Hey everyone! Sorry for the long wait and thank you so much for being interested in the story :) In this one Clint has a bit of a story time.

File ID: 72314 - June 13, 2012

Name: Clinton Francis Barton/Hawkeye

Species: Human

Date of birth: January 07, 1971

Place of birth: United States of America

Citizenship: American

Occupation: Agent of SHIELD

Family status: Single

It has only been two days that Natasha and Tony left to rescue Steve, but the atmosphere is already different from the one I know. The huge building that has always been loud and noisy now seems strangely empty and silent.

And Hawkeye, my most reliable patient, did not show up for his appointment.

I wait for an hour before I grab my notepad and make my way to the shooting range. I do not have any other idea about his possible whereabouts. It is mostly empty except for some agents practicing shooting with guns. As I keep walking, I can hear the familiar thumps among the gunshots as well. It doesn't take much time to notice Clint as he shoots his arrows onto a target that is already full of them without pausing to take a breath. He wears his uniform as if he was about to leave for a mission in the near future. I know this is not the case, I asked Hill who said Clint would not be sent out for at least two more weeks.

I stand by for a while before I clear my throat. "Clint?"

Clint turns towards me with his arrow aimed at my chest and I can't help the squeal that leaves my throat. He looks at me for a long moment without moving before lowering the bow. "God, Stella, what are you doing here?" he asks forgetting the formality he usually addresses me with.

"You didn't show up at the session," I explain after taking a deep breath to appreciate the fact that I just avoided death.

He shrugs and keeps his gaze on me as his upper body turns towards the target and he shoots the arrow. It hits the bull's-eye.

I stare at the arrow among the many others before I look back at him. "It appears you are upset. In this case it would be paramount that—"

"I am having a bad day. I am coping with it. I do not need nor want to participate at that therapy right now."

"What could I offer to you to change your mind then?" I ask.

"When I see Natasha get back here safely from that mission, I'll go and see you," he replies but he is already back at shooting his arrows.

I raise my eyebrow but can't help my smile. "Is this about agent Romanoff then? You're worried about your partner."

The thumps continue steadily. Hawkeye stays silent.

"Are you worried because you were not sent out together with her? As I recall most of your missions were together with her since you—"

"Brought her in. Yes. We worked a lot together and there is absolutely no reason she should be sent out without me."

"She is not alone. Tony—"

"Yes, Tony is with her and she is a trained assassin anyway." He groans and turns to look at me again. "Miss Moon, I do not need you to comfort me. I just need my practice session."

I nod. "Fine." I simply sit on the ground and cross my legs placing the notebook on my thigh.

"What are you doing?" Clint asks.

"Working. Someone has to," I respond jotting down some notes. He seems uncomfortable with it because he stops shooting.

"Are you serious?"

I hum. "Definitely. I will just sit here and observe."

"I do not like the sound of that."

"Would you prefer talking to me?" I ask. "Come on, Clint. Give me something. Talk to me about that mission. The one you failed to complete."

"Can I continue shooting?" he asks with a sigh.

"Whatever you like." He keeps on shooting until all of his arrows are in the different targets. Then he steps there and pulls them out one by one. He returns next to me and to his practice session.

And in the meantime he talks. He talks so much and so fast that I fail to keep up with my notes and have to let it all go - I don't want to stop him or slow him down in case he wouldn't be so eager to continue the story.

I was with SHIELD for five years at the time. Before that I lived with— well, you've probably read the reports on that, but I might have stolen some things that were not supposed to be stolen. When Fury offered me a position it wasn't much of a choice, it was an alternative to prison. Still, I was proud to be the one assigned to the mission. To take out the Black Widow. That was surely going in my file. Killing off Natasha Romanoff was an honour. Most of the agents did not qualify for the task simply because Natasha was deadly up close. Fury needed my arrows. The Widow was on a mission in Warsaw and according to the reports she had already killed two important Polish politicians. It was actually not hard to track her down. I was convinced she did it on purpose. Those girls in the Red Room were trained to kill without mercy and she did, but she was getting tired. I still think she was aware we were after her. I still think she wanted to end it all. To die there, in Warsaw. We had to let her kill another politician to be able to get near her. But finally we did. I was at the top of the building in front when she stepped out on the street. I still remember it clearly. She stopped for a moment and stared in front of her. Then she continued walking. I had the perfect aim. Stella, I don't know how much you know about archery. But it's not like shooting a bullet. That's over in a moment. But the victim can hear the arrow. They can hear it most of the times. I had one pointed at her head and I knew this would be the last thing she heard. Death flying towards her. She moved faster and faster, I followed her. Jumping on rooftops and keeping that damned aim on her head. Finally she was running. Then when we got to the outskirts of the city, she stopped and turned around. I— it was a terrible moment, really. She was still looking right in front of her into the void. Then she slowly nodded. I asked her several times why she did it and she says she did not. But Stella, I am telling you, I saw it. She knew it was the end of it and she consented to it. She wanted to die. Obviously if you ask her she'll tell you I just imagined it, but I didn't. Anyway, that was the hard part. I had the perfect aim but suddenly I didn't find it that easy to finish the job. There was this kid doing her job like I was doing my job, working for some people she never truly chose to work for. Just like I did. Now don't get me wrong, I don't want to compare Fury to those Soviet assholes, but I do want to compare Natasha to myself because that's why I made that choice in that moment. Because I saw her in me. So I decided to take her in. If Fury still wanted to kill her, fine. If she still wanted to die, fine. I figured she knew how to kill herself in at least six different ways so my arrow was definitely not crucial for her suicide plan. I shot through her thigh. The scar is still there. She likes reminding me of that all the time, by the way. I took her to my room and later back to the US. Fury was not impressed, to say the least. But I made the right decision. I know I did. And by now Fury knows it too.

I wait some moments but he obviously finished the story. I finally nod. "Thank you for sharing this story. I didn't have any success trying to coax it out of Natasha."

Clint shrugs and shoots another arrow at the target. "She finds you too pushy," he says.

I raise my eyebrow. "That I am, no doubt about that," I admit. It would make no sense denying it. "Speaking about me being pushy… when was the first time you two got intimate?"

He huffs and laughs as he turns back to me. "Seriously? I just shared the story of our first meeting, of the only mission I failed to complete. And it is not enough for you?"

I shrug. "What can I say? I am pushy and greedy."

He smirks. "She was seventeen when we met, the most gorgeous redhead I have ever seen. We were together in Team Delta all the time. You get the idea."

"Would you say you love her?" I ask. I am aware this is a bold move - the Avengers clearly don't like to talk about love. But Clint has been pretty communicative so far.

"I honestly don't understand you, Stella. Do you even know what love is?"

I shrug. "I am not sure about that."

"Then why are you always trying to tag what we have? How should we able to talk about love to you if you do not even know how to define it?"

I sigh. He does have a point once again. One I am not entirely comfortable hearing, once again. I decide it is time to end the session. I thank him and leave with the sound of the steady thumps still in my ears.