Trigger Warning: Blood, Vomit, Severe Concussion

Day Eight
Everything Hurts and I'm Dying
Stomach Pain | Head Trauma | Back from the Dead

"Cap, look out!"

Steve barely had time to react as a set of steel arms wound around his through, yanking him away from the enhanced he had been battling. But a second later, the arms disappeared, and Steve swung around just in time to see Clint on the enhanced soldier's shoulders, flinging his body weight to one side to take the man down hard, and then twisting to snap his neck.

"Clint?" Steve gasped, confused as to why the archer had left his perch.

"Ran out of arrows," Clint answered the unasked question as he scrambled back up to his feet. "These bastards don't go down easy. Look alive, Cap!" And with that he lunged at the next target.

It was supposed to have been a low key, reconnaissance mission to investigate rumors that an enemy base was experimenting with super soldiers. What they actually got were dozens of half-Hulks – men and women with green tinted skin and inhuman strength, but they were only able to survive a couple days tops.

They had been ready to retreat and report their findings… when Steve had been spotted.

"Clint…" Steve called as he fought. "You need to get outta here!"

Because this was Steve's mess, and Clint shouldn't be putting himself in danger to help clean it up. It had been one thing when Clint had been safely stowed away up on his perch, but going hand to hand with these half-Hulks was surely above Clint Barton's paygrade.

"Not happening," Clint called back as he yanked three arrows from one of the bodies on the floor and started snapping off shallow shots to slow the soldiers down.

As much as Steve didn't like it… he was grateful. Admittedly, without Clint's help he very likely would have been overwhelmed. Even though Clint didn't have enhanced strength, he clearly was well trained in how to use an opponent's own strength against them.

"Cap!" Clint yelled as Steve was blindsided, one enhanced jumping on his back while he had tried to take down another. A moment later an arrow went zinging passed his ear burying itself in his attacker's eye.

Steve shrugged off the soldier and turned to thank Clint… when he saw it. Clint was still lowering his bow, neglecting to watch his own back as he watched Steve's. One of the half-Hulks got a hand around Clint's throat and before anyone could react, he had bodily lifted Clint off his feet and slammed him into the concrete floor.

"No!" Steve roared as he went surging across the room, tackling the soldier off of Clint before he could do any more damage.

To Steve's dismay, he wasn't able to turn and get to Clint right away, the last handful of soldiers refusing to go down easy. As he was fighting, he was shocked when another arrow went zinging passed him to bury in an approaching soldier's neck. He glanced over his shoulder to see that Clint had somehow managed to leverage himself up only one knee, grabbing arrows from nearby bodies in order to support Steve. But it was clear something was wrong. Clint was swaying unsteadily and squinting, each shot further from a killshot than the last.

And finally, all at once, it was over.

Immediately, Steve was running back to where Clint was still kneeling. He had dropped his bow and was bracing one hand on the ground as he hunched over himself, gasping raggedly for breath.

"Clint!" Steve said as he dropped to his knee next to the archer.

And that's when he saw it. The back of Clint's head was drenched in blood, matting his hair and dripping down the back of his neck. For a moment, Steve could only stare as his stomach clenched. There was so much blood…

Clint coughed and then gagged before spitting a loogie tinted with red onto the floor. Then he angled his head up so that he could squint in Steve's general direction.

"I think… think I mighta… hit my head," Clint gasped.

Steve could only blink at him for a moment, at a loss. Should he tell him? Or would that only panic him?

"Maybe…" Steve finally hedged. "Here, hang on."

He reached around to the compartment on Clint's quiver that he knew always held bandages. He unrolled a generous amount and quickly folded it into a pad. He placed the pad on the gash in the back of Clint's head and then carefully put pressure on it, eliciting a pained yelp that devolved into a groan from Clint.

"I… hit my head…" Clint finally mumbled, and Steve honestly couldn't tell if he was talking to him, or himself.

"Yeah, you'll be okay, though," Steve said. "Backup should be here any minute and then we'll get you medical care. They'll be able to patch you right up." Steve had called in backup as soon as their mission had been blown, and he knew that Natasha and Tony were on their way with the Quinjet.

