Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers or any of the characters affiliated with them. If I did, there would totally be a Hawkeye/Black Widow movie in the works.
Author's Note: While I embrace constructive criticism, remember this old saying if you choose to leave a review "If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all"
Thanks to those who reviewed Chapter Five: VioletBrock, Viviannafox, Sandy-wmd, Reteka Hyuuga, DanicaRem, JRBarton, BatmanOtaku, Shazrolane, sv4me, Silfvarg, bookworm1517, Kylen, crazykids121, lunarweather, TheNaggingCube, CyanB, Noweia, Melissa, GreenLoki, awkward hawk, TLDT, ladybug114, kimbee, GremlinX, ponyperson, Qweb, Guest, Eringo94, Demmerick, The Pris, JennyBunny65, tpt player 5701, Furionknight, weemcg33, rose, Arquenniel, patty cake rocks, Guest, truefairytales, Waterlilies, thababes, YukinaKid, fanficchica123, discordchick, DBhawkguy30, jaguarspot, Questionair, isi7140, Lollypops101, coastalcajun, Squirrel the Man, scottie12524, horselover28, silvershadowrebel, penguincrazy, Alfheimchick, Sara, Elizabeth Barton, R1dDL3M37h15, Brandi Golightly, Mirabilem Electo, 24601, and Aurora Abbot
Shout out to those who figured out the song: BatmanOtaku, The Pris, Waterlilies, thababes, scottie12524
To JRBarton: RV is military jargon for rendezvous point
To Questionair: there are a few pieces of advice I can give you. One - READ. Read a lot. I've been an avid reader since I was a small child (Dad read me stuff like Moby Dick mixed in with my Winnie the Pooh stories as a kid). Its in all that reading that I picked up on sentences structures, word plays, and nuances of storytelling that I like. Two - map out your entire story before you write it. I create a literal outline of my stories (something I didn't do when I first started) and it has improved my writing even just since I started posting on this site. It helps you remember the little things you need to tie together and to make sure you cover everything in a logical, natural progression. Three - find a good beta. I was lucky enough to get connected with Kylen, who not only keeps me on the grammatical track, but also challenges me and helps push me to do better every story I do. If I don't cover something as in depth as she, as a reader, would want, she tells me. And I go deeper. A good beta is invaluable. Good luck!
Thank you to Kylen for general awesomeness and beta-ing :) She is Dan's voice as usual, and she pretty much re-vamped the scene with Dan and Natasha in this chapter and made it awesome :)
This story is dedicated to Kylen
On to Chapter Six...
The hour of departure has arrived, and we go our separate ways, I to die, and you to live. Which of these two is better only God knows.
Socrates
Clint shifted his hands carefully along Natasha's rib cage, feeling for anything out of place. He caught a slight wince when his fingers pressed against a spot with a particularly dark bruise just under the hem of her black sports bra, but she shook her head – nothing broken.
A few more moments and his exam was finished, but he didn't pull his hands away – kept them resting lightly against her warm skin, the thumb of his left hand ghosting across a nasty, blackening bruise.
She shifted in her spot on the counter.
"Clint?"
He shook his head. How many times had he done this for her, or her for him? How many times had Phil all but physically restrained him to get him to slow down long enough for the man to check his ribs for breaks on a mission?
It was always him – or Natasha. They were the ones in the line of fire, the ones that took the hits. And as much as the protective part of his being hated that Natasha was in that kind of danger, it was the job. He knew that. He accepted it.
But it wasn't supposed to be Phil. It wasn't supposed to be Phil hanging by a thread right now.
A hand was suddenly resting against the back of his jaw.
"He's going to be okay."
Clint raised his eyes, meeting Natasha's sharp, green gaze. The fingers of her other hand combed through the short hair on his temple.
"He will."
God damn she could read him like an open book these days. He forced a shaky nod.
Natasha quirked her lips sadly and pulled him forward, wrapping her arms around his shoulders in a rare show of affection. Clint slid his hands across her back, drawing in the strength she was offering him. He turned his face into the side of her neck, drawing in a deep breath and blowing it out slowly.
