Rated T & MAJOR Trigger Waring for descriptions of an anxiety attack.

This whole chapter is going to show and describe Clint going through a panic attack for educational purposes. If that may potentially trigger negative symptoms in yourself, I would highly recommend not reading this chapter. Any important information mentioned in this chapter will be summarized at the beginning of the next chapter.


The first day in prison was a blur. Lack of sleep and a clear concussion didn't help the matters, but Clint was sure he didn't miss much. He only remembered phasing in and out of consciousness enroute to the prison, and then immediately clocking out after reaching a cell. He didn't even care if his cot was a metal slate with a sad excuse for a mattress, after nearly 24 hours of travel and a battle fought immediately after, he was out of energy long ago. He was surprised he lasted this long.

What Clint considered his second day in the prison, which may or may not have been only a few hours after arrival, he was finally awake long enough to get a lay of the land. Sam knew the most about their situation, he knew that they were in a prison underneath the ocean and he had witnessed firsthand the unknown friend fall mercilessly to the earth in the battle. It had been Rhodey, and they didn't reach him in time. It was a huge fall and unfortunately Sam wasn't informed of Rhodey's status before getting carted away, or if he was even still alive. The only thing he knew was that he was bound to be in a bad state.

God, they all hoped he would make it out alright. They never wanted any of this to happen...

After observing their prison situation himself, Clint knew that they were in a circular cell block. His cell was closest to the constantly guarded entrance of the block, Scott was in the cell directly to his left, and Sam right next to that. What made him feel on edge was the fact that the three of them were together and Wanda was nowhere to be seen. Clint quickly realized that no amount of threats would get anyone to talk about where Wanda was.

He had promised Wanda he would protect her and he was already breaking that promise against his will. It didn't help that he had the sinking feeling that something was wrong. His fatherly instincts were ringing so many bells throughout his body and he couldn't help but be on edge. That worry did nothing to help his temper when Tony briefly appeared to try wrangling information out of them on Cap's location. Clint was not in the best of moods to talk to that pompous billionaire, normally he would regret "talking" to a friend through insults, but the second Tony mentioned his wife and kids in this prison setting... that threw him over the edge of anger. Tony knew better. Even if Clint could forgive the fact that they stood on different sides of this messed up situation, this one was unforgivable even if they were both in a heated argument. Tony knew better.

But at least Rhodes was hanging in there.

About two days later, Clint finally saw a site for worried eyes: Wanda. She was being escorted by a whole entourage of guards, he could barely see the kid through the sea of men but he managed to make brief eye contact with her disheveled self as she was pushed towards her cell. Clint could see the fear in her eyes but it was mixed with relief that he was at least going to be nearby. Clint gave her a supportive nod as she continued on her way, only noticing the piece of metal around her neck and the straight jacket once he got a different vantage point. He later discovered that it was a shock collar and she has been in a straight jacket the second she was put into a medical viewing cell days ago, no breaks whatsoever. He couldn't be more pissed at Ross for restraining this kid so harshly.

But when Clint discovered that Wanda had been in sickbay due to a drug overdose with the dart she had taken... In short, it was impossible to ignore the sizable dent in Clint's cell wall.

Two days after that, the four prisoners had to bare witness an update on a "very constitutional" court ruling. So far, they were never called to make a statement for themselves and they were only given a statement based on Mr. Thaddeus Ross himself. Charges were still up in the air, but at least the charge of aiding a murder suspect on the run was dropped in light of recent events of finding proof Bucky had not set off the bomb. However, the charges of aiding those who broke out of police custody along with defying the Accords could potentially land them up to 20 years. Clint prayed that over the next few weeks they would get an official court ruling, one where they didn't have to spend nearly that much time in prison. But with only Ross giving the government details so far, Clint was not hopeful.

Days later, Clint stopped keeping track. His lingering concussion and aching body made it hard to distinguish between days that intertwined. He managed to calm himself slightly from the anger he'd had over the past number of days, but he couldn't help but feel a sense of hopelessness in replace. As he sat in the back corner of his cell, his mind naturally wandered with his abundance of free time. He had basically been alone to his thoughts for this whole prison stay since no one had been super sociable. Sam and Scott occasionally started conversations because Scott seemingly needed a constant chatter or light tapping as if he'd go insane without doing something with his time. Wanda, however, was especially silent and it was very hard for Clint to keep in touch with her since she was the furthest away from him. He could almost see Thaddeus laughing at his own sick joke of arranging the cells that way on purpose.

