Work Text:
Bucky watched Karli step into line for the rifle tournament with a growing sense of dread. He'd told her not to enter the tournament. They'd all told her not to enter the tournament. Everyone knew it was a trap - John Walker's way to lure out the outlaw Karli Morganthau who had been plaguing him ever since he took up the unrightful mantle of Captain America.
Did Karli really think a disguise could hide her? The green hoodie was fooling no one, and everyone knew that Sheriff Hoskins was looking to arrest the leader of the Flagsmashers in any way he could. Her reward would be a pair of handcuffs and the noose instead of the thick envelope of ten thousand dollars in cash that was supposed to be the grand prize.
Bucky slipped into line six people behind Karli, pulling his own hood up and keeping his head down. He would simply have to outshoot her. That was the only way he could see to both get the prize money and keep her from getting arrested. As long as his pardons held, his reputation as the original Captain America's best friend should keep him out of jail if his identity was revealed.
They hadn't written anywhere in the rules that WWII veteran snipers weren't allowed to enter the competition, after all.
He took a few steps forward as the line advanced, trying not to look too interested in the other people in line. He could see Karli in front of him, fidgeting with her rifle case as she waited. He hoped she had a plan for this, because Bucky didn’t want to organize a jail break if Captain Walker and Sheriff Hoskins had their way. The Flagsmashers were a thorn in the good captain's side and he would do almost anything to eliminate them. Taking down their leader would go a long way towards that goal and Bucky wasn’t willing to let that happen.
When he finally reached the front of the line, Bucky nearly growled with frustration when he saw the name Karli had used to enter the competition. Morgan Robinson? Seriously? Bucky knew she felt like she had something to prove, but did she have to needlessly risk her life by using the most obvious assumed name in existence?
"Sir? If you could put down your name?" the person staffing the desk asked him, looking worried.
"Right, sorry," Bucky said, snapping back to attentiveness. He'd originally planned to enter the competition under an alias as well, but now he wondered if he ought to use his real name to draw attention away from Karli.
No, better to enter under a false name and only reveal his true identity if necessary. It would be better if no one suspected the Winter Soldier was working with a terrorist group like the Flagsmashers.
For all Karli referred to them as an anti-patriotism group, Bucky had no illusions as to what they were really doing. After decades raining down terror for Hydra, he knew a terrorist group when he saw one. He just thought the folks who’d used a global crisis as a way to fatten their own coffers could use a little more terror in their lives.
And after seventy years of being forced to serve Hydra against his will, Bucky thought he deserved to use his skills to sow a little bit of terror of his own in return. As a treat.
Bucky quickly typed the name Boris Morozov into the growing list of entrants and a printer next to the computer spat out a round sticker with a QR code in the shape of a five-pointed star. The star was on a blue background surrounded by two red circles with a white space in between, and Bucky had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. For someone who’d been an Army ranger, he had expected more from Walker than this stuck up company man.
He may have understood Sam’s reasons for giving up the shield, but hell if Bucky didn’t hate him a bit for letting this twat ruin the image of Captain America.
Shaking his head, Bucky picked up the sticker and peeled it off the backing to slap over his left arm. He smirked a bit as someone scanned the sticker at the gate to the open air arena and pointed him towards the contestants’ waiting area. Steve would probably have some things to say about about the other star that used to adorn that spot on his arm before Shuri had made him a new one, but Steve had decided to fuck off to a secret base on the moon for three goddamn years, so he could keep his opinions to himself.
Dr. Raynor would likely have had some things to say about that as well, but given her allegiances and the current company he was keeping, Bucky wasn't going to worry about her opinions overly much.
What he was going to worry about as he mingled with the rest of the people in the competition, was how Karli thought she was going to get out of this trap. He scanned the exits as the staff herded people into groups for the qualifying rounds, and he didn’t particularly like what he saw. The security in the arena looked surprisingly lax for the number of people milling about with rifles, but the number of exits were limited and it would be all too easy to create a bottleneck.
