Barton And Banner Go To The Jungle
The door to Bruce's lab was fire-proof, bullet-proof and apparently Hulk proof, according to Tony. It was not, however, Natasha-proof.
Bruce tended not to notice things when he was working. He blocked everything else out. Looking up, his train of thought died in its tracks. He hadn't expected to find the redheaded spy suddenly standing only a few feet away and jumped a good foot in the air.
"Natasha, uh hi. Can, I…" he stuttered, taking off his glasses in an attempt to focus on her.
"Fury is asking you to go on a training mission in a week's time. You need to become a trained part of the team as well. Tony underwent similar training, now it's your turn." It wasn't really a request, not in that cold monotone.
Training.
Bruce had managed to get out of combat training on the grounds that he would never have to use it. Tony had begrudgingly done a bit a few months earlier and Natasha and Steve already spent their lives training anyway. The other guy didn't need training and probably wouldn't be a model student either. It felt wrong, deliberately letting him out when Bruce spent his every waking moment keeping him in.
"Not combat." He was now sure that Natasha could read his mind. "You need to learn to act as a scientific advisor to our agents. Most of it will be knowing how to get out of the way in a fight."
He knew that Natasha didn't see him as someone who needed protecting, more as a bomb that really shouldn't be hit or else it would explode. Her simple, almost brutal approach to him was so shockingly different to her partner's.
Thinking about Clint wasn't pleasant. The archer hadn't returned after leaving the Tower with no goodbye the day after their encounter in the elevator. Bruce wasn't sure if he was glad the man was gone or not. The vents were so much more obvious now that he was looking for Hawkeye to come out of one.
… …
Clint had returned to the helicarrier. He figured it was for the best. He wasn't sleeping well. He knew that Bruce didn't want him around and it would be easier on the doctor if they were apart, at least for a little while.
The world hadn't needed the Avenger's team since Alaska, which was nice. Clint's leg was still pretty screwed up and he knew he'd be worthless in a fight.
On the helicarrier Clint focused on training. He was given pills for the pain, but ignored them. He strengthened his leg around the pain. He deserved it for being weak anyway. Okay, now he sounded like Bruce. Except he wasn't Bruce, they were nothing alike. The doctor made that clear.
Pushing thoughts of the doctor away Clint stared down the target and let another arrow fly. Dead centre. At least some things didn't change.
As it turned out, moving back to the helicarrier might have been good for Bruce but not for Clint. His sleeping pattern had actually worsened. Clint napped to keep up appearances of being okay. It fooled everyone on board, except Fury, Hill and Natasha when she visited. It was good not to show weakness in front of the other agents, many of them held grudges for their friends' deaths - for Coulson. Clint had had several encounters with angry groups willing to take it out on him physically.
Clint let them get a few hits in, but showed them quickly that he wasn't going anywhere.
Another arrow flew across the room from Clint's bow, hitting the target with a satisfying thud.
Slow clapping directed Clint's attention towards his audience, Nick Fury.
"It's been a while since I was graced with applause." Clint smirked, mind drifting back to when he used to perform in front of crowds of happy, carefree people. How he always wanted to be one of them. A face in a crowd. That would never happen, but even assassins dreamed.
"I've got an assignment for you," the Director announced, ignoring Clint's comment. "Will you accept it?"
Normally, Clint would want to know the mission, but the man was going stir crazy. "I'll take any action I can get. What's the mission?"
"No mission, just an assignment," Nick said casually, causing Clint to frown.
"I'm on babysitting duty, aren't I?" Clint hated protection detail. It was boring.
"Something like that. I need you to help train a scientist for field work. Make sure he knows how to fight or at least get out of the way if things go south on a mission. He already knows decent survival skills. But just make sure he hasn't missed anything."
"Bruce." Clint guessed, his stomach dropping as his eyes narrowed. "Sir..."
"You already agreed, Barton," Nick reminded his agent with a smug smirk. "You leave in an hour. One of our pilots is going to drop you and Dr Banner in a deserted location. You will be there for a week without communication. Keep him alive and teach him some survival skills."
