Snippet 6B: This is a continuation of the last Chapter pertaining to rule #15: Do not tell Director Fury about Agent Barton's cat. Sorry for the long delay; moving to a different country is surprisingly time consuming. Please let me know what you think.

From the last chapter:

"So what, she followed him home or something?"

"Yeah, from Prague. Barton had completed the mission but it completely blew up in his face…"

*Flashback*

Simple, in and out mission. Yeah right, he really needed to get people to stop calling them that. First of all, there was significantly more security than the intel had led them to believe meaning that it had taken him an extra thirty minutes to reach his perch and the meeting had been halfway over by the time he arrived. It had been a simple matter to take out Karkow and Adamik, but the speed of security's reaction was ridiculously fast. Usually, when you cut the head off the snake the body takes awhile to catch up, not this time. Shots were pinging off the roof at his feet by the time he'd made it ten yards from his vantage point. How they'd pin-pointed his location so fast was a complete mystery. He felt the first bullet graze his forearm as he made the jump to a second rooftop.

"Hey Coulson, any chance of moving up that extraction timeline?"

"I'll see what I can do Hawkeye. What's your situation?"

Phil's calm voice filtering through his earpiece was as comforting as ever. "I kicked up a good sized hornet's nest and unfortunately these fucking hornets have fully automatic weapons. Don't think they're going to stop at the boundary so the extraction point may be compromised." Adamik's compound was known to take up sixteen city blocks in a run-down neighborhood of Prague. The original extraction point was two blocks beyond the boundary; but it was going to take Clint a hell of a lot longer than two blocks to lose these guys considering they were doing their damnedest to crawl right up his ass. The original timeline also called for him to hole up for a couple hours to let things quiet down. That wasn't going to happen any time soon either.

Jumping another roof, he turned mid-air and loosed two arrows at his pursuers. Twin grunts told him his arrows had both found their target. He continued running as Phil's voice chirped in his ear once again.

"Hawkeye?"

"Still here," Clint replied somewhat breathlessly.

"Not looking good on that quick extraction. The team will do what they can, but they're too far out to get to you quickly and having to dodge Adamik's men will slow them down as well. Make sure your locator is on."

Clint spared a quick movement to activate the small sensor on the underside of his arm brace. "Done."

Clint slowly whittled down his adversaries as the chase ranged across Prague, but it was taking too long and some of their shots were coming a little too close for comfort. One lucky shot in particular had bore a rather large hole through his left shoulder making his bow nearly impossible to draw with that arm. Like all men of his skill level, Barton was ambidextrous but he wasn't nearly as accurate with his right while on the move. And he was the definition of "hauling ass" right now. Given the current speed with which he was pulling away it would only be another minute or two before he could safely duck into a hiding spot. Making good use of his exceptional distance vision, Clint spotted the darkened corner of a dumpster filled alley that would serve his needs. While the dumpsters them selves were shrouded in shadow the surrounding area was well lit with street lamps that would easily kill his pursuer's night vision.

Two roofs ahead and one to the left, Barton let himself drop between the buildings using the fire escape to slow his descent. Unfortunately for Clint, fire escapes in Prague were not nearly as well regulated as in the States and the railing came away in his hand. A grunted "fuck!" escaped him as fire lanced through his ankle when he landed on the unforgiving concrete.

"Hawkeye?"

"I'll live."

He grunted again and swore in every language he knew as he tested the ankle's weight baring capacity. It was a damn good thing he'd found his hiding spot because he wasn't going to get much further on that ankle.

As quietly as possible he slid into the narrow space between two dumpsters. The smell was absolutely nauseating; although that might not be such a bad thing considering it was helping him take his mind off the pain from his various injuries. He took a second to inventory himself and his weapons status, not liking what he found. The gunshot wound in his shoulder was still bleeding profusely, he had numerous other cuts and bruises from flying debris and he could already feel his ankle swelling rapidly in the confines of his boot. His weapons weren't fairing any better. His bow was still intact but he was down to four arrows, he only had one of his three throwing knives left and his thigh holster was mysteriously empty.

