"I'm taking (Y/N) home, you two can take the other jet," Steve said with a complacent smile, waiting for the inevitable argument from either Tony or Clint as to why that was a terrible idea. When it didn't come from either, he was surprised; when it came from you, he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"I think you should take Tony. I can ride with Clint."

"Why can't Tony take (Y/N), and I can ride with Steve?" Clint protested.

The opposition was loud and came from all three, only solidifying your resolve that your way was how it was going to be. "I am going with Clint, and that's final," you snapped. "Oh, don't you all look at me like that. I know exactly what happened in this hallway, and I'm shutting it down once and for all. This is the only way that I can be sure that Barton will make it home alive."

"(Y/N), come on, we wouldn't-" Tony said but you cut him off almost immediately.

"Tony, I might not be able to stand on my own just yet, but don't think for one second that I can't still kick your ass."

~~~

Tony had designed the quinjets to be completely silent, both inside and out. They were the ultimate advancement in stealth technology. But now as he looked out the window, the last hour being a wordless trip with Steve at the controls, the sounds of the jet were deafening to him.

"Steve, what are you going to do?"

"With what?" he replied, his eyes never leaving the empty sky ahead of him.

"Ha!' Tony scoffed, "you can't be serious? Cap, please tell me that you're not ignoring this."

"I'm not worried, Tony. It takes two people to make this an issue, and by my count there's only one." Steve glanced to him for just a second, but his gaze quickly returned to straight ahead, "I trust her."

~~~

"Clint?"

"Clint."

"Barton, are you gonna ignore me for the entire flight?"

"I'm not ignoring you," he whispered, "I just don't know what to say."

"That's new." You sighed and turned back to look out the window, now deciding that you didn't really know what to say either. A palpable tension hung between you, and it was almost physically uncomfortable to be next to him. You had to find a way to move past this. "What do we do now?"

"I told you, I don't know what to say." His voice was quiet but had a coldness to it, as if he were already starting to distance himself from you. Whatever Steve and Tony had said or done to him, it was clearly working. "Do we really have to talk about this right now?"

"If not now, when? We're stuck together with no one else here, so I don't really foresee a better time, do you?"

Clint reached out to the control panel and changed a few settings with a firm snap of his hand, releasing the handles and turning the chair towards you. To anyone else he would look nearly expressionless, but to you he looked so sad that it brought a sting to your eyes. "Fine. You want to talk, let's talk. Apparently I'm not able to get you to shut up about it."

~~~

"Are you still gonna let her work with him? That's really what got this whole thing started."

Steve openly laughed at this, looking at Tony like he had completely lost his mind. "Am I going to let her work with him? I think you and I are talking about two different people. I don't let her do anything. I've learned a hard lesson about things like that, Tony. You were there. I lost her for a long time, and I'm not about to do anything to risk that again."

"Yeah, okay," Tony nodded in agreement, "I get it. None of us want to go back to that, trust me. You were insufferable."

"Hey, come on. I was sad, sure, but I wasn't that bad."

"Cap, I got a call from Sam at 2am asking me to deactivate the sound system. Celine Dion? Really?"

Steve smirked and turned back to look forward, avoiding Tony as he moved to try to keep eye contact, "she has a lovely voice," he whispered. "She understands me."

~~~

"How is this suddenly now my fault? I never asked you to pick me up off that floor, Clint. I never asked you to take this on. That's on you."

"Did I say it was your fault? No, I didn't!" At this point tears were streaming down your cheeks and Clint wanted nothing more than to wipe them away and tell you he was sorry, but he held his place, looking anywhere but at you. "(Y/N), listen, this is on me. You didn't do anything."

"But we're done, right? You're turning your back, just like that?"

"I think that's for the best," he sighed, feeling a stab in his chest at his own words. It was a knife twisting inside of him with no way to reach it; no way to remove it other than to be with you, but that was impossible. He loved you and he respected Steve.

"You said you would never leave me," you whispered, nervously running your hands over the legs that still failed you, feeling your strength to push yourself already weakening. "You promised me that."

"I also promised Steve that I wouldn't do anything."

"And you can't do both?"

"Please, don't make me do this," he groaned under his breath, his eyes now closed and his fists clenched. "I don't want to do this..."

"What, Clint?" you pressed, "what else could you possibly do that's worse?"

