Hey guys! Disclaimer: I own nothing Avengery at all, I am poor. Plus I want to extend credit to the brilliant William Dietz for major inspiration for this work, as well as Mumford & Son's for their inspiration as well.
Dr. Jacobs shifted uncomfortably, staring down at the prone body the medical techs strapped down on the gurney. "Was all this necessary?"
The woman stared at him, faint amusement crossing her face. "He's perfect Doctor, you said so yourself, did you not?"
He did, God help him, but he did. The return of Captain America sent HYDRA doctors into a tizzy- given the relationship between Steve Rodgers and their weapon, the Winter Soldier, seeing the Captain could theoretically cause untold damage to Barnes's psyche, rendering him useless for all intents and purposes. Therefore, Jacobs, the newest HYDRA associate, had been tasked with finding a replacement.
He had spent hours combing through personnel records of both SHIELD and other intelligence agencies throughout the world. Due to the urgency of the situation, to find a replacement for Barnes before him and Captain America had any contact, they needed a candidate already trained as an assassin and a ghost in the system. Clint Barton had made the shortlist, but after reading his file Jacob knew he had found the one. Not only did Barton meet the skills requirement, but he seemed to have little to no emotional connections with other people who might notice his absence. Also of interest was Agent Barton's previous brainwashing by the demigod Loki-though his mind was eventually restored to its natural state, his mental defenses were bound to be damaged. That would make it easier for HYDRA reconditioning treatments to take hold.
Selection of Barton as the candidate was quickly approved by the HYDRA higher ups, and everything snowballed so fast from there. Given falsified orders, Agent Barton was captured and brought to HYDRA facilities to begin his reconditioning treatments. Jacobs had expected them to start on the regime of mind altering drug cocktails he had specifically engineered for Barton, but instead they had dragged him down to the interrogation chamber and tortured the man. He had protested, but was told that it served as a test to whether or not the man could hold up to the physical discomfort before being introduced to the psychological trials. Horrified, nothing he said stopped HYDRA from torturing Barton to near death for several days before finally removing him to the medical wing.
Now, staring down into the medical bay with his immediate superior by his side, Jacobs watched them administer the unneeded sedative to the broken, battered body of the man on the table and felt acid curling in his stomach. "Is this right?"
"This is what is required." The woman answered, her voice sharp. She looked at Jacobs and rearranged her face into what he supposed is her version of a reassuring smile. "Doctor. I know it's hard for you here sometimes, being new, but let me assure you that everything we do here serves a greater purpose. A purpose that we all must make sacrifices for."
Jacobs turned away, his eyes fastened on Agent Barton's too still body. Sacrifices indeed.
He is professionally trained in resisting psychological manipulation, but he knows his limits and is well versed in the techniques and drugs favored by HYDRA, and how terrifyingly effective they are even on the strongest of minds. He will capitulate to their ideology eventually; he isn't a fatalist, just a realist, and he can't waste time hoping for an outcome that isn't feasible because it's not a question of if he'll crack, but when. As futile as it may be though, it just isn't in him to give up without a fight and so he gathers everything that makes up the core of his existence- his sense of duty toward humanity, his grief at the loss of his brother, his skill with a bow, and his bond with Natasha- and buries it deep within himself. There, sheltered behind the armored walls of his identity, he musters his strength for what he knows will be the hardest fight of his life.
Barton's body hadn't stopped shaking since they administered the first dose. Dr. Jacobs studied the machine readouts and glanced with concerned eyes over to where a medical tech sponged the perspiration off the man's brow.. Mind altering drugs were a tricky business- a strong enough mind could potentially fight off any chemical changes to it, but a dose too strong would undoubtedly cause serious cognitive damage and leave the subject a drooling vegetable. He adjusted the dosages and silently urged the man to give up, to give in, and give himself a chance. If he continued to fight...Dr. Jacobs ran a hand over his scalp, unsure of the new-found twisting in his gut.
Barton, Clinton. Codename: Hawkeye. Special Agent, S.H.I.E.L.D.
His abused body has long since faded from his awareness. Now the physical pain only exists as a threat to his concentration in the lightning fast drama playing out in his head between his own consciousness and HYDRA, a fierce battle where no quarter is asked and none given. He is careful to maintain a wall to impede HYDRA's attempt to conquer his mind, repeating his name over and over, but it requires near perfect focus, a focus that grows increasingly harder to achieve the longer he remains in HYDRA's possession.
