A/N: Yup, I'm already back. Yay…? BUT, before getting to it…

THANK YOU, from the very bottom of my heart, for all yours reviews, listings and affection! It doesn't stop amazing me how many of us enjoy seeing our favorite Hawk go through stuff like this. (grins) You're AWESOME! Thank you!

Awkay, before I get all sappy… Let's go! I really hope that you'll enjoy the story.

The Hazards of Traffic

Clint was a fast runner, always had been. Which came in handy, considering the speed at which he usually had to flee from his perch. Or, presently, the nasty habit of trying to speed off some of the people he chased at work had.

The Avengers' mission was almost over. Which, of course, was when he noticed a one more man they'd been tracking down running away from the building like the devil itself had been chasing him. Carrying one of the five flash drives they'd been looking for.

Clint, who just abandoned his latest perch, did a quick mental check. Tony and Bruce were busy with the technology they just found. Steve was reporting back to Fury. Natasha and Thor were still inside looking for the very bastard and item that were currently speeding away.

"Uh, guys… Target spotted", he announced tensely. He took a shot at aiming his arrow but it was like the other man had known to expect it. The running pattern made any attempts of aiming impossible. Knowing that Steve was busy elsewhere he swore mightily. "I can't get a proper shot. I'm going after him."

"Roger that. Give him a good tussle for me, Pigeon", Tony quipped.

Clint grinned. "I'm planning to, Tin Can", he promised. And so he was already on his way.

Now, Clint had been taught to look both ways before dashing to a road. Right there he completely forgot to apply that rule to sidewalks. Almost as soon as he sped past the aparment building, his target firmly in sight, a massive force impacted with him. Before Clint had the time to realize what was happening he was flying backwards. His back was the first to connect with a wall and his head soon jerked the same way. For a long, painful moment he saw stars but adrenaline did a good job at clearing his head.

What the hell happened?

"Watch where you're fucking going!" a highly unpleasant, painfully loud voice barked. Looking to side Clint saw a young man with shortcut, disheveled blond hair speeding away on a bicycle. Not looking back for even a second despite the fact that he still hadn't gotten up.

Clint muttered a few well chosen words under his breath, pressing a tentative hand against the back of his head. Only to feel something warm and sticky. Fantastic, he was going to need stitches…

"I got him." Natasha's voice was tight. "Hawkeye, what the hell happened?"

Clint groaned. Pulling together all his stubbornness he hoisted himself up. It felt like his whole body had been one big, nasty bruise and his head swayed dangerously. "I… had some technical difficulties."

"Technical difficulties?" Steve repeated, sounding unsure whether he should believe it or not.

Clint gritted his teeth. Tony was going to have a field day with this… "I got ran over by a freaking bike."

For a moment it was completely silent. Then, barely audibly at first, Clint heard a couple of stifled chuckles. "Are you serious?We're gonna get you a full body armor for the next one!"

Clint rolled his eyes. He was pleased to discover that most of the dizziness was fading away. "When you least expect it, Metal Man, you're going to find an arrow from your arse", he growled.

"Are you alright?" Bruce, ever the doctor, interrupted the banter.

Clint sighed and winced at the ache it caused. No wonder with how violently air got knocked out of him. "Yeah. My head may need a couple stitches, though."

"Okay, get back to the Quinjet and I'll give it a look."

"But watch out for the traffic", Tony reminded him. The man wasn't laughing but didn't sound far off. "We don't want to scoop you off the pavement."

Clint rolled his eyes. One corner of his lips was twitching, though. "Tough words to a man who knows each and every inch of the Tower's air vents. And keeps watch on you with exploding arrows."

"Fury would pluck you if you shot me on a mission."

"Are you sure?"

"Well, Pepper would."

It was a very, very long flight home. The stitches Clint could take. The headache, too, since this wasn't exactly the first or harshest time he banged his thick skull. (Natasha's words, not his.) The nausea that appeared soon was a whole another story. He wiped the grin off Tony's face with vomiting on the man's shoes. At that point Bruce announced that he definitely had a mild concussion.

