Oh man, I can't stop. The Clint/Bobbi bug has bitten me and now I'm screwed. I just have to write more.
Unlike the previous fic I wrote, this isn't a one shot but an ongoing story. It's based off the idea of Bobbi Morse, aka Mockingbird getting her own show. She originally supposed to be a recruit to S.H.I.E.L.D. that was either still in training or had just graduated and was suddenly thrust into the world of spies with all the big hitters. Sadly, it never went anywhere, probably in case from the fact of the plot of Captain America 2. It was enough of a shift for characters experienced with S.H.I.E.L.D. suddenly learning their organization was compromised without getting into the idea of a young woman who just started. Well, actually the idea sounds awesome but Marvel probably wasn't willing to risk it. It had the potential to fail miserably, and instead she was put into the original show along with Hunter.
Still, I liked the idea of a younger spy, not as experienced suddenly having to deal with the fact she just joined a spy network that went belly-up within months of fully earning the right to be a part of it. Everyone can expect Black Widow and Captain America to be cool with their shit but it's another matter entirely for someone who isn't nearly as good yet.
Of course because I love the idea of Clint and Bobbi together, this will be focused on them, along with the fact he was not in the Captain America 2 movie like he was originally planned to be, warning Cap of the danger. Since in this story I have her younger than him and a recruit, their dynamic is seriously changed instead of the equals they usually are. In this story he's overlooking her training before all the shit goes down during Winter Soldier.
It is also heavily based on the first comic mini-series he had with Mockingbird. Basically it's just a mash-up of a ton of ideas I've enjoyed or never seen. With any luck it will come out half as good as some of these canon stories have.
Marvel is not mine. If it was I'd probably go the Dragon Age route and make it all just sex and violence without people breaking up all the damn time because apparently people at Marvel hate the idea of marriage and people making families. Well, not all of them but enough that healthy relationships are in the minority in that world. Uh... I guess the point here is I don't own it and please don't sue me.
Chapter 1: Low Stress Job
It had been far too long since Clint and Natasha had gotten together to just sit down and relax. Things had been busy, more so than was usual for the two of them. It had not helped that they hadn't been partnered for a little while, instead working several separate jobs where more than one specialized agent wasn't really required. The Avengers project had required Director Fury to send out his best agents in vastly different directions to see who would be best for the project. Often their jobs had led them on recruitment or guarding. Partners or not, they'd been led in different directions and had not caught each other often.
So when the whole fiasco of New York and Loki had been dealt with almost a month ago now, they'd decided a break was certainly the best thing for the both of them. It's not like there wasn't still work to do. In fact, the both of them were no doubt going to get very busy again very soon. There had been no hiding everything that had happened in the city and how it could affect the whole world, so now the game was figuring out how it would direct the shape of the world instead of trying to protect it from all these secrets. Thing had already picked up everywhere and the stories had gotten insane. As fantastic as it had all been, the stories were all even wilder. They were all getting very busy again, so it was wise to take a breather while they could.
They were sitting in a little coffee shop that had been a far ways away from the damage of the city. Clean up would take a long time, but they'd contained it as best as they could. A few damaged buildings, some streets torn up, but all in all things could have been a whole lot worse. Still, it was much nicer to be away from it, to be in a part of New York that didn't have debris and dust all over it. He'd been doing his best to avoid reminders of everything that happened back then, for obvious reasons.
"So, I'll be heading to D.C. soon," the redhead said conversationally as she spooned jam into her tea, Clint sipping at his bottle of water. He'd ordered a small sandwich as well, but it was untouched. He really didn't have much of an appetite lately, though Natasha had commented several times how gaunt he looked lately and really should be eating more.
"Oh?" he asked her. "Does the Director want more people on the team then?"
"Not exactly," she informed him. "He's worried about Rodgers. The man has a lot to catch up on, and things are pretty different than when he went in the ice. I think Fury wants someone to look after him."
"You don't strike me as the type to babysit, 'Tash," he noted. "Cap is a big boy. He can handle himself."
"Doubtless in a fight, yes. No, I think he's just going to have a bit of a culture shock, that's all. It might affect his performance, since he is going to be working with S.H.I.E.L.D. now. We don't exactly do things he would approve of after all. I guess I'm supposed to round out his moral code."
