Will kicked the door open with his foot, martching into the tiny clinic that was just outskirts of a small town.

He stomped over, everything in him screamaing how awfully vulnerable he was. He hadn't done any background check on the clinic, nothing at all.

The lady behind the computer jolted awake, fixing her round glasses and straightening her back as she blinked rapidly.

William marched over to the front desk, glaring down at her as the enormous mass of fur kept wagging it's tail in his arms.

“Uhm, hello, si-"
Before she could finish the sentence, he almost tossed the dog on the counter, making it lay on it's side as it stared up at her excitedly.

“Fix it.” he said, towering over the woman who seemed to be shrinking back slightly.

“But sir, you see, uhm, you need to call to make an appointment. I can't-”

“fix it.” he hissed through his teeth. He didn't like this place and he was already cursing internally for coming to a place like this for a mere mutt.

She jumped up, nodding nervously as she darted down the hallway. He pretended not to have seen the drool on the corner of her mouth from the nap.

William sighed heavily, trying to shake off the nerves. He hated doctors, medicine, needles... This place was small and the woman was as threathening as the dog on the counter, but the cold sweat that ran down his chin and the tremble of his hands was making it difficult to concentrate.

A whine pulled him out of his bubble, a cold nose bumped against his balled fist. He glanced down at the dog who was now nudging his hand, either trying to relax him or demand to be petted again. Will was convinced it was the latter.

He didn't relax his hand even a little.

His eyes snapped up, hearing two people coming his way. He heard the rapidly speaking woman and the squeaking of her shoes that were twice as fast as her companions.

And old man with a hunched back appeared, dragging his feet lazily over the white tiled floor.

“Now what's the matter here.” he said, not looking at William but the dog who had bent its neck and whose brown eyes were looking at him upside down.

The woman, whose nametag read Lawrence, pushed the chair a bit further back and sat on it, avoiding looking at William.

“A broken... Leg." He said quietly, pushing back the urge to kill that man. Suddenly the knife tucked into his boot was burning his skin, his palms were sweating, and he could almost feel the familiar weight of a knife in his hand.

The moment the mans wrinkly hands made contact with the dogs matted fur sent a burning jolt down his spine, the claws retracted and he pushed them into his palms. The pain, as small as it was, helped him focus. The painful whimper that left the dogs mouth made Wills chest rumble with a low growl of his own.

The man didn't seem to hear, but the woman flinched visibly.

“Yes, yes. I will take her back and fix that leg up. She will stay for a week or two. Young man, that dog is heavily underwight and will need a wash and medicine to get rid of these fleas.” the old man's tone was accusing as he gently slid his hands through the dogs knotted fur.

Yes, yes, William knew it had a calming effect but that damn hand would look better broken and out of the dogs fur.

Doctors, never know when to stop.

“Found it tied to a tree.” he said quietly, making the old man look up in disbelief. He imagined the man was quite the tall lad in his youth, but the age seemed to have caught up with him.

“I see. Would you mind carrying him in the back for me? I imagine you'd like to see the procedure? Will you keep it or shall we contact the adoption center?”

William looked down at the dog whose tail hadn't stopped wagging the moment he had picked him up from the car.

He carefully picked the mass of black fur up, making sure not to touch the broken leg.

“call the center.”

The old man nodded, lowering his eyes as he turned around and started slowly heading back, William following quietly behind. The man man even more hunched as they were before, as if he was disappointed.

Will didn't care. The thing needed a good home, and it most definitely wasn't the one with a runaway assassin who could just barely remember his own name.

“Put the sweetheart here, on this bed and let's look what exactly is wrong with this leg, shall we?” the mans tone was soft as he spoke to the dog.

He loathed the doctor and analysed everything in the room, picking up things that he could just toss at the mans head and he'd be dead in a heartbeat.

Grumpily, he sat down next to the wall and kept his cold eyes on the doctors every movement, not trusting the old man one bit.

Johnathan hadn't risen from the bed for... Well, he didn't know how long. And he didn't care anymore. Despite the nurses trying to get him up and into a wheelchair, he had kicked them all out -verbally, of course.

And now, they had stopped trying.

Finally.

It hung in the air above him, he could feel it. The silent softness, the embrace of his old friends, his wife and his parents.

John was an old man, very old. But even he missed his mama. And he knew, he knew that he would soon be reunited with his long lost mates. And his childhood horse, how he missed that bugger.

He had dreamed of his wife, Doris had visited him in his sleep and sung to him. He had held him, had called him home.

And John was ready to go home because damn it, was he tired.

He didn't even stir as he heard the door creaking open, the footsteps were light, two people who were most definitely not nurses. They didn't smell like nurses, and they didn't scold him, they weren't angry with him for not eating, for not taking medicine.

“Eliza?” he asked into the darkness, hoping to hear the sound of his daughters voice. But Eliza hadn't visited him for... For a long time.

Someone cleared their throat. It was a male voice, he could tell. He shrunk back into the pillows, sighing as he realised they were complete strangers. Or maybe it was the ghost of William visiting again.. Or maybe it was Isaac, this time? Or Pappy? He had a thing or two to tell the man, and he would once they'd see again.

“No, sir, I'm Clint. And that's my partner, Natasha Romanov-”

“Romanoff, Natasha Romanoff, sir.”

John just blinked, waiting for them to continue.

In all honesty, he didn't care who they were.

“You see, your car has been stolen, it was found on a crime scene. We have a suspicion that the suspect has kept himself hidden in your home and we just wanted to inform you of it.” the man said, he felt the woman, Natasha, taking a seat beside Johns bed, studying him. He could feel her burning look.

He knew damn well who they were. So had it really been William? Was he really back?

“Leave that fucker alone you lot.” he grumbled, despite his foul language, he felt too week to even push himself up from the pillows.

“Sir?” the woman edged him on, realising there was more to it.

“clean yer ears will ya? I said leave that fucker alone. He'll not harm anyone if you don't harm him.” he mumbled, clearly annoyed.

Clint and Natasha shared a look, turning back to the old man who looked minutes away from death.

“He has committed a crime, several, in fact. I'm afraid we can't leave him running around. Could you tell us more about that person? A name? An address?”

John scoffed, rolling his milky eyes at them.

As if Johnathan Lawford would be a snitch.

“a ghost. It's a ghost.” he decided to play with their minds. What? He was an old man who dreamt of dead people, he was allowed to give them hints. Hints of someone who he still wasn't sure was actually alive.

“a ghost? What do you mean by that?”

“He doesn't exist. You see, he used to exist. But things change lass. He isn't him anymore, but he is still him, you know?”

He rambled, probably sounding like a dimwit to them. Did he care? Absolutely not.

“I see I see..." Clint muttered, sounding as if he believed the man. But the glance the two agents shared clearly stated that they both thought the old man had lost it. In some sense, he had.

“But don't hurt him. Don't hurt the ghost, he doesn't mean bad, you know? He doesn't... Just a little lost you see.”

Two updates in a row??? Whaaaaat 😮😮🤗🤗

Got home at 3am, finished writing at 4.

Hey let's do the kiss, marry, kill gameee!

Kiss, marry, kill
Will, Natasha, Clint

Stay safe,
Lots of love
- K