5 Questions…

…And 1 Answer.

The original working title was "5 Questions Clint had to answer and 1 that was answered for him," but it was too long. And this kind of fits in with the theme better, I think.

So, after geeking out at the A: AOU movie, I'm still not sure how I feel about Bruce/Natasha. However, I am completely okay with Natasha and Clint being best friends. This fic is still Clint-centric, but it kind of wrote in a lot of the building of the partnership between Black Widow and Hawkeye. Hope you enjoy!

Also, I had to rewrite the kids a couple times. I'm not quite sure what their names are, but I think it might be Lila and Cooper. For purposes of this story though, I renamed him David.

Disclaimer: I really really REALLY want that statue at the end of the movie, but I don't own it. But I completely own up to the fact that I was one of the people in the theatre that went Wwwwhhhhhhhhhhhhyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy?! At the line before the credits.

{1}

As soon as Clint got back to base, he was giving Intel an earful. Not only was the majority of the information wrong, but little to no mention was made of the groups also going after Black Widow. One of those things wouldn't have bothered him too much, but together?

"I take it you used to work for them?" he asked dryly, the bullets making a cacophony within the warehouse.

The redhead glared at him from behind a metal crate. "Not recently," she responded just as dryly. "They didn't give me a good reference, though."

There was a split second while the power-drunk revolutionaries changed cartridges. Clint had enough time for a single shot, before ducking back down behind the crate.

"One shot, and you missed," the Widow sneered.

"I don't miss," Clint retorted. "Put these on, cover your eyes, and count from five." Throwing an extra pair of ear plugs at her, he took his own advice. After a mental countdown, he heard a muted version of the small explosion contained in the arrowhead. After he heard the screams of the enemy, he opened his eyes and took out the earplugs.

Taking in the wide eyes of the Russian assassin, he sighed and stood up again. "Time to go."

"But-your mission-"

"Has changed," he responded. "Can we talk about this later? Away from the guys trying to kill us?"

Once they were in a marginally safer warehouse, they separated to opposite corners of the room. Silence reigned while they sized the other up. The Black Widow spoke first, distrust blatantly obvious in her eyes and tone. "Your mission was to kill me."

"Yes." When she narrowed her eyes at him, he raised an eyebrow in return. "Why deny it? You figured it out anyway."

"But you helped me escape."

"I told you. The mission changed."

"I could kill you right now."

"You could try."

When there was no response from the other trained killer, Barton continued. "You could try to kill me. Maybe you'd win. Maybe you wouldn't. But the mission changed when those guys showed up and started mowing the civilians down like weeds."

"You mean the threat changed."

"Not exactly. You're still a threat, but they presented a more immediate one." Although she gave hardly any visible indication of it, Clint could tell she was mulling the words over. "I'm actually here on two missions. The first one was to kill you. The second was to minimalize the risk presented by the people meeting here over the week."

Romanoff looked at him suspiciously. "Why are you telling me this? And shouldn't you have another person with you? Any other time I've crossed paths with SHIELD, they can't go to the bathroom without their partner there."

"My partner situation is…complicated. And I'm telling you because I'm giving you a week to make a decision. Instead of trying to kill me, you could take down these groups with me."

"What, a longbow won't do enough damage?" she asked derisively.

Clint gave her a small, tight grin. "Oh, it will. That's why they sent me. But it would be nice to not have someone else shooting back at me besides them."

Cocking her head slightly, Romanoff held his gaze for a long time. "You won't kill me this week and I won't kill you? A pact?"

"If you like. Besides, there's at least three more groups of people that want to kill you arriving this week. I just didn't know about this group today. So, you can stay here and wait to kill me at the end of the week while avoiding everybody else, or you can clear out and they'll send me after you again."

"I don't trust you to not kill me this week."

"I just told you I would be the one coming after you if you leave. It may take a couple more years, but it will happen. And this pact is not an offer I make to everybody." After a few more minutes, Hawkeye added "I'm not asking you to trust me. I'm just asking you to delay trying to kill me for a little bit. That's all."

Almost two weeks later, Coulson finally got his agent back to one of the land bases. "You had me worried, Clint," he chided. "When you checked in a week ago, you said it would take some extra time to finish minimalizing the threat."

"The threat wasn't minimalized, sir. It was removed."

Coulson blinked at the unusual choice of words. "Clint, I know you're good, but-"

"My second mission was categorically aced, sir. The first mission was technically failed."

"She got away?"

"No sir. She was there the entire time I was. She's the reason why the threat was removed, not minimalized."

Phil looked at his top agent for a long time, disbelief warring with respect on his face. "You…and the Black Widow…were allies?"

"More like business partners. We had a verbal contract, with clear consequences, and we each upheld it. She has also requested to join SHIELD, sir."

"Why on earth would she want to do that?"

"Because I told her this is what I do on a normal basis. And because we didn't kill each other."

{2}

Natasha had been an agent for about a year, now. She passed the physical evaluations without problem, but some of the psychological ones had kept her from obtaining full status. Fury made the unilateral decision that since Coulson wanted her, then he would have to be the one to monitor her.

They had a glorious two hours to celebrate, before the team got pulled for a mission.

"Sorry," Coulson had said on the way to their drop-off point. "But that's what you get for wanting to sign up for SHIELD."

Romanoff had brushed some imaginary lint off her new uniform, before turning to him. "I didn't sign up to work with SHIELD," she said bluntly. "I signed up to work with Barton." And that was the end of the conversation.

That was yesterday. This morning the agents were in a cellar, assessing their physical damage and trying to get the comms to work.

"Piece of -", Clint grumbled. "I don't know why they think these are improvements. The ones a few months ago were hardier."

Natasha raised an eyebrow. "Oh? You mean your comms are still supposed to work after someone tries to break them from your ear?"

"Ha. Yes. The other model could stand up to a flail or five. These obviously don't last longer than a swing."

