A/N: An idea like this has been tormenting me for AGES. And now, finally, here it is, because it refused to NOT come out. (grins) First, though…
DISCLAIMER: MUAH-HAH-HAA! If only I had enough money to hire Renner for my movie… (sighs dreamily) But nope, sadly I own nothing. Nor do I own the story's title picture! It was created by a genius.
WARNING: ADULT MATERIAL, a tiny bit of ClintxLaura, a bit of language (sorry Steve…!)
Awkay, because it's WAY too late already… Let's go! I REALLY hope that you'll enjoy this weird, mad ride.
TRIGGER WARNING (BEWARE OF SPOILERS): NON-SUBTLE HINTS OF NON-CON
A Flight into the Dark
Surprisingly it was Thor who caught the first warning sign. It was New Year's Eve, and the whole team was preparing for a party Tony had insisted on throwing. Now, the Asgardian was still a bit of a stranger to human manners, and manners in general. Sometimes, just like now, he forgot that he was supposed to wait for a permission to enter before doing so. Which led to him facing a shirtless Clint Barton. Instinctively he recoiled a couple of steps, embarrassed. Then he saw the bruising marring his friend's side.
Scars he'd known to expect but the fresh bruising was a surprise.
Clint pulled on a shirt as quickly as possible. Irritation rose to mask startle. "Ever heard of knocking?"
Thor frowned. Yes, he was sorry to intrude. But at the moment worry overruled embarrassment. "I wasn't aware that you were injured on the mission."
There was a second's pause. Then Clint shrugged. "It's just a bit of bruising. No big deal." The archer shifted with clearly apparent discomfort. "Look, as much as I appreciate the concern… I'll change my pants next, so…"
Thor got the message and fled. He, however, couldn't quite shake off the irritating nag of worry sitting in the back of his mind. Yet at the party Clint acted flawlessly like nothing was wrong at all. And the Asgardian found himself wondering if he was just making a big deal out of nothing.
Sadly, it wouldn't have been the first time Clint ended up injured on a mission and he'd seen far worse damage.
Valentine's Day was at hand faster than anyone saw it coming. For the Avengers romance wasn't exactly the day's theme, however, as they were making their way back home from a yet another infuriating mission. They were all tired and achy. And cranky.
When Tony spotted Clint examining the archer's phone with a strange look on his face he saw an easy target. Even though a tiny voice inside him was screaming that something was wrong. "Lady problems, Pigeon?"
Clint shivered, and for a microsecond something disconcerting showed. Or then it was just a trick of imagination. "I'm not the one who just had a shouting match, Tin Can."
Tony wrinkled his nose. "Defensive, much? That's never cute." He winked. "If you need a little help, though… Tell Dr. Stark. I'm an expert."
Clint snorted. "Yeah, thanks. But I'm not that desperate."
"Stop messing with him, Stark", Natasha, who'd been talking to Bruce, advised. She sat down with her usual grace despite sporting a bruised knee and a wound on her forehead. "You have no idea how many ways that guy knows to kill you in your sleep."
Tony rolled his eyes but found it best to not comment further with two armed former assassins present.
On their way out of the jet Clint whispered to Tony's ear. "Twenty-three." The archer then seemed to think better of it. "Or make it twenty-four. I forgot that trick from Delhi…"
Tony grinned, even though he probably should've been scared, and made the mistake of assuming that everything was alright.
It was almost a week later Natasha got a phone call in the middle of a training session. Her eyebrows furrowed as she recognized Laura's number. "What's wrong?" was her immediate response. Clint was supposed to be at the Farm, safe and sound. So why this call?
Laura sighed. It took a while before the woman spoke. "I can't believe I'm doing this, but… Do you have any idea what's wrong with Clint?"
Natasha gritted her teeth. "I don't know", she admitted reluctantly, and hated it. "But I was hoping that going home would fix it."
"He has nightmares. Almost as much as… well, in the beginning. And he can barely stand me touching him." There was very open pain in Laura's voice. "And remember that jogging habit of his? He's doing it again, a lot. He's been missing for an hour, now." The woman's fear and frustration were palpable. "I'm probably being stupid, but… It feels like he's slipping away from me."
