Chelsea Grin (2)
Too Late to Apologize

Clint Barton thought he was going to die from sheer anxiety.

He was in the Quinjet, with his fellow Avenger teammates. All save for Tony Stark—he remained in the States, acting as reconnaissance. Bruce Banner and Thor Odinson sat in the seats across from him. Their faces were filled with silent worry. No one spoke; only the rapid thrum of the Quinjet's rotor blades and engine could be heard as Steve piloted it from the cockpit. A fellow S.H.I.E.L.D. pilot manned the dashboard next to him. His name was Ricardo Mena, the very same young man who was thrown out of his fighter jet by a murderously angry Hulk. Needless to say, he was among the brave few who didn't mind sharing a Quinjet with Bruce. He also knew Natasha relatively well, and jumped at going on a mission to see if she was okay.

The relative silence was broken by Clint's question. "How much longer to Glasgow, Captain?"

For the umpteenth time, Steve replied with sure patience. "Almost there, Agent Barton. Give or take twenty minutes."

Clint angrily shook his head and huffed an agitated sigh. The Quinjet flew closer to Scotland, hidden in the midst of the night sky. Half an hour ago they flew over Wales and England. The longest flight had been from the United States to France. Clint figured the trip from Paris to Scotland would be much faster. But time seemed to stretch on longer as Clint sat anxiously. His head hurt from the battle of conflicting thoughts.

Nat's going to be fine. She's done solo missions a million times before. This mission required two of us for a reason.

She'll get the job done. She always does. Even if she dies doing so? And if she does, it'll be all your fault.

A wave of guilt, accompanied by a sense of helplessness, consumed him. He should've known that she went off to complete the mission alone. Yesterday, Director Nick Fury had made orders to convert the confidential mission into a full-blown rescue, to retrieve Natasha from Scotland. During the briefing, he handed everyone a duplicate of the case file originally meant for only Clint and Natasha. There was a period of silence as everyone save for Clint scanned the information on Joffrey.

"This chap seems like a real charmer," Tony had remarked. He was silenced by a cold glare from Clint.

Thor's brow furrowed and he frowned, making him look serious and brooding like his father. "What a barbaric man. How could a human be capable of such crimes? And enjoy them?"

Bruce gave Clint an incredulous look. "You and Natasha actually handle these kind of people every day?"

Fury folded his hands behind his back and assessed the team with his one eye as he talked. "Joffrey Angus is the kind of man we don't normally get under our radar. People with crimes like his are usually left to the CIA or FBI. Or in his case, the Scottish police. That has changed recently, ever since we've had reports of his tampering with S.H.I.E.L.D.'s digital property. How he got his hands on it, we don't know. Now we suspect he might have Agent Romanoff under hostage, due to her...prolonged disappearance and failure to report back to us...So he is our problem now."

Clint's face tightened at the mention of Natasha's "failure to report." She had always been efficient and diligent, adhering to S.H.I.E.L.D. protocol better than even those who served under the organization longer than her. He could even sense Fury's hesitation at referring to Natasha's situation as such.

Fury turned to Clint, who sat closest to the Director. "Agent Barton, you were the man originally tasked for this mission. We want to hear your input for the rest of the team to hear."

Clint slowly drew back into his seat. He was reluctant to talk. "Agent Romanoff and I were supposed to go together and eliminate Joffrey." he said quietly. "We were booked for the assignment that was to be done after an attack on Burmese terrorists. The mission contained information for our eyes only. He's an extremely dangerous criminal that couldn't be allowed to mess with S.H.I.E.L.D.'s property any longer. But we..."

Clint looked up to see his teammates staring back, curiously waiting for him to finish his sentence. He decided he just wanted to get to the point.

"She took off on her own," he finally said. "without me knowing."

His teammates didn't ask why, and he was silently thankful for that.

"What's the change in plan now?" Steve asked. "You aren't going to actually make us kill the guy, right?"

Fury shook his head. "No, that would be a smart idea. Especially if you're moving in as a group. There's bound to be a risk of media exposure. Never mind about assassinating a serial killer. We need to make sure one of our own isn't getting killed instead."

Everyone seemed to grasp the gravity of the situation. Even Tony looked dead serious. Fury stared down at them from his authoritative height. "The Avengers are hereby deployed to return Agent Romanoff back to the United States. And if possible, bring in Joffrey Angus alive."

Everyone nodded in silent, determined affirmation. Clint had expected some harsh words from Fury. Some kind of reprimand or scolding for failing to accompany Natasha on their latest mission. But the Director did nothing of the sort. Out of the corner of his single eye, he must've noticed the way Clint hunched over the glass table, looking like a wounded man.

