The physical exam and psychological evaluation went as well as could be expected. Clint decided the physical exam was more the W.S.C.'s way of checking to make sure that he wasn't an enhanced human being than out of concern for his health.
He would have told them he was depressingly average himself if he had thought they would believe him.
And as far as the psychological evaluation went, Clint was surprised by how standard the questions were that the psychiatrist asked him. He expected it to be an expansion of the interrogation, but the psychiatrist who came in was a professional, her tests and questions consistent with the evals he had taken before. Hell, it was practically a carbon copy of the evals S.H.I.E.L.D. had given him after Loki, which was perfect because he knew all the answers they wanted to hear.
The actual interrogation went less well.
After the psych eval, the agents escorted him back into his holding cell, plopped a tray of cafeteria food onto the table, and told him to wait for their return.
"I'm starting to get really annoyed with being locked up all the time," Clint said grumpily, poking at his food. Bland mashed potatoes and bland boiled chicken, served with what Clint expected was a bland banana and a bottle of water. And sure, Clint understood the concept of slowly introducing foods that weren't peanut butter sandwiches back into his diet, but would it have killed them to give him pizza?
He ate the food anyway, eventually settling down on the cot where he lazily counted out loud to pass the time. Sure, it wasn't the most exhilarating of activities, but it took less effort than singing and kept his mind from wandering into dangerous territory. When the door finally opened, Clint had long since passed the thousand mark and was reconsidering his decision not to sleep instead.
"Thank you for waiting, Agent Barton," Agent Denai said. He walked into the room and sat down at the small holding cell table, his partner hovering protectively with a briefcase near the door. "If you'd like to join me at the table, we can begin the interview."
Clint took his time getting up from the bed, purposefully letting his exhaustion show and hunching his shoulders forward. His keen eyes locked onto the pair of handcuffs Agent Denai held as he sat opposite the man. "Are you really going to handcuff me to the table?" Clint asked, his eyebrow raising in such disapproval that he knew Tasha would be proud.
"It's part of the World Security Council's safety protocol, I'm afraid," Agent Denai said apologetically. "Until we have evidence proving you are not a threat, these will have to stay on during interviews."
Clint saw Agent Johnson smile briefly, a triumphant expression breaking through her professionalism as the cuffs clicked into place around Clint's wrists, the metal effectively bolting him to the table. Clint sighed, dropping his hands uselessly on the table. "And how long are these interviews going to last?" Clint asked.
"As long as the World Security Council deems necessary," Agent Johnson answered. "Given the unusual circumstances of you being subjected to a truth serum while in A.I.M.'s custody, we plan to use that to our advantage to expedite the process."
"S.H.I.E.L.D. told us the serum works by increasing pain signals when the recipient is withholding information," Agent Denai added. "Our R&D department has sent us an electrode-dependent program that can detect neural activity. It is specifically modified to detect pain pathways, and it will show changes in activity on a computer. With your permission, we would like to use this technology on you to monitor spikes in neural activity to determine whether you are being honest."
"And if I don't give you my permission?" Clint asked.
"We place the electrodes on you anyway," Agent Johnson said. "Only we do it with more force."
"Then by all means," Clint said, giving the agents a lopsided smile, "you have my permission to stick the electron-thingies wherever you need to."
Agent Johnson moved forward and placed the briefcase on the table, pulling out equipment and helping Agent Denai set everything up. Clint's leg bounced, taking the few moments while they were distracted to let pain from the serum wash over his face as he thought. He knew it looked bad. They were wrong about the serum, which was an advantage. S.H.I.E.L.D. had somehow convinced them it was a lie-detector instead of just a way to keep him talking, but the electrodes would make it hard for him to stay quiet and the handcuffs would prevent him from hiding his hands and signing. Which meant he would have to talk fast and deny knowing anything important.
And not to blow his own horn, but Clint was pretty good at denial.
"Any chance you can warm up the gel before you stick those things on me?" Clint asked as Agent Johnson turned to face him.
"They're room temperature," she said blankly. She had several wireless electrodes in hand, two of which she deftly stuck to either side of his temple. Clint protested when she raised the back of his shirt to place a line of electrodes starting at the back of his neck down his spine, glaring at her when she stepped back in front of him.
