Doctor Bruce Banner really doesn't know medicine. Post-Avengers movie. Many thanks to the lovely folks over at TBB for catching my mistakes.

"Look," Bruce waved his hands in frustration. "I am a doctor, yes, but I have my PhD in nuclear physics. I do not have a degree in medicine of any form. So why are you asking me this?"

"You were acting as a medical doctor when Nat found you, figured you could at least take a look?" Clint leaned against the counter in Bruce's kitchen.

"Yes, for people that could barely afford to feed themselves. It wasn't like I was performing surgery, I was using basic first aid training and a few textbooks that were positively ancient. When I could get to an internet café, I'd look things up online. Half the time they paid me in a spot at their table for dinner." Bruce sighed, carefully not looking at the blood dripping down Clint's arm or the mess he was making. "You want that thing fixed since it might need stitches, the best place is somewhere with people who have medical training. Like the urgent care clinic, and not my kitchen." He glanced around the room. "I don't even have a first aid kit here. Best I can offer you are some paper towels."

"I'll take it." Clint shrugged. "Don't have any sort of ID or proof of insurance on me, so guess I'll wait until my flight back to the Helicarrier in a few days."

"You have nothing." Bruce just stared at Clint. "At all."

"Well," Clint looked thoughtful, digging through his pockets. "I have some subway tokens for the New York subway, some cash, and…hey. Credit card." He flipped it over, staring at the name. "Guess I can offer to pay Simonson back? Do I even know a James Simonson? Wonder if this still works."

Bruce sighed, reaching for the cell phone that Clint had dropped on the counter. "Does this have Agent Romanoff in here?"

"Nat? Yeah. Why?" Clint's eyes narrowed. "You're not telling her." He reached for his phone.

Bruce grabbed it right before Clint could. "Yes, I am." Stepping away from the archer, he scrolled through the contact list. "Agent Barton, why do you have the White House in here? And the CIA?"

"Might be an assassin, but I do have other stuff to do, or else I'd just be sitting around a good chunk of the time." Clint was eying the distance between him and Bruce, trying to work out if he could reach the physicist and reclaim his phone without Bruce going all big and green on him. He honestly doubted Bruce would appreciate destroying this neighborhood. It was…relaxing.

"That's nice." Bruce had found Natasha's number. "Hello, Agent Romanoff? Bruce Banner. I have a question for you. Agent Barton needs some medical care. No, I am not a medical doctor, no matter what you found me doing; I wish people would understand that. He's saying that he doesn't have ID or any way to pay for said medical care, outside of a credit card which may or may not still work and isn't his." He paused and held out the phone. "Here. She wants to talk to you."

Clint took the phone, wincing slightly at the barrage of noise coming from the speaker. "Nat, it was an accident, honest. It's just, the tree was wet because it's currently pouring down rain here, I'm wearing sneakers because my boots were destroyed, and there was something sticking out of the tree that got my arm on the way down. And you know how long it's been since I had a decent night's...oh." He walked over to the door, kicking his duffel towards Bruce. "Hey, doc, open this up and pull out my quiver, would you? Nat, Doctor Banner is checking. Yeah, that's it, doc." As Bruce set the quiver down on the counter, Clint reached out and pressed a small button. "Well, I'll be damned. Thanks, Nat. I'd wondered why I couldn't find anything before I left. Now I know. And sorry for not emptying it out – do you have enough to last you until I get back? Okay, good. And stop laughing, or else I'll tell people about that little trip to Utah. I think I've still got pictures." Putting his phone down, he reached into the cavity that had opened and pulled out a small stack of cards that were held together with a rubber band.

"So, would you like a ride, or just directions?" Bruce caught sight of a driver's license.

"Huh?" Clint was busy sorting through the cards, putting them in two messy piles. "Huh. Guess I should probably try to remember to empty this out after missions."

"The urgent care clinic?" Bruce was wondering if all SHIELD agents were like this. If they were, he feared for the world. "For your arm?"

