Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of "Mission: Impossible"-they belong to Paramount. I also don't own the characters from "The Avengers"-they belong to the Marvel Cinematic Universe, Marvel Studios, Stan Lee, Joss Whedon, and so on and so fifth.

Author's Note: A chapter for Clint, and my version of Budapest, 'cause let's face it, you can't have even a mild mention of BlackHawk in a story without bringing it up. And for those wondering, yes, Brandt is going to get some serious action and yes, the MI team will play a part in the Battle of Manhattan. Stay tuned!

Chapter Eleven
It should have been such an epic moment, Brandt thought, as he helped the SHIELD ensign prep the Quinjet, but all he could do was grin as he caught sight of his brother, Natasha, and Captain America striding through the hangar. The leather vest, black quiver and black combat pants really did make his brother look like a superhero. Brandt hopped off the ramp as Steve, Tasha and Clint stopped at the edge. "Jet's fueled and ready," he told them. He really wanted to take a picture of the scene and send it to his parents. Dad would be in awe of Captain America. Mom would get a kick out of it...and then be mad at them for running off into a war zone.

"Where's your big gun?" Clint asked.

Brandt turned so Clint could see the M1 strapped to his back. "Ah."

"If you're done comparing caliber," Steve said, "we should move. Stark can't hold Loki off alone, not for long."

"Did Captain Cleaver just make a sex joke?" Clint asked Natasha.

"I think he did," Natasha replied.

Steve frowned. "Who?"

"Beaver wasn't around til the '50s," Brandt told his brother.

Clint considered that. "Nope, joke still stands."

"A horrible one," Natasha said. She looked at Clint seriously. "It's really nice to have you back."

"Says you," Brandt countered. "You don't have to share bunkbeds with him." Clint flipped him off as the two SHIELD agents went up the ramp and into the jet, following Captain America. Sarcasm and joking around were their way of concealing nerves. Better to come off cocky than come off scared out of your mind.

The guy helping Brandt prep the jet looked at them. "You don't have permission-"

"Son," Captain America said, cutting him off. "Just don't."

Brandt chuckled as the flustered tech looked at Steve and Brandt. Brandt shrugged. "So...we're gonna borrow this, if you don't mind," he told him. The tech glared at them, decided he didn't want to screw with Captain America, Hawkeye and the Black Widow, and walked off the jet. Brandt hit the button to close the hatch and Clint maneuvered the jet onto the flight deck for takeoff. The joking mood was gone. All four of the jet's occupants were focused on Loki and the task ahead.


"Substitute in English," Andy Romeaux told Will in the hall outside the music room.

Will grinned. "Guy or girl?"

"Woman," Andy replied. "And not the brightest color crayon in the box."

"I'll tell Clint," Will said. "See ya in class..."

"Oldest trick in the book," Clint was telling Hannah Arendt. "Been doin it since sixth grade."

"Never gets old," Will said, joining his brother and his girlfriend. "Hey Hannah."

"Hi Will."

"Better start callin' me Clint," Will said with a wink. "ll sit next to you," he told Clint. He grinned. "I love subs."

"You guys were born to cause trouble," Hannah said, rolling her eyes.

"Hell yeah we were," Clint enthused. He clapped his brother on the back. "Come on, little brother, let's go have some fun."


Manhattan

"What, did you stop for takeout?"

"Nice to see you too, Tony," Natasha groaned as the jet swung into view over Midtown Manhattan. None of them could believe what they were seeing. There was a massive…Brandt wanted to call it a 'hole' though he supposed that wasn't the correct scientific term (and Banner wasn't here to explain it to him), in the sky. And pouring from it were the Chitauri. Brandt couldn't begin to describe them or the flying contraptions they were on other than…well, otherworldly.

"Swing down Park," Stark said over the comm. "I'm gonna lay 'em out for ya." Clint complied, angling the Quinjet expertly through the narrow streets of Manhattan and down Park Avenue. Brandt hung on to Natasha's seat as they started catching their first glimpses of the Chitauri invading force. Everyone was silent, looking at the incredible sight. "I like my bad guys better," Brandt told his brother.

