The New York Assignment

Fifteen

The group walked back down the hallways. Tony led, lighting up the corridor in front of them. Behind him, Natasha and Steve walked side by side. Phil and Clint came next, Coulson supporting his wounded friend. Edith took up the rear.

Clint's eyes were fixed on Natasha. Her gait was stiff, and her head held high. She was walking a little closer to Steve than Clint thought necessary. And Steve kept glancing at her. Clint knew that he'd really screwed up, but turning to Captain America? Really?

He wanted to punch Rogers' lights out when he gently put his hand on Natasha's shoulder.

Mine, thought Clint positively. I'm the only one that gets to touch her.

"Nat," he spoke up, not really sure what exactly he was going to say.

She didn't even acknowledge him. Crap.

He pushed Phil aside and caught up with Natasha, falling into step beside her. "Natasha, please," he said softly.

"Please what?" She sounded tired. He realized for the first time that she probably hadn't slept well since he'd been gone. He really was an idiot.

"Please... I love you?" It was worth a try, anyway.

She just shook her head.

Clint realized with a start that Bobbi wasn't with them. Even though she was kind of the problem and he really didn't feel anything toward her, he thought it only right to ask about her anyway.

"Hang on... Where's Bobbi?" Okay, so he probably could have been more subtle than that.

"Why do you care so much?" Natasha asked, her tone laced with venom.

"Found her," Tony said.

The light shone on her dead body. A sick feeling crept into Clint's stomach. Her head was twisted to the side, and her neck was decorated with purple bruises. Her eyes were still open.

Natasha watched Clint take in the sight of Morse' body. He looked sick to his stomach. She wondered what was going through his head.

"You know what, I don't care," she said. "You can sleep with her whenever you want." It was petty, and she knew it.

Clint slowly turned and fixed her with an intense look. "You did this?"

"Uh oh," Tony said. "Crap's about to hit the fan."

"Yes, I did," Natasha replied shamelessly.

"How could you?"

She shrugged. "Easily. Quick jerk of the wrist, and it was all over."

Clint flinched. "You didn't have to kill her!"

"And you didn't have to sleep with her!"

"Here we go..." Edith muttered.

Clint ignored her. "And what about Rogers, huh!? What have you been doing with him!?"

Steve blushed slightly, very uncomfortable about being dragged into their argument. Natasha glared at Clint. "Grow up! I'd never do that to you!"

"Oh, just like you'd never lie to me!?"

"You swore you'd never leave me!" Natasha screamed back. "You said nothing would make you-"

"Hate to interrupt, because it's lovely hearing you two go at it," Tony said sarcastically, "but we've got incoming."

His scanner showed at least a dozen people rushing at them. Wasting no time, Phil put an arm around Clint and followed Tony at a run, half-dragging-half-supporting his friend. Steve made sure Natasha and Edith were both ahead of him.

They left the body behind, and dashed for the elevator. Without Tony's map, they would have been lost for sure. The elevator loomed into sight, and they all piled in.

Natasha was pressed next to Clint. He felt her fingers brush his, and reached to hold her hand. She jerked her hand away. The clankings and groanings of the outdated machinery filled their ears.

Clint's body screamed in protest at every move he made. Blood had soaked through the bandage in his side. His head spun and stars danced in his vision. A flash of light drew his attention back to Natasha. Around her neck hung the delicate hourglass necklace. A pang of regret went through Clint. He'd given that to her, and he couldn't remember the actual event, but he knew the slight hesitation, the fear she'd take it the wrong way, and the hope that it would mean something to her. Apparently not even a coma could make him forget that.

The mechanical doors opened and sunlight flooded the cramped compartment. None of them moved right away. Facing them were close to fifty armed guards with guns pointed at them. Standing in the middle was Trick Shot.

"You didn't think I'd actually let you escape, did you?" he simpered.

Tony muttered a few expletives. Steve set his jaw and took a step forward. "You want Barton, you go through us."

Chisolm seemed to think for a moment. Then, he shrugged and said, "If you insist."

"Scatter!"

The order was sharp and clear. Clint couldn't help but obey the Captain. He dove to the side and rolled. The bandage covering the knife wound reopened. Clint gasped sharply, and staggered to his feet.

A hand grabbed his shoulder and slammed him back against the enormous stature of president Lincoln. Grey eyes flashed like lightning in a storm. "Stay down," Natasha hissed.

He set his jaw, the thought of not getting revenge maddening. "Trick Shot's mine," he demanded.

Natasha merely nodded. She didn't have time to argue. She ran back into the fray. Tony flew through the air, weaving in and out of the pillars. Steve took out the enemy like they were nothing but toy soldiers. Edith proved that despite her age she was still a Red Room trained spy. Phil reminded everyone just what it looked like to kill people in a business suit. Natasha made every move look like an elegant dance. And there Clint was, doing... nothing. It was infuriating! He held a hand to his bleeding side before wondering why he even bothered.

An arrow struck Iron Man in the middle of his chest piece. He fell, crashing into the floor of the monument. Trick Shot stood right in Lincoln's lap, firing arrow after arrow with near-perfect accuracy. Natasha flipped back to avoid having her head impaled. Steve knocked one aside with his shield.

Clint watched his first friend, his enemy. He waited for an opening. The blood pooling around him reminded him that making a move with a hole in his chest might not be the smartest idea he'd ever had. Before he could, Chisolm seemed to read his mind. He turned and shot at Clint. He dove to avoid it, and crouched behind a pillar, feeling like a complete coward.

The huge words on the wall behind him caught his attention. "Now we are engaged in a great civil war testing whether that nation or any nation so conceived and so dedicated can long endure. We are met on a great battlefield of that war."

"Yeah, Abe, I know how you felt," Clint muttered.

He realized that the shouts and gunshots had stopped. That chilling voice rang out, "Come out, come out, Clint. Your dearest Natasha wants to play."

His blood ran cold. Clint stood slowly, and moved into the open. Trick Shot had an arm wrapped around Natasha's waist, and an arrow held to her neck.