A/N: Okay, this idea just ambushed me and I COULDN'T resist it. (chuckles) Before getting to the actual thing, though…

THE GENERAL IDEA: This collection consists of… what it says in the title, basically. We'll see if we actually reach 1001… Poor Hawk!

DISCLAIMER: (HOWLS with laughter) You guys have gotta be kidding me…! That would reguire the kind of money that I just don't have. Which definitely bites! Well, at least I own an 'Avengers' DVD so I get to watch Jeremy Renner whenever I want to…

WARNINGS: violence, injuries, blood… hey, near deaths aren't usually clean!… language, since Tony Stark's in this one… The chapters rated M will be marked clearly. IF any chapter / story happens to contain a pairing that'll be marked clearly as well.

Alright, then… This is something really different for me but I hope that this turned out okay. Enjoy?

Hawks Don't Swim

Something told Clint Barton that the mission would be… unpleasant ever since it began. The fact that it took place in a frosty, deserted place in nobody-knows-where north didn't help. His feelings didn't improve as he tried to remain as still and invisible as possible on his newest perch. Which certainly wasn't the most ideal one, considering that there was intense fighting everywhere below him, a for the time being heavily guarded enemy base up front and a frozen lake behind him. To enthrone the misery he was quickly running out of arrows.

"I'll strangle Fury with his eyepadge when we get home", Tony Stark's voice growled through his ear-comm.

"Not if I get to him first", Clint muttered. Hell, if he'd make it through this alive and without horrible frost bites he'd shoot an arrow at Nick's rear. The Hawk's sharp eyes shifted towards the Iron Man. "Two at your three o'clock, tin can."

"Cheers, pigeon."

Pleased to discover that Tony was holding his own Clint returned his attention to the rest of the team. Natasha was currently giving three enemies the ride of their lives and seemed to be enjoying it. Hulk was chasing two more while demolishing the base with intense vigour. Thor's hammer was in a good use. How about that. Maybe he'd been wrong and this wouldn't end up being a massive disaster, after all.

Clint really should've known better than to jinx it.

Because that was when he made the mistake of looking towards Steve Rogers. Sure, Captain was fast in progress securing the front of the base. The problem was the hostile approaching the man from behind, a gun in hand.

A sharp jolt of alarm crossed Clint exactly a second before he snarled. "Cap, duck!" The other man obeyed instantly and the archer reacted just as quickly. An arrow pierced the enemy's chest, dropping the guy a blink later.

Even with the suit Clint saw Steve's sharp intake of breath. A breath, that was the key point. Still alive and kicking. "Thank you."

Clint was about to respond something clever until a very unpleasant tingle traveled across his skin, radiating through his entire body. His eyes widened a fraction. "Oh crap…!"

The problem with being a sharp shooter is that you can only fire so many arrows or bullets until at least one of the enemies is un-preoccupied and sharp eyed enough to catch the pattern. And when that happens, when the perch is discovered… You're a sitting duck.

Clint didn't actually see the attacker. He was too busy with the discovery of a gunshot and trying to guess which direction it came from. Yes, he was fast enough to dodge it. But it was enough to steer him off balance.

Starting to fall, Clint locked eyes with Steve's. There was a voice screaming in his ear. He was too absorbed by the fast approaching ice to actually understand what was being said.

The last coherent thought Hawkeye had before darkness consumed him was a very gloomy 'This is gonna hurt…'.

For a few precious seconds Steve was frozen by shock as he watched Clint dive through the air. Too fast, too out of control. And then the archer's body smashed against the ice with a brutal amount of force, shattering it. The man sunk like a stone.

"HAWKEYE!"

"Cap, what the hell's going on?" Natasha sounded tense and sharp. It took a careful ear to catch the intense worry lingering underneath, buried by years upon years of well trained self control.

Steve gulped loudly. It was in moments like these he hated being the leader. Firmly pushing aside the suffocating amount of terror and worry beginning to swell he forced himself into thinking rationally. Natasha had almost reached the stone they'd been after. Tony was busy. He highly doubted that Thor could even swim. And sending in Bruce while the man was firmly in his Hulk form… Well, that wouldn't work for a number of reasons.

Steve's heart was racing madly while he finally regained his ability to move and ran like the devil itself had been chasing him. "Hawkeye's down." His voice sounded unnaturally tight. "Secure the stone. I'll get him."

There was loud cursing from two voices. He let it slide, just this once. "Copy that." Natasha's tone sounded more like a hiss than anything else. She knew what she needed to do but she didn't have to like it.

"Get him out of there so I can kick that feathery bastard's ass when we're done!" Tony growled, his voice consealing far less than the billionaire most likely aimed for.

By then Steve had already reached the ice. Clint's violent impact had caused a rather impressive hole. He dove in before he had the chance to think about it too much.

The water was ice cold and far too many unpleasant memories resurfaced. It took all of Steve's willpower to focus past them, to not muse how very familiar the water around him felt. That was when he spotted something that distracted him effectively.

Down below Clint had already hit the bottom, pulled down by the weight of his clothes and weaponary. The archer's eyes were closed and Steve couldn't tell if his friend was breathing. All of a sudden the merciless cold around him became very different.

Steve swam as fast as he could, still fearing that he wasn't quick enough. By the time he finally reached Clint there was absolutely no color left on the archer's face. The Captain had to focus with all his might not to get lost into worst case scenarios.

