Disclaimer: The Avengers belong to Marvel/Disney.

Warning: This chapter touches on the genocides/ethnic cleansings of the countries (formerly Yugoslavia) in Eastern Europe. There's no details, but in the distant future, I'm probably going to write about Clint's and Natasha's mission in Sarajevo, which won't be too pretty. What went on there wasn't pretty; I did research on this, and there are only so many pictures you can look at from Bosnia and other countries from that time.

There's a bit more language in here. Nothing too horrible, but I can't imagine our Avengers would be talking about rainbows and unicorns when their mission goes down the shitter (haha, that last word was to prepare you).

A/N: This here's Chapter Nine, one of the last few chapters of Part 1 of this story. Part 2 will begin from Hailey's point of view (which will be quite interesting to write…for reasons that'll be explained later). Thanks to my real life Cap for creating a perfect blend of cheerleader and army drill sergeant to push me to get this chapter out in shorter time than usual. You're awesome! I have off next week from work, so I'm hoping to put the finishing touches on Chapter 10 and get it posted. In case I don't, respectively: Happy Chanukah, Merry Christmas, Joyous Kwanzaa, Happy New Year, and to those who don't celebrate, you have yourself an awesome rest of your December.

smkelover: I love new readers! I hope you continue to enjoy!


Chapter Nine

Clint's heart sank. :We have to leave already? Clint had purchased a child-sized bow for Hailey in an open-market in Moscow, and he'd been excited to give it to her so they could practice archery together (seeing as how the lesson with his weakest bow didn't go too well—she couldn't handle the draw weight of forty pounds). Her bow was a beautiful piece of craftsmanship—dark wood handle with light wood risers; the bow was used, but very well maintained. :Now I'll be leaving her again, when I've just gotten back.

:And who's going to watch her? We're all leaving, and Pepper's out of town. Tony appeared to be on the same wavelength. Stark gave Clint a knowing nod as he whipped out his phone and starting tapping at the screen—no doubt contacting Pepper.

Director Fury's voice claimed Clint's attention. "Agent Barton, are you cleared for work?"

Clint nodded, "Yes, we stayed an extra few days in Helsinki before we flew back. My shoulder's fine. Just need to remove the stitches."

Tony glanced up from his phone to look at Clint, "How'd that happen?"

"Nothing major. Just a knife wound," he replied lightly, making sure to avoid eye contact with Natasha, who still hadn't completely forgiven him for his bout of idiocy yet.

Tony's face scrunched in distaste—:Or was it concern? —but he didn't comment further on that. Getting injured was part of the job description; he knew it as well as Clint.

Then suddenly Tony blurted out with a tone of contrived innocence, "I guess I'll miss Pepper then. She won't be back until early this evening." He gave Clint a look ripe with meaning—this was directed at him. Hailey would have to stay alone at the Tower until Pepper got back.

Director Fury eyed Stark speculatively—couldn't find anything to accuse of him (at the moment)—then looked at each one of the Avengers before adding, "Alright, get your asses packed and to the airport. We don't need this situation to go critical."

Clint waited until Fury turned away, towards the elevator, before he bolted straight for the staircase and ran full-tilt up several flights of stairs. He burst through the door to his shared floor to find Hailey sitting on the couch, facing the doorway to staircase, presumably waiting for him.

"You have to leave again?" Hailey's voice was mild, unemotional, but her face betrayed her tone: she didn't want him to go.

Clint sighed. :Not how this homecoming was supposed to go. Clint waved good-bye to the archery lesson with her new bow and his plans of putting the finishing touches on Hailey's forged IDs for now. He'd opted to add the pictures himself, so his enterprising acquaintance from whom he'd purchased the IDs wouldn't have the opportunity to sell that picture to any third party individuals with an interest in Hawkeye's personal life. Very few people knew what Hailey looked like, and even fewer knew she was connected to Clint. :And I intend to keep it that way.

"Yes, we just got word that we're all needed in Bosnia." Crestfallen, she fiddled with her mechanical pencil. Clint grimaced and continued, "I wish I could take you with me, but…"

Clint choked up—his dream, going back to Bosnia for a mission, Loki's mind control—it was all eerily hitting far close to home, and frankly, after his and Natasha's mission, he never wanted to go back to Bosnia, and he especially didn't want Natasha or Hailey anywhere near there, with or without Loki's possible involvement. "… but we're dealing with people who may or may not still be under Loki's influence, and I don't want you anywhere that."

