Aloha

Maui was a nice place, especially if one stayed at a resort as great as where Clint was staying. It had the best service out of all the places he had stayed at, which included the Four Seasons in Florence.

This vacation was his reward for taking bullets to the hip, thigh, shoulder, and foot after saving a Cambodian diplomat from a group of angry poachers. The holes that ripped through his body had hurt unbelievably badly for the first week in hospital. He'd broken bones and taken a bullet or two before, but the near-transformation of his body into swiss cheese was not something he wanted to experience again.

The initial assessment was that his thigh and shoulder wounds were clean through, no major arteries severed and, luckily, minimal damage for the surrounding areas. Unfortunately, one bullet had gotten lodged into his pelvis. The shot had caused some bone fracturing around the point of impact. He was unconscious while they removed the bullet, gave him a blood transfusion, and patched up the other injuries he had sustained.

His foot had also gotten shot, and the doctors initially repaired as much damage as they could. The wound wasn't looking too good, as would be expected of most bone-dense body parts. There was quite a bit of damage to the muscle due to bone splintering. A couple days later, they had to put him into surgery again. When he awoke, the doctor told Clint that he was very fortunate that most of the foot's motor ability should be regained.

After three solid weeks of lying in the bed, the doctor strongly recommended twelve months off from any missions, including recon.

Until his shoulder healed enough for him to use crutches, Clint had to be in a wheelchair if he wanted to move around. The lack of mobility and independence was frustrating. Without the use basically his entire body, Clint required a lot of help until his at least his shoulder healed. He could barely bathe himself without getting out of breath from the pain.

Clint had also undergone rehabilitation during months two to four. As eager as he was to start moving again, he had found it very hard and painful. Every part of his body was affected by the injuries, so any sort of movement required careful concentration.

April came and passed, and soon enough month six arrived. Clint greeted May with open arms because maybe he would finally be moved out of the medical ward.

He was no longer in a wheelchair, only using a cane for his hip and foot. His shoulder and thigh were healing up fairly nicely, with only some pain if he moved a certain way. The main concerns of his were his foot and hip.

As much as he didn't like to admit it, his foot was killing him. Any weight put onto it would result in him losing his balance. His pelvis was stiff, and sitting down was difficult.

Trying to convince his handler to put him back into the field would be impossible.

But Clint was bored with a capital B.

He couldn't use his bow because of the stiff shoulder. Hell, he could barely walk around the hospital room without wanting to rest.

After enduring days of complaining, Clint's handler, Agent Coulson, had boarded Clint onto a plane and sent him on his way to Maui.

And that was how Clint ended up on a beach, sipping a martini in his swim trunks while basking in the golden sun.

The tranquility that he felt at that very moment was almost worth getting shot four times. Almost.

At least he had no doctors insisting that he walk around the hospital every half hour. This was Clint's second vacation ever since joining SHIELD as an operative, the first being a two week trip to Thailand with his then-girlfriend. He still had a picture of them on an elephant stashed away somewhere in a drawer because it was a fun trip, and the breakup was rather mutual. In fact, he still talked to her quite often. But that couldn't be helped when they worked in the same agency.