Agent Barton has been compromised (Clintasha)

[MissBayliss]

Title: Agent Barton has been compromised

Fandom: The Avengers

Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers although I wish I did.

Warning: Spoilers from the movie... duh.

Description: Clint has been sick for a while since he was mind raped by the Tesseract. Only when he is a feverish, passing out mess can he no longer hide it from Natasha. Also lots of PTSD and nightmares, not just from Clint but Tony as well.

Notes: Very new to the fanfiction game so ya'll be nice It is a pre slash Clintasha sick fic, a little bit implied, they're not together but who says they haven't been there a couple of times? Not a lot of sneezes, which I do apologise for, but a lot of feverish, shivering, man sweat and coughing fits. It's a long fic so I'll do it in stages.

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Part 1

He sat crouched in primed position, in a state of readiness. Staring down at the movements of the people below. He was just there to observe. that was something he did well. It was pouring down rain. It had started so suddenly there was no time to prepare for it and he had to make as little sound as possible. The rain ran down his face, his head was soaked. His whole body was soaked through. He resisted the urge to sniff. He'd felt ill for a while now. In fact, he'd felt terrible for so long he'd forgotten what it felt like to be well. His nose was running but he couldn't sniff it back or they'd hear him and his face was so wet he'd probably snort up a bunch of water at the same time. He shuffled slightly to hold the back of his hand against his nose. His sinuses were on fire and his eyes were weak. His eyes were never weak. Every joint ached as he sat in the same position for hours and he shivered uncontrollably. Suddenly Natasha was squatted beside him. The surprise she'd given him made him worry, but he didn't move.

"It's not happening tonight," she whispered to him.

The men below him had gone and how did he not notice that?

"Are you alright?"

"Ye..." He tried to reply but realised he couldn't speak because of the soreness of his throat, the stiffness of his vocal cords.

"Let's go," she said, disappearing again.

It took him longer to stand up than it should have. His knees screamed as he straightened them for the first time in hours. His head and vision were cloudy and it was freezing.

They made there way back to the van that they'd parked far enough away (which was really far away). Clint tried to be alert, as he always was. It was just in his nature. He never relaxed, he was always on edge, always ready, but he was tired and sore.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Natasha said, looking back at him.

"I'm fine, Nat. Quit asking," he replied in a husky half whisper. He knew if he cleared his throat now it would arouse suspicion. Natasha knew him well enough though. He could never hide anything from her, and she dropped her pace back but didn't say anything else.

He thought he was doing well on this walk through the woods in the pouring rain until his vision totally greyed out.

Natasha grabbed him by the shoulders as he was going down, luckily she was in front and had an assassins reflexes, and propped his back up against a tree.

"Clint," she said, calling him back to consciousness.

He groaned and tensed suddenly, startled. The groan rumbled something in his throat and he broke into a coughing fit. He almost doubled over, too weak to stand.

"Barton, you're sick."

"I'm not sick," his voice allowed him to squeak in response.

"Yeah, sure you're not," she said, almost angry but far too concerned to be. She flung one of his arms around her neck and pulled him up, continuing on to the van. Clint tried his hardest to not allow her to drag him to the van but he was fairly unsuccessful.

She dumped him in the passenger seat as gently as Natasha knew how to be and went round to the drivers side.

"Seriously, Natasha. I'm fine," he said through chattering teeth.

She reached out a hand and put it to his forehead.

"Jesus, Barton, you're on fire."

"It's freezing."

"No it's not. You have a fever. Possibly pneumonia now. Why didn't you say you were sick?"

She looked over when no response came and he was passed out in his seat, wheezing heavily. Any time Barton got any sleep was a good thing. She thought about taking him to the hospital but decided that she didn't want to get shot in the foot with an arrow. She'd just have to take him home for now and make sure he was alright.

It was harder to wake him than usual, but eventually he came to, coughing against the first breath and gripping Natasha's wrist so tight that if he wasn't sick she would have broken his. He stumbled out of the car, resisting all assistance. He skin was a lovely shade of grey.

They got up to his apartment and she began to undress him of his heavy leather suit.

"You know, Natasha..."

"Don't even start, Barton," she snapped back.

She turned on the shower and waited till it was hot before shoving him in.

The water stung his numb skin but the warmth was inviting. He still shivered. And any part of him left out of the immediate stream was freezing cold still. His bones were cold and he could feel them grating on each other. But it was nothing he couldn't handle. He'd been worse, that was for sure. The steam tickled his sinuses that had become disgustingly clogged. He held himself up with one hand on the tiled wall in front of him and sneezed forcefully into the other, letting the water run down the back of his neck. Despite how warm it was it still made him shiver. He didn't realise how long he'd been in there until Natasha called through the door.

"Barton?"

He held himself up against the tiled wall, too weak to stand straight up.

"Clint?" She called again.

He sighed and then coughed.

Coughing, good. At least she knew he hadn't passed out in there.

He got out and grabbed a towel, pulling it round his hips and tucking it there so it didn't fall, then he opened the door. Natasha emerged with two more towels and proceeded to dry him. Hey, there were worse things, right? His skin hurt against the towels as she rubbed them across his chest and back. And then she dried his hair. His sinuses went crazy with the movement on his head, it hurt.

"Nat," he said, knocking her away gently, a pained expression on his face.

"Sorry," she said, going back to rubbing but more gently this time.

He pushed her hands away and snapped to the side with sneezing fit.

“HHHTSCHUOO... HHSCHTXOO... huhh h-HSTCHOO! ECKSXOO! Uh, God...” he cursed, snuffling.

She brushed his hair back with a hand and gave him a soft, sympathetic look that Natasha didn’t give out often.

She let him get dressed on his own and then helped him slide into bed. The water on his body had been replaced with sweat and he didn't stop shaking. He sniffed thickly, and then coughed, rolling around on himself with the pain of effort.

Natasha watched him. She didn't know how to look after him. She didn't know what he needed. She needed help.

"Hey, Banner. Sorry to call so late," she said into the phone, having shut Clint in his bedroom so he couldn't hear her ask for help.

"It's Barton, he's really sick. I don't know what to do... Thanks, doctor," luckily it was Bruce, so she didn't even have to ask.

She went back into Clint's room and sat on the chair across from his bed. Knees to her chin, watching him.

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More to come, featuring the whole gang!

[Naraya]

Absolutely AWSOME!!!! Can't wait for more!!!!!!

[Dye]

Oooohhhh, this is looking fantastic!

I'm not usually a huge fan of Clint fics, but this is so well written that I just can't help but love it! Can't wait for more!

[MissBayliss]

Thanks guys! You're the best

Part 2

Bruce arrived with a bag full of medical supplies. He didn't know what was wrong with him from the brief phone call so he brought something for everything. Natasha let him in to Clint's room and took up her position again on the chair.

