Buckle in kids. It's gonna be one hell of a ride.

Certain things in Endgame happened, certain things didn't. This is set THREE years AFTER Endgame.

For the sake of this AU, Clint's family does NOT exist.

Clint Barton stepped off the Quinjet, his left arm clutching his right side, his face covered in dirt, a cut on his hairline dried in blood, a slight limp in his walk.

"Told you that you couldn't take them all on by yourself."

Clint rolled his eyes, "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Even though I was in the circus, doesn't mean I am flexible."

"I'm just saying, if you would have let me help..." Said Natasha in a sing song voice.

"We wouldn't be in this mess." Clint stopped just before one of the doors to the newly completed compound. "You had plenty of men on you too, so I guess we're fair." He shrugged, holding the door open.

Clint walked on down the hall before turning right towards Medical.

"Agent Barton! What can I do for you today?" a feminine voice asked as he opened the door.

"Hey Carly." He said casually as he jumped up onto the examination table. "I took a good graze to my right side and probably need some glue for my head. I also wouldn't mind a few painkillers please?"

"Oh, is that all." The doctor said sarcastically as she popped on a pair of gloves. "And here I thought you were just making a social visit."

"Natasha should be down here soon, she got pretty banged up too."

The doctor looked at her new patient for a second, before nodding her head. "Let's see what the damage is."

After getting glued back together and having his side stitched, Clint was back to being temporarily pain free and, on his feet, taking the elevator up towards his apartment located on the base. He got off, walking down the hall before stopping at the fourth door down. He balanced his go bag in one hand, placing one of his left fingers on the locking mechanism of the door.

"Nat?" he called out, setting his bag down onto the floor, making a mental note to unpack it after their debrief. "Natasha?"

He walked into the bedroom, seeing a few shirts scattered on the floor, he came to the realization she was probably down in Medical, being stitched up by Carly.

"Agent Barton, Agent May requests your presence in the conference room on the third floor in thirty minutes." FRIDAY's voice spoke overhead.

"Ok, thanks' FRIDAY."

Clint grabbed a change of clothes, heading to the bathroom to jump in for a quick shower to wash away the grime of the mission, being careful of his freshly dressed injuries.

He jumped out, drying off before getting dressed, putting all the necessities into the pockets of his jeans, writing out a message on the refrigerator before walking out the door. He hopped back onto the elevator he was on before, slipping his phone out of his pocket to check the time.

"Barton." Tony Stark acknowledged as he stepped onto the elevator. "You going for a new look or something?"

Clint looked down, noticing his mis-matched shoes. "You just learning how to shave Stark?" Clint laughed, gesturing towards the abrasion on the side of the billionaire's face.

"I've been meaning to talk to you, I've made a prototype of a new arrow I want you to try out in the range, their more durable and hopefully less prone to cause problems in the field."

"Yeah, I had a few things I wanted to run by you, I will swing by later? I'm on my way to a debriefing right now." Clint said as the elevator dinged, the car arriving to his destination.

"You know where to find me." Tony mocked saluted.

Clint slowly walked on down the hall, knocking on the proper door before letting himself in.

"Agent Barton please come in, have a seat."

Clint hobbled over, falling down into one of the office chairs surrounding the oval table.

"This is Agent Melinda May. Initiating debrief for case number Delta 9-5-7." She stated as she wrote something down onto the paper laying in front of her, Clint already knowing that there was an audio and visual recording happening. "I have with me Agent Clint Barton who was the lead on the mission. Clint, the floor is yours.

"Agent Clinton Francis Barton, agent identification number 6-1-6." Clint stated before going into the details of the mission he was assigned.

An hour later, Clint walked out the door and back down the hall, keeping his head down as he analyzed the past hour.

"Hey." He heard a familiar voice say.

Clint looked up, a smile on his face as he looked at who was propped on the wall. "Hey Nat, I assume you seen my message on the fridge. You fixing to head in for your debrief?"

"Waiting on your slow ass to come out Barton." She joked.

"But it's a nice ass. Met you in the cafeteria?"

She shook her head, pushing off the wall. "I've got some things to get caught up on. "I'll meet you at yours in a few?"

"Sounds good." Clint told her, pushing the door open for the stairs. "I would tell you to have fun but we both know it sucks."

Clint walked down two floors and into the hallway, his sights set for the cafeteria. He walked through the door, grabbing a to go plate to take back to his apartment. He stood in front of some fruit, staring at the variety.

