Chapter Two: Get Your Shit Together

. . .

It was only seven-fifteen and already it was not a good morning. Clint was laying in his bed with his arms above his head, having just woken from a nightmare. He was falling, falling off a building, and he was completely out of arrows. Just as he landed on the concrete, he had opened his eyes, sweat beading his forehead and his chest heaved. He looked around him, suddenly despising the silence, and reached over to the table before he grabbed his hearing aids and put them back inside his ears.

Once he had positioned them to a somewhat comfortable position, he felt his heart sink; He could hear Bucky hyperventilating in his room through the paper thin walls.

It was a mixture of crying and wheezing, which meant that Bucky was most likely having one of his panic attacks. Maybe going to see Matt wasn't the best idea after all. Maybe going to see him caused this.

Clint listened for a few more minutes, just to see if it was lessening but if anything, it seemed to be getting worse. He rolled out of bed and then walked out of his bedroom and gently opened Bucky's bedroom door before sticking his head inside.

"Hey, it's just me. Can I come in?"

He registered a short nod of Bucky's head and then slipped inside before he walked over to his friend and then knelt down in front of him. Clint knew better than to touch him, at least right now; he had figured that out the hard way in their first week together though. He could feel the pain in his shoulder from where Bucky had dislocated his arm.

Clint watched him rock back and forth and rub both his palms on his thighs.

"You're James Barnes, and you're safe," Clint started to recite, looking straight into Bucky's eyes. "You're safe, and Hydra isn't after you. You're living with me in my apartment in Brooklyn, New York."

"S-Steve…. W-where's Steve?" Bucky half cried, half yelled, shaking his head in confusion.

"Steve Rogers is safe. He's not in New York right now but he's alive and safe, and you'll see him again, all right, man? You need to try to breathe, Buck. It's time to do what we practiced together. Do you remember?"

Bucky thought for a minute and nodded as the hot tears rolled down his cheeks, his palms still furiously rubbing the tops of his thighs over the fabric of his pajama pants.

"Okay, good. It's time to do that for me now. In for four seconds through your nose, out for seven through your mouth, right?" When Bucky nodded in acknowledgement, Clint let out an encouraging smile. "Good, okay. Do that right now."

He watched as Bucky started to do the breathing exercise to come down from his panic attack. Bucky did this several times, Clint giving a nod each time he did. "Y-Your… fault…"

Clint felt his stomach clench and slowly nodded, guilt in his eyes. "I know. It's my fault… maybe you weren't ready to go back over there again. Does Matt make you uncomfortable?"

Bucky continued to the half-staggered breathing and shrugged.

Clint ran a hand through his hair. "I'm really sorry, Bucky. I didn't think. I didn't do it to make you uncomfortable. I thought maybe going to see him would help make you feel like you weren't so alone."

Bucky searched Clint's face, still trying to breathe. He swallowed hard and hiccupped. "W-What do you mean? Why did you think it would h-help me?"

Clint shrugged now but kept eye contact with his friend.

"I just thought if you saw someone with another disability, even if it isn't mental, maybe you wouldn't feel so alone. Maybe… it would help you with the nightmares and paranoia and attacks. I don't know. I didn't want to hurt you. I just… wanted you to be able to relate to someone."

Bucky had started to calm down a bit before his eyes looked genuinely confused now. He reached over and suddenly touched Clint's ear with his fingers, lightly tapping on it. "You h-have a disability too, or have you forgotten?"

Clint smirked now. "I guess I don't consider it that much of a disability. It was debilitating when I was younger but I feel like Matt's worse off than me. Even with his super senses, it has to suck more not to be able to see."

Bucky looked at a loss for words but he gave a weak smile, quiet for a while. His breathing had finally settled down and he took a deep breath before he spoke. "I don't need to relate to anyone, Clint. I just need some help until I can be normal again."

Clint thought back to how he felt right after Pietro Maximoff died. He didn't want to tell Bucky that he'd never feel normal again, but then again, neither of them were on medication for their mental issues. He didn't have the heart to tell him that this type of thing was not likely to go away on its own.

"Yeah… right," Clint nodded before smiling back weakly. "Well I'm here for you, Buck. I'll help you… and Matt will too, if you choose to let him. He's not a bad person. He can be trusted."