"We do things by the book though... mostly," Clint stated.
"Yeah, but I think that book has been rewritten a couple times now since he took his nap," she stated, a small smile on his face. "It'll be interesting though, having a stationed spot, not moving around from place to place. Something more than a temporary safe house to call home that won't get abandoned in a couple weeks."
"You're going to play at settling down then?" he asked with a smirk. "You of all people?"
"It'll be a change. Who knows, pretending to be normal might even be a bit of fun," she answered him.
"You don't have to pretend though," he said softly. "You're allowed to be more than this, you know. The Director doesn't expect you to-"
"I know. I know," she said before she shook her head. "It's not that I don't think about it, but let's face it Clint. It's not exactly what I'd be used to. People are comfortable with what they know, what they're raised doing. Haven't you ever thought about going back to the circus on occasion?"
He paused at that. He'd grown up under canvas roofs, the smell of greasepaint and cotton candy always lingering in the air. He'd been a part of that since childhood and he certainly hadn't walked away from it without some second thoughts, that was for sure. It was hardly his partner's upbringing, but he could understand where she was coming from.
"Good point," he admitted before he picked up his sandwich and bit down on it. The ingredients were fresh and tasty, but it still didn't go down easily. These days everything seemed like too much effort. Clint didn't want to admit it, but the effect of the scepter on him had not all gone away with just a large bump on the head like his partner had thought. He didn't have the compulsions anymore, the desire to follow a crazed god to whatever ends he had no matter what the cost, but it didn't mean he was entirely free either.
"You okay?" she asked him when he tossed the food down and sighed. "Clint, if you need to talk, you know I'm here for you."
"Sorry," he apologized. "It's just hard for things to be normal again, that's all."
"Was asking you out too much?"
"No. No, it's good someone is trying to remind me how to be human again," he assured her. "It's just... difficult at times, you know?"
"Not really. You haven't talked about it much. I mean, I have a feeling we have similar cases, but my mind wasn't taken over by an alien artifact. There's bound to be a few differences."
"Heh. Blunt as always, 'Tash. Thanks."
"Want to talk about it?" she invited. "I've heard you've been doing your best to avoid any suggestion on therapy. Why?"
"Because the second I allow that, they'll take me off the field, and I don't want that," he informed her. "I need to be distracted from all that crap, not sit on a couch and tell some stranger just how it was like for a god to pull my brain apart."
He sighed softly and looked down at the table, trying to think about how to put it to words. To her credit, she waited for him patiently. It was one of the things he loved about her so much. Natasha knew the horrors of the world, just how bad it could get for people like them. It hadn't made her bitter though, instead gave her great insight to other people and just what they needed to hear. She knew when to offer help and when to back away and give them space to figure things out for themselves.
"There are still dreams," he started softly. "Everything washed in a pale blue that makes it all disappear, and all that I can see is the target ahead of me. The next shot matters and nothing else is even there. I don't like to admit it, but I've never felt such focus like that before. Trick Shot had always told me the target and the shot are all that matter. Pay no attention to the crowds, to the screams and cheers or the distractions. With the scepter though, it wasn't just a lesson. It was real. All that mattered was the string pulled taunt in my fingers, the arrow notched and ready to fly. It's impossible just to see the target and nothing else in real life. Distractions can be ignored, can be blocked out but they're still there. Under the influence of the scepter though... it wasn't the case. Nothing was there, nothing but that moment the shot needed to be taken. I literally couldn't see anything else."
It had been terrifying just how right it had felt, and even thought the spell had lasted a short time on him, the effects lingered. He was still getting used to the idea that other things needed to be taken care of. He still needed to sleep. He still needed to eat. He knew those things on a conscious level but actually remembering them sometimes was a lot harder. If S.H.I.E.L.D. knew that about him, he'd be stuck behind a desk for the rest of his career, if even that.
"Being that focused on your work can be scary, Clint," she agreed. "I don't think anyone would judge you for it. It wasn't your choice."
"No, it wasn't. It's still something I have to deal with though. It could be worse. I heard Selvig has a tendency to strip down whenever he's working now."
Natasha didn't laugh, but there was a slight smirk to her face she couldn't quite banish from her expression. Apparently she'd heard the same rumors.
