A/N: SURPRISE! I'm BACK. A lot of you seemed to want a real, proper conclusion to this story. So, here I am! (grins)
A word of warning, though… This'll get REALLY SAD. So, I truly hope that you'll be prepared for such if you decide to advance further…
THANK YOU, from the bottom of my heart, for your reviews, listings and love! GOSH. I'm absolutely baffled by how many of you enjoyed the starting point of this. (HUGS)
Awkay, because it's getting REALLY late… Let's go! I really hope that you'll enjoy the ride.
X
The full reality of his situation crashed on Clint the moment Tony left the holding section after their brief, unpleasant talk. He began to tremble miserably as he slid to the floor, pulling his legs against his chest. His eyes stung and eventually he closed them. Feeling utterly drained and defeated.
Let them watch all they like through the security footage.
He was supposed to help Wanda and then return home. But somehow he ended up failing both those goals. Wanda was imprisoned with him. A criminal.
The thought made Clint's chest tighten. A criminal. After everything he'd done and been through… that was his final label? This was the end of his last mission?
The pain, which he'd forgotten for a moment during Tony's visit, that came rolling in had nothing to do with the emotional ache. He squeezed his eyes shut even more tightly and took a deep breath, then another. Trying the deep breathing techniques he'd been taught to use to help when the pains began to get too much. It was a small mercy that he didn't know about the tears running down his cheeks.
Yes, the reality he lived in crashed on him like a steamroller.
He'd die here, in this cell. As a criminal. And unless it was by some miracle he'd never see his family again.
Clint gritted his teeth painfully tightly, curling into himself the best as he could without the discomfort becoming unbearable. Missing his family, missing the way the team once was. He would've started to scream at the injustice of it all if he hadn't feared that it might crack his throbbing skull.
They were all interrogated, several times over.
Wanda could tell that their guards were afraid of her and found it ironic. She'd never done anything to harm a single one of them. They, on the other hand, enabled her going through painful experiments and questions. Like she was a lab rat.
And these people honestly thought that they were better than HYDRA…
Wanda had no idea how long had passed from them being captured when she roused from light sleep to the sounds of rushing steps and loudly barked, urgent orders. At first she imagined that one of them had attempted to escape. But then she noticed the amount of medical personnel and felt her whole body turn cold while her stomach knotted. And they were all rushing into Clint's cell.
"HEY!" Sam was banging his fist loudly at the plexiglass. "What the hell is going on? What are you doing?"
Loudly spoken medical jargon – such that made no sense to her – drifted to Wanda's ears. And then, before she could quite catch her breath, they were rushing away with Clint. There were so many people crammed around the archer that it was impossible to see him clearly. But she did notice that he was too still. Only one thought fit into her head.
Something was wrong. Something was wrong. Something was wrong.
She knew as much with absolute certainty because the last time she felt like this was right before Pietro's death.
She wanted to run, to do something, but couldn't with the way she'd been restrained. She wanted to scream and shout but didn't have enough breath. She wanted to cry but the tears pooled into her eyes without really falling.
And so she was stuck on waiting, just like she once foolishly wished for her parents to return somehow while she and Pietro were trapped in the rubble.
Tony barely had the time to catch his breath after the confrontation with Steve and Bucky before he received the news that something was horribly wrong with Clint. He was on the move before he had any time to process his decision, reacting by instinct. His heart pounded mercilessly while everything that'd gone wrong recently kept spinning around in his head on an endless loop. Tony's heart sunk all the way to his stomach when instead of the holding section he was led to the medical wing.
What the hell was going on?
Once he made it there a young, solemn faced doctor greeted him. She was undeniably attractive with her huge, sharp blue eyes and long blond hair. Under different circumstances he might've… "I'm sorry to bother you on such a late hour, but…"
Tony shook his head, interrupting her sharply. He was starting to get a nasty feeling that time was an issue, here. "It's okay. Just tell me what's going on." It wasn't a gentle request.
The doctor didn't seem to mind. "Clint… collapsed. As it turns out he's malnourished and dehydrated. He also seems to be in pain but is refusing to let any of us examine him." She sighed, appearing tired and frustrated. How long had she been fighting with Clint? "He'd need a hospital, but…" She left the rest hanging but the words were very clearly audible. Not fighting with just the archer, then.
Tony swallowed laboriously. The lump in his throat didn't go anywhere. "I know how stubborn that idiot can be." He aimed for a joking tone and failed miserably. "Can I, eh, see him?"
The doctor nodded and motioned for him to follow. They both knew that she was risking her job but she didn't seem to give a damn. "There's this ethical code I swore to follow upon graduating to my profession." Her jawline tightened. "Sometimes I wonder if I'm working for the good guys, after all."
Tony felt like someone had just stabbed him. A bitter taste filled his mouth. "Who are the good guys anymore, anyway?"
The doctor didn't bother to answer. And that was when they reached their destination. Tony froze, his eyes widening. If he'd been feeling horrible before…
Clint was handcuffed to the bed although it looked like the man wouldn't have been able to walk more than a couple of steps without collapsing. The archer was horribly pale and evidence of lost weight was all over his face. The Hawk was trembling from the strain of sitting up, breathing and staying awake alone. The bruises on the man's arms made Tony feel sick and see red.
