Of hours became days and Clint feared for his handler's well being. Two possibilities ghosted through his mind. The first option was that Phil got hurt; kidnapped or dead included. The second option was that Phil realized that his promises and dreams had been a mistake. Clint opted for the second scenario. He was sure someone had told him if Phil had gotten hurt.

His doc said he could leave in two days but he had to find a person who was willing to fuss over him 24/7. The Avengers were too busy, they couldn't provide enough attention and Natasha was not made to care for people that way. Phil was obviously not the right person either. Clint had no one else he could ask.

Clint got used to the thought that he would stay way longer in medical than he was comfortable with. He was bored and lonely. That his friends had busy schedules and crazy villains to fight were facts he understood so he was not angry to be left alone.

Phil's absence hurt him deeply, though. He hoped the older man would stick to his promises and make Clint believe that they had a chance. It's my own doing, he cradled his left hand against his chest; he let his fingers ghost over the platinum band around his finger. He doesn't want me anymore. He's all I ever had. I don't want to lose him again. I can't... He deserves better. Hard as it is Clinton you're not the right one for him. He fell into a restless sleep.

Coulson snuck into the room, hoping that Clint wasn't too angry at him for vanishing for three days. What he saw made him frown. Clint lay on his uninjured side, hand against his chest. The other hand held it protectively in place. The only noise in the room was caused by the archer's soft breathing but that did not fool the older agent. He could see the lines of tension on his lover's face. The way he laid was familiar too; and Phil thought that Nick was probably not so wrong about being like they used to be. Clint was in distress, a nightmare he guessed.

Phil sat down on the chair he occupied for so long since the shooting and took Clint's hand gently into his own; guiding it away from his chest. "I'm here," he whispered. "Everything is okay."

Barton didn't wake but his expression lost some of its seriousness. "Good boy. I'll keep your ghosts away from you. They will not harm you in any way, I promise."

Hours past before Clint came back from his disturbing journey into his dreams. The first thing he noticed was the familiar weight around his hand, the warm skin against his own. "Phil?" He mumbled; blinking his sleep away.

"How are you?"

"Why are you here?" It wasn't an accusation or snippy remark. It was an honest question that came right from his heart.

"I needed time. Sorry," Phil gathered all his courage to hold Clint's sad gaze.

"How do you feel?"

"I'm scared and overwhelmed by all we had to endure." No more lies and half truths.

"What are you scared of?"

"You, me, us." It was hard to put it into words but Clint seemed to understand nonetheless.

"Me too," he confessed to make it easier for Phil to voice his fears.

Phil squeezed his fiancé's hand, "I fear we have changed too much over the years. I don't know you anymore but I know that I desperately want to keep you."

"You didn't change that much," Clint offered him a reassuring smile. "You're grumpier and you don't treasure your life as much as you should but aside from that you're still the man I fell in love with back then."

"How do you know that? You weren't around." He held Clint's hand tighter as the younger man tried to pull away. "It wasn't meant like that."

"I kept tabs on you and I live in the vents, you just stopped looking for me." The few friends he had before the attack had kept an eye on Coulson and they informed him about all the important stuff.

Barton could see the questions in his lover's eyes, "I know about your brief relationships. I know that they didn't work out. I know that you got shot in Mombasa and I know that you still keep your apartment even though the neighbors must have been nosy at the beginning. You get sleeping pills since your stay at the hospital a few months ago. Loki caused more damage than stabbing through your chest."

"I-"

"You don't need to say anything. I know you stopped keeping tabs on me and you tried to avoid anything related to me. It's okay." It truly was.

"I know about your ears," Phil blurted out, taking Clint by surprise. The archer looked ready to bolt. "Nick gave me your hidden medical file," the director was not 100% honest about the seriousness of some injuries. "I know you lost 80% of your hearing. I know you barely survived Paris and I know they tortured you to keep you in line after you blew one mission to save a young girl."

"You're not supposed to know that," Clint looked away. He was ashamed of being deaf.

"Did you learn sign language?" There was nothing in his file about that.

"No," he whispered.

Phil nodded to himself, "no matter what, I love you."

"Do you think I changed too much for you to love me in the long run?"

