Chapter Text
In an event that Tony would later proclaim as “cosmic irony--someone’s fucking with us!” the Avengers were actually talking about Clint when his emergency beacon went off.
“--I’m paranoid too,” Bruce was arguing with Steve about the most recent weird thing Clint had done. “Of course we don’t want Hydra looking—”
An intensely loud beep interrupted all of them, and Tony almost slid off the barstool where he had been slowly drowsing. “Shit!’
“That’s Clint’s panic button,” Steve blurted. Natasha was already pulling a gun out of his kitchen cabinet— he had no idea that it was there, but he wasn’t surprised.
“Jarvis?” Tony asked.
“Sending location to your phones now sir,” Jarvis answered promptly. "He is approximately a four minute flight away.” Tony almost absentmindedly called the suit to him, mind whirling.
“I’ll scout it out, see what’s up,” he said abruptly. “Meet you there!” Ignoring Steve’s aborted shout of “Tony!” he was out of the Tower in seconds. Jarvis pulled up an aerial view of the city without prompting.
“Captain Rogers has informed me they will be following in the Quinjet,” the AI said. “And quote ‘try not to be stupid.”
“Well we can’t have that,” Tony commented with a smirk as he pushed the suit even faster. He was almost breaking the sound barrier (not a good thing with that many skyscrapers around) so he pulled back slightly. As he drew closer to the red dot that signaled Clint’s emergency beacon, Jarvis once again drew up a map overlay, this time of the warehouse Clint seemed to be in.
“There are nineteen heat signatures total in the building,” Jarvis commented. “Mr. Barton’s beacon is located in the northwest corner.” Jarvis pulled up a small video screen in the corner of the HUD that showed distinct outlines. Barton’s outline glowed a soft green, while the rest of the mercs were edged in red. And…
“Is someone guarding him?” Tony asked.
“It would appear so,” Jarvis said. “It is not apparent whether she has hostile intentions or not, but is against the hostiles for the moment.”
“Well, guess I’m making an entrance,” Tony said in response. In a moment he was bursting through the roof of the warehouse, announcing to everyone inside exactly where he was. Just like he wanted-- if the possibly female outline standing over Clint was actually a friendly, it looked like she could use a breather. Sure enough, the heat signatures of the other men turned in his direction and Tony cackled. It had been almost two weeks since he had been in the Iron Man suit and boy was he glad to have something to fight.
“Tony we’ll be there in two.” Steve’s voice crackled to life over the coms.
“Well hurry up or you’ll miss the fight,” Tony said, blasting one of the goons through a wooden shipping crate. “Looks like they’re Hydra and we all know you can’t miss the chance to put a beat down on Hydra.” Tony could faintly hear the rude noise Steve made over the coms.
“You find Hawkeye?” Natasha butted in.
“Working my way to him,” he said. The Hydra goons had finally found their brains and were trying to run away from him. That just wouldn’t do. “Looks like he’s down, but he’s being guarded by somebody-- someone with a bow and arrow.” He’d caught a glimpse as he rose above the stacks of crates. Someone wearing pretty sophisticated body armor but using an old school bow was standing over Clint’s prone form, clearly guarding him. He’d bet a suit (not money-- he had enough of that) that it was one of the figures they had been watching on security footage from the other night. The Quinjet appeared to hover over the hole Tony had blasted through the ceiling, and the superhero wondered when he had lost track of time. Unsurprisingly, the Widow was the first to rappel down on top of a crate, almost immediately shooting a man in the face. Tony winced.
“Iron Man,” Cap called over the coms.
“On it,” Tony said immediately to that tone of voice. He reached the corner where the figure was still viciously defending Clint, and surprisingly received no warning shot. Instead, the figure lowered the bow but kept an arrow in the draw position. He landed, taking a shot to the back as he did so and not even bothering to aim when he blasted a repulsor behind him in response. Judging by the noise, it hit something at least. It was creepy staring at the hooded figure who had fabric pulled up over their mouth-- all he could see was intense blue eyes.
“Tony.” The weak croak coming from Clint turned both their attention towards the downed archer. “Trust her.” With that, he passed the fuck out.
“Helpful,” Summer muttered sardonically to herself, eyeing Iron Man in front of her while fighting the urge to check on Clint. Unsurprisingly, the superhero in front of her didn’t take Clint at his word, but he did open his faceplate.
“You gonna shoot me if I try to check on him?” the man asked. Summer studied her brother’s teammate.
“Are you gonna shoot me if I do the same?” she asked. “It sounds like the rest of you have taken out our common enemy.”
“No shooting,” Tony promised. “Isn’t that right?”
“Not unless you give us a reason,” a female voice said from above. Summer didn’t flinch, but only just. It had been a while since a mortal had snuck up on her like that, but this was the Black Widow after all.
