“You took these?” Kate asks. Bobbi murmurs a yes. “What's it mean?” “Hmm. At first, looking them up on the internet sent me deep into a rabbit hole of really awful conspiracy theories, but I eventually found something that seems legit. It's called a code called hoboglyphs. This one warns other people who can read it to get out of town.” Bobbi turns the computer around so that Kate can see the chart.Bobbi brings the coffee out so that they can brainstorm. She pours Kate's black, as requested, and adds milk to her own.“I thought detectives were supposed to drink stale black coffee and smoke cigarettes,” Kate jokes.Bobbi chuckles. “You want to leave yours out for a few hours before drinking it, be my guest.” For her part, she has no interest in making life more bitter than it needs to be. Kate sits in front of the computer and starts typing away while Bobbi looks between the photos and the headlines, trying to find any more patterns she may have overlooked.“Okay, this sounds familiar,” Kate says after a few minutes. “There's this new super-fancy hotel opening up in lower Manhattan next week. Right next to the South Street Seaport. That's a weird place to put a ritzy hotel, right? What kind or rich person visits the city and stays all the way down there? And, get this—the owner is Bernie Gunn, a shady-as-fuck friend of my father's.”“Okay, okay. Good.” Bobbi writes that down. Kate was really a stroke of luck. She’s perfect for this gig.“Grand opening is Sunday night,” Kate continues. “There's a performance by the Cirque du Nuit.” Her French accent is flawless and seemingly effortless. “Do you know who they are?”Possibilities start to run through her head. “Find out who the ringmaster is.”Kate starts typing again, and Bobbi sips on her coffee.It doesn’t take long to find an answer. “Some guy named Myron Talbot?”Bobbi nods. “M-T. That’s gotta be the Ringmaster. Real name, Maynard Tiboldt. It’s a common trick to pick an alias with the same initials as your own—makes it easier to remember.”“And easier to get caught?” Kate says.“Only by people who know what to look for. When did you say this opening was?”“Sunday night. I can get us invites,” Kate offers. “Bernie Gunn bought me my first pony, the old sonuvabitch.”Perfect.—The night before the opening, Bobbi dreams that she’s hiding in a dark cupboard with a dirt floor, wearing her old leotard costume. She’s dirty and sweaty and hungry, but she’s frozen in place. She can hear heavy footsteps outside and the voices of her friends arguing with each other in Skrull.“She’s doing it on purpose,” says Luke.“Bobbi? Can you hear me?” Jessica calls.Bobbi wipes her sweaty palms against the fabric of her costume and curls deeper into herself, rocking back and forth, trying to keep her breathing as quiet as possible. She hears Spider-Man saying, “She’s got to be around here somewhere.”Next is Greer’s voice. “She’s beginning to suspect you.”“She’s a lost cause,” Clint says. “We should stop looking.”“Testing her limits, that’s all.” That’s Luke again. “It’ll just get worse if you—”“Bobbi?” Jess interrupts him, louder now. Bobbi wants to answer her, but she knows she can’t let herself be caught.“This is bad,” says Doc Samson with a sigh.She wakes up scared and angry, and she wants to cry but her eyes won’t form the tears, and she wants to hit something but there’s nothing in her room to hit. There’s an unopened box in the corner of the room with the punching bag she bought when she first moved in, but she hasn’t gotten around to installing it yet.She picks her phone up off the nightstand and starts to scroll through her contacts. There aren’t many people she can call at two in the morning. With Dani's sleep regression, both Jess and Luke are off the list. Logan might be awake, but he's not really the type to chat with over the phone. The rest of her teammates she's not really that close with.Dom would come over if she asked him to. He's actually not a bad listener, and the sex is good enough that it would distract her from her thoughts. But if she called him over this nightmare, then she would call him for the next nightmare, over and over until before she knew it, she would be emotionally dependent on him, and Dominic Fortune is not a man who is emotionally available. She knew that when she started this thing, and she hasn't forgotten it now. She swipes up and down at the screen casually, almost absently, until Clint's name comes into view. Her thumb hovers over his name for a few seconds. It would be so easy. She wouldn't even have to tell him about the dream—he would know right away why she was calling, and just hearing his voice would soothe her. She imagines his phone buzzing, his arm moving to pick it up automatically. He rubs his eyes, squints at the screen, sees her name. Disentangles himself from Spider-Woman's arms... Yeah, she’s not calling Clint.Before she can change her mind, she swipes down and clicks on the phone icon next to Dom’s name. Smothering the voice inside her head telling her it’s a bad idea, she waits for it to start ringing on the other end and for Dom to pick up.She hears him clear his throat as he picks up the phone. When he speaks, his voice is husky and just a touch smug. “Hey.”“Hey,” Bobbi says, sitting up and turning on the lamp on her nightstand. “What are you up to?”—Kate takes care of the invites and the dresses, and Bobbi brings the SHIELD-issued sunglasses to protect them from the Ringmaster’s hypnosis powers. The hotel lobby is full of underworld bosses, supervillains, and scam artists. Bobbi hopes her disguise holds long enough for them to get to the bottom of what’s going on.Ringmaster pulls the exact trick they were expecting—his modus operandi of petrifying the crowd through hypnosis and then sending his flunkies to steal their valuables from right under their unmoving noses. Bobbi and Kate sneak out, unnoticed, to the basement, where they split up to intercept the thieves as they try to escape.Bobbi finds the door that leads to the pier and watches as the clowns start loading bags onto a boat. She’s about to turn around to get Kate when she feels a crowbar hit the back of the head.“Ow!” she says, turning around to face the attacker. “That could have really hurt!”He goes for her face this time, but she catches the crowbar and wrenches it away from him, then knocks him out with it. Two more henchmen come up behind him, and she easily dispatches them. Four, five, more—she takes down the first dozen-plus easily, but they keep coming at her (who knew it took this many people to run a scam?) and eventually, the sheer number of them overwhelms her. Hands grab her arms and hold them still while someone shoves a handkerchief over her nose. She struggles against it, but they’re all crushed into the room like sardines in a can, and there’s nowhere for her to go. Slowly, her vision dims and it all goes dark.That’s the fourth time this month, she thinks as it all slips away.The next thing she feels is a bucketful of cold water being poured all over her head. She sputters and flinches, then starts to gasp as the cold seeps into her dress. She’s on her knees with her hands handcuffed behind her back. The handcuffs won’t be a problem, but she should probably get her bearings before she makes a move. Opening her eyes, she sees the swordsman from the circus act standing in front of her, three or four goons on each side of him, each pointing a gun at her. In the corner, there’s a woman in white face paint and a pink wig with arrows sticking out of it, crossing her arms and looking bored. She can hear a few more people moving behind her, probably also armed.“I wanted to personally meet the woman who gave my associates so much trouble.” He looks her over, his eyes not registering any hint of recognition, then drops his phony French accent. “Okay, who the hell are you?”Well, that’s a little insulting. “I’m Mockingbird. I’m an Avenger.”“An Avenger, hmm? I don’t recognize you.” He snorts derisively. “What’s your power?”She glares at him, clenching her jaw so hard she can feel the wear and tear on her teeth. It takes all she has to keep her from tearing apart the handcuffs like a piece of string, to hold out for a more strategic opportunity.“Never mind,” he says, waving his hand dismissively. He turns to the henchman on his left and gives him very specific instructions on killing her and disposing of the body. A chill runs down Bobbi’s spine at the dispassionate way he lists off the steps, as if this is nothing new to him.Bobbi bides her time, letting the men lead her into the hallway. There are only six of them now, plus the girl in the wig——who turns out to be Kate in disguise, of course. Quick as a whip, Kate starts picking the henchmen off with the arrows from her wig, and Bobbi takes the opportunity to wrench her hands outward, snapping the chain of the handcuffs. She punches out the guys Kate left for her, and the door behind them bursts open, bullets spraying.The rest of the fight is a blur of broken glass, arrows, swimming pools, and screams. Bobbi’s favorite part is when she takes a pool chair and hits one guy over the head with it, then smacks another two guys’ heads together. Kate proves to be extremely dangerous with her bow, and Bobbi reminds herself to thank Jess later.Finally, the swordsman is the only one left standing. He’s holding a sword in each hand, but it’s pretty obvious that he’s not going to win a fight with the two of them on his own. Instead, he takes one of his swords and points to the carnage all over the room. “What kind of Avenger does this?” he asks, his voice halfway between horror and awe.Bobbi stares at him for a few seconds. “You know what?” she says. “You’re right.”He tilts his head, trying to figure her out, and Bobbi puts her hand in her pocket and presses a button. There’s a crackling sound and his body starts to convulse. Before he can so much as scream, he falls down, unconscious.Bobbi retrieves her piece from his pocket, and she and Kate tie him up and call the police. As she hangs up, they hear a huge commotion coming from upstairs. Bobbi and Kate exchange a glance. “The guests are awake,” Bobbi says.“We’ve gotta get out of here before they see us,” Kate says.They make a dash for the back door, which leads straight to the pier and the boat of stolen goods.“Oh, no,” Bobbi says, staring up at it. “I can’t run a boat. Give me a quinjet, a skycycle, or a flying car any day, but I’m shit at anything water-based.”Kate flashes her an exhilarated smile. “Don’t worry,” she says. “I’m great at boats.”

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“Hey, Boss, check it out,” Kate says.Bobbi sets down the moving box she's holding and looks over at the couch where Kate is lounging and eating pizza. Somehow, the dog has gotten a hold of a slice, and he's enthusiastically chowing down.Kate laughs in delight. “Look, he loves it!”The way he’s digging into it really is adorable. Bobbi takes out her phone and snaps a picture. “You should call him Pizza,” Kate suggests.“I’m not naming my dog Pizza.” She really should settle on a name, though. It’s been a few weeks, and she’s tried out different options, but none of the names she’s tried feels right yet. “Pass me those scissors, would you?”Kate wordlessly hands her the heavy-duty scissors off the coffee table. “Save me some pizza,” Bobbi reminds her. “I thought you were going to help me with this.” This being unpacking the last few boxes that she never got around to opening after moving into the apartment.“Is this a Mr. Miyagi thing?” Kate asks. “I help you with your boxes and when everything's all unpacked, I'm suddenly the best stick fighter ever?”Bobbi laughs. “No, I just wanted the help.”Kate stands up and walks to the kitchen. “All right, but I'm going to need to get caffeinated first. We're not all super soldiers.” Bobbi shakes her head, then starts to cut through the masking tape along the box's seam.“We’re out of coffee,” Kate announces.Bobbi puts the scissors down and turns to her, raising her eyebrows. “‘We?’”Kate stares back, guileless, until Bobbi finally throws up her arms and says, “I’ll go get more.”—Parked in front of the bodega around the corner is a restored 1970 Dodge Challenger, bright poppy red with a black stripe down the middle. It’s sleek and shiny and sexy, and it makes Bobbi stop in her tracks. The thought crosses her mind, what’s car like that doing in a neighborhood like this, but she’s too busy ogling to worry about it too much.“You’re drooling all over my car.”Bobbi turns around. The owner—a tall, green-eyed redhead with long, loose hair—walks up, grinning cheekily at her. She’s gorgeous, in a trouble-with-a-capital-T kind of way, and Bobbi’s stomach flips in a way it hasn’t done in a long time.“It’s the most beautiful car I’ve ever seen,” Bobbi says, no hyperbole. “I’ve always wanted one.”“Well, this one’s for sale,” the woman says.Bobbi narrows her eyes. “No.” She checks the car out again, then turns back to its owner. “Really?”“Limited time, cash only.” She’s still smiling, but her eyes are sharp. This is probably a bad idea. But...Bobbi sticks out her hand. “I’m Bobbi.”The redhead bites her lip as she shakes Bobbi’s hand, then says, “Call me Cherry.”Cherry. That’s not a name, that’s a flavor of Coke. But it fits her vibe, and Bobbi doesn't know her well enough to start asking questions.They stop by the bank so Bobbi can take out the cash, and then to Cherry’s apartment so she can write out a receipt. Her place is a dumpy studio, barely furnished—probably rented short-term with cash. She’s hiding from someone, Bobbi figures.Cherry hangs up both of their jackets and indicates a ratty armchair near the window. “Make yourself at home,” she says. “Can I get you a drink?”There’s a bottle of expensive whiskey on the counter. Cherry runs her hand possessively down the neck of the bottle and opens a cupboard. She turns around and looks at Bobbi, waiting for her answer.It would be wasted on her, but Bobbi doesn’t want to turn this woman down. She’s got this charisma, some humming undercurrent of energy surrounding her that makes Bobbi want to get close, makes her want to make her smile.Bobbi joins her next to the counter, and they make a toast to beautiful cars. “And beautiful women,” Cherry adds, touching her glass to Bobbi’s and holding it there for a few more seconds than necessary.Warmth spreads throughout her body, nothing to do with the alcohol. This is such a bad idea—she has no idea who this woman is, what she’s involved in, why she’s living in a hovel while drinking hundred-dollar Scotch and driving a fifty-thousand dollar car, but her lips look so soft, and her hair is so pretty, and she’s smiling at Bobbi with a look in her eyes like Bobbi’s the only one who can give her what she needs—or is it vice versa? Bobbi hasn’t been with a woman since her Academy days, and isn’t it about time? So, she's a stranger. So what? After all the crap Bobbi's been through over the past few years, doesn’t she deserve to do something (someone) just because she wants to?Their lips touch, soft as a whisper. Cherry’s wearing fruit-flavored chapstick, and Bobbi wants to bite her lower lip and lick the flavor off, but she forces herself to move slowly, not wanting to scare her away. She puts her hand on the other woman’s waist, under her jacket, and they kiss again, deeper this time. Cherry’s arms circle Bobbi, she puts her hands in Bobbi’s hair and takes out the clip holding her hair up. Bobbi’s hair falls down her shoulders, the ends brushing against Cherry’s own copper locks.She needs to be closer. God, she hasn’t felt this turned on in so long. She slides her hands to Cherry’s ass, picks her up and sets her down on the counter in front of her. Moving in between Cherry’s legs, she sets her hands to undoing the button at the top of Cherry’s jeans, her movements starting to get more frenetic. Cherry meets her move for move, pulling off her own shirt and then raising her hips so that Bobbi can pull her jeans off.She’s so fucking gorgeous, sitting there in a lacy rose bralette and matching cotton panties, leaning back on her hands so that Bobbi can get a good look. Long legs, smooth skin, that captivating smile...damn, she likes what she sees.“Can I touch you?” Bobbi asks. She’s surprised at the breathless note she hears in her voice.Cherry smiles, grabs Bobbi’s shirt at the neck, and pulls her in for another kiss.—As Bobbi pulls her pants on, the first thought that comes to mind is, Oh, futz, I forgot the coffee.“Hey, do you have the time?” Cherry asks. Bobbi looks around and notes that the apartment has no clock. “I need to be at the airport by five.”“Love ‘em and leave ‘em, huh?” Bobbi jokes.“Ha. Something like that.”“You know,” Bobbi says, serious now, “if you're in trouble, I might be able to help.”Cherry just gives her that enigmatic smile. “But if I told you, then I'd have—”That’s when the door gets kicked in. All hell breaks loose, Tracksuit Draculas bursting into the room with guns, spraying bullets everywhere. Cherry screams and drops to the floor while Bobbi dives behind the bed.“Run!” Cherry shouts from behind the armchair, but Bobbi ignores that. She looks frantically for something to use as a weapon, but then the tracksuits move into her range of motion, which is their mistake, because now, she’s close enough to disarm them.She wonders how they found her here, and why they bothered—it’s not as if they don’t know where she lives. As she knocks two tracksuits’ heads together and knees another one in the balls, she can’t help but smile a little. This is good, she needed this. Get the blood flowing. She’s having so much fun beating these guys up that it almost doesn’t register when she looks over at Cherry’s hiding spot and doesn’t see her.Almost.Bobbi grabs the nearest tracksuit and pushes him against the wall. “Where’s the girl?” she demands.“Keep away from her, Bro,” he responds, panting. “Bro, she trouble.”Bobbi shoves him to the floor and runs outside just in time to see her new red 1970 Dodge Challenger take off down the block.No, no, no, no. She runs after the car for a few blocks, but even with the combination of super soldier powers and adrenaline, there’s no way she can outrun a car. Giving up on that approach, Bobbi heads back to the apartment, hoping to beat some answers from the guys who were left behind. By the time she gets back, though, they’ve all cleared out, leaving behind a splintered door, lots of broken furniture, and Bobbi’s shirt and shoes. She looks around at the wreckage, then screams in frustration and punches a hole into the wall before sighing and getting her phone out.It takes Kate all of ten minutes to get there, and Bobbi jumps into the car the second the purple Beetle pulls up to the sidewalk, not even waiting for it to come to a complete stop. “Go go go!” she shouts, pulling the door shut behind her.Kate, who doesn’t seem to appreciate the urgency of the situation, gives Bobbi a scrutinizing look over her purple sunglasses. “Your shirt’s on backwards,” she says.Bobbi feels along the neckline to check; so it is. Not that it matters right now, when the Tracksuit Draculas have taken Cherry hostage and—wait a second, did that last guy say that Cherry was trouble? Not Bobbi?Never mind that. “Come on, Kate, we’re racing against the clock!”“Okay, okay.” The engine roars as Kate floors it, leaving a cloud of dust in their wake.They head west, toward the city. Bobbi doesn’t take her eyes off her phone, watching the blinking dot representing the tracker in her Avengers ID card move slowly northward on the map. “Hurry, hurry, hurry,” she mutters under her breath.After a few minutes, Kate looks over and says, “You know this is ten-to-one a setup, right?”Bobbi finally looks up from her phone and frowns at Kate.“Really?” Kate shakes her head. “Wow. I thought you were supposed to be smart. She’s obviously a tracksuit plant sent to lure you to some sort of...secondary location or something.”“Have you been binging John Mulaney again?” Bobbi asks, eyebrows raised.Kate points a finger at her. “Don’t change the subject.”Bobbi considers Kate’s theory. It seems like an awful lot of trouble to go through when they could just as easily have knocked on her door, but she supposes it’s a possibility. “Let’s just intercept them before they get there,” Bobbi says. “I've fought my way out of hundreds of traps, if that's what it is.”Kate starts muttering to herself. “‘Come help me finish unpacking, Kate. It'll be fun, Kate. I'll order pi—’”“You know I can hear you, right?” Bobbi interrupts. “Well, yeah,” Kate says. “Otherwise, why would I bother?” Catching up with the car takes much longer than Bobbi is comfortable with due to city traffic, but at least it slows the bad guys down, too. Finally, it's in sight. Bobbi points the car out.“Oh my God, it’s beautiful,” Kate says. “I can’t damage such a—”“Kate, do it!” Bobbi shouts.“Okay!” Kate shouts back, and she rams her car into the Challenger. Glass goes flying everywhere, and Bobbi and Kate jump out of Kate’s Bug. Bobbi pulls the driver out of the seat of the Challenger and throws him onto the sidewalk. He doesn’t get up.She turns back to the car and sees that Kate’s already made herself at home in the driver’s seat. Cherry’s in the backseat, still half-dressed, with her hands tied behind her back and a strip of duct tape over her mouth. “You okay?” Bobbi asks as she gets in on the passenger side.Cherry responds with a muffled noise that could mean anything.“I hate to break up this touching reunion,” Kate says, “but we’ve got incoming.” She makes a quick and highly illegal U-Turn, not waiting for Bobbi to close her door, and speeds off.A flock of black Mini Coopers make chase and start shooting at them. “Shit,” Bobbi says. “We’ve got to take them out.” She leans into the backseat and carefully pulls the tape away from Cherry’s mouth. “Do you have any—”“Glove compartment,” Cherry says quickly. Bobbi checks, and sure enough, there’s a loaded Glock tucked away in there.“Cute,” Bobbi says. “You got any more magazines somewhere around here, or is this it?”“How much trouble do you think I’m in?” Cherry asks, sounding a little offended. In response, Bobbi and Kate turn in unison and give her dry looks. Suitably chastised, she answers the question. “No. I don’t.”“Yeah, I don’t love our odds,” Kate says to Bobbi.“Don’t worry,” Bobbi says, rolling down her window and unbuckling her seatbelt. “I’m extremely difficult to kill.”She leans out the window and starts picking their pursuers off, trying to be as conservative as she can be with her shots. Despite her best efforts, there’s still one more car on their tail when she runs out of rounds. Oh, well. Time to see what this whole “super soldier” thing is really all about.As she climbs out the window, she vaguely hears Kate screaming at her to get back inside, but she ignores it. Crouching on the roof of the car, she feels as steady as if she were on solid ground, and the wind whipping through her hair makes her feel truly invincible. This is...this is amazing. She’s never felt as alive as she does right now.She’s got to stay alive, though, which means moving quickly. She jumps from the Challenger to the Mini Cooper with her leg extended in a kick. The windshield breaks around her foot—the brakes squeal—the car swerves into the shoulder and spins around—there are honks and screams and the crunch of tires over broken glass—and Bobbi is thrown from the car. She rolls over a few times after hitting the ground, and all of a sudden she feels really, really sleepy.At some point, she’s woken up by the pain in her leg, which feels like it’s on fire. Bobbi opens her eyes and sees a large piece of glass embedded in her calf, blood running freely down her leg. Her stomach flips again, not in a good way this time.She looks up, right into the gun pointed at her face. “Bobbi!” Kate calls out. She’s standing about ten feet away, an arrow pointed at the Tracksuit Dracula holding Bobbi hostage.Kate and the tracksuit start negotiating, and all Bobbi wants is to go back to sleep. Then she sees Kate loose the arrow way over the guy’s head—is she dreaming? The guy starts to laugh, and he’s still laughing when the arrow reverses trajectory and hits him right in the back of the head, knocking him clean out.Bobbi stares at Kate. She recognizes that boomerang arrow. But—that means...Kate gives her an apologetic shrug. “I’ve picked up a few tips from the other Hawkeye, too.”—“I’m just saying,” Bobbi says to Cherry as they stand in the departures hall at JFK, “I can help you. I am an Avenger, after all.”Her leg has stopped bleeding since she bandaged it up with a strip off her (still-backwards) shirt and the duct tape that had been over Cherry’s mouth. It’s not the most hygienic wound dressing ever, but it works.“You’re very sweet.” Cherry gives her a peck on the lips. “Thank you for saving my life.”Bobbi touches her lips as she and Kate watch Cherry disappear into the crowd. Bobbi turns to Kate and says, “You were saying something about a setup?” Kate shrugs. “You’ve gotta admit, it's a hell of a coincidence.”“I'm just lucky, I guess.”“Lucky. Hmm.” They stand there in silence for a minute, and then Kate punches her in the arm and says, “Come on, let’s go get your ridiculously trashed car to a mechanic or something and go home. Hey, you remembered to pick up coffee, right?”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

