AN – My previous story Even Superheroes Bleed Sometimes is referenced slightly in this story, and while it may help to read it beforehand, this story will make sense without it.

The day of Phil Coulson's funeral dawned cold and drizzly, fitting Hawkeye's mood perfectly. The young archer slipped silently into the kitchen in an effort not to disturb his roommate and best friend, Captain America, but he was astonished to find Steve already in the kitchen with a mug of coffee prepared for him. The soldier rested his hand on Clint's shoulder for an instant before saying, "I'll leave you be, Clint, but if you need anything, just holler."

Clint felt a bit of the tension ease from his shoulders at the Captain's gentle words and he even mustered a small smile before Steve padded off to leave him in peace. Even though he'd felt completely alone in his guilt and mourning after Phil's death, Steve had made certain that he understood it was not his fault his boss and friend had died. Even today, he'd believed that he would be feeling alone, but somehow the Captain had managed to make sure that he knew he was far from it.

Hawkeye eased himself down into the nearest chair, nursing the cup of coffee, and began to reflect, remembering fondly the man who had first taken him under his wing. Phil had gone from being his boss to his mentor, gradually even giving Hawkeye the stability of the father that he had needed his entire life. After a particularly difficult mission in which the archer nearly died, he woke up in a hospital room three days later to see Phil sleeping in a chair beside the bed. As time went on, the two became good friends, despite the fact that Phil was nearly twenty years Clint's elder. Clint knew full well that he owed the fact he had stayed on the right side of the law to the older man. He had come into his life at a time when any strong influence would have pushed Clint over the edge in the wrong direction and he was eternally grateful.

He had no idea how long he sat there, lost in thought, but Steve's low voice made him jump. No one had managed to get into the same room as the partially deaf and highly aware archer without him knowing in nearly four years, revealing to him just how lost to the world he really had been. "Clint? It's about time to go - Jarvis said Stark is heading down to pull the Hummer around." While the two had stayed in Clint's apartment for a few days immediately after the battle for New York, they had moved into Stark Tower along with the rest of the Avengers the day before. It was not fully repaired yet, but it was livable, and they all felt the need to be close for a while.

"Oh, uh, right," Clint mumbled. He took a quick swig of the coffee only to find that it was stone cold, which meant he'd been sitting there for over an hour. As the by-now bitter coffee taste lingered in his mouth, Clint stuck his tongue out and made a face.

Steve grinned a little and said lightly, "Old, cold coffee hasn't changed in seventy years either, huh?"

Hawkeye allowed himself a small chuckle despite the somber mood. "Nope. Some things just don't change, Cap."

Clint's slightly lightened mood lasted only as long as the drive to the church, however. As soon as he saw the casket at the end of the aisle, he froze in place for a second and would have been hard pressed to move had Natasha's hand not slipped into his on one side and Steve's hand pressed his shoulder on the other. With a quick, grateful squeeze of Natasha's hand, Clint dropped it and slowly advanced down the aisle on his own to the open casket. The rest of the Avengers hung back, understanding this was something he needed to do alone. He was vaguely aware that they had silently seated themselves at the front of the church, as they were the only family Phil Coulson had left, but he ignored them as he dropped to his knees alongside the casket and pressed his forehead against the cool metal. "Oh, Phil, I'm so sorry," he whispered. "Steve made me see that it wasn't my fault, an' even that you don't blame me, but I just wish it hadn't had to turn out like this. You're the only father I ever had, an' the first real friend, too. Steve an' Natasha are takin' real good care of me now, Phil. You'd be proud of Cap, Phil - you called him jus' right. I didn't know I could trust anybody else like I trusted you but I guess I really can. An' Tash an' I are dating now, jus' like I know you always wanted. So I'll be okay, Phil. What I guess I mean is...you can rest easy. That doesn't mean you won't always have a special place in my heart...an'..."Hawkeye's throat tightened painfully and he couldn't breathe for a moment, but he continued on after a few seconds. "An' Phil? I'll always miss you," he murmured under his breath before slowly rising. Finally able to look down at the body in the casket, he was astonished to see a faint smile on Phil's lips. The man truly looked at peace, and Hawkeye felt a wave of the same peace wash over him. That feeling only heightened as he slipped into place between Natasha and Steve, who were sitting just close enough that their shoulders brushed against his, giving him a gentle reminder they were there for him.