"So, you're sending Bruce and me camping to make sure we can still work together as a team?"
"Little more dangerous than camping. But if you want to reduce it to that so you understand." Fury rolled his eye and turned away. "I suggest you pack for warm weather."
Grumbling Clint collapsed his bow and gathered up his arrows before heading back to his room.
This sucked.
Here the Hawk went through all this trouble to make things easier on Bruce and the Director goes and screws everything up.
Returning his room, a plain box that looked more like a prison cell then a bedroom, Clint grabbed his smaller bag and tossed it on the bed, checking its contents.
His SHIELD issued room was plainer then the one he had at the tower. It held no personal effects, just his two bags of mission appropriate clothing.
Simplistic, just the way he needed.
Clint eyed the bed for a second. He was exhausted, but he could nap on the plane. He'd actually have to. Plus it would give Bruce time to come to terms with the assignment.
This was going to be one long week.
… …
Bruce was glad, in a way, that the plane had picked Clint up first. It meant he didn't have to make the choice of whether to talk or not. A stiff nod and a "hi" were all that were needed. He sat opposite of Clint. Not quite as far away as possible, but not exactly close either. He then busied himself with rereading the assignment brief.
Location: Unknown.
Duration: A week to ten days.
Climate: Hot.
He was amazed by the details it went in to. Really he knew that nothing else mattered. But scientists liked details.
It wasn't long until he sneaked a glance at Clint. It was like being stuck in the lift all over again, except this time he wasn't going to talk. It wasn't that he didn't want to mend bridges; he just couldn't find a way to undo everything he had done to Clint.
Bruce wished Fury had just left things alone. The director wanted to get the Avengers back together and that wasn't possible if there was such a rift between the two men. He knew how important it was to have the Avengers fully functional. However, the rift didn't need fixing in order for them to cooperate. The other guy was the only one they needed in a fight and he seemed to like Clint no matter what. The other guy didn't change his mind when he decided to like someone, so Clint was safe.
He turned to look out the window at the clouds. Conversation would be too awkward so he didn't try. He hadn't been overjoyed when Natasha had told him Clint was his training partner. Hopefully the archer's talent for staying on subject and focused would come into play.
Bruce hoped wherever they were going wasn't too far, the plane ride was uncomfortable enough and they had only been in the air an hour. He finally gave in and got out his book.
… …
Clint drifted to sleep not long after the second take off. He would need a bit of rest if he was going to survive this training exercise. Even then he wasn't sure if he'd survive. Clint had already decided to cut 'friendship' ties with the Doctor. Well, not that they'd been friends to begin with, according to Bruce during their first argument.
Sleeping ended the way it had been lately. Sweet darkness turned into dreams which ended in nightmares. Coulson's death this time. Except instead of Loki he was the one who stabbed his handler with the staff. Betrayed and dying Coulson looked up at Clint and asked why.
Eyes snapped open as the assassin stifled a gasp. A few hours had passed by, for that he was grateful, more than likely they'd be landing soon. Without a glance towards Bruce, who had probably noticed his abrupt break from sleep, Clint stood and made his way to the cockpit. Not for the first time he wished he were the one flying.
He nodded to the pilot who glared back. Apparently this SHIELD agent was one of his many anti fans.
"You shouldn't be up here, agent," the pilot growled, thankfully not loud enough for Bruce to overhear in the back. Clint's heart dropped a bit. Briefly he went over the names of those he killed while under Loki's control, wondering which caused the anger within the man.
"Just wanted an update." Clint didn't back down.
"Thirty minutes. Now get the fuck out," the pilot grumbled without looking at the archer.
Happily Clint left the cold atmosphere only to return to another chilly space.
Settling back down Clint picked up his brief and pretended to read it, peacefully ignoring Bruce. Once they landed Clint would offer instructions and they'd start this unbelievably long training session.
People sucked.
