Chapter Seven

"What does he mean?" Steve demanded. His wrists were mince meat from straining against the shackles but still he continued. The condition of his friend was appalling. In the few minutes Tasha had been there she'd done more to him than all Cave's whips and bats combined. Steve wished desperately that the other Avengers would find them, very soon.

The instructions his boss had left him still fresh in his mind, John sighed heavily before leaving the room without answering Steve's question. A moment later he returned with more buckets of water and a large first aid kit tucked under his arm.

"What does he mean?" Steve persisted.

"Some of our men have twisted preferences when it comes to sex. Some of them will be thrilled to do what they want with a man of Mr. Barton's appearance. You can draw your own conclusions from that," John responded.

"Let him down," Steve ordered. Clint was unconscious. His body continued to tremble and the muscles in his back would randomly spasm. Even though he couldn't really see Clint's face he knew the man was grimacing and panting. As he watched more bile dribbled from Clint's mouth right after his stomach heaved. God Steve wished he could do something.

"Nope, sorry, not going to happen," John replied. He stood in front of Clint, a few feet away to keep from stepping in the vomit, deciding where to start. There were so many places that needed attention. Grunting, he picked up the smallest bucket and used it to wash the vomit away, towards Clint's feet. The archer didn't respond however, he was still unconscious. Now that he could get closer, John soaked a cloth in a bucket of soapy water and began to wash Clint's right shoulder. It was the closest thing to him and as good a place to start as any.

"You can't let this happen," Steve pressed. He knew that Tasha had forced sex on Clint more than once. He'd had the terrible pleasure of witnessing the last time she'd done it. Clint was scarred by the events but the thought of a line up of men waiting to use his friend was more than Steve could face. "Please, don't do this."

"I'm not doing it," John responded. He'd cleaned the right side of Clint's torso and was now moving onto his left side. The first bucket of water was pretty grimy all ready but he'd only brought so many so he kept using it. "That would be the men who choose to rape him that are going to do it."

"Stop it," Steve breathed. Giving in to the desperation and sadness that were trying to overwhelm him, Steve closed his eyes and slumped back against the wall behind him. Frantically he tried to come up with a plan, any plan to prevent this from happening. Five minutes later, he was still drawing a blank.

Clint knew something was wrong. He knew he had to stay conscious to prevent whatever was going to happen. But, every time Clint forced his mind to the surface, the pain pounced. He would stay awake from anywhere between ten and thirty seconds. Then, he'd be pulled back under. The pain was winning and so intense he couldn't draw breath while he was awake. Once he was unconscious, his body took over and forced him to breathe.

Forcing his way into the conscious world once again, Clint sucked in a pained breath and tried to blink his eyes clear. He was dimly aware that Steve was talking but he couldn't hear the words. He slowly became aware of the fact that something wet was being wiped down his side. Automatically, Clint tried to move away from the touch. Instantly, his back reacted to the movement, erupting in yet new pain as blood began to flow in small trickles down his back. Gasping, Clint was no longer aware as darkness dragged him back down.

Gritting his teeth, John tried to ignore the sounds that were coming from Clint with each breath. He knew the man was in unimaginable pain. This wasn't the first time he'd seen all of this done before. But, most often the men who'd suffered at Cave's order had been evil men.

John chose to not be aware of what went on in the world. It complicated his mind too much more often than not. Still, he knew who Clint was, what he did. He knew that Clint and Captain America had helped prevent the entire world being taken over by aliens. This was not a bad man he was striving to clean up. Swallowing his doubts, John concentrated on what he was doing. It was just easier that way.

OOOOO

John was just finishing cleaning Clint. He'd slowed down unconsciously because he could hear the loud, raucous sounds outside the cell of the men lining up to take their turn at the man he was tending. Bile rose in his throat for the first time in a long time. Could he really let this happen? Glancing over at Steve, John quickly ducked his head again. He had no choice. Cave was his boss. He had a degree of loyalty towards the man. On top of that he knew the man would kill him if he tried to interfere in any way with what was about to happen.

"Please," Steve pleaded. He was back to pulling on the chains. He could hear the words being spoken outside. The men waiting with such relish to abuse his friend were part of the reason he'd originally chosen to remove himself from this world. He couldn't believe that men or people in general were willing to subject such suffering on another human being simply to generate pleasure for themselves. Mindlessly he strained against the metal bonds, completely oblivious to the ravaging his wrists had all ready taken. "Please don't let this happen."

Ignoring the man, John was finished. Sitting back on his heels where he knelt in front of Clint's limp body, the mercenary looked up into Clint's slack face. The bile was back. Swallowing quickly, John moved to stand up. At the last moment, though, he paused, reached forward and gently moved Clint's feet backward so they were no longer touching the ground. The new position put more pressure on the man's back but he was pretty sure it was a fair trade off.

Slowly, John began the process of cleaning up the supplies he'd used. Behind him the door to the cell flew open. On guard, the mercenary turned quickly, expecting to have to push one of the rabid men back out of the room. What he found instead, though, was Tasha marching towards him, a rage twisting her beautiful face that made his blood start to run cold.

