Chapter Six: Clint

Director Fury leaned against the arm of his chair, his chin propped up on his hand as he stared down his long-time friend across his desk. Phil was seated in his usual chair, meeting Fury's gaze head on and without the slightest hint of discomfort.

The silence stretched between them, both comfortable with letting it continue until the other one broke it. Fury allowed himself the tiniest smirk of amusement; of everyone on the planet that he knew or knew of him, Phil Coulson was on the very short list of people he could not fully intimidate.

"I told you I wasn't going to let this go," Phil reminded Fury.

"I remember," Fury replied.

"Clint has more than earned that spot on the team," Phil continued. "The team has begun to work together and has even managed to successfully complete several training scenarios together. Their increased cohesiveness is down to Clint."

"Who participated in those scenarios, even though he hasn't been officially cleared for even SHIELD missions yet," Fury pointed out.

Phil quirked an eyebrow, the equivalent of a full eye-roll from anyone else. "Why hasn't he been approved for the Initiative then?"

Fury sighed wearily, leaning forward and folding his hands on his desk. "Phil, I'm trying, but the Council is still pushing me back on this." He held up a hand to ward off the protest that had been about to spring forth from Phil. "I know how hard that kid has worked, not only here at SHIELD, but at bringing everyone together into something that can almost be described as a functioning team. For fuck's sake, he got Stark to actually work with R and D instead of making up impossible shit for them to do. But unless you can find a way to change the Council's mind, my hands are tied."

Phil's expression was as bland as Fury had ever seen it, but he could practically feel the anger radiating off of his old friend. "You know, all it would take would be a word to Stark about the situation and he'd be all over this. He could dig up everything on every member of that Council that we could use as leverage."

Fury's eyebrows lifted. "Blackmail, Phil? Didn't think you'd go there just yet."

"Clint deserves to be an Avenger, and I won't let anyone stand in his way," Phil replied. "And after these last few weeks, I think it's safe to say that the rest of the Avengers are behind me on this."

The two lapsed into another staring contest. A knock sounded on the door, followed by Maria Hill entering the office. She paused at the sight of Phil and Fury staring each other down and cleared her throat.

"Right," she said. "Sorry to barge in while you two are . . . busy, but we have a situation in downtown Manhattan that could use the Avengers."

Both men stood, turning to Maria. "Report," Fury barked as he and Phil followed Maria out of the office and down the hall to their temporary command center.

"It appears that some of our less-than-reputable citizens managed to scavenge some of the Chitauri weapons and are currently using them on a looting spree downtown," Maria reported briskly. "Our agents have managed to box them in, but the weapons are preventing us from getting much closer to them."

"You up to a trial run with your team?" Fury asked Phil. "We couldn't have asked for a better field test than this."

"With or without Barton?" Phil asked.

Fury gave him a look.

"This isn't over," Phil promised as he moved farther down the hall and toward the elevators.

Phil found his team easily just down the hall from his office. He hadn't pinpointed when, but Tony and Clint had taken over one of the empty storerooms on his floor and had converted it into a break room for the team to use. The room was fully equipped with a small kitchenette and groceries, as well as a sixty-inch flat screen television, video game console, stereo system, and plenty of movies to watch. To date, only Avengers had been allowed access to the room, though Phil had seen several senior agents stop by as well.

Clint, Thor, and Tony were crowded onto a sofa that Phil suspected had been liberated from a break room two floors down. The three were engaged in the middle of some sort of car racing game while Steve watched over the top of his book from another chair. Natasha was perched on a stool at the kitchenette while Bruce was making tea. Phil took a moment to note the ease with which the six of them interacted with one another and felt a small burst of pride at his team.

Steve noticed him first, setting his book aside and sitting up in his chair. "Phil? Everything okay?"

Phil took a deep breath and straightened his back. "I'm afraid not, Captain. There's a situation downtown that needs the Avengers."

"Awesome!" Tony paused the game and jumped to his feet. "I've been looking for a reason to test out my latest upgrades."

"Like you ever need a reason," Natasha shot back, also rising to her feet with the rest of the team.

