AN: I don't own a thing besides my OCs. Thank you for the support and another big thank you to my beta BookFanatic12.
Enjoy!
During his life, Clint had been on a lot of missions. This one wasn't special in anyway, nor difficult.
He'd found Mont's cottage fairly easily. It took him little effort to decide which one it was out of the three buildings within the forest - one was his own so that left Clint with two more. The one closer to his own was located deep in the forest, far from the road and civilization. It'd be a perfect safe house for a secret agent or a spy.
As soon as he'd made sure no one would see him coming, he climbed silently a huge, thick oak tree that was perfectly positioned to allow him a proper view of the cottage and Mont had made a critical mistake of not getting curtains.
The leaves provided just enough cover that he could comfortably sit in the tree without branches poking his back making it an ideal place for surveillance. After all, he had always preferred heights.
A few uneventful minutes passed until a raised voice broke the calm silence of nature. He had been peacefully listening to birds chirping and leaves rustling - it was a stark contrast to the traffic he was used to.
Suddenly, a female stormed out of the main entrance and ran straight to the woods. Clint quickly assessed that she was a grown woman, and an especially pissed one.
He ignored the unnecessary information that was flooding his brain. Her dark hair, piercing blue eyes and sharp yet attractive face features weren't useful to his mission - he only needed to remember her basic features to track her if he needed to. He had to remain professional, she was a potential traitor and his target, it made no difference that she was the type of the woman he'd approach at the bar.
On the first glance, she didn't appear to be an agent but he couldn't be sure, at least for the time being as he hadn't checked the database. She could be spy like Natasha, using her good looks as a tactical advantage but her anger was not characteristic of any spy he knew of. He would need some time before he was ready to tell S.H.I.E.L.D. for sure that she was an enemy.
Soon, a tall blonde man ran after her which Clint immediately recognized - James Mont, his target. He had memorized his face from the file. Actually, he had memorized most of the file itself as a preparation for this stake-out.
Mont was a cold-blooded killer with an exceptional track record of successful hits. He was born somewhere in North Carolina, in a small town, according to Clint's research, though he couldn't recall an exact name. What led him to his career path wasn't nice. Years of abuse and a fatal accident that killed Mont's best friend. But the more he read about him, the more Clint doubted it was an accident. He wouldn't put it past Mont to kill a person close to him. He lacked the empathy normal people had that prevented them from killing which made his a perfect candidate for Hydra.
Mont was a real scumbag, but as pleasurable as stabbing him with few arrows would be, he couldn't take him down just yet. There was still a purpose of this - finding out the information through proper surveillance and reporting back to responsible agents, not simple elimination. So Clint watched.
"Jesus, Alex! Come back! Please!" Mont sounded frustrated as he yelled at her retreating form.
He shouted her name and some pleas few more times and went back inside. The woman was nowhere to be seen - at least not from the oak he was nested in.
XxX
"So what do you think, Alex? Can you survive few days in here?" As James was looked at her with eyes full of expectation, his voice tinted with humor, she couldn't find it in herself to be cruel and tell him the blank truth.
She wasn't very fond of the nature, not since her parents died. Camping simply lost its charm. Maybe if her grandma dragged her on trips it'd be different; however, she was always tired and young Alex had always refused to participate in it all, even school trips to nature. The trees and sleeping bags caused her only pain since they brought back happy memories that would never be repeated.
Her memories had made her run from the small town as soon as she turned eighteen and she stayed in New York. Apart from Central Park, there wasn't much green around. The whole city was so different from what she knew which gave her a sense of freedom and new beginning that had overwhelmed her.
If she wished to be surrounded by woods, she would have stayed in her home town. Even her grandmother's house was near the forest. The first line of its trees was just on the edge of the backyard. It had always puzzled Alex there was a small park in the middle of it all. Why would anyone built park when forest was everywhere near? But after the mayor decided to put some swings there and even a fountain, it became a hot spot for young couples and families with kids.
James's cottage wasn't actually that bad - at least not as bad as she had expected it to be. Upon proposing the idea, an image of old, shaggy house with insects and leaking roof had appeared in her mind. Much to her surprise, the cottage had outside walls covered in stiff wooden slats, the wooden slats also lined the inside but no chilly breeze reached her as she sat in the living room. She suspected that underneath the wood was a solid brick wall.
She was warm, thanks to the blankets and the fireplace James lit as soon as he had put down their bags. The cottage was fine, nevertheless, she was getting bored. They'd been talking for hours, sporting glasses of wine and laughing. It was enjoyable but they had already exhausted the common topics like movies and her work.
"Yeah, I think I do. It's growing on me and besides, I've already told you that it's nice." Alex replied, hoping it was the right thing to say- and there was truth to her statement. There was no TV, wi-fi or even phone service and she had her doubts about the entertainment she'd get in the cabin, but it wasn't horrific by far.
However, his questions were getting little annoying, not only about how she regarded the cottage, it was like she was the only one talking. It had made her last answer sound like it had had a slightly irritated tone.