"Oh, that." Clint shrugged. "I was just going to beg a ride to the store, get some gauze to toss on it." Wandering over to the sink, he worked his arm out of his sleeve and stuck it under the water, rinsing off the blood and awkwardly twisting around to try to see how deep the cut was. "Or yeah, a ride to the doctor might be nice, just to double check." Moving back to his bag, he crouched down and pulled out a change of clothes. "Where's the bathroom? I'd like to wear something a little bit drier."

Silently, Bruce pointed at a door, watching as Clint sauntered off. Letting his curiosity get the better of him, he started looking through the two piles Clint had made. "Interesting," he muttered. "Wonder why Agent Romanoff has things in here, too."

"My quiver is safer than a wallet sometimes." Clint's hand reached around, grabbing the cards. "And I know you saw how Nat dresses when she's working. Nowhere to really keep much in that getup. Or my uniform, either."

"When I first met Agent Romanoff, she was wearing a sari." Bruce shook his head, reaching for his car keys. "I'll give you a ride, and you can tell me why you were trying to climb the tree next to my house. And why you're here."

"SHIELD just wants to keep an eye on you, doc. Make sure you're still doing okay, don't need anything, and that Ross is still leaving you alone. We've managed to tie him up pretty well, but we're still concerned. I volunteered, was just going to climb a tree and sleep in your attic, but then I…slipped." Clint carefully sat in the passenger seat, trying to not lean back.

"Oh." Bruce didn't find the idea that he was being watched quite as disturbing as he had in the past. "Next time, knock. I've got a couch. A phone call would be nice, too. Tony Stark gave me one of his phones, said it was because he wanted to exchange ideas, but he's an engineer and I'm a physicist, so I really don't know why."

Clint shrugged. "Okay. I'll make a note in your file. Jasper was saying that it was getting harder to track you without being seen, so that'll be nice. And maybe Stark just wanted somebody to spout off at who stood a chance at understanding him. I don't think most people do, and he's been having a tough time of it recently, if you haven't been watching the news. Think the Loki thing really hit him hard. Try calling him when you get the chance."

"Jasper?" Bruce was trying to rework his impressions of the SHIELD agents he had met to reconcile with what the past half hour had shown him.

"Sitwell. Bald guy, glasses, was probably glued to a computer on the bridge when you were there; sometimes I wonder if he even uses his quarters. We had him tracking you since slightly before Rio, once it looked like you had become pretty good at hiding and our junior agents weren't able to cut it. Gave him a bit of a scare when you went all big and green and he couldn't find you again until Mexico, then he started following you to Culver. Sent Nat in then and recalled Jasper, partially because he was needed with Thor's deal in New Mexico and partially because Ross was getting antsy and had pulled in that Blonsky guy who records showed was never one to back down from a fight. And in a firefight, you'd rather have Nat there. Jasper's good, but I wouldn't put him up against the Air Force. He's actually circled through a few times over the past year, but he was needed for something else this week. I was free, so I came."

Pulling into the parking lot of a strip mall and parking, Bruce turned to look at Clint. "How do you know all this? I thought you were an assassin." He pointed at the sign for the clinic.

"Like I said," Clint started to climb out of the car. "I do more than just kill people for a living." Turning around, he leaned in through the door, tossing his jacket on the seat. "And hey, do me a favor? Don't pull a runner until after I've gotten my stuff? Thanks."

As the door slammed shut, Bruce just leaned back in his seat, trying to analyze his feelings. He should have known that somebody would have been watching him; the Other Guy wasn't something that anybody wanted out of their control. After his experiences with SHIELD, he wasn't sure if he was happy that they were the ones keeping an eye on him, or if he would have preferred that it be the Air Force. He knew where he stood with them, or with General Ross, at least. SHIELD, he really had no clue. "Getting complacent, Banner," he muttered to himself, then sat there, staring at nothing.

"Hey." Clint's voice made Bruce jump slightly, and he turned to see the other man tensed up, one hand on the door handle and the other reaching for what Bruce suspected was a weapon.

"Sorry," Bruce smiled. "I was thinking. Don't worry about the Other Guy coming out to play, Agent Barton; he's been pretty quiet recently."

