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?

12. Chapter 12

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

Thanks,

~Sandy

Avengers

From Time to Time

Chapter 12

Outside the Consortium compound, Clint watched the main entrance through binoculars. He'd been all around the outside, watching and waiting, and so far everything Bailey had told him had been the truth. The shift change had occurred at 2230 just as she'd said. When the morning shift change came, he planned on being long gone with Alston and any other prisoners they might have.

He wished he had his memories to call on for experience. But all he had was the memory of the aftermath of the torture he'd endured. Not a great foundation upon which to build a plan. He'd have to rely on his training as a spy and assassin to get the job done. One side of his mouth lifted in a grin. That'll work.

His grin slowly faded as the night he spent with Naomi flashed in his mind. The light in her eyes as they made love, the feel of her skin against his, the sound of her breathing as she slept. Did she care that an assassin slept next to her? It was something they would have to talk about if their new relationship was to survive in the long term. And he did want them to be together for eternity. He realized that now, rolling his eyes at the fact that he'd made such a momentous decision under such appalling circumstances.

Assassin. To the general population, the word evoked a feeling of evil, malevolence, immorality.

Clint believed that the greater good would be served if certain people were not in the world. What would Naomi say if she were here? Intellectually, she had to know he was an assassin, a murderer. Someone who killed on command like a dog trained to attack. And though his motives were not the same as the Consortium's who killed to advance their twisted way of how the world should be, how was what he was doing different? Some would even call him a sociopath, but that would just be wrong. He did have conscience He felt for the families of the people he had to kill and like Natasha, his ledger was in the red.

Natasha had been doing this for years longer and had once spoken of her personal ledger being filled with so much red that she had no idea how to erase it. Clint wondered how much red would be on his ledger in ten, fifteen, twenty years. Was there enough black in the world-worlds-to wipe out that much red?

Like Coulson, he had conviction. What they were doing had to be right because the alternative wasn't worth thinking about.

Putting those thoughts aside, Clint fingered the device in one of his numerous pockets. Before he'd left Bailey sleeping in his hotel room, he'd taken a retinal scan and a sample of her DNA. He'd also changed into the special suit that R&D had created for this sort of op. It kept him cool in summer, warm in winter, but those weren't its only functions. The material it was made of had also been designed to fool the infrared, proximity and motion sensors. If anything showed at all, he would read as a deer or other animal that lived in the woods.

Now all he had to do was wait, and sure enough, the guards on the main entrance started slacking off on their perimeter checks. Their check-ins were done on schedule, but instead of patrolling the area, they played cards. Eventually, one of them put his feet up on the desk and dozed off. The other guard got up and went around the side of the building to relieve himself, and Clint took the opportunity to slip inside using Bailey's access.

Going straight to the door on the left, he entered the video room, quickly taking out the guards and stuffing them into a small closet after first stripping the smaller one out of his uniform. The drug he'd used would keep them out for at least four hours. Plenty of time to get the job done.

After put on the guard's uniform and seating himself at the computer, Clint slipped a thumb drive into the USB port, hacked through their security then programed the cameras to go into a video loop that would show nothing but empty corridors.

Taking out another device, he attached it to one of the guards' comms. It would respond to any calls made to the guards. It was limited in its responses, but it only had to work for an hour or less because Clint planned on being long gone before daylight with Alston.

With a few taps on the keyboard, Clint found the camera in Alston's cell. The FBI agent was asleep and looked in somewhat good health. A quick scan showed that only one other cell was inhabited, but the occupant was facing the wall with the covers over his head. Nothing in the computer told him the name of either prisoner, but that didn't matter. The three of them would be leaving together. Introductions could be made when they were safely away.

He exited the video room and made his way down to the detention level without incident. He took out the guards at the entrance without a problem, shoving them up under the desk out of the way. While in the video room, he'd downloaded all the access codes he needed to release the prisoners, and hoped they both were able to walk or this op would be over.

Attaching the scanner to the keypad, Clint tapped in the code and the door opened. He rushed to the cell on the right and performed the same operation. The moment he stepped inside, Alston was on him. Clint used his skills to defend himself, not attack. "Alston! It's me!"

Alston stopped in mid swing. "Barton?"

"The one and only. You ready to check out?"

"Yeah. The service in this hotel sucks. They don't turn down your bed and no mint on your pillow at night."

With a snort, Clint followed Alston out into the hall. "Room service leaves a lot to be desired too."

The FBI agent started for the exit, stopping when Clint went to the door on the left. "Let's go!"

"We're taking your cellmate too."

