for greenisnteasy

[beenunmade]

Being back home was akin to being in Hell.

The friends he had made in Arkham had been some of the closest one's he had ever had in his entire life. As a sniper, Clint had always been closed off from the world -- an arm's length away from being close to anyone. The situation in Arkham had been something that threw him completely off kilter. Bonds were made, he loved, he lost. He experienced the life S.H.I.E.L.D agents typically did not experience when they had decided to become lifers for the cause. When he had woken up in his standard issued room -- a familiar yet sinking feeling happened upon him in the silence of it all. It wasn't difficult for Clint to find his sea legs once again. He didn't move into the Avengers tower when...normal!Stark had called him up with the invite, regardless of the fact that Natasha had done so. Thor hadn't been there. Thor didn't count. He'd taken one of his close friends back to Asgard to do whatever horrors they can do to someone who betrayed them such as Loki had. Things had changed for Clint after life in Arkham, what anger and hate he carried was gone for the things it should have accounted for but otherwise he had pushed his allegiances aside.

He was no longer Fury's soldier. No longer his sniper despite the fact he had been going on mission-after-mission for the man since his return. Anything to get away from the helicarrier for just a little bit longer. It honestly took him a little more than three months before he had gone AWOL during a mission in Romania. After taking down the mark, of course, it filled the hole inside him just a little bit longer before he turned off communications with the handler who had been in charge of him on this certain mission. Kenneth Winston, an unassuming man. He didn't hold the same sort of statue as Phil had. Wasn't as rigid as Hill had been. Wasn't as amusing as Sitwell. And not as watchful as any of them combined. Or even remotely close to them. Clint abandoned everything, taking up his bow, quiver, and a backpack he had prepared while they had been on the trip before ditching his new personal shadow. It hadn't been even that difficult. Clint already had the jump on him to begin with as he had separated the moment he had confirmed the hit before slipping back into the shadows.

That was about three weeks prior to his arrival in Peru. By boat, of all things. He had wired all the money he had from his bank accounts to a remote account in Egypt. Cashed out during his stay there before once again disappearing into the wind. S.H.I.E.L.D. had trained him to be the best, the stealthiest. He wasn't going to disappoint them just because he had made a run for it.

The last he had heard from Banner was that he had ditched the tower after the cold realization that Tony didn't remember anything from their trip to Arkham sunk in. Tony was with Pepper, head over heels for Pepper in fact. Clint had heard it when he had bought a magazine and offered some kid a buck to read it to him in disjointed English. Another buck for the attempt before patting the kid's shoulder and heading off in whatever direction he felt like going. Holding up a picture of Banner and asking if anyone had seen that man would have brought Bruce unwanted attention. If he was going to find him -- he was going to find him by pure luck or amazing tracking skills. He knew the doc's M.O. When Bruce had first gone in the wind after the Blonsky incident, it had been up to Clint to keep an eye on him for a couple months until they had established a good connection. Day in and day out. Clint was forced to watch from awkward perches, staring down at the unassuming man as he moved through the shadows, moving through the back streets children's parents would warn them about. He kept to himself, lived as he could and made do with what he had.

Barton had come back from the detail envious of him in some twisted way. Of course, it had all been shrugged off. Being invisible in a place where a dirty blonde man with blue eyes stuck out like a sore thumb was nearly impossible, but Clint had made it work. Clint had been at this for weeks now and the search was coming up empty. It was...aggravating to say the least. But getting into bad shit was something Clint had been an expert at back in the day. All it took was paying off a couple people before getting into a small circle of people who wanted to capture Dr. Bruce Banner to legitimately find out what made Hulk tick and replicate it was simple. They didn't need to trust him. All he needed to show them was an old photograph he had taken of the Hulk, claiming he had been after him before he took out his team and they were eating out of his hand. "The American" they called him, it was enough to get them to buy that he could possibly just get Banner to come to them. Or at least find out where he was with the resources they had as opposed to the ones he did. Leading them to Bruce was non-negotiable. They'd be dead before they even got to see the flash of his purple shirt.

In a perfect scenario, for the criminals, Bruce would have been home. They would have discovered that Barton was not who he claimed to be and they would have run away with their prize. In reality, Clint was already up in his perch. A rooftop that seemed just a hair away from the building Banner had found himself living in. The idiots had broken into his small apartment, ransacking the place after they noticed that he hadn't been there. Their leader, Henri, had made himself at home on Bruce's bed. Lounging. Clint was supposed to be the eyes -- keeping a look out for the good doctor so they would be ready for him. It was easier if people knew they fuck what they were doing. Clint's beyond perfect eyesight had caught Bruce three blocks down, heading in their direction.

