5. Don't stand there watching me, follow me, show me what you can do

"Natasha said that when she joined SHIELD no one would go out in the field with her but you and Coulson," Darcy said, slowly shredding the napkin from her strudel.

"Sort of," Clint shrugged, looking a little chagrined. "I put a lot of work into pissing Phil off when he took over as my SO. I was so good at it that by the time we ironed out all our problems word got around and none of the senior agents wanted to work with me. Fury made Phil Natasha's SO, I think to punish both of us. Anyway May'd been promoted to senior specialist so that more or less left Phil with the worst team player in SHIELD and the scariest assassin on the planet and no one over level four who'd willingly get near either of us."

"Must have been hard," Darcy pulled a face. "I never thought about it, but Natasha must have had a rough time adjusting."

"She actually did better than I thought she would," Clint smiled fondly. "She had some weird coping mechanisms."

"No, no, not a safe house. A house," Clint let out a sigh, flinging another dart. It sailed through the air landing in the dead center of the bullseye taped to the ceiling of the briefing room. He looked over at Natasha from where he was sprawled in the middle of the conference table. "You know, like a place of your own."

"I have a place here at headquarters," Natasha said neutrally. She was doing handstand pushups. She was doing them on one of the rolling chairs, her hands gripping the arm rests. She lowered herself down until the top of her head nearly brushed the seat and then pushed back up. Clint watched her for a long moment. He'd tried to do it once but he still had a scar from where he'd broken the coffee table in the senior agent's lounge and Phil had told him he wasn't allowed to try it any more.

"Not a work place," he said in exasperation, taking aim at the ceiling again. "A home place. A place to order pizza, and watch TV, and do your own thing."

"Like the laundry room," she replied. Clint stared back at her again, tamping down his frustration. Not for the first time he felt badly about the grief he'd given Coulson back when he'd first started at SHIELD. He wasn't sure if Romanov was serious or just yanking his chain but he got the distinct feeling that she was the way she was because her childhood had been even more messed up than his and that was all kinds of wrong on an infinite number of levels.

"Look, you've cleared probation, I know you've been going out into the city in your down time," he said with a sigh. "That's good, you've worked hard to prove yourself and you should have a chance to spend some time doing something besides work. I just thought if you wanted a place of your own I'd be happy to ask Coulson to give you a hand, he's great with real estate."

"You think I should acquire a residence in the city so that I can leave headquarters four or five days each month and," she paused as if thinking the scenario though carefully "expend my down time laundering musty linens and cleaning contaminated food products left unattended in the refrigerator?"

"Okay when you say it like that it sounds like a stupid idea," Clint admitted. Natasha continued her pushups with a condescending hum. "I just thought, you probably haven't had a lot of privacy and maybe you might enjoy that."

"For sexual relations?" she asked. Clint let out a choking noise, smacking his head into the tabletop. He hated sex conversations with Natasha. Her second week at SHIELD she'd been cat-called by a handful of idiot probationary agents in the gym and had responded by completely unironically pursuing all of them at once. Clint had happened by just in time to break things up before someone, someone who wasn't Natasha, got hurt. The next thing he'd known he was in Melinda's office listening to her explain the concept of sexual harassment and informed consent to a super spy whose code name implied she regularly sucked the life out of her under performing bed partners. Clint still felt traumatized by the whole experience. Mel was dating a shrink for god sake, you'd think the exposure to good mental health practices would make her less crazy.

"I'm not certain anyone at SHIELD would be a viable partner," Natasha added thoughtfully.

"That makes two of us," he muttered under his breath.

"You have a home." she said. Clint nodded in reply.

"Yep, 's kind of a dump." How he'd managed it continued to be a mystery. He was pretty sure Coulson was renewing his lease for him, which stood to reason since Coulson had set up auto pay on all his bills. "I figured you'd appreciate something more classy but it suits me fine." He threw another dart into the ceiling before glancing over at Natasha again. He watched her for a long moment, trying to work out the logistics of how he could buy a rolling chair then get it onto the subway and into his third floor walk up. The first step was probably finding a rolling chair store.

