Pound of Flesh

Fourteen years ago

Phil sat there staring at the board; all the information SHIELD had collected on Jäger was pinned there in neat rows, from their first encounter all the way to Dan's death. Somewhere in the jumble of facts was a way to get to the hunter. Hired help was always unreliable and someone connected to their enemy could be convinced to spill their guts. The many late nights searching for a breakthrough had all produced the same results: a headache and a lack of sleep.

Coulson quirked an eyebrow as Fury sat across from him and placed two shot glasses on Phil's desk. A bottle of whisky appeared out of nowhere and the newly minted Director poured out two shots. He slid one glass over to Phil and sat there silently.

Coulson could see the sadness and weariness set in Nick's shoulders and face. He silently braced himself for whatever soul-shattering news his friend was going to deliver.

Fury rested his chin on his hand and kept his eyes glued to the amber liquid in the glass before Coulson. "Seven hours ago, one of Jäger's people took a shot at Kelly. I've had a team at the scene and they reported the shooter uses arrows."

"Kelly's…" Phil couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence. He had fallen short at saving Dan and now his failure was complete. He couldn't even protect the most important thing in Dan's life from that monster.

"Phil, I want you on this. Show the world what happens when you mess with SHIELD. I want everyone to know that you don't mess with my people, and you certainly don't mess with their families. Use whatever resources you need and do whatever you have to. Now tell me, can you get this done?"

"It won't be a problem sir." Phil slammed his shot back.

"Honey, this is Mr. Coulson, from the FBI. He was hoping to ask you some questions about what happened. Do you think you can do that?" asked Sheila as she rubbed small circles on the back of Aiden's hand, ever mindful of the IV line attached to it.

Aiden nodded and scooted up in his hospital bed. It was kind of exciting to get to talk to all the police officers and other official-looking people that had been coming and going from the hospital since Clint had dropped him off in the emergency room last week.

"Did you need me to stay here?" asked Sheila.

"If it's alright, I'd like to speak to Aiden privately. I'll keep it brief. I know he's had a trying experience." Phil gave her a warm reassuring smile. He might have lied to get into the hospital, but no matter the information the boy had, he was still a child and Coulson wasn't going to lose sight of that. He took the chair vacated by Sheila and waited to speak until she was out of the room.

"I know you're a good kid Aiden, so I guess I'm just wondering how someone like you got mixed up with a man like Clint Barton."

The boy paled slightly. Never once in any of the police reports had he mentioned Barton. Normally a beaten boy dropped off at the hospital would never make SHIELD's radar, but the description of Jäger by the child and a brief description of someone resembling Barton by the ER nurse had grabbed Phil's attention. He just couldn't figure out how a twelve year old fit into the equation.

"How do you know Clint was there?" The fear that radiated from Aiden made Coulson want to crush the archer even more.

"It's my job to know these things. What I don't know is why would he want to hurt you? Did you see something? Did he say something to you?"

Aiden fervently shook his head. "Clint didn't do this to me," he assured. "He saved me."

"What do you mean?"

"I was ditching school again when I saw Clint slip into the apartment. I was bored and I wanted to see if maybe he'd teach me to throw a ball. All the other kids at school can throw the ball to the first baseman, but when I do it, it just drops in front of me. It sucks being picked last for baseball all the time and I was hoping he'd help me. I've seen him throw things before and he's really good at it."

Phil nodded encouragingly.

"I should have knocked, but the door was open a crack anyways so I just walked in. He was busy putting his gu… stuff into his backpack. It was kinda like when my brother left. He was all beat up and in a rush; he was kinda scared. Clint yelled at me to leave, but I didn't want him to leave like Germaine did, so I told him I'd help him. He got mad and made me leave anyways."

Aiden took a moment to get his bottom lip to stop trembling. Phil passed him the juice box that had been sitting on the small side table.

"Those guys," continued Aiden, "the one the German was bossing around, grabbed me when I got outside Clint's door and dragged me back in. The one guy had a knife to my throat, and I didn't really hear what they were all yelling about. I thought I was going to die."

"You're safe now, and I promise you won't have to worry about those men ever again." Coulson gave the boy a reassuring pat on the knee. He made a mental note to put in an order for protective relocation for the family. He might not have been able to protect Kelly from all of this, but he could make sure this child had a shot.

"They beat on Clint until he finally agreed to do what they asked. The German guy would have killed me if Clint had said no. He saved my life. After that, they put me in the trunk and we drove some place really far. I don't know where we went, but we stopped for a long time. The next thing I know Clint's opening the trunk and those guys are all on the ground. He carried me to the hospital, but he wouldn't come in with me. He made me promise not to tell anyone that he was there." In a smaller voice, Aiden added, "You're not going to tell him I told, are you?"

"I won't tell him you told," assured Phil. "Get better soon, okay?"

Phil left the hospital more confused than when he entered. Things just weren't adding up in his head. Aiden had made it sound like Barton wasn't the child-murdering monster that he was, but then again, the boy didn't know what happened on that roof. Coulson didn't have the heart to tell him either. Sometimes it was better to cling to the false idea of heroes, even when the person wasn't worth the title.