"You're icier at times, you communicate less therefore your skill to twist people around your finger and make them believe what you want them to believe is still intact. Just different in some ways. Sometimes I get the impression you don't care anymore, about other people, and that you got rid of many of your quirks."

"For example?"

"The nurses haven't complained about you, not yet anyway and that is suspicious. You don't spend as much time in the vents anymore as you want me to believe and you stopped smiling the way I love so much."

"You don't smile either," not like you used to beam during the baseball game.

"No, I don't but time will change that. I'm not vanishing again, I promise."

"Are you sure?"

The childlike hope in Clint's eyes made breathing a difficult task, "Of course. Don't you trust me anymore Clint?"

"I never stopped trusting you. No matter what you said you'd never have let me die."

"I said many things."

Clint snorted, "You had every right to. I was not gentle with letting you down, because I knew I would stay otherwise."

"How long do you have to stay?"

"Two more weeks, give or take." Clumsy way to change the topic.

Clint was lying he could see it in his eyes. "Okay," Phil nodded. "Let's watch the game. We don't have to sort it out all at once."

Clint guided their joined hands to his chest and held on for dear life. Phil moved his chair closer to the head of Clint's bed to offer him his shoulder to snuggle against. Clint's body language told him anything the archer hid inside his thick skull. The archer might be a master of changing topics and telling half-truths but his habits gave him away.

The younger man was scared shitless and was struggling with his abandon-issues. The signs were too familiar to miss. He has not changed as much as I feared. Phil kissed his archer's forehead, "Love you."

Barton remained silent but he snuggled closer to make a point.

::::::::::::

Two days later the doctor paid Clint one of his his daily visit. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," rehab was a bitch but he had to play along if he wanted to remain an archer.

"Good," the doc nodded. "I get your papers ready and you're out of here within the next two hours."

"Huh?" Clint's eyes widened.

"Agent Coulson is taking care of you from now on. I thought you knew?"

"I didn't tell him."

"Coulson or us you have the choice."

Just as he opened his mouth Coulson appeared in the doorway with a carefree expression on his handsome face. He looked pretty with his blue jeans and black shirt. The dog tags glittered in the light and the ring around Coulson's finger seemed to illuminate the room. Clint fell in love all over again.

"Ready to go?"

Clint nodded dumbly.

"Good, I'll help you dress and then we can start packing your stuff." The older agent walked to the small dresser and picked the most comfortable things Clint had.

"Good luck," the doctor said with a small grin before he left.

"You could have told me that you need someone to look after you," Phil said casually while he helped Clint out of his gown and into a well worn shirt.

"I thought you might not want me," Clint confessed. Eyes still fixed on his lover's handsome face.

"Oh I want you. I'm your partner, for better or worse, Clint. I believe in old fashioned vows." I'm here for you. "How was rehab?"

"Long," Clint felt sore and hated every minute of it.

"I know. It will get better," he knew from experience how hard it was to get back into shape.

"They say I will be able to use my bow once I'm better. What am I without my bow?"

"Mr. Barton-Coulson, New York's loveliest social worker."

That surprised Clint to no end. Social worker? Barton-Coulson! Oh my…

"Stop worrying so much," Phil captured his lover's soft lips. "You're more than an archer. You're my fiancé, Anthony Stark's brother, Captain Steve Rogers's boy, Hulk's best buddy, Natalia Romanova's family and Nick Fury's protégé. I know it troubles you to believe it but you're by far more than an asset."

"Thank you," he felt better knowing that he was not useless without his biggest skill.

"Now let's get out of here," Phil helped Clint to get up and guided him to a wheelchair before he hunted the doctor down.

:::::::::::::

"I thought we head for the Tower," Clint stated as they stopped in front of their old apartment.

"Too many people," Phil cut the engine and walked around the car to help Clint out of the SUV.

"But it's your home."

"Our home," Phil corrected. "They won't bite." He was sure Clint was scared of their neighbors.

"I walked away."

"I want you here Clint or else I would have dumped you on Pepper," he stated drily. "Come."

Clint followed him, carefully avoiding being seen. He was worried about what he might feel once he entered the apartment. The flat was filled with memories. Good and bad ones.