That could work in their favor if Karli made it out before the bottleneck, but it also had the potential to backfire and trap her in the arena if she wasn’t careful.
Bucky made sure to keep away from her as he studied the exits. It wouldn't do for them to end up in the same group and have one eliminate the other before the final round.
For as much as Bucky didn't want Karli entering the competition, he was sure she had a plan and that plan involved her winning. He could see it in the set of her shoulders as she took her place on the shooting range.
A few minutes later it was his group’s turn to enter the shooting range. As expected, Karli had advanced to the next round. She was a good shot. Not as good as he was, of course, but better than most of the people in this crowd. Some of them looked like they'd never held a rifle before today and Bucky was a little worried about some unlucky bystander getting shot by accident.
He took a deep breath as he ran his hands along his rifle, trying to ground himself before he had to focus on the target. Anger bubbled just under the surface, and he tried to tamp it down without much success. He was tired of fighting with no end in sight. Tired that he seemed to be fighting the same fight they’d been fighting in WWII. The insidious appeal of nationalism and forced relocations should have ended by now, but here he was, fighting the same fight he thought he’d left back in 1945.
Even distracted by his anger and exhaustion, Bucky made the shot easily and took his place with the others advancing to the next round. There were less than he'd expected. Over half the people in his group had missed the target entirely.
When Karli's group cycled through for the next round, Bucky watched Captain Walker and Sheriff Hoskins watch the crowd and shifted uneasily when their eyes lingered a little too long on Karli.
He'd had an entire conversation with Karli about why she shouldn't be the one to spring this trap, and she couldn’t seem to see the danger she was putting their group in. She was the face of the Flagsmashers and without her leadership their little band of merry men and women would fall apart. He was upset she couldn't seem to see that.
And now here she was in a disguise a drunken seahorse could see though. Walker and Hoskins may have been a couple of idiots when it came to understanding the will of the people, but even they weren't dumb enough to not see through that in an instant.
Bucky had his hair tucked up under a hat, and pulled his hood up to cover more of his face. Maybe if he looked suspicious enough it would take some of the heat off Karli. Maybe if he revealed his identity after winning the competition it would cause enough of a distraction to give her time to escape.
Karli's group finished shooting, and she had unsurprisingly made it to the next round. Bucky shuffled forward with his group, making sure to hit the target dead center when it was his turn to fire. He shuffled off with the rest of the people who'd made it to the next round, ducking his head and feeling satisfied as he noted Walker eyeing him with suspicion.
The rest of the groups cycled through and the top three shooters from each group were selected for the final round. Both Karli and Bucky had made it to the finals, so he now had a choice to make. Did he throw the competition to let her win, or did he take first place and reveal his identity?
Walker made a short speech as the twelve finalists took their place on the shooting range. The targets had been placed as far back as they could go, a good three hundred meters away if Bucky had to guess. He could feel Karli's eyes boring into him as Walker talked about responsibility and justice and pride in one's country. He snuck a glance in her direction and saw her shake her head by a fraction of an inch.
She didn't want him to win. Well, that was no surprise.
Bucky settled in as Walker wrapped up his speech with a smattering of applause from the crowd. When the light above his target turned green, Bucky exhaled and took the shot.
At Karli's target.
A gasp went up from the judges as they pulled in the targets and realized Karli's target had two holes while Bucky's had none. They whispered amongst themselves in a scandalized huddle, no doubt trying to figure out what to do. Bucky knew there was no way to tell which shot had come from which shooter, but both he and Karli knew that the one dead center was Bucky’s. Karli hadn't been far off. Her shot was maybe an inch below Bucky’s - still an excellent shot at that distance - but she wasn't the Winter Soldier.
When the judges stopped whispering and broke out of their huddle, Captain Walker made his way back to the podium with Steve's shield on his arm. Bucky clenched his teeth, still annoyed at seeing his friend's shield in the hands of someone who would never embody the spirit of Captain America.
