Title: Of the Bonds Forged in Fire

Summary: Steve Rogers followed Strike Team Delta on a seemingly routine mission. But it turns out to be anything but, as the three Avengers are plunged into a fight for their lives and Steve will know what it truly means to be a SHIELD agent and partners. Set after 'Avengers' but before 'Winter Soldier'

Chapter title: We'll See That We Need Them to be Who We Are

Author's Note: So this is actually the last chapter! I did say in the beginning that this was a small enjoyable little fic. However, I am toying with the idea of a sequel to this that's gonna be darker and a little more complex with some higher stakes, if anyone is interested in that?

Also, did anybody see Age of Ultron yet? Oh MY GOSH! That is all I'm saying for now. Have you seen it? What did you think of it? I am ready to talk if anyone has something to talk about ;-)

Anyways, this is it for now, so I hope you'll enjoy this final chapter and as always please leave a review at the end to tell me what you thought of not only the chapter but the whole story as well

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own anything. This is written purely for entertainment purposes and any character you might recognize are not mine.

Every sense of argument left the room and the two tired pair of eyes landed immediately on the figure in the hospital bed.

Clint's grey eyes were eyeing the two agents before him wearily. It was the only part of him that was moving since he didn't seem to have the energy to do anything else. All was quiet in the room and it seemed to drag on for a few long agonizing seconds as none knew what to say. Barton was the first one to break it.

"Don't mind me. Carry on whatever you were yelling about."

Steve couldn't help the small laugh of relief that escaped his mouth. Natasha on the other hand just stared at the archer with a look that the captain couldn't decipher. That was until she stalked over to Clint's bedside and smacked him across the head. It wasn't hard by far but the sound still echoed in the small hospital room.

"Ouch! What was that for?" Clint exclaimed as his hand reached up to rub the sore spot.

"That was for screwing it up and almost killing yourself in the process," she answered coolly. But a smirk was playing at her lips and Steve knew she hardly meant it.

His belief was cemented when she placed a firm hand on the archer's shoulder and squeezed. The motion and the open look on her face was perhaps one of the most expressive signs of tenderness Steve had seen from the assassin and it warmed his heart to know someone had gotten through the high bearings she constantly wore. He suspected it was because Clint had built the exact same wall for himself.

Their small moment ended shortly after when Natasha's phone beeped loudly. She quickly straightened up and read the text. "Looks like it's my turn with Stein."

"You leaving a bit for me when you're done?" Clint asked nonchalantly, though his voice was crisp with the underlying venom. Apparently he had already guessed who it was she was talking about. Or perhaps he had been awake longer than they thought.

"You'll get your chance, hotshot," Natasha padded the shoulder she had been holding mockingly.

On the way out the door, she turned towards Steve. "Watch over that one, will you? Make sure he doesn't try to escape before he's ready." In the doorway looked back at the archer in the bed with a smirk. "And you … be nice."

Then she disappeared, leaving Steve with an arched eyebrow aimed at Barton in a questioning stare. Clint only shrugged his shoulder, wincing when the movement hurt his body.

"I was fine. Those quacks just refused to discharge me," he quickly explained.

"I bet," Steve said, non-believing. He had an inkling feeling that Clint's definition of fine was much different than the medical term.

The soldier leaned back into the chair and eyed the man before him. He saw all the bruises and cuts; all the wires connected to the machines. He saw the bags underneath the archer's eyes and the empty look of fatigue. The question came out of his mouth before he even realized himself and knew the chances of an honest answer were next to none.

"How are you feeling, soldier?"

"Fine. Better than yesterday," Clint simply answered.

Steve could only nod. He didn't know the man well enough to try and coax a more reliable answer out of him and instead just accepted what he got. He knew what he wanted to ask but hesitated because he doubted he would get anything out of it and would only succeed in making the archer slam the door into his life permanently shut in his face. So he didn't, but the need must have been openly written across his face, for Clint squinted slightly at him and sighed deeply before speaking.

"You clearly have something on your mind, Cap. What is it?"

The super soldier debated with himself whether or not he should just shrug it off as nothing but he knew he had been offered a chance and he would be a fool not to take it.

"I saw the scar."

For a brief time Clint looked as if he was lost in the past, but then it was swept away and the cocky, relaxed mask was put back into place. "They are not exactly a rarity on this line of work, Rogers. You of all people should know by now that it's a hazardous line of work."

"The one I'm talking about I don't think that comes from work. Otherwise Natasha would have simply told me," Steve said. He knew it was going to be a struggle but now that he started down the path he wasn't turning around.

"You asked her about it?" Clint said, seemingly impressed to the lengths Steve had gone for an answer. "What did she say?"

"Nothing."

"Why the curiosity?" Clint then asked.

Steve pursed his lips for a second. That was a damn good question. Was there really a reason other than to settle his own curiosity? He settled for the answer he figured Barton wouldn't tear him a new one for. "I guess I simply want to know my teammates. And you guys aren't exactly open."

"There's a reason for that, Cap. We've learned the hard way that personal knowledge is a vulnerability."

"Is that what happened?"

"I trusted the one person what was supposed to have my back," Clint said. He stared intently up at the ceiling. "A huge mistake."

"I'm sorry." It was the only thing he could think of to say. The feeling Clint would have been left with after trusting someone who simply then stabbed him in the back … Steve didn't dare to think if it had happened to him. If Peggy or Bucky had betrayed him … He shuddered at the thought.

"Don't be. It was a long time ago." Clint was quick to reassure and downplay it as a simple misstep in his past and that it was just water under the bridge now. But Steve could clearly hear the underlying pain of a wound that hadn't healed yet and this wasn't something the archer seemed to just forget.

"Were you close?" he asked carefully.

At this Clint turned his head and looked at him with wariness and suspicion. Steve could see his wheels turning in his head and the archer seemed to debate with himself whether or not he should share his burden and his secrets. A long time passed and the soldier began to suspect Barton wouldn't say anything more. But then to his surprise, Clint did speak. His voice was low and barely above a whisper.

"He was my brother."

"I'm-," Steve was about to say sorry, but he promptly closed his mouth before the word would exit. It would mean little to the archer and he would only view it as pity. Instead he opted for a different word. "That's terrible."

It didn't work. "I don't need your pity, Cap. It happened a long time ago. Nothing is going to change it." Clint's tone suggested it was the end of that subject.

"I wasn't offering pity, Barton," Steve quickly assured. He wanted the man to know that this new information didn't change the way he viewed him. "Only sympathy."

It seemed to do the trick well enough for Clint raised an amused eyebrow. "That won't get you very far in this business."

Steve smirked and hoped he didn't overstep the line with his next sentence. "But it might give me some friends to have my back along the way."

Barton didn't speak or answer but his lips quirked at the edges in a small smile that broadened after a little while.

"I never got to thank you, by the way," Steve continued when it looked like Barton wouldn't. "For shooting that guy. You saved my life."

"Don't sweat it, Cap. Guess that only makes us even," Clint casually replied.

And just like that the tension and awkwardness lifted.

Steve knew that he had only gotten a small glimpse into the world of the two assassins and SHIELD. But he was one step closer to figuring out everything this modern and new era he found himself in held for him and the seemingly much darker shades of gray he would come to work and operate in.

But he was certain that when he fully entered it, he knew he had at least two people who would watch his back.

THE END