The 7th! Only 3 after this!

REVIEWERS!

everfaraway; Think I had to throw it in at least once! :P Glad you liked the last chapter :)

Niom Lamboise; Weeeeeelllllllllp I don't plan on revealing anything to do with what happened to him for another chapter or two so you'll just have to wait and see! :) Glad you liked it!

Cori; Why do I do this? Because I'm evil and like trying to hurt people :3 I like trying to hurt Clint most of all! :D I'm glad you're enjoying it so much! Cookies are very very much appreciated.. I've been craving cookies for days and no one's bought me any.. Thank you for the kind words! :D

Disclaimer; Natasha; Clint's kinda banged up but insisted that Tara isn't allowed do these anymore..
Pietro; BECAUSE SHE RIPPED OUT MY HEART!
Natasha; *Sigh* Because she apparently ripped out Pietro's heart..
Pietro; So that bitch doesn't own us and she never will now! Because she's a bitch and I hate her and- HEY!
Natasha; *Muzzles Pietro and drags him off for a time out.* He's a little cranky..

"I guess you walking is out of the question.." Pietro whispered as he freed the leg that looked broken from the chair, Clint's soft whimper letting him know that there was no way in hell moving him was going to be easy.

"Jus' get Tony.." He mumbled in reply, Pietro was struggling now to catch the archer's words. "He fly us out.."

Pietro frowned a little and shook his head, though he knew Clint couldn't see him. His eyes had shut soon after Pietro freed his hands, his head slumped forward against his chest. He looked dead, and it scared Maximoff more than he'd care to let on infront of the injured man.

"Figured.." Clint said quietly. Pietro's silence must have been a bit much. "Didn't come.."

"Kept telling me you were fine and I was worrying for nothing." Pietro whispered back, carefully taking one of Clint's arm and slinging it over his shoulder. This was going to painful, but it had to be done.

"Well we were.." He chuckled back, but it was wet sounding, and it ended too quickly and with a groan of pain.

"Just sush, you idiot." Pietro whispered frantically, panicking a little now at how weak even that action made the archer. He waited for Clint to catch his breath a little before slowly lifting the man to his feet.

The scream Clint let out nearly had Pietro dropping the archer back down. He couldn't though, he had to get him out and to the jet. He kept lifting, then carefully picked him up into his arms like he had his sister earlier. Clint's arms were locked in a pathetically weak grip around Pietro's neck, and his breathing was heavy and erratic against his neck. Something was already seeping through Pietro's shirt, and that fact was enough to have him moving out of the room and towards the fire escape.

He didn't want to run, couldn't even jog, just incase he hurt Clint more. He really didn't want that. He didn't want him hurt at all, yet he always seemed to be throwing himself into these stupid situations that ended with him in hospital for a nice visit.

"They take your bow?" He whispered to the archer in his arms, and he could just feel Clint nod against his neck. Of course they did..

He would be alone if anyone decided to attack them, he wouldn't be able to fight them off and protect Clint at the same time. While he didn't want to, it looked like he'd have to run or risk getting the both of them into much more trouble. There was no doubt in his mind that an alarm had been raised already so reserves were no doubt on their way.

Once he found the fire escape, he looked down to Clint. His eyes were closed, but the slight movement on his features whenever another step was taken told Pietro that he was just clinging onto consciousness.

"I have to run, Clint." Pietro whispered with a frown, knowing how much this was going to hurt every aching muscle the archer currently held.

Clint, to Pietro's surprise, just grinned up at him. "Honestly kid.. Surprised y'stayed walkin' this long.."

"Well, couldn't have you complaining about a few boo boo's now, could I?" Pietro smirked, moving the archer to as comfortable a position as he could find before taking off up the stairs at full sprint.

He didn't look where he was going, he didn't care if he hit into someone or not. His eyes stayed on Clint's face, on each little tilt of his brow or strain of his lips, of each little movement of his eyes behind his closed lids. He watched for any kind of pain, any kind of struggle, anything that would tell him to slow down or take it easy.