"Maybe to your ice-cold hands they feel like room temperature, but not so for the guy with the weakened immune system," Clint grumbled.
"We'd like to begin with a baseline series of tests," Agent Denai said before his partner could reply. He tapped a couple of buttons on his computer and Clint felt a
slight tingling sensation come from the electrodes as they turned on. "Tell us something that you know to be true."
"I wish I were sleeping instead of being interrogated right now," Clint said. "Or at least, I wish that I had pizza. Not the fancy kind of pizza either, you know, the ones with all the vegetables on them? I want a greasy pizza with cheese that hangs from the slice all the way to the floor, and you know you shouldn't eat it because the indigestion is killer, but it tastes so damn good that-"
"That's enough, Agent Barton, thank you," Agent Denai interrupted, tapping a few more buttons on his screen. "Now, please lie to us."
"I don't think your investigation is a waste of time," Clint said, immediately following it with the thought that they'd have had better luck getting information by digging through S.H.I.E.L.D.'s dumpsters. He didn't try to fight the pain that followed. His hands clenched into fists, his eyes scrunching closed as his entire body went rigid, a white-hot pain behind his eyes. He had almost forgotten how much it hurt to let the pain happen without fighting it.
"There's no need to be difficult, Agent Barton," Agent Denai said when Clint had regained his focus. "Despite what you may think, we want to help you."
Clint chuckled, prying his eyes open to stare at the other man. "No offense, Agent," Clint said, "but I was born difficult."
"Perhaps we better move onto the actual interview," Agent Denai said, exchanging a brief look with his partner.
"Agent Barton, you are currently a part of the Avengers Initiative, correct?" Agent Johnson asked. She sat in the unoccupied chair across from him and stared at him.
"I'm on the roster, yes," Clint replied.
"And what is your role on the team?"
"I shoot things," Clint said. "And I keep an eye on everyone to make sure all the Avengers survive."
"You shoot things?" Agent Johnson said critically.
"I'm kinda the world's greatest marksman," Clint stated with a small smile. "I don't miss."
"Considering what little we know about your disruptive behavior and S.H.I.E.L.D. history, I'm surprised they couldn't find someone better for the job," Agent Johnson said.
"Like I said," Clint responded, "I'm the best."
"And yet, during the Invasion of New York, you shot your commanding officer, killed or injured more than two dozen S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, and helped orchestrate the Helicarrier's destruction," Agent Johnson said, something close to anger flashing across her face. "How do you explain that?"
"Loki used his scepter to control me. He used magic to take away our free will, and we weren't trained for that," Clint said. He let his genuine sincerity slip into his voice as he stared at his hands. "I can't remember all of it, but I never wanted to hurt anyone from S.H.I.E.L.D.. I fought against it…I must have because Director Fury is alive, and I could have killed him ...but Loki kept using the scepter on us-"
"How did he use the scepter?" Agent Denai asked.
"I don't remember," Clint said. He looked up at them, pushing away the feeling of cold metal and blue fire from his mind and saying, "All I know is that he didn't care about any of us as long as he got what he wanted."
"Why should we believe you?" Agent Johnson demanded. "Pretending to be under Loki's control would be a good way for a Hydra agent to maintain their cover while also causing disorder inside S.H.I.E.L.D.."
"I'm not Hydra," Clint said. "I went to fight with the Avengers after Natasha brought me back, I helped with clean-up, and if that's not enough, your lie detector thing hasn't changed while I've been talking. Am I right?"
Agent Denai nodded, tilting the screen slightly in Agent Johnson's direction. "He's telling the truth," he said.
"Agent Barton," Agent Johnson said slowly, seeming to change tactics, "what happened to Loki's scepter after he was apprehended?"
"S.H.I.E.L.D. returned the scepter Thor, and Thor returned the scepter to Asgard for safekeeping," Clint said.
"Our records indicate otherwise," Agent Johnson said. She pulled out a file from her briefcase, thumbing through a stack of paper. "Our sources indicate that Director Fury kept the scepter and was studying it to determine how it worked. Furthermore, we believe that Alexander Pierce had access to the scepter while acting as Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. during Director Fury's absence, and that Mr. Pierce used his power to deliver the weapon into Hydra's hands."
