Summary:
Aug 30, 2014: Kate comes in from her own op needing a moment to collect herself. Barton acts as both a sounding board and as a friend.
The Bus - Syria
Honkin' big aircraft that belongs to SHIELD.
Characters
NPCs
- None
Mood Music:
None
Kate came along on the mission, then promptly managed to get pulled into several side trips. She seems to be hitting it off with Trent, at least. On the other hand, Trent's the least likely to treat her like a kid, so that probably explains most of it. She's actually just coming back from one of those missions, tromping up the gangplank into the Bus with heavy steps. For these missions, she's left her own uniform in the bag, settling for black SHIELD gear instead. Which is probably for the best, given the amount of blood and other things currently splattered on it. At first glance, though, none of it seems to be hers.
~
Waxing the bowstring. No, really… that's exactly what Barton is doing this very moment. He's got beeswax in one hand a strung self-bow in the other, and he's waxing the string. On the galley table beside him is a fletching jig with a pile of feathers in a small box and the cookie jar. That's not to mention a cup of coffee.
How could the heavy steps be missed? Actually, easily; but it's the movement that catches Clint's eye a great deal quicker. Without bothering to look up, he calls out in a basso voice, "'Who's that tromping over my bridge?'" Here's hoping Kate was read 'The Three Billy Goat's Gruff' story when she was a kid?
When Barton does look up after checking his string, blue eyes narrow. "Kate… what did you do?"
~
"Just Baby Goat," Kate answers, pausing when Barton gives her that look to look herself over. "Yeah, it's sort of the Katniss look, isn't it?" Clint knows her well enough, though, to know when she's being smart to cover up something a little more complicated. "We took a boat," she answers vaguely. "Went in with Trent and some chick with…serious issues." Which she's trying very hard not to think about, honestly.
~
Barton sets the bow down on the table and gets to his feet during Kate's explanation and crosses the few feet between them. There's no mistaking the concern on his face. Not at all. "Let me look at you." A hand comes out to tuck under the younger girl's chin in order to tilt her face up to him. "It's not you at all. Never did like the whole 'Hunger Games' thing."
Once he's made sure that -none- of it is her own blood, other than scratches and abrasions, Clint begins again, tracking her recount. "You took a boat. With Trent and someone else." Some chick. "Okay." It's not so much of an 'okay', but more of a 'I'm waiting'.
~
"It was sort of a freighter." Kate holds still for the inspection, then tosses her quiver over the back of a chair, unbuckling bits and pieces of armor and equipment. "Tracking the shipment back." Later, May will probably be pissed about the mess, but at the moment, Kate's more concerned with getting the gore off of herself than with what she's getting it onto. "I didn't kill anyone. I don't think. I mean, I ran a boom into some guys who were shooting at Trent, and I shot into a laser cannon someone was shooting at us and it sort of exploded. But I didn't- I mean." She pauses, fumbling with a buckle. "That was sort of intense."
~
Inspection complete, Clint offers Kate a half smile; relieved that she's okay, though the concern still shines through. As the armor is shed, he helps set it off to the side, inspecting each piece to be sure everything is intact. If so, he's now doubly sure she's intact.
No matter what happens to me. Don't care. But Kate?
"A tanker, okay. With a laser cannon." Clint is just repeating, making sure he's got it down, and giving her a chance to just… data dump. He's listening, and closely. "Yeah, probably. I'm sorry you got caught up in that sort. You would have been perfect on my run." For a fleeting moment, a lopsided grin comes through, "Rescued three women. One doc and two assistants."
~
The armor is all intact. Not even a stopped bullet to be found. Whatever else she has or hasn't been trained for, Kate knows how to keep herself together. And when he mentions his own mission, she can't help a faint smile and a roll of her eyes. "Of course you did," she laughs weakly, shaking her head. "Which one's still in your bunk?" Because that's a safer topic right now than just how she managed to get all that- yeah, whatever that is on the chest plate, it's chunky.
~
A theatric sigh exits the archer, complete with shoulders drooping. "None. When we got them back, they had to be debriefed, then…" No such luck this time around. "Though we still have to drop them off in Tripoli." So there's time!
Barton does indeed inspect that armor, carefully and takes a quick scan of the arrows she's returned with.