"He's become a lead in several fields now, some he never even approached before," she said. "I talked to him recently. He keeps saying that the scepter showed him truth. You think that's what happened to you? Did it show you truth?"
"That's... an interesting way to look at it," he said. "I'd like to think that's not the case though. People are way too complex to let themselves be taken over by just one aspect of their life. I mean, damn it Natasha. I'm more than this. I'm more than just the bow and arrow. I'm still me, yet I keep coming back to it. I keep coming back to those thoughts, the nightmares that I'm just meant to take down things around me and nothing else. It's... I just hate it."
"Sounds like you need a break," she sighed as she poured herself more jam into her tea, stirring the sugary concoction into a dark red liquid.
"No, that's the last thing I need. As much as being on the field feels a little too right at the moment, it would drive me crazy to go and do something else," he said dismissively.
"I'm not suggesting a vacation," she informed him. "You need something less stressful than what you're doing right now though. Look, Loki took you apart and tried to build you into something he needed, but it was something close to what you were already. You can't abandon it, but I think a step back would do you good. Find yourself again, get that balance you've lost. You need to see who Clint Barton is again before putting your life on the line. Take an easier job for a bit, then when you're okay, go back to being Hawkeye."
"You think it would be that easy?" he asked, snorting a little in disbelief.
"No. Nothing worth anything is ever easy," she answered honestly. "I think you're going to have to go through a lot of work before this is all okay again. You can't blame yourself, Clint. It doesn't mean it didn't still happen. I won't patronize you. I know you're angry about what happened and you need to work through that. If you try to do that while you're on some high profile job though, you're going to get yourself killed. If you still need the work to focus on then that's fine but don't do it in such a way that will get your buried six feet under."
"You're so sweet," he snickered. "I don't think Fury is going to let me start taking small clearance level one jobs or anything like that. He's scrambling just to get all of this taken care of. He needs people he can trust right now more than anything."
"True, but I think he'd make an exception for you," he stated. "Besides, there are other things you could do besides just take low profile jobs."
"Like what?" he asked in curiosity. His skill set was very specific after all. Not like he could start taking up hacking or anything like that.
"Well, graduation ceremony from one of the academies is coming close," she suggested. "Have you considered taking on a recruit for assessment?"
He was surprised by the suggestion. Assessments weren't usually something agents with a clearance seven took on, leaving it to the four or fives. Every time after a graduation, the recruits were split up and taken in by an agent that already had experience. It was a year of further training, now with real assignments and missions. It was the last test while partnered with a senior member of S.H.I.E.L.D. to see if this line of work was what they really wanted.
He'd done it only once before when he'd taken on a young woman named Katie Bishop, a true marksman that had wanted to do something more in the world than just live off of her daddy's credit cards for the rest of her life. She'd been a total brat and often had argued with him about how to handle jobs, but she'd been good enough he'd passed her at the end of the year. He couldn't help it. She'd been almost perfect with a bow and her snark almost matched his own. That had all been years ago, and from what he heard she was off in Madripoor right now using her father's resources in undercover work. Seemed she hadn't tried to escape as much as she'd claimed she'd wanted to.
"I'm not sure I'm in the right state of mind to be taking someone on at the moment," he admitted. "I couldn't be a very good teacher right now."
"I'd think about it if I were you. After all, it's not like you need anything too diffucult right now. Pick someone competent to handle the work and step in when you need to. It's called a hands off approach. It's not like it's an uncommon way to train either," she reasoned.
He had to admit she had a good point. He was used to working with Natasha or solo. He hadn't had a job with someone else in a long time. If he had someone he could watch over, it would give him something else to worry about other than himself. If he could actually pull it off or not was another matter entirely. Right now if he screwed up, he had his own life on the line and no one else. If he suddenly had someone else he could potentially screw up, it could be a lot more dangerous. It wasn't just low level missions. He'd be teaching someone how to function in S.H.I.E.L.D., what to expect in the industry, how to function in it even with all the difficult things that were expected of their agents.
Right now he wasn't sure he was the best example of the what could happen to someone while out on the field. It had been a nightmare lately.
"I guess I can think about it," he murmured softly. "It's not like it could hurt bringing it to Fury's attention."
