Author's Notes

21st November 2013

In the wake of his suicide attempt, Hawkeye's mental state deteriorates rapidly and the team realise their comrade is in much worse shape than they imagine.

Natasha attempts to comfort her oldest friend while Ainsley pushes himself near to collapse ensuring the archer gets the treatment he needs.

Ainsley shares a long-standing suspicion with Tony and Natasha reveals what she's learned from Trickshot.

With Clint's long-term future in grave doubt will the Avengers be able to pursue Natasha's lead in time? And what is the secret of Barney Barton's discovery?

Malen'kiy yastreb (ru) – Little hawk

Moy grustnyy yastreb (ru) – My sad little hawk

Natasha's endearments are courtesy of Google Translate so I make no claim to their linguistic accuracy

Natasha kissed his cheek and rested his head on her shoulder, gently stroking his hair.

"Please don't do this to me, malen'kiy yastreb; not now. Not ever."

Clint wished she was screaming at him, slapping his face in a rage or dragging him down to the sparring mats to thrash him with every fighting technique in her arsenal. Anything would have been better than this quiet, gentle sadness. He knew she was thinking about what would have happened if Jarvis hadn't stopped him; in her mind, she stood in the cemetery with Bruce's arm around her as they lowered him into the ground.

"I'm sorry, Natasha" he whispered, unable to stop the tears running down his face "I'm so very sorry…"

He'd wanted to tell Tasha himself but he'd taken another panic attack when Jarvis notified them her car had pulled into the parking garage. Ainsley and Bruce volunteered to break the news while Steve and Thor calmed him down and kept him company in the quiet lounge; sitting there, he could feel himself withdrawing like he was looking at everything through a thick fog. Tony was keeping a low profile for a change, pottering about between the kitchen and his study, subdued by what had happened and by Pepper still refusing to return his calls.

Tasha'd come running in; throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him close, her whole body shaking. He hadn't noticed Steve or Thor leaving, the two big guys could be very quiet when they wanted. Since then she'd been sitting here holding him, not saying a word, trying to re-assure herself he was really there and not some phantom.

"Tasha, what do I do now?"

his voice was still a whisper, he couldn't keep it under control any other way

"If I don't make the evaluations, SHIELD…"

She put her finger to his lips

"This isn't about SHIELD any more, or the Avengers. It's about you getting well again and us helping you"

"What if I can't? Tash, it's like a whole chunk of my life's been ripped away and I don't know what's me any more…"

Natasha put her arms around him and held him tight, unsure which of them was shaking the most. She'd never seen him this bad before; closing down in front of her eyes as his mind crumbled under the incessant psychic bombardment.

"Shhhh! Don't think like that, moy grustnyy yastreb, we'll put you back together again."

She began to croon an old, old, melody; rocking her weeping friend gently in her arms, wishing she could believe that was possible.

###

"So, if you had to give a diagnosis right now; what would it be?"

Tony's question called Ainsley back from his thoughts. He'd been helping Natasha put Clint to bed, Thor was sitting with him while she went to shower and change. The archer had been progressively slipping into a numb, passive, state all day; barely aware of his surroundings, allowing himself to be prompted into action but doing little of his own volition. As the full realisation of what he'd tried to do, and the consequences he was facing, sank in it was like an off-switch had been pressed somewhere inside. Natasha had sat with him in the quiet lounge most of the afternoon, holding him in her arms and singing to him.

Fury was 'unavailable' but Victoria Hand was demanding Clint's immediate transfer to the Psych facility at the Hub. Steve stalled her while Ainsley spoke with Maria Hill and Ann Weaver, getting their clearance for Clint to be admitted to the clinic at the Science & Tech Academy for examination and review. Ann asked him to shortlist some names from the Sci Ops Psych Team whom he thought competent to deal with the case. He still wouldn't have any direct involvement but at least it gave him some say in who would be rummaging about the archer's head.

Ainsley had expressed his professional opinion of the Psych Team at the Hub earlier in the day. They'd never expected to hear the doctor use the words "…braindead, flaccid, penguin-fuckers…"in any context.