Returning to Clint's side, Alston kept a wary eye on the exit. "Make it fast. I don't wanna be here when they figure out what's going on."

Clint nodded as he opened the second cell and stepped inside. "Hey, buddy. Time to go!" The scent of cherries reached him just as the figure on the bed tossed off the covers and sat up. "Naomi?"

"Clint! Thank God! Where are we? Who are these people?"

He stepped forward to take her in his arms at the same time a grunt followed by a thud came from the hallway. As he started to turn, his entire body stiffened like a board, he lost all motor skills though he could still hear and see what was going on around him. Naomi called out his name, but he couldn't respond, and a moment later he was unconscious.

The man wielding the Taser stepped fully into the room backed up by several guards, a malicious grin on his face as he hit Clint again watching him writhe on the floor.

~~O~~

After pacing her cell for what seemed like hours, Naomi finally lay down and pulled the covers over her. She'd tried talking to the guards, but they just told her to shut up. Very briefly, she thought about pulling the "my father is very important so you better not piss him off" card, but didn't think they would care or if they even knew of the existence of SHIELD and that he was the director.

Clint had come to the area to find Trevor Alston who was now an FBI agent. She still reeled from hearing that bit of news. He'd been an arrogant, narcissistic jock in college, always bugging her, asking her out. At least until after that race he'd had with Clint. Once Clint was gone, she'd only seen Alston on the odd occasion, and when she did, he would say hello and keep on walking. Once or twice she'd looked over her shoulder to see if he was checking her out, but he always kept his eyes forward. She'd wondered what Clint had said to him that day on the roof. When she got home, she'd ask. Provided he rescued her…again.

"Can't believe I've been kidnapped again," Naomi muttered aloud. Rolling over to face the wall and pulling the covers over her head so the camera couldn't see her, she tried to go to sleep She'd almost succeeded when she heard voices whispering in the hall just before the cell door opened.

"Hey, buddy. Time to go!" Clint! Throwing the covers off, she jumped out of bed as he stepped into the room, his eyes going wide when he saw her. "Naomi?"

"Clint! Thank God! Where are we? Who are these people?"

Clint had only taken one step forward when every muscle in his body stiffened to the accompaniment of electrical crackling and the smell of ozone. The noise stopped and Clint fell to the floor. The man wielding the Taser hit him again and when she tried to go to Clint, the guards raised their weapons.

Rage built up inside her that the man would continue to send jolts of electricity through Clint's body even after he was unconscious. "What the hell are you doing? You're going to kill him!"

"That's the plan."

At the sound of a familiar voice filled with malicious glee, Naomi's gaze shot up to the owner's face and a gasp was forced from her lungs. "I-I…" The sound of the Taser stopped though the ozone smell lingered and the brightness of the electrical discharge left spots in her vision. "Troy Bishop?"

Troy made a mocking bow, his mouth turned up in a cruel grin. "I go by Dietrich now. So good of you to join us, Naomi."

"Not like I had a choice."

He stepped over Clint as if he were a bag of trash, the hand not holding the Taser reaching out to brush his fingertips lightly over her cheek. "How I've missed you, my dear."

Naomi turned away from his touch with a shiver of revulsion. "Can't say the same."

Over his shoulder, Troy said, "Put them in separate cells." He nodded at Clint. "Handcuff him to the bed. Hands and feet."

"No, Troy! You can't…" Facing her again, Troy slapped her across the face so hard she stumbled into the wall. She tasted blood on the inside of her mouth and glared at him as one hand touched her cheek where it stung, but he hadn't broken the skin.

"You never did know your place, Naomi."

Head held high, Naomi stood her ground. "Oh, I knew my place alright, but you couldn't accept the fact that I didn't really love you. But that's what sleeping with your partner was all about. A way to get back at me." She clenched her fists at her side. "I knew you were sleeping with Shelby long before I caught you in the act. By that time, I didn't care."

"Ah. There it is. The truth at last."

Again that mocking smile. She'd always hated that smile. "You knew the score going into our relationship, Troy. I-"

"Dietrich." This time, Troy's voice had a hard edge to it that she knew better than to ignore.

"Fine. Dietrich." Not wanting to continue an old argument, she let out a long breath of air as she collapsed onto the edge of the bed. "Whatever you're going to do to me, go ahead. I probably deserve some of it, but leave Clint out of it. He's not to blame for…"

Planting his feet shoulder width apart and crossing his arms, the Taser still in his right hand, Troy spoke over her, "Oh, but he is to blame. If he'd died the way he was supposed to twelve years ago, you wouldn't have spent the intervening years thirsting for something that was out of reach. You would've grieved and moved on. But knowing he was out there somewhere kept just a tiny spark of hope alive."