That night was a long one. Clint was able to talk Thor into heading towards Asgard when duty came calling but there was nothing he could do about the rest of the team. Which was infuriating because he'd always been the type that preferred being left alone when they were ill or wounded. No such luck, since the others seemed quite insistent on sticking to the 'wake up every few hours and ask a million questions' rule.

"You've gotta be kidding me", Tony groaned. "I've provided you with a perfectly good bed. And that is where you choose to sleep?"

Clint woke up with a start, his aching body and head instantly paying back for the jerking motion he made. He winced and forcefully bit back a groan. As soon as he could be sure that he wouldn't cry out from it he peered cautiously over the hammock's edge towards the training room's floor. "I'm fine, you know?" He sounded amused rather than irritated. An accomplishment, really.

Tony, who clearly hadn't slept a wink that night although it was three in the morning, snorted. "Yeah, really convincing, Legolas. You looked that way when you almost passed out on us." The man shifted weight from one leg to another and scratched the back of his neck. Was that… guilt? "Well, eh… I'm glad that you'll be okay. It would've been sort of pathetic to have the famous Hawkeye flattened by a freaking bike."

Clint smiled, catching on despite feeling like his skull had been torn in two. "That makes two of us." He stifled a yawn, mostly because he wasn't sure if his body would've been able to handle it. "Now go or I'll start target practice. Judging by the looks of it we both need sleep."

Tony lifted both hands in surrender. "Fine, fine. No need to get hostile." The billionaire seemed to be holding back a grin. While walking away the man suddenly came to think of something. "Creative use of the gym ladder, by the way. I'll bet Bruce and Natasha weren't impressed, though."

Clint smiled, even if only to himself. "No, they weren't." He dared to yawn, just a little, while settling back down to his nest as comfortably as possible. "G'night, Tinman."

"Goodnight, Robin Hood."

Over the next couple of days Clint's head improved immensely. Unfortunately his still aching and bruised body wasn't exactly following along. He'd recover faster from harsh missions. He wasn't sure if it was pathetic or amusing. Maybe both.

He refused to stay idle for long, though. On day three of his recovery he finally managed to talk Natasha into having a brief, light sparring session with him. She wasn't exactly thrilled about it.

"Are you trying to get yourself killed?" Natasha's voice barely rose but her eyes blazed in a way that spoke loudly enough. "You're panting and wincing!"

"Which is why I need to do this." Although he had to admit that she had a point. "You know how bad I am at laying down doing nothing! Do you want it to be like after Dublin again?"

For the briefest of all moments Natasha's eyes widened. Then she groaned. "I might strangle you with my bare hands this time." She sighed heavily. "Okay. Let's see how out of shape you are."

She was holding back. He knew her well enough to see that immediately and it shot a spark of razor sharp irritation through him. But the sad, infuriating truth was that he still barely managed to keep up. They spun around, kicks and punches flying the entire way, and the further their dance advanced the more out of breath and achy he became.

And then she managed to throw him against the floor, landing gracefully so that she was hovering above him.

"Did that prove my point?" Worry that only someone who knew her as well as he did could hear was loud and clear in her sharp tone. "You're not ready for this!"

Clint barely heard. All his focus was stolen by the fact that it felt like his whole left side had been on fire and torn open simultaneously. He'd felt such physical agony only once or twice in his life. That fact alone was beyond alarming.

Natasha frowned. "Clint? What's wrong?"

Clint tried to answer but couldn't. How was he supposed to speak when he could barely breathe? The shockwave of panic was unexpected. Almost more so than the taste of blood lingering in his mouth. All he could do was press his hand gingerly against the hurting spot, like such a simple action could've wiped away the hellish pain.

Natasha's heart was pounding furiously while she stared at her friend's face, which had gone deathly pale and clammy in a flash. For a mighty while she didn't have any idea what to do or what was going on. Then, with a firm level of self control, she grabbed the hem of his black shirt and pulled it upwards. What she found there made her stomach knot and her mouth go dry.

There was a massive, dark bruise on his side. And it seemed to be spreading underneath her very eyes. She had no medical training but she recognized what she was seeing.

Internal bleeding.

Was it possible that her pulse sped up still? "You idiot…! You completely missed a broken rib, didn't you?" She could only hope that he didn't notice how her voice cracked ever so slightly. Possibly not because his eyes were drifting closed. The kind of sheer terror that overcome her was so foreign that it scared her a little. "Clint, eyes open! Trust me, you do not want to make me any more furious than I already am."

