Clint jolted awake, body jumping with the force of the abrupt shift from sleep to consciousness. He tumbled to the floor, arms caught beneath his chest, skull smacking painfully into the concrete. A groan managed to shove its way past the fuzzy feeling in his mouth.
"Careful."
Eyebrows furrowing, Clint slowly turned his face to the side to look at the speaker. Steve was crouched beside him, hands hovering over the archer's spine without touching. For a moment, Clint stared at Steve and Steve blinked back and neither of them spoke. Finally, Clint gathered his legs beneath him and pushed up into a sitting position.
"What are you doing here, Cap?" he questioned.
"What do you mean?" Steve asked.
Rubbing a hand over his neck, Clint explained, "I thought they took you."
"Took me?" Steve echoed, confused.
"Yeah, I thought those Hydra b-" Clint's brain caught up with his mouth and realized what he was saying. "Hydra. Albania. Strucker. " He whipped his gaze up to Steve's. "Where's Tony?"
Steve hitched his shoulders helplessly. Clint scrambled to his feet, grabbing onto the closest item to steady himself when his vision spun and his balance went with it. His fingers clenched in a thin sheet fitted over a metal table and it disturbed him to think he'd been sleeping on it.
"What is this place?" he wondered, taking note of the rest of his surroundings.
The room was small, its windowless concrete walls emphasizing its lack of size. A bare bulb hung from the ceiling, too bright in the center of the chamber, but leaving the corners in shadows. Aside from the table, there was no other furniture.
"It appears to be some kind of cell," Steve said.
"No kidding, Sherlock," Clint grumbled, attention grabbed by the metal door across from him.
Steve followed his gaze and sighed. "It's locked."
"So break it down." Clint suggested.
A raised eyebrow was the answer he received and Clint rolled his eyes. "Fine. I'll pick it."
He reached for the tools in his belt. Only to find that he was not wearing his suit, but rather a set of scrubs, identical to the kind given to patients in hospitals. "It's always creepy to find out someone else dressed you." he deadpanned. He frowned at Steve. "They left you your suit."
Steve glanced down at his uniform. "I guess so."
"You got anything useful in those belt pouches of yours?" Clint asked, already crossing the room and kneeling to inspect the lock in the door.
Steve came up behind him. "I have nothing. They must have emptied my pockets."
Clint cursed and scanned the room for anything he could use. The lack of furnishings made the table his only viable option. He inspected it carefully, and was rewarded with a loose nail, which he used to maneuver out a second one. Grinning, he showed his substitute lock pick instrument to Steve before returning to the door. Years of practice ensured that the lock stood no chance against the agent.
"Nice work," Steve complimented as they slipped into the hallway beyond the room.
"It was nothing, really. Just a simple double cylinder," Clint shrugged modestly, pleased with the praise. "Now let's find Tony and get out of this place."
They moved stealthily down the corridor, keeping alert for any sign of their Hydra captors. Clint was leading the way, choosing which turns to make based on instinct and experience with secret bases. Most of them were laid out in the same way and he hoped this one would be no different. He picked up the sound of marching boots and gestured for Steve to take cover, even as he himself ducked into the corner where two walls met. Three men appeared at the end of the hallway, black uniforms and big guns exactly as Clint expected. He held his breath, hoping they would pass by without noticing him. His luck was not that good. With a startled exclamation, one of the soldiers pointed at the escaped prisoner.
Before the man could aim his gun, Clint leaped on him, tackling him to the floor. The other guards were confused by the sudden attack and Clint lashed out, kicking their legs out from under them. One lost his hold on his weapon and it skittered across the floor. Clint eagerly picked it up. But, unwilling to make more noise and possibly alert more guards, he didn't fire it. Instead, he used it as a club, smashing it into the man's face. As he did so, the remaining soldier came up behind him, wrapping a thick arm around his throat and dragging him off the unconscious man. Clint grunted and slammed his elbow into the side of his attacker's head. The blow didn't dislodge the man, but it did loosen his hold enough that Clint could wriggle out from under it. He dropped into a crouch, spying a knife on the man's belt. He slid it free of its sheath and plunged it into the guard's chest, just as the soldier was about to shoot him. Panting, Clint pulled out the knife and wiped it clean on the leg of the man's uniform.
