Clint and Natasha stood outside of their daughter's room, ears pressed to the door and confused looks on their faces, hearing her talking to someone but with each sentence spoken, there was no reply. She had grown too old for imaginary friends, as far as they were concerned anyway, and FRIDAY had reassured them that she was in the room alone, so their curiosity was piqued. They didn't want to intrude on her privacy, but they had to know for sure that she wasn't talking to some alien or ghost, or anything weird or threatening; with things that happened around this team, nothing could be ruled out.

"Allie?" Natasha finally began with a soft knock on the door. "Can we come in?"

"Sure, Mom!"

Nat looked at Clint, who looked back expectantly, shaking his head when she wanted him to take the lead. "Hey, this was your idea. You first."

"Chickenshit." She pushed the door open gently, making sure that she was wearing her best attempt at a genuine smile when she came into view of her daughter. Allie was sitting alone on her bed with a book, just as they had expected, with Dodger sitting at her side; his tail began to wag so much at the sight of them that he nearly shook himself onto the floor. "Hey, baby, who were you talking to?"

"Dodge."

"Oh," Clint sighed, nudging Nat playfully, "right. Okay, good, that makes sense. We heard you talking to someone in here, but we couldn't figure out who it could be. Do you talk to Dodger a lot?"

Natasha didn't take the news nearly as readily as Clint had, finding herself feeling almost sorrowful that the dog was the one taking so much of her daughter's attentions. Allie didn't have anyone her age to play with, being that she was home schooled after the disaster that had happened with your children, and your trio was too old now to want to play the way she would want to. She felt bad that they were protecting her maybe too much, and now to hear that the dog was the only one she could talk to so easily made her sad.

"I talk to him all the time. He likes to talk to me because no one else understands him like I do."

"You guys are pretty good buddies, huh?"

"Sure, Dad," the young girl shrugged, turning towards the pup when he pushed his nose up under her hand to get her attention. "What's wrong, Dodge?" Your dog whimpered a few times and let out a couple of tiny barks, keeping her hand securely in place while rolling his eyes up enough to see her. "Oh! Okay, we can go." She gave him a little pat and pushed him towards the edge of the bed, looking at her parents apologetically. "Sorry, he has to go potty. I'll be right back."

"How did you know that's what he meant?" Nat asked cautiously.

"He told me."

"He told you?" Clint whispered, his eyes widening in fear of what she was going to say next. "Like...with words?"

