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When he had joined SHIELD, they had made him a promise. Fury had made him a promise. His family would be safe. Protected. Invisible to anyone outside of a chosen few.

But even promises made my an elite organization of spies can be broken in the long run.

Laura had been kidnapped, taken while she was out shopping, Clint home with the kids during some rare downtime between missions. After an hour, he had started to wonder and had called her cellphone only to have an unfamiliar voice answer and make a demand.

His life for hers.

He could still remember the way his stomach had dropped and his heart twisted, the air ripped from his lungs for a second as his brain processed what was going on.

Laura had been taken.

Once he had gotten over his shock he'd kept the man on the line while he got ahold of SHIELD with another secure phone, relaying the call to them as he talked to the man, listened to the terms and conditions and made arrangements.

His life for hers.

They had been too late, though. The one time he needed things to go smoothly it had all come crashing down around him and he had watched as they put a bullet in her head; his eyes locked with hers as he aimed and fired an arrow just seconds too late. It had been chaos after that, other agents coming in to back him up, taking out others in the room but Clint hadn't even noticed them. Didn't hear them. His knees had given out and he sank to the floor, staring over at the slumped body of his wife until a hand had gripped his shoulder and a body moved to block his view. Clint blinked slowly and focused on the individual--Natasha--staring at her lifelessly as she guided him to his feet and out of the warehouse.

It wasn't suppose to end like this.

The kids had been brought on board the helicarrier and he'd been with them briefly, unable to explain to them what was going on and eventually leaving them in Natasha's company. He'd been through a debrief and a psyche eval, the archer barely remembering anything that was said or done as he sank down onto a bench in the locker rooms just outside the gym he often trained in with Nat and others, staring down at his hands as they started to shake. The weight of all of it hit him like a tidal wave and he crumbled, hands coming up to hide his face as his shoulders shook and tears finally fell.

He'd been too late.

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Fury told him to stay away. Don't let the Avengers see you and stay out of the public eye. Simple but emphatic instructions. But that didn't stop him from listening. Always tuning into reports and different news about the movements of the Avengers. He still cared a great deal about each of them. Some more than others.

Certain archers tended to draw his attention the most. He was one of the ones that recruited Barton. one of the ones that acted as his Handler and sat by his bed when he got hurt and ended up laid up in the hospital. He spent hours doing paperwork through the night listening to nothing but a heart monitor. Some assets were never just assets. He cared just as much about Natasha in a lot of ways.

So when he got word of the taking of Barton's wife that he never breathed a word about, he decided he couldn't stay away. Landing on the carrier, his small team looked hesitant as they half followed him and half lagged behind. They didn't know why he was there, just that he got that look of seriousness that they took just as seriously. He told them it was personal. He wouldn't lie about that. Coulson learned his lesson about lies and withholding information. But he also knew that the nature of the visit... that was not his business to share.

Carefully sidestepping Natasha, he moved to places he knew Barton would linger and finally found the archer. His feet froze just ten yards from his former asset and close friend and he felt the ice in his chest. Finally he shifted, moving closer to slowly kneel to one knee in front of Clint Barton as he saw each tear fall to the floor and land on hands that shouldn't be shaking like that.

Brow furrowing, he finally reached out and wrapped his hands carefully around the shaking calloused fingers of a practiced archer. Hands that could drag him out of danger and save thousands... and he did't want to know how much it hurt not to save one person that was the center of your universe.

There had been whispers; rumors that Phil Coulson was alive and that Fury had been lying to them. Clint and Nat had both dug into it but never got far, Fury and Hill always there to stop them from prying into something that needed to be left alone.

Phil was dead, they said. He wasn't coming back.

And yet here he was, kneeling before Clint as if nothing had changed. As if the other had been killed by Loki during the battle that first brought the Avengers together. As if he hadn't sacrificed himself in an attempt to save people. For a long moment the archer thought he was hallucinating after he startled out of his tormented thoughts to look at whoever was now with him, staring at the familiar face with tear filled eyes that were narrowed in confusion, his hands still shaking despite his attempts to calm them.

Fingers twitched then curled after a long moment of nothing, touching Phil's hands as he tried to make sense of this.

Laura had died. Phil was alive.

He choked on a sound, words stuck in his throat before he crumbled again, hunching over as sadness and anger overwhelmed him, Clint shaking his head as he tried to get his head on straight.

Why now? Why now of all times?

Phil Coulson had seen pain. He knew agony in all its forms, but seeing Clint look like that, look at him like the world crumbled out from under him... it made something break inside. All those times before of them taking turns taking care of each other never prepared him for that kind of agony. Fury had no right to keep him away from Clint or Natasha. Not those two... especially when he knew Clint likely felt his fair share of guilt over his death. A death he really wanted to forget.

