The Hawk and The Girl Who Broke His Heart
Author: Sorry about the lack of updates. And the length of this chapter. It got in my head & wouldn't
get out until I had it written down. Halloween has definitely woven it's way into my brain & helped to
make this chapter so dark. I own Sudahn, the little girl & unnamed characters. Warnings for: language,
blood, murder, sexual referances, theft & our favorite archer being an asshole. Happy Halloween. Enjoy.
Another language.
Ulcini, Montenegro, Southeast Europe
"You know just because I didn't bitch... much... about being soaked to the bone back in New Mexico, it doesn't mean I am overly excited about being soaked to the bone NOW."
Coulson sighed and said, "Your uniform should be waterproof Clint. Especially after New Mexico."
Clint snorted and muttered, "Not a chance in hell. Whoever told you that was lieing through their god damn teeth."
"I'll talk to someone." Coulson promised, grinding his teeth together. Clint had a way of getting on everyone's nerves... even his.
"He's just annoyed because he feels like he should be in one of those Underworld movies with the way he's dressed. But Kate Beckinsale is nowhere around." Tasha said. Clint could hear the smirk in her voice.
"Don't encourage him." Phil said, glancing over at Natasha.
"If she shows up, she could drain me dry. Just as long as I get to fuck her raw." Clint chuckled.
"Barton!" Phil snapped. Clint and Tasha both cringed at the sharpness of his tone.
"Sorry sir. But you know I don't have a filter between my brain and my mouth." Clint wasn't actually sorry at all.
"Reign in your brain and shut your mouth." Phil growled as Tasha rubbed his shoulder. The pain medication he was on was not helping him tonight. So between the pain and the almost constant muscle spasms, he was extremely annoyed.
"Clint behave yourself. No morebullshit." Tasha warned.
"Yes ma'am."he said, leaning over the edge of the balcony he was on. The mission was supposed to be a cake walk anyways. Mostly a lot of watching and waiting on his part. His target was Ashir Sudahn. Age twenty eight. Hacker by hobby and cyber terrorist by trade. He apparently also liked to see government secrets which was why he was in Montenegro. And how he got on SHIELD's radar.
Clint reached up and adjusted his hood so that he wouldn't get too much water in his face. The uniform he wore was his usual by any means and he definitely preferred his usual. It was a jet black leather body suit, something extremely similar to what Tasha wore and a bit too tight for his taste. It was was (of course) not meant for comfort or warmth but stealth. The bottoms of his leather boots were coated in rubber to dampen any sound of his footfalls. He missed his fingerless gloves and the trench coat was a burden but at least it was warm (the only reason he wore it) but not quite waterproof. When the mission was done, the entire uniform was going back in the bottom of his closest once it was dry.
Beneath him a door opened and light filtered out into the street below. A man staggered out, laughing drunkenly.
Clint's nose wrinkled at the stench of too much alcohol in the air as he leaned forward to peer into the darkness, ready to hunt.
Loki had brought back this side of him: the dark, sadistic, rage filled side.
Except now he knew how to keep the rage and sadistic tendancies in line. He let the rage turn towards Loki and his sadistic side entertained him with dozens of ways to torture, maim and kill the dark haired Asgardian.
Eventually Loki would laugh and tell him that Clint had become exactly what he had wanted the archer to be.
That alone was always enough to snap him back to reality.
"Go home Sudahn." a voice in doorway of the bar below growled.
Clint smirked and tapped the com in his ear. "I've got confirmation and a visual." he hissed, not letting his eyes move from the target in the street below.
Phil groaned and leaned against the counter as Tasha gently massaged his bad shoulder. "Do whatever you have to do to take out the target and retrieve the package. Don't fuck around." she told him. Even though she was not technically his superior, he had been trained to (and willingly did) obey her without much argument.
But he had caught what she hadn't said. Phil was in a lot of pain and she was worried for him. She wanted Clint to finish the mission and return to the Tower as soon as possible.
"I'll keep you in the loop." he whispered as his target staggered down the street.
Translation: "Target's moving but I'll check in asap."
Clint left the balcony for higher ground and followed his target down the streets via the rooftops. Even in the more dangerous places where most people would normally lose their balance, he was surefooted even in the pouring rain. If anything the higher up he was, the better his balance became.
Sudahn staggered a few blocks west until he came to a small house nestled between two tiny shops. One looked to be a book store and if Clint had time, he considered "stopping" in. Tasha had a thing for books in Slavic languages.
