"Can I go home now?" Clint wined. He'd been in Medical for over a week and he was starting to think about breaking his promise to Phil and making a break for it through the air vents.
"They need you to stay another night." Phil put a hand on Clint's shoulder. "For observation." Clint groaned and let his head flop back on the pillows. For observation. That was all anyone ever said. Every time Clint asked about his health, when he'd be released, why they needed to keep him here, they always responded with the same two words. For observation.
"To observe what, exactly?" Phil's hand tensed slightly for just a moment. He didn't answer. "Phil? What aren't you telling me?"
Phil sighed and sat down heavily on the bed. "We're still trying to understand why Hass wants you dead so badly. And how he managed to convince three agents to attempt it."
"So you're not observing me, your observing to see if anyone else tries to kill me?"
"Not exactly, but you're safer here than at home."
"Yeah, tell that to my heart. Which has been stabbed. Three times. In this room." Clint didn't say that Phil was right. That Hass had known Phil's first name, which was fairly near classified information for anyone outside of SHEILD. And he knew about Clint's history with the circus. Which had also become classified by SHIELD once he'd joined up. It had been one of his stipulations for joining. If he'd discovered all of that, Clint had no doubt that he could find out where he and Phil lived.
"Clint." Phil seemed to choke on the word. Clint felt guilty about what he'd said. He knew what it was like to watch Phil bleed out. He couldn't imagine how hard it had been for Phil. Watching Clint die so many times. Sitting at his bedside for months while Clint was in a coma.
"I'm sorry."
Phil smiled softly and grabbed Clint's hand. "I won't lose you again."
"You won't." Clint leaned forward, ignoring the stab of pain as his stiches stretched. "You're stuck with me. Till death do us part."
Phil laughed. A genuine, whole-hearted sound. "Yeah, we have to actually get married first, for the vows to apply, you know."
Clint rolled his eyes. He reached a hand out and wrapped it around the back of Phil's head, pulling him closer. "Shut up and kiss me." Phil did. They were in each other's arms, panting heavily, when the door to the room swung open a minute later. Phil instantly drew away, despite Clint clinging to him and trying to pull him back. It was only Tasha after all. Clint didn't need to look up to know that.
"Fury needs to see you." Tasha said from the doorway. "Something about expense reports or personnel files or something. I wasn't listening."
Phil sighed and stood up, straightening his tie and smoothing out his jacket. "I'll be by later." He said to Clint as he strode from the room. Clint read the truth behind his words. He'd be checking in to make sure Clint didn't make a break for it. The moment he was gone Tasha shut the door and took his spot on the bed.
"All right, spill."
"What?" Clint tried to think of what she could be talking about. "Spill what?"
"You've been acting weird ever since you woke up."
"Well…. I was kinda kidnapped by Hass, killed by him too. And woke up four months later. After apparently dying three other times. So yeah, I'm acting a little weird. Sue me."
Tasha leveled a glare at him that said how very not amused she was. "Which explains why you were so quick to pop the question. But not why you're being so accommodating. You've never stayed in Medical 'just for observation'."
Clint sighed, considering if he should tell her or not. Who was he kidding? This was Tasha. If she wanted to know something, she'd find out. Telling her outright was easier than a few broken bones. "Hass knows too much."
She raised one eyebrow. "That it? Hass knows too much?"
"He knew things that are classified."
"Which isn't surprising since he managed to kill you four times. Three by proxy."
"Tasha." He growled and she dropped her small smile.
"I'll check your apartment. See if anyone's been there. Any bugs. The works. But you're going to have to tell Coulson eventually. He'd be wondering about you staying so willingly in Medical if he wasn't still riding the high of getting engaged." She rattled off the words, once again reminding Clint of why he loved her so much.
As it turned out, Clint didn't have to warn Phil after all. He showed up the next day, and Clint was preparing to explain everything, when Phil said that he had to go on Stark-sitting duty for a while. Clint's annoyance was only half fake. His sympathy was genuine though. Stark could be a pain in the ass. Then Phil had explained that Tasha was going with him. She'd apparently been on undercover Stark duty for a while, but they were stepping it up. Clint wasn't happy about losing both Tasha and Phil, and he let Phil know that, grumbling until Phil shut him up with a kiss. (Which they both knew had kinda been Clint's goal all along.)
He slipped out of Medical the second Phil left HQ. The quinjet lifted off at 0800 and by 0801 Clint was crawling through the vents. He headed for the SUV Phil would have left in the parking garage. He needed to get home. Tasha had already swept the apartment and had found nothing. No bugs. No signs of forced entry. No sign that Hass had been there. But Clint wanted to check for himself.
Seven hours later, Clint collapsed onto the pile of couch cushions on the floor. The apartment was clean. It made no sense. Hass knew about the apartment. He had to. Clint knew it. So why hadn't he done anything? Why hadn't he gone after Phil? Not that Clint was complaining. Not at all. The fear he had felt in his last few seconds, as he had felt his life slipping away, thinking that Hass was going to kill Phil. Well, he would gladly live his whole life and never feel that again. Even the memory of it caused his chest to ache with loss.
