Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers or any of the characters affiliated with them. If I did, there would totally be a Hawkeye/Black Widow movie in the works.
Author's Note: While I embrace constructive criticism, remember this old saying if you choose to leave a review "If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all"
Thanks to those who reviewed Chapter Three: JRBarton, rose, NoLongerHidden, Reteka Hyuuga, fanficchica123, FourHorses, BatmanOtaku, patty cake rocks, TLDT, ch33tahp4w, kimbee, CyanB, shanynde, Qweb, Viviannafox, thababes, penguincrazy, Kylen, TheNaggingCube, bookworm1517, Eringo94, JennyBunnny65, isi7140, GreenLoki, Melissa, Queen Apolline, Furionknight, neelie415, awkward hawk, Kiiimberly, weemcg33, Susan M. M, horselover28, coastalcajun, jaguarspot, Brandi Golightly, Squirrel the Man, DBhawkguy30, R1dDL3M37h15, discordchick, Paradoxical Fish, tpt player 5701, DanicaRem, GremlinX, arrowlicious, books101, scottie12524, Lollypops101, Sandy-wmd, ladybug114, silvershadowrebel, Shazrolane, Sara, Mirabilem Electo, Guest, Aurora Abbot, and LovelyMysteryFan
Shout out to the others who figured out the song for this story: kimbee, isi7140, Kiiimberly, Squirrel the Man
To rose: Barton was in the Combat Range - a completely different place than the training gym :) I mentioned it in Youngest in History :)
To patty cake rocks: the Milestones are complete as of right now - I've already posted the ninth one, which took place after The Avengers movie and the "tenth" one was shown at the beginning of "The Heart Bleeds". I WILL be starting a new one-shot series called "Many Happy Returns" that chronicle Clint's birthdays while at SHIELD :)
Thank you to Kylen for her constant support and her patience as my beta :) The whole 'attack on the base thing' was her idea when she and I were talking about how I wanted to pursue the situation between Williams and Clint. So I thank her for that inspiration and you should too!
This story is dedicated to Kylen
On to Chapter Four...
There's a thin line between life and death. It's God's Grace that shows us how fragile we all are.
Timothy Pina
Natasha jerked her pants up over her hips and pulled the hem of her black tank top down. She reached for her boots and sat on the edge of the bed, pulling them on smoothly and efficiently. Her phone started vibrating just as she pulled her hair back into a messy ponytail.
A candid photo she'd snuck of Clint a few weeks ago – a rare smile she didn't see much of these days – popped up on her phone. She nearly dove at the bedside table, swiping her finger across it and bringing it to her ear.
"Where are you?"
"The combat range."
"What the hell is going on?" She buckled her twin thigh holsters into place and snagged Clint's from the floor, hooking the belt over her shoulder. She dug his knife and sheath out of his bag next.
"Hell if I know. Did you hear the blast?"
Natasha moved to the door – listening closely for movement in the hallway.
"Yeah – any idea where it hit?"
"Sounded like the main gym."
"Clint…" Natasha put her hand on the door handle, "are we being attacked?"
Clint was quiet for a moment.
"I'm gonna go with a yes on that one…we need to regroup."
"I'll meet you in the briefing hall."
"Room 2 – be careful."
"You too."
She slid the phone down into her pocket and turned the door handle. She entered the empty hallway with her guns drawn and slowly and silently made her way away from Clint's room.
Clint pushed the combat range door open slightly, peering into the hallway. He jerked back when men decked out in black combat gear came marching around the corner.
"Shit."
He sprinted across the range, dodging around the makeshift cover installations. He stowed his bow at his back and took a running leap at the tallest structure in the room – a wooden tower meant specifically to provide a high vantage point. Though, 'high' for Clint wasn't quite the same as 'high' for others, and he'd bypassed the built-in perch several times in favor of going straight to the top. When he was up there, he was high enough to touch the roof if he really stretched and his balance was spot on.
He knew because his balance was always spot on and he'd tested it in that very spot several times. The range operator tended to get pissed when he did that – something about liability.
He made it to the top in what felt like record time and crouched, scanning the roof above him.
He blew out an annoyed breath. The vent cover was too far away. He'd have to jump to it – and hope he could get his fingers hooked in the grating before he went careening to the ground. He heard shouting in the hallway and grimaced.
"This is a bad idea."
He jumped. His fingers from his left hand wove into the grating while his right just slid right across the cool metal. Clint grunted and reached with his right, forcing his fingers under the edge of the grating. Then he pushed up with his left hand and shifted the vent cover panel up and into the vent.
He was still hanging there, legs dangling uselessly below him when the range door flew open. Half a dozen men poured through the door and Clint pulled himself up. He had to get into the vent and get that cover back into place before they looked up. He pulled his upper body into the vent and slid across the smooth metal until his legs were in too. Then he contorted, twisting in the vent and silently lifting the vent cover back into place.
He stared down through the grating, watching as one of the men swept his weapon sights up and around the top of the room. Clint closed his eyes and blew out a breath.
Too damn close.
He contorted again and slid away from the vent cover.
