21 Days [A Hawkeye/ Clint Barton fic] [HEAVY EDITING]

"We Quit"

It took exactly twenty-one hours for Clint Barton to wake up from the surgery he didn't want.

Immediately after he was placed in the Intensive Care Unit of SHIELD's state of the art hospital, Natasha wouldn't leave his side. Bruce Banner, Thor, and even Tony Stark came by to sit with their archer after he was brought back from surgery. No one had seen Steve Rogers since he was arrested by SHIELD for turning Clint over to the enemy.

Clint looked miserable, but with the amount of bandages covering parts of his body, everyone believed the procedures the facility had performed on him had been reversed. There was a thick white bandage wrapped around the top of his head, covering his ears. The archer's right fore arm had been operated on again and bound in a dark purple cast, and there were bandages scattered all over his body. Their teammate also had a total of three IVs inserted; two in his arm and one just under his left collarbone.

For the first several hours after surgery, Clint would make attempts to wake up by twitching his closed eyes, slightly moving his oxipulse covered pointer finger, and somewhat coughing, although the breathing tube shoved down his throat was making that rather difficult. Natasha would use the edge of his hospital bed's white sheet to wipe the excess drool that dribbled out from the edges of his mouth. Seeing her best friend's wrists and ankles strapped down with padded cuffs made her sick, but it was for his safety and the safety of whoever tried to treat him. According to the staff, Clint had regained consciousness as they wheeled him into the operating theater, scared and confused. He had lashed out at the nurses trying to explain where he was and why he was there, so once they got him under control, they restrained his wrists and ankles.

At one point, Bruce had taken over the role of being the archer's nurse. He had asked the post-op nurse to borrow the stethoscope so he could see how Clint was doing for himself. Tony rolled his eyes as he watched the scientist press the disc against their teammate's gown-covered chest and abdomen before laying it down by the man's thigh and moving on to check the pulse inside his wrist.

Natasha looked up at Bruce with a smirk. "You know he'd kill you if he knew you were calling the shots right now."

"That's why I'm taking advantage of the time to examine him now. Call me crazy, but I don't trust the doctor who just recently tried to kill him." His tone was sarcastic, and Natasha just rolled her eyes. Bruce pulled a penlight out of his shirt pocket and shined it in Clint's eyes. "I'm gonna make sure he's getting pain meds pumped into him before he wakes up."

"Then go get the meds for him, Nurse Banner..." Tony joked, taking a seat in the plush chair in the corner of the room.

Moments after Tony sat down and shut up, the monitors surrounding Clint started going haywire. They watched as Clint unconsciously arched his back and tried to take in a deep breath of air that was impossible to catch.

"His vitals are out of control!" Bruce shouted as he rummaged around the cabinets to find a medicine that would stabilize him. "We need a doctor in here!" The monitors continued to blare, and soon enough, there were SHIELD doctors and nurses rushing into the room and surrounding him. His teammates were pushed away as they worked to stabilize him. The team was forced to watch Clint's chest rise and fall rapidly as his head jerked side to side. Simmons was the one to quickly inject a serum into one of Clint's IVs that would eventually stabilize his vitals.

"He just went through an unconscious panic attack. It sounds strange, but Clint has seen a lot on the field and in the facility. Sadly, we expected to happen at least once." Simmons tried to explain before tightening Clint's wrist and ankle restraints as he thrashed around.

"Come on, Barton. You've always made your own luck. Don't stop now." Tony coached, trying to make himself heard over the deafening sounds of the screeching monitors. He was standing up now, but knew better than to get in the way of the doctors. The mechanic doubted Clint could hear anyway with a thick bandage wrapped around his head and covering his ears. He reassuringly placed his hand on the archer's calf for a second before pulling back.