A/N: Completing this chapter took RIDICULOUSLY long. I have no idea why. BUT, now it's finally here! (BEAMS) Yay?
Before getting to it, though… A MILLION thank yous for all your reviews, listings and support! This is officially the longest fic I've EVER posted. It would've never lived this long without you! So thank you! (HUGS)
Awkay, because I know what you came here for… Let's go! I REALLY hope that you'll enjoy the ride.
TRIGGER WARNING for torture! This chapter is teasing the limits of T-rating. Let the simple title be a warning enough…
Hawkeye, part 1 of 2 (FEAT Wanda)
Thaddeus Ross wasn't a fan of the Avengers and he made no secret of it. He didn't trust them nor the destructive power they held. He had his suspicions to begin with and they'd grown stronger since he'd seen all the chaos and death the team left behind.
Bruce Banner and Thor – the two members of the team Ross was always the most troubled by – had already left. He'd seen enough official files to know how mentally unstable Thor, a supposed god from a different realm, was. And Bruce… Bruce was a tragic, horribly dangerous accident. Hulk was responsible for more deaths than he cared to count in the disaster that was New York alone. And now they were both missing. While Ross most definitely didn't trust them by his side he also hated to think how much damage they might cause off radar.
With those two gone the team consisted of people who should've never, ever been trusted with the kind of faith and responsibility they were. Two pardoned criminals, one of them a former Soviet spy. A billionaire who – based on some… interesting YouTube -videos someone had advised Ross to watch – liked the taste of alcohol far too much, and whose highly dangerous inventions used to land into the wrong hands more often than not. A former HYDRA-tool who had chillingly great powers even she didn't seem to understand properly. And then, as a leader of all those mentally unstable individuals, a war time relic.
True, they got results. But also brought havoc beyond human imagination. New York. Sokovia. It was only a matter of time before the consequences would get out of control. During the team's latest mission a lot of things had gone spectacularly wrong. Or, well, wrong enough to have him invited again.
"So, Captain Rogers…" Ross frowned. "Or is it 'Captain', anymore?"
"'Captain' will do", the man sitting at his desk's other side confirmed in a tight voice. Clearly holding himself back. The soldier, who had some bruises on his face, appeared utterly exhausted.
Ross nodded and gave the weary man a few moments. "I'm not expecting a full report yet, considering the… circumstances." Another pause followed as he caught the flash of intense guilt and ache in the younger man's eyes. "But people are asking questions. And I, personally, am trying to understand what, exactly, went wrong."
Steve swallowed thickly. Staring at a wall to avoid looking at him. "We operated on improper intel. We didn't know how many civilians there'd be on the area. Or how well prepared for us the hostiles would be." The man gritted his teeth, tightly and loudly. For a moment his eyes shimmered suspiciously, but didn't exactly tear up. "It was an ambush waiting to happen."
"I see." Ross leaned forward, sharp eyes on the other man. "So you had to retreat."
Steve nodded stiffly. There was a strange, distant look in the soldier's eyes. "We'd agreed on a location to which we'd retreat, should things go wrong. We agree on one." The deep breath which followed shuddered. "Cl… Barton never came."
/ Clint knew that the mission was over when Steve gave the call. He left his perch, which happened to be the rooftop of an apartment building, about to head to the others. Until he ran into the kid.
The little girl couldn't be older than seven. She was sitting on the floor, staring at him with wide, terrified blue eyes. Her hands and clothes were covered in blood. Right before her lay the body of an enemy fighter. It didn't take a lot of reasoning to gather that she was the little girl's mother. With the former black mask removed Clint could see that it was a young woman, probably in her mid-twenties. An arrow had slammed at her chest, piercing her heart. She'd died within seconds.
Clint swallowed thickly. Feeling cold and sick. He understood all too well.
There are two sides to every battle. In that scared little girl's eyes he was the enemy who just took her mom away. And that wasn't even all. Not all enemies of the Avengers bathed in money – chances were that this complex of three apartment buildings was their home as well. In the child's eyes he was an invader. One of the bad guys.
Clint had absolutely no idea how to approach the situation. He couldn't just walk away. And he definitely couldn't comfort the child.
In the end that decision wasn't in his hands at all. Because the girl began to scream, jumbled words flying out in a language he didn't understand. Tears streamed down her cheeks while she hollered out her rage and agony. She should've been far too young to even understand such emotions but the heritage of a war isn't up to age.
Then something hit Clint from behind, and the world fell into a void of darkness. /
Wanda had faced enough unpleasant people in her life to recognize such. Far too many. Thaddeus Ross wasn't a pleasant person.
"So, Miss Maximoff…" Ross flipped through some documents, without a doubt purposefully slowly. "I take it your first mission wasn't exactly… enjoyable."
Wanda balled her fists, so tightly that it hurt. Fought a mighty battle to keep herself from losing control. "No", she confirmed with forced detachment. "It wasn't."