But Clint was a professional. He was a stubborn asshole. He may be in the worst pain imaginable right now, physically and mentally, but not a word of complaint crossed those lips.

When he was feeling better, though, Pietro was sure he'd be in for a whole lot of complaining!

At the speed they were going, they made it up the stairs in no time at all. Good thing too, he could just about make out the sound of footsteps following up behind them. He was long enough trying to get Clint out of that chair, so he knew Natasha and Wanda would safely be at the jet by now. Assuming they didn't get into any trouble, at least. But the pair were as deadly as they came, so he had no doubt that they'd kick anyone's ass who tried stop them!

He slowed to a walk when he knew they were close, his breathing a little heavy though he guessed that was more from the emotions he was trying to keep in check rather than the running. Clint was getting heavier in his arms, and he didn't like that one bit.

"Come on old man." He said softly, the jet finally coming into view. He glanced back down at Clint to see his face alot paler than before, and Pietro's shirt was a lot redder than before too. "Just at the jet now. Stay awake so you can fly us home."

"Told you learning to fly that wasn't a dumb idea.." Clint mumbled, at least that's what Pietro thought he mumbled. His words were starting to string together and were getting a hell of alot sloppier.

Pietro let out a chuckle despite himself and despite the situation. Well, maybe in spite of the situation. Because he wanted to humour Clint, needed to humour him, needed to keep him awake while he got him to safety.

"Wanda!" He called out when close enough to the jet, not seeing her or Natasha outside of the aircraft. "Going to need some help!"

"I don't.." Clint growled against Pietro's neck, and this genuinely had the speedster laughing.

"Ok Barton." Pietro chuckled, shaking his head a little as he climbed into the jet with the archer, Wanda's head poking out of the door a fraction of a second before. "Tell me that when you can stand on your own."

"Clint.." Wanda whispered with slightly wide eyes, but Pietro shot her a look to tell her not to. He was purposely avoiding talking about Barton's condition, not mentioning any of the injuries to the archer just to keep his mind off of it.

It seemed like Natasha knew why he was doing this, because she was up from her seat like a light when they entered into the main area of the jet, but she didn't say anything, she just cleared things off a table so they could put Clint on it. Carefully, Pietro lay Clint down onto the newly cleared table in the middle of the jet's space, the sound that Barton gave had Pietro's heart breaking.

"You're an idiot." Natasha scolded her parter as she started checking all his injuries, and the smile that spread across his pale face had Pietro smiling to himself.

"Well fuck you.. y'look like shit.." He whispered to Natasha, though his eyes were closed so Pietro didn't know why he was saying it.

He looked to his shoulder when he felt a hand on it, his sister gently pulling him back from the edge of the table so Natasha could look Clint over without someone in the way.

"We have to get to a hospital." He whispered quickly, running over to the control column of the jet then to start it up. He didn't know where they were, or where the nearest hospital was, but he'd fly until he saw somewhere and hope there was a hospital near by.

He froze when he saw his hands on the control yoke, his breath hitching in his throat. They were covered in it. The hot and sticky crimson mess he was yet to get used to. Reluctantly, slowly, almost as if he were terrified to check, he looked down at his shirt and nearly got sick. It was worse down there, you couldn't even tell that it was originally a silver shirt. It was just a horrible dark red colour now, glistening as the blood dried into the fabric.

All this came from the man moaning on the table behind him right now. There was so much, and he knew that he lost more before they arrivied, and he was continuing to lose more right here and now.

"Pietro! Get us in the air!" Natasha yelled from behind him, snapping him from his thoughts. He realised he could hear the sound of gun fire, and Wanda was by his side with her hands on his shoulders shaking him slightly. They must have been calling for him while he was focused on his blood soaked self. He ducked when a bullet ricocheted off the windscreen, that was enough invitation for him to get their asses up in the air without a second thought.

He just turned the jet in the direction he knew led away from the coast, not knowing what would meet them, but any sort of town would have a medical centre and that's all they needed right now.

