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"I wouldn't be surprised if Fury is immune to any sort of mind control." Phil has no idea what his friend is capable of. He could have some device in his mind. He could have a lot of training. He'd also be hard to get close to. Somehow, Phil feels that Fury wouldn't have been captured. He would've turned it on Loki somehow.

The last part makes him ache a little for his long time friend. He can't imagine what that's like. His dreams lately haven't been peaceful. But he does understand that Loki twisted a relationship Clint felt safe in and put a stain on it. One that might never come clean.

"I'm sorry. I know that doesn't solve the problem or chase away the dream but I know our relationship is important to me. I would hate for someone to twist that." They are family and more. He trusts Clint with everything because they've worked together for years, handler and agent. Clint's giving him the same level of trust in return.

"It's not...christ. We're okay. It didn't do anything to us. Or at least, I don't think so."

That can't be true. He doesn't treat Coulson any differently, but Loki did change things. Not, perhaps, their relationship. But things changed.

"Don't be sorry. I'm the one who's sorry." And he knows he doesn't need to be. Coulson doesn't blame him for anything, and it drives him up the fucking wall. Clint rocks to his feet, swiping up his empty glass and heading for the minibar ostensibly for a refill. "I'm sorry, and I know you won't accept that, but I am anyway."

They've changed. Those changes are going to effect them. Their relationship might change because of that. Phil can't see them ever not being close. It would take a great deal of damage to change things that much but... something might change.

He tracks Clint as he walks over to the minibar. "We're going to have to agree to disagree on that."

While he can understand Clint's sense of guilt, Phil doesn't think it's necessary. He doesn't blame him. Clint only blames himself because he was taken by Loki. If another agent had been taken, Phil still would have put himself in front of Loki with the gun. The choice he made had nothing to do with Clint being the one who helped attack the helicarrier.

"And we're going to be okay. I mean our minds. We'll eventually be okay." Phil is trying to reassure himself in that too. He wants to be okay and not be twisted into someone else. He had better not turn into a zombie either.

"Yeah." He's looking through the options of drink. Or he thinks he is. He doesn't really see the bottles. Now that he's up, he's restless, like he wants to fight something, like he's going to fight himself, and it might be a night where he beats a punching bag until his knuckles bleed, but at least it'll be out of his system. "We will. Both of us. We'll get out heads on straight and not be afraid of ourselves."

And until then, they'll lean on each other, trust each other. Coulson's himself even if he's missing parts (and if they can alter memory, why not other things, why not personality, history, why not rewrite a whole person just because you can) and Barton's himself even if he doesn't know the long-term effects of having something alien shuffle around his hardwired loyalties (and if it's as easy as a touch with magic they can't possibly understand, why not seed in the paranoia, why not leave something behind to quietly grow until the time is right, why not bide your time until you can bring the good little soldier to heel again), and they have to trust each other about it since they can't fully trust themselves.

"I wish you blamed me, though." It tastes as sharp and bitter as he knew it would. It tastes like blood in his mouth. "Even just a little, even if you knew it wasn't rational, I wish you would."

"And why? What would that accomplish, Clint?" Phil frowns at him, not sure why his blame matters so much. There are plenty of agents in SHIELD that still don't trust Clint after Loki. There are plenty that blame him for the death of friends and coworkers. Why does his blame matter?

"Is it because you think I'll be able to come up with some appropriate punishment? Do you want me to put a mark on your record?" If he points out how ridiculous Clint is being maybe the archer will see some sense.

His blame changes nothing. It doesn't change what happened. It doesn't change Clint's guilt or Phil's death. He almost rolls his eyes at Clint but holds himself back. He knows what those words cost him and he's not going to make light of them. He's going to try and help.

"Loki carries all the blame here. Not you. And one of these days, you're going to figure that out yourself."

It's stupid. It's nonsense. It doesn't change the feeling. Clint plants his hands down, shoulders flexing, head hanging. Of course Coulson's right, and it won't make anything better, and it won't change anything, and it's better this way. "Maybe I do. Want some punishment. Some consequences for my god damn actions."

It's not like he hasn't suffered repercussions. (It's not like he hasn't suffered.) (Screaming and not screaming.) So he needs all this reframed. What is it that he wants out of this? Why does it crawl around his brain that he needs the walking corpse of his friend to hate him? What use is that thought? Any of these thoughts? What does it accomplish, why does he think he wants it, why does it haunt him, why is he even here--

"I don't know!"

That was louder than he intended. Maybe to be heard over the pounding of his heart. He's facing Coulson and his arms are thrown wide and his skin feels too tight and the beating in his chest is frantic.