Luckily Clint was pliable enough to comply with Bruce's poking around, for now.

"Natasha, he's really sick. He needs to be at the hospital."

"No hospitals," Natasha huffed back. She knew why Clint hated them and she wasn't going to make him go there, ever.

Bruce hummed at wrung his hands, "I need more than this then. His temperature is way too high and he's severely dehydrated. He needs an IV."

"Do you have one?"

"Y-yeah," he stuttered, "Back at the tower. I can get Tony to bring me what I need."

Natasha raised an eyebrow, "Tony?"

"He's the only one that'll know what I need..."

Clint snapped to consciousness and grabbed hold of Bruce's wrist so hard that the other guy stirred a little.

"Clint..." Natasha warned softly.

"I'm not going to a hospital," he said in a low husky voice that didn't even sound like it belonged to him. "I'm fine. We have work to do," he said standing up, his vision briefly greying out again. That was getting annoying. Bruce had a hand on each bicep trying to bring the archer back down to the bed but Clint wasn't having any of that. He knocked his hands away and shoved Bruce back about a metre. Almost falling forward with the momentum.

"Clint," Natasha warned again. Now up and standing next to Bruce.

"I'm not done!" He croaked, "Alright!? I'm not out! I'm not going to be out again! What if I'm not there? What if something happens and I'm not there?"

Natasha looked at Bruce, praying that he didn't say Coulson's name. Clint didn't get upset, Clint got angry. He wasn't there for Coulson. He wasn't there.

"If you don't let yourself get better than you won't be here, you're no good to us like this. We need Hawkeye. So get in that bed and let me help you," Natasha could have kissed Bruce.

It took a moment but Clint finally relaxed against the doctors hands and was lowered back into the bed. He curled into the foetal position, coughing and sweating.

Bruce called Tony and after being berated with the "do you have any idea what time it is" and the "Tony Stark needs his beauty sleep". He was finally off the phone, knowing Tony would, however begrudgingly, do what he had asked. His gaze shifted to Natasha who was back on the chair, staring at Clint in his sick bed. Bruce put a hand on her shoulder.

"Go home, Natasha. You're soaking wet. You don't want to get sick too."

She glanced at Bruce and then back to Clint.

"Go," he said, squeezing her shoulder tighter, "I'll look after him. Go and get warm and change and you can come back."

She finally complied, standing up.

"I'll be gone 15 minutes max. Lets hope he sleeps until then."

[Naraya]

Eeeeeee just love it!! ?

[MissBayliss]

Eeeeeee just love it!!

Thanks! Here, have some more

Part 3

Tony arrived with everything Bruce had asked for, sauntering into the room wearing a surgical mask.

"Tony..." Bruce sighed, "He's got pneumonia, not TB."

"Precaution, my friend," he said, slapping Bruce on the back as he walked round to Barton's bedside.

Clint forced one eye open, "Jesus, Tony," he muttered, "Who invited him?"

"Aw, you're breaking my heart, feather brain."

He groaned and rolled over, "Natasha? Where's Natasha?"

"I sent her home to get changed. She won't be long," Bruce said, setting up the IV.

He coughed again, curling back up into a tight ball. He didn't stop coughing, and when he finally did he wheezed. Breathing was getting more difficult and speech almost impossible. He was scared. And he wanted Natasha.

"Clint," Banner called, Barton realising it wasn't the first time he'd said it. "I need your arm. Can I have your arm, please?" The archer finally slid an arm out from under the covers after shuffling to rearrange himself. Bruce held it still while he inserted the drip. Clint kept his eyes shut tight continually coughing in his throat against the pain of breathing. Tony stood away from the action arms folded across his chest, a pensive look on his face. He wasn't the hands on type. He also wasn't very emotional, or caring on the surface. He tried to keep a cool facade most of the time but he was concerned. Barton was always alright, even when he wasn't. Right now he wasn't alright. Tony could see that.

Finally Clint was asleep. His body being pumped with the fluids he so desperately needed. He wheezed heavily and his breath was slow. Natasha was back at his side, now perched on the bed with her knees to her chin and her hand holding Clint's, staring straight ahead.

She didn't like leaving him. Not after what Loki had done to him. She remembered when he was strapped to the bed, struggling to push him out of his head. He'd completely lost himself to it. And here he was struggling again against something he couldn't control. Completely helpless. She hated seeing him like that. Anything that made Barton feel vulnerable made her feel vulnerable. Reminded her of her humanity, and it disgusted her.

"You alright?"

"He doesn't usually sleep for this long... He doesn't sleep... well."

"Well it's good he's getting some rest. "

"No, Bruce. He doesn't sleep well..." She looked at Bruce intensely. Clint didn't sleep. He didn't sleep for a reason. The things that he'd been through, that he had learnt to suppress in life, he couldn't suppress in sleep. And with an extremely high fever it was even harder.

Bruce gave her a worried look and Natasha looked back down at Clint, who's face had now become tense. His whole body tensed and he gripped Natasha's hand.

"Clint," she called, tightening her own grip on his hand.

Bruce went round to the other side of the bed and put his fingers to Clint's wrist, checking his pulse. He looked alarmed and then put a hand on Clint's shoulder.

"Clint, wake up," he said firmly in Clint's ear.

"Barton," Natasha called again. More firmly.

His eyes sprung open and he looked up at Natasha.

"He's in my head," he whispered.

"No, Barton. You're fine. He's gone."

"He's in my head. I can feel him. He's still in there..." he huffed, closing his eyes again tightly.

Natasha wiped the sweat off his forehead with her hand. He leaned into the cool sensation on his head. Man, he was hot.

"Bruce," she said, looking at him with panicked eyes. Pleading for him to do something.

Bruce left the room indicating for her to follow him which she did. Tony was out in the lounge room having removed his surgical mask.

"We'll just have to wait it out. There's not much more we can do. He's sick and he hasn't been looking after himself. These things happen."

"But he thinks Loki is still in his head," she said pointing towards Clint's room.

"Woah, run that by me again?" Stark said, joining the conversation.

"He's got a fever. He doesn't know what's going on."

Natasha sat down on the couch and sighed. "He has nightmares. They used to be about... other things... but now they're all about Loki."

Tony felt that suddenly Clint and him had a lot in common. He couldn't sleep either because of what he'd seen through the portal. He could only imagine what he'd seen in Loki's head. They'd all lost sleep over it, but Barton already being the most psychologically damaged had been the most affected by it.

"Did you know he was sick?" Bruce asked.

"No... He, uh, missed a target a few weeks ago. He brushed it off but... He never misses a target."

"Shit, Natasha, a few weeks?"

"I didn't know. He does a good job of hiding it."

"Yeah, until he can't even stand on his own..."

"Nat?" came a strangled voice from the bedroom. Natasha rushed back in to Clint followed by Bruce and Tony.