His mark headed upstairs, mumbling about how rich he was going to be once he sold the flashdrive full of government secrets in the morning. Clint rolled his eyes and slipped inside via the kitchen window. Clearly his target was not planning to stay in the house long. There were no personal items to be seen... anywhere.
Clint entered the attic bedroom before his target, who currently puking up most of the alcohol he had ingested. There were quite a few rafters and ever more shadows for him to use as hiding places. He peeled off his trench coat and balled it up, tossing it in dark corner before pulling himself onto one of the rafters. It seemed to hold his weight well enough but probably not for extended amounts of time.
Lucky Sudahn didn't make him wait long.
Either he was too drunk to realize he was not alone or a lot stupider than people thought.
"Where is the flashdrive Sudahn?"he asked. His voice echoed in the large attic space.
Sudahn turned in a drunken circle looking for him but Clint had hidden himself well. "I... I sold it." he slurred.
"Lies."Clint hissed as the hair on the back of his neck bristled.
"Why do you want to know? Do you want me to cut you in on the deal?" his target slurred with a smirk.
Clint hopped off the rafter and landed silently on the floor. In truth he was only a few feet from his target the whole time but the soon-to-be dead man didn't need to know that. "Where is the flash drive?" he asked, walking a slow circle around him like a hunter stalking his prey.
"I can make you a rich man. Almost as rich as that Stark bastard."
Clint grabbed Sudahn and shoved him face first onto the floor. The other man tried to struggle but Clint didn't allow that, instead placing a majority of his weight on his target's back to keep him down. "I will ask one more time. If you refuse to answer I will torture the information out of you."Clint snarled. He only carried a gun strapped to his left thigh and a knife in each boot but he was... creative.
Sudahn shivered and shot a glance at his backpack in the corner by the bed. "I sold it."he whispered.
Clint narrowed his eyes and pulled his knives from his boots. "I don't have time or patience to listen to your lies." he growled, impaling first the man's right hand then his left with his knives. The blades were an alloy similar to adamantium. They went through bone without a problem.
"You bastard! Cock sucking motherfucking son of a bitch!"Sudahn screeched in pain, thrashing to try to dislodge the blades in his hands.
"Shut up." Clint growled, ripping open the backpack to examine the contents. Laptop, wallet, an external hard drive, a .9mm handgun and the flash drive. "Sold it my ass." he smirked.
Behind him Sudahn continued to scream, sob and curse.
And Clint found he didn't really care. Though his screams could attract unwanted attention. "Fuck it." he sighed, pulling out his gun and aiming at the man on the floor. Lightning lit up the room and Clint began to count. "One... two... three..."
"I hope you die a..."
"four... five..."
Thunder roared loud enough to cover the gunshot as Clint reached six. The man on the floor fell silent and still as the bullet lodged in his brain. Clint pulled on his trench coat, tossed the backpack over his shoulder and knealt to retrieve his knives. He wiped them clean on the dead man's shirt before going through his pockets. Nothing in the pant pockets but in the jacket: a few thousand Euros. "How do people carry so much money on them and not get robbed?" he muttered, shaking his head as he dialed Fury.
"Agent Barton." the SHIELD director said by way of greeting.
"The target is dead sir. I've retrieved the package along with a laptop and a portable hard drive that might have other valuable information on them." he said. He didn't bullshit Fury. The director was too straight laced for that and Clint had to much respect for him to even try.
"Expect an extraction in one hour. I'll send you the location." Fury told him then all Clint heard was silence. A moment later his phone beeped with the coordinates for the extraction. Four miles south west according to the GPS. He'd make it there well within the hour if he ran.
The back door of the bookstore opened for him without a problem. He'd always had a way with locks. Silently he browsed the shelves in almost complete darkness, grabbing a few titles here and there. Tasha was fond of anything in Albanian though she liked Croatian too. He had just stuck a book of Slavic folk tales in a waterproof back he had kept hidden in his boot when a cough startled him.
He crouched, caught between fight or flight as another cough came from upstairs. Slowly he made his way up the stairs and followed the coughs into a tiny room lit only by a candle. Even he felt the cold of the room, which had no fireplace or heater, so the tiny girl in the bed had to be freezing under her thin blanket. She looked at him with glazed eyes for a moment before whispering in Croatian, "Who are you?"
