Chapter Forty-Three – True Confessions
It was past noon when Clint finally found the traces he was looking for. There'd been odd tracks all around the little woodland community, and he suspected his guess about the velociraptors was right. They were lazy. And perhaps the female had a clutch of eggs and the male wouldn't leave her – or maybe the male brooded over them and the female fetched food for him, he really didn't care at the moment. What mattered was finding the fucking things and killing them in the next – he checked his watch – hour and a half. And they couldn't be far, because the scat he'd just come across was fresh.
Clint made the decision to call it in, asking for backup. The better they could confine the raptors, the less chance one of them could escape the net. Fury agreed, and every agent within range was mobilised into the forest within fifteen minutes, slowly tightening the loop on Clint's best guess of the target's location.
Maria Hill and Fury had both come out to assist. Fury, for once, had put aside his black leather and was wearing woodland fatigues like everyone else. Hill filled them out better, Clint thought, and knew for sure the Director had the same opinion when he caught Fury looking at Hill's ass. He grinned and turned his attention back to the trees.
There was a sudden crashing noise up ahead and Clint snapped his bow up, drawing the string back, sighting – and there it was. He loosed just as guns cracked from Fury and Hill, and the beast went down with a ghastly scream, cut off by the explosion as the arrow stuck through its eye socket blew up in its cranium.
"Exploding arrows?" Fury said. "Isn't that overkill, Barton?"
"No, sir," Clint nocked another arrow. "Not considering the contact poison. I want to make absolutely fucking sure that these things aren't thrashing around half dead."
"A wise precaution," Hill said, nodding approvingly, and then there was a confused blur of motion directly above them and something came crashing down out of the trees.
Clint loosed his arrow, knowing even as he let it go that it would hit and explode. Whatever was falling out of the trees was as good as dead, but the arrow wouldn't stop it from landing directly on top of Agent Hill.
The explosion was close enough to blind and deafen, or it would have been if it hadn't been contained within the body of the velociraptor that was trying to jump them. There was no scream, this time, just a massive dead dinosaur plummeting down on the woman below.
The scream came from Nick Fury. "MARIA!" He plunged forward, grabbing at the beast.
"Director, the claws!" Clint tried to pull him away, but Fury threw him off with almost superhuman strength.
"Maria, oh God, my Maria!" He grabbed at an upper limb of the beast and yanked with all his strength, managing to flip it over away from Hill, at once pulling off his gloves and throwing them after the carcass. Agent Hill lay huddled on the ground, face down, unmoving. Fury went to his knees beside her. "Maria, please wake up," he pleaded, in a soft voice Clint had never heard from him in all the years he had known the Director. "Please don't die on me." There was a wet-looking spot on the back of her jacket, and Fury snapped "Barton, a knife! This is the poison, we have to cut the jacket off…"
Clint crouched at Fury's side and pulled a knife from each boot. "Let me," he said quietly as he saw Fury's hands were shaking. Carefully, he eased the tip of one knife under a nearby seam, lifting the fabric away from Maria's body, and used the other to start cutting. After a few seconds he had the wet fabric cut away. Thank God, Maria was wearing a Kevlar vest underneath. That would stop the poison soaking through. He cut that off as well, to be safe, and used his knives to flick all the contaminated gear towards the raptor's dead body.
The rest of his team were standing staring at them uncertainly. Clint waved them away, and after a moment they all turned and moved off. They'd start looking for the nest he was betting had to be around here someplace. Maybe up in that tree. Goddamn it, who'd have thought the bloody things could climb trees?
"Maria," Fury had lifted Hill in his arms now, moving her away from the dead velociraptor, turning her over, stroking her face with one shaking hand. Clint suddenly felt like an intruder, especially as Hill's top half was now clad only in a black sports bra. He turned away, gathering his weapons. His knives, he reluctantly tossed on the contaminated pile. They might have picked up some poison, and he didn't want to risk it.
"Nick?" he heard behind him, a breathy gasp from Agent Hill. "Director Fury – what happened?"
"Thank God you're alive," Fury gulped, and Clint walked away quickly. He really didn't think he could stand it if Fury cried. Glancing back over his shoulder, he saw Hill half-sitting up, supported by Fury's arms around her – or perhaps it was her arms around his neck holding her upright. Whatever it was, they were certainly doing their best to kiss the breath out of each other!
Checking his watch, Clint scowled. It was ten past three. Turning, he jogged back towards Fury.
