In the maximum-security prison known as the RAFT, a place where criminals with powers and abilities too dangerous for any other facility to safely house them, Bullseye was in the medical wing, his wounds being treated. His battle with Ronin had been a brutal one, and between his desperation to end the fight, and his anger over what Bullseye had done to Sharon, Bullseye had ended up in critical condition.

He was hooked up to a number of machines and was being drip fed a number of treatments. Most of all though. He could hear people all around him, but his vision was blurred, barely any kind of vision at all. It was mostly just bright, white light, with vaguely human-shaped shadows around. Some of them moved. He could hear voices.

"He has a number of deep lacerations and contusions, not to mention a whole host of broken bones." One of the technicians stated. "I don't know what the other guy looks like, but if this is what they did to this guy, then frankly I'm not sure I want to know."

"How about his faculties?" Another voice asked.

"He's got a major concussion, evidence of numerous head injuries, but frankly that's not really much of a surprise." The technician stated. "I've treated this patient the last few times he's been in here, and with his medical history, frankly he should have been dead about a hundred times over."

"What about his face?" The voice asked.

"The skin grafts will take care of the worst of the scarring." The technician told him. "But his eyes…I'm afraid the damage is permanent."

"Permanent?" Bullseye roared. "PERMANENT!"

"Jesus Christ, he's awake?" One of the technicians stated, checking his vitals. "We've got him on enough meds to knock out someone twice his size!"

"Like I said, we've treated him a number of times. He's built up quite a resistance." Another stated. "Apparently it's only got stronger since the last time. Perhaps he's taking things recreationally between visits?"

"He…took…my eyes!" Bullseye yelled. "HE TOOK MY EYES!" One of the figures stepped forward.

"I'm afraid that's what it looks like. But it doesn't have to remain that way." He told him. Bullseye tried to get a better look at him, but all he could see was a hazy shadow.

"Who are you?" He asked.

"Who I am is someone that can help you." The voice stated. "If you want it of course."

"If you're messing with me…"

"No, no, I'm not. I'd never do that." The man told him. "I hate to see people with such talents laid low before their time. Would you all mind giving us the room?"

The others left, leaving only Bullseye and the mysterious stranger.

"Now that we're alone, I want to make you an offer." The man told him. "You see, they estimate that at best, you'll get about ten percent of your vision back. Probably it'll be more like five. Your eyes are all kinds of messed up. They're also kind of…freaky looking if I can be honest. Like…kind of gross looking. I'm almost surprised they left them in to be honest."

Bullseye let out a scream and struggled against his restraints. The stranger went to one of the machines and pressed a button, pumping more pain meds into Bullseys's system.

"I'm sorry, that was insensitive. I mean, clearly you're in distress. Someone like you being unable to see? Why, that's the kind of tragedy on a level of Beethoven when he was told he was going deaf. I mean…it worked out for him but, right now I imagine you have to be wondering what the point is in even going on?"

"You better be trying to make some kind of point!" Bullseye screamed, thrashing against his restraints. The stranger came right to the side of his bed, leaning over.

"Right now, it's hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel. No pun intended." The stranger carried on. "But what if I could tell you that I could change that?"

"I'd say you're lucky I have nothing to throw at you!" Bullseye growled.

"I doubt I'd have much to worry about right now anyway, but I promise you I'm on the level." The man told him. "I know talent when I see it, and I was pointed in your direction by a mutual friend, Dr Rappuchini."

"Rappuchini?" Bullseye asked.

"She appreciated your discretion. So, she thought she'd make a call." The man told him. "That's why I'm here."

"Who are you?" Bullseye asked him.

"My name is Simon Krieger. Head of research at Roxxon Incorporated." He introduced himself. "And if you're willing to consent to some experimental procedures, I think we could see ourselves beginning a new…"

"Where do I sign?" Bullseye interrupted him. Krieger just smiled.

"Don't worry." Krieger answered. "I can take your verbal confirmation. It'll just require a little…change of venue, and I'm sorry to say that will require you to take a little nap."

With that, he hit a couple of buttons. Bullseye felt drugs rushing into his system, way more than should have been allowed. Very quickly, the world faded away into nothing.

Over on the Helicarrier, late at night, Sharon was resting, but was roused when she heard the door. She looked over, seeing Kamala bringing her son into the room. Kamala looked a little sheepish.

"I'm really sorry." She whispered. "I've been trying to get Mikey to go to bed, but he refuses to go until he sees you…"

"It's alright. Really." Sharon replied as Kamala brought him over. "Hey, sweetie."