"This might come in handy," he told Steve. "We better get going before anyone notices they're gone." He dipped his chin at the guards.
"Right," Steve agreed, starting to jog down the corridor. He paused when Clint didn't follow. "Barton?"
Clint tilted his head to the side. "Should we leave them here?"
Steve came back and stood next to him.
"When they come to, they'll raise the alarm," Clint explained, conscience torn. "Of course, by that time, either we'll have escaped or someone else will have notice we're missing."
Steve was quiet at his side.
"But they are Hydra. If we let them live, they'll just go back to doing all the evil things they're ordered to do," Clint continued.
He looked to Steve. The captain's face was carefully neutral. "It's your call, Clint."
Clenching his jaw, Clint moved his gaze to the two slumbering soldiers. Steeling himself, he knelt and silently slid the knife across their throats. Despite his career as an assassin, it turned his stomach and he finished his unpleasant task as quickly and efficiently as possible. After cleaning the blood from the weapon, he joined Steve again.
"It feels different when they're not actively trying to kill me," he muttered softly.
"You had no choice," Steve murmured in reply.
Clint nodded briefly before shaking himself. "Alright, let's grab Stark and get out of here."
Without waiting for an answer from his companion, Clint moved past him further down the hallway. The dirty white concrete walls pressed in on them from the sides and Clint couldn't wait to see the sun again, feel it warm his skin. For several minutes, they made their way through the maze of corridors. As they passed another metal door set in the wall, Clint stopped.
"What is it?" Steve asked.
"Call it a hunch, but I feel like this is where they're keeping Tony," Clint said, unable to explain the instinctual clench in his gut that told him to check the room.
Steve accepted his proofless answer unconditionally. Clint stepped up to the door, inspecting its appearance for weaknesses.
"Geez, this place is really old," he commented, noticing the simple lock. He easily slipped the blade of the knife in the tiny crack where the door met the wall, pushing the bolt back into the lock.
The door swung open when he pushed on it. The quick grin of triumph slid off Clint's face when he walked into the room, finding Tony on a table similar to the one he had woken on. Tony's eyes were closed but when the additional light spilled in through the open doorway, he cringed.
"Stark," Clint greeted.
Tony sat up, looking dumbfounded. "How did you…?"
"Secret agent, remember?" Clint winked. "Now, unless you'd rather prolong your stay here in Hotel Hydra, I suggest you get your butt off that table and follow me."
"I would if the room would stop spinning," Tony shot back, gingerly raising his torso to a sitting position.
"You're dizzy?" Steve stepped forward, concern etched on his features.
Clint sighed. "Fine. Let me help." He pulled Tony's arm over his shoulder and got the billionaire standing.
Tony shivered in his own set of scrubs. "It's not enough they drug us and lock us up, they have to freeze us too?" he complained.
"I doubt prisoner comfort is the top priority on their list," Steve commented.
Clint snorted in agreement. "And to think, some Hydra goon saw us naked, just so they could get these on us."
Tony's expression flipped to one of horror. "That is wrong on so many levels."
Snickering at his friend's distress, Clint pulled him toward the door, Steve following behind.
"Are you hungry?" Tony randomly questioned. "Because I am. When was the last time we ate?"
Clint shrugged. "It's hard to say. It's not like there are any clocks in here."
"I wonder how long we've been gone. If the others have started looking for us yet," Steve said.
"I don't know," Clint responded.
"Don't know what?" Tony queried, looking sideways at Clint.
"If the others are looking for us," Clint clarified.
Tony's eyebrows creased but he didn't say anything further.
They turned a corner, literally running into a guard. If it had happened to anyone else, Clint would have called the incident hilarious, like something straight out of a cartoon. But it was hard to laugh when he had to drop Tony in order to kill the soldier before he killed them. Tony hit the floor with a grunt as Clint delivered a right hook to the guard's jaw. The man stumbled back and Clint took advantage of his distraction. He swung his left hand around, plunging his pilfered knife into the man's side. The guard shouted in pain. Clint retracted the blade and stabbed it into him again. The guard tumbled bonelessly to the ground. Without wasting time, Clint bent to help Tony up. As they straightened, Clint spotted a man at the end of the corridor. They stared at each other, before the guard spun on his heel and ran in the opposite direction. Clint swore under his breath.
