The mission had gone wrong; they knew we were coming. The explosion had sent me across the room; head pounding, ears ringing. Blindly I searched around for Clint and Tasha, unable to see through the dust that had been swept up.

I saw two men – our targets – and tried to get to my feet. But a fierce jolt of pain coursed through me. I looked down and saw my legs – one twisted out at a worrying angle, blood seeping quickly into my trousers; I was numb to the pain but I knew it was just the shock, and it would wear off soon. I stared back at the men, only to see Clint and Tasha take them down – good. I turned my attention back to my legs, there was blood everywhere. God, let them just be broken, please God. There was an extensive cut at the top of my thigh, blood flowing out around a thick splinter of wood, damn. With one hand I gripped the splinter, the other I had ready with fire. I yanked out the wood and immediately burned into the skin, deep into the wound, and cauterised it; I gritted my teeth against the pain - a proper operation could be done once I got back to S.H.I.E.L.D.

I flopped back to the ground taking quick, deep breaths. The shook was wearing off and the pain trickled in. My eyes squeezed shut as I tried to control my breathing. Angrily I beat my fists again the ground, trying to relent some pain – I clenched my fists and let a thick sheet of ice coat my hands before spreading out into the rubble around me. For what seemed like the longest of times, nothing existed but the pain and the violent ringing in my ears.

Suddenly I was jolted back into reality by hands on my shoulders. Opening my eyes, I let the ice fade away. Clint leant over me with Natasha just behind him, "Amanda? Amanda, can you hear me?" his voice sounded distant but I nodded in response. I stared up at my friends, shifting my focus from my pained leg to Clint's face.

"I'm going to reset your leg" Natasha said clearly. I closed my eyes for a moment, set my jaw and nodded. Clint took hold of my hands.

Nat said, "Okay; three…"

Snap.

I screamed and my whole body arched forward, gripping Clint's hands tight. I snarled and sucked in air through clenched teeth. Clint took both my hands in one of his and wrapped an arm around my back to support me. "Lie back" Tasha ordered. I did as I was told with Clint's help and she raised my legs to direct blood back towards my chest and vital organs.

Clint brushed my hair back from my face, resting my head on his legs, he turned to Nat, "This is why we should have an extraction team" he growled angrily.

"Well we don't" I snapped. I knew what kinds of trouble this would cause when we got back. The three of us had agreed not to have an extraction team ready for this mission. Clint had been reluctant to dismiss the back up because I was technically still too young to be out in the field - but I'd insisted, and Nat had supported me in that. Clint had been worried, unfortunately it was rightly so.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

I sat in a wheelchair in Fury's office, my legs in casts and bandages, and Clint and Natasha standing on either side of me. Fury sat behind his desk, looking up at the man who had called the meeting in the first place, Phil Coulson.

Phil was… irritated, to say the least. "Why was there no extraction team?!"

"I discussed the extraction team issue with-"

"Amanda is seventeen! She shouldn't even be doing field work!"

"She's been doing field work for almost ten years now, she-"

"She's still just a child!"

I coughed loudly, "Can we not talk about me like I'm not here please? Phil, just calm down – accident's happen"

"Amanda" he said softly, "I understand that you think that you are old enough to-"

"I am old enough! I am old enough to take care of myself, I am old enough to know the dangers of field work and I am old enough to agree, with my team, not to have an extraction team ready in a situation where we believed that one would not be necessary. Stop treating me like I'm a little girl – I can look after myself!"

Phil stared at me for a moment. He hadn't even spoken to me between our arrival and now. He hadn't even spoken to me at all; he'd read the field report, panicked and demanded that we had all to report to Fury's office immediately after going to medical. Phil had freaked out, as he usually did, and now there was very little to do that would calm him back down.

"Amanda, you were in an explosion! You were less than five metres from the bomb itself! You could have been killed – you should have been at that distance!"

I glared, "Five weeks ago your team were all kidnapped and held for ransom until another unit rescued you – you could have been killed. What would I do if you died? How could I go on knowing that you weren't coming home? It's the risks we all take as part of the job, just because it was me that got hurt doesn't give you the right to start shouting about it."