Ainsley took the coffee that Stark offered, the billionaire kept his own private stash in his study; an excellent and aromatic Vietnamese roast. He hesitated for a moment before deciding to take the plunge, fighting down the exhaustion and nausea that kept welling up. He should be in bed, resting, but there was no-one else with the qualifications to arrange Clint's care; certainly, no-one who knew him well enough to understand the extent of the damage to his mind.

"He's going into total shutdown, Tony. If we're lucky we can hold him back from becoming completely catatonic but that's the best we can hope for just now. I've told Steve that we shouldn't even consider evaluations yet. This isn't just an isolated breakdown; it's the cumulative effect of years of psychological trauma."

He looked directly up at Tony, time to go to the heart of the matter

"There's one common feature in all of Clint's crises, a name that comes up far too much around here"

Tony nodded, contemplating the drinks cabinet. He'd been 'dry' all day so far, a considerable achievement for him, but there was a bottle of Glenfarclas calling out to him. He turned away and poured himself another coffee.

"Phil has become the skeleton at our feast…" he admitted "…and you're right, Pigeon's obsession with the man is driving him further and further over the edge.

He sat down across from the doctor with a grunt

"But unless we call Ghostbusters, or get your Vatican friends to send us an old priest and a young priest, I don't see how we can lay that restless spirit down."

Ainsley laughed, glad of even a moment of humour on this dreadful day

"Until Clint starts dressing like the Men in Black and talking like a tax auditor I doubt the exorcists would be interested…"

Tony smiled as he drank his coffee; that was pretty much spot on how Coulson sounded….

He glanced across at the doctor; Ainsley was staring down at his cup with a perplexed look on his face

"How…?" he began

Ainsley put his coffee down

"I had some very peculiar dreams while I was under sedation; a couple about my grandmother and Thor that I'm still trying to unwind, but one in particular stands out. I couldn't see anything, but a man and a woman were standing by my bed talking, about Clint and Abel I think. They both had very distinctive voices and I'm sure the man was Phil Coulson..."

Tony sat back, steepling his fingers and staring at the floor; he noticed the design on the carpet looked like DNA spirals if he turned his head a certain way

"Are you certain it was just a dream?" he asked at last.

"I thought you might share my suspicions" Ainsley admitted "Thor saw Loki stab Coulson but we only have Director Fury's word that the wound was fatal; I understand it provided some necessary motivation at the time."

"Have you spoken to anyone else about this?"

The young psychologist shook his head

"There's enough paranoia simmering around the place already without adding that pinch of spice; besides it's no more than a vague hunch and digging around for confirmation might be unwise just now."

Tony couldn't refrain from smiling. He was working on a new set of spy-ware programs and the SHIELD databases would be perfect for beta-testing.

"I think you're right, Sherlock." he acknowledged "This needs to be kept between us for now; at least until we've got something other than hunches. The others aren't quite so 'pragmatic' when it comes to deception."

Jarvis interrupted them

"Excuse me, Sir; Dr Banner and Miss Romanoff are wondering if you and Dr Kerr would care to join them in the main lounge?"

Tony threw Ainsley a quizzical glance, the doctor nodded. Bruce and Natasha were sitting talking in the lounge as they came down the stairs from the gallery. Tony couldn't help notice their hands were almost, but not quite, touching

Well, wonder how long that's been going on?

Bruce looked up at them

"What's the word from the Academy?"

Ainsley sat down beside them while Tony fixed them all a drink; tea for Ainsley, the doctor was still on strong painkillers.

"Dr Zabriski's arranging for him to be picked up at 9am tomorrow so we should probably have a bag packed and ready for him. She'll want him full-time to begin with so he can stabilise, then they can determine whether he'll need to be there on a residential or day basis."

He sat back and sighed, it felt like they were committing him to an asylum.

"I've asked Dr Palmer to give him a mild sedative in the meantime. Sleep's the best thing for him now."

Natasha put her hand on his and smiled

"Thank you for everything you've done; I feel a lot easier knowing that he's going to be at the Academy rather than the Hub."

