Perfect little soldier

by LovelessDestiny

Slash, Clint/Phil. A shapeshifter gets Clint behind bars, where an insane warden awaits him. What happens after he gets released from prison? Story is focusing on Clint and Phil's relationship, after Phil sent him to prison. Originally serving a life sentence, but after the truth is revealed they take him home. The way is long and rocky. No beta yet.

Disclaimer: All rights belong to Marvel and their writers, illustrators, etc. I'm just playing with their awesome property.

Rating: T, just in case.

Pairing: Clint/Phil.

Warning: Violence, bad language, I think I have to warn you about OOC (The story got out of hand), fluff, a few tiny spoilers for Young Avengers/Runaways Secret Invasion.

A./N.: I got the idea while reading Runaways/Young Avenger Secret Invasion and the idea wouldn't let go of me. I have no idea how it got so out of hand, though. It turned out so ... corny. sigh. Thank you for all the support and kind words. Especially chris. , thank you for you so much for helping me to improve my English :)

::::::::::::::::::

"I did what?" Clint's eyes widened while Cap pinned him to the ground. He lay on his belly with Steve's knee pressed against his spine. The super soldier had a painfully firm grip on his arms which were twisted behind Clint's back.

"We know what we saw," Tony shook his head in disappointment. "Once a thief always a thief, right Barton?"

"I didn't steal anything." Clint had no clue what they were talking about. He knew things got stolen at HQ and even at Stark Tower. Someone snatched their things for months now, but it wasn't him. "Phil tell them I changed." Clint begged as the older agent entered the foyer of Stark Tower.

"The security system caught you on tape. There's no way out of this one," he said in his famous monotone voice. "What else did you steal since I took you out of the gutter?"

Clint remained silent, Phil's words stung, a lot. He never stole anything. He'd never bite the hand that feeds him. How can they believe I steal from them? I'd never... They're my friends.

"Agent Quatermain, arrest him and put him where he belongs." The agent obeyed Coulson with a grim nod.

"I can't go back to jail," Clint said with a hint of panic in his voice, while fear caught his heart in a firm grip. "I can't go back."

"Don't worry, you're not going back to Orleans Parish Prison, neither the big house, to serve your sentence. The Cube is your destination."

Oh god. "I'm innocent," Clint said softly. He stopped for a moment next to Phil as Quatermain led him out of the Tower. Phil had a bruised jaw and Clint wondered where his friend had gotten it. Clint looked deep into Phil's eyes, searching for answers. He couldn't help it and raised his cuffed hands, letting his index and middle finger slide over the bruised skin. Touching his beloved handler for the last time. The Cube would be his grave, people going in there weren't supposed to ever get out again. Quartermain gave Clint an ungentle push and Clint stumbled towards the exit. Leaving Phil and his friends behind, probably forever. The archer wondered how his life turned from 'worth living' to 'how it used to be before he met Phil' within hours.

"How are you?" Cap studied Coulson. Rogers knew Barton and Coulson had been a team for years and the archer was Coulson's best friend after all. Getting betrayed by someone you consider family is bound to leave deep marks.

"I'm fine Steve," Phil lied. The despair in Clint's eyes when he told him about the Cube wasn't as satisfying as he hoped it would be. It was a riddle to Phil how Clint could blind him all these years. When he was honest with himself he knew how it happened. Barton used his attraction against him. They were sleeping together for years but they never gave the relationship they had a name. They met for dinner on a regular basis, they had sex after close calls or nice evenings together. Sometimes they met just to watch a game and drink beer, no sex, not much talking. Just closeness. Phil liked to imagine they were a couple but he didn't dare to ask. Clint had tons of issues and Phil was scared that Clint would run the moment he felt trapped. Now he got the answer anyway, Clint didn't love him back. It wasn't love or affection Phil was just useful.

"You like the kid. So don't lie to me," Cap chided. "Steve don't push," Tony put a hand around Steve's biceps. "You're right, I'm sorry Phil," Steve lowered his gaze. Cap liked the archer too. He was their friend. Happy, honest, friendly, ready to help - not matter what. It was hard to believe that all that was a lie. But they caught him on tape and on top of that Coulson and Romanoff caught him in the act. Barton had hit Coulson and sprained Natasha's wrist. They ordered her to stay away from Barton or else she'd have murdered him for deceiving her.

"Do you want to join us for lunch?" Tony offered. The agent looked so lost that he felt the urge to offer some company. Phil agreed, he didn't want to be alone right now, with his thoughts and doubts.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"Ahhh, here he is," a small and chubby man with greasy hair smiled at Clint. "Welcome Mr. Barton. Your handler said you're a naughty boy. Oh, I'm the warden by the way."

"I know who you are," Clint gritted out. "You know Coulson?" He wanted to know more about the talk the warden and Phil had about him.

"He signed the papers to imprison you," he waved with a file he held in his left hand.

Clint's blood ran cold. Phil knew how much he hated jail, how much he feared to return to jail. Phil knew too that the Cube was his worst nightmare. "I understand," Clint shrugged nonchalantly. "Pretty environment." A guard hit him in the face for the remark.

"Be careful Barton, we don't appreciate smart-ass comments. Lead him to his cell. Oh and from now on you are prisoner number 947-82."

"Yes, sir." The guard kicked Clint in the back, making him fall on the cold metal floor, face first. "Get up and move."

Clint obeyed, fighting the urge to fight back. Not now. I don't let them kill me without resistance.

They reached a cell at the far end of a corridor. The cell block was dead silent and Clint wondered how they achieve that.

"Hands up," the guard ordered, chaining Clint's hands to the wall.

Clint kneeled on the ground, arms above his head. "And now?" He wondered out loud.

"Nothing," the guard smirked and left him alone. Turning off the light on his way.

Clint had no idea how much time he spent in his dark cell. He was hungry and his muscles ached. Especially arms and knees hurt like hell. Clint squeezed his eyes shut as the bright light from the lamp in his cell burned in his eyes.

"Come," the guard opened the chains and pulled him urgently to his feet. The guard led Clint into a huge room, resembling a laboratory, where they chained him to the hook of something resembling a little crane. Clint let out a pained his the moment his feet lost contact with the ground as they lifted him up a few inches. He could feel how his own weight tore on his joints.

"Nice to meet you again 947-82. How are you?" The warden smiled broadly.

"How long am I here?" Clint ignored his 'new' name.

"Two days," the small man replied while he searched for something.

"Sweet," Clint huffed. "Wha...," he gasped as the warden drew a sharp knife.

"I have my ways to make a real soldier out of you 947-82. You'll obey and spend the rest of your life silently behind our bars," he smirked.

"Good luck," Clint grinned, kicking the guard next to him in the head. The archer pulled his legs up until he dangled upside down from the hook. He almost picked the lock as blinding sensation burned through his body. His legs lost their hold on the chain above the hook and Clint yelped in pain as his body returned to its original position. For a moment Clint was sure he dislocated his arms. The asshole tased me, he raged inwardly after the pain subsided enough to think clearly. Outwardly he held up his tough attitude. "That's all you got? Cute."

"That's just the beginning," he smirked before he slashed Clint's shirt open.

"Pretty," the warden traced Clint's old scars with his fingertips. "Bullet, knife, knife, bullet... what's this?"

Clint's response was to spit in front of the wardens feet.

The warden clicked his tongue, "I might add a few more. What do you think 947-82?"

He cut into Clint's flesh, not deep enough to be dangerous but deep enough to leave scars.

Clint didn't make a sound, too stubborn to show any weaknesses. The warden repeated the procedure again and again until lines of pain appeared on Barton's face. Clint's belly burned like fire, he couldn't tell anymore how many cuts the warden inflicted or where. All he knew was that it hurt everywhere. I have to stay strong, he repeated inside his head like a mantra, Phil, Phil, Phil. The good memories he harbored helped him to focus, to stay strong.

Whatever it was what they think I did will resolve itself with time, they'll realize that I didn't do anything wrong. That it was a misunderstanding. He didn't truly believe in it but he needed hope more than anything. The moment he would lose all his hope would be the moment the Cube turns into his grave like he predicted. Clint had given up on stealing a long time ago. He just stole for Nick and Phil, and only when they ordered him to do so.

"Stubborn. I like that," the director of the Cube smiled. "Bring him back to his cell."

The guard nodded and dragged Clint back to his small and dark cell. This time the guard didn't chain him to the wall. Every move the archer made hurt, burning like fire in his gut. He sighed heavily after the guard left and he let himself fall onto his bunk.

Clint closed his eyes, too tired to brood any longer. He fell asleep within minutes, dreaming of Phil and the day they met in jail so many years ago.

:::Dream:::

Clint lay on his bunk, listening to his cellmate's steady breathing. Victor was a huge guy and strong like an ox. He liked making Clint his bitch, like he called it, from time to time. There was a new inmate two cells to their right who attracted all of Victors attention at the moment and Clint was glad for it. He felt sorry for the kid but they were in jail, sadly things like that happened there. More often than not.

Clint's sharp eyes followed the new guard, who started working there a week ago. The man was pretty and possessed an aura that called 'don't mess with me'. Clint had seen how he single-handedly took out two brawling prisoners. Most inmates avoid a confrontation with him. What was his name again? ...James, Clint smiled to himself. He loved watching the man, his grace and stubborn features. James looked cold but Clint could see in his eyes that it was just a mask.

Barton froze as their eyes met, James seemed to look right into his soul. He moved closer to Clint's cell and stopped in front of the bars. "Sleep Barton," his calm and smooth voice gave Clint the urge to obey.

"Not tired, sir."

"You have two hours left before the day starts in here," James stated.

"I know, can't say I'm looking forward to it," he wasn't sure why he told James that but the guard saved his sorry ass two days ago and deserved some respect. Most guards just look the other way when someone dropped the soap. If you know what I mean.

"Then don't do something stupid after they release you."

"I have two more years. I'm not gonna make it out of here, not with my attitude."

"Or that attitude of yours is what safes your skin," there was a hint of humor in James's pretty eyes.

"I can take care of myself, doing it my whole life; look where it led me." Clint shrugged, James was right his stubbornness could save his ass, it always did.

"You're alive. Time for changes don't you think?"

Clint couldn't suppress the smile that tugged on his lip, "You should return to work sir. Or else people might think you're teaming up with an inmate."

"See you around Barton," the guard continued to make his round.

Clint couldn't sleep that night.

:::

"Leave him be," Barton hollered as Carlos, one of the mighty inmates, molested a young man. The kid was barely nineteen. Chris was blond and too pretty for jail.

"Fuck off Barton," Carlos hissed while he continued touching Chris.

"I said leave him alone," Clint's voice was dangerously low. Barton grabbed Carlos shoulder and spun him around.

Carlos glared and tried to punch Clint but Barton was faster. He dodged the fist and punched Carlos in the face, breaking his nose with a sickening crunch.

Chris fled the shower and searched for help. He owed Barton that much.

Clint took a hit to the temple as Carlos men ganged up on him, "Six against one? That's shabby, guys."

"Interfering was stupid kid," Carlos gritted out. "Kill him."

Five burly men dragged him to the ground, he gave as good as he got but they were too many. A heavy kick to the chest push all the air from his lungs and black spots danced in front of his eyes.

"Get off of him," a familiar voice yelled and Clint saw one of the men going down. The second followed shortly and within seconds the room was filled with guards.

"Sir?" Clint looked up and caught sight of James.

"Call the medics," James ordered. Not taking his eyes off of Carlos. "Solitary confinement for Alvarez after the doc set his nose," he ordered, voice radiating bone-chilling cold.

James tended to Barton after three of his fellow guards guided Carlos out of the room, "What are you doing kid?"

"Chris?" Was all Clint was able to say. He felt like a truck parked on his chest.