"Okay, okay!" He put his hands up in mock surrender. "All I want is my love comfortable, that's it."
Alex almost coughed on her wine - she sure as hell wasn't his love. And what was it with him today? He confessed his true feelings out of nowhere earlier and now she was his love? It flattered Alex, it really did, but they had been dating for only few months and all of sudden he was calling her his love.
"Don't worry, I'm fine, though I wouldn't mind some food." It was best not to dwell or think much about his words. Maybe he didn't even mean to say it or the l-word didn't hold such an importance in his mind. Diverting from the topic was what a coward would do and Alex liked to think she wasn't one, but love was a topic she wasn't ready to talk about.
James, as an answer, stood up, took her hand and led her to the kitchen with him. He let her hand fall back to her side as soon as they crossed those few steps and opened the fridge. While he rummaged through it, deciding on what to cook, Alex leaned her back on the counter and admired the view.
"Well, it seems like we don't have much," he scratched the back of his neck, "but we could make a salad, there are some tomatoes, cucumber, lettuce even. Though having pasta sounds better. There is one package down there." He pointed to the cupboard directly behind her. Alex, concealing her annoyance at him for the lack of supplies and at herself for not thinking about packing any food, spun around, about to retrieve the package.
"Pasta, sure thing. But what are we going to eat for breakfast, or during two following days? I'm not gonna pick berries in the woods," she muttered angrily, but James heard her and laughed breathlessly.
Although she was serious about the berries, corners of her lips rose at the concept and she laughed alongside him, albeit less loudly.
"Oh come on Alex! Stop worrying all the time, frowning doesn't suit you. There's some meat in the freezer. We won't starve any time soon." He said in a gentle voice, not minding her attitude and a smile plastered on his lips. His hands found their way to her hips and he pulled her closer to him.
It caught her by surprise and she almost flinched. James hardly ever touched her so intimately. They were dating just for a while and she didn't want to rush things. They only kissed so far, with some cuddles, but this kind of touching was new.
Alex found herself regretting the slow romance between the two of them. She was starting to like his gentle caresses and the warmth it shot through her body.
Her hands landed on his well-defined chest. He must have spent a great amount of his free time in gym, Alex thought appreciatively as her throat got dry when she realized their closeness. She couldn't stop the image of what was hidden behind that thin layer of clothing. Alex turned crimson red and of course, he noticed exactly that, smirking.
As much as she enjoyed their little play, James was acting strangely. This kind of behavior wasn't what she'd expect of him.
He leaned closer, his breath tickling her ear. She must have been as red as the tomatoes in the fridge at this point.
She was eagerly awaiting what he would whisper to her, or at least she suspected he would do it, though she was left disappointed since he had other ideas.
"Pasta is down there."
Alex smacked him hard, but he only laughed. It was supposed to be romantic! He ruined the moment and she didn't find it as funny as he probably did.
She bent down to locate the package in a shelf where he pointed but as she opened the cupboard door, the world stopped for a brief of second. Alex was suddenly too aware of the cold in the cottage without the blankets wrapped around her tall body and her hands started to shake involuntarily.
A single black gun was lying on top of the plain grey surface, the package she was looking for nowhere. She reached with her hand to the corner of the shelf. The gun was hidden in the shadow. She could barely make out the handle. Her fingers touched its cold surface gingerly.
Why would James need a gun? He was a clerk in a firm, his work didn't need weapons - not anymore.
She held the gun in her open palms. Her eyes didn't leave the thing until she faced James. Her face was ashen and her hands were trembling. She was afraid the gun would go off if she as much as breathed the wrong way.
James was looking for a pot and after he found one of appropriate side, he filled it with water.
"Alex, what's taking you so long?" he asked while he was adjusting the temperature of the stove.
XxX
James turned to Alexandra only to find her face paper white, eyes wide and her hands holding the gun.
He could panic, act on his instinct and charge at her, taking the gun forcefully. It'd be over quickly and she'd barely register him moving. By the time she did, he'd be the one with a gun.
He forgot about it. Not hiding it was a silly mistake for which he'd scold himself for, but later. He had to deal with Alex who was on the verge of panic attack.
How to explain the gun? He had to think fast. All this lying was getting on his nerves, this whole mission was nonsense. It was hard enough to pretend and Alexandra kept surprising him with new challenges every day. But Hydra chose him for this mission. It was different from killing he was used to, but there had to be a reason for it. Part of him was afraid that he was assigned this mission as a punishment for what he did.
He was lucky so far. He got her to come with him, he could make her stay. All it took was some sweet talk, the always caring boyfriend.
During this last three months, James found himself missing his old life more than he anticipated at the start of this mission. Killing people came easy to him.
James decided to simply tell her it was from the old days when he worked for S.H.I.E.L.D., for protection or whatever. That sounded believable enough, she might go for it.
"Please, put the gun down before you hurt someone," he said calmly.
To his dismay, Alex didn't obey and kept looking at him with shock still clear in her eyes.
