A/N: Hello new and old readers! Let me start off by saying THANK YOU for checking this story out! As some of you may have known from reading my BBC Sherlock story, I love the Avengers to the point where it's almost an obsession. So I decided to write a fic about my favorite couple from the movie. I absolutely loved Clint/Natasha right away and so this is my take on what went down in Budapest. I've worked really hard on this first part so I hope you guys enjoy it. Please leave me a review and let me know what you thought, I do answer all of my reviews :) NOTE: I probably won't continue this story unless I get a fair number of alerts or reviews. I don't wanna put my focus on something that no one is interested in.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy and I hope to hear from you!
Chels
Even
Part 1.2
Concealed amongst the towering spires of an old church located in Aachen, Germany, perfectly hidden, rested an assassin. From his tall perch he watched the cobblestone square below as citizens went about with their daily lives. In the dreary haze of the mid-morning sun, the people's faces were shrouded. None of them though looked to the roof of the ancient cathedral. Not one of them seemed to suspect the man sequestered high above, watching and waiting.
A breeze was blowing in from the west, bringing with it a mass of ominous gray rain clouds. Soon the morning vibrancy would be completely swallowed by the condensing gray fog. A stronger gust tasseled the man's light brown hair as if to confirm his inner thoughts – it would be raining before the mission was completed.
"Looks like rain," said a female voice over the ear piece he wore.
His partner, codenamed Black Widow, was stationed on the ground across the square – armed and extremely dangerous. Through the fog, Clint glanced down into the square, finding his partner seated casually on a patio of a coffee bar with a foam cup in her hand. The wind whipped at her long, velvet red curls and she gently brushed them behind her ear with her fingers. Not a soul would suspect her to be a proficient killer.
"Mmmm," he murmured in response. "Seems only fitting."
Clint noticed even at his distance the small smirk that danced across her lips, and smiled himself. The two of them fell silent again, placing their focus back on the task at hand.
The mission was rather simple, which was rare for S.H.I.E.L.D, and especially for Natasha and Clint. They were the division's best and most skilled agents. Natasha Romanoff possessed a skill set that was unmatchable. Her expertise had gained herself an intimidating reputation, one that she was willing to live up to. Her story was dark, but thanks to her partner, she'd begun to use her abilities for the greater good.
Clint Barton's story was slightly different. His parents were killed when he was young, forcing him and his bother into an orphanage. Not long after that, he and his brother ran away and joined a traveling circus, where Clint learned how skilled he was with the bow and arrow. His eyesight allowed him to see better from height and far distances, giving him his code name; Hawkeye. Both agents were S.H.I.E.L.D's greatest assets, and together the pair was practically unstoppable.
Most operations Nick Fury – the head of S.H.I.E.L.D- sent them on required extensive undercover work, with a medium to high difficulty. Their current mission however was nothing more than an assassination.
The man they were hunting was, according to S.H.I.E.L.D, an international bank robber from Norway. Somehow he'd acquired codes that allowed him to access every major bank around the world. The vague details usually meant that he wasn't that much of a threat, but rather an annoyance that could potentially be a hazard. Thus he needed to permanently be removed from the picture to alleviate some of the stress at headquarters.
Clint watched the dark clouds over head a while longer, waiting on Natasha's signal. The sunlight was slowly diminishing as the rain clouds consumed the bright pieces of sky fighting to stay visible. He used to feel like those small traces of light sometimes – being totally consumed by a dark, dreary haze, leaving him to suffocate on the harsh reality that had been thrust upon him. Now however he felt like he could breathe a little better, and see through the thinning smog of his former life. He was still no saint, but to him at least things were better.
"Target's inside." Natasha's voice informed mechanically.
In response, Clint gripped the handle of his bow tighter and stepped back from the ledge making certain no one could see him.
"There doesn't appear to be anyone with him." Natasha added. "Although I wouldn't hold my breath. This guy's an international back thief; he's bound to have bozos with guns."
Clint laughed slightly at his partners' nonchalant, almost bored disposition. She was anything but feeling threatened by Scandinavian henchmen. She'd dealt with worse not only working with S.H.I.E.L.D, but before she even switched sides.
The archer on the roof of the old church moved to the part of the structure where he could make his shot. The day before, the pair managed to scale the building and remove part of the glass from a skylight, which would enable Clint to take his shot without any difficulty. As he treaded across the roof, the rubber soles of his boots kept him from making any noise. His stormy eyes peered into the cut glass to scope out his target. Inside of the colossal structure were a small handful of people, exposed by the openness of the building. There were no balconies or landings, just the tall vaulted ceilings from which he was positioned. An array of twinkling candles lined the alter, and overall soured the pending mood. The organ playing from somewhere in the vicinity however, seemed rather the fitting score to the man's imminent demise.
"You know," Clint thought aloud, facing away from the opening so his voice didn't carry within. "If I wasn't already, I'm surely going to Hell for killing a man inside of a church."
