Work Text:
CLINT BARTON walked down the wet streets, the pouring rain roaring as it hit his black umbrella, as if angry it couldn't soak the man. Shadows lurked in the many alleyways, noises muffled from the constant rain.
He stopped walking, turning around to look behind him, his quiver shifting around the arrows it was full of. "Who's there? Come out now." For a moment, Clint was alone, until a short, blonde woman stepped out.
"Clint Barton," the woman was clearly Russian, and an angry one at that. "You killed my sister."
"Who are you?" He asked, his fingers curling around the umbrella's handle even tighter. His other hand hovered over his thigh, fingers twitching, waiting to jump into action.
"Yelena Belova."
"Sorry, Yelena, but I think you got the wrong man." Clint slipped his free hand into his pocket in what looked like a casual manner, but he wrapped his hand around a device hidden in there. "I don't remember killing any Belovas."
He would have remembered if he did.
He remembered everyone.
Yelena's round, pouting face morphed into a fierce glare that reminded Barton of-
Well, another fiery Russian woman he knew.
As Yelena rushed forward to attack, Clint simultaneously dropped his umbrella and pulled out the device stored in his pocket. It looked like a thick, purple, blocky flip phone, but he yanked it open, and (thanks to Tony's tech) it quickly morphed into a bow.
He shot an arrow beside Yelena, but she quickly dodged the small explosion that followed. She ran to the side of the streets as she got closer, and ran up a few feet of the building's walls before launching herself into the air.
Clint shot an arrow straight at her, exploding into a net, but she gracefully arched over both the net and Clint.
Clint dropped his bow, bringing his hands into fists. He ducked underneath the leg she kicked at him, and reached up and grabbed it. He flipped her over and let go as she fell to the ground. "Look, I'm sorry about your sister, Yelena, but I really don't remember her."
She laid on the streets, her ponytail sagging as the relentless rain brought it down. "Her name wasn't Belova." She muttered.
Clint stood over her. "Who was she?"
Yelena flipped herself over, her burning eyes piercing Clint's. "Natasha Romanov." Her voice was furious and dripping with venom.
Using Clint's bewilderment and confusion to her advantage, she lifted herself off of the floor and struck Clint in the face. He stumbled back with a cry of shock, but she did not slow down.
"Natasha loved you!" Whack. "Natasha loved the Avengers!" Kick. "You could have saved her!" Punch. "She shouldn't have died!" Thump.
Their positions were reversed now: Clint laid on the ground, his eye turning purple and blood dripping from his nose. Yelena stood over him, hair falling from her ponytail, tears - or perhaps it was just rain - dripping from her eyes. "It should have been you!" She screamed, and then, much quieter, "It should have been you. . ."
"You're right." It was a little hard and painful to talk, but Clint pushed through it. He slowly sat up, his hands shaking, a lump in his throat. "It should've been me. I tried so hard to make it me, and she- she still-"
Clint stifled a sob and took a deep breath. "She smiled, y'know, when she. . .jumped. She said, 'It's okay.' It- It wasn't o-okay, but she still. . .smiled."
They stood there in silence, aside from the occasional sniffs. Clint didn't look up when he heard the familiar click of a gun.
"Clint Barton," Her voice was shaking, and he imagined her hand was too. "This is for Natasha."
Clint waited for the shot, but she hesitated. Yelena's hesitation was the only thing Kate Bishop needed to fire an arrow.
The Russian was trapped in a net, and as fell to the ground, she hit her head, knocking her out. Kate strolled forward and helped her mentor up, who groaned as he moved.
"C'mon old man, up up." She smiled as he grumbled his thanks, and then turned to Yelena. "Who's this? What'd you do to make her mad?"
"Yelena Belova, Natasha's. . .sister." He couldn't tear his eyes off of her. He didn't see much physical resemblance, but they were too similar to deny they weren't related in some way, even if it wasn't by blood.
Kate's eyes were wide as she looked between the two. "What are we gonna do with her?"
Clint was silent as he gently lifted the girl, until he finally sighed and said, "We'll take her to the compound with us."
Clint smiled sadly as they walked. 'Don't worry, Nat.' He thought to himself. 'I've got her now. I'll take care of her for you.'
He could almost feel her smirk, hear her voice. "I know you will Barton. Besides, if you don't, I'll leave my grave and come haunt you."