Title: Blood on My Name
Chapter title: I Can't Escape This Now
Author's Note: Hi! Still alive and with another chapter. Things are starting to escalate here! Hope you guys can leave a review at the end :-)
Disclaimer: All rights go to Marvel, Disney and whoever else is lucky enough to have a part in the glorious MCU and its characters!
Andrew Coleman was by no means a small man. He wasn't particularly tall, but he had the bulk to compensate for that, although he had never been much of a fighter. He had always left that piece of dirty work to his henchmen.
But the mighty, political tycoon that he normally represented was not present now. His graying hair was ruffled and hadn't been washed for at least two days, his dress shirt was creased and askew and the red tie had been loosened and now hung limply down his chest.
He looked about as worn down and exhausted as Clint felt.
But his eyes were a different story. They were alive and didn't show any fear despite the sharp arrow aimed in his direction. Instead they burned with such deep disgust and intense hatred Clint almost had to look away.
He had been on the receiving end of many loathing glares over the years and the archer had learned to ignore most of them. But the amount of grief and sorrow that existed in this broken man's eyes only served to strengthen the contempt Clint had for himself, the assassin he had been once. It almost broke his resolve right there and then, but he remembered all the innocent lives that had been lost in this ridiculous quest for revenge and those he cared for that had almost lost their lives just for being around him. It fueled his own anger too and he pulled the bowstring a little tighter.
"What's the matter?" Coleman sneered, the venom clear in his voice. "The great Hawkeye can't pull the trigger when your victim is staring back at you?"
His words stung, but Clint didn't let it show.
"Do it," Coleman dared. His voice broke ever so slightly at the last word, but to his credit his face remained hard and unforgiving.
Clint took a deep breath and gently eased the tension off the string. He lowered his bow so the arrow pointed lazily at the floor. "No," he calmly said and shook his head once. "I don't want to kill you."
For a moment Coleman looked almost bewildered and his eyebrows creased to a light frown. Then his eyes hardened and his lips tightened to a straight line.
"Then that will be your final mistake."
Clint only had a second to feel his confusion before several strong hands came from behind and took a firm hold on Clint's biceps. Where the extra guards came from, the archer had no idea and cursed his muddled mind for the lapse of attention. The guards forced him to let go of his bow and his beloved weapon fell uselessly to the floor. Before he could even ponder the anger that came with that disrespectful act, a swift kick to the back of his already unsteady legs was the final straw and his knees buckled quickly and smacked into the floor. His quiver was torn by the straps and tossed away. His arms were wrenched behind his back and held in a bone-crushing grip and finally he felt his dislocated shoulder burn at the rough treatment. Fingers entangled his hair and held his head so he was looking straight up at Coleman's disgusted gaze.
"You're a coward, Barton. You were one ten years ago and you are just as much one now. Nothing more than a worthless, cowardly killer."
Clint could only stare at the politician before him. Coleman didn't know how often Clint had had those exact thoughts and he couldn't possibly defend himself for something he could only agree on. But the urge to say something snarky whenever someone was confronting him was strong and always had been. He was about to open his mouth, having no idea whether it would be an apology or a comment that would come out, but the sounds of heavy grunts and bodies hitting the floor echoed through the hall outside the office. Steve was drawing closer and Clint couldn't help the small smile of satisfaction that spread out across his face. If they thought he was scary, it was nothing compared to a furious Captain America.
But Coleman only sighed as if it was just an annoyance. He took one of his guards' guns and cocked the safety off. He stepped closer to the archer and replaced his henchman's grip on Clint's hair and stuck the barrel into Clint's face with bruising force.
"Captain Rogers! Surrender yourself or Hawkeye receives an extra hole in his skull!" he yelled through the door. He seemed so relaxed about the act and he sounded so nonchalant it sent chills down Clint's spine. Sometimes he forgot the man had actually worked for the bad guys for awhile. Old habits died hard, he supposed.
A few more grunts were the only answer before silence came from down the hall. Coleman stuck the gun further into Clint's head, but when it didn't force the wanted sound out of the archer, he retorted by jabbing it straight into the gash in his side. It had the desired effect.
Clint hated himself for it, but he could do nothing about the yelp that escaped his lips when the cold metal dug into his inflamed skin.
"Captain!"
Don't you do it, Cap!
But Clint's prayer went unheard, as Steve's reply came from down the hall.
"Don't shoot!"
A second later, he appeared in the large doorway, walking with tentative steps over the dead guards both he and Clint had put there. He had his hands open and raised above his head to show that he wasn't a threat. However the guards weren't fooled. They were on him the second he stepped over the threshold. The butt of a rifle slammed into his stomach and his torso folded in on itself as the air was forced out of his lungs and he let out a strangled cough. Not a moment later the same rifle came crashing down on his skull. A sickening crack followed and Rogers staggered with the blow. The second hit sent him crashing to the floor. Clint squirmed and struggled in the guards' death-grip at the mistreatment of his friend, but no matter how much he wiggled he couldn't make them stop. The men jumped on top of Captain America, one securing his legs and another bending his wrists behind his back so tightly it couldn't possibly be healthy. A third guard, one of the biggest men Clint had ever seen since Thor, dug his knee into Steve's back and placed his entire weight on it to keep the super soldier still. Big Guy then planted the barrel of his handgun in the back of Steve's head as a firm reminder of what would happen should he decide to move. Clint desperately tried to catch Steve's attention, hoping the soldier would let him know he was okay. But Steve seemed to hardly notice all the men pinning him down. Instead he was just blinking sluggishly, clearly still dazed from the blows. Blood was dripping down in fat drops from a gash on the side of his head.
