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Clinton Francis Barton knew two things:

He could not move due to the heavy blanket draped over his shoulders.

He had no idea what medical gibberish Ashlocke was speaking about with the two nurses now walking beside his wheelchair.

The male nurse wore a plain maroon scrub top with matching pants, while the female nurse wore a scrub shirt with dogs all over it and black pants. Clint absolutely loved dogs. His fellow SHIELD agents would always send him in first if there was a dog in their location because they would be afraid about getting attacked.

Everything around him blurred in and out of focus as they wheeled him into an elevator and took him back up to the fifth floor. While Clint, the two nurses, the security guard, and Ashlocke were in the dimly lit elevator, the archer felt one of the nurses adjust the heavy grey blanket by draping the ends over his shoulders so they would fall in his lap.

The fuzziness wouldn't wear away. Once the elevator signal 'dinged' and the metal doors slid open, the male nurse took over pushing the wheelchair.

Natasha scolded him when they arrived in the archer's hospital room, saying how crazy and stupid he was for running off. She reminded him of SHIELD's secure promise of not letting anything happen to him on the operating table.

Well, that promise was made before they lost him on the table three times...

Not to forget that they had tried to kill him on a SHIELD operating table before.

"He tried to escape and threw a fit when security cut off his exit route...and I don't think he's going to keep calm. The drip he had been attached to for a few weeks worked most of the euthanasia serum out of him, but I don't know how much is left. If he gets excited, whatever's left could have negative effects...if that makes any sense."

"Why can't my regular doctor see me?" The archer quietly complained as he felt like sinking down into his wheelchair.

"Doctor Brady has enough on her hands already. She's assisting Doctor Carlson with an operation on Agent Davenport. Besides...Lincoln, Simmons, and Bruce offered to look after you ," Natasha answered as she walked over to Clint and knelt down so they could see eye to eye. We need to get him cleaned up..."

Ashlocke motioned for Cody and Sara, the two assisting nurses, to take Clint to get cleaned up and back in standard patient scrubs. Natasha got between the nurses and Clint once she noticed how they seemed to make him uncomfortable. "Clint trusts me; I'll do it."

"Fine, here." The doctor handed over a small plastic bottle containing the antiseptic soap. "Don't let him freak out over the treatment SHIELD's lab technicians and I have worked on since dawn. It won't exactly be a painless process, but we have to give it to him before we take him back for surgery..."

"Nat..." Clint coughed up more blood, letting it dribble from his lip and onto his grey shirt.

As Natasha helped Clint stand up, he made a sharp and pained sound in the back of his throat. He remained quiet, but the Russian assassin looked up to see a hurt expression on the archer's face. "You're okay, I've got you, Barton..."

That was the same time Clint doubled over and coughed up more blood on the tiled surface beneath him. The archer started to panic, but his friend just shushed him as she pulled him away from the small mess and guided him into the hospital room's bathroom. She sat him down on the shower floor, believing he was much heavier now because of his fatigue.

"I need you to work with me, okay?" Natasha sighed as she knelt down in front of him, wincing because of her gunshot wound that was still healing. "Let me get your shirt and jacket off..." She offered a small smile as her friend allowed her to pull off his jacket and shirt and lie them on the toilet lid before turning back to him.

Clint remained huddled in the corner of the shower, still clothed in his dark jeans, belt, and boots. "You're making this a lot harder than it has to be, Barton." She didn't bother shifting his position because the shower head was detachable.

"You don't have to do this, Nat..." The archer was pale, exhausted, and feverish, reminding the Black Widow of the night Clint was kidnapped. Natasha turned on the water and held her hand under the spray to check and adjust the temperature.

"Are you scared?" She started by soaking the back of his head and letting the spray run down his back. Her fingers ran through his hair, just using the water to work out any dried blood. The water became a rust color whenever she found crusted blood on his scalp.

"What are they gonna do to me?" Clint turned his head away from the shower wall so he would look Natasha directly in the eye.

Natasha racked her brain for an answer as she ran more water through Clint's hair and around his shoulders. "We really need to hurry..."

"'Tasha..."

The red head went quiet as she turned the water off and sighed. "You're gonna get an injection and then you're going to surgery. There, I told you, are you happy?" She snapped at him toward the end, looking upset. Of course, why wouldn't she be upset? For about a month, she had assumed he was dead.

"I'm sorry, Nat..."

