A/N: Thanks to altheterrible for a wonderful beta read. This is a long finish to what some of you thought I'd abandoned. I didn't mean to! So thanks for reading. Reminder: This is non-canon compliant. Big time.

The entrance to the cave down the road was small and oval shaped, a key hole-like opening pressed into the side of the tree-covered hill. Suzy crawled through first, and when she had to shimmy to get through, Clint shook his head. "No way I'm fitting in there," he said, crossing his arms.

Chloe wiped her own strong hands on her faded black jeans and cocked her head. "If I can get through, you can, short-stuff."

"Two inches," Clint countered with a glare. "You've got two inches on me is all. Besides, I'm definitely wider than you. Compared to you, I'm a fire-plug." It was true, and Clint adored Chloe's height and graceful limbs. When she stood next to Suzy, who was shorter than Clint, the two women were a picture of counterpoint.

Chloe just huffed, and Suzy called from the cave, "Come on, you wussies. Get in here!"

Clint hunkered down to peer through the hole. He threw a mock glare over his shoulder at Chloe and then wiggled his way through. His jeans were going to need a washing, that's for sure. A few grunts and one good thrust later, he practically popped into the cave. He crawled a few feet toward Suzy's headlamp, and was finally able to stand up next to her. He heard Chloe scuffling her way in behind him.

It was dark, but each of them had a headlamp, and it was cool, but not as cold as it was outside. Clint unzipped his hoodie and adjusted his thin gloves. "Lead on," he said to Suzy with a wave of his hand and a grin, and she shrugged her shoulders excitedly and gave a soft "do-do-dee-doo" imitation of a battle trumpet before she turned and headed down the small passageway they were in.

Clint followed, and Chloe was behind him, when they emerged into a bigger chamber. It smelled cleaner, and Clint could hear the drip-drip of water from the stalactites hanging from the ceiling. He shone his light toward the sound, and there were probably fifty of the stone spears poking down toward him. As he was looking, Chloe poked him playfully in the side. He startled and spun, and when she burst into laughter, so did he.

"You two are gonna make all the cave crickets scurry away with all that noise," Suzy said, slapping Clint lightly on the arm.

"Your girlfriend startles me and I'm the one who gets slapped?" Clint said, putting his hands on his hips. "I see how it is."

"She knows where her bread is buttered," Chloe said.

"Where her bed is buttered, you mean?" Clint replied, waggling his eyebrows. Chloe and Suzy slapped him at the same time. "Ow, okay, okay." His smile felt loose, easy in a way it hadn't been for a while. The darkness seemed to offer him some shelter, some safety to be loose and affectionate again. It felt like he had let a breath out he'd been holding.

"Look at this," Suzy said, pulling Clint's elbow, and he followed as she shone her hand-held flashlight at a spot on a rock a few feet away. There was a small, pale lizard sitting on the rock, and it didn't move when Clint and Suzy approached. Clint could see its shiny black eyes glitter in the beam of light.

They poked around the chamber for a few more minutes and then headed down an adjoining passageway a few feet, and the sulfuric smell got stronger as they went. When the passage opened into another room, it was smaller, but there was a small stream running along the side. Clint knelt next to it and shone his light in, wondering if anything was living in the dark water. He got a little lost staring at it, thinking of how it seemed so peaceful, here, this darkness and cloying air and narrowed world.

This darkness was safe and natural.

Suzy put her hand gently on his shoulder and he kept watching the water for a minute before standing. She didn't move her hand away, and he took it in his, rubbing his thumb along her cool skin. She pulled him away from the stream and they walked hand-in-hand to the next passage before separating and ducking down a much smaller path.

Two hours later, they'd explored all six of the accessible cave chambers and passages, and they headed back to the surface. Clint pulled the drier air into his lungs in a mouthful, and undid his headlamp, tucking it into his hoodie pocket. "Let's go see if Phil's survived Ruby's meal prep," he said, swinging his arms in a circle, enjoying the space and freedom of movement after the cave. Chloe and Suzy gave each other a knowing look, and they each grabbed one of Clint's hands as they walked down the road back to Ruby's house.

He tried not to grip them too tightly.

Dinner was almost ready when they got back. Clint took a quick shower and put on clean jeans and a new red flannel shirt before heading downstairs. He wasn't looking forward to seeing Christopher again, but his hike with Suzy and Chloe had reassured him, and he'd face Christopher again. He didn't have to make a scene.

Ruby was waiting for him with a carving knife and he took it and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before she could get away. "Just because I threw knives in my act, doesn't mean I can actually carve with them, you know," he said.

She frowned at him and said, "Shoo. You've been playing around in the dark for two hours. You can stand to help a little."