"No, that's impossible," Clint said. He didn't give himself any time to think about her statement, quickly adding, "Director Fury knew that S.H.I.E.L.D. had no hope of containing a weapon of its magnitude, and he handed it over to Thor for the Asgardians to protect. I saw it happen."
"Let's assume that is correct," Agent Johnson said. "Director Fury was still experimenting with the Tessaract while it was in his control. Rumors suggest that he was using it to make weapons."
"I don't know if that is true," Clint said.
"Surely, you've heard something," Agent Denai said. "You're a high-ranking agent, you must have some intelligence about what happens in S.H.I.E.L.D. weapons development."
"I may have been here awhile, but they don't let me sit in on the planning strategies and important meetings. I don't have the clearance," Clint lied smoothly. "I'm just a weapon to them. All I do is point and shoot when they tell me to."
"So you're saying you don't know anything?" Agent Johnson said, frustration creeping into her voice.
"Sorry," Clint said. "Although, come to think of it, it's not the first time I've disappointed someone by not knowing anything."
"Why don't we move onto the next topic," Agent Denai said, handing Agent Johnson another file.
Agent Johnson nodded stiffly before asking, "Where were you when Hydra attempted to overthrow S.H.I.E.L.D. internally?"
"On mission for Director Fury," Clint said. "You can imagine my surprise when the mission was over and there was nobody there to transport me back to S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters."
"You didn't think it was odd that you lost contact with S.H.I.E.L.D.?" Agent Denai asked.
"It happens surprisingly often," Clint said with a small shrug. "An occupational hazard of working in the field."
"And what did you do when you couldn't contact S.H.I.E.L.D.?"
"I scraped together enough money to travel back to headquarters in the most inconspicuous way possible," Clint answered. "Took me over two weeks."
"I'm sure you are aware that many of the sleeper Hydra agents were found to be members of the Strike teams," Agent Johnson said.
"I still have a hard time believing it," Clint said, shaking his head. "But if you are trying to imply that because I was on Strike Team Delta, I might be a sleeper agent, you're barking up the wrong tree."
"Agent Barton, you have to admit that the idea isn't implausible," Agent Denai said gently.
"I already told you I'm not involved with Hydra," Clint said. "I owe S.H.I.E.L.D. everything. I would never betray them."
"Let's talk about S.H.I.E.L.D. then," Agent Johnson said. "Tell us everything about your involvement with S.H.I.E.L.D., your perceptions on what they have done, and your relationship with Director Fury."
"I'll do what I can," Clint said. He saw the eagerness in their eyes as he leaned forward, and Clint readied himself to distract and redirect them from any useful information. "But I'm not sure how helpful I can be."
Clint was exhausted. It turned out that a couple of hours sleep in the medical bay was not enough rest for him to forget the aches and pains of spending more than a month at A.I.M.. To make matters worse, it appeared the W.S.C. preferred sleep deprivation as their method of torture. In return for making their interrogation frustrating and unenlightening, the W.S.C. agents had decided that keeping Clint from resting would be the easiest way to make him slip up and talk.
Any time Clint let himself relax, his eyes drifting shut and mind hanging on the edge of sleep, the door would bang open and the Agents would burst in and handcuff him to the table. Clint wasn't happy about the arrangement. And if the way Agent Johnson kept making the handcuffs tighter and tighter was any indication, neither were they.
Clint had lost track of time at some point. He hated the feeling of losing time almost more than the sleep loss, but he thought maybe it had been days since they started their evaluation of him. Whatever escape the Director promised, though, it didn't seem to be coming.
However long it had been, Clint now found himself staring at the flat pillow on his uncomfortable cot, considering whether it was worth the effort of laying down as he zoned in and out of mindfulness. He was halfway to raising his foot onto the bed when the door opened.
Agent Johnson entered the room, alone for the first time since Clint had met the two W.S.C. agents. She looked agitated, taking long strides across the small room to secure the handcuffs on the table. With half a glance at him, she gestured to his normal chair and said, "Take a seat."
"You sure you don't want to wait for your partner," Clint said, sluggishly moving to the table and placing his hands in the restraints. "Isn't he the one who usually records these sessions."
Agent Johnson tightened the handcuffs around his wrists, the cold metal digging into his skin. "This session is off the books," she said, hovering over him.
"Sounds like a bad idea," Clint said warily. "You sure you've thought that idea through?"
