A/N: 2012 winner of NaNoWriMo contest and exclusively Beta'd by the wonderful ladygris.
Thanks,
~Sandy
Avengers
Time after Time
Chapter 26
As they neared the chapel, Bishop shut off the siren and lights. Lewis coasted to a stop a block away so they wouldn't be seen. Going to the trunk, they each put on a Kevlar vest with FBI across the front and back.
Clint set his bow and arrow case on the ground at his feet. It would be no good in close quarters, but he wanted it near just in case. From the other case he took the black K-bar and two smaller boot knives, secreting them on his person. He paid no attention to the others knowing they were gearing up as well. His hair fell over his forehead and he brushed it back with an angry gesture wishing he had cut it. Taking the knit cap from his pocket, he pulled it over his head and tucked the longer strands out of his way. His hands were cold so he slipped on a pair of fingerless gloves, flexing his hands to keep the circulation going.
"How we gonna play this, boss?" Bishop had armed himself with almost as many weapons as Clint, but in his case, he'd taken off his long overcoat as had Coulson and Lewis.
"Slow and easy. Get in, and take him down. Alive, if possible. We will bring Dr. DeLuca back and Decker will go to jail for a very long time."
Lewis chose a Sledgehammer sniper rifle from the arsenal, checked it out and filled her pockets with ammo. She nodded to a building across the street. "I'll set up over there on the roof."
"Good." Coulson stuck his earpiece in his right ear. "Comm check" They all indicated they could hear him and each other.
Arming herself with additional ammo, Lewis avoided looking at Clint. "Boss?"
"Yeah?"
Lewis' expression giving nothing away except determination, she held the Sledgehammer easily in both hands, more than comfortable holding the deadly weapon. "Shoot to kill or to maim?"
"If Decker gets by us and you have no other choice, take him out."
"Yes, sir."
She and the others knew what Coulson was not saying. They wanted Decker alive on Fury's orders. But if that wasn't possible, Clint wanted to be the one to do the final takedown. Either way, Naomi was coming with him and no one would get in his way.
"Barton, you're on the back door. Bishop and I are on the front."
To Clint, Coulson looked odd armed to the teeth. Aside from the sparring sessions they'd been in, he seldom saw this side of his handler. For the most part, Coulson was mild-mannered and easy-going yet giving off an impression of danger that lurked under the surface. And Clint was privileged to be able to see him in action.
A field surrounded the chapel, but before Clint used it to hide his approach, he made a crouching run to the only vehicle in the parking lot. Taking out his K-bar, he slit all four tires then returned it to its sheath. He dived into the underbrush making almost no noise as he worked his way to the rear of the building, picked the lock on the back door and let himself in. As churches went, it was not large, but there were many places to hide, for him and for Decker. And just as many places for him to keep Naomi.
Taking her to the steeple would be foolish as the stairs were easily blocked. And everyone knew a trapped animal would fight its way out rather than allow itself to be captured. That's how he felt about Decker. He was an animal. A dangerous creature that should be put down.
He'd seen it done many times in the circus. Tigers, lions, bears, chimps. Once they had attacked a human, they were no longer considered "safe" to be around and were destroyed, even if it had seemed like an accident at the time. He'd been just short of his thirteenth birthday the first time it had happened. A Bengal tiger had clawed and bit one of his handlers. The man ended up in the hospital for almost a week.
Clint and his brother had watched with horrid fascination as the magnificent creature had been shot through the head. Clint had gone with the others to help bury him in the woods near which they had camped. He'd been able to keep his emotions in check until going to bed where he'd cried all that night.
The next day, Barney had made fun of him and the two had gotten into a knock down drag out until two of the clowns had pulled them apart. Mr. Carson had come to talk to him later and told him that it was okay to be sad, but that death was a natural part of life. That he shouldn't mourn, but to celebrate the life that was no more. At the time he'd thought the old man was feeding him a load of crap. Still did. But if he, or anyone else, had to take Decker out, he wouldn't waste one millisecond of grief on him. In fact, he would celebrate.
The creak of a floorboard alerted Clint to the presence of another. Listening closely, he could hear the soft footfalls of someone coming closer to his hiding place. He put the 9mm away, flattening himself against the wall as the muzzle of a shotgun came into sight, left hand supporting the barrel and right hand caressing the trigger. He counted to three then stepped out, pushing the barrel down with his right hand and his left coming across his chest to elbow his opponent in the face, stopping in mid swing when he recognized the indignant, "Hey!"