Phil couldn't help but glance at Clint, who was still seated on the couch and studiously avoiding his eyes.

"I'll brief you on the way, but I'll be running point in the van," Phil stated. "Suit up. We leave in five minutes."

The group started to move towards the door when Steve paused, spying Clint on the couch. "Clint? You coming?"

Clint looked up at Steve, then back down at the controller in his hands. "Uh, actually, no. Good luck, though. Keep your head down."

As one, the rest of the team paused and turned to Clint in surprise, save for Natasha.

"What do you mean, you're not coming?" Tony demanded. "Didn't you hear Agent? He needs the Avengers."

Bruce frowned at Clint's wince and took in the frustration and anger on Phil and Natasha's faces. "Uh, Tony . . ."

"Agent Barton is not at present a member of the Avengers Initiative." The words cost Phil more than he wanted to admit. "He is not authorized to participate in this mission."

Steve, Tony, Thor, and Bruce's heads turned, as one, to Phil, back to Clint, and then to Phil once more.

"Why the hell not?" Tony demanded.

"Who says he isn't an Avenger?" Steve chimed in, outrage clear in his expression.

"Clint has already proved himself in battle with the Chitauri," Thor pointed out.

"I will be happy to address your concerns once Manhattan is no longer at risk of being demolished by trigger-happy criminals," Phil replied. "We need to leave."

"The hell we do," Tony challenged. "If Clint isn't going, I'm not going."

"No!"

All eyes in the room turned to Clint, who had stood up front the couch and was facing the team.

"It's not Phil's fault," he stated. "He's been fighting to get me on the team. It's fine."

"It's not fine," Natasha told him sternly. "You're one of us."

"I appreciate that," Clint told her. He included the rest of the room in his gaze. "Really, I do. But you can't let this be the reason to ground the team. The world needs the Avengers. You have to go. I'll be fine, I promise."

Steve looked torn. "I don't like this."

Clint let out a bark of humorless laughter. "Trust me, Cap, I'm not a fan of it either. But Phil always gets his way eventually. I'll just sit this round out for now. Okay?"

"We need to go," Phil said quietly.

Natasha moved first, walking over to Clint to grab his arm and squeeze it affectionately. Clint nodded at her.

As Natasha headed for the door, Bruce was next. He moved to Clint, catching his eye and holding his gaze.

"We will fix this as soon as we get back," he promised.

Clint smiled faintly. "Sure, Doc. Go kick butt, okay?"

Steve and Thor were next, taking Bruce's place as Bruce joined Natasha in the hall.

"You're one of us, Clint," Steve told him. "Whoever says otherwise has to deal with us."

"Thanks, guys," Clint replied quietly.

Tony's arms were folded, a frown deep on his face. Clint smiled in spite of himself.

"Go on, Tony," he said. "You know they'll be lost without you there."

"This is bullshit," Tony stated.

"You'll get no argument from me," Clint replied. "Go take out a couple bad guys for me, huh?"

Tony reached out and lightly punched Clint's shoulder. "You got it. See you in a bit."

Phil waited for Tony to leave the room, then approached his asset. "I'm sorry, Clint."

Clint shrugged. "Not your fault."

Phil sighed. "If you want to keep tabs on us, you can head up to the command center. Just because you can't go in the field doesn't mean you can't participate in the op."

Clint nodded.

Phil turned to go, paused, then turned back to Clint. "The Avengers are a team because of you, Clint. You've brought Dr. Banner out of his shell, helped catch Thor and Captain Rogers up on modern Earth cultures. You've even, god help me, shown Stark how to be a team player. Nothing that the World Security Council says will change that." Reaching out, he gently clasped the back of Clint's neck. "You're already a part of this team in the way it really counts."

Clint flushed, but gave Phil a shy smile.

Phil returned the smile and released Clint. "Now, I have to go handle this threat, but when I get back, we will tackle this thing head on."

Clint nodded. "Yes, sir. You'd better get a move on before the team leaves you behind."

Leaving Clint behind was one of the hardest things Phil could remember having to do, but he vowed to himself that it would be the absolute last time.

