"Clint…"

Clint raised his head to look up at Pietro, standing in front of him. He noted the young man hadn't changed his clothes to something sturdier. Stubborn kid, he thought fondly.

"Hey," he greeted in return.

Pietro took the seat beside him in the jet, despite the vast number of options. The others had already taken their respective positions. Clint flashed a glance to Pietro at the engines started up, checking the kid was calm. Satisfied, Clint raised a hand to his own shoulder.

He felt Pietro's eyes burning into him as he twisted back round to inspect his shoulder, pulling the fabric of his shirt a little. He should have really cleaned that cut more thoroughly as the skin surrounding the stitched wound was now tinged a slight pink. If he didn't wash it out, he could be facing a nasty infection.

"You're hurt."

He glanced back to Pietro, forcing a smile as he covered the injury with his shirt. "I'm fine.

"Let me heal you," Pietro offered. "Please."

"No," Clint muttered, shaking his head. "No, kid, don't waste your strength… You need to conserve your energy for your power to work properly."

Pietro frowned a little. "You can't go into a fight with an injury; your aim will be off."

"You underestimate me, kid."

Pietro shook his head. "No, Clint. I don't…" Clint glanced up at him, the slightest frown furrowing his eyebrows. "I trust your abilities, but if I can help then I should. I.. I want to help."

Clint considered him a moment, his eyes narrowed slightly at how important this seemed to be to Pietro. "You'll stop if... if something goes wrong."

At Pietro's nod, Clint reluctantly tugged the fabric of his shirt down over his shoulder while Pietro moved to unsheathe the blade from Clint's boot. He winced a little as the blade met his palm, dark crimson droplets trailing down to drip from his pale skin.

Standing, Pietro gently pressed his hand to Clint's shoulder, taking a deep, steady breath and closing his eyes. Electricity immediately stirred in his veins and a sharp stab of agony vibrated through his body. Gasping faintly, he took a shaky step back, trembling uncontrollably as his breathing burst in faint, rapid gasps.

"Pietro?" Clint asked anxiously, pulling his shirt back up and getting to his feet. "Pietro, are you okay?"

"I…" Pietro's voice was weak, his vision clouding. "I…"

"Pietro!" Clint exclaimed, leaping forward to catch Pietro as his legs gave way and the kid slumped onto his knees. "Pietro! Christ… Banner!"

Bruce was at his side in an instant, helping Clint to lay Pietro back and putting his hands to each side of Pietro's jaw, keeping his head in place. Pietro's eyes were closed, his chest rising a falling a little too fast. Frowning anxiously, Clint watched as Bruce tried to rouse the young man, astonished at how calm the doctor seemed to be.

"Pietro.. Pietro, can you hear me, kid?" Bruce glanced down to Pietro's chest, moving a hand to rest over his heart. "It's okay," he assured Clint, glancing to the archer. "It's okay, he's just fainted."

"Why? What happened?" Clint asked urgently.

"His power."

Both men glanced around to see the Vision stood behind them, eyes narrowed.

"It's too much," Vision murmured, closing his eyes as if he was in pain. "It's too much, it's burning him…"

"Then he needs to stop it," said Bruce, head turning back to the kid's face as Pietro stirred weakly. "Hey, he's coming round… Pietro? Pietro are you okay, kid?"

Pietro's eyes fluttered open, immediately finding Bruce. He swallowed thickly, closing his eyes again. "What happened?"

"You just fainted for a few seconds," Bruce explained gently. "How do you feel? Are you dizzy?"

"I'm fine," Pietro mumbled, pushing himself up into a sitting position. He shrugged Bruce away when the doctor's hand went to rest on his shoulder. "I don't need help, I'm fine."

Bruce's wince was hardly noticeable, just the tiniest flinch of his features. However, Pietro seemed to see his words had stung and lowered his eyes, muttering a quiet apology. Bruce shook his head wordlessly rising to his feet and allowing Pietro to stand on his own.

"You should sit down," Clint muttered, gesturing Pietro to a seat. "Rest up, I'll be there in a sec."

Pietro stumbled to the seat, sitting heavily and raising a hand to his head, rubbing at his temple. Meanwhile, Clint turned to Bruce, carefully leading the doctor away a little, lowering his voice when he spoke so as not to be overheard.

"What's wrong with him?" he asked quietly. "He's never passed out like that before, not when he hasn't even had the chance to use his power... What's happening?"

Bruce shook his head. "I don't know... It seems like it's been getting worse for a while now. When he first came to us, he healed your burn wound without much of an issue, I heard, only blacked out for a couple seconds."

