A/N: Okay...this looks bad. You cowboy around with fanfiction some. Guys got, what, free time. Great ideas. Perfect grammar. I'm a veterinary student writing during exam-free weeks on a computer with a broken battery. So when I say I'm sorry for not getting chapters up sooner? I promise you I really mean it.
Thanks to everyone who has read, favorited, followed, and commented on this story! You guys are incredibly patient. Feel free to leave comments! I love comments as much as Clint loves coffee.
Three days, four hours, and roughly twenty-two minutes. That was how long it took for Stark to debug Hawkeye's message. Steve knew the second they had an address, lights flashing briefly throughout the tower before J.A.R.V.I.S.'s calm voice projected through the speakers to inform them of Stark's success and that they should gather at the Quinjet. Steve had never seen the team assemble so quickly, when he walked aboard the plane five minutes later, everyone was strapped in and ready for take-off.
The cabin was eerily quiet and jittery. Natasha was still gone, Dr. Banner was shifting through a first-aid kit and organizing supplies, and Thor was staring contemplatively at Mjolnir. Even Stark's normal nervous rambling was gone, the man intently focusing on the controls in front of him.
"This is a rescue mission, nothing more," Steve said firmly once the plane had taken off. "Our goal is to find Hawkeye and leave. If you haven't, Stark, contact S.H.I.E.L.D. and tell them where we are going. We'll let them deal with processing information and shutting down the compound."
"Message is already sent, Cap," Tony said. "I can't land the Quinjet directly in front of the compound, but there's spot ten minutes northwest of it that looks promising. There's good coverage, and it's unlikely they would find the Quinjet in time to try and capture it. Between Thor and myself we can carry you two non-fliers to the compound to save time."
"You want me to come with you?" Bruce asked, pausing in his methodical sorting. "Do you really think that's safe?"
"Of course it's safe," Stark replied confidently. "The Hulk has never hurt any of us, and he'll be a great asset in helping us break through security. I bet he'll be an overgrown mother hen when we find Barton."
"Stark has a point," Steve conceded. "If A.I.M. is too busy with the Hulk, they won't have time to escape with Hawkeye in tow. But you need to be positive you can control the Hulk. We don't know how badly Hawkeye is injured, and we'll need you when we find him. If you think you can't change back, we can go without you."
"I think it'll be okay," Bruce said. He rubbed a hand against his temple, looking hesitant. "I can't explain it, but I think he wants to find Hawkeye as much as the rest of us. He may be reluctant to let me take over, but I think he'll listen."
"Good," Steve said. "Thor, I want you to stay with the Hulk and keep an eye on him. Take the east side of the building, Stark and I will take the west. We'll keep in touch over the coms. Whoever finds him first, let the others know. Once we have him, we all will hurry back to the Quinjet."
"E.T.A. is five minutes," Stark interrupted. "Wrap up the motivational speech, Cap, we have work to do."
Getting into the building turned out to be less work than expected. A.I.M. was unprepared for four angry Avengers, and the few guards protecting the entrance quickly fell at the Hulk's hands. Once inside, they separated. Steve could hear Hulk's angry roars and the crash of him tearing through hallways long after he lost sight of him.
It didn't surprise Steve when alarms rang through the halls, nor when a dozen men came charging in their direction, guns held at the ready. Incapacitating the men was short work, Steve deflecting bullets and slinging his shield to take down enemies while Stark shot his laser blasts at the remaining enemies. They had incapacitated eleven of the men in less than two minutes, leaving one man conscious enough for them to interrogate. And while the information they gleaned from him was minimal, they found a general direction of where Hawkeye was kept.
They repeated the process as they steadily made their way toward the back of the compound, more and more A.I.M. agents appearing to try and stop them. They had taken down their sixth group, a couple of agents they had caught unaware while they argued about joining the fight, and Steve went about checked rooms for Hawkeye as Stark extracted information from the downed men.
"All of these rooms are empty," Steve said, returning in time to see Stark knock the last man unconscious. "He's not here."
"No, but we're close," Stark replied. "Our red-haired snitch here said he's at the end of this hallway and to the right, last door apparently."
The whole building shook, dust falling from the ceiling to settle in Steve's hair as a faint roar echoed through the halls.
"The Hulk and I are prepared to assist you," Thor's voice said over the coms. "We will, no doubt, be with you shortly."
"Affirmative," Steve replied, following close behind Stark as they ran to retrieve Hawkeye. "Make sure the Hulk doesn't bring the building down on us while we're still inside."
"Verily, I shall do my best," Thor replied before cutting out.
"This is the room," Stark said, the visor on his helmet sliding up to reveal his concerned face. "Bastards locked the door, and only a key card and biometric scan will open it."