In a few minutes they'd have to leave this bathroom they'd taken over. They'd have to wade back into the chaos going on around them. They'd have to fight again. But for right now – in this moment – he could just be here. He could keep his arms wrapped around Natasha and believe that everything was going to be okay. Phil was going to be okay.
He hadn't realized how much he'd needed to just stop and take a moment to just breathe until Natasha offered it to him. He tightened his arms slightly, sliding one hand up her back to rest between her shoulder blades.
"Thank you."
He followed the whispered works with a light kiss to her neck, then he pulled back. She gave him a warm smile – one he knew no one else in the world ever got to see.
"Ready?"
Clint drew in a deep breath to fortify himself and then nodded with more confidence than he'd felt since this whole mess started.
He watched Natasha start to grimace her way into a black t-shirt and reached to the counter for his own.
Clint barely managed to step out of the way of a tech sprinting down the hallway with a data pad in his hand. He glanced back at Natasha who sighed and as she too side-stepped to avoid getting run over.
"It's a goddamned madhouse out here." Clint blew out an annoyed breath.
"We need to find Fury." Natasha rolled her eyes as someone rushing by knocked shoulders with her from behind.
"Any idea which way control is?" Clint looked up and down the hallway. Neither of them had been on the carrier before. And with everybody running around like maniacs it was hard to get a read on their location.
Natasha shrugged.
"I had to threaten someone to find out where to get us clothes."
"I think I can help with that."
They both turned, arching an eyebrow in near synchronization as none other than Maria Hill strode up to them. She looked tired and stressed, but no worse for wear.
"Hill." Natasha nodded in greeting.
"Fury wants to see both of you in his office."
Clint motioned with his hand for her to lead the way. A few minutes later, the main bridge of the carrier came into sight. There was a controlled hum of chaos throughout the bridge as the various techs coordinated the rescue efforts still underway.
"This way."
Hill led them to a glass door – Clint could see Fury standing behind a desk, looking out a window.
Hill led the way inside, closing the door after them.
"Engage privacy protocol."
No sooner had the words left Hill's mouth than all the glass in the room darkened – tinting automatically until it was black. Clint arched his eyebrows appreciatively.
Fury turned to them then, his expression set in stone.
"What we are about to discuss, does not go beyond the people in this room."
Clint glanced at Natasha. Looked like they were about to find out what was going on.
Fury moved towards his desk, typing in a quick code on his keyboard. A panel in the wall behind his desk suddenly dropped back and slid to the side, revealing a safe. As he moved to the safe and bent down for a retinal scan, he spoke.
"One month ago, Phil Coulson came to me with information regarding an off-books investigation."
The safe unlocked and he pulled the door open, extracting a single file. Clint leaned, trying to get a glimpse inside, but couldn't see anything but the leather of Fury's jacket. The Director closed the safe and turned back to them.
"An investigation regarding a World Security Council member named Matthew Williams."
Hill's eyes widened in shock and Natasha's expression remained perfectly blank. Clint clenched his jaw tightly in annoyance. Phil had read Fury in on the Williams situation without telling him.
So much for being in this together.
Fury eyed him critically – seeming to read his mind.
"He was trying to protect you, Barton. Reading me in was the right call. If it was true, if Williams was targeting you – I needed to know so that I could try and prevent a repeat of Budapest. And so that we could start building a case."
He tapped the file that he'd set on the desk.
"Excuse me, sir…" Hill stepped forward – shock still written across her expression. "You were investigating a Council member? Does the rest of the Council know about this?"
"No, Agent Hill. And until I see it fit, it will remain that way." He gave her a hard look. "Understood?"
Hill swallowed and gave him a wide eyed nod.
"If you've been building a case," Clint fought the urge to snatch the file from under Fury's hand, "why haven't we moved on Williams?"
Fury sighed, looking suddenly exhausted.
"He's a Council member, Barton. We can't just move on him – not until we have damn good evidence. Trying with anything less is a quick way to a short career."
