"In prison you get the chance to see who really loves you."


'Request Denied'

Two simple words made the anger surge through Clint's veins. It wasn't fair and it didn't make sense.

But there was nothing he could do about it. The report had come from the highest branch of S.H.I.E.L.D and who was Clint Barton to defy them? The response from headquarters had bothered him so much that – for the first time in a long time – Clint Barton said 'screw you' to the organization and snuck into Alana Mercer's cell in the middle of the night.

He wasn't surprised to find to her awake. Sitting, staring blankly ahead as though she was just a shell.

She sure felt like one.

Clint knew she saw him there. He wasn't hiding, hadn't made any effort to conceal the sound of his footsteps.

"Alana." Her name came out in a breath as Clint made his way forward, not worried about if she was going to attack him. Her eyes shifted, lifting up slightly to look at him. She hadn't known what exactly she had been expecting, but her name spoken in a soft tone wasn't it. Somewhere, in the back of her head, her brain made the connection that Clint wasn't going to hurt her, no matter what she had done in the past year. "You remember me, don't you?"

"They didn't take my memories." He barely recognized her voice. It wasn't the same anymore; lacked the teasing, sarcastic lint to it. Her accent was gone.

She spoke like a machine.

Her eyes seemed to soften, looked almost as though she was pleading when she spoke again, "I know what they put in my head. Take it out."

Clint had never been one to sugar coat anything for Alana. It would make her weak, he knew that. People had to learn how to accept what they were told, especially in their line of work. It was part of being a soldier. But in that moment, he really didn't want to tell her the truth.

The look in her eyes, the begging look of helplessness was all he wanted to go away. The archer had seen it before, in his targets that he was assigned to take out. But this was different.

This was Alana.

But he couldn't think of a way to tell her that would make her feel any better, so he kept it blunt. "Headquarters denied our request to remove it."

Alana's internal wall was built back up in an instant. Clint blinked and there it was, the guarded, haunting gleam. Her eyes narrowed as he kept talking, "The way it's placed, it wasn't made to be taken out. They don't know what would happen when it's removed, the device could detonate-"

"Then I'd die." She cut him off, her voice monotonous. Her head tilted to the side slightly, "And I'd still be better off than I am right now." Her chin lifted then and confusion filled Clint's mind as she grinned, "And you would all lose valuable intel."

"What'd you mean?"

"Base positions, double agents, weapons, security codes. They improved me until I was more machine than human and I don't just memorize all those codes that have to do with S.H.I.E.L.D." The archer's eyebrows rose, "I'm a walking codex and could get you into any HYDRA base on the planet." She smirked, letting out a dark chuckle, "I even know where that stupid scepter is."

"Why're you tellin' me this? Why not Tasha?" Clint crossed his arms across his chest, leaning against the wall and looking down at her.

Alana shrugged, "She always said she had a red leger. I just got to read it."

Clint's shoulders stiffened, "And you think less of her now?" He accused.

Her eyes narrowed dangerously at him, "Of course I don't. I've done so much worse. She's too much like me, and besides, I've always been closer to you." Clint watched her lips tug upwards slightly, "I can read you, there's a reason why you never did the interrogations." They both knew that was true, "She would've left to grab more agents as soon as I mentioned the scepter." Alana paused, her head tilting to the side slightly, "And you're still here."

"They won't believe you."

"Yes, they will." Alana shot back confidently, her hands still hanging limply in her lap, "What's S.H.I.E.L.D going to do? Have the Avengers take out every HYDRA base? It'll take you months to find it. I could tell you in five minutes. The location, the guard patterns, what's inside. I can tell you it all. All S.H.I.E.L.D has is you. I know because I killed everyone else myself."

"So you did all of that?" Clint didn't want to believe all of it was her, "The assassinations, the attacks?"

"It's not hard. Creating a diversion by killing a crowd somewhere else, drawing forces elsewhere and then moving in for the real target in the chaos. Children work best that way, because people try harder to save a child than they do an old man. Keeps them distracted for longer so I could slip in. And blowing up the building, making sure everyone is dead? Blows the live feed, takes away the chances of someone being an eyewitness."