Hawkeye wavered in and out of comprehension during the service, much as he wanted to pay attention. His mind was so filled with memories of Phil over the years that concentration just didn't come easily. Even when Director Fury got up and spoke, Clint only caught parts of the speech that left many in the packed church with tears in their eyes. Before he knew it, it was his time to deliver Phil's eulogy. With a deep breath, Clint rose and advanced to the front of the room. He was astonished to see just how completely packed the room was; not just friends of Coulson, but nearly two hundred members of SHIELD were crowded into the building. And among the faces, he saw many glares of complete distrust and hatred. Phil was one of the most popular men at SHIELD and despite the fact that it had been Loki who killed him, many blamed Hawkeye as it was his leadership that got the boarding crew onto the helicarrier and injured or killed a number of their companions. Feeling his resolve waver for an instant, he glanced at Steve and Natasha, needing assurance for one of the few times in his life. Contrary to the many looks of disgust in the audience, all he saw there, and in the eyes of the rest of the Avengers, for that matter, was complete trust and compassion.

Feeling his confidence return, Clint spoke firmly. "Phil Coulson was a man well loved and respected by all who knew him. He would do anything for any person, whether he knew them personally or not. He did not know what the word 'selfishness' meant. His entire life was spent serving others and making their lives better, and he died proving that. I've been told that some of his last words were an encouragement for us to press on - not fear for himself. He understood the true meaning of devotion and sacrifice. There can only be one Phil Coulson, and he will be sorely missed, but his memory will live on in each of our hearts forever."

With his impassioned speech still reverberating in the chapel, Hawkeye slipped from behind the podium and back between his two most trusted companions. Unable to bear alone the emotions slamming into him from every direction, he sagged slightly against Steve's muscular shoulder, hearing him murmur some word of encouragement that he couldn't catch in his bad ear. On his other side, he felt Natasha press his hand quickly, and this time he grabbed it back and squeezed again to let her know he appreciated it.

Soon, the service was over and Clint, Steve, Tony, Bruce Banner, Thor, and Director Fury lined up to bear the casket to the waiting hearse. As the six men, dressed all in black, carried the body of their friend solemnly down the aisle, the men and women of SHIELD slowly rose to their feet in a silent salute of honor and respect to one of their own.

The Avengers were silent the entire ride to the graveyard, and once there, the six men silently carried the coffin to the graveside. Only a few other people were present at the graveside portion of the service, and the Avengers, Nick Fury, and Pepper stood by silently as the coffin was lowered into the grave. It wasn't until the first shovelful of dirt hit the top of the coffin that Clint, who had been shivering slightly between Steve and Natasha, felt his knees begin to give out. Whipping around, he bolted from the grave and sprinted away to drop to his knees beside a tree.

At the grave site, Natasha had observed Hawkeye's face go suddenly pale, and when he bolted, she instantly started after him, only to be stopped by a hand on her shoulder, gently restraining her. She frowned and twisted angrily, wanting to go after the one person she loved and trusted, but then she saw the look in Steve's eyes. He understood, and he could actually help, unlike any of the other Avengers. With a reluctant sigh, she nodded. Turning quickly to Tony, Steve murmured something in his ear before heading after Clint. Tony, per Steve's hastily whispered instructions, gathered the rest of the Avengers, the minister, Pepper, Director Fury, and the few others, bustling them to the cars to leave the Captain and archer in peace. Natasha hesitated, glancing over her shoulder twice, but she eventually conceded and followed along, trusting, for once, someone else to take care of the Hawk.

Unable to take refuge in the tree like he would have preferred due to his knee injury, Hawkeye slumped to the ground and curled up in a protective ball. Somehow his inability to climb the tree was the straw that completely broke the camel's back, and he began to shake uncontrollably. He was aware that someone had approached, but his emotions were in such severe overload that for once he was unable to tell who it was. Then he felt a strong hand on his shoulder and a warm, compassionate voice that murmured, "Hawkeye?"

Steve. The one person who actually understood. Still curled in on himself, Clint pressed close to the warmth radiating from the Captain, who had settled himself in the damp grass beside him. "Clint, it's okay to cry," Steve soothed softly, one handing gently rubbing the tense knots in the archer's shoulders.

"Don't wanna cry," Clint mumbled back, his voice muffled since his face was still buried in his arm. "Already cried a few days ago. `sides, men aren't supposed to cry."

"Somethin' else I musta missed out on while I was on ice. Wish somebody'd told me - I've shed plenty," Steve shot back gently.

Hawkeye started to laugh at the blunt, honest humor, but it became a choked sob instead. "I hate this," he said hoarsely.