Mikey hugged her, at which Sharon winced a little, hissing in pain.

"That's…that's OK, sweetie, you just need to be real gentle with mommy for a little while." She told him. She looked to Kamala who didn't seem to react as she said this. "I'm guessing Kate's told you?"

"She didn't have to." Kamala replied. "My mom…she's got a lot of scars on her arm, right here." Kamala indicated up and down her left forearm. "When my brother was little…like really little, back in Karachi, a dog went for him. Mom grabbed it and dragged it off him. Dad said that it looked like it had torn half her arm off. The way you fought Bullseye? There aren't many things that'll make someone take on a fight like that."

"You're a bright kid." Sharon said with a smile as she held her son, stroking his hair, trying to settle him. "Thank you for taking care of him."

"He's a great kid." Kamala assured her. "It's what Avengers do. We help people, especially our own."

"I'm not…"

"Close enough." Kamala interrupted her with a wink. "I've heard about all the stuff you did back in the day."

"Yeah, well…that was a long time ago." Sharon responded. "Before this little guy came along."

"Well, I've not been on this team long, but one thing I know is, they don't believe anyone ever stops being one of them." Kamala responded. They heard a sound at the door, and turned, seeing Clint standing in the doorway. Kamala just reached out to Mikey.

"Alright Mikey, I think it's time you were in your bed." She said soothingly, lifting him up and carrying him out the room, past Clint. He stood silently while Kamala left, before closing the door behind him.

"You're already on your feet." Sharon commented.

"Ah, you know me." Clint chuckled. "It takes more than a lacerated spleen, three fractured ribs and a blood transfusion to keep me down."

"Oh, I remember all too well." Sharon sighed. "I remember being the one sitting beside you watching you get put back together more than a few times."

"And on more occasions than you'd like to admit you were in the bed right next to mine." Clint recalled. There was a moment of silence, one which seemed to stretch out painfully as they just looked at each other.

"You know, I think that was always one of the things that connected us." Clint whispered. "Both of us knew that this was only likely to end badly for us. Both of us should have been dead so many times. Any sane person would have gotten the message and called it a day long ago."

"Are you trying to get me to quit?" Sharon asked him. "Because we've been through this…"

"No, I get it." Clint interrupted her. "So, you're a mom?"

Sharon just groaned hearing him saying this.

"Clint, I…"

"Look, I get it. I do." He told her. "What happened after I left, I really have no right to be upset about."

"After you…?"

"I couldn't expect you to wait around forever. The way I treated you, I'm not surprised you moved on." Clint continued. Sharon relaxed into the bed.

"It was…he was…" Sharon said, trying to think of what to say to him. "He's not in the picture. It was a thing and then it wasn't."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Clint told her. "You deserve better. I always hoped you'd find it. Even if it wasn't with me."

Clint took her hand, squeezing it gently.

"We should be at Substation Zero soon." He assured her. "They'll be able to take care of you and Mikey until you're back on your feet, and then if you're interested, Maria said she would like to talk to you about coming back to the old firm."

"So, not only would I have a classified CV but I'd also be a fugitive from my own country." Sharon reasoned out. Clint gave an awkward laugh in response.

"Well, the offer's there, whether you take it or not." Clint assured her. "I'm really sorry things worked out like this."

As he was about to leave, Sharon took a deep breath.

"Clint!" She called out to him. He turned back, waiting to hear what she had to say. Looking into his crystal blue eyes, she forced a smile. "It was pretty good seeing you again too."

With that, he walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. Sharon leaned back into her bed, her hands over her face.

"Damn it." She muttered.

In a lab, far from the Helicarrier, Simon Krieger arrived at one of Roxxon's secure laboratories along with a large security team. Their truck pulled into the secure loading area, being met by a very large contingent of guards, and some lab technicians.

"Alright, boys and girls, daddy's home and he's brought a present!" He chirped as he leapt down from the truck, banging the side of it. "Let's get him into the lab. I've been waiting a long time for a subject like him."

"Sir, are you sure all this is necessary?" One of them asked as they saw the security team carrying a large, almost coffin-like container. It looked like it was built to carry a bear, and had numerous devices and displays on it, tracking his vitals and sedation. "We do have extensive security…"

"Let me tell you a little something about this guy. He's so dangerous that any time they lock him up, they have him on a steady diet of laxatives. You want to know why?" Krieger asked him. "Because he's so deadly that if he has a solid bowel movement, they're worried he'd use it as a weapon. Yeah, you heard that right, this guy could kill you with a turd. You want to be killed with a turd? I don't even have any idea what that would even look like, but I am in no hurry to find out. Gentlemen, to the lab!"