When Fury had dismissed them, Clint was the last to rise and make his way to the door. He met eyes with the S.H.I.E.L.D. director. Even then Fury made no move or said anything to reprimand him. Clint was surprised when the director put a hand on his shoulder. The only thing he said to Clint was "Bring her home, Barton."

Clint's mind rewinded again as he tried to remember what had happened in the first place. The skirmish in Burma. The mission that had triggered it all, just three days ago, had been a success. Barely. He and Natasha had exchanged no words during their flight back to the States. But soon as the debriefing with Director Fury had ended, and the pair of assassins walked down the hall, Clint exploded.

"What the hell, Natasha? Explain that little stunt you tried to pull off!"

"Someone had to plant the bomb. It's either all or nothing. You of all people should know what I had to do." She had continued down the hallway without a second glance back. Clint knew how to catch up to her brisk speed-walking. He followed after her like a hound. He would not allow himself to be ignored.

"Taking down an entire pagoda with you in it? I don't think so! I understand that Burma's basically hot water because of its military dictatorship, and it's loaded with nasty fighters that just want to see the whole system burn down. Especially if S.H.I.E.L.D. happens to be included on their hit list. But you didn't have to take such measures to wipe out that band of rogues."

"Why do my actions come as a surprise to you all of a sudden, Clint? You and I know very well that the mission comes first."

"Well, you're a close second."

Natasha halted before she rounded another corner. He stared at her back for a few, quiet seconds. Finally she turned around to face him. He couldn't tell what she was thinking. Finally, she said ominously, "Clint, that kind of thinking is dangerous."

"I didn't spare you just so you can throw yourself into danger like that!"

"What are you getting at?"

Clint hesitated. Had he crossed the line? He didn't know how to continue this on a strictly professional level. Normally it wasn't hard. They were more than fellow agents. More like best friends who trusted each other more than anything. Together they held a lifetime of secrets and confessions between each other. But this…he had no idea how to get this across. "What I'm trying to say is...you're not a burden to me. At all. If I put the mission first, I wouldn't haul my ass and go out my way to look after you. Damn it, Tasha...can't you see? I care about you."

He hoped his sincere words struck home. But it didn't seem to placate her anger.

"You disobeyed orders and didn't pull the trigger...just so you could have me at your side? Like some token? You did it for love?" She spat out the last word.

"Tasha-"

"I expect more out of you, Barton. You don't sound like the man I have always respected and admired."

Clint made an inward cringe. He was so used to the privilege of first-name basis that her words were like a blow to him. He hated it whenever she addressed him as Barton. She hadn't said that since they first met, when Clint had her at arrowpoint. He almost felt betrayed. That's why he had been so reluctant to confess. He was afraid his emotions would endanger their partnership, friendship, and possibly something more...He was afraid she wouldn't take it well. And his worst fears were coming true.

"You know what? Forget about the stupid mission." He said heatedly. "It hasn't change things, Natasha. I know how you grew up learning to distrust everyone and everything, ever since you knew how to hold a gun…but has our relationship killed the two of us yet? On the contrary…I saved your life! I saved you years ago in Russia, and I saved you just three days ago!"

She nodded slowly and sighed. "True…I'm still alive thanks to you. But I stayed with S.H.I.E.L.D. because I still owe a debt. I'm not a saint like Steve Rogers. Being an Avenger doesn't make me a hero. I was salvaged by your superiors so they could use me as they see fit, until the time comes that they no longer need my service. That is all."

He felt his heart sink in hopeless dismay. "Again with the debts? You talk about me and S.H.I.E.L.D. as if we're the KGB all over again. I'm not talking about service and business and negotiations. I'm talking about—how I…"

'How much I really, really care about you.'

He struggled to find the right words, but he couldn't. But Natasha knew exactly what he was meaning to say. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Clint…I don't want to go through this again."

He knew what she was referring to. She had only mentioned her ex-husband once, but Clint still remembered the day she confided with him. His name had been Alexei Shostakov, champion test pilot of Soviet Russia. After a brief marriage, he was allegedly killed in an accident, prompting Natasha to train with the Red Room because her country was all she had left. And that was how she came to be, becoming Black Widow. But that wasn't the end. Alexei had actually survived, so he could undergo his own life of secret training to become the Red Guardian, Russia's response to Captain America. It was all a ruse to mold Natasha into a cold-hearted liar and killer. This realization led to her defection from Russia and into the hands of S.H.I.E.L.D. Alexei had become her enemy, and Natasha had embarked on her most difficult mission: to kill him with her own hands. She told all this to Clint with a detached voice, with no sign of any kind of sentimentality. But he had looked into her eyes and saw something else. Seeing the pain she was trying to hide had been unbearable. They never talked about Alexei again.