"Pietro?" Wanda whispered by his side, but he just shook his head at her unasked question. He wasn't fine. He really wasn't. He had Clint's blood everywhere, and it had his hands shaking at a near uncontrollable rate.

"Call Stark. See if he can get through to some hospital for us." He said quietly, reaching up to turn on the radio before handing his sister the talk back receiver. If he could get the co-ordinates off Stark then he could feed them into the system and the auto pilot could take them there. Natasha didn't seem in any state to fly, and his hands were shaking way too much to safely navigate through the air space.

Wanda moved to the side to try get in touch with Tony, Pietro just hoped that someone was by the radio to pick up. He realised then that Wanda's voice was the only one filling the cabin now. The moans and whimpers had stopped, there was nothing coming from the table behind him, and it had Pietro flicking on auto pilot to stand and rush to Clint's side.

His heart sank when he saw the archers eyes closed, not as tightly as before. He lost the battle. Natasha was still working frantically around him, using the little first aid kit that had been stored on board to tend to the worst wounds gracing Clint's body. His shirt was cut off and Pietro could now see just how bad he was. His whole torso was covered in blood, gashes and slashes covering nearly every inch of his frame. His face was slowly getting worse, more bruises beginning to poke through, ruining his otherwise perfect features. Natasha seemed to be running on pure adrenaline. Pietro knew her arm was broken, she wouldn't have been favouring it and willingly showing her weakness earlier if it wasn't a damn bad break. But right now, she had to save her partner, so that was out weighing the pain.

He didn't think anything could outweigh the pain in his chest right now though.

"He'll be fine.." Natasha said in a whisper, taking Pietro's hand and using it to apply some pressure to one stubborn wound. He was about to be sick at the feel of more blood, even through the bandage his hand was on. But he needed to help. He didn't know if Natasha was actually talking to him or if she was trying to reassure herself. "He's been through worse."

That didn't help things at all! He watched Clint's face with a slight frown as Natasha worked, she would move his hand every now and then to a new patch. He couldn't imagine worse than right now, but he didn't doubt Natasha's words. He didn't want to think about Clint being put through worse, didn't want to know what worse meant. Right now he was bleeding out after being tortured, in Pietro's view, by the worst torturers around. If there was worse, he was feeling a new found fear towards the world.

"Stark, just listen!" Wanda suddenly shouted, causing Natasha and Pietro to whip their heads in her direction. "I am not asking for help! I am just asking for directions!"

"Should've thought of that before leaving us, sweetheart." Tony's voice was suddenly clear now, and he realised that he was lost in thoughts again and missed the beginning of their conversation. "Not my fault the pair of you are lost."

He glanced at Natasha when she let out a growl, following her movements as she stalked over to Wanda and took the receiver from her hand.

"Tony, you idiot, Clint's down!" She pretty much yelled down the line, the other end going oddly quiet.

"Natasha.." Tony finally breathed out, a sound of something being dropped following. He was by the radio enough to know what that meant. Hit meant he's bad, hurt means they need immediate attention. Down meant he was pretty much dead. When Stark next spoke, his voice was strong and normal again. "I'm loading it into your auto pilot now. I'll call ahead so they're ready. We'll be there as soon as we can."

Before Natasha turned the radio off, they could hear the call of 'Suit up!' being shouted by Stark. Romanoff sighed and sunk down into one of the chairs, with the help of Wanda though. All her fight seemed to have left her now, and it worried Pietro, because he had no clue how to look after Barton if Natasha was about to take a break!

Though, when he looked down at his hand that was resting on Clint's chest, he realised that he was all taken care of. Natasha had worked at such speed and with such precision that he didn't think she could be done, but all his wounds were freshly wrapped, cream on his bruises to ease their pain, and an iv line set up in his hand. He wondered how many times in the past Natasha and even Clint had to do this for one another, he made a mental note to ask the Widow when she was able to talk. Right now though, she had passed out in the chair a moment after she sat down, and Wanda was placing a blanket around her shoulders.