As they started to take the container through, a member of the security team approached him.

"So, if he's that dangerous, are you sure you really want to fix him up?" The security guard asked. "It sounds like him being broken is kind of a good thing."

"An attack dog is useful. People with his kind of talent don't come along often." Krieger answered. "But just like an attack dog, all you have to do is make sure you put him on a leash."

Back on the Helicarrier, Clint was standing on the deck, looking out over the forests of the Pacific Northwest. Kate came up behind him.

"There you are, I've been looking all over you." Kate announced as she came up to him. "We're just taking Sharon to the Quinjet. We thought you might want to go with her."

"I'm sure she'll be fine without me." Clint answered. "SHIELD will take much better care of her than I could."

"You sure you don't want to go with her?" Kate asked him. He just nodded.

"SHIELD will take care of her and Mikey now." Clint replied. "Besides, I've got another appointment with JARVIS and his nanites to look forward to."

"You know, JARVIS doesn't exactly have office hours. You can see him whenever you like." Kate reminded him. "Who knows when you're going to see Sharon again?"

"She's been fine without me for this long." Clint responded sadly. "She and her son will be just fine."

"So, she told you." Kate surmised. Clint looked to his protégé, folding his arms as he leaned against a wall.

"She told me that Mikey was hers." Clint informed her. "She was always able to handle just about anything that was thrown her way. He's a great kid. It's clear she was doing just fine."

"She told you that Mikey was hers?" Kate asked him. "And…that's all she told you?"

"You mean did she tell me that Mikey was mine?" Clint asked her. "No, she didn't."

Kate just looked at him in amazement.

"She didn't tell you?" She asked. "But you know because…"

"Hey, why is everyone always so surprised when I figure things out?" Clint asked, sounding a little irritated by this. "I may not be Bruce or Tony or Hank, but I was a spy for a long time. You don't live long in that game if you're an idiot."

"And you're alright with this?" Kate shrieked.

"Of course I'm not." Clint answered sadly. "But, Sharon told me that Mikey's dad wasn't in the picture. The fact she didn't tell me the truth makes it pretty clear she wants it to stay that way."

"But Clint, he's your son!" Kate protested. "You have a right to be a part of his life…"

"I was a part of his life." Clint pointed out. "I came back into his and Sharon's life for one day and look what happened. Maybe they'd both be better off without me."

"So, that's it?" Kate ranted. "You're cool with Sharon just taking him out of your life."

"I have to be." Clint replied, before starting to walk away.

"Clint?" She called after him. "CLINT! You told me you were planning to leave all of this for her! You were going to turn your back on everything you've spent your entire adult life doing for her, and this is it? You're just going to let her walk away? What about Mikey?"

"I had my chance to be a part of his life." Clint told her. "Now, I'm just a friend of his mom's, and that's the way it has to stay."

"I don't get you." Kate muttered. She came across, hugging him.

"You really want to help?" He asked her. She just nodded.

"Anything." She assured him.

"Then come with me to the HARM room." Clint told her. "I'm suddenly in the mood to break something, and I'm sure Bruce would like it if I didn't undo all his work."

As he walked away, Kate reluctantly followed him. She wished she could do more for him, but it seemed his mind was made up. At least this way, she could stop him from ending up back in the infirmary.

Meanwhile, at Roxxon, Krieger was in an observation room, staring through the glass, watching as his scientists got to work on Bullseye's broken body. An assistant came in, carrying a glass of champagne.

"Thank you." He said, taking the glass and taking a sip. "Ah, Kristol. Perfect! You know, I do find it a little excessive to have this for anything other than the biggest celebrations, but I have a good feeling this will be one of those times."

"Sir, forgive my asking, but why are we helping someone like him?" The assistant asked him. "There are surely so many more deserving people whose lives would be changed by this procedure."

"Yes, but more deserving candidates are so high-profile." Krieger said, waving off the comment. "If this doesn't go to plan, then what is really lost? The world loses one of its most unrepentant serial killers. No one's going to lose sleep over not seeing him again."

"And if it does work?" The assistant asked him.

"Then, I'll have one of the deadliest and most ruthless killers that ever lived eternally in my debt." Krieger told her, leaning in and looking more closely through the glass with a sinister smile. "My own personal weapon."