He slammed his fist through the wall, causing the pictures on the wall to shake and eventually fall to the floor in a clatter of broken glass and splintered wood. This wasn't how he'd expected things to end. He knew that their jobs were dangerous and that every time they went on a mission; death had always been a possibility. Just one of those things that could happen at any time. That didn't mean that Clint had been prepared for it.
At the time that it had happened, there was no time to apologise, take stock of what had happened; to come to terms with the fact that Coulson was dead and that in a way that had been his fault. Now with Loki and Thor back on Asgard and things at SHIELD going back to normal, all Clint had was time.
He was suspended from active duty until it was determined that there were no lingering psychological effects and that he could be trusted to behave with a new handler. So for now he was left to his own devices. Clint would get up at 5 every morning and go to the center of the city and help with the clean up effort until 9. Then he'd slink back to his room at SHIELD, take a shower and head out to the archery range. He would stay there until his mandatory meeting with Dr. Gotley, the on site psychiatrist. After his meeting he would go to the gym, and work out until his arms ached and his legs wobbled. Then he would use the vents to get back to his room.
Natasha watched him walk down the hallway. There were a few comments from some of the Junior agents. They didn't understand what happened. They knew that for a time Barton was with the enemy, that he was responsible for a lot of good agents dying and that suddenly he was back and Director Fury was acting as though everything was fine.
Now as Natasha watched the events unfold she was shocked. He walked along the wall, his shoulders hunched and he was staring at the floor. All of the confidence that he once had seemed to have been lost. She was shocked and angered by the fact that he allowed them to yell things at him. Things like "traitor" and "murderer". They spit on him and he did nothing. One of the younger agents took a swing at him, the punch landed right across his left cheek and he did nothing. All he did was fall to his knees as they kicked him, punched him and spit on him.
Natasha decided that she had seen enough. She stepped right in the middle of the brawl and swiftly broke it up. She stood in front of Clint's body and when one of the agents tried to punch him, she grabbed him by his wrist, twisting his arm so that his elbow was bent and his wrist was in between his shoulder blades. She smiled as the agent fell to his knees.
"Anyone else want to cause problems?" She eyed the agents as they shook their heads, She let the one go as both Fury and Steve approached. Steve knew that had they come later they would have been dealing with an agent with a broken arm.
Fury glared at the crowd; almost daring then to move. "Someone want to explain what the hell is going on?"
Steve was standing near Natasha. He extended his hand down to Clint; he considered him a friend and fully thought that Clint would take his hand. The last thing he expected was for Clint to brush his hand aside. Natasha just shook her head. She had known that the last thing that Clint would do would be to accept help. He hated feeling weak; even if it was his own doing. She watched as Steve backed up, finally getting the hint and putting his hand down.
Clint stood up, rolling his shoulders and deliberately spitting blood on one of the junior agents. He remembered what it was like to be like them; a lot of them were angry, street kids with various talents. They felt as though they had something to prove, felt like they somehow had to earn their right to stay; that was the only reason none of them were dead. Clint smirked; several of them probably thought they were hot shit just because they got the jump on him. He was brought back to the situation at hand when one of his attackers spoke.
"No offense Sir but I don't understand why he's still here. According to the SHIELD field guide, Section 127, subsection 13-"
Clint stood at his full height staring the younger man down, "When an agent goes rogue, whether killing other agents or attempting to sabotage SHIELD, if found on the compound they are to be dismissed immediately, stripped of any and all SHIELD property and imprisoned until they ae deemed safe for the general public."
Steve stepped close to the younger agent. "Agent Rigby, is it?"
"Yes Captain."
I don't like bullies. And bullying comes in many different forms. What Agent Barton has been accused of doing, whether or not he did it, his reasons for it and SHIELD's overall decisions aren't really your concern are they?" Steve crossed his arms over his chest.
"No Sir."
"Good. Then I suggest you and your friends start walking. I'm sure you all have something better to do."