… …
Bruce watched as Clint asked for an ETA and was told to leave the cockpit. He was surprised at the apparent crack in SHIELD's seemingly impregnable wall of cool efficient agents. Apparently there were still some hard feelings towards Clint. Some part of him wanted to yell at the pilot for making the archer's life harder. Of course the rest (minus the other guy) of him kept him sitting still, ignoring the situation.
Thirty minutes passed the same way most of the journey had. Bruce felt his stomach lurch as the plane was brought down to a very bumpy stop. Clint was the better pilot he decided; his touchdown in Alaska had been perfectly gentle.
Picking up his bag he stood up, ready to endure the next week of slow torture. He tried to recall the reason he had agreed to it before realizing that one way or another Natasha always got what she had been told to get. Be it at gun point or not.
A blast of humid air hit him as the door opened.
"Jungle, hot, right," he muttered then remembered with a wince that he had said a very similar thing as he stepped of the plane in Alaska. This time Clint wasn't likely to chuckle.
… …
Silently, Clint slung his quiver across his back, grabbed his bag and his bow and headed out of the Quinjet and into the jungle. Bruce spoke for the second time since this new disaster started. If Clint's memory served him right they were up to a total of four words.
As soon as they were both clear, the Quinjet took off, ditching them in the wilderness.
Resisting a groan Clint slipped into his professional mask, the one he used when he needed to be civil.
"Okay, Doctor," Clint started, avoiding using Bruce's first name, since first names were for friends, not colleagues. "We have roughly three hours of light left." Clint glanced up at the sky to check the position of the sun. They were probably somewhere across the world from where they started. Quinjets were faster than a typical plane. He adjusted his watch to match up with the current time.
"We should probably find a good place to set up camp. We'll need a fortified area with a water source. Let's start walking."
… …
Without a word Bruce followed, glancing downwards at the plants growing along the path Clint was making. He recognized a few, some basic medicines and such just in case. It was unlikely, but their list of outings had a bloody streak running down the middle. Mostly with Clint's blood.
It was hot and humid but didn't smell like the Amazon. Bruce had spent enough time in South America to know when he wasn't there. His guess was Southeast Asia; Borneo, Malaysia or Indonesia. The difference between how Clint had learnt to survive and how he had was that Clint had been trained to look for certain things, water and shelter, whereas Bruce had usually stumbled blindly across lifesaving resources or wandered into a village by accident. Once he had found water, however, he tended to stick near it or follow it for as long as possible.
A stream wasn't far away, clear fresh water bounced over soft edged rocks down the hill they had just climbed. He didn't know how defensible the area was, that was Clint's department.
… …
Silently Clint looked around and noted a few things. The stream was out in the open, so it wasn't a defensible location. But the rocks were growing larger towards the north. If they headed that way he was fairly sure they'd come across a better location. With a wave Barton led the way.
His leg was stronger, yes, but the pain was still there. Clint didn't want to screw his new muscles up before he was officially cleared for actual missions, so he would make sure they took it easy during their stay in hell's jungle. Or maybe the jungle wasn't hell, Clint wasn't sure.
A good two mile walk down the river they stumbled upon the perfect place. The river curved in to a horseshoe shape right in front of a cliff with an overhanging edge, forming an open cave. It would protect their six. Plus it gave Clint something to climb up on later to get away from Bruce for a while.
"Here should be good," Clint announced, keeping it simple as he moved across the river and dropped his bag down.
Taking in a calming breath he turned back to the other Avenger. "I'll be straight with you, Doctor. I know you have a good deal of survival experience, so I'm not going to bore you with the basics. Honestly I don't see you necessarily needing to know this stuff in the near future either. However, I will complete my mission as Fury has assigned it to me."
Clint had been given a list of specific lessens to go over during the duration of their stay. It wasn't overly long, which left a lot of free time. A lot of silent torture, according to how quiet the doctor was being.
It was probably for the best, thinking back to the elevator incident. With a quiet sigh Clint looked back at Bruce.