The door to the briefing room clicked open and Clint threw his last dart into the ceiling before stretching languidly.

"Hey Coulson, how're the level sevens treating you?" Clint rolled his head around toward the door and blanched instantly. Phil was wearing the blank, unreadable expression he normally only wore when he was fighting down blinding rage. Clint quickly looked over at Natasha who was rolling back to her feet and settling into her chair in one fluid motion. She seemed unperturbed, her expression relaxed as she kicked the chair up to the table. Clint wasn't dumb enough to think she hadn't already learned to read Phil like book. Well shit.

"I didn't do it," Clint said automatically, sitting up on the table and crossing his legs in front of him. Phil's only reply was a deeply unimpressed look, his lips a thin-set line. He didn't turn as he tossed down the newspaper tucked under his arm.

"Would you care to explain this?" he asked, his tone grave as he slid the paper in front of Natasha. She looked up at him with huge, liquid green eyes, no trace of guile in her expression. She tilted her head to the side slightly before looking down at the paper.

"Recent graduates face increasing employment hurdles," She read emotionlessly. She looked back up at Coulson as if giving that careful consideration. "Are you suggesting I'm responsible for the state of the economy?"

Phil's eyes narrowed at her threateningly and his index finger came down on the front page over an article below the headline. Natasha blinked back at him slowly.

"For the third time this month a local man has been assaulted by someone he met through a popular online dating site," Clint read from the article with a slight frown. "The victims have offered conflicting descriptions of their attackers but consistency of the evidence has led investigators to presume a lone perpetrator." Clint looked between Natasha and Phil. The pair of them staring each other down.

"Agent Romanov," Phil said, his tone firm. "I would hate to believe you would use the recent end of your probation to engage in criminal activity.

"He was sending unsolicited dick pics," Natasha replied the words rolling off her tongue with an unfamiliar distaste.

"Which is not a capital offense," Coulson said sternly.

"Which is why I didn't kill him," she replied. Clint winced.

"Them," Phil corrected, pinching the bridge of his nose. Natasha only shrugged.

"You're not supposed to admit you did it," Clint explained as Phil rubbed at his clearly forming headache. "If you admit to it he has to file that in the report."

"You specifically told me honesty with my team was in my best interest at SHIELD," she reminded him though she didn't seem perturbed. "You said it three times; never lie to Coulson."

"Yes, but," Clint admitted, making a pinched face. "Sometimes you have to lie to, well, it's complicated. But when you lie to Phil you need to lie so that he knows you're lying, really obviously lying. That way he can write down exactly what you told him and no one gets in trouble and no feels like they can't trust each other." He gave her a hopeful smile as Phil slumped down in one of the chairs and slowly banged his head into the conference table.

"I suppose I could learn to do that," She replied with a frown. "You're going to need to be more specific about when I'm supposed to lie."

"What did you do to them exactly?" Clint asked with a frown, looking down at the newspaper again. "The article is really vague."

"She rendered them unconscious and tattooed the offending member," Phil replied with a sour scowl, pulling a handful of photos out of the folder he was carrying and tossing them onto the table. Clint let out a long, low whistle.

"Objects in Photo are Smaller than they Appear," he read, nodding slowly in acceptance. "That is some really impressive ink-work, did you do that yourself?" Natasha's only reply was a smug smile of satisfaction.

"Agent Romanov," Phil began again, his eyes narrowed.

"It was a misunderstanding, sir," Clint said quickly, pasting on his most awful lie-face "I'm sure Agent Romanov just misinterpreted the sexual harassment briefing. Isn't that right Tasha?" He turned to her, waving his hand to indicate she should jump in.

"It was a misunderstanding," She repeated, looking first at Clint and then at Phil before continuing. "Agent May impressed upon me that sexually harassing behavior was not accepted at SHIELD and that I should feel justified in retaliating in a non violent manner."

