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Fix Him	By : Strailo Category: Marvel Verse Movies > Avengers, The Views: 10082 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Title: Fix Him
Chapter: 13
Fandom: Avengers
Characters: Clint
Word count: 673
For: CutsyCat
AN: Almost done playing catch up on this and almost done editing. Yay!
*~*~*~*
Barton watched over the reconstruction of Manhattan from a mostly stable rooftop, amazed at just how much clean up was able to go on around him. It had been nearly three months since the attack of Loki and the Chitari, three months since the Norse God of Mischief had been caught and dragged back to Asgard for trial. Three long months since everything had been turned upside down and inside out for all of them.
The world now had new hero’s and knew just who they were, welcoming them for the most part. Thor was the sweetheart of most of the world while Captain America held the American’s hearts in his gentle hands. Tony Stark was still America’s loveable playboy, despite the fact that he was happily dating Pepper Potts still. Bruce Banner was mostly hiding in one of Tony’s buildings, working on his little green problem when he wasn’t working on helping the rest of the world get better from the unknown problems and illnesses.
Natasha was around somewhere, doing what she did best while he watched over the clean up with a few other SHIELD agents. Clint was also helping them clean up where he could, otherwise he was perched on a building, high up above the rest of the rest of the world, out of the way. It allowed him time to relax and just watch everyone around him, his mind finding peace that he so often couldn’t find.
His mind often turned to Phil Coulson, turned to the day that he heard that he had been killed by the mind controlled Loki. Phil Coulson, the one man who could work with him, could stand next to him and all of his moods, dead.
Of course, he had been under the influence of that staff of Loki’s at the time and hadn’t heard about his death until after his head had been smacked hard against a metal railing. The headache that he had ended up with had been made worse by the gut wrenching knowledge that Phil’s easy smiles and quick scowls were never going to be directed at him again.
His stomach had twisted itself into knots while his heart had squeezed tight, almost as if a person had reached into his chest and wrapped their hand around it.
Reaching up to his chest, Clint rubbed at his chest with a wince at the well remembered pain. None of them had had the chance to truly mourn for the fallen agents, much less Coulson, having to take care of Loki and the Chitari so soon after.
Getting tossed around by giant bug like aliens that wanted to do nothing more than destroy Earth and leave it barren had kept his mind off of all sorts of things, like a dead Phil Coulson. But heading to the infirmary and landing next to a barely alive Coulson after they had finished a quick lunch had set everyone off on Fury before the supposedly dead handler had croaked out a shut up to them.
The sound of that pain filled voice had loosened the hand around his heart, easing the pain of having lost him to the pain of almost losing him. All of the Avengers had found themselves relieved about the fact that the man was alive and on the slow path to recovery. They still weren’t happy with Fury, all things considered, but understood why he had done what he had done.
“Barton,” Coulson called over their private com line, pulling a smile from the archer.
“Coulson, am I needed now?” Barton asked, getting a chuckle from his still healing handler.
“Just to toss around a few new recruits. I’m still wheelchair bound at best,” Coulson said, amusement lacing his voice, pulling a soft smile from Barton.
“Coming in,” Barton said in return, chuckling lightly and shaking his head. Leaving his broken perch, he walked over to his mini carrier and climbed in before heading for the Heli-carrier with a content smile on his lips.
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Fix Him