Takes place during 2x22 - "SOS"

If she thought she had been in pain before, she was sorely mistaken. The new fire that ripped through her back and chest, carving a deep chasm through the left side of her body that was immediately filled with a fire that burned hotter than any of the torture she had been through.

But to see Hunter rushing at her, Clint close behind, as her eyes drifted shut – knowing that they were alive and there and sure to live another day? It was worth all the pain she could take.

And I seem to have reached the limit, she thought groggily, her sliding closed and her ears picking up only the rise and fall of voices, not the words they spoke.

She was vaguely aware of her wrists and ankles being freed from their restraints, and body being lowered to the ground. Frantic words that she couldn't make out. The gag was gone from her mouth. Her lung must have been punctured by the bullet, as each breath was harder and harder to take in. The warm touch of hands on her face, fingers brushing away her hair, was the last thing she felt before giving herself up to the pain.

Natasha ran down the hallway ahead of May, almost wishing Grant Ward would spring out at her so she could slit his sorry throat with her knife or electrocute him with her Widow's Bites. He had done something to Bobbi to make both Hunter and Clint yell as they had, and whatever it was couldn't be good.

But she didn't hear the sound of a fight as she approached the open door at the end of the hall. Only soft mutterings and whispers.

She slid into the doorway, gun raised, and expertly took in the scene before her.

Empty chair with restraints, gun on a tripod, obviously tripped to fire when the door was opened – who was shot? – Bobbi, on the ground, red seeping through her shirt to form a dark patch above her heart, Clint, ripping his shirt into makeshift bandages, Hunter, trying to rouse the blonde, to keep her awake and aware.

"Bobbi, stay with me. Stay with me, Bobbi. Bobbi- Bobbi," he was saying, his voice drifting and his hands shaking.

"Pull yourself together, Hunter!" Clint ordered, handing him strips from his shirt. "We need to do our best to stop the bleeding! Use these."

Hunter nodded shakily, though he firmly held the fabric against the front of Bobbi's wound.

"Clint!" Natasha said sharply to get his attention, her mind racing. "Is the roof open enough for a Quinjet to land?"

He looked up at her, eyes hard, masking the pain she knew he was feeling. "Easily," he answered, knowing her plan.

"Get her up there, and I'll be back ASAP," she instructed, holstering her gun and dashing out of the room, past Agents May and Juarez and down and out into the street where people were just starting their days.

Praising her luck, Natasha pulled a thick wad of Euros out of a pocket and shoved them into the hand of a man who was just revving up his motorcycle.

"Toma el dinero. Necesito tu moto," she said in Spanish, though she admitted her manners could have been better. She practically threw him from the motorcycle so she could take off, speeding down the street toward the runway.

"Oh god, oh god, please Bobbi," Hunter was saying as May ran in. There was a splatter of blood on his face, which she could see when he turned to look up at her.

"We've got to get her out of here!" he pleaded, his voice cracking. His knuckles were white as he clenched a blood-soaked rag that was pressed against Bobbi's chest.

"Nat's bringing the Quinjet," Clint said, holding his hand behind Bobbi, putting pressure on the entry wound. "We'll stabilize her here and carry her up to the roof."

"But she's getting worse-"

"And she'll bleed out if we move her before the blood starts to clot!" Clint growled, ripping another strip off his shirt with one hand. "There's nowhere to bring her right now anyway, and a cold floor is going to help us more than a rooftop in the sun. May, you have any first aid supplies with you?"

"Juarez, med kit," she ordered, dropping to the ground as he pulled it out of his backpack. "It's not much," she admitted, unzipping the pouch, "but there's some gauze and a wrap."

"That's all we could hope for," Clint said, taking the gauze from her and giving some to Hunter. They packed the wound with it, and Hunter ran the fingers of his free hand through her hair, his eyes over bright. "Lift her up a bit," he said, adjusting his grip as they sat Bobbi up. "May, wrap it around tight enough to hold the gauze in place, but not too tight. I'm pretty sure the bullet hit her lung, and we don't need to restrict her breathing any more than necessary."

Hunter had slipped behind Bobbi to hold her up, his knees below her lower back and his hand under her head. He would kill Ward if he ever saw the man again. His Bob was a softie, even if she never showed it. She would do anything for SHIELD, for her family. Ward had obviously figured it out and exploited her weakness to the fullest extent.

All those times he had called her out for being too loyal to SHIELD, for making it her life instead of her job – he finally was beginning to understand it. After months of working with Coulson's team and getting to know them he realized just how different SHIELD was from any work he'd ever done in the SAS or as a merc. Especially as a merc.

He'd definitely chosen the merc life, but it had been lonely. Taking only part-time jobs and working for the highest bidder wasn't the way to make friends or keep 'em.