When Kate comes over on Tuesday afternoon, she’s in an exceptionally good mood.“I come bearing gifts,” she announces, leaning down to scratch Lucky behind the ears.Bobbi looks up from her book. “What’s this now?”Kate reaches into the purple hobo bag she’s got slung over her shoulder, pulling out a little Ziploc of what looks like—yep, that’s weed—and tossing it onto Bobbi’s counter. “Remember how you said the other day that you can’t get drunk anymore because of your super-soldier junk?” Bobbi nods. “Well, this,” she lowers her voice to a reverent whisper, “is magical herb. Literally.”Bobbi blinks. “What?”“See, my friend Tommy’s a speedster,” Kate explains. “He also has a crazy metabolism, like you. And my friend Teddy—he’s half-Skrull, half-Kree, and so, you know, he's a shapeshifter, so his metabolism is all screwy in its own special way.”“Uh-huh.”“And my friend Billy,” Kate continues, “well, he’s a wizard.”Bobbi finally sets aside her book, then picks up the bag and examines its contents. It looks completely normal. “So, you’re saying he...enchanted this stuff?”Kate gives her an impish grin. “It’s exactly as potent as the person taking it needs it to be.”“Wow.” Bobbi shakes her head, impressed. “Kids these days are ambitious.”—Once they start smoking, it doesn’t take Kate long to start ranting about her family.“He has all this money and he does nothing useful with it, just buys boats and buildings and fancy cars. He’s even got this so-called charity in his name which I’m pretty sure is a complete scam. Oh! And when we were little, he used to make me and my sister get dressed up for these fancy balls and pry information out of people that he could use to take down his competitors. Sometimes I think he’s an actual supervillain.”Bobbi clicks her tongue in sympathy. Kate’s dad really does sound like a piece of work. Bobbi hasn’t seen her own father since she was eight, which sucked at the time, but eventually started to feel normal. Her mom and brother are good people. Even if Ben does hate her guts because she faked her death—even though she was just trying to protect them.She misses him, though. Before, when they still thought she was dead, she was better at compartmentalizing it all, lying to herself and pretending that they probably never thought of her. But now that they know the truth, now that they’re actively choosing to stay away from her...well, she knows it’s for the best, that it keeps them safe, but the pang of missing them gets harder to ignore all the time.Kate’s talking again. Bobbi tunes back in to the conversation. “This is good, though,” she’s saying, tapping her pointer finger on the joint. “I’m much less angry enough to kill him right now than I was ten minutes ago. It doesn’t sound like it, I know. I mean, I know that underneath it all, I still hate him, but it’s less of a pressing urge to murder. You ever kill anyone, Bobbi?”Wisps of smoke escape Kate’s mouth and curl upward around her face before dissipating. Then Kate’s question registers.“Oh, Lord,” Bobbi says. “You really want to know?”Kate blinks. “Uh, well, I do now.” She’s going to need some more fortification for this story. “Okay, then. Pass me that joint.” Kate hands it to her, and Bobbi takes another hit, then lets it settle before she starts speaking again. “Okay. So. Have you ever time traveled?”Kate makes a so-so motion with her hand. “Uh, kinda?”Bobbi makes a mental note to get the full context for that answer one day, then continues. “Well, this one time, when I was on the West Coast Avengers, this broken time machine dumped us in the Old West. Eighteen seventy-something. We ran into trouble right away, of course, and we ended up teaming up with this group of Western heroes. Two-Gun Kid, Rawhide Kid...and the Phantom Rider.” Memories start to invade her mind as she recounts the story, but she pushes them away, trying to stick to the dry facts. “Somehow, the Phantom Rider got it into his mind that I was some sort of goddess and that I was ‘destined’ to be with him. So he decided that the best way to facilitate that was to kidnap me and drug me with some sort of love potion that turned me into his adoring slave.”“Oh, futz,” Kate says.“Yep. Anyway, after I snapped out of it, I went to confront him. There was this mountaintop...he thought it was sacred, so I knew I’d find him there. It was raining pretty hard, and we fought, and...he fell over the side, but he managed to grab hold of the edge of the cliff. He asked me to pull him up, and...I didn’t.”“Bobbi!” Kate says in an alarmed voice. She points to Bobbi’s hand, where the joint has burned down nearly to the end, and it's burning her fingers.“Oh!” She drops it into a bowl on the table and brings her thumb to her mouth, licking it to cut the sting.Kate puts out the joint and then looks at Bobbi. “So you let him die? This Phantom guy?”“I did.” She’s a little wary, wondering how Kate’s going to take the story. Her own teammates were divided on the issue at the time, some of them backing her up, others privately supporting her but unwilling to say so on the record, and a few condemning her outright. She remembers how much it hurt when Clint didn’t understand, when he ignored her reasons and focused only on the fact that she’d broken the rules.“Good,” Kate says firmly.It’s a relief to hear. Bobbi doesn’t regret her actions, but it’s unsettling every time a new person finds out, when she has to wait a few seconds to see if they’ll judge her for it. A few seconds later, Kate adds, “I haven’t told many people about this, but a few months before the Young Avengers got together, I was atta—assaulted in Central Park.”A few months before...she must have been, what? Sixteen? Fifteen, even? “Oh, Katie. I’m so sorry.”“Thanks.” Kate plays with her hands, looking down. “I just wanted to let you know, that, you know...you’re not alone.”That takes her by surprise, and suddenly she realizes that in all the time since it happened, she’s never spoken about her experience to anyone else who’s been through the same kind of thing. She knows she’s not the only one, not by far, but she never realized how validating it would feel to have someone say it out loud.Kate looks over at her. “You’re only the third person I’ve told,” she admits.“It’s hard,” Bobbi says. “I didn’t tell Clint right away. Even when he asked me. I just couldn’t...I didn’t want to be a statistic.”“Yeah.” Kate nods.“Not to mention that I didn’t want him to know I’d killed someone.”“What’d he say when he found out?”“Oh...he got mad at me for lying and lectured me about how Avengers aren’t supposed to kill.”Kate’s mouth drops. “No!”“Yeah. He was all, ‘You can’t be an Avenger if you’re going to run around killing people.’ So...I left.” Kate’s looking seriously distraught, so Bobbi hurries to add, “Don’t worry, he’s apologized since then. We’re good now.”“Wow.” Kate runs her fingers through her hair and looks up at the ceiling. “Wow,” she repeats. She takes a deep breath, then says, “The internet called you a skank when you left him.”Of course. “Why am I not surprised,” Bobbi says dryly. Clint was an Avenger longer than she was; he was more established and more famous, so of course complete strangers who had none of the facts would rush to take his side.“They were really vicious. And then when you died—or everyone thought you died, whatever—they did a complete 180 and made you out to be this saint. That was when I realized how ridiculous it all was, that they were just being sensationalist to get clicks or whatever. So I tried to find out what was real, to put together an accurate picture of you.”Bobbi looks at her, curious. “What did you find?” “Not much. You appeared out of nowhere, helped Hawkeye take down Crossfire, and then the two of you eloped. The only real things I could get were press conference clips and some videos of you in action. There were some interviews with your friends after you—you know.”She wonders who spoke. What they said about her.“I felt guilty, too.”“For what?” “I kind of bought into it. The whole ‘skank’ thing? I mean, not that it was an excuse, but I was a pre-teen and I had bad judgment and you were married to my celebrity crush, so there was obviously an element of—” Kate stops in the middle of her sentence. “Oh my God, please don't tell Clint I used to have a crush on him.”“I won't, as long as you don't tell him that so did I.”Kate laughs for longer than that joke deserves, then starts to hiccup. “Come on,” Bobbi says, patting her on the back. “I'm hungry. Are you hungry? Let's go out to the roof and see what Grills is cooking up.”It’s already dark when they get out there, and everyone greets them, treating Kate like an old friend. Kate’s been to a quite a few of these evenings by now, and all of Bobbi’s neighbors love her. Tonight, they’re having an argument about the latest episode of Owl Accountants, which is one of those cartoons with a huge adult fandom despite being originally created for kids. Grills plies them with hot dogs, and they sit down next to the conversation.“It’s a sentimental thing,” Aimee is saying. “The abacus is a family heirloom.”“Yeah, but Specs isn’t a sentimental character,” Tito argues.“That’s why it’s such an important moment!”Tito shakes his head. “No, it’s too jarring. It’s out of character.”“It’s not out of character,” Kate says, jumping into the conversation. “It’s adding depth.”“It’s softening her edges to make her more palatable to a mainstream audience, is what it is,” Tito insists.Bobbi tunes in and out of the conversation for a while until her pocket buzzes. She checks her phone and sees that she has a new text message from an encoded sender. Eucritta tape leaked. They're sending me to Madripoor to try and contain it, but just in case, wanted to give you a heads up.Futz.“What’s that about?” Kate says, leaning over her shoulder.Bobbi sighs. “It’s Clint. I’ve got to go.”She wonders about his wording, the way that it looks like he doesn’t assume that she’ll be joining him. True, he’s the one on the tape, but they’d made the decision together back then they were still a couple, and they’d agreed then that they would both deal with the cleanup if this type of thing were to happen. Does he think she’d go back on her word just because they’re not together anymore?It doesn’t matter; she’s not about to leave him stranded. Even if she didn’t care for his sake, SHIELD wants this handled quietly, and as many talents as Clint has in his repertoire, stealth isn’t one of them. She sends a quick message back: Count me in. Then she tosses her paper plate into the garbage bag and says goodbye to her neighbors, apologizing for her rudeness in running out on them.“It’s all right,” Grills says. “Avengers business comes first. We get it.” The others nod in agreement.Huh. She didn’t think they knew. She wonders if she should try to deny it, but it’s not like her secret identity is all that secret, these days.“Good luck, Songbird!” Grills calls behind her.Kate follows her inside. “Songbird?” she repeats.“Don’t ask me.” Songbird’s not even an Avenger, technically, but never mind. They go back to Bobbi’s apartment, and she gets a suitcase out from under her bed and starts to pack.“So,” Kate says from the doorway of Bobbi’s bedroom. “What tape was leaked? Is it a sex tape?”“What? No.” Bobbi narrows her eyes at her. “Why would he need to go to Madripoor over a leaked sex tape?”Kate shrugs.“No, it’s for SHIELD. It’s a...well, it’s classified, but if this video gets out, it’ll be really, really bad.”“Why? What’s so bad about it?”Bobbi shakes her head. “You’ve got to take my word for it, kiddo.”“I’m not a kid.” She hangs back at the doorway watching Bobbi pack, then asks, “What can I do to help?”“You can stay safe, is what you can do. I know you’re a good fighter, but you don’t want your name mixed up in this, trust me.” Although, if they’re not successful, Kate really will have her name mixed up in it, through no fault of her own, from the dumb luck of calling herself Hawkeye. Maybe Bobbi should advise Kate to get a new superhero name.“Come on, I can’t sit here and do nothing. What if you die out there? Who’s going to teach me how to do that cool thing where you snap your staves together mid-air and then vault over a bad guy’s head?”Bobbi smiles despite herself. “Just watch the old videos of me in action a few more times; you'll pick it up. I really do appreciate the offer, but I just can’t involve you in this.”—Bobbi and Clint book tickets separately and sit six rows apart, both with aisle seats so that they can keep an eye on the other. Thirty hours later, rubbing the sleep from their eyes, they meet up in the airport and go over the plan. Which is immediately derailed at passport control, when ten heavily armed guards intercept them and lead them down an empty hallway to a room with a door that shuts behind them with a heavy click.It takes under five minutes to render all of the guards unconscious, and then Bobbi and Clint sneak out and try to meld back into the crowd of travelers. There are eyes all over, though, and they leave the airport as quickly as possible, forced to leave their checked weapons behind.They hurry into a taxi, and Clint sends a final longing glance in the direction of the airport and lets out a mournful sigh.“It was the arrows or us,” Bobbi says, consoling him with a pat on the shoulder.She has some cash in her handbag, enough to get them downtown and take care of their basic needs. They get lunch at a noodle bar, and Clint starts stuffing his face the second they sit down.“Mmmmgood,” he raves in between bites. “So sick of airline food.”Bobbi grins. “I dunno, that limp salad and microwaved egg we got for breakfast really hit the spot.”He shudders. “Hey, so what time is it? When do we need to be there?”Bobbi checks her watch, which she’d adjusted a few minutes before landing. “We’re making good time. “We can go down to the harbor after lunch and be tourist-y.”“Like a real vacation. To make up for the fact that I never took you anywhere nice while we were together.” He smiles at her. “Get little ‘Madripoor’ shot glasses.”“That’s not right; didn’t we spend our second anniversary in a sewer?” She laughs.Clint hangs his head in mock shame.“Maybe I should get something for Lucky,” she muses.He quirks his head up. “Who?”“Oh, I didn’t tell you, did I? I adopted a dog.” She pulls out her phone and finds the picture she took a few weeks ago with Lucky and the pizza slice.Clint takes the phone from her hand and laughs. “He eats pizza? I love him already. When are you going to introduce me?”“Oh, I’m sure it’ll happen sooner or later.” The image of him in her home, playing with her dog, hits her full-force and nearly takes her breath away. It’s too much, all of a sudden; she needs to put some distance between them. She takes her phone back and turns back to her food. “So, does Jessica know about the tape?”“No—well, not exactly,” he answers. “She knows that I’m on assignment for SHIELD, but not the details.”“Mmmm.” She pokes at her noodles with her chopsticks. “Does she know that I’m here, too?”His face turns pink. “Of course she does,” he answers, sounding a little defensive.“And she’s okay with it?”His voice is tight. “Why wouldn’t she be?”Bobbi’s not quite sure how to understand her relationship with Jessica Drew. The two of them were both captured by the Skrulls, and when they were on the Avengers together, she thought that they had a sort of bond because of that. She even might have described them as friends at one point. But when Clint started dating Jessica barely a month after splitting from her, she didn’t know what to make of it. Going over the facts in her head over and over again, she finally came to the conclusion that she must have been reading into things that weren’t there. That she’d been wrong to assume that just because she and Jessica had a similar experience also meant they had some sort of relationship beyond that. And any hints of friendship she’d picked up earlier had just been wishful thinking on her part.“Because I make her uncomfortable,” Bobbi retorts, quoting a conversation she overheard a few months ago when Jessica had complained to Clint about having to work with her. “But I forgot. You know how to handle me.”He flinches at that, almost imperceptibly, and then takes a few seconds before responding. “Come on, you know I didn’t mean it like that.”Bobbi raises her eyebrows.“She was nervous being around you, that’s all. I was just trying to make her feel better.”“Oh, sure,” she bites out. “Because my feelings don’t matter.” It shouldn’t matter, it was such a small thing, but it still stings that he didn’t defend her. She shouldn’t have expected anything else—sticking up for his ex-wife in front of his new girlfriend would have been a disaster move for him—but reminding herself where his priorities lie protects her from feeling things that she shouldn’t. He sighs. “I didn’t know that you could hear us.”“Oh, well that’s okay, then,” she says sarcastically. She waits a beat, then adds, “Makes me wonder what else you’ve said to her about me when I wasn’t around to make her feel better.”He looks pained. “Bobbi...”She’s silent, stewing in her own bitterness for a minute. Then she bursts out, “I didn’t ask for any of this, you know.”“I—”“You try surviving for three years on an alien planet where no one looks like you or speaks your language, hiding from a psychopath who wants to emotionally torture you and then kill you, not knowing if you’ll ever get home again...you try living through all of that and see if you come back completely well-adjusted.”“What does that have to do with—forget it.” Clint stands up and starts to gather his trash. “You want to be mad at me, be mad at me.” It seems just a touch too petty to shoot back with, Fine then, I will, so she keeps her mouth shut.I hope you’re happy, she tells herself as they leave the restaurant. The vibe from earlier is definitely ruined, the argument leaving a sour taste in her mouth. She’s annoyed with herself for turning a nice lunch into a spat, but at the same time, there’s something cathartic about finally airing this petty grievance. Now that she’s actually said it out loud, the original incident somehow doesn’t bother her as much. Not that she’s about to say so.They find a public restroom and she starts to build their disguises. Clint’s mouth is set in a thin line as she stands in front of him and adds twenty years to his face with makeup and then colors his hair black with silver streaks. They’re not talking, and it’s uncomfortable, but having her mind on a task makes it easier, and it’s a good distraction from worrying about what will happen if their mission fails.She takes a step back when she finishes, giving him a once-over. It’s a good job; his face is nearly unrecognizable. “Take a look,” she tells him.He turns around and checks himself out in the mirror, then does a double take. “That’s me?” he says, poking his finger at the glass to make sure. “What a trip.”She does her own disguise next, and then she gives him a few tips on how to make slight adjustments to his posture to make him look less like himself. When they’re ready, they use the last of their cash to take a taxi over to the Madripoor Pearl hotel, where the auction is scheduled to take place that night. They enter the building ten minutes apart and wander around the casino, making sure to keep each other in sight. She walks past Wilson Fisk, who doesn’t give her a second glance, and notices Madame Hydra at the Baccarat table with Tombstone and Crimson Cowl. There are a lot of people in this room who’d like to see her and Clint dead, and their best bet is to make sure to keep their identities hidden as long as possible. Once the auction actually starts, they should be safe—the organizations that run these events are always strict about propriety and order during the proceedings.Everything goes smoothly for a while, until she overhears a man in a suit say, “They’ll send Barton.” Clint jerks his head towards the voice, just slightly, and then he freezes as he realizes he’s given them away. He gives her a sheepish look that says he knows what he did and he’s very, very sorry.She’s not surprised when the rest of them show up, at least a dozen men in black sunglasses and suits, subtly pointing guns in their direction. Since the room is full of civilians in addition to the potential buyers, they don’t have a choice other than to follow them out without putting up a fight. Once they reach the hallway, Bobbi considers making a move, but before she can do anything, something is pressed against her back, and a strong jolt of electricity is sent into her body, knocking her unconscious.—She wakes up in a chair with her hands tied behind her back. The rope holding her in place doesn’t give when she tests it, so whoever’s responsible must know about her upgraded strength.Blinking a few times, Bobbi starts to take note of her surroundings. She’s in a conference room, and Clint’s in a chair next to her. The men who brought her there are standing around, waiting for something.“They’re awake,” someone says.One of the men walks up to Bobbi and leans down, getting in her face. He gives her a scrutinizing look, like he’s not quite sure she is who he thinks she is.Bobbi decides to go with it. “I demand to speak with your manager,” she says haughtily in a voice not her own. “What is the meaning of this?”He pulls off his sunglasses and squints at her, then turns to the guy next to him. “Are we sure we’ve got the right guys? These don’t look like them.”“Oh, it’s them,” a voice says from behind. Footsteps approach, and Madame Masque comes into view. She’s holding a package of makeup wipes, and she takes one out and cleans off part of Bobbi’s face while Bobbi tries not to flinch. She holds up the filthy wipe and hands it off to the underling who expressed doubt. “The magic of makeup.”It crosses Bobbi’s mind to wonder how much use Masque actually has for makeup, given that she’s always wearing the mask, but she keeps her mouth shut.“Now, then.” Masque turns back to her and Clint. “Did you really think you would be able to steal that tape out from underneath all our noses?”“We’re not here to steal it,” Clint says. “We’re here to buy it.”Masque laughs. “With what money?” she asks. To Bobbi, she adds, “I went through your purse. Forty dollars isn’t even enough to cover your seats.”“Oh, that?” Bobbi says. “That's just pocket change.”“So you’re planning to write out an I.O.U.?” Masque scoffs.Bobbi and Clint exchange a glance.Masque looks between them. “A credit card,” she guesses, her voice triumphant. “Where is it?”Bobbi smirks.Masque nods. “Of course. Whatever would we do without bras.”“They might need to start giving us pockets,” Bobbi shoots back.“You understand that I’ll need to confiscate this card,” Masque says to her. She puts one hand on Bobbi’s shoulder and reaches down her shirt with the other.Clint jerks violently in his chair. “Get your hands off of her!” Masque makes an exasperated sound. “Relax, Barton, I'm not here to manhandle your wife.”“I'm not his—” Bobbi starts.At the same time, Clint says, “She's not my—”“I don't care,” Masque interrupts. She pulls the card out efficiently and cleanly, then hands it to one of her henchman. “Get this checked out.” Then she turns back to them. “So, now that I have the means to purchase the tape, is there a reason to keep the two of you alive?”“The tape won’t be worth anything if we’re dead,” Bobbi says. “Then you’ll have gone to all this trouble for nothing.”“Could be worth it, though.” Masque fingers the blade in her hand and then draws it carefully along Bobbi’s collar. “But from what I hear, it’s only Barton on this tape. So who does it hurt if I just...kill the spare?”“Are you—” Clint says, sounding floored, “Are you quoting Harry Potter and casting yourself as Voldemort? You see yourself as Voldemort and you’re still going through with this?”“Shut up,” Masque snaps. “It’s just a line.”Clint snorts.“SHIELD’s monitoring our heart rates,” Bobbi lies. Masque turns to her, and she adds, “If our hearts stop beating, the card is automatically canceled.”“Wow. That’s cold.” Masque actually sounds a little rattled. “I mean, I know it’s SHIELD, but that’s...anyway.” She motions at a group of henchmen. “Bring them to their rooms.”Two suit-and-sunglasses bros approach them, stun guns out.“Oh, come on,” Clint groans.—She wakes up in a dark room, still tied to the chair, but on her side, on the floor, her cheek pressed into the carpet in a puddle of drool. There’s faint moonlight coming in through the thin curtains, and with her new and improved senses, she can make out a door next to the dresser, connecting her room with the adjoining one.Clint’s voice comes through the crack under the door. “Bobbi? Can you hear me?”Bobbi shuffles closer and tries to look underneath, but it’s too dark to see anything. “Yeah. I’m here.”“I can’t move,” he says, his voice panicky. “They’ve got me tied up really well.”“Same here.” She tests the restraints again, just to make sure. “They must have used a special blend for the ropes.”“Do you think Masque is going to kill us once she gets the tape?”“I don’t...” Bobbi trails off and changes the subject, not wanting to consider the prospect. Worrying won’t help, anyway. “If we keep at it, I’m sure we can wear the ropes down before they come back.”For the next few minutes, the only sound she hears is the creaking of rope against their chairs. There’s a little slack for her to work with, but the rope is strong, and it’ll take a while before it starts to fray.Clint speaks again. “Hey, Bobbi?”She takes a break from moving her hands back and forth. “Yeah?”“Are you scared?”Scared means that she’s considering the possibility of failure, which she’s not ready to do. “Let’s just focus,” she says.“Right.”He doesn’t say anything else, and after a few seconds, she blurts out, “I’m sorry I picked a fight with you.”“I’m sorry I didn’t stick up for you,” he answers.She picks up the pace with her hands. “Come on. Let's get out of this mess.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Bobbi doesn’t know how long she’s been working at the rope binding her hands to the chair. Her wrists chafe, her mouth is dry, and she’s had the song “Whistle While You Work” stuck in her head so long that it’s probably permanently embedded there.Without warning, a group of ninjas spring from the shadows, swords out. Bobbi rolls out of the way of a blade and uses her unbound feet as well as the back of the chair to deflect attacks. She hears thumping sounds coming from the next room, indicating that they’re after Clint as well.It’s not easy to dodge the blows while she’s both restrained and outnumbered. Her movements are clumsy and barely effective, and she’s unable to do anything when her chair gets picked up and thrown across the room at the window. She crashes through the glass, into the night air.She falls backward, facing the sky, and sees that they’ve done the same thing to Clint, who’s falling a few feet above her, looking down at her in panic. His mouth is open in a scream, but she can’t hear anything over the deafening wind.This is it. She’s about to die, her body ending up a broken heap on a Madripoor sidewalk. Are you scared? She’s surprised, that’s for sure. She really thought that she was going to be young forever, that she would outlive and mourn all her friends and family and eventually become as embittered and cynical as Dom is, but it looks like that’s not to be her fate after all.She and Clint lock eyes, and she tries to bring to mind the good times, the highlights that made her life worth living. But then her brother’s face pops into her mind, and she realizes that she never mended fences with him, and now it’s too late.All this happens in the space of less than a second, and suddenly she feels herself being plucked right out of the air. She lands on a surface, the wind knocked out of her, but she’s alive, somehow.“Hold still,” a voice says. She feels tension against her wrists, and suddenly, she’s free, if a bit woozy. She looks up at Daisy Johnson’s face. Confused, Bobbi takes note of her surroundings and realizes that she’s on a SHIELD hoverflier. There’s a second hoverflier next to them, piloted by Maria Hill, with Clint on it.“You okay?” Daisy asks.Bobbi catches her breath and nods. “Yeah. Wow. Thank—”“Good,” Daisy interrupts her, reaching underneath her seat and handing Bobbi the battle staves she’d left behind at the airport. “Watch out for the ninjas.”What? They couldn’t have possibly—But they have. They’re jumping out the window after them without any regard for their own lives, single-minded in their mission. Bobbi almost feels bad fighting them off, since there’s literally nowhere for them to go but down, but she doesn’t have a choice; it’s her or them.One after another, eventually they all fall down. Bobbi winces as the very last one of them falls to his death, looking away before the impact. She sees that Clint has also finished off his attackers, so it looks like they're safe, at least for the time being.She turns to Daisy, trying to catch her breath. “That was some timing.”“Always good to be prepared,” Daisy responds with a salute. “Come on. We've got one more stop to make.” She steers the hoverflier downward to one of the lower hotel floors, settling right outside a crowded hall. Bobbi looks inside and sees Kate—the very last person she expected to see here—held in place by a few of Madame Masque’s henchmen, surrounded by A.I.M. agents and various other bad guys.“She did it,” Daisy says, getting Bobbi’s attention. “She used your card and won the auction. It was an ingenious plan, setting up you and Clint as decoys and having Kate sneak in on the side and impersonate Madame Masque. No one was expecting her.”Yes, no one was. Except that Daisy seems to think that Bobbi was in on this plan. Kate must have...wait, that was Kate interrogating and threatening them? Little Katie?Daisy's looking at her, expecting a response. “Oh,” Bobbi says, “well...it was Kate’s idea.” This is, technically, not a lie.That’s when Kate looks up and sees them. Kate grins at her, and Bobbi throws a stave right through the window of the ballroom, and then she and Clint crash through.Kate pulls away from her guards and runs over to them. “Oh my God, you guys,” she says in greeting. “You will never believe the day I had!”They run like hell to the other side of the room, knocking down henchmen right and left. The good thing about being in a hall full of bad guys means that no one’s shooting at them, in fear of hitting their own people.“Where’s the tape?” Bobbi asks once they reach the hallway.“This way!” Kate leads them to the staircase and turns to Clint. “Grappling arrow?”Wordlessly, he hands her his bow and gives her an arrow out of his quiver. She sets her eye on the railing a few flights up, takes the shot, and they all grab onto each other as the line pulls them up.They get to their feet on the landing, and then a thought occurs to Bobbi. “Hey, if you’re here, who’s watching Lucky?” she asks.“He’s with my sister,” Kate answers. “She loves dogs. Come on, this way.” She leads them down the empty hallway to one of the hotel rooms. The door is open, and the inside looks like the aftermath of a fight. There’s a knife sticking out of the mattress and a torn sheet wrapped around a chair, and one of the legs of the dresser seems to have been sliced clear off.Kate goes over to the television and ejects a tape from one of the boxes underneath. She turns to Clint and hands it over. Acidly, she adds, “You’re a futzing hypocrite, by the way.”So she’s watched it. Bobbi can’t blame her, though she wishes she hadn’t.Clint glances between Kate and the tape. “I’m sorry you had to see that.” His voice is quiet, and he doesn’t defend himself against the accusation.“You killed Du Ke Feng,” Kate continues, pointing at him while she speaks. “You shot him through the eyes with a couple of arrows, but when she—” Kate jerks her thumb in Bobbi’s direction, “—you—you had the gall to judge her—”“Kate,” Bobbi interrupts. “We need to get out of here.”She catches a glimpse of Clint’s face; he looks stricken. As much as it hurts her to see him that way, she has to remind herself that his feelings—in particular, his feelings about something she’s already forgiven him for—aren’t her responsibility. And anyway, they don’t have time to deal with it right now.Madame Masque is waiting in the hallway, pointing a gun at them. “I believe we have unfinished business, little girl,” she says to Kate.“RUN!” Bobbi yells, pushing Kate and Clint in front of her. They take off down the hallway, Masque spraying bullets after them. Bobbi feels one go into her shoulder and another graze her side.“You got another grappling arrow in there?” Kate asks Clint.“Yeah, as long as we make it there!” he shouts back.By the time they’ve reached the stairs, Bobbi’s lost count of how many bullets she’s taken. Spots start to dance in front of her eyes, but she tries to ignore them. She slams the stairwell door shut behind them, and Clint leans over with some cord from his quiver and does something to the door closer to jam it shut. Then he pulls out a grappling arrow, as well as his bow. “Grab on,” he tells her and Kate.Bobbi takes a step in his direction, but she stumbles and lands on her knees. The spots in her vision are getting bigger.“Bobbi?” Kate says. It sounds like she’s speaking from far away.No, I’m fine, she tries to reassure her, and then the spots take over and everything goes dark.—The first thing she notices when she wakes up is the air conditioner. She’s lying down on her back, wearing a hospital gown, and she’s freezing.She blinks her eyes open and takes a look around. She’s in one of the helicarrier clinic rooms. Clint and Kate are sitting in chairs near the door, with Hill, Daisy, and Nick Fury Jr. standing over them. There’s a blanket at the foot of her bed, which Bobbi reaches for. The movement catches Kate’s attention, and she jumps up. “You’re awake!”“Yeah, and I’m really futzing thirsty.” She covers herself with the blanket and eyes the sink across the room longingly. “What’s up? What’d I miss?”Kate goes over to the sink and brings her a cup of water. “You got shot, like, a thousand times and passed out.”“Oh.” Well, at least it wasn't a concussion this time.“You had so many bullet holes in you, if any of those stitches come loose while you’re drinking, we could use you as a lawn sprinkler,” Daisy adds.Bobbi takes a sip and grimaces. “That’s...very graphic.” She slides the neck of her hospital gown off her shoulder to see the bandage there, presumably covering a line of stitches. “Did it work, at least?”“The leak was found and sealed off,” Hill confirms.Kate’s ears prick up. “Leak?” Hill and Fury explain the full story to her—that Feng was indeed killed by a team of Navy SEALs, for once the official story being the full truth, and that the tape she’d watched of Clint shooting him was doctored, for the purpose of smoking out a mole in SHIELD, a low-level agent who'd been hoping to make a profit off the names of the people actually involved in the assassination.Kate frowns through the explanation, and she barely waits for Fury to finish speaking before blurting out, “Are you kidding me? I had Madame Masque promising to put out a pack of cigarettes on my face over fake footage? Bobbi and Clint got tossed out a window for some smoke and mirrors?”“They saved the agents who actually carried out the operation,” Fury points out. “If their identities had gotten out, they would be targets. Their families and friends would be targets.”“Hawkeye and Mockingbird are public figures,” Clint adds. “The guys that actually did this—they’re not. They don’t have the resources to keep their loved ones safe.”Kate’s mouth flattens, but she doesn’t say argue back.A few minutes later, Daisy, Fury, and Hill leave, promising a doctor will be in to check on her later. Once they’re gone, Bobbi turns to Kate. “So, thanks for the save,” she says. “I mean, for your own sake, you should have stayed put—” Kate rolls her eyes, “—but if you had, the real Masque might have just shot us on the spot, and even if she hadn't, Hill definitely would have murdered us if we’d allowed the tape to get out, so, you know...thanks for saving our asses.”A hint of a smile breaks through Kate’s facade. “S’my specialty.”“You might come to regret being on SHIELD’s radar, though,” Bobbi adds. She holds up her cup. “Any chance I can get a refill? This air conditioner is killing me.”“Yeah, it’s the air conditioner, not the nine bullet holes,” Clint quips, taking it away from her and walking over to the sink.While he fills up the cup, Bobbi sends Kate a meaningful look and then jerks her head in Clint’s direction. Kate shoots an uncomfortable look at his back, then clears her throat, causing him to look up. “Um,” she says, digging her foot into the carpet. “Sorry I called you a hypocrite.”Clint turns off the water, then walks back. “Don’t be,” he responds, ruffling Kate’s hair. He looks at Bobbi. “I’m glad she has someone sticking up for her.”As he hands her the water, Bobbi suddenly remembers that the last thought she had while falling to (what she thought was) her death was of Ben, and it occurs to her that Clint might have contact information for him. She doesn’t have anything up-to-date on her family, but Clint had Twitchy dig up all that information on them, and maybe he has their numbers somewhere in that file. “Hey,” she says.Clint looks up. “What's up?”Kate's looking over too, not even pretending not to be listening. Bobbi opens her mouth, and then she hears Ben's voice in her head, the last words she heard from him: As long as you keep running around in tights, playing super-spy, that's the life you chose. But keep us out of it.“Bobbi?” Clint prompts.She swallows around the lump in her throat. “Um. Nothing, just...thanks for the water.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

