A/N: Yeah... living in a pandemic with two very young children kicked my butt, what can I say. I'm still alive, though, so... *presentation hands*

Mission Eighteen: Trust Games

Clint's head was throbbing.

He wasn't exactly surprised to wake up in that state, all things considered, but he was more than a little frustrated that his life could be summed up by one concussion after the other. Especially when Nat was out there somewhere causing trouble without him.

Yeah, he wasn't actually concerned about Natasha. His hearing was always the last of his senses to come back to him when he came out of unconsciousness, but what he was able to discern through the ringing in his ears was that someone well beyond him was talking about Natasha and Rogers. And not in the "let's see how miserable we can make them" kind of way. More the "where are they; they're giving us ulcers" kind of way.

Which was typical. The real question was why these bozos ever thought the outcome would be any different.

Of course, the bad guys did know where Clint was, so once someone in the band of guys wearing SHIELD uniforms but who definitely weren't SHIELD noticed that Clint was awake, the tenor of the whispers shifted to one that Clint recognized—the kind that meant Clint was about to spend a good long while not answering questions.

It just sucked that Beth was the one headed his way.

"For the record, this makes you less likely to get a date if me and Nat don't work out, not more," Clint said before Beth could say anything—which had the desired effect of stopping her incoming question, putting her off her guard, and getting the others around her to distrust her motives.

Look, he wasn't stupid. He was sentimental, and he was trusting to a fault, but he knew how to stay alive. He knew that better than most things. He liked Beth, and he wouldn't be able to hurt her (much) if it came down to it. But he wasn't going to protect her, either.

But the guy nearest Beth was faster on the uptake than Clint had anticipated. Or maybe he was just hearing what he wanted to hear, because his response to Clint's sass was a question that sounded very nearly hungry: "So you admit to being closer to the Black Widow than your records would suggest?"

Clint rolled his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall where he'd been halfway propped up while he was unconscious. Of course, the second his head touched the stone, he regretted it, because even that light touch hurt. But he managed to turn the wince into a smirk as seamlessly as he always did. "I owe her my life a dozen times over. Everything else is personal, and I'm not interested in your voyeurism."

Clint could see the man's hands clenching in fists as he worked a muscle in his jaw. "Why you—"

"Now there's an original comeback," Clint said dryly. "I haven't heard that one since the last time I watched a James Bond movie."

And yeah, Clint totally saw the kick coming, and it absolutely hurt when it connected with his ribs, but hey, he didn't have much to fight back with beyond words, so he wasn't going to stop.

"You have to know where she is," Beth said. Apparently, she was playing Good Cop. "Or how to find her."

Clint let his head fall Beth's direction. It still hurt, and he had learned his lesson about moving his head around too much. "You know I don't. I was on a different mission."

"But if you—"

"Look," Clint said, cutting her off, "I get it. Your party's about to be crashed by my partner and Rogers, so you got desperate and grabbed yourself an idiot. Problem is, the only thing I do know is that Nat's pissed off and you can't stop her. You really think you're not digging yourself a hole grabbing me?" He grinned brilliantly, aware of the fact that he had blood on his lips. "You're in over your heads."

The man with Beth backhanded Clint hard enough to knock him onto his side so that he was prone and not propped up. "You have no idea who you're dealing with," he sneered.

Clint spit blood on the floor and made sure he showed his red teeth when he grinned up at the guy. "No, I don't, and doesn't that just say so much about your penny ante operation?"

And okay, yeah, being picked up by his shirt under his chin and slammed into the wall was not doing anything good for the concussion he already had. Clint's ears were ringing too badly to catch most of the first part of the man's rant, but he started to put the sounds together as words right around the time the rant reached the part about the world bowing to Hydra.

Clint laughed. He couldn't help it. "Are you serious?" He let out another hearty guffaw, well aware that everyone in the room was watching them now. "You can't be serious. You're telling me you think you're in the same group I used to read about in comics?" He laughed again. "No wonder you guys have such a hard time finding Cap. Couldn't stop him the first go 'round either."

"Hawkeye," Beth said quietly, her tone ringing with a warning—but Clint was on a roll.

"No, seriously," he said. "I grew up watching you guys get punched in the face on every TV show on the planet—and you want me to be scared of you? The only reason you've got me is Beth sucker-punched me. You don't even have a prayer against real Avengers."