He couldn't live without Phil. There was a time when he would never have admitted that. Least of all to himself. But it was the truth. A truth that had come to replace and erase all of the doubts and rejection that had defined Clint's youth. He needed Phil. Because he trusted Phil. Phil gave him a reason to keep fighting, a reason to keep living. Phil had fixed Clint and broken him at the same time. He had healed old wounds but had ingrained himself into Clint's very soul in the process. Like the metal pins that held the bones of Clint's leg in place. Remove him, and Clint would fall apart.
The drive back to SHIELD was long. Clint took his time, driving slow and taking detours, enjoying being outside base. He stopped alongside a small park that he often visited with Phil, marveling at how the trees were starting to bud. It felt like he had been at this very park only a week ago, but it had been months. The leaves had been shades of red and gold. Phil had mocked him as Clint had zigzagged across the paths, stepping on every crunchy leaf he could find. Up until the point where Clint had made a game out of who could find the crunchiest one. The day had ended with a lot of kissing and cuddling and trying to rub warmth back into their frozen hands and – other parts.
Clint managed to sneak to his barrack at HQ without anyone spotting him or trying to drag him back to Medical. The room was barren and had a distinct air of abandonment. Clint hadn't slept here since he'd moved in with Phil nearly a year ago. He threw the bag of clothes he'd grabbed from home onto the floor and flopped face-first onto the bed. It was easier than staring at the plain grey walls. At the space here that had once been his but now felt like a huge step backwards. It didn't matter that he knew this was temporary. That it was self-imposed. That it was a safety measure to hopefully keep Hass from killing him a fifth time, this time in his own home. (SHIELD security seemed to have taken the three attempts on his life rather personally and had stepped up their measures quite noticeably.)
All that mattered was that this was his bunk. Not their apartment. This room only felt like isolation and solitude and a constant reminder that Phil was off on assignment for an undisclosed length of time. He'd been gone less than a day and Clint was already lonelier than he ever remembered feeling.
The next two weeks dragged by at a tortuously slow pace. Medical had given up on trying to keep Clint under observation and had simply revoked his access to the range and training facilities. They'd even somehow managed to swing getting Clint's bow locked away in Fury's office. Which was how Clint found himself in the vents above Fury's office. He'd been sneaking up here in every spare moment, trying to find a moment when Fury wasn't there so he could get his bow back. Over a week and there hadn't been a single opportunity. Even when Clint had tried at 4 in the morning. Fury was always there, working away. Clint was starting to give some of the rumors about him being in-human some serious consideration.
So Clint overheard when Fury got a call from New Mexico. Something about space debris of questionable origin and intent. Something about the fact that Fury had left the call on speaker seemed out of place to Clint. Fury had been careful to make sure anything even somewhat classified had been handled silently, or at least silently enough that Clint couldn't hear it. He was pretty sure it was more than just Fury being paranoid. If Clint's instincts were true, and let's face it, they were, Fury had let him overhear the call on purpose. And there was only one reason for that.
Clint dropped down out of the ceiling, a smile already covering his face. He didn't let it falter at the glare Fury leveled at him. "Yes, Barton, you can go. Medical is willing to clear you for field duty as long as you refrain from using your bow or climbing anything." Clint stifled a laugh, cause really? Had they met him? That rule would last all of about two seconds. "The entire team has been notified of these stipulations and are allowed to enforce them using any means the team leader sees fit." Clint grinned wider, cause, once again, had they met him? That wasn't going to work. "By the way, Coulson's heading up this op." That would.
Instantly Clint's emotions were battling, torn between despair (because Phil would most definitely make him stick to the rules) and overwhelming joy at getting to see Phil. The conflict must have shown on his face because Fury sighed and rolled his eyes. "Get out of my office before I decide to write you up for each and every time you were in the vents."
"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about, sir." Clint smirked, suddenly in a much better mood. He had to stop himself from winking. "But I've been told that any unauthorized admittance to the ventilation system violates Code 34B-16 Section C Paragraph 219." Clint ought to know. Phil's made him fill out that paperwork often enough that he could quote the whole thing by heart. Fury wasn't amused. Clint sobered. "When do we leave?" Phil wouldn't be happy if he came home to a stack of forms writing Clint up.
"You leave with the rest of the team in twenty. Coulson will meet you there."
"He's not riding with us?"
"No. Since Agent Coulson is currently on another mission, he cannot simply drop everything and come running. He should be less than an hour behind you." Clint nodded, understanding that Fury was leaving no room for negotiation.
"Well then, I guess I'd better go pack." Clint turned for the door. Fury's voice stopped him halfway out the door.
"Two last things." Something in his tone made Clint turn to look back. Fury's face had softened so much that it was almost even for frightening. "And if you repeat this to anyone I'll ship your ass on a yearlong solo trip to Greenland." Fury's face hardened slightly and Clint felt himself relax at the return of normality. "But in the future, if you plan on dying in the field, please leave it in the field. Stop bringing your killers home with you."
Clint laughed, and damn that hurt. He kept forgetting the scar over his heart."And the other thing?"
"If you do anything to render my best SHIELD agent emotionally incapable of his normal functions, I will make sure the pieces of your body are too small to be found." Clint figured that with Fury a 'don't hurt Coulson' was as close to a 'congratulations on getting engaged' as he was going to get.
"In all honesty, sir, if I did anything of the sort, I'd hand you the knife."