December 13
“So, this is really it, huh?” Fortune says. He picks up the needle from its case, then quickly returns it as Bobbi glares at him. “My last treatment. Once this is done, I’ll be back to full health?”“That’s the plan,” Bobbi confirms. “As long as you don’t go and get yourself decapitated. The serum’s not that powerful.”He quirks a grin. “You know, I appreciate this, Morse, I really do.”He’d better. She’s been working on this thing for months, ever since he let her in on his true motivations for seeking her out when she was putting together the World Counterterrorism Agency after her return to Earth. For her and her fellow ex-SHIELD agents, the WCA was a way to find a place in a world that had seemingly moved on without them and to do some good at the same time.Bobbi hadn’t really understood why Dom had signed up until she started pressing him about his strange health fluctuations, and he’d admitted that a few years ago, he’d come across her Project Gladiator team’s old experimental formula for a super soldier serum and used it on himself, and now it was starting to break down, taking his body along with it. As it turned out, he’d looked her up in the hopes that he’d be able to convince her to make an improved version of the formula to save his life.She’d been furious when she’d first found out, pride stung at being lied to and manipulated, but the truth was that despite his deception (and his unrelenting flirting), he’d always been a reliable teammate. And she’d been itching to get back into the lab after a long absence, anyway. As soon as she’d had some free time, she’d locked herself in the WCA lab for a week to start working on a solution.“Well, I feel kind of responsible,” Bobbi admits. “After all, it was based on my team’s half-finished research that you did this to yourself in the first place. Come here.”He sits down on the stool in front of her, laying his arm palm up on the table. Bobbi wipes his arm with an alcohol wipe and then picks up the needle.“You ready?” she asks.Dom nods.“Here goes.” Bobbi slides the needle into his forearm and injects the serum. She presses a cotton ball into his skin as she pulls the needle back out. “I’m not sure why you wanted this so badly, anyway. From the way you speak about it, outliving all of your friends and family sounds more like a curse than a blessing.”“Yeah, well, I already got that part over with,” Dom responds with his usual cynicism. “Doesn’t mean I’m ready to die. And if I do die, I’d rather have it like you said—a clean decapitation, not having my body break down like a rotting tree while I’m still conscious.”That wasn’t quite what she’d meant, but she can’t argue with that. She stands up and starts disposing of the supplies. “Call me if you start to feel…well, anything out of the ordinary, okay?”“Right,” Dom agrees. “I guess we won’t be seeing each other anymore otherwise, huh?”Bobbi stops what she’s doing and looks over at him. There’s something in his expression that she can’t describe. He really is a man out of time—in a different way than, say, Captain America and Nick Fury are. Fury tries to pretend he’s a jaded loner, but there are a handful of people who know better: Daisy Johnson, Dum-Dum Dugan, Sharon Carter, Natasha Romanoff, and Bobbi herself. Nick and Steve work so well in the modern world, even after outliving their old friends, because they love the world. They create roots and connections wherever and whenever they go, continuing to live and love even as their old friends die off. Dom isn’t like that; he holds himself back and has done so, as far as she knows, ever since his wife died. Bobbi’s known him for nearly two years now and has been sleeping with him for months, and she still wouldn’t consider herself his friend.She wonders what she’ll be like when she’s that age. Will she be a Fury or a Fortune?“I guess we won’t,” she finally says.He nods. “No reason to.”“Right.”“You’ve got your work, I’ve got mine,” Dom continues.“I’m more of an Avenger than a spy these days,” Bobbi agrees. “Not much call for mercenaries in that business.”“Of course.”Bobbi swallows as she stares at him and he looks back at her. She should leave—no, wait, he should leave, this is her lab. Their professional relationship is at an end, and there’s no need—They rush at each other at the same time, mouths meeting as Dom slides his hands up the backs of her thighs and lifts her onto the table. Bobbi wraps her legs around him and pulls his head down to her neck, quickly divesting herself of her lab coat.“This doesn’t mean anything,” she says, gasping as he bites the sensitive skin on her collarbone, then soothes it with his tongue.“It never does,” he agrees.She starts unbuttoning his shirt. “Glad we’re on the same page. Now, let’s desanitize my lab.”——
December 18
“Thanks for coming,” Bobbi says. “I’ve been trying to get this finished for so long, but something else always comes up. I figured that if I asked for help, I’d feel a sense of accountability, and then maybe I’d make some progress.”“Well, accountability is my middle name.” Tony winks and makes his way past her into the apartment. He takes a quick look around, long enough for Bobbi to note how out of place Tony Stark and his suit and tie look in her Brooklyn one-bedroom apartment. To his credit, he doesn’t say something along the lines of, How can you prefer to live here than in the Avengers Mansion?Lucky approaches Tony, wagging his tail, and Tony leans down to pet him. “And who is this good boy?” he asks.“This is Lucky,” Bobbi introduces him. “Also known as Pizza Dog.”Tony squats down and continues showering Lucky with affection. “That’s a good name, yes it is.”With a fond smile, Bobbi shakes her head. “Come on, Shellhead, the boxes await.” She leads him into the spare bedroom where the cardboard packing boxes are waiting, piled one on top of the other nearly up to her head.“I thought you said you’d been living here for half a year,” Tony says. “If all this stuff hasn’t been unpacked yet, are you sure you really need it?”“Oh, no.” Bobbi wags her finger at him. “You’re not getting out of this that easily.”Tony grins. “It was worth a try.”They start going through the boxes, finding some smaller kitchen appliances including a garlic press that Bobbi has sorely missed, as well as camping equipment, assorted computer cables, and loose change.“What’s this?” Tony asks, picking up a shoebox. “Feels too heavy to be—oh!” He’s opened the box without waiting for an answer, finding a whole stack of photos. He picks up the first picture in the stack. “Oh my God, this is the old Compound, isn’t it? Are these all pictures from our West Coast Avengers days?”She looks over his shoulder. “I think so, yeah.”“I’ve never seen these,” he says, starting to go through the box. “Were they in storage in the Mansion? When you were, you know...” he draws a line across his throat.“I wasn’t dead, but yes.” Bobbi takes the discarded photos and starts looking through them herself. The next photo is her, Clint, Greer and Rhodey hanging out on the beach in their swimsuits with a sunset in the background. It’s practically a silhouette shot, the four of them outlined against an orange and pink sky with the waves rolling in behind them.“That one is gorgeous,” Tony says, looking over her shoulder.She remembers the day this was taken. It was late summer, a few months after the team started up, before Tony joined. They’d been celebrating a successful defense against an attack from the Wrecking Crew. There had been a barbecue, of course, and eventually they’d made their way down to the beach. Bobbi remembers showing off some of the surfing skills she’d retained from her West Coast childhood. She remembers Tigra writing “WACKOS 4EVER” in huge letters in the sand, and she remembers how they played frisbee-with-powers until it was too dark for everyone except Tigra to see anything.Tony holds the picture up to eye level. “You should frame this one.”Bobbi blinks a couple of times, then puts the stack of photos back in the shoebox. “Nah, you can barely make out our faces.” She turns away from him as she sets the box down on a side table. “Come on, we’ve got all these boxes to get through.”“Right.” Tony looks around and sighs. “How is it possible that we’ve been at this for over an hour and have only unpacked, like, a box and a half?”“Now you get it,” she says, feeling vindicated. “Unpacking is a lot harder than it sounds.”“Let’s just throw out all of these boxes and buy new stuff,” he suggests. “It’s got to be easier.”She’d consider it, but there’s a lot of sentimental stuff in there. Boxes of memories—one day, that’ll be all she has of her current life. Tony and all the rest of them will be dead, and she’ll still be here. Then she’ll be glad she hasn’t thrown everything away.She doesn’t say that, though. Instead, she points to two of the boxes in the pile. “Let’s just get these open and call it a day. The rest of them can survive a little while longer in the closet.”"No way," Tony says. "You invited me over to hold you accountable, right? We're not quitting until every one of these boxes is empty."“Okay, okay,” she relents. He’s a good friend. “You’ve got me.”“I wouldn’t say no to a pizza break, though,” Tony admits.Lucky picks up his head and wags his tail.——
December 17
Today, Bobbi is going to finish unpacking. It’s a little embarrassing how long she’s been in this apartment, and she still has a whole bunch of sealed cardboard boxes. She’s been content to leave everything in its box until she has a need for specific things that are still packed away, like the popcorn maker she just brought out last week. She’s booked a few hours this afternoon with nothing else to do, and she’s finally going to tackle the boxes.As she gets the last box into the living room, the doorbell rings. Lucky barks and runs to the door. “Down!” Bobbi calls, setting the box down and walking over. Lucky sits, resting his face on his front paws, and Bobbi opens the door to see Simone and her kids along with a middle-aged man in a navy jumpsuit.“What’s up?” Bobbi asks.Simone looks tired, one child on her hip and the other one angrily crossing his arms in the background. “We’ve got a building problem.”Oooh, her first crisis as a landlord that doesn’t involve anyone getting knocked unconscious. How refreshing.Simone continues, “The TV’s out, and Mr. Cable Guy here refuses to fix it.”Bobbi looks over at the guy. “Is that your real name? Talk about a self-fulfilling prophecy.”He doesn't laugh. "I already explained to Ms. Wallace over here about the difference between equipment failure and equipment damage and how the liability don’t cover—""Wait, sorry,” Bobbi interrupts. “Damage?”Simone and Cable Guy nod in unison.Ah, shit. “Is there...an arrow in it?”“Yup,” The guy says.“Okay, that’s on me,” Bobbi admits. Well, technically, it’s on Kate, but Kate’s being there is on her, so close enough. She presses the heel of her hand against her temple to help her think. "Okay, here's what we'll do. Do you have replacement equipment?" "Yes, but like I said, it's not my—“"Don't worry about it," she interrupts. "Leave the equipment in the front hall. I’ll take care of it.”“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks suspiciously.“It means, I'll take care of it,” Bobbi says curtly. She sends him away, leaving Simone and her kids at the door. “Come inside,” she says. “Your boys like Owl Accountants? I’ve got the first half of the season on DVR.”She clears some of the boxes out of the way, makes popcorn, and then gets dressed to go out, putting on a thick winter coat and heavy boots. Simone looks up as Bobbi comes out of the bedroom. “Where are you going in this weather?” she asks.Bobbi points upward. “That’s my responsibility,” she says.“What? Now?” Simone looks shocked. “It’s icy up there. You’ll slip and break your N-E-C-K!”“That spells ‘neck!’” Charlie puts in helpfully.“Thanks, honey,” Simone says, shaking her head. “Bobbi, don’t be crazy. The dish can wait for another day.”“I own it, I broke it, I’m fixing it. You’ve got to make your own stuff work.” She gets a toolbox and some other equipment out of the front closet, then turns back to Simone and adds, “Don’t worry about me; I’ve faced down much scarier things in my life than an icy roof.”Simone huffs, but she doesn’t argue any further. Bobbi leaves her and the boys with the show playing. She picks up the replacement equipment from the hallway and stuffs it into a backpack, then heads up toward the roof.She gets into a climbing harness, tying a rope through the harness and looping the other end around a pipe, then starts climbing out to the satellite dish. The roof has a few icy patches, so she makes sure to move slowly, carefully. This getup will prevent her from falling to the street, but she can still slip and hit her head up here.When she reaches the dish, she pulls the arrow out and tosses it onto the patio, then inspects the damage. There are some shredded wires, but she thinks she can figure out where everything goes.She works slowly and methodically for the better part of an hour. It takes a few redos, and she slips and lands clumsily on her butt more than once, but eventually she has something that looks like a functional satellite dish.“My hero,” Simone says drily as Bobbi walks back in. “Glad you’re still in one piece.”“Hey, if Ultron can’t stop me, what’s this thing going to do?” Bobbi retorts, holding up the old dish. She looks around and sees that the kids have all fallen asleep on the couch. “Feel free to stay as long as you like.” She sets the broken equipment down in an empty spot in the hallway, and her glance falls on the cardboard boxes, her original afternoon plans. Ugh. She really wanted to have that done today.“What are you up to?” Simone asks. “Want to watch some deconstructed children’s television?”Bobbi sends a guilty look in the way of the boxes. “Yeah, sure. That sounds good.”——
December 14
They say there’s a first for everything, and this is definitely Bobbi’s first barbecue in the snow. She’s out on the roof with the rest of the building—or at least the ones crazy enough to come out in this weather. The snow is turning to slush under their feet, with a huge puddle by the grill.“Hey, Bobbi!” Grills calls out, waving her down. He’s turning over the hot dogs, fingers exposed in cut-off gloves. “I wanted to thank you for helping out my dad with the basement the other week.”Bobbi nods, trying to be polite but uncomfortable with the praise. She did put in a not-insignificant amount of effort driving out to Long Island to clear out his father’s basement before the storm flooded the place, but it was just as much for her as it was for him—the act of being useful in a small, everyday kind of way, as opposed to the grand superhero battles, helps settle her in a world where she sometimes feels lost. She settles on responding with, “Just being a good neighbor.”“Oh, it’s more than that.” Grills puts down his tongs, then reaches behind him and picks up a DVR box. “Anyway, merry Christmas, kiddo. It’s pre-loaded. I heard you’re running behind on Owl Accountants. That maybe your unpredictable job hours have caused you to miss an episode here and there.”“Wow, that’s really thoughtful,” Bobbi says, touched. He’s not technically supposed to know that she’s an Avenger—none of them are—but there’s nothing she can really do about that now.“You deserve it,” he declares. “Enjoy your show, Songbird.”Again! “Songbird?” she repeats.Grills winks. “It's all right, Morse, you don't gotta hide your ID from us.”“I know, but...I'm Mockingbird.”“Yeah!” His eyes take on an excited glint. “I know all about how Mockingbird is just Songbird in disguise. Read it in the news, how you faked your own death and took on a new identity to gain redemption for the crimes of your youth! Very brave, if you ask me.”The weird thing about that is that it’s more plausible than the truth. Bobbi’s still trying to decide whether to correct him or not when she hears Aimee calling her name.“What's up?” she asks, turning around. Aimee looks nervous. "Uh, I don't know if you're the right person to speak to about this, but there are a whole bunch of guys downstairs…with bats."Tracksuit bros. Bobbi feels for the staves she’s got hidden in the sleeves of her coats. “Thanks for letting me know. I’ll handle them.”"Go get 'em!" Grills's voice calls out behind her. Songbird. Huh.She snaps the staves together and extends them just as she steps out the front door, and wow, there really are a zillion of them here. Where the hell does Ivan get all of these guys?One guy, in the center, kind of looks like he’s in charge. Everyone is looking at him out of the corner of their eyes, waiting for a signal of some sort.He addresses Bobbi. “Our boss, he wants to talk to you, bro.”She looks around at the crowd of red and white tracksuits and wooden bats. “What happened, he get lost on the way or something?”The guy doesn’t smile. He motions to the rest of them, and they start to approach her, bats raised. Even with her fighting skills, Bobbi knows she can’t take all of them, but if she has to lose a fight, she’s going to make at least a handful of them reconsider their career choices while she does it. With her pole to hold them off, she takes down a dozen and a half quickly, but one guy gets in a lucky swing, which slows her down. She keeps fighting as they move in, dealing out as much damage as she can, but more of them keep coming.The Tracksuit Mafia must have amazing health insurance.There’s blood running down her head, mixing in with her sweat, getting in her eyes and dimming her sight. Tracksuits from every possible direction, falling, getting up, swinging—she kicks one square in the chest and he and all the guys behind him go flying at the same moment that a bat hits her skull from behind, and she knows the fight is over.