Letting out a long breath, he squeezed the blonde's hands and let the younger grip at him for something to steady him. "I'll explain later." His voice was cracking around the edges, but he struggled to keep it even. He had so much explaining to do. This moment slapped him with the realization that keeping Fury's secrets could be a terrible double edged sword.

It made him realize that the staunch exterior of lacking emotion couldn't always be his answer to everything.

Which was why he broke. He used one hand to pull the archer closer while his other arm wrapped around his shoulders so he could hold him close. Let the man hide. He needed to hide right now. "I've got you." He whispered the words into the blonde's hair and closed his eyes. No matter what... saving others... it costs too much for everyone. But it was a price he prayed Clint never had to pay.

"I won't leave unless you tell me to... anything you need. Anything I can do... I know I can't make this better. But I want to be here for you."

It wasn't until Phil pulled him into his arms that Clint realized this was real, that the other was here in front of him and alive. His eyes close tightly against a fresh wave of tears, the archer choking back any sounds that might escape because while he's willing to let go--he's only willing to let go of so much at the moment.

Those words though. Those whispered words pounded away at the walls he was trying to keep up because it was so Phil Coulson that it almost hurt to hear.

But right now? It's what he needed. That familiarity.

He latched onto it as he fell against his former handler--his friend he long thought died and found himself clinging despite his attempts to keep some shred of dignity. So many things were going through his mind, so many things he wanted to say; things he wanted to ask. To scream. To demand. Nothing was coming out though. Nothing but a choked off sob of a noise that had him pressing closer to Phil, hands clenched in the man's suit now as he slipped off the bench and onto the ground with the other.

"I..." I couldn't save her.

Closing his eyes tighter against the pain that came from Clint's agony, he held firm to the archer. He wouldn't let go and he wouldn't leave. Even if Clint pushed him away for whatever reason, Coulson know he couldn't walk away. He never did in the past until Fury made him. And part of him worried that he was so changed now that he didn't deserve to be close to the other anymore.

Taking a deep breath, he swept his fingers through the other's hair and brought his other arm up to rub at the tensed shoulders. "I know..." He could only imagine what Clint meant to say... and he didn't need to blame himself. Not when he needed to grieve.

"It's okay to cry..." The words were almost too quiet, but Clint would hear him when he was this close. Clint needed to cry.

Shifting on the floor, he settled in a way that he could encompass the taller man and still hold him. He kept him close, imperceptibly rocking the younger in soothing motion. His breath hitched as he whispered quietly. "I won't leave again. I'm here as long as you need me." Fury could yell all he wanted.

Clint choked on another sob, unable to fight back tears as he pressed closer to Phil in an attempt to just hide; to find comfort in the familiar presence and warmth that the other provided. His shoulders heaved as he finally let himself break down completely, his sobs muffled against the fabric of Phil's suit that would no doubt end up soaked in areas from tears and other things--

He'd apologize later. Maybe.

He had no idea how much time had passed since the other had found him, how much time had gone by since he fell into ruin but when he was finally able to think he realized he couldn't stop shaking. The archer felt weaker than he ever had; drained of every emotion possible even though there had been so many raging for dominance before. His hands tightened in the folds of Phil's suit before he slowly pulled back, keeping his head ducked as he made to wipe at his face.

God he hated this. He hated feeling so weak. So broken.

"...Sorry, boss." The words came out empty despite his attempt to sound like himself. It was just too hard.

Coulson just waited. Guarding the archer in his moment of weakness silently, only breaking that silence to occasionally reassure that he wasn't going anywhere. He didn't lie and say it would be okay. He knew that was not something Clint wanted to hear right now. No... this was not okay. This was by no means going to go away anytime soon. If ever...

So when Clint pulled back, still clutching at him, he moved his hands to softly clutch the shaking shoulders. "I'm not. And I'm certainly not your boss anymore." He said it soft, gently as he moved his hand to sweep back the now messy blonde hair away from Barton's face. "I only came as someone that cares..." Fury be damned. "You know you're safe with me..." He wouldn't tell anyone. He wouldn't talk about it to anyone else. This was between the two of them... no weakness would escape this moment.

Coulson treasured that sort of trust. Especially from those like Natasha and especially Clint. "I have terrible timing to realize that some orders need to be broken. Sorry about that."

"True. Pretty sure that honor goes to Steve," Clint managed to get out, mustering up some of his usual dry wit to make the comment sound more like his usually did. Time spent with Natasha taught him how to play the game, how to hide his emotions and carefully tuck everything away and that's what he was trying to do now.

As bad as that was.

"...You were dead. You're suppose to be dead." Just like Laura. The archer flinches slightly and draws back from the other, clearing his throat as he realizes how broken his voice probably sounds right now.

He still can't look at the other. Not yet.

"Should have known orders were keeping you from telling us you were alive."

Figures.

"Best boss you could ever ask for..." Steve wouldn't let him down. Not like he did. He failed pretty miserably against Loki that day. He'd died pretty sure he deserved that. But he didn't even get that dignity. And for the first time since then, he felt like maybe his resurrection wasn't entirely pointless.