It had only been bearable when he worked his schedule around seeing Bobbi. She'd give him just enough information to find her at a motel somewhere near her where her own mission would take her and they'd have a night together, or at least a few hours.

But then after far too short a time she would need to leave and he'd blow up at her.

Even in Paris, where they'd eloped, he hadn't been able to shake his anger at the fact they would only have two days together instead of three (or a week, or the rest of their lives). They had met up in the city of love, had gotten swept up in the mood surrounding them, and had been married with a couple of random citizens as their witnesses.

Their marriage had lasted roughly two years before it had fallen apart.

They had been having a rough time. A few months after the Battle of New York, SHIELD had been pulled into the spotlight. Bobbi's job got more difficult, and they'd hardly had any time together. One night, the first time they'd been able to meet up in weeks, he had just finished taking her clothes off her when her phone rang and she was called in seven hours earlier than she'd expected.

He had tried to ignore the dark circles around her eyes and the exhaustion that seemed to weigh her down, as he had the last two times they'd met, but as she hurriedly packed her things and yanked her clothes on he hadn't been able to help himself.

There had been a lot of shouting from both of them – Hunter about commitment and questioning whether she truly loved him and Bobbi about responsibilities and apologies. The argument hadn't been their longest, but it had been the most heated, and the only thing Hunter actually remembered himself shouting was: "Then maybe it would be better if we just weren't married!"

He'd been too angry to notice, but her eyes had probably been sparkling with tears as she stormed out in a huff.

And the rest was history. Every effort to get back together had failed, and every time they met up they would shout, have angry sex, and "break up" again the next morning.

When SHIELD had fallen Hunter thought it was finally a stroke of luck. Sure, Bobbi's organization was in shambles, but she was talented – she could get a job wherever she wanted, he was sure. But he'd called her phone and it had been disconnected. He tried to get in touch and he thought she was ignoring him. So he moved on. Or, at least, he tried to.

Izzy and Idaho had met up with him, and he'd been relieved to know for sure that Bobbi had made it through HYDRA's takeover. Then he'd ended up with SHIELD whether he liked it or not, and he'd truly had an eye-opening experience. He'd started out for-hire, then he'd become, more or less, an agent. And just a few months with the team had enlightened him as to the unique relationships they shared. They truly cared for each other, just like a little family, and Hunter had been adopted in, whether he liked it or not.

He thought of Coulson's comment – "I think we've been spending too much time together" – and of the friendship that had developed between himself and Fitz. He'd found a connection to the team, even as reluctant as he had been to stay.

The whir of engines and Clint's order to get Bobbi to the roof chased away Hunter's inner musings. He scooped her up in his arms and even though she was taller than him it wasn't a huge struggle to get her to the roof where the Quinjet was touching down.

"Juarez and I will pick up Walker and Evans on our way out – we'll catch up with you at the base!" May shouted over the roar of the engines. Clint yelled something back over his shoulder, but Hunter was rushing to the quickly-descending ramp at the rear of the jet.

The sooner they got his Bob proper medical attention, the better.

"We'll meet you there!" Clint yelled in response to May's comment. May had told him they had medically trained agents at their base, which was their best option in the current circumstances. SHIELD was still labeled as a terrorist group by most of the world, and they didn't have time to deal with crowded hospital emergency rooms at any rate. It wouldn't have been a bad idea to just head back to Avengers Tower, but Bruce, who usually patched them up, was still off the radar and, from what May had said, there was a situation that Coulson could use them at base for.

He wasn't sure if he wanted to help the man, after everything that had happened, but he would do as much as he could to help SHIELD if they needed him.

So they were heading back to "The Playground". Clint didn't actually know where their base was, only that it was in the eastern USA, but he was sure Nat had already phoned Maria and threatened her to get Fury on the line. He would know where Coulson was stationed, and hopefully the man would be smart enough to not ask too many questions. Clint had seen Natasha's face as she ran to get the plane. It had been a dangerous look, full of promise – a promise to hurt everyone who got in the way of saving Bobbi.

Clint wondered if Fury would video call from the Helicarrier and get an eyeful of angry Natasha. He hoped so.

He sprinted up the ramp, past Hunter who was still carrying Bobbi, and pulled out the cot from where it was stored. After locking the legs in place he pulled hard to make sure it was anchored securely to the floor and pulled the medical supplies from the wall compartment they were stored in. After the Avengers had started going after HYDRA bases Tony had stocked up the jet with a large amount of medical supplies, as well as oxygen canisters just in case.

Clint would be thanking the billionaire profusely as soon as they got back to the Tower. He might even cook a meal or two for the man. (Tony was a real sucker for a home-cooked meal, even if he'd never admit it.)

