A/N- I'm apologising in advance for this chapter because 1) It took ages to write and it's probably way too long, 2) It's probably not what people want but oh well, 3) I wrote this at about half 2 in the morning. I have no idea... Yay?
Clint loosed an arrow from his bow, embedding it silently into the back of a hydra agent. The man fell to the ground, dead.
The archer had managed to successfully reach and infiltrate the base without detection. His skilled approach was powered by his emotions- his need to protect Pietro and his family and all the avengers. This was his problem. And he was going to fix it.
Clint raced down the twisting corridors. Hearing movement up ahead, he slowed a little, pinpointing the room the noise was coming from. He notched an arrow in the string of his bow and kicked open the door. Running in, he immediately skidded to a halt, his eyes wide with shock.
In front of him was Pietro. The younger man was knelt on the ground, his head bowed, his hands tied behind his back. Yegor was stood behind him, a gun pressed to the back of Pietro's head.
"Barton." He greeted cruelly. "I hoped it would be you. If it was any of your friends I'd have to kill them immediately and that would be no fun at all."
Clint pulled the string of his bow back to his jaw, pointing the arrow at Yegor. "Let him go." He growled through gritted teeth.
"Oh, I don't think so." Yegor hissed back at him. "You took everything from me. Now I'm going to take everything from you. Starting with him." He jerked the gun at Pietro, making his head move forward a little. "Then your little partner, Natalia. Then your wife and children… Because I know where they are. I always know."
"You will never touch them again." Clint promised, raising his bow a little.
The Russian man looked coldly back at him. "You really think you're faster than me? Maybe you have forgotten-" He grasped a handful of Pietro's pale hair, forcing his head back so he was looking up at the ceiling. "-But I don't give a damn whether I live or die. Do you think he does?" He asked, nodding down to Pietro.
"Your fight's with me." Clint muttered. "Let him go and we'll settle this once and for all."
"Clint, don't!" Pietro warned before his voice was abruptly cut off as Yegor gripped a hand around his throat.
"Hush now kid." Yegor whispered mockingly, refusing to slacken his hold as Pietro's throat convulsed, failing to gasp in the air. "Shh, shh…"
Pietro's eyes found Clint again and, despite Yegor's threats, he choked out another word. "Run."
With a quick movement, Yegor struck the gun across Pietro's cheek. Pietro let out a sharp breath of pain and blood began to well at the cut down the side of his face. Yegor ducked as an arrow flew at him, the object embedding itself in the wall behind him. He raised the gun, firing it at Clint. The archer spun to the side, dodging it expertly, and whipped round, another arrow pointing to Yegor's heart.
"Big mistake Barton." Yegor said the words coldly.
He crouched beside Pietro, gripping the back of his head. Pietro shut his eyes as Yegor whispered something into his ear. He struggled as Yegor swiped his tongue up the scratch the gun had made, but couldn't escape the man's grip. As he drew back, a whizzing noise sounded, followed by a quiet click. Clint lowered his bow, his narrowed eyes fixed on the, blood dripping, hole in Yegor's head. The Russian man crumpled to the ground, his body motionless, his blood pooling on the ground. His eyes were open and glassy, half narrowed in a last, cruel glare at death.
"It's over." Clint whispered. "It's over Pietro."
"Clint…"
He turned his head to Pietro. The younger man was drawing in silent breaths, letting them out as long, shuddering exhales. Blood was clouding on his shirt, directly over his heart, staining the light-grey a sharp red. He swallowed painfully, looking up at Clint, who was briefly frozen in shock. Pietro swayed, his eyes rolling back in his head, and collapsed to the side. Dropping his bow, Clint ran over to him, hurriedly removing the rope bonding his hands.
"No, no, no." Clint muttered, throwing the rope away and carefully turning Pietro over, so he lay on his back. "Oh, I told you not to come… Why did you come?!"
His eyes were open, but flickering. They seemed to dim a little more each second. His chest heaved as he quickly and shakily fought in the air. "Silent… Gun." He choked out the words. "Nice to have… Quality."
