Avengers - Part 3 - From Time to Time

by theicemenace

Clint comes back in contact with a woman from his past. But that past brings more trouble with it as they try to figure out what they are to each other. Will history repeat itself leaving them both alone and wary of possible relationships? What price is Clint willing to pay to get back the woman he loves?

2. Chapter 2

A/N: 2012 winner of NaNoWriMo contest and exclusively Beta'd by the wonderful ladygris.

Thanks,

~Sandy

Avengers

From Time to Time

Chapter 2

Taking a step back, Naomi turned away so Clint wouldn't see the anger and disappointment in her eyes though she couldn't do anything about her voice. "You knew and didn't say anything?"

Clint huffed at her and she could see the eye roll in her mind. "How was I to know you didn't know who your father was?"

"I…You knew I hadn't seen him since I was a child." She was becoming irrational and took a long deep breath to calm down. "Okay. Okay. You're right. I'm sorry. It's just so…" She hadn't heard him move so when he spoke from behind her, she nearly jumped.

"Frustrating? Yeah."

Clint standing so close without them actually touching made her want things she knew she could no longer have. Still, she took a moment to enjoy his scent. He hadn't changed his soap or shampoo because he still smelled the same. Tangy and clean, like a forest after the rain. In her mind she pictured them cuddled together in her bed, his strong arms around her, protecting her, making her feel like nothing bad could ever happen to either of them, her sheets and pillows still retaining the smell after he'd gone. And the subtle difference in that smell after they'd made love.

But something bad had happened and that was why she was here. Why he was here. They had to get past this and move on so he could go back to work. Now that she was a member of SHIELD, she knew what he'd been doing for a living all these years. What he'd been training to do when they'd first met.

He'd once said "there are things about me I may never be able to tell you." He hadn't been kidding. The man she'd once loved had been an assassin. Still was, or would be once she'd certified him fit for duty. And finding out that piece of information had thrown her for a loop.

Did being an assassin make him a bad person? She didn't think so, but others might not see it that way. The Clint she'd known would do what he had to order to protect the innocent and those who couldn't protect themselves. It was a dirty job, but someone had to do it, and if Clint didn't, someone who didn't have his strict moral and ethical standards might take his place. And if she had a hand in allowing that to happen, she wouldn't be able to live with herself.

The sound of a buzzer broke the tension that had settled into the room and Clint stepped back, clearing his throat. "I should go."

Naomi faced him again. "Two days, same time."

"I'll be here."

She slipped on her professional cloak again. "Between now and then, if you have another nightmare, write it down and we'll talk about it. Also write down anything else that you'd like to discuss, anything that bothers you."

"Homework? Really? Okay, fine." His mouth turned upward in a smirk, half humorous, half not, as he hit the door control and was gone allowing Naomi to breathe again though probably not for long. She had to talk to her father and she was through letting him put her off.

Waiting just long enough to be certain that Clint was gone, she left her office and headed for the bridge. Before entering, she stopped outside to put on her bland smile, the one she showed to the world when she wanted to scream out her anger and frustration. And not being able to do so immediately made it all the worse.

Letting her feet carry her down the short hallway, she stopped just inside. No matter how many times she came here, she was awed by the sense of power under control, though she knew differently. And there he was, the epitome of control, Nick Fury. Her father. Rubbing her hands down her pants legs, she tested her voice by clearing her throat before speaking. "Director Fury?"

He turned, that one good eye landing on her like a laser beam. "Something I can do for you, Dr. Marks?"

"Yes, sir. It's about Agent Barton. Do you have a few minutes?" Fury glanced to the side, checking the time, she thought.

"I'm due on a conference call with the Council. Can it wait?"

Reluctantly, she nodded. "Of course. I'll ping you with times that I'm available, if that works for you. However, I should point out that we need to talk sooner rather than later."

"Understood, doctor."