"That's it." The man threw Clint across the room, and Clint saw stars for a long time after he'd finished skidding. "We should just kill him."

"Don't be rash," one of the other so-called Hydra agents spoke up, stepping away from the screens flashing information about their frantic search for Natasha and Steve. He stopped close to Clint but not close enough that Clint could have kicked him like he wanted to. "He's still an Avenger. If we can't find our targets, we can stop them once they show their faces."

"Wow." Clint coughed and spit out blood again. "You don't get it. You picked the two worst possible Avengers to pull that kind of play." When Beth and the two men didn't look like they got it, Clint spelled it out for them. "Steve's a soldier. He understand acceptable losses. Nat's a spy. She does whatever it takes to get the job done. Out of everyone on the Avengers, those two aren't going to stop for anyone or anything." He shook his head. "You're all idiots."

"No," the second man said, "you're the one who misunderstands. I was there on the helicarrier when the Avengers were formed. I saw them rally after Agent Coulson died. I know what Avengers will do for one of their own."

"You're still forgetting one thing," Clint said, shifting so he could prop himself up on his elbow even with his hands tied. "I'm the one who attacked that helicarrier. The Avengers have me on their roster because Fury wants a human around to ease people's minds about superheroes with god-like powers roaming the streets. That's not the same as being part of the team family."

"I was under the impression they invited you along themselves."

"Oh, sure. I asked to go on the revenge quest. Having a common enemy isn't the same as being an ally."

The second man narrowed his eyes. "You're not making a very good case for staying alive," he said, resting his hand on his holster—beside a set of keys that Clint knew would at least give him a better shot of getting out in one piece.

Now, the trick would be getting his hands on those keys without anyone noticing.

Clint had a plan for that, too, and he hated it.

"Look, I hate being used as bait as much as the next guy, and I'd definitely like to stay alive, but I can't ignore it when the people who jumped me don't even have their basic facts right," Clint said casually. "I mean, I'm not surprised. You and this guy here look like you only have two brain cells between you. At least Beth has the excuse of a crush to keep me alive, but you two are just stupid."

Beth's eyes were flashing even as the other two turned toward her looking like they were ready to turn on her. "Leave me out of this," she hissed.

"Like you left me out of whatever comic book inaccurate scheme this is?" Clint shot back.

"I could have just left you to die with the rest of SHIELD," she shot back angrily. He hated to see it; he really did. He'd liked Beth, and seeing her transform from the sweet girl in R&D to this sneering, evil version of herself was almost physically painful. He usually had a good eye for people, so the fact that she hadn't pinged his radar had him wondering just how a nice girl like her ended up wrapped up in this scheme.

He didn't have time to play twenty questions or to get Beth's backstory, though. He needed these guys to get mad enough to manhandle him instead of just kicking him where he lay. So, he picked his head up, glared at Beth, and said, "You idiots can't even catch two Avengers. You can't even take taunting from one almost-Avenger. You really expect me to believe you're good enough to take down SHIELD? Talk about delusions of grandeur."

"You don't know," the first man started to say, but Clint cut him off.

"Listen, I literally get paid to watch people. And I'm telling you now: none of you could put a dent in the rookie agents, let alone someone like Nat." He looked toward the second man in particular and made sure the guy knew he was giving him a quick evaluation. "I'm gonna go ahead and guess you washed out the first, what, two, three times you tried to get in?"

As Clint had hoped, the attack to his ego was one too many, and the second guy did what most compensating guys would do: picked Clint up and slammed him against the wall so he could get in Clint's face. "You're in for a rude awakening—if you live that long," he hissed in Clint's ear. "SHIELD doesn't exist without us. SHIELD is Hydra."

Clint needed the guy to keep him pinned a bit longer; he was still working his shoulder to get the right leverage so he could grab the keys when he inevitably got dropped to fall to the ground. "SHIELD is SHIELD," he said calmly. "You're you, which tells me jack and squat."

The guy pressed him harder into the wall. "I should kill you, Avenger."

"But you won't because you think, for some reason, a spy and a soldier will hesitate to take you guys down because you captured the team mascot." Clint shook his head. "You guys suck at this."

The guy let out a disgusted noise and then dropped Clint, letting him sag to the ground. He spun on his heel and went back to the intel on Natasha and Steve, muttering under his breath about useless imbeciles. And the first guy seemed to have given up on bothering Clint, too—except for the fact that he kicked Clint in the stomach on the way past him to join the others.