The apartment looked like it did years ago. Clint's favorite blanket lay on the couch. Pictures of Phil and him decorated the wall behind the couch. He could see his favorite bowl and mug when he peeked into the kitchen.

The bed was new; it was bigger and looked more comfortable. The bedclothes were Phil's favorites. He was surprised to see a few of his belongings in the bedroom. He kept these things in his room at the tower. He left them behind as he moved out.

There was a large TV on the wall opposite the bed. That one was new too. They usually watched TV in the living room.

"Little present from Tony. The couch isn't comfortable enough so he decided we need a second TV," Phil put Clint's few belongings away.

"Remind me to thank him," Clint felt warm inside. It was a great feeling.

"Sure," Coulson conjured more pillows out of his dresser and build a little nest for Clint. "Lie down before you keel over."

Clint sighed, he hated bed rest but his body had a mind of its own at the moment so he did as he was told. "When do you have to go?"

"Personal leave," Phil adjusted the pillows behind Clint's back. "Since the day you got hurt. I will return to my duties when your condition allows it."

"You don't have to do that."

"I know that." He sat down on the bed. "Now get some rest while I make dinner. You have to eat before I can give you your pills."

"What pills?" He only used painkillers if the pain became too much.

"Your shrink wants you to continue taking them."

"You talked with Gordon about me?"

"I'm your handler I get this kind of information and I knew about them anyway."

"You knew?"

"I found them the day you slipped in the shower."

"Oh," Clint lowered his gaze.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of," Phil assured. "Many agents take meds against this and that."

"I know," he whispered. "Can you stay with me a little longer? Until I fall asleep?"

Phil lay down on the bed and pulled Clint closer against his body. "You're safe."

"I know," Clint made him-self comfortable. He enjoyed Phil's presence but it didn't feel as familiar as it used to be. There was a time Clint felt worthy to be held by Coulson. He felt loved and treasured. This time he felt more like an intruder; or a burden. The archer realized that he had to earn his place on Coulson's side. He had to work for his love and tenderness. Phil might not see it that way but Clint had to prove himself that he was still worth it to be around his handler.

"That did not sound very convincing."

"I know that I'm safe with you. I'm just not sure if you're safe with me."

"What makes you think that?" Phil frowned.

"I had your back for many years, and one mistake in judgment took it all away. I fear the biggest threat for you in this world is…- me."

"You're not a threat to me," Phil gasped. "What makes you think that? That's stupid Clinton. You should know that."

"You know the answer," Barton closed his eyes. He was tired and cursed himself for not keeping his mouth shut.

Phil didn't bother to reply. Clint was right he knew the answer. Clint's damaged sense of justified and unjustified guilt was causing a lot of problems. His guilt trips were always hard to bear and even harder to overcome. What Loki did was not his fault but for his archer the blame lay on himself and himself alone. What Johnson did was not right but Clint blamed himself for what he thought was the right thing to do. Almost getting Phil killed was not his fault either. Not during Loki's attack and not during Johnson's try to liquidate him. But all Clint could see was that he had something to do with it, so it made it his fault. Breaking his heart was one more incident his archer couldn't deal with. The archer was a little at fault too but all in all it was Johnson's sick game that lead to the inevitable. In addition to that Clint harbored a generous amount of guilt for his brother's death and he felt responsible for the beatings he got as a child and teen. The list was long and Phil could feel how the pressure slowly but steadily tore his lover apart.

Clint caressed Phil's chest. His handler remained silent for too long and the small gesture was his peace offering.

Coulson placed his hand on top of Clint's; holding their hands in place. "I have no idea how to get you out of this one."

"What do you mean?"

"Your guilt," Phil rubbed his cheek against Clint's hair. "I never succeeded in taking it away. I can protect you from many things. That's something I was always good at but your guilt is stronger than I am. The only thing in this world I can't protect you from is yourself. You're not dangerous to me; you're a danger to yourself. You always have been your worst enemy and I have no idea what to do about it."

Clint couldn't deny that Phil was probably right. "You keep me in line that is a very good way to prevent more harm."

"Keeping you in line is not enough, it never was." Phil was so frustrated that he used his agent Coulson tone of voice. He chided himself, Coulson stays at the office.