"Why do you have it? Didn't you say that you don't work for S.H.I.E.L.D. anymore? And there's no one anywhere close. Why would you need it here? You work in cubicle desk! Why the hell ... If you're keeping secrets from me, I swear ..."
James cursed internally. He had never experienced her hysterics before, not to this level anyway. She snapped once when there was a blackout during a finale of some TV show he couldn't recall the name of.
"Jesus, Alex calm down. Every agent has one, it's nothing. I don't even know why it's still here. I guess I forgot about it." He hoped she believed those lies and not ask questions. Good thing she disliked criminal dramas so much, she might have known that as soon as he would leave the work, the gun would have had to be returned.
"Seriously James? Don't even! No one just forgets about a weapon lying around their kitchen. That's- that's dangerous! Fuck. I need to calm down." She pressed a hand to her eyes and after releasing it, she dashed towards the door. He barely noticed how fast she got from one end of the cottage to the other.
His reflexes were fading from the lack of action he got recently - convincing him that he needed to visit some dojo and spar with someone. He ran after her, but she was already meters ahead.
"Jesus," he muttered. "Alex, come back! Please! It's nothing!" She ignored him.
"Alexandra!" He tried again, this time more forcefully. It was getting hard to conceal his anger. She could shot herself effortlessly and he wouldn't be able to explain that to his supervisors. There was no making mistake in Hydra and he'd be treated accordingly.
He wanted to shout at her once again but thought better of it. It'd make the matters worse. If he was lucky, she wouldn't figure out how to pull the safety off.
Alexandra needed few minutes to calm down from her temper. And besides, it was cold outside, she'd soon figure it was better here with him than outside in that kind of weather. He knew that once she took few deep breaths, getting the adrenaline out of her system, she would look at things from another perspective -his- and she would come back.
James returned inside. There was nothing more to be done.
XxX
Clint was about to seize the opportunity that she unintentionally provided him. It was perfect to find out more about the female - have a little chit chat.
He had to do something now before her figure completely disappeared among the trees.
His eyes landed on the gun in her hand and judging by her grip that turned her knuckles white, she had no idea how to wield a weapon.
As if she just noticed the gun herself, she dropped it and looked at her own shaking hands. Her face was horrified. It only confirmed his theory.
Now defenseless, she turned her back to him and strode further into the forest. Another great opportunity.
Clint secured his bow to its holder on his back and without any sound, he climbed the oak and jumped from the lowest branch that was only about five feet up.
He approached her, his steps making no sound as he avoided dry leaves and sticks. He slid the bow from his back with a rapid speed - an action he could do any time with spotless precision.
With a sharp-edged arrow aimed at her back, he spoke up: "Turn around. Slowly."
He said the 'slowly' part with a voice that indicated no arguing but of course, she had to do an exact opposite.
He heard her small yelp as she spun around. If he wasn't a highly trained spy and assassin, Clint might have accidentally released the arrow, killing her in process. However, he didn't get the code name Hawkeye for liking birds. It had come as no surprise to him that she hadn't turned slowly.
"What the ... ?!" She shut her mouth as her eyes traveled from the tip of arrow pointed at her heart to his face. Her own face paled and he could tell she was frightened.
"We need to talk," he said finally, not giving her space to ask questions that would waste his time. Their position was too close to Mont's cottage and he couldn't risk the Hydra agent hearing their conversation.
XxX
"We need to talk." His words resonated in her brain. She didn't want to talk to him or James or anyone else. All she wanted was a minute in complete solitude. Was she asking for too much?
Alex supposed this stranger wouldn't let her go any time soon, for what reasons she could only imagine. She was fairly sure she had never met him, although his overall appearance seemed rather familiar. Maybe they had crossed paths in the busy streets of New York.
Many questions swirled in her mind. How did he get there? James said it was only them and the other two cottages were empty and far away. Who on Earth was this man? Why did he seem so familiar? Maybe her mind was paying tricks on her.
Alex found herself wishing she still had the gun. She wasn't able to shoot it but he didn't know that, it might have scared him. Now, there was no chance in escaping - not when he was so close and his arrow just inches away from her chest.
'Scream ... James ... he might hear,' her frantic mind provided. She could do that in theory as the cottage wasn't awfully far. Unfortunately, the man would murder her before she as much as finished James' name. By the time James ran out of the house and got to them, she'd be long dead.
There was only one thing to do - follow the man and wait for any kind of opportunity that would get her far away from him.
She stared at him, trying to put a name to that familiar face. His dark blonde hair and sharp eyes told her nothing, but a single glance at his uniform, tactical gear, costume or whatever it was called, did.
Countless news headlines flashed in front of her eyes as she remembered the name mentioned in every single title. Hawkeye.
It really was him. The resemblance from the countless video shootings was uncanny. It was him in a full set - black bow that could pose as a staff and an equally dark quiver filled with arrows and the black attire with shades of purple on the thick stripes on his muscular chest.
A man who had been brainwashed, fought aliens, an Avenger, was standing in front of her, but Alex didn't see him as a hero he was. No, now, he was her enemy.