Natasha smirked and went back to checking her magazines. She preferred tripwire or stiletto knives, but she wouldn't be trusted with those until after her first infiltration mission. Which hinged on the fact that they had to escape from the cellar, first. "I have to say, I think they spoil you guys. I couldn't even touch this kind of tech or supply pool unless it was with my own money."

"A gentleman always picks up the tab. Ladies shouldn't have to pay for their own tools."

"Oh Barton, I think you're the first person to actually call me a lady. I think I'm in love."

Before Clint could open his mouth to respond, a burst of static came through the comm he was fiddling with. "-and Widow, respond. Agents Hawkeye and-"

"We're here, Overseer. Just got the comms working. I don't know for how long."

"Thank God," Coulson's voice crackled again. If one listened carefully, one could almost hear the note of relief through the static. "10-7?"

"Amontillado. Two clicks from the Wardrobe."

"Unfriendlies?"

"Yes. Much smaller amount."

"Knitting supplies?"

Clint frowned and checked around. Motioning to Natasha, they opened up a couple unlabeled boxes. "10-4. Who am I bringing the basket to?"

"Baba Yaga. A train is leaving from your location in an hour. Be on it. And Hawk-"

Clint frowned again as the comm went dead. Grumbling incoherently, he put the comm in one of his pockets before dumping one of the boxes. "Check for something to wear. We're going to be gypsies for the next few hours."

Combing through the blouses, Natasha selected a long-sleeved blouse that could hide an extra magazine if needed. "We're not leaving anything here?"

"No. Anything we touched with bare hands comes with us." Glancing at her briefly, he asked "you're professional. Why would you leave anything?"

Natasha shrugged, pulling a skirt over her pant legs. "Remember, I burn things."

Clint grinned slightly at her. "True." Turning to give her some privacy while she changed shirts, he pulled his outer shirt off, leaving the tank top that he wore underneath it on.

Natasha felt her breath catch. The parts of his skin that she could see were littered with white scars and old burns. Some looked like they came from a cigarette. Breaking from her spell, she quickly finished unzipping her bodysuit and putting the dark blouse on. By the time he turned back around, there were no SHIELD indications anywhere. A dark blouse covered her front, with the suit sleeves tied around her brown skirt like a sweater. Nodding, Clint rummaged around the pile of clothes one more time before tossing a flowered scarf in her direction.

"For your hair," he explained. Understanding dawned as she quickly covered and wrapped as much of her hair as she could. Everyone knew who the Widow was, and enough of those people knew that she was a redhead.

Brushing off the baggy slacks he had found, Clint threw on a large sportscoat over the polo shirt and quiver he still wore. Checking, he motioned Natasha over to him. "Make me look like a hunchback."

Rolling her eyes, the Widow complied, arranging the jacket so it looked more like it was disguising a physical deformity instead of a weapon. "What did you do before I came along and you found yourself in this situation? Hmm? There must be quite a few pictures of you looking like a failed Quasimodo."

Clint sniffed. "Not as many as you might think. Besides, I always liked Clopert better."

"There." Brushing the jacket off one more time, one of her hands lingered near his neck. In a quieter voice, she said quietly "This was a long one. I didn't realize it started by your ear." When he looked at her questioningly, she lightly tapped the end of the jagged tear drawn into his skin.

Darkness passed through his eyes before he stepped away. Forcing a grin, he answered "I'm considered reckless. So really, we're helping each other by being partners."

"Is that the only reason why? So we can babysit each other?"

Clint's face softened and he gave her a genuine smile. "No. So we can check each other for wounds at the end of an operation. Because partners do that."

{3}

David had steadily become a little talker and was blossoming at home and in public. And becoming very perceptive, too, much to Clint's mixed excitement.

"Daddy, how come you don't bring work home?"

Looking at his child, he asked "what do mean, Davy Boy?"

Giggling, the little boy continued. "'Cuz at school, I always see Johnny's mom bring a, a case, or Mari's dad bring a 'puter. How come you don't bring work home?"

Clint stopped loading the dishwasher and crouched down, so he was closer to eye level with his son. Laura was out of town for a couple days, and was supposed to come back tomorrow. He had a long break this time, but Fury had already told him the next mission started this week, with the briefing taking place tomorrow night.

"Davy, you know I have to travel for work. It's hard for me to bring home a briefcase or laptop." Because if I ever bring work home, it's usually not for a good reason, he added silently.

David bit his lip a little, then stepped closer to his father. "I know. You're gone a lot."

Clint felt pieces of his heart drifting away. He knew Laura had already had this talk with him, but it didn't make it any easier. "I am, David. I'm sorry for that. But we always have fun when I'm home, right?"

He nodded, but the pout didn't disappear. "Yes…but why can't you be home more? I miss you."

"I miss you too, Davy. And Mommy. I think of you every time I go to work."

David's face brightened a little bit at that. "Really?"

"Really. See this picture?" He opened one of the pockets on his flannel shirt and took out a photograph. Unfolding it, he smoothed it out a bit so the other could see it. "I always keep it with me."

Taking it from his hands, his little boy smiled. "It's a picture of Mommy and me!"

"Yep. It comes with me wherever I go."

"Can I have a picture of you too? So I can put it in my backpack?"

Smiling, Clint stood up and ruffled his hair. "Sure, kiddo. Tell you what, let's go to the store and get a picture in the photo booth, hmm? That way it can be a picture of both of us."

When Laura got home the next day, Clint's duffel bag was already packed and ready to go. Dropping her luggage in the entry hall, she had to react quickly to grab the screaming child running towards her. "Gotcha!"

Squealing excitedly, David latched his arms around his mother's neck. "Mommy! I missed you!"

"Missed you too, sweetie. And I suppose I missed you too, Handsome," Laura directed her smile towards Clint. Returning it, he hugged them together before dropping his arms.

"Davy, why don't you let me talk to Mommy real quick? I have to go to work."

"Ok. Ooh, can I show her our picture? Mommy, put me down," David demanded, wriggling towards the floor.

