Disclaimer: I still own nothing :(

Author's Note: Once again I'd like to apologise for how long it's taken for this story to be posted. Real life sucks! That's all I have to say on the matter.

Once again this is a multi chapter which I'm hoping you'll all be super excited about lol it will be seven chapters total and also have a couple of one shots to come out of this.

As always a huge thanks to DevinBourdain my totally awesome beta who is constantly pushing me every time I write. Thank you!

Summary: The week before Clint's sixteenth the teen is involved in an accident after saving one of the neighbour's kids. With his leg in a cast and Phil in full on mother hen mode, will Clint finally realise he has become someone else' hero?

Heroes are selfless people who perform extraordinary acts. The mark of heroes is not necessarily the result of their action, but what they are willing to do for others and for their chosen cause. Even if they fail, their determination lives on for others to follow. The glory lies not in the achievement, but in the sacrifice."
― Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono

Phil Coulson sat hunched over in the uncomfortable plastic chairs outside the surgery, his elbows resting on his knees and hands covering his face. He couldn't believe he was sitting here again, staring at the double doors waiting for any word on how his kid was doing. It seemed he was destined to inhabit hospital chairs. He wished it would end. The all-encompassing fear he felt as he waited for word was surely going to drive him to an early grave.

The agent would never forget the feeling of helplessness that had consumed him the moment he stepped outside the house after hearing one of the younger kids on the street screaming. That sound alone had spurred him into action; his first thought was of Clint. His boy was always putting himself in the line of fire no matter what it was. Sprinting out the front door, Phil came to a sudden halt at the sight of his boy lying motionless on the ground, a car sitting half up on the pavement with the front end bashed from where it connected with a street lamp. His eyes widened, chest tightening in panic as he quickly took in the scene in front of him. One of the boys from two doors down, David, he was sure was the kid's name, was sitting on the grass with his legs pulled up to his chest, crying uncontrollably. Phil saw blood from numerous cuts on the boy's knees and elbows. The youngster seemed otherwise okay.

Coulson snapped out of his daze and hurried over to Clint. Dropping down on to his knees at the kid's side, he reached out with a shaking hand to feel for a pulse. He sighed in relief when he felt it, strong and steady beneath his fingers. Phil mentally kicked himself, needing to get control of his erratic emotions; his son needed him and he'd be damned if he let him down. He quickly scanned the fifteen year old with his eyes and hands, checking for obvious signs of injury. He'd already noticed the cut just above Barton's eyebrow, which was bleeding quite heavily although the agent knew head wounds tended to look worse than they were.

A few of his neighbours finally arrived to help. One of the mothers told Phil she was calling an ambulance as well as the police. Coulson simply nodded, his mind numb to the devastation before him, he hadn't even thought about calling Nick or Sam. He just needed his boy to be alright. An ambulance would more than likely arrive quicker anyway.

Grasping his son's face gently in both hands, Phil rested his forehead against Clint's. "Clint, can you hear me?" he called softly, hoping for a reaction to the sound of his voice. He was disappointed when there was none.

A young brunette crouched on the opposite side, her eyes full of concern. "What's his name?" she asked, while checking the boy over.

Phil stared blankly at the woman, his mind taking a little longer than normal to process the simple question. "What?"

The woman gave him a sad, understanding smile. "I'm a nurse at University State Hospital, I also live down the road. Are you his dad?"

Coulson nodded, staring down at his boy. Gripping the youngster's hand tightly in his own, hoping that he'd feel a squeeze, something to prove to him that Barton would be fine. "His name is Clint," he told her after a pause, suddenly remembering that the young woman had asked him a question.

She smiled gently at him, turning her attention back to the boy. "Clint? Clint can you hear me?" she called to the boy, checking his pupils for a response. Her brow furrowed in concern at the lack of movement.

