AN: Firstly, I'm sorry for the long delay between updates. Secondly, after the spectacular reviews and PMs I received I felt that finishing this story with my original chapter 10 was rather unfair to all you lovely readers. Then I got thinking, which resulted in the plot bunnies going on a mating spree which resulted in the following... enjoy!

.

-A-

.

Clint lay down across the back row of the bus so he was out of view from all of the windows. He had also switched the overhead light off on his row and the two rows in front of him. It was as close to being invisible as he could get. He knew he was being paranoid, the bus was on the I-95 going too fast for anybody outside to see him even if he was sitting up properly. But paranoia had kept him alive for this long, so he'd keep it up.

It's why he knew that there were seven other people on this bus; including the driver whose name was Mike, according to his shirt. Two rows from the front on the right was a woman who looked to be in her early thirties. She'd opened a book as soon as she'd sat down and hadn't looked up since. Threat assessment - Non-threatening.

Two rows behind her and on the opposite side of the bus was a balding black man who was gripping a small photograph and staring out the window. Being dark outside, all he would be able to see was his own reflection. Other than the guys actual size, again threat assessment came back as non-threatening.

Three rows directly behind him was a young girl Clint guessed was no older than six. She had white blonde hair that was tied up in pig tails. The woman next to her Clint guessed to be the sister. She'd made herself look older and not in the way teenager girls usually do so that they could get served in bars. Her blonde hair was twisted up and held with a clip at the base of her neck. Her makeup was subtle, and if he wasn't mistaken it was covering a bruise on her left cheek. The clothes she wore were tailored and fitted nicely but they weren't provocative. When she spoke, she pronounced all her words with clear diction that squashed any accent she may have once had. This girl didn't want to be noticed and she certainly didn't want to be remembered.

Clint had to admire her, for whatever reason that had made her run she was doing a very good job of flying under the radar. Her only mistake was getting on a bus that left New York at nearly midnight. People might forget her, but they wouldn't forget the little girl. These two weren't a threat to him either.

The last two on the bus was a young couple, he looked to be about twenty and she looked to be about sixteen. Though she was trying very hard to look older, with the high heels and short skirt and low cut top. This girl wanted to be noticed. She was the complete opposite of the girl with the kid.

The couple sat five rows in front of Clint. They were kissing. In fact they'd been kissing for the past eighty six minutes. Clint didn't realise that the human body could go that long without oxygen. I guess you learn something new every day. The only threat these two were was to each other.

.

Clint picked up the rucksack that he had acquired in New York from the floor and walked towards the front of the bus.

"Stop the bus here and let me get off," said Clint pulled out a couple of hundred dollars from the bag and held them out so the driver could see them.

"No can do, kid," chuckled the driver.

Clint pulled out another two hundred and added it to the few he was holding. The driver raised an eyebrow before smiling and taking the money and pocketed it in his shirt front pocket. "Alright then, you just say where."

Clint got off the bus in the Baltimore suburbs. He'd walk the rest of the way to his apartment. He knew for a fact that Moretti had men based permanently at the bus station, even though he doubted they would be looking for him, he'd still be spotted and recognized instantly. Agent Coulson's plan of the so-called Colombians kidnapping him was a good one, even though he would never tell Coulson that, or anybody else for that matter. For the first time in twenty-two years he was calling the shots in his own life. He planned to keep it that way.

Once Clint had arrived at his apartment building, he walked the perimeter on the ground and then from using the surrounding rooftops. He found nobody watching the place. The building itself though housed many people who worked directly and indirectly for the Morretti family. Which meant he had to be just as careful inside the building as he was outside. Climbing the stairs to the third floor, Clint came to a sudden stop when he saw that his front door was open.

Sliding his backpack off his shoulder he left it by the door as he slowly stepped inside the apartment. His senses on overdrive, as he tried to see, hear and feel any movement ahead of him all at the same time.

The apartment was dark, the only light coming from outside where the sun was just beginning to rise. But it made no difference to Clint, his natural night vision had always been better than most people's. The only thing he could hear was movement in the bathroom. Moving silently and stepping over the floorboard that he knew creaked he peered around the door frame to see who was in there, relaxing when he saw who it was.

"Jack, what are you doing?" asked Clint as he leaned against the wall and folded his arms across his chest.

