They drove to work together, the way they did every day, kissing good-bye in the car as a last ditch attempt to maintain some secrecy. There were rumors, of course, but only a handful of people actually knew for certain that Phil and Clint were together. Phil went straight to his office, stopping only long enough to get himself a cup of coffee. Clint headed for the range, making sure to be seen by a few people on the way.
As soon as he was certain he was alone, Clint slipped into a camera blind spot. He pushed up a ceiling tile and pulled himself up. From there he found his way into the air ducts and up the 20 floors to Fury's office. He waited until the man was off of his phone (which took far too long for Clint's liking. He wasn't sure how long he'd have before someone noticed he was no longer in the range) then dropped down.
Fury didn't flinch or look up from the paperwork littering his desk. Just said, in a smooth, cold voice. "Is there an alien invasion in the building that I am unaware of? Because if not, then I had better be imagining you dropping out of my ceiling."
Clint tried to smile but it faltered as the wise-crack come-back died in his throat. Fury's brown pinched slightly and he glared up at Clint. Junior agents mistook the look for annoyance but Clint had learned that it was actually how Fury expressed concern. He figured the misunderstanding had to do with the eye patch. It was hard to look soft when half your face was hidden.
"What's wrong Barton? Is Coulson- "
"He's fine, sir." Fury's brow pinched even tighter at Clint's formality. He used his pen to indicate for Clint to sit in the chair facing his desk. Clint obeyed wordlessly.
Fury stared Barton down, waiting for him to speak. But Clint's throat was too tight. He still wasn't sure if he could go through with this. If he was doing the right thing. He knew the pattern though. Knew that the clock was ticking. Only this time he wouldn't be able to survive when time ran out. He needed to do this. He needed to take pre-emptive measures.
"Barton, I'm calling Coulson right now if you don't – "
"I want the Widow-Maker Mission."
Fury's eye widened slightly. The only betrayal of his shock. "That mission is classified as above Top Secret. As in way above your pay grade."
Clint just shrugged. "I'm a spy."
"A damn good one. Which is why I was planning on giving you and Coulson the mission during the briefing this afternoon." Fury's tone was dismissive. Indicating to Clint that the conversation was over. But Clint had one more surprise for Fury.
"I want it to be a Kill Shot."
This time Clint's words caused Fury's jaw to drop. He recovered a half-second later, trying to cover it up with a yawn. "The Kill Shot Program is just a myth, Barton. Stop listening to rumors."
"With all due respect, sir, that's complete bullshit. The Kill Shot Program was established in 1973 under the false designation Alpha Charlie 17-3 within the West Berlin Auxiliary Maintenance Tax files, translated into Yoruban then run through a block cipher."
"Well, you going to tell me where you got your information from, or am I going to have to shoot the agent in charge of the Berlin HQ archives?"
"That'd be a shame since the files are stored in Prague."
Fury nodded. "All right." He stood up and walked around the desk, flaring out his trench coat behind him. He leaned back against the desk, crossing his arms over his chest. "You understand the full implications?"
"Sir, I took enough time to track down the documentation. And you know how I feel about paperwork."
"But are you sure?" Fury's tone softened slightly. "What about Coulson?"
"I understand your concern." Clint whispered. "But I know what I'm doing."
;;;
Phil smiled into his pillow. The blanket trapped in his body heat, nestling him into a cocoon of warmth. It felt like heaven in the winter morning air. He shifted his arm, ignoring the cool air it let in, and reached over for Clint. But his hand landed on cold sheets. His heart clenched and he bolted upright. Clint's side of the bed was empty. The bed made up as if no one had slept there. But he knew someone had. Clint had been here. Had fallen asleep in his arms.
Maybe Clint had just gotten up early. That happened sometimes. If he had a nightmare that he couldn't recover from.
Phil got up and searched the apartment. The bathroom. The kitchen. Living room. They were all empty. Clint was gone.