He takes a breath. Finds that, too, tight and difficult. Scrubs a hand down his face and tries to reorient himself. (inonetwothree outonetwothree) (only it ends up inonetwo outone-)

"The world got turned upside-fucking-down, and it scares the shit out of me, Phil. How am I even on this team? What use is a guy with a quiver of arrows going to be to the next alien invasion, or the next bit of out of control tech, or the next crystal ball of magic that upends everything we thought we knew about our cozy little existence in the universe? Hulk shrugs off bullets like they're snowflakes, Stark can fly in a tin can and shoot lasers from his hands, Thor's an alien god, Cap's got the strength of at least two and a half of me and the resilience to be a one man army. I'm good, I know I'm good, but I'm good for baseline human, not a super soldier experiment or a man that can summon actual lightning from the heavens. I don't think I know much of anything anymore."

The anger washes over him like water off a duck. Phil's dealt with Clint's anger before. He's even dealt with it directed at him especially in the early days of working together. He knows it's not about him and he knows it's not personal.

It's deeply personal to Clint, but the anger is not over something Phil did or didn't do. Clint's letting go of some of the things tangled up in his head and squeezing around his heart. Phil turns his chair so that Clint can keep yelling.

"None of us do," Phil agrees, still calm and steady like he always is. When Clint's adrift like this, Phil stays steady, his anchor point in all the chaos going on around him. "We're dealing with new unknown threats of levels that no one considered before. We have the technology to bring a dead man back to life. The whole world, not just you, is coping with this new reality. And the majority of the population are just normal people, baseline, not even to your level."

Phil sits forward, his gaze fixed on Clint with intense surety and confidence. "Now we need heroes who can respond to those unknown threats. We need skilled people willing to step up. And we need a baseline human who can fight those threats because other baseline humans are going to see him and feel safe. Iron Man is cool. Captain America is inspiring. You? Hawkeye is real. Hawkeye matters because he's human. And you are good enough to stand shoulder to shoulder with those heroes."

Things that will ring true in another almost 15 years.

Right now, it feels patently ridiculous. No, people are going to feel safe seeing Symbol Of Freedom Captain America fighting for them. They're going to see a flying metal suit and feel safe knowing that's fighting for them. How is an archer jumping around safe, how does that sound real and like he matters--

But also. Sure. Hawkeye is human and still is doing what he needs to do, alongside gods and monsters. Fighting aliens and weird shit even though he has no right to do so.

"Great," with a tired noise in his throat, "so I can inspire a new generation of suicidal idiots with nothing to lose and everything to prove."

That's unfair of him. He knows it. He rubs at his eyes, and Coulson is...a rock. A stable rock to cling to when things get too chaotic, and there's the little twinge of guilt thinking that Coulson doesn't need this when he's got his own shit to worry about, and then a whole team to boot. But Coulson's good at that. Always has been.

"Sorry." Small and quick. "For...that." The explosion of whatever all that was. Crisis. "I trust you."

"Captain America inspired me to be a suicidal idiot. I joined the Army long before the Avengers existed. People who want to fight for what they believe in, will." Phil had been an Army Ranger before joining SHIELD. He had always wanted to fight to protect people. "But it's more about hope, Clint. You give people hope as well as make them feel safe."

Phil gets up and walks over to him. He puts a hand on Clint's shoulder and squeezes firmly to ground him here and now. "I know you trust me. That's why you can explode like that. I've got your back."

Even with his own problems, it feels good to be there for Clint. Phil can still be the rock in a storm. He can still be the calm at the center. It's something he knows how to do and doesn't have to think too hard about doing.

"Do you want me to look into super soldier serums for you? The last one gave us the Abomination who was almost picked for the Avengers, by the way." Phil still can't believe how stupid the Wold Security Council was with that choice.

It's weird. A weird thing to tell a spy, someone who has always worked in the shadows, but it's true. He and Nat are in the limelight now. All of the Avengers, many of whom were unknowns or nobodies, are now in the public eye, all heroes. There's been talk of trademarks and merchandising that Tony's people are doing whatever the fuck they're doing with.

He's supposed to be a ghost. Does what needs done, and disappear. No one meant to know he exists to give hope, to feel safe with. And that all changed.

It's funny, in a way, because he wasn't part of the initial onslaught of media attention. Being locked inside having your head examined will do that. Spooks him a little when someone actually recognizes him on the street. He has not, yet, given any interviews, not because he's been barred from doing so, but because he doesn't stay still long enough for the question to even come up.

So that, and the grounding touch, both serve to reel him back inside himself. He'll keep doing good, the same good he knows he's always done, but now...more public facing. Standing alongside recognizable heroes. And mean something to people.

Intimidating as hell. But he can try to be worthy.

A scoffing laugh creaks out of him, leaning against Coulson for a moment. "Do not put anything in me that isn't an IV, blood, or caffeine. Much as it might do my ego some good to grow a foot and be a beefy dorito, that'll only leave Tasha to crawl around in vents, and we can't have that."

Phil has been in many of those meetings because as their handler and the SHIELD liaison he knows the regulations that the lawyers need to work around. There have been many meetings about handling identities, what can go public and what can't, and how should these real people be portrayed. There's a lot of meetings in Phil's life.