His heart nearly stopped when his phone started vibrating in his pocket, blasting his ringtone for Phil through the small space around him. He pulled the phone out and silenced the call, holding his breath and listening.
"What was that?"
"Someone is in here – find them!"
Clint slid away, as quickly and as silently as he could. He typed up a message to Phil one-handed as he moved. The last thing he needed was the man worrying enough to come looking for him because he didn't answer.
'N vents - RV w/ N. we'll find u. watch ur 6'
Clint slid his phone into his pocket, rolling his eyes at the overuse of texting jargon. He blamed the circumstances for his message looking like it was typed by a thirteen year old girl. With a sigh he kept sliding. Finally he stopped in front of a vent cover, pulled it up, and slid it out of the way.
Natasha looked up immediately from where she'd been pacing near the door. Clint gave her a jaunty little wave and slid his upper body out of the vent, gripping the edge with his hands. A moment later he flipped the rest of his body free of the vent and landed in a crouch on the floor.
"You run into anybody on the way here?" He asked as he rounded the conference table.
"No – I take it you did." She nodded at the vent and held out his holsters and knife.
He accepted the belt with an appreciative grin and buckled the holsters into place. Then he slid the sheathed knife into the back of his pants.
"A bunch of commando-looking asshats came in to clear the combat range – had to make a creative exit."
Natasha eased the door open and peeked out.
"Hill sent out a basewide alert," she held out her phone to him, "emergency lockdown protocol."
Clint scowled at her screen and then fished his own phone out of his pocket. Sure enough, an unread message was displayed on his screen.
"Protocol says we lock down our location and stay put." She arched an eyebrow at him – no doubt already certain that was not what they'd be doing. Clint smirked and deleted the message.
"I didn't get the message – must have been a glitch."
Natasha's lips curved into an answering smirk and she deleted her message as well.
Clint pulled his bow from its place on his back and snapped it out to full form.
"Phil will head for command – let's meet him there."
She nodded and he led the way out of the briefing room.
Todd shifted in the shadows, moving silently along the wall. He paused at the edge of the wall and carefully peeked around the corner. He drew back and held up two fingers, then pointed forward. One final signal for the recruits behind him to sit tight and he slid around the corner, staying low as he moved up behind the two black clad men posted at the door.
One of the men turned and Todd met him with a closed fist to the temple. He followed it with a kick that bent the man's knee inward and finished him with a hand on his chin and one on his head followed by a sharp twist.
He rolled to his left, dodging the spit of gunfire headed at him from the second man. Then he ran at the hostile, using both his hands to knock the gun away before the man could fire again. He snapped a stiff hand into the man's throat and then wrapped an arm around his throat, bringing the man against his chest.
Then he squeezed. The hostile struggled against him, but after a few moments those struggles weakened and eventually stopped. Todd added one extra squeeze and the man's neck broke. He dropped the man to the ground and let out a short, one-tone whistle.
Immediately the dozen recruits he'd had out in the field slid around the corner.
"Who can tell me what's through this door?"
There had never been a better teachable moment – these men and women were about to get a trial by fire.
"Back stairwell." A woman with short blonde hair spoke up immediately.
"Good, Bartella. There's a stairwell exit directly across from us onto level U-1, which is what?"
"Underground level one." A dark-haired, thickly muscled man answered.
"What's on that level?"
"The armory," Bartella realized with a smirk.
The rest of the recruits exchanged looks of realization.
"Exactly – we are going to get in there, arm up, and make these fuckers regret stepping toe-to-toe with SHIELD."
He could practically see the adrenaline surge through each and every one of them.
"Stay on me."
He picked up one of the downed intruders' guns and motioned for Bartella to pick up the other.
The armory wasn't far – just down the hallway once they got out of the stairwell. The real trouble was getting his twelve recruits down that stretch of hallway without getting killed. He hated flying blind – not knowing what they were facing or when they'd face it.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, but he ignored it for now. With a deep breath, he led the way through the door.
Natasha felt Clint stop moving behind her so she stopped as well, looking over her shoulder at him.
He held up three fingers. She nodded and shifted, abandoning her job of covering their backs in favor of facing forward next to him.
She gave him a nod and together they rounded the corner. He went low to one knee and had an arrow flying even as she sighted her first target. She fired twice, each of her bullets finding a home in a man's head. Clint's arrows ripped into one man's throat, and another man's heart.
"That one's mine."
She rolled her eyes.
"I think my bullet to his brain did the job."
"I could argue that my arrow to his heart did it first."
She opened her mouth to tell him just how childish he was being when a sound behind them had them both spinning on the spot. Clint's arrow took down the man on the left a second after her bullet took down the one on the right.
She nudged him and they moved. They'd argue about the kill count later.
Todd held the door and waved the recruits into the armory. A few of them turned green as they were forced to step over the hostile he'd taken down to clear the way.
Once they were all safely in, Todd followed them and pulled the door closed.
"Vests and headsets for everyone. Make sure you have extra ammo. And you never know when a knife will be useful."
He pulled one of the TAC vests on and then exchanged the gun he'd taken from the intruder for one of SHIELD's, making sure he packed extra ammo into his cargo pockets. He'd give anything to have his own combat gear, which was currently in his closet in his room, but he'd have to make do.