Barton, Clinton. Codename: Hawkeye. Special Agent, S.H.I.E.L.D.
"Give in Barton." Jacobs whispered to himself. He was alone in the medical ward, the nonessential staff gone for the night, but he found he couldn't leave HYDRA, not while Agent Barton still lay fighting. At that point the doctor couldn't have cared less about the effectiveness of HYDRA's reconditioning. All he cared about was the well-being of his patient. He had thought the trauma of Loki's brainwashing would break down Barton's defenses enough for the drugs to slip through with minimum damage, but it seemed he had underestimated the man's fortitude. He was fighting it, so hard and so repelled by the drugs that in normal circumstances Jacobs would have stopped the treatments immediately, but not this time. It was essential the drugs took in the next few days or Barton's body would start to shut down, all resources and energy devoted toward fighting off the mental assault. Sympathy and pity welled up in Jacob's breast as he continued his bedside vigil
He is crumbling through a combination of exhaustion and the relentless assault, and he is forced to pull back, to retreat further back into his mind and allow HYDRA to consume that which he is unable to protect. The laughter of a childhood friend. The feeling of the hot desert sun on his face, the shaking in his hands as he stares down into the staring eyes of the first human he ever killed. The scent of cotton candy and popcorn in the air and the warmth of a woman's hand held tightly in his own. He tries to scream as they are ripped away and discarded. He- Barton, Clinton. Codename: Hawkeye. Special Agent, S.H.I.E.L.D. - doesn't know what they take when he is forced to yield. All that's left is a gaping sense of loss, and a newfound determination to protect what is left of his fragmented psyche.
Barton, Clinton. Codename: Hawkeye. Special Agent, S.H.I.E.L.D.
His mind's defenses are weakened from Loki's twisted magic and earlier torture and have become easier to shatter, to overcome and destroy. No matter how he struggles to counteract this weakness, HYDRA's insidious tendrils of falsehoods and lies burrow deep into his mind as he is unmade in ways he instinctively recognizes cannot be undone. Memories flash by faster and faster- the taste of his favorite meal, running for his life through the streets of Hong Kong, riding a bus to some long forgotten destination- and he doesn't even have time to feel the loss so fast is the HYDRA mental assault. He puts up a valiant fight, but soon all that stands to hinder the progress of HYDRA's indoctrination are the integral facets of his existence, his reasons for living.
He clings to his name, the only lifeline that leads back to what once he was, and, like a wounded animal, snarls and digs in his heels against the invasive presence.
Barton, Clinton. Codename: Hawkeye. Special Agent, S.H.I.E.L.D.
"Ma'am. It's been six days. I don't believe his mind will accept the drug before doing irreparable harm."
"Keep him on the regime!"
Dr. Jacobs stared at her. "I must protest. The drugs we have him on now, they're only supposed to be administered for 5 days maximum. We've already exceeded that limit, and-"
"Has any progress been made?"
"Well, yes ma'am, he does show some signs of cognitive recalibration, but not enough to justify continuing the use of-"
"Then continue the treatment."
"But he'll die!"
"And then we'll find another candidate." Dr. Jacobs fell silent as the woman got to her feet, moving around the desk to stand in front of him. "He'll either break, and we'll move onto the next phase, or he won't and we'll find someone more suitable." Her eyes flashed. "So go, and continue the drug or we'll have to find a new psychiatric consultant as well."
Jacobs turned and left without a word, returning to Agent Barton's bedside. She would obviously follow up on her threat, and with his daughter Mina's life on the hook he couldn't afford to take chances. With shaky fingers he loaded up the next dosage of the drug and injected it into Barton's IV line, wincing in sympathy with the man's convulsions as the chemicals took hold in his bloodstream and praying that the man's end- either in cognitive conversion or in death- was quick in coming.
….His hands curl around the bow, his fingers adjusting to the unfamiliar grip as Jacques stands behind him, the older man coaching him through stringing, arming, and aiming an arrow at the target ten yards downrange. He draws the bowstring back-
Gone.
…..He hears the fighting from his bed, no matter how hard he tries to block it out, of Daddy and Mama screaming at one another. Feeling his way across the room, he crawls into Barney's bed, who, after a moment of sleepy confusion, shifts to make space on the small twin mattress and tucks him in securely before rolling back over and falling asleep once more. He cuddles into his brother's warmth, and knows that as long as Barney is around, everything will be okay. He shuts his eyes, but is jolted awake when-
Gone.
