Apologies for the delay between chapters, had a million deadlines at uni, but here's the next chapter. Huge thanks for the reviews, favourites, and follows. More would be massively appreciated. Requests for who's next are welcome too.

CLINT

Clint Barton is different from the other Avengers. He knows it, they know it, and they move on. And sometimes he wants to be like them so much it's hilarious.

He'll never have Steve's super-strength, nor will he have the type of brain to create a machine that can fly like Tony. Even Natasha has skills of manipulation that Clint can't even hope to aspire to. So he's different. And that's alright. Because Clint Barton makes sure that what he does have, he uses to the very best ability he can. Of course, that was a part of his downfall during the whole Loki scenario. Maybe if he hadn't trained so hard, honed his skills to such an obsessive point…well, the first thoughts Clint has in the morning might not be an exact recitation of all 52 lives he ended on the helicarrier.

But his skills have also helped some in situations. For all of Bruce's power, Clint can notice a specific gap in the fighting and lead his teammates there. For all of Stark's pinpointing weaponry, it's Barton who can knock a bad guy out of the sky moving at impossible speeds. He knows very well that his position in the world is tenuous, and so he fights harder every day. His mind is his, his body is his, and he will fight until he has neither.

It's in the middle of a busy week when the call to assemble the Avengers is once again sent out. Clint is eating cereal in an air vent when JARVIS' voice speaks as if beside him.

"Mr. Barton, may I suggest you make your way to the armoury to retrieve your bow? Sir has noted an anomaly downtown that some kind of wolf like creatures are coming from."

Clint smirks and mutters "Who let the dogs out, huh?"

"Sir and yourself are frustratingly alike. I will send you the coordinates to the location presently."

Crawling expertly through the tower, he makes it in 1.2 minutes. A new record. Nice. After gearing up, he meets with the others and they're on their way in seconds. Steve is the consummate professional; giving orders to SHIELD agents, ensuring civilians are out of the area and prepping the Avengers. Clint mostly tunes it out because nothing is important but the mission now, but when he hears his name, he turns his head infinitesimally to listen.

"-and don't blow up half of the buildings in the block again, Iron Man. We could do without another PR disaster. Hawkeye, find a nest up top, I need eyes."

He nods as they approach the fight zone, and split up with deadly precision. Iron Man and Thor hover in the air, Captain America and Widow flank one another on the ground, Hulk…well he runs around angrily, and Clint parkours up a high enough building and sets up. He hears the creatures before he sees them, howling like banshees but when he does, he grimaces. These wolves aren't the only ones that can bite. He tests the air, readies his arrow, and fires. As soon as it hits (perfectly, of course), the wolves become more aggressive - the pack mentality must connect them more deeply than he thinks. After the first dog goes down, the battle is on.

On kill 276 (Stark's returning arrows are extremely useful), Hawkeye can see his teammates beginning to tire. Iron Man has been luring as many as he can to follow him, taking heavy hits in the process, and Captain America is breathing heavily. They can take more, but not much.

"Ow, shit, Hawkeye, you hear me?"

Stark's cry of pain is mildly concerning but there's nothing they can do right now, so he continues.

"Copy, Iron man. Report."

"There's a bigger dog, it's blue. Why there's a blue goddamn wolf in the middle of New York, I don't know, I mean, I knew there was a reason I didn't like mutts and they really smell bad when they're wet and-"

"Iron man. The blue wolf."

"Right. So it's being surrounded by the others, and I get the feeling it's the leader. Take it out, and see if we can get a Chitauri-falling-down repeat act, it's my favourite."

"Acknowledged."

Ok, finally, a target. Easy. It's far away, only a larger dot among many, many other dots but it's still an easy shot for the archer. And now Barton sees it, he agrees - it's definitely the leader. He takes a precision arrow from his quiver and steadies his breathing right down. He blocks out all sounds and focuses his entire universe between the eyes of the blue wolf.

Soon enough, the dead eyes of the blue wolf. It goes down pathetically, and all of the other dogs go down with it. Perfect mission.

"Nicely done, Hawkeye. Ok, Avengers, meet up at the call point. Cap out."

"Sure thing, Cap. Be right…there."