Once Phil had left the breakroom, Clint flopped back down onto the couch and unpaused the game, trying to distract himself from thinking about his team . . . his friends . . . heading off into danger. He lasted all of five minutes before he switched off the game and tossed the controller to one side, giving up.

Knowing that Phil and the others were heading into danger without him being there to watch their backs was difficult for the archer. He knew, better than anyone, that they were all more than capable of protecting themselves and each other. Still, not being able to fight alongside them did not sit well with him.

Sighing, Clint stood and decided to take Phil up on his suggestion of observing the battle from the command center with Fury. Maybe he could offer tactical advice, if nothing else.

He strode from the room, heading towards the bank of elevators that would take him up to the appropriate floor. His mind was so occupied with possible scenarios and strategies to counter each one that Clint never heard his attacker slip behind him.

"Iron Man, watch your back!"

Phil barely held back a wince as Tony narrowly avoided a head shot from one of the gunman that they had pinned down behind several wrecked cars. Though he knew that Tony's armor was capable of sustaining significant damage, he didn't particularly want to test its ability in the field. Steve's voice continued to call out warnings and instructions over the radio, but the seamlessness of their training sessions was missing.

"Cap, I've got another gunman pinned down in a café two blocks east of you!" Natasha called out. "I could use a diversion."

"Thor?" Steve called.

A grunt replied. Phil stepped out of the back of the van and watched as Thor was struck by another weapons blast, propelling him into a nearby building.

"Stark," Phil called into his radio, an idea beginning to germinate in his mind. "Can you alter the frequency of a standard EMP to disable the Chitauri weapons all at once?"

"Sure," came Tony's flippant response. "I'll just grab one of the weapons and test its frequency range. Do you suppose one of our friends will be nice enough to let me borrow one?"

Phil ignored the sarcasm, moving through the battle zone and taking care to remain as unobtrusive as possible. His eyes were focused on the gunman who had struck Thor, hiding behind a delivery truck. Carefully, he crept into an alcove that led into an abandoned bakery and lifted his radio to his mouth.

"Thor, or Stark," he said quietly. "Can either of you send an electrical impulse into the Whole Foods delivery truck on sixth? I'll take care of the rest?"

"Shit, are you out of the van?" Stark replied. "Fury'll kill us if you get injured again."

"Can you do it or not?" Phil demanded.

"Stand ready, Agent Coulson," Thor stated.

From his position, Phil couldn't see Thor, but he did see the truck in question rock as Mjolnir struck it. The gunman stumbled against the truck as it was immediately engulfed in blue waves of electricity, crying out and convulsing as the pulse swept from the truck and into him.

Phil seized the rubber floor mat in front of the bakery and took off running towards the gunman. Using the mat to guard his hands, Phil dropped it on top of the Chitauri gun and yanked it free of the gunman's grip. Spinning, Phil used his momentum to swing the gun around and strike the gunman across the face, knocking him free of the electrified truck and onto the ground.

"I've got a gun you can borrow, Stark," he stated, turning to look in Tony's direction. "Now, do you think you can do it?"

"After that show, who could say no?" Tony replied. He flew through the air and dropped to the ground beside Phil within minutes, taking the gun that Phil held out to him.

"I'm going to get our friend back to the van and into custody," Phil told Tony. "Try and hurry up? I have more urgent matters to take care of than collecting guns from low-level criminals."

"Yes, dear," Tony replied, his tone distracted as he turned his focus onto a new puzzle. Phil left him to it, dragging the gunman to his feet and all but dragging him back towards the relative safety of SHIELD's surveillance van.

Once Tony had worked out the correct frequency, the battle was over. The gunmen surrendered to strategically positioned SHIELD agents around downtown as soon as they realized that their high-tech weapons were no longer functional. Phil turned over command of the scene to Sitwell and went to join the rest of the Avengers.

"Sorry, Agent Coulson," Steve said as soon as he saw Phil approach. "We didn't come together as effectively as we could have if Hawkeye had been here with us. We need him."

"I know, Captain," Phil said. "We can cover the rest in debrief, but for now, we should get back to HQ. SHIELD can handle the cleanup."