Well maybe the nightmare had been bad enough that Clint had needed to shoot. He was probably just at the range. Phil thought about calling him, to be sure, but decided against it. If Clint was trying to fight off some memory, then he needed his space to do it. Phil would just check the video feeds once he got to the office. Keep an eye on Clint that way. Make sure the man didn't work himself into exhaustion again.
Only when Phil got to HQ, Clint was nowhere to be seen. He wasn't in the range. He wasn't in his barrack. Phil ran a recognition sequence for the entire building. Wherever Barton was, it wasn't there. Panic finally started to creep up on Phil. He pulled out his phone and dialed Clint's number. Secret Agent Man started blasting from one of Clint's desk drawers. He yanked it open to see Clint's phone sitting atop a stack of papers. He slammed his phone shut. It was time to see Fury.
;;;
"Clint is on an assignment." Fury said cooly.
"I'm his handler. I would know if he had been given a mission." Phil was trying his hardest not to launch himself at Fury. "Not to mention the fact that even if his mission hadn't been cleared by me, which is impossible, he still would have told me about it."
"This is a Level 8 mission, Coulson. The assignment came from the Security Council directly."
"They asked for Clint?" Phil was shocked. Clint was the biggest pain in the Council's ass.
"Yes. They asked for Barton by name." Fury emphasized the name, pointing out Phil's mistake. No getting familiar at work. While at SHIELD, they were Coulson and Barton. No matter what they became once they were off the clock. "Now, you have work to do. I will keep you appraised of Barton's condition."
"Thank you, Sir." Phil headed back to his office. He was still pissed at Barton and Fury for keeping this from him. But he understood procedures and orders. He was just surprised Clint had actually obeyed them. He would have to ask him about it whenever he got back. Which hopefully wouldn't be that long. Phil hated to admit it, but he had gotten so used to having Barton around all the time that whenever he was gone it felt like a piece of himself was missing.
;;;
"Agent Barton was killed in action."
Phil's heart bottomed out. He gripped the arms of his chair as hard as he could. Fighting to keep himself in control. The hard plastic digging into his skin. He'd always known this was a possibility. He'd prepared for it. But he still wasn't ready for it. Had hoped that somehow it would never happen.
"He was on a mission in the Southern Quarter." Fury continued, speaking to the other two agents in the room. Hill and Sitwell. The other two people for whom this information was need-to-know. "We have been unable to recover any remains as of yet."
"So how can we be certain?" Sitwell asked.
"There can be no other conclusion given the mission's objective, target, and location. Barton has been out of contact for two weeks. He is officially listed as KIA. The general announcement will go out tomorrow and the funeral will be this Friday."
The meeting was dismissed but no one left. They were all hesitating; standing around awkwardly. Waiting to see what Phil would do. He didn't think he could do anything. His body felt paralyzed. His mind was numb. The words just echoing around. Analyzing everything Fury had said. Then it clicked. Fury. It was what Fury had said. They didn't have any proof. No body. No remains. So they didn't know for sure. Fury seemed certain, but Fury lied. Fury always lied.
That settled it in Coulson's mind. He wasn't sure why, but Fury was lying. Clint wasn't dead. He was still alive out there. And Phil would wait patiently until he came back.
;;;
Phil stared down at the tombstone. Nothing fancy. Just a plain grey slab. The only decoration, a bow and arrow in one corner. Phil smiled to himself. He'd have to bring Clint here whenever he came back. The man would appreciate that SHIELD had let him remain Hawkeye, even in death.
"How are you holding up?" Hill placed a hand on his shoulder.
"I told you Maria. He's not dead. Fury's up to something." Phil felt Maria's hand tense. He looked up and saw her lips drawn into a tight line. Her eyes full of concern. Tears about to spill out of them.
"Phil. We've been over this. It's been three months." Her voice was soft. Like he was a child. They thought he was in denial. He understood where they were coming from. But it was fine if they didn't believe him. They didn't have to. They'd see the truth when Clint came back. Three months wasn't that long. They'd have longer missions than that before.
"He's coming back. I know he is. Just wait and see."