Fury nodded and turned his back dismissing her, and that made her even more furious. After leaving the bridge without getting a firm time and date for a meeting, she had a flash of dark humor. Wouldn't that be Fury-ious? Shaking her head at her own puerility, she returned to her office.

The director would want a report on today's session and she had to figure out how to describe the events in such a way that she and Clint didn't look and sound like idiots. However, when she got there all she could see was Clint standing at the window telling her about being tortured as if he were saying the sun was shining, the moon was full or grass was green.

Her eyes filled with tears that she hadn't known were there. Going to the sofa, she threw herself down, muffling her cries with a pillow. Every part of her ached for all the pain and suffering Clint had endured while she'd been cursing him for running out on her.

They were both at fault in one way or another. She for assuming the worst and not even coming close to what the worst was. And him for not trying to find her, to explain. Didn't he know that she would've done anything for him up to and including taking a leave of absence to take care of and support him on his road to recovery?

Eventually, Naomi's tears tapered off and stopped. There were more waiting inside for the next revelation from Clint or even her father. But for now, she was done. She yanked tissues from the box, wiped her cheeks and blew her nose, rolling her eyes at the soggy sofa pillow. Carrying it over to the desk, she sat down and started her report, lying through her teeth.

~~O~~

Clint stared at the door thinking about the argument he'd just had with Naomi knowing that it couldn't have been avoided. He should be furious at her for blaming him for things that had been out of his control and wishing again that he could remember something from when he'd been a prisoner of the Consortium. Had he tried to escape and that was one of the reasons he'd been beaten and tortured? From the file he'd read on them it was more than a possibility. It was a certainty.

His stomach grumbled, but he didn't feel like eating. Instead, he headed for the conning tower and climbed up on the roof to stare out at the water watching sailboats, yachts and other small water craft coming and going. He'd been there about an hour when Natasha came up to join him. She didn't say a word, just sat down, leaning back on her hands, her face turned into the wind and letting it blow the hair from her face. A little while later, she took him by the hand.

"I'm hungry. Let's eat."

With a smile, he followed her to the Mess Hall. They took a table in the back away from everyone else and she teased him into eating when he just picked at his food. That is until he looked up and saw Naomi come in and go straight to the dessert counter. Too far away to hear what was being said, he saw her lips move and the guy's eyes widen in shock before she turned a stalked away. Yeah, there was that bitch she always said she could be. It made him grin in spite of the circumstances. That's my girl!

A few days later, he was back in her office for another round of "Place the Blame" and not in the mood for it. He'd had a bad dream that awakened him in the middle of the night and he wasn't able to go back to sleep. Didn't want to go back to sleep. Again he debated the sleeping pill option and decided to see the doc before the end of the day. If he could at least convince Naomi to sign off on him rejoining his work detail, he wouldn't be sitting around all day with nothing to do and end up going crazy for real.

He announced his presence and within moments had taken his place on the end of the sofa. Once Naomi was seated, he took out a small tablet with his "homework" and handed it to her. She barely glanced at it before giving it back.

"You can read it to me or just tell me in your own words."

"Those are my own words." Tossing the tablet aside, he kept his eyes on his hands rubbing them together as he talked. "One night about a year or so after almost dying, I had a dream about my time with the Consortium. At first I wasn't sure if it was a dream and didn't want to go back to sleep so I climbed up on top of the conning tower to clear my head. We were docked at Quantico like we are now and most of the staff was on leave. Agent Romanoff and I had just returned from a mission.

"Coulson came out a few minutes later with a couple of beers and we just sat there drinking and not talking. After a while, he asked if I was alright. I said, 'Have you ever had an experience that you thought was real and it turned out to be a dream?'" Clint grinned. "And he said, 'Not since the 70's.'"

Clint's head snapped up at the sound of Naomi's hastily stifled laughter and he felt himself wanting to laugh as well. She looked down still trying to remove the smile. "Sorry. I didn't know him well, but that sounds just like something he'd say."

"Yeah. I, uh, I've been having dreams lately that involve Coulson."

