Stage Four
Clint doesn't cry the day the tests come back and he's diagnosed with stage four pancreatic cancer and given less than a year and a half to live, if he's lucky.
Instead, he goes out to the barn, grabs his old recurve practice bow and a quiver of arrows and shoots. He starts by hitting the bull's-eye on both targets in the barn. Then, he fills every single ring with arrows. Right when he starts firing at the rotting ceiling beams, the door to the barn creaks open and Laura walks in.
Clint doesn't stop. Not even when, after examining his work, Laura asks, "Clint, what's wrong?"
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees her sit down on his work bench, but he ignores her. Laura knows not to press him; he's done this before, and she knows how it will play out. So she waits.
Ten minutes pass before Clint reaches back into his quiver and grasps thin air. He's out of arrows, and he immediately deflates. Only then does he answer his wife's question, his voice less than a whisper: "I…I have cancer."
.
They decide together not to tell the kids. Rather, Clint decides, and Laura goes along with it at first because that's what he wants.
They get in an argument about it one night after Clint spends all day in bed, too exhausted to even lift his head from his pillow, and Lila asks why Daddy missed their tea date. "Clint, they know something's wrong," she insists. "You need to tell them the truth."
"No, I don't," Clint snaps. His voice isn't as forceful as he would have liked. "Did we tell them about the time I got mind controlled? Or the time I got shot in the gut? Or the time…"
Clint trails off, and Laura can tell he just realized this time isn't like any of those ones. She watches him shatter before her eyes, and she stays to pick up his pieces even though she knows he's been broken beyond repair.
They tell the kids the next morning.
.
Clint used to dream about dying on a mission.
He'd be shot in the head; he'd be beaten and tortured; he'd be caught in an explosion and blown into so many pieces they couldn't even give him a proper burial. He's lived every possible scenario over the years, but none are terrifying as the one from his most recent dreams.
In it, his family watches him die slowly, painfully, in a hospital bed as the cancer ravages his body, leaving him gaunt, pale and weak. And, like always, he wakes screaming. But Laura can no longer soothe him back to sleep like she used to.
.
During his second round of chemo, Clint is confined to the hospital. He's not responding well to it this time; his days are spent in a drug-induced fog, and he can't hold down any of the food he's given. Laura can only visit when the kids are at school, and he sleeps most of the time she's not by his side.
One day, though, he wakes up and sees Natasha standing in the doorway. He's convinced he's dreaming, but then she sits down at the edge of his bed and rests a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, partner," she says, her voice thick with emotion.
Before Clint can ask what she's doing here and how she found out he's sick, the bile rises in the back of his throat and he's sent groping for his trashcan. Natasha grabs it before he can, and she holds it for him as he vomits up the toast the nurse gave him less than a half hour ago. When he's done, she nestles him back into his blankets and cards a hand through his hair.
"Rest, Clint, it's okay," Natasha says gently as he begins to drift back to sleep. "You know I'll always have your back."
The next day, Laura hesitantly admits to calling in backup while Natasha is taking a catnap in a chair in the corner of the room. "I just didn't want you to have to be alone. I didn't know who else to call."
Clint manages to sit up long enough to wrap her in a tight embrace. It's the best way he can think of to thank her.
.
His cancer has spread. Laura asks what their options are, and the doctor admits they're limited. Chemo hasn't been effective, and probably wouldn't make a difference at this stage anyway, but there are some promising clinical trials going on in Colorado if they're interested.
Clint bristles. "I am not going to be an experiment," he snaps without thinking. Laura shoots him a dangerous look, but he folds his arms across his shrunken chest to tell her it's nonnegotiable.
On the ride back to the farm, they sit in silence. Clint expects Laura to break it, but she keeps her red-rimmed eyes on the road.
"I want to go to Vienna," Clint announces suddenly, smiling to himself at the memories the city calls to mind. "It's beautiful this time of year, and I know you'd love it."
In response, Laura pulls the truck to the side of the road, puts it in park and looks him straight in the eyes. "Is this really what you want?"
Clint knows she's not talking about Vienna. He manages to swallow the lump in his throat and fight back the tears flooding his eyes. "Laura, I'm so sorry. It is."
.
He's aged since Steve last saw him, and he can tell by looking in his eyes it's not his past that's done it. It's his future. But he doesn't press for an explanation, and Clint doesn't offer one. Steve does notice Clint keeps self-consciously tugging at the brim of his dingy black Iowa ball cap, but he doesn't think anything of it.
Clint hears Steve out as they sit on the porch, only nodding once or twice, his dull eyes tracking Lila and Nathaniel as they play in the front yard the whole time. When Steve asks him what he's thinking, he sets his jaw and takes a deep breath through his nose. "You wouldn't have come all this way if you didn't need me. And it would be an honor to serve with you again, Captain."
