The next month blurred together. They mostly focused on a series of lessons on sign language with Phil and the remaining Avengers attending too. Following that, they shoved him into therapy. He knew Wanda, Scott and Sam all had to go too, and they were supposed to do group therapy but it was hard when no one could look the other in the eye. Mostly, he went to his individual sessions and then escaped into the air vent above Phil's office when group therapy happened. Scott got released first and was the first of their small tortured prisoner crew who got the go-ahead to return to the States. Despite being a wanted criminal, Scott was determined to head home to his family. Sam got the next clean bill of health but he wasn't leaving Steve's side.
Once Scott was gone and it was clear Clint and Wanda would need more help than what the S.H.I.E.L.D. psych team could manage, Steve made the executive decision to return to Wakanda. Wanda needed all the medical attention possible. She hadn't spoken since her rescue and Clint wasn't exactly in a position to talk to her. The quacks hadn't been able to give him a real promising estimate on hearing aids, so he was stuck stumbling around. And in the moments where he wasn't hidden in the air vents or stuck in therapy, Steve seemed to have made it his personal mission to apologize. Every chance he got. But the thing was, Clint didn't need his apology. When he'd started this whole mess, he'd understood the consequences. Granted, the Raft wasn't entirely expected, but it boiled down to the same thing. So he brushed Steve's apologies off and made jokes and poked at and goaded the man until Steve actually left him alone.
Which, funny enough, didn't make him feel all that better about himself.
And when they landed in Wakanda, he and Wanda were both ferried away by Wakandan ministers and doctors to private suits where the doors weren't locked and psychotherapists were waiting. That was such a Phil move. After one intense therapy session that lasted close to six hours –half of that time had been spent waiting for the translator to sign out his words –they moved Clint into an art therapy session with Wanda. Wanda actually gave him a shy smile and there was color back in her cheeks, although she was still wearing an oversized hoodie and sweatpants, she looked miles better than he'd seen her recently.
He used employed his best arts and crafts skills to the plethora of supplies he had ready. He recreated the Avengers Tower and proceeded to crush it with a Tony Stark figurine (okay, sue him, it was a red and orange playdoh blob –they hadn't provided him with toys) and then he gently lay the crushed armor on top. At the bottom, he attached playdoh figurines of the good guys. He was purple, Natasha was black with a red up-do, Steve was –Steve was, well, an accident. Steve was a misshapen glob of red-white-and-blue, his hand linking him to the black and silver blob that represented Bucky. His therapist seemed delighted at his 'progress' so he moved onto the clay and paints.
"Just do whatever you feel comfortable doing," she'd said brightly. "Be it as cathartic as saving yourself or as simple as a thank you note for a friend."
With the clay, he clumsily molded it into a vaguely car-shaped blob before putting it in the kiln and moving on to finding the exact shade of red he would need. By the time he was done his thank you gift, it was a bright red mess with two misshapen figures making out in the front seat. At the end of the session, he gathered his art therapy and snuck it into Phil's room, setting it on his desk. Phil had promised that he would stay until he knew everyone was safe after all. He spread out the art work proudly, arranging it on Phil's desk before he climbed back into the air vent and escaped from the Wakandan facility they'd placed him in.
He took a deep breath, inhaling salt-humid air before releasing his breath. His ribs didn't hurt anymore. He wasn't all better either, but he was worlds away from where he had just been.