Clint looked down briefly, his jaw clenching again. Then he raised his hard gaze to Fury.
"He just brought down the New York base – got enough evidence yet?"
Hill drew in a sharp breath.
"You think this was Williams?"
Clint kept his eyes locked on Fury. The Director stared right back – and didn't disagree.
Hill shook her head sharply.
"You have no proof of that! And to make such an accusation is practically treason!"
Natasha shifted next to Clint, crossing her arms over her chest.
"She's right. All we have is a gut feeling. We can't take that to the Council."
Clint narrowed his eyes when Fury reached for his jacket pocket.
"We have more than that." He pulled out three rectangles of thick paper that looked a hell of a lot like playing cards. "We pulled these off of one of the leaders of the attack teams." He tossed the cards down on the desk one by one.
The first was a King of Spades but in place of the King was a black and white photo of Phil.
The second was a Queen of the same suit – this one had Natasha's photo in its center.
Clint already knew what the last one would be before the Ace of Spades ever hit the desk and he saw his own face staring back at him.
"Son of a bitch." Hill breathed as she drifted closer, taking in the cards with wide eyes.
Clint suddenly felt sick. After all the conjecture – all the hunches – to see the two most important people in the world to him on hit cards was nearly too much to handle. Williams had decided just killing him wasn't enough – he wanted to kill the only two people in the world that Clint couldn't live without. He reached for the back of one of the chairs facing Fury's desk, bracing his hands on it and dropping his head down. He felt a hand on his back even as Natasha spoke what they were all thinking.
"This was a hit."
Clint closed his eyes to stave off the wave of dizziness that swept over him. Whether it was the sudden jump in stress, or that Phil wasn't standing here next to him, or that he hadn't slept more than five hours in the last 48 – it was suddenly taking every shred of control he had to just keep it together.
"An organized one." Fury confirmed. "We have a few of the hostiles in custody – still alive. I expect interrogation to reveal that their primary directive was to find you three and kill you – by any means necessary."
"Any means – meaning taking down the entire base?" Hill frowned doubtfully. "Who would want you three dead that badly?"
Clint huffed a morbid laugh – it gave him the strength he needed to force himself to raise his head again.
"Are you kidding? We're covert assassins – the list of people that want us dead is a mile long – but there's only one person on it that could get those mercs past the gates."
He reached forward and slid the King of Spades off the desk, staring down at Phil's picture.
"This is Williams – it has to be."
Hill shook her head.
"You have nothing but circumstantial evidence."
Clint tossed the card back down, turning his glare on her.
"What exactly do you want? Williams to waltz through the front door carrying an M-16?"
"I just think that you need more before you can even think of taking this to the Council." She held his gaze impressively for several moments before she swallowed nervously and looked away. She looked to Fury instead. "You said Coulson started looking into Williams after Budapest? Why then?"
"The email." Natasha tossed the three cards down from where she'd been inspecting them. "Moreno got an anonymous tip that we were coming. Phil traced it."
Fury flipped open the file and handed a sheet of paper to Hill.
"It took some doing, but he traced it back to Williams."
They all three watched as she scanned the trace results.
"This proves that he tipped Moreno in Budapest. Why didn't you bring this to the Council?"
"Because at best, all that gets us is a deportation order, maybe his name on a threat list." Fury sighed. "Then he'd still be out there, and Barton – and now apparently, Romanoff and Coulson – would still be in danger."
Hill rubbed her forehead roughly and blew out a breath.
"If you want the Council to issue a kill order," she glanced at each of the individually, seeming to realize that's what they all wanted, "you need to tie him directly to this – to the attack."
"Which is why, Agent Hill, you're going to find him." Fury turned his gaze to Clint and Natasha, "And you two are going to go pay him a visit."
"Won't he be at his office in Washington?" Hill asked. "You alerted the Council that you were calling an emergency session, didn't you?"
Fury nodded.
"I did – but Williams won't be tuning in."
Clint closed his eyes as the pieces Fury had already put together clicked into place in his head.
"How do you know?" Hill demanded.