It was an old exchange, one they had a variation of every year since he started coming. "What did you guys do before I started showing up, huh?" he asked playfully. He stepped to the counter where the turkey had been placed.

"Pizza," Isaac offered as he came into the kitchen to check Clint's progress.

Before long they were all sitting at the table passing food around. Phil sat close to Clint, letting their shoulders touch when he could. Conversation flowed easily, and toward the end of the meal, Clint even found himself telling a story about Tony and Bruce trying a cooking experiment in their lab. He felt good telling it, felt warm thinking of his teammates, and even had a surprising pang of missing them.

Jake laughed at the story, loud and warm. "I'd like to meet that idiot Stark," he said, shaking his head.

Clint nodded. "You'd love him, and Christopher would hate him," he said, and when the table quieted a bit. He wondered if he'd said too much. He apparently couldn't do anything right around Christopher this weekend.

"Not sure how you'd know anything about who I'd like or not, after all these years," Christopher murmured.

"Chris," Ruby said, quietly fierce. "Leave it alone."

"No," Christopher said, shoving his empty plate away from him and leaning back in his chair. "I've never touched him, never done a thing to him and he still can't come here and try and get along with me in my own house." He glared at Clint. "What'd I ever do to you, Clint? Huh? Ever?"

And with that, Clint was done with it. He was done sitting by quietly angry, and the weekend was definitely showing him that he was a different person now, after Loki. He and Christopher hadn't fought like this in years.

Phil started to say something, but Clint cut him off. This fight was so far out of Phil's domain it was crazy that he would be able to do or say anything to help. This was his problem and he suddenly felt like he should've dealt with it years ago. "No, Phil. He's right."

Clint stood up and stepped back from the table, crossing his arms. He stared at the floor for a moment, wondering if this was worth anything at all. He'd always known why he hated Christopher, but he'd never said it out loud to anyone, not even Ruby when she'd try and talk him down after their fights. God knew she'd asked him enough times over the years why her husband rubbed him the wrong way.

He looked up at Christopher and tried to muster some volume in his voice. It only partly worked. His voice sounded thin and weak in his own ears. "You always reminded me of my dad," he said, trying to meet Christopher's eye. "You looked like him when you were younger, you're his size, and you were always yelling at us kids when me and Barney first showed up. I thought you sounded like him when you yelled." He paused and shrugged stiffly. "I don't know if that's true, really, but it stuck. You hated us kids and you sounded like my asshole dad, and then we got off on the wrong foot and all you could ever do was find my faults, which I knew well enough without your help." He paused. "I still do, believe me."

The table was quiet, and Clint and Christopher stared at each other for a beat before Clint shrugged and backed away.

He was too tired for this shit.

Phil watched Clint leave the room and he looked back at Christopher, who was staring at Clint's retreat.

Suzy was the first to speak. "Well, that explains a hell of a lot."

Ruby stood and looked at Phil and then at her husband and back to Phil. "Can I talk to him for a minute? Or do you want me to wait?"

Phil was grateful for the question, but he knew he'd stumbled into a stew of issues for Clint by coming along this weekend. He didn't want to complicate things, and this was family territory, not boyfriend territory. "You go ahead," he said. "Tell him I'll come find him in our room when you're done."

She nodded and retreated, and Phil took a deep breath and looked over at Christopher, who was standing up from the table. He brushed at his green flannel shirt as if he were trying to flatten it, and then he looked over at Jake.

"Do I really do that to him?" he asked, and Phil could hear the plea in his voice. It made him look at Christopher again, more closely. He was like the father who couldn't relate to his son, and Phil supposed it would fit.

Jake wiped his mouth and looked down at his plate for a moment before meeting Christopher's eyes with a small nod. "Yeah. I mean, he's never really measured up to you." He looked over at Suzy and added, "You don't give her half the grief you give Clint. I guess I can see how it might've looked to him."

Isaac sighed and said, "Clint came to us thinking he wasn't good for much, Chris. His perspective's always been a little off kilter."

Christopher nodded, a grim look on his face, and picked up his plate. "I'll meet you all out back later," he said, and left the dining room.

After a moment, Chloe said, "It's not always this dramatic," and gave Phil a wink.

Phil smiled, and didn't think it was divulging too much when he answered, "Everything's a little dramatic with Clint right now."

Isaac and Jake both fixed Phil with a strange look, and then Isaac nodded. His green eyes were dark and narrowed, and he looked to Phil like someone who was looking for a mistake.

"Why is that, exactly?" he asked quietly.

Phil leaned back in his chair and bit his lip. It wasn't his place to tell. This was Clint's story. But when he looked up at Isaac and over to Jake, to Suzy, to Chloe, he saw concern and love of a sort he never really knew anyone else except Natasha to have for Clint. It wasn't so much that he thought he and Natasha were the first people to ever love Clint - the ghost of Barney Barton lingered – but he'd never realized there was a whole group of people like this for Clint.