It didn't take long to get Bobbi stabilized, but it was still touch-and-go. They had her secured to the table so turbulence wouldn't jostle her too much, especially at the speed they were flying, and Clint had had Hunter set up an oximeter while he had prepared the oxygen and a manual resuscitator just in case Bobbi's lung collapsed – a completely possible eventuality, as he was sure the bullet had clipped her lung.

He'd just finished when Natasha's voice drew his attention to the cockpit.

"What do you mean you can't tell us?!" she shouted, keeping the plane steady even as she unleashed her rage on a certain African American man with an eyepatch. "Bobbi is bleeding out on Stark's Quinjet that we "borrowed" from him and if you think you can keep that from me like you kept the fact that Coulson's alive-"

Her voice was cut off as she listened to the man on the other end of the call.

"Thank you kindly, Nick," Natasha said dangerously. Clint could imagine the tight glare on her face as she hung up the call, which was likely accompanied with a simpering grin and an unsaid promise for revenge

While Natasha brought them higher into the air and turned on the high speed thrusters, Clint found a seat to relax into where he could still keep an eye on Bobbi. Hunter was sitting beside her, staring at her face, his eyes unfocused, and Clint wanted to give him some space.

But he didn't feel comfortable joining Natasha in the cockpit, or leaving Bobbi in general. If her oxygen levels or pulse dropped below a certain level they would need to act fast to keep her stable. They were already ridiculously lucky her left lung hadn't collapsed or filled with too much blood, and it was a miracle she hadn't lost enough blood to do more than pass out.

Clint looked at the blonde, her hands dirty with grime and dried blood that flaked off her skin. He had noticed more blood on her right hand than her left, and didn't want to think about why that was. Clint also tried to stop from staring at her right leg. Bobbi's femur appeared to be fractured – her right leg wasn't entirely straight from just above the knee. Another spark of anger flared inside him. Ward would have to run far and wide to stay away from Strike Team Delta.

He wished he could set the bone back into position, but with Bobbi in an already variable state of wellness he didn't want to shock her body more than it already had been. There was also the fact that they had no idea when her leg had been broken – if it had been their first method of torture or if that had been saved for later. Either way, it had to have been a few hours, judging by the amount of swelling, and any attempts at setting it could cause more damage than harm if they interrupted with her body's natural healing process.

A sniffle and a muffled sob made him look to Hunter, who had gripped Bobbi's upper arm (likely because of the lack of blood in that particular area), a tear track down each side of his face.

The archer might not entirely approve of the former merc, but he couldn't deny the man's devotion to Bobbi.

"You doing all right?" he asked softly, his voice not loud enough to carry to the cockpit.

Hunter whipped his head up and wiped the wet trails off his face, though his watery eyes were enough to give him away.

"Why do you care?" he asked, though there was little venom in the question.

"Any friend of Bobbi's is a friend of mine," Clint said, standing and walking closer.

"You tried to shoot me."

"I succeeded."

"You hit my leg. I couldn't walk for a week!"

"You'd dumped my sister at the time," Clint said with a shrug. "It needed to be done."

Hunter sighed, using his free hand to rub his head. "I guess it did."

"You admit you were wrong to divorce her?"

"Me? Back down? Never," Hunter scoffed, though his sarcasm was muted by the crack in his voice. He was silent for a moment before nodding. "Yeah though, I suppose I was wrong. I didn't understand her, understand SHIELD. Heck, I thought you were her boyfriend the first time we met."

Clint made a face.

"I know, right?" Hunter said, shaking his head. "Even after she told me you were like her brother I didn't believe it. I was selfish and jealous."

"Which was why I shot you of course," Clint joked, "I hadn't given you the "you hurt her I'll hurt you" lecture, so I just ran with it."

That drew out a grim smile from the Brit.

"Shut up."

"Luckily for you it looks like you've changed your ways."

It wasn't a lie. Clint could see so much growth since Hunter and Bobbi had divorced. Old Hunter would have raged against Ward, and certainly wouldn't have paid as much attention as he did to Bobbi after she was shot. Old Hunter would have been pacing back and forth, nervous energy making him jittery, but New Hunter seemed to be directing that nervous energy through the grip he held on Bobbi's hand, channeling it into worry and determination.

"Not as much as you'd think," Hunter murmured, shaking his head. "I'm the reason Bobbi was there in the first place."

"Ward was the one who set up the trap-"

"33 was the one who took her though. If I had only been paying attention when they left instead of sulking around with Coulson and Fitz…"

"You're here now, and that's what matters," Clint said, trying to help. He had plenty of experience building Bobbi back up when she was beating herself up, but Hunter was an entirely different ballpark.

