Honestly, this is a filler chapter because the next chapter will feature CAPTAIN AMERICA'S TRIAL.

Natasha knew right away that Clint struggled with life outside the hospital. 

It all started the day they arrived home from the hospital. Clint seemed tense when Laura hugged him immediately after he walked through the front door. She slowly let him go, then moved her hands up to either side of his head before kissing him. When they both pulled away, she noticed Clint had tears in his eyes. "I messed up..." He was blaming the whole incident on himself. This wasn't the Agent Barton she married. This Avenger was vulnerable, quiet, and now would rather run away instead of fight.

Laura shook her head, unable to say much. "Clint...it wasn't you. None of this is your fault." A pause. "I think you really need to rest." She looked over at Natasha, her nurse instincts kicking in. "When did he last take his medication?"

"About four hours ago. Well, through the IV she left in the back of his hand...and that was just pain medicine. Apparently keeping the IV in is easier and more humane than constantly stabbing him with a needle. Simmons came in and gave the dose to him while he was still asleep. I have his medicine in my duffle bag. One liquid, some pills, and a solution we're supposed to inject into his line every twelve hours starting now." Natasha watched as Laura steered Clint over to the couch to lie down, keeping one hand gently pressed against the back of his shoulder. 

Once he was seated, he tried to get back up on his feet. The look in Clint's eyes read he had no interest in listening to anyone. 

"Laura..." Natasha nervously called out, ready to talk to her about Clint's struggles in the hospital. Laura turned away from Clint and looked at her red haired friend. Natasha nodded her head toward the kitchen so they could talk. 

"What's wrong, Nat?" When Laura left Clint by himself, he quietly sat back down on the couch before lying down on his side. He was too exhausted and sore to wander around the house like he wanted to. 

The widow pulled out her phone after the two women were seated at the table. "I think you need to see these since SHIELD never allowed you to see Clint at the Medical Center." The first photo was from the other day; Clint was heavily sedated, a thick oxygen mask was strapped over his mouth and nose, and the patient safety straps were holding him down. "Their ways of dealing with him are...odd...almost cruel. This was the day he tried to escape. They thought he was a threat to himself and others in the hospital..." She swiped to the next screen, which was a video from roughly a week ago. 

"Clint, do you know where you are?" Natasha's voice asked as the phone's camera focused on her friend. He was clearly drugged out of his mind, focusing on pulling on his restraints as his eyes fought to stay open. The metal buckle of the restraint clanked against the metal bed rail. "So he just got his cochlear implants switched on today...and he hates them. Guess who fought the doctor and got sedated?"

"G-Go....'way, Nat..." Clint tried to move his head around against his pillow so he could push off the magnetic devices attached to the chips under his skin. 

"Barton, they look and work great. You're fine, and you get to see your hair growing back to the length it was because the accident." The assassin ran her hand through his oily hair, which this drugged up version didn't like. Clint squirmed; he was exhausted and didn't want to be touched. Natasha sighed and walked around his bed so she could get a good look at his left arm. "I don't agree with several of SHIELD's ways of dealing with him. You may want to see this." She gently pushed the sleeve of his gown up over his bruised shoulder to show the puncture marks outlined in yellow and green rings. "These bruises are just from being given sedatives." Natasha turned the camera on herself. "It's four o'clock now. Around eleven tonight, an anesthetist will come in here and put him to sleep. I don't think it's safe for him to get anesthesia every night, but the doctors won't explain anything to me."

That's where the video ended. It wasn't much, but Natasha did not want to show any more. She looked down at her phone laying on the table, then picked it up to look at the time. "He needs to take one of his medications now."

"Will it make him drowsy? Should we wait until after dinner?" Laura looked shaken by the images and video Natasha had allowed her to watch. 

"Simmons hasn't taken him completely off the liquid diet yet. Well, he's on soft foods now...I've been making him protein shakes. As for the medicine, I don't know what SHIELD ordered for him. There are post-it notes on the bottles labeling what they are. One's for pain, one's for infection, two are vitamin boosters, and the one for the IV is an experimental dose, but it's supposed to heal everything the euthanasia drug damaged, plus blur the memories of the facility so they don't freak him out...or...something like that. That's the one he's supposed to take now, but he hates taking any kind of medicine."

"He's hated taking medicine ever since I was working in SHIELD as a nurse." She let a chuckle slip. "He was adorable when he'd try to avoid it."