"Because if he did this," Clint met Fury's gaze again, "he declared war on SHIELD. He's going to run."
Fury nodded.
"When Williams is not on that monitor when the Council comes online five minutes from now, we will consider that a confirmation of our suspicions." He looked to Hill. "I want a location on Williams before we ever get to that point."
She nodded slowly, but didn't move from her spot.
"Sir…with respect – if you're wrong…" she shook her head. "Sending them after him is an act of treason. It's an unprovoked attack."
Clint's eyebrows hit his hair line.
"Unprovoked? You're kidding, right? Were you not listening when we just talked about Budapest? Where he tipped off a crime lord and tried to get us killed?"
"Yeah," Hill shot him a dark look, "why is that again?"
Clint drew back sharply at the flippant reminder that this was all because of something he had done. But he knew Hill didn't know about Brianna Williams – knew she was just fishing for answers. So he reached out to stop Natasha from advancing in his defense.
"That is information above your pay grade, Agent Hill." Fury's tone was dark, warning her off. "Satisfy your curiosity another day. You have your orders."
She had the good grace to look repentant – nodding quickly and moving towards the door. Once it closed behind her, Fury turned his eye on them.
"You find him, Barton. Take him into custody and then you will wait for my orders, understood?"
Clint met the Director's gaze darkly.
"You send me after him – and I'm bringing back a body."
There was no ifs, ands, or buts about that – Williams was a dead man walking.
Fury stepped around his desk and up into Clint's space. For a moment they stood nose to nose.
"You will wait for my orders because if you don't, I will not protect you from the repercussions." He held Clint's gaze calmly for a moment before continuing. "If he did this, I will get you the kill order – of that you have my word. But until then, you will wait."
Clint stared at him. How was the man always so fucking calm? Clint suddenly hated him for it.
He shoved Fury hard in the chest.
"How the hell are you so calm? This is Phil! He could be dying right now and you're about to go play patty cake with the Council? You should be fighting me for the right to put the bullet in Williams' head yourself."
"You think I don't want to end the bastard myself? I do!" Fury stepped back into his space and glared down at him. "But this is about more than me. It's about more than Phil. Williams made this about more than his vendetta against you. He came after my base, my people. And if you kill him without clearance from the Council then it was all for nothing because he will WIN." His tone suddenly lowered. "If you execute an unauthorized kill on a member of the Council, they will issue a kill order on you and then Williams will get what he wanted all along."
As much as Clint hated it – he knew Fury was right.
"You have to play it by the books, kid, every step. Don't give them an excuse to put this off on you."
Clint swallowed and nodded.
Fury nodded once back and then looked at his watch.
"It's time for the call in."
He stepped around Clint and headed for the door. Clint and Natasha shared a long look before following after him.
"Hill! Do you have it?"
Hill came jogging up to them as they made their way to the Council Chambers. She held out a data pad.
"Southern California."
"He's gonna jump the border." Clint frowned, pulling the data pad from her hand. "We need to move. If he makes it to Mexico he can go to ground and we might never find him."
Fury nodded.
"Go. Report directly to me, not through the regular channels." Then Fury was stepping through the door to the Council room, closing it behind him.
Hill turned to them.
"You can take one of the new jets. Gear up and I'll meet you in the hangar in twenty minutes."
Clint nodded.
"Point us towards the armory."
Fury waited as the screens around him flickered to life – and felt firm resolve settle into place when only one remained black.
"Director Fury, what's the status of the situation?" A woman asked in concern.
Fury lifted his chin. What was the status of the situation? A chaotic hell – that's what.
"A third of my staff is either injured or dead. However the evacuation procedures are coming to a close and my men on the ground report that the last of the hostiles have been taken into custody."
"Director, what happened?"
Fury looked from one face to another and ignored the question.
"Council members – does anyone know why Councilman Williams is not online?"
Various levels of shock showed in their expressions as they realized that – indeed – one of their members was missing. Fury sighed. Time to lay it all on the table. If he was going to come through for Barton, he needed to start laying the foundation.
"The time has come for me to bring you up to speed on an off-books investigation that has just become official."