"I love you Phil," Clint listened to his lover's breathing and paid more attention to the beating heart beneath his palm. "I try, okay?"

Phil sighed, "We will work on it."

A little smile appeared on Clint's face and he closed his eyes, "No matter what you think. You do a damn fine job protecting me from myself."

"I do?" Coulson's voice turned playful. The atmosphere was too heavy to be comfortable.

"You might not believe it but you're the only protection I have from myself."

Phil was not sure if he believed Clint or not but nonetheless a strong sense of love and protectiveness flooded his being with warmth. "Good to know. How did you survive without me?" He placed a firm kiss on Clint's forehead.

"The way you did," Clint replied sleepily. He could feel Phil's body tense against his. "I had no flings. In case you need to know. There was no one."

Clint was faithful even though they went separated ways. Phil felt guilty and couldn't shake the feeling that he cheated on Clint. He knew it was unreasonable.

"I know it's unfair but I'm glad your relationships didn't work out," one more point Clint felt guilty for.

"I'm glad too," he wasn't sure he would have taken Clint back if he had a partner by his side.

"Don't worry about it," it never stopped to amaze Phil how well Clint could read people. "I wouldn't have come back if you had someone else."

"I'm not sure I would have asked you to come back."

"I know," Clint kissed Phil's chest. "I mean I would have stopped fighting so hard."

Phil needed a moment to understand what Clint meant and when he did, he sat upright so fast Clint almost rolled out of bed. "What do you mean you would have stopped fighting? You would have died just to get away?"

Clint took a sharp breath as pain shot through his shoulder, "Damn." He blinked a few tears away. "Your presence made me fight. You wouldn't have been there if you had someone else to love. You wouldn't have offered me a lifeline."

Phil stared at Clint. The archer couldn't identify the swirl of emotions that flooded his lover's gaze. He wasn't able to read Phil and that fact sent a sense of insecurity through his heart and soul.

Barton struggled to get up as silent tears ran down Coulson's handsome face. The older man did not blink or sob. He just sat there; staring. Clint wasn't sure Phil even knew he was crying. "Phil," he said gently while he reached out. He kept his movements slow, giving Phil time to retreat. "Sir?" He placed his hand on Phil's tear stained cheek.

Phil started blinking, leaning into Clint's gentle touch. "I would have let you die," it was a fact he couldn't handle. "I would have let you die alone."

"It's okay," as long as Phil was happy anything was okay.

"How can you say that," Coulson's voice dropped low until it was just a whisper. "I would have visited you a few times, the rest of the time I would have spent with someone else at home. Cuddling, laughing…," while you drift deeper into the darkness until your heart refuses working, forever. The thought scared him deeply. Visiting your funeral with someone else by my side; taunting your memory.

"Come back to me," Clint urged. He hated the faraway look on his handler's face. "Wherever you are, come home."

Phil swallowed a heavy lump that formed in his throat. He took shaky breaths to get more air into his burning lungs. He hadn't realized that he forgot breathing for a moment. "Oh god," he squeezed his eyes shut.

Clint's hand wandered from Phil's cheek to his neck, he pulled his lover gently against his chest. "Hush, don't fret over what ifs." He rocked back and forth; it was a strategy Phil used when Clint was the one close to a breakdown.

"I cheated on you," Phil whispered.

"The hell you did. You were single and lonely. A new partner in your life was what I was hoping for. Phil, love is what you deserve. Whatever makes you happy, Phil, is okay with me."

"I should have known. I should have looked deeper into it. Our love was over so suddenly, I didn't see it coming. The fact that I did not see it coming was a good indicator that something was wrong."

"I run from situations I fear, Phil. You know that. Thinking that I ran out on you because I work that way was not wrong. I fled from the orphanage, I fled from my brother, I tried to avoid putting my trust into you, I tried not to love and depend on you. I'm a notorious coward."

"You're a lot of things but not a coward," a hint of amusement lingered in Phil's voice.

"What else am I?"

"You're an abused child and you react like one, it has nothing to do with cowardice. You trust me, you love me and you put your own life on the line on a regular basis for anyone in need of protection; these are not the acts of a coward. You deserve your title as a hero, Clinton."