But Clint had the key now, so all he had to do was get Beth to leave him in peace so he could work on the locks without her raising the alarm.

So, of course, Beth came closer—almost but not quite close enough to reach out and touch him if she'd wanted to.

They watched each other for a long time, and Clint was careful to keep himself angled in such a way that Beth wouldn't know what his plan was. Still, he was uncomfortable enough that he finally burst out with, "What?" when she kept watching him with a deep frown setting lines in her face.

"You're not that stupid," she said at last, her arms crossed and her eyes narrowed. "I know you're not. You've never been as stupid as you pretend to be."

"Let's get something straight: I'm not pretending anything."

"Clint—"

"No, seriously. Look, I know I'm not addled. But I've got a mouth that gets me in trouble and a thousand concussions building on one another. I stopped trying to keep my lips sealed a long time ago. If that makes me stupid, that's how it is, but it's not something I can change. I'm hard-wired this way." Clint tipped his chin up to meet her gaze. "You gonna let them kill me for it, Beth? That's one heck of a thing to do after what you told me before you put me on the ground."

"Stop bringing that up," she hissed at him, her gaze darting toward where the others were grumbling about the missing Avengers.

"Why? Because you know they'll throw you under the bus just as quickly as you did to me—and that means we're both dead?" Clint shot back, finally letting his anger show.

"If you know that, why risk both our lives?" she shot back, her eyes flashing.

Clint met her gaze evenly. "Because you kidnapped me and are trying to take down my partner. And when I get out of this, you'll regret it. I don't care who you pretended to be before this."

Beth blinked several times, long and slow, before she let out a noise from the back of her throat that sounded wet. Then, she spun on her heel and joined the others.

Clint sighed and let his shoulders drop. He hated to do that. He did. He had a weakness for pretty girls in over their heads, and under different circumstances, he might have tried to figure out what her story was. But he had to get out so they couldn't use him against Natasha and Steve. He couldn't be a weight around her neck.

He trusted her to beat these guys. He just needed to get out of her way.

…

"Something wrong?"

Natasha mentally cursed whatever it was about the serum Steve had been given that allowed him the ability to sneak up on her—or at least to know when she was distracted and apparently time his appearances accordingly. She knew putting her phone away quickly would only draw attention to it, so instead, she sighed, dropped her shoulders, exited her messages, and then turned his way as she pocketed her phone. "Yes," she said simply—she wasn't going to lie to him. "But nothing that will stop us from moving forward with our plan."

Steve frowned at her wording and gestured to her phone. "Mind sharing?"

"Not particularly."

Steve's frown only deepened, and he crossed his arms, leaning in the doorway. "Natasha," he said gently, "let me help."

If it had been anyone else, Natasha would have shrugged off the offer without any explanation. She didn't need help, and she certainly didn't trust very many people to give her help when she asked. But after everything she and Steve had been through, she trusted him. And she didn't want him to think that she didn't; she knew that trust could be tenuous when strained this early in its development.

So, she handed him her phone and didn't wait for him to pull up the message from the single other phone that was allowed to send messages to that particular number before she explained, "Clint and I are the only ones who know about these lines. They had to have taken it off of him and tried to break in. The code in that message automatically notifies me if anyone but Clint has that phone."

Steve frowned at the line of numbers in the message before he handed the phone back to Natasha. "They took him for leverage."

Natasha nodded wordlessly.

"We can go—"

"No," she said, cutting him off before he could even begin his offer. This was why she hadn't wanted to tell him. He was too willing to let his heart get in the way of his mission. That was the biggest weakness she could see as they approached Hydra; he was still reeling from seeing his old friend, and they both knew it. She wasn't going to drag him into another compromising situation.

"Natasha, if they have him—"

"I know," she said, forcefully enough to get him to stop before he could make his argument. When he frowned and watched her carefully, she sighed and rubbed her eyes with her thumb and forefinger. "They took him because we're a threat, Steve. We don't have time to come up with a new plan. This one will work."

"And Clint?" There was no accusation in Steve's question, but she could see confusion in his expression. He might have been willing to throw everything aside in pursuit of his friend, but she wasn't—not even for Clint.

