Ya know, I really need to stop worrying this stuff at 1am. This wasn't even entirely the prompt I was doing, I just had the start of an idea and rolled with it.

Also, Clint needs more love in all forms. In every rendition, he's so underrated and never gets enough screen time. (Side note: I don't have Disney plus, so I can't watch the new series. On top of that, I'm currently in the middle of a Disney boycott because of personal stuff. The marvel movies have gone downhill anyway.)

So anyway, this is for myself because I'm on a Hawkeye kick. Why tf not?

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"I'm approaching his last known location now, Director," you said.

The receiver crackled, and you could hear Fury's quiet chuckle. "(Y/N), you know you don't have to call me that. S.H.I.E.L.D. fell a while ago."

"It's still respectful, and to me, you're still my director. You give me a job, I do it."

"You make yourself sound like a mercenary."

"In a sense, I am, but that's a moot point. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to find Agent Barton."

"Comm in if you need anything." The connection broke.

Your coat draped over your shoulders, protecting your back from the cold, not that it did much. You shivered and wrapped your arms tighter around yourself. As much as you would've liked being in Japan any other day, you didn't appreciate being sent looking for an agent gone A.W.O.L. in weather like this.

You paused outside an apartment complex and read the map on your watch. "Dang it, Clint, where are you?" you muttered. "Japan's not that big, so why are you suddenly so hard to find?"

"Maybe I don't want to be found."

You turned at the voice behind you. His figure made your eyebrow twitch upwards. His head was down, eyes tired and dim. His mouth set firm, and his hands were shoved deep into his pockets. This wasn't the Hawkeye you knew at all.

His voice was low, almost condescending. "The guard dogs send you after me?"

"Agent Barton. Fury sent me to find you, yes."

"Why don't you tell him to screw off, then? You found me, didn't you? Go home, you're wasting your time here." He pushed past you and walked towards the gates.

Your jaw clenched. "Fury wasn't the reason I came, Clint."

His footsteps stopped. "If I'd wanted your pity, I'd have asked for it."

You turned to face him again. "I didn't want to pity you, but with the attitude you're giving me, I'm almost tempted to." Your shoes clacked on the concrete as you approached. "I came to check in on a friend. He recently lost everything."

He seemed to freeze at your words, only turning his head slightly to glance at you out of his peripheral. "He's... Not doing so great. He doesn't want to see anyone right now."

"Well, he doesn't really have a choice, does he?"

Clint sighed before stepping up to the gate. He entered a code, and the metal bars slid open. "You coming, then?"

You nodded and followed him inside.

His space wasn't super big, but it was warmer than outside. "Make yourself at home, I guess. Want anything?"

"Tea, if that's okay?" you said, stripping off your coat.

He shrugged but put a water kettle on. "So, you must have ulterior motives to come here. The rougher side of Japan isn't a good place for anyone, even if they are an ex-S.H.I.E.L.D. agent."

"No. I just wanted to talk."

"Then, by all means, talk."

"Alright." You sit on one of the kitchen chairs. "Why Japan?"

"It's out of the way. No one thinks to hunt down a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent here. Traveling issues and rules and whatnot." He pulled down a box of Chamomile. "I guess the cherry blossoms are nice in the right season, too."

Something felt a little off-putting about that, but you elected to ignore it.

"Maybe it's the happiness statistics."

He gave you an odd look. "What?"

"Supposedly Japanese people are some of the happiest on Earth. I think it has to do with their diet. They have one of the lowest suicide statistics in the world."

The kettle whistled, and he brought it to the table along with a mug, a tea bag, and a bottle of sake. "You think I'd be desperate enough to try suicide?" He leaned against the edge of the table.

You took the mug and tea bag and poured the steamy water over it. "Knowing just how much you lost by a simple snap of the fingers, yeah."

Clint gave you a look, uncapped the sake, and took a long drink. "I'm not that weak, (Y/N)."

"Maybe not, but you're still suffering."

"What do you expect me to do?! Just move on as if nothing happened?! Like being happy-go-lucky will just solve all my problems?!"

Despite his exasperation, you maintained your calm for his sake. "I don't expect you to do those things. I expect you to grieve for a while, then get back to life. Moping and trying to drown your sorrows in alcohol isn't going to solve anything."

"It's doing a heck of a good job at the moment."

"Yeah, at the moment. Then you sober up and life hits you in the face again. It does nothing in the long run." You sighed. "Have a good cry now. Put your big boy panties on tomorrow and get out of your head. It's okay to grieve, Clint. It's not okay to live in your grief."

He puts the bottle on the table. "Why? Why are you so insistent that I can be healed?"

"Because I've been where you are. Everyone has or will be." You frown, not wanting to drudge up your personal backstory.

"But..."

"Clint, I can't bring back your family. I can't take you back in time to help defeat Thanos. As much as I would like to bring your family and my friends back, I can't."

He fell silent. He'd forgotten he wasn't the only one suffering from the effects of the Snap.

"But we can honor them every day. We remember them, and we still love them. We carry on with the knowledge they were loved, if not by anyone else, then at least by us. Then we go out, and we change the world. It's our job."

You glanced up at him for a brief moment, only to notice his eyes watering. You reached for his hand.

"Now, I can't do my job and babysit." You grinned. His lips twitched in amusement. You pushed over your still-warm cup of tea. "Here. I think you need this more than I do."

He shook his head a little, a sad smirk rising on his face. "Never thought I'd get a talking to from the baby Avenger."

"You need a hug, too?" you offered.

His gaze snapped to you. "I... Yeah. That'd be nice."

You got up and walked over, opening your arms to him.

Clint leaned his head on your shoulder. His arms wrapped around your lower back, and his frame all but dwarfed you. Saltwater seeped into your shirt. You didn't care. Your hand reached up to rub the back of his head, and your arm nestled under his to brush the small of his back.

Right now, he didn't need to be one of Earth's Mightiest Heroes.

He had you to be that for him.

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1144 words. Not bad, CJ. Not bad at all.

Remember everyone, you're loved. Even if you're grieving and can't find a good way out of your problems, just hold on.

Sometimes we feel the most alone when God is carrying us through our battles.

CJ, out.