Chapter 33.
Six weeks later
Clint muttered swear words under his breath in a continuous stream, in a dozen languages. Why oh why had he agreed to just 'nip over' to France to take out a HYDRA cell operating in Paris? Coulson had claimed he wanted to keep HYDRA off balance, looking over their shoulders, and that was what the Avengers seemed to be mostly doing at the moment, chasing around putting out spot fires.
And, of course, the day Clint left the country was the day shit went down and Jemma's cover was compromised. He was going to kill Coulson for playing a stupid game of chicken with that Raina bitch.
Right now, though, there was nothing he could do but wait. Coulson assured him that his 'internal asset' in HYDRA was getting Jemma out, and he'd sent Trip in the quinjet to collect them. Trip would detour to pick Clint up afterwards – no point going back to London, he and Jemma were both compromised there and HYDRA would be tearing the apartments to pieces within hours. Not that they'd find anything useful. Clint's laptop was in his backpack, and his faithful Boudicca in his hand. He'd already killed four HYDRA agents today, including one traitor who he'd once thought was a friend.
Clint's hand tightened on the bow's grip. He was sitting on a rooftop just waiting for Coulson to call and tell him the extraction had gone well and Jemma was safe. He didn't want to think about the alternative.
Breathing slowly, Clint fingered the selector on his quiver. There were enough incendiary heads in there to blow the HYDRA lab in London sky-high. And that was exactly what he was going to do if anything had happened to Jemma. He was daydreaming about shooting that bastard Bakshi right through the eye when his com crackled to life.
"Pickup one achieved, pickup two, are you ready for me?"
Trip. Thank God. Clint closed his eyes in relief. He knew Antoine Triplett, had done a good deal of the younger man's training before he was partnered with the traitor Garrett. Clint was glad Trip had turned out to be loyal.
"Two awaiting collection," Clint rattled off a quick code, knowing that when Trip put it into the quinjet's computer, it would translate to his GPS co-ordinates.
"Acknowledged, Two." He could hear the laugh in Trip's voice. "How do you want to play it?"
"Just show me the way to go home, Agent K." Clint selected a grapple arrow and drew it, fitting it to his string, though he didn't draw yet.
"Estimate sixteen minutes to your position. Are you in the clear?"
"All clear." Clint waited patiently. Finally he heard Trip's voice again.
"Coming up on your position, Agent J."
Clint smiled. Trip had called him Agent J on his first day of training. Clint had responded that he was way more badass than Tommy Lee Jones and Trip had asked if he really would get to kick alien ass. At the time, Clint had laughed. It wasn't funny these days, though.
Clint took one more look around. Nothing was going on around him: no movements on the streets or rooftops that were suspicious. He listened for the faint hissing noise of a cloaked quinjet's engines.
"You gonna open me a hatch or what?" Clint quipped.
"Opening now, you impatient bastard," Trip said in response. "These things are a pig to hover…"
"Only for inexperienced pilots." Clint loosed the arrow. "You got someone over there who can connect it to the winch or am I in for an unpleasant joyride?"
"Just for the inexperienced pilot comment, I'm tempted to swing you into the Eiffel Tower," Trip said tartly, but Clint could see someone inside the jet connecting the line to the winch. A moment later the line went taut and he took a firmer grip on Boudicca and stepped off the edge of the roof.
It was never graceful getting into a quinjet this way, particularly since Trip had come out of hover and started flying the plane again, albeit slowly. Clint ended up on his stomach on the floor, clutching his bow, as someone closed the hatch behind him.
"Hello, Clint. Nice to see you again." The boots were too badass to be Jemma. His eyes slid slowly up – up – tall woman – oh, no.
"Agent Morse." He scrambled to his feet, leaving Boudicca on the floor, and a moment later his arms were full of Jemma as she flung herself at him.
"Clint, you're all right, thank goodness!"
"I was never in danger," he hugged her tight, but he never took his eyes off Bobbi, who was eyeing them both thoughtfully. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine," she clung to him closely, though, and he realised it must have been a close call.
"I got you," he murmured, stroking her hair, deciding to ignore Bobbi for now. If she didn't know about him and Jemma already, she soon would. "I got you, Jemma, we're on the way home. Everything's gonna be fine."
