And here we are, back for chapter 6! A big thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed to, alerted or favorited this story. Your support is very much appreciated.
Fair warning, this chapter is a bit of a doozie in the forms of both emotional and physical pain for everyone involved, and I'm well aware that some of you are probably going to hate me for doing this to poor Clint and Steve. I have no regrets. :)
At any rate, I hope you all enjoy the chapter, and feel free to leave me any questions or comments in a review.
As Always, I Own Nothing.
As it turned out, Fleischer was willing to pay him quite a bit more to ensure his loyalty in dealing with Steve. The man's line of thinking was that not only was Clint the one that knew the Captain and his abilities the best, and not only was he the only one in the compound that even had a hope of being able to subdue him, but that Steve would hesitate before hurting a man he had fought beside, even with a threat to himself. The sickening fact was, Clint knew he was probably right, on all counts. Even if the only relation between the two of them was the story that he had given to HYDRA, Steve would think twice before attacking someone who had once been his ally. And while the archer hated that Fleischer could have such strong reasoning to keep him involved in Steve's torture, he couldn't help being relieved by it.
If he was close, he could keep an eye on things. Maybe that was the only thing he could do at the moment, with his orders the way they were, but he already knew that it wasn't going to be easy.
As he walked into the cell that Steve had been dragged into, he forced the swirling vortex of thoughts and emotions back, locking down his expression and keeping it perfectly blank. Behind him, Fleischer gave a low chuckle as he followed him in and closed the door behind himself.
"Well, well. Captain America." the HYDRA leader sneered, walking over to where Steve kneeled, the chains from both his wrists and ankles secured to the back wall of the cell. He grabbed Steve's chin and forced his head back, meeting the stubborn blue gaze. "HYDRA has been waiting for this moment for a long time."
In the silence that followed, Clint moved, positioning himself in the corner of the room to the left of the door, where he still had a good view of everyone in the room. At the movement, he felt Steve's gaze snap to him but didn't react other than to meet it as Fleischer gave another dark chuckle.
"I hope you aren't surprised, Captain. The loyalty of a man like the Hawk isn't freely given. It is bought. And he knew more than enough about you to interest me." Fleischer explained, before letting go of Steve's chin, only to wrap his hand around his throat, fingers squeezing tight enough to whiten the knuckles. "And finally, HYDRA will have its revenge on the man who only thought he had seen to its downfall."
Clint felt a muscle tick in his jaw as it clenched imperceptivity. The pure malice in Fleischer's voice wasn't unexpected, but it did make him uneasy. That kind of malice, the kind of rage that fueled a seventy-year grudge, wouldn't allow for this to be stretched out. Fleischer may want to watch Steve suffer, but it wouldn't be long before he ended it, just to have the satisfaction of finally seeing Captain America dead. And Clint was going to need all the time he could get.
"I don't doubt that you already know that I wish to see you suffer." Fleischer spoke again after a few moments, taking a small step back from Steve, whose eyes had returned to glare at him. "But there is also a question that I want answered. I want to know how you survived the plane crash at the end of the war, but HYDRA's own leader did not."
Steve didn't make a sound, not offering any sort of answer and simply holding his glare stubbornly.
It was two days before Fury got back to him.
In those two days, it was all Clint could do to stand in what had become his corner and try to seem unaffected by what Fleischer and his men were doing. They were lucky that Fleischer just wanted him in the room as insurance, not to participate, because if he was sure that if he had to spare even a part of his concentration from keeping himself still and silent, every single person in the compound would be dead and he and Steve would be half way back home. But instead, he had watched. He had stood there without a single attempt at intervention as Steve was beaten, and electrocuted, and beaten again. Fleischer's goons were fond of crowbars.
Steve had never once made a sound, never once looked at him for help or done a single thing to blow his cover. Clint half wished he would, even though he knew that that wouldn't even be a possibility in Steve's mind. In Steve's mind, the mission would be priority first and foremost. And if by some fluke, the Captain did blow his cover, then Clint didn't doubt that he would be the one catching heat from the Council.
He was just slipping into the private bunkroom Fleischer had given him when his comm buzzed to life. He instantly allowed his shoulders to slump and his eyes to roll heaven-ward as he tapped a finger to his ear.
