Clint should have known better, should have known that his brother couldn't be trusted. He knew his brother couldn't be trusted for fuck's sake. But the little boy in him still wanted to find a way to mend the relationship between himself and his big brother.
Now he was lying in the grass, bleeding rather profusely and only still alive because his brother and Trickshot didn't want to keep at him when he was holding a gun in each hand, despite being down. But this left him in a bit of a mess, since he didn't tell S.H.I.E.L.D. he was going anywhere, hadn't even told his team. He'd just left. This was a family thing, not an Avengers thing after all.
Finally certain the two had left the area, Clint dug Kellie's card out of his pocket and grabbed his phone, dialing the number. The blood dripping into his eyes didn't make it easy, but he finally managed.
"Kellie, hey, it's Clint. I know it's late, but could I get a ride? You might want to bring a towel, I don't want to get blood all over your seats. And if you could ditch your Service detail that would be good." His voice started to fade a bit. "Fort Totten Park. If you could hurry, that would be brilliant."
He hung up, ignoring her questions, trusting her to find him. Then he lay back and tried to keep conscious until she did. Trickshot had managed to graze his temple with an arrow and head wounds tended to bleed a lot, even the shallow ones. At least he had hoped it was shallow. The bullet in his shoulder hurt like a bitch and was bleeding like a stuck pig. It was a comfort that he wasn't going to have to deal with the medics at HQ. They were really annoying.
Now he just had to convince Kellie that a hospital was not an option.