Hey guys!
Thanks so much for those who take the time to review – they are shinny reminders that I'm not the only one that likes this story ^^ Special thanks to those who reviewed for chapter Six! The mysterious Guest number one, Hawaiichick, Ms. Perception, kimbee, awesomekid34, the mysterious Guest number two, and Anise Nadiah! You guys rock my socks off ^^
Answer to Guest number one: I am so sorry that you got lost somewhere, but I'm not sure exactly where you are confused in the story. My suggestion is to read the prequel to this story Your Lie and see if your answers are there? I also made a reference in the last chapter to one of my other stories Deprivation, it had no real connection to Pinocchio's Demise. If you still are feeling confused feel free to make an account and PM me, I would be happy to talk things out with you. If you are confused others might be as well and I don't want that! Your answers might be revealed in the coming chapters as well, depending on what they are…
Enjoy the next bit!
Chapter Seven
Tony was not calm. He was the opposite of calm, yet somehow he managed to keep a cool face on the outside. Like always Tony was an expert at keeping up an act when he wanted too. Still under the surface Stark was squirming with tension.
Natasha and him were in the belly of a transport plane heading back to New York when all he wanted to do was jump out the back and fly to find Clint – Clint who had vanished off the face of the earth without a trace or bread crumb trail to follow. The archer was simply gone.
Tony's second option was knocking out the guards in the back and strangling Swift until he talked – but Fury wanted the man interrogated at 'home.'
Everything was too quiet and too stationary – Tony wanted action. He needed to do something.
Every since Natasha slammed him against the wall and accused him of tipping Swift off to who Clint was Tony had done everything within his power to not think about it. Guilt wasn't something he dealt with well and Tony always found away to burry burdens.
Like the fact that for most of his life he created weapons that killed millions of people – both innocent and otherwise. Or that a good man had died so he could live back in the desert – a man who was so much more deserving of the title 'hero.' Pepper was on his mind all the time – how she loved him only to betray him in the most intimate way possible. And then there was Clint, his best friend who had simply told the truth and ended up being cast away like an offensive toy.
Unfortunately now that was the only thing Stark could focus on. He remembered the expression Clint had when he had opened the door to find Tony Stark staring back at him. Barton looked like he was ready to take an undeserved hit to the face when they were in the privacy of the limo – pale and unsure. Clint was never unsure – about anything. Clint always knew what was happening, usually before the rest of them had figured it out. He saw things and put the pieces together faster than anyone else could.
Clint was Clint.
Tony tried to wipe the memory from his mind and failed miserably as he stared down at the information his eyes refused to take in.
Despite overwhelming odds Clint had become his best friend. After Loki things had been dark for the archer – Tony had taken it as a challenge and eventually Clint started to be more 'Clint' like and less super depressed assassin man.
Things were good – and then Natasha left the team. It happened abruptly and no one dared ask for reasons. The deadly glares from Natasha and the sad despairing expression from Barton shut even Stark up, which wasn't typically an easy thing to do without duck tape.
"You know, I've always wondered what happened between the two of you." Tony said abruptly, eyeing Natasha while still looking down at his Starkpad. He needed a distraction and she was the only victim around.
Natasha's eyes narrowed dangerously back at the billionaire. "Between me and who?"
"Dumb isn't a good look on you, Natasha." Tony pointed out, setting his device to the side and focusing his full attention on the assassin across from him. Swift was handcuffed in the holding cell in the back and they were in an area that was secured – just the two of them.
"What happened between Barton and I is none of your business Tony." The redhead's glare tightened threateningly.
"I make everything my business. Besides, you know all about my recent drama, it's only fair to share yours."
"Life isn't fair, Stark. Get over it."
"Okay, new tactic. I'll talk and you can just sit there silently denying everything." Tony clapped his hands together in front of him as he leaned forward. "You two were together – I know that much. Not in the sense of a normal boy girl relationship – no, that wasn't your style. After Loki – correct me if I'm wrong – something happened. Shortly after no more relationship."
"It's none of your business." Natasha snapped, looking forcefully away. Her expression slipped after a few minutes ticked by. "He wanted something I couldn't give him." She spoke finally, her voice still holding an edge.
Tony's expression softened slightly as he nodded. "You're lying." He commented pointedly. "I think you wanted to give him exactly what he wanted, but you ran scared."
Natasha glared, but didn't jump to her defense right away. "I couldn't give him what he wanted." She insisted.
"I think all he wanted was you." Tony told her honestly.
"I can't shake these dreams, there has to be something to them." Clint argued once again to Reese. He had accepted it the first time – distracted by the whole revelation of his new shinny 'ability' that had developed.
"Clint – " Reese shook her head, already against what Clint was purposing.
"No, I mean, it's just a phone call - or even an email would be simple enough. I just want to try and talk to him. If he knows me then I get some answers – if not, it's not like it'll hurt anyone." Clint pleaded. This was it – he knew it in his heart. He could have his answers – the truth to whether or not his dreams were memories. "Please help me."