With a sigh he slid a combat knife into the sheath on his vest and watched his recruits arm up.
They weren't acting like recruits – they were acting like agents. He felt a shot of pride.
This was why he loved teaching. He loved that moment when he got to see everything he'd put into someone – every moment of effort and instruction – be put to use. He loved that he prepared people – like these twelve recruits – to face moments like this. To face the most dangerous parts of their job and to be confident when they did.
And to think – he'd thought he'd given up on that dream when he'd joined the Marines. Former gang-banging son of a single mom, he hadn't had two pennies to rub together, much less money for college. And he'd wanted to go to college – he'd wanted to go more than he'd ever wanted anything. He wanted to do for other troubled teens when Mr. Carpenter had done for him.
He wanted to teach.
But to teach you needed college – and he learned very quickly after a handful of rejection letters that it just wasn't in his cards. A buddy of his had joined the Army – Todd chose the Marines. Little had he known, a few years later SHIELD would come knocking – and he'd get to become a teacher after all.
Todd couldn't help but smile slightly. Maybe he'd ended up right where he was supposed to.
"All right, recruits…training is over. Those guys out there are as real as the bullets they're firing. Watch each other's sixes and stay together."
He smirked and chambered a round on his automatic rifle.
"Let's go take out some trash."
"Get me a number! I've got people flying blind out there!"
Phil stepped into the chaos of the control room and immediately sought out the source of the barked command.
"Sir!"
Fury turned, relief passing through his eye for a moment before he waved Phil over.
"What's the situation?" Phil peered over Agent Hill's shoulder where she was pulling up various security cameras onto the main screen.
"East wall of the main gym is nothing but rubble. We've got multiple hostiles inside the base." Fury nearly snarled as they watched a security team get gunned down. "You have a 20 on your people?"
Phil thought back to the message he'd gotten from Clint.
"En route – should be here soon."
Another blast echoed through the base.
"Where'd they hit?" Fury demanded.
"Looks like they're trying to blast their way into the hangar. The door held that time, but it caused structural damage to most of the surrounding area." Hill reported clinically.
"We cannot let them get access to our jets." Fury glared at the screen. "Will that door hold?"
"I don't know." Hill looked as frustrated by her response as Fury was.
"I'm getting reports in from agents all over the base – they're waiting for orders." A communications specialist Phil knew to be named Jefferson was pressing earpiece to his headset against his head tightly. He looked scared.
Most everyone in the room but Fury did.
"Do we have a number yet?"
Practically the whole room turned and watched Clint and Natasha stride through the door, both looking ready to start spitting fire at something. Phil could almost feel the energy in the room shift. Everyone knew what the two assassins were capable of – and that knowledge, Phil knew, brought hope.
"Still working on it!" someone to their left announced.
"Work faster!" Fury demanded sharply.
Phil moved to meet his agents.
"You both okay?"
Natasha had a nasty-looking scrape on her cheek and there was a dark bruise already purpling on Clint's jaw.
"Hit some speed bumps getting here, but we're good to go." Clint shifted his grip on his bow.
Natasha nodded her agreement.
"What's the situation?" She asked as they moved to join Fury.
"That blast felt like it came from the main gym – was that their entry point?" Clint narrowed his eyes at the screen, counting black combat uniforms as they tore through the base.
"How did you know that?" Hill stared at him. "Where were you?"
"The combat range," Clint answered absently, keeping his eyes on the screens. "Isn't that the infirmary hall?"
"Jefferson! Order all available personnel to the infirmary. Intercept those teams."
Fury turned back to the rest of them.
"We lose the infirmary and we'll be up a shit creek – I need you two to get to the hangar. There's a team trying to bust through the door." He gave Clint and Natasha both meaningful looks. "Stop them."
Clint nodded sharply, and he and Natasha shared a look. Phil looked to Fury, arching an eyebrow. Fury sighed.
"Fine – go with them." He looked over his shoulder. "Where are those emergency comm units I asked for?"
"Right here." An agent Phil didn't know handed a box off to Phil, who opened it and held it out to Clint and Natasha. They each pulled out a handheld radio.
"What is this, the dark ages?"
"Sorry to offend your delicate tastes, Barton, the shiny ones are in tech." Fury rolled his eye.
"Why?"
"Routine diagnostics." Hill reported with a sigh.
Clint blinked.
"Great timing."
"No shit." She muttered as she turned back to the screen.
"We need that hangar secured by any means necessary." Fury looked more serious than Phil had seen him in a long time. "If the infirmary goes down, we need a way to get our people out. We'll be on channel three."
Clint and Natasha both nodded and the three of them headed for the door.
Clint shifted his radio to channel four, the channel protocol dictated in emergency situations – at least until command said otherwise.
"Bryan, you out there?"
"That you, Barton?" Todd felt a wave of relief crash through him. Barton was alive – and that hopefully meant he had Romanoff close by.
"The one and only – go to two."
Todd switched his comm channel to two.
"I'm here."
"I've got Tash and Phil with me."
"What's your twenty?"