"I still wish the two of you wouldn't do that," Phil says with a heavy sigh. It's an old argument that he's never going to win but he has to keep trying. One day, the vents aren't going to hold their weight. One day, they're going to surprise the wrong person and get shot. There are other ways to infiltrate a building.

But it does feel like Clint's on a more even keel now. If he's making jokes about body shape and vents, then he's feeling more like himself. Phil lets him lean as long as he needs.

"You don't need it anyway. You're perfectly capable as you are." Phil means it. The serum worked for Steve Rogers and it would do fine with Clint but he didn't need it. "And with a bow in your hand you're a better shot than a man with a computer assisted targeting system and lasers. It annoys Stark that you can pull shots off that should be impossible."

Phil Coulson, unsung hero, national treasure, doing the jobs no one else wants to do.

"Sometimes it's the sneakiest way in, okay; I know everyone's seen Die Hard, but only the truly paranoid ever put traps in vents." He's pretty sure Stark hasn't, but also, those vents are not person-sized. Pretty sure that was deliberate.

"And if Stark wants a few pointers on shooting, he knows where to find me."

He stays right where he's at, eyes sliding shut, for several long moments. His breathing evens out much more deliberately this time. The terrible crawling sensation that makes him want to shuck his own skin recedes to just a very, very distant occasional buzzing. The beast beneath his breast calms its frantic and rapid-fire beating.

"Thanks." For being a good handler. For being a good friend. For being here. "And sorry. Again. Shouldn't have to be on babysitting duty for me."

"I'm getting paid to babysit four other people with varying cases of PTSD." Phil pats him on the shoulder. "It's different when it's you and Natasha. None of it is babysitting."

He's done actual babysitting when he was watching Stark the first time. With the others, it is closer to babysitting. He doesn't have the same sort of relationship with them that he has with Clint and Natasha. They're charges to keep track of and make sure are taking care of themselves.

Clint and Natasha are friends. They're the people Phil trusts with his own PTSD.

"I'll have a bad day soon and you'll have to put me back together." Hopefully not literally. Phil would not enjoy losing himself to whatever Fury did to his mind. "Don't let the others freak out too much. I'm sure they won't know what to do."

Because none of them had ever seen Phil fall apart before. It was rare but possible.

"Could be worse. Could've put you on literal babysitting duty for Laura. Our own resident battle nanny."

He can't even argue the cases all around of post-traumatic stress. He's got his shit, Nat's got a whole dossier of trauma, Tony's probably got so many things going on he hasn't realized are traumas but the nearly dying in space thing has very clearly got him freaked out, Bruce is finally working on his issues with the other guy, and Steve's got being a man out of time.

So no. Phil does not have an enviable job. And he's right. It's going to bubble up to a point where he can't hold it inside himself anymore. There's only so much that logic and rational thinking and friendly chats can do with something so enormous. It might be quiet or it might be loud, but however it happens, it won't be pretty.

He claps Phil on the back. "What they'll do is worry. I'll be here. And if I'm not here, someone better call me so I can be here."

These little chats are like loosening the pressure value just enough to let a little steam out. Phil feels better after talking with Clint. He's also pleased that the alcohol hasn't done anything to unwind whatever is holding his mind together.

Even with the talk of trauma, death, and losing their minds it's been a good nigh. Things are a little lighter. Clint seems steadier. Phil feels a warm sense of satisfaction helping his friend be more himself.

"If you're not here, Natasha should be." He trusts Natasha will know what to do. "And it's possible they'll be able to handle it if she isn't. Banner's reasonable."

Even if he has a huge anger problem. "Think you can get some sleep now?"

Natasha can help put Phil back together, sure, and Clint trusts her enough to do so. But still. He wants to be here to help.

Friendship isn't transactional, but still. It feels like the least he could do to pay his handler back. "Definitely gonna be able to try, anyway. Unless you wanna go a couple rounds with me. Otherwise, probably gonna kick my feet up, put on the tv, and doze off to some late night telenovela or something. If I'm lucky, I'll have the wherewithal to drag my sorry ass to bed before that."

He considers having another drink in actuality, a little nightcap. Decides against it. "You should get some rest, too."

"We can schedule a time for hand to hand training when the sun is up." Phil can hold his own but he's not particularly in the mood at this late hour. It is necessary though. The muscles in his chest could get tight if he didn't stick with his physical therapy. He would need to adjust his fighting style to the new restrictions.

He walks back towards his desk to make a very deliberate show of saving and closing much of what he was working on. "Jarvis will find time in our schedules that works best for both of us. You'll have a calendar invite in the morning. Try to remember to accept it."

Phil smiles fondly at Clint. Paperwork was not one of his strengths but he's gotten better over the years being immersed in SHIELD bureaucracy.

"Maybe call your wife," he suggests as he walks Clint to the door. "And think about going to visit. I can always make a solo op for you."

Because Clint's family is important and to be protected. Phil will make it so the other Avengers never question it.

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