"Yeah. I told you, Dad, we talk all the time."

~~~

Nick sat quietly at the compound's conference room table, positioned at the far end on the opposite side from the nearest getaway, and it suddenly became frighteningly obvious to him as you, Tony, Bucky, and Steve took your seats to block it. When Bucky had been told what was going on, he couldn't get back home fast enough, eager to see the man who made both of your lives a living hell for far too long now.

Maria was in the chair next to Nick, but they were still grossly outnumbered, and his senses began to wake as his mind raced with scenarios that could potentially be played out. Logically, he had no reason to be fearful here; you were his team, and his friends. He hadn't done anything wrong, at least not lately, so he wasn't really sure where this feeling of dread was coming from; all he knew was that his palms were sweating and his hands trembled, not out of the attention of Hill.

"Nick," Tony began first, "thanks for coming in on such short notice."

"It sounded pretty important."

"It is."

"Okay," Nick exhaled heavily, dropping his hands to his lap and out of sight, "so what's going on? Why the urgency? And...why are you all looking at me like I just murdered your dog?"

"Hey, come on man, leave Dodge out of this," Steve groaned, clearly envisioning the idea, "he's still on our good side."

"And I'm not?"

"No, you're not," Bucky jumped in, "and you're damn lucky that I haven't come across this table and put my fist in your face, you son of a bitch."

"Woah, down, boy," Tony urged, putting a halting but weary hand over Bucky's arm to keep him in place, "let's keep this civil. Besides, if anyone gets the first hit, it's gonna be (Y/N)."

"The first hit?" Nick coughed, looking at the four of you with a worry that gave you satisfaction that you hadn't expected. "Guys, someone had better start talking about what's going on-"

"You used me, Nick," you finally spoke, feeling your floodgates opening in your mind, "when I didn't have anyone else but you. You told me that you would train me for SHIELD so that I could do good in the world for those who couldn't do for themselves. You told me that Tony would be proud of me if he knew. Then, when I let my guard down and trusted you, and when I thought that you were my friend, you towed the company line and to hell with me. You saw your opportunity and programmed me to kill Bucky because you weren't strong enough to do it yourself."

"(Y/N)-"

"No, you shut your mouth. I'm talking now," you hissed, rising to your feet. "I've heard your voice enough for one lifetime. Oh, wait! That's right! I forgot to mention, Dad," you paused, turning to Tony, "Nick had the brilliant idea to use your voice to break me out of assassin mode. Wasn't that just heartwarming? Isn't he just the most thoughtful bastard that ever lived?"

"You did what?" Tony snapped, turning his chair towards Nick.

"Yep, I remember it all now, clear as day, thanks to T'Challa's help. The Soldier would flip the switch, and Dad would flip it back. When my work was done, they'd play your voice over my comm until the trance broke. I've gotta say, that was a risky choice. At the time, we weren't exactly on great terms."

"So you mean to tell me that every time you've gone into that state of mind, all I had to do was talk you out of it?"

"That's right. The reason that BARF didn't work to block this is because you didn't know that the Soldier was a trigger for me."

Tony leaned back in his chair, his mouth agape for a moment before he slowly closed it again, a sadness crossing his features as his mind raced. He couldn't imagine the trauma playing out in your mind over what this meant and how it could have obliterated the already tenuous relationship that you had at the time; this could have destroyed any chance at getting you back, and Nick hadn't batted an eye at the idea of it. The man across the table from him, the man that he had grown to trust over the years, had decided that his needs were greater than your own father, and if that meant that Tony could have lost his only daughter, then so be it. It created an anger in him that wasn't likely to ever be calmed, and when his decision finally came, it didn't bother him in the least. "Fury...you're fired."

"What?" Nick gasped, looking at each of you. "Are you serious?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?"

"I've been appointed by the U.N., and Secretary Ross, as your team liaison."

"Hill, want a job?" Tony asked her plainly. "I think you could have four really well-written recommendations if you want it."

"I...I don't think..." she stammered, looking to Nick, "no...that's not a good idea..."

"Fine, have it your way," he waved her off dismissively, "we'll find someone who's not so far up Fury's ass. We're done here. Get out of my building."

Before either of them could offer a retort or argument, the four of you stood in unison, turning away from them to leave the room without so much as a goodbye to two people that you had worked with for years. You walked away as if they were nothing, but in your heart you still had a tiny speck of feeling for them; it was unlike you to cut someone off so coldly when they had been a part of your life for so long, but this indiscretion had sliced too deep. Maybe one day you would be able to hear Nick's side and accept and apology, but it wouldn't be today, or tomorrow, or the next.

~~~

"Hey, (Y/N)," Clint called out to you from across the living room as you entered, and as he and Nat approached, "what did you do to our kid? You gave her Dr. Doolittle powers or some shit. She said that she talks to your dog all the damn time."

"What do you mean, what did I do?" you answered in surprise, with Steve taking his protective stance behind you, at the sudden attacking tone coming your way. "Those genes are all yours, I was just the oven."

"Yeah, but maybe the oven was dirty from the last things it cooked and got it all over our stuff."

"The oven was just fine, thank you very much," you hissed back in defense with a sharp poke against his chest when he came too close. "You had no problem using it as it was."

"Okay, hold on, we're talking about your uterus, right?" Steve asked almost shyly from behind you. If you weren't so immediately angry at your friends, you might have found his question adorably innocent.

"Really, Steve?"

"Well, metaphors can get tricky. I wanted to be sure."

"Yeah, we're talking about her uterus, you big dummy," Natasha groaned. She brought up a hand to rub the frustration from her eyes, but it did no good, and she realized that she was merely fooling herself into thinking that it would help. "Look, Allie says that Dodger tells her things, with words, and you're gonna have to forgive me if I'm freaking the fuck out right now."

"Is this really so bad?" Steve finally asked the question that needed to be asked. "So, she can talk to animals. So, what? I think it's pretty cool."

"You think it's cool because she's not your kid," Clint argued, again trying to take a step closer but your open hand on his chest held him at bay.

You felt Steve's chest expand against you as he took a deep breath, trying to steady himself to have this discussion without letting it elevate into a full-on fight. "My kid practically breathes fire, Barton. Another one can make me cry like a baby whenever he feels like it while the third could throw me around the room with her mind if she thought it might be fun. Tell me again how this is a terrible thing."

"Well, I suppose...when he puts it that way...maybe..." Natasha relented with a gently hand on Clint's arm, "it could've been a lot worse?"

"Oh, Romanoff," Sam grumbled, having been listening in from one of the couches where no one had yet noticed him, "why in the hell would you even say something like that? You've been a part of this group longer than I have, and even I know not to tempt fate with shit like that."