Clint seemed to be struggling for breath. His barely open eyes were alarmingly hazy. "S… Sorry…" He moaned and shifted as though trying to escape his very skin, only to whimper loudly under the agony the motion caused. His whole body was shaking miserably. "… hurts …"

Natasha gulped. It had to be horribly bad if he actually admitted that much. She wished that she would've managed to offer words of comfort but she'd never been one for many words. Instead she took his hand and squeezed harder than was scrictly speaking necessary.

That was when hurried steps entered the room. "Jarvis gave me a tip that something's wrong. An ambulance is on the way. I would've taken Bruce along but he's away with Steve", Tony announced hurriedly. He was doing a far worse job at hiding his panic than Natasha while assessing the barely conscious archer's condition. "Hey, Tweetie, stay awake and tell me how, exactly, someone with your field experience misses a broken rib."

Natasha sighed. All the adrenaline speeding through her system was getting exhausting, really. "Pain tolerance", she revealed. "I've seen him running around with two bullet wounds. Sometimes I wonder if he registers anything short of a limb being missing."

Was that a grin or a grimace? It was impossible to tell. The very next second Clint was drifting away once more.

"Hey!" For once Natasha didn't care if she sounded desperate. Her hand tightened still around the Hawk's unnervingly limp one. "Call it a lights out now and I'll tell him about those boxers you wore in Singapore."

Clint tried to shift but didn't get very far before an agonized wince. "… not my pick… a joke…"

Tony's eyebrow arched. For a couple of seconds his eyes darted towards her. "How would you know about Birdie's boxers?" Clearly he was trying to create a distraction, for himself, her or all of them was impossible to tell.

Natasha shrugged. If the situation had been a little less horrible she might've grinned. Probably not. "Where do you think he was shot?"

Clint sighed. He wasn't trembling anymore. His eyelids were drooping even more heavily. And his breathing… It sounded bad, as did the wrenching coughs. "… 'king bastard… ruined my favorite boxers and suit…" With the last two words his eyes closed entirely.

"Clint!" they called out simultaneously. No reaction. Natasha's hand wasn't steady when she checked his pulse. It was there but barely.

"Don't you dare…", she murmured. Later she would've admitted to no living soul how she sounded, staring at his almost lifeless looking face. "Or I swear…!"

Before she had the time to finish her barely audible threat the paramedics came rushing in. The few minutes that followed were pure chaos while they asked an overwhelming amount of questions that she answered the best as she could. The entire time she couldn't stop staring at their furious efforts to stabilise Clint.

And then they were already dashing away with him, leaving her and Tony staring at their distancing backs like two lost children.

In the end Tony blinked twice, then sighed heavily. His hand twitched but then he seemed to think better of it. Good. "He's… He'll be okay. Feathers is tougher than he looks."

"He'd better be", Natasha scoffed. She didn't care if it didn't sound right. "Because if the moron dies of a collision with a bike I'll find a way to bring him back so I can kill him myself."

The four days that followed were full of tension and seemingly endless waiting. The first step was dreading the outcome of Clint's massive operation. While he did give the surgery team a scare or two he was stubborn enough to pull through. And then they waited again for the moment when he'd be strong enough to try his wings breathing on his own. (His doctor's words, not theirs.) Usually patients in Clint's condition wouldn't have been allowed visitors, let alone several of them. But there were only so many objections the staff dared to throw at the Avengers.

On days two and three, from almost right after they found out that Clint made it through the surgery, Natasha was missing. When Fury gave him a tip that she was coming back Steve gritted his teeth and inhaled. "I'll go and grab some coffee for us. The proper kind." He glanced towards the still unconscious and heavily medicated archer. "Keep watch in the meantime."

"Oh, we will." Tony, who'd been playing cards with Bruce, checked the doctor's hand while the man cast a yet anot glance towards Clint's vitals. "Besides, he wouldn't be a moron enough to try something stupid after the threats Natasha gave him before taking off."