Natasha breathed in. And out. "We'll find out what's wrong." Because this was more than just the long shadow of Loki. Something even darker.
"I really hope so." Was that a sob? "Because… I want my husband back, from wherever he is now."
Unfortunately Clint headed straight to a mission of his own from the Farm. Two weeks scrolled by before Natasha got a call asking her to pick up her friend from a hospital. It wasn't exactly the first such call he received but it did mark the first time she wasn't given any information, out of the patient's request. She headed to the hospital with heavy dread in the pit of her stomach. She didn't even feign surprise when they told her that they would've wanted Clint to stay for at least a couple of days. Once more she attempted to pry details, and once again such weren't granted. The second she entered Clint's room she felt like strangling someone.
Clint… was horribly bruised. One of his eyes was practically swollen closed and since he'd clearly refused pain relief he was shaking from discomfort. The worst, however, were his eyes. They were just as haunted as after Loki. "What happened?" she demanded, noticing too late how sharp her tone was. Too sharp.
It was like watching Clint obtain a suit of armor of his own. The closed off look on his face was one of the most infuriating and heartbreaking things she'd ever witnessed. "Just… Get me out of here, please?" Clint did not plead.
And Natasha knew that whatever answers she wanted were still far out of her reach.
Due to his unfortunate circumstances, Bruce was fairly good at reading emotions. (It was a necessity in order to keep his own from boiling over.) He could tell that there was something wrong with Clint when he saw how quiet and tense the archer became. Whenever the man imagined that no one noticed a strange look Bruce couldn't quite name appeared to his friend's face.
Bruce wanted to help. Or to at least inquire if something was wrong. But he'd never really had friends before so he didn't have any idea how to start. Especially with someone as private and closed up as Clint.
Eventually he got an opening. The team had returned from a mission only hours earlier and everyone was exhausted. And tense. While Natasha and Steve busied themselves with sparring, Tony headed off to find Pepper and Thor went back to Asgard Bruce shuffled towards the kitchen area. He wasn't the first one there.
Clint's back was the him while the archer spoke to a phone, clearly with no idea that he had audience. The man had been running a hand through his hair so many times that the fair locks were sticking to all imaginable directions. "… know that I promised but this is… Hey, listen…! I won't, okay, just…" The final pause was a long one, ending to a heavy sigh. The rest was spoken so softly that Bruce couldn't catch the words. And then, before he could even think about a tactical retreat, Clint turned and their eyes met. The look that appeared to the Hawk's face was, perhaps, the most alarming bit of all.
It was quite possibly the only opening Bruce would get so he went for it. Even if he had no idea how to proceed. "Everything alright?" Well, that was harmless enough, right?
For a few fleeting seconds it looked like Clint might actually let his guard down, just a little. Until the man shook himself out of those ideas and created a nearly flawless little grin. "Yeah. Just… miscommunication. Coffee?"
Bruce's eyebrow arched. "Now? It's one in the morning."
Clint shrugged, already heading for the coffee maker. "I can't sleep without caffeine." It was declared like the most natural thing in the world. And somehow the light tone succeeded in distracting Bruce from worries, at least for a moment.
"You are an odd bird."
"And you've been spending too much time with Stark."
Two months slipped by and the cold of winter turned to a spring.
Steve didn't know how long he'd been running until he finally decided that he'd had enough of the 90s music Tony had filled his iPod with. (For educational purposes, the billionaire claimed. Steve had a feeling that a prank was pulled on him. Because… What was this music?) He walked the last three blocks to give his body a chance to overcome the adrenaline rush. Almost as soon as he slowed down he froze at what caught his eye.
A limousine was parked to a small street. And Clint was leaning against it, clearly having a fight with someone sitting inside. They were just quiet enough to keep Steve from hearing what, exactly, was said but the look on his friend's face was enough to reveal that it was far from pleasant. Then, like a switch had been flicked, Clint became utterly still and quiet, his face paling dramatically. And the archer began to enter the vehicle.
Just seconds before Clint disappeared from sight their eyes met. Steve made a move to interrupt what was clearly an unpleasant situation until the Hawk shook his head, subtly but clearly. Those eyes were scared (which marked the first time he saw his friend afraid) but the message was clearer than clear.
DO NOT INTERFERE.