"I have a bad feeling about it though, like something bad going to happen," Hailey whispered, her eyes brimming with tears she was refusing to let fall. "What if he brainwashes you again? What if he takes you away and you never come back?"

It felt like someone had just beaned him across the back of the head with a frying pan (and yes, he did know exactly what that felt like—don't ask). :How does she know about the mind-control? I never told her I was under it.

Clint rearranged his face from one of shock to a neutral expression; he felt the words flow through his mouth like honey; they were effortless, comforting, and quite possibly complete lies. "It'll be okay, Hails. The whole team is going—we're all leaving in Tony's jet as soon as we're packed. It's no alien invasion—just a group of people that've collected a weapons cache. Loki's still imprisoned on Asgard."

Dubious, she retorted, "The Avengers have been assembled to take care of a small weapons cache? Likely."

:Have to give her that. He raised his hand, palms out, and smiled, "Fair enough. They stole a few of the weapons that are powered by the Tesseract. That's the main concern. SHIELD's director is fairly certain that the people are no longer under Loki's mind control."

Hailey nodded mindlessly, biting her lip—still holding back the flood waters. "Pepper will be here tonight…she must be taking the first flight out of Los Angeles." Clint paused before asking, "You're good to stay here by yourself for a few hours, right?"

Hailey shrugged, eyes downcast, and mumbled, "I'll have to be, if Pepper and Happy won't get back till later." But she quickly looked up and flashed him what she probably thought was a reassuring grin, but it failed his cursory inspection. A worry-line had formed between her brows, and her eyes crinkled with distress.

Clint wanted to make it all better—take away her worries and pain—but he was just a man. Not even a super-human like some of his friends. Just plain human, with all the plague of worry and self-doubting as seven billion others on the planet—who knows how many of them parents. So he wasn't alone, but he certainly felt it. He didn't know how take away that anxiety, :But maybe distraction?

He reached for the bag still slung over his shoulder and motioned for Hailey to come over, "Got something for you." He pulled out the recurve bow, then the quiver full of arrows and placed them in her hands. She turned the bow over in her hands, fingers running over the smooth wood of the handle. Nervously, Clint gulped and added, "It's not new, but it's really well made and the right size for you, I think…"

"It's perfect." She looked him the eyes, face lit up in an enchanting glow. "Thank you."

"You remember how to hold it and sight in, right?" Hailey nodded affirmation, now inspecting the arrows in the quiver. Clint smiled faintly, "Good. I expect you to be an expert by the time I'm back."

At this point, Natasha cleared the elevator door and called back to Steve and Bruce, "See you in a few."

"How long we got?" Clint asked.

"We go as soon as everyone's packed. Stark already called the flight crew and they're fueling up. He wanted to know if you wanted to fly, or if he should call in his pilot."

Clint debated, for a moment, then chose the easier route. "I think I'll pass on flying. I'd rather be concentrating 100% on the mission, though I'm shocked he'd let me fly the jet."

Natasha laughed, "I think he's been hacking the personnel files again. Must've found the section about you holding every sort of license for driving and flying. Better tell JARVIS, so he can relay it Tony." She glanced between forlorn Hailey and Clint, then added before retreating to their bedroom, "I'll pack for you."

He nodded and returned his attention to his daughter. "Here's some cash." Clint pulled out his wallet out of his back pocket and grabbed two twenties. "Order whatever you'd like for dinner. And Hailey, order dinner. I don't know if Tony has any take-out menus lying around, but JARVIS should be able to help you out there. If you need me, call or text, okay?"

"Okay."

"You know the number right?"

"Of course." She gave an amused look, like "how could I possibly forget a ten digit number?".

But it was parental word vomit. He knew she knew and she knew he knew that, but he still had to ask, still had to say it. "And you remember the codes I gave you to block your location and number?"

"Don't worry. I got it," she cut in, playing up the exasperated tone to sound like the annoyed teenager she wasn't—all with a genuine smile.

:What did I ever do to deserve her? I could be getting that tone for real, but instead, I find Hailey. That's when JARVIS's accented voice interrupted politely.

"Excuse me, Agent Barton. Mr. Stark wished to know if you're going to pilot the jet, or if he should call in his pilot."

Clint never knew where to look when answering JARVIS, seeing as how the voice resounded from all directions. The AI seemed so real though, it almost seemed rude not to address him—it—directly. Hailey giggling at his confusion didn't help. Finally, Clint settled on looking at the blue screen on the wall. "Tell him thanks for the offer, but I'd rather rest on the flight over."