It's the levity that's needed, but Barton isn't far from the -true- topic at hand. He knows Kate. This… this isn't what she's trained for. 'This' is a mission for her, yes, but each to their ability and skill. And it worries him. He's worried about her.
Still.
"Saved you some coffee."
~
"Yeah? Before or after you started drinking it out of the pot?" Kate teases at the offer of coffee, kicking out of her boots with a bit of a stifled sigh. "Save it for me for another minute, yeah? I really need to…Clean up." She disappears into her bunk, coming back out with a pile of clothes before disappearing into the bathroom.
It takes a solid half hour or so for her to do what she needs to, and when she comes back out in shorts and a t-shirt, she looks…a little less shell-shocked, at least.
~
"I had a mug first. Actually poured it out." Clint must have been watched.
As Kate gets ready for her shower, and once she's gone, Barton is over to where her quiver lies and goes through her arrows; counts how many and which tips were used. It'll give him a good idea of how heavy her combat was (as if the blood and gore wasn't?), and her .. stress levels. Once he's done snooping, he pulls a couple of the arrows he was working on and sets them into her quiver, giving her a full complement once again. Her bow is checked, string checked; it's busy work and it's something he now needs to do or he'll start pacing. Which he does anyway after he's done.
Once Kate emerges, Barton spins around and watches her progress back to the common area. "You look like you needed that." Now, he gets a (clean!) mug and pours some of the dark life-blood into a mug, setting it up to her known tastes. "Now," with mug in hand, he crosses the distance to hand it to her. "I want you to talk to me. About anything. Nothing. Hell.. about how much the food on this boat sucks." Which it really doesn't.
~
There are a good dozen or so arrows missing, and none of them the fancy ones. Kate's always had her doubts about some of the gimmick arrows. Her sticks seem to have seen some use, too, judging by the scuffs and - yes, that's a little bit of blood on them, too. Barefoot, she pads over to take the coffee, taking a sip of it before smirking at his words. "You wanna talk about that cute archer I met down at the range?" she asks, half-teasing. "Or we could talk about Helena." Oh yeah. She totally went through his phone.
~
"'Cute archer' you met down at the range?" Barton follows a couple of steps before arms cross in front of his chest. "Yeah," and his fingers wiggle, "Out with it."
Though, her mention of Helena gains a look from Clint and he points over towards where there's a small couch setup. "Over there. Let's go."
From concern to interrogation in point-five seconds. Still, there's no mistaking the undertones. He's … Barton.
"Now, out with it and I don't have to explain my-" No, it hasn't gotten -that- far. "Dammit, Kate." He's honestly not mad. More flustered.
Hawk gets to the couch, leaving the stuff up on the table for the moment and pats the couch beside him. "Get over here."
~
"Hey, if you don't want me to read your messages, pick a better passcode," Kate counters cheerfully, following Barton over to the couch and claiming a corner of it as her own, curling up with the coffee cradled between her hands. She takes a sip, letting out a soft breath afterwards. "But yeah, I sort of ran into a guy at the range. Roy Harper, called himself Arsenal? He recognized the bow, so I sort of figured the two of you'd met sometime." She pauses, tilting her head. "Although, on the other hand, he didn't seem to want to kill you, so maybe it was by reputation only."
~
Barton offers himself for her to lean on, back against his shoulder if she wanted to. "Harper," he repeats. "Oh… yeah. Did a mission with him in the Arctic. Him and a handful of others. Widow and I were there to keep an eye on Ms Lara Croft's hired help." That included Harper. Oh, and go figure, Domino.
"How is he 'cute'? The guy uses a bow with training wheels. That's pathetic. Not 'cute'." Barton chuffs a breath, "Now Helena… and stop going through my phone or I swear to God, I'll password it and no one will know the damned key." Not even him, the chances are good! "And no, I'm pretty sure he doesn't want to kill me. See? That's his one saving grace."
~
"He twinkles." Whether or not Roy really twinkles, it's the sort of thing that should get Barton's goat, so that's what Kate says, leaning back against him. "And you keep dodging," she adds, nudging an elbow at his ribs. "I told you mine, now you tell me yours. You actually texted this one that you were going to be out of town for a bit. You have to cancel another date, or were you just hedging your bets?"