"I don't know," Clint said. "I kinda like the challenge."

"You would," Brandt groaned.

They flew past Stark Tower. "It's like Trump Tower," Natasha said.

"Yeah, but with more ego and better hair," Clint said. Something caught his eye and he looked down at the exterior patio on Stark's monument to himself. "Nat," he said urgently, and pointed.

Natasha leaned forward. Loki was standing there. "I see him," she said. She prepped the exterior gun as Clint swung them in for a better shot.

The god fired at them with his staff. Brandt felt and saw the jet's left wing explode.

Clint swore in Arabic. Brandt had taught the phrase to him after Dubai. "Hang on everybody!" He did his best to stay on course trying to find a place to land the damaged jet. Once again, Loki had gotten the upper hand, and Brandt could tell his brother was not happy.

"Might wanna buckle in, Agent Brandt," Steve advised. Brandt agreed as he threw himself into the jump seat behind Natasha and fumbled with the harness. Clint guided the jet over the top of a group of pedestrians, cussing in every language he knew, including a few Brandt couldn't pinpoint, but every third word was "Loki." The jet groaned, screeched, and finally dropped, slamming into the street. Brandt saw Cap go flying from the corner of his eye, hitting the row of parachutes. Natasha and Clint were thrown forward but their belts kept them from going through the windshield. The jet skidded sideways to a stop. Clint checked all his limbs, then he looked back. "Will, Cap, you guys all right?" he asked.

"Ace landing," Steve said, and Clint smirked.

"Thought you were in the Army," Clint said, "They didn't teach you how to deal with rough landings?"

"I wasn't a paratrooper, and I was in the Army, not the Army Air Force," Steve shot back. "And the last landing I went through like that I didn't exactly walk away from."

"I'm still in one piece," Brandt told him, offering him a thumbs up.

"I'm fine too, thanks for asking," Natasha said from the copilot's chair.

"Aw Tash I know you can handle yourself," Clint replied. "It's these two amateurs here I worry about."

"Amateurs?" Brandt snorted.

"I've been doin' this a lot longer than you have, son," Steve retorted. "Now…let's get out there," Steve said. He looked at Brandt. "You may want to sit this one out, Agent Brandt."

Brandt raised an eyebrow. "Don't think so," he said. He looked at Clint. "I'm not gonna hide in here while my big brother's out savin' the world."

"You're not trained for this," Natasha said, coming in on Clint"s side.

"Really, and the SHIELD handbook covers Norse gods and alien invasions?" Brandt countered.

Clint rolled his eyes. "Don't argue with him Nat, you'll lose every time." He hit the button for the cargo bay and jumped up from his seat. "He's the stubborn one in the family."

Natasha rolled her eyes after Clint went past her. "Right. Sure he is."

The four of them ran down the ramp and out into the streets. The Chitauri were well on their way to making Midtown look like a war zone. A car was on fire to their left. People were screaming and panicking left and right. "Damn," Brandt seethed. "Where do we start?"

Steve looked down the street. The street was elevated over a pedestrian area, and the people below the street were like fish in a barrel. "They're sitting ducks down there," he said.

Clint keyed in something on his bow, and Brandt heard a whirring sound as the cylinder rotated, plugging in arrow tips to the empty shafts. "Go," Clint told Cap.

"We've got this," Natasha added, slamming a clip into her pistol.

"You sure you can hold them off?" Steve asked them.

Clint yanked an arrow from his quiver and strung it. "Captain, it would be my genuine pleasure," he told him. He was itching to get his fingers firing at anything that even remotely smelled of Loki. He had a score to settle.

Brandt smiled. This was the brother he knew and loved.

Steve nodded, then took off at a leaping sprint.

"Will!"

Brandt looked over the side to see Ethan, Jane and Benji. All three of his IMF teammates were shellshocked at the events transpiring around them. He grinned, relieved. "I'll be back!" he yelled to Clint.