"Headed to the hangar to take out some uninvited guests. Bryan, Wilson's about to have company – you need to make tracks to the infirmary."
Todd straightened, looking out over his recruits and the dozen other agents he'd picked up as they struggled to clear the area.
"Copy that. What channel is command on?"
"Three – I'll be on two if you need a hand."
"Watch your six, Hawk."
"Watch yours."
Todd switched to channel three and reported in his location. Then he called for attention.
"We've got hostiles headed towards the infirmary. Our job is to stop them. We shoot to kill. Any questions?"
"No sir!" He hadn't had a group speak in such chorus in a while.
"Then let's move."
"Everybody stay down and out of sight. Stay away from the windows." Dan tipped a stretcher over and shoved it against the main door. He turned and checked that his personnel were all adequately hidden behind overturned stretchers and large pieces of equipment.
Satisfied, he jogged back to his office and dug through the mess of papers on his desk for his comm headset. He finally found it and slid the earpiece in, turning on the receiver and shifting it to channel 4.
"Directors and team leaders – Command is on channel 3 – command related communication only – directors and team leaders – Command is on channel 3 – command related communication only."
The line went to static briefly before frenzied agents started talking over each other over the line. Dan grumbled and shifted to channel 3.
"This is Wilson – I'm in the infirmary. What's the situation?"
"Wilson, you've got hostiles headed your way – lock down that infirmary and do not let a soul inside."
Fury sounded tense. Fury was never tense.
"I've got nothing but nurses and orderlies in here, what exactly do you expect me to do?"
"Wilson – I'm less than a minute from your location. I've got you covered."
Dan breathed a sigh of relief. Todd – thank God.
"Bryan, any word from our pain in the ass?"
"He's with Phil and Romanoff – channel two."
The sound of gunfire outside the infirmary had Dan ducking down and covering his head as bullets ripped through the walls of his office from the adjoining hallway.
"Goddamnitall!"
Dan half crawled to his office door, pulling it closed behind him and looking out into the main room. Several nurses screamed when the windows started exploding as bullets tore into the room.
"Everybody stay down!"
Dan dove behind the intake desk and covered his head with his arms. He heard something heavy bounce across the infirmary floor. A nurse screamed.
"Grenade!" someone shouted.
The air cracked with the sound of the explosion, heat burning into his exposed skin. He heard what had to be shrapnel slamming into the intake desk he was sheltered behind. Then there was screaming and the horrible scent of burnt flesh reached Dan's nostrils.
He pushed himself up onto his knees, then to his feet and shifted slowly to look over the edge of the desk.
"Oh my god…"
He stood fully, staring at the bloody blast zone that used to be his infirmary.
Jamie – one of his nurses, was on the ground, half her body missing. Richey, an orderly, was holding his left thigh, just above where his leg had been blown off. Three other bodies he couldn't identify were collapsed in mangled heaps and equipment all over the room was smoking and sparking.
Dan moved.
"If you're still walking, get up and get moving! Get whatever equipment and materials you can salvage. Move now!"
Clint shifted, pressing his back against the wall and easing his head around the corner. He pulled back half a breath later.
"Seven. All armed. Headed this way."
"We make too much noise, we'll just bring anybody close down on us." Natasha pointed out.
"So we go silent." Phil nodded at Natasha's gun, which she holstered immediately. She drew a knife from her boot. Clint pulled his from the back of his pants and handed it hilt first to Phil.
Phil didn't waste the time or breath it would take to argue – he just took the blade with a nod of thanks.
"Ready?"
Clint nodded and pulled an arrow from his quiver. He slid it into place and pulled back on his string, keeping the arrow pointed at the ground. Then they waited, listening. Clint closed his eyes and Phil knew he was visualizing where the approaching group was.
Abruptly, Clint nodded and they moved, rounding the corner.
Clint's arrow dropped the first man before he even knew what was happening. Natasha and Phil were on two more of them a breath later.
Clint drew another arrow even as he spun and kicked the nearest man's gun out of his hand. As he completed the spin, Clint fired his newly-nocked arrow into the same man's throat.
Natasha was still dragging her blade across her first man's throat even as she braced her hand on his shoulder and vaulted towards the next one in the group. She twisted her legs around his neck and then spun to the ground, breaking his neck as she pulled him down after her.
Phil pulled Clint's knife free of his first man's throat and stepped to the next man, whose gun was coming up. Before Phil could move to kick it away, an arrow cut through the man's wrist. Phil dove forward, slamming his hand over the man's mouth and driving his knife up through his chin.
Clint turned back from putting an arrow through Phil's adversary's wrist, reaching back to his quiver. The final man dove towards him. Clint pulled an arrow free and grabbed the man's shoulder as he came into reach. Then he slammed the arrow into the man's neck.
He jerked it free as the man fell and raised it to his eye, looking down the shaft to make sure it wasn't damaged. Then he slid it back into his quiver. He turned and Natasha handed him two of the arrows he'd already spent. Phil handed him the third. He checked them quickly and returned them to his quiver.
"Shall we?"
"After you." Phil motioned Clint to lead the way.
Todd watched the last of the hostiles go down and turned to the shattered windows of the infirmary.
"Jesus Christ."