"Want to talk about it?" Steve asked quietly.

"Let's see here...I just buried the only father I ever knew, half of SHIELD blames me for his death, I just lost it in front of my only friends, and I couldn't climb the stupid tree to at least get away from it all!" he spat out bitterly, choking on the last bit of the sentence, all the pain and anger coming out in his voice.

"I blamed myself too, you know," Steve replied, not batting an eye at the tongue-lashing he'd just taken from the younger man. He knew the anger wasn't directed at him but rather the helplessness of the situation.

Abruptly, Clint sat up, still trembling, to stare at the Captain in puzzlement. "You did?"

Steve nodded, sadness dulling his eyes for a moment. "Yeah. When Erskine died, I blamed myself. I laid in bed at night, thinking over and over, if only I'd been faster, if only I'd seen the gun. I saw the blame too - people seemed to think the same as me. I was the first superhero - surely if I couldn't have anticipated it happening or even prevented him getting killed, I could have at least had the common sense to keep the agent who'd killed him from killing himself so they could get some kind of justice for Erskine dying and the serum being lost. I beat myself up. I lost weight, almost broke my hand punching things before Howard Stark, of all people, sat me down and talked some sense into me. He reminded me that despite the fact that yes, I now had the world's strongest and most resilient body, I was not God, never would be, an' therefore I could do nothing to change the past nor did I have control over certain things. All I could do was my best. Wasn't easy to take that - I wanted to go out an' change the world, but you know what, once I accepted it, it made the pain a whole lot easier to bear. You don't have to save the whole world by yourself, Hawkeye, just the pieces that you can."

The archer sat in shocked silence for a few minutes. How was it that this man could speak just the words he needed to hear to begin to feel somewhat whole again? Slowly, hesitantly, he leaned into the Captain, half-expecting to be pushed away. Instead, he felt Steve's arm go protectively around him like it was the most natural thing in the world. "It hurts," Hawkeye murmured roughly.

"I know."

They sat there in silence in the drizzling rain, each remembering those they had loved and lost, for almost a half an hour until Clint's teeth began to chatter. Steve immediately slipped out of his jacket and wrapped it around the other's shoulders, not wanting him to get sick. Clint tried to resist, but Steve was in full Captain mode and wasn't about to have it. "Come'n, Clint, let's get outa this rain. What do you say we take a break from all the pain an' celebrate the life of a great man instead? I know I didn't know him well or long, but I really don't think Phil would want us moping around for him. He did what he did of his own accord, not because he was forced to."

Clint brightened slightly. "Phil always did like Olive Garden." Steve cocked his head, silently asking what that was. "It's an Italian restaurant. Think...think maybe we could get some of that an' then get together at the Tower an' reminisce?"

Steve grinned at the smaller man. "I think that sounds like a great idea." Scrambling to his feet, he extended his hand down to Hawkeye and pulled him up, bracing an arm across his still-healing stomach.

Together they sloshed through the puddles toward Clint's Jeep, which had been left for them. They stopped briefly at Phil's grave, and, without a word being spoken, both snapped to attention and saluted smartly before spinning on their heels and continuing to the car.

A heavy silence hung over the common room in the Tower when they entered forty-five minutes later, still dripping wet from the rain. Pepper had sagely gone to D.C., recognizing that the Avengers needed time to heal alone. Everyone tensed when Clint entered, as though expecting him to explode, although Thor did perk up at the smell of food. To the astonishment of everyone, however, Clint grinned, a rare, true grin. "Hey guys!" he called warmly.

Astonished, the men exchanged glances while Natasha stared at him like he'd lost his mind. Sensing their confusion, he added with a soft chuckle, "Cap talked some sense into me. Reminded me Phil would hate it if we were all mopin' around, so we decided we ought to celebrate his life, not mourn his passing."

With a collective sigh of relief, the mood in the room lightened, helped further by Thor, who demanded, "What form of sustenance is that? The smell is unknown, but I would be pleased to taste it."

Everyone, including Clint, broke into a laugh at the demi-god's polite confusion and while Natasha and Bruce retrieved plates from the kitchen, Steve and Clint slipped away to change into dry clothes. Dressed now in sweats and running a towel through his soaked hair, Clint glanced up at Steve as they left their apartment. "Thanks," he said sincerely, tossing his towel on a chair as he left.

Steve simply smiled. "I'm just glad I could help."

