"Have you heard the news that you're dead?

No one ever had much nice to say

I think they never liked you anyway."

My Chemical Romance

I was confused. No, not just confused. Completely and utterly baffled. Clint looked as though he was holding his breath as I read through the file out loud.

The sun was actually shining today which was great and all, but it didn't really go along smoothly with my current mood. "Name of... Deceased. Clairissa Amile Stark. Date of death April Fifteenth Two thousand eleven. Twenty Three at time of death. Marital status, none. Cause of death, internal bleeding caused by severe head trauma... How and where did you find this...?" I ran my fingers over the crisp yellowing paper, turning to the next page of the packet than looking back at Clint. According to this I was no longer a person. Just another rotting corpse in the dirt waiting to be munched on by little fly babies. Lovely.

"Stark. Not supposed to say anything but... Well you should probably know at least this much." His hands were tightly gripping the steering wheel of his car. His eyes remained on the road ahead of us, careful not to look in my direction. There were barely any cars ahead of us on the highway so we were going about sixty five. One of the things I love about Clint is that he knows how to drive fast, and get away with it. A normal person would be sweating right now because of the speed we were going at. Or hell maybe even the early May heat but no. I apparently wasn't that lucky.

I brushed the side parted sticky mocha brown bangs from my eyes then turned to the next page. "But where'd he get it? I mean I'm one for conspiracy theories and all but this sorta feels like, well a mistake." My certainty of that was growing less certain as I looked at the page in front of me. It was of a tanned girl with her now dark eyes swollen shut. She was on a stretcher in a white hospital room, assuming they took her clothes she wore standardized grey and green scrubs. She had a massive bump covering most of the right side of her forehead and her limbs were mangled and tattered. Her left arm seemed to have been torn from it's socket and her clothing ripped. She looked like she had almost been pulled apart with. She had very dark brown hair that had been matted and caked with now seemingly dried blood.

The sight itself made me want to throw up but the lulling back and forth of the car didn't exactly help either. I told Clint to stop the car, he pulled off on the next exit and stopped at a rest stop close by. As soon as he put the car into park he looked at me. His expression seemingly calm but I had come to know better than to just take him at face value so I looked into his eyes. From then I saw a hint for sadness in them but more concerned than anything else. He was worried about me.

"I'm fine." I said not meeting his gaze again, looking out my window instead. I tried to keep my voice even so that maybe he wouldn't try and take the file back. "Just got a little car sick from reading and riding."

He cocked his head at me then looked down at the folder still open in my lap. He sighed and closed the folder, to my surprise not taking it front me and throwing it in the back seat or something of that nature. Instead he kept his gaze on me and unclenched my fist which I hadn't known had been drawn in the first place and replaced the empty fist with his hand. I took a deep breath and frowned.

"It's still totally possible this is just a misunderstanding, hell maybe even a prank. So don't take it so seriously. I mean what are the chances that you're actually dead. I've seen a lot of weird stuff and so have you, so wouldn't we have noticed if you were some weird sorta zombie thing by now? Plus knowing Stark he might've just made up this file to prove his point.."

He was ranting now, which worried me because that meant he was trying to find reasons why this had to not be true. But, why wouldn't it? "Yes, but how would he have time to find a me look alike and make the wounds look real enough to pass as sufficient in only, what a day?"

He squeezed my hand gently trying to comfort me I suppose. "Money can do a lot of things Clair. Never the less get them done fast, you should know that by now."

I nodded. That was true.. Whether it be getting new id's, passports or even hiding a dead bod-... Wait a sec. "Where'd you say that Tony got the file from..?"

"I'm not sure actually. He just said he found them."

I sighed. "Ya know Batman, if I remember correctly you're the one who said find information to back up your leads. I'm beginning to question your sense of authority." I cracked a small smile. Ever since I was an inexperienced noob to the field Barton told me to back up my shit. And I was honestly surprised he didn't.

"Hey Clint wait! Wait up!" I said rushing towards Barton. He was walking towards combat room D. I could feel my ponytail bouncing against my back as I sprinted towards him. Careful not to run into any of the tech geeks on there coffee breaks. It was after ten a clock but he still looked like a sleep zombie.

Clint stopped and turned toward me, greeting me with the serious look he often had on. His frown lines were very apparent. I wondered what was wrong."What?"

"I um..." I began to rephrase my sentence. "Sorry to bug you, and I know you're pretty busy and all but I kinda think you might want to know this..."

He raised an eyebrow at me giving me permission to go on. "So you know Director Fury right? Well of course you do but.."
He cut me off sharply. "Get to the point Clair. I need to be somewhere else right now."
"Well..." I lowered my voice and leaned in, like I was telling him a secrete. "I think he might be a pirate mobster."

He looked at me for a long moment then let out the slightest scruffle, which sounded like he was choking. It took me a sec to realize but that was how he laughed. "And how'd you come to this conclusion?"

"Well I um... I just have sorta a good feeling about it." I muttered to myself. Though from the look on his face he heard me loud and clear.

"Let me give you some of my.. What does Fury like to call it? Oh yes, wisdom from experience. That gut feeling is the very thing that might get you killed on the field, ok? Stick to what you know for fact and if you can't, well make it fact." The look on his face was solemn so I only nodded, not making any snappy remarks. But I made a note to remember what he said. Specifically about making your own.

"So you're saying you had been listening to my lectures instead of trying to catch up on zs afterall?" He raised an eyebrow. I snapped back to attention hearing the sound of his voice and answered quickly.

"Still undecided. But for such a rule follower i'm surprised you don't follow your own." The churning in my stomach was slowly subsiding but I wasn't exactly feeling better yet.

"Never said I was perfect."

I rolled my eyes at him. "Maybe not in as many words but it's come up time to time." I take my hand from his and drop it into my lap like a dead fish. Physical contact from him in a sympathetic way felt weird. I didn't want him to feel bad for me.

¨Sure. Stick with that story." I laughed half heartedly. ¨We can go now Incase you haven't heard my stomachs about to eat itself.¨ But truthfully it wasn't my stomach that my mind was on.

¨And what a shame that would be. You're the only one with an actually good appetite around hear. I can't afford to lose my part time guinea pig.¨

I only snorted. When the car started again I closed my eyes and tried to distract myself by falling asleep. But all I could think of while doing this was how easily with money you could do almost anything. Even make your own fact.