Picking Up the Pieces

Summary:
December 05, 2014: Clint Barton gets a call from a distraught Kate at the murder scene of Damian. Clint handles the authorities and brings her home to his place.

Car ride through NYC and Clint's Bed-Stuy apartment

Car interior and Clint's spartan bachelor pad.


Characters

NPCs

  • None

Mood Music:

  • None

Kate patrols on her own all the time. Rarely has she ever called Clint from a patrol, unless it was a casual conversation, or taunting about someone she'd caught who was waiting for pick up. Tonight was different.

In the small hours of the morning, Kate called. Her voice was rough, edged with panic, but the words were all painfully formal, official terminology. Eight dead, seven killed by explosive devices, triggered with a deadman switch. The eighth a cape, code name Robin. No further devices in evidence.

When the response team arrived, they found it as reported. A dark, dingy back alley of New York, where the snow was stained with blood and gore. Kate sat next to a massive black wolf, the body of a young man - strangely apparently unharmed, except for the blood everywhere - lying in front of them. Kate reported no injuries of her own, though blood…Blood was everywhere. Soaking her front, caked up her arms past her elbows. And clearly in shock.

She was able to give her report, again, mechanically. But once that was done, she escorted herself to Clint's car, sliding into the passenger seat and waiting.

~

Any time, anywhere. Over their time together, Clint's always stressed it. There have been times when he's been woken up from a sound sleep and simply stared at the phone before answering. Sometimes even cursing it.

But he's always answered. This is no different. Maybe it was the sound of the ring, that it was somehow different?

Driving through the cold city in the dark of night isn't the most ideal, but upon arrival, Clint leans over to unlock the passenger side door and slides back out the driver's side in order to approach any of the officials, though he makes a side trip to load an extra coat on the undoubtedly shocked, shaking Kate.

Releasing the witness, yes she'll be available for a statement, yes, she'll have an attourney. Here is my contact information.

Once all those particulars are done, Clint's back in the car, left running with the heat going. "We'll swing by your place, pick up a few things, then you're coming home with me. No way am I going to leave you alone."

~

"I'm not going after her," Kate says quietly, staring out the window. She keeps her hands in her lap, hovering above the skin. So much blood. Can't touch things. It'll get everywhere. "Not tonight. Not alone. Not without a plan. And more intel." As the warmth of the car starts to sink in, she starts to shake, a delayed reaction to the cold and the shock. "But after? I will."

Turning into what little traffic there is, Clint's torn between the road and Kate sitting beside him. His gaze lingers longer on her than the road, but that's fine by him at the moment.

"Her." Okay, that's a start. "No. You're not going after her. Not tonight. Not tomorrow, and not alone." Slowing for a red light, blue eyes flicker towards the camera before he stops fully. "I'm not leaving you alone. And we sure as hell aren't going out after whoever did that." Not unless, of course, it's a 'super'. Mostly.

"NYPD or the SRD."

~

"She's way past NYPD or SRD, Clint," Kate shakes her head. "Criminals hesitate. Criminals act on impulse. That was planned, and there was no hesitation. And she's not human. She made seven glass duplicates of herself. She went in an out of puddles. And she went after Dam- Robin, on purpose. This isn't a job for NYPD or SRD. It's a job for heroes." Her jaw clenches, hands fisting as she tries to hold back the shaking.

~

"That's SRD, Kate. 'Special Response Division'," Clint reminds. The light turns green again, and the pair are on their way.

Reaching out to put one hand on the pair of clenched, blood-streaked hands, he'll close his fingers around them, adding his support. "There is no way in hell that even the two of us could take on something like that without a serious game plan. But…" Is he crazy?

"When we get back home, we'll get you out of those clothes," and those words are given with a dead seriousness, "and into the shower. I'll deal with them, you just get clean.

"When morning comes, I'll make a couple of phone calls."

~

"I have to call the Titans," Kate says quietly. "I have to tell them what happened. He was their teammate. They'll need to know what happened." She finally looks back from the window, catching his eye. "I'm not just going to let this stand, Clint. This is- this is why I've been talking about contacts, and networks. Because this won't be the first time someone comes after people like us, just because we dared to stand up to them, to want to do something better."