"He's fine, he called us. He's grateful you know; won't stop shivering." James suppressed the urge to take the beaten man into his arms.

"Good," Clint whispered before darkness enclosed him.

:::

"I have a job offer for you," James voice appeared to his right as he made his way out of the darkness.

"Job?" Clint mumbled.

"Yes," James got up from his chair and placed an ice-chip between Barton's lips. "I think you might like what I have to offer."

"I'm all ears, sir."

James explained that he was an Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. and that he came to make sure Barton and a few other inmates were agent material before they approach them.

"What's in it for me?"

"I'll get you out of here. We'll train you, provide you with anything you need. A place you can call home, food, clothes. Bows."

Clint was indeed all ears at the word bow, "New bows?"

"Yes," James confirmed. "Rifles and bows, as many as you like."

"I don't know," there must be a hitch somewhere.

"Think about it," James patted Barton's hand before he left the room.

Clint closed his eyes, falling asleep while he thought about the offer.

::::::

He needed over a week to annoy the staff enough to release him from sickbay. He hadn't given James an answer yet and he wasn't sure he would.

Clint was ready to put some trust in James but not in the government.

"Made a decision?" A voice whispered in his left ear.

"I stay where I belong," Clint replied. He let his heart make the decision, he was in jail for a reason and had to pay for what he did. He wasn't worth being saved.

"You don't belong here," he could hear the frown in James's voice.

"I do."

"I stay for two more days. Think about it one more time."

"Don't think so," Clint turned around to look at James but he was already halfway around the next corner.

Barton slumped down on his bunk, frowning at Victor's absence. "Where is my cellmate?" He asked a guard.

"Dead," the man replied shortly.

"When?" He didn't get an reply but had an idea. It was probably Carlos's way to signal that he could kill anyone. Clint could practically see the 'you're next' written in blood on the wall.

His time was running short in here. I have to be stronger, more aggressive.

James asked for a reply on his last day and Barton declined again. The agent was not happy with him, he looked even a little hurt.

:::::

Clint walked up and down the outer area, I'm alone again. He watched a few people lifting weights. They worked out every day, keeping people at distance with the brute force of their strength. On the other side of the area was the basketball court. These guys were fast and smart, most of them gang members. Mess with one and you mess with the whole gang. They fell victim to rival gangs on a daily basis. Clint had seen many of them bleeding out from stab wounds. One of them died two weeks ago. Two men bound a sheet around the guys neck and pushed him off the catwalk. The unlucky guy didn't break his neck on his way down and suffocated rather slowly.

I should have said yes, S.H.I.E.L.D. can't be worse than jail. But on the other hand I could leave this place in one year and nine months. S.H.I.E.L.D. is for life.

"Barton," Hector approached him with two of his friends in tow.

"Hector," Clint greeted.

"Carlos is still in the whole," he stated.

"Nice for him," Clint tried to walk away. Carlos went back there for crippling the young blond Victor had adored.

"Yeah. I'm the boss for now, again, thanks to you and the kid but we have to maintain a reputation. People start asking why we never made a serious move against you, you know."

"And?" He had a bad feeling, he was long enough on the street and in jail to know what that meant for him.

Hector smirked, "Greet the lord from me." He conjured a sharpened piece of plastic from the back of his pants and aimed for Clint's neck. Barton parried the hit off and tackled Hector to the ground. The two other guys didn't interfere, they just watched and kept other inmates away. It was a fight between Barton and their leader.

Clint dodged a blow and Hector dodged his. They fought for the piece of plastic and for a moment Clint had the upper hand but Hector played dirty and kicked Clint in his private parts. Clint lost his hold on Hector and the man thrusts the plastic in Clint's belly. The adrenalin rush reduced the pain and Clint punched the other man so hard in his face that he lost a tooth before he pushed his knew into Hector's stomach. The guards pulled them apart, yelling at them. All Clint could hear was the rush of his own blood in his ears, "Barton?" A guard put an arm around his middle to keep him upright.

"Hmm?" Clint blinked a few times in hope the fog would go away.

"Let's get you to medical," the guard started moving. A second guard steadied Clint from the other side. Barton was one of the inmates the guards liked. He was sassy and had a big mouth but he was good at heart. He'd never hurt one of them or another inmate just for fun. Rumors said the kid killed for a living but they couldn't prove it, a different rumor said that the kid was suspected to have killed Mafia bosses, dealer and pimps. If that was the truth then the kid would remain in their favor.

The way to medical was long and painful but the shot of painkillers Clint got there was worth it.

::::::::

"I ask you again," a very familiar voice said before Clint even knew where he was. Sickbay again, he sighed inwardly.

"Why are you here?"

"I keep an eye on you," James stated. Clint realized that the older man held his hand.

Barton winced as he tried to move. "Stay still. The makeshift knife did a lot of damage in there," the agent held him in place.

There was worry in his eyes, Clint detected. "Why?"

"Why the damage or why am I here?"

"You," Clint whispered searching with his eyes for the water. James followed his gaze and provided Clint with the water he needed to sooth his throat.

"I want you on my team," the agent said. "I'm not giving up on you yet."

"I threw my last chance away."

"I just tried to push you. But this might be your last chance. You almost died."

"I told you I probably die in here," Clint took a shaky breath. The pain was bearable but uncomfortable.

"I know and I start to believe you. Come with me. I can't promise you'll live until you're old and cranky but I can promise that I'll give my best to bring you home every time we go into the field."

Clint didn't know why but he believed the agent. "Okay."

James smiled, honest and breathtaking. "Good, I'll pick you up in three days. My name is Phil Coulson by the way, nice to meet you. Agent Barton."

Clint grinned, he was high on meds and too happy to follow the agent to wherever that he forget his doubts for a while. "Nice to meet you too sir."

:::Dream end:::

Clint opened his eyes, tears streamed down his face. "Phil, help me," he whispered louder than he intended to. "Don't you love me anymore? Sir," he added after a while. The cell was most probably bugged, but it was hard for him to care anymore. He was back in jail and with his luck they' sentence him for life.

The cell was too small, it felt like a cage. The air was stale and the room too cold. They didn't grant him a blanket and Clint shivered from the cold. "I'm not gonna break," he sat up despite the protest of his belly.

"Time to get you back on the right path of law 947-82," his guard appeared half an hour later just to beat the crap out of him for the next 1 1/2 hours.

The next time a guard came they worked with electroshocks, his big mouth caused him a lot of extra pain. Little food, torture and coldness became a ritual during the next week.

On day nine they pressed his face into a bucket of water. "Yes SIR. Not asshole, you asshole," the guard explained again.

"Fuck you," Clint panted. His lung burned from the lack of air and he prayed that he wouldn't develop pneumonia from the water he inhaled. But at the moment dying was a greater risk than pneumonia, though. He wasn't too sure they wanted to keep their prisoners alive.

His head got pressed into the water again, "So how do you address your master 947-82?"

"Sir, I'm gonna screw you over, sir," Clint smirked. Regretting it instantly as a fist connected with his jaw, shortly after the blow his head was surrounded by water again. The gasp from the pain lead to a mouthful of water he swallowed. Filling his stomach and lung.

Clint coughed painfully hard after the guard pulled his head out of the water, he coughed up all the water he swallowed. They stopped the torture when Clint passed out from lack of oxygen. He awoke hours later in his cell, haunted by Phil's kind eyes. and Cap's fatherly tone of voice, 'You'll be fine kid.'

On day sixteen all hell broke loose, a loud siren woke him and bright light flooded his cell. Clint tried to cover his ears but he couldn't drown out the noise. The light flashed, on-off-on-off, Clint had to squeeze his eyes shut to ease the pain in his eyes. It went on and on for hours or days, Clint couldn't tell anymore. He was glad as it all stopped but his relief was short-lived as it started all over again after a little pause. Clint was hungry, dead tired and at the end of his tether. His ears hurt and his head spun, he didn't dare to open his eyes. The light was so bright it was disturbing even with closed eyelids. After many more days of hours and hours of torture they increased the frequency and time frame. Clint felt a sense of relief as he couldn't really hear the full impact of the noise anymore but as the realization sunk in the relief was instantly replaced by fright. They didn't turn down the volume; his ears refused working properly. I'm deaf, he freaked out inwardly, deaf and in jail. Oh god.

Prisoners with disadvantages were easy targets and the first other inmates picked on. He had seen that more than once. The guard interrupted Clint's musing, "The warden wants to talk."

Clint looked at his lips in hope to understand what he was saying. The guard noticed and a devilish smirk appeared on his face. "The warden will love that," he said loud and clear. Sending a shiver down Clint's spine.

Hunger, sleep deprivation, pain, damaged ears, coldness and hearing what loser he was over and over again broke Agent Barton on day 23. Leaving 947-82 in his place.

::::::::::::

Phil stood in Clint's room at Stark Tower. He couldn't get used to Clint's absence in his life. He missed his voice in his ear, his cheeky grin, his honest smile. He missed the feeling of his body against his own. The way Clint called him sir, or Phil. Coulson didn't feel safe anymore out in the field. The archer always had his back, and heart.

"I miss him too," Steve leaned against the doorframe. "I still can't believe he stole money, secret weapons and plans."

"I wouldn't believe it either hadn't he socked me one," Phil stared at a picture on Clint's nightstand. Phil, Natasha and Clint, arm in arm after they destroyed a human trafficking gang.

"Two weeks; do you think he's okay?" Cap looked at the bow in the corner of the room.

"No," Phil knew he wasn't fine. Prison cells were small and shabby. "Returning to jail was one of his biggest fears."

"He was in jail before?"

"I recruited him there," Phil remembered the young man with the most expressive blue eyes he'd ever seen and a heart as big as his mouth. "He wouldn't have made it otherwise. He hadn't the right friends, if you know what I mean."

Steve nodded, "I heard that uhm; there are no women in jail and ... uhm." Captain America blushed a little, he wasn't sure how the question found its way into his mind but he needed an answer to that one.

"Victor," Phil's voice dripped with venom. One of the few people he killed without order. He could have helped him but Phil decided to look the other way as Hector cut the huge man's throat open.

"Oh," Cap had hoped the answer was no. It would break Tony's heart. The genius loved the archer, Clint was his buddy, his partner in crime. For the team Stark and Barton were brothers. Tony was the big brother who took care of Clint. Who provided the archer with bows and arrows, who settled approaching conflicts behind the archer's back. Clint on the other hand made it his goal to keep Tony away from booze and conjure smiles on his face. He collaborates with Jarvis on a regular basis to force Tony to sleep and eat.

Cap was sure his lover wouldn't be the same without Barton around. He already was a wreck, of course Tony hid it well but they knew him well enough to notice the changes.

Hulk was moody and Black Widow even more grumpy. "Have you any idea how long he has to stay there?"

Phil gave Steve a sad look, "For life."

Steve's face fell, "Can't we come up with something? A deal with Fury or... I don't know."

"He betrayed us, he's dangerous. I'm not sure you're aware of what he's capable."

"He's a thief and S.H.I.E.L.D. assassin."

"Exactly, he's an assassin. It's too dangerous to let him out of jail. He could kill us all if the price is right."

"Do you believe that?"

Phil thought about it for a moment, "I'm not so sure anymore."

"Can we pay him a visit?"

"No, the Cube does not permit visitations."

Cap nodded and left the room to leave Phil some space. Something was off with the agent but he couldn't put his finger on it.

Phil sat down on Clint's bed, taking his pillow into his arms. It still smelled like Clint. It was the first time he entered Clint's room. The archer normally stayed at Phil's apartment. The room seemed empty but at a closer look it suited Clint well. A few pictured of people he loved in his unique way. His two favorite bows. Books about archery, fantasy, crime and science fiction. Phil took the fantasy book into his hands that lay on Clint's nightstand. A picture fell out of it. Coulson looked at his own image, why does he use my photo as a bookmark?