"What? You-" Troy laughed, a harsh and punishing sound meant to wound, but Naomi was beyond that at this point. Even his next words didn't faze her.

"My plans reached much farther than just marrying you." His stiff posture suddenly relaxed and he smiled. "With Barton out of the way, I'd planned on giving you a shoulder to cry on and when the time was right, I would begin my campaign to make you fall in love with me."

Naomi lifted her hands and let them fall. "I don't get it. If you never loved me then why did you keep asking me to marry you?"

"As the son-in-law of Nick Fury, I would've had the leg up I needed to become a member of SHIELD where I would make myself indispensable. Then, when he retired, I would be appointed as his successor making me one of the most powerful men on Earth."

Getting to her feet, Naomi waved her arms. "You romanced me in order to realize your dream of becoming the director of SHIELD?"

"As a stepping stone to my ultimate goal of becoming the head of the World Security Counsel." Troy came forward to tower over Naomi, but she refused to back down. "And the only thing standing in my way was Clint Barton."

"You can't blame him for the things I did. I wanted Clint from the first moment I saw him, and once I fell in love with him, there was no going back. Even if he had died twelve years ago, I still wouldn't have married you. He was-is my one and only. If I can't have him, I don't want anyone else."

Troy raised his hand as if to strike her again and she forced herself not to flinch. "You'll regret saying that, Naomi." His hand dropped down to his side as he abruptly left the room.

No, I won't. Heart beating a rapid tattoo against her ribs, Naomi's knees gave out and she collapsed onto the bed once again praying that she hadn't made things worse for Clint, knowing that she'd done just that and had no idea how to make it better. For the first time since she was a child, she wished her father was here.

~~O~~

Out in the hall, the guards came to attention though Troy barely noticed. Jacob was waiting for him at the exit. He turned right and kept going with Jacob beside him. "Send the doctor to check on Barton and Alston then make certain that they're well taken care of. I want them in top physical condition for what I have planned."

"Of course." Jacob tapped his headset, his voice echoing through the facility. "Dr. LeGrand to the detention cells."

~~O~~

Every muscle in Clint's body ached making him glad he was lying on a soft surface. However, the fact that he was handcuffed to the bedframe did nothing to improve his mood. Even though his head pounded in time with his heartbeat, he forced his eyes open to take in his surroundings. "Sonofa****!"

Experimentally, he tugged on his wrists and ankles, but was held fast. He'd just have to convince someone to let one of his hands free. They had to let him pee sooner or later, and if he got lucky, they'd release his left hand instead of is right. He also noticed that his suit had been replaced with a T-shirt and sweatpants.

"Welcome back, Barton."

The voice sounded familiar, but he couldn't place it. "Where're Naomi and Alston?"

"You needn't worry. They're being taken good care of. At least for the moment. How long that continues depends on you."

"Who are you?"

A harsh chuckle came through the hidden speakers. "Call me Dietrich. I'm the leader of this little organization."

"Little? Is there anything you're not into?"

"You have a point. But that's not why I called. Someone will be in to see you soon. Behave or it will go very bad for your friends."

Before Clint could respond, the door to his cell opened and an older man with a doctor's bag and a stethoscope around his neck came in accompanied by an armed guard. With Naomi's and Alston's lives in the balance, he didn't dare complain when the doctor examined him and took his vitals. He asked about tingling in his extremities, sore muscles and headaches, seeming to be satisfied when Clint told him he had none of those symptoms. When he left, another guard brought in a tray and then he was alone again. Ignoring the food, he went to the door and looked out through the tiny window. "Naomi? Alston?"

"Clint?! Are you alright?" Naomi's voice.

"Yeah. You?"

He heard a door rattle and assumed it was hers. "I'm okay."

Alston's voice intruded, a grin apparent in the tone. "I'm fine, if anyone cares."

"Of course we care, Trevor."

"Good to know. Who is that guy anyway? He sure knows the two of you."

Naomi made a sound of frustration. "He was an FBI agent by the name of Troy Bishop. He and I were…involved for a while."

Alston was the one to respond. "I remember him. He went missing on an op over a year ago. Now we know what he's been up to."

"Enough talk!" The guard's voice cut short their conversation so Clint went to the table and sat down to eat. He'd wait a few hours to let the guards think they were being compliant then see if the FBI's training program was a comprehensive as SHIELD's.

Relaxing on the bed, Clint went over all the likely scenarios that could be in the process of being played out. None of which ended well for everyone involved. Especially for Bishop or whatever he was calling himself these days, because the scenarios that Clint was envisioning always ended with Bishop impaled with an arrow just as Decker had been.