Steve made it to the hallway just as Natasha rounded the corner. She looked ike she'd been to hell and back but also oddly satisfied. The Captain knew why. Along with the word of her return Fury sent him a link to a newsclip. It was about a biker having been attacked viciously. The poor bastard survived but would most likely be scarred for life.

"You okay?"

Natasha nodded tensely. "Yeah." She definitely didn't look it as she nodded towards Clint's hospital room. "How is he?"

"Hanging in there. They'll try to wake him up in a day or two." He was rather surprised to have enough command in his voice to stop her from walking away. "Natasha, wait." He went on without waiting futilely for her to turn towards him. "I already had this conversation with Bruce. What happened to Clint… It wasn't your fault."

For a couple of moments her shoulders tensed up. Then, without saying another word, she entered the room and closed the door firmly. Steve sighed wearily before heading the opposite way. He did promise the troupes coffee.

Clint woke up to the oddest feeling of having an elephant sitting on his chest. He groaned and tried to make himself comfortable. No such luck.

"You shouldn't move around too much." He knew that voice…! "You're going to be very stiff and sore for a while. Having a broken rib get up close and personal with your lung does that."

With a massive amount of effort Clint managed to coax his eyes halfway open. After a worryingly long time Natasha's face finally distinguished. She, however, wasn't the one who spoke, since she'd fallen asleep to a chair dragged right beside his bed. Her arms were folded and there was a light frown on her face. Instead he found Tony looking at him with strangely serious eyes that had dark circles around them.

Clint frowned and licked his lips. They felt painfully dry. "How long was I out?" he croaked. Oh, his voice sounded horrible!

"Too long." Tony aimed towards irritation but several other emotions slipped through. "We'd very much appreciate you not trying to kill us all with a heart attack." The billionaire then helped a straw to his mouth to let him drink some water. The man went on once he'd hungrily gulped down five mouth fulls. "How are you doing?"

Clint sighed although it hurt a little. He wished that he would've had the energy to rub his face with both hands. "Fine. Just… fuzzy." He nodded towards Natasha the best as he could. "How's she?"

Tony rolled his eyes. "You know how she's been. I'm pretty sure that this is the first time she's asleep since you went down." The man offered him a look of genuine sympathy. "You should rest while you can. You're in for an ear-full when she wakes up."

Clint sighed. His eyes were already closing. "'know what?" Fantastic, he was slurring… "'think I will…"

"I'll let the others know that you've finally decided to join us." His careful ears were quick to spot the immense relief hiding underneath. A hand squeezed his shoulder so briefly that he might've imagined it. "It's good to have you back. I've gotta admit, though… I never thought you'd be the unicorn pattern kind of a guy."

Clint was so preoccupied by his exhaustion and Tony's parting words that he didn't notice how the frown faded from Natasha's still sleeping face, giving way to a small smile.

End of Oneshot.

A/N: Yup. Clint in unicorn boxers. Imagine that. (smirks) Poor thing! Who would've thought that something so harmless would turn out to something so nasty? (Well, we all did…)

Sooooooooo… Any good, at least? To be deleted instantly? Do let me know! It's always awesome to hear from you.

Next up? 'Of Hawks and Bees'. Imagine THAT…!

Gah, I REALLY have to get going now. I should be asleep already. Until next time, folks! I really hope that I'll see you there!

Take care!

Guest 13: I'm THRILLED to hear that!

Heh, a pretty juicy thought! And the end result? Clint ends up getting an ulcery from stressing out… (snickers)

Gigantic thank yous for the review!

Guest 1: (bows and grins like a loon) It feels SO GOOD to hear that! And I sure will continue. We'll see how many of these things will pop out. Maybe that 1001…?

Monumental thank yous for the review!

Guest (first): GOSH, how happy I am to hear that you enjoyed it so! (BEAMS) Awwww! That's so heart warming. The surest way to reach me is via PM, if you've got an account. (smiles and hugs)

Massive thank yous for the review!

Guest (second): I'm glad that you've enjoyed these stories!

Ah, a very good point! I'll include that tiny bit as soon as I can.

In the first flashback/hallucination Clint was somewhere between seven and ten years of age. In the second one he was between thirteen and seventeen. In these tales in general he's at around his 'Avengers'/'AOU' age unless mentioned otherwise.

Huge thank yous for the review!