On the other end of the mic came Natasha's dry, humorless laugh. He could practically see her roll her eyes when she finally spoke. "Now's not the time to question your morals, Hawk." She paused. "You'll have plenty of time to confess your sins after we kill this guy."
Clint smirked and looked back down into the cathedral. The man they were after was sitting in the first pew, closest to the alter. No one was with him – which didn't mean that he'd come alone- but altogether his assassination would be easy.
Pressing a meticulous combination of buttons located on this bow handle, he shifted the proper arrow head into place. There was no need of anything fancy, no explosions or fire, just a simple arrow head would get the job done. He removed the arrow from the cluster on his back, holding it between his middle and index finger he positioned it onto his bow.
"Going in," Clint whispered his warning.
"Be careful, and shoot straight."
"Always am, always do."
Clint hesitated briefly, thinking about his partner sitting alone less than a block away. There was no doubt in his mind that their target had men hiding somewhere, Natasha was right. He was one of Europe's most infamous bank robbers; he'd have men all around him. Knowing Natasha, she would know they were coming before they knew who they were looking for. That thought gave him a sort of security that only recently he'd become addicted to. Before he'd saved Natasha from a cruel fate, he was less careful. To him, the idea of death wasn't that frightening. He had no family anymore; they were dead. At one point he couldn't live with some of the things he'd seen and done. Before her he had nothing to miss leaving. Now there was another human being that knew the nightmares that plagued him, and had seen the horrors he'd seen. Suddenly there was someone who understood everything he'd been through, and he hated the thought of losing that.
Clint took a deep breath, exhaling all his cluttered thoughts so he could shoot straight when the opportune moment arose. Every breath he took was long, deep and virtually inaudible. After years of stalking and hunting, his senses were almost animalistic. His eyes never blinked or moved from his prey, his body stayed stone still as time ticked closer to make his kill.
Slowly, his fingers pulled back the arrow, stretching the thick cord as far back as it would, allowing the appropriate speed. The second he let loose the arrow, the next the man fell onto the marble ground, painting the once white stone a vibrant crimson. It didn't take any time for chaos to completely consume the interior of the church. The organ music was replaced by frightened screams and the thumping sound of people rushing out of the building. A brave few stopped amongst the confusion to look for the silent attacker, but Clint was long gone before they had a chance to see him.
The assassin crouched on the ledge of the massive church, his sharp eyes scanning the small crowd that was flooding out. Across the way, Natasha watched as well, her hand wrapped around the handle of the gun she hid inside her jacket. They were both waiting for the hired guns to reveal themselves, but as the rush of people escaping dwindled, so did the threat of more potential gunmen. Emergency vehicles started to arrive, police and ambulances, to come and investigate the murder. Clint watched them wheel out the lifeless body of the man on a stretcher, covered by a plain white sheet. Behind them was another man, carrying the arrow that Clint had used. He looked up into the spires of the building and Clint ducked out of sight. He would climb back down when all the excitement had died down, the decision was obvious.
"Doesn't look like Norway had any henchmen." Natasha mused.
A soft roll of thunder, echoed throughout the blackening sky, bringing with it the rain.
Clint was skeptical. "I don't know. The authorities probably scared them off." He paused and looked into the court yard. The weather hadn't frightened many of the towns' people away, most where gathered around the police blockades, attempting to see inside the church.
"I'd say it's safe to come down from your nest when the feds leave."
"Yeah, so I can get out of this rain." Clint mumbled.
"Mmmm, I don't mind the rain."
"You're under a canopy." He rolled his eyes, as Natasha stole a glance his way and smirked.
"Quit complaining Barton. They're gone. It's safe."
The agent on top of the roof looked to where the emergency vehicles previously had been. She was right; all that remained was the dry patches of cobblestone where they had parked. He flung his bow across his torso, like one would do with a book bag, and swiftly made his way to the back of the church walls. He quickly slipped on a pair of gloves to help him grip the ledges and leave no finger prints for the feds to swoon over. The building's sculptural embellishments created convenient ledges and handles to climb down without much effort.
"All clear?" he asked, before stepping into the open square when he reached the ground. With the suit he wore and the quiver of arrows strapped to his back, he didn't exactly fit in.
"Does it really matter?" Natasha sighed dully. "Just don't make any sudden movements. Walk naturally. I've got dry clothes for you."
He took a deep breath, and walked a quickened, but normal pace to the café Natasha was waiting at. Some people stared, others just ignored him. He wasn't sure what they were thinking, but he did know he didn't like the attention some people were giving him.
When he reached the patio, he grabbed the black bag, bearing the S.H.I.E.L.D symbol, sitting on a dry slab of stone close to the entrance of the café and went inside to change.
"Another job well done." Natasha said holding up her foam cup of coffee.
Clint, changed into dark jeans, shirt and jacket – smiled. "All in a day's work."