Reese stared back at him for a moment before she shook her head. "It's Tony Stark. He won't be easy to get ahold of and you aren't allowed to leave the facility until your cleared medically."
"I'm fine. I've never been more fine in my life. I can breathe," he demonstrated by inhaling and exhaling dramatically. "I can see, move," Clint bent and flexed his body with impressive dexterity. "And the only time I'm in pain is when people tell me the truth."
"Which could be dangerous to you in the long run," Reese pointed out stubbornly. "Until we have more information on how this new ability will effect your way of life we can't just let you go."
"Can't?" Clint asked sharply with narrowed eyes. "Or wont?"
Reese's eyes turned dark for a moment before she shook her head. "Maybe there's a less complicated way to prove your dreams are just that – dreams." She spoke quietly. "You said, in your dreams that you were some kind of amazing archer."
Clint blinked, unsure of where she was going with her words. "Yes." He responded honestly.
"Well, what if we got you a bow and some arrows and set up a target range. If you were an archer you should be able to remember if you have the weapon in your hand. Like everything else you've remembered, it's all instinct. Muscle memory. Like with writing, reading or recalling simple facts about the world. You know things because it comes back to you through doing it."
"You'll do that?" Clint asked, pausing for a moment as he studied her. There was no pain – what did that mean? Wasn't she telling the truth?
"I want to figure this out with you," Reese promised – the pain searing through his head told him her words rang true. "I'll talk to Dr. Randle and we'll work it out."
It wasn't a conversation with Tony Stark, but it was something to hold onto. Clint thought back to the dreams he'd had about being an archer and was positive that he would be able to remember how to use the weapon if it were actually in his hand.
He could do this – he would prove to them that he wasn't crazy.
It took them a while to arrange everything for Clint to try his hand at using the odd weapon.
They had to lead him down to another level of the building, which was exciting for Clint considering that besides the places he'd been in his dreams, he hadn't seen anything but the floor he'd woken up on.
They had set up a target across the expanse of a rather large empty room.
"What did you use this place for?" He asked curiously. Not for the first time did Clint note that there were no windows. There hadn't been any on his floor either. Were they underground or very concerned about privacy?
"It used to be a storage floor." Dr. Randle answered, the pain that shot through Clint's head told him it was the truth – whether he wanted to know or not. Sometimes the pain really wasn't worth it.
Carefully Reese handed Clint the bow they had acquired for him and gave him an encouraging smile.
Clint pulled back on the string to test the tension, gripping the beautiful bow in his other hand. He found his stance and his anchor point against his cheek and simply breathed it in. This was who he was – he knew it. Everything about this felt right as he locked his eyes on the target across the room. His vision wavered slightly due to the drugs he had been given and Clint relaxed his stance.
"The drugs – "
"If you're as good as you claim, would they really matter?" Randle interrupted casually. The sharp pain that slid through Clint's mind told him that the man was telling the truth.
And the bastard was right. Clint knew he wouldn't miss – he never had. At least he was pretty sure he hadn't.
Besides the drugs really only made him tired – nothing else.
With a nod Clint returned to his stance, this time drawing an arrow back with the taunt string. He aimed like the professional marksmen he believed he was and exhaled as he loosed the arrow. It flew across the room with incredible power and speed and thudded into the wall – exactly two feet away from the target.
Clint felt his heart shatter as he stared at the arrow as if somehow it had betrayed him.
He'd missed.
"No, no that was a fluke." Clint shrugged it off, determined that what had just happened was some sort of lie. Maybe it was because he was using an unfamiliar bow?
Clint grabbed another arrow and studied it carefully for imperfections before pulling it back on the string, aiming and releasing. This one was three feet from the target on the opposite side.
Tears burned behind Clint's eyes. "No." He denied weakly – this wasn't how it was suppose to be. He should have been able to hit the target dead center. He was supposed to be something more than a simple psychotic lie detector amnesic with no family or friends.
"Clint, I'm sorry." Reese said sending pain lacing through his head again making his muscles shake in response from the tension. The truth. She was telling the truth – because the truth hurt. He turned away, but set down the bow leaning heavily against the table.
"I was so sure – "Clint whispered weakly. "This is who I'm supposed to be."
"I'm afraid not." Dr. Randle was the one who responded. More pain shot through Clint's head. The truth, it was all the truth – so why did it feel like an elaborate lie?
"Now that you know, you can move on." Reese offered, her hand reaching out to his shoulder to reassure him. "You aren't alone. We're here for you."
No pain.
Clint glanced at her curiously, unsure why he didn't feel anything as she said that. Maybe it was a miss, or maybe Clint was onto something. Maybe they were lying to him. All along, all this time – everything. Nothing felt right except for the bow and his memories of a team he never had. Of Natasha and Tony Stark.
Confused and hurt Clint brushed her off and walked out of the room to head back to his.
Anyone want to guess my favorite part?
More either Tuesday or Wednesday
Reviews are loved!
