The title for chapter three is from "The Light Behind Your Eyes" by My Chemical Romance
Chapter 3: with every passing day
One week of fruitlessly searching, finding nothing but dead ends and empty Hydra bases. One week of leaving Pietro abandoned in their enemy's hands. Clint could barely stand it. Wanda had been trying to track him down, to reach out to him, but something had broken the connection between the twins. It was exhausting her, Clint could see it. She looked pale and tired, but she kept stubbornly trying, no matter how obvious it was that this wasn't going to work.
"Wanda, you've got to stop," Clint told her at last.
"I can't. We have to find him," said Wanda.
"Your connection with him is broken, or being interfered with, or something. You know it is," said Clint. "You're exhausting yourself. We'll find Pietro, but not like that. You're not gonna be much good at rescuing him if you've worn yourself out beforehand."
Wanda sighed.
"I know. I just... if I don't keep trying, I'll feel like I'm giving up on him."
"You won't be, I promise," said Clint, placing his hand on her shoulder. "We're gonna keep looking for him, no matter how long it takes. I don't care if we're searching for a hundred years. We will never give up on him."
One week. One week enduring their torture, being drugged and beaten and Lord knows what else they did to him when he was out of it. Pietro could stick it out, he knew he could, until his friends came to save him. But where the hell were they? It had been a week, but there was no sign of the Avengers, not even a hint that they were coming for him. But they had to be. Even if the rest of the team had given him up for dead, he knew that Wanda and Clint wouldn't let him go that easily. They wouldn't abandon him. They couldn't.
But still. A whole week had gone by, and as much as Pietro wanted to believe he could hold up until his friends rescued him, he really wasn't sure how much more of Hydra's torture he could actually handle. Maybe it was time he stopped waiting around to be saved. Maybe he needed to just save himself. He would be risking a lot, since he couldn't run like he used to, but if they recaptured him, what was the worst they could do? They were already torturing him.
When they came for him again, Pietro went quietly as he always did. But when they got him to the lab, he knew it was now or never. He took a deep breath. It was time. Before either of his escorts could have time to register what was happening, Pietro yanked his arms free of their grasp and turned to punch them both in the face. They both staggered backward, and Pietro made a dash for it. Holy shit, he did not remember being this slow before his powers. Still, he ran as fast as he could, the exit from this living hell in his sights. He reached the door and slammed into it, but it didn't open. He desperately rattled the handle, but still nothing. It was locked.
"Dammit..."
He glanced over his shoulder just as his tormenters reached him. They grabbed him and dragged him back to the table, kicking and screaming.
"Let go of me!" Pietro shouted. "Let me go, you bastards!"
They slammed him onto the table and strapped down his hands and feet.
"Just you wait, the Avengers will come for me," Pietro spat. "Then you'll be sorry you ever hurt me. You'll see."
"You keep telling yourself that, if it makes you feel better," one of the men said.
"You don't believe me, but they'll come," said Pietro.
"They'll never find you here," the other man said. "You're ours now. And I think it's time we claim our property."
He walked away, out of Pietro's line of sight, and returned with a red-hot brand, the symbol of Hydra glowing orange and menacing. Pietro's breath caught in his chest and his heart started beating frantically.
"No. Please no, don't..." he said, trembling.
The other man stepped forward and held down Pietro's left arm. The man with the iron came toward him now. Pietro tried to struggle, but it was no use. The man pressed the brand onto Pietro's forearm, searing Hydra's symbol into his skin.
"Nothing. Still nothing. Three fucking weeks, and everything we've tried comes up with the same damn thing. Nothing!"
Clint kicked over his chair and stormed across the room. He could feel the eyes of the rest of the team watching him, but he ignored them. Pietro was trapped God knows where, and Hydra was doing God knows what to him, and they were all just sitting around at home scraping the bottle of the barrel for leads. For all they knew, Pietro could be dead, and if he wasn't, he sure as hell would believe that they had abandoned him. Clint couldn't blame him if he did believe that. It had been nearly a month, what else was he supposed to think?
"We're gonna keep trying, Clint," Steve said. "We're gonna find him."
"Yeah, and what exactly will we find by then?" said Clint bitterly. "His broken body?"
"He's not dead," said Wanda. "He can't be, I would know."
"The connection is broken, Wanda, how could you possibly know?" Clint said, whipping around to face her. "He could have been dead this entire time and we would have absolutely no idea. All of this could be for nothing."
"What, you're giving up?" said Tony incredulously.
"Never!" Clint was angry now. "How dare you even think I would give up on him? I'll keep searching if I have to storm every single Hydra base on the planet by myself!"
He was standing over Tony now, trembling with emotion. He hadn't even realized he'd crossed the room. Tony was staring up at him, looking something between scared and sad, like a dog that had been kicked a few too many times. Natasha stood up and placed a gentle hand on Clint's arm.
"Clint, it's okay," she said soothingly. "He didn't mean that."
"Oh God..." Clint murmured, his anger melting away to be replaced by guilt and shame. "I'm sorry... I didn't... I just..."
He turned and rushed from the room, not stopping until he'd reached his own bedroom and slammed the door behind him.
Hydra's tortures had escalated since Pietro's escape attempt. They had done every horrible thing to him he could imagine and more. They drugged him so much and so often that everything had become a big painful blur, constantly fluctuating between sharp awareness and swirling confusion, one long nightmare that wouldn't end whether he was awake or asleep. He wasn't even sure how long he'd been there anymore. He had a vague notion that it might have been a month, but time had become so warped that he really couldn't know for sure.
But still he hadn't given up that one tiny shred of hope he had left that his friends would save him. They were trying, he had to keep telling himself that. There was no way they would let him suffer. Especially not Wanda and Clint. Even if the others gave up, those two would surely keep fighting to get to him. They had to. Pietro had to believe it. If he didn't believe it, he would lose what little of himself he had left. If he let go of that last speck of hope, he would die.