The teen didn't so much as twitch at her checks, making Phil worry even more. He squeezed Clint's hand again, hoping to see those blue eyes staring back at him with a mischievous look, telling the older man that he was fine. A quiet Barton was a reason to worry these days. For how quiet the kid had been in the beginning, he was like a totally different teenager now. His constant need to fill the silence reminded Phil of young Tommy, his nephew. It wasn't surprising with the amount those two spoke on the phone. He was pulled from his thoughts when one of the moms started shouting, her voice a mixture of anger and concern.

Turning his attention away from Clint, the agent felt rage building up inside him, like molten lava surging through his veins. It searched for release as he watched a man in his early twenties stagger out of the car clutching his bleeding head. The man shoved the young mother in front of him out of his way, attempting to walk away from the scene. Coulson felt a soft hand touching his arm and he whirled around looking down at the teen. Clint's eyes were still closed though. Instead he found the young woman staring at him with a knowing look, it was the same look Molly would give him when he was about to do something stupid. She gave him a small nod, telling him she had Clint covered while he did what he had to do before continuing her checks as they waited for the ambulance to arrive.

Coulson gripped Barton's hand once more before standing. He walked over to the young man who had caused all of this, the one who could have taken Clint away from him. Once he got close enough and smelled the stench of alcohol on the man's breath, Phil lost it. Grabbing the man by the shoulders, he shoved him roughly against the side of the car. The injured man grunted at the rough treatment, attempting to push the raging father back. Phil tried to calm down, he really did, but the more he thought about Clint lying there unmoving, blood pouring from his head and the possibility that his kid might not wake up, caused a wave of terror to wash over the agent and he saw red. Removing his hands from the other man shoulders, he watched as the drunk staggered without the agent's grip keeping him in place. Then without a second thought Phil lashed out with a right hook, catching the guy's jaw forcefully, followed with a swift uppercut. Satisfied when the younger man cried out, collapsing in a heap on the ground. It didn't take long for the other adults to step in, pulling the emotional father away before he did something he'd regret.

Phil found he really wouldn't regret it.

It wasn't long after that the ambulance and police arrived, the small cul de sac bustling with activity as the first responders quickly took charge, moving people back to give themselves room to work on the injured teen. The paramedics conferred with the young nurse and she told them all she could about the teen's condition, meanwhile the officers put the man responsible in handcuffs and took statements. Coulson stood to the side with his arms wrapped around himself, desperate to keep it together. He found out during the questioning that the brunette's name was Melanie, he'd need to remember to thank her. Standing back he watched with a lump in his throat as Clint was lifted carefully onto the stretcher and strapped down to keep him immobile. Only when the movement jostled the teen's leg did he let out a whimper of pain. Phil was at his side in a flash, brown eyes frantically checked Clint over as the medics attempted to calm the teen. Coulson heard them speaking quietly to each other, words like concussion and broken bones filtered through his panicked head.

"Clint, I'm right here kid. You're going to be okay." Phil tried to keep his voice calm and soothing. The teen didn't need to know how freaked out his dad was. Gripping Barton's hand for support, he attempted a smile while inside he felt like his heart was being ripped apart.

Glazed blue eyes looked up at him and the agent could tell just by the blank stare that the kid had a concussion. It was the terror on the teen's face when he realised that he was strapped down which almost brought Phil to his knees. Squeezing Barton's hand, the agent willed him to calm down, to realise he wasn't in any danger. His dad was right there with him.

Within minutes they were in the back of the ambulance, the medic busy trying to insert an I.V, placing an oxygen mask over the teen's nose and mouth, explaining softly while she was doing it. Coulson thanked the young paramedic, feeling overwhelmed with all the equipment being attached to his boy, though the woman's calm voice slowly eased his discomfort. The agent had seen Clint hurt plenty of times, too many as far as he was concerned. Though he still felt terrified when he saw his boy lying in a hospital bed hooked up to god knows what. It was why he felt more comfortable dealing with Sam, the SHIELD medic and Clint's doctor. Sam always explained everything, why they needed certain machines, what they'd do to help the teen and for Phil not to panic. It felt like the longest journey of his life, sitting by Clint's head with the boy's hand held tightly in his own.