;;;
The alarm went off and Phil was tempted to hit snooze. He didn't though. He had work to do.
He never needed an alarm anymore. His body waking every day at exactly 5:30. But he had to go into the office early. He had paperwork he needed to get done and it was the type he needed to be alone for.
He pulled into his space in the underground parking garage at exactly 4 am. He nodded to the guard who scanned him in. The guard didn't pay attention to him. He was on the phone. Deep in conversation with another agent. Phil caught a few words. Something about Fury being out on a solo field mission. That was interesting. Fury never did field work anymore. Phil just ignored it. Blowing it off as office gossip. Fury was probably just in some top secret meeting out of the country. Life had been pretty boring the last few weeks. People were starved for some form of excitement.
The papers were sitting in the middle of his desk. They seemed to glow like a beacon to him. The papers Fury had been pushing him to get done for weeks. That he had been postponing. Using every excuse and favor he had. The day Fury had dropped the stack of papers on his desk had been the first time Phil had actually considered it. Had started to think that maybe Fury had been telling the truth.
He sighed and bowed his head. Reading the first of a dozen files. The list of specialists who were in-between handlers. He'd be getting three of them. Three people to replace the one who'd been lost. It was time to find his new assets.
It was hard work. Emotionally and mentally exhausting. It took him all morning, but he got it done. He thought about just feeding them all into a shredder. But Fury would just make him do them all again. In triplicate. Phil sighed and gathered up the stack of forms. Might as well get this over with.
He decided to go to Hill's office. Even if the rumors of Fury being in the field weren't true, they had to have a basis somewhere. So the man was definitely not in the building. That meant Hill was in charge.
His path to the elevator took him past one of the employee lounges. The smell of freshly brewed coffee enticing him to take a detour. He had finished his last cup hours ago and the caffeine was wearing off. Days like today were the very reason, he thought, that coffee and alcohol had been invented. He needed a shot, but a cup of coffee would work for now.
He rode silently up the three floors. The half-dozen other agents in the elevator with him didn't make eye contact with him. Everyone knew his theories about Barton. There were all sorts of rumors of just how bad his mental break-down had been. Some were still under the impression that Phil had somehow found Clint's body and had had it stuffed and mounted and kept it in his bedroom. The theories didn't bother him originally. However, now that he was fairly certain he'd been wrong, it was annoying having to face that sort of embarrassment every day.
"Agent Smith saw him herself." One of the women whispered. Phil thought her name was Lucy Collins, but he wasn't positive. She and her twin Sandra tended to dress alike to try and confuse the other agents. Phil was too tired to try and look for the small details that marked the individual women.
"Is it true Fury's arm's in a sling?" Another agent, Steve Baltimore, asked.
"Yeah. And he's got a black eye. Smith said –"
The elevator doors dinged open and Phil stepped out, not caring to hear the end of the conversation. He had learned everything he needed to know. Fury was back in the building. Which meant this paperwork needed to go to him.
Phil pushed open Fury's office door before his knock had fallen silent. He took a step inside and froze. His whole body constricting. His heart beating loudly against his ribs. Fury was there, arm in a sling and a black eye blooming on his one good eye, just like rumors had said. But it was the man sitting across from Fury that held Phil's gaze. The man's back was to him. The blonde hair disheveled and filthy. But Phil knew.
The coffee and stack of papers in Phil's hand fell to the floor with a dull thud. The man's head started turning and Phil fled. He ran from the room, his unflappable exterior fallen away. He wasn't thinking, wasn't caring about the stares that followed him. He just kept running. Down the hallways and up the stairs. Needing to feel the pounding of his feet to help stem the wave of thoughts and emotions. He finally slid to a stop when he reached the roof. Sweat was pouring down his face. His tie felt like a noose around his neck. He tore it off, the suit jacket following it to the ground.
He put his hand on his hips, trying to even out his breathing. Trying to sort through what he'd just seen. What it meant. He must have seen wrong. They said there were people in the world who looked the same. That out there, there were other people who looked just like Phil, so there had to be people who looked like him too. That must be it. Fury had heard a rumor and had followed it up and had found a doppelganger. Phil bit his lip and closed his eyes, trying to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill out.