"Very good Agent Barton."


This was their first mission as a team since Manhattan. They were down one—Banner was going to be waiting in the wings because SHIELD didn't want to unleash the Hulk unless absolutely necessary—but still, the Avengers were assembling to take on a new mission. :It feels good. Right. No alien race hell-bent on world domination this time; however, they were dealing with several of the people that been under Loki's spell.

They weren't all innocents that fell victim to Loki's mind-controlling powers. It seemed he had recruited some that were modeled more after him than Clint or Dr. Selvig. They were just as power-hungry and twisted as Loki—they simply lacked the magic and the means. But opportunity had presented itself on the Helicarrier, and they had seized it.

The theft hadn't been discovered until repairs and inventory tallies were started on the Helicarrier after the Battle of Manhattan. Several cases of weapons—the ones made from the Tesseract's energy—were discovered to be missing. At first SHIELD had thought the cases had somehow been destroyed during the skirmish aboard the Helicarrier, since there weren't any stories popping up in the news about someone finding a cache of odd, high-tech weapons, or a group going on a crime spree with weapons that shot out beams capable of dissolving earthly matter into oblivion.

SHIELD had written the weapons off after nothing came up, until reports of a several people being vaporized by odd guns that emitted a glowing blue light in a tiny Bosnian town showed up on their news feeds. Two agents were sent for recon and only one returned—with news that a rebel group had somehow acquired the weapons.

So now the Avengers were somewhere over the Atlantic, in Tony's private jet. :Being a billionaire definitely has its perks I guess, Clint mused, peering out a window to the blue-gray infinity of ocean before returning his attention to the cabin, where Natasha was briefing Steve and Thor on the genocides in the former Yugoslavia. Tony and Bruce were hunched over the doctor's composition book (again) debating whether the formula in question was correctly balanced or not.

Clint chuckled softly before thinking back to their departure from the Tower. That sobered him up quickly. :Wish I'd really gotten to say good-bye.

"You're really leaving then," Hailey said plaintively, arms wrapped around her abdomen—a gesture Clint had learned over the months she did when she was upset: she would literally try to hold herself together. He hadn't the heart to ask her if it worked.

"Yeah sweetie, we're going." Clint slung an arm around her shoulders—skin cold, always cold—and pressed his lips to her forehead. She wrapped her thin arms around his waist and buried her face into his t-shirt. He murmured into her ear, "I'll let you know when we land, but otherwise, you might not hear from me for a few days. But if there's an emergency, you know how to call."

Hailey nodded, her face oddly serene, then whispered, "I'm gonna go put my bow away. Meet you downstairs in the garage?"

Clint half-smiled, though a cloud of morose feeling lingered over him, as he watched his daughter pick up her bow and sling the quiver over her shoulder—she looked quite the little archer—before he walked to his bedroom where Natasha was nowhere in sight, thought the light in the bathroom was on. Moving like a whirlwind, she flew out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around her head and two small duffle bags in her arms. She tossed one to him as he passed the threshold; he caught it easily and peaked inside—everything looked in order.

"Good to go?" Natasha asked him breathlessly, which is when she yanked off the towel. Her trademark red curls bounced down around her shoulders, still damp from the dye and subsequent shower.

"Back to red?" Clint said, asking an obvious question. He was pleased.

She smirked, "Yeah, sorry to ruin any blonde fantasies you might've been harboring." With that she quickly towel-dried her hair and then tossed the towel over the back of their desk chair.

"Red's always going to be my favorite Tasha. You know that."

Her mouth quirked up in the corner. "I do know that." Then she tilted her head towards the door and asked, "How'd Little Hawk take it?"

:Little Hawk? I like that. I wonder what if there's a Russian word for a fledgling or young hawk? Have to look it up later. "Not very well, but she was trying to act tough. Pretty much what I expected. She seemed happy about the bow. Not that it makes up for anything, but hopefully she'll be entertained while we're gone."

His partner made no comment, only stuffed some toiletries into her bag before making her way to the door. Clint followed in her tracks, with a glance towards Hailey's room, the door of which was open to, but the lights were off; he didn't see her in there. :She must've gone down to the garage already.