'Hawkeye, there is an incoming transmission for Director Fury. Confirm that you are in a secure position to receive.'
Clint glanced around himself and gave a snort. He was about as secure as he was going to get. There was a rotating surveillance cycle in the halls and the above-ground compound, but not in the private bunkrooms. The only thing he'd have to worry about was someone walking by the door and hearing him talking to himself.
"Confirmed."
'Barton,' within moments Fury's voice was coming through his ear, and Clint couldn't tell a damn thing from his tone, as usual. 'The Council and I have gone over the situation half a dozen times. The outcomes of each scenario have been weighed, and... The Council has decided that your orders are to remain with the mission objective.'
Clint was growling quietly before he even realized it, a pit forming in his stomach.
"What?" his tone was low and dangerous, one he could hardly ever remember taking with Fury.
'What you're getting us is the best intel we've gotten on any HYDRA sect since the 40s.' Fury continued with a heavy sigh that told Clint he wasn't all too happy with what was happening either. 'You are the only operative we've ever gotten this close. If we can use you to piece everything together, we could wipe HYDRA off the map for good. You do realize that that was essentially why this agency was created.'
"Of course I do." Clint said lowly, entire body stiffening as if there was some invisible threat. "But I fail to see how we can think that this information is worth the life of what is probably the single best asset SHIELD and the Avengers have. We don't exactly have more super soldiers lying around, director."
'In the eyes of the Council, it is.' Fury said simply, and Clint felt his fist clench and had to use every ounce of will power he had not to slam it into the wall. 'I understand what you're saying Barton. And I'm not saying that I agree with the Council's decision, but I have to enforce it. There's nothing I can do. With matters like these, it's their call. You are expected to follow your orders, and you know the possible consequences for disobeying them better than anyone.'
Clint could help a scoff, turning on his heel and pacing his bunkroom like a caged tiger. Obviously Fury had to throw that in his face. Almost four years after saving Natasha and bringing in one of the best assets the agency had, he still got shit for it. Of course he knew the consequences. The Council hated him; hated what he was and how good he was at it. They could boot him out of SHIELD for good, they could shove him into one of the high-security prisons for the rest of his life, or he was sure there was some twisting road they could use to put a bullet in his skull. All fun times.
'You don't have to like it, you just have to do it.' the director spoke again after a few moments. 'I'm sorry, Barton. I know how much this asks of you, but it is the final decision on the matter.'
Clint didn't make a sound, eyes closing as he finally stopping pacing and he thumped his head back on the wall. Fury knew him, yes. Fury knew exactly what he was asking, and how much it was going to kill him to follow these orders. He'd been in these types of situations before, sacrificing an innocent for the mission as a whole, and while he hated them with every fiber of his being, and did everything in his power to make sure that it was never his only option, he understood why. He had the capacity to not only understand how the loss of one life could save hundreds, but to make the decision to follow through, and he had done so on more than one occasion.
But this... this was different, and he knew it. For all his reasoning to Fury about Cap being an asset that they couldn't afford to lose, it was more than that. Because when he was in that room, he wasn't looking at Captain America, the super soldier. He was looking at Steve. He was seeing the kid from Brooklyn who had a wry sense of humor, and a sense of duty that was so unwavering that it was scary. He saw movie night; Steve sprawled out on a couch with a goofy grin as a character made a reference he understood. He saw the playful wrestling matches he and Thor got into that usually ended with something broken and Tony trying to act angry instead of completely amused and failing miserably. He saw Steve, an unwavering brick wall of support that still hadn't stopped asking if he wanted to talk every time he ended up going on a morning run. He saw the man that had been the first one that wasn't Natasha to trust him after Loki's mind control.
He saw all those things, not a mission objective, and it had skewed his judgment so completely that he wasn't sure he'd be able to keep the bigger picture in mind. He had allowed himself to get close, like he had known from the beginning that he shouldn't have, and he was paying for it.
By that point he suspected that Fury had ended the transmission, because there wasn't another word said. He lost track of time, sliding down the wall until he was on the floor, letting out a long breath and holding his head in his hands, running through every option he could possibly think of, no matter how ridiculous it sounded, even to him. Eventually, though, he heard a buzzing from his pocket that pulled him out of his thoughts.
