The first thing he could hear was the sound of the heart rate monitor beeping. Then his eyes managed to unstick themselves and he could see the ceiling. Surgery. Right. Bullet fragments. "Don't move yet, Agent Barton." Came a pleasant sounding voice. Must be a nurse. He heard mumbling outside the room. Then the sound of footsteps. Then the rather frightening face of Nick Fury looking down onto his own. "Welcome back, Barton." He said.
All Clint could do was moan. Anesthesia always sucked, but this time he felt like a bus was sitting on his head.
"Don't move too much, son. They had to give you about a quart of something to keep you down on the operating table." Fury grabbed a chair and sat down. He looked at Barton with a touch of sadness. "They probably overcompensated a bit. It might take them a while before they figure out the right dosages of medications for you."
Barton moaned again. "Please tell me you're real, sir."
Fury chuckled. "Real as you're ever gonna meet, Barton. Good work, son. And bringing in the doctor was good idea. She'll be of use."
"Is it over sir?"
"Yes, Barton it's over. Coulson just called in. Romanoff got Byer."
"Where? Where did she get him?" he mumbled back.
Nick Fury raised his head. "Between the eyes, I believe."
Clint Barton smiled as he faded back to sleep.