Until now. Natasha shook her head. "If we keep going on like this…sharing a close friendship with you…it would kill me to lose you one day. That's why I cannot, and will not, ever love again."

Her eyes hardened when she looked up to him. "I don't think I should be working with you anymore. Your words have exponentially increased the risk of getting compromised. It won't be safe for both of us if our partnership continues."

Clint's heart wrenched. Just when he caught a glimpse beneath her mask of ice upon mentioning Alexei, she assumed her façade in a quick, ruthless flash. "No, Tasha…you can't do that…"

"I believe I can. If I inform Director Fury of anything that jeopardizes our professions, he will see it fit to make arrangements."

"Why does it have to come to this? Don't you know how much you mean to me? How could I ever go back to the way I was: a cold killer with no heart and room for love? Before I met you?"

Her voice came out as quiet and chilled as the winter of her homeland. "Then you could have saved yourself the trouble. You should've killed me when you had the chance."

Clint looked as if she struck him. She turned on her heel and tore her cold green gaze away. He didn't make any move to catch up with her this time. He had been so tempted to call her name, run after her, or both to bring her back so he could apologize for making her say such a thing. But he didn't. And he couldn't.

Now he was beating himself for being such an idiot. Steve glanced behind him, and he didn't miss Clint's deeply troubled expression. He switched to auto-pilot. He climbed to the back and put a firm yet sympathetic hand on Clint's shoulder. "Don't let it get to you. We get in there, find her and get her out."

"I hope it will be that easy." He turned to Steve. "Can I take over for a little bit? You look tired."

"Agent Mena can do it."

"No, I will." Clint insisted. "Please."

The captain took note of his tone and finally nodded. "Sure...Thanks a lot, Agent Barton. I appreciate it."

Steve leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes to take a brief nap. Clint climbed up to the cockpit and took the wheel. He needed something, anything, to take his mind off of his mingled anxiety and guilt. He knew exactly where he was going. He had the case file memorized, including the coordinates and relative location of Joffrey's supposed hiding place. He also took note of the criminal's profile.

He gripped the dashboard until his knuckles turned white. His lips tightened into a thin, hard line. 'God…please let her be okay.'

It was almost 1:00 AM when the Quinjet arrived at Glasgow. But none of the Avengers felt remotely tired. Worry and concern for their teammate was all they could think about.

As soon as they landed, Clint yanked off the headphones and climbed out to join the rest, who were ready to leave the jet. Ricardo opened the door for them.

"I'm going down too," Steve said. "Agent Mena, keep watch of the Quinjet. Hopefully we will be back soon."

Ricardo snapped a salute. "Yes sir."

Clint led the way, with his teammates closely behind him. The snapshot of Joffrey's suspected hideout was clear in his mind, and he was determined to find it quickly. Glasgow was the largest city in Scotland and the third most populous in the United Kingdom...it struck him as looking and feeling somewhat similar to New York City.

They landed in the more rundown sector of Glasgow. Evidence of crime and poverty were clear on the buildings and streets. The copious amount of neon-colored graffiti was enough to rival the street lights overhead. The nighttime setting made the place all the more shadier. Eventually Clint stopped at a small, decrepit house in the middle of an equally small and decrepit urban complex.

"Lights are still on," Steve muttered.

They slowly crept through the yard with firearms out. The mission didn't call for a bow and arrows and a shield. Only Thor still wielded his signature weapon, Mjolnir. His sharpened hearing detected sounds from the house.

"I hear something," he whispered. "It sounds like someone is moving about the room closest to us."

"That would be the kitchen," Steve replied. "On my count, we barge in all at once."

Everyone huddled near the door, crouched low and ready to move.

"One, two...three!"

Clint was the first through the door. Joffrey was setting down a pair of large black trash bags when he turned at the sudden sound of a break-in. Surprise appeared on his face, but it disappeared just as quickly as it came. It was almost as if the criminal had been expecting them.

"Cupid. How you doing?"

Clint didn't answer. All he saw was the bloodied knife casually rested against Joffrey's side. That was all he needed to know. He lunged forward and seized Joffrey by his oversized collar. He slammed him against the wall till the criminal dangled a few inches off the floor.

"Where is Natasha Romanoff?" Clint snarled.

Joffrey merely continued to smile. Clint shook him violently.

"Where is she? Where the hell is she? What have you done with her? Answer me, damn it!"