The others don't notice the hesitation in their exhaustion but Hawkeye hears Stark's pain. One of his skills. He looks around the sky like a bird of prey and panics when he doesn't see him. Then he sees movement on the ground. Stark is sitting on a pile of rubble breathing heavily. He takes out a grappling arrow and swings down to him as quickly as possible. He's about to ask where he's injured when the faceplate raises and he hears an "I'm fine, Barton."

He knows the contrary but the tone of his voice is quiet and tired and so he sits with him. It's only a few minutes, but the silence drags on before Clint looks at Tony again. He's looking down at his hands. They're red with blood, and Hawkeye curses himself for not noticing, but they're so red, they match the suit. He wants to push Stark toward medical, and intends to whether he has to drag him or not, but when he glares at Stark, his words die in his mouth.

Stark is staring at the blood, blinking in perfect synchronisation with the drip drip drip as it hits the ground. There's no sign of concussion, but he's never really known Stark to be quiet for so long, and he's worried. His eyes show no sign of physical pain, either; the tells are easy, pinched features, biting his lip, countless others depending on severity (grumbling about the legitimacy his parentage if it's paper cut bad, or looking at him tiredly and smiling if it's "Oh my god, fuck, we need medical 10 minutes ago! Stay with us, Stark, c'mon, don't you do this, not now, don't do this". And there's been too many of them, thank you very much.) But there is pain. So he stays beside him, an unmoving constant in the flurry of Stark's constant life. Stark's pain is like his own; a deep pain, vulnerable, and unending, and honestly, Barton didn't know Tony had it in him. But there's nothing like it, and only others who've felt the same can see it. He's beginning to brood his own dark history when Iron Man, pillar of strength and symbol of stability, says only a few words that shake his core.

"Hawkeye, will you shoot me in the chest with one of your arrows?"

It's out the blue, it's asked so casually, it's horrifying, and he goes green at the prospect. He swallows back vomit he knows his body wants to get rid of, like the thoughts running through his mind now. He compares the feeling to the realisation that when you were a kid, the adults you looked up to weren't as impregnable as you thought. It's not the same though, this is worse. What he's been asked is worse.

He turns his head to see Stark's face - his alive face, he reminds himself - and finds an intense gaze directed back at him. There's a 'please' in his eyes and shit, Tony is entirely serious, and shit, Clint is entirely terrified. Tony must see it because he gives a bitter smirk, and looks back down at his hands, his gaze going distant again. He needs to pull him out of this, and they need to meet up with the other Avengers.

He doesn't know what to say to heal this hurt. This is beyond "oh my god, fuck" stage.

He struggles for words, but again, Tony preempts him. He shake his head once, stands up and stretches, groaning in pain and exhaustion, but as perfect an image of 'fine'-ness as he's ever seen. He's smiling lazily (it reminds him of the deep hurt smile), and testing the joints of the suit. Hawkeye stands with him. They're overdue back, and his comm, turned down, is buzzing with 'where are you dammit?' and 'sound off, Hawkeye!'. He turns between their destination and Stark's face in indecision.

Iron Man grins, pats him on the back, and starts walking.

"C'mon Birdbrain, last one there has to clean up the dog's mess. You up for some Shawarma?"

They both pretend not to hear the quiver in his voice, and Clint doesn't trust himself to reply without choking up, so they walk in silence after Clint replies.

"Only if we go to medical first. That nurse has the hots for me." They both know there's no nurse, and Clint tries to convey as much warmth and concern as he can in the words.

They don't speak about it again.

It's only later, after Clint is back in his tunnels (and if he's conveniently near Tony's room in case of emergency, well, that's between him and the darkness), having negotiated with JARVIS to "for god's sake, lock down that armoury when he gets like this" and hidden his own arrows firmly away, that he lets himself think about what's happened.

He's trying to figure out what happened, how he was triggered into…whatever the hell that was when he realises what Stark saw. He's never been one for metaphors but all that blood on Tony's hands? And knowing now his thought process? The guilt must be eating him up. He has red in his ledger, like Tasha, like himself, and he watches it grow. Those 52 lives he stole that day, they're there, always haunting him, a penance for the life he lives now. How many haunt Tony Stark? How many have turned him into a ghost alongside them?

Yep, Clint Barton is different from the other Avengers. He knows it, they know it, and they move on.

But now he's not so sure he wants to be like all of them, and it's really not funny in the slightest.