This chapter ended up being longer than I anticipated. However there was a lot I wanted to cover under this chapter, because as you will notice, each chapter kind of has a theme. You may not be able to read this chapter in one sitting honestly, but it will definitely be the longest chapter, I won't go any longer in any other chapter. Nevertheless I hope all of you enjoy, and thank you to those who have left feedback for the first chapter. It means a lot to hear what I did that you both liked and didn't like, so thank you.

/

The Purple Heart

/ Laura's Point of View \\

I remember the week leading up to Cooper's birth as probably one of the most frightening weeks Clint and I had experienced together at that point. He would yell at Fury and even Natasha over the phone when they insisted he needed to come into work. I swear, if he wasn't such a skilled combatant they would have fired him a long time ago for his stubbornness. He refused to leave my side throughout that whole week, scared that one false move could result in him losing me or our son. I almost got the sense that he was more scared than I was during the whole thing.

Cooper was born very early in the morning, and while I could barely stay awake at that point, I remember Clint was awake and by my side throughout the whole night. When I was in pain, he'd rub my back and shoulders gently, or run his hands through my hair as he tried to distract me by humming softly.

Even when I managed to drift in and out of sleep, I don't think he got any sleep that night. Instead he sat beside me, always awake, alert, and ready to take my hand, or distract me from the pain. I told him to rest, but he wouldn't have it. I never knew Clint to be one to turn down sleep, but when he was working, protecting me and our kids, he could never rest until knowing we were all safe.

Clint took two months off of work to stay with me after Cooper was born. Between how Clint couldn't seem to ever put Cooper down, to how he insisted on being involved in every little part of his life, whether it be bathing, feeding, or even making sure he fell asleep, I started to think parenting suited Clint more than his career.

A part of me was hopeful this would last. Because while Clint made me proud with the work he did, I was optimistic that perhaps this was the start of a more involved life together.

Clint was not a doubt made to be a father. I knew this the moment I woke up in the hospital, and saw Clint sitting beside me asleep with Cooper cradled in his arms. He loved our children deeply and fiercely, but the calling of his work eventually took hold of him again, and he returned to the fray.

/

Lila's birth could not have been any more different than Cooper's.

In the hours after I was recovering from a c-section, it wasn't Clint, but Cooper who sat by my bedside.

While the thought of my newborn daughter was on both of our minds, so was the worrisome fact that Clint had not called since I left a message that my water broke.

Eventually a call did come, from Natasha Romanoff.

And not an hour later, Cooper, newborn Lila, and I were all flown to a SHIELD hospital facility, so I could be in the same hospital as my husband.

/

The door of the hospital room opened slowly, as I wearily looked up to see Natasha slide into the dim room. I had no idea what time it was, because I fell asleep as soon as I was admitted into the new hospital. Lila was in the nursery so I could rest, and thankfully Cooper had managed to fall asleep curled up in the chair beside me. Natasha, approaching only after seeing that Cooper was asleep, slowly came and sat on the edge of my bedside.

It was hard to see through the dimmed lights, but even with that, I could tell Natasha's face was more pale than usual. I could see the look of dread in her eyes, as I asked,

"Nat, what's going on? All they told me was that he was in surgery and I…"

She dropped her head slowly, and pained eyes avoided my gaze. She started to speak very softly, to the point I found it hard to make out some of what she said. But I knew she was keeping her voice down so Cooper wouldn't wake or hear.

"He coded during surgery."

I felt as if a wave of nausea hit me suddenly, as my hand went to my chest, and I laid back into the hospital bed for stability. Natasha saw my instant discomfort, and immediately declared calmly,

"He's alive,"

As she got up to get a bin for me to get sick into, she repeated steadily,

"He's alive, Laura. They were able to bring him back, he's alive."

But no matter how many times she said it the thought of my husband's heart stopping the same day that I brought our daughter into this world, all became a little too much.

I threw up three times. Natasha sat in silence, but she kept a soft hand on my back and helped to calm me down and eventually was able to get me medication for the nausea and anxiety in my IV.

I was grateful that throughout the ordeal Cooper remained asleep. Eventually I calmed down enough for her to explain everything,

"It was supposed to be an easy mission, a quick in and out. But we were ambushed and Clint got shot."

She pulled up her loose t shirt for me to see a large white bandage on her side.

"I got hit too. But he must have gotten a major artery nicked, because he…Laura, he lost a lot of blood."

The way her voice tightened and her gaze avoided mine, I couldn't help but know that good news likely wasn't to follow.

Natasha had to sit down as she said in a hushed voice,

"Once we got him into surgery they were able to fix the gunshot wound easily, but he had lost so much blood, that his brain wasn't getting enough oxygen, and his heart stopped. They were able to bring him back with the defibrillator, but Laura, he's…he's still not awake."

If I hadn't been on the medications I was on, I likely would have passed out when Natasha said that the doctors confirmed him to be in a comatose state.

/

One of the hardest things I have ever had to do was explain to my 5 year old son that his dad may never wake up.