"Sounds good," Tony stated, his face mask up. His brown eyes glinted with a hardness that was rarely seen. "I believe we have an appointment with a certain director regarding the status of our team."

Phil allowed himself to feel satisfaction that he was no longer alone in fighting for his asset, though his long-time friendship with Fury prompted him to at least speak up on Fury's behalf.

"I agree, Stark, but keep in mind that Fury isn't calling the shots," Phil stated. "He's worn down most of the World Security Council, but there's still a holdout with one of the members. They are adamantly against Agent Barton's appointment to the Avengers."

"Sounds like there's a personal motive involved if that's the case," Steve observed.

"If that's the case, I think someone's dirty laundry needs airing," Tony added. "JARVIS? Cross reference the Council members with anything tied to SHIELD, and Barton in particular."

"Yes, Sir," came JARVIS' tinny voice inside Tony's suit.

"Wait, you already have profiles on the Council members?" Phil asked, not entirely surprised.

"Of course," Tony replied. "Anyone who is willing to drop a nuke on a city of millions of people deserves to be under constant, close scrutiny. JARVIS has been building files on each of them since Bruce moved into the tower."

"Do you believe they wish to harm Hawkeye?" Thor asked, concern coloring his tone.

"We shouldn't dismiss it as a possibility," Bruce spoke up. Phil noted the lack of tension in Bruce's shoulders, relief at not needing to transform into the Hulk putting him at ease. "I'd be more concerned about them taking Clint away somewhere where we couldn't find him."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Phil said, seeing the protective anger rise up in the group of heroes. "Let's get back to headquarters and report to Fury."

If their plan of action also happened to put Clint back in their sights where they could keep an overprotective eye on him, no one commented on it.

A hood slipped down over Clint's head and tightened around his throat, restricting his air supply. Clint's surprise was immediately taken over by years of training; he immediately lashed out, arms swinging out to strike at whoever was behind him.

Both arms were immediately grabbed and held firmly, alerting Clint to the fact that there was more than one attacker. Their quick reactions to his move suggested that they were prepared for him to fight and had anticipated his moves. Clint silently cursed himself for letting his guard down. If he got out of this in one piece, Natasha was going to kill him.

Unseen hands pulled his arms behind his back, securing them in place with zipties. The hood remained in place over his head, digging into his throat as he was manhandled further down the hall. Clint dug his feet into the ground and forced his body back, but more hands appeared, practically lifting him off of his feet and all but carrying him where they wanted him to go. No amount of twisting and struggling would deter his attackers from their intended destination.

Several minutes passed when Clint was dropped onto a chair, his arms raised enough to slide over the backrest. Clint grunted in pain as his shoulders were wrenched, dimly aware of his bound hands being secured to the chair. Similarly, his legs were being tied to the front legs of the chair. His attackers weren't taking any chances of him escaping before they were through with him.

As soon as he was firmly bound, the hood was swept off of his head. Clint blinked blearily for several seconds, the images of Agents Adler and Cruz standing over him. He glanced around, spying several more agents leaving as he took in the empty on-base quarters he had been brought to.

"Well," Clint said, working through his surprise at how thoroughly the situation with the two agents had escalated. "If I had known you guys wanted a word, I could have penciled you in. No need to go through all this trouble for me."

Adler replied with a fierce backhand that rocked Clint to one side, stunning the archer. Clint gingerly felt around his mouth with his tongue, spitting a gob of blood onto the floor at their feet.

"That's how it's gonna be, huh?" he asked.

"Someone needs to be held responsible for the lives lost during the Battle of Manhattan," Adler replied. "You were the one to bring death and destruction down on us, so you will be the one to answer for it."

"So you've decided to hold a trial?" Clint asked, only half-joking. "If that's the case, then I need to speak with my lawyer. He's advised me to invoke the fifth when he's not around."

Adler backhanded him again.

Clint licked his lips, tasting more blood. "Look," he said. "No one regrets more than I do what happened. But I couldn't stop. Loki was calling the shots. I tried . . . God, I tried to stop. I did, I swear."