"When you've finished making kissy-face with your girlfriend back there, Barton," Trip yelled from the cockpit, "Coulson wants to talk to you."
"But of course," Clint sighed, tipping Jemma's chin up for one quick kiss before pressing her into a jump seat and fastening her harness. Her face was tear-stained and he stroked her cheeks tenderly. "I'll be back as soon as I can," he promised, before going forward to join Trip.
"So you and Agent Barton, hmm?" Bobbi Morse asked as soon as she and Jemma were alone.
"Yes," Jemma still blushed, thinking about it. Felt incredulous that Hawkeye, an Avenger, would want her.
"Been together long?" Bobbi already knew the answer, from the young scientist's pink cheeks.
"A few weeks," Jemma responded.
"Watch out for him. He's a heartbreaker." Bobbi stooped to where Boudicca still lay on the floor, and with the ease of long practice, disconnected the grapple arrow cable, picked up the bow and racked it.
Jemma didn't know what to think. Was this stunning, totally badass woman a former lover of Clint's? Suddenly Jemma felt plain and small. And very, very jealous. Clint didn't even look annoyed when he came back from the cockpit and saw that Bobbi had touched his bow. Jemma wouldn't have dared – not that she'd ever even thought to try – but he only nodded at Bobbi with a murmured thanks.
"So you were implanted at HYDRA?" he asked, sitting down beside Jemma, facing Bobbi.
"Head of Security," she replied with a smirk.
"Wouldn't have taken long to work your way up, with your expertise," Clint said. To Jemma's ears, it sounded like a fawning compliment.
"It didn't. How've you been, Clint?" Bobbi smiled at him, wide and genuine, her blue eyes shining. "I haven't seen you since before New York. You're an Avenger now; no one deserves it more."
Bleugh, it's getting all sickly in here, Jemma thought, but Clint only shrugged.
"You know how it is. Same shit, different day."
Bobbi laughed, low and sultry, and Jemma wanted to scratch her eyes out. She settled for biting on her own fingernails. God. This was going to be a really long flight.
Jemma was quiet, sitting next to Clint, but then she often was when she was thinking. She was worrying a fingernail between her teeth, another sure sign that she had something on her mind, and she usually didn't like to be interrupted during those times, so Clint talked quietly to Bobbi, catching up on what she'd been up to. He hadn't seen her since right after her divorce. He winced inwardly, thinking about their last meeting. He'd come back from a mission and gone to his quarters in the Hub, tired and aching, wanting nothing more than a long hot shower and a week's sleep.
Bobbi Morse was naked in his bed. She was quite a sight, especially for a man who'd just spent a month in a swamp in Cambodia, so it had taken a couple of minutes to get his brain into gear.
"What the hell are you doing here?" he asked, finally remembering to close the door. Shit, he hoped no one had glanced in and seen her.
"My divorce is finalised. Lance has taken a job guarding some film star from a stalker," Bobbi shrugged – and he looked, he was only human. "There's nothing to stop us being together now, Clint."
"Except for the fact that I'm not interested?" he asked sarcastically.
"You enjoyed fucking me, don't tell me you didn't. I might not remember it all but there were three tied-off condoms in the trash." Bobbi spread her legs, showing him what was on offer. "Don't you want a repeat performance?"
And Clint was suddenly repulsed. "No." He fixed his eyes on hers, no longer distracted by her body. "I don't, Bobbi. It was just physical. That's all. You needed it; I helped out a friend. You and I would never work. Lance put up with your games because he loved you. I don't, and I wouldn't. So get your clothes on and get out."
She'd argued and even cried, but he was unmoved. And then she'd taken her sweet time getting her clothes on, and he found out later she'd let practically half of S.H.I.E.L.D. see her leaving his room, deliberately walking bow-legged and smiling smugly. Word had got back to Lance, of course, and Hunter hadn't spoken to Clint since.
Bobbi was looking at him with the exact same expression she'd been wearing that night when she tried to tempt him to bed her again. It reminded him of a cat eyeing a particularly juicy mouse. Clint ignored it and took Jemma's hand in his, tracing his fingers gently over her palm. It took a couple of minutes, but eventually Jemma leaned her head against his shoulder.
