Fly True

By: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own the Avengers or Hawkeye or any of the other superheroes gracing this work of fiction nor am I making any profit from this tale.

Author's Note: Well the votes are tallied: But it's a bit tricky. Most of you voted that, in the movie verse, Tony and Clint didn't know each other prior to the Avengers movie …but nearly all of you said you wouldn't mind if I implied they had. Meanwhile, some people pointed out that the comics do have the two characters meeting earlier. So I'm going to take the gracious permission the majority of you allowed me and imply that Tony and Clint did some work together before the Avenger movie storyline. Thanks so much for helping me make that decision!

Now on with the conclusion of our story….

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Chapter 6: Balance

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Director Nick Fury had lost more than his fair share of soldiers under his command. It was the nature of war.

It was why he tried not to have favorites, to not get emotionally invested in the personnel under his command. But from the very start, Clint Barton had stood out from the rest. "I knew you were gonna be a handful the first time you gave me that smug smile of yours while you blindly released the arrow and it hit its mark, dead on," he told the soldier lying so unnervingly motionless in the bed he stood beside.

"Don't think I ever confessed this but I was the one who gave the order for your Iraqi mission to get cut short, not that brainless CO you had at the time. I just let him take the wrap because I knew you would be pissed," Nick chuckled but there was a hardness that followed on its heels. "That mission should have been scraped soon as you lost 90% of your men. Longer you stayed out there, the surer I was that all you were gonna accomplish was getting yourself killed. Even I knew then that you deserved better than that for your service, for a man with your skills."

Seeing that Barton wasn't about to speak up and downplay his own attributes, Nick claimed the often occupied chair beside Barton's bed. It hadn't gone without his notice that his ace marksman had started to get careless with his own life, and it didn't take a man of his years of warfare to figure out why. Guilt. "Tell me, who advised me to always wear body armor? You did. So if you wanted to kill me in the Dark Energy SHEILD bunker, you would have done a headshot. Instead, you shot me in the chest, right where you knew my armor was. And Hill, you missed her with a full clip of ammo. Agent, if you were really that piss poor of a shot, your Hawkeye moniker would be a joke, not a compliment."

Folding his hands, he leaned closer to his agent, hoped some of his words got through. "What I'm saying is…you somehow fought Loki's…the Tesseract's hold on you enough to not kill me or Hill. Or Natasha. Because, you two engaged in hand to hand combat with you looking for a kill, no way she walks away unscathed. Wouldn't happen…unless you wanted it to." Regardless what his two agents thought, he knew the score between them, maybe better than either one of them did.

He sighed, gripped Barton's forearm above the IV. "You only had so much strength to resist, Barton. You had to pick your battles. I understand that…and so should you. And if you're gonna give me the load of crap you've been giving everyone else about being the weak human link in the Avengers team, you're forgetting one very important fact. The first member I assigned to this team wasn't wearing iron plating, wasn't a science experiment gone right…or wrong, and wasn't some guy from out of this world, was just a regular guy, except for the fact that he could shoot an arrow blindfolded and hit his target under almost any circumstance. Wasn't too shabby with a gun either, your hit to my armor in the bunker notwithstanding. And for that, I owe you my life…and it's not the first time. Doubt it'll be the last…unless you do something insubordinate and die on me. Which, if you do die, I'm gonna have Thor turn your bow into kindling with his hammer, thought you should know that."

A voice responded but it wasn't Barton's.

"That was moving," Tony drawled sarcastically, "it really was." But his flippancy soon turned into wrath as he came to stand toe to toe with the SHEILD director. "How about telling him that when, I don't know, he wasn't dying? Bet you never did, did you. Rode him all the time, never gave him a pat on the back, never told him you forgave him for shooting you, assured him that you didn't hold him accountable for the attack on your flying ship. If you had, maybe we wouldn't have had to try and patch him up after every mission you sent him on! Maybe we wouldn't be torn between decorating a cake with 'Thank God you're alive' or simple black icing for the funeral," his voice rising with his emotions.

"Demonstrative advice from you, now that's a laugh," Fury snidely countered. "I turned you down for the Avengers at the start because you're hardly the mold for mental stability."

At the sound of raised voices, Banner rushed into the room, came up short at the arguing twosome. "What are you two thinking! Go rip each other new ones somewhere else."

But the two men didn't even register his presence. "Mental stability, is that what this team's all about?" Tony solicited with derision. "We faced down aliens. ALIENS. That sound like the actions of rational people. But you needed us to do that, just like you stood back and watched Barton try and kill himself on every mission since."

A new voice entered the fray. "And he helped on some occasions," Steve condemned, lancing his blue gaze into Fury. "He sent Barton on that undercover op because the group had intel that Clint led the raid against SHEILD. But you knew they wouldn't trust him. Once you're branded a traitor, your loyalty will always be suspect."

"Barton knew the risks," Fury stoically defended.