Resting his elbows on raised knees, he folded his hands in front of him. His eyes fell to the metal grates along the center of the cell floor. By what he could tell, they didn't serve any purpose except helping regulate airflow. They were basically air vents but no part of them was big enough to fit a human for an escape route. If he listened closely, he could even hear the slight buzz of electricity under the grates in case someone wanted to mess with them. One thing was for sure, this prison didn't cut corners on security.

Clint leaned his head back against the wall, accidentally hitting it harder than he intended. Rubbing his eyes, he could tell he was not getting any restful sleep during his time in prison. His eyes burned from being sore and his body felt like it was being pushed to the limits even though he had done nothing since confined to his cell.

His chest couldn't help but tighten at the thought of his family. He'd been gone multiple days without even a call, did they know what happened to him? Had the news told them that he was arrested? Did the news share his real name or were Shield protocols still up enough to share one of his aliases? There were so many unknowns and Clint had no way of figuring out any answers. The guards wouldn't tell them anything, Ross sure as hell wouldn't say anything positive, they had no clue if Steve and Bucky were even successful, and Tony only stopped by that once to interrogate them. Unless Tony came back to update them on the outside world, they were locked in a dark closet, literally.

He took in a shaky breath at the thought of the worst case scenario: being trapped in this prison for 20 years. No way of escaping, no way to go home.

Clint had been beaten and tortured on Shield missions for months on end, confined in the worst ways imaginable but even that didn't sound as bad as having to spend 20 years in a single cell. That didn't mean he hated tight spaces, he certainly enjoyed hiding from his father in the air vents as a kid, but the idea of being trapped in one spot long term... Never going outside because hell, Thaddeus would see to it that they would never see the light of day again... That was truly terrifying. He grew up in the circus, living and breathing the fresh air and open spaces, the very idea of never again feeling that freedom which had been a huge part of his life...

He took in another shaky breath as he tried to focus on anything else but his brain felt like it was spiraling out of control. The doors that contained his worst case scenarios were cracked open and difficult to close. He had somehow managed to keep them under control through the stress of this situation over the last few days, never letting his mind wander to the one thing he dreaded the most hiding behind those theoretical doors. He had refused to give it any power but right now, it felt like it was taking the power away from him.

If Clint was going to be trapped in prison for anything close to 20 years, he would never get to see his children grow up. He was only beginning to spend a significant amount of quality time with Cooper while teaching him archery and opening up about his life, but that would not be able to continue. The more Cooper grew up, the more aspects Clint saw in his son that reminded him of his younger self. If Clint wasn't able to be there for his family, at this stage he could see his son growing resentful towards him even if he knew there were circumstances out of his control. He could see Cooper detaching himself from this family as Clint had done with many people in his teenage years. He didn't want to be resented by his son even if Cooper couldn't control that anger.

Being imprisoned would hit Cooper the hardest whether he showed it or not. Lila was resilient like her mother, not to mention stubborn and warm hearted. He was watching her grow into the spitting image of Laura while finding her own sense of self. He had no doubts that one day she'd be an animal rights activist when she constantly tried to convince Clint that he should let her go vegan or at least vegetarian, and he wanted to see where her creativity and intelligence led her in terms of her future career path. He wouldn't be able to watch her create her own life, he would miss half of her childhood.

And Nathaniel... Who knew what sort of person he'd grow to become but he could tell that even now, he was becoming the aunt he was named after. He would love to see him grow up into a mini version of his best friend, but he would miss all of the milestones he had left to accomplish. Clint would never really be able to get to know his youngest son, he would always be a distant memory to the kid who would grow up without his father. That thought alone, hurt in ways the archer would never be able to describe.

Laura... He had gone long stretches without seeing her ever since they met and he had certainly survived them, but he hated every minute of it. The idea of having to go 20 years without holding her close or hearing her voice... He didn't even want to think of that. Not to mention she would still have to take care of the kids without him. No matter how much she loved Cooper, Lila, and Nathaniel, he knew that raising them were a handful whenever he was away on a mission. Heck, they were always a handful whenever Clint was home to help out too. The three kids outnumbered the two of them and Clint knew that fact alone gave Laura stress, and even if Cooper and Lila helped care for baby Nate, he knew Laura would still have her fair share of struggles. Clint knew she would be fine if it came down to it, Laura was one of the strongest women he knew, but he would still feel immensely guilty for putting that added pressure onto her.

Maybe Tony was right, he should have thought about his wife and kids more when making his decision to break the law. He should have kept in mind this worst case scenario, he should have known that he may have to abandon his family if he was stuck in prison for the next 20 years.

"You read it, you broke it."

Clint covered his ears as the last words Tony said to him rung through his mind. He wished he could drown them out but through gritted teeth he knew, they would continue to ring.

