15.

This is it! The final chapter! Sorry it's taken so long, but I do hope this chapter was worth the wait. Any reviews on what you thought of this chapter of the whole story would be really appreciated. I hope you enjoyed, and thank you to everyone who read or reviewed. You made me very happy ;)

Steve stood alone in the ruined New York street, watching a small fighter jet judder across the sky. Whoever is flying that plane, he thought, is not doing a very good job. The group's intense horror at the second plane – no doubt carrying another nuclear weapon – was replaced by confusion and surprise as the plane continued to resolutely not fire its weapon.

'What is it...doing?' Clint squinted at the plane.

'I don't think it's supposed to be wobbling around like that.' Natasha said. 'What is he doing?'

Tony was still sprawled on the ground behind them. He couldn't muster up the energy to twist around and look at the plane, but attempted a sympathetic mumble. His suit was wrecked and so was he; he wasn't going to be saving any more cities from nuclear devastation anytime soon. Someone else was just going to have to step up this time.

There was no uncertainty in Nikita's mind that Sherlock was flying the plane. She wasn't unduly surprised; it was, after all, the most logical course of action to take. But they weren't safe yet. If Sherlock did not land the plane correctly, it might detonate the bomb anyway. And where on earth was he going to land a fighter jet in the middle of New York? Her mind ticked away at top speed. Why had two bombers been dispatched? Just one would have done the job. You didn't send another nuclear weapon along just in case. It was as if they knew Tony would dispatch the first one. But then the Chitauri would be dead. It was a long shot, but hey, the whole idea of the Avengers initiative was a long shot. What did Sherlock know that they didn't?

Sweat dripped off the end of Sherlock's nose. The other pilot had stopped following him and tailed off and disappeared. Sherlock had disabled his radio to avoid the inevitable barrage of what are you doing etc. I can't last much longer, he thought. Fuzzy black dots danced in front of his eyes. If he focused on them for more than half a second they expanded and contracted rapidly, threatening to drag him into unconsciousness. His heartbeat was weak, his breathing shallow. If he landed wrong, the bomb would explode anyway. There! A relatively clear, open space just below him. Good enough for a makeshift runway.

'He's coming in too fast.' Steve said, watching Sherlock's progress. 'You sure that's him, Nikita?'

Nikita nodded mutely.

'He was badly hurt,' Natasha objected. 'Probably delirious, definitely suffering heavy blood loss. I don't know if he'll make it out of this, Nik.'

'He's going to hit that bus.' Clint added quietly. He pointed with his bow to a destroyed yellow bus, lying on its side across the road. 'At the speed he's going,' Clint continued, 'he won't stop in time. He'll crash into that bus.'

Natasha rolled her eyes. 'So what should we do? Move it? It weighs several tons, Clint, I don't think...'

She was interrupted by a grating, screeching noise of metal on concrete. Bruce, still in his gargantuan green form, had applied himself to the bus, and pushed it out of the way in just a few seconds.

'Problem solved,' Nikita muttered. 'You had all better try and get clear.'

'What?' Steve turned and focused on her.

'The bomb may detonate anyway, or it could arm itself. If you leave now...'

'No,' Natasha interrupted. 'I'm not leaving you, Nik.'

'It's out of the question.' Steve told her decisively.

Sherlock saw them waiting through the dimmed haze of his vision. He got a glimpse of Nikita's pale, drawn face, and it told him all he needed to know. She knows, he thought. His landing gear jammed halfway down, so the landing was...bumpy. The dented and battered plane skidded to a halt with an almost unbearable screeching noise. Nikita raced towards the wreckage, but Steve got there first. He ripped off a sheet of metal and dragged Sherlock clear.

'Sherlock?' Nikita's voice quavered. Sherlock's face was an awful grey colour, his shirt and coat positively soaked with blood, and she estimated that he had some broken ribs from the impact – one at least seemed to have punctured a lung.

While everyone was distracted by Sherlock, Clint ran his eye over the wrecked plane, coming to rest on a plane metal sheet near the belly of the plane. He put his ear to it, and, as he'd expected, there was a dull, rhythmic metal clicking coming from within. His heart. 'Nikita,' he called, his voice quavering, 'I think the bomb has armed itself.'

'What should we do?' Natasha asked, deceptively calm. Nikita had removed the metal covering, exposing the bomb.

'There should be...a square section...here...' Nikita mumbled to herself. 'Here we go.' she removed a small, square metal cover. Underneath was a positive maze of wires. They were threaded and twisted around each other, forming a confusing mass that would defy any attempt at untangling.

'Oh dearie me.' Nikita breathed.

'Tell me you can defuse this.' Natasha said quietly.

'There's no timer,' Clint pointed out, 'how long do we have?'

'No idea.' Nikita distractedly ran her fingers through her hair. 'I've...I've defused bombs before...but not like this.'

'We must have at least two minutes,' Natasha said, 'That's approximately what it took for the other bomb to detonate.'

'I don't think they expected that bomb to detonate.' Nikita shook her head. 'I think they knew what Tony would do.'

Clint looked sharply at her. He looked as if he would say something, but thought better of it.

Nikita glanced over her shoulder. Steve had gotten a wad of ripped up cloth to use as a makeshift bandage. Sherlock did not so much as twitch. Steve looked up and caught her eye. 'He's still breathing, and I've stopped the bleeding,' he said briefly, and returned to his task.