"Shh, shh, shh-" Clint hushed him quickly, beginning to panic. "Please, don't talk. You'll be okay. I'm getting you back to the tower." The archer promised him quietly. He tucked his arms under Pietro's shivering form. "You ready?" Pietro swallowed, nodding weakly.
Clint carefully lifted Pietro into the air, trying and failing to ignore an anguished groan that escaped the young man. Every instinct was shouting for him to put Pietro back down, but he knew he couldn't. His pain filled gaze was flicking around above him, taking longer and longer to open his eyes again when he blinked.
"Tony? Tony, are you there? I need the jet, right now." Clint called urgently into the earpiece as he made his way out the room.
"Where are you?"
"Tracker on the communicator. Just follow my coordinates."
"Can't you just get back here yourself? Wait, what's happen-"
"Stark!" Clint lost his patience, almost yelling into the communicator. "Pietro's down!"
Tony collapsed into a shocked silence for a heartbeat. Down meant he'd taken a hit. A bad hit. Down meant he was closer to dying than he was to living. And, of course, Tony immediately changed his tone. "Okay, okay. I'll get there as soon as I can."
Clint didn't reply. He adjusted his grip on Pietro as he broke into a run, jogging through the building, down the dimly lit, twisting corridors. The younger man suddenly fell limp, his body relaxing. Clint looked down, fear jolting through him as he saw that Pietro's eyes were shut.
"Oh god. Kid, come on…" He stroked back Pietro's hair, pressing his cheek to his forehead. "Come on, don't give up on me."
He's fainted, Clint thought to himself, seeing the weak yet quick rise and fall of Pietro's chest. The archer reached the door and kicked it open, running out and looking round for the jet. He let out a desperate breath. It wasn't there. Tony, get a move on! He leant against the wall, slowly slipping down to the floor. Quickly and carefully, he took off Pietro's shirt, exposing the bullet wound. The kid opened his eyes as Clint pressed the fabric down on the bleeding injury.
"Clint." He whispered weakly. "I… I couldn't let you… You were in danger… Tried to… Tried…"
"Shh…" Clint hushed him softly, stroking his head. "It's alright. It's okay, please don't talk. Can you just keep quiet for me?"
Pietro squeezed his eyes shut, tensing. His chest heaved as he fought in fast, struggling breaths. He's freaking out, Clint thought worriedly. A familiar roar met his ears as a second later the Quinjet flew over his head, landing in front of him. The door lowered and Clint quickly got up, lifting Pietro in his arms and running into the jet.
"What happened?" Steve asked as Clint lay Pietro down on the jet floor.
"Yegor." Clint growled.
He put two fingers to Pietro's neck, checking his pulse.
"I'll kill him." Steve muttered the words angrily.
"I beat you to it." Clint told him, drawing his hand away. "Pulse is weak. Shocks setting in fast. Tony! Get us back to the tower now!"
The jet rose quickly, the engines roaring. Steve quickly fetched a medical kit, putting it down beside Clint. The archer opened it, taking out a roll of bandages before dismissing Steve with a wave of his hand. Carefully and quickly, Clint wrapped the bandages around Pietro's torso, covering the wound to prevent any more blood from escaping. The bullets had gone straight through. Yegor had shot him in the back and it had gone straight through, out his chest.
As he put the remaining bandages back in the box, Pietro's body suddenly began to writhe and twist a little. He let out several breathy gasps and quiet grunts of pain. Clint gently took hold of his jaw, forcing him to make eye contact.
"Look at me." He ordered in a whisper, causing Pietro's eyes to set on his. "You're going to be fine. Okay? But you need to try and slow you breathing down a little. Just relax."
"It hurts." Pietro whimpered, his flickering eyes locking with Clint's. "M-make it stop… Please…"
Clint gave him a tiny, sad, smile, laying a hand to the side of his face and turning his head to the centre. "I know kid, I know it hurts. Just try and stay conscious for me, alright?"