A little while later, the guards came in to check on them then left again without speaking. One guy glared in his window and Clint ignored him. After a while, Clint got bored so he did some basic calisthenics. He was contemplating calling out to the others again in defiance of the no talking rule when the lights dimmed but didn't go out. They did the same thing at night on the helicarrier and that gave Clint an approximate time of day. He waited then pulled out the spoon he'd palmed before they'd taken his tray and used the handle to locate the best spot on the wall for his purpose.

Again using the end of the handle, he tapped the wall using Morse code and was pleased to hear a response. He and Alston brainstormed over what was likely to happen in the next twenty-four hours, neither of them coming to any firm conclusions.

Frustrated with the current situation, and concerned for Naomi, Clint disregarded the no talking rule once again. "Naomi?"

"Yeah?" There was a slight tremor to her voice, and that's what he didn't want.

"Whatever happens, whatever I say or do, know that I believe in you. Never forget that." He wanted to say he loved her. Had never stopped, but again, this wasn't the time or place. "Do as Bishop says without question. But do not show fear. Never let him see you're afraid. You're one of the bravest people I know. You can do this."

"But…"

Clint slapped the door, the sound echoing in the short hallway, not caring if he attracted the attention of the guards. "Promise!"

"O-okay. I promise." He couldn't see the door to her cell, but he could picture her in his mind. Both hands gripping the short bars in the window, leaning close, trying to see him as he was her, and nodding reluctantly.

"Good. Try to get some sleep." The exit opened, Clint quickly took off his black T-shirt and threw it over the back of the chair. When the guard looked in, Clint was on the floor doing push-ups facing away from the door. "…ninety-six…ninety-seven…ninety-eight…ninety-nine…one hundred." He turned over onto his back so that he could now see the guard's face framed in the window and began doing sit-ups. "One…two…three…four…" The face disappeared and he stopped, but kept counting until he heard the door shut then stopped.

Figuring he'd need a good night's sleep for whatever Bishop had in mind, Clint splashed water on his face, used the T-shirt to dry on and lay down to stare up at the ceiling. He knew he was being watched and his disobedience was calculated to let Bishop know that he intended to use any means necessary to bring him down.

~~O~~

Though the mattress had been thin and lumpy, Naomi had managed to sleep at least part of the night, and most of that had been because she knew Clint was nearby. He probably had a plan for getting them out. All she had to do was wait for it. Troy wouldn't be stupid enough to let them be alone together meaning there was little chance that he'd be able to share that plan with her so she had to be ready for anything.

After the guards brought breakfast, oatmeal, a bowl of fruit and coffee, Naomi sat in the middle of the floor meditating. It was something that Maria had taught her and if ever she needed to calm her mind it was now. She'd just reached a state where she could keep from screaming obscenities at Troy and the guards when her door opened.

This time there was a female guard and somehow that just made the situation worse as far as she was concerned. They didn't restrain her, but when she stepped out into the hall, she saw that both Clint and Alston were now wearing prison transport restraints. Apparently they weren't taking any chances.

Naomi tried to catch Clint's eye, but he kept his gaze averted. Alston, on the other hand, gave her a smile and a confident nod, and she smiled back.

As they left the detention area, Naomi was taken to the left while the men were taken to the right. She'd promised Clint that she wouldn't show fear, but she had to speak to him one more time, just in case. "Clint?"

Huffing in what sounded like irritation, he turned to face her. "What?"

Clint's tone surprised her. He seemed annoyed and there was not one glimmer of affection in his gaze. "Be careful."

"Great advice." His humorless chuckle confused her as did the sarcasm. "You should've stayed in Chicago. Why McNeil recruited you is beyond me, 'cause you obviously don't have what it takes to make it. In this job, you can't play it safe. You have to be someone who takes risks, pushes the envelope, and it's just not in you." She gaped at him, uncertain what was going on, why he was pushing her buttons, but she wasn't given the time to puzzle it out. "Go. Run home to Mommy, little girl. You don't belong here." He flashed a smirk at her, one he'd used before then turned his back letting the guards lead him away.

The female guard kept hold of her arm, pulling her inexorably forward. She was taken into a room that was barely bigger than her six by eight cell. The walls were bare as was the floor aside from the chair bolted to the exact center of the room. There were restraints for the wrists, ankles and head. She didn't balk when she was told to sit though thankfully the woman and man just stood guard though they didn't strap her down.