"You can cut the crap, Agent Barton. We can't prove it, but we know that you have been withholding evidence from us," Agent Johnson said. "You know more about S.H.I.E.L.D. than you have been letting on, and I doubt you will tell us any of it."
"Then why are you here?" Clint demanded.
"Because I can't do anything about the Council clearing you as a safety threat," she said. "But I'll be damned if I let you get away with what you did during the Battle of New York."
"Who did you know?" Clint asked, his shoulders sagging. "Was it a relative? A friend?"
"You don't get to kill people and walk away like nothing happened," Agent Johnson said, ignoring his question. "They had lives and families, and you killed them. Director Fury spoke on your behalf, and the Council backed off, but you deserve to be punished for what you've done."
"Who did you lose?" Clint asked.
"This isn't about them, this is about you."
"Family then," Clint said, the realization sinking in. His heart was pumping fast, adrenaline running through his body as it recognized her as a threat "Then what do you want from me? Do you want me to go to jail? Do you want me to apologize? Because I hate to break it to you, but if you're looking for someone to blame, you better go to Asgard and find Loki."
"You killed them with your arrows and your bow!" Agent Johnson said.
"Because Loki made me."
"You could have fought harder! You could have kept him from using you!"
"I couldn't, alright! No matter how hard I fought, and begged, and futzing tried to free myself, he was too powerful!" Clint yelled. He took a deep breath, and met her stare. "I feel guilty about it, and nothing I do will stop that, but it wasn't my fault. I don't know whether you're just looking for someone to blame or some kind of vengeance…to be honest, I don't really care…all I know is that there is a better way."
Agent Johnson moved to his side of the table, fists clenched so hard the knuckles were white, and before he could react, she punched him. Her fist caught him hard in the head and rocked the chair back on two legs before it slammed into the ground. He felt blood pooling in his mouth. His tongue hurt where he had bit it, his left arm throbbing from being jerked around. Clint leaned over the chair as far as his restraints would let him and spit on the floor.
"Do you feel justified now?" Clint asked, glaring at her. "Because I can tell you, of all the times I've hit someone or let them beat the shit out of me, not a single time did it make me feel any better."
Agent Johnson returned his glare, her fist rising to hit him again when the door flew open and Tony walked into the room with Cap following behind him. The Avengers charging in must have been Fury's escape plan, Clint decided as he tensed against a shock of pain. A part of him wondered if being hit was in Fury's plan, too.
"If you touch him, I will sue you for everything you're worth and make sure you never work for the government again," Tony said, bristling as he moved to stand between Clint and Agent Johnson. "Sorry for the interruption, but we couldn't help overhearing you harassing Agent Barton."
"You are currently interfering with an interrogation," Agent Johnson said. "When the World Security Council hears about this, there will be repercussions."
"I'm sure there will be, especially after I send them the recording we took of you hitting an Avenger after chaining him to the table," Tony said. "There's a word for that, Steve, what's it called again?"
"Assault," Steve said, fixing Agent Johnson with his best 'I'm Captain America' stare.
Tony snapped his fingers and pointed at Steve. "Exactly. Assault," Tony said. "And the last time I checked, that was illegal."
Agent Johnson was seething, her hands clenching at her side.
"This is the part of the investigation where you hand over the keys and let me go," Clint said, rattling the handcuffs for effect. "I suggest you cooperate."
Agent Johnson dropped the keys on the table. She glared at Steve and Tony, ignoring Clint completely as she stalked out of the room, already pulling out her phone to try and regain control over the situation.
"I don't think she likes you," Clint said, watching the door close behind her. "She doesn't like me either, but in her defense, that's because we've been antagonizing each other for the last couple of days."
Clint shrugged, the smile on his face dropping when he saw Steve and Tony looking at him seriously.
"You're deaf?" Tony said, half astonished and half confused.
Clint's fingers twitched toward the purple hearing aids nestled in his ears, jaw clenching as his heart thudded in his chest. "Yeah. About 80% loss in both ears," Clint said tersely.
"How long?" Steve asked.
Clint thought he looked…disappointed? Angry? There was something in his expression that Clint couldn't quite define, but Clint doubted it was absolute acceptance. "A couple of years. Before I started working with the Avengers," Clint said. "You got a problem with that?"
