(A/N) SERIOUS SPOLIER WARNING. IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN AGE OF ULTRON DO NOT READ! CLICK THAT LITTLE BACK ARROW AND COME BACK ONCE YOU'VE SEEN THE MOVIE.

All I could do for the past three days was stare at the door. I felt helpless as memorizing the cracking white paint on the broken down wood that Clint said he was going to fix after his latest project. It was a bad habit of his to fix everything that he could, there was never something that didn't need improving. I may give Clint grief for it, but honestly its more endearing than annoying. Then again it would be nice if there wasn't a gaping hole in the deck. There's nothing I can do about the deck Clint hates two things in life, at least the one he is privileged to share with me. One being an unbalanced bow, and the other was people he didn't know showing up at the house; especially when he wasn't there. Something that can be seen as being over protective but there are a lot of dangerous people out there who would love a chance to either kill us or use us against Clint. Even so Clint would pout for days if someone else finished his project. I just hoped he would come back to finish the job.

It's been four days since my last call from Clint, my condition for him working around the world for unknown amounts of time, and the second that I didn't get that call three days ago I knew something was wrong. He knows how much those calls mean for me and if he knows that he is going to be in a position where he can't pick up a phone he has Phil send me a message. That was our deal. So even as my stomach rolled and twisted itself into anxious knots I told myself that he was just a preoccupied and would call soon. Two hours later I started to worry.

Three hours after the time he was supposed to call my phone went off and I hit the answer button before the first ring could stop, at that point I still hadn't decided if I was angry at him or just relieved that he called. Before I could say anything to him Nick's voice came through the phone's speaker. Ice went through my body as I heard the words that left me constantly checking my door for the next three days.

"Clint's been taken."

After that time passed like a sloth. Everything seemed to drag on lazily as days meshed together. My fear only got worse when The Battle of New York happened. I never saw Clint on any of the news coverage, but there was footage of one of those alien things about to attack a family until an arrow ripped through its neck. I only know of one person who has the accuracy and ego to aim for the neck. Clint was there. That was yesterday. Today I waited for him to come home while Cooper did his homework and Lila took her nap. Lila is barely out of diapers so I couldn't tell her about what happened to her father, that he was taken, and Cooper was to young to understand what was going on. I could tell that Cooper knew something was wrong but I don't think that he knows what exactly happened.

Then, there it was.

The anxiety of the past few days was about to finish eating away at me when I heard it. The beautiful sounds of a quinjet landing in the field, I couldn't stop myself from pushing past the broken down door and jumping over the hole in the deck to get outside as quickly as possible. Because there it was, I never thought I would miss the sight of a dark grey jet sitting on the freshly mowed lawn, and then there he was.

Nat was with him, an arm slung around his waist to help keep weight off his left foot. His arm was around her shoulder and he leaned on her more than he supported his on weight. For every painful looking step they took towards me I had made three strides in my sprint towards him, my eyes watering with tears of relief that let loose as I saw him. He was injured, yes. But Clint was alive.

"Clint!" I yelled as I got closer to him. I don't think I've ever ran that fast in my life.

He looked up, slower than his reflexes usually allowed, and his stormy grey eyes seemed to brighten when he saw me. Something I'm sure was partially because of how quickly he pushed any sign of physical pain in his features so he wouldn't worry me. But I was already worried. And now a few feet away.

I couldn't stop myself from wrapping my arms around my, obviously injured, , husband. His breath hitched slightly but I was unable to get myself to let go of him. "You're okay," I whispered into his ear, if it was a question or a statement of my own relief was unknown to me.

"I'm okay." His deep voice was hitched with pain, but he didn't push me away. No, he wrapped the arm that wasn't around Nat's shoulder to wrap around my waist and pull me closer. His breathing was labored and I immediately recognized the sound of him attempting to breath with broken ribs. I tried to pull away- I didn't want to hurt him accidentally, but he didn't let me go. No, he buried his face in my neck and latched on to me. Something happened to him, something bad.

I was so lost in the shock of seeing Clint again that I almost didn't notice his legs giving out beneath him. The world snapped back into real time for the first time in three days, everything slid in to focus. I pulled away and saw Clint's injuries rather than just him being here for the first time, it was horrifying.