It didn't give him a lot of work-room. But it had been enough. The first to be down for the count was the get-away driver parked right below Clint. Clint had just been kind enough to call the authorities about a stolen vehicle. It honestly took longer than he would have hoped for, but results were still the same. The next was the drop. The archer leapt between the buildings before sliding down the wall, grabbing onto the window ledge before pulling himself into the vacate room next to them. There had been a purpose to it.

Clint moved, slipping into the hallway before pushing Banner's door in carefully. Three men versus...well, someone they couldn't wish to beat. The first was easy. Clint had slid one of his knives through the bottom of his jaw, kicking him back into the second guy. Henri's reaction time was slower than expected. Yelling at him in the language he had no fucking idea what they were saying to him. He disarmed the second guy by grabbing his wrist, twisting it behind him with a painful snap before slamming the man's head into the wall. Once. Twice. Henri had made the move to attack Clint from behind before Clint kicked his leg around, slamming into his "boss's" throat and sending him reeling into the fridge. Damn pity too. Clint knocked the second guy to his knees before snapping his neck efficiently. Getting his head knocked by a Bruce's computer was not a good thing. A haze automatically lifted over Clint's world but still he didn't drop to the ground. He just spun around and tackled the other man. Henri had some advantages over Clint. More built, taller. But he didn't have knowledge on his side. He didn't have the experience Clint had nor did he have the speed. Clint knocked him into the adjacent wall before delivering a punch to his gut, knocking the wind right out of him.

Clint used the man as leverage, wrapping his arms around him before kicking off the wall and yanking him hard to the ground. Henri decided for the wimp's choice, going for the gun one of the men had dropped. Shots fired. Clint stilled. His arm hurt like a motherfucker as he continued to lay there before he was rolled onto his back by Henri, muttering something under his breath before Clint lunged right back into action. His legs moving up and locking the man's head in by his thighs before twisting his body hard and Henri slacked against him before he kicked him off with a boot to the face. Clint laid there for a moment, listening to his own heavy breathing. Well...he was out of shape.

Comments

[greenisnteasy]

"I wouldn't think thieves would worry too much about borders."

Bruce is happy too. Surprisingly so. The good thing about being back here is that his expectation level for happiness is far lower; Arkham had given him a lot of things, almost more than it had taken away, while here he's pretty used to expecting the bare minimum of getting what he needs or wants. Clint is so much more than the bare minimum, and that peck on the cheek just proves it with how happy it makes him. Trying not to smile too much, he gives Clint his space to instead kneel down to inspect Margarita Louisa Ana-Maria Santana Barton-Banner.

"I like that name. It's catchy. Really rolls off the tongue." He's smiling though as he watches Margarita peck at the floor and ruffle her wings. "Wait, so you didn't break the guy's arm?" He grins up at Clint now. "I don't think I know you anymore."

[greenisnteasy]

Bruce's heart leaps into his throat immediately. Clint doesn't look concerned, but that doesn't really mean anything at all; for all Bruce knows he could be hiding some intense and life-threatening knife wound to the back when he casually strolls in and asks what's for dinner. Clint's calm does nothing to quell Bruce's alarm at the extremely ambiguous statement, but he stands up without a rush, and he forces his hands into his pockets, instead of clutching them in front of him.

"Oh yeah? Was it a friendly ghost, right hooks aside? Or should we look up the Ghostbusters?"

The idea that Clint ran into someone he knew is not good, very not good. They might have to pack up and leave now, which is always a vulnerable situation, and where would they go? It's easier to run solo; running with Clint, even though Clint's no stranger to this, is harder because it matters more, now. He's always afraid of being captured, but seeing Clint captured would be far worse.

[beenunmade]

He immediately senses that there might have been a better way to say all of that. He didn't want Bruce to be alarmed or...for them to leave. Not right away. Natasha had given him all the information he would need to do what needed to be done. Clint wasn't entirely sure mentioning it to Bruce was exactly a good idea. He was still waiting for the other foot to drop where Bruce decided he was too much of a liability to have around and lose him in the crowd one of these days. It was going to happen because it always happened eventually. Clint knew the expression on his face reinforced the fact that he hadn't been threatened by the person who had come to visit him before reaching under the table and pulling out all the evidence he himself needed to be convinced. Along with some other stuff, the location and other business that Clint figured he would need to handle while Bruce just...stayed out of harm's way.

