Author's note: Hello readers. Looks like you guys were happy I updated :D.

First of all, I want to thank all the readers, especially those who faved, followed, and/or reviewed. Thought I would mention all you here; (so sorry if I missed anyone, I tried my best!)

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THANK YOU SO MUCH YOU BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE!

With that note, here is chapter 7 :)

(Warning for a teeny tiny bit of violence at the end.)

7 years ago. Location: Classified.

"Hirata! Get out of here!" Clint yelled over the sound of gunfire. His heart thudded as bullets sprayed a nearby truck, where the junior agent was covering to reload her rifle.

"That's not a good idea sir." He struggled to hear her voice despite her yelling.

"The fuel tank of that truck is going to blow. If you don't move now-"

He was cut off by an explosion. Before panic could set in, the agent ran into the wall next to him.

"Should keep them busy, sir." She said with a nervous grin.

Clint risked a glance behind them. Sure enough, fire and smoke had sent the rest of the goons running.

"Not bad rookie. Follow me back to the others."

"Barton, Hirata. To the north corner. Me and McCartney will take the east." The agent ordered in their single precious moment without gunfire.

"You're joking, right?" Clint walked right up to the senior agent's face. "They'll smoke the groups out in minutes. Use it to their advantage. We stick together, Wills."

"Not if you do your job they won't." Wills spat back at Clint.

Clint didn't have time to fight back as the sound of gunfire echoed the room.

"God damn it. Hirata, follow me!" He shouted at the young woman.

They had made it to the north corner almost undetected, which concerned Clint.

"Sir?" Hirata looked up to the archer in question.

"There's no way we got through that easily." Clint pulled his rifle up, preparing for whatever the cult of mad-scientists had planned.

"It's almost as if you like being shot at, sir."

Clint grinned back. Hirata was a good agent, he thought, skilled despite being level 2. She was only put on his team to replace another member, but she'd proven herself quickly. He knew she was a good kid too, with good morals. That was rare these days.

"We'll hold this corner for bit, contact the others." Clint began, lowering his gun. "Hopefully they aren't Swiss cheese by now."

Agent Hirata had just turned away from him when it hit.

The ground beneath Clint tore open as he was thrown backwards. His lungs emptied with the force of impact against the wall as dust filled the air. Concrete from the ceiling began to crumble, then collapsed.

Clint tried to cover, but the weight hit him full force, turning the room black.

He didn't know how long he was out for. An attempt to move told him he was trapped, pinned under metal and concrete. He could feel the fiery pain up and down his body, and blood dripping down his face.

The sound of footsteps sent sparks of hope and panic through Clint. From his position, he saw a pair of black boots approaching. SHIELD Issue. He thought.

A cry for help was on his lips when the figure spoke into a radio.

"Target is hit, not out. Instructions, sir?"

Target? There wasn't a target…

Clint was pulled from his thoughts when a face appeared in his line of sight.

"W...will..is." Clint's veins turned cold as he spoke. The agent didn't respond, only looked down at the archer.

He could barely hear the crackle of a radio before agent Willis stood. Clint's heart began to beat faster as he watched the footsteps disappear.

The world turned black.

When he woke, he was in a hospital. Coulson looked exhausted as he sat at his bedside. They both sat through the doctor's diagnosis and recovery plan without a word.

He didn't go to Agent Hirata's funeral.

Present day. Location: Somewhere just North of the Canadian border.

James spoke for the first time in hours. "Anything interesting in there?"

Clint finally turned away from the darkening sky, his gaze dropping back down to the open file on his lap. The only reply he could muster was a loud sigh.

Agent Mayu Hirata. That name still tugged at his heart, even seven years later. This time, however, it was anger more than anything that rose inside him when he thought of that nervous junior agent. To find out she was just collateral damage in Hydra's attempt to have him killed? That made him want to put an arrow through the eyes of every Hydra agent he could find. Maybe even shoot Alexander Pierce's dead body for good measure.

In an effort to drive the violent thoughts from his mind, Clint tucked the file back into the backpack at his feet.

"Depends on what you'd call interesting." Clint rubbed his eyes tiredly. "I guess finding out that an old mission that went very fucking south was actually Hydra trying to take you out...that's pretty interesting."

He didn't need to explain any further. James nodded with understanding before turning his gaze back to the road.

Clint relaxed into the passenger seat of the grungy van as James turned off the main highway. It had taken five hours for the archer to give up the wheel, but he'd been glad he did when his eyes shut within minutes of swapping seats.

After their conversation in the apartment, Clint was quick to make the phone call. Mere hours had passed and they had paid for an inconspicuous, soccer-mom van from a dealership with cash. Crossing the border was uneventful, thanks to their combined SHIELD and Hydra training, and James took the wheel before hitting the outskirts of Montreal.