What the hell had those people been doing to his… friends? Were they friends? Still?
Just then Clint lifted his head, just enough to see him. The Hawk did his best to hide it but mistrust, such that pained Tony, could still be seen. "What… are you doing here?"
Well, if that didn't hurt… "I heard that you've been an idiot." Worry made his tone sharper than it was supposed to be. He barely noticed the doctor's departure. "What are you doing, trying to starve yourself?"
Clint breathed sharply. Looking quite a bit like a trapped wild animal. The man refused to look at him. It took some time before the answer came, in a voice that didn't sound anything like Clint's. "I'm not eating because it'd come back up, anyway. Okay? And I won't let them poke around because I already know what's wrong."
Tony stared. He had a strange feeling that there were ice-chips in his bloodstream. "What are you talking about?"
Finally, Clint met his eyes. The trapped look in them had transformed into such ache, sorrow, rage and longing that it shattered his heart. "I'm dying, Tony. This, getting Wanda out… It was supposed to be my final hat-trick." The man snorted, looking away once more. "I forgot my usual luck."
Forget about getting stabbed, or shot. That… would've hurt much less. Because just then the full consequences of the whole stupid war began to land on Tony's sagging shoulders. And it took all his willpower to not start crying right there and then.
Idiots, all of them.
Tony wanted to start screaming, ranting and shouting. He was itching to throw things. Instead he stood paralyzed, staring at his once incredibly strong friend who was fading away before his very eyes. He wanted to roar at his friend, accuse the man of keeping this from him, although he knew that it was ridiculous. He also wanted to apologize, from the bottom of his far too proud heart. Yet something very different slipped through his lips. "Did Steve know?" Because if the soldier did… If Steve actually called Clint in knowing…
Clint, however, shook his head.
Tony nodded, dazed and numb from shock. He could already feel a hurricane rising within, though. There was so much he would've wanted to – needed to – say… "Clint…"
"Are you going to help me out of here?"
How was he supposed to answer that?
Clint clearly took his silence for an answer. The Hawk nodded, bitterness visible for a fraction of a second. "That's what I thought. So… Leave. Before you get yourself or others into any more trouble. And if it eases your guilty conscience… I'm a grown man. I knew what I was getting into from the start."
Tony gritted his teeth. Speechless, breathless. "Still, I… I'm sorry."
Clint's eyes softened. Seeing, as per usual, something most people wouldn't have. "I know. So am I."
Tony shifted his weight with discomfort. Unwilling to leave although staying was excruciating and, like Clint just pointed out, a plain bad idea. "Just… Take care of yourself, okay?" Without noticing it he'd moved to the automatic doors leading to the room. "Maybe… Maybe we'll still figure something out." He wouldn't give up. Couldn't.
Clint's eyes, however, told very clearly what the reality was. The archer's shoulders slumped. "You take care of yourself, too." With those words – which felt too much like a goodbye – the doors closed between them.
It wasn't until Tony made it to his office he wiped his face and was surprised when his hand came back moist.
Natasha knew what had happened the second she received a text message from Tony. Few worded, filled with spelling errors which gave away the billionaire's drunken state. The reek of alcohol was still present when she entered his office, her heart heavy from worry, sorrow and helpless fury. A remarkable achievement, really, from a woman who once claimed that she didn't have a heart at all.
Tony was stood by the window with his back to her. She'd been there for a while before he spoke. "Did you know?"
Natasha didn't need clarification. The memories made her shiver. "Yeah." The day Clint revealed why he was really retiring, told her with teary eyes just how little time he had left and begged her to look after his family when he couldn't… It was definitely among the most horrible days of her life. Something she wished to have been nothing but a nightmare.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Tony snapped, turning towards her. His eyes were sharp and hard. She could tell that she wasn't the real target of his rage.
"Would it have changed anything?" The silence which answered her was what she'd been expecting. She sighed heavily, hating how her eyes stung. "Look… Why you did, what you did… I get it. I really do. But you'll have to decide just how much collateral damage you're willing to accept." With those words she left the room, knowing full well that she'd already met her own limit.
Especially after the discovery of Clint's condition Tony was keeping a close enough eye on the imprisoned group to know about Steve's plans well before the Captain appeared to break out the team. He had the option to alert those keeping guard. He didn't.
Instead he read Steve's letter a second time. Then took deep breaths, picked up his phone and dialed. "Cancel all my meetings for the next few days. I'm finally taking that holiday you've been nagging about…"
TBC
A/N: If it's any consolation, typing that hurt. And the next – and last – chapter is going to hurt even worse. (winces) Poor, poor Clint! Poor whole team! This one's gonna HURT. Let's just hope that he gets to see his family before it's too late.
Soooo… Thoughts? Comments? Rants? PLEASE, do let me know! It's sort of unnerving to continue on a story I thought was completed so it'd be AWESOME to hear from you.
Until next time, folks! I really hope that I'll see you there. Perhaps, with tissues…
Take care!
Ande: There is! And now it will! (grins) I really hope that you'll enjoy what's to come.
Gigantic thank yous for the review!
