No one knows what its like to be the bad man.

"What the hell are you doing?"

This had not been what Barton had imagined and he was pissed. Fair enough he had brought Tony Stark with him, but he had little choice, as soon as Stark had gotten wind of where he was heading, there was no stopping him and he had reasoned with himself it was better for Clint to be the official buffer between the two men than Stark turn up unannounced.

Clint had been worried sick, when he had first heard of Phil's disappearance, if he had any doubt about his feeling for Phil they had vanished when the situation had become clear, he was still very much in love with the man, that didn't mean he was just going to stumble back into his life though, that would take time, but, if he was honest with himself, it was a matter of when, rather than if. As long as Phil still wanted it of course, and that wasn't a given, based on his behaviour right now.

Barton thought back through the last few days, he had walked in to S.H.I.E.L.D HQ and the place had been buzzing, he had never experience the place in such a tizz. He had been called back from assignment, thankfully, it had been a long, boring, drawn out stake out, in the back of beyond, that any number of Agents could have done. It had taken him nearly two days to get back to civilisation and close to another before he had finally turned up at HQ, still with no idea of why.

When he had found out, his world had dropped out once again, being in love with Phil Coulson was getting ridiculously hard on the emotions, the man was a walking disaster movie of his very own! He kept telling himself, 'he's not dead, he's not dead,' there would be time to get him back, ALIVE, he was too important an asset just to kill off and the elaborate set up to capture him was testimony to that, but when he'd caught sight briefly of Fury, looking more flustered and apprehensive than he could ever remember seeing, his worry had notched up ten fold.

Natasha was still away, one of only a few that hadn't been recalled to work on the Centipede hit. He'd had no one to turn to, and had ending up at Stark Tower and the Avengers joint shoulders to cry on or at least to tell them of his worry. They had been great, welcomed him back into the fold, even though they had not exactly been happy when he had gone off on S.H.I.E.L.D business again. The organisation had more than blotted its copy book in their eyes and unless the world was in mortal danger they really wanted nothing to do with them right now. Stark had been beyond furious when he had been told about the Coulson deception, Rodgers had made his distaste for the whole business very clear but it had been Stark that had really blown his top, numerous angry calls to Fury had followed, who in turn, had got his own back on Clint for telling tales by reassigning him straight from the mission, that had sent him in to rescue Coulson and his team, which had directly lead to discovering Fury and companies deceit. Coulson had been whisked away too, to recover, apparently, on the bus as they flew off to their next mission. The only consolation was that it had taken Coulson away from the Avengers animosity, he was sure that Phil had been thankful for that at least. Clint was sure that Phil liked Stark, secretly he rather enjoyed his brand of humour, not that he would admit it, nobody ever admitted it! The man was a menace especially when he got a bee in his bonnet and the others had a tendency just to go along with his flow, or possibly they just nodded their heads, in what they hoped, was the right place to keep the illusion of listening to Stark up and Coulson really won't want that attention turn on him.

Once Phil's latest retrieval had been completed, Clint had gotten a call from Hill, to fill him in, it had been a tense and short conversation, Phil was bruised and a bit battered but according to Hill, who had tried unsuccessfully to lighten the mood, he was already suited up and ready for business. She had gone into great detail about how Centipede had been hit hard all around the world, and Clint couldn't have cared less, Coulson was safe and that was all that mattered, and then all he wanted was to see for himself.

Tony had helped find where the bus had been parked, it had taken his computer skills no more than five minutes, and of course he then invited himself along, even when Barton had almost begged Stark not too, he had wisecracked about Agent having to face the music sooner or later, Clint had sighed but agreed.

So here they were, Coulson had a face like thunder, the deep bruises around his eye only enhancing the vision. Stark had ranted and raved at him, and Phil... Phil had just stood there. It had been a relief when Tony's phone had demanded his attention and he had stepped out into the hallway to take it.

As soon as he stepped out of the room Barton had rounded on the silent man, demanding to know, what the hell, Phil was doing, cause yes, Clint had thought, for all Stark's crap, he had deserved some explanation, an apology for the lies that had been told. Not the heartfelt one that he had received himself obviously but some sign of remorse that would sooth the Iron Man's temper.

Sure he had been through yet another terrible time, he was probably tired and sore from the roughing up centipede had dealt him, but he'd been through much much worse before. This type of snatch and grab wouldn't have been much of a surprise to Coulson, it made sense for the villainous organisation to target him, after all, his little team of misfits had apparently been a serious thorn in its side for a while and there was no better way to hit back, than by cutting off the head that lead them.