"Oh my god, did she actually say that?" Phil demanded, burying his face in his hands.

"Um, yeah," Clint admitted, blowing out a breath. "I mean, I sort of checked out when she started suggesting raunchy replies because, no." He shuddered. Phil let out a faint whimper. He straightened his shoulders as if steeling himself.

"I want you both suited up and on the plane in fifteen minutes, we'll brief on the way," he said sharply. "And when we get back I will be conducting a sexual harassment briefing to address this." Natasha gave a sharp nod of acceptance as Clint let out a whine.

"Please tell me I don't have to go!"

"No senior agent shall brief a junior on sexual harassment issues without the presence of another agent," Phil recited the regulation with a sharp tone. "Get on the plane, we're going to the Marshall Islands."

"I've got to tell you, I might need to marry your partner," Darcy admitted.

"Many have tried," Clint observed, Darcy let out a snort of a laugh.

"What were you guys doing in the Marshall Islands?" she asked, her eyes narrowing. "Isn't that like the middle of nowhere?" Clint let out a huff, shaking his head.

"That was like the worst mission ever," He looked up at Darcy to find her grinning at him. "Stop that."

"Your interest isn't paid yet, Barton. Spill," she ordered. Clint shook his head, a pained wince marring his expression.

"There'd been reports of an outbreak of an unknown infection on one of the islands," he said. "Symptoms similar to rabies, the whole area had been used to test nukes back during the Cold War so the first thing we figured was some kind of mutation. We were sent in to take over the operation from the local military, find the cause, and keep it from spreading off the island."

"Oh that's not going to go badly at all," Darcy observed. Clint shrugged.

"The situation's deteriorating," Natasha said in a low voice. Phil's eyes swept over the huddle of people crammed into the fire station. There were less than a thousand people on the atoll total and in this particular village less than a two hundred. What remained of them were now cowering in the only municipal building that housed both the local constabulary and the only medical services. Phil let out a sharp whistle that made the pair of Marshall Island Army regulars guarding the door jump and a second later Clint dropped out of the rafters beside them.

"Far as I can tell, all the leaders and elected officials are dead except that volunteer fire chief that helped us get everyone in here," Clint reported, his shoulders tense. "The Army boys are doing okay holding the perimeter but it's only going to be daylight for another four hours. Their shooting's not that good."

"We've tested everyone here for the virus," Natasha added. "The local doctor says everyone's clear except the woman who came in with two children a couple of hours ago. She's a carrier. They have her locked up in the jail."

"Not the fire chief's wife?" Clint asked, making a face as Natasha nodded. "Well fuck, this just went to hell. We're going to have to get these people out of here soon and we're going to need his help to do it. I don't know about you but my Marshallese is for shit."

"They don't seem terribly trusting of the military," Phil nodded in grim agreement.

"The zombie apocalypse just flattened their Seven-Eleven, would you be?" Clint asked skeptically. Phil only shrugged in grudging agreement.

"She could be the source of a cure," Natasha pointed out. "If we can get her to a secure medical facility, find out why she isn't showing signs of infection we might be able to at the very least inoculate."

"And if we can't she could spread the infection off the island," Phil said with a tired sigh. He turned to Clint. "Start grouping up the families for evacuation, youngest and oldest first. Tell the fire chief we're still waiting for the test results on his family if he asks. I'll start scrambling helicopters to lift out the survivors. Make absolutely sure that no one leaves here without a clean bill of health. Romanov, intercept his children, if you can get them onto transport without him noticing so much the better." Natasha gave a sharp nod, turning on her heel and hurrying off.

"Four hours, Phil," Clint said worriedly, keeping his voice low. "We can't hold this place through the night. It was built to withstand hurricanes, not Shaun of the Dead."

"They're not zombies," Phil repeated for what felt like the thousandth time.

"If it walks like a duck!" Clint replied, tossing his hands in the air. Phil let out a wholly inappropriate snort of a laugh. He shook his head, giving Clint a fond look.