"That's nothing. Have you ever tried to bathe him? It's like bathing a cat. I managed to get him cleaned up a little in the shower before we left the hospital--just his hair and around all the incisions to get the old layers of antibiotic serums off. He refused to stand up, and he tried to squirm away because he hated me messing with his hair. He was afraid I'd hurt the area the microchips are at...but the stitches were already out of those incisions, Laura."

"Did you stop to think that he may have gotten upset over that because of another reason?"

Natasha froze, everything coming back to her at once. "You're right. The facility. The nurse. They shaved his head for procedures...and then then Clint told me the nurse would never leave him alone. She would constantly run her fingernails across his scalp. Damn, no wonder he hates it. Do you think he'll be okay once he can help himself again?"

"I don't know, Nat. We have no idea what they did to him; we just know he has suffered. I know he hates being dependent on everyone to help him. He needs to understand that the longer he fights back and tries to be independent, the longer he'll be forced to depend on people. How did it go when he was restrained?"

Natasha sighed and glanced down at her phone like she was expecting a text from any of the Avengers. Tony hadn't spoken to her since she announced they were quitting the team. "After his escape attempt, it wasn't good. He couldn't sleep because he was always uncomfortable, so that explains why he was always put under at night. Could you blame him for being uncomfortable? They kept blankets over him even when he complained about being hot, along with keeping his wrists and ankles restrained."

Natasha sighed softly before getting up out of her seat and walking over to the kitchen counter. She pulled out the drawer and picked up a spoon before walking over to the bag of medications she had recently brought out and placed on the kitchen table. Natasha grabbed one of the bottles and poured a clear liquid into the spoon, being careful not to spill anything. 

"Clint?" Natasha called before spotting him lying on the couch; his bandaged hand was draped over the arm of the couch. She carefully brought the medicine over to him, keeping one hand cupped under the spoon so she wouldn't spill anything. "I know you'll hate this, but you can eat your dinner after to get the taste out of your mouth, got it?" 

The archer lied there for a minute before he slowly pushed himself up and shot a glare at Natasha and his wife. Once the spoonful of medicine was in his face, he turned away.

"So you want to fight again?" Natasha rolled her eyes before she pulled his jaw down and dispensed the medicine in his mouth in an instant. The Avenger had arched his head back and tried to twist his head away, but fighting against Natasha was a waste of time because he would usually lose. Clint shook his head at the awful taste as he pushed her away. 

"Nat!" Clint quickly shook his head again and squeezed his eyes shut. "I hate that stuff! Hell, I'll never make the kids take medicine again if that's anything like we give them when they're sick! No wonder Lila threw up last time." He ended with a few dry coughs. 

"You don't have to take it forever, Clint..." His wife gently squeezed his hand, then looked at Natasha. "I have dinner ready. All I have to do is warm it up on the stove top. Are you hungry?"

The widow glanced toward the kitchen, then at Clint, realizing she hadn't eaten anything since the day before. She looked back at Laura. "A little. Clint needs to try to eat something too." Natasha looked at Clint the moment he rolled his eyes at her statement. "What? Come on, Barton." She wrapped her arm around his bicep and forced her friend to stand up. She practically dragged him into the kitchen. 

Once they were in the kitchen, he pulled away from her and sat at the wooden table fit for four people. He folded his arms, leaned in against the edge of the table, and rested his chin against his folded arms. He was content to sit there and show off his dark purple cast and bandaged hand. The tip of the IV tube leading into his left hand was slightly sticking out from under the bandage wrap. 

He was expecting one of Natasha's protein shakes to appear before him, but he was shocked when he watched Laura place a plate in front of him. Mashed potatoes and a scrambled egg. It wasn't the best combination or a lot of food, but they were both part of the soft foods category his doctors wanted him to eat. 

Laura sat down across from him while Natasha sat next to him. His wife sighed and spoke up when she noticed Clint simply staring at his plate. "Clint?" His blue eyes met hers. She paused before saying anything else, "Honey...I want you to eat everything on your plate, got it? Those foods in a small amount like that are what everyone who has had abdominal surgery eats. It's normal. I know you can eat it."

Natasha took a small bite of her meal as her eyes trailed over to her partner. He slowly went to pick up his fork. Picking it up wasn't a problem, but as he went to stab a piece of scrambled egg with it, it slipped out of his hand and clattered on the floor. 