Confused, he pulled the small phone he was using for this mission and frowned at it. The only people who had the number to it were SHIELD, in case something happened to his comm, and Fleischer, seeing as that had been the number that Clint had given him in case he needed to contact him. Somewhat cautious, he answered and put the phone to his ear and didn't even have time to say anything before another voice was coming over the line.
'What's going on?'
Clint gave a slight sigh as he closed his eyes again. Tony.
"How did you even get this number?" he asked tonelessly, pinching the bridge of his nose and bringing one knee up to his chest.
'This is me.' Tony said as if it explained everything, which it pretty much did. 'More importantly, Fury told us what happened. And that if we touched the situation, we'd wish we'd never been born, or something equally dramatic. That means you're doing something, right? You need any help?'
Clint's head fell backwards, eyes staying closed as he tried to figure out how in the hell he was supposed to tell Tony that SHIELD had him sitting on his ass. And the billionaire wasn't making it easy, continuing before Clint could form his response.
'I can be there in a few hours if you need it, or you know Thor.' Tony pointed out, and Clint steeled his resolve before speaking.
"I don't need any help." he said shortly, and whatever the billionaire was going to say next trailed off instantly. "The Council... my orders are to remain with the mission and not break cover, Tony."
There was silence through the phone, and Clint gave another small sigh, scrubbing a hand down his face. Tony wasn't going to make this easy, and he had a feeling that he wasn't going to accept the fact that you didn't just up and decide to ignore an order from the Council. Sure enough, when Tony's voice did respond, it was low and angry.
'You're telling me that you have access to him and could get him out, but you aren't going to because someone told you not to.'
"Tony," Clint started, but the older man just cut him off, voice rising.
'Now, Barton? You decide now that you want to be a good little SHIELD agent and do everything they tell you? When Steve is getting tortured by HYDRA a few feet away?' he demanded, and Clint gave a quiet growl, his own tone lowering.
"You think this is easy?" he countered, eyes blazing as he vaulted to his feet and started pacing again. Tony's jab hit closer than he probably realized. He may treat protocol like they were written just for him to break on occasion, but he never just up and disobeyed direct orders for the hell of it, not at this level. In fact, he had only done it once. And that had been for Natasha. "You think I like the idea?"
'So you're just going to let them kill him.' Tony said tonelessly, and Clint couldn't help giving a flinch. 'Well that's just great.'
Not half a second later, the line clicked dead. And Clint stared at the phone for a moment, before clenching his fist around it tightly. He had a choice to make. Tony's reaction made it clear that if he followed his orders and completed his mission, his team mates, aside from Natasha, weren't going to forgive him any more than he would forgive himself. And if he didn't, if he saved Steve like he wanted to, the Council would come down on him like never before and the aftermath wasn't going to be pretty.
He was screwed in either direction. No matter what he did, he was losing something. SHIELD had been everything he'd had for a long time, the only thing that gave him a sense of purpose to stave off the darkness he was capable of. And to turn his back on SHIELD made him feel like he was turning his back on Phil and everything the man had done to save him from himself. But then he had the team, an occasionally completely idiotic group of misfits that had taken him in, accepted everything he was and had been in the past, and given him a family that he'd never had. And if family wasn't worth fighting - worth dying - for, he didn't know what was.
Before he'd even realized he'd made the decision, the phone was back to his ear.
'What?' Tony was obviously still a little angry, but Clint didn't pay that any mind, already working through a strategy in his head.
"How fast can you have a jet in Prague?" he asked, and for a moment Tony didn't respond.
'Come again?'
"If I'm disobeying orders, SHIELD isn't exactly going to give me an extraction, are they?" he rolled his eyes, unzipping his duffle in one quick motion and pulling out a map, laying it out on his cot and starting to mark a path from the compound back towards the city. "Local airport is called 'Prague Václav Havel'. I need to know how long it's going to take you to get one of your jets there."
There was the sound of Tony muttering something, probably to JARVIS, before the quiet, distinctive hum of one of Tony's holographic screens.
'How quick do you need it?'