Natasha reached the elevator first and pressed the button; the elevator dinged just as Clint walked up beside her. It opened—it was empty—but as they stepped inside they noted two other floors' buttons were lit up: Steve's and Tony's floors, both above them. So they went along for the ride up the Tower, calling out greetings to their comrades as they entered the elevator. Tony's floor was the highest, so on the way down they picked up Bruce with his worn leather bag and faintly worried expression.

"Whose car we gonna take?" Clint asked of his team-mates.

Tony responded first, eyeing Thor's and Steve's sheer mass, "Better take two. The cop car and the Mercedes?"

Clint grinned at Tony's reference to the company SHIELD car and dug into his pocket for the keys. He estimated they'd have just enough gas to get to the airport, with a little to spare. They'd have to stop to refuel on the return trip home. The elevator opened onto the floor of the parking garage, and Clint quickly swept over the area—no sign of Hailey.

The others moved quickly over to the cars; Tony, Bruce, and Thor went to the Mercedes, while Natasha and Steve began loading up into the nondescript SHIELD car. Clint stood frozen, just a few steps off the elevator, baffled that Hailey wouldn't come down to say good-bye. Upset, he stalked across the garage to the car and placed his bag into the trunk with Steve's, Natasha's, and Bruce's things—the Iron Man suit took up the majority of the trunk space in the Mercedes. Clint noted that along with the one suit, there was a red and gold briefcase that matched it. :Wonder what that is?

Tony caught his inquisitive stare and replied with, "Back-up. That's the Mark 5. Never know when you'll need a spare."

Clint couldn't fault him on that view, though he hoped there were a hell of a lot of safety measure on the suits that prevented just anyone from accessing and using them. :Surely after he had his silver suit stolen by his friend, he'd change the passcodes.

Another glance around the garage—still no Hailey. :Guess she's mad I'm leaving. Clint stumbled towards the driver door of the sedan and slid inside. He could feel gloom settling over his mind. :Damn.

Outside, he heard Natasha holler for everyone to load up, which everyone promptly did, though of course someone had to spout off some smart-ass retort—had to be Stark (who else could it be?). Clint noted the thuds of Steve's and Natasha's car doors closing and then started up the engine. He waited for Tony to pull out of his parking space and begin to drive out when he saw a flicker of movement in his rearview. Standing inside the elevator, Hailey waved through the open doors of the elevator—the small silver cell phone in her hand—just as Clint cell phone dinged the arrival of a message. It read, "Bye. Be safe."

Clint put the phone down, rolled down his window, and raised his hand in farewell as he drove out of the Tower after Tony, though his eyes never left the receding figure of his daughter. :Miss you already Hails.

Steve's voice called him out of his ponderings. "I think we'd better go over our mission briefing." Nearly everyone got up and gathered around their Captain, who was seated at a round table containing some of Stark's tech in its core.

"How do you want us to approach this Cap?" Dr. Banner asked from his bench seat at the back of the jet, looking to have a touch of nerves. Probably had something to do with being in a pressurized metal container with five of his best friends, flying at 35,000 feet.

Frankly, replays and very vivid recreations of the Helicarrier incident had crossed everyone's mind at some point during the flight, but the rest of the Avengers knew better than to bring it up—Banner still blamed himself for losing control and nearly killing Natasha. But everyone kept on eye on Bruce, discreetly of course, not that watching him would solve anything. Clint kept himself between Natasha and Bruce, instinctively at first, but even after he realized this, he continued it. :The Hulk will have to go through me first.

And Clint realized how very much Natasha was stuck inside her head at the moment, when she didn't scold him for shielding her. The others wouldn't notice what he was doing—he was top-notch spy after all—but Natasha was the best. She could out-espionage him any day, and it was telling of how uneasy or worried she was about this mission that she didn't notice. :I'm going to have to get her alone before we go out there.

Steve's response broke through Clint's train of thought. "I've got some ideas. Let me just bring up the reconstruction of the warehouse." The super-soldier started pressing buttons on the table in front of him—which contained a holographic projector—then shot Tony a helpless look when nothing appeared. Stark rolled his eyes at Steve's WWII knowledge of tech, but wordlessly stalked over and brought up the image, spinning it around a few times, then zoomed in and out to show Steve the ropes—again. He nodded to Tony in thanks before returning his attention to the image of the warehouse.

"Alright, so SHIELD agents have gathered information—last report says the warehouse is stocked with your usual assault rifles, munitions, possibly some low grade explosives, but the catch is that six Phase 2 weapons are confirmed missing from the Helicarrier. The agents didn't get visuals of the weapons, but one did track these men from Loki's underground base in Stuttgart to the town about 80 miles east of Sarajevo, right on the Croatia-Bosnia border.