"You're all grown up, you got a wife and kids. I don't understand, why didn't you think about them before you chose the wrong side?"

Clint balled his fists against his head, putting pressure on his temples in hopes of preventing him from trembling. He squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to stop his emotions from exploding like a shaken soda can. It was so much effort to try and contain his own mind that it was physically straining. The thoughts racing through his brain didn't help his concentration, they were so distracting. What if he had only signed the Accords? What if he had left before the battle at the airport? What if he had never argued with Tony while in this prison?

That last one had been on the forefront of Clint's mind for the past few days. Laura and the kids were now in great danger all because they had an argument and Tony mentioned them. Tony knew better, Ross had eyes and ears everywhere in this prison and Tony knew that his family was a closely guarded secret, but if Clint had only kept his stupid mouth shut, maybe they wouldn't be in this situation. They were not in any databases, only people Clint trusted knew he had a family, but now...

Clint had the sudden urge to hit the wall, but he barely kept a hold on himself. His secret was out and there was nothing he could do about it. What sucked was the fact that the one man Clint wanted to keep that secret away from was the most prominent witness. The archer knew that Thaddeus would do whatever he could to figure out any and all details on Clint's life, he had done it before. He knew Thaddeus would love to use his family against him if the occasion ever arose after Shield had ruined his dangerous plans for power one too many times. Clint could only hope that the safeguards he built around his family for the past 15 years would be strong enough against Thaddeus's resources.

His heart started beating through his chest as if it was puncturing his ribcage. If his family was traced, that was on him. He did this to them. God, he put his family in danger and he was trapped in a prison cell, unable to protect them. If anything happened to them...

He tried to take in deep breaths to distract himself from those thoughts, but he only managed shallow breaths no matter how hard he tried. It felt like his bones were closing in on his lungs as his whole body shook with every attempt. Was he ever going to see his family again?

He shouldn't have answered Steve's call. He should have stayed retired. He had so many opportunities to leave this situation, and he took none of them. He should have. He really should have.

Clint struggled to catch his breath. It felt like he was drowning in air, unable to get enough oxygen into his lungs to think properly. It felt like he was having a heart attack through his healing ribs. Was he actually having a heart attack? Was he going to just drop dead right here? Never say goodbye?

As thoughts ran straight through his brain and disappeared just as quickly as they came, he knew deep down what was happening. It took him a hot minute to even admit it to himself but he knew, he was having a panic attack.

He hadn't had a full on panic attack seemingly spurred by nothing in years, it seemed so foreign to him now when it used to be so normal. What should he do? He felt like he forgot how to calm himself down in these moments. He knew how, he knew he did, but no matter how much he tried to think of solutions he could not for the life of him think rationally enough. His brain was a puddle.

So he sat there, silently panicking even further from his lack of ability to think. He was being so stupid right now, why couldn't he think of anything to help?

He frantically looked around the cell, as if the bare walls would hold an answer for him. He felt almost ghostly sitting in this stronghold as if he could just phase out of existence. He heard Scott talking to Sam a short distance away, but it felt like he was wearing noise canceling headphones. He couldn't process any of their words.

Distraction. That always helped, and he was already subconsciously doing that as he looked around and noticed his friends voices. Even through his overload, he felt the tiniest bit of relief at the fact that he was already trying to help himself.

He continued to look around the room, looking for anything else to focus on since it seemed impossible to process words right now. Unluckily, there wasn't much to focus on. There was a toilet with the lid down making it look like a normal seat, a small metal table bolted to the floor, and the bed to the right of him.

Standing. He should stand. That will give him something else to focus on, movement.

Clint sat forwards to rest his hand on the edge of the bed in order to help prop himself up, but that made him notice just how much his hand was trembling. It was like a nerve was being pinched and making it shake uncontrollably.

He looked away, he had a task to focus on. No matter how much his whole body was shaking, he was going to complete it. It took him a second but eventually he was able to heave his swaying body up using the bed as a support. Once he was stable, he caught his breath from what felt like running a marathon. He leaned against the wall as he did so and decided to give himself another task when he was ready: moving.

With each distraction he gave himself, his brain became slightly less foggy. He was able to instinctively remember that pacing always helped him, no matter what situation. Panic attack: pacing. Nightmare: pacing. Bored in his cell: pacing.

So he did. His legs felt fused together, muscles feeling like they had fallen asleep from the time he spent sitting down. It was a struggle to get his body initially moving with his lack of breath, but once his body warmed up to the tiny steps he took, he found a comfortable rhythm. The more his body seemed to wake up, the clearer his mind got.