"Preferably as quickly as possible." Clint said darkly. "Cap's hurt. And I'm not pulling him out until I know I can do it and not get the both of us recaptured by HYDRA because we're in the damn Czech Republic, and HYDRA has enough man power at this base to hunt us down acre by acre if they need to."
'Well when you put it that way,' Tony muttered under his breath. 'Hold on, give me five minutes.'
Clint kept the phone held to his ear, but turned his attention back to the map in front of him. He knew it was only a matter of time before his comm buzzed in his ear again with Fury in the mood to tear him apart. One of the drawbacks of having a comm that instantly transmitted everything he said.
'Hey.' it naturally took Tony less than five minutes to return, but he wasn't about to complain. 'So there's a jet ready and waiting when you are. Airport knows you're coming, security isn't going to be an issue, and no one's going to be asking questions.'
It was Clint's turn to sit back and pause for a moment, one eyebrow rising before he could help it.
"Do you just keep a spare jet in Prague or something?" he asked, and Tony scoffed.
'Of course not. But luckily enough I found one for sale.' the billionaire said dismissively and Clint huffed quietly and shook his head in amazement.
"Of course you did. Alright, I'll call you again once we're in the air." he stopped himself from adding the 'if we get in the air'. That wasn't going to help things.
'Good luck.' Tony said somewhat awkwardly, which just made Clint grin. 'Be careful alright?'
That made the archer want to laugh with the absurdity of being careful while he was essentially throwing himself to rabid wolves. Instead however, he just grunted an agreement and ended the call, folding up the map he'd finished with and slipping it into a pocket. He then went about taking everything he needed to keep out of his duffle, knowing there was no way in hell he'd be able to carry it, and probably Steve as well. He made sure all of his weapons were in their proper places, and was just sliding his quiver onto his back when his comm buzzed.
'Do you have a God-damn death wish?'
Evidently Fury didn't feel the need to ask if he was in a secure location for the transmission anymore. Clint gave a sigh, pausing in what he was doing to have this conversation.
"All due respect sir, but you can't tell me you expected me to let him die." Clint said matter of factly, tone growing cold and hard. "You're right, I know the consequences for my actions, I accept them, but right now I'd like to concentrate on doing this so I don't get both me and Cap killed before I have a chance to get it rubbed in my face. So back off."
Fury didn't respond to that, and Clint didn't expect him to. Instead, he looked at his watch and started to figure out how he would have to time this to keep himself from being detected on the surveillance feeds. It was the middle of the night, the halls were going to be more or less empty. And he couldn't just torch the place and go, he had to do this as cleanly as possible. Killing a man like Fleischer without orders would get him on a threat list before he could blink. And that was something he actively tried to avoid.
He slipped out of his bunkroom the next time the surveillance flipped from the halls out to the grounds. He had eight minutes to get to Steve's cell, another eight to get him free, and then another eight to get them through the bunkers and outside. Then the tricky part would be hotwiring a jeep from the motor pool and somehow getting through the gate without tripping any alarms or being noticed by anyone. The less bodies he left in his wake the better. But with the whole thing having to take almost exactly twenty-four minutes, it wasn't going to be the easiest thing he'd ever done.
He got to Steve's cell before his eight minutes were up, giving him a few more to be able to spend getting Steve free and making sure he was lucid. But as he stepped into the cell, his eyes narrowed at the sight of two men already in the room, standing over Steve's prone, chained form with their now-customary crowbars in hand. Clint didn't give them a chance to react to or question his presence, freeing a knife from sheaths on either side and throwing them with deadly accuracy into the throat of each man.
He saw Steve's eyes widen slightly as he raised them to look up at the dead bodies that had crumpled to the ground, and then to him.
"Clint?" he asked hoarsely, and Clint frowned with the barely concealed hope in the man's voice, before he moved to crouch in front of him, lock pick already in hand.
"Just take it easy, Cap." he muttered quietly, first deftly working at the lock to the chain around his wrists. "I'm getting you out of here and we're going home, alright?"
"But, the mission," Steve started, and Clint gave a dark huff, eyes narrowing.
"Have you seen yourself? The mission's not my priority right now." he said firmly and Steve blinked at him with dull, glassy eyes but didn't protest again. Once he'd gotten rid of all the chains, he helped Steve off his knees and sat him down so he could lean against the wall, ignoring the winces and sharp intakes of breath he gave at the pain of movement. "Talk to me Steve. What's your condition?"