"I'm pleased to announce the winner of the Captain America Long Distance Rifle Tournament is Morgan Robinson!" he said into the microphone. "Morgan, could you please come up to the stage?" he asked as the crowd applauded.
As Karli was about to step onto the stage, Walker offered her a hand with a grin that turned sinister. "Or should I say Karli Morganthau?" he asked as Karli pulled her hand away and stepped back from the stage. "I can't wait to have the good sheriff arrest you for international terrorism," he said with a sneer.
Karli grabbed someone from the front of the crowd as she took another step back. Bucky went cold when he saw the hooded brown habit of the Franciscan friar she'd grabbed. She held a knife to his throat, and the man went still, eyes wide and wild as he looked at the crowd surrounding them.
"Karli, be reasonable," Captain Walker said, putting the shield down. “There’s no need to take hostages.”
"Says the man preaching patriotism with a stolen shield and holding an entire country hostage," she spat, tightening her grip on the priest.
Bucky's heart was in his throat, hammering as he tried to swallow his fear. He understood her plan now, but he hated seeing Friar Clint put in the middle of this. Clint had nothing to fear from Karli, but Walker was a wild card. Bucky could easily see the so-called Captain deciding that the life of a single priest was a worthy sacrifice to bring down a beloved outlaw like Karli Morganthau.
He wished she had told him what the plan was, but he also understood why she hadn't. He never would have thrown the competition had he known she'd meant to put Clint in danger like this. Clint must have agreed to the plan; he wouldn't have been here otherwise. Or maybe he would - he did love a shooting competition.
"I won that prize fair and square!" Karli shouted, pulling Clint tighter. "Was the prize money a lie, just like that costume you wear?"
"Not our Cap!" Bucky shouted, well aware of his role in the unfolding drama. As much as he hated seeing Clint in the middle of this, he knew he had a part to play.
"Not our Cap!" the other Flagsmashers in the crowd shouted.
"Not our Cap! Not our Cap!"
The rest of the crowd took up the cry, stomping their feet in time with the chant. A large portion of the crowd had pulled out their phones and were filming the action. Bucky kept up the chant and watched as Clint closed his eyes and began to pray.
It was a smart move. With all the cameras pointed in their direction, Walker would be hard pressed to justify killing the man of god without a more sufficient cause than simply ‘he was in the way’.
Walker must have come to the same conclusion, because his face turned red with rage as the crowd continued to shout.
"Arrest her!" he yelled, pointing to Karli, and his security team scrambled into action.
Karli shoved Friar Clint towards the stage and he stumbled into the security team, clutching his robes and looking distressed. As he passed by the podium he bumped into Walker, who gave him a shove before taking off after Karli and the security team.
As the friar passed the podium, Bucky saw him reach out and slip the envelope of prize money into the folds of his robe before staggering off the stage.
Bucky peeled off from the crowd, following Clint at a distance. Nobody else seemed to have noticed the priest walking off with the prize money, and Bucky listened for a shout that would alert him that someone had noticed the missing envelope.
When they passed through the outer gates of the arena, Bucky paused to check his phone while Clint headed left towards his church.
Satisfied that nobody else seemed to be following him, Bucky headed straight for two blocks before making a left down a deserted side street.
He spotted Clint up ahead and watched as he made a right and walked up the steps into the rectory.
Bucky followed at a sedate pace, passing the rectory without a glance to make his way into the church.
He passed through the gates and slipped into the side door of the church, pulling down his hood as he stepped over the threshold. He dipped his fingers in the bowl of holy water by the door and crossed himself as he let his eyes adjust to the dim lighting in the church.
"Are you lost, my child?" a voice asked from the shadows directly behind Bucky and it took every bit of self-control he had not to jump.
"Didn't your mother ever teach you not to sneak up on people?" Bucky asked, turning to face Clint.
"If she did, that memory's long been forgotten," Clint said, tucking his hands into his long sleeves like a muff and looking serene. "Unless you're speaking of our spiritual mother, in which case I don't believe that's one of her teachings."