Bucky bit his lip and looked away but he nodded in acknowledgement, even if he didn't believe Clint. He wiped away the stray tears that were on his face and cleared his throat again. "Did I wake you?"

The archer shook his head. "Nah, I was awake."

He decided to leave out the part that he had had a nightmare. There was no need to turn the focus onto himself right now. Bucky was going through a harder time than he was. He could handle his nightmares.

Bucky narrowed his eyes playfully in disbelief but thankfully decided to let it go. "I'm going to go shower."

"Good idea. You smell horrible," Clint teased.

Bucky punched his arm lightly, or rather Bucky's version of lightly, and then stood up before going into his private bathroom. Clint stood up and then headed into the kitchen before he took out his hearing aids and set them on the counter.

After turning the coffee on, he decided to make scrambled eggs and toast for two of them. He had just started to turn the eggs over in the pan when he saw a light flash out of the corner of his eye.

His phone. It was Matt calling.

He quickly put in his one hearing aid and then put the phone to his ear before rolling the eggs over again in the pan. "How do you even know what buttons to press to call me?"

There was a soft laugh. "Magic. How's James doing?"

"He had a panic attack this morning, but I think I might have gotten you off his shit list. I believe this is the part where you thank me," Clint smirked to himself.

"You can stop being so pleased with yourself, Clint. If it helps him to like me though, then thank you. How are you doing this morning?"

Clint's smirk fell now as his stomach flip-flopped. "I'm fine."

"That sounded reassuring," Matt replied sarcastically. "Are you really fine or are you fine in the sense that you're down spiraling?"

Clint scrapped the eggs onto two plates now, tempted to tell Matt the truth. He was probably the only person he would tell the truth too, if he was honest with himself. The Daredevil had seen him not long after Clint had come home after the Sokovian incident.

Needless to say, it hadn't been pretty.

Clint had nonstop nightmares and he had been eaten up with guilt. If it hadn't been for Matt taking care of him, Clint wouldn't have eaten anything at all, and he would still be practically catatonic.

"I had a nightmare this morning," the archer admitted hesitantly.

There was a short pause now. "About Maximoff?"

Clint pushed the toast down and then leaned against the counter. "No, this one dealt with the New York ordeal with Loki, except it was different. I was pushed off of building, and I fell. All my arrows were gone, and I just kept falling."

"Did you wake up before hitting the street?"

Clint tensed up a bit. "Yeah, I did. How did you know?"

"It's a common dream to have. A lot of people have falling dreams where they wake up before hitting the bottom. It just means you're stressed out about stuff," Matt reassured. "You're probably just stressed out about taking care of James. Have you thought about calling Natasha and seeing if she could help you?"

Clint heard the water shut off in the bathroom.

"I've thought about it, but… I feel like that would mean I'm giving up on him. He'll know that I can't handle him and it might just make him worse. I don't want to do that yet, not until I have no other choice."

"What's your other choice right now?" The other man asked, worry laced in his voice.

Clint nearly jumped when the toast popped up but he grabbed the butter and a knife and started to butter them. "I don't know. Suck it up, swallow it down, and hope for the best?"

"That sounds healthy."

"Shut up. I didn't ask for your opinion, blind man," Clint joked.

"Blind man, real original. I haven't ever heard that before," Matt teased back.

"Just wait until after I've had my coffee. You don't want to mess with me then. I can come up with a whole bunch of witty names to call you then."

"Yeah, all right, all right. Calm down there, Hawkguy. I'm off to work now. I'll talk to you later."

"Sounds good," Clint watched the bathroom door open and Bucky come out. "Talk to you later."

He hung up and then pushed a plate of eggs and toast over to Bucky before he poured coffee for the two of them. He sat down on the one side of the counter so they could eat together.

Bucky poked at his eggs with his fork but didn't eat any. "Matt?"

Clint nodded before taking a drink of coffee and shoveled eggs into his mouth.

"How is he?"

"Since meeting him yesterday? He's good." Clint shrugged. "He asked how you were."

"What'd you tell him?"

Clint took another sip of coffee. "I said you're hanging in there."

Bucky looked skeptical but seemed to accept the answer. He set his fork down now and sighed heavily. This was the usual routine after the man had panic attacks or was depressed. Sometimes it was hard to time which one it was, or if it was both, but either way it was a warning sign. Looking back now, Clint realized that Bucky not wanting to eat yesterday had been a warning sign for his panic attack, so he guessed maybe it was the depression kicking in now.