"Uh," Steve blinked at him again before seeming to force himself to respond. "I had some broke ribs that I think healed wrong. And my head was bleeding. And everything hurts pretty much." he let out a long, slow breath and Clint frowned again, checking his watch before moving away from Steve for a moment to grab his knives, clean them on the dead mens' clothes and slip them back into their sheaths.
He then looked back to Steve and considered him carefully as he slowly moved back to the Captain's side.
"You with me?" he prompted, and Steve let out a breath before looking to him and nodding, some of the dullness fading from his eyes in favor of stubborn determination. "Alright, listen up. Surveillance feeds run on eight minute rotations between the halls of the bunkers and the above-ground portion of the compound. So when we leave this room, we're going to have exactly eight minutes to get to the doors, and we're going to have to time it perfectly. I know you're hurt, but I'm gonna need you to keep up as best you can, okay?"
"Yeah." Steve nodded his understanding, even as he gave a wince with the movement. Clint ignored that for the time being and returned it, before standing and reaching a hand down to help Steve up.
The other man grasped it tightly before pulling himself up with a choked groan on shaking legs, his free hand wrapping around his ribs. Clint caught and steadied him as he started to stumble, throwing Steve's arm over his shoulders and inviting him to lean into his side. Considering the fact that the archer was literally a whole head shorter, it was a bit awkward but it was going to have to be enough.
"Baby steps at first, Steve, we've got a bit of time." Clint coached, urging him past the bodies and towards the door to the room. By his watch, it was thirty seconds before the feeds switched over, and he stopped Steve by the door once they reached it and looked down to wait for the minute to change.
The moment it did, he waited a few seconds just in case before pushing the door open and pulling Steve out with him, starting through the bunkers as silently and quickly as they could manage. Steve's stumbling steps seemed to grow stronger as they went, which Clint counted as a small miracle, along with the fact that so far they hadn't come across anyone.
Of course, no sooner had he had the thought than two voices carried from an adjoining hallway. Clint acted quickly, shoving both himself and Steve around a corner a bit harsher than Steve's abused ribs probably appreciated. Instead of dwelling on that though, he slipped a blade back into his hand and all but held his breath, hearing Steve struggle to do the same beside him. The two men drew closer, but turned in the opposite direction, towards the bunkrooms, and remained completely oblivious.
Pulling Steve forward again as soon as it was safe, Clint continued towards the exit of the bunkers, checking his watch as they went. The hardest part for Steve was the stairs up towards the door, and Clint ended up having to more or less carry him, despite the protest he could feel from his own shoulder and back. He paused at the door, though, waiting once again. He knew if they were going to be spotted, this would be when it happened. When he had to get them through the door somehow at the exact moment the cameras rotated. It felt like he was holding his breath again as he watched the minute change on his watch and simultaneously pushed open the door and pulled Steve through it. The super soldier gave a pained grunt that he tried his best to muffle, and Clint gave a slight wince as his sharp eyes scanned their dimly lit surroundings for anyone that would be a threat.
"Sorry." he muttered, hefting Steve's weight again as he started forward, through the shadows between buildings towards the motor pool and the gate. "Just give me a few more minutes Cap, and we'll be in the clear."
Steve grunted but didn't verbally respond, and Clint really wasn't about to press him at the moment, knowing how lucky he was to have Steve walking under his own power at all. He skirted them around the pools of light provided by the overhead lamps, snaking through rows of cargo trucks and vans to get to the smaller, personal jeeps.
"Here, Steve. In the passenger seat." he grunted, throwing open the door to one of the jeeps and helping the injured man up and into the seat, turning back around once he hissed as he settled gingerly, one hand still wrapped around his ribs. Once he had done so, Clint unholstered a pistol and passed it to him pointedly. "I'm going to cover our exit, see if we can't get out of here without anyone on our tail. Just in case, shoot everyone that's not me, got it?"
Steve managed a smirk and a short nod, which Clint returned before practically melting back into the shadows, pulling his bow free from his quiver as he went.
