Chapter 15: Clint's Farmhouse - Horse Stables
Very fine traces of yellow still tinted his skin from the Wolf's poison. When it first entered the veins, it was silver, as with all the others, but this case was special. Different. He had something else mixed with his blood that the poison was interacting with. Some foreign chemical. Inessa watched him for a long time by the light of a candle, tried to find a pattern to the tattoos of burning veins that ran across his body. She knew she couldn't keep him there, she'd have to put his body with all the others eventually, but she couldn't resist studying the differences between him and those without abilities.
The hunt was always so slow when the prey wasn't tagged. They had to run through shadows across the world for this one, and always with Inessa watching through their eyes. Nothing of his remained with a scent for the wolves to track, not that it would have sped the task up by much. A piece of the Valley was always kept locked away from the others- every hour or so Inessa would change it- unlock another region, another city. It was pure luck that they'd finally hit gold that night.
When they found him he was in the deep south visiting an old bow maker- his supplier before SHIELD caught up with him. Inessa allowed him to carry out his transaction, kill the bower to cover his tracks, and leave. It was two blocks from the market where she opened the portal and drew him in.
Berny had simply stared, flabbergasted. Before he could put two-and-two together, Inessa poured her mind into Nadya's form, raised one long talon, and pierced him directly through the heart from behind. He only realized then what kind of danger he was in. He tried to pull a knife out of his coat pocket to throw, but he was too weak- the poison would hasten his death, quick as it would be already. The knife fell short and she opened a door from the Valley- let it drop back where he had vanished from.
She returned to her body to watch the spectacle that was his death. As soon as he tipped onto his side and began gurgling she came forward with a small needle filled with the toxin's antidote. His heart barely pumped enough of it through his veins to eliminate any trace of the toxin before he died. She inspected the puncture, carefully dabbed away any silver that was still visible, and lightly tore at the flesh around the fatal wound, in case it too had remained infected.
She couldn't leave the corpse in the Valley- the others requested use of it too often to risk such a thing, but she wasn't quite ready to send it on to the ancient cavern under the farm where she kept the others, not just yet. For whatever reason, the empty stall in the stables seemed like a good enough choice for now.
Removing organic material from the Valley was simple, and so when she opened the door beneath Berny's corpse, she was able to move the pooled blood along with it. When she left with him from the stables it would be likewise a simple matter of removing the blood with the body. That was how she'd always done it- no sign the body even existed.
What Inessa didn't count on, unfortunately, was insomnia.
"Inessa? Is that you?" Clint shivered as he walked through the cool stables. He was in his pajamas, but carried his collapsible crossbow, locked and loaded, "Inessa, if you're in there, come out slowly, OK?" whatever was going on at the farm with Steve and Bucky's specter, he was on edge in the silence. He couldn't sleep and was on his way around to the back entrance of the barn- nearer his workshop- when he saw the flicker of candlelight in the empty stall. It had to be one of the Avengers, but when he asked JARVIS which comm was registering from the stables he'd turned up empty.
Inessa didn't have a chance to send the body back to the Valley before Clint turned on the stable lights- and she didn't have the energy to open a doorway that large without shadows. She turned to run out into the hallway and crashed into him. Before his eyes even registered the man on the floor, her heart broke.
What would she do to keep her secret? Could she really kill one of them? Even Clint?
"What are you doin-" he saw the body. Concern flickered over his face first- had someone tried to hurt Inessa? How had they lured her out here? He gently pushed her aside, never taking his eyes off the body. It was a corpse, that was pretty damn obvious, dead at least half an hour. The analytical part of his brain quickly determined cause of death- some kind of puncture or stab, and from all the blood probably to the heart. He appraised the clothing of the assassin, but something wasn't right- his shoes were dusted with a fine layer of some rust-red sand, nothing like what you'd find in South Dakota. He was wearing jeans, a t-shirt, and a leather jacket. It was far too casual, especially for someone trying to attack an area defended by the entire Avengers lineup. Hell, he wouldn't even take on one enemy dressed like that if he had time to plan.
The man's hands were clearly that of an archer- Clint recognized all the same callouses he himself possessed, plus there were indentations from the gloves and braces of a professional. This man had been practicing not long before his death. A wrapped bundle was just outside his reach, and Clint was willing to bet it held at least three bows. Shopping? None of this made-
Then Clint saw his face.
It felt like he and the man froze in place, but the rest of the planet kept speeding away from them. There was a rushing in his ears, a thousand memories jumping up at once. His little brother. His only friend for most of his life. The brother he'd loved. The brother he'd killed. "Berny?" Clint whispered. He fell to his knees and stared. There was a scar on his cheek where the arrow had gone in. Clint touched it softly. This had to be a trick- it couldn't be him. He was long dead. "What- what happened? What is this?" he turned back to Inessa, begging for an answer. Her hands were wet with blood. Clint turned back, stared at the wound- someone had smudged the drying blood, pulling away at the edges of the flesh. He looked at her again, "Did you- did you do this?" his voice was a disbelieving whisper as he fought back his emotions.
He expected her to explain somehow that made it all make sense. His mind told him this man had been killed in cold blood, he still looked surprised. It told him she was trying to cover up something in the wound, but little Inessa, scared of everything but her own shadow, the kid who'd saved all of their asses in New York, brought Bucky back, discovered Steve and Bucky's mystery enemy- she couldn't have done this. It wasn't possible. How was Berny alive? No. How had he been alive?