But Phil was pushing even Clint's patience with his best Stoic, bland, Agent of Shield, act. He had stood in the whirlwind that was Tony Stark, and had not uttered a single word, the only reaction from the man was when he had folded his arms, which had wound Stark up even more and Clint had to lay a restraining hand on his shoulder to stop him taking a swing at the older man (tried to at least, Clint couldn't imagine Coulson allowing it to land). As Tony had started to run out of words with no counter foil to produce more, the phone had gone. Clint could hear him out in the hallway now, short, terse answers signalling a conversation that wouldn't go on very long.

He was disappointed, the man in front of him didn't seem to be the one from a few short weeks ago, this one resembled the Phil Coulson of old, the one he had met when he first joined. The bland, calm, emotionless man that never let anyone in, sure Phil had always been pleasant, helpful, a team player through and through but he had also been joyless and sterile, granted, he was probably seen like that even now by the Junior ranks but he had allowed his personality out to those he came into contact with regularly, he was warm and full of humour, Clint liked to think their relationship had relaxed the man even more, everyone thought it was Barton himself that had changed the most, as he himself, had grown to trust again, to love, but they were very similar in many way, intensely private at heart. Phil of the two of them was the easier to get along with, but his secret was to put people at easy with the least emotional content put in on his own behalf. When asked what people knew about Phil, very few could actually give any details at all.

"Well?" He asked.

Phil only shrugged his shoulders, they were tense shoulders, neck stiff, his eyes hooded, but constantly darting away, they had a hard and unforgiving look but touched with something Clint had never seen. He reassessed the situation, this wasn't an indifferent Coulson, it was difficult to pin point what it was, it unnerved Clint, Phil looked... unbalanced, and Phil was the poster boy for stable, even when the world was going to hell, this was new and it all raged behind his blue eyes, nothing showed on his face.

"Phil?" He took a step towards him, and couldn't help the flinch when the man stepped back from him.

"Barton!" Starks voice vibrated round the room, Clint took a quick look back out into the hallway to see Melinda May blocking Starks entrance back into the room. When he turned back, Phil had backed himself up against the desk and was gripping the edge with both hands, knuckles turned white with the pressure. Jesus, Clint thought, he looked ill, pale and drawn, sweat breaking out on his forehead, he should have paid more attention when Stark had forced his way into the room with his usual larger than life brashness. As he looked now he wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around and comfort him. They had come stumbling in here, taking the bruises at face value but there was obviously much, much, more going on here.

"Barton, will you tell this woman, to get the hell out of my way!"

"Phil," he tried again to break through the barrier but watched as he only tensed up more.

Phil looked away and quietly said, "Please, just take him away." It was a plea, and one he couldn't ignore, in asking Phil had revealed the fragile man he was in that moment, standing here, closed off, tormented by a nightmare, he wasn't ready to share.

"Please," he breathed.

Clint nodded, staring wide eyed with concern but without another word walked towards the door and the ever increasing volume of Tony Stark. He paused at the door and took one last look at Phil, dress immaculately in his protective suit of armour. Phil swallowed, nodded his head minutely in thanks. He knew in that moment that what had happened to Phil, in the days he had been missing was bad, so so bad and he did the hardest thing he had ever done in all the years they had been together, he turned and walked out the door. As it shut behind him he imagined the man sinking to the floor in despair, but Barton knew deep down that he would more than likely simply walk round his desk sit down, pull the next piece of paper on the pile toward him and start working.

The irritation he had felt towards Phil earlier was easy transferred to Stark. "Get Coulson's Pit bull out of my face, Barton."

"May," he sighed, "it's OK, we're going."

"What! No, I haven't finished with that son of a ..."

"Shut up, Tony," Barton interrupted sharply and was pleasantly surprised when Stark snapped his mouth shut and walked away throwing his hands up in the air.

He looked at Melinda May, Tony's description not a million miles off, as she glared at the pair of them but he was glad of it too, he needed to know that there was somebody here for Phil, Coulson and May had an odd looking relationship on the surface, but he knew that he trusted her with his fella and more importantly Phil trusted her. He glanced round at the shut door one final time, he so wanted to go back in and gather the man to his chest and take him to bed, in the hope of driving his demons away but Phil wasn't ready for that, he was in a dark place, he needed to come to terms and admit that. He felt something being placed in his hand, looking down at a small flash drive, "For your eyes only, Barton," May stated.

He nodded once and turned to follow Stark off the plane.

"and Clint," he turned his head in answer, and watched as she indicating briefly at Coulsons closed door, "he's done with being the bad man here, don't bring any more of his so called friends back if they don't understand and except that, he can't take any more."

Barton nodded once, turning despairing eyes to her, "you'll watch over him... please," he whispered.

"I will." she acknowledged, and Barton felt a few seconds of relief before his fingers gripped the flash drive in his hands and he stumbled away from Phil each step harder than the last.