It had been seven months. Fury had gotten him new assets. He had finally accepted the fact, had finally started to move on. He didn't want to think about the implications of what it meant if his initial instincts had been right. Why the disappearance? Why the secrecy? Why had he not at least said good-bye? Phil's heart ached with all the unanswered questions.
"Give me a chance to explain." The voice was the thing that brought the truth home. Phil's chest tightened. The sadness and helplessness vanishing in a poof of smoke and his outer calm slipping back into place. He spun on a heel, slow and steady. He felt his gut clench as he saw Clint's face staring at him. The man looked worn and tired and his eyes were ringed with dark circles. Phil forced himself to switch into handler mode. Thinking like a SHIELD Agent, surveying the damage a mission had done to a subordinate. He refused to notice how Clint's blue eyes seemed to fall at the harshness in Phil's gaze.
"An explanation is unnecessary, Agent Barton. I'm sure I will gather all of the pertinent data from the mission report." Phil leaned down and grabbed his jacket and tie. He slipped the tie around his neck without tightening it before shrugging into the jacket. He took a step forward, to walk past Barton and to the stairwell. But Barton stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. Phil twitched away involuntarily. "I have a meeting to get to, Barton."
"Phil-" Clint's voice cracked. "Please-"
"Seven months." Phil whispered the words. Refusing to let his poker face slip. "You were dead for seven months. No warning. No good-bye. Nothing. I just wake up one morning to find you gone and then Fury tells me you're dead."
"I'm sorry."
"Sometimes sorry's not enough." Clint's hand dropped and Phil stepped past him, consciously keeping his steps slow and steady. His knees gave out slightly as he heard Barton give a heavy sigh but he kept walking. He had to keep walking. Because somehow those seven months didn't matter, they were just an easy excuse. What bothered Phil was the lack of warning. The sudden disappearance. The fact that Barton, who he had trusted with his heart and life, had left him. Had let him think he was dead. For seven months.
Phil tried to spend the rest of the day burying himself in a mountain of paperwork. He had gotten a copy of the new asset forms from Hill and was filling them out for a second time. Since the first batch had gotten ruined when he'd dropped them with his coffee inside Fury's office. Or he was pretty sure the papers had been ruined. He hadn't actually gone to check. Because that would involve talking to Fury. And he was almost as furious with Fury as he was with Barton.
Unfortunately Fury showed up in his office a few hours later. Fury shut and locked the door before leaning back against it. The bruises around his eye had turned a nasty shade of greenish purple. Phil purposely didn't look at him. Keeping his eyes on the forms in front of him.
"How are you holding up?" Fury's voice was strangely soft.
"Fine." Phil answered on automatic.
"Phil." Fury pressed, dropping past their normal work boundaries and resorting back to their days together in the field. When they'd been paired together more often than not and had quickly become best friends and the most efficient team in SHIELD history.
Phil looked up and met Fury's eye. "Nick." He kept his voice flat but Fury saw past it.
"It was classified. Top level. Only Barton and I knew. No one else. Not even Hill or the Security Council." Phil pondered over Fury's words. That at least explained why Clint – NO Barton, damn it! He left, you idiot. He left you alone. He obviously doesn't want to be Clint and Phil anymore. Time to start thinking of him as Barton again. - Barton hadn't told him anything.
"I saw the preliminary report." Phil had checked it as soon as it had been filed. It'd been a straightforward enough mission. Go in, shoot the target, get out alive. "We have hundreds of agents who could have completed that mission. Why Barton?"
"Because he asked."
Phil felt like he'd been punched in the gut. The air leaving his chest in a huff. "He asked?" His voice wavered slightly.
"I was hesitant to agree. I knew about your two's… relationship… but he was insistent."
