Imagine If You Assembled the Avengers: Volume 1

Compromised (Clint Barton x reader)

"(Y/N)!" You sighed with relief as Fury was still alive, calling to you for a report.

"External detonation, number three engine is down!" People were now scurrying around the bridge, unsure of what had actually happened. "Somebody's got to get outside and patch that engine!"

"Hostiles are in SHIELD gear! Call outs at every junction!"

You knew Clint was amongst them. He had the skills to take the helicarrier down in a way that was quickly effective. Could you take him out if you had to? Would he even know you; enough to not kill you to achieve his mission? Your anxiety began to build as you considered the idea of having to kill your best friend.

"Grenade!"

Hill threw herself over you, taking you both over the railing and into the pit below. The force of the explosion pushed you from her grip and sent you flying into the bank of computers, your back hitting the edge and your head shattering one of the screens. You slumped down onto the floor, unable to stand. You felt like you were spinning and everything hurt. Your eyes were burning but you couldn't open them to wipe them clear. A warm sensation ran down your face, bleeding from where your head slammed into the monitor.

The familiar sound of an arrow being released from its bow came from above you, followed by gunfire. You slowly tried to force your eyes open, despite the searing pain you felt in them. You had to see if Clint was really the one doing this, but most of all you needed to know that he was still alive.

"Engine one is now in shutdown. We are in an uncontrolled descent."

As the ship began to tip, you could feel yourself losing consciousness. Finally willing yourself to open your eyes, you gasped at what you saw. You saw nothing.

Absolute blackness.

~~~

"How many agents did I...?"

"Don't do that to yourself, Clint."

"Nat, tell me. Is (Y/N) here? Is she okay?"

When she didn't respond, looking at the floor rather than at him, Clint sprinted from the room desperate to find you. As he entered the hallway, Fury was standing in front of him, blocking his path.

"Barton-"

"Tell me where she is. Tell me right now." Clint was panting, scared of the answer that the director might give him. Fury regarded him for a moment, deciding if this was the real Barton or still the one under mind control. "Room 6. But Barton-"

He ran immediately, thrusting himself thru the doors to your room. He stopped at the sight of you, attached to monitors and IV tubing, your eyes covered with thick bandages. "(Y/N). (Y/N), it's me. It's actually me this time." As he looked at the multiple wounds and surgery sites, he was openly crying now, remorseful at his actions that brought you here. "I don't know what to say...I'm so sorry...I didn't mean to..." his sobs were now catching his breath as he lowered his head to rest on the rail of your bed.

"It wasn't your fault." Your voice was rough and your throat burned from the chemicals in the grenade. "Clint, it's okay. The doctor said the explosion burned my corneas, but when they heal my sight should come back. Kinda makes the concussion, fractured ribs, ruptured spleen and cracked vertebrae not seem so bad, right?" You gave a small chuckle, hoping to stop him from punishing himself.

"(Y/N), stop." You felt his hand take yours in a firm grasp. "I'm going to take care of you. Right after I kill that son of a bitch. If I put an arrow thru Loki's eye socket, I might sleep better, I suppose."

"Now you sound like you."

~~~

At your insistence, Maria snuck a communicator into your room so that you could listen in on the battle in New York. She wasn't about to turn down a request from the sad blind lady. The battle was terrifying, and as much as you had wanted to be there, you were glad you weren't actually there.

After hours of listening to a battle that you couldn't even imagine, your anxiety at its peak, it finally came to a close. After he saved the city, perhaps your ideas of who Tony Stark is need to be reconsidered. But let's not get ahead of ourselves.

"Hey, I'm not dead." As he entered your room, Clint's voice was tired and beaten. He was clearly exhausted, but he refused to rest until he saw you again. "I've arranged to take you home with me. We're gonna get you back to as good as new." He bent down to kiss your forehead, holding his lips there for a moment, closing his eyes. "You're gonna be okay. I promise."

A week later you were allowed to leave, but your eyes were still bandaged. Not sure of where he was taking you, you sat quietly in the jet, waiting for him to land. This was first time you had both gone this long without speaking, even if only for a few hours. It felt like he was reconsidering taking you with him. You sighed, preparing to ask him, but the jet began to make its descent. "We're here, kid. Time to go."

"And where exactly are we, might I ask?" You pointed to your eyes, "All looks the same to me, remember?"

He groaned at this, clearly still upset with himself. He stood and took your hand, leading you from the jet door. As you stepped out you could feel the warmth from the sun on your skin and a gentle breeze thru your hair. The air had a scent of lilacs and freshly cut grass, and now you really wondered where he had taken you.

"Hi, (Y/N), I'm Laura." A soft hand took yours, gently bringing you into the house. "Let's get you settled. Are you hungry?"

Your mouth hung open, completely confused as to who this woman was. "I'm, uh...I'm sorry. I don't know who you are." You laughed quietly, shaking your head, "Apparently I don't know Clint as well as I thought. Alright," you reached up for the bandages that covered your eyes, "I'm done with this."

"Hey, hey, hey! What are you doing?" Clint grabbed your hands, trying to pull them away. "You still have to wait three more days! That's what the doctor said!"

Taking a step back, you pulled your hands sharply away from his and continued to remove the thick gauze. "Barton, back off."

As the bandages were pulled away, you kept your eyes closed; they were still a bit sore and you were scared of what you would, or rather, wouldn't see. Clint moved in front of you, cupping his hands on either side of your face.

"No matter what, I'm here, okay?" You could hear the pain in his voice as it cracked slightly with his words. "This is my doing."

Slowly opening your eyes, you gasped loudly at the sight before you. The woman, Laura, standing with her hands over her mouth and her eyes wide, brimming with tears for a woman she didn't even know. Two small children were next to her, watching curiously and not understanding what was happening. Clint was in front of you, his eyes were hopeful but his expression was cautious.

Giving him a skeptical look, you leaned in close to his ear so that only he would hear.

"I didn't see that coming."