Apparently, I use the term "week" very loosely.

~TH~

Clint let out a groan, not even bothering to remove his tactical gear before falling onto the bed. He was lucky it didn't collapse. He really needed to talk to S.H.I.E.L.D about getting better hotels for their agents. Sure, he wasn't here on vacation, but this was ridiculous!

He'd been undercover on a blackout mission for over forty-eight hours. Now that he was back, he was surprised S.H.I.E.L.D. hadn't tried to contact him yet. He just wanted to get out of Argentina and back to the good ol' United States.

Pushing past his exhaustion, he rose to his feet and began rummaging through his duffle bag. He changed into a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. Then he settled onto the bed (he'd already done a bug check... of both kinds) to wait for his orders. He turned on his cell phone only to get bombarded with missed texts and phone calls. 

The over three hundred texts consisted of mainly:

Call me. 

If you're still alive call me. 

You better be dead if you don't call me in the next hour. 

And over fifty more from Natasha.

There were several more from Tony:

Red's pretty upset. 

Like REALLY upset.

Call her.

Seriously Clint we're not being funny.

Call someone. 

I'm serious.

You better not be dead Barton.

CALL ME

And on and on the texts continued to come in. His phone was vibrating non-stop. Then the missed calls. Two-hundred seventy-three missed calls. Natasha had called him one-hundred fifty times. Natasha hated talking on the phone. 

Tony had joined in with seventy missed calls. Even Bruce tried thirty times. Then some unknown number had called him twenty. The last three were from... Maria Hill? What was going on?

Something was wrong. He felt panic begin to rise up. This was probably some sort of joke. They were just trying to get him riled up or something. Revenge. But, this was pretty extreme for their petty prank war. And Nat was on his side.

He dialed Natasha's number, hands shaking as he held it up to his ear. The phone continued to ring eight times before a very threatening, but familiar, voicemail played.

Now he was beyond worried. He tried again,  still only reaching Natasha's recitation. 

Okay. Okay. Okay. Nope. Something was wrong. Like very, very wrong. 

He tried a third time. The phone rang once, twice,  then someone answered.

"Clint?" 

He couldn't place the emotion he heard in his longtime friend's voice. "Natasha, what's going on?"

"Get to D.C. now." She was out of breath, something that rarely happened to such an experienced agent. 

"I just finished a mission. I'm stuck in Argentina, S.H.I.E.L.D hasn't gotten in contact yet."

"They're not going to. I'm sending to Tony to come to pick you up."

"What do you mean? Tasha, what's going on?" He was panicking again. So was Natasha. That was a legitimate reason for some to have a panic attack and he was pretty close right now.

He heard a quivering voice over the phone, "S.H.I.E.L.D. fell."

"What?" He hadn't even meant to whisper the word.

"It's gone, Clint. All of it."

"Where's Fury?" He wasn't sure why that was the first thing to come to his mind.

The Russian gave a long pause before  answering, "He's dead."

"What?" He shrieked it this time, "What happened? Natasha, you can't just kill Nick Fury!"

"I don't have time to explain everything. S.H.I.E.L.D. was hiding a Hydra cell. They made their move. S.H.I.E.L.D. is Hydra."

"Hydra?" he shouted, before remembering the ultra-thin walls that surrounded him. Lowering his voice he continued. "Like World War II, Red Skull, Nazis, Hydra?"

"Yes," she hissed and Clint wasn't sure if it was directed towards him or the topic of their very tense conversation.

Suddenly there was a loud shriek. A sound like... like a heart monitor makes.

"Natasha?"

The only answer was a whispered, "не снова,"

"Not again? Not again what? Natasha!"

The screeching stopped, being replaced by a single monotone noise. 

Natasha kept switching between Russian and English. Neither language seemed to give Clint much information. There were doctors yelling things he couldn't quite understand. He heard a loud, "Clear!" and he couldn't help but hold his breath.

What was going on? It was obviously somebody Natasha cared about. That list was extremely limited. It wasn't Fury. He was already dead. It had to be an Avenger. 

He knew he was fine, well, panicking but obviously alive. Bruce was practically invincible, with the Hulk. Not to mention the phone calls. Thor was in the same boat and he wasn't even on Earth. It had to be one of the humans. Nat and he were typically the most vulnerable, but both of them were accounted for. It wasn't Tony. Unless something happened between the dozens of messages and now. Plus, Nat said he was coming to pick him up. That left...

"Steve," His voice came out way too quiet. But, it had to be him. It made sense. Captain America fought Hydra. S.H.I.E.L.D. was Hydra. They had probably been looking for a way to get rid of him for a long time now. 

The single tone continued through three more attempts to start the man's heart. 

Finally, the noise stopped. It was replaced with the slow beeping noise of a monitor hooked up to a working heart.

He heard Natasha breathe a deep sigh of relief. 

"Natasha... please." He was so tired. He had been exhausted from his mission and now everything else... he wanted nothing more than to head back to the farm, hug Luara and take a year-long nap. With S.H.I.E.L.D. gone he might even get the chance, but not now. Not with his friend lying half dead in some hospital room. 

"Clint you need..." She sighed, the sound mirrored exactly how Clint felt. "That was the third time Clint. If he flatlines again... the doctor's are doing everything they can, but... it's bad Clint. It's really bad."

Great, now both of the worlds toughest assassins were on the verge of tears. Clint couldn't find his voice to answer.

As if strengthened by his silence, Natasha's voice regained its firm tone. "You need to get back here. Now. Tony is on his way and should be there soon. Head to the closest airport. He's using your phone to track you, so keep it on. Avoid all contact. Only talk if absolutely necessary. And under no circumstances tell anyone that you're from S.H.I.E.L.D.!"

"You got it." He tried to sound more confident than he felt. 

His phone tucked between his shoulder and his ear, he started throwing his few contents into his bag. He was about to hang up when Natasha spoke again.

"And Clint,"

"Hm?" he zipped the bag and threw it over his shoulder.

"Be careful."

A small smile pulled on his lips. "I will be. Just... just call me if anything changes." 

He could sense her nod.

"Hey Nat, everything's gonna be okay, right? It always is."

"Right," a small pause, "Call me when you get to the Quinjet."

It was his turn to nod. 

He ended the call, shoving the phone into his pocket. 

Everything was going to be okay. It always was.

He only wished he believed that.

~TH~

That's all folks!

Sorry it took so long to get out. I'm hoping this will break my writer's block. 
This chapter has been sitting in a notebook since March... whoops. 

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this little story!

I know it doesn't have a "happy" ending, but it's definitely not the saddest thing I've written. Just rewatch the end of Winter Soldier.

I hope everything seemed canon. If you find a problem, please let me know!

Thanks so much for your support!

Please drop a review if you enjoyed <3

God bless,
Jamie