"Alright, alright!" Laura laughed, putting David on the floor before he fell over. As their son rushed towards his room, Laura gave her husband a bemused grin. "A picture?"

Clint shrugged. "From the photo booth at the mall. I showed him the picture I carry with me, and he wanted one to put in his backpack." Grinning unabashedly, he placed one of his hands on the back of her head. "Now, c'mere Gorgeous."

Finishing the tender kiss, Laura left her hand on her Clint's face. "From the mall? We have pictures here."

"I know. But it gave me an excuse to buy a Cinnabon before I left."

Nodding, Laura let her hand drop. "I saw the bag. Are you on the way out?"

"As soon as I say goodbye."

"Look, Mommy, look!" with impeccable timing, Cooper barreled towards his parents again. "See? Daddy says I can keep this one!"

Smiling, Laura looked at the four squares of images. "Very nice, Davy. I'll put this in your backpack as soon as we say goodbye to Daddy."

The sunshine in his face went out. "Oh. I thought you could stay longer, Daddy?"

"I thought so too, but I have to leave now. Keep that picture with you, though. I'll know when you're thinking of me." Picking David up one more time, he hugged the boy tightly before depositing him into Laura's arms. Kissing Laura one more time on the cheek, he ran his fingers through the ends of her hair before reaching down for his duffel.

"When are you coming home again, Daddy?"

Laura didn't have to be the wife of a SHIELD agent to see how that question always hurt. He also told her once that he hates trying to answer it.

"As soon as I can, David. As soon as I can."

{4}

Laura knew it was a bad mission. Normally her big, strong, manly husband loved babies, but he was barely touching their 8 month old. Natasha wasn't much better. Over the years, Clint had worn down enough of the rough edges that she could unwind in Laura's presence. Not to the point of being girlfriends, but relaxed enough they could share a bottle of wine without too much residual tension. Laura had a sneaking suspicion that's also why he told David he could call his partner Auntie Nat. It was her husband's way of letting Natasha know that she always had a family here.

Sitting down next to him on the couch, Laura carded her fingers through his hair. He had been out of contact for some time, and she could tell the longer hair was bothering him. She had always liked him with slightly lengthier hair, but she understood his need to keep it short. "Hey you," she said quietly.

"Hey," Clint responded. Leaning into her slightly, he continued. "What's a gal like you, and so on?"

"That the best you got, Barton?" Laura teased lightly. Gauging from the sudden tensing in his shoulders, she could have bitten her tongue. Sometimes it was okay to call him by their shared name, but sometimes not. "Easy honey, it's just me."

Lila was sleeping in the pen they had in the living room, and David had insisted that Auntie Nat take him to the fields for a monster truck party. Clint could tell Natasha was uncomfortable going outside without the other adults, but he waved his hand in a "shoo" motion anyway. He had a feeling that she would make him pay for that in training later, but he needed his wife right now. And whether or not the Widow realized it, she needed time with a smiling, breathing child right now as well.

Grabbing Laura's free hand, he kissed her fingers before resting their joined hands on his thigh. "I know. Just…just not right now."

Laura let the silence remain for a few minutes longer, before asking quietly "is there something about it you can tell me? I think it has something to do with kids, but that's it. You've all but ignored Lila, and you barely hug Davy."

Clint's hand clenched slightly before he spoke again. "Yeah, it had to do with kids." After a few more moments, he continued, examining a corner of the living room. "Organ mules. Drugs, mostly, but some gems. Coupla big guys had cartridges sewn into their stomachs. Coupla other people had digital chips. You know, for card swiping or identity hacks or something. Intel had a field day once the data was recovered."

The quietness descended again. Although it was a warm month, Laura felt a deep chill that had nothing to do with the weather outside. Before she could break the silence again, Lila obliged her by waking up crying. Which was convenient, because although David had learned to be quiet when his sister was sleeping, he forgot that rule when he was out of her line of sight. "Momma, look! I braided Auntie's hair!" he announced, throwing open the screen door.

As soon as he heard the cries, he put his hand to his mouth. "Oh no! I didn't mean to wake Lila!"

Laura smiled at her son. "It's alright Davy, she was already awake. But remember what I said about the screen door?"

Clint had stood up to grab Lila from the playpen. Checking the diaper, he frowned. "No wonder she's screaming. Feels like a full load."

Natasha had just come in and snorted at that comment. "Clint, Diaper Agent Extraordinare. Better get to business. It's a messy one," she added, smirking in the slightest.

Narrowing his eyes at her, Clint was visibly deciding if he was going to give her a snappy comeback. The cries won out though, and he retreated to the baby's room for diaper duty. David, meanwhile, had grabbed Natasha's hand and was tugging her towards Laura. "Look Momma! I found white flowers to put in Auntie's hair! And yellow ones. And she found some purple ones for me! See?"

Natasha had made a tightly braided crown of grass and peonies for the boy to wear. David had made a much looser, much sloppier crown of daisies for Natasha to wear. Laura bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing as she adjusted the loose flowers on the side of the Widow's head. "They look lovely, dear. Natasha, would you like me to get a headband for you to put the flowers onto?"

The glare the redhead shot at her had no venom in it, merely calculated mischief. "No, thank you. Davy put them in just tight enough."

David clapped his hands happily. "I think we should have another truck party! So I can give Momma flowers to wear too! And Lila!"

"Lila shouldn't have flowers on right now, sweetie. You can give them to daddy, though."

David's eyes widened to the size of half dollars. "Really? Then I'll find special ones for Daddy!"

"Special what, Davy Boy?" Clint asked, reentering with his newly dried daughter.

"Special flowers! We're going to have another truck party!"

"We are?" looking at his wife questioningly, he nodded. "Well, we are. Let's go to the porch, then. Nat, could you grab Lil' Bean for me?"

Both of the adult women threw shocked glances in his direction. "Clint," Natasha started.

"Come on. Real quick. David can hold the door while Laura and I bring out lemonade and snacks." Not giving her a chance to argue, Clint walked over to the redhead and stood in front of her. "Come on," he repeated quietly. "She's nice and warm."

