I've got to admit, I watched Captain America (amazing!) this past week and it threw me off my 'Lies' mindset for a bit, making it really hard to write. Before I started 'Lies' I was writing another long story that will be movieverse compliant and was planning on having it done before Captain America so I could just make stuff up for Steve's storyline, but now, since 'Lies' pushed it out of line, it will need to include the fallout from the movie, and if you have seen the movie you understand that I will now have to be rethinking some things. (I mean, HOLY CRAP MOVIE! Knock me on my face!)

That being said, hopefully this chapter is still up to par.

- -The light holes began opening at night, then would close as the sky got brighter. Clint started staying up at night, just so he could see something. After six days, and he actually felt a physical relief that he could tell that it had been six days, the door opened. Clint instinctively flinched away, but no light came through to burn his eyes, just darkness.

The holes were open, letting starlight in, so he could see a figure standing in front of the door as it closed. Clint stayed where he was by the pillar. It hadn't gotten so bad that he would crawl to them.

"Clint?"

Clint started, looking harder at the man; it was Patrick. Was he real?

"Pat?"

Patrick breathed a laugh and took a step forward but no more. "Yeah, it's me."

An illusion would say that.

"I'm working on this alright?" Patrick tried, speaking carefully. "They agreed to let the light back in, maybe give you another chance."

Another chance. He didn't take his eyes off Pat, afraid he might disappear like everything else. "You're still here."

"Yeah, I am. It's been awhile. Can… can I come closer?"

Why was he asking? No one asked.

Clint nodded.

Slowly, Patrick walked over and knelt down beside him. His hands lifted but then he hesitated and Clint could see his hands flexing and unflexing, unsure of where to put them, then finally settling on Clint's shoulders.

That was alright. No one had touched him there in a while, and Patrick's touch was soft and careful and… real, it was real. Clint closed his eyes briefly. He had missed this.

"Clint?" Patrick leaned in, trying to get a better look at Clint's face.

Clint shook his head and leaned forward until his forehead touched Patrick's.

Patrick smiled. "Hey." His arms moved, wrapping around Clint and pulling him close. "I can't stay for very long-"

Clint tensed, his hands gripping Patrick's shirt tightly, and began mumbling, "No, dont leave. Don't leave."

"Hey, no," Patrick soothed, trying to catch Clint's eye. "Don't panic." His hand came up and cupped Clint's face, making him look back up. He leaned in and softly kissed Clint's forehead. "I'll be back alright?"

"Don't leave, please," Clint whispered.

Patrick kissed his cheek, then pulled him into a hug, "I'll be back tomorrow." He gently pushed away from Clint. "Try and get used to the light again, they'll be staying open longer, so just try, alright?"

Clint nodded again and stayed on the floor as Patrick left.

Waiting. Always waiting.

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Patrick came back the next day, like he said he would. Clint was surprised. He was even more surprised when he came back to himself on top of Pat, choking him. He didn't even remember getting triggered.

Pat was trying to say Clint's name, to get his attention somehow. Clint blinked a few times, loosened his hold and scrambled back, moving around the pillar. Patrick tried to coax him back out, saying he wasn't mad, but soon gave up, promising to come back the next day, and he did. And the day after that. And the day after that.

Clint tried to keep his distance, but on the fifth day Patrick came right in and sat next to Clint. He didn't say anything, he just sat there; after maybe ten minutes he got up and left. He always came in the morning while the holes were still open, he might have even been coming in at the same time. Each day the holes stayed open longer and so Patrick stayed longer, but soon after he left, they would close again.

The next time Patrick came in and sat down, Clint moved closer laid his head on his shoulder. Patrick stayed even longer that day. Clint closed his eyes when it became too bright, not wanted to say anything to make Patrick leave.

When Clint woke up that night, there were a folded set of scrubs by the door. Patrick had gotten him clothes; Clint tried not to break down as he put them on. They felt weird and he woke up multiple times that night, thinking someone was in his cell touching him; but he didn't take them off.

The next day, he leaned on Patrick again, moving his legs so they were touching Pat's. Pat stayed even longer, some of the holes closed partially so that it wouldn't be too bright. Clint smiled.

The next day, when Clint snuggled close, Patrick wrapped his arm around him. Clint didn't even realize he had fallen asleep until he woke back up in the dim cell. The holes were barely open but Clint still see and feel Patrick next to him.

"You're still here."

He could hear Patrick's smile, "You keep saying that."

Clint stared out at the cell. "How long have I been here?"

Patrick hesitated. "I… they closed out the light almost six months ago, so…"

"Eleven months," Clint supplied. Eleven months. Almost a year. Six months, and Patrick had still come for him. Stayed for him.

"I told you, I'm working on this. I got them to listen to me about you. We just need to show them I'm right, and they've been handling you wrong."

Show them I'm right. Patrick was putting himself on the line to get Clint out of the dark, to…

"Donnelly?"

"Has to stay away for now."

For now. Show them. If Patrick didn't show them something, Donnelly was going to come back.

