"Mayday Mayday!"Clint shouts into his comm. Praying that anyone can hear him. His plane was crashing, after his left engine was shot he was going to land but then the enemy shot again and tore off the whole wing. There is no control over the aircraft and he's heading straight for the ocean. "I'm going down! I'm 17 klicks off of West Palm Beach"

By now Clint has accepted his fate. He calms down his breathing and everything goes quiet around him. "Natasha if you hear this, tell my family I love them. I love you too." Clint sighs and closes his eyes. Shortly after, he is slammed into his seatbelt, and the windshield breaks. Water fills his throat.

His reflexes kick in and his fingers quickly unbuckle himself, causing his body to float up. The salt was burning his eyes and throat but it didn't stop him from trying to swim to the surface. There was a sharp pain in his leg that causes him to breathe out, letting go of his last precious air. His leg is caught under the twisted metal and he can't get it out. He wrenches the metal out of the way and tries to tug on his knee in hopes that it'll free him. All to no avail. Black spots are starting to appear at the corner of his vision and his lungs burn.

He feels the effects from the lack of oxygen and his muscles start to go limp, but he doesn't give up. While using one leg to push himself upwards and his arms to pull on the ceiling his left leg tears through the deranged metal with a burst of blood and if Clint had any air left, he probably would've screamed. He swims up to the surface and the second he takes a breath, he starts choking on the water expelled from his lungs.

Once Clint's vision clears out he takes a look around, the water around him is already blossoming with red. He's gotta get onto land before the sharks find him. Fortunately, luck is on his side and he sees an island a short distance away. It takes a while to get there with only one good leg, but he does and he crawls onto the shore. Laying there for ten minutes until he catches his breath.

When he gets up, he hobbles over to a palm tree and leans against it. Looking down at his leg for the first time. His uniform is torn and there is a long gash taking up his whole shin. When he peeks closer, bone is visible. He's already feeling the effects of blood loss and decides to act quickly. Since there are no materials around him he decides to improvise. He tears his shirt off, leaving him shirtless, and takes his army knife out of his back pocket. After ripping the shirt in half, he ties it tightly around his leg trying to stop the blood flow. And the other half of the shirt is used to staunch the blood. At least until Clint can get his mini first aid kit from his utility belt.

Clint manages to get the string and needle out with his shaking hands but he cannot open the package. His teeth are what get the job done. He breathes out to release the tension in his body. "This may hurt a bit." He warns himself before making the first stitch.

The shakiness increases and Clint winces but doesn't stop. About ten stitches in, he sees the sloppiness of them, but the bleeding is stopping. Twenty stitches in, Clint is ready to pass out and in blinking himself back to consciousness. Thirty stitches in are when he physically can't breathe because the pain is too strong. He's almost done at the thirty-seventh stitch. One more. Once that last stitch is in place Clint collapses onto his back and passes out. The sand sticks to his body.

...

Back at base, Fury received the message that Clint sent out before the crash. His eye widens when he listens to it on repeat. The leader of the squad Clint was working with, Agent Joel Crawford was the one who brought it to him. "We believe Agent Barton to be dead." Agent Crawford says grimly. "There's no way he could've survived that crash."

Fury seethes. "You don't know him as I do." After kicking Joel out of his office he calls in Natasha and gives her the info. "Look for any island seventeen klicks off West Palm Beach. Search it thoroughly. I know Agent Barton is still alive." Natasha is quick to reply, "We both do sir." She turns on one heel and jogs to the landing pad. Not even waiting for an instructor.

...

Clint managed to stop the bleeding and get up in a search of water. Water was his first priority, then food. All he had right now was his emergency flask. Clint had probably limped across the whole island four times and still hasn't found anything useful. It's not that big of an island either, probably only a half-mile by a third of a mile. If that.

It's been two days. Clint's lips were dry and peeling and more than once as he almost drank out of the ocean. He doesn't think he can last much longer. A couple of hours ago was when he collapses. The pain of walking was too much now and he didn't have the energy to move. His back was burnt, as was his front. It was itchy, red, and irritated. It hurt when anything touches it. His leg was pulsing with his heartbeat and some of the stitches were pulled when he was walking, causing small droplets of blood to drip down his leg.

Clint saw the light. He was so close to death that he felt. Until there was this loud roaring noise right next to him. He was jerked back awake with hands on his shoulder, and then they moved to his leg. He groaned. At least he thought he did. All that came out was an airy whisper. "Clint? Clint, can you hear me? Please respond. I've been in the air for two and a half days looking for you. I had to go back and get Coulson for help." He manages to open his eyes a crack and see a blurry-looking Natasha. She breaths out a sigh of relief. "Tasha." He rasps out. "You g't...wat'r?" He manages to say. She understands. "I have some on the copter, but you need to stand up. I'm not hauling your heavy ass all the way there." She chuckles.

It takes a little bit before Clint gets up. He sways dangerously and his legs give out onto Natasha. Despite what she said, she still carried his heavy ass to the helicopter. Where he received water and she contacted Shiels that she found Agent Barton, he was being brought in for medical attention.

"Clint?" He hums in response. His throat sounds better now that there is water in his body, but boy does he look rough. His lips were bleeding and cracked when she first found him. "I love you too." She says. After hearing the message, it drove her even harder. Plus, she knows he probably won't remember this when he properly wakes up.

Thanks, Robin-Hoody and Katie MacAlpine for commenting. And to answer you, Katie, I play the flute. And I literally love it.