"So you let him go, and you let me bury an empty coffin, and forced me to do a shit-ton of paperwork to get new assets, and-"
Fury cut Phil off, "Stop, Phil, just… stop." Fury rubbed a hand over his face. "Barton reported to me personally throughout the entire op. He – just – " Phil had never seen Fury speechless before. It was always snark and sarcasm and attitude. Seeing him floundering made Phil uncomfortable. "Fuck this. I'm not gonna be a fucking messenger boy." There was the old Fury. "Damn Coulson, pull your head out of your ass and go talk to Barton. You two are getting fucking ridicu–"
That was as far as Fury got. His words cut off when Phil flung himself around his desk and threw a solid left hook right into Fury's bruised eye. The sling on Fury's arm was the only thing that kept Fury from blocking the blow. It landed with a satisfying thud and Phil felt a vindictive sort of pleasure as Fury swore and groaned. Phil straightened up and smoothed out his suit. "Consider that my resignation." He strode from the office and didn't look back.
;;;
Phil blasted the radio on the drive back to his new apartment, trying to drown out his thoughts. He had moved last month. Once he had accepted that Clint wasn't coming back. He hadn't been able to stand the memories of the home they'd made together. Phil had packed away most of the more sentimental things, storing them in a storage locker upstate. Somewhere far enough away to prevent any late-night woe-is-me binges.
He was fantasizing about a Supernanny marathon and a gallon of coffee spiked with the hardest stuff he could find as he unlocked the door. He slipped inside without looking up. Letting the tension and sadness finally sink onto his shoulders, forcing him to hunch over slightly. It'd been a long day and it was only 2 o'clock.
"You moved?"
Phil's head snapped up as his whole body went rigid. Clint Barton was sitting awkwardly at the edge of the sofa. It was the same sofa from their old apartment but he was perched on the edge like he was scared to make contact with it. Anger boiled up in Phil's chest at this invasion of privacy. At the fact that he'd let Barton see just how much this all was getting to him.
If Barton had wanted out so bad that was one thing. He didn't need to keep pestering Phil about it. He knew how to take a hint. Even one that was as obvious as a billboard lit in neon lights. Barton had left. Whatever they had been, Barton hadn't wanted it. Phil would just have to learn to accept that. But he couldn't do that if Barton was dogging his every step.
Phil slipped his gun out of its holster and pointed it at Barton's head. "Get. The. Fuck. Out. Of. My. House." He growled.
"It's an apartment actually." Clint smirked half-heartedly. It was a joke he'd used to make about their old place. Phil always called it their house and Clint – BARTON - had always corrected him.
Phil cocked the gun. "Get out."
Barton's smile fell and he dropped his head. "Just two minutes. Just give me two minutes? Then I'll walk out and never come back." Phil weighed his options. As much as he wanted to crawl into bed and pretend this day had never happened, he wanted to hear what Barton had to say. At the very least it might give him some closure. He didn't speak, just un-cocked the gun without lowering it. Clint – Barton – understood.
"I made a mistake. We were getting serious and I got scared and I ran. Because… I needed you – I loved you – and I couldn't face that. Couldn't admit it. Because I was sure one day you'd wake up and want to end it and I knew it'd end me. So I left you before you could leave me.
I asked Fury for the mission because it was the best way out. Fury was gonna get SHIELD to have me declared officially dead. I'd make a last kill, then disappear forever. Go to some tropical island and shoot coconuts out of palm trees till I died."
"So why are you here?" Phil fought to keep his voice even.
"Because three days in I realized I'd made the biggest mistake of my life. That I couldn't handle life without you. That I needed you. I wanted to drop the mission and come back and tell you the truth. Tell you the way that I feel. But I couldn't. This was our only chance at the target. So I worked my ass off and got the mission done in half the projected time.
I thought about you every second and I knew that every day that went past was one more day – you could move on – forget about me – find someone new. I was scared I'd come back and you'd be with someone else. That I'd had thrown away the best thing that had ever happened to me. But… I didn't think… I didn't want to hurt you…"
"Don't lie to me, Barton." Phil spoke past the lump forming in his throat. Barton looked up at him with tears spilling from his eyes. His bottom lip was quivering slightly and it made Phil's heart clench.
