Bad Ideas: An Avengers Fanfic

Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own anything.

Bad Idea #33: The Bad Idea to End All Bad Ideas (SEQUEL NEWS IN A/N AT BOTTOM)

Jamie stared at her scarlet fingers in shock as Clint clutched her tightly to keep her upright. Jamie grasped at the glass in her side, but the shard was wet with blood and slipped from her fingers. Jamie grunted and groaned as the pain intensified. Eventually, Hennessy managed to pull the shard out. It was at least 4 inches long and is jagged on both edges. Jamie staggered to the bar stools, dragging her feet and clinging on to each cushion.

"F…First….Aid…" She struggled to speak and inhaled sharply as she held on to the rail along the bar top. Clint vaulted over the bar and searched for the kit, knocking over glasses as he did so. The sirens outside grew louder all the time and the shrill noises caused Jamie to recoil. He located the square green box and sprinted back to Hennessy. Gently, Clint helped her to rest against the stool as he opened the box.

Suddenly, they heard David groan behind them. Hennessy grabbed onto Clint's jacket and reached around for his gun. Holding onto Barton, who took most of her weight as her knees began to give out, Hennessy kept one hand on his shoulder and in the other she held Clint's own Glock, which was trained just to the right of her brother's ear. David steadied himself on his hands and knees before looking up and finding the barrel of a trained agent's gun pointing at his head. He raised a palm in her direction as drops of blood trickled down his face. Through her laboured breaths, Hennessy managed to growl at her brother.

"Don't…Even…Try…Asshole. You- you get out of this hotel- out of this country. If I ev-ever see you again, I shift my aim an inch to the left and pull this trigger. I know your face, your name, the birthmark on your little toe, and… if I… if I ever…" Hennessey paused to get her breath back. "If I find out you're still HYDRA, you'll never know I was there until you find a bullet inside your anatomy."

David nodded hurriedly and tripped over his feet trying to get away.

Jamie collapsed on her knees as crimson blood began to seep through her top. Clint struggled to hold her up as she fell, he knelt on one knee and wrapped an arm around his partner's waist.

"Sparky, c'mon. Stay here, stay with me. Okay?" he said forcefully as he made a lunge for the first-aid box, only to miss it slightly. Jamie slumped and fell on her side, leaning uncomfortably against the side of a chair. Clint could only help her onto her back and watch as the pallor was drained from her complexion. The pain in her side was excruciating and she groaned through clenched teeth as she heard glass crunch beneath Clint's boots as he repositioned himself. The archer's hands hovered over her as he pushed himself to find something to do that could save Jamie.

As he went to grab the first-aid box, Hennessy grabbed his hand.

"Don't…" she said weakly. Clint turned his head to face her, looking straight in Sparky's eyes. Her eyes were now coloured a greenish-grey, the same colour they had been when he first met the annoying Irish.

"I have to stop the bleeding, Sparky. I can't lose you too," he said. Clint managed to bring the box down, it crashed open and spilled its contents onto the tiled floor. He grabbed the gauze and began to stuff the wound. Hennessy grimaced and gritted her teeth. Clint continued to put pressure on the wound, though the bleeding slowed only slightly. Sparky's eyelids began to droop, but she managed to ask him for his phone. Puzzled, Clint tossed the phone into her lap and watched her clumsily dial in numbers. As he reached for more gauze, he heard a voice come from the other end.

"Jay?! Jay! What's going on in there?!"

Hennessy struggled to swallow before replying slowly.

"Ellie…l-listen to me, every word… A lot about me and my job are about to come to light… I-I want you to know, everything I did, I thought it was right…" Sparky paused and hissed in pain, tipping her head back against the leg of the chair.

"I'm sorry, Ellie, I'm so sorry… I love you, t-tell everyone I love 'em… Goodbye."

Her sister could be heard babbling but Jamie just shut off the call and dropped her arm. The phone skittered along the floor boards. Clint glanced up at Hennessy's face to find her head lolled to the side and beads of sweat on her forehead. They needed trained medical personnel for her to have a shot at making it. But they were wanted, just like all other S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, and the only sirens coming for them were more interested in handcuffs than IV drips.

"…Go…"

"I know, Sparky, we'll get going as soon as the bleeding stops."

Jamie grunted. "No, you…You go, now."

Clint snapped up to look at her, shocked. "Wh-what?"

Clint held Hennessy's tired stare until she squeezed her eyes shut in pain. She grimaced before replying.

"Stay here and watch me die, or leave me to them and keep me alive. They'll keep me going, my blood's too valuable to them. W-we both now the first responders are gonna be HYDRA, they'll kill you but they'll want me…" Hennessy said. Clint reeled, the world seemed go stop as realisation dawned on him. His intelligent grey eyes moistened with tears at the thought of Jamie dying. He couldn't let Sparky-his Sparky- fade away in front of him.

"I'm not leaving you, Volts. Not in Norway, not now, not ever. I always make a promise with the intention of keeping it. Always."