With her head in her hands, she thought over the dreadful things Clint said as he was being taken away. He'd never given any indication that he thought she couldn't cut it as a member of SHIELD. And what he'd told her the night before about cooperating and not showing fear. What he'd said just now didn't track with his previous instructions.

Then she remembered the smirk. It was that smirk. The one she'd seen on his face the day she'd choked on the hot dog and he'd teased her. Later, he'd confessed that it had been that moment he'd known he loved her. Now, he'd used it as his way of telling her he still loved her.

A few minutes after she was brought to this horrible place, her thoughts of Clint were interrupted when the door opened and Dietrich came in. There seemed to be nothing left of the kind man he'd been when they were together. Unless this was his true personality and the kindness had been the façade. She was a psychologist. Why hadn't she seen his true self? Or maybe she did, but subconsciously, and that's why she never gave in to his suggestions that they move in together or agreed to marry him. Maybe she hadn't wanted to see this side because that would mean she'd taken yet another wrong turn on the road to happily ever after.

But none of that mattered. Not anymore, because Clint loved her. And just like when he'd dealt with Gary Decker, he would get them out of this. She didn't know how, and didn't really care, but as long as they could be together when it was over…

A monitor she hadn't noticed when she came in lit up as the door opened and Dietrich entered. He nodded and the guards were suddenly on her and within seconds she was strapped to the chair. A panel in the wall opened and a shelf slid out. On it was an array of medical instruments, but in this context they had taken on a malevolence on a level with some sickening horror movie.

On the monitor, she saw Clint and Alston. They were being led through the woods with hoods over their heads, the restraints making it hard for them to walk. Alston fell and was jerked back to his feet by the guards then given a shove to get him started again.

"I thought you might like to watch this as its promises to be quite entertaining." Naomi lifted her chin, but said nothing. "It's been some time since my men have been hunting."

"Hunting? What are you-" A lump formed in Naomi's throat at the implication. The guards were going to hunt Clint and Alston. Hunt and kill them. She struggled against her bonds. "You can't!"

Dietrich came to stand in front of her, a cruel grin making his formerly handsome features twist grotesquely. "I can and I will. This isn't our first rodeo, Naomi. We've perfected this over the years." He bent down so that his face was level with hers. "Twelve years ago, it was me who made Barton as an agent. And as my reward, I was allowed to direct his…interrogation."

"You mean his torture." Her words had a sharp edge, and if he took offense, that was too bad.

He shrugged offhandedly. "Call it what you will. Either way, he won't be making it home alive this time." Reaching out a hand, he used a finger to tuck a lock of her hair behind her ear. She turned her head trying to get away from his touch. "And that's not all. It was also me who encouraged Decker to 'follow his dream' of punishing you for the death of his fiancée."

"But she didn't kill herself."

"True. Someone else had it in for Rachel and we may never know who it was. But it worked to my advantage. Decker and I had known each other in the Marines. I knew how he thought, especially after his accident. So I whispered conspiracies into his brain and blamed you. My plan was for you to be so scared for your life that you'd finally contact your father for help then I would volunteer to as part of the protection detail Fury would assign. And when that didn't work, I had to find another way." Standing up again, he spread his hands wide. "Now here we are."

Naomi sensed that anything she might say now would only make matters worse for all of them so she kept quiet, her eyes on the monitor. The hoods were removed from Clint and Alston as were the restraints. The two men tensed, but the guards had weapons trained on them giving them no choice but to comply. The man in charge gave them instructions then handed Clint a mini iPad though she doubted it had the capability to contact anyone that could help. Clint looked at the screen then turned in a circle until he faced the camera. Knowing that he could see her, Naomi gave him a confident smile. He didn't respond except to hand the device back and speak to the man in charge.

He handed both men a watch, Clint strapping his around his left wrist. The guards moved out of range of the camera, all but their leader.

Tapping his headset, Dietrich said, "Jacob, let's make this a little more interesting for our targets."

Nodding, Jacob pulled out a small caliber handgun and shot Alston in the leg.

"No!" The word was wrenched from Naomi as Alston fell to the ground, a hand over the wound. Clint crouched next to him then unbuckled Alston's belt, yanked it from the loops and strapped it around the agent's upper thigh. "How could you…"

"Easily. And you get to watch. Oh, don't worry. My men won't cheat. The cameras are there for us. So we can watch the drama as it unfolds."

"You're a monster."

Dietrich thought that over a moment. "You may be right, but that debate is for another time. Right now, it's time for the show so just relax. It'll all be over soon."

The confidence Naomi had in Clint's abilities wavered just a little as she watched him help Alston to his feet and the two of them disappeared into the woods.

TBC