Warning: descriptions of violence though mostly mild at this point. Also extremely brief allusion of child abuse.

The pain is all too familiar. For as long as he can remember, Clint's been getting hurt. From a shitty home to life as a carnie, some lame attempts at being a superhero before recruitment by SHIELD and eventually becoming an Avenger. Bruises, broken bones, cuts, burns, gunshots wounds were just normal life. It's actually kind of depressing if Clint thinks about it and he is because his life is flashing before his eyes. Honestly, he hasn't felt this down about a situation since he was a kid and was actually physically helpless. None of the Avengers knows he's here. Kate probably assumes he's gone to make up with Darcy and…shit. Darcy. She's probably still angry at him.

Clint's never going to see Darcy again and that's really the most depressing thought so far. She's never going to know what really happened. That he loves her but sometimes is not so good with the explaining his actions even if he will do his best to work on it. Because he's not going to get the chance to work on it or even tell her he loves her. He's going to die in a dirty warehouse at the hands of a yet to be named mob. Even if this is the most likely way that he was going to die, it still sucks. A small part of him was still holding out for dying of old age. Maybe with Darcy complaining in her broken sign language by his side.

Do the dying see the hopeful future they long for along with the flashes of the past? Because the image of Darcy wrinkled, grey-haired and smiling at him is actually a really nice image. Not that he'd tell her that because she's already freaked out about turning into her mother.

Oh, right. He won't be able to.

Another punch to the side and all he can get out is a bloody exhale of breath. His entire body is in pain and he can't feel where the injuries stop. While Clint thinks that Uncle Rocco has actually kind of gone easy on him, it's still an objective term. The crowbar was used mostly for blunt force. All middle body and thigh. No broken ribs yet, just bruised. Hearing aids still in and untouched, mostly because they want him to hear the verbal abuse. They've hit his face but only with fists and they've avoided his junk, which is probably just out of manly sympathy (still appreciated). Even if his left eye is swollen shut and there's blood pooling in his mouth, he's still got all this teeth. Though, if they're really gonna dispose of him, then he supposes the teeth are going to be one of the first to go postmortem. They haven't busted his knee caps even if they've alluded to it but maybe they're saving it for the pièce de résistance.

"Ya know," Rocco muses, crossing his arms and looking down on Clint with he thinks may be a speculative gaze. It's hard to tell with the one good eye when blood is dripping down into it. "Gotta say, for a testa di cazzo, you can really take a punch. Most guys woulda been cryin' and beggin' for their lives a long time ago. I respect that."

"Thanks?" Clint gurgles out, trying to spit out some of the excess blood and saliva but it mostly just spills down his chin.

"Kind of sorry now, that I gotta kill you," Rocco says with a feigned forlorn sigh.

"Ya don' haff ta," Clint forces out and Rocco laughs. It's cold.

"If I don't, the boys'll talk. Can't be havin' that. Gotta keep a good example," Rocco shakes his head solemnly, bending down onto one knee so he's more level with Clint. "La Famiglia per sempre. You know Italian?"

"Yeah," Clint says. Weirdly enough, it's one of the languages he's actually fluent in. It had been fun to see Darcy talk to herself in Italian. She'd been mortified at first that he understood her rather…colorful take on the language that was definitely learned from male figures. He thought it was cute. But this situation is decidedly less so and he knows what Uncle Rocco is proclaiming. The family first. This man isn't going to risk Clint talking. Especially since he's been chatting away like they've been on a coffee date. From what Clint can tell, Uncle Rocco is super proud of Darcy despite her straying away from family business and dating what he feels are deadbeats. It would be heartwarming if it wasn't so physically painful.

"Really? Then I guess I'm gonna feel even worse about killin' you. Maybe if the world was a little more fair, you'd be the man for Darcy. But if the world was a little more fair, I wouldn't be bustin' skulls to make a livin', would I?"

"Maybe ya just enjoy it," Clint can't help but choke out. It brings a laugh to Rocco but Clint doesn't think it's going to save him.

"Just for makin' me laugh, I'm gonna make it fast," Rocco says and Clint guesses that he should be thankful. At this point, he's not even sure if he can feel more pain. He's pretty much reached the threshold and anything more probably won't register. Doesn't want to test it either way.

What sounds like the creaking of a door echoes and all the men stand up straight, hands moving quickly to their guns. Rocco starts to curse in Italian when a nasally female voice speaks out.

