Well I am super depressed after writing this. I started it awhile ago but didn't want to finish it cause I felt so depressed when writing it prior. I was in a really bad mood when I started it to. So. Angst. Lots of it. Hawkeye feels. I was also listening to the song "My Skin" by Natalie Merchant while writing this.

Summary: Four times Clint thought about committing suicide without anyone noticing, and the one time someone saw through his facade.

Friendship/Pairing: Hulkeye(Can be romance or friendship)

Warnings: Attempted Suicide, Angst

The Hawk's Flight


It would be so simple. All he had to do is take one little step forward. The others would believe it was an accident. After all there was a battle raging on right now.

He glanced down the tall building as he shot another arrow off in a random direction, killing an enemy. The ground was so far away. It would crush his skull on impact. If only he could take that step.

His foot made its way towards the edge only to pause. He looked over the city and noticed Iron Man in trouble. He quickly shot some arrows making it so there were fewer following Tony.

"Thanks Legolas!" An out of breath Tony said over the comms.

Clint took on last look at the ground before replying, "No problem. Just don't get caught like again!" He turned and continued to help his team.

He would take the step next time.


Clint looked at the 2 different bottles in his hands. In one hand he held a very expensive bottle of Sky Vodka. Some of the strongest stuff he could find. It was very easy to find in Stark's bar. In the other hand he held a very full bottle of Ibprofen. Natasha always likes to have extra just in case some was injured. If only she really knew.

With very little time he took the top off the Ibprofen. He looked down into it and found small red pills. It was now or never. He opened his mouth and poured the bottle into his mouth. He took a moment to swallow the pills. He felt them slip down his throat into his stomach.

Taking a hold of the Vodka, he popped off the cap and took a large sip. Taking the alcohol away from his lips, he shook his head. His face scrunching up at the bitter taste.

After a couple of moments he felt nauseated. He stood up abruptly. The dizziness getting worse. He was about to hurl. He raced to the bathroom able to make it just barely.

The pills and alcohol made its way back up his pipe. Soon his stomach was back to being empty. He sat next to the toilet and laughed. He couldn't even kill himself correctly.

Soon the laughs turned into tears. He was completely worthless.


The Avengers had found an interesting looking septor. It had a strong resemblance to the one Loki had used on Coulson. The had put Clint in charge of taking the staff to Fury.

He now sat at the conference table, by himself, the staff placed a few inches away from his hand.

He wondered what Coulson would say about this. Clint gave out a sigh, putting his hands on the back of his head. If only he had been strong enough to fight Loki he could have saved the man. It was just another thing he had done wrong. First it was his brother and now Coulson.

His hand reached out and took hold of the septor. With his other hand, he put one finger against the sharp edge. A line of blood appeared as he did so. He looked at his finger for a couple of moments. Even after everything he had done, he still could not stop anything.

He thought about how it would feel to be stabbed just as Coulson had. Just a quick little tug on his back. Then seconds later to have blood pooling down your chest. He shook his head to get the mental image out of his head.

Looking back at the large septor. The human body really was weak. He could just stop it now. All he needed was to take the septor and plunge it into his skin.

He was about to go through with the thought only to hear his phone ring. The name Fury appeared on it. He opened it. He said nothing, listening to the man on the other side of the phone. "Yes sir? I am bringing it to you now." He hung up the phone. Picking up the septor, he headed towards Fury.


Clint held onto a pistol. He looked at it wanting to just put it in his mouth and pull the trigger. All he had to do was put it in his mouth. It would be a mess to clean up. The wall behind him would look awful with his blood splattered on it.

He picked up the pistol and put it between his lips. The metal was cold against his mouth. His fingers fiddled with the trigger. Just press the trigger and the agony would be over. He would be free. His hands shook at the thought. No more pain.

He closed his eyes. He pulled the safety off. He could feel tears rolling down his face now. It could be over. He just had to have the balls to go through with it. It was then a picture of the Avengers popped into his head. The group going to lunch at Shwarma, laughing the entire time.