Swallowing, Natasha nodded and extended her arms for the baby. When Clint carefully guided Lila into them, she stiffened momentarily before relaxing again. Nodding, she brought the baby closer. "I've got her."

Clint gave her a small smile. "I know." Turning to David, he told him to hold the door open for Auntie. And if he was a really good boy, maybe he would bring out graham crackers for them.

Following Clint into the kitchen, Laura placed her hand on his back. "That was nice," she commented quietly. She knew that he pushed just enough to keep Natasha from feeling trapped. Once she felt trapped, she would have helped Laura, but she never would have held Lila. As her best friend, Clint also knew he sometimes had to remind her that he trusted her. That trust extended to holding his daughter. What all of this had to do with the mission, however, she was still unclear.

They were quiet while they grabbed what they needed, then Laura turned him towards her after he had set the basket down. "Kids were being used as, as carriers?" she asked for clarification.

Clint turned his face away, unwilling to meet her eyes. "Not just that," he answered roughly. "The older ones…some of the oldest were the ones packaging everything. The younger ones were being trained. Laura, it was a full on cult mentality. Recruit 'em young, make them think it's a family, and they'll carry on the business after the adults are dead."

"Oh honey…" Laura said. Wrapping her arms around him, she waited a few moments until he returned the gesture. Before she could speak again, he spoke quietly into her hair.

"Laura, they were using babies. Whatever they couldn't put into the baby, they were putting into diaper bags and such. Sometimes I think the only bright spots left in the world are in this house."

Tightening her grip, Laura responded back just as quietly. "That's because this is your home, Clinton Andrew Barton. If it's a bright spot, it's because we made it that way."

{5}

Thor had returned to Earth. Tony didn't really need a reason to throw a party, but he figured that provided one. Once the multiple emails and comm chats (via Pepper) had been amassed (also Pepper), the final date was determined. Although it technically started at 7, Dr. Foster's flight was getting in at 4. Darcie was going to pick her up with Thor, and they were going to come over after that. Until another handler could be found to survive both the Widow and the Hawk together, they were being sent on solo missions. Romanoff would be there about 7, but Barton wouldn't get there until a couple hours later. He wasn't originally going to go, but when Pepper asked Natasha about it, she sighed and told the other redhead to expect a call later on. When a disgruntled Clint phoned Pepper back that night, since it was his last call before going under, he said he would be there after all.

This was the first time since the Tower had been rebuilt that the Avengers would be there at the same time. Tony and Pepper had been busy with it after the Arc Reactor had been removed from Tony's chest. Bruce helped as well, as Tony's placebo therapist if nothing else. He also contributed a large amount of input for the laboratory. What Tony wanted (even if he couldn't admit it) was a place that he, and the few individuals that had permanently steamrolled into his life, could feel comfortable. Very few of Bruce or Pepper's ideas were scrapped from the blueprints. When Rhodey wasn't on a mission as Warhammer, he offered some insight into the training rooms. More as a joke than anything, Tony also built a small alcove over the main floor for their sniper, if he ever visited between SHIELD missions. It held little more than an end table and an oversized lawn chair, but it quickly became a getaway spot for the few that did know about it

The casual party was in full swing by the time Clint arrived around 9:30. Tony and Bruce were talking about a project they wanted to start, while Pepper, Jane, and Darcie were in another corner giggling about something. Thor and Steve were discussing battle tactics, with Natasha listening in and occasionally contradicting or agreeing with them. Selvig had come separately, with the promise that he would check in with the psyche nurse that doubled as his probation officer when he arrived at the party and when he left.

Natasha was the first to spot him, and quietly dismissed herself from the two super-beings. "Hey partner," she said, giving him a small, if genuine, smile. She had dinner with Laura and the kids a couple days before, and had briefly regained that connection to him she had been missing. "Looks like you were able to come after all."

Frowning at her, Clint dropped his bag and crossed his arms. Switching to Romanian, he responded "It's not like you gave me much of a choice."

Widening her grin slightly, she answered back in Russian. "Come on. I wouldn't have told Laura the whole story. Just the part about the train car. And the cross dresser. And the makeup."

"Hey now, no speaking a language no one else can speak! Welcome back, Legolas!" Tony wandered over, with Bruce in tow.

Looking at Tony, Clint cocked an eyebrow. "я могу говорить русский , тоже."

"Și eu vorbesc românește . care este problema?

"Alright you two, that's enough." This time Rogers came over. Holding his hand out, he grinned at the archer. "Fury gave you the night off?"

Shrugging, Clint extended his hand to grasp the Captain's. "Something like that," he replied in English. "Heard he's been keeping you busy too, Cap."

"Clinton! Welcome! I am glad you could join our revels!" Thor pounded Clint once on the back.

Flinching, Clint moved away before Thor could repeat the action. "Welcome back to Earth, Odinson. Just…not so hard, okay? Slid down a few roof tiles earlier."

"Do you need some help? Hullo, Hawk," Selvig had left his corner of the bar.

Shaking his hand briefly, Clint also shook his head. "No, thanks. I just need to grab some food. Stark, you have a place I can stow this for now?" he asked, motioning to his duffel.

Brightening, Tony started to say "well, actually…"

"I'll show you," Natasha interrupted. "Come on. You can manage a few stairs, can't you?" she asked, her teasing tone hiding the undercurrent of concern in her voice.

Clint felt his eye give a miniscule twitch. On one hand he was grateful to have a partner like the Widow, whom he could read simply because of years as colleagues. On the other, he was irritated with having a partner like the Widow, who could read him just as easily. "Yeah."

Once they reached the alcove, Clint suppressed a small whistle. "View of the whole floor, huh?"

Natasha patted the chair and grabbed his bag. "Mm. How many people can say they had a nest built for them? How badly were you injured?"

"Nat…"

"No. You wouldn't have even mentioned anything unless it was bad. Now, answer me."

