Apr 11, 2014
ὃ ~mercenary-with-wings
"I can't let you leave. Stay."
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ὃ ~mercenary-with-wings
"I can't let you leave. Stay."
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[Text] I never mattered to you. I know that now. ~mercenary-with-wings
(text) Shut up.
(text) You matter more to me then anyone on this fucking planet. This fucking galaxy.
Your father is in the hospital, did you know? Looks like he might be paralyzed.
Yes, I’m on my way with Coulson, now. Â
I really hope he isn’t, greyface.  I.. I can’t imagine what that would be like.
Looking out (Phil, Francis, Merc!Clint)
It was rare that a greyface was helpful, anymore that is. Â Phil had had Jarvis set up a ping alert for any trouble for those he was closest to. Â His husband, sons, daughter. Â Daughter's boyfriend who was also his 'little brother's' son. Â Sam, and Peter, and ... everyone.
The Greyface beat that ping to telling him of Clint's accident. Â Phil, getting his key to not-Lola and striding out of the NYC SHIELD HQ, wondered how much of an 'accident' it really was.
Could be paralized.
Dear Lord, please. Don't do that to him.
He drove swiftly to the Diner, catching Francis and apologising to Darcy, as he took her boyfriend away without any explanation other than 'your dad needs you'.
Which led them to the Hospital, post op, both of them in the waitingroom with him, waiting for him to wake up.
"He'll be okay," Phil said, not sure how much he believed it. Realising he was still in that grey place, and suddenly glad the base, 'TAHITI', was gone. Â
Healing was a dangerous promise.
Remember the church he met you guys in after he 'died'? It's the hospital two streets over.
Thank you.
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Your brother, Clint, is in the hospital... if you didn't know, he got in a car crash. Looks like he might be paralyzed.
Which hospital?  I’ll go pick up his son and be straight over.
"Hey kid. Do I even want to ask about what you've been up to?"
"About six feet?" Francis grinned. "Hi Dad. Â Good to see you."
"If I offer kisses and wine will you forgive me?" Clint asked his alternate, leaning in the doorway with his arms crossed. His gaze fixed on the archer, his features were dark and impassive. "We haven't talked in a while."
"Maybe." Clint said quietly, wanting to feel angry, but he was just tired. "No, we haven't. I did send letters." And had them go unanswered, but he didn't need that to be said.
The archer turned back to the counter, deciding that he was going to drink his coffee black today because he needed it.