~
"Twinkles? What the hell does that mean? 'Twinkle'?" How to push Barton's buttons in one easy step. "Kate, you should know better. 'Twinkles'? Really?" He actually brings a hand up to palm his face, and shaking his head. "Right."
An exhale sounds, and a smirk rises from the gentle nudge. "Helena. From Gotham. Saw her on the range in town." Brooklyn Archery Range. "Got to shooting with her; she needed to sight in her bow so I helped a little." Always helpful, this one! "We, talked. Ah… exchanged phone numbers. She's not moving out of Jersey, and I sure am hell not going to Jersey. That cesspit of a state."
~
"Oh my god, Clint, it's not that bad," Kate rolls her eyes at the Jersey talk. "But yeah, not exactly the sort of commute I see you making. How would you run out of bed before sunrise if you had to take the train back?" She smirks, then shrugs at his question about Roy. "He was cute, that's all. And he didn't think I was a kid, which was a nice change, you know?"
~
"It's worse than my apartment. I mean, Gotham? Jersey City? I can -taste- Elizabeth, and it's not in a good way." Clint remains still so as not to lose the warmth that is Kate as she leans against him. "Not exactly a commute, and she wasn't interested in it either." He pauses before, "I asked how often she'd be coming into the City, yes," comes as a defense. "And she drives." Though, driving into Brooklyn?
Barton scoffs, sounding a touch 'off'. "Cute. And who thinks you're a kid? Other than the ex-, that is."
~
"Oh, like you don't," Kate snorts, nudging an elbow at him again. "And your buddies here? Pretty sure Sam thought I was someone's daughter when I showed up. Sort of nice not to be shrugged off." She's still quieter than usual, brows furrowing in a small frown as she stares into her coffee. "Just seems like a lot of people are dying around me right now, Clint. And not a lot I can do to stop it. Caught some guy taking out one of the exes with a restraining order out behind the shelter the other day, too. Then this. I mean, we're supposed to be heroes, right? We're supposed to be able to keep that from happening, even if it's the bad guys dying."
~
From the lean, Clint shifts his position such that he can put a protective arm around his protege, as if he'd protect her from the world and all its evils, if only for these brief moments. "Not my buddies, Kate. I've only really worked with Cap, Coulson and May. You're damned good and I'll keep shouting it from the rooftops. Hell, if I have to retire again so you get your shot at it, you know I would." Mostly. Maybe. In a few years. Most likely.
Rolling his head forward, Clint bounces his head in a general, acknowledging nod. "We're supposed to be damned heroes. We're out here so everyone else can live a life never knowing what the hell we just did for them. That's the deal. But-" and here Barton shifts and he levels his gaze at the younger Hawkeye. "The first life you take, you can never give that back. It changes a person. There's something inside that clicks and a part of you suddenly is distanced from the rest of the human race." Something of a sad smile creases his face, "I've done a lot I'm not particularly proud of, Kate. I don't want you to have the same regrets."
~
"I don't…" Kate frowns, trying to choose her words. Trying to work her way through it. "Some people have to die, Clint. I can't say that it's always going to be wrong to kill someone. I'm not that naive. But I also don't think it's okay to just kill people because they're in your way, you know?" She leans into that arm, eyes closing for a moment. "And you definitely shouldn't enjoy it."
~
Clint gives a gentle squeeze as he shakes his head. "You're right, Katie. Sometimes, people have to die. And I'm telling you now, taking a life for the first time is the hardest. I was honestly really worried for you.. and still am. But you're right. Just because people are in your way, that's no cause. It's why I do what I do. You. We're not like that. Everything we do is considered. It -has- to be right and everything has to be in line before we take that shot. It's the same way. Any animal can pull a trigger and watch something destroyed in its path- but that's not right."
Fingers from his other hand mess with the wet hair drying in clumps before he drops his hand again and rests his cheek against the top her her head. "You never should enjoy it. Ever. Though?" Barton takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, "I'll admit to satisfaction when a particularly evil bastard gets what he deserves with one of my arrows."