Barton, Clinton. Codename: Hawkeye. Special Agent, S.H.I.E.L.D.
Day 9. Every cry of agony, every whimper of pain uttered by Barton reverberates in Jacobs mind long after he goes home for the night.
….Pride fills him as he stands and shakes Agent Fury's hand, accepting SHIELD's offer of a better life, fighting to protect and-
The memory, like so many others before it, is ripped away and leaves him disoriented and confused, floating in the misty confines of his mind.
Barton, Clinton. Codename: Hawk...
What was it again? Barton, Clinton. Codename: Hawkeye. Yes, Hawkeye, that was it. Wasn't it?
Dr. Jacobs placed Agent Barton on life support after he unexpectedly went into cardiac arrest. Though they managed to get him stabilized, Jacobs instructed the technicians to prepare for further emergencies. Like he had predicted, Barton's body was shutting down instead of accepting the drug.
Jacobs was secretly pleased.
Memories of his brother flash before his eyes, interspersed with various missions he has executed successfully. His mind seemed to be moving slower, dragging, as the memories and recollections that make him who he is are slowly peeled away. A sense of panic rises within him, though he can't remember why.
Barton.
Barton, Barton, Barton.
There is something else, some kind of phrase that goes along with it, he knows it. Isn't there? Something that goes along with it, that is vitally important. Wait, why is what important?
What is he even trying to remember?
An invading presence that he vaguely recalls feeling before presses in from all sides, exuding elation and victory.
"Dr. Jacobs! Quickly!"
Jacobs ran down the passageway, the panicked voices of the medical techs driving him on. Even though he wanted nothing more to let Barton die an honorable death, the physician in him wouldn't allow him to sit and do nothing while a fellow human being lay dying. Even more pressing was the contingent of HYDRA higher-ups on their way down, spooked by the fact that their new toy was on the verge of being taken from them. They could all go to hell as far as Jacobs was concerned.
He rushed up to Barton's bedside, assisting the medical techs in strapping Barton down as the man thrashed and shook, his face a rictus of pain.
One tech was more panicked than most. "Doctor, what should be do?"
Jacobs gripped the edge of one of the life support machines. "Nothing. This is it. He'll either accept the drugs or he won't."
Out of the corner of his eyes he saw the woman nod.
One set of memories remains that connect him back to what he had been, and he starts as the image of a woman fills his mind's eyes, her eyes soft and concerned as he struggles against his own mind.
"Clint. You're going to be okay."
With a sudden burst of clarity, he senses the invaders clutching at the memory and is overwhelmed at the sudden defiance that fills him. He won't lose her, can't lose her, and he wraps himself around the memory of the woman and screams NO!
Slowly, like flames consuming a piece of paper, the last remnants of what he had been are burned away.
The bay was unusually quiet, the man now limp and seemingly peaceful. Dr. Jacobs sighed and smoothed a hand over Barton's forehead before striding over to the HYDRA bigwigs. "The drugs took ma'am. Agent Barton will live."
The woman and the others all murmured in apparent delight, but Jacobs found he couldn't take any pleasure in his patient's survival. It had been touch and go for a bit, the man's mental strain almost too much for his body to take, but the drug eventually overpowered any resistance and stabilized normal functions. An overwhelming sense of revulsion rose up within himself, and he fought the bile rising in his throat. The drugs had taken. Agent Barton would now be loyal to HYDRA, fighting for the greater purpose, for the preservation of humanity.
No matter how he tried to convince himself otherwise, he knew the truth deep down. The moment when Barton had succumbed to the drugs was the moment Dr. Jacobs had damned his own soul to Hell.
Clint sits up, eyes roaming the HYDRA medical bay. The techs want to run a few tests on his cognitive functions, and he quietly complies with their requests, walking the length of the bay, defusing a bomb, and neutralizing the computer generated assassin they throw at him in a sim mod, among other tests. There's a slight buzzing at the back of head, as if something's not quite right, but he is a professional, and he banishes the niggling feeling of doubt to the back of his mind while he completes the tasks the HYDRA techs have laid out for him without complaint. They clear him for duty, and he is given instructions on where to report to next to receive his orders for his first mission.
As he leaves the medical bay and before his mind automatically shifts toward planning the mission, he isn't sure why he ever resisted HYDRA's teachings in the first place. He isn't sure why he ever resisted at all.