Natasha wasn't sure where that left her in Steve's estimation, especially because he knew how much Clint meant to her. But she could figure that out when lives weren't at stake. This was too important.

Besides, as callous as it sounded, she really did mean it when she told Steve, "Clint will be fine. He can take care of himself." Then, when Steve still looked like he could hardly believe Natasha could be so calm, she sighed and let her shoulders drop. "If they hurt him, if he can't get away, believe me when I tell you that I will burn every last one of them to the ground when we're done here." She tapped the image inducer as she said it, physically reminding Steve of what they were about to do. "But I trust Clint. I trust him with my life. So I have to trust him now."

Finally, Steve started to smile, though she had not expected his next reaction to be a tease: "Anyone ever tell you you're a romantic, Romanoff?"

She gaped at him and then nearly threw something at him. "Anyone ever remove a stiletto from your—"

Steve burst out laughing. "Come on," he said between chuckles, "let's get moving."

…

Clint wasn't at his best with a gun, but that didn't mean he didn't know how to use one.

All he'd had to do was uncuff himself and then wait until someone came to gloat again. He was glad it was the guy acting like he was in charge, because he didn't want Beth to be the first one he shot when he stole a gun to get out. He'd really liked her. Might even have dated her if he hadn't met Nat.

What that said about his taste in women, he didn't know. He could think about that later, though.

Once he had a gun in his hands, he made short work on the guys who had grabbed him. They hadn't been expecting him to get free, so most of them already had their backs to him. And he'd been watching them carefully, cataloguing which ones he was sure would have slower responses. Those were the ones he shot last.

There were only a half dozen of them in total, plus three from outside the room who came running in when they heard gunshots. And so far, there were eight bodies on the floor.

And Beth.

She had her hands up, her eyes wide, her expression pleading. "You don't understand," she started to say, but he cut her off with a sharp motion.

"You're right," he said. "I don't get it. I don't get why someone as smart and talented as you decided to hang out with these losers. Frankly, I don't care about the sob story or the backstory about how some ex-lover in SHIELD did you dirty. I'm gonna ask you something right now, and believe me when I tell you I'll know if you lie. Got it?"

Beth nodded minutely.

"If I let you go today, are you gonna turn right back around and work for these Looney Tune wannabe villains again?"

Beth's gaze was on the gun in his hand, though it drifted occasionally to one of her allies on the floor. She was holding her breath, weighing out her answer, and Clint knew it.

He knew, too, that he could be intimidating when he wanted to be. Eight men dead in no time at all, and the only mark they'd made on him was a bullet that had grazed his shoulder but hadn't lodged in it. He wasn't at his best with a gun, but that didn't mean he didn't know how to count his targets and plan his shots. Guns were inelegant, but they were fast.

Beth knew all this. He saw the knowledge of her imminent death pass in front of her eyes. He'd seen that same knowledge in other people, too. It wasn't something he reveled in—killing—but he was good enough at it by that point that he was almost used to the look in someone's eyes just before they died.

Almost.

Beth met his gaze at last, her lower lip trembling. "You don't understand," she said again. "Hydra is everywhere. You're fighting a losing battle, and I don't want to be on your side when you find that out."

Clint frowned but didn't lower his gun. "You're wrong, Beth," he said, because she wasn't all bad, really. Misguided and willing to drag him into a trap, sure, but not evil. "Take it from someone who knows. No matter what the threats, you can always walk away."

"That's not what I meant," she said. Her expression turned to a different kind of pleading, not the kind Clint knew too well that came with death but the kind that came with a proposition. "SHIELD is on its way out, and if you—"

Bang.

Clint felt bad, he really did, as Beth crumpled. But he didn't have time or patience for people who weren't willing to stand up or take a second chance when it was staring them in the face. Not when Natasha was in trouble, and not when he'd already been more than lenient, considering she'd helped kidnap him.

He shook his head as he grabbed a knife and another gun off of the fallen creeps. He could second-guess himself later. For now, he needed to catch up to whatever scheme Natasha and Rogers had cooked up and try not to accidentally make things worse for them. He looked over the screens at the corner of the room, trying to figure out where to go—

And then, the Triskellion all but imploded on one of the screens he was watching.

"Hey, Nat," Clint said, smiling crookedly. "Nice calling card."

With that, he turned on his heel and headed out. Nat was causing trouble; he was more than ready to back her up.