“Then the same goes for me,” Summer said firmly. She put the arrow back in her quiver but kept a hand ready on her knife because she wasn’t an idiot-- all of the mortals were carrying weapons. She turned just slightly, still keeping an eye on both mortals, to crouch and gently feel for Clint’s pulse. It was erratic, and worry took over for a moment. “Clint,” she said lowly. The man didn’t stir. In the suddenly quiet warehouse Summer could hear barely discernible footsteps as the Black Widow came down from her perch to crouch warily on the other side of the man.
“What happened?” Iron Man asked, still in the same light voice.
“He got shot in the shoulder but it shouldn’t have taken him down like this,” Summer directed to both of the watchers. Someone was behind her too-- she’d guess Captain America, out of process of elimination. “I think it was poisoned.” She reached for the healing pack on her back, realizing half a second later that it was a bad idea when two weapons were pointed at her. She froze, hand halfway to her back, other hand still on Clint’s erratic pulse. "I'm reaching for my bag,” she said calmly, “but I can see how you might think I’m reaching for my quiver. If someone else would like to grab my bag for me, I have supplies in there that will help Clint.”
“We can just bring him to Bruce,” the man just out of sight offered. Summer could see the woman in front of her considering it-- it would be easy enough to take Summer out and transport Clint away.
“If you bring him to Bruce he will die,” Summer said quickly and concisely. Nothing but her eyes moved, unwilling to appear as a threat. Clint’s heartbeat fluttered, hitched and then started again. “You don’t know what poison was used or his unique physiology.”
“And the chick in a mask does?” Tony Stark asked. There was a hint of fear in his voice though, if Summer read him right. For a moment, Summer’s gaze darted between Black Widow crouching on the other side of Clint’s limp body-- Tony Stark’s cool expression barely hiding his worry-- the steadily encroaching blue form of Captain America in her peripherals-- and finally Ethan, warily watching with his one good eye from the warehouse exit he had gone through earlier. He had obviously paused in the midst of returning to help.
She made a decision. The hand that had reached for her bag instead reached forward, pulling down her face covering and shaking off her hood.
“I’m his younger sister,” she said softly. The woman across from her stilled almost unnaturally. “Please-- I have the supplies in my bag to help him. After that you can bring him to this Bruce--, bring me to him, I don’t care. Just as long as you don’t bring us to Shield and you let me heal him.” Her voice grew desperate as Clint’s pulse fluttered under her fingertips. The Black Widow’s gaze darted between her and Clint and Summer met it evenly.
“Well shit,” the voice behind her said.
“Cap?” Tony Stark asked. The man in blue stepped up beside his teammate.
“They do have a lot of shared sibling features,” Captain America said.
“How do we know what you give him won’t harm him?” the Widow spoke for the first time.
“I’m his sister and I’ve been fighting with him and to defend him the entire time I’ve been here,” Summer said. Despite her best efforts frustration was obvious in her voice. “If I’d wanted to I could have killed him without all the pomp and circumstance long before you showed up.”
“She was guarding him,” Stark agreed.
“I didn’t say kill-- I said harm,” Widow said sharply. But both of them were looking at the Captain.
“Let her help him,” the man said, taking off his own cowl as well. “Clint told Tony to trust her. He obviously trusted her enough to fight with her. But Widow-- if it looks like she’s doing anything to Clint...”
The Widow nodded even as more footsteps sounded and another man rounded the corner. He was oddly out of place, dressed as he was in a t-shirt and shorts, but he carried a medical bag on one shoulder. The only other person he could be was Bruce, but he looked amazingly unassuming for a man who could turn into the Hulk.
“I heard you talking over the coms,” the man said quietly. “Even if I don’t know exactly what’s going on I can help with the basic medical stuff.”
“HIs heartbeat is too erratic,” Summer said before they could get involved in a different conversation. “Can I reach for my bag?”
“What do you need out of it?” the man stepped forward, seemingly taking charge. “I’m Bruce by the way.”
“There should be a thermos in there, along with a ziploc bag of what looks like golden rice krispie treats,” Summer said, too focused on the man in front of her to bother with niceties. “Can you take them out?” The Widow stepped out of the way to give room for Bruce to crouch nearby, but still kept her gun drawn and ready. It made Summer’s neck prickle but she ignored the feeling as Bruce rooted around in the bag before pulling out the battered thermos and baggie of ambrosia, which he eyed curiously. Summer took them out of his hands gratefully before carefully ripping the fabric of Clint’s undershirt around the site of the wound. It had gone in the gap between his shoulder and chest armor, so she moved those pieces as well.