Bucky rolled his eyes. "That was an excellent piece of acting, but you can drop the charade," he told Clint, running a hand down his arm before reaching up to gently cup his neck.
Clint leaned into the touch, closing his eyes as Bucky rubbed his thumb in gentle circles at the base of his skull.
“I hate seeing you in danger like that,” Bucky murmured softly, continuing to rub the soft hairs at the back of Clint’s head.
“You hate seeing anyone in danger,” Clint countered, not bothering to open his eyes. “I knew I’d be safe enough. Not like I couldn’t take Walker in a fight.”
Bucky raised an eyebrow in disbelief.
“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had to fight a supersoldier,” Clint said, cracking open an eyelid to squint at Bucky. “Besides, I was wearing body armor under the robes. I’m not a fool.”
Bucky relaxed at that admission, though he questioned the validity of Clint’s last statement.
“I can’t help being worried about you,” he said, pulling his hand back. “I’m worried about Karli too. I think she’s starting to break.”
“You mean the way she throws herself into dangerous situations with no regard for her own safety? I wonder who that reminds me of,” Clint said dryly. He pulled his hands out of his sleeves to cross his arms with a frown. “How’s that super secret mission of his on the moon going anyway?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bucky lied.
Clint gave him a hard look. “I may not have the spy skills that Nat had, but I still have my connections in the community. Maybe don’t insult my intelligence?”
“Sorry,” Bucky apologized. “It was supposed to finish up a year ago. I’m not sure what’s happening there and I’m worried about that too. He needs to come home and take back the shield before Karli does something we’ll all regret.”
“She’s still trying to goad Walker?” Clint asked.
“You were there!” Bucky hissed, wishing they were somewhere other than a church so he could yell. “You know she’s trying to provoke him into irredeemable violence! She says she can tell he’s on the edge of doing something horrific enough to lose his good public opinion, and I don’t think she’s wrong but I don’t think she knows what that really means! She’s going to get someone killed, and today, god, today I thought that was going to be you,” he said, scrubbing at his face with his hands.
"So you’re saying I was believable enough?" Clint asked, reaching into the folds of his habit to pull out the overstuffed manilla envelope full of cash. "I ditched the tracker in the back of one of the sheriff's security trucks, so that should lead them on a merry chase when they think to go looking. I believe this will do well for our little band."
"No, no," Bucky chided, taking the envelope from his hand. "You know this is for Sam's sister, Sarah. It's enough to finally pay off their family's boat. Give them the chance to make a better life without that mortgage hanging over their heads."
Clint sighed. "Are you sure they need it all? Perhaps we could keep just a bit back for some spirits to warm our spirits?"
"Are you being selfish, Friar Clint?"
"Not a bit," Clint said, looking sadly at the envelope full of cash as Bucky tucked it away. "We can't pour from an empty kettle after all." He gave Bucky a conspiring grin. "Treat yo' self."
Bucky snorted and shook his head. "Is that what you tell your congregation on Sundays?"
"Of course not, it's Lent," Clint said as if that explained everything. "Lent is about giving up worldly comforts because Jesus spent forty days wandering around the desert. I'm not entirely sure how giving up chocolate helps bring you closer to God, but I probably slept through that class in priest school."
"Clint, you didn't attend the seminary."
"Well, I got the cliff notes version from Matt and the parishioners seem to like me enough, so I must be doing something right. I'll be sad when Lent is over, though," Clint said, gesturing to the banners around the altar. "I do love the purple."
It hadn't been as hard as Bucky expected, getting Clint into a position in the church to launder their stolen money and goods. It was the perfect way to get their spoils into the hands of the people who needed them most. Churches were already set up to accept anonymous donations - all Clint had to do was say they had an extremely generous cash donation in their collection box and nobody was the wiser.
And of course they would run charity programs. They were a church after all.
All it took was a quick word to Natasha’s contact Mason and a couple of forged documents, and it had been shockingly easy for Clint to slip in as one of the clergy after the Blip. Nobody looked too hard at his credentials, and Clint - bless him - had been willing to put in the work.