"Get this thing off me," he said pulling at the drip.

"No, Clint you have to leave that in," she said, gently pulling his hand away.

"I have to take a piss," he mumbled in his horse throat.

"You have to take that with you, ok?" Bruce said, pulling back the covers and grabbing an arm to help Clint up.

He leaned heavily in to Bruce, not even trying to pretend anymore. It was beyond him now. He traded Bruce for the IV and let that carry his weight as he rolled his way to the bathroom.

Washing his hands the water was ice cold. A minute ago he would have reeled away from it but now he was so hot he wanted it all over him. He splashed the water up at his face, then pulled off his sticky sweater he'd been wearing a minute ago when he was freezing cold. He sniffed thickly again. He was getting tired of not being able to breathe through his nose. His throat felt raw like the air was made of sand paper and each time he breathed in it grated against his throat all the way to his lungs. But even worse than all that he just kept thinking about Loki. Even just the name "Loki" over and over again in his head. The feeling of the sceptre against his chest, all his thoughts and beliefs, everything that made Clint Clint, being pushed out. Emptied. The air caught in his throat. He coughed. He felt like he was going to be sick. He stayed leaning over the sink... when was the last time he'd eaten? He couldn't remember, and the thought of food just made him feel worse.

Loki's here.

He's in your head.

"Clint, are you alright in there?" Natasha's voice soothed him, and almost got through to him... almost.

[Naraya]

Wow!!! Just... WOW!!! I bow down to your awesomeness!!!!!

[Anilkex]

Oooooh I love Hawkeye, and I love how you're writing Natasha as herself - concerned and worried, but completely out of her element.

This line: "Anything that made Barton feel vulnerable made her feel vulnerable. Reminded her of her humanity, and it disgusted her. " was fantastic.

[MissBayliss]

Wow!!! Just... WOW!!! I bow down to your awesomeness!!!!!

You are AMAZING! And for you I will keep adding more I know there's not much sneezing because I originally wrote it for something else but if you like him weak and sick than I have bucket loads of that! Watch this space cause there's more coming!

Oooooh I love Hawkeye, and I love how you're writing Natasha as herself - concerned and worried, but completely out of her element.

This line: "Anything that made Barton feel vulnerable made her feel vulnerable. Reminded her of her humanity, and it disgusted her. " was fantastic.

Isn't he sexy!? I wanted them to be as much like the character as I could get! I'm really trying so your feedback is appreciated You are AWESOME!

[MissBayliss]

Part 4

He had a gun in every room of his house because, you know, assassin. He grabbed it out of the vanity drawer and gripped it tightly in his left hand, leaning on the drip with his right. He opened the door and pointed the gun at Natasha.

"Where's Loki?" he whispered, because that was all he was capable of.

Natasha was taken a back. Sure, in his state she could bring him down in a second but she didn't really want to have to. And he was pointing a gun at her. What the hell, man?

"Clint," she warned, "put the gun down."

"Tell me where he is," he choked, the gun lowering as his arm became fatigued with just the effort of holding it up.

Bruce's patience was wearing thin with Clint. He was trying to help him. He knew it was the fever. He knew it wasn't Clint's fault. But the other guy didn't. And it was getting harder and harder to keep him at bay. Especially with the casual way Loki's name was being thrown around.

"He's not here, Agent Barton. He's been neutralised," Natasha said, trying to appeal to the functioning assassin inside of Clint, assuming there still was one.

He breathed out heavily and suppressed a cough in his throat, his body was getting harder to hold up and the metal pole that the drip was hanging from couldn't take much more of his weight.

He wiped the sweat off his brow with the hand still holding the gun and ran the cool metal of the gun barrel across his temple with closed eyes. This was not a comforting sight to his teammates. They were all thinking it. In his state, if he truly thought Loki was in his head, if he thought there was a way that he could control him again... He'd do it. He'd put that gun to his head and pull the trigger. With a fever that high he'd do anything. Especially if he thought Loki would take his brain and play. Use his body as a weapon against people he loved... against Natasha. Luckily he lost consciousness before he could do anything rash...

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He woke up in a bed that looked suspiciously like a hospital but he knew that it wasn't. The windows were too big and it was comfortable. He looked around, drip still in arm, more tubes attached to him, an oxygen mask on his face which was actually quite a good thing, and the same horrendous lump in his throat rendering him almost speechless. That is, incredibly painful speech.

He wriggled around a little making sure everything still functioned. He put a hand on his mask and slowly removed it. Real air hurt more than he ever thought possible and he coughed violently into a closed fist, lungs and ribs tearing against each convulsion. It was a chesty cough that rattled his insides.

"Welcome back, Agent Barton. Agent Romanov and Doctor Banner are on their way." came Jarvis' unmistakable voice from all around him. This confirmed his suspicions. He was at Stark Tower.

Natasha and Bruce walked in, Natasha looking very happy to see him, you know, conscious.

"Nice to see you back with us," she smiled.

"How long?" He whispered, the pain of speaking hitting him for the first time.

"2 days..." She confirmed coming round to sit in the chair on his left side. Bruce stood at his right.

2 days...

The air caught in his throat again and he huffed loudly. Bruce placed the oxygen mask back in his hand and he held it up to his face for a few breaths before lowering it again.

"What happened?" Bruce waited for him to finish coughing before he answered.

"We brought you back here after you collapsed. You hit your head pretty hard."

Clint lifted his left hand and put it to the back of his head. Ow. Stitches. But, could be worse.

"Give it to... me straight, Doc."

"Pneumonia, mild concussion. Grounded for at least 4 weeks."

Where was that oxygen mask?

"Fury?" He coughed through the mask.

"He's been here. He's aware of the situation."

His breathing struggled, even with the mask. Natasha grabbed his hand to calm him. He tried to take some deep breaths.

"'t's... jus... pneumonia... right? 't's not... that bad?"

"You could have died," Bruce said, "You're grounded."

"... 4 weeks?"

"4 weeks."

He looked at Natasha with those helpless blue eyes. She felt so bad for him, but he had let this go on. He'd gotten himself this bad before anyone could help him. He'd brought this on himself because of his stupid, macho, be all or end all attitude, and it made her feel even worse because it's the exact same thing she would have done. Spies weren't trained to be sick, they were trained to get the job done by any means necessary. No matter how injured or sick you were. Admittedly, Clint never got sick. He wasn't super like Captain America or Thor but he was an amazing human. He had a unique and brilliant skill set that couldn't be matched. He was amazing at hand to hand combat and he never got sick.

"It's ok. The world's not ending, Clint."

"What if... it is?"

"Well, we'll make that decision when it happens," she said, rubbing calming strokes on the back of his hand with her thumb. He closed his eyes and that was it. He was out again like a light.