This was Clint's family, after all.

He took a sip of his coffee and looked up at Isaac. His eyes were filled with worry and compassion, and Phil felt something settle in his chest when he started to speak. "I won't tell you his part of the story. That's not mine to tell. Mine is…" he took a deep breath, and had to try again. "Mine is . . . less complicated, but it's part of his. When New York City was attacked, you all saw footage of Clint fighting the aliens, right?"

Suzy nodded. "I was scared to death for him. I didn't know he was that…" she trailed off.

"Prominent," Jake finished for her. He was watching Phil very, very carefully, and Phil was reminded of a bodyguard watching intently for a wrong move.

"Clint's been one of the most important field agents the US government has on its books for years. The Avengers was an obvious spot for him," Phil said. "But you have to understand that when he was fighting and you saw him on the news, he thought I was dead."

Jake crossed his arms, Suzy frowned and leaned her elbows on the table, Chloe sucked in a sharp breath, and Isaac steepled his fingers at his chest.

"I was hurt, badly. Our boss didn't realize I wasn't dead and falsely reported it to his team. They told him about me just before the fight, and he'd already been fighting on his own for days. During those days I was afraid he was lost to us. He'd been captured by the enemy." He paused and closed his eyes against the memory of fear and loss that bubbled up at the memory of all of this. He'd been truly convinced they had lost Clint to Loki, one way or another If Loki hadn't killed him, Phil had been terrified that SHIELD was going to have to kill him to make him stop working with Loki. It had been the worst three days of Phil's life.

Phil felt a hand on his arm and opened his eyes. Suzy had leaned over and was gently massaging his forearm.

"You must have been terrified," she whispered, and her eyes were wet.

He nodded. "So I thought he was lost to us, and then I was critically injured and reported dead. Clint had been recovered by a teammate after I was injured, and he fought the battle against the aliens thinking I was dead. He didn't find out otherwise for a week after the battle."

Phil looked down at his empty plate on the table. He didn't blame Nick, he really didn't. Nick was looking out for Clint as much as anything when he chose to keep Phil's fight back to life a secret. But Clint's face when Phil had finally seen him, his ashen, gaunt face and the bruises under his eyes, well. Phil had been sure Clint was on the edge of breaking.

He looked back at Clint's family and met Jake's worried gaze. "The fallout has been dramatic," he finished with a shrug.

After a few beats, Isaac asked, "You're recovered from your injuries?"

Phil nodded. "I don't have quite the stamina I need to be fully recovered, but yes."

Jake fixed Phil with a glare. "And Clint? Has he recovered?" His voice was steely and sharp.

Phil didn't answer right away. He had to consider this carefully, so he did. Finally, he looked at Jake and shook his head. "He's still working on it."

"That's why he lost it when you guys got here," Chloe said softly, and Isaac nodded.

"It's like he's raw right now," Isaac said. "Like he was when he was a kid."

"He went looking for fights back then," Jake added, and then he smiled. "So many fights."

Isaac spoke so quietly that Phil almost didn't hear him.

"It's all he knew how to do."

Everyone was sitting quietly when Ruby came back into the room and leaned over Phil, giving him an unexpected hug. "He's in your room," she whispered.

Phil stood, and Ruby touched his sleeve. "We'll clean up and get a fire going. Join us if you'd like, but if you need some time, we understand."

Phil just nodded his thanks, and headed upstairs to check on Clint.

Clint felt sluggish and slow as he climbed the old, creaky stairs to his room. Each step felt like it was a few inches higher than it should be, and he moved like he was as old as the house. When he reached the top, he started toward the bedroom he and Phil were staying in, but his eye caught a glimpse of Ruby and Christopher's room, their door slightly ajar. He could see their bed, with its antique bedposts twirling toward the ceiling and a knitted blanket draped over the end of the bed. His breath caught in his throat at the sight, and he was in their room reaching for it without realizing what he was doing.

It was a deep purple color, still vibrant even though the threads were frayed at the edges and it looked like it had traveled the world clutched in someone's grip for years. He picked it up and remembered clutching it, pulling it over his shoulders as he sat on the rickety floor of Ruby and Chris's trailer when he was fourteen. He pulled it to his face and rubbed his cheek on it, closed his eyes, and could smell the hay and sweat and sugary-sweet kettle corn that seemed to permeate anything a carnie owned.

"You used to huddle with that thing like it was a shield," Ruby said from the doorway, and Clint looked up sharply, taking in her soft smile and twinkling eyes.