'OK...' Nikita breathed out. Stay calm, she instructed herself. 'It must be one of these...'

The wires were mostly white, but there were a few red, yellow and green wires. Nikita selected a yellow wire, conscious of Natasha and Clint hanging over her shoulder, holding their breaths; and she sharply pulled the wire out. The metal clicking immediately sped up a fraction. She heard Clint draw in his breath sharply.

Sweat began to run down Nikita's forehead. After a few seconds' consideration of the tangled mass before her, she selected a red wire, and pulled out that wire. The clicking sped up yet again. 'Oh no, no,' Natasha gasped. Panicking now, Nikita pulled out a white wire, then a green one. The clicking sped up again and again.

Suddenly someone elbowed Nikita aside, reached past her, and, grabbing a handful of wires, pulled all of the wires out. Instantly the clicking stopped. Everyone gave a huge sigh of relief.

Nikita felt as if her limbs had gone to jelly. 'Thank you, Steve.'

'You're welcome,' Steve gave a rather shaky grin. 'Anyway, he told me to do it,' he nodded at Sherlock, who propped himself up on one elbow and gave a feeble wave.

'How is he not dead?...Again...?' Nikita exclaimed.

Steve laughed. 'I have no idea. He seems stable for now, but we should get him to a hospital as soon as possible. First, we have some unfinished business.'

'Loki?'

'That's right. You stay and keep an eye on Sherlock; the rest of us will take care of Loki.'

'Got it.' Nikita watched them depart. She wished she could see them take down Loki, but she needed to have a word with her brother.

'I'm guessing you've worked it out.' Sherlock said, his eyes closed. Nikita nodded mutely.

'You know you're not safe? None of you are?'

'I know.' Nikita sat down next to him with a sigh. 'Ow. I'm sore. Do you think Nick Fury knows anything?'

'Maybe. I don't know Nick Fury as well as you do. Correction: I don't know Nick Fury as well as you think you do.'

'What is that supposed to mean?'

Sherlock gave a hoarse laugh. 'Don't worry about it. You must see that this organization is rotting from the inside out.'

'I know. We need to do something.'

'Is there any chance Bruce Banner or Tony Stark would help us?'

Nikita swallowed hard. 'I don't know. They don't trust me. I...knew that Nick Fury was going to use the Tesseract to make weapons. I didn't tell them.'

Sherlock nodded. 'Very wise.'

'They didn't think so. Tony wouldn't trust me anyway, and Bruce and Steve won't. They think I lied.'

'I see. Looks like we're on our own.'

'You haven't said anything about Clint or Natasha.'

Sherlock smiled mirthlessly. Clint is a mercenary. He will work for the person – or people – who pay him the most. Natasha is a killer. She lied to you, remember? She will continue to lie.'

'Clint is not a mercenary!' Nikita argued.

'Nicky...' Sherlock clumsily patted her shoulder. 'I know how you feel about Clint. Do you trust my judgement?'

'Yes.'

'Then believe me when I say we are on our own.'

Nikita knew he was right. 'You're going to tell me that we have to go as soon as possible.'

'I'm afraid so. I've got a feeling the powers that be will be searching for me...and you...with great interest. But before that, what can you tell me about an organization called Hydra?'

The Avengers had found a very interesting restaurant. Bruce, Tony, Steve, Thor, Clint and Natasha were sat inside, eating in silence. Almost silence, that is.

'Have you seen Nikita?' Clint asked Natasha. She shook her head. 'I think she went with Sherlock to the hospital.

'Oh. I thought she might stop by here later.'

Natasha shrugged and stuffed another piece of food into her mouth.

Clint thoughtfully toyed with the food on his plate. 'I might go and see her.'

Natasha started to choke. By the time she stopped choking and began to voice her objection, Clint was well on his way to the door. Natasha watched him leave. She wasn't used to jealousy, certainly not from her dowdy, absent-minded, less pretty little sister.

'Clint!' Nikita exclaimed. For once, she wasn't happy to see him. 'What a surprise...'

'Where are you going?' Clint asked, looking confused. A long black car with tinted window had just pulled up outside the hospital. Sherlock had just been manoeuvred into the back seat, wrapped in blankets and with a pair of crutches.

'Is this something to do with Fury?' Clint asked.

'N...no.'

'Where are you going?'

'I can't tell you.' Nikita immediately regretted saying that. Clint's face hardened. 'Why not?'

'Clint, there's...' she scratched her head. 'Sherlock and I...we found out something. About S.H.I.E.L.D.'

'And what would that be?'

'We have no proof about anything. I don't want to tell you anything until we have solid proof. But we're not going to stop until we've uncovered this thing.'

Clint eyed her suspiciously. 'Well, I suppose I'll have to be content with that.'

'All I'm going to say is...' she hesitated, knowing Sherlock would not want her saying even this to him, 'Be careful. Don't trust anyone. And I mean anyone.'

'Even Natasha.'

'Even Natasha.'

He nodded. 'Will I see you around?'

'Hopefully. Definitely.'

Clint smiled. On impulse, he leaned forward, cupped a hand around her cheek and kissed her firmly on the lips.

'Ahem.'

Nikita sprang back, flushing fierily.

'Could we possibly go now?' Sherlock inquired testily.

Nikita got in the back seat beside him, tripping over her own feet. Clint shut the door behind her, smiling, and stood motionless on the pavement as the car drove away. Once it turned the corner and disappeared, his smile faded.