Arriving back at the Playground, Clint was a little surprised when first thing after landing, Jemma threw her arms around Trip and gave him a massive hug, before dashing off to find Fitz and Skye. He shared a rough shoulder-clasp with Trip himself, now the other man was free of the pilot's seat, before collecting his bow. Bobbi had already stalked off to find Coulson and make her report. Clint and Trip followed a little more slowly, Trip filling Clint in on a few of the events of the previous few weeks.
"Izzy Hartley? Oh, no," Clint said, distressed. "And Idaho – he was a good guy. Smart as they come."
They entered a large working area just in time to see Lance Hunter confront Bobbi. "What are you doing here?"
"Fuck," Clint said under his breath, checking around the room. No Jemma, thank heavens, she must be with Skye. Alphonse Mackenzie was sitting at the table: Clint knew him slightly. A good mechanic and a decent guy.
Bobbi stormed out after a few words with Lance, and the room fell silent for a moment in her wake.
"Hawkeye," Hunter said coldly, turning to him. "Well. The storm blows in and you follow. What a surprise to see you with Bobbi." His tone was flat and coldly sarcastic.
"I'm not with Bobbi," Clint said, but Hunter had already left.
"What the hell?" Trip said.
May, arms folded, grinned. "You know the demonic ex-wife Hunter's always bitching about? That's her."
To Clint's annoyance, both Trip and Mack gave him censuring looks. "Don't look at me!" he held his hands up defensively. "Despite what anyone may imply, I have nothing to do with their little domestic drama!"
"Good," Trip said, "because Jemma deserves better than to get mixed up in some unhealthy triangle with you and any woman who can fuck a decent guy like Hunter's head over that bad."
"There's no triangle. There's only me and Jemma," Clint said firmly, sharing a look with May, who smirked back at him. He'd got drunk with her and Natasha one night and poured out the whole sorry truth. Sometimes, he thought May, Natasha and Coulson were the only ones in the whole of S.H.I.E.L.D. who believed him when he said he'd only ever touched Bobbi during the sex pollen episode.
"Come on, Barton," May tipped her head towards the door. "You can debrief me, and then you'd better head back to the Tower. Natasha has been calling, says there's something she needs your help with ASAP."
Clint sighed and followed her out. At least she didn't care if he debriefed slumped in a chair with his feet on a desk. He peppered her with questions as well about what had been going on in his absence: she was hiding something but right now he was too tired to take the time to figure out what. He'd ask Natasha, see if she knew. Thinking of that…
"Did Coulson ever let Steve and Tasha interrogate Ward?" he asked.
"It hasn't happened yet," May shrugged. "They've not been around. Too busy." She glanced down at her hands and Clint knew she was missing Natasha. They spent months apart often, because of their work, but he knew how deeply they loved each other.
"I'll see what I can do to relieve the pressure and get Tasha down here," he offered gently. "Has Skye seen Steve since the Malta incident?"
May shook her head. "No. She's talked it through with me and I'm confident she's over the worst. She doesn't blame herself, and her anger is correctly targeted at Rumlow and HYDRA. But if I mention Steve's name, she clams up."
"We'd better not let that fester too long," Clint said. "Maybe sending Steve and Tasha down to interrogate Ward is the way to go. Rumlow pulled a complete disappearing trick off Malta, despite Thor bringing that whole damn compound down, which worries me. I want to know where and how he vanished, and I wonder if Ward has any ideas."
"I'll talk to Coulson about it," May said in a clear dismissal of the subject. "And on the subject of girlfriends and sex, how's Jemma?"
Clint grinned at her. "Very good, thanks. And I'll thank you not to be sending her off again any time soon. I'd like Jemma where I can get at her, please."
May smiled, standing up. "I'll see what I can do. Keep in touch, Clint. I know the Avengers have their own agenda outside S.H.I.E.L.D. – even Natasha and I don't share everything – but it is important that we know what each other's end goals are."
"Yeah," Clint said dryly. "You wanna tell Coulson that, Cav?"
May's smile was tight. "I'll pass on your comment."
"You do that." Clint nodded at her and stood. He had some information he wasn't leaving until he'd shared with Jemma.
He tracked her down with Skye, the two of them sitting with their heads together. He leaned against the doorframe of Skye's office, smiling at them both. His sharp eyes didn't miss the Trust Cap sign on Skye's desk, either.