Clint nodded. "I remember."

"And now even trying to summon his power has him unconscious for at least twice as long," Bruce continued, folding his arms and hugging into his chest. "He's... I don't even know anymore, his power's so unstable... If he loses control, the overload of energy... it could kill him."

Clint frowned at the floor, eyes narrowing. "If he tries to heal someone.. he dies?"

Bruce hesitated. "As a worse case outcome, the rush of energy followed by its release could stop his heart... It may not be possible to revive him from something like that."

"He's been fainting because its messing with his heart?!" Clint hissed. "What the hell?!"

"I'm theorising, Clint," Bruce pointed out quietly. "We don't know that."

"But it could be," Clint muttered, then glanced back to Pietro, his voice low. "Kid's been killing himself..."

Bruce followed his gaze briefly. "In any case, I would strongly advise against attempting to use his power. Even if the energy doesn't kill him, he can't afford to be unconscious in a battle, god knows what kind of state he'd get himself into then." He turned back to face Clint. "You need to tell him this. You need to make sure he doesn't try to use the healing aspect in the battle."

Clint nodded, his eyes never once leaving Pietro. "I'll talk to him."

Approaching Pietro was like approaching a kicked puppy.

His eyes were cast down at the floor and he flinched when Clint sat beside him, as if the archer had struck him. Although he hadn't even touched the kid, guilt settled heavy in Clint's chest.

"Hey, kid," Clint greeted levelly, knowing that if he was nonchalant, Pietro would be less likely to push him away. "You alright?"

Pietro was quiet for so long that Clint was close to asking again before the young man took in a deep inhale, letting it out as a prolonged sigh. "I'm fine... I just..." His voice trailed off, seeming to decide against speaking his mind. "I'm fine."

Clint narrowed his eyes curiously, invested now. "What is it?"

Pietro shook his head, leaning back against the jet wall. "It's stupid."

"I'm sure it isn't." Clint murmured, encouraging him to go on. "You can tell me. I'm sure it isn't stupid."

"I just.." Pietro sighed, sounding far too old for someone so young. "Do you ever feel like something terrible is about to happen...? And you worry there won't be anything you'll be able to do to stop it.."

Clint frowned thoughtfully, leaning forward to rest his arms over his knees. "You feeling like that right now?"

Pietro looked away, almost as if he was embarrassed. "I told you.. It's stupid."

"It's not." Clint shook his head gently. "Everyone feels like that sometimes.. Especially before something like this..." He paused briefly, considering how Pietro would react if he spoke his mind. "Kid, you know... it isn't too late to get out of this.. No, listen-" He gripped Pietro's shoulder as he scoffed disbelievingly. "Please, just hear me out.. You're young. You don't understand; what we do, it's dangerous. People get hurt. I don't want you to become one of the casualties that'll inescapably come out of this battle... You can still go back to the tower, back to the farm, wherever you feel safe-"

"I feel safe here." Pietro cut him off, his voice quiet and a little distant. "I feel safe if I know you are safe.. You remind me... of my father.." He was silent for a moment, perhaps waiting for Clint to reply, but after a revelation like that, Clint was sure to be oddly quiet for at least an hour. Pietro raised his head, meeting Clint's eyes, unblinking. "I will go.. if you go."

The archer lowered his eyes, sighing. "Kid... It's not that simple." He glanced round the jet, eyes skirting over the rest of the avengers. "These guys.. they're my team, my friends.. I can't abandon them."

"Then I stay."

Clint rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palm. "This isn't a game, Pietro. You could get hurt."

"So could you," Pietro replied levelly. "So could all of you. How is this okay for you and not for me?"

Clint stared at the floor. "You're a child, Pietro."

Pietro scoffed. "I am not a child. This is what you think of me…? You think I cannot care for myself?"

"No," Clint muttered. "No, Pietro, just… You're just so damn young. You shouldn't be risking your life for anything. You shouldn't be ready to die for anything.. Christ, Pietro, you could be seventeen for all we know."

"I'm nineteen, Clint," Pietro muttered.

"You don't know that."

Pietro glanced to him, irises filled with fire. "I don't know anything about my own life," he growled, hands trembling with frustration. "Hydra took everything from me. I can't… I can't even remember what my parents looked like. I don't know what their names were. But I do know that I am not letting anyone else die because of my mistakes."

Clint shook his head. "Kid, this wasn't your fault."

"I don't care; Sokovia is still my country. I want to fight for it, Clint," Pietro muttered, blue eyes flashing with determination and a spark of defiance. "And you can't stop me."