Ainsley nodded. Helen Zabriski was an old friend from the doctor's days in Vienna and her methods were emphatically civilised. He'd noticed several Feldermann's old students seemed to be connected with SHIELD in one capacity or another. He wondered sometimes if his own mentor had been entirely uninvolved.

"I've put in a submission that unless Clint's deemed to be an actual threat to himself or others they should opt for day treatment if possible. He'll feel more secure if he's allowed home on days when he's not undergoing review; I think that at least one of us should be with him on the days that he is there. Steve's backing up that recommendation and Helen doesn't see an issue."

He gave her hand a squeeze and smiled gently back at her

"One way or another, we'll get him fixed."

"So, apart from this" asked Tony, handing Natasha her drink "How's your weekend been?"

She laughed nervously, taking the glass off him, what had seemed so important when she was driving back home this morning had dissolved like mist once she heard they'd almost lost Hawkeye.

"I have a solid lead on where we can find Barney…"

…Natasha and Clint had arranged for Buck Chisholm to be moved to a better nursing home; higher quality facilities, superior medical care and closer to New York so it was easier for them to visit. Armed with a bottle of vintage single malt that Tony probably wouldn't miss, she'd been on the road within thirty minutes of his text. Trickshot was a lot worse than the last time she'd seen him, the cancer taking its toll, but he'd been true to his word. The golden age of the travelling carnival might be in the past but the old man still had a network of old circus contacts that would make a SHIELD Agent jealous.

One of them, an illusionist working the casino circuit in Las Vegas, caught sight of Barney Barton, although he was now calling himself Leon Kruger; riding with a group of bikers operating in Arizona and southern Nevada. The usual tags came up. Drugs, prostitution, guns; but also implication in a recent robbery at an archaeological site, an old Hualapai location. That caught her attention. There was a flourishing black market in Native American antiquities but it was an odd departure for this gang, unless you knew of Barney's previous association with artefact smuggling. Few details of the dig or the robbery were available but whatever Barney was after, it probably wasn't pottery or medicine bundles.

It was the first solid information they'd had since Clint's brother had appeared on their radar, and it gave Natasha a strategy for the next phase of the game….

…Tony put down his phone. He'd ordered Thai, no-one was in the mood to cook this evening

"Do we have any idea what they stole?" He asked. Natasha shook her head

"There's a bit of chatter about 'a significant discovery' and 're-evaluating early Native American history in the area' but then it goes quiet. I can try and check in SHIELD reports but if it's a potential 084 case then I'm unlikely to get access; those get restricted to the Field Agent in Charge."

"Artefact of unknown origin" Tony explained in response to Ainsley's questioning look "Like the Tesseract or Thor's Hammer; hopefully not in that league though! Sherlock, are you all right…?"

Ainsley had suddenly gone very pale and seemed a bit queasy. The doctor took his glasses off and rubbed at his eyes.

"Just tired, very tired. I think I might skip dinner and keep Clint company for a while; give Thor a break."

Tony felt a surge of guilt. Ainsley was scarcely 48 hours out of hospital and should be sitting with his feet up being fussed over by Goldilocks and demanding incessant cups of tea; instead he'd spent the entire day battling through SHIELD bureaucracy to ensure Pigeon got the sort of treatment he needed. The little guy looked near to collapse. He turned to Natasha and Bruce

"Can you two pack a bag for Pigeon? I'm taking Sherlock down to 221b before he passes out on us."

Thor looked up from his book as Ainsley came in. He never had much gift or inclination for the written word, but this story of the Boy Wizard and his adventures appealed to him greatly. Ainsley saw the unasked question on his face

"Gryffindor, Snuggie-Bear, without a doubt."

Thor grinned, that had not been his question but it was nice to hear Ainsley say it. His grin faded when he saw how pale and tired his lover looked. He got up and went over to him

"You must lie down and rest, Little Bug. It is not right you had to do so much."

He could not keep the irritation out of his voice. Yes, they needed to help Clint; but Ainsley was still weak from the hospital and he should not have so many burdens placed on him. He put his arms around his lover and bent his head to kiss him.

"You will become sick if you do not take care" he said softly

Ainsley rested his head against Thor's chest, drawing comfort from his strength and warmth as the warrior held him close. There had been a point where it felt like this day would never end, just drag on from crisis to crisis.