"Nicest ghost in the entire world, she put Casper to shame." He winked with a smirk tugging on his lips. "She brought me a present 'n then promised to get SHIELD out of Egypt as quickly as she could. I think we're in the clear, Tasha wouldn't doublecross us. Not to SHIELD." To any of the Avengers, maybe. But he didn't think they were looking for him as much as they would be looking for Bruce. He slid the manila folder across the table, brow arching as he looked from the folder to Bruce than back to the folder again.

"She owed me a going away present before I left." Clint didn't believe it would be difficult to pick up and leave as much as Bruce did. When it came to whether or not they got caught. Clint always figured he was more of an affordable loss than Bruce would ever be. He'd prove himself a distraction anytime. Every time they left the apartment together he was always paranoid and always looking at ways that he could distract someone long enough to give Bruce the opportunity to run away. He wasn't just going to tell Bruce about his ever-changing contingency plans. He didn't think it inspired too much confidence in anyone.

[greenisnteasy]

Natasha. Oh. Is he supposed to be relieved? It's hard to say -- he and Natasha have an odd relationship, and after he came back from Arkham, Bruce hadn't exactly been looking to repair any long-standing damage between them; it hadn't seemed all that imperative. He doubts she's looking out for Bruce so much as she's looking out for Clint, and that's okay; God knows he needs it. Bruce is frankly always afraid of the day that Clint will just disappear on him like he did to Phil. Bruce knows what that need might come from, but god, he doesn't want to be alone.

"Well, that was kind of her. I'll have to send her a fruit basket one of these days." He'll have to do a lot more than that, honestly, and he's still thinking about that when he pulls the file over and opens it. He tugs his glasses out of his pocket and starts to read... There are pictures, and he rifles through them, and he turns until he can lean against the table.

"What is this, Clint? Is he -- is he alive? Is that what this is?"

And if he's alive -- then what?

[beenunmade]

If Natasha wasn't looking out for Bruce, Clint would even more.

All he had in this world was the doctor. He had pretty much given up everything that made him...him. If he had formally resigned from SHIELD, he would have just gone back to prison so the loop around that made it easier for him to handle. Clint was just glad he didn't have much of anything to begin with. No civilian friends. He had lived on the helicarrier since he had first been recruited. He had absolutely zero social life compared to what Bruce had before his little incident that made him extra ordinary. When Clint had initially read his file, he was somewhat jealous of the guy. Then he felt a little bad for him. Bruce lost normalcy. He would have felt bad for anyone who had it once and it was snatched away from them. He never told Bruce that.

He thought it would have been too much salt on an old wound. He leaned back in the chair, kicking his feet up on the table as he watched Bruce look through the file. "She prefers strawberries 'n vodka if you wanna butter her up for anythin'. It's the simple pleasures in life for 'Tasha." Clint grinned as he watched him, folding his arms in front of his chest and nodding. "Apparently, Fury is still the most epic liar in the universe. I thought Loki was bad...but patchy still takes the cake. He was transported to one of SHIELD's medical facilities in the middle of nowhere."

Natasha had already scooped out the joint before bringing her findings to Clint. Apparently, she didn't believe it until she saw it with her own eyes. Even then, she didn't want to tell Clint and get his hopes up over someone who could possibly be dead as Clint reached into his jacket, pulling out his handgun. He made a show of checking the clip before flipping the safety off. "Well, I dunno 'bout you. But 've always found breakin' into SHIELD facilities sort of a brisk exercise."

[greenisnteasy]

He watches Clint with wide eyes, and then his eyes fall on the gun and stay there for a long moment before they drift back to the file. Phil. Whether or not he's his Phil -- their -- Phil hardly matters. Tony had hurt, but at least Tony had been alive, at least Tony's happy. Phil is alive and locked away somewhere, and if he doesn't remember Akrham, who cares? What difference does it make? Bruce and Clint could have him again, in whatever way they can figure out.

So is that it then? Do they go rescue him? Bruce has a brief moment of doubt. But only a brief one.

His eyes are hard when he lifts them again.

"Tell me what you need me to do. Or what you need him to do."