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December 15
This whole waking-up-tied-to-a-chair thing is starting to get real old. That’s her first thought.Her next one is, Jess is going to kill me, before realizing that this isn’t Avengers business, and there’s no need for Jess to find out. Unless they end up killing her, but then she won’t need to worry about Jess killing her because she’ll already be—“She’s awake,” one of the guys says.The room is pretty dark, and she can only make out shapes. Eight, maybe ten guys. She's bound to the chair by regular rope, and it’d probably snap if she gave it her all. Some of them might be armed, but she can take a few bullets if she needs to.Still, they went through all the trouble to bring her here—might as well hear them out.There’s a man standing in front of her, old and thin, wearing striped sunglasses and a flat cap backwards like he thinks he’s Samuel L. Jackson. He leans on a white cane and looks at her face. “Bro, you awake?”She sits up as straight as possible within the confines of the ropes and looks him in the eyes, trying to look like she’s completely unfazed by the situation. “I am, thanks.”“You in big trouble, bro,” he continues. She starts to say something sarcastic, but he cuts her off by poking her toe with his cane, which she finds incredibly rude. He drones on for a few minutes, talking about Ivan and the building and someone’s wife and stealing a boat, how the people he works for are very, very angry and it’s not a good idea to cross them, Bro, because they don’t have the kind of mercy that he and Ivan have showed so far.“I dunno, they sound kind of lazy to me,” Bobbi cracks. “Sending all of you out to deliver their message instead of facing me themselves?”“They’re done delivering messages,” the old guy says harshly. “The last one is this: you go away. You have 24 hours to be gone, out of building, out of neighborhood, or we move in, is war. Whole building, dead. Little babies? Dead. You don’t want to see war, bro.”Before the threat has time to sink in, there’s another bat to the back of her head. This one’s not as hard as the last one, and it doesn’t knock her out, but she slumps in her seat anyway, playing possum. Someone does a half-assed job of tying a cloth over her eyes, and she’s thrown unceremoniously over a pair of shoulders and carried around for a few minutes before being tossed in the backseat of a car. The whole experience involves a lot of bumping and jostling, but she’s had worse. And she can see pretty well out the window from this angle. She makes a mental note of the street signs. Little Irkutsk; she should have known.She wants to start making a plan, but she can’t concentrate on anything but the rumbling of the car. Eventually, they pull up in front of her building. The car door opens and someone grabs underneath her arms and drags her along the sidewalk to the front stoop, then leaves her there without a word. Bobbi resists the urge to get up, counting a good ten seconds after she hears the car drive off before sitting up and pulling away the blindfold.She hears footsteps on the stairs, and Aimee runs out to her, her face white in panic. “Oh my God, Bobbi!” she cries out. “I’m so sorry, I had no idea—I thought you were dead—I called the police—”Bobbi cuts her off with a hand. “I’m okay, really. It’s okay. They mostly just drove me around Brooklyn and talked me to sleep.”Aimee doesn’t seem comforted. “That’s some way of putting it. You were abducted!”Abducted. Sure, some people might call it that. But, honestly, if she isn’t taken off-planet, or at least trapped in a different century, does it really count as an abduction?“Occupational hazard,” Bobbi tells her, using the railing to pull herself to a standing position. She can practically hear Aimee’s heartbeat pounding in fear, so she puts a hand on her shoulder, trying to reassure her. “Don’t worry. It’s worse than it looks. I’ve got it under control.”A complete lie.“What did they want?” Aimee asks, her breathing slowing to something approaching normal.Bobbi debates telling her. She doesn’t want to cause a panic in the building, but she doesn’t want to leave them in the dark, either. She needs a plan, that’s what she needs.When Bobbi doesn’t say anything, Aimee answers her own question. “They want the building.”Bobbi nods. That’s true enough.“What are you going to do?” Aimee asks.“I’ll figure it out,” Bobbi says.“You sure? It doesn’t seem like these guys are anywhere near giving up.”“Something you might not know about me,” Bobbi says. “I’m a trained scientist. Biologist. And if there’s one thing I learned in all my years in a lab, it’s that, when you’ve reached the point where you’re about to give up, where nothing makes sense and you’re sure you’re at a dead end? That’s the point where you’re right before the breakthrough.”Aimee gives her a wry look. “Wow, things must be really bleak if you’re trying to cheer me up with refrigerator magnet platitudes. ‘The sky is always darkest before the dawn’? Real inspirational, Morse.”“That’s not exactly—” Bobbi begins, before thinking better of it. “Whatever. Just trust me, okay? I’m an Avenger.”“Now that’s a good line,” Aimee allows.The first thing she needs is a nap. Once back inside her apartment, she kicks her shoes off and collapses onto the couch, not even bothering to try for the bedroom. She falls into a dreamless sleep, and when she wakes up, the sun is high in the sky.The tracksuits. The threat. Right.Bobbi jumps up and gets into action. She takes a duffel bag out of the closet and her toothbrush out of the bathroom, brushing her teeth while she loads the bag with weapons. She’s still working out the exact details of the plan, but she’ll definitely need some heavy artillery to deal with the kind of numbers the tracksuit mob has on their side. In the back of her closet, behind her shoe rack, there’s a black safe with a keypad lock. She opens it up and takes a long look at its contents, eventually deciding on the sleep gas grenades.There’s a Glock in there, too, under the hidden panel. She picks it up and looks at it for a long time, trying to decide. Avengers don’t use guns, as a general rule. If she breaks into their headquarters and shoots them with a gun, the cops won’t like that at all. The Avengers and all of her costumed friends will probably need to disavow her to avoid getting serious heat on their heads.On the other hand, if she underestimates these guys, all it’ll do is piss them off and give them more of an incentive to follow through on their threats. Little babies? Dead. She can’t let that happen. There are always new superheroes coming up; it won’t take the Avengers two hours to find a replacement for her. No one will miss her.Kate.Bobbi rinses her mouth and puts on her shoes, and a few minutes later, she finds herself knocking at Aimee’s door. Aimee’s girlfriend (who’s name Bobbi can never remember, but she’s pretty sure it starts with an M) answers. “Babe, it’s your neighbor!” she calls into the apartment. Then she turns back to Bobbi. “Want to come in?”“No, I’ll just be a second,” Bobbi responds.Aimee’s face turns grave when she sees Bobbi. “Building stuff,” she says to...Marlee? Melanie? “Go on and start the movie, I’ll be right there.” When they’re alone, she turns to Bobbi and lowers her voice. “Do we have a plan?”“I do,” Bobbi answers, “but I can’t tell you anything about it.”Aimee looks disappointed.“I do need your help, though,” Bobbi adds, and Aimee brightens up. “You’re still a bike messenger, right?”—— It’s an hour and a half later, tops, when someone starts to bang angrily on Bobbi’s door. For a second, she thinks the tracksuits have changed their minds about the 24-hour deadline, but then she realizes they wouldn’t be knocking. She looks through the peephole and there’s Kate, giving her a death glare.She opens the door, and Kate barges in, vibrating anger. Kate holds up a thumb drive, the one Bobbi sent over with Aimee. The drive contains over a decade’s worth of training videos on it, all of the recordings Bobbi made of herself in order to study and refine her technique.Kate waves the thumb drive in her face. “What the hell is this, Morse?”Bobbi ducks out of the way. “Um. Christmas present?”“Uh-huh.” Kate's voice drips with skepticism. “Looks more like a goodbye present. Any particular reason I’m going to need training videos of you on a screen, as opposed to your real, live self?”Bobbi tries not to react. She should have asked Aimee not to deliver the drive until tonight, that’s what she should have done. Then she wouldn’t be in this position. Kate’s not going to understand, she’s a real superhero, through and through. Not like Bobbi, who’s had any moral clarity she once had drummed out of her, first by S.H.I.E.L.D. themselves, then by her experience with the Phantom Rider, and finally, by being a fugitive and a scavenger on a foreign planet for three years.“After today,” Bobbi says, “I probably won’t be able to train you anymore.” She gives her a brief rundown of her conversation with Samuel L. Trackson. “If I leave town, they won’t stop, and I won’t be able to protect my tenants. But if I send a strong enough message...”“‘Strong enough message?’” Kate repeats. “Oh my God, Bobbi, what are you going to do?”“Nothing that Wolverine hasn’t done more than once.”“‘Nothing that—?’” Kate says incredulously. “You mean killing? Bobbi, I know these guys are no good, but let’s slow down a second. Most of them are just henchmen. They’re not the ones—wait,” she interrupts herself, letting go of whatever she was going to say, “but Wolverine has a healing factor. Is this a suicide mission?”“No,” Bobbi says firmly, before amending it to, “Probably not.”“Well, that’s reassuring.”“I’ve been in worse scrapes,” Bobbi says. “I won’t die in there.”“Maybe not,” Kate allows, softening her voice a smidge, “but there’s no coming back from what you’re planning on doing.”“Which is why...” Bobbi looks at the thumb drive in Kate’s hand and trails off. She doesn’t want to lose her; she really doesn’t. But it was always a matter of time, anyway. Bobbi’s too damaged to keep anyone in her life permanently.Kate looks at her and shakes her head. “You know, she says, “I was so excited when I got that phone call from you telling me she wanted to work with me. Finally, a chance to get to know the enigmatic Mockingbird. To meet the hero behind the rumors.” She blinks quickly and bites her lip, as if to hold back tears, then tosses the thumb drive carelessly in Bobbi’s direction. “I wish that meant as much to you as it did to me.”“Kate—” Bobbi starts, but Kate’s gone, the door closing behind her with a click. “Damn it.” She picks up the fallen thumb drive and looks it it for a few seconds, waiting for the lump in her throat to subside.Kate watched this, she thinks. And whatever she saw inspired her to march all the way down here from Tribeca, keeping up her rage the entire way. On a hunch, Bobbi slides the drive into her computer and starts to play the first video.On the screen, a fresh-faced, much younger Bobbi Morse stands in one of the S.H.I.E.L.D. gyms and fiddles with the camera. She takes a step back and starts to speak, introducing herself and marking the date—her very first day of training. Then she steps back and starts practicing some moves that she learned earlier that day. She’s not good at all—she has no gymnastics background and only took one ten-week-long self-defense course as an undergrad—but each time she falls, she gets up, gives the camera a thumbs-up, and starts the routine from the beginning. Bobbi watches the whole thing through, then thinks about the Mockingbird that Kate looked up to.She’s got to fix this. Bobbi glances at the clock on the bookshelf—okay, she can make it to Kate’s apartment and back in time if she works out the new plan on the way. She opens her apartment door.Kate’s standing there, her arms crossed, with a smug grin on her face. “I thought that might work,” she says.—
December 16
Just after dusk, Bobbi walks out of her apartment building. The coast is clear—she called Ivan earlier and demanded a parley before hanging up, and she had Aimee spread the word to the other tenants that they should stay inside tonight. Whoever’s coming should be here soon.Like clockwork, two different white vans turn onto the street from the two opposing corners, driving toward each other and her. They stop at the same time in front of the building, and tracksuits start to pile out like from a clown car. There must be twice as many guys as last time, and they’re carrying wooden bats again. They look like a goddamn baseball team with the bats and the identical uniforms. The Brooklyn Bro-dgers.Ugh, that was awful. Thank God no one heard it.Ivan gets out last, and he walks up to her, the rest of his guys closing in. Good; close range is her specialty.“Heard you wanted to speak with me,” Ivan says.“That’s right.” She pauses for a few moments to let him wait, hopefully throw off his confidence. “I wanted to let you know that I’m not going anywhere.”Ivan snorts. “You serious, bro?”“You’re going to stay away from the building, and you’re going to leave my tenants alone,” she continues calmly.Ivan cocks his head in disbelief. “Why should I do that?”
Bobbi smiles, showing her teeth. “Because that way I don’t kill you all.”That sets him off. “Bitch!” he barks, then he aims a punch at her. She dodges it and watches as the rest of his men close in.She pops her staves out of her sleeves and connects them, extending them into a single bo staff, angling it to sock Ivan in the jaw and knock him onto his ass in one move. With the staff extended and thanks to her nearly-superhuman speed, the tracksuits’ bats are completely ineffective as weapons, and the fight is almost over before it starts. Until Ivan still on the ground, pulls out a gun.An arrow flies through the arm and pierces his shooting arm. He manages to hang onto the gun, which he starts shooting at the roof, where Kate’s standing. The arrow she’s in the middle of letting loose goes way off-target, embedding itself somewhere in the building’s structure, but she recovers quickly and gets the next arrow in his wrist. He lets out a horrific scream and drops the gun. Quickly, Bobbi somersaults over to him and grabs the gun, spinning the staff and knocking out henchman the whole time.Kate picks off anyone who’s left standing, and the whole thing is over in a matter of minutes. Barely conscious whimpering messes of gangsters lying in the street. Bobbi puts away her staves, then unloads Ivan’s gun before tossing it at his feet. She drags him up by the collar. “Tell your bosses not to underestimate me again,” Bobbi barks at him. “Tell them, ‘You won’t win, no matter how many people you send. Count your losses and stay the hell away from this building.’”—
December 19
Bobbi wakes up cramped and disoriented. It takes her a few seconds to realize that she’s in her own living room, as she remembers falling asleep on the couch while watching TV.She glances over at the three-seater, where Tony’s still out. His leg is hanging over the side of the couch, and he’s clutching a throw pillow to his chest. He’s got the side of his face smushed into the seat of the couch, and there’s a tiny circle of drool next to his mouth.Wordlessly, she gets up and starts to prepare a pot of coffee. As she walks through the living room, she notices how nice it looks with all the cleared space. Like it’s actually someone’s home.After pouring the beans into the machine, she hears rustling sounds from the living room and then Tony’s voice saying, “Ugh, it feels like something died in my mouth.”“Well, you know where the extra toothbrushes are,” Bobbi calls out. “Hey, how do you feel about bagels for breakfast?”“That sounds absolutely perfect,” Tony says.Once the coffee is ready, she pours him a mug and takes hers to go. At the end of the hall, she notices through the window that it’s snowing outside.On her way down, she runs into Tito, who also remarks on the snow. “An actual white Christmas,” he says. “You think it’ll stick?”“It would be nice,” Bobbi responds.“Yeah,” he agrees. “Can’t barbecue in the snow, though.”They reach the bottom of the stairs. As Bobbi opens the door for the two of them, she has an idea. “You know what?” She turns to Tito. “I’m having a housewarming party in my apartment this evening.” It’s the perfect opportunity, with her newly unpacked apartment. They can celebrate having chased away the tracksuit mafia. “The whole building’s invited.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

