Work Text:
Returning from the shit hole of a cabin Clint had been left in up in the Alps, he'd been filled in on the events of DC and Captain America's old best friend being his own version of a popsicle and programmed killer for the enemy. It had been a difficult thing to wrap his mind around despite his own experiences with brainwashing, somehow 70 years seemed to long in his book. His suspicion had eventually relented down to one question.
"Alright, just tell me he didn't assassinate Kennedy?"
"Don't be daft, that was the CIA," came Natasha's reply and that was that.
James Barnes wasn't a target per say, they weren't hunting him down with intent to harm or arrest and the entire situation had a personal risk to it but they were all looking for the missing assassin and Clint didn't expect to be the one to find him. He did though, much to his surprise. Tasked through their meetings of keeping the world in order, Clint had been in charge of taking down a small HYDRA base. It was nothing he hadn't done before, though this time there was the risk of running into people he once called friend and ally. A risk of the job it seemed and from the beginning Clint had done well. There wasn't anyone too difficult and he had no problem killing anyone connected with HYDRA. Clearing the base sweeping from left to right, moving in an arc to ensure he cleared the outside before moving in. That's when they ran into each other.
Clint had been cornered by three HYDRA agents, each of which probably suspected they had the upper hand. His only option was the gas pip above them but if he gassed the assailants, he gassed himself. It was a split second decision fueled by Clint's troubling lack of self worth. An arrow to the gas vent above their heads changed that though as the gas poured down, disoriented them and gave Clint the advantage he needed to use the wall for a brace, jumping and bringing his leg around to slam into the side of the head of the first man. As soon as he landed he was springing up again, the heel of his palm crashing into the jaw of the second assailant with a sickening crack while swinging the elbow of the opposite arm into the throat of the third man. Three swift arrows later and Clint was stepping over the three bodies, coughing his lungs up through the gas. So maybe he'd miscalculated just how much gas was pouring through the hole he'd made and while he was still breathing (barely) and alive, he felt like he was suffocating.
Clint made it around the corner before he had to stop, doubled over with the force of the coughs and his eyes watered too much for him to see. Thus when a heavy hand landed on his shoulder and a damp rag was shoved in front of his face, Clint lashed out blindly. An elbow, a leg, even using his weight to dislodge whoever was behind him, whoever was trying to smother him. Yet he couldn't get a blow in, maybe it was the angle or the fact that he felt like his lungs were compressing and burning but his world soon shrank to the weight dragging him down the corridor and a sound.
No... no, not a sound it was a word. Someone was talking?
"Breathe!"
Clint finally cottoned onto what the stranger was saying and with nothing to loose, he took a deep breath of the damp cloth over his face. He was more than a little surprised when it seemed to ease the tightness in his chest and the burning in his throat. So he took another, and then another and another until Clint found himself breathing easier. Not chloroform on the rag then. By the time they came to a stop, the arm around him and the rag was pulled away and Clint came face to face with his rescuer. James Barnes. Clint recognised his face from the file Steve had, the documents Natasha had released online. Finding him at a HYDRA base was mild irony that had Clint's lips twisting into a wry smile of greeting.
"He's looking for you y'know," Clint croaked out. He wasn't stupid, he was under no illusion. If James had saved him then James knew exactly who he was. His words ended in another barrage of coughing that had James reaching over and pressing Clint's hand with the cloth back up to his face. It was easier to breath and Clint relented, slumping a little on the wall and meeting those incredibly intense eyes. He had questions, mainly what James was doing here but if the blood streaked on his clothes were anything to go by he suspected they were on the same mission.
"Not yet," came the reply from the assassin who, when he seemed satisfied that Clint would be okay, rose from his haunches and took off down the hall, leaving Clint with a rag of something to help his breathing and mild relief in his gut that he finally had good news for Steve. James Barnes was alive, and taking down HYDRA just like them.