Clint sat in silence, just watching Pietro sleep.

The young man was shuffling restlessly, his eyes shifting beneath his eyelids as if he was suffering from a particularly bad nightmare. A light sweat beaded over his pale skin. Hesitantly and as gently as possible, Clint rested a hand to his shoulder. He didn't keep it there for long, drawing back almost immediately.

He was so young, still just a child, too young to get involved in the kind of mess the avengers got themselves in.

A loud yell shot through the silence and the avengers were jolted awake. Clint leapt up, rushing to Bruce, who was hyperventilating badly, scrambling so he sat up against the side of the middle section of seats in the centre of the jet. Panic flashed through his eyes and, as Clint quickly knelt beside him, he could see a heavy coating of sweat sheening on the doctor's forehead.

"Banner, hey, Bruce, look at me." Clint ordered, trying to get through to him as his gaze flicked around rapidly. The archer could swear he saw a tinge of green in his irises and he carefully braced a hand to the side of Bruce's neck, drawing his eyes to his. "Bruce, it's me. It's Barton…"

Bruce let out a few choked gasps in between gulping in the air, obviously attempting to speak. He kept swallowing, almost nervously, and Clint could feel him shaking, shivering from the shock of his nightmare. Clint guessed he'd had a nightmare anyway. He knew the team well enough by now.

He also knew that Bruce was vulnerable at the best of times, so now he just looked like a complete wreck.

His hands shook as he grasped at Clint's chest, finding a hold on his suit. He needed something to hold onto to, something to anchor himself, so Clint didn't protest. Bruce shut his eyes, his teeth clenched together as he lowered his head, as if defeated.

"Just a dream." Clint murmured, half worried his words might seem patronising to the doctor. He pressed on. "It was just a nightmare Bruce, you're in the Quinjet and we're going on mission, you remember?"

Bruce swallowed again, nodding. His hands refused to slacken their hold on Clint's suit, his eyes still shut as if trying to block everything out. Clint was suddenly aware of him whispering under his breath and leant in a little closer to listen.

"Don't want to hurt anyone…" Bruce breathed the words, barely audible. "Please don't let me hurt anyone…"

"You haven't done anything Banner." Clint assured him, his voice etched with kindness. "You haven't hurt anyone, I promise."

"Have to stop me…" Bruce went on, shaking his head. "You have to stop me… If I lose control…"

Clint shook his head, moving the hand not laid to Bruce's neck to one of the doctor's wrists. "It won't come to that." He whispered, gently easing Banner's hand off of his suit. "You've got this under control, I know you have… You don't have to be afraid." Bruce swallowed, shutting his eyes as he blew out a long, calming breath. Clint cast him a reassuring smile. "You okay now?" The doctor nodded and Clint slowly got to his feet, giving a single nod.

Bruce opened and closed his mouth, obviously attempting to speak. No sound was uttered, however, and he simply blinked gratefully up at Clint, who inclined his head again in understanding.

The archer turned to make his way back to his seat. Bright, blue eyes stared back at him; Pietro was awake. His white hair was slightly tousled and he appeared to be a little panicked, his eyes wider than usual. Clint noticed a thin sheen of sweat had gathered on the kid's forehead. As Barton had guessed, Pietro had been having a nightmare.

"You alright kid?"

Pietro nodded, a little too quickly. "Yeah, I-I just… I thought I was somewhere else…" He mumbled the final few words, almost inaudibly, refusing to meet Clint's eyes.

Clint's gaze softened with sympathy but he didn't ask, understanding that Pietro would probably rather keep it to himself. He glanced out of the window, noting the ascending height of the sun, half hidden behind thick, white clouds.

"We'll be getting there soon." He informed, turning back to Pietro. The young man was pushing himself up into a sitting position, rubbing his eyes through a yawn. "You could probably get another half hour if you want."

Pietro shook his head, still rubbing his eyes. "No, I think I slept long enough. Anyway, I should be ready."

Clint smirked slightly. "You're not fighting kid, I told you, you're too young."

"You might need my help." Pietro murmured, glancing up at him.

Clint grinned at the seriousness in his eyes, his face quickly falling as Pietro shook his head. "Hey, it'll be fine kid. We've done this loads of times." His eyes flicked to Pietro's hands, which he was nervously fidgeting on his lap. "What's up…?" He pressed on, frowning anxiously as the young man remained silent. "Come on Pietro, what's the matter?"

Pietro shut his eyes briefly, letting out a soft sigh. "Wanda, she…" He shook his head sadly and lowered his head. "It's not her fault. She can't reach my mind anymore; she thinks I'm dead so our connection is mostly broken. But…" Raising his head and opening his eyes, his gaze met Clint's, who was narrowing his eyes sympathetically. "You have to understand, it isn't her fault… I-I think she's done something… Something's wrong…"

"Kid, it's fine, okay?" Clint replied, his voice etched with kindness. "Once we've dealt with Ultron, we can go and look for your sister. She'll see that you're okay." He smiled slightly in order to reassure Pietro's anxious and dubious expression, putting a hand to his shoulder. "Everything'll work out, you'll see."

Pietro swallowed thickly. "She isn't a bad person… If you all go after her once Ultron's defeated…" He looked away uncomfortably. "I've seen what happens to criminals who cross you… I… I don't want her to get hurt."

Clint shook his head, squeezing Pietro's shoulder gently. "She's just a kid Pietro, like you- don't give me that look, you are- and kids make mistakes, okay? No one's going to hurt her, I promise."

Pietro didn't speak for the longest time, but when he did Clint was already prepared for what he was going to say. "I'm nineteen Clint. I'm not-"

"A child?" Clint guessed smugly. "Yeah, you are kid. And that's why-" The jet landed with a timely thump. "-you're going to stay here while the big boys and Nat sort out this mess Stark's got us into."

"You are too scared to call Natasha a child?" Pietro teased. Clint was so glad he'd managed to get the kid smiling and found himself unable to supress a chuckle.

"You bet I am. She's kick my ass halfway across the Atlantic if she heard me."

From the opposite bench, where the rest of the avengers were adjusting their suits, there was a suspicious call of "what's that Barton?"

"Nothing." Clint replied, a little too quickly as he got to his feet, slinging his bow across the torso.

Natasha narrowed her eyes mistrustfully and Pietro rested his hand against his mouth, attempting to casually hide a smile. Clint smirked down at him fondly, reaching down and ruffling his white hair.

"Stay in the jet, okay?"

Pietro nodded, grudgingly accepting and Clint turned to hurry after the others, calling parting words over his shoulder.

"I'll be on comms. Give me a shout if anything happens."

"Likewise." Pietro called back, watching as Clint caught up to the others and finding himself hoping that the archer came back safely.

Pietro wasn't sure what he'd do to the person responsible if Clint was hurt again. All he knew: it wouldn't end well.