This chapter features Clint...for all you Clint lovers.

-wink-

Enjoy!

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Bold=Memories

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"Being stuck with you isn't all that bad." I said with a slight bobbling motion as if I was undecided. In truth, I enjoyed the Agent's company. We were in his private quarters cleaning our weapons together. Deacon used to call this bonding time.

"Well then…you could stand to show some enthusiasm about being stuck with me." His face broke out into a smile. I tossed my oil rag at him and shook my head. We were on our third week of being stuck together. I stood up from my seat and gazed out the window for a moment. I jerked open the small fridge and peered inside. I grabbed a bottle of water, shut the door with my foot, and leaned against the wall as I sipped the semi-cold liquid. A few guards were walking around checking their sectors. A few Marine's were lounging outside in lawn chairs smoking…it appeared to be pretty peaceful night all in all. The sun was about down and my team had the next two days off. My job was to cater to the government agent and make sure he had everything he needed. He was after all leading this mission- we were assisting. "What's on your mind?"

I glanced over at Barton. His grey shirt was tight against his shoulders and arms. His muscles moving as he rubbed down the gun he had in his hand. His bow laid in its case with such care on the table, he had just cleaned it. I had seen him shoot a few days ago…very impressive. "You seem so sure that you are going to catch this Crystal guy? We haven't even seen or heard of any such activity. Seem pretty confident of yourselves don't cha'."

He chuckled a bit, "We are just good at what we do Sergeant."

I sat the bottle of water down on the table and crossed my arms, "And what exactly is that Agent Barton?"

He paused in cleaning his rifle and smirked as looked up at me, blue eyes sparkling in the dim light. I felt my breath catch in my chest as he pondered for a moment, "You know…you can call me Clint."

"And you can call me Sergeant." He chuckled and nodded as he went back to his rifle. After his bow, he had finished his two 9MM handguns, and then now, his rifle. The man was a walking arsenal. I plopped back down into my chair, "You aren't going to answer my question are you?"

"I think an answer for an answer is fair."

"Are we in high school?"

"Where did you get those marks on your arm?" He said as he checked his rifle twice before getting up to set them on the table on the far side of the 11x12 room. His twin bed was pushed up against the wall, a small night stand beside it. It only held his laptop, phone, and a small black lamp. Everything was pristine. There wasn't a television. His clothes were hung above his duffel bag, which was open and empty. My eyes shifted down to my left arm, several red circle, oblong, and long scars littered my forearm. It trailed all the way up until it disappeared under the sleeve of my beige colored t-shirt. Truth was it wasn't just on my arm…it traveled across the left side of my chest about midway. I even had two specs on my neck. When I was in the States I would try to wear 3/4th sleeve shirts or long sleeve as much as I could. I couldn't remember the last time I wore a bikini was.

"Fell down the stairs. Why don't you have any pictures of family…friends?"

He shrugged one shoulder as he opened the night stand and a bottle of Jack Daniels appeared in his hand, "Don't have any. You fall down the stairs onto a bomb?"

I studied him for a moment as he sat a solid black mug down in front of me. He poured enough for about two shots and then did the same to his dark blue mug. He moved his bow to the side of the room with his other weapons before he sat down. He continued, "I was blown up once."

He took a healthy swig of his whiskey and then nodded, "Yea, I was on this mission…top secret shit, right? This…woman…saw I was tailing her. I…was so stupid then-didn't see the trip wire. Boom."

He sipped on his mug again and leaned back in his chair. He rubbed his neck hard enough for red marks to appear. He looked tired, like he could use a vacation…a long one. I didn't see him as the vacation type though. A few more seconds of silence and I couldn't help it, "What happened?"

I took a long gulp of the amber liquid and welcomed the burn. I was never one for whiskey...it was more of Deacon's thing. I enjoyed tequila…too much. He laughed, "Well, luckily…there was a window to break my fall. Thirty stitches up my back, four broken ribs, and a mild concussion."

"Did you…apprehend her?" He nodded as he poured more into his cup. I sipped on the liquid feeling my stomach warm. Surely I wouldn't have to worry about a government agent taking advantage.

"I did…about two days later. She's my partner now." I spit the whiskey out onto the table and he laughed loudly. Covering my mouth I dabbed the oil cloth over the table. I gave a slight giggle slash chuckle slash cough. He had a great laugh, one you remembered. "I guess she would be my friend…my only one. She…just knows what we-I- go through. It's kinda nice, I guess. Having someone understand."

He nodded for a seconds as he stared at his drink. He had a small smile on his face. He cared about her…in what way- I had no clue. But it was clear. I inhaled slightly, "Shrapnel. First bomb got me on the left side…chest, arm, and broke my collarbone, two ribs. Fire fight happened directly after…took bullets into my left shoulder and left thigh. Second bomb…dislocated my right shoulder, gave me this beautiful scar on my neck and knocked me out."