Hennessy rolled her eyes, even that a laboured movement. "Legolas, this mission ain't over, I'm still in charge… Until I die, you listen to me… Get your bow, take my glove and give me the goddamn gun. E-even if David cut out half my side, I'd rather die than let those HYDRA gobshites get without a fight. One last terrible, disastrous idea."

The sirens had stopped right outside the hotel now, when Clint looked out the window above his head, he saw the flashing red and blue lights of the emergency services light up the windowsill. He turned back to Hennessy and was rendered defenceless by the look she was giving him. She stared at him with a weary and tired expression. Deep down Clint knew that arguing with her would only use up more energy. It went against every basic instinct in his body, but Clint removed a plain silver ring from his middle finger. He took and slid it onto Hennessy's ring finger, his thumb gliding over the smooth surface, catching only on the 'B' etched in the metal. Still clutching her hand, Clint looked Jamie in the eyes.

"Keep this ring, never let them get it. Never take it off. When-not it- when I find you, I'll know it's you. No matter what happens, I'll know it's you… I'm so sorry, Jamie. So sorry."

They looked at each other, eyes full of regret. Clint knew he had to go now to have a chance of making it. Hennessy knew it too and weakly held up her right hand. Wordlessly, he opened the small clasp of the glove and slid it off gently. Looking at her once more, she raised her hand to his cheek.

Clint moved closer and closed the gap. Hennessy clutched the collar of his shirt and kissed him harder than she ever kissed him before. Clint hated it. He hated the finality with which she kissed him, as if it were the last kiss they would ever share. They finally broke apart and Clint stood up, gathering his bow and shoving the glove roughly into his quiver. He looked back before stepping through the frame of the door to see Jamie checking the gun for ammunition, the ghost of her trademark smirk on her lips.

Suddenly, he heard the back door of the bar crash open. Clint took off at a sprint, never pausing even as he yanked up his gear bag onto his shoulder. He tried desperately to ignore the fact that he was no longer carrying Hennessy's bags, also trying to forget that he had to sidestep Boswell's limp body.

Clint sprinted through the halls, past the bullet holes in the walls, past where Johnson lay unconscious. His lungs burned as he raced through the meandering corridors, HYDRA personnel must have made it through the front doors and gunfire could be heard even as far from the lobby as he was. He didn't think about anything other than the nearest fire exit, focusing on the push down handle as he crashed through it and into green area at the back of the ground floor. His lungs still ached for oxygen but Clint knew he couldn't stop. He ran across the grass, dew wetting hems of his trousers. Clint skidded to a halt at the wall running along the back of the premises. He tossed his bag over and followed it as he hauled himself over.

The street seemed mostly empty, but then again it was mid-afternoon on a Sunday. So, ignoring the pain in his chest, Clint hefted the bag onto his shoulder and made his way to the waiting taxis across the road. He tapped on the window of the first car, startling the driver and prompting him to drop his newspaper.

"Y'alright there, son?" the driver asked. Clint could've laughed aloud. 'Sure, just left the girl I love to a bunch of neo-Nazi sleeper agents. Just peachy.' Somehow, that might have scared the driver off.

Clint rested his arm above the window, and looked around, paranoid that he was being watched.

"Uhh, where's there nearest airport that flies to the States?" he asked. The driver smiled through a greying beard.

"That'd be Dublin."

Clint nodded and opened the back door of the cab. He spoke as he climbed in.

"I need you to take me there."

"That's a pricey ride, son…"

Clint slid his wallet out and thrust it into the driver's hands. The man chuckled and pulled out of the rank. Thankfully, he took the route that lead them away from the hotel. Away from her.

"Were you at an archery competition or something?" The question pulled Clint from his thoughts.

"Huh… Yeah, something like that I guess."

Five hours later, Barton was sitting at a window seat on a jumbo jet, his bow and quiver tucked into his gear bag which was safely stowed in the luggage compartment.

As the staff went through the safety precautions, Clint stared vacantly out of the window, feeling sick to his stomach. He thought back to all the times he and Sparky wasted fighting. Then he remembered the times she made his heart stop. As the plane rose into the clouds, a tear trickled down his cheek. Resting, his forehead against the window, Barton spoke in little more than a whisper.

"We shoulda gotten out, Volts… But I'll find you… I'll find if it's the last thing I ever do…"

The End

We made it. Thank you to you all. For all of the reviews, favourites, follows- thank you so, so, so much. I can announce that there will be a sequel but not for a while. Thank you again for all the reviews in particular, it makes writing so much more enjoyable knowing people appreciate it! So tell me, what was your favourite moment of all our bad ideas?

Thank you so much for sharing this journey with me, I love you guys…

Thanks for reading,

Have a great day, night, afternoon, etc…

Love ya! ;)

SEQUEL NEWS!

THE SEQUEL TO THIS IS NOW LIVE AND ON MY PROFILE, ENJOY DUDES!