"Agent Barton!"

Steve's shout resounded in the room. Clint ceased shaking Joffrey. But he didn't slacken his grip one bit. Steve walked up next to Clint and carefully sized up the man under the archer's mercy.

Steve turned to Clint with a questioning glance. "Is this him? Joffrey Angus?"

"...Yeah. It's him."

Clint finally shoved the serial killer away. Steve didn't hide his confusion as he warily moved forward to bind Joffrey with hand cuffs. The captain looked even more confused when Joffrey made no movements to struggle and fight. He tore off the holster holding the knife and threw it across the floor. He put a hand on Joffrey's shoulder to roughly shove him down to his knees. The Scottish man only had eyes for Clint.

"Hey, Cupid. You looking for her? She'll be down in the basement, third room to the right, waiting for you."

Clint said nothing. Hatred flared inside him. He spat in Joffrey's direction.

"Agent Barton, go with Thor to the basement." Steve ordered. "Dr. Banner and I will stay up here and cover this area. Let Stark know as soon as you find her."

Clint and Thor descended down the musky stairs. Bruce went about checking every corner of the first floor while Steve kept watch over Joffrey. The serial killer remained where he was, and he laughed scornfully.

"You think I'm lying, Captain Goody Two-Shoes? You'll find her, all right. Whether she's still in one piece, I have no idea."

He laughed again. It sent chills up Steve's spine. The captain looked to Bruce grimly. "Sweep the area. Quickly."

The scientist nervously nodded and resumed his search. He was rummaging near the trash bags when he wrinkled his nose. He took a quick peek, and his face blanched.

"Oh my God...are there dogs in here?"

Clint and Thor climbed down quickly but carefully. Clint pulled out a glock pistol from his holster and scanned his surroundings, vigilant and alert.

"Third room to the right," he muttered.

He dashed down the dimly lit hall, with Thor close behind.

"I hope he isn't lying," the god of thunder said quietly.

Clint's head jerked in a tense nod. He aimed the pistol at the door and kicked at it with his right foot. To their surprise, the door gave way. They coughed from the eruption of dust. Clint lowered his pistol and Thor lowered Mjolnir. Then they looked down.

"Gods…" Thor breathed. Clint swore loudly.

He and Thor froze in utter horror and shock at the sight before them. Natasha was spread out on the floor, naked and bleeding. Her deathly pale skin was a stark contrast to her fiery red hair and the blood all over her body. Clint thought his legs would turn to jelly. He could barely feel himself moving as he tossed the gun away, rushed to her and fell to his knees.

"Nat, oh Nat...what the hell did he do to you?"

He tried to brush her hair away from her face. His fingers came out wet with her blood. His heart wrenched at the sight of the horrific wounds across her lips. The deep cuts stretched from the corner of her lips almost up to her ears. Like a deep, red crescent. It hurt him so much he could barely look.

"Nat, I'm sorry...so, so sorry...I should've gone with you...I'm supposed to watch your back...I'm so sorry!"

His heated apologies fell upon silent ears. Natasha didn't stir. Her eyes remained closed. Only the feeble rise and fall of her chest told him she was barely holding on to her life. Clint didn't even know he was sobbing until he saw tears that had fallen and glistened on Natasha's face. It quickly turned red from the dried blood caked around her mouth and cheeks.

Clint tried to carry her in his arms. But all the strength he had left him. Only numbness, sorrow and pure anger filled his core. He tore away his gaze in an attempt to avert his eyes from the staggering amount of blood around Natasha. He shook and trembled like a leaf, unable to collect and steady himself.

"Let me carry her, Agent Barton," Thor gently offered.

Clint merely nodded and watched as Thor tore off his red cape. He draped it over and around Natasha's body. His huge arms enveloped her pale, limp figure. He held her close to his chest, like he was handling a broken, delicate porcelain doll. A dark red spot quickly pooled and stained Thor's cape, close to where Thor was supporting Natasha's legs. Clint trailed behind Thor as they slowly staggered up the stairs. Steve and Bruce turned to the sounds of their ascending arrival. Their breaths hitched in their throats at the sight. They were paralyzed with horror, unable to speak.

Joffrey's grin grew even wider. "Like my work? I'd say I did good to put a smile on that serious face of hers. A great beaut, ye ken?"

"Son of a bitch!"

Clint flew at Joffrey and pummeled him relentlessly with clenched fists. Bound and on his knees, Joffrey could do nothing but reel back and keel over from Clint's blows. But Clint couldn't smash the smugness out of his face. The archer's fists quickly became slippery with blood as he proceeded to break Joffrey's nose and split his lip. Steve and Bruce had to step in and stop Clint together. Clint staggered back, his arms restrained by the other two men. He panted heavily and angrily like a raging bull.