Todd stormed through the halls – scanning the faces around him as he moved. He finally spotted them as they stepped out of the armory – both with terrifyingly familiar looks in their eyes.
"Barton! Romanoff!"
They both looked to him in time for him to latch onto each of their elbows and pull them through the nearest doorway. He flipped on the light and blinked around at the cleaning closet. With a roll of his eyes he turned on the two assassins.
"Somebody better tell me what the hell is going on."
They both blinked blankly at him.
Oh, that was IT.
"Fury calls you in for a secret meeting and now you two are coming out of the armory looking like you look when you're about to go kill people. So it seems you two know something I don't." He took a menacing step forward and wasn't surprised when neither of them looked particularly affected. "Somebody better lay it out for me from the beginning, or I'm gonna get really pissed."
He watched them share a long look, and then Barton sighed – looking suddenly like the entire world was resting on his shoulders.
"Phil wanted to tell you weeks ago –but I wouldn't let him. I didn't want anyone else getting pulled into the line of fire."
The look of guilt that swept over the kid's gaze in the next moment was nearly enough to send Todd into a flurry of reassurances.
"But we're past that now." Barton's gaze shifted towards he door – and the masses of displaced SHIELD personnel on the other side of it – and then hardened. "It started a little over seven years ago – when I took a contract on a girl named Brianna Williams…"
Todd listened quietly as Barton told him about the hit and then about the truth behind Budapest and finally, the tie to Matthew Williams. He closed his eyes and put a fist to his mouth to stave off a wave of nausea when Barton told him about the playing cards – about how this whole attack had been an attempt to take out Barton and those closest to him.
"And now you're going after him." It wasn't a question. If what Barton said was true, Williams was dead already – he just didn't know it yet.
Barton just nodded.
Todd squeezed the bridge of his nose. He wanted – with every fiber of his being – to get on that jet with Barton and Romanoff. To watch their backs and help them end this once and for all.
But with Phil down and Fury tied up with the Council – somebody needed to start getting the chaos back under control. Todd blew out a breath. None of that would matter if Barton needed him, though.
"I'd be with you in a second, kid. All you have to do is ask."
Barton looked so grateful in that moment and his gaze warmed to a level Todd hadn't had directed at him since the rooftop after Uzbekistan.
"I know. But you're needed here." He looked at Romanoff. "We can handle it."
Todd nodded.
"Just come back in one piece, okay?"
An almost normal version of Barton's familiar cocky smirk spread across the kid's lips and then he reached and clapped Todd on the shoulder before reaching for the door. The three of them stepped into the hallway.
"Hangar?" Romanoff looked to Todd in question.
"This way." He nodded to their left. They started that direction only to stop when Barton didn't follow.
"Clint?" Romanoff stepped back towards him.
"I have to see him." Barton seemed to communicate something to her with his eyes because she nodded without questioning further and turned back to Todd.
"Infirmary?"
"We just got him stable enough to go into surgery. You've got five minutes." Wilson held open the curtain for him and Clint stepped through without any further prompting. He blew out a shuddering breath and stepped closer to Phil's side, reaching for his hand. He wrapped it in his own and braced his elbows on the metal sidebars on the bed.
Clint didn't let his eyes wander – didn't want to see the damage again – kept them focused instead on Phil's face.
"I promised you…" he had to pause to clear his suddenly tight throat, "after Uzbekistan, that I would always fight. And I have – I've fought with everything I have every day since then and now it's time for you to return the favor." He tightened his hold on Phil's hand, staring hard at his face and willing the man to hear him. "You have to fight, Phil." He ignored the way his voice cracked and kept going. "You fight and I'll fight too, okay?"
He suddenly wished – more than anything – just to hear the man's voice. Fighting off the hitch in his breath, Clint lowered his head and forced himself to retain control. He shook his head and sniffed.
"You can't check out on me, okay? I need you here with me. So kick this in the ass. Be here waiting when I get back, ready to give me one of your famous talks that make everything okay again." Clint stared at Phil's lax features. "Because right now I'm really afraid that nothing will be okay again."