"Sorry, Skye, but can I steal Jemma for two minutes? I have to head straight back to New York and I want to say goodbye…"
"You didn't say hello yet," Skye came over and reached up to kiss his cheek. A little surprised, he still enfolded her in a warm hug.
"How're you doing, sweetheart?"
"I'm good. Busy," she waved a hand at her cluttered desk. "You know how it is."
"Only too well," he smiled at her, and then she slipped out the door.
"I'll leave you two alone," a sweet smile, and she closed the door behind her.
Jemma eyed Clint a little warily, and he sighed internally. And already it starts. The last thing he wanted was to leave her here to witness the fighting that would no doubt start up immediately between Bobbi and Hunter. What was Coulson thinking having those two in the same place?
"I have to leave, Jemma," he approached slowly, and she didn't resist when he drew her into his arms. "I'm sorry, but I'm called to New York immediately. You'll be stationed here for the immediate future, I believe."
Jemma's heart felt as though it was breaking. They were going from, for all intents and purposes, living together, to not being sure when they would next see each other. "Is this goodbye, then?" she gulped. "It was fun while it lasted?"
Clint's grip tightened on her. "Not unless you want it to be," he said sharply. "I was planning to ask Coulson if you can do some of your work at the Tower too so I can see you more often, plus I intend to get down here as frequently as I can, but if you'd rather I didn't…"
"No!" Jemma sobbed, unable to stop the tears breaking free, "no, please…"
He kissed her, long, slow and tender. "I'm fucking crazy about you, angel," he said softly, stroking her recently-cut hair back from her face, his fingers tangling in the natural waves. "And I'm not letting you go."
Another kiss, and Clint sighed, knowing he couldn't stay, and he had to address the topic before he left. He appropriated Skye's office chair, pulling Jemma down into his lap. "Before I go, I need to tell you something, and I need you to think back and remember what you told me when we first talked about it."
Jemma's brow furrowed. "What are you talking about, Clint?"
"You remember when you asked me about the person I helped through a sex pollen episode?" When she nodded, he said "It was Bobbi Morse. And her ex-husband, Lance Hunter, is working here too."
"Oh," Jemma's eyes widened, unsure what to make of that. "I thought – maybe you and Bobbi had once been involved. The way she spoke to you, I mean."
"I never touched her apart from that one time. Hunter doesn't believe that, though. He believes we had an affair after they divorced. Or maybe even before they divorced."
"But you didn't?" her brown eyes met his, then skittered away nervously.
"No. I didn't. Not that she didn't offer, but I wasn't interested. She's not my type." He squeezed her waist gently, nuzzled at her throat.
Jemma couldn't help but scoff. "Oh come on, she's stunning: she's every man's type!"
Clint shook his head. "By then I was already hung up on you," he admitted, "and even if I hadn't been, Bobbi and I wouldn't have worked. She's devious and I'm a straight shooter. I don't know how Lance managed her for so long, but then he worshipped the ground she walked on and I'm not one to judge a man for who he falls in love with."
Jemma leaned against him, thinking. "She told me to be careful. That you were a heartbreaker."
"She's the one who broke Lance's heart," Clint snorted. "That said, I don't know all the details of their breakup. He got jealous – which I do understand, even though the whole reason I did it was because I thought he'd want someone who was a friend to take care of his wife, rather than a random stranger, because believe me those were the other options."
Jemma nodded, understanding his reasoning perfectly. "I can still see that he might have been jealous. But surely it was up to her to reassure him?"
"Yeah, Bobbi was never good at that. They had a massive public fight one day – which is the reason I know about this – and she told him I was better in bed. Not that she would know because she didn't remember much, that's part of the effects of the sex pollen drug, and she certainly didn't have any other opportunities to compare."
"That was not very nice of her," Jemma said indignantly.
"Bobbi's not always a very nice person," Clint said. "Hunter was the one I was close with, not his wife. Watch yourself around her, Jemma. She's devious and clever and good at using people, and I think she might still bear a grudge towards me for turning her down. Just remember I don't want anyone else but you."
Although I do like Bobbi Morse's character on AoS, for the purposes of this story I've made her out to be not a very nice person. Can't have Hawkeye involved with Mockingbird here!