Phil wore his casual clothes and a broad smile graced his face, lighting up his eyes. He couldn't remember where and when the photo was taken.

The picture warmed Phil's heart and intensified the pain he felt. Does that mean you love me too? Phil caressed the picture, he felt like crying.

:::::::::

A few weeks later they realized that they had a Skrull in their midst. Locking Barton up hadn't put an end to their problems. A few agents in R&D swore they saw Barton three weeks after he went to jail. One agent even said Captain America knocked him out and stole his security key for lab 4. Another one even said Nick Fury broke into his own research facility.

They needed one week to find the Skrull and sent him back where he came from, of course after they squeezed his intentions out of him. But they tried to avoid an intergalactic war so they had to let him go.

Phil wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or cry from frustration. They sent, he sent, Clint back to jail for something he didn't do. The confusion and desperation in the archer's eyes had been real. Clint had truly no idea why they were angry and disappointed at him. He had no idea why Phil sent him back to jail after following every order his handler ever made. Phil felt sick, "Call the Cube and tell them Barton is a free man. Innocent and falsely accused."

Maria nodded with a smile, she missed the little nuisance.

"When does he come back?" Tony asked during dinner. He was impatient like a child at Christmas.

"They say in two days," Phil glared at his burger. "Paperwork they say."

"Bureaucracy is a bitch," Tony confirmed. He was glad he had Pepper to do his company related paperwork, a shame that she declined to write his missions reports.

"The green guy is, I never thought I'd ever say that, he's happy." Bruce smiled at Natasha, he had married her four months ago. She was the woman of his dreams and Bruce was her Mr. Right. She loved him and felt safe in his arms, treasured and appreciated for who she was.

"I can't believe I fell for the Skrull," she blamed herself. "I should have noticed."

"I should have known too but... we didn't Nat. Nothing we do will ever change that," Phil pushed his plate away. He wasn't hungry anymore.

"We're all at fault," Tony slammed his fist on the table. "He's our friend and we believed he was able to betray us."

"He is a skilled thief and assassin," Phil leaned back in his chair. "All of us are rather untrustworthy when you take a closer look at our background or skill set."

"Phil?" Natasha whispered in his ear.

"Hm?"

"Will you be alright?" She knew about their relationship. She always pushed Phil to tell Clint that he loved him. Clint on the other side guarded his feelings well. She was sure he loved Coulson with all his heart but he wouldn't talk about it not even with her.

"I don't know," he whispered back. "I think I lost him the moment I signed the papers." He felt tears at the back of his eyes.

"He will understand," she was sure of that. Clint was kind and she had the feeling that the archer actually understands why people threat him badly.

"I'm going home," Phil announced. "See you tomorrow."

"Bye," Steve nodded. "He's running," Tony watched Phil go.

"He feels guilty," Bruce sighed. The others nodded in agreement.

Phil walked all the way home, he needed time to think and clear his head. He let out a heavy sigh after he closed his apartment door behind him.

Phil slipped out of his shoes and threw his jacket over a chair, heading straight to his liquor cabinet. Beer wasn't strong enough so he chose his best whiskey.

"I'm sorry Clint," he emptied his glass. "I should have known."

Clint joined his team after basic training. Barton had smiled at him and told him how different he looked in a suit. Clint said Phil possessed too much authority and grace for a guard uniform.

They worked a few missions together and Phil realized that they worked very well together. They formed the perfect team in his eyes. The archer followed every order except one, Natalia Romanova. Barton had been persistent to defend his actions but it was clear to Phil how scared the young man was for not following the order he got. Clint always argued or voiced his thoughts but he had never before flat out refused to do what he was told. Phil had let out a suffering sigh and suggested to take her into his team, taking full responsibility for her. Nick had been stunned but agreed with a knowing smirk. Phil wasn't too sure Nick didn't lure him into a trap. Barton had lowered his head and whispered an apology before he ran away to hide in the vents. Coulson needed days to find him and assure him that he wasn't angry anymore. He never truly was. It was a long way from street kid to responsible agent. Phil was proud of Clint. The archer grew up and proved that he was worth saving. Not that Phil ever doubted his choice to recruit Barton.

"You're a great person," Phil told the air. He looked around his living room for a moment, he could hear Clint's soft laugh and could see him when he closed his eyes . Clint had the habit to enter the apartment uninvited, he would make a beeline for the fridge, grab a beer and settle down on the sofa, at Phil's right side. "Hold on Clint, just two more days," he drowned his sorrow with another shot of whiskey.

::::::::::::

They waited on deck of the helicarrier for Clint to arrive. The jet was late and that made them nervous. What if the plane crashed? Or Clint ran?

"There," Tony nodded at a small spot at the horizon.

"About time," Nick had better things to do than wait an hour for a quinjet. Nick had sent Quartermain to pick their archer up, but he hadn't heard from him since then.

"Sir," Quartermain saluted after the jet landed, there was a strange look in his eyes.

"Where is Barton?" Fury was impatient.

"Agent," Quartermain ordered and Clint got up from his seat, stopping next to his superior.

"Sirs," Barton Saluted. Back straight, eyes front. So unlike the archer.

"At ease, Agent," Nick frowned. Clint changed his stance, legs spread, arms behind his back, eyes front. "Had I known over a month in jail would make a real specialist out of you I had sent you there years ago," the director joked. Barton remained silent, that was more than suspicious.

"I'm glad you're back man," Tony pulled him into a brief hug. Clint didn't react at all.

Their friend lost weight, his hair was even shorter and his expression lacked a huge amount of emotions. Clint's face and eyes normally carried a lot of emotions, the absence of said emotions was more than disturbing.

"Tony is right, son. We're glad to have you back, and we're sorry." Cap patted Clint on the shoulder, and again no reaction. Steve was at a loss, what am I supposed to do?

"Barton?" Phil tried to coax a reaction out of his archer.

"Yes, sir?"

"Are you alright?"

"Waiting for orders, sir." His voice was strong and it reminded Phil of his days in the military.

"Grab your stuff and follow us," Phil ordered.

"Yes, sir." Clint saluted and took his bag, following Phil to Tony's Quinjet. His friends stared at them.

"What the hell?" Nick mumbled while Natasha cursed in Russian.

"Is it his way to punish us?" Tony leaned against Steve for comfort. "I don't know Tony. I don't know... but I hope it is."

::::::::::::

"Eat, it's your favorite," Natasha urged. They sat in Clint's favorite restaurant.

"I'm not hungry," he didn't need much to eat anymore.

"You lost weight," Phil said gently. "You need to rebuild your strength."

"Yes, sir," Clint stopped starring at his food and ate. He felt sick by the amount of food intake but it was an order.

Cap gave Phil a worried glance. The agent shrugged, he had no idea why Clint behaved the way he did.

"How was your time in jail?" Tony asked interested.

"Uneventful," Clint stated. His heart rate increased and he had a hard time to suppress the unwanted memories he locked up deep in his mind.

"I bet," Stark chuckled. "Lounging around all day, reading, eating, sleeping. Sounds like holidays."

"It was," Clint agreed before he continued to eat. It was impolite not to look at people while they talked to you. People with higher status deserve a prisoners undivided attention.

"Did you meet people you know?" Cap hoped not. Clint put many villains behind bars who were more than happy to get Clint into their hands.

"Noh-varr, Betty Ross, Vector, Ironclad, the wrecking crew."

"I thought the Cube is for villains like our green guy here," Tony pointed at Bruce.

"Not anymore. They changed their policy years ago," Clint replied.

Phil felt even more guilty. The look in his lover's eyes was empty. The glitter was gone. His smile was gone too. All that defined Clinton Francis Barton seemed to be gone.

"What have they done to you?" Phil voiced his thoughts out loud.

"They do what they're supposed to do," was all the archer said to the topic.

Maybe he needs more time, Tony mused. "Do you want a drink, I could use one," it was a trick to lure Clint out of his shell.

"No, sir."

He's supposed to punch me in the shoulder, or yell at me. "Are you sure?"

"I am sure, Mr. Stark."

Tony looked helplessly at Steve.

"Clint we're still friends right?" Steve felt the knot in his stomach tighten.

"Just as you like Mr. Rogers."

"You have to decide. We want you to know that we're sorry, please stop with the act."

"It's not an act sir." Clint looked at Cap, there was nothing in his eyes. It was like the archer never made it back to them.

Barton didn't understand his fellow teammates urge to be friends with him. He had no reason to make friends. Friends were a liability, feelings for fellow comrades would slow him down in the field. He had to keep his mind free from negative influences. Friendship, love and affection went against the rules.

"We should go home," Phil waved as the waitress looked at him. Tony insisted to pay the bill and watched Clint go, "He's still pissed."

"Give him more time. We sent him to jail after all," Cap kissed the top of Tony's hair. "Let's go home... and figure out how we make amends."

Bruce and Natasha followed them in silence. She was lost in thoughts and Bruce wasn't brave enough to ask for her opinion.

Phil decided to go home, too. Following Clint could push the younger man further away from them. That was the last thing he wanted. Whiskey and bad soap operas. Phil harbored the unreasonable hope that Clint might show up at his doorstep. But the archer didn't come by.

::::::::::

"Hawkeye, report." Weeks passed and Clint was still the perfect little soldier Nick always wished for whenever they recruited new agents. Barton moved back to the helicarrier one week after his return. Clint moving out shocked his friends, they didn't understand why and he couldn't give an answer. They believed it was their fault; that Clint hated them for turning their backs on him the moment he needed their trust.

"Captain America defeated Pyro, Iron Man attacks Speed. Hulk and Black Widow take on Multiple Man and Bulldozer. Captain America is on his way to aid Black Widow."

"Help Stark with Speed," Phil ordered. Clint had defeated Bullseye moments ago and it surprised Phil how well informed Clint was about his fellow teammates. "Private or open channel?"

"Open sir. Switching to private at times to keep in contact, sir."

Clint never used the open channel, he and Phil always switched into private mode when a battle started. Captain America was the leader, Phil was only an observer. His rookies would tell him if something came on the open line. Barton knew Coulson wasn't listening so he made it his duty to inform his handler about important changes on the battlefield.

"Get rid of Lizard," Phil ordered. He started to hate his own orders because it was all Clint reacted to. Normally the man hated being ordered around like a tool more than anyone else on the team.

Clint did as he was told and fired an arrow filled with soporific at Lizard before he jumped off the building he stood on. Phil held his breath as the archer jumped, he let out his shaky breath as Clint shot an arrow that bound itself around the railing of a building close to Lizard. The archer slid down the fire escape, throwing himself into the fight. Lizard was slower and less attentive but his teeth and nails were still dangerous. Clint fired his berretta and caught Lizard in the shoulder. With his last strength Lizard jumped at Clint and dug his sharp nails into Clint's arm.

Barton hit him with the butt of his gun and Lizard went down.

"Barton report," Coulson's tone held a hint of panic. That irritated the hell out of Clint.

"Target down," he replied monotone. Why was Coulson worried? He was just a tool, worthless and replaceable.

"Cleaning crew arrives in ten, meet us in two."

"Copy that," Clint confirmed walking back to Coulson's SUV.

Captain America seemed unharmed just like Hulk, Stark spotted a bruise on his cheek. Romanoff favored her right leg and Coulson seemed to be a bit shaken, Clint noticed.

"Hell Barton your bleeding out," Tony stood next to Clint in a second. "That must hurt, MEDIC!" He applied pressure on the wound, "Sit down before you faint or something."

Clint looked at his arm as if he saw the wound for the first time.

"Doesn't it hurt?" Natasha asked with wide eyes.

"No," he replied coolly. He was used to pain, it was nothing special and most important it wasn't hindering anymore.