Cruz stepped forward, punching Clint solidly in the face. Clint let the blow rock him to the side, head hanging as he swore under his breath.

"Since the director has seen fit not to charge you with any crime, we're going to do it for him," Cruz stated coldly. "Clint Barton, you are accused of treason, colluding with the enemy, and murder."

"You can't do this," Clint argued, feeling the beginnings of real fear start to creep into the pit of his stomach.

Adler leaned over, putting his face right in front of Clint's. "Actually, we can do this. I have the full support of the World Security Council."

Clint's head snapped back in shock, the fear quickly growing. "What?"

Adler straightened. "For your crimes, your sentence is death. But not before we make you feel the pain of each and every one of those men and women who died because of you."

Clint was shaking his head, disbelief rattling him to his core. His eyes hardened. "This is . . . there's no way that the Council would condone this. And even if they did, you two have just signed your death warrants."

Adler's hand shot out, gripping Clint's hair and forcing his head to tip back. "There is nothing you can do to stop this from happening. Your death threats are meaningless."

Clint smirked up at Adler. "Oh, they aren't my death threats. What do you think is going to happen when the Black Widow gets ahold of you? Or Agent Coulson? Do you really think they're going to just let you get away with this?"

"By then, you'll be dead, and all those agents will have been avenged," Adler replied. "Sounds like a fair trade-off to me."

Adler released Clint's hair, nodding to Cruz and stepping back. Cruz stepped forward, pulling his knife out of its sheath.

"You should know that we have friends in the hall keeping it clear of unauthorized personnel," he stated, almost conversationally. "So let's continue the discussion we started when Thor interrupted."

The cacophony in Fury's office bounced off of the walls, voices ringing out and building a crescendo that threatened to rattle the door right off of its frame until Fury had finally had enough.

"All right!" he bellowed, his deep voice carrying over the rest and quelling the din. "You've made your point! Now shut up!"

Steve stiffened into attention, his own anger simmering just under the surface. "Sir, we need Hawkeye on the team."

"I got that, Captain," Fury told him. "And as I've been telling Coulson here, I'm doing the best I can."

"Why do we need to listen to the Council anyway?" Bruce asked. "They aren't here. They can't stop us from just taking Clint along."

Fury blinked in surprise at Bruce; he had expected that sort of viewpoint from Tony. He mentally revised his opinion of the mild-mannered physicist. "While I applaud your . . . innovative solution, Dr. Banner, I'd rather keep the Avengers under direction of SHIELD. If we were to do as you suggest, the Council has let me know that they will assume control of the Initiative, and would dictate all future missions from there."

The collective expressions of the Avengers looked equal parts offended, disgusted, and belligerent. "They can't just take over like that," Steve protested. "I still have a say in whether or not I participate in missions."

"Because the Avengers falls under SHIELD's purview," Fury told him. "I assure you, Captain, that that would not be the case if the Council decides to take over."

Natasha's eyes slid over to Tony, who should have been the loudest protester in the group and who had remained uncharacteristically silent, his head bent over his tablet. "Stark? Nothing to add?"

Tony barely lifted his head up to look at the rest of the office's occupants. "Yeah, no. I've spent my entire life telling corporations and politicians that they can't in fact, boss me around and mess with my stuff. This isn't anything I haven't heard before. What I am interested in adding, however, is that Congressman Harris apparently has a nephew on SHIELD's payroll."

"So?" Steve asked.

"Congressman Harris is that Council member who has been advocating for Barton to be not only kept from the Initiative, but also arrested and punished for his role in the Battle of Manhattan," Fury told Steve. "Of all the Council members, he lost the most in the attack, including his wife. He's been advocating for all people responsible, brainwashed or not, to stand trial and be punished for what happened." He turned to Tony. "We already know this. We have background checks for a reason. Agent Adler has already made it perfectly clear to everyone within hearing distance that he agrees with his uncle, but hasn't acted on his opinions."

"That's not entirely true," Phil spoke up.