"Which question?" Clint smirked before giving into the glare aimed in his direction. Sitting down, he winced slightly before moving away from the back of the chair. "Might have been more than a few tiles. Might have landed kinda hard, too."

Natasha blew out a breath of air. She had removed the button up shirt he was wearing to the Guns'n'Roses tee underneath, but she could see the faint outline of bandages wrapped around his torso. "And those?" she pointed to the outline.

Clint shifted uncomfortably. "Might have had a couple guys thrown into me."

Muttering darkly under her breath, Natasha opened the duffel bag to find the med kit he always packed with it. "This is why we're partners, Clint," she said loud enough for him to hear. "So we can check each other for wounds."

She didn't have to look at him to know he was smiling. "Yeah, except I'm not as nimble as I used to be. Seems I'm getting hurt a lot more often than you these days."

"That's because you think you have to punish yourself for Loki," Natasha groused. Stopping her search when he tensed up, she grabbed his chin and held her fingers there. "Now you listen here. I've told you before, but I'm telling you again, Loki was a god. Half-brother to that other god downstairs. We're the only fighters here without a super-suit or some kind of serum injected into us, so of course we don't have the right equipment to fight gods. And we're still running with them. Think about that instead."

Clint was quiet while he put the button up shirt back on and Natasha found the painkillers she was looking for. Neither of them took anything strong, unless there was a dire need for it. SHIELD had the best meds, but she silently handed him a bottle of over-the-counter pills. He dry swallowed a handful, before closing it off and giving it back to her. Speaking softly in Romanian again, he said "I try to. But when I got here, and saw everyone inside, I almost left. I know it's been a while, but some scars don't disappear. You know that as much as anybody."

Although English was his first language, the carnival that Clint used to travel with primarily spoke Romanian. He got as comfortable with that as English, and would revert back to it when he wanted a private conversation. Or when he was apprehensive about voicing emotional sentiments. Natasha could count on three fingers the number of people that knew that about him, and one of them was dead. Tapping the back of his hand lightly, she responded in kind. "I do know that. But there was this person I met, a long time ago, that helped me realize that scars don't always have to be carried alone. I've been trying to repay him ever since."

Clint snorted and stood up. They wandered back towards the alcove entrance, continuing in Romanian. "There's nothing to repay. Besides, we didn't kill each other." Smiling at her, he let his hand brush against her arm. Although she was much better than she used to be, he knew that physical displays of affection were reserved for times without prying eyes. "Well, let's see if they drank all of the ginger beer yet."

It was Natasha's turn to snort. "Please. I hid it so they wouldn't have a chance to open it."

"Thanks. For, you know, everything."

"For a guy that doesn't drink, you sure do get mushy," she teased.

"I make up for it with my farmboy charm and roguish wit," he deadpanned.

{+1}

SHIELD had fallen. The agents had scattered, and to all appearances the Strategic Homeland Intelligence Enforcement and Logistics Division had been completely broken. Not only was Natasha called for the trials, but Clint was as well. He confessed later to Laura that the only reason he went was because he wasn't going to let his partner down. She smiled indulgently at him, and said Nat already knew that.

That was their last visit for quite a few months. Once the media stopped swarming around SHIELD and HYDRA, the Bartons knew the cameras would focus on the Avengers for a while. Since Clint was justifiably paranoid about keeping his family off the grid, especially now, he would have to be seen publicly with the group of superheroes to stop the circling vultures. Although Laura agreed with him, she argued about how long he would have to be gone. Then Clint got a call from Natasha.

"Hey, want to find the thing that brainwashed you?" was the gist of it. "Right now it's Thor, Cap and I. Once Stark tracks down the good doctor, they'll join us. You're in, right?"

That set the final wheels in motion. It afforded Clint an opportunity to keep the media from trying to track the agents and their families, on-grid or otherwise. Laura still wasn't happy about it, but she understood the necessity of it. She also hoped that finding the staff, or at least taking part in searching for it, would give him some of the closure he still wanted.

The last weekend he was at home, he had a long talk with the kids about why he was going to be gone for so long. Most of the time Laura changed the channel from the news if that's what she watching, but they still caught glimpses here and there. Lila wasn't as aware that her father was involved, but David knew there was more to it. Clint gave them only enough surface details that they wouldn't keep hounding their mother for more. Once they seemed fairly satisfied, Clint hustled them outside for one more picture he could carry on his travels.

Getting back into New York without attention was easy. In a busy city, it was easy for him to throw on a hoodie and blend in with the massive number of tourists and college kids on summer break. Getting into the tower was another matter completely.

"Damn it Stark, let me in!" he swore loudly.

Jarvis' mechanical tones answered him. "Sir, Mr. Stark's default programming is speech recognition. Since this is your first time to Avengers Tower, you must speak the programmed codename."

"Jarvis, you know who I am. And this is not my first time to the tower."

"This is, however, the first time you've been to the tower since the SHIELD cataclysm. Please speak the programmed codename."

"I did," Clint sulked. "Hawkeye."

"That is the incorrect name."

"Legolas."

"That is the incorrect name."

"Robin Hood."

"That is the incorrect name."

"Cupid."

"That is the incorrect name. You have two more attempts before you are locked out of the system."

Grinding his teeth, Clint considered his options. There was a small video screen attached to the speaker, which had a "Need help, moron?" prompt flashing. Touching the prompt, the screen went to red. The audible clue was four short whistles, at varying ranges. Fighting a scowl, he said "Katniss Everdeen?"

"That is the correct name. Welcome, Mr. Barton. Would you like to change the codename?"

"Yes. Thomas of Hookton. Thanks, Jarvis." Feeling slightly better about the day, Clint entered through the pressurized doors. Let the jerk figure that one out.

That was three or four expeditions ago. One lead took them to a dead end, and another one took them to some poor elderly man's cabin. The group they were tracking used his home as a shell address, but covered it so well that it seemed legit. Another frustrating dead end later, and the team was treading on thin nerves. That was before Cap discovered a piece of tech that looked similar to something he had seen used from the 1940s.

