Lithium Hawkeye

Chapter 9

Pepper Potts sat up in bed, staring down at her feet with Tony Stark sitting up on one elbow beside her. One of the bedside lamps was on, illuminating only enough of the room to take in the whole of their situation without alarming the extra person who'd whittled his way into their company. Pepper's arms were folded in her contemplative way. Tony looked amused and confused, but mostly just amused.

"How did he even get here?" Pepper said for perhaps the hundredth time in three minutes.

"He couldn't resist my overwhelmingly amiable nature. Or his bed on the floor was taken by the cat and he wanted to be closer for warmth." Tony replied smiling.

"But how long has he been there? He could have stayed all night and we wouldn't have known until you tried to kick me."

Tony snorted. "Actually, that was a sad attempt at foreplay of which I take complete responsibility because obviously now we can have no fun with the kid in the bed."

Pepper shot him a withering look.

Tony perked up. "Well, this was never my idea of how a threesome would go, but if you'll keep him on your side, I'm game."

The look turned to a scowl.

Tony held up his uninjured hand in a sign of supplication. "Fine, fine, I'll put him back in bed. Don't go all high and mighty on me." Tony pulled the blankets off his lower half and crawled down the bed to look over Clint's prone form. Somehow the man had sneaked into their room unobserved, climbed onto the end of their bed, and lay curled up in a ball at their feet. Like a lap dog sleeping at the end of his master's bed, Clint was passed out against the cherry footboard. Tony sat over top of him for a moment, looking down at the man he felt like he hardly knew. Traces of conversation drifted through his mind about the time they spent together. When fear attempted to seize him once more, Tony had enough of his brooding. He tapped Clint's face gently, the only part of him unaffected as far as the billionaire knew. Well, aside from the forty-three stitches it took to close the gaping wound on it.

"All right, Fido, this is not your room. Get up and let's go."

"Oh, Tony." Pepper said.

Tony turned to her. "I'm telling you, if we don't set the ground rules in his puppy years, he's going to grow up and kill rats in our baby room like that nasty cocker spaniel."

"I cannot even begin to tell you how much is wrong with that statement." She replied. "But it's nice to see that you're thinking about our babies."

A fear of new proportions seized through him and before Tony could shoot down his Freudian slip, he found an iron grasp tightened around the front of his shirt. Stark's full attention rested on the ice blue eyes staring up at him.

"Tony." Clint said, his voice hardly strong enough to reach an audible level. "I'm sorry."

Stark leaned forward with a start. The last thing he expected Clint to say was that. "Clint, don't you know where we are? We're in New York, back at Stark Tower. We're safe, do you understand?"

Clint's eyes blinked uncomprehendingly. They drifted from Stark's face to the ARC reactor barely visible through Tony's night shirt. "You can't," he said, "You can't die . . . not for me. Not worth it . . . not for me."

Pepper, understanding some tragic exchange was going on between the two could not keep herself out of the loop. She shuffled to the end of the bed and sat with her arm wrapped around Tony's back.

"Clint, what makes you say that? What makes you worse than any one of us? Especially Tasha, I mean really, don't you think she's killed a tad more people then you?" Tony's attempt at humor was marred by his inability to put any life behind his words. The seriousness in Clint's face was killing him inside, and there was no hiding that sentiment from Pepper. The others, perhaps, but never her.

Clint's hand moved from its slackening grip on Tony's shirt front to probe the cover of the ARC reactor. It was true that no wires, gears, or foreign material were sucking the very essence out of Tony's body. But did that mean he was safe? In Clint's mind, that was a no. If Stark was willing to kill himself just to save Barton's lost soul, then Tony would never be safe. Clint was too prone to random accidents in his mortal body to begin with. Having Tony take those falls instead would tear his world apart. Isn't that how he lost Coulson? Isn't that self-sacrifice what ruined his entire life? Clint was cursed goods and no one was safe as long as he remained an Avenger.

"I'm sorry." Clint said, the feeling of numbness was welling up again. He knew that his lucidity was falling away.

"For what?" Tony questioned. "If I wasn't such a bone-head you wouldn't have even been there. It wouldn't be an issue at all."

"I'm sorry," Clint repeated, the blue of his eyes glazing over. "Stop saving me."