Bucky often suspected it was a comfort to him - a place to hide away from the public eye while he recovered from the pain of losing his best friend.
"What do you think?" Bucky asked, "Who should we go after next? I know Karli’s got her vendetta against the phony Captain America going on, but he’s only a figurehead in this fight. We need to focus on the real villains.”
“Like the Global Repatriation Council?” Clint asked. “Sometimes I wonder if Tony had the wrong idea, leaving the five years standing. I get why he did it - he wouldn’t have Morgan otherwise - but so many people lost everything in the Blip. How many people actually gained something? Was the sacrifice really worth it? Either having to live through half of your loved ones disappearing, or coming back to find five years gone and everything changed? There’s no winners here. Sometimes I wonder which one’s worse."
"Pain isn't a competition," Bucky murmured quietly, running his fingers through Clint's hair.
Clint looked away. “I still miss her,” he admitted.
“I know,” Bucky said, gathering him into a hug.
Clint returned the hug, clinging to Bucky like he was afraid he was going to vanish if he didn’t squeeze tightly enough.
The door of the church opened and Bucky made a move to step away. What would they think of a strange man in the arms of their friar? But Clint held him fast, pressing Bucky's face into his shoulder.
"Don't worry," Clint said quietly into his ear, "they won't think anything of me hugging a parishioner. Comforting distraught souls is like half of my job." Clint paused. "The other half is distributing stolen funds, of course."
"Do you think this will be a permanent position for you, then?" Bucky asked as soon as the person who'd entered the church was safely out of earshot. The priesthood had originally been meant as a temporary position, but it was going on two years now and Clint hadn't made any inquiries into finding someone else for the position.
Clint took a deep breath, letting it out slowly before he answered. "Barring imprisonment for my extracurricular activities, I think it might be. Kate can keep the mantle of Hawkeye; I fear I may have found my calling here."
"I never took you for a religious man," Bucky said, studying Clint. The light from the stained glass windows reflected off his hair, giving it a multi-hued quality that Bucky had to admire. He would have considered Clint a work of art without it, but the effect served to paint him in an almost unearthly light.
"If you'd asked me before the end of the Blip, I would have told you I was the least religious man on the planet," Clint said, shifting so that the light from the glass partially covered his face. "After the Blip, with Natasha gone, somehow the concept doesn't seem quite so farfetched. I don't believe in a lot of it, of course. The idea of a singular benevolent god goes straight out the window after you've met Thor. And if you'll believe Valkyrie, there's a planet with an entire city full of gods, doing absolutely jack shit for the rest of us. But the community. The charity. The loving thy neighbor and caring for the poor and non-judgmental activism that Jesus actually preached? That I can get behind."
"What about the celibacy?" Bucky asked with a small smile.
"Oh no, not the celibacy," Clint assured him quickly. "Definitely don't believe in the celibacy. I may be married to a god in name, but it’s only a marriage of convenience. The flesh is weak, as my colleagues often say, and I’m no supersoldier. My flesh is as weak as any other man’s, and I couldn’t hold to a life of celibacy."
Bucky's smile widened. "Small blessings you're not so far gone as that," he murmured. "Assuming she hasn't been arrested, I've got some time before I need to make contact with Karli. May I claim sanctuary with you, Friar?"
"Who am I to reject a poor soul in need?" Clint asked, taking his hand and leading him towards the altar. When he reached the base of the stairs leading to the altar, he bowed his head and kneeled, crossing himself before standing up and walking up the steps.
Bucky followed his lead, crossing himself awkwardly with his left hand as Clint still had hold of his right. He let out a small sigh of relief when they passed the altar, and Clint turned to give him an amused smile.
"Did you really think we were going to use the altar?" he asked with a chuckle. "This isn't a pagan church and Beltane's over a month away. There's a set of offices behind the chancel."
"Oh thank god," Bucky murmured with another sigh. He really had been worried for a second.
Clint's eyes flicked up to the crucifix behind the altar.
"Thank god indeed."