He felt the jet tug to the right, and let out a sigh of relief. Stark worked quickly. He may not like the guy most times, but when his friends needed it, he was the best help there was.

He looked to Wanda who gave him the slightest of smiles, and he knew then that they'd all be fine.

"I don't know how to deal with doctors if they ask questions.." Wanda suddenly pouted, having taken a seat beside Natasha.

"We'll figure it out." Pietro chuckled, looking back down to Clint before placing a soft kiss on the archer's forehead.

Just once they helped out his love, then he wouldn't mind dealing with the questions.

It was everywhere. There was no getting away from it.

He was given a private bathroom to clean up in, probably so he wouldn't scare any of the general population. At first, he was a little offended, but now, as he looked himself over in the mirror, he knew that it was a warranted request.

When they landed on the hospital roof, there was a flurry of commotion. Before the jet even fully touched down onto the surface, he had Barton's make shift bed wheeled out the door and handed over to the waiting doctors. Then he sped back in and helped a still sleeping Natasha onto a waiting stretcher.

There were looks, there were the ghosts of questions on lips as the pair were rushed inside to be tended to, but the remaining staff members just led the twins inside and told them where to go. Wanda was led to what was called a family room, he glanced in as he passed to see a line of comfy looking sofa's and some vending machines. It was no doubt a place designed for long waits.

He was about to go in but a doctor caught his arm gently and suggested cleaning up first, handing him a set of hospital scrubs to change into before pointing out the private bathroom.

It was everywhere.

At first, he thought that maybe it was only over his hands and shirt, but when he looked in the mirror he realised that he picked up a pretty bad habit, running a hand though his hair whenever he was stressed or nervous. Because while on the jet he must have done it a million times before landing, and that meant that Clint's blood was all over his face and through his silver-grey hair aswell, tinting it like it was some kind of purposely done bronze highlight.

He scrubbed his hands raw in the sink, letting the water run as hot as he possibly could before scrubbing some more. He did the same with his face and hair, he stripped off his shirt and scrubbed his torso, trying to rid himself of the hot sticky feeling.

But it wouldn't leave. The substance was gone, the redness no longer there, just a raw pain over the areas he scrubbed. But the places the crimson mess sprayed just felt heavy, they felt like they were on fire and no amount of scrubbing was getting rid of that feeling.

He could feel the sob in his chest before he heard it, and when that escaped there was no chance of holding back the tears that had been threatening to fall since the second he heard where the archer was. Gripping the sides of the sink with each hand, he leaned over the porcelain and let the panic flood his system, he let the fear and the upset he's felt for the past two hours take control and work it's way out.

He cried.

There hadn't been many times in his life when he cried, when his parents died he did, like this. Other times were like when he was a child and he fell, or during the experiments when the pain got a little too much. Superficial tears, tears that meant nothing to him and just fell out of some natural reflex. These tears started in his heart and worked their way out, draining his soul of all sense of composure and leaving him a blubbering mess.

Sometimes he loved his twin connection. This time was definitely one of those, because when he felt some hands on his shoulders, he knew that it was ok to turn into the awaiting arms. He clung tightly to his sister, his eyes shut and his face buried in her shoulder. She just hugged him back with one arm, her other hand gently running through his still damp hair.

"He's not going to make it.." He whispered frantically, his hands clutching onto the fabric of her shirt for something to ground himself to. "I just got him, and now I'm going to lose him!"

"Shh Pietro.." Wanda shushed soothingly, and he did try, for her if for no one else. "He will be fine. I promise. Clint, well, is a fighter. We're going to be bringing him back home in no time."

"No more missions.." He whispered between his sobs, and after that he just let Wanda hold him until he calmed down. "Never going on missions.."

He meant that for all of them. If this was how something that Maria thought was supposed to be simple for Hawkeye and Widow, and it ended with Clint fighting for his life, then he didn't want any missions anymore. He didn't want Clint in the line of fire, he didn't want this happening again.

He just wanted Clint back. And right now, it seemed like that wasn't going to happen.