[Anonymouse]

He sounds absolutely miserable, poor thing. I love how his skills aren't as sharp and omg when he faints. Clearly he needs to be resting and getting better, not standing in the rain getting sicker.

Clint tried his hardest to not allow her to drag him to the van but he was fairly unsuccessful.

Man I would have loved to see that power struggle

They got up to his apartment and she began to undress him of his heavy leather suit.

"You know, Natasha..."

"Don't even start, Barton," she snapped back.

She turned on the shower and waited till it was hot before shoving him in.

She is SO no nonsense, I love it.

Omg when she dries his hair...

She brushed his hair back with a hand and gave him a soft, sympathetic look that Natasha didn’t give out often.

!!!

Bruce had a hand on each bicep trying to bring the archer back down to the bed but Clint wasn't having any of that. He knocked his hands away and shoved Bruce back about a metre. Almost falling forward with the momentum.

Only Hawkeye (and probably Tony Stark) has the balls to SHOVE the Hulk!

I love how there's one more Avenger in the room with every chapter.

Tony arrived with everything Bruce had asked for, sauntering into the room wearing a surgical mask.

"Tony..." Bruce sighed, "He's got pneumonia, not TB."

gdi Tony you're such a diva.

Completely helpless. She hated seeing him like that. Anything that made Barton feel vulnerable made her feel vulnerable. Reminded her of her humanity, and it disgusted her.

This part was FANTASTIC. Well, the whole thing is amazing, but this really stuck out.

He had a gun in every room of his house because, you know, assassin.

hahahaha I loved it. I loved all of it and I regret not reading it sooner! It's fantastic! You write them really well, all of their quirky personalities, and your descriptions and scenarios are perfect. Will there be more?

[MissBayliss]

He sounds absolutely miserable, poor thing. I love how his skills aren't as sharp and omg when he faints. Clearly he needs to be resting and getting better, not standing in the rain getting sicker.

Clint tried his hardest to not allow her to drag him to the van but he was fairly unsuccessful.

Man I would have loved to see that power struggle

They got up to his apartment and she began to undress him of his heavy leather suit.

"You know, Natasha..."

"Don't even start, Barton," she snapped back.

She turned on the shower and waited till it was hot before shoving him in.

She is SO no nonsense, I love it.

Omg when she dries his hair...

She brushed his hair back with a hand and gave him a soft, sympathetic look that Natasha didn’t give out often.

!!!

Bruce had a hand on each bicep trying to bring the archer back down to the bed but Clint wasn't having any of that. He knocked his hands away and shoved Bruce back about a metre. Almost falling forward with the momentum.

Only Hawkeye (and probably Tony Stark) has the balls to SHOVE the Hulk!

I love how there's one more Avenger in the room with every chapter.

Tony arrived with everything Bruce had asked for, sauntering into the room wearing a surgical mask.

"Tony..." Bruce sighed, "He's got pneumonia, not TB."

gdi Tony you're such a diva.

Completely helpless. She hated seeing him like that. Anything that made Barton feel vulnerable made her feel vulnerable. Reminded her of her humanity, and it disgusted her.

This part was FANTASTIC. Well, the whole thing is amazing, but this really stuck out.

He had a gun in every room of his house because, you know, assassin.

hahahaha I loved it. I loved all of it and I regret not reading it sooner! It's fantastic! You write them really well, all of their quirky personalities, and your descriptions and scenarios are perfect. Will there be more?

YOU are absolutely AMAZING! Thanks for the awesome feedback! Because of you, more is coming Just some Tony and Clint one on one time. The next part will include Pepper and Steve! Staying true to the character is my main goal. Glad you enjoy it. Here, have some more

[MissBayliss]

Part 5

He tossed and turned, coughing into the mask, sweaty and cold. He could feel the tesseract crawling through his veins, under his skin, creeping into his brain... his eyes. He gasped awake, coughing like someone had been choking him. He must have forgotten to breathe. He opened his eyes and saw Tony standing near the door, drink in hand, just watching him, not surprised.

"Morning, sunshine," he smirked, with an amount of energy that just made Clint pissed.

Clint didn't say anything. He was too scared of the sound that would come out if he tried. And he would not be mocked by Stark. He just rolled over trying to catch his breath. Tony came and sat next to him.

"Nightmare?" He asked.

Tony waited. Clint finally felt comfortable enough to take the mask off.

"Always..."

"Loki?"

He sighed and then coughed again. "You... bet'cha..."

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Stark said before making a face like obviously he can't. "Well if it makes you feel any better I haven't been sleeping either. Well, I mean, I do sleep, I just... when I do it's not all hugs and puppies."

Clint peered at him. "What did you see... through the portal?"

Tony stood up suddenly and went over to the window. Why did he start this conversation? His throat was dry all of a sudden and his heart rate shot through the roof with just the mention on the portal. He didn't want to have a panic attack in front of Clint. He'd never hear the end of it once he could talk again.

"I don't want to sound cliché, but we're not so different. I mean, we have more in common than you think."

"You didn't... kill... your own men... because a magic alien stick... brainwashed you..."

"No, but I went through that portal! I saw what was on the other side of it!"

Clint looked at him for a moment. He didn't have the energy for this conversation. But he felt a friend in Tony. Something about sharing a traumatic experience, losing sleep and pleasant dreams, not that he knew what that was... They were in this together. They weren't alone. Tony's expression softened in Clint's gaze, he didn't want to fight, and Tony let the bristles go down.

“So...” Tony said, sitting back down, “How you feeling?”

“Like shit...” Clint said, scruffing a hand through his hair and being painfully reminded of the stitches in the back of his head.

“That sucks, man. I’m sorry. I hear you’re grounded.”

“Yeah... 4 weeks.”

“Ouch.”

“Doc’s... orders...”

"It wasn't Bruce that ordered it, it was Fury," Tony said, matter-of-factly, downing the last of his drink.

"Wha...?" Clint struggled, inhaling painfully.

"Something about "his best man" and "not dying" blah, blah, blah."

He sighed and looked straight ahead. So Fury didn't want him in the field, that was a bit of a punch in the guts. Oh well, guess it was his own fault really.

He took a few more puffs on the mask and then threw it down.

"Help... me up," he said, throwing back the covers and realising he only had a pair of briefs on.

"Woah, what are you doing?" Tony said, standing up, trying to lower him back into the bed with the power of his mind.

"Where are... my clothes?" Clint said, sitting up and coughing harshly. This was way more effort than he'd originally thought.

Tony grabbed a pair of pants and a singlet out of a cupboard.

"I suppose you're gonna... need help putting them on?" Tony said, grimacing.

"Just... shut up and give me a hand," he wasn't sure if Tony heard all of that sentence because it seemed to get caught somewhere in his throat on the way out. He was hoping he got the gist of it.