The tech was traced to a defunct bunker. Steve and Natasha were edgier than usual, considering what happened last time they went to an old building from Steve's past. Thor had elected to stay with the jet this time, considering that both Dr. Banner and Stark may be needed for any computers or formulas they found.

For fourteen minutes, everything went decently. After ten minutes of searching, they found some old files that meant nothing to anyone except Steve. He recognized Commander Phillips' cramped writing, if not the code he was writing in. Tony had been trying to get the ancient computer setup running, and Natasha was checking one of the divided hallways connected to the bunker. Bruce was checking the other one, with Clint acting as a sounding board for the Captain.

"Zimmerman? No, the original SSR coding? No…"

"You already ruled those ones out, Cap," Clint chimed in. "How well versed was your boss in cryptography?"

Steve's shoulders slumped slightly. "I'm not sure," he answered. "After the attack on the Red Skull's base, I wanted to talk with him more, but that didn't happen."

Hawkeye briefly grasped Rogers on the shoulder, before extending his hand for the book. "Let me take a look."

"Aww, you're so cute when you're trying to cheer people up, Elf-Boy. The whole macho secret agent thing kind of annoys me," Tony snarked from the corner.

"Yeah? The whole rich genius asshole thing kind of annoys me too, Shiny Pants," Clint fired right back.

"I'm gone for two minutes, and you boys stop playing nice? Really, I had hoped to leave you alone for five minutes at least," Natasha interrupted. "Cap, I didn't see anything back there."

"I didn't see anything either," Bruce echoed her sentiments. "Although, I could have missed something. If someone wants to-"

"Friends! Incoming!" Thor's voice blasted through their earpieces.

Wincing, Tony adjusted his comm. "I keep telling him to use his inside voice, but still…"

"Enough. Tony, any luck with those computers?"

"No. I'd need at least a couple more hours."

"Thor?"

"You have approximately 2 minutes."

Steve ground his teeth. "Alright. Stark, stay here and see if you can figure out what to bring. Banner, stay with him. The two of you probably have the best chances of determining what we need. Romanoff, with Thor and I. Barton, you find a good vantage point for both the bunker and the ship?"

Clint, in an act of extreme discipline, did not roll his eyes. "Of course, Cap."

"Well then. Let's see who's knocking on the door."

At fourteen minutes and forty seconds, the team realized they weren't facing armed people in an aircraft. At fourteen minutes and forty eight seconds, they had enough time to be irritated about the ridiculous amount of sleek drones coming towards them. At fourteen minutes and fifty two seconds, Clint's eyes widened and he jumped down from his perch. "Get the jet ready, now! Those are coming in hot!"

"What? No they're not. My sensors aren't picking up anything-"

"Tony, get out of there NOW!" Clint barked. "Bring what you have! You too, Banner!"

At fourteen minutes and fifty five seconds, everyone was in the jet except for Tony, Bruce, and Clint. At fourteen minutes and fifty seven seconds, Clint grabbed the dangling cord of a computer Bruce was holding while Tony blasted his way to the open hatch of the activated Quinn Jet. At fourteen minutes and fifty eight seconds, the cord snapped. At fourteen minutes and fifty nine seconds, Clint closed his eyes and curled into himself as much as possible. At fifteen minutes exactly, the first drone hit the bunker.

The doctor warned everyone that it was going to be a hard recovery. Although the internal damage wasn't as bad as it could have been, a lot of the burns he sustained should be monitored, on bed rest. Tony started laughing as soon as the words left the doctor's mouth. "Have you met him? I don't think that'll happen." Thor was polite enough to wait until the doctor left before guffawing. "I do not believe Clinton will take to that," he said with a smile.

Steve was the one who followed the doctor out of the room to get the rest of the details. "Doc, what aren't you saying?"

The doctor looked at Captain America with surprise on his face. "I, I had assumed Ms. Romanoff told you. Mr. Barton's file suggests that he does not react well in a hospital environment."

Rogers was silent while he absorbed that information. "How soon can we move him?"

It was the doctor's turn to politely cough. "When he wakes up, I will be able to tell you. Normally I don't let patients move with the amount of injuries he's sustained for at least a week and a half. Two weeks is optimal, but I understand people don't necessarily want to stay in a hospital, especially considering his history."

"And if we moved him now? So he wouldn't wake up in a hospital?"

The doctor sighed and rubbed his brow. "Let me check on him tomorrow evening. If he's stable enough to be moved, extremely carefully, then I will let the hospital administrator make the decision. Now, I have other patients to see to, Captain."

When Steve went back into the room crowded with Avengers, he frowned slightly at the Black Widow. "Natasha? Anything you can explain?"

When she raised an eyebrow at him, he continued. "The doc mentioned he doesn't do well in hospitals."

When multiple sets of eyes focused on her, Natasha couldn't help but feel her insides squirm the tiniest bit. Sorry Clint, she apologized mentally. "We're SHIELD agents," she started. "Whenever we wake up in a hospital, that means we couldn't get back to base."

Bruce looked at her with a mix of amusement and concern. "Anytime someone wakes up in a hospital, it usually means something happened, Natasha."

Shooting a rueful glance at him, she continued. "There was an extraction mission, not long before I joined. He got the person of interest out, but at the cost of his own extraction plan. Anything that was done to him was done at an abandoned mental asylum."

"Which would still be a hospital," Bruce finished.

"Don't find the file, Stark," Natasha warned with a look towards the billionaire. "It's bad enough we were put on trial for our ledgers. Don't put us on trial for our medical history too."

"We would not consider it an option, Shield-Sister," Thor answered in Tony's stead. "Isn't that correct, friend Stark?"

Tony shifted in his seat. "Hey, I give him a bad time, but I'm not going to poke around in the grisly stuff. Give me some credit, guys."

"We do," Bruce smiled at his friend. "But we don't like to let you think so."

