Heroes Assemble!

Even When I Had Nothing

"A laurel wreath. To wear. You know, like a Roman Emperor coming home from war after a successful battle to find the crowds waiting to greet him and to celebrate his victory," Tony explained exasperatingly.

"Make it out of thorns or something," Clint retorted, "perhaps the spikes will pierce that head of yours and deflate it a bit."

"That's harsh, Bird-brain," Tony replied. "And where were you, anyway? We could have used you. Well, obviously not used you since we got the job done anyway, but an extra person for the bad guys to aim at never goes astray."

"On vacation," Clint replied succinctly.

"As helpful as ever," Tony replied nonplussed.

"Is he alright? What's wrong with him?" Peter asked quickly as Steve appeared, carrying an unfamiliar man in his arms.

"Who is he?" Jane asked, rushing forward.

"This is Bucky, an old friend of mine," Steve replied continuing his walk.

"Also known as the Winter Soldier," Nat added, meeting Clint's eyes.

Clint's head snapped back to the unconscious guy. He'd heard plenty of stories; one even from Nat herself. He'd thought that they were old wives' tales. Obviously not.

"I can barely feel a pulse," Jane remarked sounding alarmed, her hands at 'Bucky's' neck.

"That's because he's under the influence of a potion called the Draught of Living Death," Harry stated as he followed Steve.

"Well, that's not ominous in the slightest, is it?" Darcy asked sarcastically.

"Don't worry, There's a counter," Harry waved off. "We just needed to make sure that he stayed unconscious until we could get him some help."

"What's wrong with him?" Doreen asked.

"Bucky's been brainwashed. By HYDRA," Steve replied grimly.

"I'm guessing that's not all that they did," Matt said. "He's got a metal arm, doesn't he?"

Clint shook his head at that idea. A metal arm. And if the stories were true, it worked as well as a normal one. Or better, considering how strong it was reported to be.

Movement from quinjet's ramp had Clint switching his attention there. The guy standing there was African-American with a goatee and short, military-style haircut. This was the guy in the wings at the battle on the T.V.

"Clint Barton," he introduced himself, holding out his hand.

"Sam Wilson," the guy replied, shaking Clint's hand.

"Saw what you did on T.V.," Clint remarked. "That was some fancy flying."

"You did? Thanks," Sam replied.

"How'd you get involved, anyway?" Clint asked.

"Steve," Sam replied, nodding at the man in question. "He and Nat turned up on my doorstep looking like something the cat dragged in. Apparently, they'd just survived being bombed. Anyway, I wasn't going to say 'no' when Captain America asked for my help."

Steve's raised voice interrupted their conversation just then. Clint turned to see him standing just before the elevator, the Winter Soldier still cradled in his arms.

"Everyone," Steve said. "There'll be more time to debrief later. For now, there's one piece of news that you all need to know. Obviously, this is an Avengers-level secret, so I'm trusting you all not to divulge it to anyone else until we say otherwise."

Clint saw a myriad of nods, some, like Doreen's were quite emphatic, others, like Erik's were more solemn.

"Nick Fury's alive," Steve stated simply, his eyes seeking out Clint's. "He faked his own death because of HYDRA. For now, he wants to keep it that way and we'll respect that. I just thought that you should all know."