"I don't care if you believe it," Jessica Jones reads out loud, a book in one hand and a swaddled baby in the other. "That's the kind of house I live in, and I hope we never leave it." She closes the book and Bobbi reaches out to take it from her.Bobbi puts There’s A Wocket in My Pocket away on the bookshelf and watches Jess put Danielle down in her crib. There's a secret to this, a special way to set down a sleeping baby without startling them awake that Bobbi hasn't—and, let's be honest, probably never will—picked up. Jess makes it look natural, but she knows that comes after months of trial and error. It’s amazing the way Jess is with Dani, compared with the way she navigates the rest of the world.Jess takes a step away from the crib and stands over it for a second to make sure Dani’s still asleep. Bobbi joins her, and they watch the even rise and fall of Dani’s chest under her yellow pajamas, the glow of her pudgy cheeks, the peaceful look of contentment on her face as she sleeps, warm and snug, oblivious to the world and its dangers.“Okay, I think she’s down,” Jess whispers. “We’re free to go.” She takes the monitor extension from the nightstand and they go downstairs. The dining hall has been transformed for game night, with the big table folded up and a smaller round table set out. Jessica Drew and Carol are setting the table for poker while they talk about an adventure they had the other day. Carol smirks at something Jessica says and puts her hand on Jessica's arm, leaning towards her and murmuring something that makes both of them burst out in laughter.So Jess—Jones—was right. Bobbi wasn’t too sure at first about attending poker night with Clint and Jess—Drew—there, but Jessica Jones insisted, because apparently Jessica Drew and Carol are like a single unit when they’re in a room together, and Clint and Luke are also close, which would leave Jessica Jones feeling like an odd wheel. Bobbi raised her eyebrows at that, saying that if anyone would be an odd wheel in that room, it would be her, as the ex, and Jess’s response was, “That’s exactly why I need you there, so we can be odd wheels together.”It could be good for her. Everything’s been quiet with Ivan and his buddies lately; she must have convinced them the building is more trouble than it’s worth. She hasn’t seen a single maroon tracksuit since December. It’s about time she lets herself breathe. Anyway all of her tenants have her number if they spot any trouble. If there is an emergency, Carol can fly her over in a matter of minutes.In the kitchen, Luke and Clint are getting snacks and bowls out of the cabinets. Luke looks up and asks, “How’s Dani?”Jess tilts her head. “There’s an expression that’s at the tip of my tongue...I can’t quite remember...snoozing like a squirt? Slumbering like an infant?”“Taking candy from a baby,” Bobbi suggests.Jess snickers. “That’s the one.” She presses the baby monitor into Luke’s hand. “Here you go, you’re on call for the next four hours.”“Anything you say, baby,” Luke responds.“We’re done in here, whenever the food’s ready,” Carol calls from the dining room.As Bobbi walks into the room, Jessica Drew gives her a stretched-out smile and compliments her shoes—plain old Navy Van. For a split second, makes it Bobbi pause and wonder if she’s hitting on her, and then it hits her that Jessica is making an effort to be nice. That brings her to the horrific realization that Clint must have relayed their conversation from Madripoor and now Jessica is going out of her way to be nice because she pities her. Great. If Jessica Drew, winner of the decade’s “most screwed-over superhero” award is feeling sorry for her, things must be bad.Poker, and Blind Man’s Bluff even more so, is a game where one needs to make a lot of eye contact, read a lot of faces. She didn’t anticipate it going in, and it’s unnerving. Jessica Drew smiles graciously every time they make eye contact, while Carol gives her a kind of sheepish, apologetic look, Clint looks embarrassed, Luke looks confused, and Jessica Jones just smirks at her. She wishes something would happen, anything, to distract her from the awkwardness of this setup, and at that moment, Dani’s cries come over the baby monitor.Luke sets his card face-down on the table and starts to get up. “Go on without me,” he says. “I’ll catch up when I get back.”After he leaves, the room stays quiet until the stillness is broken by a knock on the mansion door. Jarvis’s shoes clack across the wooden floor of the foyer, and there’s the sound of the door opening.Jarvis’s voice floats across the floor. “May I help you?”“I need to speak to Bobbi Morse,” says a familiar female voice.“One mo—” Jarvis starts, and then, “please, wait at the—hey, stop!”In an instant, the whole table is on their feet, expecting an attack. Only Bobbi recognizes the voice—it’s Cherry the Dodge Challenger girl, and while she doesn’t pose a threat to the people in the room, Bobbi doesn’t actually want to explain anything about how she knows her to her teammates. “It’s okay,” she says. “Sit down, I’ll take care of it.”She goes out to the foyer to investigate and nearly runs smack into Cherry, who throws her arms around Bobbi’s neck and kisses her full on the lips before Bobbi can react. She’s wearing a short red dress and a leather jacket, and her strawberry chapstick and vanilla perfume are just like Bobbi remembers from the afternoon they spent together. It’s such a simple matter to get caught up in the moment, except that Cherry can’t be here. Avengers Mansion is where Bobbi Morse is Mockingbird, respected Avenger. As opposed to Brooklyn Bobbi, who goes around sleeping with strangers and getting into car chases with mobsters, apparently.“Holy shit,” comes Clint’s voice from behind her.She breaks off the kiss and turns around to see that she has an audience, to her mortification. In addition to Jarvis, standing by the door, it seems Jessica Jones and Clint both followed her out of the room, and they all just saw that kiss.“I’m so glad I found you!” Cherry exclaims, recapturing Bobbi’s attention. “I need your help again—I shot him—he might be dead—you’ll help me, won’t you? You’re the only one I can trust.”The silence from her friends is broken as they start firing off questions about who this is and who did she shoot and did she just kiss Bobbi and how does Bobbi know her and who’s dead. Bobbi’s head starts to pound, and she holds her hand up. “Wait, wait, let’s all take a deep breath here.”Jess and Clint quiet down, and Bobbi looks back at Cherry.“You have to help me,” Cherry pleads. “He might be dead, and my parole terms—”“Wait, parole?” Jessica interrupts. “You’re on parole and you shot someone?” She turns to Bobbi. “This is a police matter. She can’t be here.”“It’s not that simple,” Bobbi says.Jess crosses her arms. “So explain.”Bobbi opens her mouth to do just that, but then she realizes that she knows absolutely nothing about Cherry’s situation or her life. Hell, she doesn’t even know her real name.Cherry sees the look on Bobbi's face and seems to interpret it correctly. “I’ll tell you everything,” she promises, “but you have to help me get my safe back.”Bobbi looks between her friends, obviously worried for her, and Cherry, obviously in need of her help. This is why she does this, right? To help people. Sometimes that means getting out her sticks and beating on an oversized Maelstrom, and sometimes it means helping out someone who’s being hounded by the same criminals who have been terrorizing her building. Either way, if someone needs protecting...well, that's why she got into the business, right? “Okay.” Bobbi nods. “I’ll help you.” Jessica throws her hands up in the air, and Bobbi adds, “Wait for me outside a minute, okay?”“I have to agree with Ms. Jones,” Jarvis says once he closes the door behind Cherry. “This doesn’t quite seem like Avengers jurisdiction.”Bobbi sighs. “I know, you’re right. It’s personal, and she shouldn’t have come here. I’ll talk to her about it. But I’m not going to drag the Avengers into this. It’s between me and her.” And thirty violent Adidas aficionados, she doesn’t add.“You and her,” Jess repeats. “Bobbi, she kissed you. Are you—is it possible that your judgment is being clouded by whatever...and not that I’m judging, but what about...,” her voice trails off and she mouths, Dom.Of course, Clint is an expert at lip reading from all those years of being deaf. “Dom?” he repeats. He gives Bobbi a look that she can’t quite interpret. “You're sleeping with Dominic Fortune?”Bobbi groans. “Dom has nothing to do with—I know what I’m doing here, you guys need to trust me.”“No, you’re being reckless,” Jess says.Clint doesn’t say anything, but she can read his face easily enough. It's his she's falling and I don't know how to help her and I'm scared to death look. It's how he looked when Jaime Slade showed up in their lives and Bobbi admitted to having visions of the Phantom Rider, or when she would wake up from nightmares at 4 AM and run out to go patrolling, sometimes not even bothering to put on shoes first, or when she developed a fever after being injected with Nick's super-soldier mix and faded in and out of consciousness for days.They lock eyes, and the look on his face is pleading, and for a second, she hesitates.Jessica Drew peeks her head into the room. "Is everything okay?" she asks. "Bobbi, do you need backup?" She snaps out of it, remembering that she's needed outside, that Cherry is waiting for her. "I'm fine," she says. "I need to go. I'm fine." —“It was self-defense,” Cherry insists, pacing back and forth across Bobbi’s living room. “I couldn’t go to the cops because owning a gun is against the terms of my parole, and they—I was taking the fall for him in the first place, and he didn’t deserve it, Bobbi.” She looks up, fire in her eyes. “He never deserved my loyalty. I wasted years of my life bending over backwards, trying to be a good wife for someone who would just as soon see me dead.”Well, she can relate to the “bending over backwards, trying to be a good wife” part. Not so much the “just as soon see [her] dead” bit. Count your blessings, she tells herself.Cherry takes a step closer and puts her hand on Bobbi’s. Her skin is as soft and delicate as her voice as she asks, “Will you help me?”She really should take Jess’s advice and bring this to the police. If Cherry broke her parole terms, she knew what she was doing. But if she hadn’t broken them, she might be dead now. Bobbi knows first-hand how ruthless the Tracksuit Mafia can be. Cherry’s just like her, except that she can’t take care of herself like Bobbi can. And after all, why did she become a hero, if not to protect people who needed help?It’s the right thing to do.Her phone buzzes on the counter. It’s a text from Kate: just got off the phone w jessica jones, she’s worried about you and some redhead who showed up out of nowhere- car lady??? whats going on????She’ll text her back soon. Bobbi sets the phone to silent and turns her attention back to Cherry, “What do you need?”“There’s this safe,” Cherry says. “I need to get it from them. It has everything I need to finally be free.”Bobbi nods. “All right, we’ll get it.”“Oh! Did you get my comics?”A bit of a non-sequitur, but okay. Bobbi remembers the comics; they arrived a week or two after the car incident in two separate manila envelopes with Post-It notes saying, Hold onto these for me. -C She’d been confused for a second, because the handwriting wasn’t Clint’s, but then she realized who they must have come from.“I have them,” Bobbi confirms. “How about this safe? Where is it?”It’s in the office of a strip club owned by Cherry’s father-in-law, apparently. “Here’s what I was thinking,” she says. “You make a distraction, start a fight or something. While everyone’s got eyes on you, I run into the office, grab the safe, and run out, and then you slip out in the chaos.”Bobbi thinks it over. Jess’s voice echoes in her head. You’re being reckless. She and the tracksuits are at a détente, and being seen making trouble in their business establishment will put her back on their radar. Maybe there’s another way they can play this.“So, I don’t know if this is public knowledge,” Bobbi says, “but I used to be a spy.”—“I think that’s it,” Cherry says, as they watch someone leave the building and lock the door behind them. They’re watching from the roof of the building across the street. It’s about an hour after closing time, and so far, they’ve watched groups of customers, then dancers, then cleaning staff go home for the night.They wait a few more minutes to be safe, and then Bobbi gets ready to move in. “Be at the front door in ten minutes,” she tells Cherry, standing up.Bobbi sends a grappling hook ahead of her and zips across to the roof of the club. She silently climbs down to the nearest fire escape. The window is locked, but there’s some give to the latch, and with a little bit of wiggling, she’s got it opened.It’s pitch black inside, so Bobbi switches her goggles to night mode and makes her way through the hallway where the offices and changing rooms are. She finds the security room and sets the cameras to a half-hour loop, then makes her way to the front of the club and uses a small hand-held device that Twitchy rigged up to disable the door alarm.“All clear?” Cherry asks as Bobbi opens the door. She’s already wearing the goggles Bobbi gave her earlier, clearly enjoying the opportunity to play secret agent.“Yeah, we’re good,” Bobbi answers. “You know which room this safe is in?”Cherry nods.“Great. I’ll cover the door. No detours, okay? Get the box and come straight back,” she tells her. “The longer we stay here, the higher the likelihood of getting caught.”Bobbi stays at the door to play lookout as Cherry goes deeper into the club. She waits patiently, but when Cherry isn’t back in five minutes, she starts to get worried. If she ran into trouble...She casts a look at the door but decides that going after Cherry is more urgent. Heading in the direction Cherry used earlier, Bobbi walks silently, keeping her ears and eyes open for any disturbance. After a few hallways, she hears a voice and a faint light coming from a far room.She sneaks up to the room, turning her goggles back to day mode to adjust to the table lamp. Cherry is standing against the wall, and there’s a man at the desk holding a gun at her and threatening her. As the figure becomes clearer, she recognizes him as the old guy in the flat cap, the one who threatened her in that basement just before Christmas.“We own you,” he says. “You’re just a sad little girl who thought she could make it out there on her own, but you will never be free of us. No matter where you go, no matter how far you run...”As he drones on, the scene changes in Bobbi’s mind. She’s no longer in Little Irkutsk; she’s on a Skrull homeworld, listening to that damn shapeshifter who pretended to be Clint, who stalked her and toyed with her for years, acting like she owed him something just because he put on her husband’s face. The words change from English to Skrull, the room to the dark cell where she’d finally put him out of both their suffering.“...teach you a lesson,” he’s saying. “And when my son gets out of that hospital, he’s going to—”He doesn’t get a chance to say what his son is going to do, because Bobbi’s fist connects with his jaw at that exact moment, and he spins all the way around and lands at Cherry’s feet, unconscious.—“That was amazing,” Cherry marvels.Bobbi turns the guy over with her foot. Still breathing. She’s got mixed feelings about that, but all things considered, it’s probably better not to kill him. “We’ve gotta get out of here,” she says. “Got your stuff?”“One sec.” Cherry turns to an open cabinet behind her and pulls out a red safe, then stuffs it into her backpack.Bobbi takes a final look at the scene. It’s not great, but there’s no footage or proof tying Cherry to the scene, and the guy never got a look at Bobbi’s face. It’s possible that he’ll guess it was her based on the fact that she helped Cherry escape their kidnappers a few months back, but there’s nothing she can do about that.The street is still quiet when they get outside and climb onto Bobbi’s motorcycle. “Hold on tight,” Bobbi says, inserting the key into the ignition.Cherry slides her hands around Bobbi’s hips as the motorcycle comes to life with a purr. “Roger that.”As they drive toward Little Irkutsk, Cherry starts to get bold with her hands, slipping them under Bobbi’s shirt, trailing her fingers along the skin just under the waist of her pants, tracing Bobbi’s sensitive hip bones. Bobbi tries her best to keep her composure, doesn’t make a sound throughout the experience, but she knows the heat between her legs is more than the bike’s engine.By the time they reach Bed-Stuy, she’s ready to burst, and when they reach her block, she pulls straight into the closest parking spot, turns and catches Cherry’s wrists with her hands, and brings them slowly behind Cherry’s back. Cherry’s back arches just enough to push her breasts into Bobbi’s line of sight.Bobbi raises her eyebrows. “You’ve been naughty.”“Mmmm,” Cherry agrees. “But you’ve been so good to me.”“Maybe too good.” Bobbi pulls Cherry’s joined wrists all the way back to the seat, forcing her back to arch even further. “Maybe what you really need is a firm hand.”“Yes, ma’am.” The grin on her face is dazzling, and between they flirting and her post-mission adrenaline, all Bobbi wants to do is tie this woman to a bed, spread her legs, and stay there for hours.Inside the apartment, Lucky is asleep in his bed next to the couch. “Up to the loft,” Bobbi whispers, but Cherry shakes her head.“Comics first.”Bobbi wrinkles her brow, but doesn’t argue. She finds the drawer with the comics and hands them to Cherry over the counter.Cherry flips through the stack of comics, and after a few seconds, her face turns white. “This isn’t right,” she says tightly. “Did you rearrange these?”“You had some out of order,” Bobbi says. “And I was cleaning up the apartment with a friend, and organizing all my books, and—”Cherry’s fist hits the counter loudly. She winces at the pain at the same time that Bobbi winces at the noise. “What?” Bobbi asked.“It was the combination for the safe,” Cherry says. “Fuck.”“What was?”“The issue numbers! I put them in that order for a reason. Damn it! This isn’t a normal safe. You get three chances to put in the right combination or it releases an acid that destroys the contents of the box.”That sounds like tech she would have used at SHIELD. What kind of resources do these tracksuit guys have?“I’m so fucked,” Cherry mutters.“I can try breaking into it,” Bobbi says. “I have experience in lock-picking.”Cherry shakes her head and sighs. “Forget it. Not worth the risk. Just...hang onto it for me for the time being, will you? I’m going to need to go back to...” she trails off.So it was all for nothing, this evening. Worrying her friends, committing a crime, possibly tipping off the tracksuits that she’s still getting into their business. She wasn’t even able to give Cherry what she needed. “Is there anything I can do?” she asks.“No. I’ll take care of myself like I always do.”“You can sleep here tonight,” Bobbi offers. Sex is obviously off the table, but she feels like she has to help her in some way. “I’ll take the couch.”But Cherry is jittery, tapping her fingers of one hand against the counter as she bites the nails of her other hand. “No, no. I can’t stay in one place. They might look for me here.” She looks at the safe and says, “Can you keep it somewhere hidden?”“Yeah, of course,” Bobbi responds. “I’m so sorry for tonight.”Cherry smiles wearily. “Thank you for trying.” She gives her a peck on the lips. “I’ll be in touch.”After she leaves, Bobbi flops onto the couch, so tired she can’t make it up the stairs to the loft. Her eyes start to flutter shut, but before they do, she notices her phone on the side table, the screen full of notifications. Groggily, she reaches out for it and brings it close to her face.Eleven messages from Kate, all from within the last two hours:
this is a reminder to ANSWER ME