Tony clapped his together. "Alright, good pow-wow, everyone. Now how soon can we go back to Avengers Tower?"

"Doc says he can check him tomorrow night, and maybe get approval from the head administrator."

Grinning, Tony stood up. "We'll see about that."

Not even Tony's promise of a large grant could dissuade the HA from the doctor's recommendation. "We're already looking at a lawsuit for taking in two of the former most active SHIELD agents," he explained. "Any other actions following that will be scrutinized more than usual."

Frowning, Tony tried one more tactic. "We're not leaving," he warned. "If you don't want the press swarming even more than they are, you want us out of here."

"Make yourselves comfortable then, Mr. Stark. The media isn't allowed on the Intensive Care floor unless it's to see a family member."

When Stark got back to the room, the only people there were Widow and her partner. Shaking his head, he gave her the summary of the discussion with the HA.

Sighing, Natasha aborted an attempt to rub her temples. "We'll see what happens then."

"Where are the others?"

"Banner went to get food. Rogers went to try and calm the media hounds. Thor went…elsewhere. He just stood up, announced he would return momentarily, and left. Probably the little god's room."

"So what can we expect?" When she didn't move from her guarded position, he shook his head and sat down. "Look, Natasha, it's me. I'm not the best person to have around, but I have known you longer than the rest of the group. Excluding Sleeping Beauty here, obviously. Besides, I haven't hit on you in ages," he added with a smirk.

Raising an eyebrow she stated calmly "because I threatened to tell Pepper if you tried. And she's the one you're sleeping with." Gaining some small satisfaction from his uncomfortable cough, she continued. "Why are you asking?"

Tony scratched the back of his neck. "Because he's part of the same gigantic time-bomb that we're all ticking around in. And-I will deny this if it gets repeated-because I'm worried about him. Falling from that height would have been okay, if not great, except for that explosion."

Before Natasha could answer, Thor walked back into the room. "I have procured extra bedding for us," he announced. "And the nurse has promised to bring a, a gurney as well."

Tony didn't bother to hide the surprise in his words. "How-? Never mind. When did we decide we were doing a sleepover?"

"When we heard that the soonest we could move him was tomorrow night," Steve answered as he breezed in. "Unless of course you have somewhere else to be?" he asked pointedly.

Tony threw his hands up and scooted back against the chair. "Not me. I love my team player image enough that I wouldn't leave our sniper by himself."

"Really? Could we run some tests on that?" Bruce asked, entering with bags of food. Grinning at Tony's scowl, he placed the bags on the small table near the bed. "I grabbed sandwiches and water. Hope that's good enough for now."

"How'd you sneak 'em into the ICU?" Tony asked with mild interest.

"Told 'em I had a bad day and didn't want the Green Rage special."

"That's my man," Tony verbalized between bites. "Terrifying lunch ladies today, galaxies tomorrow."

Natasha was the only one there when Hawkeye awoke the next morning, in the same chair she had scooted to the head of the bed. "Clint, it's Natasha. You can hear me. They're not going to find us here." When his head turned to face her, she could see the panic in his eyes. "Clint, it's Natasha. They're not going to find us here," she repeated quietly. She had tried different mantras over the years, and this was the one that could calm him down in a relatively short amount of time. Relatively being 20 minutes, as opposed to 45.

Letting out a sound between a growl and a whimper, Clint tried to get off the bed. Natasha moved closer, but as non-threatening as she could be, and repeated the words. "They're not going to find us here," she said louder. "Clint, it's Natasha. They're not going to find us here."

The nurse chose that time to enter. "The heart monitor-"

"Get out," Natasha spat. "You're making it worse. Give me ten minutes, then come back in."

Jenny almost didn't heed the Widow's words, but the look of unrestrained terror on her patient's face decided it. She knew that he had bad hospital experiences before, but that was it. Putting her hands up, she walked out slowly and closed the door.

"It's just us, Clint. They're not going to find us here," Natasha said again. When he started trying to pull out the IVs, she placed her hand over his. "Those have to stay in. You've been hurt, Clint. Those are helping. They're not going to find us here."

About twelve minutes later, Jenny entered the room again. The patient had calmed down enough that he was no longer trying to escape, but his heart rate was still much faster than it should have been. "Hello Mr. Barton, I'm Jenny. When it's okay with Ms. Romanoff here, I'm going to check a couple things, okay?"

Natasha glanced at the nurse with a glimmer of respect. "Hey partner, she needs to do her job, okay? Can you let her do that?"

When Clint looked at her again, he swallowed. "They're not going to find us?"

"No, Clint, they're not going to find us. Only the nurse and the team know where we are, okay?"

Clint nodded slightly, and marginally loosened the death grip he had on the edge of the bed. "Wait, team?"

"Mr. Barton, I'm going to start now, okay?"

Natasha had to give the nurse credit. Apparently Jenny had dealt with skittish patients before, because she patiently went through each step of the process. Any time she caught him tensing, she would stop and repeat what she was going to do, then ask if it was okay to continue. As a result, the exam took at least twice as long as it should have, but Clint was never unaware of what was happening. After she finished, she smiled and left, saying she would be back in an hour or so with the doctor.

After the door closed, Clint finally let his shoulders relax against the bed. "I hate hospitals," he muttered weakly.

"I know. But they didn't want to release you yesterday until after the doctor had seen you."

Frowning, he absorbed that information. "It was only yesterday?"

"You remember everything?"

Clint closed his eyes and was silent for a few moments. Natasha knew he was taking an internal assessment of the damage, as well as piecing together the events he remembered. All SHIELD agents were trained as such, that way they could still pass on relevant information to the mission. "The bunker. The computers. Something…drones?"

"Drones exploded the bunker. Banner and Stark were the last ones out, holding the computers. You grabbed a cord, but it snapped. And yesterday afternoon. After we found you, we brought you here."

"Stark? Banner?"

"Stark wears iron panties, remember? And Banner felt some of the heat, but that was it."

