Chapter 8 / Bonds of Trust:

Clint was kicking himself. He could almost guarantee that the vigilante walking alongside him was doing it too. They both felt the meaninglessness of their victory over Bullseye before as they made their way back to the factory rooftop. Fisk had gotten away. It didn't take much to get one of his men to talk, informing them that he had gone to seek refugee with his love: Vanessa. There was nothing more that the pair could do.

Clint knew that something was wrong when Matt let out a gasp. He turned his head to check on his companion as Daredevil rushed ahead, running out onto the rooftop to check on Bullseye.

Clint took a few seconds to catch up to him, coming to a stop in front of Bullseye's face-down body. He bent down to check the assassin's pulse. He was still breathing. Clint turned the hitman over to see what was afoot, only to gasp in shock at the sight of him. The assassin's forehead was covered in blood, seeping out from the rough bull's-eye symbol that was carved into his flesh. Clint tore his eyes away to gaze at Matt, wondering how much of the wound that the vigilante could decipher with his senses.

"If we want him to live, then he needs medical attention now!" The archer stated, lifting the body onto his shoulder, before taking off into the night, the Devil of Hell's Kitchen in close pursuit…

The Next Evening…

Clint lay in his bedroom, unmoving. He was finally going to take it easy. He was going to lay low, like he originally planned. He gazed around his small apartment, looking at the mess that he had yet to clean up. Meh! There was always tomorrow… Unfortunately it was at that moment that his phone vibrated, alerting him to the bad news.

The Government has been tipped off to your location. You might want to get going. Good luck Barton.

Clint grumbled. Tipped off? That had to be Fisk. He forced himself out of bed. So much for the rest that he had had planned. At least Cap had warned him, giving him enough time to leave before the Government caught up to him.

After gathering his folded bow, scavenged arrows and anything else that was light to carry but that he'd need, Clint froze. Standing in the centre of the room, he wondered what would happen if he left. Whilst the threat of the Tracksuits had faded for now, the oppressed innocent living in the building still needed help. As if reading his mind, a voice spoke from his doorway.

"I can get these people the legal help that they need." Matt told him, stood at the entrance to his apartment clad in his daytime suit, a slight smile plastered on his face. "And if the Tracksuit's decide to resurface, I'll give these people the help that they need with them too."

Clint nodded, silently thanking the lawyer. He paused for a second at Matt's blank reaction.

"I did see that nod…if you were wondering…"

"Oh, right…" Clint laughed. After a slight pause, he continued. "I'm sorry we didn't get Fisk…and I'm sorry that I can't be around when he inevitably returns…" Clint gestured to his sizable bag on the floor next to him.

Matt smiled again. "We tried our best…and you're right…he'll be back. I'll get him next time…"

The blind lawyer took a step forwards, holding his hand out to the archer.

"For what it's worth, I'm glad that I got to work alongside you of all the Avengers. I don't think I could have trusted any of them as easily as I did with you. Your humanity is what makes you a hero."

Clint let out a dry chuckle as he tried to think of some witty remark to counter Matt's words. He couldn't. He simply nodded as he gazed at the floor.

"Thank you." He told the lawyer after a moment's silence. "That means a lot." He bent down to pick up his bag, lifting it over his shoulder as he prepared to leave. A thought suddenly crossing his mind.

"Speaking of team-ups, you're going to need help to defend New York from Fisk when he returns, or anyone else for that matter. You can't defend an entire city on your own." Clint told Matt, requesting Matt's phone before noting a few things down. He waited as Matt replayed the message, his phone reading the names and addresses. Matt gave Clint a questioning look.

"They're individuals who have gained the Avenger's attention." He paused, smirking at Matt's uneasy face. "You're on their list too. But if you ever find yourself needing help in this fight you're caught up in, they might be a good place to start. The spider-guy is a bit on the young and inexperienced side, so he might not be ready yet, but I'd definitely check up on the rest."

Clint patted his shoulder as he made his way past him, closing the door to his old apartment. He began to make his way down the corridor before Matt's voice stopped him.

"In the spirit of help, I suggest that you track down a friend of mine before you leave. Her name is Claire Temple. She can help patch you up. The last I heard she was residing up in Harlem."

"Very well." Clint nodded without turning around. He continued walking after a beat, making his way into the alley outside. He wanted to make a quick and clean escape, avoiding the fuss that his neighbours would make over him. Besides, the less they knew about him and where he was going, the better they would be when the Government came calling.

Clint began to type out a text as he walked: Thanks for your help. If you ever need mine again, feel free to contact me on this number. You only have to call and I'll be there. Clint.

He sent the message to Matt, whose number he had taken when he had his phone. Clint pocketed his mobile before continuing to head down the alleyway, coming to a stop when he was heard panting.

A coffee coloured dog approached him, smelling the archers legs as it's tail wind-milled. Clint knelt down to pet him, noting the dirt in the animals fur and it's injured left eye. The poor thing must be homeless.

"As lovely as you are, I have to get moving." He told the dog as he stood back up, regaining his traction as he continued to move. The animal whined for a second, tail stopping as it watched Clint walk away. It let out a sudden bark, rushing to catch up to the Avenger.

Clint sighed, reaching inside his bag to retrieve one of the tennis balls that he sometimes used for target practice. "I guess it's your lucky day boy." He bounced off the ground before throwing it with deadly accuracy, knocking a bottle over as it bounced down the alley.

Clint switched directions, walking to his left as the dog chased after the ball. He paused after a second, hearing the sound of panting behind him. He turned to see the dog sat patiently, tail wagging once more as it dropped the slobbery ball from it's mouth, watching as it rolled to a rest at Clint's feet. The archer sighed once more, reaching over to rub the animal's head as he checked it for a collar. Nothing. He let out a groan, going against his better judgement.

"You really are quite lucky aren't you."

The dog barked in the middle of Clint's sentence. The archer smiled. "Lucky? Yeah, I like that name…you want to be called that?" The dog simply looked on, love in it's eyes as it whimpered, it's tail sweeping across the floor.

Clint stood up straight, regaining his stride as he retrieved the tennis ball from the floor. "Come on then Lucky!" He called the dog, patting his side. The pair strode down the alleyway, off to find their next adventure. Clint smiled as he looked at his new companion trotting alongside him. Perhaps things wouldn't be so bad after all…

Notes:

-I'd just like to say thank you for reading if any of you have gotten this far. Feel free to give me feedback, whether it be positive or critical, it all helps!

-I'm not exactly sure what breed of dog Lucky is supposed to be in the comics, he looks like a Labrador but I couldn't find anywhere the specifically said it, so I thought I'd leave the breed of the dog up to everyone's imagination