The medic looked at Clint in horror, "That needs stitches, at least twenty."

"Okay."

"Okay?" The young woman gasped, "That's all? Just okay?"

"Yes," Clint tilted his head a little to the side. It was just pain.

"O-okay," she started to clean the wound and stitch him up. Even though the archer refused local anesthesia he did not move a muscle. It seemed like he wasn't feeling anything.

"Clint?" Phil crossed his arms in front of his chest, he had enough and decided to drop his understanding attitude. He thought space and understanding was what Clint needed but Phil's patients was wearing thin. "Tell me all about your strange behavior agent!"

"Classified sir."

"I possess the highest security clearance available agent, so don't lie to me."

"The Cube has its own," Clint stared at Phil. No matter how hard he tried to ignore his feelings for his handler his heart hurt whenever he held back the truth from the older man or disappointed him.

"What did they do to you, Clint?" Tell me, he pleaded with his eyes.

"Classified sir."

Phil was close to lose his temper. "Coulson I think you should take a walk," Cap shoved him gently away from Barton.

Phil would never raise his hand against Clint but Steve couldn't know that so he played along.

"Calm down and we meet at the Tower. Tony suggested we take a few days off. The Quinjet leaves in three hours."

"The mansion in Malibu?" Phil raised a brow. Steve nodded. "Okay."

"See you later Phil," Steve returned to his place at Clint's side. "Don't worry son he isn't that mad," Cap placed his large hand on Clint's shoulder. He wasn't sure if he was offering comfort to the archer or seeking comfort himself. Probably both.

"He's not mad at all, not at me," Hawkeye stated matter of factly. It was a fact Clint's heart would always remember. Phil Coulson would never intentionally hurt him.

Bruce and Tony gave him a funny look while Cap tried to make sense of it, "But whom is he mad at?"

"Himself," Clint glared at the medic. "That's enough," he pulled his arm away and snatched a bandage from her bag. Clint patched himself up in record time.

"I thought he'd hit you," Tony mused out loud.

"Coulson treasures what he owns," Clint flexed his fingers to make sure his arm was fully functional.

"He owns you?" Bruce blurted out and Natasha rammed her elbow into his side. "Oh,... oh," he mumbled.

Tony's jaw dropped and Steve blushed, "Who had thought that, Tony." He mumbled to his lover.

"It makes me even sadder," Tony confessed, whispering so that only Cap could hear. He hated showing emotions but Cap was an exception. The damn Skrull had ripped two of his best friends apart, probably forever. "Is that the reason you behave that way? Are you angry at him for sending you back to jail?"

"No," it was just partly a lie. Clint didn't know what he felt anymore.

The avengers remained silent, lost in their own thoughts.

:::::::::

Phil joined his friends in Malibu after a long talk with Fury about Barton. Nick was worried too and promised to talk with the warden about Clint's stay.

"It's hot like hell and you're running around in a shirt. Swim with us," Natasha offered with a smile. She hoped behaving like she always did around him could help to break the ice between them.

Clint raised his injured arm, it was the perfect excuse not to join her.

She gave him a glare, "Get Tony's plastic cast and move your ass in here."

Right on cue Tony threw the cast at Clint, he build that things so Clint could go swim without getting his wound wet.

"No thank you Mr. Stark." Clint settled down on a sun lounger. Tony winced, he hated it when Clint used his surname to address him.

A few minutes later Phil settled down next to his archer, "How are you?"

"Fine, sir."

"Please stop calling me that, not that way," Phil shook his head sadly. "I miss you, I know I made a mistake but please can we talk about it? I want... I want you back."

"If you want sex you can tell me so sir."

"No, I want you. I don't want sex at the moment. I want my smiling archer with the big heart," Phil slowly reached for Clint's hand, giving him enough time to pull away from him but he didn't.

Clint knew he was supposed to pull away but he couldn't, it was Coulson after all. "You missed me sir?"

"Yes," Phil squeezed Clint's hand. "Very much. I know I often told you how sassy and exhausting you are but I like you that way. I'm not sure I ever told you that part."

"You didn't but I know sir." He truly did.

"There is one more thing I never told you," Phil started but he couldn't finish his sentence. He was too scared of the outcome, the timing is wrong, it's all wrong.

"I know sir."

"What?" Phil stared at his archer with big eyes.

"You love me," the statement tore on Phil's heart. Cold and scrawny fingers ripped his heart apart piece by piece. Clint knew all along that he loved him, and he didn't run. The archer was aware of the fact that the person who -obviously not so secretly- claimed to love him sentenced him to life. What rattled Phil's emotions most was the way Clint said it, like it was a fact nothing more. And maybe it wasn't.

"What do you feel?" Phil needed to know.

"The only person I ever loved, sir, is you," again stated like a fact. Something was wrong, it wasn't an act. It was by far more than that.

"Do you still love me?"

"I'm not permitted to continue loving you sir."

Some puzzle pieces clicked into place, "Did they tell you not to get involved with us?"

"Emotions are a liability sir. It's dangerous during war."

"We are not at war."

"We could be."

"Be honest, it's an order." Clint nodded. "Do you love me Barton?"

"Yes, sir." Clint felt how a sense of joy penetrated the heavy layer of fear and pain inside his heart and mind. It felt good to say it out loud, it felt good to love and it felt even better to be loved.

"That's all I need to know," Coulson would fight to get his archer back. He wasn't sure whom or what but he knew it was time to pick up a fight. "Can I kiss you?"

"It's inappropriate sir."

"Of course it is," Phil mumbled. "Play with her," he pointed at Natasha. "I can make it an order too."

"With all due respect sir but that is not a valid order," Phil could swear there was a tiny hint of humor in Clint's eyes.

"Come home with me. We will work through whatever it is that bothers you." It was partly a suggestion and partly an order, just to make sure.

"Yes, sir." Clint felt how his heart skipped a beat, he'd missed his handler so much. He saved him, sadly not soon enough but he sent someone for him to take him home. That was worth a lot. When all hope was gone Phil's order appeared, the warden had thrown a tantrum but he had no other choice than sending the archer home. He broke him, put him back together and pretended nothing ever happened. Clint wanted the warden dead.

"What are you thinking about?" Clint's silence was answer enough, it was the event he declared classified. "Come here," Phil pulled Clint against his shoulder. After some resistance Clint relaxed in Phil's arms. "I'll fix whatever is wrong. I promise."

"I know you will sir. You always keep your promises," that was one of the traits Clint loved most. Help me, Phil help, Clint screamed inside his head, take the pain away, please. He was a prisoner in his own mind. Following orders, being the perfect soldier was what they taught him but that wasn't what his heart longed for. But disobeying would cause pain, they might send him back. He'd rather die than go back to the warden and his men.

::::::::::

Nick cut their holiday short and ordered them back to NYC. Doom and his bots were running wild, destroying cars, buildings and even an elementary school.

"Hawkeye take over sector four," Nick ordered and Clint obeyed. Running right into a little army of doombots. Natasha was ordered to help him while Bruce's and Steve's target was doctor doom himself. Tony was responsible for the other half of doombots, together with a few agents.

Clint fought with all his might, Natasha had never seen him fight that way. Close distance, determination plastered to his face. No fear, no worry, no life. That man wasn't her friend, her brother. It was a stranger in Clint's body.

"Watch out," Clint yelled as a bot approached her from behind. The archer fired an explosive arrow before the bot could do any harm.

"Thank you," she flicked the dust from her uniform. "You're as fast as you used to be," she tried to start a conversation but failed. She had seen Coulson talk with Clint a few days ago and hoped she could achieve the same.

"Stop talking and concentrate," Clint stated while he took a swing on a bot. Ripping out his plugs.

Nick watched the scenario from afar. His friend was more efficient and serious. Obeyed orders and never talked back, he would have liked that if it wouldn't feel so wrong. Even bad mouthed and defiant he was one of their best agents. It made no difference to Nick. Even though he preferred the mouthy kid he used to know, he would question decisions and not follow blindly. That could save lives in the long run.

Nick had talked to the warden and he had sent Clint's file. Something was off but Fury had no idea what. He sent Quatermain and Hill to take a closer look at the Cube.

"Hawkeye, sector two," he directed Clint in Phil's direction. The other agent could need some help. "Couslon, help is on the way."

"Thank you, sir."

"Don't thank me yet," Nick smirked. Phil was his closest friend and it pained him to know that Clint wasn't able to return Phil's love anymore. He had known about the two of them before they realized it themselves. Nick knew them too well for their own good.

Clint appeared silently behind Coulson and took out a bot with one clean shot. Phil jerked as a bullet passed by his cheek burying itself in the bot, "Thanks agent."

"You're welcome, sir."

Phil's eyes widened and Clint turned around to look at whatever frightened his handler. It was a doombot, around 9 feet tall. Phil started a diversion and Clint used the time to climb up the bot's back. The bot tried to grab Clint but Phil shot at it with one of the biggest guns he had in his trunk. The bot decided that Coulson was more dangerous at the moment and ignored the archer for the time being. Clint wasn't strong enough to pull the plug so he thrust two of his electro arrows into the bots neck. Causing a short circuit, and got caught in it. The bot fell to the ground, Clint landed next to it, motionless.

"Clint," Phil knelt down next to the archer. Patting his lover's cheek to get some reaction, "Clint wake up."

"What happened?" Steve and the others arrived shortly after. The doombots lost their power the moment the big one and von Doom fell.

"Electro shock," Phil's eyes were glued on Clint's handsome face.

A medic checked Clint's pulse and found none, "Get out of the way." He charged the defibrillator while his colleague opened Clint's vest.

"We got a pulse," he announced after two tries. Barton's heart just needed a push. "Get the IV ready."

The Avengers and agents around didn't pay much attention to the medics. All eyes were glued on Barton's upper body. Scars obscured his skin, knife marks and burn marks.

Clint took a deep breath and opened his eyes, he couldn't hear the medics talk. "Great," he mumbled. He didn't realize that he said it out loud.

"How are you feeling?" Steve asked worried.

The archer stared at him as if he turned into a ghost, "Clint?"

"Can't hear you," the archer drawled.

"What?" Nick roared, he had joined them as soon as he saw the medics approach his friend.

Barton took Phil's hand and guided him to his ear, he brushed his own fingertips over the skin behind the ear and urged Phil to mirror his movement.

"Coulson?" Nick demanded an answer.

Phil's face turned a dark shade of red, it was anger. Bone deep hate, "Scars. He has hearing aids, sir." Coulson gritted out, trying hard not to yell. What have they done? I'll tear them apart. He palmed Clint's cheeks with his hands and brought their lips together, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he whispered against his archer's lips.

Clint's body remained still for a moment until the urge to kiss back kicked in. He opened his mouth to grant Phil's tongue entrance. His hand grabbed the back of Phil Jacket and held on for dear life. Phil stopped the kiss and pulled Clint into a sitting position, enclosing him in his arms. Rocking a little back and forth to calm Clint's racing heart. I make them pay Clint. I promise. Someone will pay dearly.

The medics waited patiently, the archer wasn't in immediate danger and they would grant him some comfort as long as his condition permitted it.

::::::::

Clint could leave sickbay a few hours after the accident. They ran a few tests and the results had been satisfying. No lasting damage.

"Ready to go home?" Phil leaned against the entrance door of sickbay, waiting for his Hawk. "I signed your release papers."

"Thank you sir," Clint wanted to reach out. He wanted to hold on to his handler for all eternity.

"Come here," Phil reached out and waited for Clint to take his hand. Hawkeye stared at Coulson's hand for a moment not sure if he was permitted to take it. Phil noticed Clint's inner battle and took Clint's hand into his own, not leaving him a choice anymore.