"Hey Clint." Bruce Banner said as he stood beside Clint. "You ok? You've been standing here for almost five minutes."

"Hey Bruce. I'm just trying to decide what I want to eat, I can't decide between Cantaloupe or Watermelon. I want Watermelon but that just makes you use the bathroom a lot and I don't want to keep Natasha awake by being up and down all night." Explained Clint.

Bruce stared at him for a second. "Yeah… I don't- I don't blame you."

"I think I am just going to get both." He shrugged as he reached for the tongs, putting some of each into his plate. "I'll catch you around Clint." Bruce said as he walked away. Clint extended his hand to put the tongs back, the metal falling to the counter before the ground.

"Dammit." Clint muttered, reaching down to pick up the metal. He picked it up, handing it off to a worker behind the counter.

He grabbed his two containers of food, heading back down the hall to the elevator. He took the car up, pressing the button for his floor as the doors shut.

"Agent Barton, Mr. Stark is asking if you will be participating in Movie night tonight." FRIDAY's voice echoed in the car.

"Ahhh shit, I forgot about that." Clint muttered. "Tell Stark that Natasha and I are probably staying in for the night, I will get with him tomorrow about those arrows."

"Yes, Agent Barton." FRIDAY responded as the elevator doors opened and Clint limped into the hallway.

He had just walked through the door when he heard his phone going off. He pulled it out of his pocket, seeing it was Tony he ignored it, letting the phone continue to ring as he placed it onto the coffee table knowing that he was probably going to give him a hard time for skipping out on movie night but he had just come back from a mission and was pretty tired.

Clint walked into the kitchen, grabbing him some silverware and a sport drink out of the fridge before he settled onto the couch, flipping on the television as he opened his Styrofoam container.

"Did you get me anything?" he heard a voice echo down the hall.

Clint jumped, letting out a yelp, not realizing he wasn't alone. "Didn't realize you had made it up!" he yelled as he stuffed a bite of food in his mouth.

"I was taking a shower." Natasha told him walking to the end of the hall, wringing out her wet hair with a towel, eyeing the food before heading back towards the bathroom.

"Your debrief was quicker than mine." He pouted. "I thought you had some stuff to catch up on?" he asked loudly.

"I can do it tomorrow." She shrugged walking back into the room, grabbing an egg roll off his plate.

"Hey!" he cried. "That was mine!"

"Not anymore Barton." She smirked, settling down onto the other side of the sofa, tucking her toes under his leg.

"You suck."

Natasha laughed, wiggling her toes as Clint rolled his eyes.

The rest of the night was peaceful, catching up on one of the recordings they had saved on the DVR. Clint got up, changing his clothes into something more comfortable before unpacking and repacking his go bag, setting it down next to the door. Natasha laid her head onto his shoulder as he sat back down before both made the silent agreement to go to bed, exhaustion from the mission and events of the past few days taking its toll. Clint closed his eyes as his head hit the pillow, looking at the red head across from him as sleep quickly overcome him.

Clint pulled on his rope that was attached to the hook, his cheeks red from the cold, but his breathing hard from fighting. He was determined to end this, he would be the one to fall, not her.

"Damn you." He said, looking at her as they both struggled with the weight of gravity. He checked his line one more time, seeing they were out of line before using his free hand to reach out for hers. He almost had her, his gloved hand within inches of grabbing the hand he was already clutching, the tension in the line making things difficult as he felt his grasp begin to loosen.

He glanced down at her. "Let me go." She whispered.

"No." He choked, tears filling his eyes. "No. Please no."

'She can't do this.' He thought.

She nodded her head. "It's ok." She whispered, studying him one more time before using the rockface as her leverage to pull her wrist from his grasp, allowing her to free fall.

Clint jolted awake, his body tense and sweaty, his breathing harsh, his head splitting in pain. He looked over at the other side of the bed, seeing it empty, causing his heartrate to increase.

"Nat?" he called out, putting his bare feet on the cold floor as he opened the bedroom door. "Natasha?"

Silence followed as he looked around the apartment before walking out the door, thinking of where she might be as he walked to the end of the hall, taking the stairs up three floors. He pushed back the door, the cold chill of the fall air knocking the breath out of his lungs as the sun shone on his face.

"Natasha?" he asked again.

"I was wondering how long it would take you to find me." She smiled, her feet dangling over the side of the building.

Clint looked at her, puzzled. "Tash, what are you doing?"