"The only problem I have is that you're wearing S.H.I.E.L.D. issued hearing aids. Those are S.H.I.E.L.D. issue, aren't they?" Tony said. "God, they're hideous. Give me a week, and I'll make you better ones."
"You should have told us," Steve said, arms crossed over his chest. He stared down at Clint with a solemn expression. "We're your team. We're supposed to trust each other. What if something bad had happened because your hearing aids weren't working and you couldn't hear?"
Whatever relief Clint felt with Tony's words evaporated, a tightness in his chest forming from the disapproving stare Steve was giving him.
"Really, Cap?" Tony said sharply. "The man is handcuffed to a chair. Again. Is this really the time for a 'sharing-is-caring' talk?"
Tony snatched up the keys and started uncuffing Clint from the chair, Steve slumping behind him.
"I don't like it when my teammates keep secrets from me," Steve said, shifting hesitantly. "Innocent people could be hurt, including one of us. Clint, I'm not saying-"
"I get it, Steve," Clint interrupted. He shook off the handcuffs that Tony had unlocked, and pushed to his feet. "I'm a liability. I'm the only non-superpowered, non-genius on the team, and suddenly you find out that I'm deaf, but you know what? I'm damn good at my job, with or without my hearing. Being deaf isn't a weakness…not to me."
Clint left the room, his index and middle finger compulsively tapping against his thumb as he hobbled toward Director Fury's office. Steve and Tony followed behind him, having a muted yet heated argument. Clint knew he was being petty, but at the moment, he didn't care. Maybe he would apologize to Steve later. Maybe he wouldn't. Clint pushed it from his mind as he knocked heavily on Director Fury's door.
"Director Fury, I need to talk to you," Clint said.
"We're not going to go through this again, Feathers," Tony said firmly. "The last time we let you go with S.H.I.E.L.D., they shoved you in a cage. You're coming to the Tower where we can try to figure out what crap they put in you while Cap does everything he can to apologize. Not to mention, Natasha will kill us if we let you stay at S.H.I.E.L.D.."
"Fine, Tony, but not now," Clint said. He knocked louder, cursing in Russian under his breath until the door opened.
Agents Denai and Johnson stood before him, Agent Denai looking defeated and Agent Johnson practically murderous. Clint couldn't help the grin that spread across his face. It was worth Agent Johnson shouldering roughly past him, worth the twinge of pain, and it was with satisfaction that he called after them, "It was a pleasure working with you."
He saw Agent Johnson's hands clench into fists, Agent Denai saying something to her before they rounded the corner. While Tony and Steve were distracted, Clint entered the Director's office and locked the door behind him.
"Agent Barton," Director Fury greeted him, "you'll be happy to know that the World Security Council has come to a decision, and they have decided you are not a threat. Between their insufficient evidence and Agent Johnson's misconduct, they have been forced to drop their investigation. Congratulations."
Clint nodded once, the muscles in his jaw working as he sat in front of the Director, and fixed him with a stony expression. "Are we able to speak freely, sir?" Clint asked.
"You have something you would like to discuss?" Director Fury asked.
"You lied to me about the location of Loki's scepter," Clint stated. "And because of Alexander Pierce, it's now in control of Hydra."
"Yes," Director Fury said. "How much does the World Security Council suspect?"
"They said they have sources confirming that the scepter stayed at S.H.I.E.L.D. and that it was handed over to Hydra," Clint said. "It's possible they just heard rumors and were taking a stab in the dark that I would give something away, but they sounded more confident than that."
"You told them it was a lie," Director Fury asked, a subtle demand in his tone that suggested there was only one possible answer.
"Of course," Clint said, anger seeping into his voice. "I told them that you recognized it was a dangerous weapon, and that I saw you do what you should have done and handed it off to Thor for the Asgardians to keep it safe."
"Did they believe you?"
"Probably not, but they don't have any proof that S.H.I.E.L.D. kept the scepter," Clint said, struggling to keep his voice down. "Jesus Christ, what were you thinking keeping that thing? It caused the deaths of over a hundred people, and you thought S.H.I.E.L.D. was prepared to control it? You thought we could weaponize it?"