He stayed clear of where he knew cameras to be positioned, knowing that all it would pick up was a fleeting shadow anyway but not wanting to take the chance. As soon as he found a cargo truck that would give him a clear line of sight to the guard towers, Clint scaled it effortlessly and pulled an arrow from his quiver, notching it into his bow. Eyeing his targets, he decided to take out the two on the ground before the one in either tower.
He pulled the arrow back to anchor at the corner of his mouth, pausing for a moment before releasing it. He didn't wait the fraction of a second to make sure it hit before pulling and firing a second arrow effortlessly, dropping the second ground guard before he could react to his dead comrade. The man in each tower went next, with no more than a dull, muted thud of impact coming from either of them.
Scanning quickly for any other guards he would need to take out and finding none, he slid down off the cargo truck and started back towards the jeep where he had left Steve, folding his bow back up and sliding it into his quiver. He was careful as he approached the jeep, knowing that Steve was bound to be a little jumpy. Sure enough as he approached the jeep, making sure it was from the front, the pistol he had given the Captain was brought up and aimed towards him with only the slightest hint of a waver.
"It's only me." he assured quickly, and Steve blinked at him, before lowering the pistol with a huff, and placing it carefully in the center console of the jeep. Clint approached quickly and swung himself into the driver's seat, and within moments he had the jeep started and moving.
As he stopped the jeep at the gate and got out to open it, he saw brighter lights flickering on from the sides of the buildings, and shouted orders to stop and identify himself. So they must not have realized Steve was missing yet. He jumped back into the jeep just as bullets started flying and he ducked and shoved down the gas pedal, shooting forward down the dark, singular road that led away from the compound.
He didn't allow himself to focus on the sounds of pursuit, knowing it would take them a few minutes at least to get together a sizable force to send out after them, and by then he would have had enough time to lose them down one of the three roads that branched off this one, all leading back to the city in their own round-about ways. That's where the map he'd prepared ahead of time came in.
"That was... easier than I remember it." Steve said eyes on the mirror that pointed back behind them. Clint just snorted.
"Yeah, well, that's what I get for making a point to study their surveillance for the last two weeks." the archer dead panned, and Steve gave a shrug, only to give a pained hiss with the action not a fraction of a second later. "Take it easy, alright?"
"Yeah," Steve breathed, closing his eyes tightly for a few moments, before he continued to speak. "SHIELD giving us an extraction?"
"Not exactly." Clint said, tone darkening and not saying another word as they shot down the old, darkened road towards where the glow of the city shone above the trees.
As Tony had said, when he pulled up to the airport, there was a man waiting for them that looked slightly alarmed by Steve's condition and his weapons, but to his credit he didn't question, leading them past any security or customs and directly to a small private jet that was already waiting on a runway. By the time they got onto the jet, Steve was more or less unconscious, and Clint wasn't about to make him be any more alert than he had to be. It was an almost eight hour flight back to New York, and while he didn't think they'd have to deal with any medical emergencies thanks to Steve's rapid healing, he knew the man was still in a hell of a lot of pain. He didn't allow himself to relax until they were taxiing down the runway, head falling back into his seat and his eyes closing as he marveled at the fact that he had actually just pulled that off.
Once the plane was in the air, Clint pulled his phone out and held it to his ear, keeping his eyes closed as he waited for Tony to pick up.
'Clint?' Tony sounded hopeful, and the archer gave a humorless snort as he responded.
"We aren't dead." he said tonelessly. "We just got into the air. Steve's tore up, though, and he's going to need a doctor when we land."
'Okay. I'll make sure we've got someone here to help him.' Tony assured, before he paused and asked a question, sounding not quite comfortable. 'You heard from SHIELD?'
"Fury'll probably be there when we land." Clint said, not a shred of doubt in his voice as he allowed his eyes to open and shift over to where Steve had slumped into the seat he had been deposited into, now either completely unconscious or asleep. He knew Fury would be there, and by this point the Council will have probably ordered for him to be arrested and brought in.
Even with that in mind, he still couldn't bring himself to regret it.
Okay, so maybe there's a small bit of regret on my part. I still hope you enjoyed it (even better if you enjoyed it enough to leave a review *hint*), but otherwise, I will see you all again for chapter 7.
~Dogstar