"I read the reports, Clint. You aren't the one who killed him."

Clint got to his feet and went to the window. "I know, but it's still my fault."

"Why?"

Facing her again, he scowled. How could she not see what was right in front of her? "I was the first person Loki converted. He took out everything that made me who I am and replaced it with something monstrous. He…unmade me.

"You once said I could never be 'turned' by the enemy because I can't be hypnotized. Well, with the point of his scepter, Loki proved you wrong."

"But the Asgardians possess a technology far in advance of Earth's current level."

"So?"

She uncrossed her knees and shifted in her seat. "So, what sort of training did you have that prepared you for monsters and magic?"

Clint snorted humorlessly. "You sound like Natasha."

"She was the one who brought you back?"

"She hit me really hard on the head." Naomi winced. "In addition to ending Loki's influence, I got a concussion out of it." Hands in his pockets, he paced until he was as far as he could get from her and still be in the room. "But it didn't really end there. I still see him in my dreams. Sometimes when I'm not asleep, I can still feel his presence in my mind, standing behind my shoulder, whispering in my ear, telling me to do things that I'd never have done before he unmade me."

"Clint, please sit down." Reluctantly, he did as she said. "Tell me more about your friendship with Phil Coulson."

Clint shrugged. "What's there to tell? We worked together."

~~O~~

Giving Clint a disapproving frown, Naomi said, "There must've been more to it than being colleagues. At college, you used his name as an alias and told everyone he was your cousin."

"Cover story in case anyone questioned why he was coming around all the time."

"And now that I think about it, Uncle Nick was obviously Director Fury." She couldn't help the brief flash of anger at the mention of her father because he'd turned down every meeting request she'd sent him over the past two days giving her next words more bite than they should have. "So you were undercover. That's why the alias, talking in code…and the lies."

"Yes and no." Again rubbing the back of his head, Clint rested the ankle of one leg on the knee of the other.

Asserting all the self-control she possessed to keep from yelling, she managed to say, "So you lied just for the hell of it?"

"Again, no. I really was there as a student, and the missions I was sent on were either tests or they required a specific…skill set."

Her pen scratching on the pad, Naomi noted that either Clint was lying or he had been lied to and hadn't picked up on it. The first scenario seeming more valid than the last. Unless he'd known they were lying and didn't care. "How can there be that many situations which require the skills of a master archer?"

Smiling ruefully, Clint seemed to relax slightly. "You'd be surprised. Though I do have to choose my targets more carefully than someone with say an M-16 or a rail gun."

"Of course. And we're getting off topic. I've forgotten how good you are at distraction." The way he'd distracted in the past her made her blush and she counted herself lucky that it wasn't as noticeable on her as it would be on him. "Back to Agent Coulson. Tell me about the first time the two of you met."

She sensed amusement from him now and he grinned to prove it. "Until he mentioned it, I didn't even recall the meeting. But then I was a teenager. I'd been performing in front of an audience for less than a year and people sometimes came up to me afterwards."

"You must've been used to it by then."

"Not really. Most times I filled in on the tumbling act or even the tightrope or trapeze, but that night I wasn't feeling well. Mr. Carson sent me to lie down so I'd be ready for the next show. As I headed for my tent, this guy comes up to me and says how much he enjoyed the show and admired my proficiency with the bow. That's just how he said it too."

Though she had an idea what he would say, she still asked, "Agent Coulson?"

"Yeah, though he wasn't an agent at the time."

"And what did you say to him?"

Now Clint shook his head and grinned broadly. "I told him to **** off."

Typical Clint! Using one hand to cover her smile, she made a note to look deeper into Coulson's file. "Now that I can see. How were you recruited into SHIELD?"

