Steve paced the confines of his tiny cell trying not to enjoy the warmth as much as he did. The extra blankets that had been thrown in when he arrived were heavenly and, despite all the worries weighing on his mind, Rogers had drifted off to sleep in a cocoon of warmth. Tremors had wracked his body to the point that he didn't feel he would ever get warm again, but accepting the small hospitality when the archer might not have the same luxury seemed like a betrayal of the worst kind. He had hoped that, upon waking, Clint would be in the cell with him or at the very least in one next to him, but the row of gloomy cages was still empty.
It wasn't in his nature to give up, the commander's words running through his head. Perhaps it would be kinder to him as well? The implications weren't anything he wanted to think about; the number of horrors that could be befalling his friend at that moment was too horrible to consider. Steve collapsed to his knees and began to heave. With a trembling hand, he wiped his mouth and leaned against the wall. He stared at the cot covered in warm, thick, inviting blankets with disdain. If he wasn't sure what kind of treatment his teammate was receiving, he wasn't going to partake in any further kindness offered.
The hours passed painfully slowly, one soul-crushing moment at a time. The only thing to keep him company was the sound of his own breath and the creak of the dilapidated pipe that ran overhead. It took longer than Steve would ever want to admit for the voices to penetrate the numb state he had fallen into. The words were just whispers about nothing, but as they worked their way into his brain, the casual conversation turned to a more relevant topic. Rogers had to strain to hear the conversation echoing down the old pipe.
Like most things involving the twenty-first century, the techno-babble was over the Captain's head; the gist of it seemed to involve a cloaking device, the Avengers' jet, a next gen missile and never knowing what hit them, painting a pretty clear picture of doom. He had never doubted that the team would be looking for them, but he couldn't have them flying into a trap, especially if Hydra had a weapon that could take out the team. There would be no stopping them if they succeeded.
Steve began to pace; it helped him think and maybe, just maybe, he could come up with something that would help him warn the team; his recent track record didn't exactly inspire confidence. He didn't get very far before the rusted door swung open and the commander that had marched the two prisoners from the cave to the base entered. They locked eyes, trying to size one another up; neither one succeeded in intimidating the other.
"Where's Hawkeye?" demanded Rogers, his hands gripped around the bars of the cell with a force he'd rather be applying to the man's neck.
"Your friend was most unwilling to have a civil conversation with me. It was very disappointing after all we've done for him," replied the commander in a tone of mock disappointment.
A sceptical frown warped the blonde's features. "And just what did you do for him?"
An evil smirk flashed across the Hydra leader's face. "Poor thing was half frozen and mangled, but he didn't seem to appreciate the great lengths we went through to try and save him."
Steve had to fight to remain standing, a cold panic gripping him. The implication that Clint was dead settled heavily in his chest, while the sting of failure caused his stomach to roll.
The commander let out a laugh at the subtle display of distress that swept over his prisoner. He wasn't sure if his hunch had been correct, especially after the brief report he had received about the prisoners' interactions before the plane crashed en route but it looked like he had found a way to get the good Captain to capitulate.
"Ah, the hot tempered ingrate is still alive for now. He just needed some time to cool off."
"And what's that supposed to mean?"
"It means I think it would be better for both of you if you could talk some sense into your soldier." The commander folded his hands behind his back and began to pace in front of the cell. "I'm not stupid. I know he's more affiliated with SHIELD than you and, therefore, has more information to offer, but, rest assured, I will not hesitate to end him. There are equally enticing opportunities for you as well. "
With a nod, the two guards that had been lurking by the door marched towards the cell, guns at their ready. "Step away from the bars," ordered the first as the second fumbled the key ring clipped to his belt. Steve raised his hands and took a step back; his eyes focused on the key ring, particularly the Swiss army knife attached. It wasn't a thought his mind wandered to often, but visions of ramming the small blade into one of their necks flashed through his brain.
Rogers complied as his hands were pulled in front of him and the four men left the cell. The halls were empty and the doors they passed were shut, hindering Steve's attempts to gather intel on their current location. The only open room was, conveniently, the radio room, which was on full display as they marched past, just out of reach, taunting him with the possibility of warning his friends. When they reached the end of the hall, the commander pulled a key card to swipe across the scanner by the door. The pad beeped and the lock clicked before the older man pushed the door open; he waved his hand, gesturing for Steve to step in first.
The room was dark and Steve had to clench his eyes shut as the lights burst on above him. Harsh light flooded the desolate concrete room. Rogers searched for any sign of Barton, but the room was empty except for himself, the two guards and the commander. "Where's..."
The commander simply pointed to the large screen adorning the wall. It flickered a few times until it filled with the white haze of the landscape outside the complex. The camera went in and out of focus until the dark figure in the middle of the screen took a familiar shape.
"I told you he needed to cool off a bit," taunted the commander.
Steve almost bit through his tongue as he tried to hold back his initial reaction to pummel someone. He had worked so hard to get Barton out of the cold, taken the risk to get them both there and, while he was enjoying the warmth of a cell, they had thrown the archer back out in the cold.
"I suggest you talk some sense in to him. If he tells me what I want to know, he can go back to the infirmary and thaw out, if not..." the commander shrugged as if leaving a man to freeze to death was no more complicated than squishing a bug. "I suggest you put on a jacket, Captain."