"At the very least," she said, giving him a small smile. "Anyway, I think I'll be heading out. I'll need to pack a few things for when I go to watch over Rodgers."
"Need some help with that?" he offered but she only shook her head in response.
"No, I got it. It's not like I travel heavy anyway," she stated. "I can walk you back to your hotel suite though, if you want me to."
It was a kind offer but he didn't need it. If anything he could probably use some time alone. Natasha had given him a few things to think about. He gave her a little wave after she patted him on the back and went back to eating his sandwich. Graduation was still a few weeks away, and Fury mostly had recon jobs right now that didn't usually take long, so it's not like he'd be too busy to think it over when the time came to make a decision. If nothing else it was worth at least considering.
#-#
In the end Clint decided to go for it. Without Natasha around he'd have no real company and someone to interact with might help take his mind off of things. He wanted the dreams to stop, wanted to think about things besides just work without cutting himself off from it completely. Things besides the next target had to matter again or he was sure he was going to go insane.
A couple days before the graduation was supposed to take place, he ended up going to the academy to look over his options. He didn't bother going to the training grounds or classrooms. It would take too long to get a feel from them by looking them over face to face. Instead he went to see their files. It was more impersonal than what he was used to but he'd cut the timing rather close. They could all already be assigned by now for all he knew.
He stood at a door down near the basements, and knocked. The building was old and while it had been remodeled in some places, this wasn't one of them. Unlike the fancy sliding doors upstairs, this one was simple wood and glass with a name on it under black lettering. Record Dept. : John Smith.
"Come in," a voice called from inside and Clint walked inside the office. Smith was was an older man, had to be in his forties or more if the graying hair was any indication. He was a plain sort of guy, and as old fashioned as the part of the building he worked in. The type that always had ink on his fingers and would have preferred working on a typewriter than the fancy Stark Computer on his desk. Clint had met him a couple times but didn't know much about him, only where he worked, that he preferred to be boring compared to his hotshot or too stern companions, and he'd been born to do paperwork because it was the safest job S.H.I.E.L.D. had. There was also a gold ring on his finger, but as it had always been on his right hand Clint had felt it was best never to mention it. He smiled at the agent when he saw him come in and stood up, extending a hand to shake his. "Hawkeye. It's been a while. A few years in fact. How are you doing?"
"I've been better," he stated honestly. Smith had a face that was just impossible to lie to, like a friendly uncle that always brought you sweets when your parents weren't looking. "I've been thinking about taking on a graduate actually. I know they're almost all done with their training."
"That's not something you normally do," he noted. "Did someone specific catch your eye?"
"No. Nothing like that. I just need a step back from the normal work, that's all," he replied.
A look of perceptiveness came over the older man's face and he nodded as if in perfect understanding. Clint wasn't sure if he actually did or he was just being polite though there was no reason to actually get into it.
"Well, we do have some promising students this year," he said as he began to type on the computer. "Some decent sharp-shooters that-"
"Actually, I don't want anyone like that. No snipers, no gunslingers. I just... I don't want anyone who specialized to hit targets on a range," he stated quickly. He needed to stop thinking about such things. Training someone else on things like that wouldn't make it better. If anything, he wanted someone more like Natasha. "Have anyone who excels in hand-to-hand fighting? A little sneaky. Maybe with a background in ballet?"
Smith arched an eyebrow at him and he wondered if that last one was a little too on the nose.
"Widow is on mission elsewhere," he quickly excused. "I don't really-"
"It's fine. It's fine. Let me look," Smith said as he went back to his computer. "Well, no ballet. Sorry, Baryshnikov. However we do have a few promising students under other qualifications."
He stood up and went to the files behind him, several stacked up on top of each other as he rummaged through them. The students' files before they'd become agents, all of them relatively thin, before they'd be moved to another room to be logged and probably never touched again except when updated occasionally.
"Let's see here. Brandt... Doyle... Gamble... Morse," he murmured as he pulled the files out one by one. Clint looked them over slowly. Some on the list were actually impressive, an intelligence analyst with a surprising area of skills, a former US Army sergeant who'd been stationed in Britain for a few years, some young kid formerly a member of S.W.A.T. and... a former Georgia Tech college student?
