A/N: So she loved the first chapter, but unfortunately, that means I'm going to have to work harder on updating this (which means less procrastination). Anyway, if anyone else is reading this, I sincerely hope you like it!

Oh, and by the way, since this is a re-write, Hawkeye has no wife and kids, despite Age of Ultron. Just to make that clear.

...

Director Fury has always been a little sketchy when it came to his missions, but this one really takes the cake; in all honesty, you have no clue what you're doing. You figure (and hope) it's not anything bad (SHIELD is the "good guys" after all, right?), but as Brock Rumlow leads you to the front of the plane, the conversation you overhear makes you a little uneasy.

"The target is a mobile satellite launch platform: The Lemurian Star," Brock announces pacing with his hands behind his back. "It was sending up their last payload when pirates took them, ninety-three minutes ago."

"Any demands?" Steve asks.

"A billion and a half."

"Why so steep?"

"Because it's SHIELD's."

"So it's not off course, it's trespassing."

"I'm sure they have good reason," Natasha interjects.

Steve utters a soft sigh, conveying mild annoyance. "You know, I'm getting a little tired of being Fury's janitor."

"Relax, it's not that complicated."

You pat Steve on the arm reassuringly, though you feel your words are mostly for your own benefit. "Fury always has good reason behind his decision-making."

"Define 'good.'"

"Not bad," you reply, and Steve shoots you a look. Clint, on the other hand, merely snorts.

"A sarcastic one, huh? I like you," he remarks. You smile timidly back at him, trying to keep the blood from flowing to your face.

But Steve is not so amused. "How many pirates?"

"Twenty-five, top mercs, led by this guy. Georges Batroc," Brock answers, indicating an image on the monitor. You move in for a better look, peering over Clint's bulky shoulder. "Ex-TGSE, Action Division. He's at the top of Interpol's 'red notice'. Before the French demobilized him, he had thirty-six kill missions. This guy's got a rep for maximum casualties."

"Hostages?" Steve presses.

"Uh..." Brock contemplates the question a moment, running a hand along his stubbly chin. "One officer, Jasper Sitwell." The image flickers on the monitor, now displaying Sitwell's profile. "They're in the galley."

Steve wrinkles his nose. "What's Sitwell doing on a launch ship? ...Alright, I'm gonna sweep the deck and find Batroc. Nat, you'll kill the engines and wait for instructions. Rumlow, you sweep aft, find the hostages, get them to life pods. Get 'em out. (L/n), Barton, you cover Rumlow and make sure no one's hurt. Let's go."

Brock nods, saluting Steve as he stands and steps away from the monitor. "STRIKE, you heard the Captain. Gear up!"

You strap on your gear belt and adjust your gun at your thigh, feigning a collected demeanor, despite the overflowing excitement bubbling in your chest. Hawkeye tucks a handful arrows into his black quiver and fixes what appears to be a hearing aid, which you ogle at a moment. Is he partially deaf? You never would have guessed, given how aware he is of his surroundings. Realizing you're staring, you avert your eyes. Unfortunately, Clint catches you.

"Like what you see?" he quips. You open your mouth immediately to apologize, but he cuts you off. "I'm eighty percent deaf. Had a bit of an accident, and my eardrums were blasted out. A friend of mine got me these." He taps one of the hearing aids with his index finger.

"I—I wasn't intending to be rude," you blurt, though he doesn't seem perturbed in the slightest. "I just...you're always so alert that it surprised me a bit...I suppose your sight makes up for it, though."

"Hence the name 'Hawkeye,' yes," he replies with a lighthearted smirk, and you can't help but smile genuinely back. You've been nothing but a nuisance to him thus far, but if anything, he only appears amused by it.

"Coming up by the drop zone, Cap!" Brock hollers. Having temporarily forgotten the matter at hand, you hurry to tie your hair up and secure your various weapons. Thankfully, you and Steve were given the chance to freshen up and change into your uniforms before boarding the aircraft.

As you approach the now-opening back of the plane, you come in late to Steve and Natasha's conversation. "...too scared?" you hear her ask as Steve grabs his signature shield.

"Too busy!" And with that, Steve flings himself out and into the starless night—without so much as a parachute. Is he crazy, or are you?

"Was he wearing a parachute?" the STRIKE agent shouts over the roaring wind, confirming you're not just seeing things.

Brock only grins. "No. No, he wasn't."

You shake your head; this is nothing unusual of Steve, really. Natasha, Brock, and Clint prepare themselves, equipped with parachutes as they follow suit. As you and Clint spring out together and undo your parachutes, you have a clear view of the action below. Steve is in his element, taking down one pirate on the deck after another, swinging his shield around and using it as both a means of defense and a weapon.

One of the pirates aims a gun at Steve, and you hastily reach for your own, but before you can so much as grasp the handle, Brock has already shot him down. He lands beside Steve, and the rest of you follow soon after.

"Thanks," Steve acknowledges.

"Yeah, you seemed pretty helpless without me," Brock teases back with a light smirk.

Your group then splits up without another word, Natasha with Steve, and you with Brock and Clint. The three of you jog along the deck, keeping a wary eye out for any danger.