The first guard pulled his key ring and began unlocking Steve's restraints while the second held out a thick coat for him. Rogers found himself in motion before he even realized what he was doing. The second the cuffs clicked open he slammed his hand into the first guard's chest, throwing the man backwards. Taking advantage of the second guard's surprise, Steve lunged forward and tackled the guard. They hit the ground with a thud, the guard putting up marginal protest as he tried to catch his breath.
The struggle lasted mere moments before the butt of a rifle came crashing down on the back of Steve's neck. The blow knocked the super soldier over and he rolled onto his hands and knees. His chest heaved and his muscles coiled ready for a second attempt. A second blow came, this time to the side of the Captain's head, leaving him seeing stars.
Blood trickled down the side of Steve's head. He let out a muffled groan as he was hauled roughly to his feet. The two guards had regained their senses. While their grip was tight, Rogers could've shaken them loose if not for the commander, who moved in front of his face.
"I will forgive your transgression once because you had to try, but make another attempt and I will not hesitate to kill you and do unspeakable things to your subordinate." His eyes drilled into his prisoner's until the blond reluctantly nodded his understanding. "Now, you will go out and you will convince Hawkeye to give me all of SHIELD's secrets or he will die. If you try anything, understand that I can neutralize both of you before you make it two steps. Be persuasive, Captain. That young man's life rests in your hands."
Steve was pushed out the door with a hard shove. The harsh wind offered a familiar sting and his lungs burned with a renewed protest to once again being outside. A million thoughts crowded his mind, all fighting for attention; Bucky's voice, plans to escape, his last conversation with Peggy, the Avengers walking into a trap, his own inner voice of doubt, Barton's trust every time he received an order from Captain America over the comms, and it was all too much. It paralyzed him. He rolled the Swiss army knife he'd relieved from the second guard over in his pocket. It felt heavy.
Unsure what to do, how he could possibly turn this situation around so everyone survived, he did the only thing available to him at the moment; he took a step forward, then another and another until he was in front of Clint. The smaller man was on his knees, his wrists chained to a metal ring in the ground; his trembling was visible from several feet away. His head was bowed and he had curled himself into as compact a ball as possible to try and retain any warmth he could. Steve kneeled down in front of Barton, but the archer gave no indication that he was even aware that he was no longer alone. The violent shivering, pale skin and blue tinge to his lips and fingers struck deep at Rogers' soul
"Y-you kn-know the w-wors-t par-t, Cap?" His voice was barely louder than the chatter of his teeth. "They w-warmed me u-up be-fore they th-threw me b-back out here. Sssseems crueller, somehow, you know?"
Steve reached out and placed a hand on Clint's shoulder. Even the fabric of the sweatshirt they dressed Hawkeye in felt terribly cold; it was certainly too thin to offer any relief from the elements. Tilting his head to the side, Barton's gaze followed the jacket clad arm until he locked eyes with the blond. "Huh."
The revelation in Clint's eyes as the agent pieced together the situation hurt as much as the guilt Steve felt that there was anything to have a revelation about. There was no condemnation aimed at Rogers for having something as simple and longed for as a warm coat or the fact that the enemy clearly deemed the Captain more valuable, only acceptance that this is what the universe wanted.
"You come to talk s-some sense into m-me?" asked Clint.
"Would it do any good?"
"N-not gonna betray SH-SHIELD."
"I didn't think that you would, Barton, but... no one would blame you if you gave them something," offered Steve. His voice came out smoother than he thought he was capable at the moment.
"I'd bl-blame me."
The howl of the wind filled the silence that settled between them.
Steve could feel the pocket knife burning a hole in his jacket, feel the commander's warning tumbling around in his head. "They have a new type of missile and they're planning on using it against the team when they show up to rescue us. From what I heard, it's non-detectable. The team won't stand a chance."
"C-can't let them use it. Have... have to warn the team, Cap." Clint locked eyes with Steve; he could hear everything the Captain wasn't saying. The only thing he could do now was offer his blessing and forgiveness. "F-four ver-versus one, you have to do it."
Rogers wanted to crawl into a corner and close his eyes until the world disappeared. It was decision time, despite the unfairness of having to choose between one teammate and four, it was his job as team leader to make the call. Steve wanted to be selfish and demand that Clint get angry, that the archer, who seemed to have an unending amount of faith in the initiative, scream and yell at Rogers for failing him, not offer him absolution and understanding.
"I'm sorry, Clint; I can't save you and get to the radio to warn the team."
"Gotta do it, Cap. Good luck." Clint let his chin rest against his chest. He didn't want the last thing he saw to be that heartbreaking look Steve got when he realized the world was unfair and that, no matter how hard he tried, sometimes the good guys just got screwed. Captain America would get through this, though he wasn't sure Steve Rogers was going to be able to as well.
Steve's strong hand wrapped around Barton's trembling one and gave it a supportive squeeze before he got to his feet. He trudged back to the door, fighting the desire to run back and snap the chains holding his friend with every step. He'd made the call and he was going to have to live with the consequences of that decision for the rest of his life.
The door to the complex clicked shut as Steve disappeared behind it. He knew Steve would save the team, either warn them so Tony could figure out how to detect the missiles or stop Hydra from using them. Rogers was Captain America after all; he always saved the day.
Clint clenched the pocket knife Steve slipped him, in his cold numb fingers.
