Hopefully, this will be updated on the same schedule as the last one, once a week. But I cannot guarantee it.
Any chapter specific warnings will go in the endnotes as always.

There were 140 tiles on the ceiling. They are smaller than the tiles in S.H.I.E.L.D Medical, by several inches, and the room is considerably bigger than the rooms there.

It is 10:03. Clint has been asleep for 13 hours. 13 is a bad number, unlucky. Phil's been right at his side the whole time. His hand was wrapped around Clint's, their fingers tangled together.

Clint would be okay. He would. He was strong, so strong. And Phil would be there for him, no matter what.

Tony was in his lab.

"JARVIS, encrypt this to hell. No one else can ever see this."

"Should you be watching it, sir?"

"I have to. It's my fault."

"Tony?"

"Steve, hey, aren't you supposed to be with Clint and Phil and having a team bonding moment?"

"Yeah. So are you." He reached out and grabbed Tony's arm. "Come on."

"How can you be so calm?"

"I spent the last hour in the gym killing punching bags."

"Ah."

"What have you been up to, anyway? Anything important?"

Tony glanced at the screen, which until Steve had entered had shown an unconscious Clint being stripped to his boxers and chained up.

"No. Nothing that can't wait."

"Are you alright?" Bruce asked. Natasha didn't look at him. They were sitting outside Clint's room on the medical floor.

"I will be."

"He's going to be fine."

"I know."

He fell silent after that, and she put her hand on his knee.

They waited.

Clint awoke slowly, as though surfacing from deep under the water. His head hurt, but his thoughts felt clearer than they had in a while. He sat up, too quickly, and the wave of dizziness that swept over him caused him to throw up what little he had in his stomach.

Luckily, Phil was right there with a cardboard kidney dish and caught the stream.

"Easy. You have a concussion, so you probably feel a bit fuzzy right now." He gently eased Clint back against the pillows.

I don't feel fuzzy right now... and I was feeling fuzzy long before I hit my head... they were drugging me. The food? The water?

"Are you hungry? Thirsty?"

"No!"

"Okay..." Phil frowned. "How are you feeling?"

"I..." Clint paused to do a check. There was pain, but it felt very far away. "Am I on painkillers?"

"Of course."

"Stop them. Please."

"Clint, do you really think that's-?"

"Take me off them!"

"Okay! I'll talk to your doctor."

Phil moved towards the door.

"No!" Clint called out before he could stop himself. He put a trembling hand to his mouth. Phil moved back to the bedside, his hands held up in submission.

"Hey, it's okay. I won't leave you." He sat down and pressed the call button.

After a moment a man walked into the large private room. He was wearing dark blue scrubs and Clint didn't recognise him.

"Who's that?"

"He's your doctor."

"I know all the doctors at S.H.I.E.L.D. I don't know him." Phil frowned, maybe this wasn't such a good idea, maybe he should have taken Clint to S.H.I.E.L.D. That's where Clint usually was when he woke up. Phil should have respected that.

"We're not at S.H.I.E.L.D. We're at the Tower. Tony had this infirmary built when everyone moved in. I thought you'd be more comfortable here."

"I..." He looked away and shrugged a little.

"My name is Dr Rove. I swear that I won't do anything without your permission."

"Stop the painkillers. Please."

"Are you sure? You're going to be in a lot of pain."

"I can handle pain. I can't handle this."

"Alright. If you're sure."He fiddled with the IV. "You should really eat something."

"Not hungry."

"Alright. Do you feel up to some company? Your team has been waiting outside the room since we got you here."

"They have?" He was nowhere near ready to face everyone.

"We were all worried about you," Coulson said, squeezing Clint's hand gently.

"Then, yeah." He turned his face away. "I guess they can come in."

The team filed in. They were dressed in casual clothes and they all looked exhausted.

"Hey," Tasha said, putting her hand on his lower leg (one of the only places he didn't hurt, how did she do that?). "You okay?"

"Surviving," he managed a shaky smile.

"I took care of the man who did this." She gestured to his body as a whole.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

He let out a shaky breath.

"Thanks. What about the Man Behind the Curtain?" he asked. Tony rubbed the back of his neck and scowled.

"We have leads, and we know who he is. It's just a matter of time."

"Who was it?" Clint asked. "Did I shoot his brother or something?"

"No." Tony took a deep breath and forced himself to meet Clint's eyes. "This was on me. Hammer's butler, a jerk called Jenkins, was pissed at me for what happened to his boss. From what we could gather from the goons, they thought that you were the reason I fought Loki. They also thought you were my best friend, so they were half right." He managed a small smile. "I am so sorry, Clint. I didn't know this was going to happen."

Everyone waited for a long, tense moment for Clint's reaction. He put his hands over his face and just breathed. Then he managed a laugh that sounded more like a sob.

"You're seriously telling me," he said, "that the Butler did it?"

"Phil already made that joke," Steve smiled.

"So, how am I doing?"

"You're going to heal up nicely," Bruce told him. "Your wounds were actually very well taken care of."

Clint flinched at that, and Coulson looked like he was going to punch Bruce and damn the consequences. Natasha saw the signs and grabbed Bruce's arm and started tugging him towards the door. The mild mannered little doctor looked confused and upset, but Clint didn't notice.

What am I going to do with you?

I know it hurts, but it's for your own good.

Shush, easy now.

"Clint? It's okay, you're alright. I've got you."