Clint dragged the person into his hiding place, surprise and anger battling within him. He shut off his radio, his voice a harsh whisper, "Gina! What the hell are you doing here?"
"Same thing you are. Saving my daughter."
"No. You're not!" He took the shotgun from her. "Go out the way you came in, get back in your car and go home!"
Rage flashed in her brown eyes. "She's my daughter! I'm staying." She grabbed the shotgun from him and stood. "I can take out a buck at sixty yards in the woods. Can you say the same?"
"No. But then I've never been hunting. Not for deer."
One side of her mouth lifted in a grin. "When we get home, you're gonna have some explaining to do. Starting with that FBI badge, why it says FBI on your vest and why you answered to 'Agent Barton' when you were introduced to me and my friends as 'Clint Coulson', an off-duty cop and full time college student."
"It's a long story. Sure you wanna hear it?" Clint would've said more, but the sound of yet another person close by brought finger to his lips for quiet. He pulled the Glock out, stuck on the flashlight attachment and waited, not missing the way she noticed his familiarity with the weapon.
"Yes!"
He knew she wanted answers, but her daughter took top priority. Naomi was his top priority too. "Sh! We've got company."
~~O~~
Consciousness slowly returned and the first thing Naomi noticed was that she couldn't move. Not only were her hands and feet bound with duct tape with another strip across her mouth, but she had been stuffed into a small space. Turning over onto her back, she was able to guess at the dimensions of her prison as barely bigger than the floor area of the confessional at a Catholic church, though she doubted she would be able to sit up.
Her head hurt where he'd hit her. When he opened the trunk to take her out, she had tried to kick him, but he'd been ready. The coldness registered next. Wherever she was, there was no heat.
Great! Kidnapped by a kook and I'm getting frostbite boot!
She should be worried, not knowing who had taken her, but she wasn't. Clint would find her before the guy could do her any more harm. All she had to do was believe.
The box Naomi was in, or whatever it was, moved slightly, as if someone had kicked it from the outside, and a moment later a dim light was in her eyes backlighting the person standing over her. She shrank back when a hand reached for her thinking he meant to hit her again, but all he did was remove the tape from her mouth. "Ow! What the hell? That hurt!"
"It was supposed to. If I'd wanted it to feel good, I would've used a gag."
Her eyes went wide as she recognized the voice. "Gary?"
He crouched and that brought him out from in front of the light source so she could see his face. "I'm surprised you hadn't guessed before now that it was me…" he made air quotes, "…romancing you."
"But why?"
Looking up at the ceiling and stroking his chin thoughtfully, he wondered, "Why would I become your secret admirer? Maybe it was to punish you."
"I don't…"
"My plan…" he got to his feet, speaking as he pulled her upright. She'd been in a near-fetal position for too long and her legs wouldn't support her. Leaning forward, he swung her over his shoulder. "My plan was to make you fall for your secret admirer, then reveal myself to you. And once I was certain that you loved me as much as I loved Rachel, I'd leave you with your heart broken just as I was when she left me. But that jerk Coulson came along and ruined everything."
"But, Gary, Rachel was killed when her car went over a cliff. Her brakes failed."
Naomi turned her head to the side as he carried her down a narrow passage. As they passed an open door, she could see they were in the vestibule of a church by the stained glass window depicting the life and death of Christ. At any other time, she would have thought they were beautiful, but not so much at the moment.
"No, she wasn't! Yes, that's how she died, but she killed herself." Gary entered the chapel and climbed the steps to the altar to throw her down on top of the snow white cloth spread over it. "And it's your fault!"
"I don't understand, Gary. She came to me for help. We had four sessions a week for more than six months and she told me she felt better than she had in years. She was so in love with you, couldn't wait to get married and start your life together."
With a crazed grin on his face, he leaned close to her. Close enough for her to feel his hot breath on her skin. She tried to turn away, but he forced her to look at him. "She killed herself! Drove off a cliff into the ocean!"
"How can you think I had anything to do with it?"
"You were supposed to be helping her, making her better."
Naomi dropped her head to the altar making it throb even more. They kept going around and around. Something more had to be going on than just a delusion and it wouldn't help her case if she kept trying to convince him that what he believed to be true wasn't. "I am so sorry. I really did think she was getting well, that the depression she'd been in since her mother died was going away, that she was engaged in her life again. She told me she was sleeping normally. That the insomnia had stopped."