"I don't like the idea of leaving anyone behind any more than you do," he said seriously, zeroing in on the real issue. "But if this gets out it could kill millions, it's spreading fast and we're nowhere near close to a cause."

"Can we at least sedate her and transport her to a secure medical vessel?" Clint pleaded. "That way if it breaks containment-"

"I'll make the request," Phil agreed. "But you have to remember it's not up to me." Clint nodded, turning away to search out the Fire Chief and get the survivors moving.

"That's awful," Darcy said her face crumpled in a pained expression. "I mean, I don't know what else you could do, but still."

"Sometimes you don't get the choice to be the hero," Clint said, staring into his coffee. "You just have to make the choice that saves the most lives you can and learn to live with it."

"What happened to the Fire Chief's family?"

"We were about three quarters of the way through the evacuation when he figured out what was going on," Clint replied with a wince. "He snuck down to the jail to say goodbye to her. I don't know what happened exactly. He got infected."

"Coulson, do you copy?" Clint shouted into his com as he raced through the hospital wing back toward the fire house, herding a terrified group of teenagers along with him. There were snarls like wild animals and horrified screaming coming from the direction of the wing that housed the jail, the sharp retort of gunfire peppering the air. He rounded the last corner waving them all onto an ambulance that Natasha had thrown open. He didn't know when she'd learned Marshallese but she was barking directions at the kids and loading them into the back.

"How you feeling about that decision to be a do-gooder now, Tasha?" he asked, picking up one of the smaller boys and heaving him into the ambulance. She only glared at him with narrowed eyes.

"I can't raise Coulson." she said without emotion.

"I can't get him either, he must be out of range," Clint nodded drawing his handgun and taking out one of the infected with a head shot.

"We've lost most of the army to the infection," She said, her jaw tight. "If we head to the harbor, there might be something seaworthy they haven't completely torched."

"No, go to the landing strip," Clint ordered. As terrifying as she was sometimes he kept reminding himself that he was her senior officer, he had to make the calls here. "Phil'll come back for us, I turned on my transponder." She gave him a disbelieving look over the head of the girl she was hauling into the ambulance.

"There's nowhere to land at the harbor," Clint said sternly. "And there's nothing but infected between here and there. Start her up, I'll cover us." Natasha gave a tight nod and hurried toward the driver's seat as he loaded the last child.

"Wait up!" Clint looked up to see the local doctor running toward them with a boy on one arm and towing a girl behind him. Clint reached for the girl, handing her off to the Fire Chief's son as the doctor loaded up the boy, clambering in after them. Clint took out another infected before jumping onto the back bumper and giving a sharp rap to the side of the ambulance, Natasha took off as he settled onto the bench near the door, his gun drawn. A few more infected tumbled out of the doors after them and he took them out as well as the ambulance raced toward the air strip.

"These kids all clean?" Clint asked worriedly, never taking his eyes off their six as the ambulance swerved down the debris littered road. It must have been a beautiful little coastal town once but now it looked like a war zone. There was an explosion and in the distance he could see black smoke rising from what had been the harbor. The doctor's eyes swept over the children huddled in the back of the ambulance, their eyes wide with fright and tears staining the cheeks of even the oldest.

"Yeah, I tested them myself," he said shaking his head with a horrified expression. "I don't understand how this happened."

"There's lots of things I don't understand," Clint said with a shrug. "Stuff like this just happens."

"No, it doesn't," the doctor insisted. "We're a research facility, I work at this kind of thing every day. None of this makes sense." Clint felt the hair on the back of his neck rise and he shifted back on the bench, keeping the road behind them in view but watching the doctor out of the corner of his eye.

"Like developing vaccines and stuff?" he said, adding a twang of Iowa to his drawl.

"I'm studying why sharks don't get cancer. We were making inroads toward a cure, targeted radiation therapy, targeted gene alteration. One day the work we were doing here was going to change the face of the world. We would have left human frailty behind. And now it's all lost."