Tony braced him with his arm as he swung his legs round the side of the bed and then helped him put his feet through the pant legs, complaining the whole time.

"Where's Natasha when you need her?"

Clint ignored that and took over once he could reach the pants easily. Tony had to basically pull him off the bed so he could do them up. Standing up was a bit of a challenge. He couldn't remember the last time his body was this sore. Oh, that's right, after the attack on Manhattan. What a glorious time to reminisce.

Tony disconnected all his wires then slide the singlet over his head. Clint focusing on not falling over. Tony walked him out of the room. Clint was done sleeping, he was done lying around helplessly, dreaming of Loki. He didn't care how much pain he was in, he was going to be awake for it.

"Sir, should I inform Doctor Banner that you require assistance?"

"N..."

"No, we're right, aren't we, Barton? J, are the others upstairs?"

"Ms Potts and Agent Romanov are upstairs. Doctor Banner is on R&D level four and Captain Rogers is in the armoury. Shall I tell them Agent Barton is accepting visitors?"

"Sure, why not," Tony answered, entering the lift, supporting Clint with just one hand on his bicep. The archer was walking more steadily now.

"Hungry?" He looked at Clint.

"Starving."

[MissBayliss]

Well, I've written this part so ya'll may as well have it Again, no sneezing. Sorry, this is sicfic not sneezefic, but it's very angsty and all that. Thanks again

Part 6

The lift doors opened and Natasha was there to take Clint from Tony. She'd clearly been working hard as Natalie Rushmore by how she was dressed. Pepper was similarly dressed and standing in the kitchen.

"How are you, Clint?" Pepper said, bringing him some tea as Natasha sat him down on the couch.

He cleared his throat to answer, but burst out coughing, lungs rattling. Pepper handed the tea to Natasha who forced his hand to take it and drink. Steadying the cup for him.

"I suppose that answers my question..." Pepper said, glancing at Tony, who had sauntered into the kitchen and started making himself a smoothie. He raised an eyebrow at her and she came to join him, leaving Natasha to tend to her partner.

Natasha rubbed him on the back and he leaned in to her, resting his head in the crook of her neck. This had been way more effort than he was ready for, but he was up there now and the bed was so far away. Natasha was there though so it wasn't so bad. He just closed his eyes and tried not to pass out again.

The lift doors opened and Bruce emerged with an oxygen tank and mask in hand, knowing Clint would need it and would not have cared about it in his effort to leave the confines of his room. He sat it down in front of the couch and fitted the mask to his face. He didn't open his eyes, but he relaxed with the first breath of cool, pure air entering his lungs.

"You shouldn't be up yet, Clint," Bruce scolded, in the most polite manner. "You need you're antibiotics..."

"Jus'... get me... steak san'wich..." His voice crackled through the mask. The other avengers chuckled at his request. Bruce lifted Clint's legs and swung them round onto the couch. Natasha lowered him back to lie down, moving out of his way. Suddenly Clint, with more force than they thought he had, grabbed Natasha's arm.

"Don't... let me... sleep. Please... can't... sleep... 'nymore," he coughed, looking up at Natasha, breaking her heart just a little bit.

"Shhh," she hushed him and patted his head. Bruce gave Natasha a look of concern, as Tony and Pepper shared a similar one in the kitchen.

"Steve, uh, can you bring a wheelchair with you on your way up?"

"Of course, doctor," Steve's voice echoed through the room. So obedient.

Bruce lovingly tapped him on the leg and disappeared to the kitchen to join Tony and Pepper.

"Maybe we should give him something he can actually swallow. Vegetable soup or something?"

"Sure thing," Tony said, tapping Pepper on the arm, indicating for her to make it. She rolled her eyes but began doing it anyway.

"Why'd you let him leave, Tony? He's not ready for it."

"Hey, there was no stopping him. It's not my fault," Tony said, sipping on his broccoli smoothie, "besides I don't blame the guy. I'd hate to be stuck in bed all day... unless it was, you know... voluntary." He winked at Pepper.

"I'm not a psychologist but it sounds to me like he's got pretty bad PTSD."

Tony hummed, and gulped down his smoothie, trying to ignore the fact that he too had PTSD. He was a super hero, surely he wasn't that delicate.

"If you ask me, Clint is in a constant state of PTSD..." Pepper added.

Natasha was sitting on the floor in front of the couch taking to Clint about past missions. reminiscing about old jobs. It was actually quite comforting to Clint. He couldn't wait to shoot something. He was itchy. He wanted to be in the range or doing something, anything that wasn't coughing or sleeping or even sweating. He felt and probably smelt disgusting. That was Clint's thing, he had to keep busy.

"Well, what's wrong with that? Give the guy a break, will ya?"

"I'm not saying there's anything wrong with it. I'm just saying we need to help him through whatever he's dealing with."

"We're all dealing with things," Tony huffed, leaving the kitchen to join Natasha.

Clint’s eyelids were heavy as he watched Tony and Natasha bantering in front of him and towards him. They were definitely trying to distract him, make him feel better but the room was starting to get quiet and distorted and he couldn’t really focus on the sound anymore. There was a part of him that thought it couldn’t just be pneumonia that was doing this to him, but he felt so bad he couldn’t even form proper thought processes in his head. Thoughts just broke off and others took there place, scattered, one thought never finishing but left swimming in his head. He didn’t want to sleep. He didn’t want to dream but he was starting to get tired of trying not to, and he hadn’t even been trying for that long.

“Clint, Clint...” he finally focused in on Natasha’s voice and cold gentle touch on his shoulder.

“Field trips over, Legolas,” Tony added, leaning over Natasha.

Bruce was setting up the wheelchair, and when did Steve get here?

“Agent Barton,” he greeted, grabbing him under the arms and sitting him up, gently.

"Good to see you again," he flashed his poster boy smile as he lifted him into the chair.

Clint tried to do something, anything to show he wasn't completely incompetent but his body was so weak. He hated how he couldn't control it.

"Cap'," he managed, a shy little greeting.

They all smiled softly to themselves and breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn't completely unaware of what was happening around him, at least for now.

"What about... my san'wich?"

"You can have soup when we get you back in bed," Bruce ordered.

Clint huffed at the idea of soup. He liked his food solid. But the huff of disagreement stirred something loose in his chest and he coughed harshly, leaning almost out of the chair. Steve had his hand on his shoulder stopping him falling out completely and Bruce brushed him on the back. Pepper rushed out of the kitchen with a large glass of water in her hand. Clint finally stopped and breathed shallowly, scared to take a deep breath in case he did it again. Maybe soup wasn't a bad call. The thought of something solid going down his throat made him wince in pain. He extended his shaking hand to take the glass but Natasha had swooped in, unnoticed... assassin... and was kneeling in front of him, carefully removing his mask and tilting the glass towards his lips. He couldn't help but have a hand on the glass as well, helping, or trying to help. Even water hurt to swallow, but it stopped that tickle lower down, so he managed a few gulps. Pepper took the glass off Natasha and she placed the mask back over his nose and mouth.