bobbi i’m serious

i’m getting fucking worried

i’m coming over

you’re not at home where the HELL are you

bobbi!!!!!!!!!!

CALL ME!!!!

i’m still awake and you’d better be dead or call me within the next half hour or i’m never speaking to you again

i guess if you’re dead i’ll never speak to you again either but i’ll feel bad about it

please don’t be dead

bobbi?

Oh, no. Bobbi closes her eyes and bangs her head back on the arm of the couch. This is going to go very badly. Although, admittedly, not as badly as if she doesn't call at all. She takes a deep breath and then presses the phone icon next to Kate’s name.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

There are voices in Kate’s kitchen.She was up way too late last night worrying about whatever Bobbi and Dodge-Challenger-Lady were up to, and she doesn’t know what time it is now, but she does know that the last thing she’s in the mood for is dealing with intruders. Not for the first time, she regrets not having booby-trapped her apartment, Home Alone style.Maybe if she rolls over and goes back to sleep, they’ll leave.—It doesn't work.“Stay out here,” says one of the voices in a gruff whisper.“Of course I’m going to stay here, I’m not some sicko pervert.”“And be quiet.”Her door squeaks open. Kate pushes her sleep mask up a crack as Jessica Jones sticks her head into Kate's bedroom.Ugh. “Go ‘way,” Kate groans, pulling the sleep mask down again and closing her eyes.“Kate,” Jessica says.“This is a flagrant betrayal of our friendship.”“Kate,” Jessica repeats.“Is it safe?” comes Clint Barton’s voice from outside the door.“Why are you people in my house,” Kate says, finally pushing herself up to a sitting position and taking her sleep mask off, for real this time. She indicates the door and says to Jess, “You can open it, it’s fine.”The door swings open, and Jessica and Clint are standing there. Clint looks apologetic, but Jessica is all business.“We need to know about the girl,” Jessica says, arms crossed.“What’s Bobbi up to?” Clint asks.“Who is she? What kind of trouble is she in?”They look at her expectantly, a diabolical tag team assembled to rob her of precious sleep.“Guys, it’s who-knows-what in the morning, why are you bothering me with this?” Kate complains. “Go to Bobbi and ask her.”“She’s not answering her phone,” Jessica admits.“Of course not, she’s probably sleeping off her insane escapa—” Kate cuts herself off before she can let the details slip. Just because she disapproves of Bobbi’s new pseudo-relationship doesn’t mean she’s about to narc on her.Jessica and Clint exchange a concerned look.“Listen, you’ve been to her new place, right?” Clint asks. “We need the address.”Kate looks between them. “She hasn’t given either of you her new address? She’s lived there for months.”Clint sighs wearily and steps into the room. The light from the window hits his face and Kate can see that this has taken a toll on him—there are dark circles under his eyes like he hasn’t slept much last night either, he’s unshaven, his jaw is tight. He rubs his temple and says, “Please, Kate. If you’re trying to protect her, I get that, but you know you don’t need to protect her from us, right? You know us, you know we want to help her. Just tell me how to find her.” He pauses for a second, then adds, “Hawkeye to Hawkeye.”Hawkeye to Hawkeye. She once snuck into the underground Avengers hideout and stole Clint's bow, and he let her do it. He let her keep the name—and the bow—even when he went back to being Hawkeye. She's looked up to him—the Avenger with no powers—for as long as she can remember.She’s not sure if it’s right, but she does trust him.“Okay,” Kate relents.—After pressing Kate for everything she knows about the redhead from yesterday, Jessica goes straight to her office at Alias and gets to work. Using the information about the car, details about “Cherry”’s time in prison, and security footage that Jarvis sent over, she pieces together the clues and comes up with a name: Darlene Penelope Wright.She finds Darlene Penelope Wright at Grand Central Station at a quarter to nine in the morning, wearing a wide brim fedora and large sunglasses (indoors—Jess shakes her head—don’t they know the sunglasses indoors just make them look guilty?) and buying a train ticket to Connecticut.She corners Darlene Penelope Wright at the platform, walking straight up to her in plain view of all the other passengers. She expects Darlene Penelope Wright not to make a scene, not to call attention to herself, especially considering that crossing state lines violates her parole and could get her sent straight back to prison.To be fair, shooting a man also violates her parole.Darlene Penelope Wright surprises her by jumping right onto the tracks and fleeing. They’ve still got ten minutes before the train is due, so the tracks are clear, and Jessica chases her down easily (superpowers are sometimes very useful in her line of work), then tackles her to the ground before throwing her over her shoulder and moving to a clearing safely away from the tracks.“Darlene Penelope Wright,” Jessica says. "How’s it hanging? What a happy fucking coincidence, our running into each other here."Darlene Penelope Wright is clearly terrified, but she juts out her chin and gives Jessica a defiant glare even as she trembles. "Okay, you found me," she says. "You going to hand me over to the police, or what?"Jessica smiles. "Oh, that’s up to you, Darlene Penelope Wright.""It's just Penny," she mutters, and then in a clearer voice, "You should really leave it alone."Jessica crosses her arms. "Yeah, I'm not gonna do that.""Trust me, this isn't a hornets' nest you want to kick," Penny insists."And yet, you had no trouble dragging Bobbi into it," Jess says accusingly.Penny’s eyes widen a little bit, and she shakes her head. "No, it wasn’t me.""Oh, really? Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're getting my friend involved in dangerous and possibly illegal stunts, taking advantage of the fact that she's a softhearted sap who physically cannot turn away from someone in need. And that's the last thing she needs right now. You have no idea what she's been through.""Everyone knows she was abducted by aliens," Penny says. "The 'Replaced Heroes' were all the news cycle talked about for weeks.""That's not—" Jess shakes her head. It doesn't matter, Penny doesn't need to know Bobbi's whole life. "Just tell me what you're up to and how Bobbi is involved."Penny sets her jaw. "I told you, I didn't start it. What's between Bobbi and my ex's family has nothing to do with me. I didn't even know about it when I met her."Kate didn't tell her about this part. "Elaborate.""The best thing she could do is hand over the building and get everyone moved out, but she's too stubborn to see that. She can't win. Those guys always get what they want."Jessica looks back at the tracks toward the platform. "Come on. It's a long ride to New Haven, which is good, because we have so much to discuss.."—Bobbi’s been staring at this damn safe for so long she’s starting to think it’s staring back at her.Running on two hours of sleep is giving her a kind of out-of-body experience. She woke up from Lucky’s claws clacking against the hardwood floors and his whining for food, and after feeding him, she couldn’t fall back asleep. Cherry’s safe on the counter is sitting there, mocking her, and she doesn’t know what to do.She considered trying to open it. She’s never met a lock she couldn’t hack, and she likes the idea of presenting it to Cherry like a gift, whatever’s inside that she needs available for the taking. But then she imagined the opposite scenario—trying and failing and having to face Cherry and admit that this thing that’s so important to her is gone forever. That image doesn’t please her quite as much.All the Avengers probably already know. Maybe they don’t know what she and Cherry did last night—this morning, technically—at the club, but the scene in the foyer last night was damning enough. She can’t face any of them, not right now.She misses Greer. Greer would get it. They’ve been through a lot of weird shit and strange choices, the two of them, and Greer would never judge. But Greer’s on the other side of the country, taking care of those teenagers and her own new baby. Not to mention, it’s five-thirty in the morning where she is, and there are a lot of things that Greer will forgive, but interrupting her sleep is not one of them. The woman is part cat, after all.Gah. She can’t stand looking at this safe any longer. Getting up, she walks over to the cupboard under the kitchen island, the one with the false floor, and clears everything away until she can get to the loose floorboard. There’s just enough room in that space for the little red box, which she hides inside before getting everything back into place.There. Back to normal.Now if only she can get her mind off of it. She considers calling Fortune, currently the only person in her life completely separate from any of this nonsense. Sure, they haven’t been in touch since she gave him that last treatment of her new-and-improved serum and they ended things...well, with a bang, but that’s okay. He’s fine with spontaneous.She presses call on her phone, but before it even starts to ring, there’s a knock on her door. She holds the phone to her ear as she checks the peephole.It’s Clint.“Hello?” says Dom’s voice in her ear just as she presses the End Call button.Bobbi opens the door.He doesn’t speak right away, and neither does she. For a few seconds, time seems to be frozen. Then Lucky breaks the spell by running over, and a smile breaks over Clint’s face as he leans down to pet him. “Hey, boy,” he says. “So you're Lucky, huh? It’s great to finally meet you.”“Come in,” Bobbi says, remembering her manners. She closes the door behind him and he follows her to the kitchen. “You know, I don’t remember giving you my address.”“Yeah, and don’t think that doesn’t hurt my feelings,” he quips. He sits down on the couch and starts to play with Lucky, scratching him behind his ears and telling what a good boy he is. Bobbi goes to the counter and starts to prepare some coffee. In the background, Clint is focused on Lucky, and she tries not to think about the argument that no doubt lies ahead. When the coffee's done, she pours out two cups and sets them down on the island. “Coffee’s ready.”“Thanks.” He gives Lucky’s head a final pat before walking over and picking up his cup.“Cheers,” she says, taking a sip. She looks over at Lucky, still lounging by the couch. "So nice of you to come over to meet my dog.”"Yeah, I figured it was time, you know?” He gives her a half-grin. “Should I have picked up a pizza on the way? I want to make a good impression.”“I wouldn’t worry about that,” she says. “I’m pretty sure he likes you.”“He’s a good boy,” Clint says. There’s a pause, then, and he takes the opportunity to finally get down to business. Putting down his coffee cup, he looks at her and says, “So, you gave us all a scare last night.”Yeah. This is why she didn’t want to face any of them. "I didn't realize Avengers scared so easy," she retorts. He raises an eyebrow in response, and she sighs. “Can we go back to pretending that you’re here for Lucky?”“Don’t do that,” he says, no trace of a smile left on his face. “I’m being serious. Last night, a woman none of us know or have even heard of runs into Avengers Mansion, kisses you, and tells you that she shot and maybe killed someone and that she needs your help covering it up. And the craziest part is that you didn’t even seem surprised!”“She didn’t need my help covering it up,” Bobbi corrects. “And it was self-defense." She thinks for a moment, then adds, "And he’s not dead.”“Okay. That’s a start.” He takes her empty coffee cup out of her hand and puts it on the counter, then takes her hands in his. “So what’s the story and how can I help?”Bobbi thinks about the safe hidden away, the club she broke into last night, the guy she knocked out, Cherry’s panic before leaving. Nothing that Clint can do anything about. Anyway, the last time he offered to help, he ended up walking away when he didn’t like the fine print. Nothing to say he wouldn’t do the same now. “I told you already,” she says as she pulls her hands away, “you don’t need to worry about this. I can handle it on my own.”“You’re lying,” he says. “I know your tells.”She scowls. “Please. I don’t have any tells.” She’s a trained spy, for goodness’ sake.“And now you’re deflecting.”“And now you’ve outstayed your welcome,” she snaps. “Go back to the Avengers and tell them Bobbi is a big girl now.”He throws up his hands in frustration. “Are we really doing this again? Should we get out a wrestling mat, two out of three to decide who wins? You got any arrows hidden around here?”“Fuck you,” she responds. “This is my life, and you can’t just keep waltzing in and out of it whenever—”“I’m trying to help!”“—drop everything in the middle—”“Why can’t you just admit that you’re—”Lucky starts barking, clearly upset by the raised voices.“—and then you bailed! The second things got difficult.”“Oh, I did? That’s what I did, I bailed? Then what am I doing here right now?” he demands.“I don’t know!” she shouts, exasperated. “What are you doing here?”Their faces are red and they’re out of breath from shouting, faces inches from each other. If this were a movie, now would be the time where their emotions got the better of them and they started kissing, but it’s real life, and her anger is a fortress. Plus that whole thing where he has a girlfriend.Out of the corner of her eye, she notices the van outside her window. Big and white and exactly the kind of vehicle that would fit half a dozen velour-clad mobsters with baseball bats.Clint notices at the same time, and his entire demeanor changes. Suddenly, they're not mad at each other anymore. “Hey, is that...is that a van or is it a van?” he asks.Normally, that sentence would make no sense, but looking at it, she knows exactly what he means.“Yeah, that’s a van,” she confirms. Which means she’s been made. Two months of nothing, and the day after she punches out one of their elders, they’re back? That can’t be a coincidence. “I’m fucked,” she mutters.“Thank you, that’s what I’ve been trying to say,” Clint says. “Now, will you please let me help?”“Okay, fine.” Bobbi sits down on the stool, a little dazed. “I just need to think.”“Great. In the meantime, I’ll go get rid of them for you.”She feels like she should protest, but there’s no stopping Clint when he’s set on a course of action, and maybe if she’s not the one to go outside and talk to them, it won’t confirm their suspicions. Maybe they’ll just go away without making a fuss.Yeah. Right.He’s back in about five minutes, soaked though from head to toe. His purple T-shirt clings to him like a second skin, and his jeans are leaking onto her welcome mat. He somehow looks satisfied and sheepish at the same time. “I may have slightly...broken a fire hydrant,” he admits, slightly shivering. “But they’re gone.”Despite everything, it does make her feel a little better that he took on the Tracksuits for her without any weapons or anything, without hesitating. Even without knowing anything about the situation. “Thanks,” she says. “Nothin’ to it. Who are those guys?”She’s got to give him something, right? He’s involved now. “They’re, uh...you know how you dumped all that Zemo money on me in the divorce?” He opens his mouth to object, probably to her phrasing, but she doesn’t stop. “So, the landlord was being an asshole and I—uh, I bought the building. But he didn’t want to sell, and...okay, you're starting to turn blue. Come on, get yourself into the shower, it’s up in the loft. I’ll find you something to wear.” She has enough of his old T-shirts that she stole for sleepwear over the years, and some baggy sweatpants that might fit him.While Clint showers, she drops the coffee cups into the sink and rinses them off. Lucky follows her into the kitchen and rubs his nose against her leg. It's comforting. She should have gotten a dog years ago.Someone knocks at the door. Assuming it’s a neighbor, Bobbi opens up without checking and does a double take when she sees Dominic Fortune standing there.She stands in front of the door, trying to block the entrance in an inconspicuous way and says as casually as she can, “Hey. What brings you here?”Dom looks unfazed. “You called, I came over,” he answers. “Isn’t that how this arrangement works?”“I—” She can’t think of a smart response. He’s not entirely wrong, but she usually verbalizes a request instead of just calling and hanging up. And the last thing she needs is the awkwardness of a meeting between her ex-husband and the guy who kept hitting on her when she was married, who’s now her...somewhere between a fling and a friend with benefits. Although that's not exactly right, either. Benefits, sure, but not friends.“So, were you looking for the indoors kind of action or the outdoors kind?” Dom asks.“Um.” She leans against the doorpost. “Would you believe me if I said it was a butt dial?”She hears her bedroom door open and footsteps coming down the stairs. Dom raises his eyebrows.“Hey, did you put out clothes for me?” Clint calls out and Dom’s eyebrows go even higher. "I didn't see anything, and I didn't want to snoop."Bobbi closes the front door halfway and turns...to see her ex-husband naked but for a towel wrapped around his waist. Because she got distracted and forgot to get him the change of clothing she promised.It’s bad form to stare, right? Totally inappropriate. Except...his abs and pecs are right there, an expanse of chiseled bare skin, and the light hits him at the perfect angle to show off all that muscle definition. A lot of definition. Like, the whole dictionary. Damn it.Dominic pushes the door open and steps around her. “Hey, Boy Scout, long time no see,” he says. To Bobbi, he adds, “I see you’re already taken care of.”She feels her face flush hot. “He’s here on Avengers business, actually. And to be fair, I didn’t actually invite you over.”“My mistake.”Bobbi turns to Clint. “Sorry. As you can see, I got interrupted." She gestures toward Dom in explanation. "I’ll just go and...” her gaze passes between the two of them, standing opposite each other, Clint clenching his jaw while Dom smirks at him. “You know what, why don’t you come upstairs with me and I’ll show you. Dom...stay or go, whatever.”Dom shrugs and makes himself at home on her couch, turning on the television. Bobbi shakes her head at the whole situation and leads Clint upstairs.“Really? This guy’s got your address?” he mutters as he follows her into her bedroom.Bobbi rolls her eyes. “It’s not a secret. You just never asked. Here.” She finds a Rangers T-shirt that used to be his and tosses it at him, then goes digging for sweatpants. “There’s a laundromat just down the block; I’ll go throw your stuff in the dryer if you promise to behave with Dom.” She throws over the sweatpants, then turns around so that he can change. She hears the towel hitting the floor and tries to think of anything aside from her naked (has a girlfriend, has a girlfriend, has a girlfriend) ex-husband changing in her bedroom.“I always behave,” Clint insists facetiously. “These pants fit weird. Like there’s not enough room for my—”“Best I can do!” she interrupts quickly before he can finish that thought and turns back to face him. “On second thought, I’ll stay here; you can do your own laundry.”He frowns and adjusts his crotch.“Do you mind?” Bobbi asks.“What? Oh.” He takes his hands away. “Sorry.”When they go downstairs, Kate is there, watching TV on the couch with Dom. She turns as Bobbi and Clint walk down the stairs and Bobbi can see that she's struggling to hold in her laughter.“Hi, Katie,” Clint greets her.“Not my name,” Kate responds automatically. She turns to Bobbi. “I came to warn you about the snakes in the grass, since you weren’t answering your phone again, but I guess you already know.”“I literally have no idea what you’re talking about,” Bobbi says. “Do either of you want some cold coffee?”“Anyway, I have a thing tonight, so I’m going to have to miss training,” Kate continues, ignoring the crappy offer. “Maybe we can move it up?"“Fine,” Bobbi says. She’s a little too overwhelmed at the moment to worry about schedules. “So nice of the rest of you all to stop by,” she says, walking over to the front door and opening it wide. “Come again soon.”Kate guffaws.—"So you've got three potential love interests sniffing after you?" Grills sums up as he turns over the franks. Out of the whole building, only two of them are willing to brave the roof in this weather, but Bobbi likes the routine of it all, and Grills doesn't seem to be affected by the chill. "Your life is basically The Bachelorette, is what you're saying."Bobbi knocks back her beer. "Not even close, dude." She holds up her fingers as she counts them off. "Clint's made it clear that whatever we had is over. He's in a relationship with someone else; you don't get more over than that. Dom is just passing the time; he says he doesn't care about anyone but himself and I'm willing to take his word for it. And Cherry...I'm not fooling myself. I know I'm just a means to an end for her."Grills counts on his fingers back at her as he responds. "Sounds to me like that lady's been through a lot of rough stuff at a young age, and you're one of the only people she trusts," he points out. "That's not nothin'. Now, this Dom fellow might play it cool, but you say jump and he says how high. He can say what he wants, but as long as his heart is still beating, he's just as human as the rest of us."Bobbi smiles and shakes her head. "You've really got this whole glass-half-full thing down pat, don't you?" "People will surprise you if you give them a chance," he says. "Hot dogs are ready." He starts to move them from the grill to a plate. "Now, your ex, obviously it's more complicated."Bobbi tilts her head. "Is it, though?" Grills points the tongs at Bobbi. "You say that what you had is over, fine. But that doesn't mean you can't have something new.""He has a new girlfriend," Bobbi reminds him. "It happens." He nods in sympathy.She's not sure how to interpret that statement, and she's not sure she wants to continue this line of thinking, either. She's worked with exes and their new loves before. Well, once. A long time ago, with Ka-Zar and Shanna O'Hara. She would never have tried to come between them. It was obvious that they were perfect for each other, and she's not the kind of person who gets in the way of someone else's happiness, or at least she doesn't want to be.So she changes the topic. "How are you not freezing your ass off out here? I'm about to lose all feeling in my extremities."Grills laughs. "Oh, I'm used to all sorts of extreme weather." She looks at him curiously, and he says, "It's quite the story. You should remind me to tell you about it one of these days.""Uh-huh.""Right now, we have to decide which one of your contestants you're going to pursue things with."She puts her face in her hands. "Oh, God."—The very last person Bobbi expects to stop by that day is Jessica Drew. And technically, she’s not wrong, because Jessica Drew is the very last person to stop by that day. "Hi," Jessica says. She's biting her lower lip and adjusting a bracelet on her wrist, clearly nervous.It wasn’t always like this. Before, when they were on the same Avengers team, hiding out in Bucky's apartment or Osborn's vacation house or Nick Fury's safehouse...they were all close, the whole team, or maybe it was an artificial closeness constructed by hormones and emotions turned up all the way because of their living situation. But Bobbi liked Jessica. Her sardonic sense of humor, her bravery and willingness to take on any mission, the way she balanced a pessimistic outlook with a wholly heroic character. They had a lot in common, the two of them, and those similarities led to a certain camaraderie even above the tight-knit fabric of the rest of the team.Maybe it's Bobbi's fault they're not like that anymore. She wasn't happy when Clint and Jessica started dating, she can admit that to herself now, and she didn't take it as well as she could have. Of course Jessica would be uncomfortable around her. God! And she was just ogling Clint's chest a few hours ago. She's just the worst.And now she's letting Jessica stand out in the hallway. "Come in!" Bobbi says brightly. “Can I get you some coffee?” She’s made so many cups of coffee today, it’s practically a reflex."Do you have tea?" Jessica asks, following Bobbi into the apartment. "I know I'm being a total English stereotype, but caffeine doesn't affect me, so I never learned to like the taste."Oh, right. She'd forgotten that about Jess's powers. "Yeah, I've got a few boxes around here somewhere. Have a seat." She indicates the pair of stools next to the island, then turns and starts going through the cupboards. There's a box of peppermint herbal tea, which she pulls out, and right behind it is that bag of enchanted weed from Kate. Jessica is immune to toxins, but this is magic...should she bring it out? On second thought, it might be better to wait until she finds out exactly what Jess is here for. If she's just pressing her about Cherry like everyone else, then Bobbi will keep her magical herb to herself, thank you very much.She puts the kettle on and then brings out the peppermint tea along with a few other boxes she manages to scrounge up. "Take your pick.""Thanks," Jessica says, picking up the chamomile. She looks at Bobbi, and a shaky smile crosses her face. "So," she says."So," Bobbi agrees. Jess takes a breath. "I think," she begins, "I owe you an explanation."Bobbi opens her mouth, but before she can say anything, she hears a loud popping noise, like a single firework, coming from outside. But it's not a single firework, of course.Jess quickly gets to her feet. "Was that—?" she asks.Bobbi nods. "Gunshot."
Futz.
"Let's go."