"I'm going to gather some firewood and scout the area. If you could build a fire pit, that would be good." He adjusted his quiver on his back and gripped his bow before heading off into the jungle.
Clint wasn't worried about leaving the Doctor alone, if anything happened, Bruce would Hulk-out and smash whatever attacked him.
Honestly, this whole trip was a glorious waste of time.
But while they were out there Clint would do as told. Maybe he'd start on self-defense techniques when he got back. Hand to hand training would probably take the longest anyway. Bruce wasn't exactly the fighting type.
… …
Bruce watched as Clint limped off. He was beginning to see the whole trip as a waste of time and undoubtedly Fury was aware that he didn't need to learn how to start a fire. By the way Clint was behaving any hope the director had of full scale reconciliation was badly misplaced.
He set about building the small pit, readying it for when Clint came back. He had to admit, he hadn't built a proper cooking fire in a long time. He hadn't stayed in one place long enough to need more than a few hours' worth of warmth. Nonetheless it didn't take him long. That left him with some time to think before Clint came back. He really only had two options: spend the week in silence with nothing more than the mandatory comments and instructions. Or try to apologize. Judging by how well his efforts in the elevator had been received, the first option was the most feasible.
Bruce wondered what else was on Clint's list of required lessons. Maybe he would try and teach him how to skin a rabbit or pitch a tent. That being said; they didn't have a tent. Not that Bruce had ever actually slept in a tent, so he didn't know how to pitch one.
If things had been the same as before Alaska, he would have told Clint and joked about it like he had when flying the plane. He expected more of a lesson in diplomatic silence than a boy scout outing. Maybe, if he werelucky Clint would try to teach him some fight moves and the archer would land enough punches to make up for the pain Bruce had caused him. It would take more than just a few punches though.
Bruce began to poke around the cave, clearing bits of debris away so that there was slightly more room inside. He checked for any visible signs of insects, snakes or other unwanted bedfellows. He still hadn't quite worked out where they were so any spiders could be poisonous and most plants probably would be too. The cave was small, with barely enough room for them both to lie down in and not touch. It would have been cozy, under any other circumstances.
He looked up at the trees, searching for birds or any other source of food. He had, of course, been told not to bring any rations. That, he guessed, would be classified as cheating, with the exception of a few packets of dried fruit and mint cake.
… …
Clint took his sweet time gathering firewood and scouting the area. He didn't go far, just far enough to be safe. There was an abundance of small wildlife, but not much big game. No signs of predators, which was a bit odd. Or maybe it wasn't, this could be a SHIELD sanctified training ground, so the bigger animals avoided the area because of continuous human activity.
Returning to 'camp' armed with an armful of decent sized firewood Clint dropped his load and eyed what Bruce had done to the camp approvingly. Once again reminded on how pointless this whole 'vacation' was. Damn Fury and his one eye.
"You like fish, don't you doctor?" Clint asked casually, drawing two arrows from his bow and moving closer to the river. It was shallow in some places, but deeper in others. Decent sized fish swam between the rocks, dodging the light current. He slipped both arrows onto his bow string and drew back for tension. He aimed and fired, spearing two on the larger fish in sight.
Reaching into the cool water Clint pulled the fish free and moved over to 'camp' with a smirk shot at Bruce.
"I'll build a fire, you know how to clean - " Clint stopped midsentence and glanced towards the jungle just beyond the river. His eyes narrowed carefully as he searched the green. There had been no sound, which drew his attention. The birds had stopped singing in the distance, something big was moving through the area. How big, he wasn't sure; it was too quiet to be massive, which left two options. A stealth predator like a tiger or panther. Or a human.
Freeing his arrows from his catch he handed the fish off to Bruce and silently moved towards the river's edge, drawing his bow up in defense.
"Don't shoot!" a frightened voice called from the shadows. "I'm just a biologist!"
7 Not sure of the point of this statement. What makes him think it isn't hell? What would be the alternative?