"It's almost done now, we just have to get Clint settled in."

"Please…" Thor lifted his lovers face and Ainsley could see the concern in his eyes "Please, Little Bug; let one of the others do that. I will tell Steve or Natasha they must go with Clint tomorrow. We can go to be with him when you feel stronger."

Ainsley opened his mouth to protest but Thor put a finger to his lips, furrowing his brows in an exaggerated frown.

"This is my Do Not Argue face. The Mighty Thor must not be challenged when he wears this face."

His expression softened into a gentle smile

"Please rest for tomorrow at least. Is this such a great thing I ask?"

The young doctor rested his head back against his lover's chest with a sigh

"You're right, of course, Snuggie Bear. I need take some time out and get my strength back. I'm just worried that Clint's going to have a bad reaction when they come to take him to the clinic."

"Will he be home for Christ Mass?" Thor asked in a quiet voice. He had heard much about this mid-winter festival, where many Midgardians celebrated the birth of a God by decorating their homes with green branches, exchanging gifts and feasting. He was looking forward to experiencing it for the first time and the thought that Clint might possibly be absent saddened him greatly.

Ainsley took his hand and kissed it.

"I don't know; I hope so. If not, we'll just have Christmas wherever Clint is."

He stepped back, wiping his eyes. Now all the calls were made, the arrangements in place, and the conversations done for the day, he couldn't fight the gnawing tiredness any more.

"There's Thai food on order upstairs, go get something to eat while I have a bit of a lie down."

Thor took his lovers face in his hand and gently brushed his lips against his forehead.

"Rest well, Little Bug. I will be back soon."

Hawkeye stirred slightly as Ainsley lay down beside him and pulled the covers up, his eyelids flickering open. The normally clear blue-grey eyes appeared drowsy and unfocussed, the pupils dilated from the sedatives in his system. His hearing aids were out and the doctor wasn't sure if he would be aware enough to process signing but he tried something simple anyway

U Ok

Clint mumbled something that sounded like 'hug me?' and Ainsley wrapped his arms around the other man, feeling him automatically nestle in closer for comfort and re-assurance.

They were both fast asleep when Thor came back downstairs. He had spoken firmly to the others, making it plain they must not expect so much of Ainsley while he was still unwell. Natasha and Steve had agreed to go with Clint tomorrow and one or other of them would spend the first few days there. He watched the two men for a time as they slept in each other's arms then went back through to the living room and picked up his book. He would let them have this night alone together. If what Natasha and Steve said was true, it might be many nights before Clint was with them again.

After the first few lines he realised his vision was too blurred to read. He put the book to one side and started to cry quietly for his friend.

###

Barney placed the case down on the table in front of a smartly dressed man with thick, black hair.

"Hope that's what you were after, Mr Bakshi."

Sunil Bakshi flicked the clasps and opened the lid. As he looked at its contents his mouth curved in a thin, cold, smile.

"Excellent, Mr 'Kruger'. This goes a long way towards cancelling your previous delinquencies."

He removed a fat white envelope from his inside pocket and slid it over to Barney

"A small token of our appreciation for your efforts, but it would be advisable if Mr 'Kruger' were to meet a swift end and his position be filled by someone else. We don't want to leave any unfortunate tracks a second time, do we?"

Barney picked up the envelope and stuffed it in his pocket. The threat under Bakshi's innocuous words was plain. He'd messed up before; if it hadn't been for getting those little beauties out from under the noses of SHIELD he wouldn't have got a second chance. These guys wouldn't give him a third.

"Understood, Mr Bakshi. I'll get on to it right away. Hail Hydra!"

Bakshi acknowledged the salute with a sardonic lift of his eyebrow. Barton was a mercenary, not a true follower. He worked for fear and money rather than the Cause. Still, he had certain useful talents and contacts which served them well. He waited until the man had left, finished his coffee then left through the back door of the restaurant followed by his guards. Dr Whitehall would be extremely pleased with what had been recovered. When The Day came it would enable them to neutralise one of the biggest single threats to their success.