He took a seat in the cool, black iron chair positioned across from his partner, taking a sip of the coffee he acquired inside.
The rain was still falling steadily, while more soft rolls of thunder echoed throughout the gray sky. It was a calming storm with no fiendish lightning or gusting wind, just the lenient booms of thunder and the light pitter-patter of rain.
Shielded by the canopy hanging over the patio of the coffee shop, both Clint and Natasha watched the rain, and the square. All the excitement brought about by Clint's handy work was beginning to die down, and the square was slowly resuming its previous mundane cycle. Only one or two groups lingered around the old church, but most continued their dull lives.
"Fury wants to meet us tonight." Natasha suddenly said, slipping her phone back into her jean jacket after replying to the text.
"Here?"
She shook her head. "No, there's apparently a place in England that's some division of S.H.I.E.L.D."
Clint pursed his lips and shrugged. Before he got a chance to say anything, the sudden ring of gun fire and shattering glass sent both agents into full defense mode. They fell on their stomachs onto the cold, fragmented glass covered concrete. As soon as they fell, the shots stopped, but neither of them could see anything because of the small brick wall lining the patio. People were running and screaming about the square for the second time that morning, and amongst all the frenzied sounds four angry men shouting in Norwegian were the most perceptible.
Taking advantage of the moment, Natasha promptly took out two loaded, ready to fire pistols from her jacket and slid one to her partner.
"You don't have time for arrows," she told him.
Natasha knew how awkward he felt when he was using a gun instead of his bow, but given their current situation, he'd have to make do.
The Hawk and the Widow waited, listening to their attackers to see what their next move was. Natasha's Norwegian was a little rusty, but she was able to gather the information she needed to take them out. All four of them worked for the recently deceased bank robber, which made them fair game.
"I knew there would be ass holes with guns." Clint said unsurprised.
"Isn't there always?" Natasha sounded just as unfazed. "We've got to take this elsewhere though." She added, "we can't have casualties."
"Yep." Clint nodded.
Without hesitating, both assassins got to their feet and instantly started to run away from the cobblestone square, while a shower of bullets cascaded around them.
Somehow between the time the first shot was fired, to the current point in time, the rain had started to fall harder, thus making the smooth cobblestone quite slippery.
Clint and Natasha didn't stop running, coming to a narrow ally. The men after them shouted and shot, always missing. The shots ricocheted off of the alley walls, sending chunks of stone, and clouds of dust billowing through the air. Judging by the proximity of the bullet to closeness of body ratio, the thugs were gaining on them.
Taking a chance, Clint stopped and spun around, firing two shots right into the closest man's chest. As he dropped to his knees, he fired one shot, which managed to graze Clint's thigh, causing him to trip. Instantly, pain rippled through his leg, twisting his ankle as he fell. A cry escaped his lips as he lay on the stone ground. He added pressure to his wound with his hand to control the bleeding, only to send another wave of agony this time expanding throughout his entire body. Clint squeezed his eyes shut tightly as he tried not to focus on his injury. He'd endured worse - actual bullets- but pain was pain, there was no way around it.
His partner was to his aid before he could call her name, and with help, he got to his feet. Natasha fired one more shot and took out another ruffian as she helped Clint. He did his best to limp at a fast pace but by the tightness in his boot, he could tell his ankle was swollen, which made even limping a strenuous activity.
While the remaining henchmen were momentarily distracted by the dead men, Natasha helped Clint to a car parked a few yards ahead. Both ducked behind the vehicle, while the men chasing them resumed their mindless firing.
"How many are left?" Clink asked, breathless. He sat with his back against the bumper of the car holding his free hand on his wound.
"Two, "Natasha breathed, sounding just as tired.
"Okay." Clint whipped the rain dripping down his face. "I'll take the farthest."
Natasha nodded, and the pair stood up and both fired a single shot, ending their battle. The remaining thugs crashed to the soaked cobblestone, and Clint and Natasha breathed a little easier.
"Good shot," Clint praised, leaning against the hood of the car in order to keep his weight off of his injury.
His partner smiled. "Not too bad yourself. Right between the bastards' eyes." She raised her thin brow. "I thought you weren't your best with a gun?"
He shrugged. "The guy was far enough away. Eyes like a hawk remember?"
Natasha shook her head with a slight smirk, and briefly glanced at the blood staining Clint's pant leg. "You gonna be okay?" She eyed his wound.
"Yeah," he sighed glancing at it himself. "Once the bleeding stops and my ankle quits throbbing."
A more threatening boom of thunder radiated throughout the sky, and Clint frowned.
"The rain. That could stop too."
Natasha laughed lightly, causing Clint to smile as well despite his pain. He was glad the mission was over and they were both safe, if only for a few days.
With a sigh, Natasha swung Clint's muscular arm over her shoulders to help him walk.
"Alright Hawk. Let's get your ruffled feathers out of the rain."
A/N: Let me know what you thought! :)