Clint had seen her bad before, but never like this.
He found her sobbing in a corner, alone, clutching her knees as tightly as she could to her chest, rocking herself back and forth.
He knew not to say anything. He just sat down beside her, gently put his arm around her, helped her up, and walked her to the quinjet.
He knew she would not like the others knowing she had been crying, so he carefully mopped up her face with his sleeve. He looked her deep in the eyes to make sure she was reasonably stable, and let her walk independently into the quinjet. She sat down shakily in the corner.
They had come up with a system for these panic attacks long before, he placed his hands firmly on her face, keeping her grounded and giving her something to hold on to. They breathed slowly and in sync. He whispered encouragements under his breath and tenderly wiped her tears, catching them before they fell.
Someone tried to interrupt them. He firmly turned their request down. Natasha was in no state to be singing lullabies to Doctor Banner. He had never seen her this bad and he knew for a fact that she would be up all night, terrified of what she might see if she were to fall asleep. He knew he would wake up at the slight creak of the door when she timidly picked the lock and pushed it open. He knew exactly what she would say: "Can I come in? Can't sleep." Then he would open his arms and she would curl into him. He would gently kiss the top of her head as she finally drifted into sleep and she would be gone when he woke the next morning.
But for now, he held her firmly and tried to keep her from falling apart in front of everyone else, she could fall apart in front of him, but he cared too much about her to let her suffer the brunt of Tony's jokes. He kept her true identity to himself and she never once questioned her trust in him. He was her safe place.
Tony sent questioning looks their way and Clint silenced his prying eyes with a sharp glance. Steve politely kept his eyes averted. Thor stared off into the distance. Bruce was mopping his sweat-drenched forehead with a towel.
Clint shifted so her small hands were in his hard, calloused ones. His eyes caught hers and her green eyes darted quickly to the floor, where they remained. Her eyes had lost their sparkle, and that broke his heart.
Her hands shifted out of his own, leaving them cold and empty. His eyes shot down to look at her hands. She was signing.
"Are you all right, my Hawk?"
He signed back, "Me? You're honestly worried about me? I'm okay. How are you, beautiful?"
"Surviving."
He chuckled, causing Tony's head to swivel in their direction.
"Stark is an idiot."
She let out a half hearted giggle.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"Not here, not now. Later."
He squeezed her hand.
"Okay. Is there anything I can do?"
"Just hold me."