~

"And it's not going to be the last, Kate. But we gotta be smart about it too." Clint squeezes her hands before reclaiming his own to turn onto a side street. "And when you tell the Titans, I wanna be there, because you're in no position to shout them down."

Nods come with her words, though his jaw is set, cheek tensed. As he talks and drives, his attention is divided, "We have to do this right. We're not just gonna go in, screaming vengeance. We have to find out everything, and particularly why. And whether or not someone is behind her… you know. The detective stuff. The stuff you're good at."

~

"I'm not going to be stupid about it, Clint," Kate sighs heavily. "I'm going to get this bitch. And that means doing everything. Perfectly." She closes her eyes, brows furrowing in a frown. "I'm supposed to practice with Captain Rogers tomorrow. Or the day after tomorrow. I don't remember. I have to tell the Titans. I can call the Red Team, they can probably find out if she's a mutant. I can try and get ahold of that Deathstroke guy. Very murdery, but he might know something. She was made of glass. Or the duplicates were. So she had to be communicating with them somehow. It probably goes both ways, right?"

~

"Okay, okay.. let's not get into the criminal element, okay? That doesn't do anyone any good. Favors, you know." And Clint should know. "Let's start with a shower, hot chocolate. I'll check with the neighbors to see if they have marshmallows. Tomorrow, when the sun rises, we'll call Cap. I'll call 'Tash and…" Here, Clint pauses before he continues, "… a couple other contacts. We'll tell the Titans, but honestly." He slows at a stop sign before stopping and faces Kate fully, his expression serious. "I think they'd get hurt. Badly."

The car begins to roll, and Clint's eyes are back on the route. Turning again, they're getting closer to home. "It'd almost have to be both directions, assuming the duplicates are intelligent. If they're not, it may just be feedback. But I don't know. But there has to be some communications link so she has at least a basic status report."

~

"They still deserve to know. And to hear it from someone they know. Who cares." Kate's jaw is set, and she has that stubborn look. The one that says she's going to do what she wants to, whether or not anyone approves. "Maybe there's a way to give her some feedback through the duplicates, then. Hit her back." She starts to reach a hand toward her face, then lowers it as she sees the blood once more, pain flickering in her eyes.

"It's not okay, Clint. What she did."

~

"I didn't say not to tell them. What I am saying is that I don't want them running out half-cocked, thinking they're gonna avenge him or something. They'll get themselves killed." Clint's hand reaches out, and rather than setting it back on her hands, he reaches to get the wisps of hair from her eyes. "We'll hurt her, Kate. And we'll do it. But we're gonna do it smart."

Shaking his head, his tones drop. "No, Katie-Kate. It's not okay. Not in the least. And we're not gonna let it stand."

~

Kate presses her brow back against his hand, eyes closing tightly. "I did everything right, Clint," she says in a small, broken voice. "I took out five of them. Damian had one. There was only the one-" The shaking starts again, and tears start to slip past her lashes as her shoulders heave in a silent sob. "I couldn't stop the bleeding, and I called you, and I called Fenris, but even he couldn't get there fast enough, and…it was too late."

~

Clint keeps his eyes on the road now, and knuckles whiten on the grip. If it was you, Katie, and not him? Could he begin to keep it all together? "You took out five, Katie. You did your best."

Silence on his end reigns for a few long moments before he pulls the car over. "You did everything right. Everything. Sometimes… sometimes it's not enough. Sometimes there is just nothing you can do, and people may die. And it sucks."

~

"He was trying to be better," Kate says quietly, voice trembling. "He was…" She wraps her arms tightly around herself, as the enormity of it all, the shock, finally overcomes her ability to hold it back. Deep, wracking sobs shake her shoulders, and no matter how tightly she clenches her jaw, she can't quite hold back the sounds of them.

~

There is absolutely nothing that Clint could say or do that could help. Death in his field is inevitable. He kills people for a living, sometimes not knowing what it is they did to 'deserve' it. Death simply is something, for his part, that is forestalled.