"Okay." Clint relaxed. "Is there a drug store near here? And what the hell, I'll buy you dinner for putting up with this." Giving Bruce a wry grin, he nodded. "Not bad enough for stitches, just bled a lot and they didn't believe that I got a tetanus shot last month, so one of those." He rubbed his arm, shaking his head. "And please, call me Clint. Keep on calling me Agent Barton and people'll start to wonder why a university professor is hanging out with a government employee."

"Bruce." Bruce nodded, starting the car again. "There's a good pizza place, I know the owner."

Over what the restaurant owner swore was the best pizza in all of Virginia, Bruce gave Clint a thoughtful stare. "Is SHIELD why I was able to get my job back?"

"Yep, but sorry that they wouldn't give you your tenure back too." Clint nodded. "I think it was pointed out that yeah, you were an idiot for putting yourself in that machine, but nobody had expected the end result, and you were only following the wishes of the United States Air Force, more specifically a General who then overstepped his boundaries and had zero common sense. Said General was also the reason that the Hulk encouraged the remodeling of a section of Culver University, and a fairly generous gift was sent anonymously to help cover repairs." He smiled. "According to my sources, it was roughly equivalent to a couple years' pay for somebody like Ross. Plus," he paused, taking a bite of pizza, "two years does a lot for helping people's memories start to gloss over. Manhattan didn't hurt, either."

"Was that to keep them in my good graces?" Bruce was feeling suspicious over the entire situation.

"Who, SHIELD? Partially." Clint didn't feel bad about freely admitting that. SHIELD needed Bruce Banner happy, and the reports had suggested that he'd be happiest back at Culver with nobody obviously following him. "Never know when we could use a nuclear physicist who is, admittedly, an expert in gamma radiation. Not to mention, one who,"

"One who can turn into a gigantic green monster that only knows how to destroy everything in its path?" Bruce interrupted with a bitter smile.

"Was actually going to say one who has a genius-level IQ, knew exactly how to track down an item of immense importance with barely a moment to prepare, and then was able to find said item in, what, a day and a half? If that?" Clint didn't look surprised at Bruce's interruption. "Does Fury appreciate the Hulk? Yeah, the way he appreciates having a nuke or two on board. But I've also heard him admit that you, Doctor Bruce Banner, PhD which does not equal medical doctor, are incredibly valuable to SHIELD for your knowledge and scientific abilities. It is in SHIELD's best interest to keep you happy, so we did everything that we could think of to make you happy." He pointed at Bruce with his pizza crust. "And so, are you happy?"

"Oh. I…see." Bruce blinked, startled. "I'm happy enough, I guess?"

"Good." Clint nodded in satisfaction. "And you'll let us know if you're not, right?"

"Well," Bruce started, "I'm not entirely sure if I'd rather it was SHIELD or the Air Force following me around if somebody had to be keeping an eye on me, but I am glad to have gotten my old job back." He laughed lightly. "Suddenly, people are a lot less inclined to tell me no, and students seem to have an amazing tendency to actually turn their homework in on time with fewer complaints."

"We do try to keep our distance. Ideally, you wouldn't have even known I was there, and I would have been in and out in three days, tops." Clint figured that Bruce didn't need to know that they had his house wired. Sitwell was just sitting around doing nothing, but there was something interfering with the signals and so Clint had been told to go figure it all out.

"Did your plans include making me think I had mice?" Bruce looked archly across the table. "Haven't met anybody who would go without food or water for that long voluntarily."

"I came prepared." Clint nodded. "I have some MREs with me, bottles of water, and there are stores within walking distance. My phone has some pretty sweet games on it, too."

"That's…different," was all that Bruce could say. "And you were going to do all that willingly?"

"It's an attic." Clint shrugged. "Could be worse."

Driving back to Bruce's house, Bruce had to restrain his laughter at the conversation he could hear Clint having. "Look, Nat, you know why I came. Do you think that Jasper…yeah. Yeah. Well, tell Fury that I've moved onto plan B and maybe even C by now, and I'm keeping to the schedule. Look, go bug Hill or somebody; I don't have access to a computer to look that stuff up right now." Clint suddenly sat straight up. "He did what? Oh, the idiot. I'm surprised that Blake didn't hurt him, especially after the last time. Blake called him what? Yeah. I'll check in tomorrow." He sagged back in his seat, rubbing his eyes. "Idiots."