He quickly took the pistol out and slammed it against the floor, his hand tightening around the gun. He looked down at his hands that were wobbly and shaking. He let out a wail of agony. He laid on the ground. He screamed the entire night through.

He was surprised that no one heard his cries of pain that night.


All he had to do was stay hidden from the other Avengers. He would slowly bleed to death from the injury inflicted upon him from an enemy. He had been stabbed through one of his lungs. His breathing was becoming erratic.

He had heard them call to him through the intercom. He continued to ignore it. His fingers were starting to numb from the blood lose and lack of oxygen. He just needed to stay here a little longer. The coldness starting to set in now.

It was at this moment he heard it. The sound of someone rushing to his side. He could not tell who it was but they persisted.

"Stop." He attempted to push the help away. They ignored his plea and attempted to apply pressure on the wound. Clint at this point passed out.

When Clint awoke he was in a hospital bed. His heart sank. No matter how much he tried, He still couldn't just die.

The Avengers were all siting around him anxiously. Natasha seemed to have let out a breath of relief. The others seemed to take his wake as a good sign. They all began to talk to him. Clint smiled at them, stating he was thankful for all their help. The dark feeling in his stomach didn't fade.

Around dinner time they all started to wonder what to have. They asked if Clint would need anything. Clint shook his head.

"You guys can all go eat. I will stay here with Clint. Natasha, you should go to. You need the break." Banner said from the back of the group, causing them to look at him in surprise. They slowly made their way out of the room leaving a smiling Banner and Barton.

Once out of the room, Bruce stopped smiling completely, "Want to tell me what that was about?" He asked the man.

Clint gave the man a strange look, "What do you mean?"

Bruce crossed his arms, his eyes dark. "You said to stop. I was trying to help you, and you kept pushing me away."

Clint flinched away as Bruce said that. His face now held one of defeat. "I can't do this much longer, Bruce." His voice cracked as he spoke.

Bruce saw through the man who had truly thought he was worthless. Clint brought his knees up to his chest, ignoring the pain of the injury. "I don't want to try anymore." He couldn't stop the tears from streaming down his eyes.

Bruce walked up to the man and sat down next to him. Clint continued on his break-down, "I couldn't save Coulson. I couldn't save those men I killed. I couldn't do anything but watch. I watched as my hands strung the bow and hit those innocent men." Clint's voice began to get louder, "I saw it all happen."

Soon the room was silent with the exception of Clint's harsh breathing. Clint couldn't look the man in the eye that sat next to him.

"I understand." A soft spoken voice sounded out.

"How can you hope to under-", Clint began to say harshly only to look over at the man. Bruce sat there with a sad smile on his face. It was one of complete understanding.

"That look you had when I tried to save your life," Bruce began to say; "It was the same expression I wore when I tried to put a bullet through my head."

Bruce let out a sigh, "I have killed many people as the Hulk, much more than I would like to admit." Clint watched the man, "It hurts to know what I did. Those people I hurt." Bruce shook when he spoke.

"Do you want to know what I do in order to keep living?" Bruce glances towards Clint. All Clint could do is nod.

"I try and save as many lives as I can. It is no longer about the death count, but the lives saved." Bruce said with conviction. "I would save an entire city and still feel like I need to save more. It is what keeps me going."

Clint watched Bruce with so much more interest and understanding. Bruce reached you and held the injured man's hand. "You are worth so much more than you think."

Clint looked at the hand that held his own. "How did you stop the hurting?" he asked with a broken voice.

Bruce smiled, "I let people back into my life."

Clint watched as Bruce stood from his spot and headed towards the door, "If you ever need to talk, you know where my lab is." And with that Bruce exited the room leaving Clint to his new found thoughts.

In the weeks after, when Clint ever felt down, he would go to the lab and sit watching Bruce change mixtures of chemical. He would watch for hours. And Bruce never kicked him out and allowed him in with open arms.

Well not a happy ending but not a completely sad one either! I will be trying to do a couple of Hulkeye fics cause they are my second OTP (FrostIron being the first) I hope you enjoyed this REALLY angst fic!