Ross made notes before focusing on her again, his piercing eyes like those of a soon attacking wild beast. "It's been claimed that the intel for the mission was incomplete. Do you confirm or deny this?"
"I agree." The memory still made Wanda's stomach turn. It was far too much like Sokovia… "We weren't able to operate properly." And it cost them dearly.
"Which means that I'll… have to have a talk with some people." Ross scratched his hair, clearly irritated. "So… The team was inexcusably badly prepared for the mission. And then…" He inhaled deeply. "Well, we both know what happened to agent Barton. Aside that, you lost the three valuable criminals you managed to obtain."
A wildfire of nausea, rage, guilt and sorrow went through Wanda. She was almost certain that he could see it. "We had no other choice. If we didn't give them up we…" Her jaw tightened. "We would've never gotten Clint back."
"Who gave that order?"
"You're not listening to me." Wanda's tone revealed far too much. It didn't matter anymore. She wiped her eyes roughly. "You… You didn't see…! Didn't have to watch…!" She trailed off.
"Who gave the order to exchange prisoners, Wanda?"
"They were torturing him!" she snarled. How was it possible that he didn't understand? She felt a couple of tears on her cheeks and wiped them away. "We had to try something, anything!"
"Who… made… the… call?"
Wanda's tears dried as her eyes hardened. Ice formed a ball that fit perfectly to the pit of her stomach, right alongside the turmoil of emotions she didn't know how to handle. Fine, then. "Tony Stark did. And we all agreed."
/ When Clint's consciousness began to creep back in the first thing he became aware of was the fabric wrapped around his eyes. Not entirely unexpected, but always irritating. Being unable to see meant that he wasn't able to gather enough information to plot an escape.
Not letting panic overtake him Clint inhaled, deeply and quietly. The space around him reeked of moisture and something else he didn't feel comfortable with processing. There was also a distinctly familiar sound. The answer to what it was whirled in his buzzing, aching head but he couldn't quite catch it.
So he had a concussion? Yes, definitely. Wonderful.
He listened, ears sharp and prepared for anything. The old building creaked and whimpered under nature's mercy. He was willing to bet money that there were rats or mice lurking around. But other than that and the sound he caught earlier… Nothing. It was like he'd been abandoned there.
That thought sent such a shockwave of panic through him that he shivered visibly, trying to will it away.
To his shame he had no idea that someone was watching him until he felt a warm breath against his face. Clint remained frozen, worked with his all to offer no reaction. But apparently the person with him sensed something, anyway.
A hand caressed his face. Slowly and tenderly, almost apologetically. Due to his concussion it succeeded in distracting Clint. Enough to keep him from wondering what it was trying to keep his mind from focusing on. Until a sharp pain struck his shoulder like fire. He gasped, by some miracle managing to fight back the urge to scream.
It was one of his own arrows, Clint realized in a dazed haze of shock. He'd never noticed the second person, either. They were going to kill him. And they were going to do it slowly and painfully.
A second arrow slammed at his other shoulder, as though confirming that thought.
Clint knew that the arrows were only just the beginning. He braced himself against the torment, hating the fact that he couldn't see, that he was so utterly defenseless. He didn't do defenseless, period.
The hand stroked him again. First his hair, then his face. Finally it patted his cheek, the gesture oddly lot like someone trying to comfort a child. And then it yanked off the first arrow violently.
Clint shuddered, feeling like he'd just been shot. The pain that coursed through him was enough to leave him breathless. He nearly blacked out.
And then the second arrow was removed.
Clint couldn't hold it back any longer. The agony… It was too much. So he screamed, at the top of his voice.
Instead of the gentle hand he faced an iron hard fist, this time. And for the first time one of his captor's broke the silence. "Not… a… sound", a man's voice hissed at him in a broken English.
With that Clint was left alone. The touch and the breath on his face disappeared. Barely audible steps distanced until they disappeared. They left him there, bleeding heavily. And if he didn't feel too weak for it he would've screamed. /
Tony couldn't remember the last time he would've wanted a drink quite as badly. The craving was so strong that he experienced it physically. He was trembling pitiably and sweating profusely. He also had a feeling that the pounding in his skull wasn't caused solely by several days of lost sleep.
"… Stark …"
"Look, Ross." Tony gritted his teeth so hard that they made a chilling sound. He wiped his eyes. "Usually I love these little games. But right now I'm not in the mood."
"I'm not in the mood, either." Honest enough. "But I have a lot of people breathing down my neck, demanding to know how your little team managed to mess things up so completely. So I have no other choice but to breathe down your neck in return."
"Have you ever watched anyone get tortured to death?" Tony allowed the thick and tense silence which followed to provide an answer. "Then cut that condescending bullcrap and shut up."
Ross was quiet for a while. Processing. "'Watched anyone get tortured to death'?" the man repeated his words. Slowly, tasting them. "What, exactly, did you mean by that?"