"Okay, we gotta pick up the pace. That guy's probably sounding the alarm right now," Clint advised.
"Which way do we go?" Tony asked.
"This way," Clint answered, heading in the same direction they'd been going.
"Is this the way out?" Tony inquired.
"I hope so," Clint muttered.
They made their way at a reasonable pace until Tony dug in his heels.
"What?" Clint questioned irritably.
"Aren't we forgetting something?" Tony raised an eyebrow.
Clint ran through a list in his mind. "I don't think so. I mean, yeah, it would be nice to have our suits and all, but I don't think we have time to go back for them."
Tony blinked, nonplussed. "Well, of course it's incredibly dangerous to let freaking Hydra anywhere near the Iron Man technology. But I was thinking of something else."
"What?" Clint asked, eyes scanning their surroundings.
"Um...our fearless leader?" Tony suggested, tone making it clear that it was something Clint should have thought of on his own.
Clint pursed his lips. "Are you okay, Tony?"
"I'm better than you apparently," Tony retorted.
"Who's carrying who here?" Clint shot back.
"At least I'm not suffering from memory loss," Tony snapped.
"What did they give you, Stark?" Clint wondered heatedly. "Cap's fine. He's right behind you."
Tony twisted his head to look over his shoulder and his eyes widened. "We've got incoming."
Grunting, Clint turned so he could see. Two guards were running at them, guns pointed straight at their chests. Thinking fast, Clint dropped to the ground, watching as Steve mimicked him, though the captain added a roll to his maneuver, ending up in a prepared crouch. Bullets whizzed through the air over their heads and Clint shoved Tony against the wall. The men continued their barrage and, wishing for his bow, Clint ground his teeth before getting into a low crouch and rushing toward them, armed with only the stolen knife. Once he was close enough, he performed a move like he was sliding into home base, slashing out with his weapon as he went. It bit through the flesh of one man's thigh and he dropped his gun to clutch at the bleeding limb. Thinking fast, Clint seized the gun and shot the injured man. Reaiming quickly, he took out the second guard. The echo of the gunshots reverberated off the walls and Clint shook his head, willing the ringing to leave his ears.
"Alright, let's keep going," he announced. He reached out a hand, pulling Tony to his feet. "Can you walk?"
"Maybe?" Tony offered.
"Make it a sprint and we'll call it even." Clint's lips twisted wryly and he hefted the large gun in his hands before taking off down the hallway.
"But-" Tony began. He huffed in frustration, left with no choice but to follow the marksman.
An alarm suddenly began blaring, the sound driving through Clint's skull and aggravating his growing headache. Grimacing, he tried to ignore it, and the deadline it implied, by focusing on finding the exit.
"We're almost there." He heard Steve's voice from behind. "Keep going, Stark."
Clint almost ran straight past another room but that same stirring in his stomach told him to stop. He assumed it was merely the place where their suits were being stored and he nearly kept going, unwilling to risk their chance at escape just to reclaim their equipment. But the tug in his gut was insistent and he growled at himself as he took up precious time unlocking the door. Steve and Tony caught up with him, the scientist taking the opportunity to brace his hands on his knees to catch his breath.
"Why are we stopping? What's in there?" Steve queried.
"I don't know," Clint replied, frustrated at his own inability to ignore his instincts.
"What are you doing, Clint?" Tony panted.
Without answering, Clint shove the door open and barreled inside, only to freeze in shock, gun falling from numb fingers.
"What is it?" Steve questioned, stepping up beside Clint.
Clint wordlessly pointed to the table in the center of the room. Where Steve Rogers was laid out, dressed in scrubs, eyes closed.
"What is it?" Tony questioned, stepping up beside Clint. He followed the archer's finger. "Oh good. You found Cap." He clapped Clint on the shoulder before crossing over to the bed and attempting to rouse the super soldier.
"H-how is this possible?" Clint stuttered.
Steve looked as bewildered as Clint felt. "I don't know."
"A little help?" Tony called irritably, glancing over his shoulder at the motionless agent.
"How can you be in two places at once?" Clint inquired, wrenching his gaze away from the Steve on the table to the one next to him.
"I don't know," Steve repeated, eyes locking worriedly with Clint's.