The air of amusement that had surrounded Clint for the last few minutes vanished just that quickly. "After Carson's, I went to Tiboldt's and from there to Coney Island. Then one day, I just…I didn't want that life anymore, so I left. Took all my belongings-not that I had much-and just hit the road. I worked odd jobs. Washed dishes to get a meal, took work wherever I could find it as long as I was paid in cash, food or a place to sleep for the night. I was sitting in a diner drinking coffee because the manager was a prick. Refused to hire…" he made air quotes, "…transients. I'd been in town for a couple of days. A guy had promised me a full week's work, but it didn't pan out, so I was stuck unless I could find a trucker willing to give me a lift…"

Cedar Hill, Texas

More Than Fifteen Years Ago

Clint was down to his last dollar, hitchhiking from place to place, and using his skills as a roustabout to get work where he could. He'd spent the previous night sleeping in the park. It had been a blessing that it wasn't cold at night and he was able to actually get some much needed rest.

He washed his clothes, and himself, in the small stream that ran through the middle and hung his pants and shirt to dry. His T-shirt would be wrinkled, but clean enough to hopefully convince some bleeding heart to give him work so he could eat.

Back at the center of town, the smell of food coming from the restaurants made his stomach growl, but all he had was enough cash for coffee. Clint was on his third refill and perusing the jobs section of the newspaper that had been left by a previous patron. He either didn't possess the skills, or the employer required references and a drug test. He wasn't worried about the latter, but the former, he couldn't have them contacting the owners of the circuses he'd been with. They'd probably lie out of spite.

Clint had been about to request yet another refill from the waitress when she set a plate with bacon, over easy eggs, toast, hash browns and a short stack of pancakes in front of him. "I didn't order this."

The woman poured more coffee, popped her gum and said in a tired voice, "It's from the guy at the counter."

Clint had only seen one person enter and take a seat in one of the backless chairs. The man was over-dressed for the venue and he didn't look around to see how his offering had been received. That in itself told him more was going on than met the eye. The man ignored him in such a way that Clint knew it had been him. It was in the set of his shoulders, the way he sipped his coffee and took a bite of toast. His every move was calculated to project casualness and disinterest.

Sliding out of the booth, Clint carried the plate over to the stranger and dropped it on the counter. "I don't know what your game is, pal, but I want no part of it."

He turned away, halting his retreat when the man said, "What makes you think I want something from you?" He swiveled his chair so that Clint could now see his face. He was older than Clint by at least ten years, light brown hair and had friendly blue eyes.

"Because there ain't no such thing as a free lunch. 'Gifts' come with strings. What's yours?"

The placid expression on his face didn't change. Just one eyebrow lifting at the tone of Clint's voice. "You're too young to be so cynical."

"Life's a b****, ain't it?" Clint tucked his thumbs into his belt, hitched one hip to the side, and waited. Getting to his feet, the stranger showed himself to be Clint's height and lean. If he had to, Clint could take him.

"I should introduce myself then. Phil Coulson." He didn't offer to shake hands so Clint just waited for him to continue. "If I could join you, I can explain."

Clint's eyes flicked to the plate and back to Coulson, his head and stomach debating. His stomach won. He grabbed the plate and returned to the booth, Coulson sliding in across from him. Clint kept a wary eye on his companion as he devoured the food. It was cold, but tasted like heaven to someone who hadn't eaten in over a day. "So talk."

"You're not an easy man to find."

Clint had pegged this Coulson fella as a fed when he saw the bulge of the weapon under his left arm. "Gettin' lost is easy when no one's lookin' for you."

"But that's just it. We have been looking for you."

He shrugged carelessly though he was a little freaked out that the government had been trying to find him. "Yeah? Why?"

Coulson nodded at the case in the seat beside Clint. "You have skills that would greatly benefit my employers."

"And they are…?"

Coulson took a sip of his coffee. "They prefer to remain anonymous for the time being. However, they did sanction this contact. All I ask is that you listen to what I have to say and think about my offer before making any decisions."

"Fair enough. How did you find out about my…skills?"

Coulson leaned back in his seat and signaled for more coffee. "You may not believe this, but I saw you perform when Carson's Circus came through Boston. When my employers asked me to recruit new employees, I thought of you. I've had people tracking you since you left the Coney Island."

