The title for chapter nine is from "The Light Behind Your Eyes" by My Chemical Romance
Chapter 9: if you promise not to cry
Today was much better than the day before. With the exception of the rocky start in the bathroom that morning, Pietro was feeling almost okay. After Clint helped him calm down, he put on a sweatshirt and they went down for breakfast. Then they just sat on the sofa, Pietro curled up against Clint's side, Clint stroking his hair, neither saying much of anything. It was the most at peace Pietro had felt in a long time.
So of course it couldn't last. Pietro started getting jittery again during dinner, and it kept progressing as the evening went on. By eleven o'clock, he had shrunk into a corner of their room, his face buried in his knees, his hands tangled up in his hair. Clint sat on the floor in front of him, far enough away to give him space, but close enough to be there if he needed him. He didn't try to talk, just sat there and waited until Pietro was ready for his help.
But Pietro wasn't ready. He couldn't... he was too afraid. Terrified of being okay again only for it to be snatched away. Terrified of losing Clint but also terrified of having him. But most of all, terrified of himself. There was a void inside him where the man he used to be once was, and he didn't know how to fill it, how to keep himself from being sucked into its gaping abyss.
Clint was exhausted and his entire body ached. The sky outside was beginning to glow a rosy pink. Morning had come, but Pietro still sat huddled in the corner. They had been there all night, Clint just waiting, his heart breaking with each muffled sniffle that told him that Pietro had started crying again; eventually he lost track of how many times. As the sun rose, Clint decided he couldn't wait any longer. Watching Pietro suffer and being unable to help was torture, and he wanted more than anything to make things better.
"Pietro?" he said quietly.
Another sniffle, then Pietro looked up, peering at him from behind his knees. His eyes were red from crying, and as he stared, another tear crept down his cheek.
"What can I do?" Clint asked.
Pietro didn't answer. He just kept staring, all but expressionless except for the betraying tears. Clint sincerely hoped his silence didn't mean a relapse.
"Pietro?" he said again.
"Pietro is dead."
It was Clint's turn to stare now. Those words were like a jab in the chest with a rusty knife.
"No," he said. "No, you're right here. You're okay. You're not dead."
"Well then, I should be..." Pietro said.
"Don't say that."
"I would've died there. It was only a matter of time."
"But we saved you," said Clint. "You're home."
"I don't have a home. Just places."
"No, it's not like that anymore. You do have a home now. Here, with me."
"I can't," said Pietro, his voice breaking as he began to cry again.
"What do you mean, you can't? Can't what?"
"Have a home. Not with you. Everything good... it just gets taken away... they'll just take you away..."
"Who will?"
"Does it matter?" said Pietro. "Someone will, and then what will I do? I can't let that happen, I can't let myself care because it'll just end, and there'll be less of me than ever."
"Pietro, you're not making any sense," said Clint. "It doesn't matter what's happened before, or what might happen. I'm here now, and I want to help you get through this."
"No!" Pietro said. "I can't let you do that. I can't care. I can't let myself love you."
If what Pietro had said before was like a rusty knife in the chest, this was the twist that drove it into his heart.
"I don't understand," Clint said.
His voice was shaking, wavering on the edge of the breaking point.
"Well, learn to," Pietro said coldly.
Then suddenly, he ran from the room. The door slammed and Clint was alone.
Three hours later, Clint wandered into the kitchen. He was still wearing yesterday's clothes and there were dark shadows under his eyes, which were red from crying. He hadn't even bothered to wipe away the tears clinging to his eyelashes. He stared around the kitchen for a minute, then gave up and sat down at the table across from Steve and Wanda.
"Jesus, Barton, are you okay?" said Steve.
"No..."
"What happened?" Wanda asked. "Is it something to do with Pietro?"
"Yeah... I dunno what happened," said Clint. "We were both up all night, he just sat in the corner and cried, and then this morning... I dunno... he said some things... he wasn't making a whole lot of sense, to be honest... but then..."
He stopped, his throat tight. Wanda and Steve waited patiently for him to collect himself.
"He said... he said he should be dead... and that he can't let himself care... that he can't let himself love me..."
"Oh no..." Wanda murmured.
"And then he just ran out... I don't know what to do. I'm so worried about him, and I dunno if he just broke up with me or if he's just having some sort of... I dunno... episode or something... I just... I need to talk to him. Wanda, can you find him for me?"
"I can try, but I'm not sure if talking to him would be the best idea right now," said Wanda. "He might need some space."
She closed her eyes, reaching out to her brother. Clint and Steve watched her, waiting. Then she frowned, opening her eyes again.
"I can't find him. He's shut me out," she said. "He's never done that before."
Clint stood up, now more worried than ever.
"I've gotta find him."
"Clint, wait. Wanda's right, maybe he just needs some space," said Steve. "He obviously doesn't want to be found right now. Let him come out on his own time."
"That's rich coming from the man who's been chasing down his brainwashed assassin boyfriend for the last, like, year," Clint retorted.
Then he left the room.
Pietro had found the darkest, smallest corner of the tower to hide himself in. He had no idea how many hours he'd lain there crying, only that now he had no tears left, just a void that was deeper than ever and impossible to escape. He had never felt so empty, so entirely apathetic, so numb. He knew what he had to do, what he wanted to do, or whatever hollow drive had replaced wanting. It was easy, really. His path was clear. And doing it would be the simplest thing in the world. He might have once struggled with this decision, but now it was the only decision left to him.