"When we disembark, I'm leaving. Once you've recovered and are back on duty, I'm going to ask Steve to make sure that you and I are never on a mission together." He turned his chair forward and stared straight ahead, but you could see the tremble in his chin as he spoke. "(Y/N), I don't ever want to see you again."

~~~

Since that day, you began to feel your drive to work slipping with each therapy session; it wasn't that you relied on Clint for your success, but the sadness of his absence was an ever-present reminder of just how much he meant to you. The weeks passed and you did your sessions with just enough energy to keep your therapists happy, but you wanted nothing more than to see Barton barge through the doors and bark orders and scream at you to get the work done.

Why wasn't doing this for yourself, and for Steve, enough anymore?

"(Y/N), focus on your balance," the therapist said, "we've got your legs moving, but now we need you to be able to hold yourself up without the bars."

You lifted your hands away and stood using only your slightly wobbly legs to hold you. A deep tremor built in your left leg and you wavered; your hands instinctively shot out to your sides and grabbed the bars again to avoid the risk of a fall. "Come on," you groaned, "I should be there by now."

"How many times do we have to have this discussion? Therapy is slow and focused. You're doing great."

Steve had been watching from across the room, keeping his distance as you had asked him to, but hearing your change in attitude was difficult for him to hear. You had been recovering so well since the surgery that he was afraid that you would halt your progress because of everything going on with Clint; he even considered bringing him back for you. "(Y/N), try again," he commanded.

You sighed and looked up at him, knowing what he was trying to do. You appreciated his effort, but it just wasn't the same. Still, you did as the Captain ordered and released the bars, this time for just a little longer before you had to catch yourself. "There, I did it," you huffed, full of attitude that he didn't deserve.

"Captain," FRIDAY announced overhead, "you have an incoming secured communication from Mr. Stark."

"I'll take it in the conference room," he replied, standing and straightening his shirt with a small nod to you. "I'll be right back. Keep trying."

~~~

Natasha stood at the entry to the tower garage, nervously biting her fingernails as she watched for Clint to arrive. It was a quick stop to pick up some of his gear, and it was her job to keep him out of your line of sight, and you from his. She took it upon herself to try to ensure that he also stayed clear of Steve and Tony. Of any covert mission that she had ever been a part of, this one felt as if it had the highest stakes of them all.

Clint parked his car and sat silently for a moment before getting out, gathering his resolve to enter a building that he knew you were in. Even if he didn't see you, he knew you were there and that hurt enough. The passage of time had done nothing to diminish his feelings as he had hoped it would. "So, Nat, are you my guide for the evening?"

"Get in, get out, Barton. They're all here."

"Where is she?" he asked quietly, feeling wrong even asking the question.

"Clint..."

"So I know where not to look, Nat."

She skeptically watched him walk past her and to the elevator, studying his posture and movements, realizing that the idea of even seeing you would be too much for him. "Still?"

Clint sucked in a harsh breath and let it out slowly, watching the numbers tick by as he waited for the lift to arrive. "Nothing's changed. So if you have any bright ideas that will work better than this shit plan that I've come up with, I'd sure like to hear them."

~~~

"I've had enough for today. You're hired to work for me, so if I say we're done, we're done, you got me?"

"(Y/N), I know you're tired..." the therapist said calmly, her hands clasped in front of her to stay as non-confrontational as possible.

"You don't know shit," you scoffed, "I am exhausted. I am mentally and physically drained, but you keep pushing. How is anything we do now going to be beneficial if I'm not able to give it the right effort? Hmm? Can you answer that, since you seem to know everything?"

"Okay, let's bargain," she offered, "walk the length of the bars two more times, stopping twice for balance, and we're done. Just two more times, alright?"

"Fine." Your first pass along the bars went well, with your balance check the same as they had been, still with a slight instability in your legs. The second pass was less successful, the tremor in your left leg returning to lock the muscles in your thigh and drop you to the floor in pain.

"(Y/N), let me help you-" the therapist said as she reached for you, but you slapped her hand away with a resounding hit.

"No," you panted, "just back off!"

The doors to the gym opened and you expected Steve to rush to your side to help you, just as he always did, but this time, he didn't appear at all.

"Get off your ass, (Y/N). After all this time, I can't believe you're back to this."

"No, fuck you, Clint. You don't get to tell me what to do anymore."

Natasha reached out to grab him before he began his way towards you, but her grip slipped. "Clint, get back here," she hissed. "Dammit." She spun on her heel and hurried out of the room to keep Steve busy so he wouldn't come back just yet.

Once clear of her grasp he pushed forward, standing over you with his arms crossed, not making any move to assist you. You would never admit this to him, but you wanted nothing more than for him to take charge again; you wanted nothing more than for him to put you in your place like no one else could.

"You left, Barton. You have no authority, no power here. I don't want to see you either, you know." You pushed up onto your knees and grabbed for the bars to pull yourself the rest of the way, but he pulled your hands off of them. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Do it without 'em."

"I can't."

Clint snickered, kneeling down to look at you directly and to speak quietly, "those are words that never come out of your mouth, (Y/N), you hear me? I was wrong. I can do both. If it means that you will do the work you need to do to get better, then I'll find a way to be here."