AN: AU Warning for profanity and scenes of graphic violence as well as implied torture. Read with caution.
Inspiration: Search and Destroy - 30 Seconds to Mars
They were safe behind cover, surrounding the Black Wolves headquarters which hid one of the most wanted men when there was a lull in gunfire. Suddenly two terrified children no more than five years old darted from a nearby building, panicking and sobbing. Phil recognized them as hostages the same moment he saw the enemy train his sights on them. He realized with sickening horror that the terrorists had sent them out as bait for the US military. If they didn't take it, the children would be killed. Against his training, the man made a decision he knew would change the two children's fate as well as his own...
"I'm sorry that... I can't watch your six anymore," gasped Phil before he broke into a series of bloody coughs that wracked his entire body. Cough subsiding, his pale face was covered with a sheen of sweat as he dropped his head wearily back onto the ground, watching Clint. The two children were rushed to safety, but Phil had not fared the same fate.
"Shut up and save your strength. You'll be fine." Frantic hands tore into the dying soldier's pack of gauze and pressed it around the spurting knife wound. It was soaked in seconds.
"Clint... stop." The younger man jerked his head up at the undercurrent of resignation in Phil's voice.
"No. Just hang on... stay awake for me." An unmistakable waver found its way into his voice as denial was overtaken by the knowledge that he couldn't save him. He would watch his comrade, his best friend die in his arms... and there was nothing he could do.
The eye that wasn't blinded with blood stared steadily at him. Managing a weak smile, Phil breathed out, barely audible above the sound of gunfire and explosions, "Don't let my death tear you apart."
His face contorted in one last grimace of pain, then smoothed as if in sleep, his eyes slipping closed for the last time.
After that, everything was a blur. Clint vaguely remembers saying into the comm numbly,"Sergeant First Class Coulson is down." The response, "Stand by and await further orders," was met with a quick round of gunfire and Clint's shout, "There's interference. Repeat your order." He then pulled out the entire comm system and crushed it into the dirt. He remembers his shaking hands pull the black serrated knife out of Phil's unmoving chest, then turning his gaze towards the man that had killed Phil.
He doesn't know how he got into the middle of the fortified house with a horde of dead terrorists surrounding him, several grenade pins looped around his fingers. He doesn't know how he'd reached the leader, only that in place of the fallen man's knees was a bloody mess. Clint's ruthless glare was met with fear and agony as the man strained to pull himself away, begging, "Stop! Please stop! I'll tell you everything! Just don't kill me."
Clint's expression remained unwavering as the man spat out the critical information they'd been seeking. But nothing was worth Phil's life. He didn't care enough to listen but he had sufficient judgment left to record it. It was what Phil would have wanted. Clint's mind still turbulent with unnamed emotions, he leveled his gun at the man when he fell quiet.
"Wait, wait! What about our deal?"
"I never agreed to such a thing."
"I have a daughter!"
"Don't fuck around with me. This is for the two children you sent to die."
Two shots later and the trigger finger and thumb of each man's hands were replaced with gushing stumps.
The man shrieked, voice cracking in pain, "Mercy! Give me mercy!"
"You didn't show him any. For that, see you in hell."
When backup came, they would find the dead man sporting a number of bullet holes and slashes, a black knife embedded deep in his eye socket. The only living being was a soldier cleaning his gun calmly and methodically, as if he wasn't covered in the blood and guts of his enemy.
Three days later, when Staff Sergeant Barton was questioned about his actions, he said,"Sergeant First Class Coulson exchanged his life for those two children. By all definition he's their hero. But as for me, I'm no hero. I am guilty as charged. That man took from you all a soldier on his way to general. He took from me a close friend. So I took from him his knowledge, his faith, and his dignity. It is a small price to pay, as I have no mercy left."
Later, Clint would whisper into the darkness of a moonless night, tears falling unseen with his fist clenched tight over a set of dog tags,"The only regret I have is that I can not honor your dying wish."