He moved to the nearest window, peering through the haze of dust and smoke.
"Wilson!"
"Over here!"
Thank God.
Todd knocked away the remaining jagged pieces of glass with the stock of his rifle and climbed through the window. He saw Dan kneeling over a body, checking for a pulse. The man hissed a curse under his breath and sat back on his heels.
"You good, Dan?"
"Good?" Dan shook his head and pushed himself to his feet. "I am very damn far from good. But I'm not hurt if that's what you're asking."
The doctor turned to face him, and his gaze sharpened suddenly.
"You're bleeding."
Todd batted his hand away from the bleeding gash on his temple and then from the bullet hole in his arm. Dan gave him a glare.
"It can wait. What's the damage in here?"
"The damage?" Dan looked around and motioned sarcastically. "It's probably easier to determine what isn't damaged."
"Can you get this place up and running?"
Dan threw his hands up in frustration.
"I don't know! I've got five dead staff members and three more that are injured – I haven't had a chance to think about getting this place 'up and running.'" He even threw in sarcastic air quotes before trying to turn away.
"Dan." Todd caught his arm and gave the doctor an intense look. "I need to know if this infirmary is functional."
Dan stared at him and Todd watched the pieces click into place. The list of things that could warrant a base-wide evacuation during an attack was very, very short. The infirmary being compromised was one of those things.
You couldn't treat your wounded if you didn't have a place to treat them. The base would become a graveyard.
"It's that bad?"
Todd just dipped his head once.
"I'll have to see what equipment was damaged, what supplies we have. Give me ten and I'll have an answer."
Clint ducked back from the gaping hole where the hangar door used to be. Smoke from the charge that had taken the door down still hung in the air.
"I count nine."
"Personnel?" Phil checked his gun, frowning at the waning number of bullets. They'd run into some trouble on the way here and despite their best efforts, Phil was down most of his ammo, Clint half of his arrows, and one of Natasha's guns had clicked empty in the middle of their last scuffle.
Clint had since farmed out both his Desert Eagles – one to him and one to Natasha. The archer was at his best with his bow anyway.
With a sigh, Clint tossed aside a ruined arrow from the handful he'd recovered from the bodies they'd left in the hallway around the corner.
"Looked like about a dozen left. But there were at least that many bodies already."
Clint slid two arrows back into his quiver and tossed a final one aside.
"We need to move fast."
Phil nodded and lifted his walkie to his mouth.
"Director?"
"Go ahead."
"We've reached the hangar – hostiles are already inside. We are moving to breach."
"Copy that. Get it done."
Phil slid the radio back onto his belt.
"How do you want to do this?"
Clint blew out a breath and looked at Natasha, whose lips curved into a dark smirk.
Mike Barnes had worked at the New York SHIELD base for over fifteen years. In that time he'd gone from a grease monkey that worked maintenance on the jets to the lead mechanic, who did more shift scheduling and paperwork than he cared for. He got to choose what engines he worked on though, so it had its perks.
In all that time, he'd seen agents come and go. He'd watched teams leave for a mission and come back with smirks of victory and he'd watched teams leave for missions and never return. He'd seen any and every agent this base was home to step onto one of his jets at one time or another.
So when a lithe, feminine figure suddenly came strolling casually through the crater that used to be the hangar door, he knew they were saved.
He'd never spoken to Natasha Romanoff, but he'd seen her. He knew who she was, and knew that the assholes who'd been killing his people and destroying his aircraft for the past ten minutes were dead – whether they knew it or not.
The nine men all turned, staring at the assassin as she calmly approached.
"Hey, boys." She stopped and smiled silkily. "Got room for one more?"
For a moment everyone just stared.
Then a black arrow whistled over Romanoff's shoulder and slammed into one of the men's throat. Before Mike could blink, Romanoff had two guns raised and was firing precise, single shots. Two more men went down before the others could react.
Then Romanoff was diving off to the side, rolling behind a mobile metal tool chest. She was safe behind the cover just as the intruders started returning fire. While they were busy firing at the solid metal chest Romanoff was hunkered behind, another agent that Mike knew on sight slid silently into the hangar, an arrow nocked and the bow string pulled back to his cheek.
Mike still remembered the day Clint Barton first stepped foot on the base. You only had to look at the kid back then to know something dangerous lurked just below the youthful surface – something dark and to be feared.
That lurking danger hadn't disappeared. Instead, it had grown stronger instead – Barton just hid it a lot better these days. Which, when Mike thought about it, was a whole different reason to fear the man.
Barton had sent two arrows into two more men, before he too was forced to seek cover as the final four men shifted their attention – and their aim – to him. He ran for one of the cargo planes, sliding like he was aiming for home behind one of the large wheels.
All the men suddenly ceased firing.
Mike watched one of them aim at where Romanoff was, another aim at Barton, the third moved towards the mechanics and flight techs that were huddled in the middle of the hangar. Without any warning he shot one of the mechanics point blank in the head.
Mike frowned – one of the men was missing.
"Come out, or I'll kill them all."
"No, you won't."