"Clint?" Tony leaned forward, Pepper's arm dropping from his back to hold the archer's hand instead.

Tony tapped his face again, trying to pull him back from the black land he'd fallen into. "Clint, listen to me. Can you hear me? You saved both of us. You could have ejected, left me there. But you didn't. You made it so we didn't burn up and die in the crash. You saved me from losing my hand. Your radio's what got us help, don't you get it? Clint, come on, don't . . ." Tony's voice trailed off. He knew it was useless to reason with someone who couldn't hear him. Suddenly a knock came to the door, and rather than sit and look at the sad form curled up at the end of his bed, with Pepper's tears trailing down her face in sympathy, Stark got up to answer the door. He wasn't surprised to find Rogers standing there with a disheveled Banner beside him.

"Tell us he's in there." Bruce said without hesitation. "He is, isn't he? I don't know how he gave me the slip—"

"Who? The lap dog passed out on the end of my bed? Yeah, nice watch duty, guys, really keeping on top of that comatose patient. I love your style."

Captain rolled his eyes. "Come on, Stark, is he all right?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes, fine. Fact, I think Pepper's in there now planning a sponge bath. Whether it's for her or Pinkeye I can't say. But in one case I'd be riveted to watch or join in."

"We'll hazard to guess with who." Banner replied, masking his grin. He relaxed a little, seeing that Stark was not outright worried about Barton's health, otherwise they'd be having a different toned conversation. "I'll take him back to his room, hook him back up and have JARVIS lock the door against any future attempts to jump in your bed."

"Well, unruly kids, what can you do? He's not hurting anyone. In fact, how much does he need that stuff you're pumping him with?"

Roger's was quietly watching the exchange between Banner and Stark, trying to understand why the playboy wasn't letting them see the archer, let alone even go as far as entering the apartment. Stark stood, braced in the entire doorway with his body blocking any attempt at entrance. It would have seemed threatening if Stark wasn't held up with a cast on his arm.

Banner ignored all of this. He was dredging up medical knowledge and that didn't leave any room for determining motives. "Well, he's on some pain meds and fluids. I've been weaning him off the pain meds the last day and a half. He should stay on the fluids, he hasn't eaten anything himself."

"Would it kill him?" Stark asked virtually point blank. "For a night not to be hooked up? The guy pretty much got up and left rather willingly. If I can get him to eat, or even drink something, in the morning, can he stay off it?"

Banner shrugged, "Well, I guess it can't hurt. A few hours at least."

"Good, I'll deliver him back in the morning if we have a problem." Tony went to close the door, but Roger's foot blocked the way. There wasn't a chance he was letting Tony get off that easy.

"What's all this about?" Steve asked, unsettling Stark with his tone. "When did you get so feely about anyone else? Especially a damaged someone else? It makes sense for Pepper, but not you."

"Let's say she's got me wrapped around her finger." Stark quipped.

"No one wraps you in anything but cash." Roger's shot back.

"Did I ever tell you I sleep naked with thousand dollar bills knitted into a quilt?"

"Don't make this a joke."

"Oh, I'm serious, I put these pants on before I came out so you wouldn't get jealous. But I do feel a Benjamin trying to give me a wedgie right about now, if you want to give me a hand with that-"

Banner stepped between the two before the verbal shots became physical ones. "Ok, now, you two. Let's just take a breather. Tony, I think Steve's just trying to say he's worried about Clint. We both are. He'd feel better if he could keep an eye on him. You and Clint gave all of us a big scare. Captain feels responsible for all of us, and this mess has gotten him a little shaken up. Steve," Banner switched his line of attack to Rogers. "I think Tony's been feeling bad he can't be of more help with Barton. They both spent a lot of time trying to keep each other alive and to take Clint away now after he went in search of Tony to begin with would make Tony feel like he let him down a little. And the both of you have to think about what's best for Clint. If he needs to see that Tony's ok, then let him spend the night."

Both Stark and Rogers looked at the doctor with an air of surprise. Banner wasn't typically long-winded, unless he was talking about quantum mechanics. But nothing he happened to surmise was incorrect, so neither had any more to say on the matter.