Admitting that fear out loud – even if only to an unconscious man – ignited something in him. Williams had done this. He'd taken Phil from him. He'd never wanted to kill someone more than he did right now.
"I'm gonna kill the son of a bitch, Phil. He's not walking away from this. I swear to you and whatever God is listening that I will end him."
Natasha stared at the curtain, hearing the soft rumble of Clint's voice as he spoke, but unable to decipher what he was saying. She felt Wilson come to stand next to her and glanced briefly at him before turning her gaze back to the curtain.
"I've never seen him like this."
Next to her, Wilson scoffed quietly.
"Are you kidding me?" She looked over, and saw Wilson's eyes wide with disbelief. "You've been here how long now, and you're going to stand there and tell me you don't realize what those two mean to each other."
The last wasn't a statement, and it irritated Natasha to no end. She stiffened.
"I know better than anyone what they mean to each other." And she did. She saw it in Clint's eyes when he talked about Croatia, when he talked about that dirty alley in Vienna when he was 18. She saw it every time Clint and Phil fought and neither of them was quite right until they managed to work things out.
Wilson watched for a moment, then nodded.
"Fair enough. But if you know that, then you know damned well if Phil dies, he's going to want to follow." Wilson locked eyes with her. "How much has he told about what happened in Croatia?"
Natasha sighed.
"Enough to know that Phil was –" She stopped and corrected herself, "is the only reason he's who he is now." She felt her gaze harden. "But Phil isn't the only thing he has anymore."
"No, he's not. But Phil's the first one who broke through that shell." Wilson's eyes drifted back to the curtain, and Natasha could sense him losing himself in a memory. "Barton would do anything to protect Phil. Hell, he has. He stepped in front of a bullet because he couldn't envision his life without Phil, and to hell with the consequences. Phil managed to get Barton's head on straight after that, but …" Wilson sighed. "I have no idea where Barton's head is at right now. Barton's never been in this position with Phil. I need you to keep an eye on him, make sure he keeps perspective."
Natasha scoffed.
"Phil is lying in there, and there's a very real possibility that this is the last time Clint gets to see him. If he decides to lose perspective, do you realize how impossible it'll be to make him get it back?"
Wilson turned and looked at her for a long moment, pinning her with an intense gaze. When he finally spoke, the words were soft – and surprising.
"You said it yourself, Romanoff. Phil's not the only person he has anymore. If anyone other than Phil can get into his head, it's gonna be you. He needs you fill that void right now."
Natasha frowned and Wilson's expression softened.
"If there is anyone that can keep him on the right side of all of this, it'll be you, Romanoff."
She blew out a breath and nodded slowly, turning to Clint as he slid out of the curtain.
He was on shaky ground – she could see it in his eyes – but it would have to wait.
"Give me a minute." She squeezed his arm slightly and slid in to see Phil herself – and to say goodbye…just in case.
Dan watched Barton for a moment as the young man braced his hands on the wall and glared down at the floor.
"Barton."
The archer didn't raise his head. In fact, the only reason Dan knew he'd heard him was a slight stiffening of the kid's shoulders. Dan sighed.
"Barton, look at me. Please." After a long moment, Barton finally raised his head. The sheer pain on his face – hell, radiating off of him – was more than Dan could take.
"Listen to me. I'm going in there, and I'm going to do everything I can. You know that." Barton nodded, but Dan doubted he'd done much to reassure him. Hell, he couldn't reassure himself right now. All of this depended on variables Dan wouldn't know until he got into surgery and seen just how much damage those three bullets had done.
That was only part of the issue, though. Dan saw Clint's gaze drift back to the floor, and decided to take a chance. He reached out as he'd seen Phil do many times before, and grabbed the kid's chin, tilting it up so Barton had to look at him. The startled look on the archer's face made Dan pull his hand away quickly, and raise both hands quickly in surrender.
When Barton didn't lash out with a punch, Dan knew he had his attention.