Barton stiffened suddenly as his sensitive hearing picked up the faint noises of men headed his way. Without making a sound he attempted to become one with the brick wall and the back of the dumpster.

"Meow."

The quiet sound seemed to explode in his ear, but it was only his well-adjusted night vision that let him see the small black and white ball of fur that he'd nearly squashed with his movements.

"Meow."

Clint had been around animals enough in the circus to know that their "calls" had various tones. This tone definitely said 'pay attention to me or I'm going to keep making noise'; which was unacceptable considering how close the voices were getting. As quickly and gently as possible, he snatched the kitten from the ground and held her close to his chest. She squeaked in protest at first but surprisingly enough seemed to understand when he hushed her.

They sat like that, frozen in silence for what seemed like an eternity as three of Adamik's men entered the alley. Just as Clint had hoped, they complained about their ruined night vision as they did a cursory inspection of the area. Barton held his breath as they inched closer to his hiding spot, his right hand gripping a throwing knife and his bow at the ready beside him. As always, Barton had chosen well and his patience paid off when the men left the alley without spotting him and his furry companion.

Barton finally let his aching left arm fall from the kitten's back, expecting her to scamper away as quickly as her small legs could carry her. However, she elected to stay put, watching him with intelligent and quizzical eyes. Clint chuckled softly and tickled her under the chin; he was rewarded with a loud purr. "Guess I owe you a thank you."

"You're welcome, but what for?

"Wasn't actually talking to you, Coulson."

"Do I want to know?"

"Nope.

"Okey then. You clear for extraction? The team can be there in ten."

Barton debated telling Phil that he would mostly likely be unconscious by then but decided against it. There was no point in making him worry. "Yeah, I'm clear. Locator's on."

"Right, well let me know if you do start talking to me."

"Will do."

He hurt everywhere. Clint knew he should make an effort to stop the blood flow from his shoulder but he just didn't have the energy. His furry friend was still parked on his chest and didn't appear to be planning to move anytime soon. Barton figured he was probably quite a bit warmer than the concrete ground on this cool October night. He felt his own strength being sapped further by the cold.

"Alright kid, your turn to take watch," he mumbled quietly enough that Phil wouldn't hear him. She seemed to take his charge seriously as she turned in a 180 and sat erect slightly lower on his stomach. Clint laughed breathlessly and laid a hand on her back, "You would have made a good archer: patient, silent and strong."

That was how the extraction team found them ten minutes later; Barton out cold, slouched against the wall and a tiny furball standing watch on his stomach. After a round of raised eyebrows, one of the men moved forward toward Clint and the kitten, "well isn't that just adorable. Anyone got a camera for blackmail pictures?" He reached a hand out but retracted it quickly when it was met with a loud hiss and sharply clawed paw. Several of the others tried with the same result; that kitten wasn't going to let them anywhere near Hawkeye without a fight.

"Aye Barton, wake up and call off your guard dog." The man nudged Clint's foot; it didn't quite get the response he was looking for. Barton jerked awake crying out in agony as pain stabbed through his ankle; the kitten reacted to his cry by springing forward and slicing through the leg of the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. "Shit, looks like we've got a feline version of Romanoff on our hands."

"Just don't let Tasha hear you say that." Clint collected his new friend and allowed the extraction team to field dress his wounds before they headed to safety. Eventually they got the archer onto his one good foot and moved towards the waiting van. The kitten followed closely behind, not wanting to let Barton out of her sight. One of the agents moved to shoo her away but Clint stopped him, "bring the cat."

"Seriously?"

Clint didn't bother to verbalize an answer, but the look on his face said it all.

"Would love to be a fly on the wall when Fury finds out about this."

"Don't worry, he won't," Barton promised.