Clint heard the sound of gunfire coming from the cab and the kids screamed, he glanced forward though the window to see that Natasha had shot out the windshield and he took aim out the back door, three more infected appeared from between the houses along the left, no doubt following the noise and he took those out as well.

"Radiation?" he asked as casually as he could. "Like, Gamma radiation?"

"Gamma's too unstable for what we do," the doctor said rubbing hie eyes. "We use Vita. You met our fire chief? His wife had breast cancer, I'd been treating her before all this. She was in complete remission."

"Is that a fact?" Clint asked, doing his best to sound impressed as his com gave out a crackle.

"Barton, Romanov, report!"

"Good to hear your voice, boss," Clint said with a grin, pressing his fingertips to his com as they bounced down the road. "Tasha's with me, we're headed to the landing strip with some stragglers.

"We'll be there in five," Coulson replied as Clint shot out more infected pursuing them. "Tell Romanov to turn on her transponder."

"Told you he was coming!" Clint shouted at her smugly. Tasha only flipped him off through the window. Clint turned back to the doctor. "Hey, hand me that towel, would you?" The doctor pulled the towel off the shelf holding it out and Clint grasped hold of it. He jerked the doctor's arm forward and in less than a moment Clint had slipped a pair of cuffs on his wrists.

"Who do you work for?" Clint demanded, training his gun on the doctor's head as the children let out frightened screams, backing away from them further into the ambulance.

"What are you-"

"Who do you work for!" Clint growled angrily. "You're doing medical research on an island in the middle of nowhere where all hell has just broken loose, now tell me who gives you your orders!"

"The Red Skulls," the doctor snapped at him.

"Fucking Neo-Hydra?" Clint rolled his eyes. It took all his effort not to pull the trigger in front of the kids. "This is fan-fucking-tastic! Tasha, I found the cause."

"Shoot him," she suggested dispassionately, taking another shot out the broken windshield. Clearly she wasn't as worried about traumatizing them as he was.

"The woman, the fire chief's wife," Clint said with a menacing frown. "She was patient zero, wasn't she?"

"I don't know!" the doctor replied. "I don't know what went wrong!"

"I'll tell you what went wrong, asshole, the sharks in this whole area have been exposed to gamma radiation from weapons testing," Clint snarled at him. "Did you factor that in?" The doctor gaped at him and Clint let out another curse.

"We're here!" Natasha shouted back at them as the sound of helicopter rotors filled the air.

"I ought to put a bullet in you," Clint said angrily, hauling the doctor out of the back of the ambulance as Natasha herded the children across the airstrip toward the chopper. An animal-like scream split the air and Clint spun on his heel, letting off his last shot at another infected charging toward them.

"Barton!" Coulson shouted at him. Clint tossed the gun aside, turning and drawing his bow in time to see the doctor making a mad dash for the trees.

"Freeze you son of a bitch!" he shouted but the doctor disappeared around one of the hangars.

"He's as good as dead," Natasha said tightly, loading the last of the children into the helicopter.

"I've got room for one more, Coulson!" The SHIELD pilot called back from the cockpit.

"You go," Natasha said quickly, turning to Clint. "If the virus is gamma based I'm immune."

"How can you be immune?" Coulson asked with a frown. Clint drew in a shaky breath.

"Get the kids out of here," he said, turning to Phil. He reached over and turned on Natasha's still inactive transponder. "We'll head to the coast, have transport out there, we're going to start swimming if you don't beat us to the beach. Don't let anyone shoot us!" Phil gave him a tight nod, closing the door of the chopper as the rotors picked up speed.

"You're an idiot," Natasha said, shooting him a withering look before turning on her heel and taking off at a jog toward the nearest hangar.

"Do you fall asleep in front of the tv?" Darcy asked, her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Sometimes," Clint admitted. "Why?"

"That's the only way you could have seen 28 Weeks Later," Darcy replied. "You are scared to death of horror movies."

"I am not," Clint said defensively.

"Clint, you cover your eyes for Jurassic Park."

"Those velociraptors are terrifying."