"Apparently, the town is rather small—nearly a village—though it's the largest in the area, and this rebel group has set up there, right on the outskirts. So far, it appears the villagers are unharmed, but the group has been recruiting. It's only a matter of time before they stop recruiting and start fighting. The rough estimate on the number of rebels is about fifteen to twenty, two of which are suspected war leaders from the ethnic cleansings of the 90's." (Clint had to suppress a smile at Steve's air of nonchalant authority regarding a subject he'd learned the highlights of not a few minutes earlier.)

"I think our best bet is for Agent Romanoff and Stark to take the south side, with Thor and me on the north. Agent Barton will be up on the building closest to the warehouse—our eyes from above—until we get into position, then he'll go in from the ceiling hatch. Dr. Banner, we'll have you in the wings, unless something goes wrong. From what I understand, the doors on the ground floor we're trying to penetrate are reinforced, but nothing a little lightning or a few missiles won't take care of."

Thor and Tony grinned savagely at this and fist-bumped (:When did Thor learn that?), which left the genius shaking the soreness out of his hand when he thought no one was looking. Clint mentally chuckled, thinking, :Saw that buddy.

Having shaken out the kinks, Tony piped in, "I still say something's off. You don't need the Avengers to wipe this up. All of us have taken out more single-handedly. Why assemble the whole team?"

Shrugs and muttered "dunno"s were passed back and forth until Natasha spoke up, "I don't think Fury's calling the shots here. The council was pushing the Phase 2 weapons. So it's the Council members whose asses are on the line if civilians are killed by a rebel extremist groups using SHIELD weaponry."

Clint couldn't have said it better himself. :But hopefully this will be easy, and we'll all be on our way home soon.

"And what an awesome council they are, sending in a nuc on a civilian population," Tony muttered. No one knew exactly how to respond to that—there's no good response to that, especially when it was true. And no one knew better than Stark how true it was. There was an awkward silence before Steve spoke up, changing the subject.

"Anyone here been to Bosnia?" Steve queried, clearly wanting some local knowledge. "How willing are the locals going to be to give us some information? Or give us up?"

Clint felt Natasha wince beside him; he covertly wrapped his hand around hers and gave it a reassuring squeeze. :This will not be a repeat of Sarajevo. Clint cleared his throat lightly and raised his free hand. Steve saw, and asked, "You've been?"

"We were in Sarajevo during the sniper siege…and frankly, hoped we'd never have to go back," Clint replied evenly. He drew in a calming breath, "How the locals react to us depends entirely on how the townspeople have been treated, if any of the rebels are family, what the dominant religion or ethnicity the villagers are, and if there's a difference in ethnicities between the rebels and the villagers. They'll definitely protect their own though."

Steve frowned, "That's what I was afraid of. Stark, can you see about getting us some demographics on the town? Not sure of the name, but we've got coordinates."

"Sure thing Captain," Tony replied with the barest hint of sarcasm; Steve's face took on a pained expression that quickly turned to surprised (along with everyone else's except Thor) when Tony immediately pulled up a screen and consulted with Jarvis before tapping and swiping away at the digital image, with Thor looking on in interest and asking questions every few moments until finally Tony flipped the screen to face the demi-god, then got up and promptly sat down next to him to better show Thor what he was doing.

:Well, that was remarkably un-Starkish. Usually puts up more of a fight than that.

Steve turned to Clint and Natasha, "I think you two should go in first, get the lay of the land before we strike."

"We don't know the language. We're going to stick out like sore thumbs," Clint countered, with Natasha nodding her affirmation. "And something tells me that a stranger, even one that speaks the language, is going to be noticed immediately in a town this small. It'll be risky if the rebels are family."

"We'll have to do this with what we've got," Banner said, entering in his own two cents.

Steve sighed, then said, "Alright, codenames for the comm-links. What does everyone want?"

Stark jumped up from his research like a kid on Christmas morning, excitement evident from his animated facial features. :Oh boy, here we go.

"We have Thunder-jam here (pointing to Thor). Mr. Green (Bruce seemed amused by this choice), Cadet (cue Steve's baleful stare in Tony's direction), Arachnophobia (Natasha rolled her eyes at that), then me, everyone knows who I am—I'll just stick with Iron Man." Stark turned to Clint, a devious smile on is face. "And then we have Merida."