Whatever happened, it seemed that Barton and Jäger disagreed. That meant that Barton would be on the run, and Jäger would be hot on his trail. It was one thing to try and track down the archer when he would ducking SHIELD, but now there was a whole list of people that would be gunning for him as well, and Phil wanted the first shot.

Clint collapsed into the booth at the back of Ray's Café. He kept his hood up and his head down.

"What the hell happened to you?" asked Jeff as he looked at his uninvited guest across the table.

Barton tried to keep the exhaustion and desperation out of his voice. It had been a week since he shot that girl, but his wounds were still as fresh as his guilt. "I need your help."

"I'll say," said Jeff around a mouthful of lasagna. "Word on the street is you screwed the pooch big time. Care to enlighten me?"

Clint took a moment to consider and eyed the other patrons for prying ears. "It was Jäger."

Jeff let out a loud chuckle. "Well, if you're going to do something, might as well go all out. Jäger huh? What the hell were you thinking?"

"Keep your voice down! Can you help me or not?" Clint didn't need the reminder of how screwed he really was. He wasn't opposed to what was coming his way, but he felt if anyone was going to take him out, it should be for the innocent blood he spilt and not Jäger's personal satisfaction.

"Alright, calm down. There's a job in Berlin you can take."

"Germany, like he doesn't have a thousand connections there."

"It puts a whole ocean between the two of you, and from there you can go anywhere and probably hide a lot better than you can here."

He knew he didn't have a lot of options and even a horrible one was better than none. "What's it pay?"

"Pay? It pays me ten thousand dollars and gets you a plane ticket out of the country."

"But…"

"Don't be ungrateful, Clint," chastised Jeff. "You're lucky I don't sell you out right now for the reward. That's the deal. You take the job for the plane ticket, and I take the money. Take it or leave it. You're not going to get a better offer from anyone else." Jeff didn't even bother to hide his smug look. He had Barton over a barrel and he knew it.

The sad part was it probably was the best deal anyone would or ever had offered him. Clint let out a deep breath. "Alright."

Jeff reached into his jacket and pulled out a white envelope. He slid it across the table and Clint quickly pocketed it. "Your flight leaves in thirteen hours and the job needs to be completed in two days."

Clint nodded and slid out of the booth. Jeff called after him, "you better get the job done Clint, or else."

Jeff waited until Barton had left the restaurant before making his way to the payphone in the back. With a crumpled piece of paper in hand he dialed the number. After the third ring someone on the other end picked up. "I know where Clint Barton is going to be in three days, Jäger."

One year later

Coulson really wanted to have something positive to report back to Fury. After rounding up Wilson and his crew, retribution slowed to a crawl. Jäger had gone to ground after the debacle in Berlin last year, and information on him was few and far between. The man had become a ghost. The only lead they still had was Barton, who had managed to elude SHIELD for an entire year. Phil knew in his gut that the chase was quickly coming to an end.

The archer was good, and even on the run, he had been careful or as careful as the situation would allow. Phil had actually laid eyes on the kid in Berlin, but since then, Phil had been left with near sightings and a trail that was getting easier to follow. The closer they seemed to get, the sloppier Barton was becoming.

Phil sat down on the bed and tried to get inside Barton's head. He knew he had just missed his target. The food sitting on the counter of the small closet of a shake in Szeged was still warm, but untouched. At the start of their chase, Barton removed all traces of himself in every place that he stayed. Now Coulson was so close, the archer was lucky if he could even spend a night some place.

There were a few articles of clothing scattered around the room, a set of arrows on the floor and a handgun on the table. If Phil had to guess, Barton slipped out the window just as his team had entered the building. A white notepad caught his eye and Phil moved over to the small side table to pick it up. The top page had been ripped off but there were still indentations on the next page. Coulson began shading the page with the pencil that had been tossed on the floor.

"Bring the car around, I know where he's going to be," ordered Coulson. Agent Wyles nodded and set forth on his task. Phil started to follow him out when the bloody bandages in the trash caught his attention. It looked like they had managed to wound their bird during their last altercation; a wounded animal was a dangerous animal.

That encounter had throw Coulson for a loop. They had cornered Barton in an abandoned apartment building and while his ability to get away had held up to his reputation for a marksman, he was an incredibly poor shot. Out of the fifteen agents Coulson had brought, the target had managed to hit none of them. In fact, none of the agents that had been on Barton's trail had been seriously wounded. Phil couldn't even fault the weapons Barton was carrying, because he knew for a fact the kid still had his bow with him. It was just one more riddle in a book of riddles that involved the archer.

He steeled himself for the task before him. In less than five hours, his yearlong chase would be over. Phil could finally put the Barton file to rest, and hopefully Jäger would follow shortly.

Clint zipped up his raincoat to shield him from the storm. It had been too close a call back there; the suits were getting too close. His arm ached fiercely from where the bullet sliced through him, and he would give anything for just three hours of uninterrupted sleep and something to eat. He couldn't remember the last time he was able to hold up somewhere and stay long enough to grab more than a nap.

The archer surged on towards the train station. At the very least, maybe he could take a short nap after he caught his train. Hopefully tomorrow would put enough distance between himself and his pursuers that he could get a much needed break. He wasn't sure how much more of this he could take.