Bruce tapped the Captain in his chest and indicated he should follow him back to their own rooms. This left the somewhat stunned, somewhat pleased Tony standing in his doorway alone. He had to send Bruce a thank you card or a jack-in-the-box for that little show of foresight. Now without the worry of his door being beaten down and Clint carted off to his hospital bed, Tony went back to his room with an easier heart.

:-)

"It felt real. It all felt so real. When I didn't hear him come by, even to visit, I just . . . I don't know, I panicked. I thought they just left him there. That they didn't see him in the plane. That they were all so busy rescuing me they just left him behind and no one wanted to admit it." Clint's voice was low, as if he was talking only to himself, trying to convince himself that the nightmares that had been plaguing him were nothing but figments of his own mind. But it was hard. He held his hands up, in front of his face as he flexed the fingers, making sure every one of them was still in place. Then he moved his toes. He could feel himself moving his toes.

"You know they wouldn't lie to you like that." Pepper said, sitting over him. She took one of his hands, holding it in both of hers as she rubbed the life back into them. "I don't know anything of what you went through in that head of yours, but if it's anything like what I wake up to, sleeping beside Tony, then you aren't alone." She smiled a little, it was infectious the way it made her whole face light up. "One time, it took me two hours of combing his hair to prove to him someone hadn't scalped him in his sleep."

Clint shivered some. He was suddenly glad all his dreams cared about was sawing his hands off. "It was just so real. He was dead. His ghost was just, standing there, shot to Hell. They forgot him. And it was my fault. If they weren't so worried about me, he'd be alive-"

"He is alive, though." Pepper looked up at the doorway. Whatever conversation Tony had struck up was obviously over. She could hear him making his way back to the bedroom. She looked down at Clint. "Here he comes now."

"I don't want to talk to him." Clint replied suddenly. He closed his eyes, a formidable faker when the situation called for it. "Not yet. Not till I get my head straight."

This was surprising, but Pepper had to remember that all holds were off when it came to the men in her life. She could only nod, not willing to convince him he was being an idiot. So as Tony came in, she turned her attention to him instead and asked, "Who was it?"

She was sitting by Clint's head, combing his hair with her fingers. She had already taken the liberty of tucking a blanket around his body and had a small throw pillow under his head. If Tony had any ideas of moving the guy to his couch, that was officially off the table.

Tony ignored her question to pose his own. "What's all this? You can't keep him."

Another look that meant if he didn't drop it, he would be sleeping on the couch daggered through him.

"It was Banner and Cappy." He answered her former question. "Apparently Clint slipped by his guards and went on a lone mission. The good doc says its ok to let him off the drugs for a few hours, just can't push it though. In the mourning we'll see if he's conscious enough to try and eat something." As he was speaking, Tony climbed back into the bed and settled under the blankets where he had been before. Pepper waited a few minutes more. She was staring down at Clint, her fingers still working across his short hair.

Tony tried his best to ignore them. The bed was large enough that even if Thor decided to join the pajama party they wouldn't be at a lack for room so having Clint crash on their bed was odd, but not uncomfortable. Not wanting to wait for Pepper to be finished doting on the new bed addition, Tony rolled over on his side, yanked the covers over his head and tried his best to sleep without dreaming about planes crashing. It wasn't an easy task. For one thing, his mind was too active, flying through thoughts at mach-speed that usually would have him running for his lab, or his gym, to burn off the extra energy before settling in. His other issue was taking plane crashes off the table to begin with. That left his mind open to so many more interesting ideas of what nightmares to bring, from his hostage crisis in Afghanistan, the alien attack, flying through an otherworld dimension strapped to a nuke, losing everyone he loved, Pepper being slaughtered on Loki's scepter, there were so many options it was hard to choose what to torment himself with. When he had just about decided to give up the idea of sleep all together, he heard a voice whispering at the end of the bed.

Pepper, he thought. She must have believed he was actually asleep. Her voice was low, but not enough to prevent him from eaves dropping.

"Stop worrying. He's ok." She said quietly, a hushing motherly quality to her voice. "He doesn't blame you. None of us do. I want to thank you, for bringing him back to me."

There was a pause. Was Clint awake? Was she speaking to him? At him? Tony had to struggle not to hold his breath and seem like his body really was resting as she believed him to be.