A flash of relief appeared in his archer's eyes and Phil knew he made the right choice. He led Clint to his car and they drove to his apartment in silence.

"Make yourself comfortable," Phil loosened his tie and threw his jacket over a chair.

Clint frowned, it wasn't like his handler to throw his clothes over a chair and kick his shoes into a corner.

"Come in," Phil urged. "Beer?"

"No thank you sir," Clint sat down on the spacious couch. Phil sighed, we have a long way to go. "Hungry?"

"No, sir," Clint looked so lost on the couch that Phil wanted nothing more than wrap his arms around his lover and hold him until the end of the world.

"You need food," Phil called Clint's favorite Pizza place and ordered their favorite dishes.

"You don't have to do that," Clint felt uncomfortable.

"I know," that was more like the man he used to know. "But I want to."

The archer nodded, looking at his own hands.

Phil approached him slowly and sat down next to him, "You can tell me anything. You know that right?"

There was a time Clint would have said yes in a heartbeat but the silence stretched on, "I'm not your superior, not here. I'm the man who loves you to death and the man who wants to protect you from harm."

"You sent me there, sir."

"That was the biggest mistake of my life. I had doubts but the evidence was clear. You hit me and sprained Natasha's wrist, at least we thought it was you but it was a shape shifter. I should have listened to my heart. I felt betrayed, you know. For a while I thought all we had was just your way to gain enough power to reach your goals."

"I'm loyal to you sir, and faithful," he whispered. He wasn't allowed to say such things, it made him feel bad.

"I'm glad," Phil lowered his voice. The topic made him feel like a teenager. "How are your ears?"

"They made the hearing aids work again. Mr. Stark says he will make sure I get better ones."

"Tony."

"What?"

"His name is Tony, you never call him Stark. Except he pisses you off."

"I have to face severe punishment for not following instructions, sir." The memory of water clouded his mind. The water was everywhere, filling his mouth and nose, entering his lung.

Phil's warm hand on the back of his neck brought him back, "Who will punish you? It's definitely not me or Nick, or your friends."

"The warden sir," the archer confessed. His eyes widened and he buried his face in his hands, he had talked too much. He spilled the secret, the warden would come after him, punishing him for his incompetence.

"He will not come for you. I won't let him," Phil promised. "What has he done to you?"

"Classified," he took a deep breath. He had lost it in front of a superior, that was not okay.

"I'll figure it out eventually," Coulson would move heaven and earth to get answers.

"Classified," Clint repeated. It's a secret, it's a secret, it's a secret, hush.

Phil sighed again, pulling Clint into his arms, if the archer wanted to or not. He held his Hawk for a long time, whispering soothing words, caressing his back. His Hawk's body was tense but he relaxed with time, returning the hug he obviously needed so much.

Now or never.

"I'm so sorry I cost you your hearing," Phil finally gathered enough courage to address the topic. He wanted to talk about it hours ago but he didn't know how. He couldn't let it go any longer even though he was scared of the answer he might get.

"It wasn't you," Clint's body tensed again. "It was an accident."

"What happened?"

"I can't tell you," Clint's voice carried a conspiratorial undertone.

"Classified?" Phil narrowed his eyes. He started to hate this word.

"Yes," Clint swallowed. I hate lying, I hate lying, I don't want to lie. Not to him.

"Would you tell the truth when I order you again to tell me?"

Barton shook his head, no. He wouldn't. He hated himself for that.

Phil nodded in understanding. "We're talking about it again," it was a promise.

"I hope so." Clint truly did.

Phil continued holding his partner, fighting down the anger that bubbled under the surface; he wanted to scream. He wanted to yell at Clint for hiding the truth from him. But it would do no good, if anything it would make his problem worse. He could lose Clint over it and that was a risk he wasn't willing to take. So he kept his mouth shut and offered as much comfort as he was able to give.

::::::::

"Coulson we need you at Stark Tower now, and take your Hawk along." Tony called at 5 a.m., his voice sounded serious. Coulson woke his archer and got up. They had fallen asleep arm in arm on the couch.

"What happened?" Phil gave his best to appear well rested even though he wanted to fall asleep where he stood. Clint stood behind Phil, not saying a word.

"Tony hacked into their database and found their video footage," Cap paced up and down the living room.

"Permission to return to my old room sir?" I don't want to see it, I can't.

"Go," Phil said gently. Making him watch would have been cruel. "Turn on the T.V. I wanna see that." He dropped his agent attitude, taking his friends by surprise.

"Yes, sir." Tony finished his last preparations, "That will give us answers."

Natasha sat on one of the sofas curled up against Bruce, glaring daggers at the screen.

They watched as Clint arrived at the Cube, how he got hit and shoved. "I can't believe they left him for two days chained to the wall," Steve's voice was filled with anger. "That must have hurt."

"It does," Natasha confirmed, speaking from experience.

"Oh god," Bruce looked away as the warden cut the archer with a knife. I'm not hulking out, I'm not hulking out.

Phil stared at the screen barely blinking at all, he absorbed anything they did. Making plans for his own revenge. Phil help me. Don't you love me anymore? For a moment he forgot how to breath.

Natasha squeezed her eyes shut as Clint's screams echoed through the speakers as they started with the electro shocks.

Clint sat in his old room and tried to think of something else but he couldn't. His team was watching him fail. They watched how he behaved like an adolescent. They watched how he gave up on himself. He snuck out of his room and eyed his team from the doorway, the urge to curl up next to Phil was strong so he gave in. He silently approached his handler and sat down, waiting for a sign that it was okay to seek comfort. Phil wrapped an arm around Clint's shoulder and pulled him against his chest. That was all Clint needed, he rested his head against Phil's belly and wrapped his arms around the other man's hips. Phil caressed Clint's upper arm with one hand, the other one was placed on Clint's cheek, "I'll kill them," he muttered. The archer nodded against Phil's belly, closing his eyes. It was hard to watch.

Coulson tightened his grip on Clint as he almost drowned and the older man tightened his hold even more the moment they tortured him with light and noises. Losing his hearing. Coulson didn't say a word but Clint knew him well enough to know that he was fuming. Someone would die pretty soon, slow and painful. Tony on the other hand was cursing like a sailor, he even threw his glass against a wall, stomping out of the room to hide in his lab. Bruce had to leave too, he wasn't able to hold the Hulk back any longer. Natasha curled up against Clint after Bruce left, she needed the assurance that Clint was alive. She knew it was unreasonable but her mind played tricks on her.

Captain America watched the video footage until the bitter end, not saying a word either but Clint could see the rage in the old soldier's eyes.

"Son," he said afterwards. "Something like this will never happen again, I promise you that."

"Yes, sir," Clint prayed the old man was right. It wasn't the first time he got tortured but it was the worst. Never before had he lost himself.

"I give Fury a call," it was more a threat than anything else.

Clint stayed in Phil's and Natasha's arms. Again it was against the rules but he didn't give a damn right now. He was safe where he was. No one could harm him as long as his team was around; as long as his family was around.

"I love you Clint," Natasha whispered. "I love you; never forget."

:::::::::

S.H.I.E.L.D. arrested the warden and his men. They landed on the helicarrier three days later to face their trial.

Clint and his team watched them arrive, a sour taste appeared in his mouth at the thought to see them again.

"Warden," Fury said grim. "You know why you are here?"

"I know why but I don't understand why you make such a ruckus," the warden said smoothly. "I did what you expect us to do. You give us criminals and we make righteous citizens out of them."

"We don't appreciate your methods warden," Fury added.

"Rubbish! I gave you the perfect soldier, what more do you want? You didn't give us enough time to program him any better. Right 947-82?" The kid wasn't supposed to leave the Cube ever again.

Clint's instincts kicked in and he dropped on one knee, like a knight would in front of his king, lowering his gaze, "Waiting for orders sir!"

Nick looked shocked, "That is not what we want." He breathed heavily, they made a soulless creature out of his friend. That's not Clint, Hawkeye bows for no one. "That's not the perfect soldier. The perfect soldier has a mind of his own, enough gut to voice concerns; and soldiers need their soul intact."

Clint felt a warm feeling inside his chest, does he like the old Barton better? Can I be who I want to be? I want to be me again, is that okay?

Phil grabbed Clint's arm and pulled him angrily upright, "You're not bowing in front of any of us."

"Yes, sir. Thank you sir," he whispered the last part.

"Agent Barton," Nick called out. "You are free to do as you like."

"Is that an order sir?" The archer saluted.

"It is my friend. It is," the director granted his friend a little smile.

"Yes, sir," Clint felt like he could breathe again. I'm free?! But who am I?

:::::::::

Clint had many appointments with S.H.I.E.L.D.'s head shrink before he was cleared for field work but hanging around Phil's office wasn't bad either. The archer seemed to enjoy his time on Phil's couch at the back of his office.

Having the archer around had been fun. He was a little bit more like his old self and Phil was confident the shrink could fix him.

The warden's interrogation was scheduled for today, so Phil asked Steve to take Clint to a Baseball game. Cap happily agreed to spent some time with his boy.

"Good evening," Phil entered the interrogation room with Black Widow in tow.

"Good evening agent Coulson," the warden smiled. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, thank you for your concern. I would ask how you are feeling but I know it will not remain that way, so why bother with useless questions right?"

The warden's eyes widened for a moment, "Still angry about your archer?"

"Angry is an understatement," Phil sat down in front of the perp.

"Had I known you like him so much I would have been gentler."

Coulson tilted his head, "Romanoff."

"Yes, sir," she walked around the table and took the warden into a stranglehold.

"Hey sweetheart, nice to meet you too," he gasped.

"Fingers," Phil deadpanned.

"Fingers?" The warden frowned, "Kinky."

Natasha slammed her fist on his outstretched hand, breaking three fingers. The shocked warden screamed with pain, "you bitch."

"It's inappropriate to address a superior with bitch," Phil stared at the warden. Snapping his fingers. Natasha let go of his neck and slammed his head on the table surface, breaking his nose.

"God damn it," he hissed. "What was that for?"

"Calling your master bitch," Natasha enjoyed torturing the guy.

"That's your plan agent? Torture me like I tortured your toy?"

Phil narrowed his eyes, getting up from his chair, "He's not a toy. He's a human being."

"All the same," he held his nose, spitting out some blood.

"Good to know," Phil's voice grew more and more dangerous. "That's my favorite gun, you don't mind if I play a bit with my toys, do you?" I'm gonna shoot you, bastard.

The perp frowned, not sure if it would be wise to answer that particular question.

Coulson released the safety catch of his berretta, "Knee or shoulder?" He made a compromise with himself, he couldn't shoot him. As much as he wanted to do it, he couldn't. He would attract too much attention. They were working behind the back of the council here. Though they always operated behind their backs.

"Funny, you're an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. that goes against regulations."

"You're a fine one to talk," Phil replied, shooting him in the knee, now I feel better. "You broke your own regulations not so long ago."

"I made my own."

"And I make mine," Phil enjoyed the pain on the other man's face. Maybe a little too much but who would judge?

"I want an attorney."

"You don't get one. Your fate is sealed."

"I deserve a trial!"

Phil shrugged, "You had one. They found you guilty and sentenced you for life."

"Where?"

"The Cube. We recruited a new warden. I think you know Noh-varr, right?"

"You can't do that."

"You're right I can't but Fury can," Phil put his weapon away, drawing a knife instead. Clint's favorite combat knife. "Hawkeye loves this knife, it's his favorite since he joined us. I have no idea why."

"You gave it to him," Natasha spoke. He told her so while they sat in medical waiting for news about Coulson's condition a few years back. It was the first weapon he got from his handler.

Coulson's gaze softened, that's why, he eyed the knife.

"You're involved," the warden realized, sure he could use it against the agent. He could declare Coulson disqualified on the grounds of bias, maybe he could lessen his sentence if he played his role as tortured prisoner well.

