When he lands at one of his seldom visited homes, Tony immediately exits the suit it feels as if it's suffocating him. As he stumbles to the liquor cabinet, he instructs the suit to enter sentry mode, not wanting to be caught off-guard in case one of his old buddies lurks here. Once he has a bottle of scotch, aged thirty-five years, he finds his way to a couch. He pulls a blanket out of the ottoman which he carelessly drapes around his shoulders. He then sits down and while sipping his glass of scotch allows himself to get lost in thought.

"Back for some more are you?"

"I don't exactly have a choice, you won't leave."

"It's not as if I have a choice to stay. Believe me, there are places I'd much rather be than stuck here in your mind. I'm you, stupid. You and I can't be seperated."

"I beg to differ." Tony takes a long drink polishing off the glass, remembering that he has no one to judge him here, his next drink is right off the bottle. "You were gone for a while."

"I never left, just kept silent."

"Want to do that again, it was nice."

"I'm just getting warmed up, Tony."

"Was afraid of that."

"Get a glass, or are you an alcoholic now?"

"Might as well be, everyone already knows I'm a lunatic."

"It's so kind of you to finally admit that." The voice snarks.

"I hate you."

"Hating me is the same thing as hating yourself, Tony."

"Yeah, well, I hate me too."

"Good. Shall we get started." Tony has drifted off, the bottle of scotch falls from his hands onto the floor, some of it's contents spilling over Tony's pants on the way down. His body slumps sideways, falling over to a more comfortable position, in sleep Tony clutches the blanket closer around him.

"Might as well, you never listen when I say no." With that the nightmares start playing. As a special treat his mind decides to recreate Afghanistan, those are always Tony's favorite nights.

"Pepper are you sure this isn't an invasion of his privacy?" Clint so far is the only person in Stark Tower's private quarters that has yet to agree to Pepper's plan of spying on Tony while he's in Monaco. Only Natasha knows why, and while she understands Clint's own personal connection and issues with the idea of spying on Tony, she doesn't agree with him. They all believe that Tony's in danger more when he's by himself then any other time.

"It is, but it's not illegal. Tony's the one who gave me the codes to access the cameras."

"Are you sure he hasn't changed the codes?"

"They're the same ones Happy has, so I don't think so." Pepper shows Natasha the piece of paper with the pass codes so she can enter them.

"Clint, we're doing this for his own good." Steve says, laying a hand on his teammate's shoulder.

"What you think is for his own good, might lead to his own self destruction." Clint snaps, causing everyone to turn their heads toward him.

"You're not exactly the best judge of things like that Clint..." Banner ventures.

"Yeah, well, maybe not for most things. But, I..." He runs his hand up the back of his neck repeatedly extremely uncomfortable with talking about himself. "I get this. I know what Tony is going through."

"How could you possibly know that, depression, it's not something you can understand unless..." Banner's eyes widen. Himself having been depressed before, he knows what Tony is feeling. Which is why he thinks they need to know what Tony's doing, for all they know he could be putting a bullet in his mouth, like he had done, only Tony doesn't have the Hulk to spit it back out for him. "You've..."

"Not past tense." Clint's face is extremely flushed. His hand works furiously rubbing the back of his neck. He can't stop and he can't look at anyone. He feels his nails start to dig into his neck, and the flood of warmth the flow of blood has over his hand. He feels Nat, take his hand away and replace it with her own. Instead of rubbing she cups his neck, placing it over is scratch marks. Slowly Clint brings himself to look at Dr. Banner. "I am. Depression, PTSD, Anxiety, you name it I've probably been diagnosed with it." Clint looks back at the floor. "I've been…," Clint struggles to put his emotions to words, he grapples with his mind for an uncomfortable amount of time before coming up with a word that only begins to describe how his head feels. "messed up for years. Hell, I don't remember a time when I wasn't clinically something. I've got problems for my problems." Clint begins rubbing his hand together continuously uncomfortable as every eye in the room is on him. "And I know I hate it when people see me at my worst, it usually makes me feel even worse not that I think that's possible. What Tony needs,…, what I think he needs, isn't us spying on him. He needs alone time, and support in that alone time. Sure he might hit a low, but he's already hit rock bottom, and I don't think he's going back not for awhile. When I hit, it's months before I can go back."

"If you're depressed, and all that other stuff, how come none of us knew?" Steve asks concern and pity clear across his face as he looks at Clint. Clint's hand's twitch for his bow, he hates looks like that.

"I've learned to deal with it, so I can be functional. But that takes time, and want. I needed to be functional because of my job, so I made myself cooperate. Tony isn't in the same kind of position, he won't come back from the ledge out of necessity, we've all got to show him that we care. That we want him to back down off the cliff, that's the only way he'll try to fix himself. You guys invading his privacy, that won't accomplish anything except maybe give him a push off the cliff when he finds out. And he will find out, JARVIS, will tell him."

"We all respect your opinion, Clint." Nat says, grabbing Clint's hand. "But it's not going to change our minds."

"Yeah, well, I'm not going to be apart of it." With that Clint gets out of his chair and storms out of his room to the gym, he has a sudden urge to shoot every arrow he owns, possibly even the ones that explode. "Maybe they'd listen to him if he put an arrow through their monitors." Clint shakes his head, he really shouldn't think things like that, Coulson would have benched him for a thought like that. "Coulson isn't here now is he." Clint smirks as he steps into the gym, extending his bow, shooting is exactly what he needs to do right now.