Pietro got up and left his hiding place, then made his way down to the ground floor. He didn't bother moving quickly; no need to rush this. It was going to be slow anyway, so he might as well take his time getting there. He closed the garage door behind him, locking it so he wouldn't be disturbed, then lifted the keys off the hook on the wall. He went to the car, climbed into the driver's seat, and started the car. Then he rolled down the windows and waited for death to take him.
Ironic that the way he had chosen to die would be so slow. His hands curled around the steering wheel and he leaned back in the seat, closing his eyes. The noxious smell of exhaust began to fill the garage. Pietro felt like gagging, but he just gripped the steering wheel tighter and let the fumes begin to choke him.
Clint had searched every upper floor of Avengers Tower and found no sign of Pietro. If it hadn't been enough how worried about him he constantly was these days, the events of that morning had sent him to borderline panic. He got in the elevator and went down to ground level, the one place he had yet to look, and continued his search.
He had nearly finished scouring the ground floor and was headed back toward the elevator, when he passed the garage and noticed the pungent smell of exhaust fumes creeping under the door. Clint frowned and went to open the door only to find it locked. His anxiety was peaking now, wavering very close to the edge of the charts. He stood back and kicked the door open. Coughing and covering his mouth and nose with his sleeve, Clint stepped into the garage. One of the cars was running, and through the open window, he could see a shock of white hair.
"No!" he gasped, rushing forward.
Pietro sat unconscious in the driver's seat, his head lolling forward onto his chest. Clint reached through the window and shut off the car, then opened the door, careful not to let Pietro tumble out. He scooped Pietro up in his arms and carried him out of the garage, coughing as the exhaust threatened to choke him too. He kicked the garage door shut behind him and hurried to the elevator. He used his foot to hit the button for the infirmary, then waited as the elevator jolted into motion. Clint's arms ached under Pietro's weight, but he couldn't bring himself to set him down. At last, the doors slid open and Clint stepped out and made his way down the hall. He turned a corner and found himself face to face with Natasha.
"Clint, what happened?" she asked, staring at Pietro in alarm.
"Where's Doctor Cho?" said Clint.
"In her lab."
Clint soldiered on without another word, leaving Natasha to hurry along behind him. He pushed open the door of Helen's lab and made a beeline for the empty hospital bed. Natasha was right on his heels.
"Agent Barton!" said Helen in surprise. "What happened?"
She was at Pietro's bedside in an instant, checking his pulse. Clint gripped the edge of the bed frame, willing himself to remain upright.
"I found him in the garage with the car running..." he said. "He was trying to kill himself. Oh God... he was killing himself..."
He sank to the floor, barely able to get air to his lungs between coughing from the exhaust fumes he had breathed in and his ragged sobs. Natasha knelt down beside him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder but saying nothing. She knew there were no words she could say to make Clint feel better, not after this. They just sat there, silent except for Clint's sobs, waiting.
"Agent Barton," said Helen suddenly after several minutes.
Clint looked up, terrified of what she was about to say.
"He's going to live. It may be a few hours before he wakes up, but he'll live."
Clint let out a sigh of relief, but it was a short lived feeling. Pietro had just tried to kill himself, and if Clint hadn't found him when he did, he'd be dead. The things Hydra had done to him, that Clint had let happen, had destroyed Pietro so much that he thought his only solace was in death.
Clint hadn't moved from Pietro's bedside. Several hours had passed and the sky was beginning to darken. Clint hadn't even realized what time it was, he'd just sat there, watching. Wanda had joined him about an hour after he'd found Pietro, and she'd been silently crying ever since. But Clint couldn't cry. Not anymore. He felt empty, so empty, and the feeling was so destructive that he thought he maybe understood why Pietro had wanted to die. He stared at Pietro, holding his pale but thankfully warm hand, and wished for a way to stop this, to stop his suffering, to get back at the world for putting his beautiful, miraculous Pietro through so much pain.
Clint stood up very suddenly. He knew what he had to do. What he wanted to do. He bent down and placed a gentle kiss on Pietro's forehead.
"I'll be back," he whispered.
He straightened up and let Pietro's hand slip from his fingers as he slowly backed away. Then he turned and left.
He walked back to his room with purpose unlike any he'd ever felt before. He stepped inside and shut the door behind him, then got to work. He changed out of his sweats and t-shirt, replacing them with dark jeans, a black long sleeve shirt, and a black hooded jacket. He pulled on a pair of boots and laced them up, then grabbed a backpack and started shoving things inside – extra clothes, his wallet. Once he'd finished packing, he paused and looked around the room. Then he dug through his drawers, pulling out an old black t-shirt. He grabbed a pair of scissors and cut off a strip of fabric, then cut out two holes. He went to the bathroom mirror and tied on his makeshift mask, then put up his hood. He returned to the bedroom and got out his bow and quiver full of arrows. He slung the quiver and his backpack over his back and went to the window. He took out a grappling-hook arrow and fixed it to the ledge outside the window before climbing up onto the sill. Then with one last look around the room, he dove out and slid to the ground. The moment his feet touched pavement he was off, running away from Avengers Tower and vanishing into the gathering night.