Clint's jaw had gone slack. Alana's tone never changed; it was as though she was telling him what she had for dinner the previous night. It made his stomach tie up into knots. "Alana, stop. You're…" Clint shook his head, "You're scaring me."

She didn't even think of her response before it passed by her lips, "You should be scared of me."

Silence settled between the two of them. Alana still sat on the floor, starring up at Clint, her gaze unwavering. Starring at her then, Clint felt like he was looking at someone else. The woman who looked up at him wasn't Alana. This wasn't who he recruited almost a decade ago. This wasn't the woman who helped reintegrate Steve Rogers into modern day life.

He didn't know her at all. Not anymore. And that scared him.

So Clint left the room without a word.


Clint Barton stood banging on an office door the next morning. His knuckling rapping endlessly against the wooden surface until he heard the distinct click of the door being unlocked. It swung open to reveal an aggravated Nick Fury.

"What's so important, Barton?" He snapped, glaring as the archer shoved past him into the office.

Not many knew Nick Fury was there – of the Avengers only Clint and Natasha knew – so the director was trying to keep a low profile. Clint whirled around to face him, the archer's eyes blazing in a way that Fury hadn't seen in years. "Override the call." He demanded.

Fury crossed his arms over his chest, his eyepatch rising as he lifted an eyebrow. "What call?"

"You know damn well what fucking call I'm talking about!" Clint snapped, stalking towards Fury and jabbing a finger in his direction, "Alana."

"Right." Nick Fury sighed, "She's not with S.H.I.E.L.D anymore. She's dead in our files, the only active one she has left now is all the documentation of the terrorist attacks she's committed in the past year. We're one bad call away from being shut down and believe me, no one outside of this organization would approve of us helping the world's number one terrorist."

"What if she could help us?" Clint countered quickly.

"Depends what she could do." Fury held up a hand when Clint opened his mouth, "Clint, you can't tell me we can trust her, you don't know-"

"She knows where the scepter is." Fury stood taller at the archer's words, turning so that he could narrow his eye at him.

"Come again?"

"She said she knows where Loki's scepter is."

"Agent Barton, when did you speak with her?"

Clint glanced at the clock that hung above the desk, "Fifteen hours ago."

"I'll just pretend you didn't break the one rule that was put in place. S.H.I.E.L.D would agree if we can get that back." Nick Fury smirked, clasping his hands behind his back before he began to pace, "I'll get the clearance but we don't try to remove it right away. If it short circuits and kills her then she's dead and we don't get any information."

"And that's all that matters to you?" Clint ground out the words, "The information? Not that it's Alana?" Fury stopped in his tracks, turning on his heel to face Clint.

The former director leaned closer to the Avenger as he spoke, "Barton have you looked at her? My daddy used to say something, 'I've lived long enough to see the same eyes in different people'." Fury quoted, Clint's face falling as he remembered why he left the cell the night before, "That woman in that cell. That's not Alana, not anymore. So we're going to do this my way because you can't be in on this job if personal issues are going to cloud your judgement. I told Agent Romanoff the same thing. Here's how it's gunna go: We talk to her, we get the information, we get the scepter, then we get that outta her brain. If she survives that then we'll figure out what to do with her."

"She won't give us the information without something in return, especially if we don't take it out right away."

Fury crossed his arms over his chest, looking down the archer who stood defiantly on the other side of the room. "And what do you think she'll want?"

Clint opened his mouth to retort, but he couldn't think of anything right away. Before he'd say out of the cell, but he wasn't so sure. Alana hadn't asked for anything since she'd arrived. She didn't use the bed – he didn't even know if she slept – and appeared content for being held prisoner. But Clint Barton knew her best, even after all that had happened, so after a few moments he knew what would work.

Agent Barton knew what Alana wanted.

"Barnes." He told Fury shortly, "She wants to see Sergeant Barnes."


Hope you all liked it! Sorry it's been awhile I had thanksgiving break. I posted a one shot on my profile if any of you want to read that it's also Bucky/OC but it's AU where Bucky doesn't die and comes home from WWII. Remember to let me know what you thought of the chapter!

Y'all rock!