Eyes swung in his direction as he continued. "I was going to bring this to your attention, Director, once the situation with Clint and the Council had been resolved. Agent Adler, along with several other agents, have been participating in activities that they perceive as retribution for Clint's part in the attacks."

Thor's fist suddenly swung down, thudding against Fury's desk hard enough to make everything on top of it jump.

"This issue has been handled and resolved!" he exclaimed. "Clint Barton was as much a victim of my brother as everyone else injured in the battle. If I must, I will have my family grant Agent Barton royal amnesty and a full pardon to convince others."

"It isn't the official line that has been the problem," Natasha stated. "Officially, Clint is not responsible for his actions. Unfortunately, some people liked Adler don't agree and want to take matters into their own hands."

"I have incident reports from both Agent Romanov and Captain Rogers," Phil continued. "I'm sure there are more incidents that Agent Barton himself can weigh in on, but it's enough to get an investigation started and suspensions enacted."

Fury rubbed his face with one hand. "Fine. I'll get Hill to run with that. Give her a copy of your files. In the meantime-."

"Shit!" Tony's head snapped up, eyes wide with barely restrained panic. "Where's Clint?"

Phil tensed. "Why?"

"JARVIS just hacked Adler's personal emails and decrypted the latest message," Tony stated. "Harris authorized Adler to use whatever means necessary to carry out Clint's punishment. We need to find him. Now."

Clint gritted his teeth, feeling his molars grind against one another as he bit back yet another scream that wanted to tear out of his throat. Just when he felt he couldn't hold it back, the pain eased and he slumped in his chair, breathing heavily.

"The more you hold back, the longer it's going to take," Adler stated, the calm in his voice a sharp contrast to the agony in Clint's body.

Clint took a deep breath, fighting to steady himself before replying. "I'm dead anyway, according to you. What does it matter?"

Adler shrugged. "It doesn't." He turned to Cruz. "Where are we?"

Cruz looked up from behind Clint, whose left shoulder was a bloody mess. "About halfway there."

Clint fought back a flinch. Cruz had taken great pleasure in telling him that he would be scoring a tally mark on his back for each person who had lost their lives in the attack on New York, both agents and civilians, before finally killing Clint. As each tally was being carved into his back, Adler spoke the name of another victim and a personal fact about them.

Logically, Clint knew that he had no control over his actions once Loki took over the driver's seat. He knew he had fought as hard as he could against the god's control. Knowing that didn't stop his own feelings of guilt and responsibility for not being strong enough to resist.

An alarm suddenly began to blare in the hallway, drawing all three men's attentions to the door. Clint couldn't help the smirk that creased his lips.

"Looks like your time's up," he said.

Adler swore as Cruz moved to the door and opened it, peeking outside. Head swinging left, then right, Cruz shut the door and turned to Adler. "The hall's clear. If we go now, we won't be seen."

"Go on," Adler told him, taking out his gun and checking the clip. "I'll catch up with you."

Cruz's eyes jumped from the gun and back to Adler. He nodded and slipped into the hallway, closing the door behind him.

Adler eyed Clint, taking in the bloodied, slumped mess that the assassin had become. "I would have liked to have finished the list of victims, but we're going to have to skip ahead to the last name."

"Don't rush on my account," Clint replied, leaning his head back as he eyed the gun in Adler's hand.

Adler aimed the gun at Clint, inches away from his forehead. There was no way he would miss at that distance.

"Sarah Harris," he stated. "Wife of Jeffrey Harris. Sister of Theresa Adler. My aunt. She was with her book club at a café when the damned space whale caused the building to collapse on top of her. Eleven people in that café died before help could reach them."

Clint swallowed thickly. "I'm sorry for your aunt. For your family, and for the families of everyone who lost someone that day. If I could go back and do it over, I'd . . . I don't know. But killing me won't bring her back."

"I don't need to bring her back," Adler said coldly. "But if she can't be alive, then you shouldn't get to be alive either."

The pain of loss in Adler's eyes struck a chord deep within Clint. Grief, for himself and for Adler, took over the fear inside of him, and he lifted his gaze from the gun to meet Adler's eyes.

"I wish I could undo all of it," he said quietly. "I'm sorry."