The eleven year old boy who lived in the apartment down the hall spun around and had his fists raised and blocking his face. Clint couldn't help the smirk as he watched Jack get into a shaky defensive position.

"Clint?" asked Jack breathing a sigh of relief as he dropped his hands, before frowning. "They said you were dead."

"They exaggerated," shrugged Clint. "Wait, who did?" asked Clint in surprise standing up straighter.

"The guy that took my mom," snapped Jack.

"That doesn't tell me anything, and again I ask why are you in my place? How did you even get in my place?"

"Those ass-hats left the door open," shrugged Jack.

"Still lacking in names, kid," sighed Clint as he turned around and walked towards the kitchen sink. Bending down Clint opened the cupboard door and pulled out the base, reaching in he felt around until his fingers latched on a small box.

"One guy called another Niko," said Jack standing behind Clint.

"Niko Moretti?" asked Clint as he pulled the box out and sat with his back to the cupboard.

"Dunno," shrugged Jack. "But he shot my mom up. She's been clean for six months, she was getting better."

"Huh, that's nice," mumbled Clint as he opened the box. Inside were several clear plastic wallets. Each with a different passport, birth certificate and drivers licence inside. Five in total. Five complete and untraceable aliases.

"What! Did you just say 'that's nice'?'" yelled Jack. "They took my mom."

"And you want me to do what about it?" asked Clint as he stood up and walked towards his mattress. Stopping to pick up his duffel bag on the way. It was only then that he noticed that his placed had been tossed.

His blanket was ripped to shreds, the few clothes he had were scattered around the room. His books in pieces and the weapons that he had left in plain view were missing.

Clenching his fist around the bag Clint gritted his teeth as anger coursed through his body. Moving towards the small vent in the corner of the room, he kicked it with his foot making the cover fall off.

"What are you doing? Are you listening to me?" shouted Jack.

"No," huffed Clint as he knelt down and reached inside the vent until his shoulder hit the wall. Feeling around until his hand latched around the cool metal of the barrel of a gun. Pulling it out, he checked the clip and the safety before holstering it at the base of his back. He then reached into the vent again and pulled out two throwing knives.

"Clint, you gotta help me get my mom back," whined Jack.

"I don't have to help you do anything," shrugged Clint as he stood up and moved towards the kitchen counter.

After Agent Coulson had invaded his home and found all of his weapons Clint had gone around and moved them all. Finding better hiding places, like the vent, to hide the pieces that he had a particular fondness for.

"I saved your life," shouted Jack. Clint ignored him as he stepped around the boy and went to round up his remaining possessions.

"Two years ago, you had a high fever. I got you the meds," stated Jack as he watched Clint move around the room.

"Didn't mean you saved my life," sighed Clint as he shrugged off his jacket and pulled on a shoulder holster that he had just pulled out of the wall heater that had never worked.

"If you hadn't taken those antibiotics your temperature would have gotten so high it would have fried your brain," pointed out Jack, hoping that logic would work in his favor.

Clint continued to ignore him as he went about collecting the rest of his weapons.

"You owe me!" yelled Jack.

"I don't owe you anything, kid," snapped Clint as he spun around. More words dying on his lips as he saw Jack pointing a gun at him. One of his guns, to be precise.

"Jack, put the gun down," urged Clint.

"No. No, you have to help," said Jack, the gun wavering in his hand.

"Help you do what?" asked Clint as he took a step closer. "You're not a killer kid."

"No, but you are." Jack's whole body seemed to tremble. "I've heard the stories they tell about you. I know what you can do. Help me get my mom back, please?"

"Jack, your mom wasn't taken. She most likely went with them," Clint tried to placate the kid as he took a step closer.

"No, no she was clean. She told me she stopped. She was doing better."

"People lie kid," shrugged Clint.

"Like you," spat Jack. "You lie and you kill. I just want my mom back."

"Then what? What happens when the next john that comes along is high and offers her his stash? What then?"

Jack took a deep breath and lowered the gun. "Fine, I'll get her back myself." He turned and walked out of the apartment, slamming the door closed behind him. "You do that kid," muttered Clint as he continued on his search.

"Fuck," growled Clint. He'd turned his whole place upside down and his bow wasn't anywhere. That was the only thing he'd come back for. Stuffing his backpack into the duffel bag he walked out of the apartment and across the hall.

"Open the door Jack," Clint said as he banged on the front door of Jack's apartment.

