Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel comics or characters or movies, and am making no money off of this fic.
AN: Written for the October 18th Whumptober prompt: hostage.
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Never Enough by luvsanime02
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Clint Barton lets the two guys tie his hands behind his back, even though he can get out of the ropes in a few seconds, and then goes along willingly as they march him between them and into the occupied building, refusing to look behind him at Kate's desperate face. He hates to put this all on her, but there isn't much of a choice.
The terrorists insisted that one of them take the place of the hostage who's bleeding out on the floor if they wanted to save the man's life, so Clint raised his hands before Kate could even think of doing something that unwise. He's told her a million times to do as Clint says, not as he acts. She never listens, though.
Clint has a hard time deciding if he's annoyed by that, or just proud, to be honest.
Now isn't the time to feel anything but relief that he's the one inside instead of her, though, and that at least one hostage might be saved tonight. Clint can't guarantee the safety of the rest, but he's going to try his best. Clint's well aware that his best is not always good enough. Rarely ever enough to matter at all, really.
He probably shouldn't focus on thoughts like that right now, though. Not when he's busy memorizing the layout of the building from the inside, the exits and where all of the terrorists are standing, and where the hostages are huddled together at gunpoint.
Of course, none of that ends up mattering right then because the terrorists shove Clint past everyone and down a hallway, and then into a room. Clint isn't really surprised when he's smacked in the back of the head hard enough to make him stumble to his knees and then fall to the floor while his vision goes grey and spotty at the edges.
Minutes later, or maybe longer, Clint is aware enough again that he lifts his head, ignoring the pain. His vision's a little fuzzy, but hey, Clint's dealt with worse. He's not too worried. Not about himself. He's worried that Kate is going to do something reckless, instead of waiting for backup. He's worried that another hostage will be shot, and that they'll make Kate trade herself for them, too.
Clint tries to listen, but his hearing aid was ripped out of his ear (which was just plain rude) before he was locked inside of the room. Clint can't really hear much of anything right now, and only doesn't let it bother him from sheer force of habit. Clint doesn't need his hearing.
He gets free of the ropes as easily as he knew that he could, looks around and laments the lack of a convenient ceiling grate or something, and instead carefully picks the lock on the door. There's a guard outside, of course, but Clint knocks him out and takes his weapon, and he's actually feeling pretty good about this whole situation.
Until he peeks around the corner at the end of the hallway and sees bodies sprawled everywhere and red spreading out all over the floor, and Kate is on her knees, crying but still glaring up fearlessly at the terrorist who is getting ready to shoot her too, and then Clint just feels nothing but sick and useless as he opens fire and tries to save at least Kate's life tonight.
His best is never good enough.