Chapter Text
While Nat is away helping Steve track down the infamous Winter Soldier, Clint is dispatched on a solo mission to Houston. He checks in with Nat while he looks up intel on his target, some arms dealer who’s gotten their hands on alien tech from the Battle of New York.
‘Any luck?’
‘Nothing. You?’
‘Think I’m closing in on him. Don’t know why they’d want to mess around with alien weapons.’ Clint rolls his eyes. ‘Seems like an explosion waiting to happen. Who knows how they’re supposed to work.’
‘Said the man using jurrasic era weapons.’
‘Palaeolithic.’ Clint corrects reflexively as he closes the laptop and stretches, popping the joints in his shoulders.
‘My mistake.’ Nat says, sounding amused.
‘Gonna follow a lead I have with some shipping company. I’ll check in later.’
‘You better.’ Nat tells him before hanging up.
He slides the laptop into his backpack and gets an extra coffee for the road.
As he walks through the streets, Clint gets the distinct feeling that he’s being followed. A quick glance in the reflection of a store window confirms his suspicions. The muscular man dressed all in black has at least four guns on him and follows every nonsensical turn Clint makes in an attempt to shake him.
Clint sighs, draining as much of the coffee as he can in one gulp and ditches the cup. He changes his path to walk into a multi story parking garage figuring it should be more secluded than the busy streets.
He hops over the railings, grabbing the gun from his belt as he takes a defensive position. ‘You can come out of the shadows now.’
The man walks like every movement jars his muscles. Almost like he’s fighting to stop every step. Clint knows that feeling well.
‘If you call me Soldier-’ The man starts, speaking in Russian. ‘I’ll stop.’ He says, his voice deep and rough.
‘What kind of weird roleplay are you into?’ Clint raises an eyebrow but doesn’t let his guard down.
‘It is the conditioning.’ He grimaces as he switches to English. His hand raises the gun in jerky, reluctant movements and his eyes stare into Clints, pleading.
Luckily, Clint has a lot of experience with brainwashed Russian assassins. ‘Alright. Soldier, stand down.’ Clint demands, letting out a relieved breath when the man lowers his gun. ‘What's your mission?’
‘Subdue target and return to base.’ He says, standing to attention.
‘Who’s the target?’ Clint says, despite having a pretty good feeling he knows the answer.
‘Hawkeye.’
‘Yeah, you’re not doing that. Let's get out of here.’ He picks a ridiculously expensive car, one he knows will be insured for triple its worth. It takes less than ten seconds to pick the lock but that still feels like too long to have his back to the soldier. He jumps into the driver's seat, gesturing for the soldier to join him. ‘So who did you work for?’
‘Hydra.’ The man says, watching out the window for threats while Clint hotwires the car.
‘Ew.’ Clint says as he starts the engine. ‘What do Hydra want with me?’
‘They think you would make a good soldier.’
‘How flattering.’ Clint rolls his eyes. ‘We need to go back to the motel.’
‘It is not safe.’
‘My weapons are there. We’re going to get them, there’s no way I’m leaving my bow.’ Clint says firmly. ‘If you don’t want to come, I can let you out here.’
‘... We can retrieve your weapons.’
‘So what do I call you?’
‘Soldier.’
‘Gimme a real name.’
There’s a long silence.
‘I’ll get it out of you.’ Clint promises with a smirk.
***
The soldier hovers threateningly at the door of Clint's hotel room while he retrieves his belongings. As he collects his arrows, Clint's phone buzzes. He quickly checks the message, already knowing it’ll be from Nat. It’s around their check in time.
Miss you x
Clint scowls at the message. They’ve developed a lot of codes in their time together. This one means; get out.
‘We have to get out of here. My mission must be compromised.’
‘The mission was a trap. Hydra leaked information to get you here.’
‘Well now I feel less bad about ditching it.’ Clint hums.
Miss you too xx
He texts back, telling Nat that he’s able to leave.
***
They travel North, Clint drives for hours without a break. He tries to talk to his passenger, but the soldier is scarily quiet, staring out the window. He realises exactly what the man is looking for when a pair of black SUV’s start tailing them.
The soldier punches out the window at his side and shoots, hitting the tires of the SUV closest to him. As it crashes, the other car slams into the driver's side knocking the breath out of Clint.
'Take the wheel ' Clint says, pulling a gun out of the soldier's belt and leaning out of the smashed window.
He only needs a single shot. He hits the driver in the centre of his forehead, sending the car hurtling off the road.
Clint passes the gun back as he takes back the wheel.
'...Good shot.'
'Thanks.' Clint responds with a smirk. 'We need to ditch this car."
***
After multiple car changes to avoid being tailed, Clint starts to tire and pulls them into a motel to spend the night.
Clint collapses on the bed while the soldier hovers by the door again.
‘You want to take first watch? I can do it if you need to rest?’ Clint says despite his head already being on the pillow.
The soldier tilts his head, watching Clint with a confused expression. ‘I will watch. Do you need medical care?’