"Bottle." Natasha stated dryly as she held her palm open for the little bottle of antiseptic soap/ shampoo Clint had been holding for her. Her partner whined and handed it to her. As she reached out and took it, she noticed the surgical scars decorating Clint's arm. She'd never understand the entirety of what they had done to him in the facility. 

"What's sad is that you won't clean yourself up. Honestly, I don't think hygiene is something you think is important." Again, it was a dry statement. He watched as she poured some of the solution into her open palm, rubbed her hands together, then ran her hands through his hair and across the back of his neck. "Your hair's not blonde anymore...it's pretty much brown." Natasha knew exactly why it seemed that way to her; it was from lack of sunlight. She lathered it around on his scalp for a few seconds longer before letting him go again. 

"I'm not surprised. I was kept in a murder facility, forced to stay in the Avengers med bay for a while, and now I'm stuck in a SHIELD hospital with the psycho surgeon." Clint squeezes his eyes shut as Natasha turned the water back on and rinsed the solution out of his hair and off his skin.

"Yeah, and that surgeon is basically making me prep you for this goddamn treatment. You know how hospitals are...'they have to be sterile'..." she mocked as she rolled her eyes.

"Well, you stepped up and said you would do this..."

"Barton, the nurses would've stripped you naked for this. Feel lucky that I let you keep your pants on."

21 Days

Once Clint was back in his SHIELD standard scrub shirt and sweatpants, Natasha helped him get back into bed. All he wanted to do was lie down and sleep, but the doctor had instructed the red head to keep him upright until they came back in with the treatment. 

When Ashlocke, Simmons, and the nurses came back into the room, they were dressed in protective blue gowns, latex gloves on, masks over their mouth and nose, and caps hiding their hair. Their appearance sent the archer into a panic attack because he immediately jumped out of bed and pinned himself in the far corner of the room. 

"This is SHIELD's top marksman we're treating. Why the hell is he acting like this?" Cody, the male nurse, questioned as he sat the IV kit down on the bedside table. 

His questioned pissed Natasha off. She glared at the nurse as she slowly walked over to her terrified friend and stood in front of him as if she was protecting him. "How would you feel if you were experimented on by a madman who is later forced by SHIELD to save your life? Clint's been through hell, and you expect him to just stay still? He doesn't trust anyone right now!" She placed her hand on the back of her friend's shoulder and led him back to his hospital bed. 

"I'm sorry, Agent Romanoff, but we're on a tight schedule here. Lincoln and Banner are getting ready for surgery. You need to leave the room so we can give him the injection. You're not properly dressed for this."

"Fuck off. I'm staying with him since he'll most likely kill anyone who comes at him with that needle." Natasha watched as the nurse turned his head to see the medical device that had the form of a hot glue gun with a clear glass cylinder on top of it. 

Simmons pulled down her medical mask and offered a small comforting smile to Natasha. "Agent Romanoff can wash her hands, put on some gloves and a mask, and she should be good to stay." Simmons eyed Ashlocke and the nurses. "She's right about Barton. He may seem terrified, but he would snap someone's neck in an instant. When it comes to the fight or flight response, Barton has an exceptional amount of both! We needed to inject some steroids into his wrist before because of a bad sprain, but he decided to lead us on a wild goose chase because he decided he wasn't going to get the shots. Barton ended up falling and actually breaking that wrist. Anyways, he trusts Natasha. If anyone is going to keep him calm, it's her."

Jemma Simmons pulled her mask up over her face before smiling at the nervous expression on the faces of the nurses and Doctor Ashlocke. 

Clint surprisingly followed Natasha as she walked back into the bathroom to wash her hands. He had been so quiet as he followed her because she was startled when she turned back around and stared directly into his crystal blue eyes. 

She squeezed her eyes shut for a second before looking at Clint. "D-don't do that again. C'mon, let's get this over with." Clint remained silent as she walked him back over to his bed and sat him down before she walked over to the medical cabinet and pulled on the necessary garments. 

Natasha watched as Ashlocke picked up the odd syringe gun and flicked the glass to get any air bubbles out. She noticed how Clint shrunk back as soon as he saw the size of the needle at the end of the medical gun. He struggled to not make eye contact with the doctor or the device. 

 Even she became dizzy after seeing the size of the needle. Clint seemed calm as the doctor came around to his side to insert the needle into his neck.

When the doctor was in his face, it was the perfect time for Clint to sneeze. 