"Sorry to interrupt your touching little moment of mutual revelation," he said, "but I'm running late."
"Agent Hill is in no fit state to fly you back to New York, Barton," Fury said, lifting his head, apparently not at all perturbed to be caught thoroughly kissing his deputy. "She's only just recovered consciousness."
"Indeed, and she doesn't seem to be getting enough air right now, either. Nevertheless, I need to be getting back. Now. I'll take Sitwell with me; he can bring your chopper back."
"Whatever," Fury grumbled. Hill was lying in his arms still, her face turned wonderingly up to his, one of her slender hands against his scarred cheek. "Fuck off then. You've done your job. The check'll be in the mail."
"Thanks, Director," Clint turned to head back in the direction of town. Pausing before he was out of their earshot, he called back "And about bloody time, you two!" His only answer was Fury's lifted middle finger.
Clint ran the four miles back to town at a fast pace. Collecting the chopper he'd left there, he made a quick stop at the homestead base to collect Sitwell.
"I don't get what's so urgent you have to get back to New York for this afternoon," Sitwell muttered ungraciously when Clint dragged him out of the bunk where he'd been having a sleep.
"None of your fucking business," Clint said cheerfully. "Job's done anyway. Three dead velociraptors, delivered."
"Is that your mission debrief?" Sitwell said sarcastically.
"Yes," Clint grinned to himself. "I'm a contractor now. Don't have to do paperwork any more. Besides, Fury witnessed it all. He can fill in the gaps." He switched on his phone, just before starting the chopper engines. "JARVIS?"
"Mr Barton, sir. Is all well?"
"Yes, job's done. I'm heading back now. Be there in about an hour." With one eye on Sitwell, Clint said "Everything okay there?"
"Everything is under control, sir," JARVIS said smoothly. "Your team are looking forward to your return."
Clint read between the lines and didn't particularly like the message. "On my way," he said crisply, cut the line, and stabbed the button to start the chopper's massive engines. He pushed the chopper right to the limits of its performance all the way to New York, using S.H.I.E.L.D. override codes to get himself preferential routes through air traffic, all the while ignoring the muttering, sulking Sitwell beside him.
"So just what's so fucking urgent?" Sitwell said at last, as Clint settled the chopper delicately down on the Tower's landing pad and cut the engines. Steve and Bruce were waiting, he saw, and came jogging towards him, but Bruce was smiling, so there couldn't be bad news.
"I have a date," Clint said with a grin, and slipped out. "Hey, guys. Whassup?"
"Hey, Clint. I'll get your weapons," Steve said, yanking the chopper's rear door open.
"Cheers. Bruce?" They walked away from the helicopter, but Clint kept his voice down, not wanting Sitwell to hear. "Is Jen okay?"
"She's fine," Bruce patted his shoulder reassuringly, and brought his hand away, making a face. "You, however, are covered in mud and – leaf mold? Yeuch."
"I'll go shower. Where is Jen?"
"In the swimming pool. She figured out while she was in the shower that water makes her skin feel better. She had to get out of your apartment because it smells like you and she was going crazy, so she went to the pool. Natasha's keeping her company. I'll let them know you're back and Natasha can bring her up to your apartment."
"Thanks – I'll go wash off!" Clint grinned at Bruce and ran for the elevator. JARVIS had it ready for him.
"Welcome back, Mr Barton. A successful mission?" the AI asked.
"Yes, thanks, JARVIS. Can you keep anyone from interrupting Jen and I for an hour or two, and order in some dinner? Chinese, maybe."
"Certainly, Mr Barton. I have both your and Miss Svendson's preferences in my database."
Clint smiled and stepped out of the elevator as it pinged open on his floor. Letting himself into his apartment, he headed straight for the shower, peeling his filthy fatigues off and dropping them down the laundry chute on the way. He'd better make it a quick shower: he suspected Jen would be flying in through the door any minute and throwing herself on him.
Scrubbing thoroughly, he rinsed away all the muck on his skin and in his hair. He turned the water off and reached for a towel, rubbing his hair quickly and wrapping it around his waist as he stepped out of the shower stall. A movement in the mirror caught his eye and he turned with a welcoming smile for Jen.
"Hello, Barton," Loki said with a smirk.
A/N Soundtrack for this chapter:
Hero: Enrique Iglesias
Always: Saliva
Room To Breathe: You Me At Six
Uh-oh…
DA DA DA DUNNNNN!
(and no more dinosaurs. Promise.)