The open roads of southern Canada now sped past in a blur. Clint's contact was only miles away, where they had been promised a safe plane ride to Omsk

Clint lifted his hand to his face with a sigh, fully realising the chances of his contact double-crossing him. After all, he had been introduced to him through SHIELD.

Only one way to find out. The archer told himself.

Clint pulled his jacket tighter around his body against the icy two of them stuck close to each building they passed, heading towards the hangar with a military-grade cargo plane parked on the runway outside. Now without the sun or the warmth of the van, the concrete walls provided the much needed shelter from the Canadian cold.

While Clint hoped for the best, there was no promising that he wasn't being set up. All he had on the pilot was the few times he granted safe passage across the globe when he and Natasha needed it. SHIELD had always provided the few thousand dollars the pilot requested, but now Clint carried twice as much in unmarked bills in the duffle bag at his side with the knowledge that recent events would increase the price.

When the plane was less than a hundred feet away, Clint slowed his pace, motioning for James to do the same.

"I'll meet our man at the hangar, you wanna hold here and watch our backs?" Clint suggested, spotting a lone figure pacing in the dim light under the plane's wings.

James responded with a curt nod, stepping backwards into the shadows as he checked the safety on his sidearm.

Rolling his shoulders back, Clint snapped back into the familiar mindset of a mission and started towards the waiting pilot.

The archer ducked around the left wing as he approached, and the pilot stopped pacing in his presence.

"Agent Barton." The man greeted. "Nice to see you haven't gotten yourself killed yet."

"Houston. Thanks for doing this, I know it can't be safe for you these days." Clint said.

"Eh, never has been with SHIELD. Good to see your on our side though." Houston replied with a smirk.

Our side. Clint held back a sigh as he contemplated the meaning of the pilot's words.

"You too man. Honestly, I'm not entirely sure who to trust now."

"Fair enough." The pilot sighed with understanding. "You heard from Widow yet? Heard she was caught up in the D.C. mess. Kinda surprised I haven't given her a ride yet."

Something ticked in the back of Clint's head.

This isn't right.

Thankfully, he was saved by the bell - or actually a piercing scream if he was to be specific.

The archer and the pilot turned just in time to see a heavy figure falling from the roof of the next hangar, both close enough to hear the disgusting thud as it made impact with the asphalt.

Adrenaline kicked in as Clint spotted the glint of metal from the roof top. His hand reached for his pistol at the same time as the pilot, but the gunshot came from elsewhere.

The pilot fell. Clint stepped back as a spray of blood hit his chest. The hole between the man's eyes was already spilling his blood onto the asphalt.

Knowing the source of the bullet, Clint risked a look back over the wing of the plane.

The sniper's position was good, a perfect view of Clint and the pilot, and was now occupied by James who scanned the area with a rifle.

Not good enough. Clint thought as he put bullets in the heads of two goons hiding in James's blindspot.

The archer remained tucked away in the hangar until James came swaggering towards him, a Barrett M82 hanging at his side.

"All clear. One sniper and six on the ground." The soldier made no attempt to hide his exasperation with a pointed look at Clint.

"Okay, well...yeah, that's on me." Clint scratched his head. "Well to be fair he seemed like a cool guy."

He didn't get an answer as James stared on.

"Hey did you plan to throw that guy off the roof?"

James's slightly irritated look turned into a full on glare.

Oops. Clint broke the man's gaze to look out at the plane behind them.

"Good news. I've flown that model before."

James finally turned away from Clint, to which the archer mentally sighed with relief.

"We'll need to sweep it for bugs first." Clint followed the man towards the aircraft, watching as he opened the door warily, and his pistol at the ready.

So Hydra isn't as smart as they think they are. Clint relaxed into the pilot's seat, scanning the multitude of buttons and lights before him.

The dingy cargo plane was deemed safe and Clint noticed James's shoulders loosen as the man sat behind him in the main cabin. While he looked physically stronger than that first night, Clint still saw the dark shadows encasing the man's face. Sleep had evaded them both on their little cross country roadtrip.

Before Clint could fully delve into the controls, James broke the silence.

"No I didn't plan to." James's head hit the back of the seat as he closed his eyes. "But when do things ever go to plan?"

When the archer turned back, James was smirking.

"And I wanted to see how you'd react."

Clint started the engine. "Well it was very badass, If you must know. Natasha never let me do it because it was too 'Conspicuous'."

Hearing the hearty chuckle behind him, the archer relished in his victory. Even if it was just one single laugh, it told him he had made a difference.

Clint grinned to himself as he lined up on the runway, looking ahead into the night sky before taking off.

You're not getting him back now, Hydra.