Claire was coming off a double shift when a group of guys in masks and black clothes ran out of the alley next to her building. They had guns and bags and were huge. Claire ducked behind a car and waited for them to pass. Living in New York had made her accustomed to danger. Living in Hell's Kitchen had taught her not to engage. She closed her eyes and waited for them to pass, hoping they hadn't spotted her.

Counting to 20 she exhaled and ducked around the car, wondering what they'd been doing in her alley anyways. She got her answer 2 seconds later as she walked past the alley and heard a groan. Rolling her eyes she muttered, "I should have known." Turning and walking in, she glanced around; it was empty which left...the dumpster, again. She really need to talk to Matt about where he chose to collapse after a fight because this habit was really unsanitary.

"Yeah." A voice groaned. "You better, run." Claire slowed; that wasn't Matt's voice. Bracing herself, she glanced over the side of the dumpster and down onto the bloody, bruised form of an Avenger.

"Hawkeye?" She said, recognizing the hero.

"Heeeeey." He looked up, and squinted through swollen eyes.

Claire grabbed him, putting his arm over her shoulder, she dragged him to his feet.

"Hey, I am a married man." He slurred.

"I'm sure your wife won't mind me saving your life." Claire grumbled, heaving him higher on her shoulder.

"Mmm, probably." He mumbled. "Nooo, staaaaairs." He said, looking up at the stairs of the building. Claire rolled her eyes. "How about, I bleed out here." He suggested.

"How about you shut up and keep moving?" Claire said through gritted teeth. "Before those guys come back to finish the job and I decide to let them."

Making it up the stairs and into her apartment, She put him on the couch and began to remove his tactical uniform.

"Hey, buy me dinner first." He muttered, pulling away. Claire glared and pointed down at her scrubs.

"You see these? That means I have medical training. Which means I can stop you from getting an infection and dying a horrible death...if you shut up and let me do my job."

Hawkeye looked up at her in surprise, then nodded. "Seems reasonable." He mumbled, undoing the top of his suit. Claire grabbed the emergency first aid kit and washed out his wounds. Stitching them up, she bound them with gauze and bandages.

"There you go, Hawkeye." She said, straightening up and stretching her back.

"Clint." He said.

"What?" She said, rubbing her shoulder and yawning.

"My name's Clint and my kids and wife owe you." He mumbled.

"The fuck is a man with a family doing, shooting arrows into people?" Claire grumbled, going to her kitchen.

"Excellent question." Clint replied. "How are you so good at this?"

"I'm an ER nurse." Claire said.

"Uh huh." Clint said. "You didn't seem surprised to find me bleeding out in your dumpster."

Claire knew what he was trying to uncover and kept her face even. "It's Hell's Kitchen; stranger things have happened." She paused before adding, "the hospital where I work was shot up by the Punisher and attacked by ninjas and zombie kids. After that, finding Hawkeye in a dumpster seems...boring."

"Ouch." Clint grumbled, a small smile playing at his lips. "well thank you...?" he waved uncertainly in her direction.

"Claire." She said. She grimaced down at the blood on the couch, before getting up and getting a glass of water.

Two days later she found a new couch in her apartment with a box of homemade muffins and a note from a Laura Barton thanking her for saving her dumbass husband and inviting her to come visit her farmhouse whenever her job got too stressful. Claire took a bite of the muffins and sighed. "As long as he and his friends don't make a habit of it." She muttered.