This is my idea of what happened in Budapest. Hope you like it!

Clint yawned and changed coarse ever so slightly. It had been a long... how long had it been? A month? Two? Maybe it had just been a week. Glancing back at the two women sleeping in the seats behind him he realised it didn't matter how long it had been, it was worth it. He never would have met these two he had grown so fond of if Fury had had any idea what he would do once he got to Russia... Recounting all that had happened...

"Barton, Fury has a mission for you."

Clint looked up to see who was adressing him, but by the voice he could already tell it was Coulson. "What mission?"

Coulson beckoned for Clint to follow him. "There's a... threat." He explained as they walked. "HYDRA has an agent that recently has been... causing problems for us... We need you to take her out."

Clint blinked a few times. "You- I- ...Yes sir."

"I'm glad you're cooperating. We weren't sure if you would. Normally we don't like to do stuff like this, but it has to happen."

"Where am I going anyways?" Clint asked, changing subject.

"Russia. I've arranged a jet for you so you won't have to deal with security."

"Thanks. I appreciate that. It's difficult to get my bow through. They won't let me take it as a carry on and I'm not letting them ruin it in some cramped space with a million other whatsits, besides, seating on planes is terrible! And I don't trust some of the pilots that they have flying those things, I'd much rather fly it myself." Coulson smiled at Clint's rant.

"Are you done now?" He asked.

"Yeah."

"Good." he said as he unfolded a map of Russia. "You're going... here. Moscow, the capital. HYDRA has a knack for being able to position themselves right in the center of things and go nearly undetected until they want to be found."

"Yeah. Great. When do I go?"

"As soon as possible."

"Great." Clint sighed. "Guess I better get packed, huh?"

"That might be preferable."

Clint walked to his room and threw some clothes in a suitcase. Then, pulling his phone, he punched in the familiar number that belonged to his wife's cell. It rung twice before she answered it. "Hello?"

"Clint?"

"Yeah, it's me. How are you and the kids?"

"We're all doing well, the kids had a cold last week, but they're feeling better now. Are you coming home soon?"

"I wish. No, I have a mission, I'm off to Russia in a couple of hours at latest."

"Is it going to be dangerous?"

"Possibly, but I'll be fine."

"You better be."

"I will, don't worry so much, Laura, I promise I'll come back to you. As soon as I finish this mission I'll come back, work on the farm some, build that shed you've been wanting for awhile, and give you a big kiss. Okay?"

"Okay. I'm going to hold you to that."

Clint chuckled. "I love you, Laura."

"I love you too."

"Barton, time to go." A fellow S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent barked through the earpiece.

"Alright, alright, I'll be one more second. Honestly, I may be deaf but I can hear you just fine without you shouting." He asnwered back. "Listen, honey, I have to go now. I love you."

"I love you too, and remember your promise!" Laura said.

"I will, bye!" Clint hung up. "I will..."

"Barton, now!"

"Alright, all right I'm coming! Stop shouting!" He rolled his eyes. "Seriously, I'm only eighty percent deaf, I can hear just fine with the hearing aids." He muttered to himself. He grabbed his suitcase and walked down the hall to the runway.

"What took you so long?"

"I had some stuff to do, Olsen, you yelling at me didn't help it go any faster."

"Sorry." John Olsen shrugged. "You were taking a long time, Fury wants you out of here as soon as posible, I was just doing my job."

"I know, I know. Just try to do it less loudly next time, k?"

"Whatever you say, Barton"

Clint threw his suitcase in the jet and climbed in, placing his bow on the floor next to him. Olsen gave him a thumbs up.

"Bye Barton! Good luck on your mission!"

"Shouting." He reminded him. Clint pulled the door shut and made sure it was securely closed. He pushed the yoke up. A few minutes later, he was in the sky. When he landed in a low populated area eight hours later Clint ran his fingers through his hair. "I probably should have studied some Russian on the way here... Oh well," He said to himself."Too late now."

He grabbed his suitcase, bow, and quiver full of arrows and set off in the direction of the road. "Guess I'll have to flag down a taxi." He mumbled. When he had walked the three miles to the road -which was a little dirt-and-gravel one-laned thing- he saw nothing. There were no cars at all. "Great." After standing around waiting for something, anything, for about forty-five minutes he decided to just start walking. "I sincerely hope that Moscow is this way." He said as he started walking towards the setting sun.

"I think it's west." He yawned. "Hopefully."

A couple of hours of walking later Clint felt like his feet were going to fall off. And he was practically sleep walking. 'Just a little bit longer.' He promised himself. 'Then you can flop down by the side of the road and hope HYDRA doesn't find you... aw, who am I kidding? I'm the only living thing on this road for mi-' A green pickup pulled up next to him. "-les..." He said out loud.

"Zdrastvweetye!" Said the driver, a man in his forties and wearing a plaid blue shirt. Clint only knew a few words in Russian, but hello was one of them he recognized.

"Umm... Hi... Do you know English?" Clint asked. 'Man I should have learned some Russian.'

"A leetle, yes." The man said with a heavy accent.

"Oh, great! Hey, umm, I need a lift to Moscow. Think you could...?"

"You weesh to go to Moscow?"

"Yes."

"Alright, hop een thee car." The man said, rolling his R's ever so much. Clint got in the passenger side.

"Thanks, I appreciate the ride." Clint yawned. "Hey, mind if I take a nap on the way there? It's been a long day."

"Yes, yes, by all means! Go right ahead!"

"Thanks again, uh... what was your name again?"

"Viktor Balashov." The driver said. "What ees yours?"

"Andrew Peters." Clint had thought up this name awhile ago. Viktor seemed innocent enough but loose lips... whatever that saying is, he's figure it out later when he wasn't so tired. He leaned against his seat and closed his eyes.

He awoke a couple hours later to Viktor shaking him.

"Hello? Awndrew Peeters? Sorry to wake you, but we are een Moscow now."

"Huh? Oh, thanks Viktor."

"Do you have hotel?"

"No... Just drop me off here, I guess."

"No, no, no! I will take you to hotel!"

"You've already done so much, I really can't-"

"I insist! What kind do you like?"

"Uh, the nearest, cheapest thing that doesn't have bed bugs, please."

Viktor laughed. "I know just thee place." After three left turns and one turn right and two minutes going straight he pulled up to a grey building that had at least twenty stories. 'This is just the place."

Clint didn't see a sign saying what the name of this place was-not that he'd have been able to read it anyways, everything's in Russian- but maybe he'd just missed it. "Thanks Viktor." Clint pulled out some money out and hoped it was around twenty US dollars. "Here, I don't quite know how much this is, but thanks for the ride."

"Thank you very much, Mr. Peeters." Viktor said. "And you are welcome."

Clint grabbed his stuff and stepped out of the green pickup then turned to wave. "Bye! And thanks agai-" All of a sudden he was hit in the back of the head. He knocked an arrow to his bow and spun around to see what hit him. He saw a flash of red and felt a small pain on his neck. His arm flew to his neck and pulled out a dart. He looked up and saw a foot flying towards him. The black boot hit him smack in the chest, the last thing he remembered before blacking out was hitting the ground.

Hope you like this chapter! I hope to get the next one up soon. Please leave a review on what you thought!