"Nobody." he whispered, stepping into the room carefully. Was this little girl alone? Or was there someone somewhere he didn't know about?
"Have you come to make me better?" she asked, staring up at him. Gingerly he put his hand to her forehead and even through his glove he could feel just how high her fever was. There was nothing around but the mostly burnt candle and a box of matches. He could make a fire out of the books downstairs he supposed but... he could feel in his gut that it wouldn't help.
"Where is your family?" he asked, lowering his ear to her chest. Her lungs were full of fluid... pneumonia. Late stages of it too.
"Gone..." she rolled away from him as a coughing fit shook her, "...they were sick too."
"I'm sorry sweetheart... but I can't make you better."he sighed. She was an orphan, like he had been, ill and without medicine. It was too late for medicine anyways. The fluid in her lungs would drown her in her bed before the night was out.
"Can you send me to my mama and papa?"she begged. One look into his eyes had confirmed what she had thought: she wouldn't live the night.
"Yes... close your eyes and you'll be with them soon."he whispered, gently setting a hand over her nose and mouth. His heart hurt at what he was about to do.
She didn't struggle... her body didn't have the strength for it anymore.
Clint wrapped the blanket around the little girl and carried her body down the street to a house he knew was occupied. Gently he set her on the doorstep and knocked before leaving. The man who owned the house was kind and would give her a good funeral.
The plane was just touching down as he showed up, panting and sore from running. Fury pulled him aboard and handed him a water bottle, which Clint gratefully accepted. "It's all here?" Fury asked taking the backpack from the archer.
"Yeah... including a few thousand Euros and a .9mm." Clint whispered. Fury eyed him but didn't ask any questions about his solemn mood.
Several hours and a debriefing later, Clint walked into the kitchen at the Tower just before dawn. Steve was already awake and sipping coffee as he read the newspaper. Stark had his nose buried in his Starkpad. "Welcome back Agent Barton." Steve said, looking over his shoulder at Clint. The different uniform threw the soldier for a loop but he recovered quickly. Something was wrong with the archer... he could feel it in his gut but he said nothing, only watched as the archer pulled a water bottle from the fridge.
"Hey Legolas is back." Tony piped up, looking like a kid on a massive sugar high. He obviously had not slept.
"Go fuck yourself Stark." the archer growled, letting the fridge shut itself as he pulled his hood up.
Tasha glanced outside her door after being woken up from three knocks and receding footsteps. There was a pile of books at her feet, the top being a book of Slavic folk tales. "Clint?" she called softly, glancing around. But the archer was nowhere to be seen. Not odd but something felt wrong.
"What is it?" Phil whispered from the bed. The muscle spasms had finally ended and the last dose of his pain medicine was finally kicking in. They'd have to talk to the SHIELD medics about raising the dosage or possibly switching medicines all together.
"Clint's back. He brought me books... but I think something might be wrong." she said, scooping up the books and closing the door behind her.
"What makes you think that?" Phil muttered, reaching for her.
"Call it a gut feeling. Go back to sleep. I'm going to go check on him." Tasha whispered, setting the books down to kiss her lover's hair.
Clint locked his door behind him and stripped out of his trench coat and body suit, leaving them on the floor as he headed to the bathroom. He turned the shower on, running the water as hot as he could stand before climbing in. The water stung his back and shoulders and he flinched. "Okay maybe a little too hot." he murmured, adjusting the temperature just a bit before resting his forehead against the tile wall.
"Agent Barton." Jarvis piped up as he closed his eyes.
"What?" he demanded.
"Agent Romanoff is outside." the AI said.
"Tell her I'm in the shower. And that we'll talk later." he sighed.
"Yes sir."
Of course Tasha would come looking for him. She was practically the older sister he had never had so naturally she would be worried. And after so many years of spending hours upon hours in each other's company, there was no secrets. And it wasn't too unusual for one of them to be in the bathroom on connecting bedroom when the other got out of the shower. Especially after a long solo mission.
He just didn't want to see her right now. He needed time to get that sick little girl out of his mind.
Natasha would understand.
Tony watched as Steve got up and left, no doubt for the gym. "Jarvis... keep me posted on Clint's whereabouts. Subtly." he said, looking at the screen on his Starkpad which told him that Clint was currently in his bathroom.
"Any particular reason for the sudden interest in Agent Barton sir?"
Tony frowned and realized that he couldn't answer that question.