He looked down at the blanket in his hands and nodded. "It kind of was," he said, and looked back up at Ruby. She moved close, pulled the blanket gently from his hands, and reached around him to drape it over his shoulders. He closed his eyes again, remembering the same movements years ago when he'd stumble into her trailer, his eye full of tears that refused to fall. He'd curl up against the trailer wall, pull his knees close to his chest, and duck his head down to shut out Barney's harsh reprimands and Trick's yells. He opened his eyes and grinned. "You always had the best shields."

She laughed and pushed him so that he had to sit on the edge of the bed, and she sat down next to him. He held the blanket out and she tucked herself under his arm so she was leaning against his side, and he wrapped them both with the blanket. She let out a heavy sigh.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. "I didn't mean to make anyone upset. It's just –" he cut himself off, not sure what to say. He didn't really know what was causing him to confront Christopher like this, except exhaustion and his own floundering emotions that seemed to be flying maniacally around his head these days.

"Shhh," she answered, and she rubbed a hand across his thigh protectively. "You don't need to apologize to me."

"To Christopher, maybe." Clint sighed. "I know I'm not fair to him. I've been avoiding him my whole life."

Ruby sat quietly for a moment and then said, "Maybe you've been avoiding what he stands for. It's not the same, and now he knows that. Besides," she added, "He's never been particularly fair to you, either."

Clint saw her eyes drift to a photograph framed on their dresser, a large picture of her son with both his parents, wide grins on all of their faces as they stood in front of a circus tent. "That's not the Christopher I ever met," he said. "I should know that enough to cut him some slack."

Ruby leaned a little more into Clint's side. "Loss doesn't excuse the way he's treated you, though. I've tried to tell him over the years, but back then it was too fresh, too hard." She paused, then added, "And then it was habit for both of you."

Clint nodded and closed his eyes again, took a deep breath, and pressed his chin to his chest, stretching his shoulders. "Habits can be broken," he whispered.

Ruby didn't answer. They sat quietly for a few minutes, and Clint felt some of the tension in his shoulders melt away. A moment later, Ruby shifted, and he looked over at her. Suddenly she looked older than he remembered, more gray in her hair and lines on her face.

Maybe he was just seeing things more clearly now.

"I'm worried about you," she said softly, and it startled him.

She had always taken care of him, and always seemed to know what he needed before he could ask. She would have hot cocoa sitting on her kitchen table, steaming, waiting for him when he snuck in after a show. She'd cover him with the purple blanket before he knew he was even cold. She just knew him. But he couldn't remember a time when she'd told him she was worried.

"I'm just tired," he replied. "It's been a bad year."

"I know," she said, and then she smiled. "Phil's a good part, though. I'm so glad you brought him with you."

Clint couldn't hold back a mirthless laugh. "Yeah, I bet he's not at this point."

Ruby slapped him gently. "You're not looking if you don't see that he wants to be here. That he wants to do whatever it takes to get you feeling better. He looks like a man who would follow you to the ends of the earth to make sure you were safe." She paused and added, "I adore him already."

Somehow, her small endorsement sent a warm feeling all the way down to Clint's toes, and he couldn't help grinning. "Yeah, me too."

"Why don't you go rest?" Ruby said, standing up and reaching for his hand. He let her pull him off the bed, unwrap him from the blanket, and shuffle him out the door. "You want to finish teaching your boyfriend how to walk a wire tomorrow, you'll need more energy."

He nodded and let himself be shooed to the door of his bedroom. He turned before she could get past him, though, and wrapped her in a bear hug. He breathed in the freesia scent of her shampoo and gripped her tightly. She hugged him back just as hard before she let go, gave him a wink, and headed back downstairs. Clint let himself into the room, toed his shoes off, and stretched out on the bed.

He was sound asleep in under a minute.

Phil found Clint asleep in their room, sprawled across the whole bed and snoring lightly, with his face pressed hard into a down pillow. He looked relaxed and young again in sleep. One of the first things Phil had noticed once he'd been back to noticing things was that Loki, the bastard, seemed to have aged Clint by years in the few days he had him. The lines in Clint's face had seemed deeper, his eyes were tired all the time, and he'd lost any appearance of youth that had been lingering into his forties.

Now, though, stretched out in jeans and a flannel, he looked younger than he had last week. Phil watched him sleep until Clint tensed, winced in a dream. Phil moved to the bed and sat down next to Clint, rubbed his hand through Clint's hair and across his cheekbone. It was still early in the evening and he'd rather wake Clint now than let him get trapped in a nightmare.

"Hey," he said as Clint opened his eyes blearily.

"Hey," Clint replied with a smile. His voice was gravelly from sleep, but it was warm, inviting.