"Okay. Let's hear it."

And within twenty-four short hours, Clint's life had changed dramatically. That night, he slept in the same park where he'd stayed the night before though he'd originally planned to move on if he couldn't find work. He met with Coulson the next day in the same diner, accepted lunch, the offer of employment and that night slept in a real bed for the first time in weeks.

Present

What Clint didn't tell Naomi was that the last time he'd slept in a bed prior to meeting Coulson had been when a woman had invited him to stay the night after they'd enjoyed each other's company in the alley behind the bar where she worked. He hadn't asked for money and wouldn't have, but she'd slipped him a few bills after making a remark about the fact that he was at least fifteen pounds underweight.

The following morning, she'd tried to stab him with a pair of scissors because he couldn't remember her name. And that had led to a vow of celibacy. He'd made the same vow several years ago, but for different reasons. And every time he saw Naomi, whether for one of their sessions, across the Mess Hall or in the gym, his body and mind were reminded of how long it had been since he'd made love. Not just with a woman, but with her.

To hide the evidence of his body's betrayal, he looked for the pillow that usually squatted in one of the corners, but it was gone. Instead, he crossed his legs and thought about puppies frolicking in the snow, plunging into an icy river in just his skivvies and Loki unmaking him. And it worked, for now. But no promises for how long it would last.

They talked about Coulson until the timer dinged signaling an end to his session, and he breathed a sigh of relief that his earlier indiscretion hadn't been noticed by Naomi. No telling what she might've said, if anything. Probably nothing, but no sense tempting fate.

Another appointment was made for three days from then and he escaped, hopefully with his dignity intact.

A week later, he was still waiting for Naomi to make a decision about releasing him to light duty. One of the factors that went into her non-decision was that he was still having nightmares though not every night. He'd gone to the med bay to get something to help him sleep, but all the doc would give him was the Ambien. Resigned, he accepted the offer, but still hesitated to use the drugs though his sleep was being disrupted on a near-nightly basis with a bad dream of some kind, whether it involved Loki or a long forgotten memory of previous missions done solo or with Natasha.

He'd tried the natural way at Natasha's suggestion. Had taken long, hot baths, drank chamomile tea and swallowed melatonin supplements. Sleep had come, but nothing had stopped the dreams.

From his prior experience with the meds, he knew that he would still dream while in his drug-induced state, and that the dreams would also be different. The few times he'd taken it, the dreams were vivid, bright colors, surreal situations, but not disturbing and had never involved Loki or any of the events of the invasion. If he took it every night then by the time his next eval came up, he could truthfully tell her he wasn't having bad dreams. Trouble was the medical doctor would only give him a week's worth and his eval wasn't for another ten days.

He wasn't confined to the ship while the routine maintenance was being done so he made plans to get away for a few days. All he had to do was reschedule his next appointment with Naomi. Pulling his computer around, he sent her an email so he wouldn't have to lie to her face.

Going to the closet, Clint took out his bow case and set it by the door. A beep told him he had a new email. It was from Naomi confirming the appointment change. He shrugged into his jacket, picked up his bow case and headed for the deck.

After checking out with the OOD, he flagged down a cab and was dropped off a few minutes later where his truck and bike had been stored. Leaving the bike, he stashed his case in the back and got into the driver's seat. Unfortunately, he had to drive to New York hence the reason for changing the appointment. He pushed the speed limit and arrived at Stark Tower four hours after leaving Quantico.

Natasha had returned to her work detail, Rogers was still in Brooklyn. Thor returned from visiting with Jane just a few days before and had been assigned to the Long Island work crew. Clint chuckled just picturing the muscular Asgardian in a jumpsuit. Banner would be working in the lab, either with Stark or alone. Shaking his head, Clint's eyes started to glaze over just thinking about the two of them talking in the language of scientists. And Pepper, well she was probably keeping the company afloat so Stark could indulge in creating his inventions.