"You two are leaving, going to take care of this mess." It wasn't really a question, and Dan felt a brief moment of triumph when he got a raised eyebrow from the archer – his first really normal reaction since all this had begun.
Dan plowed on. He needed to know if there was a chance in hell of keeping Barton's head in the game.
"Whatever you feel, Barton, whatever your emotions are, remember what Phil expects of you, okay?" Dan sighed. "He believes in what you can be – no, what you are. Don't do anything you can't take back."
Dan sized up Barton's posture.
"After Croatia...Phil told me what was going through your head. About why you'd done what you'd done." Dan took a deep breath, then spoke. "You're not that 18-year-old kid anymore, Barton. Don't let that mind of yours tell you otherwise, and don't let that be the part of you making the decisions out there. You understand?"
Something in Barton's expression shifted, giving way to the all-consuming pain he was still battling. Anyone else, Dan would have reached out again, put a hand on a shoulder, a pat on the back – hell, a hug if it was a woman. But he couldn't do that with Barton – not if he still wanted to be headed into surgery in a few minutes.
So, instead, he reached into his pocket, and pulled out a knife. Dan had wiped it clean when he'd taken it off Phil, and he knew Barton would recognize it as the one the older agent had given him almost two years ago.
"We found this on Phil. I think he'd want you to have it back."
He didn't acknowledge the subtle tremble in Barton's hand as he reached to take the weapon.
"Thanks, Wilson."
It was quiet – but it was sincere. Dan nodded, swallowing tightly.
"Be careful, okay? Putting Phil back together is one thing, but I'm not offering any two for one specials this week."
Barton nodded once, looking to Romanoff as she slid back out of the curtain.
"Happy hunting, kids. I've got a job of my own to do."
Romanoff and Barton turned, heading for the door where Todd was waiting – barking at someone on his phone. The three of them pushed out of the infirmary doors and disappeared from sight.
Dan sighed and watched the nurses start prepping Phil to be moved to surgery.
Time to scrub in.
Fury looked up when Barton and Romanoff strode through the hangar door. Barton's eyebrow arched in question.
"The Council has been briefed. They're demanding evidence before we move." Fury paused meaningfully, meeting both of their eyes individually. "Which means as of right now, we are off-books."
Both assassins nodded in grim understanding – but he saw something dark flash through Barton's gaze.
"Romanoff, Barton will join you on board momentarily."
Romanoff shared a quick glance with Barton before moving past them and up the jet ramp.
"I know what's at stake here, Barton. I will get you that kill order. Just trust the system."
Barton scoffed, shaking his head.
"You mean trust the Council – trust that at the end of the day they'll do the right thing?" When Fury didn't contradict him, Barton arched a sarcastic eyebrow. "Forgive me if I lack a little faith."
Fury supposed that was warranted. Barton had been on the Council's shit list from day damn one. He couldn't blame the kid for doubting them now.
"Then trust me."
The skepticism that rose in Barton's eyes would have offended him if it was from anyone else. But Barton was smart – too smart to just trust someone because they asked. Fury had enough mystery to him that he knew Barton would never really trust him – not completely. But he needed the archer to trust him now – with this.
"By all rights, Barton, I shouldn't be letting you anywhere near this. You are compromised in the worst sense of the word right now. And yet, here we are. Because I know that you'd be going with or without orders…and I know that at the end of the day you always get it done."
"Because I'm just a bullet in a gun, right?" Barton didn't sound bitter, just tired. That was an old battle – one Barton had been fighting with the Council – and with himself – for years.
Fury stepped forward, toe to toe with Barton for the second time today.
"I am not the Council. And you are not the bullet, Barton – you're the goddamned gun. And we both know you've always controlled the trigger."
Fury could tell by his eyes that Romanoff's name floated through Barton's mind just as it did Fury's.
"So control the damn trigger and trust me."
Barton's chin lifted and he stared hard at him – his blue-gray gaze intense. Then he nodded slowly. Fury nodded in return and just hoped to god that Barton was able to keep that control he was so famous for. Hoped that he didn't put one between Williams' eyes the moment he set his sights on the man – no matter his promises to Fury and everyone else.