Bruce has broken in places before! And he knows how to be quiet; he gets a thrill from the danger besides. But he's not stupid; he knows he's most valuable here as the Hulk, and he's more than willing to offer him up if it means getting Phil back.

[beenunmade]

Clint wasn't actually going to ask Bruce to go. Maybe go with him to the general area Phil was being kept. But a part of him wanted to protect the other man. Clint put away the gun he had in his hand, already mentally packing up everything he would need to go with him. Bruce or otherwise. If someone ever said that he never came prepared, they should be shot as he dropped his feet down, eyes turning up to Bruce and his gaze softening up a bit. Clint didn't know if Bruce thought he was going to drop everything he had with...whatever the fuck they had going on. But Clint automatically would always go to Bruce/Phil/Clint in his mind if anyone asked him who he loved.

They had been happy once. He didn't exactly want to come out and tell Bruce that he knew if Phil didn't remember Arkham, he would still have the feelings he carried for Clint. Phil had told him time and time again that he wanted to be with Clint way before Arkham. But it was Bruce that would have been naturally slighted if that ever happened. Clint was wishing it didn't. He was hoping it didn't.

"I...are you okay with gettin' involved with that?" Clint didn't want to ask for Jade Jaws if Bruce didn't want to do it. He was too afraid of what might happen in the aftermath. Surely there would be casualties. Clint was okay with putting people down. He didn't really know about Bruce.

[greenisnteasy]

No, Bruce knows that if Phil doesn't remember Arkham, he'll still want Clint. He knows that was a pre-Arkham thing for them that just finally came to pass there, and no, he really doesn't want to think about how he'll feel if they find a Phil who will embrace Clint like a... lover... but not Bruce. Isn't that what they were, what he and Clint are, even if it's strange to use that word? Bruce knows he would do anything for Clint, just like he's willing to do anything now to get Phil back, even if he isn't his Phil. The upside to that is that maybe he can just woo Phil back.

"Yeah," he says, nodding, and then he firms up his jaw. "Yes." The thing is, he does kind of trust the other guy a little more now. After what happened in Arkham, maybe, but in New York, too. There were casualties, but the other guy apparently kept his head on straight, fought the good fight. Bruce does feel conflicted about going after SHIELD agents unprovoked, but maybe he can keep the violence down. All he wants is Phil. The rest he just isn't as concerned about.

"Whatever you need, Clint. I mean it. We're -- we need him. The three of us... We go together. Even if he doesn't remember, I think that's still true. So let's do this. Let's get him back."

[beenunmade]

The smile that tugged on Clint's lips spoke volumes if he was honest with himself.

The prospect of getting Phil back filled him with a giddy feeling, regardless if he remembered Arkham or not. But Clint wouldn't let that get to him in the way of just pushing Bruce aside just because Phil had been there. They all shared a deeper bond now. It was a certain level of difficulty to have Clint forget something as profound as what they had together. Bruce was a closer friend because of it. Phil was more open because of it. And Clint? Clint was just happy with being involved with the two of them. Back in Arkham, Clint relied heavily on the support system that he had built that being able to have Bruce and Phil to lean back against kept him stable, happy, most importantly -- they kept him sane. When Phil was gone and he hadn't thought to ask Bruce, the one Avenger who he had grown closest too in Arkham whether or not he remembered. Clint had nothing and no one. He'd always been a loner before, but after everything. After being able to shed that skin and act like a human being for once. It was a lot that was taken away from him.

He figured it was a lot that was taken away from Bruce too. Clint had an irrational anger towards Tony whenever he saw him with Pepper. Whenever he remembered the cruel words that twisted out of the man, his hero's, mouth when it came to him that he didn't think he could work with him. Regardless of how dumbfounded Natasha seemed to be that the hero worship had disappeared in the course of one night (to her). But several months for Clint. Clint truly didn't want to focus on himself as much as he wanted to focus on Bruce. On Phil when they got him back.

There were not many people in the world that got that level of devotion from Clint when he wasn't ordered to take someone out, but rather did it on his own accord. Clint rose to his feet, grinning still as he pulled Bruce in for a chaste kiss. "Damn right we do, freckles." He chuckled a bit. "He'll remember. I know he'll remember. You two have a bond that transcends space and time and creepy alternate dimensions. And he loves you." Clint knew Phil would never forget that before moving to pick up Margarita, holding the chicken in his hands. "When do you wanna move out?"