"Well, it didn't. She was up at all hours of the night just sitting in a chair staring at nothing. Even our dog, Charlie couldn't cheer her up and she loved him as if he were a child."
Gary's tone had taken on the edge of pain. He pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead over his left eye as he continued to ramble, but Naomi had stopped listening. She wasn't a medical doctor, but some of the things that had been happening over the last few months began to make sense. The dramatic loss of weight, headaches, nausea, changes in personality, and the times he had fallen. The sudden onset of OCD should have been a warning sign, but she had thought it a way of coping with Rachel's death. The mention of a dog where there had been none brought it all home because Rachel had been severely allergic.
Sudden movement startled her as he pulled out a gun. To her it looked much like the one Clint kept under the mattress, but she couldn't be certain in the dim lighting of the chapel caused by the now overcast sky. While trying to think of what to say to get through to him, he shoved the gun into his back waistband then took out a knife.
~~O~~
The wind howled across the rooftop of the storage building across from the church. Lewis was colder now than she'd been standing outside the coffee shop. And because of the indulgence, she now had to pee so bad she could barely see straight. But she wouldn't let Coulson, Barton, or his girlfriend, down.
Taking a perch facing the main entrance, she knelt and rested the barrel of the Sledgehammer on the parapet. Aiming carefully, she was now ready to take out the target as soon as she was given the opportunity. She loved her job, but the taking of a life was never easy, even when doing so saved the life of another. But she'd do what she had to. They all would to save the hostage.
Nothing could be seen through the front windows except a portion of the vestibule so she'd have to wait until Decker tried to leave with Dr. DeLuca. It would be dangerous trying to take him out with a captive to shield him, but she was very good at her job, ranked one of the top five shooters first in the FBI and now with SHIELD. If anyone could take him out, it would be her.
Through her scope she saw her partner and Coulson moving cautiously from bush to bush. Bishop stuck his head up and retreated again flashing a quick hand signal to Coulson.
Coulson nodded and duck-walked to the front door with Bishop just behind him. They pressed their backs against the wall on either side of the double doors, Coulson placing his hand on the knob. She could almost hear him count to three inside his head then ease the door open.
Bishop was inside in less than a second with Coulson behind him. After that, she lost sight of them. She wanted to check in, but knowing how sounds carried in a church, she didn't dare. Now all she could do was wait and hope her skills weren't needed.
~~O~~
The footsteps Clint heard moved off in another direction. His voice barely above a whisper, he told Gina, "Stay here. Do not move until I come back for you."
"I don't think so." She started to get to her feet, stopped by Clint's hand on her shoulder.
"I mean it, Gina. Stay!"
Before she could protest yet again, Clint opened the case at his feet, taking the recurve bow out and opening it with a snap of his wrist. Gina made a sound in her throat, but he couldn't take the time to appease her curiosity. Taking the quiver out, he stuck three arrows into it. If it took more than that to bring Decker down, then the man wasn't human and they were way out of their league.
He slipped out of their hiding place hoping Gina would do as he said. He didn't know her well, but realized that it was a futile wish.
The hall to the left led to the rectory. A quick search told him it was empty and had been for a few days. Most likely due to the holiday. Even the pastor of a church deserved to take a vacation.
As Clint made the return trip, he heard voices in the chapel. One female and angry. Naomi. The other was Decker's and the only word to describe his voice was irrational. He was saying things that made no sense. Words like suicide and depression, using them to accuse Naomi of causing his fiancée's death. It was as much what he said as how he said it that told Clint that Decker genuinely believed that Naomi had caused Rachel's death. He also knew that talking to him would be worse than useless. There was nothing anyone could say that would get through to him. It was looking more and more like Clint would end up killing the man before he could do the same to Naomi.
Clint had taken only a single step toward the chapel when another voice joined the others. With a sigh of exasperation, he inched his way to the door between the hall and the chapel to verify that Gina had not done as she was told.
The voices were closer now, and when he peeked through the window, he saw Decker with his arm around Naomi's waist and a knife at her throat. Slivers of silver stuck to the legs of her pants showing where she had been bound and the tape had been cut.
Keeping Naomi between him and the business end of Gina's shotgun, Decker backed toward the side exit that led to the fellowship hall.
Clint made his way to the back door and stepped out into the cold biting wind. With one part of his mind, he calculated wind velocity and directionality to use the bow and arrow. Another part tracked the footsteps of Decker and Naomi. She had wisely given up trying to talk to the man, and Clint was glad she had because it would only fuel his delusion if she kept refuting what he knew to be true whether it was the actual truth or not.
