Angel (A Clint Barton Love Story)

We spent the next few weeks making sure Clint was back to good health, and training my Angelic powers. With Steve's help, I was slowly becoming more and more aware of prayers, and I could even catch the occasional thought, if I was trying hard enough. Natasha was training me for hours each day on basic manoeuvres, making sure I could defend myself. Tony and Bruce had set up an obstical course that Tony guided me through in his Iron Man suit, and he reinforced everything Nat had taught me, making sure I could do it in the air. As the weeks passed Clint got better, and I got stronger. I noticed a change in my wings too. Where they had been silky to the touch, they were slowly becoming more defined, and I was starting to see individual feathers. My wings became glossy to the touch, and Tony and I discovered after an accident in the lab that they could withstand powerful acids and high amounts of electricity.

I was strolling through the corridors of SHIELD, when I heard an unfamilliar voice.

"Agent Kane, hold up."

I turned to see a face I knew I should have recognised. I squinted as the man came closer, holding out a hand for me to shake.

"Agent Coulson. It's a pleasure to meet you; I've heard a lot about you."

I smiled, shaking his hand and replying in kind. I'd heard an awful lot about him. He'd been killed during the attack on New York during my time as a Level Three Agent, and by the time I'd reached Level Seven, I'd heard rumours that he was still alive. "It's good to finally meet you."

"And it's good to have another Avenger on the team!" He smiled broadly as the two of us began walking. He struck up a light conversation, but it was clear from the way his eyes kept flickering to my billowing, glossy wings that there was only one topic on his mind. I smiled as I caught him looking, and he blushed, apologising.

"No need. I'm used to it. I keep them out most of the time around here, so everyone knows about them."

"They didn't look like that before, did they?"

"No," I admitted, "I've got to say, I was a little surprised at the change. I think it's because I'm using my powers a lot more now, and I've been exercising them."

Coulson nodded, intrigued. "Steve - Captain Rogers, I mean - mentioned the fact that the two of you had been practising some form of thought reading?"

"Prayer reading." I correcting, deciding to leave out the tiny little snippet of Steve's mind I'd caught a glimpse of. I'd seen the image of men fighting in a wood, and assumed it was something to do with his time in the Second World War. I'd decided to pull away from it as soon as possible; Steve's mind, and his memories of the war were personal. I had no right to trespass on them. If I wanted to practice telepathy, I could ask Clint.

"Very interesting..." Coulson murmured, as we stopped at the Elevator. "Getting in?"

"No, I was actually leaving." I smiled at him, "It was nice to finally meet you, Agent Coulson."

"And you, Agent Kane." Coulson managed to flash me one last smile before the elevator doors closed on him, and the electronic counter on the panel to the side began to count his ascent. I stood there for a few seconds longer, before turning and heading to the door. I was going to see Clint.

Clint and I were watching a movie in his apartment later that night, curled up on the couch together in silence. He'd been pretty quiet since I'd arrived, and I was a little concerned. Even after my repeated quizzing, he was adamant that he was fine. I decided that now was as good a time as ever to start enhancing my telepathy.

I leaned back against Clint, letting my mind relax and search for his. Every night I'd listened out for his prayers, but apparently he had none to give, so I'd never gone into his mind before. Would it be harder than going into Steve's? Perhaps I'd only managed to access Steve's so easily because of the weeks of Prayer reading.

After a few moments of probing, I felt Clint's conscious in my head. It was like a warm light in the back of my mind, and I couldn't help but smile a little. A little more gentle probing, and I was inside his mind.

A swirling mass of thoughts surrounded me, and I blinked, surprised. It was nothing like seeing Steve's mind. When I'd done that, I'd been outside his concious, and it had been like I was peeking in through a door. This time, I was in the midst of Clint's thoughts. I sat there, not paying any attention to the film, trying to figure out the vortex of babbling memories, views, opinions and ideas. Finally, I caught the sound of my own voice.

'Are you okay, Clint?'

And then his own voice 'Yeah, of course I am.'

I could tell from inside his mind that was a lie. It was all too clear, from how the light had taken on a darker, more reddish tone, and the swirling became more violent. But what was wrong with him?

Then I heard his voice again.

"Bailey?"

I frowned, trying to concentrate on finding out what was wrong with me, when I heard his voice again, louder this time.

"Bailey."

Internally sighing, I pulled out of his mind, and suddenly I could see the TV screen again.

"Bailey."

Clint's voice was unusually harsh in my ear, and I turned around, surprised. He was staring me down with cold grey eyes, and when he spoke, there was a grating, accusatory tone to his words.

Notes