~
"Yeah," Kate sighs. "Maybe a little." Is that…lilac? Of course it is. Of course Kate packed her own shampoo. What, she was going to trust her hair to government-issue shampoo? "The guy I ran into outside the shelter said I should find someone to train me," she says then, smile quirking despite herself. "Whatddya say, Hawkeye? Do you think I need someone to train me?"
~
A chuckle escapes the archer at the agreement, and lifts his cheek, though he hovers there a moment before he shifts and rolls his head back on the couch. He's still got the arm draped until Kate decides to complain and extricate herself, but until then, as far as he's concerned, it's a 'Hawk and Hawk' moment.
"What? Train you? Who said what? Train you for what?" Now, there's a hint of pique. Didn't he- "Train you to do what? You're damned good at what you do. You can't do everything or you won't be able to do a damned thing."
~
"Whoever he was? He was good, Clint," Kate shakes her head. "I mean, you're good. And I'm good. I'm really good." And modest, too. "But I couldn't touch the guy. I pulled out a taser, he caught the leads, and just stood there before yanking them out and dropping them. I threw a guy at him, he just wasn't there. I get down to my foil, and the guy pulls out this freaking…I mean, the sword was as big as you are, I'm not even kidding here."
~
"Tccch… wait. Was he -human-, Katie? And next question for you.. did you have your bow and were you at distance? 'Cause Kate, that's your strength. You can -get away- if you need to. You could have, and don't tell me you couldn't. You're -good-. But you're damned good at that bow. Don't lose sight of that. Everyone has strengths, and weaknesses. Trick is to know both and play to your strength."
A deep sigh exits the man and he gives her a squeeze once more. "You want to train, I'll find you the best goddamned person to train with. Cap. Widow. Hell, the Old Man might do me a favour. But I'm telling you- don't think you gotta be all. I can fight, I can escape.. but damned if I'm not happiest sitting on my perch just watching and ready to take that shot. Let the others keep the badguys away from me so I can do the most good at -what I do-. That's the point."
~
"Of course not," Kate snorts softly. "If I'd had my bow and been at a distance, he would've gone down before he knew I was watching." Or probably not, but it's nice to be able to think that, at least. "I walked out of the shelter from the self-defense classes and right into a showdown between him and that douche who's been going after Sandy. You know, the dude with the goon squad. Who is…currently short a few goons. And he was a big guy, and stupid fast, so maybe he wasn't entirely human? I don't know."
Kate wrinkles her nose. "Anyhow, it's not like I haven't been trained, you know. You know. I just thought it was…kind of funny, I guess."
~
A soft chuckle exits and Clint murmurs, "That's my Kate." There's a touch of relief in those softly spoken words, and a world of things unspoken. "We need to work out more. And you need to work out with Cap. Or Widow. You need to get used to other peoples' techniques and how to counter them. To. Get. Away. Hear me? So you can get distance and use that bow of yours."
A bow he's going to have to replace soon with one that is like his. His 'business' bow. The foldy one.
Maybe for her birthday?
"And you have been trained. And you still are. But there is always going to be someone better than you are. Okay," Clint pauses and can't help but laugh, lowering his cheek on her hair once again. "Maybe not in a bow, but in everything else. We're only human."
~
"Better than me my ass," Kate mutters. "You and me, Clint, we're not like a lot of these guys. We don't have superpowers. We're not faster, or stronger, we can't shoot laser beams out of our eyes or move things with our minds. But you know what that means? That means they can't stop us by taking something away. We've got guts, and brains, and…will. So yeah, maybe we're 'only' human. But that doesn't mean we can't keep up with them. It just means we work harder."
And the papers talk about how Kate Bishop must be wasting her inheritance, not bothering to go to college or get a 'real job.' Little do they know.
~
"And we don't miss," Barton whispers. "Ever."
What else can he possibly say to that? Kate has it right. All of it. It is by that which he lives, and has tried to instill in the younger but no less capable Hawkeye. It's why she -deserves- the name. It's their bond.
"Hey," Clint's voice is still a whisper, "I think there's ice cream in the freezer in the galley. Unless someone grabbed it all. You and me, third deck; we go over maps and finish off the quart?"
~
"'Cause we always take the shot," Kate nods once, firmly. "You miss every shot you never take, right?" For as much as Kate nags on him, and as much as she insists on standing on her own? She's taken his lessons to heart. They mean a hell of a lot more to her than anything else in her life.