Natasha, Steve and Fury al watched as the agents left the hall. They didn't notice right away that Clint has used that as a distraction to make his leave of the hall. Natasha stared at the vents that were on the ceiling. She knew that someone needed to talk to him, to tell him that he was okay. She wasn't sure if she was the right person for the job but she knew that she was probably the only person that he'd listen to.
So while Steve and Fury were discussing the disciplinary actions that should be taken against the junior agents, Natasha walked the long way to Clint's nest. She didn't want to scare him and she knew that even though he'd deny it he would be on high alert. Once she got to his isolated area; the one place that he considered his own, she was unsurprised to find that he was curled in a ball on his bed. The mask that he wore, the one that had been constructed after years of being abused, being neglected and having everything taken from him, was cracking.
She sat on the edge of the bed, putting her hand very close to his body without touching him. He liked to be touched even less than she did if that was possible. That was why she was surprised when he placed a trembling hand over hers. "'Tasha?"
She looked into his eyes. They had worked on enough missions together that words weren't strictly necessary. It came from years of Clint being deaf and not knowing any formal sign language. She had learned to read his body language and his eyes. She knew just how angry, scared and violated he felt. She stayed where she was, knowing that with him it's important that he went to you. "Yes Clint. It's me."
Clint breathed an audible sigh of relief. He'd known it was her but he had to be sure that she was still talking to him; after all there was always the possibility that she was siding with the recruits.
"It's all my fault." If this was anyone else he'd do his best to keep his composure but this wasn't just anyone; this was Natasha. She'd seem him vulnerable, tortured and everything else in between; there really wasn't any point in trying to hide things from her anymore. As he spoke he placed his head on her lap, he closed his eyes and let the tears fall.
She ran a hand through his hair. "Did you give Loki the idea to take the Tesseract?"
"No." He was relieved to hear no anger in her voice.
"Did you willingly allow Loki to her control you? To have you kill those agents?"
"No." His response was barely audible. As he looked in her eyes, her stare was cold, he smiled. It usually was.
"Well, seeing as none of that was done on purpose, I fail to see how you figure any of what happened was your fault." With her index finger she wiped away a stray tear. She ran her index finger down his cheek, then hooked her finger under his chin, forcing him to keep his head up, his eyes locked on hers. "But Phil…" He bit his lip to keep it from trembling.
Listen to me. Phil had been involved with SHIELD for years before you came along. I'm pretty sure that he was aware of the risk s associated with that job. He knew that any mission he took could go wrong. That any mission would be his last. You have to stop blaming yourself. Coulson wouldn't you to, he'd tell you that it was time to move on."
Clint was completely silent, his breathing as so shallow she could barely hear it. "I was so used to being alone, so used to being on the run that when Phil first offered me a job I thought he was joking. Then when it turned out that he was serious I thought there was a catch. I remember the first year that I was here, I was the perfect soldier. I wanted to make sure that I didn't give them a reason to beat me or throw me out. It was Phil who told me not to be so stiff, that there wasn't much that I could do that would get me thrown out and that he would always have my back and now he's gone and it's because of me."
Natasha shook her head; she hated how stubborn he would be. She also knew that she had already said everything that she could think of. "Look, you'll just have to find a way to belive that none of this was your fault." She put both of her hands by her sides. He nodded, knowing that none of that was going to be easy. He knew that she believed what she said, she didn't believe in sugar-coated things. He smiled at her and she got off the bed.
As she turned to leave Clint stopped her. "Thanks."
She winked at him, "Don't go getting soft."
As she walked through the door he knew that was her way of saying "You're welcome." He knew that things weren't going to be the same. He would never find anyone to replace Phil but he had to quit sulking. He got out of bed, he decided that he'd shower and then go to the archery range. He smiled for the first time since Phil had died. And the next person to try and punch him would be spitting out teeth for a week. He knew that tomorrow was going to be a better day.
The End