Unbroken

"Are you broken?" Hill demands, the lines of her face sharp, carved into marble.

Clint glances up. "Not yet."

"How close are you?"

"I don't..."

"How close?" She says it almost without inflection, but Clint can see the way she holds herself – restrained, controlled, disciplined. He taught her the tricks of sighting and shooting; what to look for when taking the shot.

She's taking the shot now and he can't fault her aim, even if it stings like failure.

"Barton..."

He slams his hands down on the desk, needing the contact, needing the noise and the movement and the violence. "Too close. Is that what you want to hear? I'm too close!"

She doesn't flinch, damn her and her cool changeling eyes. "They say admitting it is the first step towards recovery."

He glares at her before getting up and stalking for the door, unwilling to prolong this interview any further.

"Clint." He stops, turns, faces her with dread. Only now there's compassion on her face. This isn't the Deputy Director who needs to know his weaknesses, but the woman he trained – the agent who's also someone he trusts with his life. "Get yourself sorted out. For your sake."

"Not the world's sake?"

"There are five other Avengers," Maria points out, rather more gently than he expects. "But there's only one you. Get yourself sorted for your sake."

fin