Mike's eyes flew back to the hangar door – watching as another one of the most famous agents in SHIELD strode through. Phil Coulson fired a moment later and the man went down. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Romanoff dive out from behind her cover and take down the intruder nearest her with one well-placed shot.
Barton spun from behind the wheel and fired an arrow from his knees, taking out the man nearest him.
Mike looked around frantically. There was one more man. He knew there was. He saw a shadow behind Barton at the same moment the archer seemed to sense it.
"Behind you!"
Clint turned, hand going towards his quiver even as a shot cracked across the hangar. His eyebrows rose in surprise when the commando behind him stopped in his tracks, head snapping backwards.
Clint turned back to see Phil lowering his gun.
Clint blew out a breath and couldn't help but grin.
"Whew…that was close."
Phil blew out a breath and looked a little less amused by the situation. Clint looked back at the dead man behind him once more – damn close – and stepped away.
"Is everyone all right?" Phil quickly moved towards the shaking group of hangar staff.
A man Clint knew to be the chief mechanic stood – Barnes if he remembered right.
"Do you know the situation in the rest of the base?"
Phil shared a glance with Clint and answered.
"Command is secure – other than that we don't know."
The group of hangar staff all looked even more shaken.
"Barnes, any idea what the damage is here?" Clint asked even as he brushed his fingers over a bullet hole in the frame of one of the jets.
"They just opened fire. I'd have to do diagnostics…check engines over…" Barnes ran a shaking hand through his hair.
"Get to it. We need as many birds as we can ready to be in the air."
Barnes nodded and started barking out orders to his remaining staff. Clint moved to stand with Phil and Natasha joined them a moment later.
"What do you think?" Phil asked him.
Clint knew his planes – he'd dedicated precious time and energy to learning everything he could about them. He flew so many missions solo – it paid to know how to do routine maintenance. He couldn't tell much just by looking, but what he could tell wasn't good.
"If too many of them took hits like that one, no one is going anywhere. Those guys came in here looking to keep us grounded. They aimed for engine blocks and the main cockpits."
Phil sighed and closed his eyes briefly.
"Goddamnit." He hissed under his breath as he pulled his radio off his belt.
Before he could call in, another call came across the command channel.
"Command – this is Bryan."
Clint felt a surge of relief – Bryan, at least, was still alive.
"Go ahead." Fury's voice came across sounding just as cool and collected as ever. Clint wondered if the man ever really showed what he was really thinking – or feeling.
"The infirmary is compromised – I repeat – we've got no joy on the infirmary."
Clint felt his chest tighten.
Wilson.
Phil glanced at him as they listened to Fury confirm that report. Then Phil pressed the talk button.
"This is Coulson. Bryan, do you have eyes on Wilson?"
There was a pause.
"You better not be asking for me because Barton got himself shot again."
Clint huffed out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding. Wilson sounded just as annoyed as ever. Thank God.
"Negative." Phil reached and squeezed his shoulder – whether for his benefit or his own, Clint wasn't sure.
"Have you secured the hangar?"
Clint took his previous thought back – Fury actually sounded…hopeful.
Phil sighed and looked to Barnes, who was clicking away on a computer.
"Hangar is secure."
"Status?"
"Barnes?" Phil called to the mechanic. Barnes looked up.
"We've got two cargo planes and three jets ready to go right now. That's it. Everything else is gonna take some time."
Phil squeezed the bridge of his nose.
"Director?"
"Go ahead."
"The hangar took heavy damage. We've got two cargo planes and three jets." Phil paused. "Director…"
"I know, Phil."
Clint knew too.
They couldn't stay.
"Director…" Hill looked up at him with wide eyes. "There could be another wave of hostiles on their way right now – without an infirmary and limited aircraft…" she paused, "we can't stay here."
Fury stared at the screens, watched various scuffles taking place throughout the compound. He watched a team of SHIELD agents get overrun by a team of intruders.
"Issue the order – get every one out."
Hill pressed a button on her headset – broadcasting her voice to all the comm units and radios in the base.
"This is Agent Hill. Emergency evacuation protocol is now in effect – report to emergency rendezvous point two. I say again – emergency evacuation protocol is now in effect – all personnel report to emergency RV two."
She pressed the button again and blew out a shaky breath. She couldn't believe this was happening – that someone had attacked SHIELD.
"That means you too, Agent Hill."
She looked up at Fury, her gaze hardening.
"I'll leave when you do, sir."
His lips quirked ever so slightly and then he nodded.
"Send out a distress message to all the bases in the network. Tell them we've come under attack and to send any personnel they can."
"Yes, sir."
"And Hill?"
"Sir?"
"Call the Helicarrier – tell them to prepare to take on all survivors."
"Yes, sir." She turned to her computer and accessed the secure network, quickly typing a distress message and sending it out. It wasn't until she finished her call to the Helicarrier that she turned to Fury and asked the question that had been burning in her mind.
"Sir?"
Fury turned to her.
"How did they breach the outer gates? They're coded and all the fences, even the fences in the woods, are set to alarms."
Fury clenched his jaw – like he knew something she didn't.
"I do not know."
"Barnes – you need to get these jets up and running so you can start shuttling people from the RV to the Helicarrier."