At the time, he didn't understand what 'being in a coma' meant, or even the dangers of being shot in the back. He was confused on why this was happening, and whether to feel happy about being a big brother, or scared for his dad. I knew the hospital frightened him, and I saw as he became frustrated.

He hardly talked over those next few days, and instead would simply fall asleep next to me in my bed, or hold his arms around him and evade my gaze when he was awake. I would have taken him and Lila home by this point, if the stress and c-section recovery had not caused several complications.

Once Natasha was discharged, she suggested letting Cooper see his dad. She saw, as much as I did, how frustrated he became over the fact that his dad was here, but yet Clint never came to see us. He didn't understand, that Clint physically couldn't.

I eventually agreed, because I saw how the confusion was tearing my son apart. But I knew I needed to see Clint first. So Natasha helped me into a wheel chair that allowed me to travel with my IV still in, and she had a nurse take me to Clint while she stayed with Cooper.

I had seen Clint hurt before: coming home so bloodied that even as a retired nurse I couldn't take care of him. I had seen him wheelchair bound, having seizures, and even sat by his bedside twice while waiting for him to recover from surgery because of gunshot wounds. But this was nothing like anything I had ever seen him go through before.

He laid there entirely still besides the slow rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, that matched the sound of oxygen being pumped into him. An oxygen mask covered a good portion of his face. But past the mask, I could see the very much recognizable face of my husband, only he was unnaturally pale and his eyes remained firmly shut even as I called out his name and took his hand.

It was almost hard to believe he was alive, let alone hold onto hope that there was a possibility he could wake up and recover. Machine ventilators breathed for him, while IVs provided him nutrients, fluids, and medications. I don't know how long I sat there, my hand over his, as I took in the sight and tried to comprehend it all. Here I was, the mother of a beautiful newborn baby girl, sitting beside her husband who may never wake up to meet his daughter. There weren't many ways to cope with the overwhelming emotions I had in that moment, so for the longest time I simply held his still hand up to my lips, kissing and holding them gently, as I didn't even try to stop the stream of tears that fell onto his hand.

Seeing Cooper have to cope with the same sight was even harder. Natasha eventually brought him in, and she held his hand as she led him to Clint's bedside, saying to me that Cooper woke up and wanted to be with me. It hurt to see the weight of the situation take its toll on him. It hurt to see deep grief and sadness be thrust upon my little boy, as he looked at his father with fear in his eyes.

I gestured for him to come close to me, and I took his hand in mine. I tried to make the situation easier by explaining to Cooper that dad needed to rest for awhile.

"Is he going to wake up?" He asked timidly, as if afraid of the answer.

"I don't know," I answered honestly, trying to hide my tears from him.

/

Natasha really became a part of our family when Clint was in a coma. I couldn't bring myself to leave his side, but both Natasha and I knew, that Cooper couldn't live in the hospital with me and Clint. So Natasha took Cooper back to our farm, and Lila and I stayed with Clint.

Over the next two weeks I hardly left Clint's side. As a retired nurse, I knew how to take care of him, and so I looked after him over those weeks. I monitored his vitals, and reviewed his charts every day. I would also help move him slightly each day, to prevent bedsores. It was never easy feeling my husband's completely limp and unresponsive body under my arms as I adjusted him each day, but I never failed to take care of him.

As his wife more than his nurse, I sat beside him and with his hand and mine, would talk to him for hours on end. I'd tell him about Lila, and how she had his eyes and hair color. Most of the time I had little Lila in my arms when I sat by him, and sometimes I'd just describe her movements to him. In my mind, though not medically proven, I'd like to think he somehow understood that he had a beautiful healthy little girl to wake up to.

When the stubble on his chin grew out more than I knew he would have liked, I shaved for him. When Lila cried, I would take her out of the room to calm her, so he wouldn't have to hear. When there were nights that I couldn't sleep, because of my worry and fear for him, I'd go to the small chapel in the hospital and pray.

After two weeks Natasha encouraged me to come home. But every other day I'd leave both Cooper and Lila with her, and I'd go and see him. It was hard to leave my newborn daughter, but at the same time it was hard to care for her with Clint in the hospital. Everything was hard during those long weeks without him.

At the beginning of the third week, he began to breathe on his own again. But I didn't allow myself to hold onto a newfound hope until a day later, when I felt him apply a small amount of pressure to my hand as I held his. Two days later he woke up.

The first thing I did when he slowly opened his eyes, was calmly say his name, and explain to him that everything was alright, and that I was here. I tried to not overwhelm him, but as soon as he gained full consciousness I couldn't help but kiss him, and tell him repeatedly how much I loved him. He leaned his head into me, and as I ran my hands through his hair and held him close, he said weakly yet casually, "hey Laura."

He was groggy and fatigued those first couple days, but he lit up as soon as the rest of his family came. Upon Cooper running up and hugging his dad tightly, Clint weakly ruffled his hair and said with a smile,

"Hey lil buddy."

Cooper threw his arms around his dad's neck and said,

"You were asleep for a long time."

Clint smiled sadly and rubbed his son's back softly as he tried to keep a light hearted tone,

"I know, I know. I was just tired Coop, needed a big long nap."

"I missed you," Cooper said tearfully.