"Go away," came a muffled shout from inside.

"Open the door or I kick it down," growled Clint. He was pissed off now. Someone had stolen his bow and he'd bet everything he owned that that person was the same one who had 'taken' Jack's mom.

"What?" snapped Jack as he flung the door open.

"Gimme the gun kid."

"No. I need it."

"You don't know how to use it and until you do, you aint having it."

"Point and pull the trigger. It's not fucking rocket science," snapped Jack walking back into the apartment.

"Oh yeah, dumb it down to the basics, kid. I thought your mom said you were smart?" scoffed Clint as he followed Jack into the apartment. Jack merely glared back at Clint from where he stood in the middle of the apartment.

Jack's apartment looked very similar to Clint's, though this one had more furniture along with an actual room for a bedroom, Clint could see through the open doorway that it must be Jack's mom who occupied that room. There was a curtain pinned to the ceiling that stretched to the floor in the far corner of the living room. Clint guessed that was Jack's 'room'.

"Don't judge," growled Jack.

"Wasn't," shrugged Clint. "You got a nice place." And it was nice, the place was neat and tidy. Furniture was mis-matched but all in good condition. Not the place you would expect of a drug user. Maybe Jack's mom really had quit.

"Its shit, now why are you here?" huffed Jack interrupting Clint's thoughts.

"What's your plan?" asked Clint becoming serious.

"Why do you care?"

"Jack, you asked for my help. I'm here, but I'll be damned if I let you go and start killing people. Besides the bastard stole my bow."

"I know the men who came looking for my mom, I know where they live."

"You said that you didn't know them."

"That was before you agreed to help me," shrugged Jack.

"And now?"

"Yes, it was Niko Moretti."

"Of course it was," sighed Clint as he turned around and headed out of the apartment.

"Where are you going?" asked Jack.

"To Niko Moretti's house. You see, I know where he lives too."

"I'm coming too."

"No, you're not. Give me that." Clint swiped the gun out of Jack's hand, flicking the safety on in the process.

"If you don't take me with you, I'll follow you anyway."

Clint sighed as he looked down at Jack. He could see the determination in the kid's eyes. He'd do exactly what he said.

"Fine, but you stay in the car," ordered Clint as he continued to walk out of the apartment.

"Cool, can I have the gun back?" asked Jack following close behind him.

"No."

"Where did you learn all this?" asked Jack.

"Learn what?" Clint asked in return as they stepped out onto the street. Making his way down the road he searched for a suitable car to steal.

"To shoot," shrugged Jack. "I heard people talking about you. I've seen you jump off rooftops and carry on walking like it was nothing. Only people like Bruce Willis or Jet Li or, or Raphael Hamato can do that."

"I don't know who those people are," answered Clint not looking up as he tried the door handle of an old Ford. Not surprised when he found it locked, he pulled out his picks and made quick work of the lock.

"Get in," ordered Clint as he opened the now unlocked door and threw his bag into the back seat. Jack scrambled across the drivers seat and into the passenger seat before Clint climbed in himself.

"But you don't deny that you can jump off a building and carry on walking," pointed out Jack continuing with his conversation.

"It depends on how high the building is," sighed Clint as he pulled out a bunch of wires from beneath the steering column. Selecting the two he needed he stripped away the insulation before striking the two exposed wires together. After a couple of attempts the engine started.

"Cool," grinned Jack.

"Put your seat belt on," grumbled Clint as he pulled out and headed towards Niko's house.

.

-A-

.

Twenty minutes later Clint stopped the car at the end of a street in the nice side of town. Big houses, sweeping lawns, families with kids and a couple of dogs. If only these ordinary people knew who their neighbor was.

Halfway down the street was Niko's house. From the outside it looked no different to all the others on the street. Well, all accept for the amount of cars that were sitting out front. For a normal household there was just too many of them. Two on the driveway and three parked on the road.

That could mean there could be as many as twenty-five people inside the house, maybe even more than that. With any luck there would be less.

Clint reached into his duffel bag and pulled out three more knives. "Whatever happens stay in the car."

"No, I want to come with you," whined Jack.

"Jack, in all those stories you heard about me did it ever mention me working with others?"

"No, but-"

"There's a reason for that."

"But-"

"I work alone Jack, always. Besides you'll be safer in the car, which I'm sure is what your mom would want."