Barnes blinked at Phil in confusion.
"How do you know that's where we are supposed to go?"
"Because…" Clint threw down an arrow he'd been inspecting and headed for where Natasha was leaning against the wall, "where the hell else are we gonna go?"
They all looked to the gaping hole that used to be the hangar door when personnel started pouring through. A team of SHIELD agents brought up the rear.
"Take what people you can directly to the Helicarrier and then go back to the RV to pick up more." Phil instructed Barnes before shifting his focus to the group of agents. "Secure this area – and once those jets are airborne you escort non-combat personnel to the RV – understood?"
"Yes, sir."
Phil nodded and moved to Clint and Natasha, who were talking quietly at the wall. He watched Clint speak into his radio and caught what he was saying as he approached.
"You got a solid number yet?"
There was a pause.
"Looks like we're down to about three dozen hostiles, Agent Barton."
Hill sounded stressed – Phil could understand the feeling.
Clint clipped his radio back to his hip.
"I say we go hunting – help clear the compound and cover the personnel's evacuation."
Phil looked from him to Natasha, who looked equally resolved.
"We're right here," Phil offered. "We could evacuate with everyone else."
He knew what their answer would be – both of them – but he had to offer. Had to give them the chance to run away from the fight for once, instead of towards it.
Clint and Natasha shared a look.
"We stand the best chance at doing some damage," Natasha pointed out quietly. "And if another attack comes…" she sighed. "We might be the only ones who can keep it contained while the personnel get to the RV."
Phil felt a shot of pride. They were right – each of them, on their own, was worth an entire team of agents. Together – together they were nearly unstoppable.
But that wasn't why he was proud – once again, Clint and Natasha were putting themselves between danger and the innocents that danger was coming for.
He was god damned proud.
"Besides – where's the fun in evacuating?"
Clint smirked and pushed off the wall he was leaning against.
"I say we go kill some sons of bitches and we raise a little hell."
"Pack everything we can use in the bags. Carry anything you can, I have a feeling you'll be using up most of it before the night is over. Make sure you have your marker." Dan sighed. "We're probably gonna have to make some tough decisions, people. Focus on those you can help."
The remaining medical staff – many of whom had come directly to the destroyed infirmary as soon as the evacuation call was issued – all nodded solemnly.
"Remember – don't stop until you get to the RV. If they can't make it there, then you probably couldn't have helped them anyway. You need to get yourselves safe first or you aren't doing anybody any good." Todd spoke up from where he and his team stood at the door.
Dan nodded in agreement.
"Now get packing – we're leaving in two minutes."
The staff all fanned out, working quickly to gather what they could.
Todd moved to Dan's side.
"I cleared you a path to the nearest exit. I'm leaving one of the teams with you to make sure you don't run into any trouble."
Dan nodded.
"I've got it from here, Todd. Go kick some ass from me, huh?"
Todd clapped him on the shoulder.
"You got it."
He twirled his finger in the air.
"Bravo team – stay put – everyone else, let's move out."
Dan blew out a deep breath.
"Watch your ass, Todd!"
The agent threw an acknowledging wave over his shoulder as he disappeared out of the room.
Dan looked around the room and waved over the leader of the team Todd had left.
"Sir?" The man's attention on him was complete.
He looked shaken. Dan couldn't blame him.
"When we get to the RV – your team needs to help keep order. People are going to be panicking. Can I trust your team to do that?"
"Yes, sir."
Dan nodded.
"Do you know how triage works?"
Todd held his fist up to bring his team to a stop and tilted his head to listen. He licked his lips and brought his gun up. With a deep breath he nodded and rounded the corner.
"Hold your fire!" Todd shouted at the same time a matching command was issued in front of him. He breathed a sigh of relief as he took in SHIELD TAC vests and standard issue weapons.
"Todd?"
"Good to see you in one piece, Johnny." Todd reached to shake his fellow trainer's hand.
No sooner had their hands met than gunfire exploded around them. Todd watched Johnny fall, the side of his head exploding.
"Contact left!" Someone shouted.
"Take cover!" Todd ordered as he brought his gun up and returned fire.
"Look out!"
Todd barely had time to process the warning before a body slammed into his, bringing him crashing to the floor. He grunted in exertion as he pushed himself up, shouldering a heavy weight on his back. He was finally able to dislodge the weight and turn.
"Ah shit…"
He reached to feel Baxter's neck.
"Baxter?"
He saw three holes in the recruit's side, between the edges of the kevlar, just as he realized he couldn't feel a pulse. He tightened his hand into a fist in the young man's collar and then pushed to his knees, bringing his gun up. With the rest of the SHIELD agents backing him up, he stood and advanced.
Moments later the last hostile fell – it hadn't been a large team, only six men. But it had been enough.
Todd reached to his headset.
"Command, I need a fucking head count!"
They'd reported three dozen ten minutes ago, when Barton, Romanoff and Phil had undoubtedly gone on the hunt. But a lot could happen in ten minutes.
"I count twenty hostiles remaining."
Todd turned to the group of agents.
"Let's move."
It was almost over.
Natasha held up five fingers from her spot across the hall. She was standing on the opposite corner of Clint and Phil, all of them waiting on the team headed up the hall.