"It's the truth. I love you – "
"You didn't want to hurt me?" Phil's hand started to drop unconsciously. "More like you didn't think you could hurt me. You thought that you were the only one invested in the relationship. That I thought it was just a fling, that I didn't really care, that I wouldn't –" Phil choked on the words. Clint stood up and took a step towards Phil. Phil wanted to move back, to run away, to not have to deal with this. But even more he wanted to step forward. To wrap himself in Clint's arms and never let go. "You were dead. I buried you. For seven months, I thought you were dead."
The tears were streaming down Phil's face now and the gun fell out of his fingers. Clint took another step forward, then another, and another. When they were less than a foot apart Clint raised a hand and placed it gently on Phil's cheek. Phil twitched away from the contact and Clint dropped his hand, looking like he'd been slapped. "I'm sorry." Clint took a step to leave.
"Clint." The word came out in a whisper that sounded more like a whine. Phil grabbed Clint's arm and pulled him towards him. Neither of them looked at each other. Finding the ground much more fascinating. "This isn't going to be easy. I had only just started to accept that you were gone. I know how Fury lies, so I thought it was just one of his games. But you never came back. One second you're in my arms, the next you're dead. And now you're here. It's going to take a while for me to get past that. To not be scared that you're going to vanish again. That I didn't do anything wrong."
Clint's lips were on Phil's before he realized what was happening. There was a need and desperation behind them. It took a second for Phil to catch up to the program and start kissing back. Clint pulled back before Phil was ready and he leaned after him shamelessly. But Clint pushed him back. Their eyes met and Clint gave him a quick smile.
"At the risk of sounding cliché, it wasn't you, it was me." Phil just huffed, a small laugh.
"Did you at least complete the mission?"
"Sorry, that's classified information. Last I checked you were no longer an employee of SHIELD." Clint smirked. Phil rolled his eyes and dug his cellphone out of his pocket. He sent a text to Fury, just one word.
+ Sorry+
He got a response a few seconds later.
+ Already forgotten. Debrief tomorrow. 0600. Bring your Hawk +
Phil smiled into the phone before tossing it onto the sofa. "There, Agent status restored, now, mission successful?"
"Yes and no." Clint smirked, his eyes sparkling with the same devilishness that Phil hadn't let himself realize he missed.
"How the hell can it be yes and no?"
"Well, I did kinda fail to kill the target – "
"The textbook definition of a failed mission."
"But I did manage to recruit her?" Clint looked at Phil sheepishly. Phil rubbed at his temples, fighting back the encroaching headache.
"You're back one day and I'm already getting a stress headache. Let me see if I've got this right. You turned the target and recruited them to SHIELD? And Fury didn't kill you?"
"He thought about it. But he was too damned impressed that I survived the Black Widow."
"The target was the Black Widow?! As in Natalia Romanova? Crowning achievement of the Red Room? The woman who has been on our hit list for years?"
"She's not so bad once you get to know her."
Phil dropped his head against Clint's chest. "I'm not going to help you with this. If you're going to bring home strays then you have to watch after them and teach them the rules."
"Does that mean I can keep her? Cause Fury said I had to ask you first. Said he wouldn't sign off on her in his god-damned building till his good eye had a look at her."
"You realize you're going to be the death of me?" Phil rolled his eyes as he leaned into another quick kiss. Loving how normal and natural it felt. Like no time had passed. His heart still ached. He was still waiting for Clint to disappear and for all of this to be a dream. For seven months he had hoped and prayed for Clint to come back. But he couldn't let himself let down his defenses yet. As much as he wanted to, he was still worried about just what would happen to his if Clint ever did die. He was pretty sure it would kill him. "Just promise me one thing?" Clint looked down at him, noting Phil's sudden switch back to seriousness. "Don't disappear on me again."
Clint smiled softly and planted a warm kiss on Phil's lips. Whispering around it. "Never."