"Am I allowed to ask what that was, or am I better off not knowing?"

"You wouldn't know anybody involved." Clint shook his head. "Or the backstories. It's all just work gossip, nothing important."

Clint calmly cleaned up the mess he had made of the kitchen, while Bruce searched around for a spare pillow and blanket. "Don't bother," Clint's voice made Bruce jump. "I have a sleeping bag."

"Bell. I think you need a bell." Bruce turned around. "Would you just, not do that?"

"Sorry." Clint actually looked a little ashamed. "Do you mind if I hook something up to your TV? I can offer basic cable. Premium channels and anything with decent movies will cost you extra. Nat told me that I needed to check out the news."

"Sure, as long as I don't get people knocking on my door asking why I'm suddenly getting the History Channel." Bruce nodded, following Clint to the living room.

"Nope." Clint was busy plugging his phone into the back of the TV. "It's all legit. Mostly. And outside of a few 24-hour news channels and Lifetime, this setup really doesn't get much." He glanced at Bruce with an amused smile. "Don't ask." A beep had him standing up and pulling a computer out of his duffel. Opening it, he frowned, looking around, then suddenly moved back, roughly pulling his phone free. "Bruce, where is the attic access?"

Holding back his questions, Bruce led Clint into his little-used attic. "Haven't been up here since I moved in…it's looking surprisingly clean."

"Yeah." Clint nodded, moving to a corner. Kneeling down, he pulled a section of wall back, reaching into the hole. "Damn. That explains it." He sat back on his heels, holding a handful of cut wires, eyes squeezed shut. "Okay. Doctor Banner, your assistance is officially requested with a small power problem that we've been having on the Helicarrier. Are you able to take a couple days and come give us your advice?" He held out his phone.

Moving closer, Bruce took it and read the screen. "Of, of course, Agent Barton. Although I'm not really sure how much help I'll be; isn't it all powered by one of Stark's reactors?"

"Only partially." Clint stood up, dropping the wires. "There's still enough for a guy like you to help tinker with and hopefully fix. I'd swear that we had gremlins or something on board. Could tell you stories about the showers."

"Interesting." Bruce held back his questions as to why Clint seemed to know exactly what he was looking for. "Let me grab a couple things, first."

"Okay." Clint nodded, standing up and following Bruce down the ladder. "Ten minutes?" He held up one hand. Five.

Bruce nodded, not saying a word when Clint continued to follow him as he reached into the back of his bedroom closet and pulled out a bag. He shrugged at Clint's surprised look. "Never know."

Clint nodded as the two men went into the living room. Quickly returning his computer to his bag, Clint picked it up, scrolling through his phone. "Hey Nat. So, turns out I'm a total klutz today. Managed to burn my hand when we were getting dinner, too. Yeah, I know." Turning, he jerked his head at the door. Following the unspoken order, Bruce headed for the car.

Pulling into a parking lot of an all-night diner, Bruce turned to look at Clint. "So, just what was that?"

Clint shook his head. "Grab your bag." He climbed out of the car, and Bruce watched as he carefully looked around, before picking up his bag. "Let's go." He headed towards a car, pulling out keys and popping the trunk. "Bruce, move it. We've a plane to catch. Your car'll be dealt with, somebody official is sending an e-mail to your boss and when we get to where we're going, I'll explain as much as I know." He tossed his bow and quiver behind the driver's seat, staring at Bruce until he slid into the passenger seat.

"How about you start explaining now?" Bruce kept his tone mild.

"No." Clint shook his head. "Not yet. It's not safe."

"Safe?" Bruce bitterly laughed. "You're talking to me about safety? The last time I was on the Helicarrier the Other Guy destroyed a portion of it and took out a fighter jet. I don't know if the pilot survived; nobody told me that in the debriefings."