"More than that," Phil smirked. "It's not a secret. They know whom they sent to interrogate you. By the way, our little meeting here is classified."

"Asshole," he spat, they never meant to interrogate me. It was their plan all along. They must really love their toy if they go to such great lengths to take revenge. I should have programmed him differently, less perfect. Phil motioned Natasha to open the guy's shirt before he carved a huge B into his chest. "Never forget. You'll never see the light of day again. Should you due to a miracle cross my path again I will shoot you on sight. No questions, no trial, no mercy."

The warden nodded, sweat dripped down his forehead. He was never so scared before in his life, "Yes, sir." They're going to kill me. Noh-varr is going to rip my guts out. Or Coulson by the end of the day.

::::::::

Phil stood on flight deck, he tilted his head back looking at the sky. He closed his eyes, feeling the wind against his skin, like gentle caresses. He listened to the noises the flight crew made and tried to concentrate on the birds. It was soothing and for a moment he felt fine and free of worries. But the hard truth was that nothing was fine and wouldn't be for a long time. Phil opened his eyes and let out a heavy sigh.

What he missed most was Clint's laugh and the life in his eyes. Phil wanted nothing more than hear his Hawk laugh. Clint wasn't happy, not at all. The archer didn't deserve such a fate, he was a good boy. He deserved happiness and freedom.

"Sir?" It was Maria, her voice sounded unusual hesitant.

"Hill."

"I worry about you," she looked at the sky wondering what her friend was seeing.

"There is no need to worry."

"You're wrong, there is." He's your friend after all. You sent your best friend and lover to jail where they broke him.

Phil remained silent, he didn't want to talk about it. Not with her.

"You have to talk about it at some point."

"I know," he said, concentrating on the sky above him. Clint loved heights and he loved it to fly. During Clint's first year at S.H.I.E.L.D. Phil had scheduled flight lessons for Clint so he could learn how to fly their Helicopters. He didn't like the jets much but he was able to fly them too if he had to.

It had been Clint's birthday present, the look on the archer's handsome face had been memorable. The archer had been stunned, he didn't understand why Coulson did that for him. But in the end he was happy like a child in a candy store. Phil found out much later that it was Clint's first real -given with love- birthday present.

"Do you need a shrink?"

"I have one," he confessed. Nick had urged him to talk with someone and Phil decided he'd prefer a shrink over his friends.

"Okay," she was surprised. Coulson hated psych department. "See you tomorrow."

He nodded absentmindedly. I have no idea how I can help. What do you need from me? What can I do? I'd give anything to hear you laugh again. I'd give my life for your happiness. I'm so sorry...

:::::::::

Clint watched his handler from afar, he was worried about Phil's behavior. The older agent floated like a ghost through HQ. Still growling and snapping at junior agents but Clint suspected that was more out of habit than anything else. His agent mask itself was still flawless his face and stance betrayed nothing but the man beneath the mask was in pain; you had to know him to notice the changes. Clint could see all that and even more whenever Coulson stopped being Coulson and was just Phil. The archer knew it was his fault, not entirely his but mostly. The warden had destroyed both their lives. It was hard to return to his old shiny self while the reminders of the tortures lingered in his mind. The first big step he made with help of his shrink was calling Stark, Tony and Rogers, Steve. He was even able to call Coulson, Phil, whenever they were alone. The pride and joy on Coulson's face when he used his handler's first name, spoken in a warm tone of voice, was priceless. He missed Phil's warm gaze and the cheeky smile he used to wear. Phil was distant and the happiness that radiated from his features was constantly absent, it didn't feel right. Coulson was supposed to be a bad-ass agent and witty bastard with a dark sense of humor, but he talked less and gave up bantering with Hill and Sitwell altogether. In private Phil used to be a witty bad-ass too, always bantering with Clint, protecting him. Now he was silent too just like his Coulson ego. He missed that.

"Ready to approach me?" Phil had noticed his archer's presence a while ago.

"Always, si-... Phil." Clint nibbled on his bottom lip.

A small smile appeared on Phil's lips, Clint used to chew on his bottom lip whenever he was nervous, or insecure. "Do you like your new hearing aids?"

"Yeah," Clint nodded. "More comfortable. The old ones felt... wrong." The old ones felt like they were constantly pressing against his skull. The implants Tony created were lighter and after two days Clint almost forgot he had them. Tony's cheerful face as Clint told him that, was beautiful, it was the first time in weeks that he had seen his friend happy. That made Clint happy too, inwardly. Watching the game with Cap had been fun too, Clint felt a bit guilty for not being able to show how much he enjoyed the time with Steve but he had the feeling that Steve was aware of his inner happiness. Hawkeye loved his friends and his time in jail made him realize how much he needed them. Not only their protection but their love too. The Avengers loved him, like a friend or like a brother. Depends on whom you ask. In Rogers case Clint would even go so far and say he was like a son to the old soldier. The feeling was mutual, Clint would love to have Steve Rogers as father. Today had been Bruce's turn to spent time with Clint. The scientist dragged him to the Botanic Garden in Brooklyn. The atmosphere was calming and Clint understood pretty fast why Bruce liked going there. They had talked a lot about Natasha and Phil, about work and mother nature. Thankfully Banner never crossed the line and demanded answers. None of his friends had done that, Clint guessed they're waiting for him to talk about it on his own. He was grateful for their patience.

"Good," Coulson eyed Clint for a moment. "Hungry?"

"Starving," he blushed a little at his own enthusiasm.

"Great," Phil's eyes lit up a fraction. "Chinese?" Clint nodded. Phil put his arm around Clint's waist and guided him to Phil's favorite restaurant. It was small but cozy. The old lady who owned the shop beamed at them, "Phil, Clint."

"Hey," Clint forced himself to return her hug. "What happened to you? You look so sad," she gasped.

"He was sick, but he will recover," Phil explained.

She nodded thoughtfully, "Mama Mei takes care of you," she ordered her children around. Clint got his favorite dish and some Mei specials, she assured him that her soup and tea would do wonders to his wellbeing.

Barton thanked her and grimaced as he put the spoon into his mouth.

"Well?"

"Schnapps," he gulped his soda down to get the taste out of his mouth.

Phil stared at Clint for a moment before he laughed out loud. An honest and hearty laugh. The expression on Clint's face reminded him of a child who bit into a lemon.

Clint felt the muscles in his face twitch with amusement, that's all you need? Childlike behavior and one word filled with surprise and a hint of disgust? All it takes to make you happy is me being unguarded?

Phil's laugh died the moment he realized that Clint was staring at him with his big blue eyes, "Sorry."

"Don't be," Clint's hand twitched while he struggled with himself. Screw it, he reached out and placed his hand on top of Phil's. His heartbeat sped up, his action went against the rules. Deep down he knew it was okay but his mind tried to convince him otherwise. Phil gave Clint a gentle smile while he intertwined their fingers, "It's okay."

Clint closed his eyes, taking deep breaths, "I know. Deep down I know."

"I love you Clint," the archer's eyes opened so fast it almost looked comically. He could see how difficult it was for Phil to say these words out loud.

Coulson could see the answer in his archer's eyes, I love you too but I can't say it. They won't let me.

Clint opened and closed his mouth a few times, but he couldn't make a sound. He hated himself for that. Why can't I say it? Not monotone, not as a fact, but filled with love. The way Phil deserves.

"It's okay, don't be so hard on yourself," Phil squeezed his lover's hand. "I know the answer no matter if you say it or not."

Clint pressed his teeth together, angry at himself for being so weak. "Phil Coulson," he gritted out. He took a deep breath, "I-... I love you sir. Scratch the sir."

His archer looked so desperate that he regretted that he had said anything, "I told you it's okay."

"No it's not, sir. Phil." I want to tell you. I want to hear you laugh again, can you do that?

Phil frowned, he couldn't decipher the expression on Clint's face, "What's bothering you?"

"I- I like..., like hearing you laugh." An insecure smile graced Clint's lips, "missed that."

That's why you stared at me, it made you happy. "I miss your laugh too. Now that it's gone I realize how much I adore it. You guard your emotions like a treasure and your laugh was one of many indications that you were happy."

"What else gives me away?"

"The twinkle in your eyes, now gone too. The way you move. The tone of your voice."

"Scary how well you can read me," he felt honored.

"Can't you read me?"

"I can hear anything you say even if you say nothing at all, I know the meaning behind your hums or snorts. I hear the humor in your voice when you lecture someone just because you feel like it. I can see the lightness in your steps whenever you get your hands on a Captain America memorabilia. And your eyes tell me anything else I need to know."

"We're a great team, and couple." Coulson was sure they were meant to be together. Barton was his other half, his compass in this world, bringing him into line. Clint wasn't the only one who tended to lose prospect.

"That we are, " the archer agreed and meant what he said. He felt whole now that things changed between them, or rather now that the thing they had got a name. He finally new for sure what they had, he knew for sure it was not a fling or fuck-buddy relationship. What they had was real. "Do you want to share?" Clint asked hopefully, offering Phil his soup.

"Scared you might get drunk?"

"I'm scared of alcohol poisoning," the atmosphere was comfortable and Phil didn't seem to mind the change of topic.

Phil chuckled and had a taste of the soup, "Dear god." He coughed, "your concern about alcohol poisoning is justified."

Clint let out a reluctant laugh but it was a laugh nonetheless. Phil beamed at Clint and laughed softly about his own un-agent like behavior. It felt good to hear Clint's voice that way. It wasn't even close to his hearty laugh but it was a beginning.

Mei watched them from behind the counter, smiling at the couple. Mei knows what young men need. Privacy, a topic and booze.

::::::::::

Magneto and his brotherhood started an attack on the helicarrier. The mighty aircraft shook and moaned beneath Magneto's unforgiving grip.

Cap and Hulk had thrown themselves into the fight while Quartermain, Agent 13 and Black Widow tried to stop Quicksilver and Pyro. Coulson made it his goal to punch Mystic's lights out. He owed her for a very long stay at medical a few years back.

Nick got his hands full with planning and organizing their next move.

Clint wanted to move but he couldn't, he stood in the middle of the corridor on Deck 7 while his friends faught. Feet glued to the ground - in a metaphorical sense. The sirens were blaring and the emergency light flashed constantly. What's your new name? Welcome 947-82! Who am I? Right, your master. Move. Don't cry pretty boy. The implants won't hurt. Who needs sedatives anyway. Call me master. 947-82. 947-82. 947-82. Kneel down! Loser. Good-for-nothing. Nuisance. Cuss.

Clint still stood rooted to the spot after the fight had ended. Tony had found him in the corridor and had approached him. The archer shivered like an aspen leave, sweat dripped from his face. "Clint?" He got no reply. Their friend stared with wide eyes into nothing. He couldn't see nor hear anything, he was too far gone. Tony put a hand on his shoulder, slowly enough not to startle him. "Clint, come on man. You're scaring me here."

Barton's eyes started to focus, "Tony?" He whispered.

"Yeah, it's me. You're fine," Stark hesitated a moment before he pulled the archer into a brotherly hug. Clint needed comfort, he could worry about his reputation afterwards. "Hush," it felt strange to be the one who tried to sooth pain away. Normally people tried to offer their comfort to him. Stark wasn't known for his warm and caring side, even though he had one. Sometimes, when he wanted to; and no one was looking.

"Tony where are you?" Cap's voice appeared in his ear. "Deck 7, bring Coulson along. ASAP."

"Hawkeye?"

"Yeah."

"On my way," Steve ran as fast as he could, searching for Coulson on the way.

"What happened?" Coulson and Steve appeared shortly after.

"My guess? PTSD," Tony rubbed soothing circles over Clint's back.

"The sirens," Steve nodded empathically.