A watery sheen descended over Adler's eyes, his jaw clenching.

Clint held Adler's gaze unflinchingly, unable to feel anger or blame for Adler in the face of his grief. He took a deep breath and waited for the end to come.

"Agent Adler, put the gun down."

Phil. Clint's eyes snapped to the door to the room that had opened without either man being aware of it. Phil Coulson stood in the doorway, his gun out and aimed at Adler.

"I have been given authorization to carry out Agent Barton's execution, Coulson," Adler stated, his gun never wavering from Clint. "Do not interfere."

"Harris is acting without approval from the Council," Phil stated. "If you do this, it's murder."

"Murdering a murderer," Adler stated. "I'm not seeing the downside."

Clint's ears picked up a very slight sound coming from above him, but he couldn't be sure that it wasn't his own imagination. He kept as still as possible, not wanting to upset the delicate balance of power that was happening between Phil and Adler at the moment.

"I promise you, Agent Adler, that if you put the gun down, you will not be harmed," Phil said calmly. "However, if you pull that trigger, you will not be leaving this room alive."

"So be it," Adler replied.

Clint's eyes instinctively squeezed shut as the room suddenly erupted into gunshots. His ears detected the sound of crashing and a metallic clang at the same time, and he tensed his body, waiting for the feel of a bullet to crash through his skull.

A long moment passed before Clint realized that the bullet hadn't come. Carefully cracking an eye open, he found himself staring at the back of Steve's shield, held in front of him by Natasha.

"Nat?" Clint said, lightheaded with shock. "What?"

Phil was at his side, along with Steve. Both were tugging at the ties that held him fast to his chair. Natasha lowered Steve's shield and pulled out one of her knives, handing it to Phil so he could saw through Clint's bonds.

With the shield lowered, Clint could see Adler lying on the ground in front of him, dead from a bullet to the head. Clint blinked down at Adler, then up at Natasha.

"Where did you come from?" he asked numbly.

Natasha smirked. "The vents."

Clint lifted his eyes to the ceiling and saw the vent grate swinging loose.

"Yeah, my shield was the best bulletproof object we had, but I couldn't fit through the vents," Steve stated, using his superhuman strength to break the zipties holding Clint's arms in place. "We just needed Phil to distract Adler long enough to get her in place."

Clint winced, bringing his arms around to the front. Phil passed Natasha back her knife and gently helped Clint to stand.

"Let's get you to medical," Phil said.

"It's okay," Clint assured him. "I'm fine."

Phil's look of disbelief, identical to the ones of Natasha and Steve's faces, was the last thing Clint saw before the pain caught up with him and shoved him into oblivion.

Clint's rise to awareness was gradual, his senses feeding him pieces of information at a time as he rose from the depths of slumber. He noted the stiffness in his back near his shoulder, oddly cushioned by the softest pillow he had ever felt. He hadn't even realized SHIELD infirmary had such high quality pillows.

"Clint? You back with us?"

Frowning slightly, Clint lifted heavy eyelids and blinked lazily up at Bruce Banner's concerned expression. Once Bruce came into sharp focus, the concern melted away into a relieved smile. "Welcome back."

Clint's frown deepened slightly, and he turned his head to his right, where Phil was seated in a chair. Natasha was seated on his left.

"Um . . ." Clint looked around the infirmary, noting the warm cream colored walls and deep red trim. There were three other beds in the otherwise empty room. "Where am I?"

"The newly outfitted medical floor in Stark tower," Bruce replied, leaning back and giving Clint a little bit of space, which he absently appreciated. "Apparently Tony was already working on it and rushed some of the construction to get it ready for you. We thought, all things considered, it would be more comfortable than SHIELD's infirmary."

Clint considered that for a moment, then nodded. "Okay."

Phil leaned forward. "How do you feel?"

Clint's head rolled on his pillow to face Phil. "Kind of fuzzy. Good."

"That'd be the drugs," Natasha stated from Clint's other side. "Nothing but the best when you're friends with Tony Stark."

Clint frowned, chasing his most recent memories around in his brain. "Adler?"