Clint gazed around the room at the wide eyes of the others. There was too many people in the room. Too many people to see him like this. Too much to focus on. He closed his eyes, but the world just seemed to swirl more. He wanted out of here. He wanted Natasha to take him away from here. He wished she could read his mind. He opened his eyes but she was gone from in front of him and he was moving. He leaned his head back and looked up at her, pushing him through the room towards the lift. He reached up a shaking hand and grabbed hers, that was white knuckled around the handle. She smiled down at him and shook her head slightly.

Bruce followed them into the lift and Clint supposed he could allow that. It was just having all the avengers in one place, excluding Thor of course, that put him on edge. It made him feel like there was something else they should be doing... saving the world maybe? But he couldn't even do it if he needed to. He was so damaged. So torn up inside about the tesseract, about Loki, about Coulsen, about all the agents he killed, he'd been working so hard to stop any kind of thought about it. Hadn't slept in days, didn't eat much. Too busy. Had to stop the bad guys. Had to do something. Now he couldn't do anything. Nice work, Barton.

When he stopped self loathing he realised he was back in his bed being hooked up to his tubes. Bruce and Natasha talking about him like he couldn't hear them. He wasn't going to lie, it was hard to focus on their conversation.

"He said he didn't want to sleep," Natasha said, almost too soft and concerned to be Natasha.

"He needs to sleep. He keeps fighting it and that's why he's so out of it now. It's not helping him."

"Nat," Clint said on an exhale, barely above a whisper.

"Hey," she said, putting a hand on his head, trying to calm his purposeless pawing.

"I'm sorry," he coughed, pain ripping through his chest.

"For what?" she breathed, trying not to be emotional looking at his helpless face.

"Being sick... Had to work... Make up for what I've done..." The conversation was wearing him out but he had to do it. Something was making him say it. The fever maybe?

"His temperatures climbing," Bruce muttered, mainly to himself.

Oh, yes, the fever.

"Clint, it's okay."

"You never told me how many... but I found out... Loki..."

"He's not in your head anymore, Clint. I promise."

"No... but he left a hole... a stain... Can't fill it... Can't make it clean..."

“Clint, stop... You don’t want to tell me this.”

“Yes, I do... I have to... have to let someone in... can’t do this on my own... don’t want to be alone anymore...”

“Clint... you’re not alone. You made a different call, remember? I’m here.”

He closed his eyes and tears ran down the side of his face, from the pain of coughing, of breathing. His brow slowly uncreased as sleep finally took him, a somewhat relieved look on his face, knowing Natasha was there, his hand still clutching hers. She gulped against her emotions, not wanting to show her weakness. She knew what her weakness was. Clint was her weakness.

Bruce let out a breath he'd unconsciously been holding, and stared up at Clint’s vital signs Jarvis had projected onto the glass window. Temperature was steady at 103. Too high. He took off his glasses with one hand and rubbed his creased forehead. He shouldn’t have been there for that emotional exchange. That was a personal conversation between Clint and Natasha. He didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want to know how alone Clint really was, how damaged he was. He wanted him to be ok, like he always seemed to be. He quickly glanced at Natasha and she looked up to make eye contact with him.

“Uh, we need to bring his temperature down,” he said, ignoring the pain in her eyes. She wouldn’t have liked him to acknowledge it anyway.

She just nodded and pulled the blanket off him. A shiver rippled through his body but he didn’t wake.

“Oh, I knew it. Trying to seduce him and he’s not even conscious. You have a problem,” Tony’s voice echoed through the room.

“Tony!” Natasha yelled, staring up in any direction, at the numerous cameras in the room. “How long have you been watching!?”

“Seriously?” Bruce added.

“Hey, it’s better than cable,” you could almost hear his smug expression.

“I told him not to,” came Pepper’s voice.

“That’s right, she did,” Cap added.

“Oh my god, you’re all watching!?”

“Nat, we do really need to...” he pointed with his glasses towards Clint’s limp body.

“I’ll deal with you later, Stark,” she sniped, with a fierce enough tone to scare them all.

----------

[Anonymouse]

Somehow I missed these updates!! When I have access to an actual computer (currently using my phone) I Will read and comment more thoroughly. Glad you decided to.continue.

[redbluemoon]

I look forward to more! I'm on an Avengers kick lately and it's so hard to find good sick fics for them!

[MissBayliss]

Okay, first of all I'm very sorry! I hat it when people leave fics hanging! Can't stand it! And now I've become one of them I just lost the motivation with this and I'm very sorry. I have, however, found the document and continued to write it because I hate leaving it unfinished. I really, really hate it. I know it's not sneezefic anymore. I know it doesn't really have a place and it's angst and schmoopy and yeah... I know, I'm sorry. But I have written another part, and I will finish it. I promise. Sorry to the people that were reading it. Hopefully the update makes up a little for leaving it so long...

----------

“Turn it off, now,” Pepper instructed, grabbing Tony’s arm.

He sighed, “Well, you’re no fun,” he said, mimimising the video screens from inside Clint’s room but leaving his vitals. “I don’t see how Natasha’s good at lowering anyones temperature anyway.”

Pepper glared at him and he rolled his eyes.

Steve stood uncomfortably behind them. He wasn’t concerned with anything but Clint’s health. He’d been by to visit him in those two days he was unconscious and although Clint doesn’t remember anything from them, Steve distinctly remembers the calling out in his sleep, the horrible state he was in. Steve knew what shell shock was. None of them had been in it like he had, the war. He could see in Clint everything he saw in those young men. It tortured him to see it again.

“Look, Cap’, he’s going to be fine,” Tony said, slapping him on the arm.

“His physical health is not what I’m worried about...” he sighed.

“Well, that’s not why he’s in that bed right now,” Tony huffed.

“No, but he would have gotten there one way or another.” Steve said, arms still folded across his chest.

Tony felt the air in the room getting thin. His heart raced a little as he recalled the attack on Manhattan.

Pepper's phone rang and she disappeared down the hall, quietly barking orders to whoever was on the other end.

Tony went to the kitchen and poured himself a scotch. Steve eyed him carefully.

"How are you doing, anyway?"

"What?" Tony said, trying to stop his hand from shaking.

"After... you know," he didn't want to say it out loud.

"Please, Cap', don't get all emotional on me," he huffed, "I'm fine."

"You're fine?" The eyebrow went up. "You know you're a terrible liar."

"No, I'm not. I'm actually a really good liar," He smiled, smugly.

"Tony.”

"Oh, you sound like a broken record, just drop it already."

"Tony..."

"I said drop it!" he had to put the glass down to keep from spilling it.