Phil felt a pull in his chest at Clint's smile, so he leaned over and kissed him gently, long and slow. Clint pushed himself up into it, and he ran his tongue over Phil's lip, like he was tasting the coffee from after dinner. Phil pulled Clint up, into his arms and ran his hand through Clint's hair as they kissed. Finally they pulled back and just grinned at each other.

"Feel better?" Phil asked.

Clint nodded. "Yeah. Ruby helped."

Phil saw a sparkle in Clint's eye at Ruby's name and he nodded. "I imagine she's good at that."

Clint shrugged and slung his feet off the bed and onto the floor. He leaned into Phil's shoulder. "Perspective, you know?" He paused. "Theme of the weekend."

Phil chuckled. "Yeah. Theme of the year, maybe," he said, and he felt Clint go still next to him. He looked over and Clint nodded.

"Yeah."

"The others are out at the fire. You wanna join them?"

"Sure," Clint replied, and he stood and stretched. "Clean fall air'll help." He swapped out his flannel for a sweatshirt, and they headed downstairs and outside to join the others.

Jake had a guitar and was just fiddling around – the kind of fiddling around that seemed magical around a fire. They sat and listened for a bit, and then Isaac started telling a story. Phil stood and stretched his legs, and made his way over to a nearby picnic table as Clint joined in the story with a laugh.

The fire danced in Phil's eyes, smoke swirled above the fire like an almost-transparent blanket, and laughter floated underneath. He looked over at Clint, who was wearing his favorite green sweatshirt, faded jeans, and canvas flip-flops. He'd had the sweatshirt since Phil met him and it was faded from a deep forest green to almost a mint. It was a little bit too big, even with his shoulders and biceps, and it was frayed at the neck. It hugged him, though, and Phil watched as he rubbed his fingers absently at the sleeves.

Christopher started telling a story about a difficult crowd at the circus, and, despite the earlier outburst between them at dinner, Clint was chiming in and his face was flushed from laughing so much. Phil watched as Christopher added a detail ("The guy was a hipster before hipsters existed!") and Clint's face crinkled as he belly-laughed. Phil sat at the picnic table and watched Clint's face without really listening to the story.

"You seem distracted," Ruby said as she poured herself some sangria from the pitcher on the old, cracked picnic table.

Phil looked up at her from where he was straddling the bench of the table and he took a sip of his beer and nodded. "I guess I am."

Ruby sat down across from him and shoved the bowl of tortilla chips that was sitting between them aside so that she could stretch her arms across the table, silently asking for Phil's hands. They'd been hanging out for a day and a half and Phil felt completely comfortable offering her his hands, and she took them in hers, rubbing his palms with her thumbs. "Why?" she asked.

Phil leaned into her touch a little; he was convinced her hands were magic. "You know that thing his face does when he's laughing really hard?"

She looked back toward Clint and nodded. "When his eyes crinkle," she said.

"Yeah. His eyes crinkle and his face scrunches up and it's like he's got so much laughter he has to hold some of it in," Phil said. "He's doing that here."

"That's good, right?" she prodded.

Phil sighed and looked back at her. "Of course. I just haven't seen it in a while." he began, and then he looked away. "It's not bad."

"I think he's pretty happy with you," she said, rubbing harder against his palms. He looked down at her hands, seeing the skin just starting to loosen with age, seeing the creases from too much sun over the years.

"He's getting back to being happy," Phil offered.

They were quiet for a few minutes before Ruby said what Phil had been waiting for. She had, after all, been absent from their conversation earlier. "It was bad, wasn't it?"

He met her steely gaze and nodded. "Yes." Her eyes were searching, but she wasn't demanding. Her hands never slowed their pace of massaging his.

"You helped him through it, though," she said, and it wasn't a question, except in how it was.

"Yes," he started, but then the guilt that had been lurking for months reared up again. "No." He sucked in a breath. "I don't know."

Ruby leaned back a little and raised an eyebrow.

Phil sighed. "I helped him by not being dead."

"Not de—Oh. You were hurt in the fight with those aliens?" she asked, and Phil could see how much she loved Clint; that was clear from the moment she set eyes on him, and she was trying to help Phil. She cared about him already because Clint did.

"Yes," he answered. "Actually, I was declared dead for forty or something seconds, and my recovery has been rough. This is my first major trip since then, really."

She leaned back and cocked her head, like she was seeing him differently now. "Clint must have been scared to death when you were hurt," she said, but he was good at subtle interrogation and he knew when it was being practiced on him. She saw the layers of the story underneath that simplification.

"He wasn't around when it happened, and my boss told his team I was dead. He didn't find out differently for a few days."

Her eyes narrowed and she actually pulled her hands from his and crossed her arms across her chest. "He grieved for you," she said, and her voice was dark and low.