Clint bobbed his head once, then twice, then a third time and they moved. He sent his last two arrows into two of the men and watched Natasha bring down one, then another with her knife. Phil after a short exchange, jammed Clint's knife up through the fifth man's jaw.
"What's that make it?" Clint asked as he kicked over one of the bodies, preparing to pull his arrows.
"Gotta be under a dozen by now." Natasha brushed her wrist across her forehead tiredly.
"We should –"
Gunfire ripped through the air, interrupting whatever Phil had been about to say.
Instinctively, Clint jerked his arrow out of the body and nocked it, letting it fly half a breath later, even as he ran forward.
The arrow took down one of the men that had just rounded the corner, but the second man was still firing. A breath later Clint was on him, swinging his bow like a staff to knock the gun away. Then he spun and slammed his elbow into the man's throat. As he sputtered, Clint slammed his boot straight into the man's kneecap, bending the joint the wrong direction. Even as the man crumbled, Clint caught his chin in one hand and jerked it sharply up and around.
"Clint!"
He turned, his heart stuttering to a stop in his chest.
No.
He sprinted back the way he'd come, sliding to his knees next to Phil. Natasha had her hands pressed firmly against Phil's thigh, blood leaking through her fingers.
"Phil!" Clint called firmly, hands going to inspect the bloody mess on the side of Phil's head. A crease, right above his ear. Phil didn't even twitch as Clint felt for a pulse that was – mercifully – there, if not weak.
"He took another round in the chest." Natasha nodded towards Phil's bloody t-shirt, never letting up her pressure on his leg.
Clint clamped his hands over the wound an instant later, eyes running over the rest of Phil's body, looking for any other injuries. Finding none, he focused back on Nat's hands.
Blood – Phil's blood – was running through her fingers thickly. Too thickly. He was losing too much blood too fast.
"Clint – focus."
He couldn't pull his eyes away from the blood.
"Clint! Look at me!"
He snapped his eyes up to hers.
"I need your belt. We need to do a tourniquet and try and slow this bleeding."
He nodded numbly and shifted his hands, fumbling with his belt as he tried to remove it. He finally succeeded and held it out to Natasha with shaking hands.
"You have to do it." She instructed calmly. "I can't stop the pressure."
Clint swallowed and mechanically wrapped his belt around Phil's upper thigh, tightening it sharply. Natasha immediately reached to start ripping clothes off the bodies around them, folding them into crude bandages.
Clint forced himself to take a deep breath and pulled his radio from his belt, moving one hand back to put pressure on the chest wound.
"This is Barton – I need…" what the hell did he need. Help? Everybody needed help right now. Anyone that would do Phil any good was halfway to the RV by now.
What the hell was he supposed to do?
"Clint, we can't stay here." Natasha pushed his hand out of the way and pressed pads of torn and folded clothing onto the chest wound, tying it into place with two long strips she'd tied together.
Clint dropped his head into his hands, feeling his fingers slide against his face, leaving grotesque streaks of blood – Phil's blood – in their wake.
This couldn't be happening.
"Clint?"
Clint shifted his eyes to Phil's lax face as Natasha wrapped a piece of cloth around his head.
He had to pull it together. Now.
"I'll carry him." Clint decided. "You clear the way."
She nodded sharply and snatched two automatic weapons off the dead men. Clint stripped his quiver off, abandoning it on the ground. It would get in his way. He would have left it and his bow there without a thought if it meant getting Phil out of here.
Then he grabbed Phil's shoulder's, pulling him to sit up and ducked under one of Phil's arms. With a grunt, he shifted Phil's boneless body onto his shoulders, hooking one of his arms between Phil's legs.
"You got him?" Natasha asked as he rose to his feet. He caught sight of his quiver hooked over her shoulder, his bow string stretched across her chest and the bow on her back.
Clint managed to communicate his thanks with his eyes and then nodded.
"Let's go."
End of Chapter Four
Oh snap! I just shot PHIL! :O Usually I shoot Clint! Did I just blow your mind?! Who's ready for some angst?
Dan's line over the radio "You better not be asking for me because Barton got himself shot again." was ALL Kylen :) and she's particularly fond of that line, as am I:) lol It was also her idea to have getting shot be how I hurt Phil! :) gotta love brain storming!
I'll only post chapter five if you review...JUST KIDDING! XD I'll post Chapter Five whether you review or not! I don't hold chapters hostage, that's just silly XP Doesn't mean I wouldn't LOVE it if you DID review though :)
Here's your preview!
He reached out and wrapped his hand around Barton's bicep and jerked him roughly to his feet. Once he had Barton upright, he gave him a firm shake. Something in Barton's eyes cleared so Todd spoke while he had his attention.
"You need to pull it together, kid. This isn't over – not by a long shot."
Barton blinked – his gaze focusing on Todd's.
Todd almost took a step back. The amount of pain, the level of fear Barton was carrying right now…it was almost enough to rip Todd's emotions to shreds. Drawing in a shuddering breath, he shifted his hand from Barton's bicep to the back of his neck – squeezing gently.
"I know, kid."