"Clint? Come to me," Phil approached his lover. The archer looked up at Phil with wariness in his tired eyes. There was a cut above Phil's left eye and he kept his right arm close to his body. Phil is hurt. He got hurt while I freaked out in the hallway. Soldiers do not freak out. They serve and protect until they die. No fear, no pain.

There was so much sadness and guilt in Clint's eyes that Phil's breath got caught in his throat. His heart constricted so much it physically hurt. "It's not your fault, don't even think that."

Tony let go of Clint to make space for Coulson. Clint sunk to the ground, tears escaping his eyes. "Clint breath," Phil knelt in front of Clint. "Breath, in and out, try to concentrate or you'll pass out."

The archer concentrated on Phil's voice, trying to get his breathing back under control. In-out, in-out. Perfect soldier. Slave. Toy. Marionette. Failure.

"CLINT," a voice penetrated his flashback. Strong arms enclosed him into a strong embrace, "Listen to me. Listen to my breathing," the voice said. Clint knew that voice but his mind was too overworked to make a connection.

"Yeah, be a good boy and continue to breath that way," Coulson nuzzled his lover's neck. Clint's smell, even though a little sweaty, was intoxicating. He wanted nothing more than protect and cherish what was his.

"Phil?" Clint came back to reality, "Phil." I didn't protect you. I let you get hurt. "I'm sorry," he slung his arms around Phil and held on for dear life. Almost squeezing the air out of Phil, taking the older man by surprise. The archer whispered his apology over and over again until Phil put a stop to it. The only idea that popped into his mind to stop his archer from rambling and wallowing in self-loathing was to kiss him.

Clint was surprised by Phil's bold move but the kiss had the desired effect. The archer even kissed back after a few seconds of hesitation. "I love you nonetheless," Phil smiled lovingly against Clint's lips.

"Still sorry," Clint cupped Phil's cheeks with both hands, letting his thumbs caress his lover's cheekbones. The archer looked deep into his handler's eyes, searching for the truth. Forgiveness or diversion? Clint smiled this cute little smile of his, forgiveness it was.

"I hate to destroy the mood," Tony sniffed, "but duty calls."

Phil raised a brow.

"Fury wants to see us, preferably now."

Phil switched on his radio and called Nick to inform him that he would take Clint to medical first. Fury tried to object but in the end he was powerless against his old friend.

"Medical?" Clint almost whined.

"Medical," Phil smirked. One step closer to your old medical-hating self my love.

:::::::

Phil stood in the doorway of Clint's room, the shrink promised to keep Clint under observation while Coulson met Fury. The older agent had a medical strip above his eye and his arm in a sling. Clint had hovered over him during the examination, making the doc and nurse feel real uncomfortable with his presence. Clint was asleep now, tired from his emotional breakdown and the guilt he still carried in his heart. The archer looked almost peaceful in his sleep but Phil knew better than that. Clint had wrapped his arms around himself, knees close to the body. His beloved asset only slept that way when he felt the urge to protect himself from something, or when he felt lonely. Phil hoped the archer didn't feel lonely, his younger lover had a talent for unreasonable feelings. On some days ten people could fuss over him and he'd still feel lonely and neglected. But this time Phil reckoned that Clint tried to keep the world at bay. Even though Phil couldn't deny that Clint's stay in jail must have been extremely lonely, he must have felt forgotten in there.

Fury paged him again. "I'm coming," he muttered under his breath. "I'll pick him up after my briefing," he told the head nurse. It was rather a warning than information. She nodded, determined not to let the archer escape before the agent returned.

"Geez, what happened to you?" Nick gave him a once over.

"Mystic," Coulson deadpanned.

Nick nodded, "How's the kid?"

"He's asleep right now. His shrink says he will be fine; one day." Fury nodded, Captain America and Iron Man had told him about what happened during the fight.

"And you?"

"Cut above the eye and a sprained elbow," Phil shrugged. "I will be fine by the end of the week."

"Good. Let's start the briefing." You know damn well what I meant old friend.

::::::::::

Coulson walked through his favorite park close to his apartment. It had been a long and strenuous week. Including many fights with his favorite asset. Clint took a few steps back in his recovery since the incident on the helicarrier. Following orders to a T, not that he ever really stopped but two weeks ago he had been less serious and more open for spontaneous changes of plans. Phil could hear in his lover's voice how he struggled whenever he had to make a choice on his own. How hard it was to voice his own opinion when asked. I'm not endangering any of you by returning to my old unpredictable self. Phil's response had been that he yelled at Clint, telling him that a mindless soldier would seal their fate one day. Not the smartest thing he ever said but he had been so angry. Not at Clint, not really. He had been angry at himself, at the warden and the unaccustomed changes in their working relationship. Phil could deal with a lot of things but Clint's odd behavior dragged on for too long. He knew it was hard to overcome a trauma like torture but it was time for Clint to move on, get over it. The main reason for Clint's refusal to heal was his fear to get one of his friends killed, Phil knew that. The archer always feared to lose people he loved, that was nothing new but his fucked up mind seemed even more determined to do what was necessary to make sure it wasn't his fault should a teammate fall. Even if that meant to bow down to superiors and friends.

Phil couldn't comprehend Clint's logic at all. There was no difference for him. Following every order or only following orders you could live with. It didn't make you a better soldier, in Phil's eyes it just made you lose your spine. Coulson had continued yelling at Clint, No matter what the warden told you. It's not true. His methods and beliefs are wrong. They don't make you better in the field, they don't make you a better agent. I have no clue why you believe in his shit but you obviously do, so sort it out. Or else I put you back on the roster for perfect little soldiers so the others can have their pick. That had been mean, Phil knew that. The look on Clint's face told him as much. Phil slumped down on a bench close to a pond, watching ducks fight over a piece of bread. I'm an idiot. He needs time, the warden screwed with his mind. I've seen what they did to him, what they taught him. And there's nothing I can do...

"Sir?" The voice startled him enough that he didn't even try to hide it.

Clint sat down next to him, "We need to talk."

"Yeah, we do," it was barely more than a whisper. Clint avoided him all day, so he was more than surprised to see his archer. That's brave Clint, I'm proud of you.

"You need to know that I try," Clint rested his elbows on his knees, mirroring Phil's stance. "But I can't shake the feeling that he was right about my lack of respect and the skill to align myself. I break rules on a regular basis, I bent orders to the point I can hear you grit your teeth over the radio." He just broke rules that weren't too important, like not talk back or fuck your superior.

"I might get worked up at times but you're smart and you know what you're doing. Mostly. I trust you to make the right call."

"You do?"

"Yeah," Phil glanced briefly at his archer before he returned his gaze to his own hands again. "I know that he taught you that soldiers are just tools, that they have to stand in line and have to agree, whatever the order might be but that's not true. I thought you know that by now."

"We often fought about my behavior, no handler who ever borrowed me once asked a second time."

"It's due to your bad mouth Agent, nonstop talking," there was a hint of humor in Coulson's voice.

"You know, sometimes I don't know what it is I believe in and what he made me believe in. Following orders to a T, do I believe in it? I don't know. Do I believe my behavior could make a difference? I have no clue. Do I believe in us? That I know for sure, yes."

"You do?" Even though I sent you there? I know what happened isn't my fault but I wish I had chosen a different facility. But you're too smart for most of our facilities. You'd have escaped within the first day. Or you'd have twisted your guards around your finger, getting special treatment.

"I wouldn't be here; even though the little voice in my head is screaming at me to get the hell away from you."

Phil huffed, a pained smile obscured his face, "I didn't mean what I said this week."

"Yes you did," there was no hint of anger in the archer's voice. "You were right."

"I'm afraid I might get you killed with one of my orders one of these days."

"You said, protect Dr. Beckett at all cost."

"You're life is a price I'm not willing to pay," he remembered how Clint threw himself into the fight to protect the physicist from the Hood. The archer didn't give a damn if he made it or not. His only goal was it to obey, willing to pay for it with his life. Clint's skills are remarkable and it was obvious that he gave his best so Phil didn't need to sent other agents to support him. Natasha had thrown a fit, cussing in Russian all the way back to HQ. Barton had dodged bullets and knives, even some kind of demonic beams. Dancing around the lines of enemies like the skilled artist he was, saving Nat's life while he was at it. He tended to do things like that too before he was brainwashed but it was different though. Phil couldn't always figure out what exactly was different, it just felt plain wrong.

"They don't pay me to survive," Clint objected.

Phil knew that too. "You used to keep your distance. You're a sniper after all. You wait in your nest and strike when the opportunity arises. That's what we pay you for." Not throwing yourself into a hail of bullets.

Clint opened his mouth to say something but his words deserted him, he closed his mouth again.

"You're my eyes, my conscience. I know the warden wants you to be a soldier... but you're not. You're a spy and assassin. One of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s finest assets. If I had wanted a soldier I would have looked elsewhere, and not in Orleans. I would have recruited guys from my time as a marine. I chose you because you're strong-willed and smart. What you did for the kid back then impressed me. You did it because you felt that it was the right thing to do. From that moment on I knew I'd give anything to bring you in. We need people like you. I'm an agent for a very long time and even I need someone to remind me that the world isn't always black and white. Good or evil. Sometimes I forget the in between, I'm not looking at the whole picture anymore. I would have killed Natasha, you know that. Now I know it would have been a mistake. You pointed out to me how broken and scared she was, you made me see who she really was, and why she had become the woman she was back then. I need you Clint, as my second in command; as my guide." He returned his gaze to Clint, intently studying his archer's expression.

"That's what you think of me," it wasn't a real question. Clint had no idea how important he was to Coulson. His conscience? His guide? What's going through your mind that you tell me your darkest secrets? I know you, being a good man is important to you. Hard to believe I'm part of what makes you human. Are you okay? "Phil?"

"Hm?"

"What's going on?" He asked worried, something was not right. "You're not dying are you?" He added suspiciously.

"What? No; no I'm not," Coulson assured. "I think we don't talk enough. We never have."

"I'm still worried," Clint confessed. The haunted look in his handler's eyes and the tense expression on his face set off the alarm inside his head.

"I'm not sure myself," Phil licked his lips, flexing his hands in an anxious manner. "I just-, don't feel well, that's all."

Clint moved closer to his handler and placing his hand on top of Phil's, holding them still. "Can I help?"

"No, you can't," he brushed his shoulder against Clint's, absorbing his archer's warmth. "It's all messed up right now."

"Is it my fault?" Clint rested his head on Phil's shoulder.

"It's mine," Phil swallowed hard. "It's all my fault. I should have sent you to the big house."

"The Skrull's are at fault." Phil had every right to lock him up, the evidence had been clear. The Cube was the right choice for someone with my skill set."Hmpf, we shouldn't let them rule our lives."

"No we shouldn't," Phil agreed, closing his eyes. "But we let them though."

"That we do," Clint smiled at three ducklings, waddling behind their mommy. The duck reminded him of Phil and his junior agents.

"What's so funny?"

"Mommy duck over there and her fledglings, there was a time I was one of them. Always trying to impress you, following you around like a lost puppy."

"You still do."

"I'm not lost anymore," Clint pecked his lover on the cheek, ignoring the nagging voice inside his head. "We should go back before they send a search party."

"It's my day off," Phil raised a brow.

"But not mine," Clint said lightly. Though Phil could see his inner conflict in his beautiful blue orbs.

Phil got up, dragging Clint along. "There's one more thing you should know."

Clint tilted his head, giving Phil an expectant look.

"I will never, NEVER, assign you a knew handler."

"Good to know, I was slightly worried you might mean that part." Barton's eyes glittered with the sheer force of his relief. "I'm hungry, Indian?"

"Supermarket, it's my turn to cook for you." Cooking for Clint had been a habit he developed over the years, it was time to resume their little ritual.