"Really Stark? A fourteen-year old Scottish princess? That's the best you got?" Clint asked, half-laughing. The other joined in various forms of chuckles, snickers, and all-out laughs, with Tony deflating like a balloon.

Once the laughter subsided, Natasha said, "Clint and I usually just go by Hawk and Spider. I think Steve should stay Cap. Thor, do you want Thor…or Thunder? Bruce, Mr. Green, and Stark, we might as well call you Iron Man. No one else would be flying around in that flashy of a suit."

Tony's nostrils flared, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"That you're a bit more ostentatious than the rest of us."

"Hmm…fair enough," Tony conceded amongst the laughs of his teammates.

"Alright, now on to the question of the century. How did you get Hailey out of the Tower?" Clint asked, his curiosity finally getting the best of him.

Steve and Bruce both rolled their eyes good-naturedly and looked in Stark's direction, who appeared to be gloating. :Really? It was Stark? My bet would've been Rogers. This oughta be good. Clint motioned to him, "Well?"

Tony smirked, "Well, for the first few days we all tried to get her out. MoMA, Musuem of Natural History, Empire State Building, three different zoos—everything she wants to see but won't. Then Pepper reminded me that Stark Industries regularly contributes to the Wild Animal Park in San Diego…so I didn't see any reason why we couldn't make a contribution to the Central Park Zoo. So Stark Industries made a donation, and I asked if it would be possible to get a private tour of the zoo. Since the zoo couldn't shut down just for us, they agreed to a night tour."

"How much did you have to…?" Clint trailed off. :Jesus, what'd Stark spend on this? Can I even pay him back?

Tony waved it off, "Nothing substantial. Definitely worth it."

:What's substantial to a billionaire? Good grief. Composing himself, Clint replied, "Thanks Tony, I owe you one."

Then Natasha spoke up, arms crossed in front of her, wearing a dubious expression, "And she was okay? I mean, she freaked out before when people mentioned her going outside."

Steve answered, concern on his features; he cared about Hailey like a little sister. "No, it took some convincing. And when we finally got her to agree, she shook and sweated the entire drive there. It was better once it was just us and the zookeeper, but she never completely stopped shaking. Aside from that, she seemed to enjoy herself."

:Sounds about right. Clint queried, "Did she say anything? I mean, if something was bothering her?"

All three men shook their heads, before Bruce said in his quiet way, "Whenever we asked her if she was doing okay, she just told us 'fine', though on the drive there and back she looked like she was seconds from a nervous breakdown."

That wasn't an exaggeration either. :Though her going to the zoo is progress. Wish I thought of taking her out at night…if that's the solution. Maybe because there's less people?

Natasha echoed his thoughts. "Agoraphobia?" she murmured, almost to herself, though all the others heard it.

The Avengers' faces ranged from thoughtful to bewildered, which left Clint wondering if Asgardians had names for anxiety disorders. :Someone'll have to update Thor on that.

"Possibly. That's what it looks like anyways," Clint replied. "But without her actually telling us what's going on in her mind? Can't be sure."

The conversation feel into silence as each Avenger mulled over their respective thoughts. :I'm such a failure. She's my daughter, and I couldn't even get her out of the Tower! I really wish she'd just tell me what scares her. I can guess, but that's gotten me jack-shit. She seems interested in archery. Maybe I can find an archery club for her to join, with kids her own age? But then again, she wasn't talking to anyone for years up until I found her. What if she won't talk to anyone? And what about school? School starts in September. How is she going to attend school if she never leaves the Tower?

:Shit, this is harder than my job at SHIELD. And twice as terrifying. What if I screw her up? Ugh. Clint sat down on a bench, his head cradled in his hands.

Clint sensed Natasha take a seat next to him: this was confirmed by the light rush of air carrying her distinct scent.

"You're not doing as bad as you think you're doing," Natasha whispered gently. Clint shot her a glare, to which she retorted, "Seriously Clint. You knew it wasn't going to happen overnight. It'll work out. I turned out okay, right?"

"Not the same thing Tasha," he grumbled. Clint cast a glance around the plane cabin to see if anyone was listening, but everyone was preoccupied with their previous tasks: Steve to looking over the paper file on the mission, Tony and Thor to the research on the town, and Bruce to scribbling in one of composition books.