"When I finally came around I convinced my boss to tell everyone what happened, but yes. He thought I was dead for a week." Phil dropped his eyes to the table. "He was a mess when I finally got to see him." He remembered the dark bruises under Clint's eyes, the shadowed looks he would throw at Phil before ducking away, holding his arms close all the time. He remembered Clint's refusal to be alone with Phil until Natasha finally locked the hospital room door behind her one day with a glare. Clint had still stood in a corner for fifteen minutes before letting Phil hold his hand and tell him he wasn't angry and didn't blame him.

"Your boss lied to him for a week?" she asked, her words careful, guarded. He had an image of Ruby and her long, grey ponytail facing Nick Fury. He'd bet she could hold her own.

Phil nodded. "He thought he had to, at the time. And then the chaos didn't let him correct it until Clint spent a week blaming himself. Even after he found out I was alive he held back because he's so god damned hard on himself."

She smiled sadly. "He's always been too hard on himself," she said.

Phil knew an opening when he saw it, and he was ready to move on. Any more to the story would have to be Clint's to tell. "Tell me more about when he was a kid?" he asked, looking back over at Clint, who was telling a story, using his hands to talk the way he always did.

"He was ten and his brother was fourteen," she said. She was quiet for a moment while they both watched Clint stretch his arms wide to tell his story, and she chuckled. "They were both really quiet and reserved when I met him. I was twenty-nine, and he didn't trust adults as far as he could spit back then." She looked at Phil and smiled. "He loved my big cats. He was crazy-brave and kept sneaking into their pens when I wasn't around. I even found him sleeping right outside of the lion's cage with one hand on Triand's paw one night."

Phil thought that image might warm him for the rest of his life.

Her voice grew sad and Phil saw her hunch a little bit. "He and his brother didn't come from a good place, and back then Clint was small and a little too brave. Some of the meaner adults started to notice him, and it was only a few months before Trick realized how talented Clint was and started training him. Training, though," she stopped, and there were tears in her eyes.

Phil leaned forward and took her hands, startling a sigh from her. "I know he was abused at the circus. He told me. He also said there wasn't anything anyone else could do. Trick was too powerful there."

"We tried," she said. "Isaac would pull him to help with sets and I would pull him to do lessons, but we couldn't stop it. Isaac tried standing up to Trick once and got a beating, too. Clint always said –" she paused and took a heavy breath. "He always said he deserved it. That Trick was just training him to do better. I was so glad when –"

There was a shout and then everything was silent. Phil looked over and felt an all-too-familiar fear snake into his chest. Clint's chair was strewn behind him and he was hunched over on the ground, pulling sharply at his hair and rocking on his heels.

Isaac was kneeling next to him and Phil could hear his deep voice. "Clint. Clint, stop."

Phil stood and jogged over. Suzy and Chloe were on their feet, but hanging back, unsure. Christopher moved to stand with Ruby as she approached carefully.

Clint was curled in a ball in front of his toppled lawn chair and his breathing was erratic, rushed, short. Phil looked up at Isaac, whose green eyes shone with worry in the firelight. "Step back?" Phil asked gently, and Isaac nodded and stood, stepping away. Phil knelt down next to Clint, but he didn't touch him.

He spoke sternly, but he still didn't touch. "Clint. Look up at me. It's Saturday and you're in Hocking Hills at Ruby's place, you were telling a story, Clint. Look up at me, please? Clint. I'm right here. I'm here with you, please look up."

Clint raised his head slowly, like someone was pressing down on his head and he was forcing his chin up. He met Phil's gaze for a second, but his gaze slipped off to the side, around the fire. His skin was pale and he was sweating, his neck muscles taut.

"Clint. Look at me," Phil repeated, and Clint tried again to meet his gaze, but his eyes slipped to the fire again. "I'm going to take your hand, okay?" Clint nodded, and Phil reached out slowly and took Clint's hand and placed it on his own chest, over his heart. "I'm right here."

Clint's breath hitched and he clenched his eyes shut, his breath scratchy and uneven, too fast and too hard.

"Clint, breathe with me, okay? I'm counting. One – breathe in. Two – breathe out. Three – breathe in." Everyone around them seemed to melt away and Phil only worried about getting Clint to breathe properly. He could feel the heat from the fire at his back, sharp and pressing, but all his concentration was on Clint. It took longer than he liked, but finally Clint relaxed a fraction and his chest rose and fell regularly.

He finally looked at Phil, and his eyes were pleading, asking a question that Phil couldn't understand. He moved Clint's hand to his own cheek, though, feeling the scrape of callouses on his skin, and spoke again, guessing at the question. It was always the same question. "You're safe. I'm safe. Natasha's safe. She's not here, but she's safe. I spoke to her this afternoon and she and Maria are safe at Maria's house. Okay? We're all safe."