Curling his legs in, he likely looked pretty ridiculous sitting indian style on the cold floor. "I was dead. Very dead. I had hoped to stay dead to be honest." He didn't want to lie. Not to Clint. "Fury obviously didn't care what I wanted." And it hurt. God, did it hurt. "I'll tell you more later... or do you really want to talk about that right now?"

They didn't need to talk about him right now. Or maybe it would help... getting his mind off of what he'd just lost. It hurt that Clint couldn't look at him. But he understood. Even Mac refused to work for him. He's a freak of nature now.

Moving slowly, he settled down shoulder to shoulder with Clint so they were touching but not invading the other's space unless he wanted him to. "You'd think dying would show me that life is too short to always follow orders." He hesitated a moment before trying something a little lighter. "Figures the one that would drag me out was you..." He never focused on the fact that Clint held a soft spot in his heart. Attachment like that never ended well for him.

Clint snorted softly in agreement. There weren't many that could match Steve considering what the other brought to the table--all his natural leadership and true heart stuff. A part of him was extremely glad that Tony had fought for the position because that wouldn't have ended well and they all knew it.

"Fury.." the archer murmured, frowning some as he glared at the floor, rubbing his hands against his thighs. "He brought you back?"

Talking about this was better than thinking about what he'd lost; who he'd lost. His heart couldn't take the pain anymore, Phil. He needed a distraction.

When the other settled beside him the archer couldn't help but stiffen slightly, frozen in place for a moment before the tension seeped out of him. He leaned against the other just enough to make it obvious that the gesture was okay, even if he was still feeling dizzy from all of this.

"...What can I say? I live to make life difficult," he murmured with a weak shrug, finally glancing at the other. "Nat's going to kick your ass." See? More talk of things that weren't related to Laura.

Even if his tone was still dead and his body still trembled.

"Alien DNA... made me a little on the psychotic side for a while. Hurt like hell. Begged to die. All that fun stuff." He spoke wryly, his inflection no different than it ever was. "You know how well he listens to anyone's requests." Obviously begging for mercy wasn't an option for Phil. At this point, Coulson gave up on thinking he was anything less than Fury's shadow puppet.

He picked at his slacks quietly. "I was the one that got this helicarrier built. That was a bit difficult." Keeping Clint distracted proved hard when he knew he had nothing useful to say. Especially when the other tensed up at his touch. It made him lower his own head, thinking back on the agent he lost because of what he was now.

"I wouldn't say difficult. You remind me that I'm still human... or hope I am." Shrugging slightly, he managed a wry half smile. "I'd let her."

Finally looking up at Clint, he pursed his lips before trying quietly. "I'm sorry. For not telling you sooner. For everything... for dying on you like that." Just don't mention Laura, not right now. "Mind patching me up when Natasha is done with me?"

"Sounds like a grand old time, boss." Except not. And Clint knew it probably hadn't been anything close to fun. He just didn't really want to think too much about it and what exactly it all meant. Fury's role in it, for example. Because nothing happened without Fury knowing.

He glanced at Phil in clear surprise when the other stated he was the one that had built the helicarrier. A part of him wasn't surprised that Phil was doing things behind the scenes, knowing full well that his former handler couldn't just stand by and do nothing. Another part of him was upset that it had taken this long for Phil to show himself.

"I bet it was. Especially since you did it all in secret."

Was SHIELD still functioning? Was that still a thing? He wanted nothing more than to drill the other for answers but..well...

Clint frowned. "Maybe I will, maybe I won't. You owe us a lot of answers."

"It was magical." There was the hint of bitterness in that comment. Especially after the false memories always triggered with that comment. Reaching up, he rubbed his face slowly, not wanting to think about it... but knowing it would be necessary to talk about for Clint to ever, if ever, accept him. As his hand fell away, he looked at his other 'hand' lying in his lap. A natural cradling motion to keep it from being noticeable and less disturbing to people. It still hurt sometimes.

Looking away to the ceiling, he tried not to look over and see whatever might be playing over Clint's face. He honestly did not think he could handle seeing it. Good or bad. And he didn't need to think about what he lost either. "That was what Fury wanted. We didn't know if everyone was good or bad these days. SHIELD is... nothing like it used to be." If he could even call it Shield now. So much dissent in the ranks along with Hydra still dogging at their heels. And now all the rubble the Inhumans left behind. There was little left. "It is hard to lead something that doesn't trust you. Or most in your team at that."

His head lowered at that. He deserved that. "Fair enough."

Looking up at Clint again, he smiled vaguely. "I suppose Skye and Fitz will have the honor of patching me up with a few well placed 'I told you so's'." Shaking his head, he looked ahead and let out a long sigh. "I will answer anything I can. I only know my side of the story and nothing more."

Edited 2015-06-02 17:50 (UTC)

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