Banner pointed to his comatose patient. "Have you looked at him lately? That's where your risk factor shows up in living color."

"Doctor, just remain calm," Fury placated, a little worried the doctor's less than humanitarian side would rear its ugly green head.

"I always knew that our lives were expendable to you," Banner accused, almost wished he could let the Hulk loose on Fury. He certainly could use the extra muscle to pick up Barton and take him away to someplace where he wasn't simply a game piece.

"By the gods, what's happening?" Thor's voice thundered through the small medic ward, rattling the vials on the table as he brought his towering frame into the room.

Banner rolled his eyes. At that decibel, the dead would have heard Thor. Then he saw another visitor had come running at the ruckus, stood in the doorway, shaking, fearing the worst. "Tasha, he's fine," Bruce reassured, watched some color return to her pristine features before anger took over.

"All of you, out of here!" she commanded, chose Captain America's bulging arm to grab onto.

Then they were all talking at once, placing blame, throwing out accusations, giving orders that none were heeding.

Clint woke to that clash of voices. For a second, he thought that he was on a battlefield..until he followed the source of sound and found that he recognized all of the combatants. "Hey," he tried to croak out but his voice was nonexistent. He would have whistled if he breathing wasn't like wading through water. Looking to his left, he saw an empty plastic cup on the tray beside his bed, snagged it with weak fingers and tossed it at his loud visitors. It hit its mark: right between Tony Stark's shoulder blades.

Startled, Tony cut off his words mid-sentence and whirled around. He smiled widely at the sight of his awake friend. "About time you stopped playing possum and letting the rest of us carry the load."

Quickly crossing over to his patient, Bruce cautioned, "Don't try and talk just yet," but he was all smiles too.

Then Natasha pushed through the gathered team and her eyes locked with Clint's. She gave him a coy smile. And for all the times they communicated without talking, Clint wasn't sure how to interpret his partner's look just then. Before he could do more than respond with a confused tilt of his head, the other team members were crowded around him.

"I owe you my life, Clint Barton," Thor solemnly vowed, gave a bow of his head. And the SHEILD agent nearly blushed.

Then Steve was smiling down at him. "I knew you wouldn't leave me alone with these undisciplined Neanderthals. They don't know military hand signals from the hand jive." At Barton's raised eyebrow of wonder, Steve admitted, "I'm listening to the 1950s music right now, not quite ready to jump into Stark's AC/DC."

Clint gave a weak but earnest smile.

Then Fury made his way to his agent's side. "Glad you're going to be alright, son." Tony gave Fury a nudge with his elbow and the director cleared his throat. "And…I should have told you this before but I don't hold you accountable for anything that you did under Loki's influence. As soldiers, we have to accept that some things are out of our control and that was one of those things. That clear?" he demanded, as if he could order the man to release his guilt.

Dutifully, Barton nodded and though there was a lightening in his eyes, the dark didn't wholly vanish. But his gathered friends took it as a step in the right direction.

Slowing sitting up, Clint hung his head as the room spun. Cursed himself for his weakness when he knew he had only a few minutes to make his escape before Banner's return. But the man surely had to start seeing reason. Two weeks laid up healing was way too long. And that was without tacking on his time in a coma.

Trouble was, his body had kept track of every abuse, every motionless second, every still unhealed wound. And it was definitely holding it against him.

"You might want to rethink this idea," Tony Stark drawled as he entered the room. He crossed over to claim a seat in the visitor's chair and put his feet up on the end of the bed, effectively blocking Clint's planned path of escape. "Especially in light of your doctor getting miffed at you could end very badly, for all of us."

Keeping his head bowed, Barton quirked, "So it's all about your safety."

"Absolutely," Tony instantly supplied, but his muscles were poised to leap forward and catch Clint if the archer started to topple from the bed.

Slowly raising his head to eye his visitor, Barton taunted, "You must have lied better to your Iraqi captors."

"Let's just say they had a better incentive plan," Stark deadpanned.

"Yeah," Barton gave a dark chuckle. "Bet they did."

Stark watched Barton roll his shoulders, saw the man's still pale features and knew from his frequent visits the ravaged wounds that the agent's white t-shirt and pants hid. "They taught me something important though. That I liked being alive. I'm hoping this little get away," and Tony raised his hands to encompass the medic ward, "was enough of a wake-up call for you. It sure was for the rest of us."

Clint narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Tony. "You told Banner to take a break."

Stark shrugged noncommittally. "Saw your visitor log had an open spot and thought I would drop by."

Clint went to pull his IV free but Tony moved quicker than he expected, was suddenly there clamping his hand over his. Their eyes clashed.

"I think we need to go over the rules," Tony stated as if Clint should have a clue what he was referring to.
"Rules?"

"Avengers rules. Every supersecret boy band has rules."

"Like?" Barton prodded because curiosity always got the best of him.