"Everything okay between us? More or less," Clint shrugged slightly.

"Yeah, it is," Phil captured Clint's lips with his own. He felt way better, the heavy weight which pressed down on his chest has eased a little, making it easier to breath. He was on the best way to come clean with himself. "Let's go home."

::::::::::

"Clint, wake up," Phil shook his sleeping lover. "It's just a dream."

Clint awoke with a start, mouth open, eyes wide. He panted heavily, "Thanks."

"Want to talk about it?" Phil offered. They shared a bed for a week now, they did nothing more than sleep side by side but it was better than Clint sleeping on the couch or at the helicarrier.

"Nothing you don't already know," he rubbed the sweat from his face. "Sorry I woke you, sir."

"Don't worry the alarm goes off in two minutes anyway," Coulson shrugged nonchalantly. "Take a shower. I prepare breakfast."

"No," Clint shook his head. "You take a shower first and I make breakfast."

Phil placed a firm kiss on Clint's forehead, "Deal."

Clint watched his handler go, he felt sorry for ruining his nights. Luckily Phil was the kind of guy who had his fair share of nightmares too and cut many of Clint's nights short over the years. His handler knew how to handle him and when he said it was okay then it was.

The day started well, aside from the nightmare, with a good breakfast and sparing session with Natasha.

Phil had watched them with an honest smile on his face.

"Let her leave, she's just an innocent. Take me in her place," he heard Coulson say and wondered how exactly they ended up in this mess. Serpent squad took hostages and Nick called Phil to negotiate and scout.

Clint waited next to their SUV, a block away from the hostage-taking. Cap was in charge while Phil was busy getting himself killed. The archer felt restless, his lover was in danger and there was nothing he could do. Iron Man hovered in the air, staying out of sight. Bruce tried to stay calm long enough not to make the situation any worse. Natasha on the other hand was sharpening her favorite knife in anticipation.

"He gets himself killed," Clint finally said.

"Interfering isn't wise at the moment," Steve replied coolly. "We have to wait for the right opportunity. " Two snipers aimed at five civilians while Viper used a young woman as a shield, his brother Eel had his back.

"A bullet in his head?" Clint hissed, surprising them all with the tone of his voice.

Phil, don't do something stupid. I can't lose you. I have to do something. Clint argued with himself, a shot rang out gaining all his attention. PHIL! The bullet had hit the ground next to Phil's feet, it was a warning. They had no time to lose, the next shot would slam his lover's beautiful soul right outta his head.

"Stay put," Cap warned.

"Fuck you," Clint growled, vanishing inside a building.

The archer tried to find the perfect nest, he took out two of Viper's men with his bow. Positioning them as snipers had been a smart move but not smart enough. His nest wasn't suitable for his next move so he went to search for a better place to hide. I can't take them out at once, not without endangering the poor girl and Phil. Clint frantically searched for a solution as Phil's voice echoed in his memories. Mind of your own. Think for yourself. Clint smiled, screw the rules. He drew two of his combat knives while he ran back to the second floor. "Phil, listen and listen carefully," Clint switched on his earpiece. Only Phil could hear him on this frequency.

"When I say now, you grab the girl and duck."

Phil had a hard time not to let his confusion show, Rogers was supposed to keep the area clear so what was Clint doing up there, somewhere? The last thing Phil had heard a few minutes ago was Cap's order to stay put.

"Trust me, Phil."

I do, Coulson thought. That was not a soulless soldier up there, it was his Hawk. The man he trusted with his life, and heart. Nice to have you back.

"Hey," Clint jumped out of the window, Viper and Eel looked up to search for the owner of the voice. Clint fell fast and slammed knives first into them before they even had a chance to aim at him. In the meantime Phil had grabbed the girl's wrist and pulled her with him to the ground. Clint rolled off the ground as best he could after he buried his knives in their necks, to prevent more damage than absolutely inevitable.

The sound the three bodies made as they made contact with the ground was sickening. The noise Clint's body made the moment he hit the asphalt burned itself into Phil's memory. Bones and combat clothes hitting the ground with a heavy thump. Phil needed all his willpower to follow protocol before he tended to his lover. He checked the area, provided proper care for the hostages and barked out orders. All that within a few minutes.

Clint groaned, his back hurt where he landed on and he feared that he dislocated his right shoulder. He took two deep breaths before he sat up, "That was close." His head spun and his heart raced from all the adrenaline that rushed through his system.

Shoes appeared in front of him and Clint looked up at the man in front of him. Phil's arms were crossed in front of his chest, his expression stony.

"I'd beat the stuffing out of you if I weren't so happy to see your old sassy self," Phil chided. He let out a long suffering sigh. "Welcome home agent," Phil's expression softened. "Don't get up," he unfolded his arms and got down on his knees. Holding Clint down, "Bad enough you sat up before the medics got a chance to look after you."

"I'm fine," Clint winced as he moved a little to find a more comfortable position.

"I can see that," Phil poked against Clint's shoulder smirking at Clint's yelp. "Fine, huh?"

"I'm alive," Clint shrugged, wincing again. Bad idea.

"Idiot," Coulson muttered. "You scared the hell out of me with your stunt. What were you thinking? You could have broken your spine, or neck."

"Save Phil?"

Phil raised his brows, "That made you dive headfirst out of a window?"

"It wasn't headfirst, rather a belly flop?" Clint blushed.

"That was a stupid risk," Cap's voice boomed. "It was reckless and defiant and so like, like you..." Cap's voice lost its authority, "Good work son."

Tony smirked at his friend, "Could have been my plan." I'm glad you're okay.

Natasha clenched and unclenched her fists, "You stupid idiot... That was awesome. You have to show me one day how to do that."

"Absolutely not," Phil and Cap said in unison. Bruce grunted his agreement, no way my dear. You're unpredictable enough without his assistance.

"Stop encouraging him," Phil added, glaring at Natasha. "He does enough stupid stuff as it is."

Clint lowered his gaze, suddenly not so self-confident anymore. It was stupid what he did and went against anything they taught him but at the same time it felt kind of relieving. Like he found one missing piece of himself. "I love you anyway," Phil said nonchalantly in front of anyone. Clint smiled at his handler, brighter than he had in months.

::::::::::::

Nick stood in Clint's room at medical, glaring. "How did you get yourself so banged up again?"

Cap wanted to say something to protect Clint from a lecture but Phil beat him to it.

"Simple, Barton said fuck you to our dear Captain America, shot the snipers and jumped headfirst out of a window, stabbing Viper and Eel to death while he was at it."

Clint noticed how Phil's face beamed with pride and humor while he told his story.

"Hm," Nick's expression lit up with humor. "Well done. Best news I got all day."

Clint frowned, that wasn't what he'd expected at all.

"What? Thought I send you back to jail? No way in hell I give up my best asset. No matter how nerve-racking he is."

"Aw I knew you care," Clint smirked, surprising himself.

Fury chuckled, "Hell I missed ya kid. Call me when they clear you for duty. I have a mission you'll love." He was gone before Clint could reply.

"That went better than expected," Tony deadpanned. "Is he sick?"

"He'd rather die than admit it but he really likes Barton," Phil's eyes glittered with mischief. Clint loved that particular expression, Phil looked years younger that way and less serious. God, I love him.

"When do they release you?" Cap wanted to know.

"Tomorrow," Phil replied for him. "A few rehab sessions and he's as good as new."

"You lucky bastard," Tony huffed. "It's so like you to pull a stunt like that and getting away with it. I'd probably sit in a wheelchair should I ever try this."

"Know-how my friend," Clint's self-confidence returned. His friends approval was good for him.

"I could use a drink," Tony looked around the room. "Someone coming with me?"

"Don't even think about getting something stronger than soda," Clint was almost out of his bed as Coulson's mind comprehended what he was doing.

"You're not going anywhere," he scolded.

Tony stared at his friend with a wide and cocky grin, "Welcome back hotshot."

Clint blinked in confusion, "You tricked me. Asshole."

Stark laughed out loud, "See ya buddy." He dragged Steve along to grant his friends some space. "Time for a party," Tony gestured Bruce and Natasha to follow him. "I know you want to stay close but I think our presence is not longer appreciated," he winked.

Phil blushed furiously, "I have no idea what he's talking about."

"Oh, I think I do," Clint wore a defused version of his famous shit-eating grin. He was fine. He want against all the rules they beat into him and nothing bad happened. His mind finally broke the circle and started to realize that it was all a lie to keep him in line.

::::::::::

"God, home sweet home," Clint looked around Phil's apartment as if he had never seen it before.

Coulson was glad Clint considered his apartment home, "Soda? Food? T.V.?"

"I have something else in mind," Clint tried to get out of his jacket. Refusing Phil's help, "I can do that."

"Oaky," he let him. Watching carefully for any sign of distress.

"See?" Clint threw the jacket at Phil. The older agent caught it in surprise, "I'm your housekeeper now?!"

The archer took a deep breath, fighting against himself. "No," a strange glitter appeared in his eyes as he made up his mind. "You're my treasure," Clint wrapped Phil's tie around his hand and guided him into their bedroom. Pulling him into a heated kiss, "I love you Phil Coulson. I love you!" He panted against his lover's swollen lips. The voice inside Clint's head got quieter with each rule he broke, willingly; Clint knew he just had to be strong enough to ignore that damn voice a little longer and it would be gone. Fading with each passing day. He'd be free, and himself. I remember who I am. Clint absorbed his lover's warmth, enjoying his touches and Phil's breath against his skin. Every touch filled a gap inside his broken soul, gluing it back together, bit by bit. Phil was making him feel whole again. He loves me for who I am; he treasures even my quirks. Thank you love, thank you for loving me.

Phil's heart swelled with joy, "I love you too." He let out a surprised yelp as Clint let go of his tie and pushed him onto the bed.

"Clint," Phil whispered softly.

"It's okay," Clint straddled his handler. Struggling a little with Coulson's belt. Phil placed his hands on Clint's, helping him to open belt and pants. Clint leant forward, capturing Phil's lips again. Phil dug his fingers into Clint's strong hip as the archer rubbed their groins together.

"Oh," the muscles in his belly constricted.

Clint laughed softly against his neck where he started to kiss and bite the skin, "Don't hold back. You had a long dry phase; sorry about that." Phil's moan sent a spark of arousal through his body, drowning out the pain in his shoulder.

"As long as I have you," he gasped, letting his hands wander from Clint's hip to his back. "Let me sit up."

Clint looked confused but did as he was told. Phil caressed Clint's cheek before he guided his archer carefully onto the mattress, switching position, "I think that's a more comfortable position for you." Phil hovered over his archer, on his hands and knees. "You're not up to any strenuous position."

"It's about you." Clint lay on his back, looking up at his lover's warm eyes.

"No," he shook his head. "It's about us," Phil helped his lover out of his shirt. Studying every inch of him, memorizing all the changes. "You're still beautiful," he could see the doubt in Clint's eyes. "Have I ever lied to you?"

"No," love flooded Clint's gaze. Clint cupped Phil's cheek with one hand, tracing the fading lines of worry on his handler's face. "You're a lot of things Coulson but not a liar."

Phil faltered a little at Clint's next sentence, "Promise to never leave me."

"'Till death do us part," we're in it for life.

"Did you just propose to me?" Oh, please, please say yes. I want this. Be mine, forever.

"Depends on what your answer might be," Phil didn't plan on proposing in the middle of a make out session but it felt right.

"Yes, definitely yes!" Clint lifted his upper body to kiss his fiancé but his shoulder protested.

Phil's heart stopped for a moment, yes, he said yes! "Then yes I did ask for your hand," he pushed Clint's upper body gently back onto the mattress before he sealed their self-chosen destiny with a loving kiss.

The End