Of course all that objectivity means nothing if it were Katie. 'Tash, well… it's her job. His job. It's not Kate's.
The apartment is reached, and he coasts up to a spot on the side of the road before killing the engine. Forget her place. He's got those sweats. "C'mon, Kates. Home. Grab a shower and I'll find those marshmallows. We'll sit on the couch and just… sit."

~

Kate takes a few deep breaths, trying to force the tears back down again. It's almost successful. Sort of. She's at least down to sniffles and the occasional stifled sound before she nods. "Okay," she says quietly. "Okay." Carefully, she reaches for the door handle, trying to touch it as little as possible. "And maybe a little something stronger in that hot chocolate?" Still Kate.

~

Stepping around to the other side, Clint opens the door for her before closing it quickly afterwards. Not to rush her up into his apartment or anything, but it's probably for the best that his neighbors don't see a blood drenched Katie. They'll ask questions.

He'll give her a hug later. When she's warm, dry, and settled.

"Yeah. I think we can handle that. I think we still have whiskey lying around."

It's an unceremonious rush up the stairs, and once the apartment door is opened and closed, Clint starts something of a security run around. It's the little things that clue him as to whether or not someone's been in. All quiet, and so he turns to look at the mess that is Kate Bishop. "First phone call in the morning should be to his mentor." Batman? "Then, we go visit the Titans. AFTER you have something to eat."

~

"Oracle's already sent that message," Kate says quietly. "And if you have his contact information, don't give it to me, because I don't have anything nice to say to him," she adds bitterly, stiffly taking off her boots and padding toward the bathroom. Shocked or no, Kate at least has enough training and familiarity with what she does that she's taken care of some things on reflex.

~

"I don't, so that's good at least?" Clint's wandering into the kitchen as Kate pads towards the shower. He's working on coffee first before he puts a saucepan of water onto the stove to boil. Then, the search begins for the packets of Swiss Miss that he knows has to be around.

"Kate?!" Not a couple minutes later, the call goes out, "You remember where I put the hot chocolate packets!?" Cabinet opens, cabinet closes.

No.

No.

No.. ah. Mug. Clean mug. That's pulled down before the search begins again.

No.

~

The shower starts to run, and Kate steps in to let the water wash away the blood. Not to mention help warm her up. Turn out, sitting in the snow in shock isn't really great for body temperature. At the shout from the kitchen, she sighs, bowing her head under the water for a moment. "Check under the couch!" she shouts back once she has her voice under control. Even then, it still cracks a bit.

She's in the shower for a good thirty minutes before she feels warm and clean enough to dare coming out, shuffling out in the oversized sweats. "Did you find it?"

~

"Under the couch?" Clint repeats, the look of confusion easily read. Thankfully, no one can see it or they're probably laugh at him. "Okay, under the cou-

"Got it!"

Those thirty minutes are spent reasonably productively. Locating the Swiss Miss, locating the whiskey, running downstairs for a cup of marshmallows… and coffee. Once Katie reappears, Clint's got some 'pizza pillows' heated up and on a paper plate, and a hot hot chocolate on the coffee table while he's got coffee. A big ol' throw has been located, and it's on the couch as well, ready and waiting. The fire in the fireplace is lit, and for a moment, the place actually may look and feel livable.
Maybe.

~

As long as no one tries to go into the bathroom, where there's a pile of bloody clothes. Normally, Kate likes her space.
She's not particularly demonstrative. But after the night she's had? When she sees Clint, she walks over to wrap her arms around him tightly, pressing her face against his shoulder.

"Can you please not ever die?" she asks in a small voice. "Or at least have the decency not to do it in front of me?"

~

With Clint, even a pile of bloody clothes in the bathroom could mean 'home', in a really wierd way.