"You need to eat, buddy."

"I ate yesterday," Barnes objected, sounded like a tired little boy.

Clint placed some more eggs onto his fork.

"Yeah, but you see. There's this thing that other people do, called eating every day. It's something you need to do in order to not die from malnutrition…"

Bucky glared at him now. "I don't need a fucking lecture, Barnes. Just leave me alone."

Yep. Definitely a depression day. Or week, whatever.

"If I left you alone, then you would die. You'd never eat. I'm just trying to help you. I don't want you to die. In fact, that's the last thing I want, and not just because I'd be charged with murder."

Bucky was quiet now, just staring at his food. He then started to just sip the coffee instead. Clint shook his head and took the coffee from him.

"What the hell?"

"Coffee decreases appetite and you need to eat. If you're going to eat something, then you can have the coffee but you can't just drink coffee. Take small bites, if it helps you but you're going to eat something. Do you want something else to eat?" Clint offered.

Bucky suddenly launched the plate off the counter with his metal arm and let it shatter on the ground. "No! I don't want anything! Stop trying to feed me, Clint! I don't want any of it."

He stood up and knocked over his stool before he watched Bucky leave the apartment, slamming the door hard behind him.

Clint sat there in shock at first before his brain processed what had just happened. Bucky shouldn't be out there alone. If Hydra was still looking for him, it was a good way for him to be taken. He swallowed hard and tried to fight off his own panic attack now. He kicked the shards of plate on the floor and yelled in frustration.

Maybe if he hadn't pushed food onto him like that, Bucky wouldn't have walked out. It'd be Barton's fault if someone kidnapped or killed Bucky. He started to pace now, his mind racing. What had happened while Barnes had been showering? How had his head twisted up so fast? He seemed okay again right before he took a shower. Maybe that's just how bad thoughts got loose, from overthinking under the warm water.

He tried to take his own advice and do the stupid breathing exercise he always Bucky do but he couldn't make himself do it.

Go out there.

You need to go out there and find him.

He'll die if you don't.

He wouldn't eat if no one else pushed him to. Clint didn't know how severe the depression was, and with the panic attacks and Bucky's own nightmares, who knew if it would push him over the edge to really hurt himself?

Clint still paced and tears started to make trails down his face and he soon felt paralyzed with his fears. He almost tripped in egg before he walked over to the counters and slid down them, holding his legs into his chest as he screamed into them helplessly.

Get up, Barton.

Get your ass out there and look for him.

Clint tried to force himself back up but his muscles were atrophied; he couldn't make himself move. It was like his lungs controlled his leg muscles. He was trapped in his shitty fucking kitchen in a panicked state and he couldn't move.

His brain felt like it was in a foggy haze.

By the time he had finally regained his senses back and his breathing and settled down, the sun had just begun to set and his apartment was filled with semi-darkness. He looked around, trying to remember what had happened.

"I-I'm Clint Barton… I live in Bed-Stuy in New Y-York. It was my fault Pietro died. It was my fault Bucky left. He's gone. He's dead."

No. Don't fucking say that.

He's not dead.

He can't be.

That isn't a true statement; it isn't known for sure.

Suddenly, he heard his phone ring and he reached for it on top of the counter from his position on the floor.

"H-Hello?"

"Clint, it's Matt. Do you know that James is over here? I asked him but he's not talking at all."

The archer breathed out such a sigh of relief that he almost felt like crying. At least he knew that his friend was alive. "H-He's at your place? Okay… umm… I-I'll come and get him."

"Clint, are you okay? What the hell happened?"

The man rested his head against the cupboard under the sink, quiet for several moments as he tried to process everything.

"Barton? You there?"

Clint blinked and coughed. "Y-Yeah. I'm here. I'm fine… we just… had a fight this morning and he stormed out." He forced himself to stand now and cringed at the pin and needles in his foot. "I'll get dressed and I'll be there relatively quick if I take rooftops the whole way."

There was a murmur of talk before Clint hurt Matt's voice again. "Okay, look. I don't know what happened, but… come on over and stay for the night. Go home in the morning with him. I think you need to stay with me tonight."

"Why, Matt. I had no i-idea you thought of me like that," Clint weakly joked, but knew his shaky voice gave him away.