"Pietro!" Wanda collapsed to her knees beside her brother. "Oh… Oh, môj drahý, no." (Translation- My darling)
"Wanda, you need to stay calm for him." Clint told her, his voice too quiet for Pietro to hear. "He's frightened-"
The woman turned her gaze to him and Clint had to force himself not to flinch away. Her eyes burned with a furious flame. "This is all your fault." She hissed, obviously close to tears. "All he's tried to do is protect you… He's never going near you again."
Clint swallowed uncomfortably. He lowered his head, letting out a silent sigh. "I'm sorry." He murmured.
Without waiting for her to acknowledge his apology, he began to get up. Something touched his fingers and he froze, looking back down. Pietro's flickering gaze met his, parting his mouth slightly as he attempted to gasp out a few words. His hand trembled as his fingers intertwined with Clint's. Despite Wanda's previous words, he stepped over Pietro, kneeling on his other side. The younger man's eyes stayed fixed on him, still trying to speak.
"What is it?" Clint whispered, stoking a strand of hair from Pietro's face and tucking it behind his ear.
"Please…" Pietro breathed the words weakly, almost too quiet to hear. "Don't… Don't leave me…"
Clint shut his eyes briefly. "Don't think your sister would like that kid." He muttered. "She doesn't want me near you, and I don't blame her."
"Clint…" Pietro stopped to catch his breath. "I… I need… need…"
"Nat, can you throw me an oxygen mask please?" Clint asked, looking over his shoulder. A second later, the object came flying at him and he caught it with one hand. "Thank you." He carefully placed it over Pietro's mouth and nose. "Okay, okay deep breaths." He kept it there until the kid had regained control slightly, and drew it away, putting it on the floor. "What do you need…? Come on. Tell me what you need and I'll get it for you."
"Need… You to… To stop…" Pietro paused again, taking in deep shuddering breaths. "Stop… Blaming yourself."
Clint smiled sadly, exhaling a quiet sigh. "It's not that easy kid."
"For… For me?"
Oh, now you got me you little punk. Clint rested his forehead on his knuckles, on the hand clasped in Pietro's. "Checkmate." He muttered, half to himself.
Hot tears pricked the corners of his eyes and he let out a shivering sigh. Pietro's grip tightened suddenly and Clint raised his head as the young man's body twisted rigidly. Wanda stroked his hair, whispering something in Sokovian until he relaxed. Natasha came over, briefly crouching beside Clint. She took his hand and forced something into it, curling his fingers over the object before standing up and walking back over to Bruce.
Clint looked down, sighing as he saw that Natasha had placed a circular, white pill in his hand. I hate these things. Clint reflected on the times when the medicine had been used on him. If I want to fall asleep, I'll do it of my own accord. He let out another sigh, realising it was for the best.
"Kid, you need to eat this." He murmured, moving his hand to Pietro's mouth.
Pietro turned his head to the side, feebly batting away Clint's hand.
"It'll stop the pain Pietro." Clint whispered softly. "It'll stop it hurting."
Pietro turned his head back, looking up at Clint. The archer hesitantly moved his hand up again and Pietro didn't protest as he gently forced his mouth open a little and slipped the medicine between his lips. Pietro grimaced at the taste as he chewed it. Swallowing painfully, he blinked in confusion, raising his head.
"It still hurts." He murmured.
Before anyone could reply, his eyes rolled back and fluttered shut as his head fell. Clint caught it before it hit the floor, lowering his head gently.
"There we go kid." He muttered under his breath, stroking a hand to Pietro's head. "There we go…"
"What have you done?" Wanda whispered, hurriedly touching her hands to her brother's cheeks.
"He's fine. He's just asleep."
Wanda relaxed visibly. Moving round, she sat cross-legged and lifted Pietro's torso onto her lap. She leant over Pietro, softly touching her lips to his before kissing his forehead.
"He means a lot to you, doesn't he?" Clint murmured, though he already knew the answer.
Wanda smiled sadly, gently stroking Pietro's pale hair. "He's my brother. And I love him."