"Not the same? Really? You bring a girl with serious trust issues and a deteriorated mental health out of a horrible situation and try to reintegrate her into your world. You feel responsible for her, even though you have no binding connection to her. No matter how much she pushes you away, you stick around, because somewhere deep down, you want or need to save her from herself. Two different kinds of love in our cases, though ultimately the same result. You kind of have a hero-complex Hawk-boy."

:Did I just hear Nat say "love"? What? Should I bring it up? No—better not.To break the tension (at least on his end), Clint snorted, "Hawk-boy? Haven't heard that one in a while."

Natasha shrugged, smiling, as she pushed off the seat and headed to the mini-kitchen at the back of the plane. "Anybody want something to drink?" she called over her shoulder, which was met with a chorus of "I'm good" and "no thanks".

Clint turned his gaze out the window, thinking, :Nothing I can do about Hailey now, anyways. She's thousands of miles away. He was jerked out of his thoughts by a glass tumbler half-filled with whiskey (Jameson if he wasn't mistaken) being shoved into his sightline. :?

"You need to get out of your head. Have a drink, brood, sulk—do whatever you need to before we land, but we need—I need—Hawkeye, not distracted Clint Barton. Get it done," Natasha snapped softly before walking away to join Tony and Thor.

:Great.

Dumfounded since he'd thought Natasha was the one who needed talking to before they landed, Clint knocked back the drink. :Turns out she was just worried about me. I really need to find a balance between work and Hailey.


The rest of the flight had been uneventful. They'd landed in London-Heathrow, refueled and then took off for a shorter jaunt to Vienna, Austria, where they left Stark's jet. The Avengers transferred over to a SHIELD quin-jet (equipped with its very own pilot) that was waiting for them, which they flew in to the mountains several miles from the rebel's base town. The quin-jets were specifically designed not be picked up by any radar and to be super quiet during flight. These features allowed the Avengers to be dropped off in stealth, so that they could come in silently from the forest, to surround the weapons warehouse and infiltrate it. It had taken several hours to get everyone in position, and they were finally ready to strike.

: "Hawk, see any guards on the south side?" Captain America asked over the comm-link. Clint scanned the building, tracking the patterns and shadows, until he locked on a heavily armed, but heavily distracted individual: the man appeared to be fiddling with a cell phone.

: "Affirmative, one guard, armed and uh, never-mind. The guard's taken care of." (Hawkeye) Clint looked on with a hint of pride as a figure clad in a black leather catsuit dragged the now unconscious guard out of sight.

: "Spider?" (Cap)

: "Guard subdued. Iron Man, I need you here to get through the door. Reinforced steel." (Widow)

: "All you have to do is ask dearest." (Stark)

: "Can it Iron Man." (Cap)

Clint gritted his teeth at Tony's words, but laughed silently as he imagined Natasha's reaction to the remark. :Probably plotting a way to dump out his most expensive scotch and replace it with iced tea. He watched Iron Man shoot out from the tree-line of the eastern boundary of the village, making for where Natasha was concealed. Clint started moving along the roof, getting in position to make his bid for a rooftop entry while they stormed in from the ground floor.

: "Everyone's in position Cap." (Hawk) Clint reported into the comm-link, already sighting in on the roof hatch, where a guard was waiting inside. Thor and Steve were hidden in a building to the north of the warehouse, along with Bruce, who would remain there, unless this mission took a turn for the worst.

: "Alright, on the count of three. One. Two." (Cap)

The resounding boom sent Clint staggering dangerously close to edge of the roof on the west side of the building. There was a dull ringing in his ears, and he realized that his hearing was all but gone. :Shit! Clint shook his head violently and gradually his hearing returned, though the ringing was still present.

: "Man down! I need back-up, NOW! (Widow)

: "I'm coming!" (Hawkeye) Clint sprinted for the side of the building, selecting for grappling hook head on his arrow. He felt a searing pain in his left leg as a bullet tore through muscle and sinew, and suddenly he was on the ground, his leg having been shot out from under him. He turned back to see men pouring out of the hatch, all armed with cold, black pistols. :Shit, he thought, as he half scrambled, half-dragged himself behind a rooftop AC unit. Relatively safe for the moment, he whipped out a gun from a holster on his left thigh, his right hand trying to dial his quiver for standard arrowheads. Bullets hit the AC unit with metallic pings, but none were going through, and the armed hostiles weren't quite brave enough to try to sneak around it yet.

