Author's Note: Thank you so much to GoodCharlotte615, GloriousPurpose12, Lesfont25, Katie MacAlpine, and anaticulapraecantrix for reviewing the last chapter and also for ALL your support throughout this story! I can't even put into words how much I appreciate you guys! You all are the BEST!

Embrace

"We'll be wheels down in twenty, Agent Coulson."

"Thanks, Avery," Phil said with a tense nod.

Phil took a deep breath, trying to prepare himself for what was going to happen next. But he didn't even know how to start doing that. It had taken him months to strangle any hope that he felt, to force himself to accept what had happened and finally acknowledge that there wasn't anything he could do about it to change the indisputable facts.

Months of sleepless nights. Months of walking around in a fog, barely aware of what was going on around him. Months of anger followed by crushing depression followed by uncontrollable rage before starting the cycle all over again.

It had almost completely destroyed him in order to accept that Clint Barton was gone. Only to find out that he wasn't.

It was a mission that had gone to shit. That wasn't anything that either of them were unfamiliar with, in fact more often than not the kind of missions they were given these days tended to go off the rails. This one had been especially bad. Phil had been out in the field with Clint providing backup when they had been separated. Phil had left the warehouse that they had been trying to infiltrate before being ambushed, thinking that they should fallback and regroup. He had tried to reach Clint over their comms., but there had been some sort of strange interference.

And then the warehouse had exploded.

Phil had only barely been clear of the warehouse and the explosion had enough force to send him flying through the air. After that, his memory gets fuzzy. He knows he looked for Clint, but he doesn't know for how long or how thorough he had been. He had eventually returned to the safehouse — nursing several second degree burns — hoping that maybe Clint had as well, but had found it to be painfully empty. Backup had been called, several teams had been sent out in search of Clint… but after weeks of desperately searching, there was no evidence that he had survived the explosion.

Five weeks after the explosion, Fury had been forced to declare that Clint Barton had been killed in action. And Phil had been completely consumed by his grief.

And then, almost five months after the explosion, a Strike Team had intercepted intel that a drug cartel was holding a SHIELD agent prisoner. It was a faction of the overall crime syndicate that Phil and Clint had been after that fateful day, but Phil hadn't dared to hope. And then, the team had discovered the name of the prisoner being held.

Clint Barton is alive.

The message had come through in the middle of the night in New York, but Phil had still been awake. He had immediately organized a team to take him down to Brazil where the Strike Team was stationed. He'd never made it in time for the rescue mission, but Phil had to be there when Clint was brought back. If he was brought back.

Phil took a deep, unsteady breath as the jet touched down. He wanted so badly to believe that Clint was indeed still alive and that the team would be able to rescue him, but he honestly wasn't sure if he'd be able to survive having to go through that grief all over again.

"Have we heard from the Strike Team?" Phil asked.

"Not since they entered the compound and went to radio silence," Avery told him. "That was about two hours ago."

Phil nodded, feeling numb. The mission should have been an hour at most. It wasn't a good sign that they hadn't heard anything in two hours. He took in another deep breath, feeling a sharp pain as he struggled to fill his lungs.

At the very least, they would hopefully be able to bring Clint's body home. That way they could give him a proper burial to go with the memorial.

"Agent Coulson?" Phil looked up to see Avery looking at him with concern.

"Let's get to the safehouse," Phil said, his voice sounding strangely strangled.

Three and a half hours. The mission to infiltrate the compound took the Strike Team three and a half hours. Phil spent the time pacing the safehouse, checking the intel, pacing some more, checking the comms. for messages, more pacing…

Damnit, was it hot in here? Was the air getting thicker and harder to breath?

The beeping on the palm reader at the front door caused Phil to stop in his tracks. This was it. This would be the moment he was going to either find salvation or be destroyed all over again.

The Strike Team had consisted of four agents. The first two entered the safe house, one limping and the other bracing his side carefully, both looking a bit ragged. The second to followed closely behind them… with a figure supported between them.

Phil felt rooted to the spot as he stared. Clint hung between the two with an arm thrown over the shoulder of each agent. He was pale, painfully thin, barely conscious… but he was alive. Phil should shouting, he should be running toward him, he should be celebrating… but his brain was completely blank. He felt detached from his own body as the agents carried a half stumbling Clint over to the side of the safehouse with the cots.

"Clint," Phil breathed softly. He took a step. Then another. "Clint." His throat was raw and he choked on Clint's name and he stumbled as he continued moving. Was this really happening? Could he have really done something in his life to deserve this miracle? "Oh my god, Clint!"

The agents had sat Clint on the cot, propped up against the wall. As Phil approached, they quickly made room for him so that he could perch sideways on the cot with one leg folded underneath him. He wanted to reach for Clint, to pull him close and never let go, but force of habit stilled his hand, knowing that Clint normally rejected physical contact.

"Clint?" Phil said softly.

Slowly and seemingly with a great amount of effort, Clint dragged his head up. He blinked a few times before he managed to focus on Phil. He stared for a long moment before his expression twisted painfully.

"Ph'l?"

Phil desperately looked for some obvious injury that was causing the pain of Clint's face. The question 'are you okay' died on his lips, as it seemed wildly inadequate for the situation. Of course Clint wasn't okay, not after almost five months of captivity.

And then a hand — trembles and cakes in dirt and dried blood — reached for Phil. "I… I th-thought…" Clint took in a rattling breath and Phil was taken aback to see a reflection of his own devastating grief reflected in Clint's eyes. "...Th-thou— you were… you were de-dead…"

It was too much. The pain of it all ripped through Phil as if he had been violently gutted. He reached out and carefully took Clint's hand. It felt so terribly thin and fragile in his hand.

"I thought you were," Phil said softly, his voice cracking. He tried to blink back the tears, but it was useless.

And then, Clint was reaching around with his other hand, leaning toward Phil. Clint Barton, who never sought out physical contact, who was too scarred from an abusive childhood to find solace in another person, was reaching out toward Phil in order to seek comfort.

Phil pushed himself more fully on the cot and carefully wrapped his arms around Clint, pulling him in close. Clint leaned into him and weakly gripped the front of Phil's shirt as if he were afraid that if he let go Phil would disappear. He took in several shuddering, sobbing breaths and Phil had no doubt that if he wasn't terribly dehydrated he would be crying.

"It's okay," Phil soothed softly, letting his own tears fall for the both of them. "It's okay, Clint. I've got you and I'm not going anywhere. Everything's okay now. We're going to take you home."

Author's Note: And there we have it! Thirty-One prompts completed! And only seven days passed the end date for the event, haha. Thank you again for anyone who followed along with this crazy ride! As I mentioned in the beginning, I was in a pretty big slump with my writing and I feel like this was a great way to get back into the groove on things!

I know a lot of you are bummed that this has come to an end... but I am excited to start working on my other projects again! I've been working on an Avengers High School AU story as well as the sequel to my Clint Barton origin story, Out of the Ashes, and I'm hoping to finally make enough progress with those to be able to start posting! I always like to have a few chapters of a novel length story done first before starting to post. Fingers crossed I can keep up my momentum!

Thank you all again! Until next time!