Clint looked at Natasha. "His team," Clint said.

"Funny," Natasha said. "I thought he was on ours."

And then there was no time to talk.

It came so naturally to the both of them. He was circling and aiming high while she kept low, covering his exposed back. When she rolled forward he took a few steps back, always having her in sight and yet having confidence that she was fine and taking care of herself. They'd worked together so long it was like breathing.

He'd made the right call in Budapest. He'd always known it, but days like today it was just reinforced.

Budapest

'She's got an impressive resume,' Clint said as he perused the file Fury set in front of him. 'We could use someone like her.'

'She's been on the other side of us for too long,' Fury replied.

Clint looked at his superior. 'What is it you want me to do, Director?' he asked, certain, though, that he already knew the answer.

'She's a roadblock, Barton. One we need removed.'

Clint tapped the photo. 'You're sure we can't persuade the Black Widow to join the side of good?'

Fury's tone was grim. 'No,' he said flatly.

Clint nodded. 'All right then.'


He set the quiver for grapple and fired an arrow into the crumbling brick and mortar. He tugged on it a few times to make sure it wouldn't come out with this weight. Then he used the bow and scaled the side of the building. There were two guards up top, which an arrow and a haymaker took care of nice and quiet. He stepped over to the skylight and glanced down.

'Target acquired,' he said quietly.

She was beautiful. Long red hair, big green eyes. In the photo she'd been wearing a business suit but tonight, Natasha Romanoff wore a red minidress that left little to the imagination. Clint blinked to clear his mind and chose to focus on the people in the room with her. He was supposed to have gotten here before the meeting, but one of the bridges had been closed into Pest and he'd had to find another. 'Gonna be hard to be discreet with all these people around,' he muttered. 'I take her out with all these people around, I could start World War III.' It wasn't an exaggeration. Clint could count at least four different types of shoulder fired missiles and several different crates of guns. He watched the exchange. She was handling the mediation like a pro. Slick and smooth and sexy. He didn't know for sure who was paying her but she was earning her keep tonight. Too bad she wouldn't be able to enjoy the spoils afterwards. 'What do you want me to do?' he asked Fury.

'If they blow each other up it's nothing to us. But she needs to be taken out.' Fury's voice echoed in his ear.

So he took aim.

And put the arrow into the Bulgarian who was trying to pull a pistol on the Black Widow. The men in the room erupted in several different languages, each accusing the other of compromising the trade. The Black Widow, meanwhile, was making a swift exit. And she looked pissed.

'Whoops,' Clint said. 'Pissed off the mistress assassin.'

And then he made out a few words in Russian and Hungarian from below. 'Kill the woman.'

'Well hell,' he said. 'Can't have that.' He rappelled off the roof and went in search of Natasha Romanoff. He had to get to her first. 'Sir,' he said as he ran, 'I'm letting you know that I'm disobeying a directive to kill the Black Widow.'

'Excuse me?' Fury demanded.

'She's an asset,' Clint said, ducking around a corner. Damn it, where'd she go? 'We need her.'

'You don't get to make that call, soldier,' Fury warned him.

Clint grinned in spite of it all. 'I'm making it anyway.' He poked his head out from behind a stack of pallets.

His eyes met the barrel of a Russian made pistol. He glanced up the barrel to see Natasha Romanoff's angry green eyes glaring at him. 'Sir, I'm gonna need to call you back.' He tugged his earpiece out as he stood up slowly. 'You should be halfway to Siberia by now,' he told her in Russian.

'Who are you?' she demanded.

'The guy that just saved your ass.'

'You ruined my exchange. Now they want me dead.'

'They would've killed you anyway,' Clint told her matter of factly. 'I bought you time to get out.'

'You're an American?' She switched to flawless English.

'Like a bad penny,' he said. 'We always turn up when something bad goes down in the world.'

She pulled the hammer back. 'They will think I doublecrossed them and ran with their money.' She put the gun at his chin. 'You've signed my death warrant.'