"But I wasn't there for her for so long," he said in a pained tone. "When SHIELD fell, where was I? I was calling SHIELD terrorists with the rest of the world. I blamed them for twisting Bobbi's logic, and I was angry that she wasn't responding to my calls or emails. I hadn't given one thought to the fact that she'd lost friends in the HYDRA takeover."

He shook his head, looking pained.

"All those years on and off – from that first time she was sent to get intel from me to our marriage to this mess that came after… I always thought that SHIELD was the enemy. They were the ones keeping me from Bobbi, or keeping her from me, more like.

"I wanted her to give it up so badly. I offered more than once the chance to run away, to leave behind the crazy lives we had and move on. The most recent time…"

He trailed off, raising his eyes to meet Clint's. He met them steadily, just listening. The man had obviously been wanting to get his feelings off his chest for a while now.

"How much do you know about the two different SHIELDS?" Hunter asked.

"Only what Nat's told me," he said, nodding to the redhead in the cockpit. "That Commander Gonzales led one and Coulson led the other, that there was a standoff."

"Bit more than a standoff," Hunter scoffed. "They blew a hole in the side of our base. I was actually on the run when they did that – I'd been kidnapped and brought to their aircraft carrier they used as a base. But anyway, Bobbi was with the SHIELD that Gonzales led. We'd gotten close again, and again she'd turned out to have secrets."

He shook his head. "I offered it to her again – 'why not start over' I asked her, and I said some bullshit about how leaving would let us be new, better people.

"She didn't respond for a moment, I remember," he said, dropping his gaze down to the blonde's face. "And then she looked at me with those big, sad, blue eyes, I'm sure you know the ones, and she tells me she can't. 'I need to finish this' I think she said. I didn't know what she meant then, but I think I do now."

The Brit seemed to be lost in thought as he stared at Bobbi's face, and Clint understood. Bobbi was loyal to a fault. She would never give up on her friends, many of whom she considered family since she'd cut ties with her biological parents.

"I've always wanted her to come to me," he said absently. "But it took me coming to her to understand just why she couldn't."

Clint smiled at that, feeling a fond warmth in his chest grow for the man in front of him, deciding to set aside any qualms he'd held against him. It really was a different man in front of him than the impulsive merc he'd met twice before.

"Bobbi has a way of doing that," the archer said, nodding. "She's so hard to understand until the moment you finally get her, understand her reasoning-"

"And it just becomes her," Hunter said, genuinely smiling. "And she turns into someone so beautiful."

He chuckled. "Bobbi's the most beautiful woman I've ever met."

"Good, because otherwise I'd need to shoot you again," Clint said, and Hunter knew that he hadn't made the connection.

"You watch much British television?" Hunter asked, smirking.

"Can't say I have," Clint said, looking confused. "Why?"

"No reason," Hunter said, looking down at Bobbi and feeling his eyes fill with tears again. God, he was getting so weepy all of a sudden.

The two of them sat in companionable silence, watching closely as Bobbi's chest rose and fell, and Hunter thought long and hard about his relationship with the woman lying between himself and Hunter.

It wasn't long before Bobbi's breathing got more labored and they needed to start a nasal cannula to give her more oxygen. Natasha told them they had about an hour until touchdown. She would contact the Playground as soon as they were within range, and Simmons and the other scientists could get the lab ready to take Bobbi in. Hunter hadn't even known Simmons had a medical degree, but he wasn't complaining.

Soon they were landing and prepping Bobbi to move into the base, but Bobbi seemed to be drained of her will to fight. Just as they started moving her, the blonde's oxygen levels dropped dangerously and they discovered she had stopped breathing.

From there it was a flurry of Clint working the resuscitator, Natasha clearing the way, and Hunter trailing after them, feeling woefully inept and helpless as he watched Bobbi be wheeled into the lounge, outfitted to be a makeshift operating theater, her skin eerily pale under the bright lights.

Well, it's not Tuesday. It's Thursday. Sorry. :( I'm blaming Hunter for this chapter though. He did not want to be written, and it was especially hard to get into his character (any feedback would be MUCH APPRECIATED, since we'll be seeing more of him in the next two chapters).

A few notes:

1) A manual resuscitator is the more general term for "Ambu bag" and is what May mentions using on Bobbi in the show. It basically forces air into someone's lungs to keep them from suffocating due to lack of oxygen.

2) I took some liberty with backstories, especially Hunter's, since we don't know much about him at all. But we do know that he's very verbal in his expression of emotions, which is where his monologue came in. And it might seem a little out of character, but I think he would bond with Clint enough over Bobbi so he would feel comfortable sharing about his relationship with her. :)

3) Did you catch the Doctor Who quote, Whovians? It just sort of came out, and I love imagining Hunter watching Doctor Who when he has a break, maybe with Fitz (when they're not watching socc-football, that is). ;)

Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and thank you all so much for reading!

See you next week!

~Dancer