"Oh, I'm glad you asked," and Stark claimed a spot on the bed beside Barton like it was storytime. "Number one: No stealing of the limelight by getting yourself killed. It's totally not fair to the rest of the band."

Barton opened his mouth but Stark was pressing on. "Number two: No prepaid guilt trips around the world for things we can't change."

But Clint shook his head, that edict he couldn't comply to. Not when he had so much to pay for. "I don't get a free pass, not for the things I've done."

Tony nodded his head as if in agreement but his words were all contradiction. "Sure, ok. Then I'm guilty of hundreds of lost lives, Hulk has a few to his count, the Captain thinks he let down his whole generation, Thor's world almost came to ruin, Natasha's got some skeletons in her closet. And Fury, he's got his accountants still tallying the death toll for his little Tesseract project. If you don't believe in clean slates, then none of us can and all of this was for nothing."

Clint knew what Tony was trying to say but couldn't let himself off the hook. "My arrows, my plans, my knowledge, it got people killed, got Coulson killed. He should have seen that coming. I don't think he thought much of me."

"Huh," Tony replied. Pulling his prototype holographic smartphone from his back pocket, he searched for the file he wanted. "Well, when he dropped off his little Avengers starter pack, he didn't just include the facts, dropped me a personal video too. And he said this…" And he hit play, watched the little screen fill with SHEILD agent Phil Coulson's face and the deceased agent's voice carried into the room.

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"Stark, I know you're not the sentimental type but, just in case it might factor into your decision to help us with the Tesseract problem, Agent Barton was coerced into leaving with Loki. We don't know his location and fear that, once his usefulness to Loki is over, he will be killed. He is a good man and I think you know that."

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Then the video faded out, left the room void of noise, until Stark spoke. "Don't know but he didn't sound like someone who hated your guts. Sure, he might not have had your collector cards but he was definitely one of your bigger fans."

Stunned at the revelation, Clint croaked out, "That supposed to make me feel better? I played a part in his death."

But Tony shook his head. "No, you played a part in his life. A part he valued. And how he died, you don't get to claim that. It was in the line of duty, doing what he believed in most."

Barton exhaled shakily, was still coming to grips with the new world that he had woken up to from his Tesseract haze. "There a number three rule?" he deflected, looked up to Stark, hoped the man read his need for a change of topic.

"Number three: No making Natasha cry… or Thor."

Clint shot Tony a stunned look. "Natasha didn't…."

"Well, one of them did, so you use that intelligence Fury swears you're gifted with and figure it out." Then Tony leaped off the bed, nearly sing songed, "Now back into beddy-bye," as he picked up Clint's legs and gently swung then back into bed before the wounded man could even form a protest. Then Tony flipped the covers back over Clint, gave him a wink and mock whispered, "Pretend you're surprised."

And before Clint could figure out Tony's warning, the members of the Avenger team were crowding into his room, bearing enough food for a tailgate party and rolling in a wide screen TV.

Thor seemed to be elected to be the spokesperson for the group. "Sporting events on Asgard are sacred and your game, football, I am told is your favorite. So we are gathered together to cheer your team to victory."

Barton smiled, gave a knowing look to Natasha who brazenly smiled back, not showing any signs of being repentant for revealing his addiction to the game. But she did hand him a plate bearing a hamburger brimming with the all the fixings he liked before she claimed a spot in the bed beside him.

Meanwhile Steve, Thor and Tony worked to set up the tv before they settled in their chairs and made sure the junk food that they tossed at the end of Clint's bed was within easy reach.

Watching all the activity with anxiety, Bruce came to hoover over Barton. "If this is too much, I'll throw them out."

"You and what green monster," Tony challenged around a chip in his mouth.

But Clint was smiling, looked healthier and happier than he had in a long time. "And miss the game?" He left unspoken what else he wouldn't forfeit again: the company gathered around him. "No way. Course if Fury finds out…."

"I already know," Fury announced from the doorway, his expression thunderous before it melted away to a smile. "And I put ten bucks down against your reigning champions."

Clint hooted, "Well I'm about to be ten dollars richer."

"Don't count your money before the kickoff," Fury warned, claiming his spot in the room a moment before Banner did.

But when the kickoff happened, Clint Barton was preoccupied watching his favorite team…and they weren't wearing football uniforms, were instead, arranged all around him, hadn't left his side. And by the looks of the amount of food that they had lugged into his room, they didn't have plans to leave him any time soon.

He figured the least that he owed them was to stick around, have their backs and somehow repay them for giving him the ability and the heart to salvage his soul and learn how to fly true again.

After all, that was what family did for family.

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THE END

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Well, I hope you liked this final chapter. I have to admit, I'm a little sad to see the end of this story. You guys made this such a fun posting experience and all your comments and alerts notifications had me on cloud 9 all week! So, THANK YOU!

Have a great day!

Cheryl W.