She looked out over the Hudson River. "I didn't want to wake you."

Clint moved slowly, propping his upper body against the top of the ledge. This was their go to spot for when they couldn't sleep, when they needed to clear their heads.

Natasha turned her head. "Are you ok?"

Clint studied her for a second. "Better now." He gently smiled, taking her right hand into his left as he turned and watched the sunrise, the heat warming his face as he closed his eyes.

"Clint? Clint? Barton!" someone yelled.

He opened his eyes. "What?" he asked, turning his head to see Steve Rogers, Natasha no longer by his side.

"I've been talking to you for the past few minutes, you were mumbling about something. Are you ok?"

"I'm fine. Wish everyone would stop asking me that." He gruffed, turning to walk away, stumbling over his footing. "I'm heading down to the kitchen."

Steve looked at his team member's retreating figure, concern written on his face.

Clint lazily walked down the stairs, heading to the floor above his that was the common place for all the Avengers. He pulled open the door, walking past the living room and into the kitchen, grabbing him a mug and fixing him a cup of coffee.

"Morning." Stark mumbled, rubbing his eyes as he brushed past Clint, reaching for his own mug. "Never have kids. Morgan kicked me out of my own bed last night. Again."

Clint chuckled "For a seven-year-old she does have a nasty kick."

Tony glared at the archer, "I wonder who she learned that from." He said, gently blowing onto the coffee before taking a sip.

Clint stood against the counter, looking innocent as Bruce walked in, holding a stack of papers. "Tony. I think I finally found the designs for that thing you had asked me about a few days ago."

Tony took another quick sip from his cup before setting it on the counter, picking up the first paper from the stack as Clint began to open and close drawers.

"Merida? You looking for something?"

"Yeah the bottle of ibuprofen, my head is killing me this morning."

Tony walked over, grabbing the bottle that was sitting on the counter, handing it over. "I would say so, this bottle hasn't moved in years." Clint screwed off the cap, pouring a few pills out into his hand before popping them into his mouth and washing them down with another sip of coffee.

"Anyone seen Natasha?" Clint asked.

Bruce and Tony shared a look. "Clint, are you feeling ok?

"Fine." He shrugged, looking around. "Before I forget, I was talking to Natasha a few nights ago about the arrows and realized she hasn't had any new upgrades to her widow bites, and with her birthday coming up soon I thought I would surprise her."

Both men looked at Clint before Bruce spoke first "Clint… There's no easy way to say this but-"

"Stark. Banner. I need to borrow you for a moment." Steve stated, gesturing for them to move into the living room. "Somethings not right." He said once he was far enough away, keeping his voice low to prevent Clint from hearing.

"Yeah Cap, I gotta say that color of shirt does nothing for your hair."

Steve ignored him. "Somethings up with Clint. I walked out onto the roof this morning and he was just standing there, talking to himself, not making any sense."

"You're kidding! I'll call the psych ward, tell them that we have a human on our hands." Tony stated sarcastically.

"No, this is different-"

"I think Steve's right." Bruce spoke up. "Last night in the cafeteria, he mentioned something that he hasn't talked about in a long time, he- he mentioned Natasha."

Steve looked upset while Tony looked shocked. "He- He mentioned her? Like how?" Steve asked.

"He said he didn't want to keep her awake."

While the other men were conversing, Clint was pulling ingredients out of the refrigerator and cabinets to make breakfast when he glanced over at one of the barstools.

"Pancakes or Waffles?" he asked.

"French Toast."

"Tash. Pancakes or Waffles?"

"French. Toast."

Clint sighed. "There is no winning with you is there? French toast it is." He said pushing the ingredients to make a batter, to the side.

Natasha raised her hands in victory as Clint laughed, "See? Compromise." She told him as he warmed up the griddle before looking in the cabinet for a loaf of bread.

"тебе повезло я люблю тебя." He mumbled. (You're lucky I love you.)

Natasha smiled. "Do you want to spar later? We haven't done that in a few weeks."

"Sure, I do love kicking your ass."

"My ass? It's your ass that's going to get kicked Barton."

"Wanna bet Romanoff?"

"Clint?" Bruce asked as he entered the kitchen. "Who are you talking to?"

Clint furrowed his brow. "What do you mean 'Who am I talking to', I am talking to Natasha."

Bruce looked at him for a second. "Clint… Natasha's not here."

"Yeah she is."