Steve was left there, staring at the fast disappearing vehicle and wondering what, exactly, he just witnessed. He didn't manage to relax fully even when Clint returned to the Tower hours later. The archer seemed alright, aside a barely noticeable limp. But something was obviously off.
Clint sighed heavily at the look in his eyes. "So. I guess you want to talk?"
"It depends." Steve gritted his teeth, focusing hard to maintain at least a small part of his self-control. "Are you going to answer to me honestly?"
Clint's jawline tightened. The Hawk braced himself for an attack, apparently. "You know I can't."
"Classified information?" Steve groaned in frustration at the answering nod. "We're a team! You…"
"I what?" Clint was practically hissing. "Steve, I've been an agent for much longer than you were a soldier! You're just gonna have to trust that this is something I'll handle on my own." Trust me!
Steve nodded because he had no other choice. The frustration was almost impossible to keep in check. "But you need to trust us, too. We're your team. We're right here, whenever you need us."
It was supposed to be comforting. Clint looked like he'd been punched. "Yeah, I know."
The two were too preoccupied to notice that they had audience. Natasha listened to their exchange with a frown on her face, focusing on the look on the archer's face. Once she'd made it to her room she took her phone and dialed Fury's number. "Something's wrong with Clint. Do you have any idea what it might be?" If this was some sort of a stupidly dangerous mission…!
Fury sighed heavily. "Yeah, I do." There was a torturous pause. "Laura filed for a divorce a few days ago."
What the others didn't know was that for all that time a part of Clint was hoping – praying – that at least one of them asked. Wouldn't let him get away with flimsy excuses. Even though his whole reason was trying to tell him that it'd only make things worse.
But this battle was his own.
So, just like far too many times before, he put on a pair of black training pants and a T-shirt of the same color. No shoes, that was the deal. He wrapped protective bandages around his hands, then took a deep breath and headed for the arena.
These fighters weren't average people. These were wild animals, desiring to tear him apart with their bare hands. So Clint responded in kind. What else was he supposed to do? He kicked, spun, punched. Fought back like the devil itself had caught a hold of him. Which actually wasn't very far from the truth.
It was one of the quiet nights. He only had to take down five men. From the corner of his eye he saw pleased faces in the audience and felt sick to his stomach. Tonight they'd been betting for him. He might not be so lucky the next time.
He already felt a shadow following him and the nausea from before intensified violently.
By the time Clint entered the tiny apartment he'd rented from the city he already had company. The scent of curry chicken carried from the kitchen. These days it made his stomach turn.
He didn't expect to get blindfolded from behind. He tensed up, instincts telling him to strike back and neutralize the threat. But then he remembered how much was at stake. And a fighter who just took down five men was able to do nothing as a pair of unwanted hands grabbed his hips possessively.
"I hope that you're hungry, dear." As a nearly purring voice spoke all he could focus on were the words that'd been hissed at him far less pleasantly.
/ "Play nice with me… and at least one of them may survive. And if you make the mistake of upsetting me again… I can promise you, you'll have them back in your arms in tiny bits and pieces." /
Clint nodded stiffly although he wasn't sure he could swallow a bite without it coming right back up.
"Good, good." The hands tightened on him. "You fought so well for me today. You made me proud." One of the hands slipped under his shirt and it took all his willpower to not stiffen as a response. It caressed the scarring those same fingers helped cause. "And now you'll let me look after you, like the good pet you are. No more hurting. No more silly nonsense." He was pulled closer to the other's unwanted warmth. "You're my pet and I'll take care of you. Just like I did after I first found you, remember? I'll never let you go again."
/ "You ran away from me once, little pet. You, my favorite. I'm not making the mistake of letting you go again. No matter how many people I'll have to kill. Do you understand?" /
X
A/N: Oh gosh, poor Clint…! (sighs) It seems that his life's in shambles.
SO… The call's yours, actually. I put that 'X' to the end because I'm not sure if this is completed or not. WHAT DO YOU THINK? Should this continued, or just left this way? PLEASE, do let me know – when I'm this undecided your opinion would mean the world to me! IF THIS CONTINUES the rating will DEFINITELY rise to M. (This was still a borderline T-case.)
In any case, thank you so much for reading! Who knows. Maybe I'll see ya again later?
Take care!