"Excuse me, I think I'm a little lost. I'm supposed to help set up for a rave," asks a woman and Clint almost perks up when he recognizes Natasha's voice, despite the Valley girl accent she's putting on. Almost perks up because he doesn't really have the energy to. The feel of euphoric relief though is filling him up. Maybe old age is still in the running.

"Uh, sorry bambolina, you got the wrong spot," one of the younger men say, already running towards the sound of Natasha's voice. The other men move to block Clint from he suspects is Natasha's line of vision if he tries to hear the clacking of her heels. Clint can't see her and he knows it's not just because of his impaired vision. She's keeping to the darkness to keep her advantage. While Clint would hate to hurt any one of Darcy's family because he's still hoping that she can bring him to family events if they make up after this, he's completely fine with Natasha enacting some revenge.

"Oh my god, silly me. You think you could help me, tiger? Rawr. You'll get an invite as a thank you. It's going to be the party of the year," Natasha continues to gush and the lackey goes on about how pretty she is and that it won't be any problem. If Clint could roll his eyes at how thick this kid is laying it on, he would.

Eventually, the chatter dies down but Clint isn't sure if it's because Natasha has taken down the boy or because they're out of earshot. The mob around him is still tense, and rightly so. These guys aren't dumb enough to not have look outs and there's no good excuse for Natasha to have made it past them. It's silent for a moment but Rocco quirks his head. Either he realized the creak of the door hasn't sounded or he can't hear Natasha's heels anymore. Could be both. Just as he takes out his gun, one of the men standing in the edges of light gets pulled back, his grunt of surprise cut short. Now everyone's attention is caught, guns out and pointing in various directions as Natasha barrels in to take them out with a grace that only she can master. Guns are shot and men are shouting in confusion and Clint wishes he can take out his hearing aids. It all stops when the door bangs open and a ray of light shines through. In the shadows, he makes out what he assumes is an angel.

"Uncle Rocco! What the hell are you doing?" Darcy shouts and Clint thinks he may die of happiness. Just hearing her voice causes joy to fill his bones, numbing some of his pain. Though, that could be a sign of him going into shock.

"Daniela Locatelli, this is man's business. You keep out of it," Rocco warns. The name does not escape Clint and his gut sinks slightly. The Locatellis are bad news. If he remembers his mob family tree correctly, they are the only of the Five that are still headed by the original founding blood. They're particularly proud of it.

"Man's business? Since when is kidnapping my boyfriend and planning to kill him without my permission count as man's business instead of completely insane?" Darcy asks as florescent lights suddenly flash on above them in a descending line until the entire warehouse is lit. Clint closes his eye at the brightness.

"You broke up with him!" Rocco says, sounding more like a pouting child than someone caught in the middle of attempt at murder.

"We got in a fight. We never actually broke up!" Darcy counters and Rocco lets out a huff. Risking the bright lights, Clint opens up his eye and sees Darcy rushing towards him, holding a little dog with another man her age in tow. There are handful of men on the ground, beginning to wake up and groan. Natasha and one of the lackeys are posed with arms lifted for punches, paused in midair, now too surprised to follow through.

"Tommy, I thought I told you to keep her busy," Rocco begins to berate the young man behind Darcy.

"I was but she figured it out and you know how she gets when she's angry," Tommy says in a slight whine. "Besides, she says she still wanted to be with him. I couldn't let you kill the guy if she really meant it."

"And who the hell is this hot piece?" Rocco asks, pointing a thumb at Natasha, who drops her raised up to offer a jaunty wave and jut out her hip.

"She's my friend, Uncle Rocco. I sent her ahead to stop you because you told Tommy to take me to a Petco in the damn Bronx."

"You sent an outsider to stop your family? That's treason, young woman. And what the hell kind of friends you got now?" Rocco is now berating Darcy but she's obviously rolling her eyes.

"The kind that can stop you killing my boyfriend without my permission!"

"I knew I should have sent you to that spa with your parents," grinds out Rocco before attempting a more placating tone. "C'mon, Darcy. This is something that's gotta be done. You can pick any nice boy you want but you want this piece of trash?"

"Clint is the best guy I've ever dated," Darcy says with such conviction that Clint's chest swells with love. It's nice to not be afraid of it, too. She's about ten feet away from him now and he can see her more clearly. She's beautiful, as always but there's something riveting about the anger fueling her. There's also a corgi puppy in her arms. Clint briefly entertains the notion that he's actually died and this is a weird limbo before he's properly sorted into hell.