Clint felt new-found anger for Coleman tear at him and the pity he had felt only a few moments ago had practically disappeared. It was the same anger he felt when Natasha had been involved in this ruthless father's thirst for revenge. How many more times did those around him had to get hurt for his mistakes?
"You son of a bitch," he sneered loudly to gain Coleman's attention. It worked. Coleman turned his gaze from Rogers on the ground and back to Clint. The archer grinned as smugly as he could, the blood that had mixed with his spit gleaming on his teeth.
"You're calling me a coward? You hide behind criminals who do your dirty work because you're too scared to do the job yourself. You say you want me dead? Fine, then at least be man enough to pull the damn trigger yourself!"
Coleman's eyes burned and Clint knew he had hit a nerve. He felt a strange sense of satisfaction in achieving that look. It didn't go away even as he was punched in the face to hard he felt the skin break.
Clint just shook it off and continued on, undeterred. "And that little adventure we had a few months back in Slovakia … That was you, wasn't it?"
The board member searched Clint's face, as if debating with himself whether or not to tell him. Eventually he sighed like he didn't see the point of hiding it any longer.
"I knew George Stein was dirty already, so I fed him the location of your safe house. He told it to Novotny and all that scumbag had to do was finish the job. It would be a simple mission gone wrong with Stein bearing the fault."
Clint would swear he heard a shadow of regret and disdain that wasn't aimed in his direction. He chose not to voice it. He just needed to keep the older man talking.
"And Budapest? Mexico? Norway? I bet Russia was your fault too."
"Although it fell into my favor, I didn't have anything to do with Norway. Pure luck, I suppose."
"Depends whose side you're standing on," Clint mumbled. His eyes drifted down to Steve again and he felt his spirits lift when he saw the soldier staring back at him with lucid eyes. Clint found himself envying the serum running through Steve' veins again. An ordinary man would not have been awake until next morning, assuming he even woke up. But here Steve was, lying underneath three fully grown men, alert, breathing and listening to every word that was exchanged.
And the archer fully intended to keep him alive.
"Spoken like a true assassin," Coleman spat. "There's no right or wrong. Only shades of grey."
"About fifty of them," Clint muttered. He received another punch, this time in his midsection. The fist landed in the middle of his wound and he gasped out loud as he felt the bandages shift and a thin line of blood run down to coat the top of his trousers.
"You don't even care, do you?" Coleman muttered and the heart-broken father had returned in his voice.
Clint felt his heart drop and despite everything the man had done, he could still feel the aching sorrow of having taken the only thing that had kept the former criminal sane. He wanted to- No. He needed to apologize. Not just for killing Kyle Coleman, but for every single innocent victim that fell from his arrows.
"I don't think this is gonna matter to you, but I'm sorry. For everything I've done. I don't expect you to forgive me," Clint breathed. He saw Coleman's body tense up as he froze when he heard the archer's words.
"But that you have spent the last decade making up for your past mistakes has to count for something. And the fact that this man isn't willing to let go of the past says more about him than it does about you."
"You're a good man, Clint. And I believe in you."
He didn't know why he heard Steve's voice echo in his head, but it did and this time he fully intended to listen and believe every word. He met Steve's eyes from across the room and he could almost feel the strength emanating from the soldier.
It encouraged him to go on. "But I've spent the past 11 years trying to make up for my wrongs and I know it doesn't mean a damn thing to you, but I've done good. For all the wrongs I've committed, not just to you, I've done my damnedest to erase my past and focus on the future. Why can't you?"
Coleman stared at him with so many emotions flashing in his eyes. Clint had no idea how to discern what was going on in his head. He had no way of predicting what happened next and it scared him more than anything.
"You killed him," Coleman finally whispered. It was so low Clint had to strain his ears to hear the words, but once he did, all of the energy he had summoned fled instantly.
"You killed my son. You killed the only light I had in my life," Coleman continued, his voice low but the anger and despair behind them made it clear for everyone to hear. "He was going to school. He dreamt of being a doctor and saving those less fortunate than himself. As a father, I could not have been prouder. He was a good kid. A perfect kid …"
His eyes had drifted off as if he was stuck in a memory. But then they flew back to Clint. They were moist and clear.
"… and you killed him without a second thought."
His lips tightened and all the sorrow from his gaze vanished, replaced with red-hot fury. He cocked the safety off the gun his fingers had turned white from clutching so hard and aimed it at Clint's head.
"So no. I can't forget the past. Because without my boy, there is no future."
Clint looked straight into Coleman's eyes and waited for him to pull the trigger. He had failed Natasha. He had failed Phil. He had failed Steve. But at least it was over now. Andrew Coleman wouldn't hurt anyone else. He had gotten his revenge and Clint only hoped it tasted bitter.
It was all done.
TBC