The window was fogging up really badly again, he should probably wipe it off at some point, but, he could still see though so what was the point? The window was still fogging where he'd leant his burning face against it. He needed his medication - Anti-depressants. He needed them badly, he needed them now, but he couldn't move. He couldn't get down. He knew he would just keep sinking if he didn't go, if he didn't move.
But what if Steve came?
What if he made it to the front door and could go no further? What if he failed to save him for a second time in row just because he felt a little down? Everyone else had collapsed from exhaustion, and he was the only one left.
Left awake. Left watching. Left listening.
The cold was starting to give him a headache.
"Clint!" A voice startled him.
He turned suddenly. "Tasha."
She pulled herself up to sit neatly on the edge of his nest, and she gazed at him sternly. "You know you can't do that Clint. It's wrong. It won't help."
He lifted his head from the window. "I didn't know you were up."
She grabbed his hand and pulled it toward her. She dropped the pill in his palm and set the water bottle she had hauled up on the ledge. As if were acting on instinct, he swallowed it and gulped down the entirety of the water bottle.
"He'll make it back Clint." She put a hand on his knee.
They sat there for a good fifteen minutes as the anti-depressant kicked in. Clint felt his head clear - it wasn't that everything was suddenly love and butterflies, but logic could invade the sheer amounts of hopelessness in his mind.
"Thanks." He said.
The first time, it wasn't his fault. It wasn't anyone's. Steve would live. He had been frozen in ice for God's sakes. He threw up poison and could drink Thor under the table. He could take a hit from the bird's best arrow. The Cap was inde-freaking-structible for Heaven's sake.
"Anytime." She responded. "You should go sleep. Or sleep here if need be."
"What if Steve makes it to the door?"
She caught on immediately. Clint had certain patterns that he followed, like every other person. "It isn't like that mission. Stark has eyes over everything, he'll see if Cap's on the door step. Trust me; no one will ever die three feet from the door again. I swear."
"I know." He sighed.
The archer slipped off the edge and to the floor below. Natasha landed next to him and Clint stretched his shoulders, basking in the euphoric popping sensation. They could both recall that mission. That mission. Every agent has one or two or half a dozen, like the two assassins.
A sound caught their ears.
A clicking and creaking sound.
"What's that?" Clint asked.
The red head shrugged. "Dunno."
"Tony, come on."
They heard Bruce's voice float in from another room. The clicking paused then started again. They glanced at each other and entered the laboratory.
"What are you doing?" Clint asked.
Tony growled like everyone was bothering him. "I am trying to play with my goddamn Etch-a-Sketch." He grimaced and worked the dials then grinned. "Done!"
They hovered over his shoulders. The grey-white screen was covered in lines and marks that seemed to be in no particular order or rhythm.
"That is a lovely nothing, Starkers." Clint complimented sarcastically.
The inventor sniffed at him. "J.A.R.V.I.S., scan this and create the layers."
The red colored plaything was bathed in blue light with white pin-pointing grids. It ran over the twisty black lines and blank spaces.
"Now take into account depth and layering."
"Yes sir, of course." The AI responded.
Tony suddenly put his hand out and pinched his fingers. He lifted his hand like he was pulling a string and lifted the layers J.A.R.V.I.S. had drawn moments ago. The lines fit like a puzzle. Layer after layer, a statue formed. Two beings - one being Tony's best drawing of Steve and the other, a puppy.
"Wow." Bruce mumbled.
Tony was no artist, but he thought he did alright, for working with an Etch-a-Sketch.
"We need a puppy." Clint said.
"What kind though?" Bruce asked.
Natasha shrugged. "The only ones I've worked with are German Shepherds and Bloodhounds."
"Same." Clint nodded.
Bruce nodded. "Mine was a mixed breed."
Tony flicked the screen of his Starkpad. "Well we have just about over four hundred to choose from."
They were all just trying to distract themselves from the tension, even if it was for a short moment.
Soon - very soon, Bruce and Tony would go back to fussing over the strange combination of unnatural elements in Steve's poison. Clint would go to sleep, trusting Natasha to take watch this time because neither of them trusted technology even though they trusted Stark with their lives. There was no tech that could do what they did.
But for just a moment, they'd allow the trivial activity to give them relief.
"What kind do you think Steve would want?" Clint wondered softly.
Tony chuckled. "Something really, super loyal."
"Something big and athletic." Bruce put in. "He could take it running in the morning."
"He might like a rescue." Natasha suggested.
Tony laughed. "His pure white heart would thoroughly enjoy that. J.A.R.V.I.S., is there a shelter near here?"
"Yes sir. Close enough that you could walk to it."
"Which one?" Tony asked reclining.
"I believe sir, it is the New York Fifth Street Kennel." The AI answered right away.
Clint snorted. "Sounds like Steve's kind of place." He yawned. "Well I'm going to go see if I can find a few hours rest."
"Hope you have better luck than we did." Bruce waved.
Clint glanced back once more. His eyes clouded.
Natasha met his gaze. "Go. I'll watch."
He dipped his head and disappeared.
Tony set down his tech and his old child's toy. "Well, my gamma-radiationed friend, shall we try yet again to see what happened to the good Captain?"
"Yeah." Bruce replied, shoving out of the chair. "I still think it was some kind of mutation thing."
Tony shook his head. "I don't know. I still haven't ruled out poison entirely. Steve would have found us if he had just like grown another head or an arm or something."
"We'll just have to see then won't we?" Bruce stood up. "Carry on as much as we can, at least."
They went back to the lab and the red-headed assassin climbed up onto Hawkeye's perch.