Clint smiled with satisfaction as Phil forgot all about his freak out moments ago. He was counting on Phil's protective streak. "I'm a hero?"

"You are," Coulson confirmed.

"Do you know who my favorite hero is?"

"Iron Man," Phil said self-confident. "He's for you what Cap is for me."

"Not anymore, true I decided to fight on the right side of law after seeing him in action but I grew up enough to know that Stark is just a man with flaws and a dark side just like anyone else."

"So who is it?" Phil's posture relaxed a little and Clint noticed that he was breathing easier.

"You."

"What?"

"You, Agent Phil Coulson, are my hero. You're smart, good at heart, honest and determined to serve the world. You're intentions are pure, free of revenge or hate. You do what you do because it's the right thing to do." Hurt feelings don't count; they're a good reason to lash out.

"I'm not special," and as pure as you might think.

"Yes you are. I don't have superpowers either and you consider me a hero so why is it not possible for you to be a super hero?"

There was nothing Phil could say. Clint had a point. "I'm a hero?!" His own words sounded strange in his ears.

Barton could feel Phil smile against his neck. "My hero."

"Ohhh," Phil pushed Clint gently away to get a look at him. "Your shoulder," he urged his lover partly out of his shirt to examine the wound. "I almost kicked you out of bed." What a fine hero I am.

"I'm fine," that was a lie but it didn't hurt enough to make his body betray his lie.

"God, I'm a mess," he rubbed over his face. "I'm sorry Clint. You need your rest and I freak out like a school girl."

"It was long overdue," Clint stretched out on the bed, trying to find a comfortable position. "Freaking out can be healthy."

"Did you just throw my own words at me?"

"You remember?"

Phil huffed, "It was after your brother died of course I remember. I'm surprised you remember what I said. You were pretty out of it."

Clint smiled, "Like I said you have no idea how much power you have over my mind."

Phil returned the smile, it was hard not to when Clint looked at him with adoration in his eyes. He got onto his knees and bent forward to kiss his archer before he pulled the covers over him. "You need sleep."

"I slept enough," he suppressed a traitorous yawn. "I sleep the days away."

"That's what you need at the moment."

"And what's with what you need?" He felt guilty for trapping Phil.

"I need you," Phil lay down and put his arms protectively around his lover. "I didn't know how much I needed you until we started working together again."

"Wasn't easy."

"No it wasn't. It drove me crazy," Phil closed his eyes.

Clint's eyelids dropped too, "I know. Me too."

"Sleep well, love."

Clint fell asleep pretty fast and Phil watched over him for a while. Much later he realized that Clint had tricked him into forgetting about his frightening realization.

:::::::::::::::::::

"Phil, I don't want to." Clint lifted his arm under his therapist's watchful gaze. "I'm sick and tired of it."

"There's no way around it," Phil sat at the other side of the room on a bench. It pained him to see his athletic asset struggle with each move.

"Archer or not archer; your choice." The therapist was not one of the friendliest guys around and he was tired of Barton's attitude. He hated his snippy remarks and creepy gaze.

Clint clenched his jaw and tried to succeed with the task the therapist gave him. It hurt and he fought against his own boundaries until his arm felt lame. He gritted his teeth and continued even though his muscles protested.

"Enough for today," the therapist nodded. "See you tomorrow."

Clint didn't reply, he didn't like the man much but that was nothing new. Doctors and therapists of any kind were as high on his list of favorite persons as Dr. Doom or Kang. In addition to that he was too tired to move, not even his jaw.

"Get up my next patient is waiting outside." He patted Clint ungentle on his uninjured shoulder.

Barton winced, barely visible but Phil could see it bright and clear. He could see the pain Clint was in, the worry about his future and the strain life put on him. The kid in front of him reminded him of the young man he met years ago. Barton never showed his weaknesses, he was too scared people could use them against him. But Phil was attentive and had watched his newbie intently after he joined the team.

Clint was a cute guy, and damn pretty. They're mutual attraction had been a surprise; a very positive one. Sometimes he felt a lingering sense of anger and disappointment towards Clint because of all that happened between them but then he caught Clint when he lowered his walls and all negative feelings disappeared.

"Let's go home, Clinton," he said gently. He walked over to his fiancé when he noticed Clint's lack of movement. "Let me help."