"Come on, Clint. No jokes. This is serious. I can tell you're not in the best shape right now. Take some breaths, take a cab and stay with me, just for tonight."

Clint heard a loud thud now in Matt's background. He swallowed hard. "What's going on? Is he okay?"

"Yeah, he's fine. He just doesn't like the idea of seeing you again, but I'm telling you to come here right now. We'll have a beer and we'll just talk. It'll be okay, but I don't want you to be alone tonight because I know there's something you're not telling me," Matt sighed.

Clint took a shaky breath and ran a hand through his hair. The last thing he wanted to do was take a cab anywhere. His body felt so exhausted and his brain felt numb. "Fine, but I'm only doing it for you, and him. I'm not doing it for myself."

"I know you're not, but thank you. I'll see you soon."

"Yeah," Clint hung up and groaned tiredly before he forced himself on his feet, pocketed his phone, cleaned himself up a bit and then took a cab to Hell's Kitchen.

He wanted to see Bucky again, even if the feeling wasn't mutual. It was enough for him to know that Bucky was still alive and somewhere safe. That was the motivation it took to make it all the way there. When he arrived at Matt's apartment, he paid the driver and got out before heading all the way upstairs.

Clint knocked on the door and it wasn't too long before the door opened and he saw Matt.

"Hey, man." He stepped inside when Matt stepped aside and then closed the door behind Clint. "Where is he?"

Matt threw his arms up helplessly. "I think he locked himself inside my bedroom. I heard him walk in that direction and then a door locked. Want a beer?"

"Yes, Matt. I do," Clint sighed as he sat at small table and waited for Matt to hand his beer out to him after taking the lid off of it.

He took a long drink from it and waited until Matt did the same.

"So, talk to me. What happened?"

Clint began to tell him everything about what happened since he had woken up that morning, including about Bucky's panic attack, and then his tantrum he had at breakfast. He even told him the part where Clint had frozen in panic and he had stayed on the floor all day. When he had finished, he saw a concerned expression spread across Matt's face.

"You can't keep pretending you're okay when you're not, Clint. You can't take care of James if you can't take care of yourself. That's evident from today," Matt replied not unkindly. "Let me take him off your hands for a few days, until you can straighten yourself out."

Before he had finished, Clint had already started to shake his head even though he knew that Matt couldn't see him. It felt natural to just do it anyway. He took another long pull of his beer and looked down at the table.

"I can't do that. That would be me abandoning him. I won't do that. I'm the only one he trusts right now."

"I get that, but it wouldn't be you abandoning him. I'd tell him that you're coming back. You can tell him tonight even! Maybe call up someone and have them stay with you when you go back tomorrow," Matt suggested softly.

"You don't get it, Matt. I'm sorry, but you don't. I need to be here with him."

Matt Murdock was looking at him in frustration now. He sighed but it looked like he wanted to either punch the table or punch Clint. He couldn't blame his friend either way. "I do get it, man. I do… you care about him. You care about him as much as I care about you, and I'm saying this as a friend. Take care of yourself first. Get yourself together. You need some time apart. You can stay here tonight with him, like I said, but tomorrow, you go back to Brooklyn and you stay there until you feel like you can handle him again."

"You need my help! You won't know what to do when he has panic attacks or anger fits. He'll hurt you!" Clint spoke in a hushed whisper, trying not to raise his voice.

Matt leaned in closer now, forcing his voice and his face to sound and look calmer than before. He reached his hand out and felt around before he placed his hand on Clint's shoulder.

"I've figured out who to do enough shit by myself growing up blind. I've had lots of practice and my super powers helps with the other stuff too. I'll be able to handle myself just fine without you, Clint. I really wish you knew me enough to that, though."

Clint sensed disappointment now in Matt's voice and it just made him feel worse than he already felt. He sunk into the chair and took another drink, wanting to just drown himself in alcohol. Matt was right; he should know better than to think that his friend couldn't handle himself. He was stronger than Clint was. He felt disappointed in himself.

"I'm sorry."

"I know you are, Clint," Matt gently squeezed his shoulder. "You can still visit. This isn't you abandoning him forever. We talked about this before, remember? You thought maybe this would be a good idea. Now's the time to test it. If I need your help, I'll call you."

Clint nodded and swallowed hard before he finished off his beer.