All eyes were on him now. "I-I'm fine. It just slipped..." Clint proceeded to shakily pick the fork up with his left hand again. He repeated the process of sticking the fork into his food, but once again, it slipped out of his hand. 

"Clint..." Natasha watched him duck under the table to grab the fork again. "Do you need help?"

"No!" Clint immediately snapped, making both women flinch. He paused before shaking his head and repeating his answer in a much softer voice, "No..." He had made a fool out of himself; to him, he looked weak. 

Frustrated, his Russian friend took the fork away from him, got a small scoop full of mashed potatoes, then held it up to his mouth. "You need to eat...so take a bite of this. Come on, Barton, open your mouth." As soon as she poked the edge of his mouth with the fork, he knocked it out of her hand and let it skid across the kitchen floor. 

"Well, that was mature." Natasha flatly stated before getting a glare from her teammate. 

"I can't do this. I can't even feed myself, for God's sake!" He had tears in his eyes. "Go ahead and sedate me, Nat! Is that why the IV's still in me? For precaution?"

Natasha stood up from her seat. "You know it's not for that..."

"Then what's it for?"

"It's not my fault they have you on so much medication, Barton!" Natasha snapped, physically shaking. 

"Nat." Natasha snapped her head to the side, having not noticed Laura get up from her seat and walk over to her side. She gently placed her hand on her shoulder. "Let him cool off. There's a lot going on in his head right now, and the best thing we can do is let him go."

The red head looked down at her friend, who was now resting his head against his folded arms on the table, hiding his face. He was ashamed of how he lashed out at them, plus a wave of dizziness he did not bother informing them about had hit him like a truck. Laura walked over to him and placed her hand on the side of his head before leaning down and kissing the top of his ear. After pulling back, the back of her hand pressed against the side of his head and the back of his neck. "Nat...he's burning up."

"Dammit, Clint." She mumbled under her breath before getting up to get the rest of his medicine. 

"Why would they release him if he's still sick?"

Natasha froze in the middle of drawing and measuring the IV injection. "Well..." She hesitated, "Technically, they didn't release him..."

"Nat?" Laura's voice had turned to concern. "What did you do?"

"Simmons warned me Clint would be moved to another treatment center today. They promised Clint would be in excellent care as he physically heals and his mind levels out, but Simmons and I called bull shit on that." She was quick to grab Clint's left hand and inject the medicine into his IV line. "He'd be locked up with all the other traumatized agents too broken and violent to fix. I've seen what the doctors there do to patients. They'll waste no time removing a part of the brain or putting agents through a procedure labeled TAHITI. The rogue procedure was meant to bring recently dead agents back to life, but they thought it might help broken agents. It's hard telling what they would do to Clint."

"Oh, my God...Nat...t-thank you..." Laura had tears in her eyes. 

21 Days

"Kill her, Clint," Red Nails ordered as she watched a mind-controlled Clint Barton take another step toward a terrified Natasha. "She doesn't believe this is the real you. She's one of the people who tried to kill you!" 

"Clint, look at me! Don't let her control you! Wake up!" Natasha cried as she pinned herself in the corner of Clint's facility hospital room. She was exposed, out in the open with nothing to hide behind. 

The archer was silent as his sharp blue eyes burned into Natasha's head. He robotically pulled the Glock out of his belt holster before aiming it at her chest. 

"Go on, baby. Kill her. End your suffering. Remember how she tried to kill you in Vienna years ago?  Make her pay."

Clint's attention went from Red Nails to Natasha as his finger hovered over the trigger. 

"Clint, please!" Natasha begged for her life, sobbing uncontrollably. 

Her hypnotized best friend pulled the trigger. 

Clint woke up with shout, his body soaked with sweat. Laura was immediately awake and trying to pull him close to her. He took several deep inhales and exhales as he tried to focus on her. 

"It was only a nightmare...you're okay...y-you're safe..." Tears came to her eyes as she cupped her hand against his cheek. "Clint, you're home..." 

Clint had glanced over at her before during his delusional state, but when he looked at her again, he jumped. "Laura!" The fingers on his left hand tried to wrap around her bicep to test if she was real, but with the bandage, he didn't have much movement. "Is Nat okay? I-I need to see her!" He turned and shakily got out of bed. 

"Clint, it's three in the morning. Let her sleep." Laura seemed to be ready to jump out of bed and rush over to him if he suddenly passed out from the adrenaline rush. 

"I-I need to make sure she's alive!" Clint's voice broke as he gave his final response. 