"You'll be ok to. Bruce will see to it. I won't let them do it if that's what you want . . . She's ok to. She was so worried about you, I think it was all a little too much of a shock. She said you hated hospitals, so Tony wanted to bring you here . . . no, he's sleeping. It was Rogers, you were right . . . Why don't we talk in the morning. You need to get some sleep . . . it's not a question . . . don't be sorry. After all the scrapes and ARC mishaps I go through with Tony, you are nothing of a problem. Now do as I say, and go to sleep . . . I know, now go to sleep."

The weight on the bed changed, and suddenly Tony felt Pepper sliding under the bedclothes beside him. Her arms snaked over to his chest as she drew in close to him. He heard the whisper, whether she thought he did or not.

"I love you, you big, stupid, tin can."

:(:):(:):

He had crawled into Stark's room. Natasha couldn't quite figure out why but Pepper had a good way of explaining it. She said his mind was overwhelmed with a need to feel attached. Attached to something real and alive. If Tony wasn't there for him, Clint would probably have lost himself in his mind forever.

Natasha figured it was a good enough excuse. But it still didn't help her understand why Clint had gone to Tony instead of her. Why not her bed? They had been so close once. She knew his thoughts as much as her own. Every breath she exhaled he pulled into his own lungs only to send it back. Where was her partner? Her confidant? Her lover?

The Black Widow would have never guessed she would find him at the bottom of Stark's bed. Tony bloody Stark. She never thought Clint would live. With his chest covered in blood, his eyes full of lifeless disfigurement, she felt her heart rend in two, pulled through the cage of her ribs by a foreign fist and crushed. Now, sneaking into Stark's room she saw the product of so many doctors hard work. Here he lay, a broken man with a war torn mind ravaged by his demons and reduced to the brain of a child. It was almost worse than finding him dead. Or almost dead.

It wasn't the first time either. A SHIELD agent's job was invigorated with near death feats. She had seen him four times in states close to death. She experienced two of her own without him, one with him. Explosions, gunshots, misfires, nothing could tear them apart.

Her eyes flashed over to the sleeping Stark. There was one BIG thing between them now. Ever since he'd come back from Loki, it was all she could do to pull herself away from him. Every time their eyes met in those old ways, she could see the terror in his eyes. The guilt over what he could have done to her pierced him through. Natasha suffered right along with him. The echo of Loki's horrid words beating through her mind like a metronome. Whether by him or by her, it was obvious a rift had formed between the two agents. She wondered if she could ever traverse it and pull him back into that fun that they used to have.

"He asked about you." Pepper said suddenly, breaking through the silence that had fallen for over an hour now.

Natasha looked over at her questioningly. The Black Widow sat at the end of the bed. Clint's head in her lap as she brushed his hair back in his hands. She'd taken Pepper's post from just a few minutes before.

Pepper had abandoned pretending to sleep beside Stark. She sat up, reading over something on an electronic tablet. She set the tablet aside for a minute to return Natasha's focus. "He wanted to know that you were ok."

A ray of hope began to crumble the wall imagined between Natasha and the man in her arms. "He asked about me?"

Pepper smiled in that soft, friendly way. The kind of smile that shifted all her freckles high up on her cheek and made the creases on her forehead appear and disappear. "I told him you wanted him off the Helicarrier. He wasn't surprised. He said thank you. That you are always looking out for each other like that."

It was the most beautiful thing Clint had ever said about her in the time since his return. The sun had already pinnacled through the windows. It wouldn't be long until the others were moving and looking to reclaim Clint into the fold. That meant getting him to eat. Most of them didn't know Clint well enough to prepare anything remotely appetizing. But Natasha did.

"I think I'll go make him something." She said.

Pepper seemed surprised, as if the idea of her acting in any way domestic was like Stark deciding to buy a scooter over a crotch rocket. The look lasted only a moment before it passed by. "I think that's just what he needs." Pepper said.

"Make sure he doesn't run off?"

Pepper smiled and nodded, switching out her iPad for one of the books on the bedside table. "Don't worry. I won't let him rush off any place soon."

She gave Clint a final lasting glance. Her fingers traced across his forehead, down his chest and into the palms of his hands. They were battered in scars that hardly anyone noticed anymore. They were scars she had given him, so long ago. They were enemies then but now the marks served as a blatant reminder of everything she'd ever owed him. The red in her ledger, written by his fingers dipped in blood.