"Clint…" Bruce slowly stated, not sure how to approach the topic. "There's no easy way to tell you this but Natasha is dead."

"No…" Clint told him, his heart rate increasing "Natasha is sitting right there." He gestured, glancing over to where she was sitting on the barstool.

"Clint, Natasha died on Vormir three years ago." Steve commented, leaning up against the wall.

Clint's breathing accelerated. "No-No she- No she didn't." He shook his head, glancing to where she had been sitting.

"Tony?" He asked the billionaire that stood across the kitchen. "Did Natasha put you up to this? Is this some kind of joke?"

"Clint, Romanoff died three years ago. Something happened on Vormir while you two were getting the soul stone, the only thing you told us was a soul for a soul."

"No." Clint repeated the word as he began to pace back and forth. "What do you mean she- she's dead?"

"Clint, you need to calm down." Steve said, taking a step forward.

"Calm Down. Calm Down? You think I need to calm down, after you just told me that my partner is dead!" he said, his voice raising with each word.

The other three men stood there, "Clint, there's something bigger going on here."

"SHUT UP!" he yelled, swiping his arm at the items on the counter, sending the breakfast items flying as Tony, Steve and Bruce ducked. "She can't be dead." He stated, pacing the floor with his hands behind his head. "I jus talk- talked to her. She sleep in my roo-room las ni-nigh."

"Clint?" Bruce took a step forward, just in time to catch the archer before he fell headfirst into the counter. "Tony!" he exclaimed as he lowered Clint to the floor. "Throw me that blanket off the back of the couch! Steve, get this stuff out of the way. FRIDAY, I need you to contact Medical, tell them where we are, and that Barton is having a seizure!"

Both men broke into action, as Bruce done what he could as they waited for Clint to come out of the convulsion. "FRIDAY, I need vitals."

"Agent Barton's heart rate is 136, and his oxygen level is at 84 percent." She informed him as Clint's body stopped thrashing.

"What the hell?" asked Tony.

"I don't know. I think there is more going on here than what we're aware of." Bruce thought aloud. "Clint? Clint? Can you hear me? Steve, let's get him rolled over onto his side."

Steve helped Bruce roll him onto his side as the elevator doors opened, Carly and a nurse running off, pulling a stretcher behind them. "What have we got?"

"Agent Barton had a seizure lasting approximately two minutes and is currently unconscious. His speech was slurred beforehand there's more, but this is now." Bruce told her. "His airway is clear and vitals are stable."

Carly leaned over, placing her fist in the middle of Clint's chest preforming a sternal rub, to which his body reacted to. "Has this happened before?"

"We're not sure, he's been away for over a week."

"Agent Barton? Can you hear me? Was he complaining about anything before this happened?" She asked as she began checking over his body for any obvious injuries or issues.

"He said he had a migraine." Said Tony.

"Ok, let's get him onto the stretcher." She directed, having the three men pick up different parts of his body, laying him onto the foam. "You said there was more?" She asked, strapping him down.

"We believe he has been hallucinating. He's mentioned Natasha, his former partner, several times since returning, referring to her as if she was present."

"Alright, that could mean a variety of things." She said to her aid as she began wheeling him away. "Let's get him started on fifteen liters of O2, and a normal bag of saline. Let's have him taken for an EEG, CT and MRI, let's also pull his type from his file and have it in the cooler." She said as they got onto the elevator, riding it down.

Clint moaned, the bright lights of the hallway assaulting his vision. "Wha-?"

"Agent Barton? It's Doctor Anderson, we're taking you to the med wing, you've had a seizure."

Clint glanced at the doctor, "Sei- Seizure?"

"Yes, we've got to run some tests."

Clint turned his to the opposite side. "Na-Natasha?" he asked noticing the red head walking along the hall with them.

"It's okay Clint." She smiled. "Get some rest."

Clint closed his eyes again, suddenly feeling very tired.

When Clint woke again, it was due to the constant flow of air running through his nose, something that was annoying.

"Hospital." He mumbled, opening his eyes slowly, lifting his left hand up, feeling the familiar pinch of an IV in his hand. His senses becoming more aware by the second as he looked around the room. Normally you would expect some kind of pale color, followed by some heinous paintings. But since the building was newer, it was more casual, offering a better color palate with paintings selected by the members of the Avengers themselves.

"You're awake." Tony spoke as he entered the room.

"Unfortunately." Clint said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I would much rather be asleep, it's like being dead without the commitment."