"All right, stay close," Brock advises to you and Clint, scoping out the area as you ease the nearest door open. You enter last, clutching your gun at your side.

"What's our game plan for when we find the captives?" You whisper.

"Beat the shit out of the pirates and save the day," Clint replies simply, shrugging as he heads for the stairs. "Not much more to it than that. It—"

You hear the gunshot before you see it. Lunging forward, you tackle Clint to the ground, narrowly missing the bullet as it whizzes past your ear. A few feet ahead of you, Brock reacts like a viper, drawing his own firearm and taking down the pirate in a matter of seconds.

The pirate swears in French as he collapses, oozing dark crimson onto the tile floors. You slowly sit up, turning your head from left to right, making sure the coast is clear before letting Clint up.

You had reacted so rapidly, you hardly even registered what it was that you did. Clint, on the other hand, gives you and approving nod as he stands.

"Well, well (Name). I can see why Fury sent you with us," he applauds. Under normal circumstances, you would've blushed and stammered an awkward reply, but you are in mission-mode currently. Instead, you direct a wide grin at him and mumble a hasty, "Thanks," before you're on the move again. When your lives are not in peril, you will likely look back on this with a giddy, school girl-like demeanor, but for the time being, you're all business.

You encounter about nine more pirates (each of you take down three) before finally reaching the room where the hostages are kept. Brock goes first, stun gun in hand as he rounds the corner. You hear a muffled grunt. As you and Clint peer around the wall, you see the pirate in charge of guarding the door slumped on the ground, unconscious. Brock motions for you to come over.

Together, the three of you assemble a bomb Brock evidently had on his person, setting it directly on the locked door. Into his radio, Brock says, "STRIKE in position."

Over your own ear piece, you hear, "Natasha, what's your status?" from Steve. When she doesn't answer, he repeats, "Status, Natasha?"

"Hang on!"

There are a series of static-y noises indicating a struggle, followed by a dull THUD.

"Engine room secure," Natasha reports.

You, Clint, and Brock get into position and wait with baited breath, guns and bow and arrows raised.

"On my mark," Steve orders. "Three...two...one."

The door blasts open. Debris fly in all directions, but you don't waste any time getting inside. Clint swiftly draws an arrow and shoots the head pirate, killing him. As Brock ducks down to assess the situation with the hostages, you and Clint take down the remaining pirates, ensuring that each and every one is taken care of before letting your guards down.

"Hostages en route to extraction," Brock says into his radio. "Romanoff missed the rendezvous point, Captain. Hostiles are still in play." He turns to you and Clint, getting back on his feet. "All right. Romanoff isn't answering her radio. You two find her, then report back to me."

"Aye-aye," you answer. Clint's mouth twitches a little into a small smile, and the two of you head back out what remains of the doorway and into the hall. You begin to sprint, hoping Natasha isn't in any critical condition, when Clint plants a hand firmly on your shoulder, stopping you.

You turn to face him, eyebrows raised. "What?"

"(Name), forget about her," he suggests, but seeing the baffled look on your face, he adds, "I'm sorry you and Cap got mixed up in this mess, but Nat and I have a different mission. It's not exactly my place to divulge that information to you, so I'll just say this much: You need to let Nat do her own thing right now."

You stare back at him, bemused, but don't question him further; from the sound of it, Director Fury put them up to this, so you feel it's better to not get involved. "Okay. So then, what do we tell Rumlow?"

"That we couldn't find her. Simple as that." With that, he turns and leads the way down a hall adjacent to the one you're in, indicating with a crooked finger for you to follow. "Everything's secure, so we can start heading back to the extraction point on the deck."

You obediently follow, finally allowing yourself to let the events of today sink in. Although you don't want to inflate your own ego, you're more than a little bit pleased with how today turned out. And hey—you even got a compliment from Hawkeye. Now if only you could get one from Natasha and the rest of the Avengers, you can die a happy woman.

"Nice job today, Agent." You break out of your thoughts to see Clint has come to a stop again, smiling back at you. Now that you're no longer on-edge and hostile, you allow the weight of his words to sink in. You feel your ears grow hot.

"U-um, thanks. That means a lot, coming from you," you mumble hurriedly, cursing yourself for sounding like a starstruck fangirl. Clint only seems flattered, however, and thumps you on the back.

"This may just be my self esteem talking, but I like you, (Name)." Little crinkles form at the corners of his pale blue eyes as he grins. "That bullet almost cost you your entire career back there, but you still risked it to save my neck. Kudos to you, Agent."

You begin to stumble over your words again, overwhelmed by the amount of praise you're receiving from such a highly respected Agent. Is this a dream? You honestly aren't quite sure, but if it is, you hope it lasts a little longer. "SHIELD, uh, wouldn't have hired me if I...er, wasn't, you know..."

"Idiotically brave?" Clint chuckled, folding his muscular arms over his chest. "Not to get ahead of myself here, but seeing as that basically sums up the Avengers as a whole...Well, give it some time, and I think you could make a really good addition to the team."

And you feel like fainting right then and there.

...

Sorry for the shorter chapter, but I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless! Once we get past all the first action sequences, I can start to incorporate more HawkeyeXReader stuff in. Yay!