For Em, the poor baby who had to get blood drawn.

"Elf, you in position?"

Clint rolled his eyes. "Yes. Who has eyes on Red?"

"Suit has Red in line of vision. Green is standing by. Stripes is on call if needed two doors down."

"What about Hair?"

"We thought it was best he sit this one out, given the nature of the takedown."

Clint smiled. "Understood."

He adjusted his aim slightly.

"I have the shot. Suit?"

"Take it," he confirmed.

Clint let the arrow loose and it sailed perfectly through the network of vents, ducts, furniture, and other obstacles to pierce the target's shoulder. The sedative worked fast, too fast for the target to do more than flail in an attempt to remove it.

"Target is down," Clint reported.

"Good job Elf. Green and I are moving in."

Clint waited to hear the verdict.

"Red is still moving, but down. Elf, hold your position."

He folded his bow up and waited to hear back from Coulson.

"Target is down," Coulson confirmed. "Elf, you're needed."

Clint hopped down from the vent and went to meet up with Coulson and Bruce.

Natasha was sprawled on the floor of the main living room. Bruce was sitting on the couch where she used to be, looking anxious. Guilt, probably. He knew what it was like to be taken down out of nowhere, and by people he trusted, no less.

But Clint knew that Bruce was aware why they had to do this.

"Sorry Tasha," he whispered, tucking the hair out of her eyes.

Tony appeared behind him with the stretcher, and with Steve's help, they lifted her onto it.

Clint glared at Tony. "I'm never letting you have input on code names again. Ever."

Coulson looked up. "I second that."

Tony shrugged. "Whatever. You guys are no fun. How long do we have before the sedative wears off?"

Bruce spoke up. "Sixty minutes, but I'd prefer to be completely done with her by then."

"You heard the man. Let's go," Coulson said briskly.

Steve took the hint, and pushed the stretcher carefully to the elevator. The rest of the team piled in behind him.

When they arrived on the medical floor, Steve pushed the stretcher to the place Bruce pointed out, while he gathered supplies. Clint took a seat next to an unconscious Natasha, and glared at anyone who tried to come near. Tony took that hint well, and left. Bruce must have noticed how uncomfortable Steve was looking, because he told him he could go.

"So where is Thor then?" Bruce asked while slipping his hands into gloves.

"He's gone out with Dr Foster for the afternoon," Coulson supplied.

Clint nodded his approval, and clutched at Natasha's hand as Bruce swabbed the crook of her arm with an alcohol swab.

"Are you alright Clint?"

At the mention of his name, Clint looked up. Bruce was smiling at him.

"Don't like needles," he muttered.

Coulson sighed softly behind him, which was his equivalent of a laugh. "As long as we don't have to do this when your turn comes around."

Clint laughed. "Like you could catch me."

Coulson appeared in front of him, smiling wryly. "She could."

Clint frowned. "Don't you dare."

Coulson only raised an eyebrow.

"I'm done," Bruce told them, and sure enough, he was, three vials of blood sitting in a neat little container, the puncture mark covered with a bandaid. "It would probably be better if she didn't wake up here though. I can get Steve back, take her to her room?"

Coulson nodded.

Steve placed Natasha gently on her bed and bowed out. Clint climbed up next to her and sat cross legged, watching over her until she awoke.

He saw better from a distance, but he could make exceptions for people he cared about. Not that he would tell her that.

She awoke with a start, just like a spy would.

"What happened?" she muttered, glaring at him.

Clint shrugged apologetically. "Blood draw. Remember last year?"

They both winced. Last year's physical and subsequent blood draw led to Natasha going on the run for nearly a week before Clint caught up to her in Budapest.

"Coulson wanted to avoid that happening again, so he made the decision to take you down electively and draw the blood then. Sorry about that."

Natasha frowned at him. "You... shot me," she clarified. Her eyes narrowed. "With an arrow!" she hissed.

Clint jumped backwards off her bed. "Tasha!" he pleaded. "Please! It was... Coulson. Coulson made me do it."

She began swearing at him in Russian, and Clint made the wise decision to leave her alone to cool down. He disappeared into the vents, to hide until she stopped holding a grudge.

He hoped no villains attacked for at least a month, because it would take that long for her to even think about forgiving him.

Except it was his turn for his physical next week, and if they thought they were getting blood from him...

Well, he'd be watching over his shoulder to make sure no Russian spies could sneak up on him and drug him for his blood.