"You almost were Clinton, gave us quite the scare."

"Call me Clinton again Anthony and you'll wish you were being pumped full of morphine." Clint threatened as he pushed the button that moved his bed up.

Steve knocked on the wooden door, walking into the room. "You two can't go two minutes without talking about murder can you." He stated, letting out a sigh. "How are you feeling Clint?"

"I'd really like for everyone to stop asking me that, I feel fine." He said as he glanced at the needle in his hand.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Tony mumbled as Clint proceeded to do what he wanted.

"Stop picking at your IV." Steve warned.

"I'm not picking at my IV." Clint countered.

"Clint, it's in there for a reason."

Clint shrugged, he wasn't going to remove the needle, he scratched around the outside of the IV, the tape beginning to itch. "What am I doing down here anyways? Did something happen?"

"What do you remember?"

"I remember having Doctor Anderson patch me up, getting some food in the cafe that's about it."

"You don't remember anything else?" Tony probed.

"No, should I?" Clint asked, furrowing his eyebrow. "I didn't do something stupid did I?"

"No, nothing stupid." Steve was quick to reassure him. "I think we should wait for Car- Doctor Anderson to come in before we do anything else."

"I haven't broken any bones and I see no new bandages, and I am not in pain so there has to be something. What is it?"

"Clint I-" Steve began before being interrupted.

"It's serious."

"Tony." Steve warned.

"He wants to know. I think we should be the ones to tell him."

Steve sighed. "Let me call Banner, he can try to help with any questions." He said as he gave in.

Almost ten minutes later, Bruce hurriedly walked through the door, a tablet in hand. "Clint! You're awake. How are-"

"I wouldn't ask that if I were you." Tony informed him.

Bruce nodded his head appreciatively. "Steve said it was urgent."

"Clint wants to know what's going on and Tony believes we should be the ones to tell him."

"What about Thor? Shouldn't he be here for this?" Clint wondered aloud.

"Thor's a few hundred light years away with the guardians. He should be back one day next week." Tony told him, taking a seat on the couch in the corner of the room.

Clint adjusted his posture. "So, what's the verdict? How long do I have?" All the men in the room looked to Clint, an obvious sadness on their faces. "Oh come on guys, it was a joke." He stated, giving a nervous chuckle, oblivious to how his friends looked at each other.

"Clint," Bruce started. "You have something called a Oligodendroglioma. Don't bother trying to pronounce it. From what we can tell, it's a low-grade tumor located in your temporal lobe which means your chances are greater, and it can most likely be treated with surgery to remove the tissue followed by radiation and chemotherapy."

Clint stared at Bruce, finding it hard to believe a word he was saying until he seen the scans they took of his brain.

"I've spent a few hours researching it, and the survival rate is good, almost ninety percent. We- we believe this is the reason behind your hallucinations." Tony assured him.

"I knew it was too good to be true." He whispered to himself. "Natasha… She's not real, is she?"

He was met with silence, a sad smile forming on his face as he nodded, trying to keep his emotions in check. "What's uh-" he started, clearing his voice. "What are my options again?"

"Doctor Anderson will go over that with you, as well as the neurosurgeon, but your main option is surgery."

"I am having the country's best neurosurgeon flown out as we speak." Inputted Tony.

"And the tumor, it's causing the hallucinations?"

"Among other things yes." Bruce informed him. "Though the tumor has been there for a while, its side effects have appeared suddenly. We believe you've been having focal seizures, memory loss and mood swings over the past few weeks that are gradually increasing, as well as recently procuring trouble speaking, which is going to make talking difficult sometimes, so don't get upset."

"And the migraines I've been having?"

"Those are a result of the pressure that the tumor is causing, because it has nowhere to go."

Clint nodded, the silence of the room becoming too much as he looked around, seeing the sad faces of his friends. "Can- Can I get a few minutes alone? This is a lot to process."

Steve patted his leg as Tony firmly squeezed his shoulder, all three men leaving the room.

Clint Barton tended to keep his emotions in check, something that had been pounded into him (literally) from a very young age, but now…

"God dammit." He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"You kiss me with that mouth?"

He ignored the voice, she was the last person he wanted to see. Clint kept his eyes closed, turning his head in the opposite direction, crossing his arms defensively.

"Ignoring me are you Barton? What are you five?"

He could imagine was she looked like right then. Her green eyes sparkling in amusement, her lips curled into a smile. Her hair would be braided, just like it was when he spotted her through his crosshairs. She would be dressed in one of his shirts and her favorite pair of leggings.