The agent pulled herself away and slipped out of the room before the kitchen staff could hijack her breakfast. If there was nothing else, she could give him, then this would have to do. A cup of her crappy coffee, and his favorite breakfast food were more than a proper contribution to his recovery. It would be the beginning of their partnership building all over again.

Today, she remove the first brick from their wall.

:-)

Morning came and Elsa, the maid, was present right on time with the breakfast trays. Pepper was sitting up, reading through one of her favorite autobiographies and said a little thank you as Elsa set hers down first. Beside Pepper, Tony had his arm thrown over his head. He was snoring like a hibernating bear. Elsa didn't take the bait, however. She had a newspaper ready on his tray and used it to smack him with. Tony fake-startled up, murmuring something about haciendas and sombreros before Elsa gave him another good whack and unceremoniously threw the tray down on his lap. Tony stuck his tongue out at her.

When that little task was complete, she turned her attention on the extra body at the end of the bed. Obviously the kitchen staff hadn't sent her along with anything extra, she would have expected to see, if anything, another woman in the bed, but the presence of a man was off-putting enough.

"It's Agent Barton." Pepper supplied. "He sort of snuck in on us last night."

Elsa looked at the man again, considering him from all angles, but in the end turned to Pepper. "Anything for the agent?"

"Just some fruit, maybe some light toast. Oh, and can you get him coffee? Black is how he takes it, thank you." Pepper replied without even looking up from her plate.

Without a second glance at Tony, the maid headed out.

Tony, stunned to think Pepper might possibly know how Barton likes his coffee couldn't let the matter drop that off handedly. He opened his mouth to say just as much when Pepper caught him mid-sentence.

"I asked Natasha this morning when she came by to visit him. You were still asleep. She said he likes to wake up with black coffee and a light breakfast."

"She was in here and I was sleeping?" Tony asked, terrified at the notion.

"I imagine she spent most of the night, actually. She heard he was moving around and wanted to see that he was all right. I woke up early and we talked for a little bit. She left before you got up."

"I just got up." Tony pointed out.

"And she just left." Pepper fired back. She looked up from her book and her breakfast to consider Tony's face. "Besides, whenever you come home maimed the doctor always tells me to make sure you're fed and get enough to drink. I'm just trying to follow through on the doctor's orders."

The door opened again only a few minutes after Elsa had gone out. She was back with a third tray. On it was a sparse mixture of grapes, melon slices, kiwis, with a side of yogurt and black coffee. "Miss Romanov instructed this be brought by." She explained, then looked around and wondered where she should leave it.

"Right here is fine." Pepper said, patting an empty space on the bed. "That'll be all for now, thanks very much."

Elsa smiled at Pepper, gave another strange look to Clint, scowled at Tony, and walked out the door.

"She doesn't hate you." Pepper said, even before Tony could open his mouth. "And yes, I can read your mind, that's what women do."

:-)

The smell hit him first. Then the brightening light. After that was a mixture of sound, like from a dining hall. The nausea came somewhere in between but lowered to a dull ache. He wondered if it was because he was hungry or if he needed to vomit. The two weren't always mutually exclusive. His back hurt. His ribs hurt. His side hurt. His face hurt. He took a moment to wonder if it was an overcome-able pain. When he didn't at first pass out, he decided it must be.

Coffee. That's what woke him up. Coffee meant he was probably still locked up for his own good. The last time he had a cup waiting for him, it was after he'd killed over forty five people. No, forty five friends. Natasha stopped looking at him the same. The SHIELD personnel never came around, never played pranks or made jokes anymore. The last time he woke up to coffee he was declared a leper. So what the Hell did he do this time to deserve it?

"Morning, Fido, got your box of Beggin' Strips out of the cupboard, you wanna try? Will you roll over?"

That tone, only Tony had that tone. Half of Clint wanted to jump for joy that the guy was even joking around with him, it meant he was alive. But the other half of Clint's mind was willing to slug him. Some things never change. He didn't want to play into Tony's hand, but at the same time the only way he could look at the guy was to roll over. So he did, getting a prompt "Good boy!" from Stark. Clint's eyes opened and he found himself looking up a line of blankets to Tony and Pepper, sitting up in bed with their focus looking down at him.