"Yeah but-"

"Stay in the car, Jack." Clint got out of the car and took off in a light jog towards the target house.

Clint used the cover of shadows to sneak into the back yard of the house next door to Niko's. If he was going to survive this he couldn't go all guns blazing and storm in through the front door. He'd be shot dead before his feet crossed the threshold. No, he had to play this smart. But he had to be fast. He probably had less than hour before normal people started getting up for work.

Hopping onto the fence that separated the two properties, he leaped across the gap and latched onto the drainpipe that ran up the side of Niko's house and climbed up all the way to the roof.

Walking with ease across the tiles he headed towards the chimney. It was purely a decorative thing. Something contractors put in to fulfill that American Dream feel, so they could sell more properties. It was all a lie, but it made breaking into houses which have high security all the more easier. Sitting in the shadow of the chimney, he used one of his broader knives and placed it under a tile. The right amount of pressure and it popped right off. Soon he had enough tiles cleared that he would be able to fit through. Using the chimney as support he stomped his foot down hard on the wooden board he'd exposed until it dropped free.

Lowering himself into the attic, he padded across the narrow beams until he reached the hatch. Lifting it slightly he peered down and listened carefully. Nothing. Jumping down he, made sure the hatch closed behind him. With a knife in each hand he made his was down the hallway, looking into each room as he went by. Finding nobody there he went towards the stairs.

Now he could hear people. Silently he kept his feet as close to the wall as he could to try and avoid making any of the steps creak. He'd just reached the bottom step when a man came into the hallway from the room on the left.

"What the..."

Clint didn't give him time to finish his sentence, he jumped of the step and thrust the knife in his left hand up and under the chin of the guy. The blade sliced just behind the mandible and up through the top pallet and into the brain. Dead.

Pulling out his blade, Clint lowered the dead guy to the ground. He didn't recognise the guy, but then Niko employed a lot of people to run his little drug routes and his whore houses. Providing that his little endeavors didn't get in the way of the main Moretti businesses his uncle and father let him do as he pleased.

Stepping into the room, Clint sighted and threw both knives at the two men standing either side of Niko. Both of them dropped dead. Reacting instinctively he ducked the punch that came from the guy on the left of him. A guy on his right grabbed him in a bear hug, trapping his arms by his side, effectively immobilizing him. Using his captors own strength Clint was able to lift his legs and kick out at the guy coming towards his front.

"Stop moving before I shoot you in the head," growled Niko from across the room.

"Niko, you couldn't hit a barn door if you were standing two feet in front of it," scoffed Clint. Though he did stop moving. So much for his element of surprise. Looking around the room he could see that other than the guy on the floor, the guy holding him and Niko there was nobody else here.

"Where's my bow?"

"Is that what you came here for? A piece of wood?"

"That and Tess Draven, shrugged Clint."

Niko laughed, you came all the way back from Columbia for that bitch?"

Clint raised an eyebrow at Niko, he really was stupid. Clint standing here was proof that he never went to Columbia.

"Benny, go get Tess," ordered Niko.

The man on the floor scrambled back to his feet, glaring at Clint he left the room.

"Is the boy yours too?"

"I knew you were stupid, but your math sucks if you think I'm old enough to be the kid's father," scoffed Clint.

Clint suddenly found himself released. Before he could react he was backhanded in the side of the head, the force knocking him down where he collided with the wall.

For a moment, Clint lay on the floor dazed as he tried to re-focus his vision.

"I'm so glad I'll be the one to kill you," sneered Niko. "I've looked forward to it for a very long time."

Before Clint could reply, Tess was dragged into the room and thrown down onto the floor at Niko's feet. Niko grabbed her by the hair and pulled her up onto her knees. Tears running down her face, her dress was torn in places and her lip was bleeding. She gripped Niko's hand that held her hair as she struggled to get free.

"Tess here has been a bad girl, she stopped answering my calls, spouted some shit about trying to be a good mom," mocked Niko. "Got to that shit hole of an apartment building and Benny here recognized the place as where you lived. Apparently he was the one who carried you home after that job in Tokyo.

"Just let her go Niko, you got other whores out there," said Clint.

"True, but I don't like people walking away from me."

"Then maybe you should see a shrink. You got issues."

Niko let out a bark of laughter before he pulled a gun and aimed it at Clint's head. "Maybe, but I know exactly how to fix this little issue." Then he pulled the trigger.

.

-A—

.