Once they had demolished the food, which Thor proclaimed of "most excellent flavor," Clint quietly suggested that they each tell their favorite memory of Phil.

Tony spoke up first, unsurprisingly. "Well, unlike the rest of you, I actually have an appreciation for the finer things in life." At the snorts of the rest of the room, he continued on. "I went to an orchestra one evening last year an' to my surprise, I saw Phil in the first chair in the orchestra." Sensing Thor's puzzlement, he explained quickly, "Phil played a stringed instrument, and in America, if you're really good, you get to sit at the front of the group of people while you play it. It's a form of respect for your talent. Anyway, having a front row seat myself due to my large donation to the local theater, I was able to observe Phil's face. Never have I seen such joy and peace in a man's eyes as I saw in his that night as he played. I truly have never heard Beethoven played so beautifully," Stark concluded softly, his voice unusually soft and sincere.

The mood was quietly reflective for a few moments until Bruce spoke up. "I figure you all know I wasn't - correction, still am not - the biggest fan of SHIELD. I mean, I was number one on their hit list for a while," he said with a glance at Clint and Natasha, who both glanced away, knowing he would have been their target had he rampaged out of control as the Hulk. "However, Phil was one of the few people who didn't seem afraid of me an' actually treated me like a human being. I remember one time he stopped by when I was working in my lab an' sat on the counter while I attempted to explain a process to him. He was genuinely curious, an' caught on real quick, even though I figured it'd be over his head. During that time of my life, just having someone to talk to who didn't have their hand over their gun the whole time...well, it made a difference."

After a moment of silence, Natasha spoke up. "I don't relate well to others," she began, which earned her a chuckle from the men in the room. "But somehow Phil was a little different. If Hawkeye was gone on some mission without me an' I needed advice, I could actually talk to Phil. He didn't seem to care that I was the world's master assassin for ten years - all he saw was a human being, like Bruce said, an' he was always willing to listen. Aside from Clint, nobody else in my life seemed to care, an' it felt good to have somebody listen an' not judge on occasion."

Thor rumbled, "I did not know the son of Coul particularly well, but I saw many things to emulate and admire. I noticed how he always attempted to ascertain the safety of others. I was concerned for the safety of Jane when I went on board the flying machine, but he was able to put my mind at ease. And the son of Coul had a remarkable honesty. I described to him a creature from Asgard, and his face showed confusion. When I asked him if knew where those animals were present on earth, unlike others I shared words with, he simply replied, 'I don't think so.' He could have spoken a falsehood, just to please me, but instead he chose honesty, and I respect that."

Steve hesitated a second, then spoke up. "I'm like Thor in that I didn't know Phil well. But I admired him from the second I met him, although we did get off on a slightly awkward foot. He told me he'd watched me while I slept," he said, pausing for effect.

The entire room gaped in astonishment and then Clint choked out around a mouthful of hot coffee that had summarily burned his tongue when he involuntarily gulped it at Steve's statement, "He what?"

The Captain laughed. "What he was attempting to say was that he guarded me while I was in a coma from the ice."

Everyone laughed heartily, and Natasha added, "Yeah, sometimes he wasn't the best at explaining himself."

"I gathered," Steve grinned before continuing. "But in all seriousness, when I was having doubts about myself, he reassured me. He even told me that maybe we needed a little ol' fashioned, which stuck out to me. This is a crazy new world an' the fact that maybe me an' my old crazy ways weren't completely useless anymore made me feel a bit better."

Now everyone looked expectantly to Hawkeye, on the couch next to Natasha. Steve, sitting on the floor, shifted slightly so that his shoulder pressed Hawkeye's leg lightly in a gesture of support. "It's hard to pin down a memory of a man who mentored you an' was a father figure an' friend," Clint admitted quietly. "But I guess my fondest memory of him was the time I got shot in the back in Afghanistan - if it hadn't been for Tash, I'da been dead. She got hurt too, though, an' when I woke up, three days later in the hospital room, Phil was curled up asleep in the most uncomfortable looking plastic chair I've ever seen. He didn't have to do that - he was jus' my boss. When I asked him why, he said I was his...his friend an' he wasn't about to go anywhere until he knew I'd be okay. I'd never had anyone care like that before, an' it made all the difference in the world."

The Avengers were quiet for a few minutes, each silently reminscing about Phil, until Steve suddenly raised his coffee mug in a toast. "To a great man," he proclaimed.

As the others clanked their mugs against his, they echoed the most heartfelt eulogy that they could give.

"To a great man."