“The bullet went completely through,” Summer said while Bruce nodded in agreement beside her. “I’d guess the poison coated the outside of it then. We should flush the wound now to avoid more poison seeping in after he’s healed.”
“I have some saline solution,” Bruce offered.
“Go for it,” Summer said, unscrewing the cap of the thermos. The Widow looked like she wanted to snatch it out of her hands so she made sure she had a good grip on it. Bruce quickly and efficiently flushed the wound. Clint barely even moved at what had to be a decent amount of pain and Summer’s concern grew.
“I’m going to flush it again with this,” Summer said, gesturing to the thermos of nectar. “I have no clue what the actual poison is but this should kick start his natural healing. If it doesn’t we’ll have to go for more drastic measures.”
“Drastic?” the captain asked from behind her. Summer ignored him and focused on the nectar flowing through the wound. This did get a reaction from Clint-- with a hiss of pain his back arched up and his face screwed up. In the same instant Summer was pushed to the ground and pinned painfully, only barely keeping the nectar from spilling. The Widow was fast.
“Wait!” Bruce said quickly. “It’s helping-- his pulse is starting to even out!” Summer breathed out slowly through her painful position and when the Widow let her up to take a look she sat up slowly. “What was that?” the man asked.
Well she wasn’t going to come out and say she couldn’t tell them for fear of being smote right then and there. “It was a healing agent that works better with Clint’s unique physiology. For most mo-- ordinary people- besides maybe the Captain- it would actually be harmful, but it’s helpful for Clint in small doses.” She held the thermos to her chest, gently massaging the wrist that had been wrenched painfully.
“You’re saying Clint is enhanced?” the Captain asked in surprise.
“Look as much as his heartbeat is evening out I'd feel better if I was able to treat him in an actual medical facility instead of a warehouse,” Bruce said strongly. “Can we get him to the Quinjet?” Abruptly, the Captain was startlingly efficient in rattling off orders.
“I’ll get Clint-- if he’s good to move--” and Bruce’s nod he continued. “Widow if you could bring..” here he floundered, obviously realizing they didn’t know her name “Clint’s friend,” he finally continued diplomatically. “We still don’t know what’s going on and until Clint wakes up she’s a possible hostile but a current ally. Tony can you get the Quinjet ready?”
“On it Cap,” with a nod Iron Man pushed up and away, presumably towards whatever plane was waiting. The Black Widow just eyed her for a moment.
“Will you come with us?” she finally asked.
“It didn’t sound like I had much of a choice,” Summer said with a hint of humor. “But I’m not leaving Clint behind until I’m sure he’s out of the woods. As long as SHIELD doesn’t know, I’ll come with and I won’t protest.” The Captain stepped up next to Clint.
“We can keep SHIELD out of this for a bit,” he said at Bruce and the Widow’s inquiring looks. “If it looks like we need to call them in, we will.”
“Alright,” the redhead said, seemingly content to follow the Captain’s lead for the moment. “I’m going to need all of your weapons then.”
“What makes you think I have more?” Summer asked, more out of curiosity than anything.
“If you’re anything like Hawkeye you have at least three knives on you, never mind the fact that your hand has barely left your thigh,” Widow said with a barely raised eyebrow.
Summer just shrugged and started divesting herself of her knives (she had four actually--a pair and a spare). When they were on the ground the Widow patted her down quickly and efficiently while the Captain looked away. She wasn’t too heartbroken about it-- her bow at least would always make its way back to her in one way or another.
“I’d feel better if we restrained her,” the Widow said lowly as the Captain hefted Clint into his arms.
“If you do, can you keep my hands in front of me so I can help Clint out?” Summer asked quickly. The spy gave her a look she couldn’t discern, then nodded swiftly. In a flash her hands were bound in front of her by magnetic cuffs. She had just enough movement though… when the Widow turned to lead her away she signaled Ethan as quickly as possible. 'Get to safety and alert Nico,' her hands said-- though not in so many words. A hand circled around her upper arm and pulled her surprisingly gently towards a futuristic looking plane that was waiting near the entrance. Summer briefly thanked the Fates that Zeus didn’t get pissy when children of Apollo flew as she was pulled inside and Clint was gently lowered on a gurney. It was a secure thing-- attached to the wall with high metal rails, likely to keep someone from rolling out in the event of turbulence.
“I’d feel better if Clint were secured,” the Widow said softly as the engines rumbled to life. For a moment Sam didn’t understand-- the gurney was very secure after all-- but then she saw the second set of magnetic cuffs she pulled seemingly out of nowhere.
“Nat-” Bruce said, looking pained.
“We don’t know if he’s being influenced or not.” she said shortly, attaching the cuff to the archer’s limp right wrist and then attaching that to one of the gurney’s metal bars. "If he is, he'll thank us later."