As he watched Barton jog up the ramp, he silently prayed that he hadn't just set Barton up to fail – that he hadn't just allowed Phil's boy to put himself in a position to earn a kill order of his own. He prayed that Barton had the strength to not pull the trigger just one more time.
Natasha watched Clint settle back in his seat – autopilot just engaged.
"What are you going to do?"
Because honestly – she wasn't sure if Clint would be able to wait for a kill order, or that he even wanted to. She wasn't sure she would be able to stop him if he didn't.
"I'm gonna kill the son of a bitch with an ass-load of prejudice."
Natasha tilted her head in acknowledgement to the swift, firm reply.
"I know you're angry." He scoffed like that was the understatement of the century. "But we need to keep our heads on straight. You can't let your emotions cloud this, or you'll put one between his eyes the moment you see him."
Clint sighed and titled his head back, staring at the roof of the jet.
"And that's a bad thing?"
Natasha sighed. Of all the times to be purposefully obstinate…
"Clint."
"I know I have to wait," he acknowledged quietly. Then he lowered his head and met her eyes. "But I don't know if I can."
Natasha frowned – recognizing the darkness seeping into his tone.
"What do you mean?"
Clint turned his eyes back to the front window.
"I've got darkness in me, Tasha…It lingers, right below the surface and I have to fight every time I go out on a mission – every time I put an arrow into someone or pull a trigger – to keep it from taking over. And right now…" he shook his head, "I haven't felt it like this since I was seventeen years old."
Natasha watched him carefully, hearing the tremors of anger and pain in his voice.
"It's ripping me apart – trying to claw its way out and you know what I want more than anything?"
She waited – knowing he wasn't expecting an answer.
"I just want to give in."
Natasha swallowed. She knew about darkness – had more than her fair share lurking in her soul. She knew Clint carried his own share too – kept it buried deep. She'd watched him fight it down as they faced some of the worst of the human race – and he always fought it down. He always kept the darkness at bay. It was that strength that made him who he was. It was that strength that had made him her beacon when she'd fought her way free of her own black soul.
And right now – before her eyes – that strength was crumbling.
"But you won't."
Clint's eyes narrowed.
"Because fighting is too much a part of who you are for you to just give in. Giving in is weak – it's easy."
She waited for him to meet her eyes. As she'd anticipated, defiance lit his gaze at the mention of weakness. That was one thing he could never stand to be.
"Are you weak, Clint?"
Something she couldn't identify darkened his gaze and he looked away.
"Because the man that I know – the man that saved my life – he's the strongest person I've ever met. He had the strength to do what he believed was right even when everyone, even Phil, told him it was wrong."
If there was ever any evidence that his strength came from no one but himself, that mission in Paris was it.
"Are you that man or not?"
His chin lifted fractionally and he finally returned his gaze to hers. She could see resolve seeping into his eyes – could see him fortifying that strength he'd nearly given up on.
"Besides," she smirked. "Phil will kick your ass if you do this any way but the right one."
His lips quirked seemingly against his will and he shook his head ruefully.
Natasha smiled, because he knew just as well as she did – that it was true.
End of Chapter 6
Who thinks Clint can hold out and who thinks he'll ice Williams the second he sees him?
So show of hands if you watched Agents of SHIELD last night? My hand is up in the air right now and just...yeah...loved it. LOVED COULSON in it :) Loved the little Hawkeye action figure that was in the window with all the other action figures :D simply awesome :)
So I realized I was missing something...so I've decided to put myself in that 'something's shoes in an attempt to find it...so here goes...
If I were a review...where would I be...hmm...oh I KNOW...right down there, in the review box! What a GREAT place for a review, don'tcha think? You should make sure there's one down there, since that's where they belong...is there? no? you should fix that! :D
Can you tell I've had some sugar today? XD
Here's your preview!
There, standing across the room with a hand gun aimed at Clint's forehead, was Matthew Williams.
Hate – stronger than he'd ever felt in his life – rose inside him.
Williams' eyes reflected similar feelings.
At least they were on the same page.