"Let me go! I'm gonna kill him!" he bellowed.

"No, you will not!" Steve shouted back. "Have some sense, Agent Barton! S.H.I.E.L.D. needs him alive, remember? We need to take him into custody. They'll decide what to do with him."

He cast a sad glance at Natasha. "Most importantly, we have to get her medical attention. Fast."

Clint also turned to look. No one said anything as tears slipped past his eyes. His face crumpled as he slowly sunk to his knees, unable to control his quiet sobs.

Steve sighed wearily. "Bruce, call Stark. Tell him we need a helicopter over here as soon as possible."

Steve found a rag to tie around Joffrey's mouth, so that the blood would stop flowing and he would stop talking. Bruce made the report through his phone. Tony's voice came in loud and urgent.

"What's up? You found her?"

"Yes...We did."

Bruce told him everything, and Tony didn't interrupt once.

Finally, Tony replied with a hushed tone, "I'll see what I can do."

The Avengers waited with bated breath. They did not want to remain in the house for very long. Thor continued to hold Natasha. He showed no signs of weariness, nor a desire to set her down again on the cold and dirty floor. The silence was finally broken by Tony calling from Bruce's phone.

"I relayed your report to S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters. They're communicating overseas with Scotland's medical emergency system. A helicopter is on its way."

Natasha was still swaddled in Thor's cape when she was quickly but carefully loaded onto the stretcher just 15 minutes after Tony's call. Even the paramedics' eyes widened upon looking at Natasha's face.

"There's no way we can fly her all the way back to America," a paramedic had explained. "She has already lost so much blood. We will provide her emergency care for a time. Eventually it'll be safe to transport her overseas."

Steve had replied on behalf of the Avengers and S.H.I.E.L.D. "Thank you so much for your service. We trust that she is in good hands."

The good captain had to remain behind to take care of Joffrey. The rest of the team gave out their hearts for him-he was given the burden of handling that unpleasant task. Steve took along the stash of questionable items Bruce had assembled for him-including computer discs, paperwork and all sorts of files. He didn't bother to inspect them. He would leave that to SHIELD investigations back home.

Joffrey continued to show no efforts of struggle as he willingly allowed Steve to escort him to the Quinjet. The captain turned for one last look at the medical helicopter before entering the jet.

Thor, Bruce and Clint boarded the helicopter. They sat inside the cramped space without complaint; the helicopter was so packed that their legs pressed against the sides of Natasha's stretcher. Bruce offered to help the two paramedics who were dabbing the blood from Natasha's face and wrapping gauze over her wound. Thor seemed to wince as they slipped in an IV through Natasha's wrist. Finally they wrapped a blanket over Thor's cape to keep her warm and covered.

"Thank God she's not hemophiliac." Clint said lowly. "She's a Romanov...that royal family who last ruled Russia. Hemophilia runs through their line."

"What is hemophilia?" Thor asked.

This time Bruce explained. "When we get injured and bleed, blood gets clotted and the bleeding stops. Under normal circumstances, that is. Hemophilia is a rare genetic disease where such a thing doesn't happen."

"So one with hemophilia can bleed to death at the slightest injury."

Bruce nodded. "Exactly. But like Clint said, Natasha doesn't have it. She's just a carrier. Hemophilia is much more common in males."

Thor stared at Natasha grimly. "I see. Then it is truly a stroke of luck and good fortune that we found her alive."

Clint clenched his jaw as his eyes settled on Natasha's still form. 'We were too late to save her from looking like that. And I was too late to say sorry...'

Meanwhile, Steve watched the helicopter take off before he ordered Ricardo to fly down the opposite direction, towards the United States. The captain sat across from the criminal, who was still gagged and bound. After a few minutes, Steve reached out to remove the rag.

"Are you all right?" he asked tersely.

Joffrey shrugged. "More or less," he muttered from bloodied lips.

Steve rose and opened a compartment overhead. He pulled out a recording device. S.H.I.E.L.D. would need answers from Joffrey, especially when it came to the mysteries of acquiring S.H.I.E.L.D. possessions...and subduing one of their best agents so quickly. Deep down, he didn't want to do this. He would much rather board the helicopter, to be there for his injured comrade. Only his strong sense of duty suppressed his wishful thinking. He had to get this done, for the benefit of S.H.I.E.L.D. and possibly two entire countries.

Steve eyed Joffrey carefully as he pressed the red recording button. "All right Mr. Angus...start talking."