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-A-
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Natasha stormed through the halls of the newly restored helicarrier. Other agents moved out of her way without her needing to ask or push her way through.
"You can't go in there," shouted Maria Hill.
"Watch me!" growled Natasha as she kicked open Director Fury's office door. "Get out," she ordered the agent who had been standing in front of Fury's desk. She didn't recognise her and she didn't care.
"Agent Romanoff, what in God's name-"
"Barton. Where have you sent him this time?" Natasha asked as she slammed her hands down on the director's desk leaning forward to look him in the eye.
"Agent Hand if you would excuse us," said Fury calmly.
"Yes sir," nodded Hand before walking out the door and closing it behind her.
"Have a seat Romanoff."
"I don't want a seat. I want to know where Barton is," growled Natasha as she stood up straight and folded her arms across her body.
"I don't know," sighed Fury.
"What?"
"I don't know exactly where he is."
"I heard that part. I'm having difficulty comprehending."
"Barton's taken every mission involving a kill order this last year," explained Fury.
"Again, I know that part. What I don't know is why. Why is the man who had his brain scrambled by a god of all things not under close observation?"
"Barton's brains aren't scrambled, he-"
"Selvig is dancing naked on national television," yelled Natasha. "His head was messed up by the same guy that played with Barton."
"Selvig wasn't as crazy as everyone thought, he did help out in London," pointed out Fury.
"He walks around with no pants on!"
Fury shrugged, "Each to their own."
Natasha sighed before slumping down in the chair in front of Fury's desk. "Barton is the best marksman in the world," she said quietly.
"I know that."
"His IQ rivals that of Stark."
"I'm one of the few who know that too," smirked Fury. "He did take down this goddamn ship practically single handedly."
"And you think that letting him run wild shooting people is a good idea?" asked Natasha as she ran her hand through her hair. She was worried; she'd admit that to herself if nobody else. Barton was her friend; no he was more than that. He was family. "He should be here, or at The Hub or somewhere we can keep an eye on him." Somewhere she could keep an eye on him.
"We tried that. He made six psychologists cry, drove two medical doctors into early retirement and forced seven techs to resign, without notice. He scared off half of this intake's new recruits in their first week of being here. The only way we would be able to keep him here would be to tie him down.
"We tried that too, he ended up breaking his own arm so that he could escape."
"He told me that happened in a training exercise," said Natasha quietly. That was the last time she'd seen Barton. In the following months she'd only spoken to him a couple of times. Then last week he was meant to meet her in Wyoming. He never showed up. Granted it wasn't for a mission, but they'd agreed months ago to meet just like they did every year. After the shit had hit the fan in Budapest all those years ago, they made themselves take some annual R&R. It was his idea, always had been. But this time he never showed.
Fury sighed, "Barton is doing what he does best. While he's working, he's functioning like a normal SHIELD agent. He focuses on the job, he gets it done and he doesn't terrorize any of the staff while he does it. What more do you want?"
"He goes out without a handler," sighed Natasha trying to take a different track. Maybe if he had someone watching his back he'd be better. He'd get better.
"No one will work with him. Besides it's not unusual for agents to complete missions without handlers present. You've gone out without a handler, more than once."
"Those were straight forward missions. Intel gathering."
"For Barton these are straight forward missions. He goes in, takes out the target and gets out."
"So you've reduced him to being an assassin again. How is this different to what Loki did to him?" Natasha could feel her temper rising again. Only Barton could make her lose her calm. Only Barton reduced her to... to... to being this much of a girl!
"Because he's the one picking the targets. Barton gets to choose who he goes after and when," explained Fury.
"How does he choose?"
"He started by just going down the kill-on-sight list. Started at the top and worked his way down. He went from Chicago to Barcelona then to Toronto then to LA before going back to Europe."
"Doesn't seem very efficient?"
"It wasn't," huffed Fury. "You realise how many flight miles and how much fuel he used up? Because he decided to fly himself to every job. Wouldn't trust anyone else to fly him, so refused to use any already scheduled flight. At one point we had two jets going from Moscow to Beijing. At the same time. Admittedly Barton took off ten minutes later and landed twenty minutes earlier, but the point still stands."
"I'm assuming he's not still doing that?"
"No, we came to an understanding."
Natasha arched an eyebrow in question. She could only imagine how that conversation went.
"Barton still has a choice of targets, either myself or Hill leaves a selection of half a dozen targets in his mailbox. He can go after any of them at anytime he likes on the condition that he checks current flights and he uses the existing flight plans where he can."
"How did he take that?"
Fury laughed, "He made sure his targets were where he could still fly himself or he drove. Like last month he drove from the upstate New York base cross country to Portland."
Natasha couldn't help the small smile. Trust Barton to find a loophole in everything.
"Natasha, Barton is functioning the only way he knows how. He's working and he's not messing up. In fact he's only broken eight protocols since he went on this drive of his, which for him is pretty damn good."
"Where was his last target based?" Natasha asked. She still wanted to find Barton. Still wanted to kick his ass for ruining her vacation.
"San Francisco," answered Fury.
"When did he take it?"
"Eight days ago, he was due to check in five days ago."
"So the reason the carrier is flying across the west coast is purely coincidental?"
"Naturally," shrugged Fury.
There was a knock on the door a second before it opened and Maria Hill stepped in.
"Sir, Barton just checked in."
"Where is he?" asked Natasha standing up.
"Flight deck, he just landed his Quinjet."
"His Quinjet? I was under the impression that they all belonged to me," scoffed Fury.
"Yes sir, but Barton won't let anyone near that jet. Not even the engineers, in fact he broke the hand of the last one who got too close."
Fury groaned in protest. "When was this? And why?"
"Three months ago and according to the engineer he noticed fluid pooling under the left wing. He went to check it out. Barton broke his hand and told him that he could fix it himself."
"The reason I didn't know about this?"
"It was at the same time as Stark was having his issues with Killian. He's still mad at you by the way."
"Stark? When is he not?" Fury sighed. "Romanoff go catch Barton before he leaves again, ask him what he was doing for the last five days. If he gives you a straight answer do let me know. If it's more bullshit, email it to Hill."
Natasha left the office without another word. She had a Hawk to find.
"Sir, how long are you going to let Barton continue like this?" asked Hill handing him a report. She was getting tired of cleaning up after the archer.
"Hill, there will come a time when the Avengers and the world will need Hawkeye again. Until that day comes I'll let Barton do whatever he damn pleases."
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AN: Thanks for reading. Thoughts and opinions most welcome...