"Dead," Phil replied shortly.

Clint winced at the tug on his protesting muscles as he attempted to sit up in bed. Bruce steadied him and raised the head of the bed for him.

"How long was I out?" Clint asked, taking a deep breath and settling his sore back against the pillows.

"Not long," Natasha replied. "A little over twenty-four hours. We kept you under while we had you stitched back up. Stark even flew a good plastic surgeon in to take care of your back. He did good work, too; you'll barely notice the scars when they heal."

Clint suppressed the flinch at the reminder of his newest scars, but Natasha and Phil both read the guilt in Clint's eyes.

"Hey," Phil said, leaning forward and catching Clint's gaze. "None of what happened was your fault. And we'll keep telling you that for as long as you need us to."

Clint nodded. "So what's been going on since I've been catching up on my beauty sleep?" he asked, desperate to change the subject.

Bruce cleared his throat. "Well, Phil made Tony, Steve, and me take you here to the Tower instead of letting us help round up the rest of the guys who targeted you. Although how Natasha got to stay, I have no idea. Tony's crying favoritism, but not anywhere near when Natasha can hear him."

Natasha smirked. "What do you know? He can be taught."

"Thor and Fury met with the Council not long after we found you," Bruce continued. "Thor made a royal decree on behalf of his family that basically claimed you as an honored warrior, and that you were to be added to the Avengers at his family's behest."

Clint blinked in shock. "What?"

Bruce nodded. "Between that and Fury telling the rest of the Council was Harris had been up to, they fell all over themselves to name you to the team. So, welcome to the Avengers. Officially."

Clint looked at Phil, who nodded at him with a quiet pride.

"Tony may or may not also be trying to adopt you," Bruce added.

Clint's head snapped back to Bruce. "What?"

Bruce looked almost sheepish. "I, uh . . . accidentally let it slip that you pop into my lab and help me with some of my research. He was jealous that he didn't know about your natural aptitude for physics, then decided to lock you in his lab and make you sit a bunch of tests. In the end, he decided to adopt you, though I'm not entirely certain what his endgame is. I usually find it best to tune out some of his more eccentric ideas."

"Probably for the best," Natasha mumbled.

"Once you're feeling up to it, you have an appointment with Director Fury, Captain Rogers, and myself about everything that has been going on with Adler, Cruz, and the other agents that have been blaming you for Loki's attack," Phil spoke up. "While we have managed to round up everyone involved in this most recent incident, I would like to know about every incident that has occurred."

Clint winced. "Er, every incident?"

Phil nodded firmly. "And then we're going to go over proper procedures to follow when you are being harassed by other agents of SHIELD. I don't care how minor you think the harassment is; I will not have you targeted by your coworkers for something that was in no way your fault. Am I understood?"

"Phil-," Clint protested.

"Clint," Phil said, his tone unmoving.

Clint sighed. "Yes, sir."

"Huh," Bruce said.

Clint looked at him. "What?"

"Nothing," Bruce replied. "Just . . . does Tony know he's got competition for your adoption?"

Clint rolled his eyes and relaxed back into his bed. "Nat . . ." he pleaded.

Natasha snorted indelicately. "Don't look at me, yastreb. I told you what would happen if you kept this up."

Phil stood, his hand settling on top of Clint's and squeezing gently. "Get some rest, Clint. I'll see you later."

"I'm going to go too," Bruce chimed in. "I'm glad you're awake, Clint."

"Later, Phil, Bruce." Clint watched them leave, then turned to Natasha. "You staying?"

"For a while," Natasha said, settling more comfortably in her chair. "Get some more sleep. You'll need the energy to keep up with the rest of the team."

Clint relaxed, allowing his eyes to slide shut. A small smile graced his lips at Natasha's words. Knowing that he had a team of heroes willing to stand beside him and defend him eased away some of the guilt he still carried from Loki's attack. With a deep sigh, Clint melted back into the pillows and allowed the peace to finally carry him away.

END

A/N: And I'm finished! Thank you for bearing with me while I finished this piece! I hope you enjoyed it. Also cross posted to AO3.