The New York Assignment

One

Clint Barton downed the amber liquid in the shot glass in front of him. With a heavy sigh, he placed it back on the counter. Derick, the bartender, gave him a questioning look. Clint nodded, and Derick placed three more shots in front of the more than slightly broken agent of SHIELD.

Visions from two months ago plagued Clint. They flashed before his eyes. The monsters, the madness, the death. It was all too much to bare. And it was partly his fault. Clint shivered and drank another shot.

"I thought I might find you here," an all too familiar voice said from behind him.

Clint let a smile creep onto his face. Oh, how he'd missed that voice. "Agent Romanoff," he greeted.

His partner, a beautiful woman with red hair and grey eyes and more skill than the rest of SHIELD put together, took the stool next to him.

"That's it?" she asked. "I get back from a month long mission and you're back to calling me by my surname?"

Clint smiled and looked at her. "Hey, Natasha."

Natasha Romanoff took one of the shot glasses from him and downed it. "Hey to you, too, Clint."

"How'd it go?"

"Not bad. There were a few complications, but I worked it out."

She felt his index finger slide over a newly healed cut on her cheekbone. She looked at him, taking in his dull eyes that used to be so vibrant. "Clint, you've gotta stop this," she said.

Clint withdrew his hand and leaned against the counter again. "I'm fine." He downed the last shot and ordered three more. Natasha shot the bartender a look, telling him not to fulfill that order if he liked living.

"Clint, you're so far from fine," Natasha argued. "It's been two months. It wasn't even you! It was all Loki! You've got to stop blaming yourself for what he did."

"Nat, I could have killed you," Clint said. He looked at her, his eyes full of guilt and pain. "I would have killed you if... if you hadn't done something. I killed other agents. I can't just let that-"

"You've got to let it go! Clint, it's destroying you. You need to get back to work."

"How can I? How can I go back and look those people in the face after what I did?"

"After what Loki made you do," Natasha corrected. "Clint, you were the weapon, not the killer. How many times do I have to have this conversation with you?"

"What about Phil!?" Clint asked angrily. "What about what I helped Loki do to him!?"

Natasha let out a deep sigh. She rubbed her temples. "Barton... Phil is alive. He's not perfect, but he's okay. He went back to work a few days ago. He doesn't blame you. Nobody does. Why can't you-"

Natasha's cellphone rang. She rolled her eyes in annoyance and pulled it from her back pocket. Clint sighed and turned away. She read the caller ID, then answered.

"Yes, sir?"

"Romanoff, we have a situation. Come to my office," Fury said.

Natasha furrowed her eyebrows. Fury rarely made calls like this himself. "I'm on my way."

"And Romanoff."

"Yes, sir?"

"Bring Barton."

Without any explanation, Fury hung up. Natasha looked at Clint. "Well, it looks like Fury has had it. He wants you back at the Helicarrier."

Clint shrugged. "Not going."