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

For the fortieth time this evening, Kate asks herself why she continues to play along in her father’s life. There isn’t a single soul at this party that she likes or even respects as a person, all old millionaire ghouls who spend their free time golfing or yachting or flying all over the world in their private planes, staying in five-star hotels that are indistinguishable from the last ten five-star hotels they stayed at, never stepping outside their identical cocoons of privilege, never interacting with the world that they’re destroying with their selfish business deals and their extravagant luxuries. All the money wasted on private flights and imported delicacies could be put to real use, making the world a better place, if only one of these people had the courage to do something different.Susan was supposed to be here to make her feel less alone, but she bailed with the flimsiest excuse ever—something along the lines of “just because they call it morning sickness doesn’t mean it goes away at noon.” Yeah, right. On the way to the hors d’oeuvres table, she spots him out of the corner of her eye. He’s the only one in the room she doesn’t recognize, and he’s also the only one aside from her who’s under forty. He’s got a long but not unhandsome face with a nice square jaw and neatly-combed blond hair. He’s dressed in a cream three-piece suit, standing out next to all the businessmen in their nearly-identical black suits like a white queen surrounded by enemies on a chessboard.Kate doesn’t make eye contact, but she can feel him looking at her as she helps herself to the bruschetta. Butterflies of anticipation start to flutter in her stomach, as an evening of monotony suddenly becomes one of possibility.The spell is broken for a minute when one of her father’s colleagues stops in front of her and asks her about her college plans. With a subtle eye on her mysterious stranger’s back, she gives her rote answer of how she’s taking some time off to figure out what she wants to study so that she can really focus on it once she gets to college. He nods approvingly and tells her all about the friends he has in the admissions offices at Yale, Columbia, Notre Dame, and so on. She thanks him, and he moves on.It’s not a lie, exactly, although she’s not sure if she wants to go to college at all. She certainly doesn’t want her father’s money paying for it.Moving away from the crowd, she finds herself wandering over to the windowed wall, drawn to the view. The city at night is beautiful, and from this height, she can see so much of it. Lights against the night backdrop like fireflies, the city that never sleeps.Footsteps approach, and she knows without looking who it is who’s stopped behind her.“Do you like the view?” he asks. His voice holds traces of a European accent that she can’t quite place; he speaks like someone who’s lived in America from a young enough age that he must have held onto the accent by force, to remind himself of where he came from. “It takes me out of the room,” Kate says, turning to face him. He’s looking at the view, concentrating like he’s looking for something. “It’s amazing how quickly the skyline changes. Some of these buildings are only a few years old, and already they feel like they’ve been part of the view my whole life.”“New York City,” he says, like he’s feeling the name in his mouth. His voice is velvet; she wants him to keep talking. “It’s like a rebellious teenager, trying to find its identity. Always reinventing himself. You look at maps from New York in every generation overlayed upon itself, and it’s unrecognizable.”For some reason, she feels the need to defend it. “Not entirely. You have Central Park, you have the Empire State Building.” She points it out through the window, its distinct needle nearly a century old. “And St. Paul’s Chapel; did you know that George Washington visited there after his Inauguration?”“Hmmm.” He finally looks at her; quirks half a smile. He has a tragic look in his eyes, which makes him the most interesting person in this room by far. Kate wonders what his connection is to the rest of the people at the party. “Almost two hundred and fifty years. That’s not bad. Of course, set me down in Prague of five hundred years ago and I’d find my way around easily.”“Well, you know what they say. Europeans think a hundred miles is far, and Americans think a hundred years is old.” Although that proverb doesn’t really work for New Yorkers, who generally consider anything beyond the Hudson to be another planet.“I haven't heard that. That’s clever,” he concedes. They start to move around, making their way over to a couch with some relative privacy, where the noise levels are lower.“So, what brings you to this party?” he asks as Kate tries to figure out how to ask him the same question.“Oh, it’s my—” she doesn’t really want to say, doesn’t want to associate herself with her father. “Family friends,” she answers vaguely. “How about you?”“Business contacts,” he answers, waving his hand to indicate a few bodies in the crowd. “I’m here on behalf of my supervisors, keeping up relationships by proxy. It’s not my favorite part of the job, but I can’t complain about the wine.”She raises her own glass. “Cheers to that.”“Na zdrowie,” he replies, raising the corners of his mouth as he clinks his glass her hers.They both take a sip, and Kate asks, “So, do you like it in general? Your job?”His eyes light up. “Very much. It’s one of the things in the world that brings me the most joy.”“Wow,” she says, impressed. “You’re lucky. Most people don’t get that at work.”“I don’t forget it,” he responds gravely. “What about you? Does your work fulfill you?”Her work. Being a superhero, she supposes, even though she doesn’t get paid for it. Does it fulfill her? She’s not sure.She think back to that first night when she sat in the hospital parking lot and Cassie approached her. Kate liked her right away, and when Cassie told her she was going to join the fledgling Young Avengers, Kate knew that this was what she wanted to do with her life. And so they snuck into the Mansion grounds, even though they weren’t part of the Vision’s plan, even though nobody invited them, and argued their way into the team, forcing the boys to accept them.Her life changed drastically that night. She went from a disatisfied, lost little rich girl to an actual bona-fide superhero. She faced Kang on her first night out. She stood up to Captain freaking America. And all of those things never would happened without Cassie’s encouragement.And now Cassie’s gone. Kate had known it was a possibility when they started fighting, but she kind of always assumed that if anyone died, it would be her, the one without powers. Cassie was her best friend, the one person in the world she felt totally comfortable with, and with her gone, she didn't know what to do with her life. So she went back to the way things were before, tried to make a normal life for herself, until Bobbi offered her an opportunity she couldn’t turn down.Working with Bobbi isn’t like being on the Young Avengers. It’s not bad—she’s learning a lot from her and she likes her, most of the time, but she has all this baggage that she tries to handle herself and she can’t carry it all and it’s spilling onto Kate. Kate wants to help, she does, because it’s not exactly Bobbi’s fault that she lives in a building with a violent, manipulative asshole of a former landlord who has a colleage who’s an abusive husband to a woman she just happened to cross paths with, and that she feels responsible for the welfare of all of these people while all her personal relationships are in Flux and her head is still half on Planet Skrull.Well, yeah, some of it is her fault, maybe, but the point is that she’s trying to do the right thing. Kate wants to help, but she doesn’t know what the best thing is to do and she really futzing misses Cassie.“You’re not answering,” her partner remarks, his voice thoughtful. “I wonder if that’s a good sign or a bad one.”Kate shakes her head. “Not either, exactly...I mean, it’s not a simple answer.”“No?” he asks, prompting her to continue.“I mean, my—” she pauses for a second, searching for the right word, “—boss...is kind of a legend in the field, and I was really excited to work with her, and in some ways, she’s everything I expected, but in others...well, you know how they say, never meet your heroes?”His eyebrows draw together. “I'm not familiar with that saying.”“Take my word for it. Anyway, I used to think I wanted to be just like her. But...” She feels guilty even thinking it. If she’d gone through what Bobbi’s been through, who knows how it would have affected her?“I think I understand,” he says. “She has more experience in your field, so you think you must emulate her to be better, to be like her. But you do not have to be like her. You can learn from someone and then use just what you like to become a better version of you.”Oh. She likes that.They spend the rest of the evening together, trading observations, wandering between rooms, drinking and chatting. The only thing they don’t talk about are specifics—Kate doesn’t tell him her name, nor does she ask for his. He doesn’t tell her what he does for a living or how old he is or how long he’s lived in New York, and she doesn’t tell him about being a superhero or that her father is the host of the party. When her feet start to hurt, they settle down on a cushioned bench out on the terrace. Even as the night winds down, they don’t run out of things to talk about. Kate’s feeling languid, relaxed, unguarded in the way that only ever happens after spending hours with a stranger on a magical evening.During a conversation about their favorite books, he pulls a gold pocket watch out and checks the time.A pocket watch. Is this even real, or is she having another one of her romance novel-inspired dreams? And if so, when is it going to get to the good part?“I need to go,” he says, a tinge of regret in his voice. “Work appointment.”This late? “Wow,” Kate marvels. “Your work must really speak to your soul if they make you work at these hours and you still like the job.”“You’re not wrong,” he admits. With a sigh, he puts the watch back into his pocket. “Thank you for turning what would have been a dull evening into such a delight.”They both stand, and he starts to turn, but he hesitates, his eyes locking with hers and then glancing fleetingly at her lips. Kate takes the opportunity and takes hold of the back of his neck, bringing their lips together. He kisses just as smoothly and passionately as he converses, and suddenly Kate feels a certainty that she’s never going to see him again, but this kiss will be burned into her memory forever.When they finally pull back, Kate feels dizzy.“Wow,” he says, echoing her feelings.“Yeah.” She takes a deep, steadying breath.“I really do need to leave.” He sounds mournful.She nods. “Leave your glass slipper behind.”He looks confused for a second, then a smile breaks over his face. "This night was a treat."She agrees.—When she gets home, she kicks off her shoes in the middle of the kitchen, letting them land where they land. Her feet are aching; she kind of wishes she would have brought that guy home with her, on the off chance that she could convince him to give her a foot rub. Instead, she draws herself a hot bath. She waits for the room to steam up, adds some rose-infused bath salts, then slides into the hot water. It feels so good she moans aloud and closes her eyes, submerging herself in the rose-scented water for a good few seconds.When she comes up, her phone is ringing. She ignores it, figuring that whatever it is can wait twenty minutes, and the sound stops after about ten seconds.Kate reaches for her loofah as the phone rings again. Damn it. Apparently, it can’t wait.She stands up, gathers her towel, and walks to the sink counter, leaving wet footprints across the bathroom tile. It's Bobbi. Figures. Last night Kate was sick out of her mind wanting Bobbi to call, and now that she wants some peace and quiet to soak her troubles away, Bobbi's calling and interrupting her.Two more rings and it'll go to voicemail. Kate's tempted, but her overdeveloped sense of guilt won't let her. She grabs the phone from the counter and answers it. "Yeah, what's up.""Kate?"It's not Bobbi's voice, and she immediately goes on high alert. "Who is this? Where's Bobbi?""This is Jessica Drew," the voice says. "Spider-Woman. I’m at Bobbi’s. She’s fine—physically, I mean, but...”There’s dread in that voice, and Kate’s blood turns cold. "But what?" she demands“Kate, you'd better come over," Jessica Drew tells her. "Something bad's happened."