Simmons, the nurses, and Natasha let a chuckle slip after the archer had sneezed in the doctor's face, but Ashlocke wasn't laughing about it. "That's it, you jackass." The doctor growled as he resulted back to his original ways of dealing with the agent by gripping a handful of his hair and pulling his head down. The archer yelped and attempted to revolt to his old habit of biting. He had bitten several doctors and staff members during his time at the facility because his hands and legs were usually bound. 

Natasha immediately reacted by shoving the doctor away and forcing him to release her friend. Clint seemed like a frightened animal based on the way he eyed the doctor and growled. The doctor stumbled back a few feet, his hands still on the device. 

"Get the hell back to work before I tell your security officer to lock you up until I can deal with you myself." Natasha's green eyes seemed to glow as she snapped at the medical man. 

The doctor wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his sterile gown before approaching Clint again. Natasha had gently, yet forcedly, pushed his head down so the doctor could have a clean shot at the muscle area where his neck and shoulders met. 

"Nat..." Clint wrapped his hand around her forearm as she held his head down. 

"Just take some deep breaths. I don't want to do this either, but I'll be right here for you. You're okay..." Natasha tried to hide the nervousness in her voice. She ran her up and down the back of his head in a soothing motion. His hair was still damp from the recent shower. 

Seeing Ashlocke slide the glistening needle into Clint's muscle made Natasha sick to her stomach, but as long as she was calm, he was calm. His grip tightened on her forearm as the needle was placed.

"Deep breaths, Agent Barton...the worst part is over," Sara, the female nurse with the dog pattern on her scrubs Clint really liked, placed her hand on his back; she had been talking about the needle prick. She let go of him a second later to retrieve a bowl from the cabinet and place it under Clint's face in case the injection caused the archer to throw up. 

He did. It was a mixture of blood and stomach fluids. 

His skull was splitting, so he started to fight back against the nurses and Natasha. "Lemme go!" Clint growled as he thrashed his arms and legs around, trying to fight them.

"Clint, calm down, you'll only make this worse for yourself!" Natasha panicked as she struggled to hold him still. "It's almost over!" She glanced to her right to see Cody getting a sedative ready, then shoving the needle into the archer's thigh and pushing down on the plunger. There was one thing every doctor and nurse in SHIELD Medical was taught: never trust an agent because they have been trained to fight against any drugging. They will  fight back.

Once the needle was pulled out, Clint was too exhausted and sore to fight. Ashlocke used a sterile wipe to clean off the blood that had come out of the puncture wound. "He'll feel sick and sore for a while, but what I just gave him will wipe out the rest of the euthanizing serum he was given after his final surgery at the facility. We need to take him back for--what is hopefully his last surgery-- now." Ashlocke nodded at Cody and Sara, giving them the approval to move Clint to the operating theater. 

The nurses pulled the metal bars on either side of the bed up and clicked them into place.

"Why can't he rest and recuperate? Can't you see he's sick?" Natasha helped her best friend lie down and pulled the off-white blanket up over him. The archer squirmed around in pain, his head still feeling like it was splitting, his body was burning with a high fever, and he couldn't stay still. She was trying everything to keep herself and her partner calm, but her attempts were constant fails. 

"We need to get him to surgery immediately." Ashlocke displayed no emotion as he pulled off his protective gear and disposed of it, never making eye contact with the female assassin. 

That was the last straw; Natasha snapped.

"How could you do this to him?"

"Pardon?" The doctor snapped off his gloves as he turned to face her. The sound of the latex made her friend whine and try to bury his face in the hospital pillows. He was fighting to stay awake, but the cocktail of drugs were dragging him under. 

"You've clearly read his files. He clearly cried during his time as a hostage. He has a wife and three kids...how could you do this to him!? And you took him away from me! You...you fucking bastard!" Natasha was ready to kill.

There were a few seconds of silence as Ashlocke racked his brain for something to say to the female assassin, but Simmons interrupted them. "We're on the clock. The sedative won't last long with him, so we need to get him upstairs and give him proper anesthesia immediately. The longer we wait, the more likely we will have to deal with him being awake and us holding him down until the anesthetic takes him under."

The Black Widow thought Simmons was the only person in the room she trusted at the moment. Clint was in good hands if she was operating on him. Natasha let the tears sting her eyes as she turned her head toward her sleeping friend. She reached out and squeezed his limp hand before her eyes turned away from his sleeping form. "Take him..."

OKAY!!! Long chapter that just dragged on and on, but hopefully Clint will feel a little better in the next chapter! Just to let you guys know, this book will be going through some heavy editing soon, but I will still be updating it! 

Let me know what you guys thought of this chapter!

No flames please! Sorry for any mistakes!