"The original Jurassic Park, Barton!" she declared, disbelief clouding her tone. He opened his mouth as if to reply but she cut him off.

"Please don't let me interrupt your story about how you survived the Rage Virus," she said, waving a hand at him. He blew out a breath, glaring at her.

"We jacked an SUV in one of the hangars," he continued. "Infected chasing us all the way to the beach."

"Why do you think they keep coming after us?" Natasha asked, her shoulders coiling in tension as she maneuvered the SUV down what had probably been a footpath to the beach. Night was falling and Clint wasn't sure how she'd managed to find the path at all but he had bigger things to think about. He popped out of the sunroof, taking aim at an infected and letting the arrow fly.

"Probably instinct," he replied. "At least we know now why they're so damn fast. Fucking Neo-HYDRA and their super-soldiers."

"Barton, Romanov, we have your position, we're en route," Phil's voice came over their coms, the sound of helicopter rotors muffling the words.

"Copy, sir!" Clint replied, taking aim at the path behind them and letting another arrow fly, it exploded on impact, taking out two more infected.

"You're going to run out of arrows before we run out of guys to shoot," Natasha said, her shoulders tight as she expertly maneuvered the Jeep down the path that was quickly disappearing in the gathering darkness of evening.

"I might have an idea but it's a really bad one," Clint said, warily, letting off another explosive shot. "Before we left, R&D gave me something to field test."

"No," She said. the word sharp, "Whatever it is, no."

"They developed an LRAD transmitter," He continued as if he hadn't heard her. "One they could squash down to fit in an arrowhead. They thought we might need it for broadcasting evac instructions or crowd control."

"Oh shit," Natasha said, resigned as another explosive arrow took out more of their infected pursuers.

"They showed me how to adjust the decibel settings," he added, taking another shot. Trees along the track behind them burst into flames, chasing light and shadow across his features.

"And you want to what?" Natasha growled. "cripple them with sound waves?"

"Well I wasn't going to play Ride of the Valkyries," he replied. "How much beach have we got?"

"About two miles," she answered with a sigh.

"Okay, as soon as you make the beach, punch it," he ordered, adjusting his quiver settings. "I have to put it on a timer, we need to be as far out from it as we can get before the timer goes off." She nodded curtly and Clint drew another explosive arrow, letting it fly. The whole forrest was on fire now, forms running through the flames toward them. At least thirty or more.

The jeep cleared the tree line and Natasha swerved hard to the right, her foot stamping hard on the gas as the Jeep bounced over the dunes, following the shore. Infected poured out of the woods, scrambling down the beach faster than anything on two feet had a right to move and Clint drew his bow back, letting the LRAD arrow fly. It wedged in the sand and in that same moment he heard Natasha scream a warning.

An infected, she looked like a girl, leaped from the trees onto the hood of the Jeep, reaching though the busted windshield toward Natasha, Clint drew another arrow but even before he could fit it to the string Natasha let off a shot. The girl's hand scrabbled for purchase, closing around the steering wheel and as the weight of her body slid off the hood the Jeep jerked to the side, crashing into the rocks along the shore.

He could hear himself scream Natasha's name, could hear the snarls of the infected coming closer as he leaped into the front seat, grabbing Natasha, wrapping his arm around her ears to shield them. He even heard the distant sound of chopper rotors as he half covered his own head with his free arm. The LRAD went off and that was the last thing he heard.

"Obviously Coulson got you out," Darcy said her eyed white around the edges.

"Obviously," Clint nodded. "I felt it hit. I don't remember anything after that until I woke up in SHIELD medical three days later.

"Clint?"

The sound was muffled, far away as if he were hearing Phil's voice through a half dozen blankets a broken com and a set of ear plugs. Coulson's expression was a pinched frown but Clint was very carefully not looking at him. He reached for the wire bound notebook he'd conned out of one of the nurses, uncapping the cheap ballpoint stuffed in its spiral bindings

How's Tasha?