Confused, he pushed himself up on his palms which made the dull ache his pain had leveled out to spike into an irrational jumble of fried nerves. He froze up, grunted in pain and couldn't move.

"What am I doing here!" he gasped out. "What did you do, Tony, abduct me or something?"

Tony feigned hurt. "Me abduct you? You're the own who called for the midnight slumber party."

"Knock it off, he's hurt." Pepper told him, she slid off her side of the bed and laid a comforting hand on Clint's bicep.

"Oh, and I'm just peachy, I get it." Tony continued in his whining tone.

"Well, how'd I get here?" Clint asked, he fortified himself against the sudden shock of pain and with Pepper's help eased himself up the rest of the way. Pepper then slid onto the bed beside him to help hold him up. With Tony and Clint now facing each other, the electricity firing off between them was almost palpable.

"Like I said, Bart, you snuck in late last night then you seduced Pepper with your little pity party and passed out in my bed. I wanted to kick you out, but I do have a heart as I'm reminded of daily." Tony tapped the glowing blue reactor in his chest.

"What day is it? How long was I out?"

"About, I don't know, four days or so."

"Four days!"

Tony shrugged. "You're making it a real habit checking out on yourself. One more time and we may need to host an intervention."

Clint's face paled. Tony realized he'd cross the line with the last comment and reeled to take it back. He shook his head a little. "I'm sorry, that wasn't fair of me." He moved his food tray aside and sat looking at Clint. "Fact is, the little distress call we sent out was picked up by the good Captain. He sent Thor ahead of the medical team to find us. Thor gave me a quick jump start and the medical team drained some poor shmuck like a vampire and topped you off with every last ounce of O negative they could find. Thank Rogers later too, he donated. Should have seen the size of the needle they used to get through that skin. They said some of his healing factors could have floated over short-term, help you get back on your feet faster. It's a good thing he was the same type as you."

Pepper grabbed the cup of coffee off of the extra tray and handed it to Clint. He held it for a little while, flexing his hands as if trying to determine whether or not they were actually attached. Fear of his drugged nightmares threatened to seize him. But he kept listening to Tony before deciding if it was a good idea to drink his coffee or not. In the end he figured a sip couldn't hurt, and took the smallest bit in his mouth and held it there until Stark was finished explaining. When he swallowed, his stomach groaned some in protest, but didn't actively refute accepting more.

"So we got out of there all right?" Clint asked. He nodded towards Tony's cast and took another sip of coffee.

"As good as we could have after getting dropped in a deserted beach in the middle of nowhere. Busted my arm pretty good, which reminds me I do have to level Thor's face at some point today. I'll have JARVIS make a note."

"Is my face real bad?" Clint asked.

Tony smirked. "You weren't winning any beauty contests before. Docs sewed you up all right. All the pieces were there which was a benefit. Except that little thing on your ear—" Tony made a strange face.

"It looks fine." Pepper assured him before Clint went barreling out of bed to find a mirror. "Don't be so mean, Tony." Pepper patted his hand in a calming way and added, "The worst part was your ribs. They said you will be fine, but they had to remove one because it was so damaged. You'll be in a back brace for a little while, so don't twist around too much."

"Two centimeters over and that shot would have killed you." Tony added seriously. "You were lucky."

"You both were." Pepper corrected. "Now if you two are done playing catch up, Clint you have to try and eat some of your breakfast otherwise Bruce is going to have to hook you back up to the IV line. Can you manage to eat something?"

Clint looked down at the food obviously meant for him. If he wasn't mistaken, Tasha probably made it up herself. Everything he considered a favorite fruit was on there, including the absence of detestable red grapes in favor of green ones. Even the kiwis were diced to look like little stars and the melon slices were shaped into arrows. She must have been a little bored too.

Before he even considered putting something solid down his throat he wanted to at least attempt finishing his coffee. Two sips down, and he was going strong but that meant nothing overall. The last thing he wanted to do was revisit being bent over and retching with chest pain knocking him off his feet.

"Lemme try to finish this," he said, indicating the cup. "If I can't, then Tony can knock me out and Bruce can hook me up. I'm not a big needle fan."

"Is that a promise?" Tony asked with child-like enthusiasm.

"Or I could just eat the entire plate and throw up on your bed. Whatever you want." Clint countered.

Stark shrugged. "Well, I tried."

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