"Who are you talking to?" Tony questioned, straightening slowly and regarding Clint apprehensively.
"Steve," Clint answered impatiently, gesturing to his side.
Tony's eyes went where Clint had indicated before he returned his attention to the marksman's face. "Clint, there's nobody there."
"Are you blind?" Clint snapped. "Cap's right here." He reached out to grip Steve's shoulder. And his hand fell through empty air. "What the-?" he breathed.
Steve blinked at him in shock.
"Clint, what did Hydra do to you?" Tony questioned hesitantly.
Shaking his head, Clint struggled to reconcile what he was seeing. "Wait. Which one is the real you?" he asked desperately.
Steve's expression was one of helpless confusion. "Me, I think."
"Then who's that?" Clint demanded, stabbing a finger at the man on the table. "And why did my hand go right through you?"
"Okay, cupid, you're starting to freak me out," Tony informed him, watching him with concern.
Clint didn't even hear him, instead peering closely at Steve. "Why can I see you?"
"I don't know," Steve answered.
Realization dawned on Clint, and a wash of betrayal swept in after it. "I can't trust my own eyes."
"Uh, Clint? I think we have a problem," Tony cut into his thoughts as the scientist looked through the doorway. "I hear more guards coming."
Clint stretched out his hand again, watching in morbid fascination as it passed straight through the captain's chest. Steve bowed his head to watch the motion, raising it to look at Clint anxiously.
"You're not real," Clint whispered, face settling into a blank mask.
His whole body was jarred when Tony grabbed him roughly by the shoulders.
"Hey, you need to pull it together or we are all going to die," Tony barked, giving his companion a shake to emphasise his point.
Clint tore his gaze away from Steve's fearful one and turned his back on the image of his friend. "Right," he agreed, gathering his resolve.
Tony looked relieved and led the way to the table. "Let's wake him up."
Clint heard the other Steve step up beside him, and fought the urge to look at him. "Whatever they gave him must have been pretty powerful if it was strong enough to overwhelm his metabolism," Clint observed, grounding himself.
"Cap!" Tony called. "Wake up!"
Clint hesitated before laying his hand on the shoulder of the man before him. A warm, physical body met his touch and his fingers curled into the fabric of Steve's shirt. The noise of rapidly approaching boots grew louder and Tony turned to scoop up Clint's abandoned weapon before positioning himself in the doorway.
"Hey, Cap. You gotta wake up," Clint murmured. "Or else I might lose my mind for good," he added dryly. The soldier's eyelids fluttered and Clint's heart jumped a beat. "That's it. Come on, Steve," he encouraged.
"Whatever you need to do, you better do it fast," Tony warned from his place as lookout.
Jolting out of his reverie, Clint realized the urgency of the situation. In the space of a second, he drew back his hand and slapped Steve across the face. Steve jerked, eyes flying open and body jackknifing upright.
"Thank goodness," Clint breathed. Louder he said, "Hey, Cap. It's good to see you." For real, he added in his mind.
"Where are we?" Steve wondered, looking around the room. His eyes came back to Clint and he gripped the archer's shoulder. "Are you okay?" he inquired.
Clint looked down at the actual, solid hand on his arm and nodded. "I think I am now."
"Ah, the sleeping beauty awakens," Tony greeted from across the room.
"You good, Stark?" Steve questioned, levering himself off the bed.
"Peachy. But we got a problem," Tony answered. "Five of them, actually." He tilted his head to indicate the approaching troop of guards.
Steve tensed, muscles coiling for the approaching confrontation. He crossed the room and peeked around the corner of the door frame. Pulling back, he took a deep breath.
"Ready?" he questioned Tony. When Tony shifted his weight uncertainly, the corner of Steve's mouth quirked up. "Do you want to give that to Barton?"
Tony gladly relinquished the gun to Clint's capable hands. Steve nodded in approval. He met Clint's eyes, and the archer was struck by the confidence being projected by his leader. Then Steve ducked out of the room, launching himself at the Hydra soldiers.
I do have a second chapter half written but I'm not sure I'll finish it. This chapter contained the idea I wanted to write so I don't know if I'll finish the second part. Let me know if you want a continuation (or not) and I'll move forward (or not) based on the reviews. :)