"You sound tough," he said with a small smirk lacing his face. He poured another round of whiskey into my cup.

I smiled and let out a laugh shaking my head, "Nahhh…that's a walk in the park."

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My eyes drifted open. I blinked a few times finding my vision extremely blurry. My throat was dry and achy. The pain in my shoulder reminded me of when I dislocated it. I moaned slightly as I shifted in the bed. Hospital, which or where I wasn't sure. The small area was full of monitors and flowers. Who in the hell sent me flowers? They looked too damn expensive for my tastes. Stark. I rolled my head toward the window and found a visitor kicked back in the guest chair. Black boots were propped up on the window sill. He was in his normal clothes…civilian clothes. His body was slumped in the chair, head slightly leaned back, arms crossed over his chest, sunglasses covering his eyes. He looked peaceful and uncomfortable. After serving with him though, I knew he could sleep just about anywhere. I looked down at the different tubes and wires running in and out of me. I tried to swallow again and realized I must have been out a while. I wiggled my toes and felt my left ankle ache. I moaned slightly feeling the pain in my chest. My lungs felt…sore.

"Cl-in-t." I tried to say. My voice was broken, raspy. I cleared my throat and tried again. "Cl-int."

He shifted in his chair. I glanced up at the monitor and breathed heavily as I felt around for the heart monitor cord. I pulled it from my chest with a wince. The monitor suddenly flat lined and Clint shot up from his chair. Finally. I replaced the pad over the sensitive skin and smirked. He shoved his sunglasses up over his head and gave me a look that resembled hatred for a moment, "Not funny…so not funny Marc'."

He fell back heavily into his chair as he rubbed his eyes. "Wa-t-er."

Reaching over quickly he grabbed the cup beside him. I raised a shaky hand to grab the straw and he held it for me instead, "I've got it. It's Sprite. I'll get the nurse in a second."

A woman in white scrubs burst through the door at that moment and relief flooded her face, "Well, well, rejoining the world I see. I'll get Dr. Banner for you."

"Water too," Clint added as I polished off half of the cup of Sprite. He moved the empty cup away and stared at me, an indescribable look ghosting his face.

"I'm okay Clint." My voice was better, it came out as a whisper, but it sounded better. He crossed his arms and stood biting his lip.

"You've been on a ventilator for about a week. You stopped breathing for about three minutes after Stark blasted you with that stuff." I saw him swallow hard. He rubbed his neck and then his eyes. He looked like he hadn't been to sleep in a long time…like really been to sleep. "You…you just really scared us Marc'."

I shifted in the bed, "I'm not going anywhere."

"Better not." He said lightly before the nurse came in with her cart and a cup of water. He looked away from me and grabbed his phone from his jacket pocket, "Everyone will want to know you're awake. I'll be right back."

I watched him step out of the room and close the door. The blond looked over at me as she began unhooking a few tubes that were not necessary any longer. She smiled softly, "He's been here day and night for the past week. The only time he left was to eat, shower, and report to the Director. You have a good one there."

My eyes shifted back to Clint. I could see him outside of the room rubbing his eyes as he talked on the phone. He looked relieved and happy. He laughed and nodded his head before he looked back in the room. His blue eyes connected with mine and I gave a small smile before he dropped his head. Where was Steve? Had he not been here with me…at all?

"Are you in pain?"

"Um…just a bit. It's not bad though."

"Well, if you need anymore just let me know and I grab you a pill," I nodded at the blond nurse, Amelia, as her name tag read. I looked back to the window again and sighed. "You're on the Helicarrier still. Director Fury didn't see a need in moving you."

I glanced back at Clint, he was off the phone and leaning against the window to my room. His hands were in his pockets and he was looking down. He had been with me the entire time…that meant something. My heart fluttered at the thought. Guess we were friends after all.

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A full forty-eight hours had passed since I had woken up. My ankle was just a sprain and then the there was also some bruising on my ribs. Bruce said it was a miracle that any bones were not broken. I had to agree, but honestly, I think it had something to do with the flame. Maybe it had protected me somehow because I sure enough was not superhuman. Tony had been by several times in order to tell me about the latest in his improving the gas. I declined his offer to experiment with it. I would just have to stay far, far away from it. I really didn't want to do this whole hospital thing again in the future. I had yet to see Steve or Natasha, but there was a rumor they were on a mission. Clint hadn't mentioned them and of course, I hadn't asked. Right now, we were walking up and down the halls of the Helicarrier trying to get my strength back up. Clint was dressed normally, which made me jealous considering all I had on was a pair of black track pants and a red hoodie. He walked beside me just in case I felt weak or like I was going to pass out. I felt my head swim and I grabbed onto Clint's arm quickly. He paused while we were walking and watched me closely, "I don't think you should be out of bed yet."