Steve looked down, “You know you’re not in this alone.”

“Yeah, right...”

“I’m going to check if Bruce needs anything.”

“Hey, Steve,” he said, and he turned back. Tony looked down at his glass.

“You’re welcome,” Steve smiled, and left.

-------

Clint curled in on himself but remained sleeping. Natasha rubbed the wet cloth down his arm. She’d been doing that for the last 20 minutes. Having to re-wet the damn thing every couple of strokes as Clint’s body temperature heated the rag. At least it looked like he could breath a bit better now and Bruce had switched him to a nasal canula as the mask seemed to be irritating him.

When his temperature dropped down to 101 they left him to rest, but Nat somehow knew the worst wasn’t over yet. Clint was damaged. She’d never seen him open up like that. Clint just didn’t do that, not even in front of her. The only time he’d ever come close to that level of emotion was when he was coming out of it for the first time, drying out from the tesseract brain washing.

“Have you ever had someone take your brain and play? Pull you out, shove something else in... Do you know what it’s like to be unmade?”

“You know that I do.”

Clint was sick. Sick in his body, sick in his mind. He needed help, and she didn’t know how to help him.

Natasha didn’t sleep that night.

----

Tony tossed and turned, sheets tangling around his sweaty limbs.

“Shhh, it’s alright,” It was Pepper’s voice.

He kept his eyes tightly shut, whimpering a little. The Chitari swimming around in his mind, all around him, suffocating him. The blackness choked him and he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe.

“Tony! Wake up!”

He gasped, his breathes heaving in and out, shuddering, catching on every one, like a sob, like he was sobbing with dry eyes.

“It was a dream,” Pepper was rubbing his arm, “It’s just a dream.”

He sighed, wiped a hand across his brow. He was sitting up in bed, Pepper’s tired body draped beside him.

“Sorry, baby,” he said on a breath, “Go back to sleep.”

“You sure you’re alright?”

He nodded, she was asleep in seconds.

Tony untangled himself from the sheets, feeling air enter his lungs again. He was alright. He was at home, in bed, with Pepper. Everything was fine. He just couldn’t close his eyes. If he didn’t close his eyes he’d be okay.

“Wonder how Clint’s doing,” he said out loud.

He was still trying to collect himself when he bumped into Natasha halfway down the hall.

“Jesus, Natasha, way to scare a guy.”

“Assassin remember?” she quirked an eyebrow.

“Trouble sleeping?” he asked, walking past her into the kitchen, grabbing a whiskey glass and trying not to show his hands shaking.

“Must be going around.”

“You want a drink?” he offered.

“No, thanks. I was going to check on Clint.”

“Funny that. So was I,” he extended and arm to her, “Shall we.”

“Bite me, Stark. Don’t think I haven’t forgotten to kick your ass,” she snapped, and sauntered of ahead of him.

Tony hadn’t moved, just widened his eyes and gulped, “Right.”

------

[Salamander]

Wow. This is amazing. I'm not a big avengers fan, with the exception of Captain America, but I know the characters well enough to enjoy the heck out of this. I'm actually really glad I didn't find it until there were lots of parts posted, so that I could get lost in the whole thing in one long sitting. I especially liked Steve and Tony's reactions- of course Steve knows about Shell Shock and would hold a lot of sympathy there. The whole thing was pitch perfect for me and if there's more I look forward to reading.

[MissBayliss]

Wow. This is amazing. I'm not a big avengers fan, with the exception of Captain America, but I know the characters well enough to enjoy the heck out of this. I'm actually really glad I didn't find it until there were lots of parts posted, so that I could get lost in the whole thing in one long sitting. I especially liked Steve and Tony's reactions- of course Steve knows about Shell Shock and would hold a lot of sympathy there. The whole thing was pitch perfect for me and if there's more I look forward to reading.

Aw, thank you for your feedback. That's really great to hear. I have really been struggling writing it but knowing someone's going to actually read it and appreciate it will motivate me Thanks so much.

[MissBayliss]

Popping by a year later to post another update...  

 

 

 

------

 

Natasha could hear Tony following along behind her, but she didn’t slow down to walk with him, didn’t even want to look at him at the moment. Not after spying on them. It was bad enough Bruce had been there to see Clint like that, let alone everyone watching him break down on a monitor. She felt protective of him. She knew he wouldn’t want to have been seen like that and it pissed her off.

She paused before going into Clint’s room.

“You know, we just wanted to make sure he was okay,” Tony still had his whiskey glass in his hand, although he’d almost finished it already.

“Don’t,” she looked at him.

“Drop the act,” Tony blurted, “We get it, you’re upset that your boyfriend’s sick.”

“Shut up, Stark, or I swear to God...”

She didn’t need to finish the sentence.

Clint was actually awake when they went in.

“Why aren’t you sleeping?” The edge in Natasha’s voice she could blame Stark for.

“Well, hello to you too,” Clint croaked, coughing into a fist.

“You sound great,” Tony said, sarcastically, as he waltzed his way in.

“Does this look like a zoo? You coming to watch me sleep? Little creepy guys.”

“Well, you’re not sleeping, are you?” Tony swilled his drink, occupied himself by staring at the ceiling.

“How do you feel?” Natasha had rounded the bed and was putting a gentle hand on Clint’s shoulder.

“I feel like I want out of here,” he took a breath, “And it’s hard to sleep... with that thing going,” he pointed to the noise the oxygen was making.

“Well, that’s keeping you alive so…”

Natasha stared daggers at him.

“Hey, Nat,” Clint rasped.

“Yeah?” She looked down at him. So pale.

“Can you give us a minute?”

She tried to keep the shocked and hurt expression off her face. Please, she was a professional. But she couldn’t help the slight clench of her jaw, an action that wouldn’t go unnoticed by Clint. Who sometimes knew her better than she knew herself.

“Please,” he added.

Tony stood by the door, looking from Clint to Natasha. 

“Sure,” she whispered, running her hand down Clint’s arm as she left.

 

…

 

Clint waited until Natasha was well and truly out of he room before he looked at Tony.

“Rough night?”

“What?” Tony asked, coming to stand at his bedside.

Clint coughed, “You’re hand is shaking.”

Tony looked down. The glass was empty. He didn’t remember doing that. And Clint was right, his hand was shaking like a leaf. 

Tony shook his head, “I think you should be more concerned about you right now.”

“I need to know I’m not in this alone.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nat,” he chuckled, “She doesn’t get it… She can’t. And I can’t put her through that… What I saw… What I did.”

“Whoa, whoa, calm down, feather boy,” Tony put his hand up, “I’m not sure I’m the best psychiatrist…”

“Would you shut up for a second? You think I can’t see it?”

Tony gulped, “Look, Barton… I don’t know what you want from me.”