Steve examined the large metal door, paying particular attention to the heavy locks bolting it shut. "You think you can get this open?" Steve asked.
"Takes more than that to keep me out," Stark said. He raised his right hand, the distinctive whine of repulsors gearing up filled the air before a blast shot from his palm and the part of the door containing the lock disappeared in a flash of sparks.
After that, the door swung open easily, both of them starting to rush inside only to freeze in the doorway.
Hawkeye was shackled to a chair, his wrists bloody and his body a mottled mess of bruises and cuts. He was blindfolded, his bowed head immediately perking up when they entered and swiveling around to try and trace them.
They had no time to say anything before Hawkeye started talking, his voice tired and slurring, but cheeky as normal.
"What do you want me to talk about this time? You want me to go through Lord of the Rings scene-by-scene? Or maybe we can change it up a bit and talk about Dog Cops. Did you see the episode where Sargent Whiskers gets promoted?" he said. "If you haven't, you may want to step out of the room, 'cause there'll be spoilers."
"Hawkeye, we're not A.I.M.," Steve said. He forced his feet to move forward, distantly aware of Stark having a whispered conversation with Thor over the coms. The closer he got, the more agitated Hawkeye seemed, his hands clenched on the arms of the chair, his entire body taut as he spouted off nonsense. Steve assumed he didn't hear him the first time, repeating calming words while carefully removing the cloth from over the other man's eyes.
Hawkeye's entire body froze at the contact, every muscle contracting and holding onto its painfully tight position. He faltered in his monologue as the bright light hit his eyes, blinking away the spots in his vision until the Avengers came into view.
Steve saw maybe a second of surprise cross the archer's face before it was replaced with a grim smile, the dried blood on his face cracking as swollen skin stretched painfully. Hawkeye's shoulders slumped as he glanced around Steve to Tony and back, a short bark of laughter escaping before he said, "And here I was thinking you wouldn't come for me."
Steve grimaced, guilt sinking in his stomach at the thought of how true that statement almost was. He wanted to say something reassuring, but Stark's nervous laughter cut off whatever he was going to say. Stark moved closer, examining the locks holding Hawkeye in place.
"I see captivity hasn't dampened your spirit, Feathers," Stark said. "Did you have a relaxing vacation?"
Steve glared at Stark, the man's insensitivity trying his patience on multiple occasions. He had half a mind to scold him for not using more tact when he realized that Hawkeye didn't acknowledged the remark. Under normal circumstances, Steve would expect Hawkeye to retort and maybe pick an argument, but now he was fixated on Steve. Concentration etched was etched across the other man's face, searching Steve for something.
"Hawkeye, are you okay?" Steve asked in concern.
Hawkeye tilted his head slightly, focusing intently. After a second, he gripped the chair tightly, pain lines sweeping across his forehead before he closed his eyes and muttered a quick, "Yeah, Steve. 'M okay. A.I.M. just has a really sucky guest policy."
Steve jolted as the chains binding Hawkeye clanked to the ground. Tony had managed to break the locks, tossing them carelessly to the floor while Hawkeye dropped his arms stiffly into his lap.
The way Hawkeye moved, stiff and uncertain as though he was testing himself, sent another pang of guilt through Steve. He had let this happen. If he realized his teammate was missing sooner, if he wasn't so distracted, maybe they wouldn't have tortured Buck-
Clint re-opened dull blue eyes, greasy blonde hair falling into his face as he waited for Steve to make a move. Steve felt himself unconsciously harden, and he watched Hawkeye shakily try to stand before falling heavily back onto the chair.
Hawkeye wasn't Bucky.
Steve had failed Bucky, had let him slip between his fingers, and maybe once they found him again Steve could make things right. But Hawkeye was here right now and Steve could do for him what he couldn't do for Bucky.
"Take it easy, Hawkeye," Steve said, refocusing on the present. He moved forward to offer support, but Hawkeye waved him off, the man's eyes squeezing shut and hands clenching, left arm cradled to his chest. "There's no rush. We'll keep you safe and-"
"Before you say anythin', you oughta know A.I.M. did more than push me around a little," Clint interrupted loudly. "They injected me with some kinda truth serum. It works by acting on impulses. You mention something, and if I don't say what I'm thinkin', my body sends a pain signal to promote free speech." He paused. "You know, for an 'advanced idea' it's not very effective."
Hawkeye half-grinned, half-grimaced as he struggled again to his feet, swaying but upright. "Take me to S.H.I.E.L.D.; they can stitch me up and flush out whatever crap they put in me," he said. "Just….don't ask me any questions, okay? I'm not goin' to answer them."