"The hell is this?" he asked as he picked up the last file. It was the only one of the four that was a female, the picture of a young blond woman paper clipped to the inside of the folder.
"Is there a problem?" Smith asked in curiosity.
"This one. Morse. There's barely anything on her," he said as he flipped through her file. Top marks in martial arts and subterfuge but it was the only impressive thing about it. No former experience in any sort of military or government training, a former student of college that she hadn't even graduated from, and from the looks of it had come from a very small family in the lower middle class. She'd gotten into school on a gymnastic scholarship of all things. At first he wasn't sure why she'd even qualified to get into the academy until he saw the last page. "She was involved in recreating the Super Soldier Serum?"
"Her professor was. Wilma Calvin was recruited for the program to recreate the serum and Morse was one of her students she brought with her as an assistant. Their success was... well, always rocky. You've heard about the Abomination issue, right? Always a bad idea. Anyway, when the work was concluded, apparently Morse wanted to stay on so she enrolled. We thought at first she wanted to work in a lab so she was accepted but it turned out she was into the idea of field work."
"Why?"
Smith only shrugged before he went to the computer to look up further notes that hadn't yet been added to the file itself.
"No family connected to the military. No previous contact with S.H.I.E.L.D. I can only assume she wanted some adventure in her life. It's not like she's the first to do it for those reasons. She's pretty much a clean slate from what I can see. A few minor instances of discipline. Apparently she's a bit sarcastic. Got her the nickname Mockingbird. Knowing the higher ups, that'll probably be her codename too. They never put any thought into these things anymore. We're running out of intimidating sounding names."
"Smith," Clint said, to cut off the rambling.
"Ah, right. Well, that's pretty much everything on her. Not much, I know."
He looked down at the file again. Full Name: Barbra Morse Age: 23 Identified Weapon: Batons. There was a lot more information after that, her IQ and her ratings with firearms and just what she'd been studying while in school but Clint had already made his decision.
"Has anyone taken her already?" he asked.
"Not that I can see," the older man answered. "Far as I can tell she's all yours. I suppose I should have figured she'd be the one you picked though."
"What do you mean?" Clint asked in confusion.
"Well with the Romanoff, not to mention Bishop, and now Morse," he stated. "You've picked up a pattern from what I can see."
Clint felt himself go a little hot under the collar. Oh great. The last thing he needed was rumors popping up again about how he got involved with his partners.
"It's not like that," he said firmly. "She just looks like the type that would want to learn what I have to teach her."
"Of course," Smith said. His expression remained completely neutral but if he were the type to smirk, Clint was sure he'd have a shit eating grin on his face that even Stark would be jealous of.
"I'm going to borrow this if it's alright," he said as he tucked the file back under his arm. "I'd like to look it over a bit more."
"Of course. Shall I let her know she's been assigned to you?"
"No. I'll come pick her up myself after graduation. Just do me a favor and clear it with the command, okay?"
"Of course."
He left the office, already looking the file over again as he left the academy. It felt like a bit of a snap decision to have picked this woman, but he usually went with his gut and it was rare for it to be wrong. It was telling him this was the right one to go with so he was going to go with it.
He spent the next day doing his best to relax. A range or two to shoot at in the morning, lunch and dinner via take-pizza, and sitting at home with T.V. playing in the background while he went over her file again and again. He didn't learn anything new by it, though he called the college she'd been at to get more info about her. He didn't learn anything he didn't know already, just that she'd dropped out despite her almost perfect marks in biology and she'd been aiming for a PhD.
She'd certainly wanted something when she'd joined S.H.I.E.L.D. but he didn't know what it was. Just what was it that she'd wanted to get by suddenly dropping her life and running to a spy network that spanned the globe?
"It is going to be interesting to meet you, Birdy," he mused as he traced his finger over her picture while chewing on a slice of pizza while some cop show played in the background, the noise barely audible. For once since the whole Loki incident, the food didn't feel weird when it went down.
End of Chapter 1
First chapter so far. Not much too it yet but I hope what was there was enjoyable. Points to everyone who gets the joke on the other recruits who he passed over for Bobbi. I couldn't help it. I just love in jokes when it comes to the Marvel fandom.
Next chapter we'll meet Bobbi as she gets introduced. Until then, reviews are always welcomed and adored. Thanks.