He held the notebook up, fixing a frown on his face and focusing his gaze on Coulson's lips

"She's fine," Phil replied, his expression softening. "She's just fine, Clint. She's got some vertigo but she's healing fast. She's going to be okay." Clint gave a firm nod, laying aside the notebook and turning his head to look out the window. He was glad he was in the Hawaii offices, SHIELD's facility here was lush and green, a tropical garden shading the hospital courtyard.

He'd woken up half a dozen times since he'd arrived but this morning was the first time he'd managed to stay awake. Coulson had been there the first three or four times, it was still hazy in his memory. Coulson was always there when he woke up in Medical unless Coulson was in worse shape than he was. It had taken him an embarrassing amount of time to realize the bandages around his head weren't the reason he couldn't hear.

"Clint?" Phil's brow creased in a frown and Clint turned his head farther, trying not to see, pressing what was left of his good ear into the pillow. He could barely hear out of his left ear at all, the ear he hadn't been able to cover at all when the LRAD went off. What he could hear was more like noise than sound. He tried not to look at Phil's lips, tried not let himself struggle to make sense of the words. "Clint, I know you can hear me a little, I know you can talk. It's a struggle right now, but it's fine, we'll get through this. Whatever you need me to do, just, talk to me, Barton." Clint scowled, reaching over and grabbing the notebook again, scribbling across the page.

What do you want me to say?

Phil dragged a hand down his face and Clint tossed the notebook aside again, staring out the window once more. This was the end of his career. He wasn't afraid of being cut loose, not like he had that first year. He'd learned enough by now, done enough for SHIELD in the time since to know they'd retire him somewhere nice, maybe offer him a desk job. The thought made bile rise in the back of his throat and he mentally started to break down his favorite sniper rifle to avoid thinking about it. The only good thing about any of this was that at least he didn't have to listen to Phil tell him it was over.

"Clint," Phil's tone was pleading and Clint turned a harsh glare on him.

"I'm not going to heal!" he snapped back, the words were too loud, he could tell by the way Phil gave a minute flinch and he snapped his jaw shut, looking away again. Too loud, too muddled. He'd caught himself, he could barely hear but he could hear enough to tell he was making a hash of his pronunciation when he didn't concentrate on every word. Phil's hand settled on his shoulder in a firm grip, kneading the tense muscles under his hand and Clint sucked in a breath, fighting down panic and tears. He didn't have space for either in his new muffled, isolated world.

Phil reached out with his other hand, grasping hold of Clint's left wrist and raising his hand from the bed, pressing Clint's fingertips to his throat. Clint turned his head back to stare up at him, wide eyed, but Phil's gaze was completely calm, openly trusting, blithely unconcerned about the deadly weapon wrapped around his windpipe.

"Your friends in R&D called in all their favors with every medical contractor we have," Phil said patiently, clearly. The same tone he used when a mission had gone off the rails. Clint could feel it in the tips of his fingers. "They've put together a solution. The director's already approved it, you can return to the field if it works, but it's highly experimental and you're not cleared to be briefed on it. The risks are minimal and the chance of success is very, very high. Clint, I need you to take my word and agree to this. I know I'm asking a lot, I know that, but I need you to trust me. Can you do that?" Clint stared back at him for a long moment before slowly nodding.

"You'll agree?" Phil repeated. Clint nodded again but no more surely and no more hopeful than before.

"It's going to be okay," Phil promised. "I swear, it's going to be okay."

"You let them operate on you without knowing what they were going to do?" Darcy asked, her face a mask of disbelief.

"Yep," Clint nodded slowly. Darcy blew out a breath.

"I guess it worked," she said. He only grinned in reply. "I could never do that."

"I trusted Phil," Clint said with a shrug. "and after the zombie apocalypse lots of things are less scary."

There's only two types of guys out there,
Ones that can hang with me, and ones that are scared
So baby I hope that you came prepared
I run a tight ship so, beware
I'm like the ringleader
I call the shots
I'm like a firecracker
I make it hot

Lukasz Gottwald, Claude Kelly, and Benjamin Levin - Circus