For someone with his strength hauling Clint's limp weight to the surface was no challenge. As soon as there was air Steve inhaled hungrily, greedily. He was much too aware of the fact that Clint didn't do the same.

Once they reached solid land Steve ran a quick inspection, pleased to discover that there was no threat nearby. Then, with a heavy heart that was full of fear, focused on the man he'd just pulled out of the frosty depths. What he found certainly wasn't reassuring.

Clint wasn't breathing and it was impossible to tell if there was even a pulse.

"No", Steve gasped, staring at his friend's terrifyingly pale face. The bluish lips gave no further comfort. "You're not going to do this." Not for saving my life!

With the sudden, eerie rationality of a former army man Steve remembered the knife Clint always had hidden in his boot. He took it without hesitation and winced before cutting through the fabric of the Hawk's uniform. "Sorry about this." But he didn't exactly have a choice.

As soon as he restricting fabric was out of the way Steve began the horrible work. Taking a position that'd been imprinted permanently to his mind he started pumping efficiently, trying to force the archer's heart into motion. He found it brutal and unfair that while his own heart was leaping on without any control Clint's refused to even shudder under his hands.

Come on now, please…!

Steve had no idea how many times he repeated the round, focusing on counting single motions instead. At some point he wondered briefly why the rest of the team wasn't demanding news until he realized that the water had probably destroyed the comm. The twenty-sixth over the past four months. Fury wouldn't be pleased. At the moment he just didn't care.

Why wasn't Clint breathing already?!

Steve's eyes were burning hellishly and if he'd been able to pay even the slightest bit of attention to such a thing he would've noticed the couple of tears streaming down his face. It just didn't matter. All that mattered was Clint and the fact that his heart had been still for…

The sudden, violent gasp was so unexpected that Steve came embarrassingly close to yelping. His hands shook far more than he would've cared to admit but his voice was calm while he murmured and helped Clint to his side. "It's alright. You'll be okay." Now that Clint was finally breathing the relief was so intense that it nearly struck Steve's breath away.

At first Clint coughed horribly for what felt like ages. Then came the huge, wheezing pants that attempted to restore the much longed oxygen. The warm air coming through the archer's still bluish lips formed precious, welcomed clouds to the air. It took ages before a barely audible, choked half-whimper left the man. "… ouch …"

One half of Steve wanted to laugh, the other cry. By some miracle he managed to do neither. "I'd imagine", he agreed softly, wincing as he recalled the pummeling he'd just given his friend's chest. He rubbed gentle circles on the Hawk's back, hoping that it'd ease the functioning of the newly re-started respiratory system at least a little. He had no idea which one of them was shaking more. "But you'll be okay. You'll be just fine." Nor did he know which one of them he was trying to convince.

To his stun Clint actually smiled. It was a thin one and didn't look right with how off the color of the man's lips still was. But the sight was nonetheless oddly reassuring. "… know", Clint wheezed, his teeth beginning to chatter. Somehow the man managed to turn his head just enough to look at him. Those eyes were a little dull from the ordeal but the familiar burn of life was very much present. "… owe me a suit."

Steve's lips twitched to a smile. Soon it quivered, almost turned into a grimace. It was the least he could do after a member of his team nearly died to save his life. "I know. I'll get you two."

A couple of days later, with the whole fiasco over and Clint nursing the nasty case of a flue that followed, the archer woke up in the middle of the night to a very unnerving sensation. Someone was in his room. And there was a hand pressed against his chest.

As came naturally to him Clint remained perfectly still and calm. Assessed the potential threat. His pulse didn't even speed up until he'd already reached all necessary conclusions.

It was Steve. Steve, who smelled like he'd just finished a marathon. A nasty nightmare, then.

Now, Clint didn't exactly enjoy being touched without his permission. But he knew how Steve's head worked and had a feeling that this was the kind of a reassurance the team leader needed. Yes, the Hawk had drowned but he hadn't checked out just yet. He could feign being asleep until Steve believed it as well.

The following morning Clint woke up to discover two brand new suits waiting for him. About an hour later Natasha appeared with his breakfast and revealed that Steve was properly asleep for the first time since the great plunge. Clint smiled but revealed nothing. "Are those… pancakes?"

"Yup, courtesy of Tony Stark."

"You guys are trying to actually kill me, aren't you?"

"Hey, at least I was able to keep Thor out of the kitchen."

End of oneshot.

A/N: Poor, poor Clint! And that was just the first one of MANY… Please, do let me know your thoughts! Was that any good, at all?

It's your turn to make a difference! Is there a near-death you'd like to see? Let me know! I'm WAY more than open to requests. I'd love to hear from you. ALL REQUEST WILL BE TAKEN INTO ACCOUNT AND, UNLESS I HAVE A VERY GOOD REASON NOT TO, TYPED AND PUBLISHED. I can't promise 100 percent regular updates but believe me, there's plenty to come. Each story is a oneshot or three chapters long, max. (And for the 'Criminal Minds' fans out there… I'm considering launching a similar one for our beloved Dr. Spencer Reid. But first I've gotta finish a fic or two, heh. Do send me your thoughts about that one, too!)

In any case, THANK YOU SO MUCH for reading! Who knows. Maybe I'll see you one day?

Take care!