"You know that's not true. You've dated loads of better men," Rocco says, gesturing in what Clint supposes is a somewhat stereotypical Italian immigrant way. "What about Rumlow? We all loved Brock. A nice, strong Italian man."

"Brock is dead! Because he was a traitor and a Nazi. So can we all just agree that it's a moot point," Darcy screams at what is obviously a touchy subject. Though, Clint is still going to have to ask her about that later. Or ask Natasha for the old SHIELD files that he assumes are already written about this. There's no way SHIELD didn't note Rumlow and Darcy dating seriously enough for her to introduce him to the family. He's not sure how he didn't know.

"You watch your volume. Your father raised you better than that," Rocco says and Darcy lets out an angry huff as she stands straighter and holds the wriggling puppy just a little closer to her chest.

"My father raised me to know the rules. What about not killing outsiders? I know that one. Pretty sure all my brothers and cousins learned it too," Darcy says with attitude that makes Rocco pause as all eyes fall to him.

"You…you know there's always exceptions," Rocco insists and Darcy raises an eyebrow as she begins to tap a foot. For just a moment, Rocco falters and Darcy leaps on it.

"My father doesn't know about this. Does he?"

"Look, I took matters into my own hands. He would appreciate that," Rocco says with conviction but Clint notices the other men look a little less sure.

"I'm not in high school anymore. You can't go kidnapping my dates and threatening them. I'm a grown woman. I can make my own choices and if I need to beat up a deadbeat boyfriend then I'll do it myself."

"That sentence took a turn," Clint says softly, starting to smile until it tugged too much on his busted lip. The noise garners Darcy's attention and she gasps, as if she's seeing him for the first time. He probably isn't a pretty sight. Setting down the puppy, Darcy runs towards him and gently takes his head in her hands. He can feel her thumbs rubbing softly along his skin and this time he smiles through the pain. "Hey babe."

"Oh my god. I'm so sorry. This is why I never talk about my family."

"A lil' warning woulda been nice," Clint says and Darcy lets out a noise halfway between a sob and a laugh. The rope tying his hands and feet are cut loose but he doesn't know who does it. All he can see is Darcy. Her eyes are sparkling with tears but there's relief in them and affection.

"If you never want to see me again, I'd understand," Darcy says sadly, looking away as if she can't bear the thought. He can't either.

"Darcy. I-I am so sorry," Clint grinds out. He hates that she feels that way and this all started because he was an idiot. When Darcy shakes her head at his apology, he continues. "No, really. I had this all planned. There were gonna be candles and everything. Okay. You're the best thing in my life and I messed up. You're the only woman that's ever got me to order vegetables on a pizza and I even separate the darks and lights when you're not around. You're like, the best thing that's ever happened to me. Even learnin' archery or joinin' the Avengers. I'd give it up for you but I'd be worried there'd be no reason left for you to date me. Darcy, you're like a bird. A pretty bird because at first you're like, cool, a bird. But when you look more at it, you realize how…awesome it is and how scary because what sort of thing flies on its own but it's also beautiful. Because how does it fly on its own? And I didn't leave you because of stupid stuff, I'm just stupid. I love you."

"I love you too," Darcy says with a sigh, lips wobbling but still in a smile.

"That is the worst apology I ever heard," Rocco interrupts the warm moment and it's intermingled with someone else saying, "Shit, did we just try to kill an Avenger?"

It doesn't bother Clint because it is kind of a shitty apology. He had it all memorized but he thinks his concussion is ruining his train of thought. All he knows is that Darcy came for him and scared a bunch of mob guys in the process. Oh, and that she loves him back. That's the best feeling in the world.

"Clint, that's the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me," Darcy insists. "But I'm taking you to a hospital and we're gonna totally make out when the doctor clears you."

"No-" Clint begins to object but Darcy's voice turns to a familiar steel he's always admired and now he knows how she earned that tone.

"You're gonna see a doctor. I don't care if its at the ER or if we swing by Stark Tower, but you're sleeping where someone can monitor you. And yes, I'll nurse you back myself also," Darcy promises sweetly. Clint's sold on that last bit. He doesn't even object when Darcy and someone else lifts him up and practically carry him to the backseat of a car. It's all a blur, really. All he remembers is Darcy sitting next to him, helping prop him up as a dog licks at his fingers. Her hand lightly teases his hair and she whispers sweet nothings into his ear.

Maybe he really has died and made it to heaven.

Translations:
Testa di cazzo: dickhead
La Famiglia per sempre: the family first
Bambolina: Baby doll