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Kate doesn’t remember how she got to Brooklyn. Everything between receiving the phone call and this moment is a big blur. Right now, she’s sitting on the floor of Bobbi’s kitchen with Lucky next to her, staring at Bobbi and Jessica’s shoes as they move around the apartment. They’re talking, but it’s just noise.She’s going to be sick.Bobbi paces across the living room saying something about having to give someone the news. Jessica hands her a phone. Bobbi shakes her head. Jessica says something, and Bobbi responds.Grills was always nice to her. He learned her name the first time he met her, and by her second roof barbecue, he was already treating her like an old friend. Introducing her to all the other residents, asking her about her hobbies, about archery, and so on.“...police...” Jessica is saying.Bobbi: “...nothing else I can...” She’s wearing a hole in the floor.Jessica puts a hand on Bobbi’s arm to stop her. “...at least wait...”Bobbi continues. “Oh my God...father.” She stops still. “...number.”Kate was supposed to have met Grills’s father. The weekend of the flood, when Bobbi packed up his basement out on Long Island before the flood, Kate had to go to a wedding instead, this girl she’d worked with last summer at the coffee shop when she was trying not to be a superhero. At the wedding, she knew no one, and despite some half-hearted attempts at making conversation, she regretted not going along with Bobbi almost the entire evening. Now she regrets it even more.“...in his phone,” Jessica says.“Right.” Bobbi nods. “No. Wait. I should tell him in person.”He was just a guy. Kate barely even knew him. And that’s the cruelty of it all, that Grills was just a regular person who could have lived a totally normal life, except that he had the unlucky break of living in this particular apartment building with this particular heartless ex-landlord and this particular superhero who thinks she can keep everyone safe all the time. The funny thing is, despite all of Kate’s experience to the contrary, somewhere along the way, she had started to believe it, too.“Stop for a minute, let’s sit down,” Jessica says, putting a hand on Bobbi’s arm. “I’ll make some coffee.”Bobbi shakes her head. “No, no, tea, not...” She sits down at Jessica's gentle nudge, and says, “It’s okay. I just need to...”Kate needs air. She stands up. “I’m going to take Lucky out for a walk.”Bobbi doesn’t seem to hear, but Jessica nods at Kate as she gets Lucky’s leash and fastens it. She grabs one of the plastic bags Bobbi keeps by the door and leads Lucky into the hall.The building is quiet and empty, or maybe it’s just her. Like the ICU when her mom died, when the lines went flat and the world changed and her sister started to scream, and Kate tucked herself away into a place where none of it touched her, where Susan’s cries made no noise and her father’s turned back didn’t make her feel even more lost, where the rush of nurses and doctors might as well have been a television show in the background, where the only thing she heard was the absence of sound. Her mother’s voice, her breathing, even the electric hum of the oxygen machine, all gone.Now, Kate leads Lucky through the hall, past Simone’s apartment, past Aimee’s apartment, past Deke’s. Instead of going down the stairs, she goes up. A ribbon of dread curls around her chest, tightens, but the roof beckons her something out of a Poe story.Lucky stops when they reach the top floor, refuses to go to the door. Kate drapes his leash over the staircase pillar and, trembling, walks over to the door. She puts her hand on the bar and intends to push, but nothing happens, except that her vision gets blurry and her eyes start to feel warm.What’s there for her to see on the other side? The police haven’t been here yet, she thinks, because there’s no yellow tape like in movies or lights and sirens lined up around the block. She doesn’t know why Bobbi hasn’t called them yet—maybe she doesn’t want to scare the rest of the tenants, wants to let them hold on to their normal lives for one last evening. God, they’re going to panic when they find out, though. Grills did nothing wrong, he just lived in a building that the mob wanted for themselves. It was his home, and it’s their home, and these goddamn Adidas tracksuit fuckers are just...it’s all a game to them.Lucky whines, and a wave of shame washes over her. Let the man have his dignity. He doesn’t need Kate looking at his body, staring at him like he’s an oddity. There’s no mystery to be solved here—they shot him in the head, Bobbi’s old landlord or one of his subordinates, and now he’s dead. Case closed.She has to get out of here.“Come on, boy,” Kate says to Lucky, her voice hoarse. She picks up his leash and they head downstairs and outside, into the crisp February night. They go outside and walk around aimlessly. Lucky finds a private place to do his business, and Kate cleans it up, but after she tosses his waste into a trash can, she notices that he’s started to snarl and growl. She’s never seen him like this, but then she notices that down the block, at a table outside a closed bodega, a couple of these tracksuit guys are hanging out, playing cards.Hanging out, playing cards. On the street. As if their hands aren’t sticky and red with Grill’s fresh blood.Lucky’s teeth snap, and something inside Kate goes with it. She finds herself running at them, knocking the cards off the table, the bottles of beer out of their hands. Staves in her hands, she pushes one of them against a wall, holding the other one out as a warning, should the second guy try anything. Lucky, at her feet, barks threateningly.“Son of bitch!” the second guy, still sitting at the table, curses. He's holding his hands up a few inches off the table. “You crazy, bro?”“Who killed him?!” Kate demands, seeing red. “Was it you? The two of you? Did you shoot Gil?”The guy she’s got pinned to the wall starts to cough, and she moves ones of her staves to the hand that has him in place, but loosens her hold just enough to let him breathe. “Answer me!” she demands of him.“No, no,” he says quickly, “we don’t kill anyone. We just live here, bro.” He tilts his head to the side, apparently in the direction of his own home.“Don’t fucking ‘bro’ me right now, I am not in the mood.”“Okay,” he says. “Okay. Listen, Ivan and Sergei, they handle operations. I don’t know what they do. They hire someone, maybe.”Hire someone? To do their dirty work? Someone from the outside? “Who?”This guy starts to cough again, so the second guy answers. “Different people,” he says. “Could be Clown. You don’t want to get involved.” He reaches for the cards strewn about the table and starts to stack them. “I got nothing against you, girlie. You want your home, I understand.” She doesn’t bother to correct him. “It’s not worth it. Sergei is...” he says something in Russian.“Merciless,” the other one translates.“Right, right,” the sitting guy says. “You shouldn’t get involved, not you, not your superhero teacher, no one. It’s not threat. It’s warning. You see?”
—Kate leaves the tracksuits after that, and now she knows where she’s going. Someone stops them a few blocks over, a guy in a dark baseball cap with wisps of blond hair sticking out the sides, and asks for directions. For a second, Kate thinks it’s a trick, that he wants her to stop so that he can grab her bag and run off, and she almost welcomes it, wanting a fight.He hands her a scrap of notebook paper with an address scribbled on it. “I’m sorry, I know this is not done in New York, but I’m not from around here, and my phone is dead.”Kate glances at the paper. The hairs on the back of her neck rise up as she sees the address of Bobbi’s building. “What the hell is this?” she demands.He shrinks back. “Never mind, I’ll ask someone else.”The reaction makes her feel a little guilty. He’s probably just some guy visiting a friend. It’s not such a huge coincidence that someone in this neighborhood would be looking for that building. Anyway, if he were affiliated with whoever killed Grills, he probably wouldn’t be asking for directions.Kate sighs. “No, I’m sorry. It’s, uh...just make a right over there, go two blocks, and another right. It’s like halfway down the block. Address is right up front, you can’t miss it.”“Thanks.” He accepts the paper back from her and walks in the direction she pointed. Lucky tugs on the leash and Kate follows.—There’s heat in the lobby of the building, and Kate loosens the zipper of her coat as she waits for the elevator. It shows up after a few seconds, all shiny and mirrored on the inside, and drops her off neatly on the seventh floor. Kate doesn’t have to think about where to go, it’s all muscle memory that brings her over to the door. There’s a TV on inside. Muffled, scripted voices. She doesn’t hesitate before knocking.It doesn’t take long for the door to open. Peggy Rae Burdick, Cassie’s mom, looks at Kate and gives her a sympathetic tilt of the head. “Who’s this?” she asks, indicating Lucky with a nod.“Lucky,” Kate says, with no further explanation.Peggy sighs silently. “Kate, I just don’t think it’s healthy.”“I know,” Kate says, “I just...this is the last time.”“Right,” Peggy says. No indication as to whether she believes her or not. “Well, come on in.” She moves aside, welcoming Kate in. “Waffles for breakfast?”“I don’t want to be—” Kate starts, like she always does.“You’re not, honey,” Peggy interrupts, like she always does. “I’m glad to have someone to cook for. I’m just worried for you.”“It’s the last time,” Kate repeats, and she thinks it actually might be true this time.Peggy nods. “You know where it is,” she says. “Make yourself at home.”She does, no more than ten minutes later, curled up on the floor of Cassie’s room, tucked into the sleeping bag Peggy always leaves for her in the closet. Sleeping in Cassie’s bed would be too macabre, but the floor is comforting, along with the smell of whatever air freshener Peggy uses, the rough shag carpet, and Lucky’s warm presence and by her side. It's been a long evening, between the party, the flirting...and everything that came afterwards...and Kate's exhausted. As she listens to the steady patterns of Lucky's breath, it all melts away and Kate drifts off into a peaceful sleep.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Jessica comes in from the hallway and closes the door behind her. “Okay, the ambulance is gone, and the police say they’ll be here within the hour.”“But he’s definitely dead, right?” It comes out blunt, but she doesn’t mean it like that. She has enough experience with emergency situations to know whether a body can be revived or not—but a small part of her is hoping that maybe she was wrong, that she missed some vital sign or misread the situation, and that Jessica will correct her.“Yes,” Jessica confirms. She sits down at the table next to Bobbi. “He is. I’m so sorry.”Bobbi nods. “Me, too. I never should have let this happen.”Jess doesn’t say anything, which Bobbi appreciates. Most people would have replied something along the lines of it not being her fault, that she shouldn’t blame herself, yadda yadda, but Jessica has a bit of the same darkness inside of her that Bobbi does, and she’s not about to feed her a platitude.“What I need to do,” Bobbi declares, “is make sure it doesn’t happen to anyone else. THat it can’t happen to anyone else.”“Yeah.” Jess sighs. “I do wish you would let me tell the police about the ex-landlord.”“I can’t,” Bobbi says immediately. Jessica gives her a sideways look, and she sighs and rubs her temples. “I know, it’s just, the second they shine a light onto the building ownership...I paid in cash and didn’t sign any papers. It’s not even close to legal, and Ivan would kick everyone here out on the street if he could.”“Yeah, I get that,” Jess says. “But if he’s arrested—”“With what evidence?” Bobbi cuts in. “If we can’t link his raising the rent to tenants being killed...” She trails off, as a thought strikes, and she and Jess look at each other in growing realization.“He wants to knock down the building,” Jess says.Bobbi’s having the same idea, but... “We don’t know that for—”Jess keeps talking. “If that’s it, then there must be a paper trail, and all we have to do is dig it up. With you a spy and me a former PI, this will be easy.”She doesn’t want to look for a paper trail—she wants to track Ivan down and punch him until he cries, then to drag him to Gil’s body and make him beg it for forgiveness, and maybe, maybe then, she’ll be ready to start thinking about paper trails and linking evidence. But she doesn’t know how to verbalize that, and then there’s a knock at the door.“The cops?” Bobbi says to Jess, who shrugs. She gets up and walks over to the door, with Jess on her heels. She looks through the peephole and—Ben? Her brother Ben?Of all the people in the world, of all the times in the world. The last time she saw Ben, their mom had just been released from the hospital after being shot by Crossfire who was trying to rile her up. He wouldn’t let Bobbi see her, blamed her being a superhero for what happened—and he was right, of course.
“As long as you keep running around in tights playing super-spy, that’s the life you chose. But keep us out of it.”
Which is what she’d done for the eight years prior, after she had Nick Fury fake her death. And it worked pretty well. Her mom and Ben had been perfectly safe until Clint brought them to New York in order to...try and heal Bobbi’s PTSD through the power of love? Good intentions; not great results. Being reunited for one night had literally put her mom in the crosshairs of Bobbi’s enemies, and she’d nearly died as a result.Ben knocks again, jolting her out of her recollections. Bobbi slides the chain off and opens the door. “Ben?”He’s got a duffel bag slung over one shoulder, his coat is way too thin for the weather, and he’s wearing a knitted Yankees hat that he clearly bought outside the Port Authority; the logo is still shiny. Also, Ben would never root for the Yankees.He looks at her with an impish grin. “Hey, Bobbi. Weren’t you expecting me?”She’s too shocked to come up with a clever answer, so she responds by opening the door wider and stepping out of the way for him to come inside. Jessica gives her a confused look and mouths, Who? while Ben drops his bag and hangs his coat up on the rack.“Jessica, this is my brother Ben; Ben, this is Jessica Drew,” Bobbi says perfunctorily.Ben’s eyes flick over Jessica. “Oh, I recognize you. From the Skrull invasion.” He looks between the two of them. “Were you two alien-abducted together?”“Something like that.” Bobbi shakes her head to clear it. “Benny, what are you doing here? Is mom okay?”“She’s fine,” Ben says. “I came to see you.”Jess cuts in. “Well, this feels like something I shouldn’t be here for, and it’s getting pretty late, so...is it okay if I take off? You can send the police around to me if they need anything.”“Police?” Ben asks.“You picked a hell of a night to show up,” Bobbi says to him. “But I’d much rather hear about you first. Jess, I’ll talk to you later, and thank you.”After she goes, Bobbi locks the door behind her and turns to Ben. “So, you came to see me? I got the impression you never wanted to see me again unless my tail was tucked between my legs.”“Well...that was then. I’ve had some time to think it over, and don’t get me wrong, I still think it was fucked up how you faked your death like that, but I understand why you did it,” he says. “And I don’t blame you for what happened to mom. I mean, you were right, I guess. Us thinking you were dead did keep us safe, as messed up as it was. And you weren’t the one who brought us to New York.”“How is mom?” Bobbi asks. She’s tried to keep tabs on them through social media without making her own presence known, but her mom doesn’t post very often, and Ben’s got most of his stuff locked down. The occasional picture has slipped through, and her mom looks okay, but photos don’t tell the whole story.“Training for a 5K,” Ben answers. She gives him a look, trying to tell whether he’s being sarcastic or not, and he clarifies. “Well, no, but she’s been through a lot of physical therapy, and she’s just about back to her old self. She’s taking it slow. But yeah, she’s working on it.”“That’s great.”“I’ve been learning self-defense,” Ben adds. “I mean, nothing like what you do. I’m in a jujitsu class. I’ve learned a lot.”“Oh?”“I just figured...well, it was wrong of me to say that you shouldn’t be in our lives if you did this kind of stuff. It wasn’t fair.”“No, you weren’t wrong,” she admits. “It’s safer that way. If something happened to you or mom—I mean, if something worse happened...”“Bobbi, you’re my sister,” he says. “I thought you were dead for eight years, and now you’re alive. Do you know how many times over the years I wished that you would come back? That...I don’t know, it was a mistake in the paperwork, they mixed you up with someone else? But it was always a fantasy.”“Oh.” She kind of hates herself for putting him through that. “I’m so sorry, Ben.”“I know, and it was so fucked up that you did that, but who cares, Bobbi? You’re alive. We get a second chance. I can’t throw that away.”Her breath catches. She’s missed him so much over the past decade, avoided thinking about him because it hurt too much. The only times she really let herself dwell on her family were those early nights on Tarnax IV when she’d lain awake, shivering, for hours, between the shrubs in the wilderness, when she pictured herself dying out there, light years away from home, without anyone knowing that she had ever even left Earth. She would think about the first summer after her dad left them. Her mother had been overwhelmed trying to juggle work with summer vacation, and her grandparents had convinced her to send Bobbi and Ben to them for the summer. They had slept on the pull-out couch in their house in Queens, where the air conditioning blasted so strong in the tiny living room that Bobbi and Ben had needed to tuck themselves in under layers of blankets. Their afternoons had been spent at Flushing Meadows-Corona Park, swimming and paddle boating, eating ice cream bars instead of lunch, exploring the botanical gardens, and in the evenings, listening to the roars of the Mets fans over at Shea Stadium. They even got to go to a game that summer, a nail-biter that went into extra innings. The Mets eventually eked a win out of it, and Ben ate so many hot dogs that he threw up on the way home.The memories gave her comfort back then, all alone and scared to death. They reminded her of who she was, even half a galaxy away from where they’d occurred.Ben’s looking at her for an answer, and she pulls him in for a hug. “Please, stay as long as you want,” she says. “We have so much time to make up for.”—The police show up before Bobbi can fill Ben in, but they only ask a few questions to get a baseline idea of what time everything happened, and she agrees to go down to the station tomorrow for further questioning. Once they leave, she gives him a very quick summary and watches his eyes widen with each sentence.It might be too much for him, she realizes. Knowing abstractly that she was an Avenger and taking a jujitsu class couldn’t have prepared him for the reality of finding out that her ex-landlord is murdering tenants in order to force the building empty.“Hey, Benny, I hate to say this, but...as glad as I am to see you, maybe it’s not the right time,” Bobbi says to him. “I don’t want to put you in any danger.”“That’s what you said before you disappeared for eight years,” Ben responds the second the words leave her mouth, like he was anticipating it. “Don’t bother. I’m an adult this time, and I’m sticking with you.”She still has a voice inside her telling her to send him away for his own protection, but she pushes it down and resolves to respect his decision and just do the best she can with him here.“Okay, then,” she agrees. “I’ll set you up on the couch. It’s not as comfortable as Nana and Poppy’s, but it’s fine in a pinch.”He grins, and some knot in her gut finally eases.As Ben goes to bring his bags over from the door, his foot snags on Lucky’s food bowl. “What’s all this?” he asks, looking around for the absent owner of the bowl.“That’s Lucky, my dog’s,” Bobbi says. “He’s a new member of the family. I rescued him from Ivan.”“Rescued, or....” He raises an eyebrow, teasing her.“I wouldn’t say stole,” she insists. “He followed me home. Anyway, he’s out right now. Kate took him; she’s a Young Avenger, I don’t know if you’ve heard of her...she’s been training with me lately, and she came over tonight after Gil died and took him for a walk.”Now that she thinks about it, Kate was really upset, and Bobbi just now realizes that she completely neglected Kate the entire evening. She was so shaken by Gil’s death herself that she didn’t even consider how it must have been affecting Kate. Shit. Way to fuck up as a mentor. If she can even call herself that.“The Young Avengers,” Ben muses. “Oh! The aggressive brunette who gave me directions. I knew she looked familiar.”Bobbi winces. She really screwed up tonight.“That was a while ago, shouldn’t they be back by now?” he asks.Bobbi looks at the clock on the bookshelf, but the time doesn’t register, and she doesn’t even know what time Kate left, so it wouldn’t help. “I’m sure she’ll be back soon,” she says; then she realizes that she isn’t sure Kate will be back soon. She picks up her phone from the coffee table and dials Kate to ask, but it cuts off after one ring.So, Kate’s mad.“Shit,” Bobbi mutters.“She seemed pretty on edge when I ran into her,” Ben offers, a look of concern on his face.“Yeah, she would be. This must have hit her hard,” Bobbi says. “I’m such an idiot.”Her phone buzzes, and a text from Kate shows up on the screen. Sleeping in the city tonight. lucky and I will be back in the am“That her?” Ben asks.“Yeah.” She shows him the text message.“Sounds like she’s okay.”“Yeah.” So Kate’s not so mad that she’s not talking to her, but she’s still mad enough that she’s not talking to her. But in the morning, she’ll be back, and Bobbi can see how she is and make things right if she needs to. It’ll be okay. She takes a deep breath to center herself, then turns to Ben. “Well, you must be exhausted. Do you want me to get your sheets and let you sleep?”“Nah, I actually slept all day on the bus, on the way here,” he says. “How about you?”“I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep,” Bobbi admits. “Should we turn on the TV and I’ll get snacks?”“Sounds perfect.”