But Clint tried to calm him as his voice grew soft and he just held him close as he said,

"I know. But it's okay I'm here, I'm not going anywhere."

I saw Clint smile towards Natasha with gratitude in his eyes as he held Cooper close. He knew that she took care of us when he couldn't. However when his eyes fell upon the little bundle in her arms, I saw his eyes mist over in tears he tried to hold back.

I knew what was running through his head as Natasha handed Lila to me, and then I brought Lila to him. I knew he felt guilty for not being here to help me, for the fact that I had to cope with his injury while caring for a newborn. I knew he sad that he could have possibly left us before meeting his daughter, or even that he missed the first three weeks of her life. But as I settled her into her daddy's arms, all those feelings must have simply disappeared as Clint smiled down at her, proudly, lovingly. He seemed to find a sudden newfound energy and strength, as he sat up and cradled her gently.

/

After those three weeks our lives were changed forever. Clint spent nearly six months recovering, partially because he was hesitant to go back to work and leave Lila and Cooper again.

After Lila was born, the stakes definitely changed in our household. When Clint did eventually go back to work, the fear of him getting hurt or even killed was much more real, for both me and Cooper. Seeing Clint so weak and vulnerable had brought a sense a reality to both me and my little boy. Every time he left home after that, it was harder.

We did have one more scare when Cooper was about 12 years old, Lila around 7, and Nate less than a year old. Clint and Natasha were in a bad aircraft crash, but Clint took the brunt of the injury when the quinjet crashed harder on the side he was on. He was impaled with glass, and ended up with internal bleeding. When he was rushed to surgery they could only operate so much, before he was too weak to handle the rest of the procedure needed to address his life threatening wounds. They closed him up, put him on painkillers, and basically told us if he lived through the night and gained enough strength, they would operate tomorrow.

Natasha ended up confessing to me that they were giving him a 10% chance of making it through the night.

I brought Cooper, Lila, and Nate to the hospital, in what I thought may be the last time they saw their dad. As we approached his room, I grabbed both of their hands in mine and kneeled down in front of them.

"I know its late, and we're going to go home after this, okay?"

Lila nodded groggily, I could tell she was exhausted.

"But daddy, well he got really hurt at work," I tried to explain.

"Is he going to be okay?" Lila asked with wide eyes.

I rubbed her hand and looked down as I said,

"I don't know, but the doctors are going to do everything they can, okay Lil? And Aunt Nat is going to stay with him all night, look out for him for us."

Lila nodded slowly, worry clouding her eyes.

"We just need to, tell daddy how much we love him now," I said finally, as I held back tears through a sad smile.

Lila went in first, but before I could go in with her I saw the look on Cooper's face. He didn't want to see his dad like this again, I know he didn't. Memories of when he was a little boy made him naturally fearful of having to see Clint like that again. But I also knew that unlike Lila, Cooper was older and deserved to know more of the truth. I kneeled down in front of him again, looking up at him I said softly,

"I know you don't want to see him."

He shook his head firmly, and avoided my gaze.

"I don't either," I admitted softly, as I took both of his hands, and looked up at him with tearful eyes.

"But I think he deserves our love no matter what, and that we will probably regret it if we don't give him that," I continued.

"He's going to die, isn't he?"

I looked up at Cooper, as I could feel several tears finally roll down my cheek after hours of trying to stay strong for my kids, before finally finding the strength to say,

"I didn't want to tell your sister, but…yes, this may be the last time you see your dad."

Cooper looked down to avoid my gaze and nodded.

"So you want me to say goodbye?"

I blinked back tears as I nodded.

Cooper was almost 13 years old, and he deserved to be told the truth. But still, I will never let go of the guilt I feel for sending him in there knowing this was likely the last time he'd see his dad alive.

Natasha offered to take the kids home so I could stay with Clint, but I decided against it. Like Cooper, I said my goodbyes that night. While I wanted to be there for him, I also knew that my kids would need their mother when the time came. Natasha agreed to stay with him all night, and to call me when it happened.

When my phone rang at 8 o'clock in the morning, I was expecting to be informed that I was a widow. But instead Natasha told me that Clint survived the night, and was gaining back some strength and would likely have surgery soon. We ended up taking him home two days later, and he made a smooth recovery within two weeks.

/

My husband's resilience amazed me, but each time he was wounded in action it took a toll on us all. After the crash that nearly took his life, I urged him to retire. And he did, for awhile.

Against my better judgement, he couldn't resist the call of duty. He loved what he did, and even as he got older and each injury slowed him down more and more, he kept fighting.

I wanted him to see our kids graduate high school or even college. I wanted him to walk Lila down the aisle one day. I wanted him to be able to meet his grandkids.

Clint wanted all those things too, and so he vowed to retire when Cooper graduated high school. I argued that if he got himself into enough trouble and injured himself badly enough that he'd have to move the date up. He only laughed, but he did say he would go to Fury the next day and make it official, his retirement date. And that he did.

/

Note: The Purple Heart is a United States military decoration awarded in the name of the President to those wounded or killed while serving, on or after April 5, 1917, with the U.S. military.