That left Clint with the residential floors all to himself. He could've scheduled the meeting here, but the type of people he had to see weren't the ones you let know where you lived.

"Welcome back, Agent Barton. Shall I start a pot of coffee?"

"Not just now, J. Oh, and I'll only be here a day or two then it's back to the helicarrier so maybe you could keep it on the QT."

Clint sensed disapproval from the AI. "Mum's the word, sir. Of course, that does not preclude the others from finding out on their own."

"I promise not to hold it against you. What're the chances of raiding the main kitchen for dinner?"

"Excellent, sir. Would you care for a list of the available items?"

Chuckling, Clint set his bow case on the dresser and went into the bathroom coming out a short time later divested of his jacket and shoes. "No thanks."

Going to the common area, he raided the refrigerator for the ingredients to make one of his favorite comfort foods, chicken and dumplings, even though the season was a little warm for it. The cook made it on the ship, but it just didn't taste the same.

When dinner was over, he carried a glass of wine out to the balcony and just stood there watching the skyline of the city. So many emotions were playing out in his head that even if he hadn't needed to meet with his contact, he would still have taken this little jaunt. A two for one trip.

Bedtime came around and he was ready to get some sleep. He washed his dishes, took one of the Ambien then brushed and flossed. "J? I need a wake-up at five."

"As you wish, sir."

Thirty minutes later, Clint was sound asleep and didn't even hear Natasha come into the room to check on him.

~~O~~

Having left standing orders for JARVIS to let her know if Clint came to the tower, Natasha wasn't surprised when she got the call. "Don't tell him you called me."

"I won't, madam. He's left a wake-up call for five. Shall I give you one as well?"

"Yes. I need to know why he's here when he should be on the ship."

The droll tone of the AI seemed amused at the machinations of the humans under his care. "He did make a call from his personal phone. Shall I play it for you?"

Natasha dragged herself to her room and into the bathroom where she started water for a bath. "Summarize, please."

"He confirmed a meeting for tomorrow morning. There were no details such as time and place. However, you may be interested to know that they spoke Polish."

Not being modest, she didn't have a problem undressing while she talked to the AI. "Polish? Who does he know that speaks Polish aside from me? Trace the call."

"In anticipation of your request, I have already done so. The phone number belongs to a 'burner' phone that is no longer in operation. However, I was able to track the phone until it was turned off. The signal bounced off a tower in Mount Olive, New Jersey near Tulip Park. When it ceased sending a signal, it was on Interstate 80 headed toward Roxbury Township."

Natasha turned on soothing music and sank into the hot water liberally laced with chamomile. "JARVIS, set my wake-up at four forty-five."

"Yes, madam."

~~O~~

Clint rolled out of bed and stumbled into the kitchen to start the coffee then into the bathroom to splash cold water on his face. The only problem with taking the meds to sleep was the time it took to wake up. He'd left a call with JARVIS for five, but had also set the alarm on his phone to get him up an hour earlier in case Natasha had any ideas about trying to follow him.

He dressed in his most threadbare jeans, worn boots, a T-shirt with the name of a Death Metal band on the front and a beat up jacket. Not bothering to shave, he rubbed gel in his hair spiking it. Going back to the bedroom, he opened the hidden safe, took out an envelope and shoved it into the breast pocket of his jacket. In the kitchen, he poured a cup of coffee, drank it down then poured another which he finished on the way down to the garage. "JARVIS, I need you to disable all tracking devices."

"Done, sir."

Crouched next to Natasha's vehicle, a black sports car, he asked, "Did you include the ones that Stark and Agent Romanoff told you not to tell me about?"

"Of course, sir." The AI seemed to think for a moment. "You should leave immediately, Agent Barton. Agent Romanoff is on her way down as we speak."

Clint fired up the engine and was gone a full three minutes before Natasha exited the elevator in the parking garage. Going to her car, she swore in several of the more colorful languages she knew because Clint had flattened all four of her tires.

TBC