Clint closed his eyes for a second. He liked it when Phil called him Clinton. The older man had a way of saying it that made his given name special. Phil made him feel special and the archer had no idea how the older man did that. Even when he was angry, Coulson never stopped sending the right signals to make Clint feel safe; despite being chewed out.

"I'm tired, sir."

The way Barton said sir had the same effect on Phil as Clinton on Barton. "I know you are, but you're doing well. You'll be back at the range in no time."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I am." He pulled his lover upright and guided him back to the car. The agents around stared at them in wonder. They were used to Coulson's and Barton's private war. That Coulson and Barton disliked each other was a given fact no one had thought much about. Seeing them getting along felt strange and rose their interest in them.

Clint said nothing during their walk back to the car. He was lost in his mind and bitter thoughts raged like a storm inside his head.

Phil let his gaze wander to Clint from time to time while he made his way through rush hour. Barton's silence worried him. It wasn't fair but it angered him. He hated it when Clint kept his thoughts to himself instead of sharing them with him. Phil felt like he had a right to know what was going on inside his archer's head. Of course he knew that it was presumptuous to expect his lover to share everything with him but he couldn't help it. It was one of his lesser adorable attributes just like his angry outbursts. Phil had no idea why Clint put up with his choleric side at all but he was thankful that he did.

"I'm sorry," Clint mumbled absentmindedly.

Phil swung out so suddenly to stop on the roadside that the car to his right had to stand on the breaks; the driver honked and gesticulated wildly. Phil ignored the commotion and stared at his partner. "What the hell are you sorry for this time?"

Clint remained silent, lowering his head in shame.

"Is it Loki again? I'm alive and there's no lasting damage, end of story. Get it into your thick skull."

"I left you alone."

The anger faded a little. "You didn't. You watched over me."

"No," Clint shook his head and lifted his head to look at Phil. "PT."

Phil frowned, "What…, oh." He wasn't sure if he pitied his lover right now or if he wanted to strangle him.

"It's strenuous, it hurts and it's frustrating and you had to do it alone." Clint rushed, "I want to go alone. I don't want you to accompany me anymore. Meet friends or work, it doesn't matter but I have to do it alone."

"Eye for an eye? Is that it? I accompany you because I want to not because I have to." Phil's anger returned; his lover was frustrating. "Yes, you weren't there, yes I had to suffer alone and yes it hurt. But we weren't together at that time. You had no right to be there with me. I wouldn't have let you. I would have sent you away."

Phil could see Clint's heart break the moment his words left his mouth. It was the hard truth and there's no way around it if they wanted to revive their relationship.

"I'm still sorry," the archer insisted. He knew he had no right to be close to Coulson. He knew any help he had offered back then would have been denied. Phil would have, probably, shot him on the spot. "Don't be mad, please."

Phil's anger disappeared as he heard Clint's pleading voice. His lover was practically begging in his unique way for acceptance. He knew how much Clint hated it when people were angry at him for some reason. On few occasions Clint shied away from his touch. It was rare but a painful reminder of his upbringing. The man in front of him was not Hawkeye. The man in front of him was little Clint afraid of being abandoned. "I'm not mad," Phil sighed deeply.

"You are," Clint smiled sadly. "You were never good at lying."

"Now, I'm sorry," Phil placed a hand on Clint's neck and pulled him forward until their foreheads touched. "I didn't change much."

"I'm glad."

"I think that's a character trait I should get rid of."

"No," Clint brought their lips together for a brief kiss. "Without it you'd bottle up anything until you go nuts."

"Raging is not helpful either," Coulson argued.

"But you get rid of your pent up emotions and that's healthy."

"Not for you, you fool," he replied fondly before he kissed his lover once again this time with more heat. "We should go home before the police catch us."

"Seems like your parking style didn't improve much," Clint shrugged nonchalantly. "Being an S.H.I.E.L.D. agent is the only reason you still have your driver's license."

"Says the one who terrorizes NYC on his motorcycle," Phil huffed in mock annoyance.

"I never get caught," that was a fact he was proud of.

"Me neither," Phil smirked.

They continued with their friendly banter until they reached home. It gave them something to focus on and it kept the quarrels away.