Sidling up to the corner, he leaned out and back just as a side door opened and the pair came out. Decker's knife was still way too close to Naomi's neck for Clint's peace of mind. But he couldn't think about the fact that the woman he loved was so close to dying. He had to clear his mind so he could figure out the best way to take Decker out before he could slice open her neck.
The sound of a boot hitting wood brought Clint's head around the corner again. Gina. Still holding the shotgun and still following the man who had abducted her daughter and giving him hell.
That woman never listens! Like mother, like daughter.
~~O~~
Lifting her right foot, Gina kicked the door Decker had just taken Naomi through, keeping her eyes on him and waiting for one millisecond of distraction. As he had stalked her daughter, she stalked him across the patch of grass one step at a time.
Apparently Decker had tired of this game. "One step closer and…" Naomi hissed in pain as he made a small cut in the side of her neck.
Seeing the blood, Gina stopped moving, but refused to back off. "Let her go and I might be generous enough to let you live so you can rot in prison."
"She's coming with me or she dies."
Her chin coming up, Gina said, "I'll take door number three." Her eyes met Naomi's and she smiled ever so slightly. "Ti amo, figlia! Cessare caduta e rotolare!" (I love you, daughter. Stop, drop and roll!)
Naomi dipped her chin once in agreement. "Ti amo anch'io, mamma!"
Within the circle of Decker's arm, the young woman let her entire body go limp. Not expecting it, Decker lost his grip. Naomi fell to the ground and rolled out of the way, covering her head with her bound hands just ahead of a shotgun blast that echoed through the cold air.
The next few seconds seemed to go by in slow motion.
The shot hit his right hand and Decker dropped the knife. With his left hand, he reached back and pulled out a small caliber handgun, cocking the hammer and aiming at Gina in one smooth motion. He wasn't able to complete the action because suddenly an arrow was sticking out of his chest.
The side door was flung open again, and when Gina swung around, her finger twitched. A second blast was heard followed by a man crying out. She'd accidentally shot one of the agents, a tall man with dark hair. She didn't know his name and she did want to apologize, but her daughter came first.
Decker looked down at the shaft sticking out of his chest, coughed twice disgorging blood down the front of his jacket. The gun dropped to the ground with a dull thump, that same hand coming up as if to pull the arrow out. His eyes rolled back in his head and he fell to his knees then onto his side.
Gina swung her head to the left to see Clint standing not ten feet away, left arm back at shoulder level and the right holding the recurve bow out in front of him. But it was the look on his face that really got to her. He was intensely focused without even a touch of fear.
The moment Decker's body hit the ground Clint lowered the bow and ran forward, dropping the bow as he reached Naomi well before Gina did. When she got there, he'd already removed the tape from around her wrists and held her in his arms. Not caring how it looked or if Clint might not want it, Gina wrapped both of them in her arms and was pleasantly surprised when Clint's arm came around her waist to bring the three of them even closer.
~~O~~
Clint nocked an arrow as he came around the corner, lifting the recurve into position and sighting on the middle of Decker's chest. He would've let it fly, but Naomi was still in the way. To his right, Gina shouted something in Italian, but he was too focused on Decker to be bothered with translating.
Suddenly, Naomi dropped to the ground and rolled away from Decker's feet. A shotgun blast hit Decker's hand causing him to drop the knife and when Decker's left hand went for his gun, Clint let his breath out and released the arrow barely hearing the shotgun being fired for a second time.
Pffffft!
Decker slumped to the ground, but Clint was already on the move, dropping to his knees beside Naomi. She had already gotten herself to a sitting position and with a swipe of his knife, Clint cut the tape on her hands. He gathered her to him and held on tight.
"Oh, God, Clint! I thought I'd never see you again."
"You're fine. We're both fine." Clint kissed her forehead then her lips. "I love you so much, I don't know what I would've done if I'd lost you." Immediately, Clint realized what he'd done. He had declared out loud and in front of witnesses that he loved Naomi. And by the way she clutched at him she'd heard every word. But before she could speak, her mother joined them. He pulled Gina close, the three of them just sitting on the cold ground and hugging.
And coming toward them was the sounds of emergency vehicles. They skidded to a stop, the paramedics already swarming around Bishop.
A few minutes later, Lewis, still carrying the Sledgehammer, joined the chaos by going to speak to Coulson. What they said didn't matter. All Clint cared about was that Naomi was safe and they were together. Anything else came in a distant second place.
TBC