“I saw inside Loki’s mind… and it’s like he’s still here. I can’t get it out of my head… I can’t sleep… It’s killing me, man. It’s literally killing me.”

Tony paused, staring into his empty glass, “The portal…”

“What did you see?” 

Tony’s heart rate quickened, his chest heaving up and down. More air. More air. If his hand wasn’t shaking before, it was shaking now.

“Tony?”

The buildings collapsing around him. Giant armoured eels swimming through the sky. A nuke strapped to his back.

“I got a nuke coming in. It’s going to blow in less than a minute… and I know exactly where to put it.”

Destruction. This giant hole…

Oblivion. 

I know exactly where to put it…

Tony’s glass smashed to the floor. His knees found the tiles. He couldn’t breath.

“Stark, you know that’s a one way trip?”

 

…

 

Clint pressed madly at his call button. Tony had stopped responding to him. He was there, like, physically there, but his mind was gone. He was gasping, hands clutching at his chest, making desperate sobbing noises.

“Stark!” Clint yelled, rolled onto his side coughing from the effort.

He climbed out of bed and fell on his knees next to Tony, slapping a hand on his shoulder.

“Tony!”

Tony gasped, “Oh my god…” he panted.

“Hey… you alright?”

Tony hung his head, sweat dripping off his brow, “What the hell?”

Clint’s legs shook beneath him.

Natasha barged into the room, followed by Banner. 

“Tony,” Clint whispered, pointing at him, and leaning heavily on his bed to stand up.

Bruce went to Tony’s side.

“What happened? Clint get back in that bed.”

“Yeah, sure thing,” he mumbled, Natasha tugging on his arm.

“Clint?” She said.

The world started to spin, and soon everything was black.

Edited February 25, 2016 by MissBayliss

[RemedyBane]

i know i'm more than a year later but this is AMAZING!!!!!!!!! i hope maybe you'll come back to it someday? i am clintasha trash and love clint!

[MissBayliss]

On 26 December 2017 at 3:40 PM, WolfsBane said:

i know i'm more than a year later but this is AMAZING!!!!!!!!! i hope maybe you'll come back to it someday? i am clintasha trash and love clint!

It's so funny you commented on this, cause I was just rewatching all the Marvel movies and thought about this fic... So I finished it.  

[MissBayliss]

(It's almost four years later, but here's my final part )

 

 

 

“Clint!”

Natasha grabbed at him. Slowed his decent to the ground. He was pale and sweating.

“I need more hands in here!” she shouted.

 

…

 

Cap had been coming up from the gym. He’d blown through four punching bags that night. He was sweating from the exertion.

He decided to go by Barton’s room to check on him and found the room not as empty as he thought it would be. And two out of the four of them were on the floor.

“Natasha,” he called, as he crossed the room, quickly hefting Clint off the floor and back into the bed. Natasha put her hand on Clint’s head and started plugging in all the things that had been disconnected.

Cap directed his gaze to Tony, who was kneeling, one arm holding him up, breath coming in quick and hard.

“Tony… hey, come on,” Bruce was talking to him, calming hand steady on his shoulder.

The nurse came in to help Nat, so triaging the situation, he went to Stark.

“Tony.”

Tony gasped, “’kay… ‘M’okay.”

He pushed their hands away and got to his feet, foot and knee bleeding from the broken glass on the floor.

“I just… need some air.”

Bruce watched him go, before looking to Clint, who was just started to come to, wriggling around on the bed.

Cap nodded, letting him tend to the patient, while he went after Tony.

 

By the time Steve found Tony he was sitting out on the balcony in the breeze, one ankle crossed over his knee and groaning as he pulled a piece of glass from his foot.

“Geez, Tony. You need to get that looked at.”

Tony seemed to jump, like the Captain had startled him.

“I’ll be fine,” he said, although his voice was raw, vulnerable.

Steve sighed and sat down next to him, handing him the rag from his back pocket. Tony nodded a thanks and pressed it against his still bleeding foot.

“You wanna tell me what happened in there?” Steve nudged him with his shoulder.

“Not really,” Tony grunted.

Steve didn’t say anything, he just continued to sit there with him.

“I have, uh…” Tony started, “I have this thing… I dunno. It’s like I can’t breathe.”

Steve nodded, letting him get it all out.

“Feels like…” he took an instinctive breath in, “Feels like I’m having a heart attack. It’s a… anxiety thing, I guess.”

“And you had one just now? In Barton’s room?”

Tony smirked, “He was asking me things about… you know, making me remember, and that’s when it happens, and I…”

His breath started hitching.

“Hey,” Steve put a hand on his shoulder, “You’re okay.”

Tony looked down and huffed out an embarrassed laugh, “So, uh… I’m a mess, Cap’. If you must know… and I’m barely keeping it together half the time.”

“Tony…” Steve clasped his hands, looking down, “Clint is really sick in there. He could have died…”

“What and you’re trying to put that on me?”

“No, God, Tony, listen. Don’t let that be you too. He could have asked for help. He could have told someone what was going on, how he was suffering, and he didn’t. He didn’t let anyone help him. So, please… don’t let that be you.”

Tony looked at him and for a moment looked sincere, until, “Was this your sweat rag?”

Steve looked sheepishly at the bloody rag in Tony’s hand, “Uh, yes?”

“I have your disgusting sweat rag plugging my open wound?”

Steve laughed, “Well I was running low on options since you wouldn’t come inside.”

Tony sniffed, looking out into the stars, “I needed some air.”

“Yeah…” Steve nodded, “Well, come on. Let’s get you patched up.”

 

…

 

4 Days Later

 

“Pepper, he’s hogging the remote!”

“Cram it, Stark. You love this movie.”

“Don’t make me come over there and get it.”

Clint snorted, “I’d like to see you try.”

“Enough,” Steve said, sitting down on the lounge in between Clint and Tony, “Besides, I like this movie… although the book was better.”

“Right!?” Clint laughed, before coughing into his sleeve.

“Hey,” Natasha rounded the couch and sat on Clint’s other side, “You’re supposed to be taking it easy.”

“I would be, if Tony’d keep his mouth shut during the best parts!” Clint’s voice was still rough and he ended up doubled over, coughing into his fist again.

“Don’t forget to breathe, feather-brain,” Tony snarked.

Steve put his feet up on the recliner next to Tony’s, bumping his foot.

“Ow! Watch it, Cap’!”

“Sorry,” Steve smiled.

“Yeah, sure you are,” Tony smirked.

Natasha leaned down to Clint’s ear, “Hey, I know you’re feeling better, but are you really up for this?”

Clint grabbed her hand and looked in her eyes for a moment, then turned back to the TV, “Shh, this is the best part.”

 

The End.

 

Finally.  

[RemedyBane]

aww yay! happy ending  thanks for finishing it!

[RemedyBane]

love it! wonderful ending!