After holding pressure to the wound for a few minutes in an attempt to stem the bleeding, Steve picked up the roll of bandages and started winding them around Clint's head, wrapping it firmly on top of the pad of bandages that was already soaked through. Clint endured this silently, staring down at his hand still braced on the ground somewhat vacantly.

"C'mon," Steve urged when he was done. "Think you can make it outside?"

Clint lifted his head, in what was assumedly going to be a nod, but at the motion, Clint suddenly went from pale to ashy as he swayed unsteadily. Clint took a moment, breathing deeping in an attempt to compose himself. Then he started pushing himself up, and Steve quickly rose with him, supporting him the whole time. Clint leaned on Steve heavily, but just before they turned to make their way outside, Clint paused.

"Hang on," he murmured. "My bow…"

Before Steve could react, Clint was already leaning down to grab his discarded bow. And then, very suddenly, he froze.

"Clint?" Steve said unsurely.

And then suddenly, Clint heaved, huffing out a puff of air. He heaved again, another pained, puff of air. And then he was violently retching, each convulsion shaking his entire body as his stomach emptied onto the blood stained floor. His knees gave out immediately and Steve supported him for a few seconds before he thought better of that and lowered them both back down to the floor. Steve grimly knew that this wasn't going to pass quickly.

Even long after Clint's stomach was empty, his body continued to convulse as he dry heaved so hard that he gagged and choked before the next heave. It was an awful thing to witness, and Steve felt beyond helpless as all he could do was kneel next to Clint and hold him up so that he didn't collapse into his own vomit.

It seemed like an eternity, but finally the convulsions seemed to lessen. Clint's skin was soaked with sweat and he was gasping so desperately that he was practically wheezing.

"Easy, Clint," Steve tried to assure him. "Just take it easy and just breathe, okay? That's all I need you to do right now, just breathe."

Clint leaned heavily into Steve as he squeezed his eyes shut and took in a few shuddering deep breaths.

"Okay," Clint finally huffed as he blinked his eyes open again. "Let's… get outta here…"

Steve was a lot less confident in moving Clint than he was before, but if nothing else, they needed to get away from the vomit. The smell was starting to make even Steve queasy. So, Steve reached over and grabbed Clint's bow, slinging it over his shoulder. Then he ducked under Clint's arm and helped him very slowly up to his feet. Clint swayed and hung his head and Steve paused, bracing himself for another round. But Clint swallowed and determinedly began to stumble forward and Steve quickly fell into step.

As they made it outside, Clint groaned and raised a hand to block the searing sun from his eyes as he squinted around.

"Yousaid… backup?" Clint slurred in confusion.

Steve desperately searched the sky… and relief washed over him as he spotted the incoming jet.

"I did," Steve confirmed. "Here they are."

A few minutes later and the jet had landed a short ways away. Steve and Clint were already stumbling to the jet as the ramp lowered.

"What happened?" Natasha demanded as she ran down the ramp to meet them.

"He hit his head," Steve said. "He's pretty severely concussed. We need to get him to a medical facility as soon as possible."

Natasha nodded in agreement as she fell into step beside them as they stumbled up the ramp. She looked at Clint critically, who hadn't acknowledged her presence. "Clint?"

His eyes were still open, but they suddenly appeared vacant as he didn't respond. Natasha hurried back up to the cockpit to direct Tony as Steve immediately got Clint over to a cot in the first aid area of the jet, settling him down onto it.

"He'll have us at the nearest SHIELD base in thirty minutes," Natasha reported when she returned just as the jet was taking off.

Steve nodded, but his eyes were still on Clint's still form. Clint's eyes had slid shut as soon as Steve had laid him down, and it appeared the archer had finally fallen unconscious. He knew Clint was going to be okay. SHIELD had the best doctors and medical equipment, and these were injuries they were well acquainted with. Clint would make a full recovery and be back on missions in almost no time.

But even knowing that, Steve still felt a knot in his stomach.

"Even concussed, he still managed to save my life," Steve said quietly, remembering the arrows that had continued to fly.

At that, Natasha just smiled. "That's Clint for you."

Steve couldn't help the small smile that pulled at his own lips. "Yeah… I guess it is."