Tony allowed the stiff silence to answer for him. He didn't want to relive the horrors of those days. Especially with this man in the same room.
"Tony." Ross' tone succeeded in catching his attention, even if it wasn't enough to make him look. "I'm not the enemy here. I'm not one of the bad guys. I'm just trying to understand why you did what you did because that's my job."
"BECAUSE I COULDN'T WATCH THEM TORTURE MY FRIEND TO DEATH!" Tony saw red, connecting it to the man although he knew, logically, that it was misdirected. Alright, then. Let him hear. "Because those assholes opened up a video feed as soon as Clint was conscious, and we… We watched, through… everything." His eyes stung hellishly and watered as a response. He didn't care. "We watched, trying to come up with something, anything, until… until we couldn't."
/ At some point they came to give Clint's wounds a look. He was dimly aware of as much, although his head was getting dangerously foggy. An infection and fever, then. Just his luck.
The work was always silent and they never once removed his blindfold. Several times Clint tried to fight them, when they were forced to loosen his restraints to treat him properly. Instantly hellish electric currents went through him, making him bite his lip until it bled to hold back a groan. It took a while before he came aware of the shock collar around his neck.
Seeing his defiance his captors became harder as well. Almost every other disturbance to the maddening solitude and silence was a world of pain. Brutal beatings without a word ever uttered – pure desire to harm, without any intent of obtaining information… Letting him starve – not that he would've trusted anything they offered him…
At some point, when he was at his very worst, something that felt like a bottle of water was held against his lips. He knew that he should've held himself back. That there was absolutely no sense in trusting. But the fever was raging and he couldn't remember that last time he would've had anything to drink. So, free of his active will, his lips began to part. Just then the bottle was pulled away, leaving his parched lips fumbling for thin air. The disappointment, the refusal to give him something that he needed to survive, hurt physically. For the second time since his capture he cracked. Emitted a barely audible, heartbreaking tiny mew, his body pleading while his mind still refused to.
This time he was punished as well. It came out of nowhere. A small piece of metal, pressed to the skin of his forehead. The sensation was absolutely maddening, left him unable to process what was going on for a fairly long time.
He'd just been burn marked.
"You killed my wife. And threatened my daughter." It was the same voice which spoke to him the previous time. Now the hiss was even more malicious. "When you go home… Dead, and nothing but pieces of rotting flesh… I want everyone to see what you've done on your face, until you're nothing but bones and a bitter memory. And I want everyone to see how you die in shame." /
Ross knew to expect that Natasha wouldn't be an easy target for his… questioning. She didn't disappoint. Over the span of three days she missed out three appointments. That was when Ross decided to track her down personally.
He found her just as she was leaving the Avengers Tower. Her facial expression barely changed but her eyes told clearly that she was far from happy to see him. "This isn't a good time", she announced immediately, her voice holding a forced polite note.
Ross sighed heavily. "Something tells me that it's never going to be a good time." He frowned at how pale and exhausted she seemed. True, he didn't trust her, nor was he her biggest fan. But she was a fellow human being. And he knew how important Clint Barton was to her, as well as how few 'important people' she had. Her emotional instability came with risks. "Are you alright?"
He didn't expect the flash he saw in her eyes. Didn't expect to face – even if only for a microsecond – someone who was without a doubt Natasha, not Black Widow. An invisible weight landed to her shoulders, making them slump. "In case you actually care to know, no, I'm not. Because…" She gulped and fought visibly to not look away. To not appear weak. "Because the hospital called. They think it's time."
TBC
A/N: Now THAT sounded ominous…! (shudders) What, exactly, is going on with Clint? And who else hates Ross? (lifts both hands) (I'm just not going to ask how you feel about me right now…)
A funny fact? While I was typing this the radio played a song called 'I don't want to die tonight'. It's like Clint (or the universe) is trying to tell me something… (chuckles)
PLEASE, do leave a note to the box down below before you go! Good…? HORRIBLE…? Just… meh? I'd REALLY love to hear from you (even if I sort of dread it, too)!
Until next time, guys! I REALLY hope that I'll see you all there.
Take care!
Guest: I'm ABSOLUTELY OVERJOYED that you've enjoyed the collection thus far AND that break-chapter so much! I really hope that you'll keep having a great ride as the near deaths keep piling up. (BEAMS)
Massive thank yous for the review!
neshia: Read your mind, then? YOSH! (grins from ear to ear) I'm thrilled that you enjoyed it so much!
Colossal thank yous for the review!
Anonymous: LOL, I figured that the poor guy and the team deserved a break. (grins) GOSH, I REALLY hope that you'll enjoy the 50(0) coming up as much! (HUGS)
Monumental thank yous for the review! Until next time.
Guest (2): I LOOOOOOOOOOOVE that song! (grins)
HUGE thank yous for the review!
Nightshade: You just made me insanely happy, you know? (HUGS) I really hope that you'll be every bit as pleased with what's to come.
Gigantic thank yous for the review! Until next time.