Clint was too lost in thought and confusion. He never saw the arrow coming.
Inessa couldn't let him tell the others. It was the hardest thing she had ever done, but she had to keep her secret. She couldn't risk them tossing her out now- and there was no way to explain away Berny's corpse. They'd never believe her, never trust her. She barely worked up enough energy to pull a single arrow through from the parcel. Berny's arrow. His hand was stained with blood from when he reached for his own wound. Her hand was stained with a fresher supply. It would look passable. Especially since, when the arrow hit Clint's muscle, her hand slipped down the shaft and left no clear handprint. She put a second hand on the end of the arrow and shoved it in the rest of the way.
Clint gasped and stared up at her. Confusion, anger, betrayal- it was a face she knew would haunt her the rest of her life. Inessa bent down and pulled the crossbow from his hand. He reached for her, his assassin's instincts kicking in. Clint would kill his killer. Inessa stepped out of reach and waited a moment until she was certain he couldn't pull himself to her. Carefully, she tipped Berny into a sitting position, took aim, and fired a bolt precisely through the wound. There was enough wet blood left to coat the arrow as it shot through and embedded itself in the wall. Inessa laid him back down and reached behind her for Clint's still-grasping hand. She slipped the crossbow into his grip, which tightened reflexively around the trigger. Berny's bloody hand she dragged over towards Clint's chest.
Finally, the last gurgle came. Inessa stared at Berny the entire time- as much as he looked like Clint, it still was easier than facing her friend... Her friend's body.
When Inessa turned at last, Clint's eyes were glassy. He was gone.
This isn't what you deserved, Inessa signed to him, ashamed she couldn't even speak to his body, I know, and I promise I will never forget you. You saved my life. You gave me back this body, you taught me how to speak again- you are the kindest of all of them. The bravest. I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry...
Inessa did what she could to stage the scene further- she tore open the parcel and arranged the weapons as if they had been laid out- mirroring what she'd seen Clint himself do during practice. She carefully placed the arrows evenly next to the bows, then moved one down so that there was not only an empty space, but a mark in the dust of the stall. When she picked the arrow up to move it, she dragged it, as if it had been lifted hastily. Inessa inspected Berny and cleaned off the sand from his shoes, replacing it with dirt from around the hay outside. Finally, she stepped out of the stall, turned out the light, and walked through the Valley back to her room where she cleaned up and removed any trace of Clint or Berny's blood from herself.
When Natasha woke without Clint beside her, she went out to the workshop to tease him about spending an entire night playing with his arrows. When she found no sign of him, she went to the stables where he sometimes went to think.
Her scream woke the others.
As far as the world knew, Hawkeye fell saving his comrades from an attack by the terrorist group known as Hydra. Only those in the inner circle knew the truth. Clint had gone to the barn to work on new arrows, been sidetracked by a light. His comms were off, so no one knew precisely what happened next, but Bucky, Steve, and JARVIS had been able to analyze the scene. Berny was readying his gear when Clint walked in. He shot first, probably didn't even have time to process that it was his brother. He shot him through the chest at close range, and with the last of his strength Berny pierced Clint's heart with an arrow.
Natasha was too quiet after she found the body, and no one would let her be alone. Inessa would sit in the now-empty stall for hours at a time, just staring at the stains on the floor, her eyes red. Bucky ignored the memory of Sam sentencing her to death for the murder of Clint Barton. That part of the vision was wrong already- his brother was the killer. He watched her from a distance so she might have a chance to mourn her friend in private.
The funeral was small, simple, precisely what Clint would have wanted. Berny was buried on the farm without ceremony or gravestone, but for his brother there was a service attended by twenty of the best spies and SHIELD agents in the world- with Nick Fury himself reading the eulogy. SHIELD's new Director even came- though he wore a hood to obscure his face.
Natsha sat at the front of the group, barely hearing any of it. Her best friend was dead. The only person she'd ever wholly trusted. She remembered how he'd found her, told her she could be more. He offered her a new life, one where she didn't have to hate what she was- one without the fear and the nightmares. Without the pain. He'd saved her life- but she wasn't there when he needed her help. She was asleep, comfortable, dreaming some bullshit dream while he died cold and afraid. She needed someone to maim or kill- some way to take revenge, but she had nothing. Clint killed his assassin, deprived her of the right to seek some kind of relief from the pain that threatened to rip her apart from the inside. Avenger. There was no way for her to do that for him. There was no way for her to do anything.
No one knew how to process the loss of such a close friend. Clint was buried next to the tree in the front of the house, his favorite perch. Being so close to the grave gave the farmhouse the feeling of a tomb. There was no more joking. No more laughter. No one could bare to stay, but none could even suggest returning to the Tower- it felt too much like leaving him behind. Admitting he was gone.
Two weeks after the funeral something appeared outside the main lobby of Avengers Tower without ceremony or pomp- a large black marble statue of Clinton "Hawkeye" Barton to commemorate the passing of a hero.
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Oh, and one last thing-
April Fools!
The real Chapter 12 will be posted tomorrow! *dodges barrage of rotten fruit*