"Yeah, and the only reason you Hulked out was because I blew up a damn engine and killed over a dozen of my coworkers, then shut down a second engine with a computer virus that I helped design in an attempt to kill a few thousand." Clint snapped. "So do me a favor and shut up. And he survived; ended up a little cold and wet, but he was alive and still had all his body parts. Refuses to do anything but milk runs now, but that's okay."

"Oh." Bruce just turned and stared out the window until Clint pulled onto the University campus. "Is this the right place?"

"Yep." Clint was looking around, finally pulling into a visitor lot, before putting the car in park and pulling out his phone and dialing a number.

"I'm guessing that isn't to the White House." Bruce's joke made the corner of Clint's mouth turn up.

"Only as a last resort. Barton. Here. Time?" The response had Clint leaning his head against the steering wheel. "Dammit, pick it up, will you?" He roughly threw his phone down, then leaned back and took a couple deep breaths. "Okay. I'm calm. I'm damn tired, that's what I am. Bruce, keep an eye out for anything out of the norm, would you? I don't know this place well enough. Ride will be here in about ten minutes."

What followed were ten of the longest minutes that Bruce could remember happening in a while, but he followed Clint's instructions and kept carefully looking around. A noise had him looking behind the car. "I had forgotten that your planes don't need runways."

"VTOL is a wonderful thing." Clint was visibly back in control, and was reaching behind him for his bow and quiver. "So is the fact that these things can indeed do Mach 2.1, if the pilots ever understood just what urgent means. Sorry to be pushy about all this, but until we can figure out just what exactly is going on, you get a vacation. Don't think that mice have wire cutters." Jumping out of the car, he nodded at the men who were exiting the jet. "So. Doctor Banner. These are the guys who are going to be checking out your car, your office, your lab, and your house and prowling around for a little bit; if you'd be so nice as to give them your keys, they'll pick up your car and make sure the newspaper is brought in and any students dealt with. Rosco knows some physics." He looked around as Bruce quietly held out his keys. "The story. Picked up some abnormal signals. Checked our gear, somebody cut the wires and pulled our stuff. It probably happened about two weeks ago, based on when we lost communication with Doctor Banner's house. No idea who it is. Be on the lookout, but keep it quiet." With a jerk of his head, Clint led Bruce into the jet. "It's not paranoia if they really are out to get you," he muttered.

As the jet took off, Bruce sighed. "Now, what is going on?"

Clint turned around from where he was whispering with the pilots. "Not yet, Bruce."

Bruce stared at Clint. "Look. I get home to find you waiting for me on my front porch with blood dripping down your arm after falling out of a tree, you tell me that you were going to camp in my attic without me knowing, then haul me off with barely a word except a message on your phone that just says 'trouble, trust me.' Would you please explain?"

"I don't know how much I can say," Clint started, then sighed. "Okay. Part of the deal with keeping an eye on you was having some security stuff set up in your house, and yeah, we were watching things like your credit cards, bank account, and internet use just in case you decided to haul off again because you're really good at vanishing. Two weeks ago, we stopped getting information. It took until a couple days ago to have all that found out, because we were trying to keep an eye on several different things at once and, frankly, it looks like you just slipped through the cracks. I get told to go figure out what's wrong, and I make the mistake of wearing sneakers to try and climb a tree in the rain. When we got back to your house, my scanner detected that somebody else had planted bugs, which is why I went to check our transmission equipment. Wires were cut and stuff was missing, so somebody else had broken in and done all that." He looked steadily at Bruce. "If you have an idea about who might be interested in you other than Ross and would have the people with the skills to not only break into your house, but find shielded SHIELD equipment, now would be the time to start making a list. Shielded SHIELD. Heh." Sitting down, he shook his head. "Unless you've any other questions that need to be answered right now, please save getting upset until we arrive and you can try to talk with Fury or Hill or somebody who knows more than what your file told me. I haven't gotten nearly enough sleep in the past week and a half because I just finished one thing yesterday and was told to head out to check up on you as soon as I got on some clean clothes, so I'm going to crash until we get back."

Bruce watched as Clint slumped back against the side of the jet, closing his eyes. "Okay, then." Shaking his head, he pulled out his phone and started making a list of questions that he wanted answered. Starting with "just what the hell is going on, and who are you people?"