Although ice cream is up there on the list. "Seriously, they stock this thing with ice cream?" she asks, bolting upright. "All right, I'm starting to see why you put up with the suits."
~
"We always take the shot."
Clint barks a laugh as Kate bolts upright, allowing for his arm to drop and him to straight up, stretching muscles. Gently. All this means the world to the archer, too. As close to 'home' as he's ever had, really. Katie-Kate. The ex-wife not withstanding.
"Seriously, yeah. And back at the Triskelion? Their BBQ ribs fall off the bone. I only do takeout on my days off." A grin creases his face and he rises to his feet, "C'mon. Let's do this."
~
"So that's where the beer gut's coming from," Kate grins as she hops off of the couch, looking…close to her usual self. The mess on the boat hasn't left her memory. It's still there, waiting for another quiet moment to creep back out. But it's not the only ugly memory she has, either. And she has plenty of practice shoving them back into corners until they can be dealt with professionally. "What're we planning next, then?"
~
A hand comes out to gently cuff Kate, "Is not. I don't have a beer gut, thank you." Meeeeh. Clint knows the shadows haven't left her mind, those ghosts; sometimes they never do. It's just good to get a dose of 'what else life has to offer' and 'a moment to breathe' before you start out again.
Dr. Barton is in.
"I have no clue. I just want to be sure that I know my way around; pick the high spots. Find my perches and if I don't have one, find the best places -to- be." That grin returns wider and Clint adds, "And finish up the ice cream before everyone else gets back."
~
"If this is May's ice cream," Kate says as she comes back with it, already with a spoon in her mouth, "I'm telling her you ate it." She passes another spoon to him, then heads for the stairs up to the map room. "Who all's here, anyhow? I saw May, Sam, the short guy. Is Cap here? And I saw Stark when I got on the ship, but I haven't seen him since. Coulson was in there looking at the shipment at the docks. By the way," she continues, spooning up more ice cream, "You've got these guys expecting some ridiculous arrows."
~
"Thanks," Clint mumbles, but he does take the spoon and makes a reach for a bit of the frozen confection. "Cap's here. Stark. Trent. Coulson. Me. Falcon… the guy with the bird? You. Guy named Logan." Following Kate up the spiral staircase in order to access the upper decks, the query comes slowly, "They're expecting … what? Like what?"
~
"I was forced to inform them that I had pointy arrows," Kate notes academically, giving Clint a look over her shoulder. "And a couple explosive tips, a couple shockers, and a grapple. Seriously, what are you carrying these days? Do you really have an acid tip somewhere? Because that seems like an accident waiting to happen."
~
Clint exhales in a theatric sigh as he continues up the stairs, the spoon his mouth as he takes the steps. "RC controller. Acid. Boomerang. You remember that one. C'mon, Kate. Trackers. ECM. And whatever else R&D can work out, or the Superhero Supply Store guy. They're really good there too."
Reaching the top of the stairs, Clint pulls the spoon and redips for more ice cream. "You really need to practice with the RC. You can shoot a vehicle and then take control of it. Very cool."
~
"How is that ever the easiest solution?" Kate quirks a brow at that answer, setting the ice cream container down on a corner of the map table and hopping up on a stool to get a better look at things for herself. "Okay," she admits without waiting for an answer, sticking another spoonful of ice cream in her mouth, "That would be pretty useful. And probably easier than shooting out the tires. And less likely to end in a wreck that hurts someone else. Okay, I'll give you the RC arrow."
A lopsided grin rises once again, "Gotta practice with it. When we get back, I'll sign out a car and we'll practice in some back alley parking lot." Barton is all for teaching! Particularly if they can play RC model cars with late model sedans! "Just… let's not tell Deputy Director Hill, okay?"
Now, for the maps. And as far as Barton is concerned? It's time well spent.
~
"The one who does the ex-wife act? Yeah, I'm not going to be going out of my way to have chats with her," Kate snorts a laugh, smirking back at him. "Especially if I get to play RC cars with the SHIELD motor pool." She props her chin up on one hand, resting her elbow on the edge of the table as she calls up the maps. "So, here's where we found that freighter…" she starts on a larger scale map, pointing out coordinates in the water.
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