There were an abundance of small cuts all over his body- the largest of them were held together by butterfly stitches while the smaller ones were hidden by simple bandages. I noticed the cut in his pant leg were someone had sliced the fabric open to reveal the wound underneath. A long gagged cut that had been expertly stitched together. There was also a worrying bruise that laid just below his hairline. But the most troubling wasn't a cut or a bruise but how drawn he looked. He obviously hasn't had much, if any, sleep since he had been taken. I doubt that he had much to eat or drink either.

I think that Natasha might have said something but I didn't care. All I did, and could do, was follow Clint as he slid to the ground.

"You wanna try the 'I'm okay' thing again?" I asked my husband that laid on the ground panting one arm clutching Natasha's shoulder like a life line.

He laughed dryly before sucking in a deep, shaky, breath. "Not really." His eyes screwed tight in pain, his leg was probably killing him from whatever had happened to it. When he opened them again they were less lucid than they were when I first saw them, and more broken than they had been before his latest mission. His concussion was worse than I anticipated. "Long time, no see."

"To long." I pushed the hair away from his bruise to get a better look at it.

Clint's eyes left me and focused on something behind me. "Cooper."

I twisted around to see Cooper staring at us all wide eyed with the fear at the sight of his father lying on the ground in pain.

No, he shouldn't be seeing this. "Cooper," I called while trying to keep my tone as calm and reassuring as possible. "Go back inside honey. Everything is fine, why don't you go out back and play?"

Cooper ignored my request. "What's wrong with dad?"

Clint shifted so that he could make eye contact with our scared son. "Everything's fine, Coop. Listen to your mother and go and play, everything will be fine. There's just some boring adult stuff we gotta do- then you can help me fix that hole that I'm sure your mom's been complaining about for the last few days. Alright?"

Running with the small comfort that Clint gave him Cooper nodded. There was hesitation as he started to head the other direction, but eventually he was out of sight and I could put my attention back to my husband; even though I knew there was going to be a very hard conversation with Cooper very soon.

Meanwhile Nat was trying to coax Clint into standing up again. "Come on Barton, you've had worse than this." She attempted to pull him up, but his leg wasn't having it.

"Something's wrong with it." He muttered, "Something's wrong with the wound. It hurts to much." He clawed away the fabric to reveal a large bruise that made itself known in the middle of his calf.

Nat swore, I assume, in russian when she saw the growing bruise on his calf. She abandoned her position, so he was no lying flat on his back, and holding him up to probe his calf. "He's bleeding internally."

Of course he was. I swear if he dies I will pull him right back down and kill him over again. "What do we do?"

"Get him inside. I'll do what I can for him, but I'll have to call in a medic." Nat glanced at the house then back at Clint who had was clenching my hand with a near bone breaking grip. I'm sure there was barely anything restraining him from doing it now. "The kids shouldn't see him like this."

I nodded in agreement. No child should have to see their parents in this much pain, hell I don't want to see him in this much pain and I 'm sure Nat would agree with me. "Do we have much choice?"

"You know," Clint said out of the blue, "I could try building us a new tractor. It's only a matter of time before that one breaks down."

Oh no. Clint only comes up with these crazy home renovations when he's stressed or delirious, and with the state he's in I assume it wasn't the first of the two. "I'll handle the kids, let's just get him inside before he decides to redo the whole farm."

"Agreed." Nat looped her arms under my husbands knees and I grabbed him underneath the shoulders and we started to carry my battered and bleeding husband to the house that he left a gaping hole in the deck.

Whatever happened to him over the last few days left its mark, and even though Clint was here and safe, it was going to take a long time to get him to realize that. I definitely have my work cut out for me getting him back to the man he was before he left, but I've always like a challenge.

(A/N) Okay I've wanted to write this ever since I've seen Clint's wife. I do love Clintasha with all of my heart, but I also really love Laura Barton. I love how she is so supportive of him. So less than twelve hours after I saw the movie I started this fic. I don't really know were I'm going with this yet, but I'm excited to find out.