"I thought I was doing what was best," Director Fury stated. "New York was almost destroyed because of the Chitauri, the scepter could have been the advantage we needed to prepare for intergalactic warfare. In either scenario, the scepter would have been no safer in Asgard than on Earth."
"With all due respect, Director, that is bullshit," Clint said. "We were in way over our heads with the Tessaract, and you had to know that working with the scepter would be no different. And look what happened…Hydra has possession of it." He paused, shaking his head, then added, "I don't like it, but I can understand why you would have wanted to keep the scepter. It's stupid, but I get it. What I don't understand is why you lied to me."
"Barton, you were unstable after the Battle of New York," Director Fury said calmly. "If I had told you that S.H.I.E.L.D. was intending to keep the scepter, you would have put up a fight and might have tried to destroy it yourself. You would have done something reckless. Again, I thought I was doing what was best."
"Yeah, well, you were wrong," Clint said. He stood up, matching the Director's penetrating gaze as he ran a hand over his face. "Who's looking for it?"
"The Avengers with the help of S.H.I.E.L.D."
"Good. I want all information available on what's happened since you kept it after New York. And when we find it, that scepter goes straight back to Asgard for the Asgardians to watch over. If catch sight of it on-board, I will find a way to destroy it."
"Not many agents would have the guts to speak to me the way you are."
"Yeah, well, I think I've earned a few demands," Clint replied.
"Agreed," Director Fury said. "I expect updates."
"Yes, sir," Clint said, shoulders relaxing. He stood up, one hand rubbing the back of his neck as he limped toward the door.
"Agent Barton," Director Fury said, fixing him with a pointed look, "Good work."
Clint nodded. He left, interrupting whatever heated conversation Tony and Steve were having, and all three of them made their way to the Quinjet. "It's a bit excessive, isn't it?" Clint asked. "A car would have worked just as well."
"Sure, but the jet is quicker and more badass," Tony said, opening the door and stepping inside. "Cap, come with me and help fly this plane. Barton, take a seat and try not to get hurt any more than you already are."
The two men quickly made their way to the front of the plane while Clint settled in one of the plush chairs. He was surprised when he was joined a few seconds later by Thor and Bruce.
"It is good to have you back, friend!" Thor said happily. "Later than I suppose any of us hoped, yet it is much welcome."
"Thanks, Thor," Clint said sheepishly.
"We've got one of the medical suites set up for you," Bruce said. "I have your most recent medical records for myself and Dr. Cho to look through when we get back, but we figured you would need fluids and basic care for at least a couple of days."
"I'm sure I'll be fine, but thanks," Clint said. "I appreciate it."
"Let us care for you at least until the A.I.M. serum is gone," Bruce said. His eyes lingered briefly on Clint's hearing aids, a curious and sad expression briefly crossing his face before he replaced it with a purely clinical look. "We should at least monitor your ears to make sure there isn't any permanent damage."
Clint laughed, shaking his head slightly. "Good luck with that doc, I've been missing my hearing for a couple of years now. It's not coming back anytime soon."
"You mean you're deaf?" Bruce asked.
"Yep," Clint said. He shifted uneasily, and before he could stop himself, he added, "Not for the first time either."
"What do you mean?" Bruce asked.
"Hit my head when I was a kid," Clint said, deliberately leaving out the fact that it was his father's fist that did the hitting. "Lost my hearing for a long time, but it came back. Second time was a few years ago while working for S.H.I.E.L.D.."
"In Asgard, some of our greatest warriors are without a limb or a sense. Our blacksmiths are quite skilled in making replacements of the finest uru," Thor said proudly. "Even Odin, my father and the king of Asgard, is without sight in one eye, and he is considered one of the most powerful warriors in all of the nine realms."
"Really?" Clint asked.
"Verily," Thor said. "Asgard would be proud to have a warrior such as yourself. Losing a part of your body in battle is considered a sign of great dedication, not something to be belittled."
"Thanks, Thor," Clint said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Not everyone would agree, but it sounds nice."
"Is that why you didn't say anything sooner?" Bruce asked.
"What was I supposed to say?" Clint said. "'Hey guys, I know I'm the only normal person on the team, but guess what? I'm deaf too.' That doesn't sound like a fun conversation."
"I suppose it doesn't," Bruce said. "It doesn't change anything. You're still a capable assassin, but if there's anything we can do to make it easier, let us know."