'Nah.' Clint replies, kicking his shoes off. 'Trust me, I know what broken ribs feels like. This is just a bruise.'
The soldier nods, moving to sit at the window to watch the silent street.
‘Wake me when you want to nap.’ Clint mumbles as he stashes a gun under his pillow. He leaves his hearing aids in while he sleeps. The soldier hasn’t done anything suspicious so far, but Clint doesn’t trust him enough to be totally Deaf around him.
***
After a particularly brutal nightmare featuring the God of mischief, Clint jerks awake. The soldier is stood at the side of the bed, watching him with a tensely concerned expression. Clint gently pushes the soldier out of the way as he heads to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.
He stands in front of the mirror, taking deep shuddering breaths before working up the courage to look at his reflection.
His eyes are brown. Not a hint of blue.
Sighing, he pulls up his shirt to check out the damage, wincing when he sees the small shards of glass embedded in his side from the smashed window of their stolen car.
'Shit.' He mutters to himself, pulling off his shirt and exiting the bathroom to find his first aid kit.
'... You said you were uninjured.’
'I said I don't need medical care.' Clint points out. 'Very different statements.'
The soldier scowls, taking the first aid kit from Clints hands.
‘Hey!’
‘Sit.’
Clint pouts but sits on the edge of the bed regardless. The soldier carefully inspects the wound, using tweezers to pull out any stray glass shards.
‘You should not have slept like this. You could have caused more damage.’
‘I know my limits.’
The soldier's eyebrow raises, indicating that he doesn’t believe that one bit.
Clint hisses as the wound is disinfected.
‘Sorry.’ The soldier mutters, grabbing the bandages. ‘Almost done.’
‘You’re good at this.’
The soldier shrugs a shoulder. ‘Seems familiar.’
‘You remember anything?’ Clint asks as the soldier finishes up the bandages. ‘About before Hydra?’
The soldier shakes his head. ‘They erased me. Many times. I still get glimpses though… If I’m not frozen, I start to malfunction. Start remembering things I shouldn’t.’
‘Huh.’ Clint nods, taking in the information. ‘Well, we’ll work on it.’ He promises. ‘In the mean time, how about we get out of here and head home. Oh, I need to warn the kids we’ll have company.’
As Clint reaches for his phone to send a message, the soldier watches him closely, utterly confused by his strange target.
***
‘Are you sure this is a good idea.’ The soldier asks quietly as Clint drives. ‘You said you have children.’
‘I have teens, well, young adults I guess.’
‘I am dangerous regardless of their age.’
‘They can handle themselves. They’re victims of Hydra too, and came out strong enough to deal with anything.’
‘Really?’
‘Wanda has some kind of telepathic, telekinetic powers. And Pietro is fast enough that he’d get them away if there were any problems.’
‘What about you?’
‘You read my file?’
‘I did. You are a high threat level.’
‘Damn right I am.’ Clint smirks.
The soldier actually rolls his eyes. ‘You trust too easily.’
‘No, I just know from experience what it looks like when someone needs help getting out.’
‘You’ve done this before?’
‘Believe it or not, you’re not my first brainwashed Russian assassin. Plus I have my own experience with-’ He gestures vaguely to his head.
‘Hydra?’
‘Alien god.’
‘...You’re kidding?’
‘Nope. First alien invasion Earths had to put up with. Some godly prince used me to take down my friends.’ He scowls, feeling cold just talking about it.
‘...Oh.’
‘So I get it. There’s going to be fuck ups. But I wouldn’t bring you into my home if I didn’t think the kids would be safe. I just want to help you get your head together, okay?’
‘Yes…’ The Soldier says, falling into a tense silence for the remainder of the trip.
***
‘Hey!’ Clint hollers. ‘We have a guest!’ He leads the soldier into the kitchen where the twins are sat studying.
Pietro jumps to his feet, getting between them and Wanda defensively.
‘Hey kid, it’s okay.’ Clint assures him gently, but Pietro's eyes haven't left the soldier.
‘... Are you in control or do they still have you?’ He asks with a tilt of his head, his eyes narrowing.
The soldier stares back at him, blinking in confusion. ‘...Silver?’
Pietro relaxes, a bright smile crossing his face. ‘Yasha.’ There’s a blur and suddenly Pietro has closed the distance between them and is hugging the soldier.
Clint looks to Wanda for help but she has a matching smile and is getting up to join the hug.
‘Hello Scarlett.’ The soldier greets her, patting her hair.
‘Well now I feel left out.’ Clint pouts, yelping indignantly when Pietro pulls him into the hug.
When they finally part, Clint raises an eyebrow. ‘Anyone want to fill me in?’
‘Yasha was in charge of guarding us during the experiments.’ Wanda explains. ‘Whenever he started to get control of his own mind again, he would slip us treats.’ She says, looking at him with a fond smile.
‘Yasha?’ Clint repeats.
‘I…’ Yasha clears his throat. ‘I don’t think it was my original name. But it felt close enough when the twins asked.’
‘I like it.’ Clint smiles. ‘It suits you.’