21 Days

Natasha woke up to the feeling of Clint nudging her arm with his cold fingers. "Tasha..." His voice quivered. Natasha groggily cracked her eyes open as she felt the mattress dip slightly when Clint crawled into bed with her. 

"Clint?' Natasha yawned, turning toward him. "What are you doing?" Was he still upset over their failed attempt at dinner?

"Can't sleep..." Those two words killed Natasha. Even out of the restraints, he was still uncomfortable and depending on anesthesia to help him sleep. She figured she would be uncomfortable too if most of her body was cut open more than once and her internal organs had to be rearranged. 

The female assassin groaned in aggravation as she pushed herself up into a sitting position. She then turned to the side, turned on the lamp, and grabbed the thermometer from her field medical supply case inside her duffle bag. The case was currently setting open on the bedside table. She did not need to bring it, but it was a force of habit because she would always bring it because anything could happen to them. "Just lay down. I need to see if your fever's still there since your last dose of medicine."

"How would you know? You didn't even take my temperature when you gave that stuff to me...I-I can take care of myself, Nat..." Clint whined as he lied down on his stomach. His arms slid under the pillow before he placed the side of his head on the pillow and faced Natasha. One blue eye peeked up at her. 

"Hold this under your tongue." Natasha instructed as she slid the clear protective plastic wrap over the stick before poking the tip against the crease of Clint's lips. 

"Tasha..." 

"Clint, it's either the hospital, or your wife and me helping you. You decide, bird brain." Her message did the trick. Her archer friend opened his mouth enough for her to slide the thermometer under his tongue. Natasha sighed and pushed up the edge of the pillow closest to her to get a look at his bandaged hand. "Don't damage your IV. If you damage it, I'm putting the next one in the side of your hand, got it?"

Clint pulled his bandaged hand free to hold the thermometer in his mouth so he could talk. "I hate the side...it's the worse place to put the damn thing..." He took the thermometer out of his mouth and handed it to Natasha once the device beeped. After she took it from him and read the results, she sighed. 

"It's not as bad as I thought...well, it's low. 99.8. Do you need help getting back to bed?"

"I'm staying in here tonight..."

"Barton..." Natasha rolled her eyes as she released another sigh and placed the thermometer on the bedside table. " You're married to a nurse, you idiot. Do you need to be dragged to the Urgent Care clinic tomorrow?"

"What the hell do I tell them? Hi, I was experimented on by a crazy facility off the grid and now I'm on medications that make me sick and tired? Yeah, that'll work..." He rolled his eyes before pushing himself onto his side and looking up at her. 

Natasha pulled a blanket up over him, which he immediately protested against because he still warm with a fever. Immediately after he started squirming and trying to kick the blanket away, the widow jumped up and pinned his arms above his head as she straddled his waist. The only reason she decided against sitting on him was because his internal organs were currently stitched together like patchwork. "Dammit, Barton. All you're good at is shoving those away who want to help you. Well, guess what? If you don't cooperate with Laura and I, I'm putting you under Simmons and Bruce's care, and I'd really hate to do that to them. You need to learn to let other people help you. You can't shower because you can't use your hands? Too bad, you're getting a bath. But try to remember that no one can hurt you now. Red Nails is dead. Also, you can't eat? You're getting your meals pretty much through a straw. And yes, if you eat something soft, we have to help you handle a spoon or fork until you get one of your bandages off. Afraid to ask for help getting dressed? Just ask me, Clint...please..."

Hawkeye remained silent as he stared into Natasha's eyes for a few seconds longer, but he finally mumbled "I'm sorry...I'm sick, Nat. It's not gonna go away..." Tears weld up in his eyes as his heart pounded quickly. Natasha released him, then laid back down, using his chest as a support for her head. 

"I just want you to be okay..." She whispered. Hearing his steady breaths and feeling his chest rise and fall comforted her. "It'll take at least a month for your arm to heal...and I don't know how long they want to keep the IV port in your other hand..." A pause. "Clint?" She lifted her head up to see if he had his implant devices still attached in order to hear her. 

They were, but her best friend had fallen back to sleep. Natasha smiled softly, planted a discreet kiss on his forehead, then laid her head back on his chest. Soon enough, they were both asleep. 

Okay, so this was more like a filler...BUT...Steve's trial is in the next chapter. 

No flames, please! Sorry for any mistakes!!! 

Thank you so much for the support, guys! I try to respond to every comment I get!