"I'm tough remember? This is how tough people do it," I mumbled as I began to walk again. He smiled and gave a scoff. I jabbed a finger into his side and moved my hand to bend of his elbow as he curled his arm in front of him.

"You haven't asked me yet." He said casually. I rolled my eyes. I hated it when he read my mind. I absolutely hated it. I shook my head we rounded the corner to head back to my room. I was in my own room now…no hospital bed or monitors. It was just me, a TV, and a very uncomfortable mattress…then the occasional visit from Clint who would prop himself up in the chair and sleep soundly for about two hours. He would then wake up, stretch, mumble something about coffee and return a few hours later with some sort of snack for me. I was ready to be settled in some type of apartment. Fury said when I was well enough. I hadn't asked Clint if he was going to take a mission or a vacation. I think he was contemplating it though. So far, there hadn't been any other activity on Crystal. According to Intel, he was said to be killed in the explosion at the previous city. I doubted that. It was a feeling, but if they said we were dismissed until the next mission.

"What's there to ask? He doesn't want to be here…so that's fine." I let go of his arm and entered my room at a much slower pace. I was starting to feel the effects hit my body. A day or so more and I should be done with this 'baby it' mode. Sitting on the bed I sighed and took a sip of the water that sat on my nightstand. I laid down slowly and closed my eyes. Clint was lingering in the doorway. "I don't know why you aren't mad…he's off on a mission with your girlfriend."

He let out a frustrated sigh and I heard my door close. Finally…some peace. I felt the bed dip and I opened my eyes to find Clint's sharp eyes staring down at me. He shook his head and looked down at the floor. His elbows on his knees, "She isn't…she doesn't belong to me in that way. You've never once asked me about our relationship together…which there isn't. I'm the one who should be grilling you about your relationship with Steve. You were practically making out like two lovesick teenagers in the training room!"

"I'm not even going to ask how you know that," I scowled at him. Of course he knew! Of course. I knew it. I had a feeling he knew.

"Thor doesn't keep secrets very well Marc'…I'm not stalking you. Gah…" He stood up quickly and crossed his arms, "I have more respect for you than that. Do you really think that little of me? That I would…"

"Watch me like a hawk?" I smiled. He froze and then suddenly he laughed. It was the same laugh that I had remembered that day back in his quarters on the base. The same smile graced his lips and I felt the familiar flutter of my heart. Okay, so I had been wrong, but how could he blame me? A private moment between two people and the next thing you know it's all of the ship. I really wanted off here…just a few normal days. That's what I wanted.

"He sat with you the first two days," he began as leaned against the desk. I scrunched my eyebrows confused. He left. I'm not sure why I was feeling so betrayed and forgotten. He's Captain America…he has better things to do than sit in a hospital room. "He was blaming himself for everything that happened…and I told him he needed to get out. Occupy his time and his mind. So, he took a mission offered to him by Fury. Tasha went with him."

"How come you didn't take it?" He shrugged and shook his head a few times before looking at me. He gnawed on his lip for a moment.

"Had a more important place I needed to be."

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Love-Love-Love all of the reviews, alerts, and fav's.

Ya'll are amazing! Thanks for reading!

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MustangLover97- Thank you so much! Sorry though…Deacon is officially not with us. Although…that's sad. In my mind, he's crazy hott. But I figured too much hotness and Marcy might explode. So…there you go. Lol :o)

Little Weasley Girl- Thank you! Action scenes can by a little bit hairy to write. There needs to be lots going on…my fingers can only type so fast in order to keep up with my mind.

Nosignofslowingdown- haha! I'm so glad I can ruin your life like that. :o) I have a lot more power as a writer than I thought. I'll try to keep updates coming fast so what little patience you have left doesn't dwindle down to absolutely nothing.

LyraValkyrie- Black Widow will be more integrated into the story- eventually. As for Cap, I have pondered and pondered and beat my head against the writing wall will trying to figure this guy out. Going back and watching Captain Amercia helped. He adjusts pretty well to things, he's handy- in all situations, humorous, and I think he would adapt rather quickly. I'm sure he would have somewhat of an overload, but you have to remember- he has all of these people around him who are showing him new things. Television is a big influence also…he's had a while to adjust and adjusted he has- especially with Tony around. :o) Doesn't mean he isn't scared to death, hesitant, or shy. –wink-

OptimisticTheory- Thank you so much for reading. Yes, I do apologize for the mistakes and whatnot. I don't have a Beta. But I try to catch all that I can. I'm so glad you love the story!

Brucy- Thank you. :o) Handling a wide cast of characters is down right hard sometimes. I feel bipolar- all of their personalities floating around in my head- crazy. So glad you are enjoying it.

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Disclaimer: I do not own anything.

Marcy James is my own creation.