Although his eyes were still closed, Barton smirked. "Have you told Stark that when he was in hearing? I'm curious what his response would be." Opening his eyes again, he looked at her questioningly. "You mentioned the team before the nurse started?"

"Team's still here, dummy. If I thought it would do any good, I'd knock some sense into you. After I regained circulation."

Clint blinked owlishly, then looked down. He hadn't noticed, but sometime during the examination his hand had moved from the edge of the bed to Natasha's. For her not to snatch it back immediately told him two things; first, she knew he needed that contact. Second, she was more worried about him than she let on. Squeezing lightly one more time, he released her fingers. "Sorry, Nat."

Giving him a small smile, she tapped her fingers against his arm briefly before hiding the appendage. "Just don't tell the rest of them I care. I have an image, you know."

He made a zipping motion with his hand. "Secret's safe, Romanoff."

"What secret would that be?" Tony asked as the team reentered.

"No secrets, Stark," the former SHIELD agents answered, one in Greek, the other in Hungarian.

Glaring at them, Tony crossed his arms. "One of these days I'll figure out exactly how many languages you guys know. After we finish saving the world."

"I'm glad you're awake, Clint," Bruce smiled. "Someone needs to help keep Tony humble."

"That is indeed a mighty job, Shield-Brother," Thor agreed. The twinkle in his eyes reminded everyone that he wasn't quite as unfamiliar with Midgard humor as he might let others believe. "Clinton, I am heartened by your recovery."

Clint snorted. "Hardly a recovery, Thunder God…but thanks."

"You opened your eyes. That's the start to a recovery," Steve countered. "As soon as the doctor releases you, we can get you to the Tower."

Clint shifted uncomfortably. "Judging from my ribs, that's going to be a while."

"Not as long as you might think," the doctor said as he came in with Jenny. "The HA, Hospital Administrator, said that once I cleared you, you could be moved to a location of your choice. With the stipulation that you would have an attending nurse for two weeks, after which you would be brought back here for evaluation."

"Her," Natasha motioned to the nurse beside him. "We want her."

While Jenny looked flattered, the doctor looked slightly unsettled. "Jenny's the lead shift nurse. I don't know that-"

"Her," Tony repeated Natasha's words. "If the Widow says who treats her partner, that's who treats her partner. Why are we still talking about this?"

"It will be fine, Doctor. Once we work out the attendance regime, I'll talk with the other shift leads to work around it." Jenny interjected before the rest of the Avengers could weigh in.

The doctor sighed and nodded. "Alright. Mr. Barton, I'd like to run a couple more tests with you? If I could have the room, please."

Everyone noticed the return of the tension in the archer's frame. Natasha was the next person to speak. "I'm not leaving. I'm listed as an emergency contact."

"Fine. But unless everyone else here is also listed…?"

Thor frowned. "I do not understand. Why can we not be here for our friend?"

"Did Dr. Foster explain patient confidentiality, Thor?" Bruce asked. At Thor's slow nod, he continued "that's what this is."

"I still did not understand when she explained it."

"I know what she's talking about. We'll step outside and I'll try again," Steve said. Giving the doctor a leveled frown, he added "We'll be right by the door." Firmly grasping the elbow of the Asgardian, Captain America steered him out of the room.

Bruce trailed afterwards, with Tony behind him. The billionaire stopped to whisper something to Jenny, then strode out. Frowning at the nurse who was giggling, he asked "what was that?"

"Nothing, doctor. Shall we finish up?"

Once the questions had been finished and the transportation plan discussed with the rest of the Avengers, Clint had a couple hours before he was to be moved. Jenny would be going with them initially, then returning after he had been woken up from sedation to retrieve any belongings or additional supplies she needed. Although Clint wasn't happy with being sedated, he knew the doctor wouldn't release him unless he agreed to it. When the time finally came, he looked away while the doctor readied the needle.

"Sharp sting, Mr. Barton," the doctor warned. "It will take a few minutes for the pain medication to take effect."

"I know, Doc, just-"

"There. I'll sign the final papers, and you'll be gone. See you in a couple weeks."

"Maybe," Clint mumbled tiredly. Giving a half-hearted wave to the retreating lab coat, he let his hand fall back onto the bed gracelessly. Looking towards his best friend, he spoke again. "Hate drugs, Nat."

"I know," she spoke, lightly running her fingers through his hair. The others had seen them do this before, when either the Widow or the Hawk was down for some reason. It never lasted long, but it seemed to be a ritual that came of a long partnership. Natasha would sift her fingers in dirty blonde hair, or Clint would cradle the back of a distinctive redhead. "You won't be down long, though."

Frowning, Clint blinked before looking around. "Fuzzy around the edges," he warned.

"Relax, Legolas. When you wake up, you'll be in that godawful closet you call your room."

Trying to smirk, Clint failed when he realized his facial muscles weren't responding the way they were supposed to. "S'not closet. S'just enough."

Tony snorted. "I am not having this discussion with you right now. Again. Your room makes some studio apartments look luxurious."

"And what's wrong with studios?" Steve asked innocently. At Tony's responding glare, he turned towards Clint. "Rest easy, soldier. We'll be here when you wake up."

Natasha could tell the drugs were kicking in, but not quickly enough. Otherwise Clint never would have slurred out the one question that constantly bothered him. "Why?"

Seeing the blank stares directed at him, Clint tried to muster out a few more words. "Nat's m'part-parn-parg-buddy. Agent. You guys…Rager. God. Smart guy. Soldier flag. Why?"

"Katniss, I think sedatives make you loopy. I can't very well threaten the HA only to back out now."

Bruce rolled his eyes. "Please. You know Tony's here for blackmail material later. I'm here because my only other ride is bright green."

"Shield-brother, I do not leave comrades. Either on the battlefield or in the medicine chambers."

"Clint, you're being stupid. Like I'm going to leave you to terrorize the doctor on your own."

"Because you're part of our team, Clint. And no one's on this team that doesn't deserve to be here." There wasn't anything else to be said after that.