"You know instead of imagining me, you could just turn you head and see for yourself."

Clint muttered a mantra under his breath, squeezing his eyes closed. "She's not real." He kept telling himself.

"If I wasn't real would I be able to do this?" She said having enough of his games as she reached down, squeezing one of the pressure points of his right foot.

"Shit!" he exclaimed as he opened his eyes, an alarm going off on his heart monitor as he reached for his foot, rubbing the sensitive area. "Why did you do that for!?"

"It got your attention didn't it." She told him, looking at him with a neutral face.

"Go away." He muttered.

"Can't." she shrugged, taking a seat on the couch.

"Agent Barton! Are you alright?" Doctor Anderson asked as she walked in, Steve following behind her, a cup in his hand.

"Just peachy." He replied as the ghost as he was referring to her as now, laughed.

"Your monitor says otherwise." She said, resetting the device.

"Is that for me?" Clint asked, gesturing towards the cup in Steve's hand.

Steve held it out. "It's as black as can be."

Clint eagerly stretched out his hand, taking the hot drink. He blew on it softly before taking a quick sip, cursing when he burnt is tongue.

"Идиот." He heard her scoff. (Idiot.)

Clint glared at where she was supposedly sitting. "So, Carly, I hear I am dying but not dying."

"You're not dying Clint." Steve said, taking a seat on the couch.

"Don't sit there!" Clint exclaimed just as Steve was about to sit down. "I mean- uh- can you sit on the opposite side please?"

Steve gave him a peculiar look before nodding his head, sitting on the opposite side. "You're seeing her again, aren't you?"

Clint sheepishly nodded his head. "Yeah, she's sitting where you were about to sit down."

"Why are you talking about me like I'm not here?" she huffed.

"Because you're not Natasha!" Clint spoke angrily, his voice rising as the alarm on the monitor went off again. "You- You are not here."

Natasha rolled her eyes, throwing her legs over Steve's lap. "Whatever you say Clinton."

Clint ignored her knowing she called him that when she was pissed. "So, about this surgery, what are we talking here?"

Doctor Anderson reset his heart monitor again, increasing the alert on the electrocardiogram before she sat down onto the bed, going into detail about what needed to happen before and during the surgery. "Afterwards, you'll be able to go home after a few days once we feel comfortable, followed by starting radiation and chemo therapies as soon as possible."

Clint nodded his head. "Rad- Radiation therapy? Now that will give me superpowers, right?"

Steve rolled his eyes. "You wish Clint."

"Not really. I would rather not have to do any heavier lifting than what's nesse- ness- Oh come on!"

"It's ok Agent Barton. Do you remember Doctor Banner explaining some of the symptoms earlier?"

"If I'm being honest, I only remember a little." He shrugged.

"The tumor is located at your temporal lobe, which controls certain things for your body. Such as your speech and memories, which is why it'll be difficult to speak or recall things. If it would help, I could write some of this down if it would make it easier for you to remember?"

"Like what they did for Izzy in Grey's Anatomy? No thanks." He said before taking another sip of Coffee as all the eyes in the room looked to him. "What?"

"You watch Grey's Anatomy?"

"Religiously." Natasha responded.

"No, I used to. Until they killed off McSteamy."

"It's not like you didn't talk about that for over a month." Said Natasha.

Carly laughed. "Agent Barton, I can assure you there will be no plane crashes happening."

"You can never be sure."

"We do have some paperwork for you to sign off on that I will have a nurse bring to you in a little while. I've booked the OR for 0530 in the morning, and Mr. Stark has a neurosurgeon and former colleague of mine being flown out, who should be arriving anytime now. Is there any one I need to contact before we get started in the morning?"

"It's just me doc." He said solemnly. "But I have all the family I need in this building." He smiled appreciatively towards Steve.

Steve nodded. "Pepper is fixing all your favorites for dinner tonight; we've gotten permission to wheel you upstairs for a while."

"I hope she's not fixing her chicken tetrazzini." Natasha jealously glared.

"Please tell me she's fixing the chicken tetrazzini?"

Steve laughed "That, among other things."

Clint stuck his tongue out childishly at Natasha who was glaring at him still, her arms crossed.

"Natasha?" Steve asked.

"She's pouting." He smiled as a nurse rolled a wheelchair into the room.

Part Two will be posted later this week. Feel free to drop a review!