Steve stands up, shakes his hand and tells him he needs to get back to New York. Clint asks if he needs him to go too, and he says no. There are plans and preparations still to be made. "Take the time to be with your family," Steve says, and his words ring hollow because he's the one taking him away. "We'll pick you up Sunday morning and can fill you in on the way there."
.
When Laura finally breaks down the night before he's scheduled to leave, he reminds her of what she told him before he went off to war with Ultron. Holding her close, not wanting to let go even though he knows he'll have to soon, he whispers, "If I'm not going to get to be here to be their dad at least I can help save their world."
She cries, and he lets himself cry with her. Eventually, they cry themselves to sleep.
.
Laura made his favorite breakfast—cinnamon French toast with a dash of powdered sugar—but Clint isn't hungry. His stomach is churning, and he can only take a few small bites before he has to set his fork down. Thankfully, the kids don't notice, but Laura does. As she takes his plate, she breaths in his ear, "It's okay, Clint."
Clint tries to focus as Cooper tells him about his math project on arrow trajectories, but his hazy mind is quick to wander. Lila must have left the TV on before joining them for breakfast because the mindless theme song from her favorite cartoon show is playing in the background. Nathaniel giggles at something, and his brown eyes scrunch up like Laura's always do, or did back when she had reasons to laugh. He hears the clatter of dishes being dropped into the sink, and Laura emerges from the kitchen and plants a kiss in his hair before reclaiming her seat next to him.
This is what he always wanted. And he reminds himself he's lucky he even had the chance to have it before he can dissolve into bitter tears.
.
They embrace wordlessly on the porch. Laura can't find the words to express how much Clint means to her. Clint can't find the words to tell Laura how sorry he is he even had to make this decision. He runs his fingers through her hair; her hand lingers on his cheek. Neither wants to be the one to let go.
It's Clint who finally pulls away. He doesn't even try to smile. He only leans down, kisses Laura on the forehead and turns away.
She doesn't fault him for not looking back. As soon as the quinjet is a speck in the distance, she returns to the house, goes upstairs to their room and lies down on his side of the bed. And she cries because he deserved, had earned, so much more than this.
.
Tony makes a joke about his hat within seconds of his stepping on the plane. Even though they all notice it quickly, nobody comments on his purple ribbon. It had been Laura's—she wore it when she participated in Relay for Life shortly after his diagnosis—but Clint had asked if he could wear it after their last dinner together as a family. She pinned it on his collar for him right before he left their room for the last time.
They deserve to know why he's here, and he's not strong enough to tell them. He can see the understanding, the grief, the pity, in all their eyes. As soon as he's seated, he tugs the brim of his hat over his eyes, pulls out the picture he's carried on every mission and looks at it instead.
Natasha sits down next to him. She whispers, "It'll be like Budapest all over again," and he smiles faintly. She grips his hand defiantly, begging him not to let go. He didn't then, and she can't let him now. But it's his time. He's accepted it. She will too.
.
The two rounds of chemo he had have dulled his senses, slowed his reflexes, exhausted his body. He's overmatched, and he knows it. They're all overmatched, and they all know it. This may very well be the battle they can't win.
From his perch under the rocky outcropping hidden away from the thick of the fray, Clint calls out their enemy's patterns and movements. He loosens arrows into threats his teammates don't see coming and into as many of the reinforcements flying over head as he can. But he can only watch as they begin to fall.
Then it dawns on him. They need a distraction. He can give it to them.
He knows everyone can hear him over the comm, but he doesn't care. "Hey, partner," he says, and his voice hitches as he chokes back a sob. "When you get back, tell my family I love 'em."
.
And Natasha does just that.
Later, when they sit on the porch alone as the kids watch Up on the Disney Channel, Natasha tells Laura she owes Clint her life—they all do, really—and she cries for the first time since she learned he had cancer. Through her tears, she admits, "I don't understand why he didn't fight."
Laura does understand, but she cries anyway because she wishes he had.
PLEASE READ: This piece was inspired by a conversation I had with a friend about the Infinity Wars. I just couldn't understand why, after what happened in AoU, Clint would get involved in that. Why would a guy with a wife and three kids who, let's face it, isn't the most important Avenger go on what would basically be a suicide mission for him? My friend is convinced Marvel will eventually kill off his family, giving him no reason to live. I didn't want to go down that road so I came up with this. I'd like to say that the mission he leaves for doesn't have to be read as the Infinity Wars (I intentionally left it open ended) but that's what inspired it (and, yes, it is very AU either way).
Anyway, I would really appreciate hearing your thoughts on this. I spent a lot of time on it, and it would mean so much. Thanks for reading! Until next time. ~Moore12