"Miss Romanoff, what can I do for you?" John asked. It was automatic to him to be polite. He was surprised to see the woman, especially as angry as she was. Hadn't Cave's treatments severed all emotional connection to the man hanging behind him?

"Is it true?" Tasha demanded. She tried to move past Cave's right hand man to reach Clint. For some unknown reason she felt the need to undo his shackles and lower the man to the ground. Mentally shaking her head, Tasha allowed the fury to wash over her again. Who the hell was Cave to give her toy to every swinging dick in the place? She could kill the man at the moment.

"Yes," John responded simply. Satisfied that the woman wasn't going to do anything rash, at least not in the next two minutes, John turned away from her to continue cleaning up. He wasn't going to leave these men anything to use as a prop against the man moaning lowly in front of him.

"He can't do that!" Tasha growled. John had stopped her forward momentum. Now she was pacing around the cell like a caged animal, her anger fuelling every step. "Barton is mine!"

"No, Miss Romanoff, Mr. Barton belongs to Mr. Cave. He always has," John stated. Standing up, he was getting ready to leave the room. He was only dimly aware of the fact that the hallway beyond the door had gone very quiet. Tasha's pacing was covering up some of the lack of sound.

"No!" Tash spit. She rounded on the mercenary, intent on ripping his head off. She was completely unprepared for the door to the cell to fly open and the room to suddenly fill with too many bodies. Instinctively, she fought against the nearest body. She was used to being able to neutralize any opponent. As a result, she was surprised to be quickly caught and cuffed. Only then did she see who she'd been trying to fight. Iron Man's helmet glared at her, if that was possible.

"Let's go," Tony's tiny voice ordered. Struggling against the restraints, Tasha tried desperately to get away. Shrugging, Tony raised his hand and fired one of his lifters. The woman hit the wall, hard, and then crumbled to the floor, unconscious.

"Was that really necessary?" Thor asked. He'd come in behind Tony and hadn't really gotten the entire picture yet. Standing back, John held his hands up, waiting to see what kind of justice was about to be meted out. Beyond the blond god's shoulder he could see all the men in the corridor sprawled on the floor. For some reason, seeing their twisted unconscious forms made him feel better.

"Get Clint down!" Steve ordered. He was so very relieved to see the others but their banter was grating on his nerves. It was as if they didn't see the state the archer was in. But then, Steve guessed they really hadn't, yet.

"No problem," Tony said. He turned towards the slumped archer and stopped dead. For the first time he really saw the man. Rushing forward, he caught hold of Clint's torso and tried to pull him up so he wasn't hanging from his arms. Inadvertently, he lifted the man up enough that his feet touched the ground. In his arms, Tony heard the smaller man moan and then whimper as his thin body began to tremble uncontrollably. "What the hell?"

Thor had turned his attention to Steve and pulled his shackles open. Instantly, the soldier was rushing forward, trying to pull Clint away from a confused Tony.

"Get his feet off the ground," Steve ordered. The room was suddenly too small and he couldn't quite reach the younger blond man. Unsure of how else to touch the archer, Tony lifted him up and then turned towards Thor.

A startled gasp burst through the god's defences as his blue eyes regarded the damage done to Barton's back. "What have they done to him?" Thor demanded. The man's back was covered with welts, open wounds and dried and fresh blood. The pain emanating from the tortured flesh made the god's skin crawl. Then his gaze was drawn to the archer's feet. Tears pricked the underside of Thor's eye lids. What have they done?

Suddenly, the god wanted nothing more than to protect the smaller man. Seeing how awkward Tony was being, Thor stepped forward and carefully removed the battered form from Iron Man's hands. He pulled Clint's chest against his own, allowing the blond man's head to rest on his shoulder. Carrying the smaller man much like a sleeping child, he held him up by wrapping his arms around his upper legs, just under his butt. Another low moan emitted from Clint at the contact with his butt but Thor just assumed it was the other injuries. Besides, it was the lesser of the evils. By holding Clint the way he was he kept the man's back from being touched and his feet off the ground.

"What didn't they do to him?" Steve answered with another question. As much as he wanted to beat John to a pulp, he knew they were rapidly running out of time. Cave was bound to figure out something was going on. Deliberately, he moved toward John. Grasping the man by the neck, he forced the soldier over to the shackles Clint had first awoken in. They were the only ones that were still intact. Then he shackled the man to the wall and shoved one of the cloths into his mouth. He didn't want to kill John when he was unarmed and helpless but the urge was very strong.

"Let's get out of here," Steve said. "Where's Bruce?"

"We weren't ready to let the Big Guy out so he'd back at camp, waiting for us to bring you both back," Tony said. Now that his arms were free, he turned to the still unconscious form of Tasha. Despite everything, he couldn't leave her. Sighing with frustration, he bent down, picked the woman up and turned to face the others. "Let's go."

A/N: Yeah, I'm sorry. I couldn't let it happen. As awful as I've been to Clint I couldn't allow him to be gang raped. I hope you can survive without that happening. Besides, I figure I've beaten the crap out of the man enough...for the moment. ;)

Thank you to Sinkme for taking the time to review! I can't tell you how much that means to me.

I hope you enjoyed the new chapter.