Walking back and forth a few times within his small room, eventually he raised his arms above his head. Resting his locked hands on his unwashed hair as he continued moving, he was able to focus on taking deeper breaths. He no longer felt like he was being suffocated by his own lungs, but his breaths were still shallow and sharp. Raising them above his head helped his body open up his airways just a little bit, but it was helping and that's all he needed it to do.

He could do this. Yeah, he could do this.

In, out. In, out. If he focused on those two actions, he would feel better. He knew he would.

Clint paced for minutes around the room, muttering those two words under his breath with every step. He also allowed the negative thoughts that ran into his brain stay for just a second before pushing them away. He let them flow through him the best he could because if he knew one thing in his currently state of mind, it was that he wasn't in a state where rationalizing them would help.

Eventually, he had gathered enough air to take in a full deep breath. It was so refreshing. Just being able to breathe again helped him immensely.

When he didn't need his hands above his head anymore, he took in one more deep breath as he released their locked hold and let them flop to his sides. He shook out both arms, letting the blood flow through them properly after being stuck in that position for a while. Cracking his knuckles while he moved his head in a circular motion, he was glad that his whole body was no longer shaking uncontrollably. His hands were still affected as he continuously rubbed them together, trying to keep them busy and distracted, but even their movements were dimmed.

He was doing good. He would be fine. The worst of the storm was over, now he could focus on the recovery.

But what if this happened again?

Clint took in a breath through closed eyes, pushing that thought away after accepting it into his brain. If he had another attack in this prison, he would deal with it in the exact same way: one step at a time.

"I don't understand, why didn't you think about them before you chose the wrong side?"

The archer sighed at the lingering thoughts that rang through his ears. He wanted so badly to just blame Tony for any series of unfortunate events following these Accords, but he knew he couldn't even if it was out of friendship. He may not agree with the Accords, but he couldn't blame Tony for trying to see the good it was attempting to offer. Clint especially wanted to blame Tony for his outburst of spilling the beans about his family, but he knew he couldn't do that either. They were both to blame. If they hadn't been so thickheaded, those words would have never been said.

But he couldn't change the past. He had to continue forward with the decisions that led him to this prison cell. As much as he wanted to hate himself for choosing the path he did, he knew he couldn't. Deep down, he knew that he did not chose the wrong side. For him, whatever choices he made that led him here, they were the best decisions he could have made at the time. He considered all the options before making any decisions, and he chose the best ones. The best ones just happened to come with sacrifice.

Damn, making the right call sucked ass sometimes.

Thinking about his family, both of them, led him here. This just so happened to end in a 'no-win scenario,' no matter what he chose. The Avengers had taken a huge beating, there was a rift between the two sides that he didn't know if it could be mended. Even if they lost the airport fight, those who won paid dearly in Rhodey's injuries and the fact that the team would never be the same.

Clint rubbed his neck as he continued to pace around his tiny cell. Yeah, this sucked. This prison sucked, but he had been confined for long periods of time before and he would do it again. Yeah, the Accords sucked, but they would figure out how to work around it even if it would be difficult. And yeah, this anxiety sucked, but he had made it through horrible bouts before and he would do it again.

This situation sucked, but all he could do was accept that he was here and try to move on.


I originally wrote this chapter about 3 years ago. Most of these Civil War chapters were written even before I started posting this story, and while all these chapters got a complete rewrite, I find it funny how I wrote about Clint having an anxiety attack before I even realized I had generalized anxiety disorder. Throughout my years of writing, I've realized that writing and reading about these sensitive topics that I also experience are very therapeutic for me and maybe some of my readers feel the same to know they are not alone in their struggles.

That being said, I am not an expert on the topics of anxiety and depression just because I have gone through my share of issues with them. I simply reflect on my own experiences, my loved ones experiences, and my own research. Anxiety comes in different forms depending on the person and intensity, and my own experiences are not like Clint's. The way I portrayed Clint's anxiety attack may have some general similarities to my own, but I made choices on his experiences with anxiety based on his characteristics, his struggles/trauma, and my own research. I always strive to give a realistic representation of mental health struggles because they are a sensitive topic but one that needs to be discussed. The more we talk about mental health as a society, the more help will be available and the more it will be normalized to get help instead of struggling in silence.

Hopefully reading about how Clint was able to relieve himself of a panic attack can help if anyone else gets trapped in one. The biggest thing to help with any form of mental health struggles is to simply talk about it with someone. Talk about it with close friends or family you trust, or even call a helpline or find a therapist. Heck, even DM me if you need a little rant. Start talking about it, you are not alone and when you reach out for help, you will heal in time.