'I was the one who had the warrant,' he said. 'That arrow was supposed to be for you.'

"Then use it," Natasha hissed.

"Which one were you sleeping with?" he asked her.

Her eyes flashed in the dark. She rattled off an insult in Russian that would have made any other man blush. "Oh come on, Natasha," he said, using her first name, which only irked her more. "I know your skill set...it's pretty specific."

"I'm not the first woman to use that to get what I want," she told him.

"No, you're not. Problem is, you're too good, honey. And we're tired of cleaning up your messes."

"Yet you haven't killed me yet," Natasha raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

His response was to put an arrow into the man who had snuck up behind her. 'I like you,' he said. 'We could use someone like you.'

'Who is 'we'?' she asked. She brought her gun to her shoulder and fired, the shot landing between the eyes of another man.

Clint looked at her. 'We get out of this and I'll explain everything,' he offered. "You're between a rock and a hard place, Black Widow. So either they'll kill you nice and slow...or you let me get you out of here and live to die another day." He keyed in the code for his explosive tipped arrows and waited.

She put another clip in her gun. 'Fine.' She looked at him and nodded once. They both came up shooting as the two cartels decided they didn't care about each other. They just wanted the Black Widow dead. He pulled arrows as fast as he could, and she'd emptied one clip and loaded another (where she was keeping the spares, Clint didn't have a clue, but he was very curious). 'We gotta move,' Clint decided. He looked around, his eyes resting on the roof. 'What comes down must come back up,' he said in Russian.

Natasha eyed him, confused. 'What?'

He pointed to where his grappling hook remained locked in the side of the building. 'You first,' he said. He fired an arrow into one man and she tucked her gun into a concealed holster. 'Bet that didn't come with the dress,' he told her.

'It matches my purse,' she shot back as she started climbing up the rope.

He grinned.

Clint kept Natasha covered until she was safely over the roof. For a moment, there was silence. Don't you dare take off, he thought. Then he heard small arms fire from the roof. 'You might want to get up here,' Natasha called to him. 'They just went for the grenade launcher.'

'That's my exit cue,' he agreed. She covered him from up top as he scrambled up the rope. Clint rolled over the lip as a shoulder-fired grenade slammed into the wall inches from where his head had been. Brick and mortar rained down over them. Clint reached into his combat trousers and pulled out a cell phone. He punched four numbers and waited. 'This is Hawkeye requesting immediate evac.'

'Hawkeye?' she snorted between shots.

'You don't think it's accurate?' He asked, sinking an arrow without looking into the man who'd made his way up the fire escape.

She raised an eyebrow. 'Perhaps,' Natasha admitted.

'Says the Black Widow,' Clint muttered. A helicopter sprayed machine gun fire down on the ground, and Clint helped Natasha into the chopper. Someone yanked him into the helo, and he looked into the eyes of Agent Phil Coulson. 'The Director wants to speak with you,' Coulson told the archer.

'Yeah,' Clint smirked. 'I'll bet he does.' He nodded to Natasha. 'Agent Phil Coulson, the infamous Black Widow.'

Phil studied her. Then he looked at Clint. 'Is there a reason she's still alive?'

Clint looked at her out of the corner of his eye. 'We'll see," he said finally. "We'll see."


A month later, they were in the field together in Thailand on their first mission. He had her back, and she had his.

As the two of them stood shoulder to shoulder in Midtown, covering Captain America as he took off down the street, preparing to take on an army of aliens from outer space controlled by a mischief-loving god, Natasha muttered under her breath, 'this is like Budapest all over again.'

He glanced at her sideways as he nocked an arrow and frowned. 'You and I remember Budapest very differently,' he replied.

And then they were firing. Now this part, Clint thought, this part's familiar. He kept pulling arrows and firing at anything that wasn't human. In his mind, they all had Loki's face. This's for you, Coulson, he thought, and put an arrow through the heart of the nearest Chitauri warrior.