Clint nodded and sat back on his heels, and then sat down heavily on the dirty ground. He pulled his knees up to his chest and took a deep, shuddering breath. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"It's okay," Phil answered, and then he looked around, finding Ruby a foot away and watching carefully. "Can you get a glass of ice water, please?"

She nodded and went inside. The others were standing in a wary circle now, but Clint wasn't paying attention to them. He had his face buried in his knees, and Phil ran a hand up and down his back steadily until Ruby came back with a clear glass. He took it with a nod and picked up Clint's hand and pressed the glass into it.

Clint's hand shook, but he took a long pull from the glass and blew a shaky breath out after. He finally looked around and noticed his friends, and he uncurled a bit. "Sorry," he said to all of them. He looked up at Christopher pointedly. "I'm sorry." It came out as a whisper, jagged and rough. Phil looked up at Christopher, who was standing closest with a look on his face that said he wanted to hit something. It was anger, pure and hot.

The anger seemed to melt away like candle wax, though, as Christopher knelt down in front of Clint and reached out slowly to put a hand on Clint's forearm. Clint looked at the hand like it was completely foreign. Phil supposed it was.

Christopher spoke, his voice low and sharp. "You got nothin' to be sorry for, Clint. Nothin'. You're a fighter. You have been since the day I met you, and whatever fight you had last year put you through the wringer and then some. Whatever fight you had took too much from you. You don't deserve that, and you sure as hell don't deserve me pickin' fights with you out of habit and years of stupid resentment." He pulled a long breath in, and Clint unfurled a little, sat up straighter, and stared. "I'm the one who's sorry," Christopher finished, and his voice was hardly audible. He reached out and pulled Clint toward him.

Phil leaned out of the way, and Clint melted into Christopher, wrapped his arms around him tight, like he was hanging on for life. Phil stood and looked over at Ruby, who was holding a hand in front of her mouth. Isaac was smiling and leaning into Jake, who was nodding.

"Chris," Clint whispered, and Phil could only barely hear it.

"Yeah, kiddo?" Christopher replied gently, leaning back to look into Clint's eyes.

"I killed so many people," he said, and he was begging with his eyes, imploring Christopher for forgiveness, or understanding, or both. "I didn't mean to," Clint added through gritted teeth.

Christopher cocked his head and nodded. "It's not who you are," he said, and his voice was firm and brooked no argument.

Clint started to argue anyway. "But I - " he began.

Christopher interrupted him, louder this time. "It's not who you are." Clint swallowed and stared. "You said I found all your faults all the time, and you're right. I kept looking for mistakes and screw ups from you. I know which ones are real, and killing a lot of people isn't who you are. You might've had to do that at one point in your life, but it's not you. I know you. I've been an asshole to you most of your life, but I know who you are."

The morning dawned crisp and skirted the edge of cold. Clint sat on the step of the back deck sipping his steaming mug of dark, rich coffee and watched the sun climb through the mist.

"Far cry from the city, huh?" Jake said as he sat down next to Clint, close enough to brush his shoulder. It felt comforting to Clint. He closed his eyes and could almost hear the roustabouts pounding tent stakes into the hard ground and animals whinnying and grumbling in their trailers.

"It's good," he answered, and then he opened his eyes and grinned at Jake. He had a thought about how each of his friends had a role back in the circus, and they'd each done it again here, this weekend. Jake was the one who pulled him back from the fights and out of the moment, dragged him to Isaac to get him calmed down. He was already calm today, though, after the tumult of last night, the roller coaster of emotion between another goddamned panic attack and being enveloped in Christopher's arms. Today felt like it would have to be easier.

"Phil gonna try the wire this morning?" Jake asked, staring out at the wire in the distance.

Clint chuckled. "You think he's ready?"

"Ready as he'll ever be. We have a net for a reason, and anyway, he looks like a guy who knows how to take a fall."

Clint looked over sharply, and Jake shrugged.

"I dunno. He just looks like he knows how to fall."

Clint nodded. "Yeah, I guess he does."

"You feelin' better this morning?" Jake asked, and he sipped his coffee without looking at Clint.

Clint didn't answer right away. "Yeah," he finally said. "I think so."

He was, too. He'd been wrung out and limp after his panic attack last night, his body shaky and wracked with exhaustion. Phil had led him upstairs without a word, helped him strip and change into his pajamas, and tucked him into the bed carefully. He'd laid there trembling for a while, but Phil's chest rising and falling in even breaths behind him had soothed him to sleep, and he woke feeling more rested than he had in a very long time.

He and Jake sat quietly after that, watching the sun rise, listening to the others clean up the kitchen from breakfast, watching Christopher haul some more wood from the pile next to the shed back up to the house.