"Can I see him now?"

"If you can get him to open the door for you, sure. If not, then I think we'll both be sleeping in the living room tonight."

Matt's statement had the reaction he had wanted, making Clint crack a weak smile now. He patted his shoulder before retracting his hand now. "Go ahead, man. Talk to James. Maybe it'll help him. He hasn't talked to me at all since I came home to him."

This made Clint stiffen a bit. "How did you know it was Bucky and not some junkie scum trying to rob you?"

Matt smirked and scratched his temple. "Well considering that he didn't try to attack me when he saw me, I'm assuming it could've only been him. It was only after he saw me and I told him to sit tight when he locked himself in the bedroom."

Clint relaxed a bit now and then started towards the closed door. He knelt down in front of the door and knocked it gently.

"Hey, Buck. It's Clint… I'm sorry, all right? I'm… sorry about earlier today, at breakfast. I was in the wrong, and I'm sorry I was trying to force food on you,"

No answer from inside but Clint could hear movement. Maybe he was listening.

"I-I get scared too, man. You wanted to know what my nightmares were about, remember? They're about falling, and not being able to save the people I care about," Clint confessed softly. "I worry about not being able to save you, but… I don't want to go into that right now. My point is, it's not your fault that I made you run away. It was mine… because I can't handle my own shit."

There was a few minutes of silence again before Clint heard the door unlock. When he gently opened the door, he saw Bucky standing nervously by the bed, his arms crossed in front of him as he shifted his weight from one leg to another.

Clint thought about closing the door behind them but knew it was useless. Matt would be able to hear everything they said anyway. He stayed a safe distance away to give Bucky his space.

"I'm really sorry, Bucky. I want to take care of you, but… I'm having trouble taking care of myself right now. There's things going on that I haven't really been letting you in on, and… I think Matt's right. I need to help myself before I can help you. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Bucky looked scared and anxious. "Y-You're going to leave me here. You don't want me to stay with you anymore?"

Clint took a few steps closer towards him now. "You're only half right. I am going to leave you here, but it's not because I don't want you to stay with me anymore. It's only temporary. This isn't forever, man. I promise."

Bucky pressed his palms into his forehead and groaned, trying to process this. When he looked back at Clint, there was hurt in his eyes. He waited for Bucky to have another angry fit but it didn't come. Bucky had tears coming down out of the sides of his eyes for the second time that day.

"How long?"

Clint thought for a second, trying to give him a solid answer but all he came up with was a pathetic shrug. "I honestly don't know, Bucky. It could be a week, it could be a month…. I don't know. I'm sorry."

"I can't do anything with that!" Bucky cried. "I only came here because it's the only other place I knew how to get to besides your apartment… I didn't want to stay here until you can get your shit together…"

Clint felt more guilt start to eat away at him. He moved closer to Bucky and suddenly wrapped his arms around him before pulling him close. "I'm sorry to do this. I don't want to do it either but it's the right thing to do. I wish my own father had done it with me when I was younger. I'm staying here tonight with you but tomorrow I'm going back to my own place. I'm going to come and visit though. I promise."

Bucky reluctantly put an arm around Clint but it was loose.

"Is this my fault? Is it my fault that you're leaving me here?" His voice was almost inaudible and it made his heart ache to hear Bucky ask this.

He shook his head instantly against his friend's shoulder, still holding him close. "No. This isn't your fault. This is mine. You didn't do anything wrong. I'm going to get my shit together and then you can come back. Do you trust me?"

Clint felt Bucky nod now before his grip tightened and turned into a mutual embrace.

"Good. Thank you… it'll be okay, Buck. We'll take the living room tonight so Matt can have his bedroom, all right?"

Bucky nodded now and looked around, as if he was just realizing that he had locked himself inside of here. He was reluctant to let Clint go so he let Bucky hang onto him as he led him out of the bedroom and into the living room.

"You're all set, Matt. Thanks for calling me."

Matt waved at him and started to head towards his room. "Night, guys. Let me know if you need anything. I put extra blankets on the couch for you."

"All right. Thanks, again. Goodnight."

Clint let Barnes have the couch and he took the floor close by so he was still within touching distance. He waited until he heard Bucky's breathing even out before he let himself relax. It was going to be one of those nights though where he wouldn't be able to sleep.

Not tonight.