Kate's reappearance has Clint's full attention, in his hands a pillow that he's been fluffing for her. (Who knows? If he'd have shown this sort of consideration to the ex-, maybe she wouldn't be an ex? Thought never occurred before now.) The distance between them is crossed by the now clean Kate, and the moment she gives him that hug, he's giving it back to her. Warm. Protective… as much as it can be. "I'm gonna tell you the same thing, Katie. I don't wanna get a phone call from someone that isn't you in the middle of the night."

He pulls back, but not enough to really break the embrace, and blue eyes meet her own. "If I die, I swear it won't be in front of you." He'll be alone, no doubt. "Okay?"

~

"Yeah," Kate sniffles. "Have the good sense to crawl around the block or something." Being smart to Clint is its own sort of comfort, but she still stays close, trying not to think about everything that happened earlier. "I'll be careful, Clint. I'm getting better. I'm learning. I'm going to…I'm going to be the best I possibly can."

~

"Swear. And I'll make sure I leave a note telling you where my stuff is," Clint teases gently. "Upon my untimely demise, I have paperwork in with SHIELD explaining all the equipment was a write-off." Suuuuure.

He's still looking down at the mostly-still-in-shock Kate, and he huffs a soft laugh. "You better not miss your training session with Cap." There's a moment, and his expression shifts, the edges softening. "Never in your head think you're not good enough. But you're like me- you can't fail. No matter what." You're great. "You're a Hawkeye.

"And your boozed up hot chocolate is gonna get cold. I pulled the blanket out, and that pillow's off the bed. So, sit down, get cozy, and you get the first pick of NetFlix tonight."

~

"Indiana Jones," Kate announces without hesitation, reluctantly pulling back to go to the couch. Not that she's going to make it past the opening credits. Between her own patrolling, the extra training with Clint, and trying to set up networks with every group of supers she can get a number for, she's already been running on empty. Add in some shock, and he'll be lucky if the mug doesn't fall out of her hand before she can even take a sip.

"I couldn't stop it, Clint. I wasn't good enough. But I wasn't prepared. I will be next time."

~

"You took out four others, Kate. Four. Against one. I'm just glad that I'm not at the site wondering what I was gonna do next." Other than call her father. "You can't -stop- everything. I can't. All we can do is our best, and dammit… I don't think you could have done anything more than what you did."

The moment Kate takes up her spot on the couch, Clint tucks her in and props the pillow up, moving it by degrees one way or the other for maximum comfort before he sits down and hands over the remote. He's ready if she wants to lean, his arm out and over the back of the couch.

"So shut up and watch the movie."

~

"Five," Kate corrects. Because upping her body count helps. Or something. It doesn't really matter how many she took out. She didn't get the one who killed Damian. She takes a sip of the hot chocolate as she settles in, curling up against Clint and tucked up beneath the blanket. "Don't worry, Clint," she murmurs, letting out a slow breath. "You're the only person who really needs to be called anyhow."

~

"Five," Clint repeats. "That's a good count."

As she settles in against him, Clint's more than ready for the fact that he'll be here the rest of the night- and he's good with that. There isn't anywhere he'd rather be, and the rest of the world could just kiss his—

He tucks her in just a little more and keeps an arm around her now as she finds that warmth and hopefully a bit of security as the opening credits begin to roll and the action begins with the familiar strains of the main title theme.

"We agreed. Neither of us gets that call."

~

"Says the man who called from a boat off Madripoor," Kate snorts softly, starting to drift off with the opening sequence.

"Though I guess you called. That counts for something." She trails off, taking another sip before her eyes start to flutter closed. "No disappearing tonight, though," she says around a yawn, just barely managing to set the mug down before she falls asleep.

~

"Yeah, that was me." Or Domino. Or.. someone. But it was before he died!

Clint puts a little pressure for a gentle squeeze and whispers, "Not on your life, Katie." He waits for those heartbeats to pass before he knows she's completely out before he presses a light kiss on the top of her head, "Don't you ever die on me, Kate Bishop. Even I don't deserve that."

Of course, now Clint's stuck with the movie at hand, and stretching out his legs carefully and slowly so as not to jar her, he's settling comfortably for the rest of the night. Thankfully, he's out before the end of the movie… like usual.


Back to: RP Logs

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 License