Clint nodded, and they dropped the issue, chatting about recent events until the Quinjet landed.
"Hey, Tweety, when was the last time you ate decent food?" Tony asked as he came to the back of the Quinjet. "And I don't count S.H.I.E.L.D. cafeteria mush as decent food."
"Month and a half, give or take," Clint said.
"That is unacceptable," Tony said. "Thor, you and I are going to find some normal food for our birdie while they get him into his room. I'm thinking we fly over to the burger place on the corner, but I'm open to suggestions."
They left, voices fading as they walked out of sight. After a brief discussion with Steve, Bruce also excused himself to go and make sure the medical suite was prepared. Left alone with Steve, Clint grit his teeth and started walking as quickly as he could toward the medical bay while Steve followed uncomfortably beside him. Clint opened his mouth to say something, maybe comment about what Tony would consider normal food, when Steve cut him off.
"I'm sorry about earlier," Steve said. "When I found out you were deaf. I shouldn't have acted that way."
"It's okay," Clint said. "Kind of a shock to find out your teammate is deaf."
"Still, you're a valuable member of the team and being deaf doesn't change that. I shouldn't have let my surprise make it seem like it does."
"It's not a big deal, Steve," Clint reassured him. "I get that reaction more than you'd think."
"Guys used to go deaf a lot during the war," Steve said quietly. "Bombs went off too close and fellas would be grabbing their head, yelling questions at you even when you were right next to them."
There was silence, and both stopped in front of the medical suite door. Steve seemed to remember something, the ghost of a smile on his face. "We learned some sign language to help communicate with them back then. I'm rusty, but maybe you could help me practice?" He blushed suddenly, a flash of panic crossing his face before he added, "That's if you already know sign language. I don't want to assume anything. If you don't, maybe we could all learn. If you want to, I mean-"
Clint cut him off with a laugh, one hand supporting his ribs as he leaned against the wall for support. It was a good long while before he caught his breath. "Relax, Cap, I'd be glad to help you practice. But if we're teaching everyone, I call dibs on Tasha and Bruce, and you can teach Thor and Tony."
Steve laughed, opening the door to find Bruce watching them with confusion. "I think we better call in a professional for Tony."
"Room's all set up," Bruce said, shuffling toward the two of them with a clipboard. "Steve, can I talk to you for a second? I'll be back soon to get you all set up, Agent Barton. We'll do a complete exam when Dr. Cho arrives, but in the meantime, you should drink some water to stay hydrated."
Bruce and Steve left, their voices trailing off as they walked further away, and Clint looked around the room. It was much nicer than any medical room had the right to be. Hell, the bed looked like he would actually be able to get some decent sleep on it, but Clint felt uneasy. It took him a moment to realize it was because he was once again stuck in a room where he would be monitored and under observation.
The Avengers weren't A.I.M. or the W.S.C., but they would want to keep an eye on him until the serum was gone and he was back in action. And Clint was futzing tired of not being allowed to be alone or go anywhere. He wanted to think, and because of the damn serum, he couldn't think unless he could speak. Call him paranoid, but he didn't want to say anything while knowing the Avengers could pop in at any time. He felt like his mind was clouded, everything cluttered together, and he needed to get everything straight if he was going to return to fighting shape, find Loki's scepter, and explain to Tasha how the Avengers found out he was deaf before her.
Clint peered through the glass, taking note of Steve and Bruce's position at the end of the hall. "JARVIS," Clint said, "make sure the Avengers can't track my position. If they ask where I am, you can tell them that I'm fine and will return to the suite when I'm damn well ready, okay?"
When Clint received an affirmative, he grabbed a medical tool from one of the nearby drawers, moved over to a large vent in the corner of the room, and pried the cover off the vent as silently as he could. He carelessly slid the dented metal into the middle of the room, pausing to take a breath as his body reminded him that he was still recovering.
It would be a pain in the ass crawling in the vents, and Clint wouldn't get very far, which is why he planned on using it as a distraction. If they thought he was in the vents, they would focus their energy there. Bruce would probably run to find Tony and Steve would start by looking in his room. All Clint had to do was hide in the bathroom and wait for them to leave before hiding somewhere else in the building.
And considering his long streak of bad luck, Clint was surprised how perfectly it worked.