: "Be there in a minute. How bad?" (Cap)

: "Can't check. Doing everything not to get overrun. Running out of ammo." (Widow)

: "I'm hit. Getting overrun too." (Hawkeye) Clint leaned around and unloaded a full clip from his gun before propping himself up to start taking on sniper shots with his bow.

: "Iron Man do you co-? Wait, you're hit Hawk? Banner, suit up! Stark do you copy?!" (Cap)

: "*sigh* Just a moment." (Hulk)

: "He's unconscious. Arc reactor's still lit up though." (Widow)

: "Well this is a clusterfuck." (Hawkeye) The half-dozen men that had originally poured out of the hatch onto the roof were down, but more men clad in Kevlar vests armed with AK47s were clambering out to replace them.

: "*snort*" (Widow)

: "Mother of-!" (Cap)

: "Cap?" (Hawkeye/Widow)

: "I just—ugh—they're blocking us." (Cap) A roaring in the background of the comm-link (and the darkening of the clouds above) announced the arrival of the Hulk and Thor calling down lightning. "If you can hang in another minute Hawk, we'll come over the roof and grab you on the way to you Spider."

: "Not life threatening, but hurry, running out of arrows." (Hawk) Clint's supply was dwindling, but he wasn't too worried. Not like this hadn't happened before—he made do.

: "Uh, guys. They don't just have the dark energy guns." (Widow) A sonic boom followed that comment, and all Clint could see was smoke, dust, and rubble in place of where Natasha had been fighting over Tony.

: "Nat?!" (Hawk)

: "Romanoff, do you copy?!" (Cap)

: "*coughing* I'm okay. No, shit *coughing* I'm pinned. I-I can't see Stark. Shit. Oh shit." (Widow) A second boom that rivaled the first went off, spewing more debris into the air, the shock wave knocking him and all the others on the roof onto their faces, or asses, respectively.

Unmanageable fear seized his chest. :Natasha. Leg and armed men be damned, Clint jerked himself upright, fired three arrows, then bolted for the edge of the roof, only to remember as he skidded to the edge, his quiver wasn't no longer set to a grappling hook. :Fuck. Clint waited for a hail of bullets to send him into oblivion, but realized the booming he was hearing and feeling now weren't more explosions—they were footfalls. The Hulk was making short work of the men on the roof and was conveniently, or intentionally, blocking him from any bullets.

He didn't waste any time watching the Hulk; Clint's fingers were already dialing the quiver for a grappling hook, but his eyes were seeking for any splashes of red: the Iron Man suit, Natasha's hair, or blood. A mechanical click confirmed the changing of the arrowhead, and he launched himself over the edge, twisting in air to shoot the hook into the edge of the roof.

Rappelling down the rope, he quickly reached the ground and detached himself from the rope when a streak of red blazed over his head, catching his attention. :What the? If he hadn't known better, he would've thought it was Stark. A glance skyward confirmed it. Iron Man sputtered and jerked around a few times—the suit had apparently sustained some damage to the control system; Clint could see the suit was crumpled up on the limbs—probably from being crushed under some debris. Hovering in air, Stark released missiles from both shoulders of the suit and sent them at the warehouse. One landed on the roof near where he'd been attempting to hold off the men coming through the hatch.

: "Iron Man's back in action. I repeat Iron Man's back in action," Clint crowed into the comm-link. :Maybe we'll actually salvage this job. Steve apparently thought the same thing.

: "Stark, help the Black Widow make a retreat. Thor and I will get the Hawk." (Cap)

: "That's not Stark." (Widow)

: "Come again?" (Cap)

: "What the fuck's that supposed to mean?" (Hawk) Clint was only a beat behind Steve in asking. :What's she mean? He's right there.

: "I'm trapped right next to Stark's fucking body. That's not Stark." (Widow)

: "Then who?" (Cap)

Clint was hit with an awful sinking feeling, and he couldn't be sure if he wanted to scream, cry, or vomit more. The suit wasn't jerking around because it had sustained damage to the control system; it was the out-of-control flight of someone who'd never flown in it before.

And there was only one person it could be. The one person in the world he never wanted near a situation like this. Ever. The only person who could and had figured out Stark's technology. :No…


A/N: Why is Stark acting so un-Starkish? How did Hailey get to Bosnia? Will Clint ever figure what Hailey's hiding? Is Clint ever going to figure out how to shut off his personal life when on the job? What happened in Sarajevo? How does Hailey know the things she knows? Where did Thor learn to fist-bump?

Stay tuned to learn these answers and more!