Clint loved how Jake was just there. That was his trick, Clint's whole life, always being where he needed to be, unobtrusive but steady. Unlike Christopher, Jake didn't even seem to own a temper, and Clint wouldn't believe he even had one if he hadn't seen once, in full force.

"You remember that time you whipped me?" Clint asked.

Jake chuckled. "Only had to do it once."

Clint laughed, too. "I had it coming. Learned my lesson. Never did it again, either." He remembered the fire in Jake's eyes matched his red hair, and his voice had been low and dangerous as he smacked Clint hard enough to bring tears to his eyes

"Never stole again, ever?" Jake asked, and his voice was gentle, but he couldn't hide his curiosity.

Clint didn't blame him. "Nope. I did a lot of shit worse, but I never stole a thing my whole life after that. I thought you were never gonna talk to me again."

"I knew you were bein' influenced by Barney, but that wasn't an excuse." Jake's voice hardened a bit as he mentioned Clint's brother.

Clint didn't flinch at Barney's name, just had a fleeting wish that things had turned out different for his brother. He sipped his coffee and nodded. "Yeah, you were right. Plus you hit real hard, old man," he added, and he leaned into Jake's shoulder for a moment.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm old now, that's for sure."

Clint shrugged. "You seem to be getting around okay to me."

"Yeah. I'm okay, punk. Let's go see if your boyfriend can walk the wire, huh?"

They stood and went inside, and Clint set his cup in the sink. Phil wandered up and slipped his hand into Clint's, and it felt warm and safe, like this place.

"You ready to walk?" Clint said, and Suzy whistled.

"He's ready, Clint! He's totally ready!" she said, and Clint would have sworn her voice was made out of bubbles this morning. She wore a ponytail and had a powder blue baseball cap pulled down over her blonde hair.

Chloe had her arm wrapped around Suzy's shoulder and wore a matching ball cap and matching smile. "I'll make sure the car's warmed up for the trip to the hospital," she said. Clint glared and she laughed. "Kidding! He's gonna do great!"

Phil, dressed in a purple sweatshirt, jeans, and faded tennis shoes, groaned. "No hospitals."

Suzy laughed and tugged at Phil's hand. "Come on! Let's do this!"

Clint followed them outside and back to where the wire was set. He had his phone on video and he turned the ball cap he was wearing so it was backward and out of his way.

Phil elbowed him and said, "You look like a frat boy."

"Insults won't make me turn off the video, Phil," he jabbed back. "Natasha needs an early Christmas present. Come on, go on up."

Phil looked up at the wire and gulped visibly. "You coming with me?"

Clint shook his head. "I'll be waiting on the other side."

"Ready to come get me?"

Clint could hear the nerves in Phil's voice, which was really unusual. He leaned in and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Ready to high-five you and send you back again."

Phil looked up at the wire, then back and Clint. He took a deep, steadying breath and headed up the ladder. Suzy followed close behind, and Clint climbed the ladder on the other side and watched Suzy lean over to give Phil a last minute pep talk. Clint held up his phone and waited for Phil to square his shoulders and face the wire. He hit record. Phil hesitated and Suzy said something to make him laugh, and Clint loved watching him with her. She made a good teacher.

Phil squared his shoulders again, took a deep breath, and stepped out.

Isaac and Ruby called from the ground, reassuring cheers as Phil practically ran across the wire, taking the 'keep forward motion or you'll fall for sure' advice quite literally. His face was the picture of concentration the whole time, though, and there was only once when Clint sucked a breath of worry in sharply. Phil was across a blink after that and in Clint's arms, laughing hysterically. Clint was laughing, too, a full belly laugh that filled his chest and warmed him down to his toes, and he couldn't stop. He tugged Phil with him as he sat down on the platform and just laughed and laughed, and when his laughter brought tears, Phil held him tight and laughed along.

Clint finally wiped his eyes and grinned at Phil. "You fucking did it on your first try! You bastard!"

Phil just shrugged and gestured over to Suzy. "I learned from the best," he said, "And I had you waiting. How could I fall?"

Clint stared at him, stared into his piercing blue eyes, and there he saw reassurance and love and confidence, and for the first time in a very long time, he saw a future. He saw past the panic and the fear, past the guilt and past the hesitation, to the future, the one where Phil was always waiting for him and he was always waiting for Phil, ready to catch each other at the other end of a wire. He stood up and pulled Phil with him. "I'm going back. Follow me after?"

Phil grinned even wider. "I'll always follow you. Come get me if I fall?"

Clint nodded and breathed in a lungful of the clean air of autumn in the hills as they both stood up. "Every time," he replied, and then he crossed the wire into Suzy's arms, and his family cheered Phil on as he crossed again, more confident, a little slower this time, and Clint held his arms out to him and embraced him at the end.