Phil couldn't look me in the eye. We'd had conversations like this before – 'one day one of us might not come back', 'one day will be our last mission', or 'we can't be prepared for every eventuality'. Sometimes Phil was protective – and sometimes he was over protective.

Director Fury looked across the room at Clint, Natasha and I. "I think Agent West has made a fair point, Coulson. Romanoff, Barton, have you got anything to add?"

"We knew the risks, Sir. We knew our orders and we kept to protocol." Natasha said robotically. She didn't like getting injured on missions and she hated Clint or I getting hurt even more so – but orders are orders, and we all knew ours.

"Barton?" Fury asked.

"I think Agents West and Romanoff had made enough of a point, Sir" he responded stiffly.

Fury tilted his head, "Is there a problem Agent?"

"No Sir... I don't like my friends getting hurt, Sir, but we all knew what was expected and we all knew the risks. There isn't a problem."

Fury nodded, "Barton, Romanoff, you may leave – West, Coulson, I suggest you two have a talk." Clint and Tasha left, Fury stood up, looked at Phil and I and said, "Tell Hill to lock my office when you're done" before leaving us alone.

I stared up at Phil, hands now resting on the arms of the wheelchair, "well sit down then"

He nodded and pulled over a chair, "Amanda… I'm sorry, I… I just…"

"Worry" I finished. "You worry too much sometimes"

Phil leant forward and took my hand, "I worry because I know what could happen"

"And you think I don't?"

He sighed with a smile, "No, no, I'm sorry; I know you've seen what can happen out there. You're just so young still, and you're so deeply involved with S.H.I.E.L.D. already – I'm worried that you're giving your life away to this too soon."

I nodded, "You were just out of high school when you started – you were eighteen. That's only a year older than I am now."

"Yes, but I started at eighteen, I started training when I was eighteen. You've been under S.H.I.E.L.D.'s guardianship since you were four – you were fully trained by the time you were seven and went on your first field mission when you were eight years old. Can you see why I'm worried? You've had no other life outside of this" Phil was upset.

"I get it, Phil, really, I do, but I like being in S.H.I.E.L.D. If I didn't I would have walked out by now, I'm not just going to sit around and accept something I don't want. This is my life. Heck, at this point I don't even know if I'm even capable of doing anything else"

"But don't you see? That's my point. You never had the opportunity to decide that for yourself"

"Well it's too late to do anything about that now, isn't it?" I smiled.

Phil watched me for a moment, sadness in his eyes, "Exactly"

I leant forward and hugged him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and neck. He hugged me in return, more gently though, more carefully, more protectively. He was always more careful with me after missions, at least this time he had reason. I wouldn't mind if he only got worried when I got hurt, but not every time – when I got back from a mission Phil would always double check that I had no injuries, even scratches or bruises. I couldn't do anything until Phil made sure I was 100% alright; I wasn't even allowed to go to bed until after he'd seen me. And I understood why; I knew how long a relationship would last within S.H.I.E.L.D., and I knew how much shorter a relation would last between an Agent and a non-agent. Phil loved me like his own child, but I knew, realistically, I was the only chance at a family that he had.

I leant back a bit, only enough so I could look him in the eye, "We need to make some agreements"

"Yes, we do" we sat back and Phil took my hand.

"We can't freak out when one of us gets hurt on a mission, unless it's life threatening"

"Agreed"

"You don't check on me after every mission"

"…Agreed"

"You don't second guess my decisions, even when that decision leads to injuries or mission failures, okay?"

Phil nodded, swallowed and quietly said, "Okay, agreed"

"...Anything you want to add?"

Phil laced his fingers in between mine, thinking for a moment be said, "You tell me if you're going on a mission without an extraction plan"

"Agreed and ditto"

He nodded, "I'm allowed to check on you if you are injured"

"Agreed, we don't take time out if the other is injured – we're still needed"

"Agreed if we exclude life threatening injuries"

"Agreed." I smiled, "is that all?"

Phil grinned at me, despite my injury and the pain that he had felt in his heart at that thought, I could still make him smile. "That's all until I think of more" he joked.

With a chuckle, I replied, "Fair enough, fair enough"