No more. No more.

Clint curled into Patrick more. "Grey."

Patrick leaned away slightly and looked at Clint. "What?"

"The color of the doors," Clint said, and Patrick's eye's widened, "They're grey."

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The holes were being left open for most of the day when it happened. Clint was surprised. He was so believing of Pat's words, but this wasn't his fault. Truthfully, Clint should have see it coming. Why would Donnelly willingly give up his toy?

The answer was that he wouldn't.

The shock was long and hard and Clint had not missed this. When it stopped he heard a chain clanking, then a click as a manacle closed around his left wrist.

No!

Clint surged away before the other could be put on, but only made it so far before the chain stopped him. The collar shocked him again as he pulled at the chain.

He wasn't suppose to be here. Patrick said that he had to stay away.

"You little shit!"

You little shit! Are you crying? Clint flinched away and was kicked in the gut. No. No.

"... take credit for my work?... you worthless…"

'He thinks he's so special.' Stark wasn't here. "Shut up, Stark!"

Clint was seeing too much and none of it was real.

"...my doing…"

Donnelly grabbed his hips.

"No!" Clint yelled, kicking back and knocking Donnelly away.

"Donnelly!"

Both men turned to the door, to see Patrick standing there, looking furious.

"Get out," Patrick demanded.

Donnelly didn't move. "You get out, Patty."

"I'm serious, Donnelly, get out."

They stared at each other for a moment before Donnelly gave in, "Sure." He glanced at Clint, then began walking to the door. He paused next to Patrick and leaned in, asking, "Or what?"

Donnelly's arm moved fast catching Patrick on the side of his head, dazing him.

"Pat!" Clint yelled, as the man was slammed against the cell wall. Clint tried to get to them, but the chain brought him up short. "No, Patrick!"

Donnelly had Patrick in a hold, cutting off his air. Patrick tried to maneuver out of it, but kept getting blocked. "Did you really think I would just let you have him?" Donnelly growled, "After all the time I put into him?"

Patrick's face was turning red, as he slammed Donnelly back against the wall, but the man didn't budge.

"No," Donnelly gritted out, "And they'll give him back when they find you in here dead, you got too comfortable with the prisoner, turned off the cameras, that was really me but you won't…"

Clint stopped listening. No. Donnelly wasn't going to kill Patrick. His mind became clear as he moved to the pillar, picked up his drinking cup and turned back and pitched it at Donnelly's head, hitting his temple.

Donnelly rocked back, releasing Patrick who fell the floor and rolled away, coughing. Donnelly shook his head, then zeroed back in on Patrick, who had moved into a crouch, but before he could move, Patrick pulled out a gun and aimed it at Donnelly.

Donnelly froze, looking surprised and genuinely confused. "What are you doing?"

Patrick didn't blink. "You shouldn't have turned off the cameras."

Donnelly's eye's widened, "No! Don-"

Two shots rang out, both bullets hitting Donnelly on either side of his chest, puncturing his lungs.

Donnelly's face was one of shock as he fell back against the wall and slid down.

Clint stood still, feeling in a daze watching as Donnelly began to cough up blood.

No head shot. A slow death. Clint could live with that.

Donnelly's face turned into a snarl and his right hand moved to the cuff, hitting something.

The shock hit hard, harder than ever before. He dropped to his knees, crying out. He could hear Patrick swearing and saw him run to Donnelly. Clint fell on his side, convulsing, unable to control his hands enough to move them to his neck. He couldn't breath. He was going to die.

Donnelly was going to have the last laugh.

The pain went on and on, his vision started blacking out. The last thing he saw was Patrick, pulling the cuff off Donnelly's arm.

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"Clint, please, wake up. Come on."

Clint groaned.

"There you go, come on, open your eyes."

"Pat?" He opened his eyes, to see Patrick's face not two feet away from his own, smiling.

"I got the cuff off him," Patrick said, "I'm sorry. It was some kind of failsafe code or something. I didn't know about it, are you alright?"

Clint blinked and forced himself to sit up. He had to see it.

Donnelly was still there, against the wall, eyes closed. Dead.

He was dead. The bastard was actually dead. Drowned in his own blood. Just like that.

Clint choked on a laugh.

"Clint?" Patrick asked, looking worried, "Are you alright?"

Clint nodded. Yeah. He was great.

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Clint was out of the cell. He wasn't blindfolded or chained. He still had to wear the collar, but Patrick was wearing the cuff to it now, so he could handle that. He didn't have free rein of the place, he was still confined to only part of the building he was in, but that part included a gym, with a shower room and an actual flushing toilet. After being stuck in the cell for almost year he had no problem with this. He didn't even think about trying to escape.

Escape to what?

At least Patrick was here. Always here. Clint couldn't leave the his room without Patrick with him, he was still earning trust and privileges. And that was fine, he was glad it was only Patrick, he never saw anyone else. They worked out in the gym together, showered at the same time, then took Clint back to his room.

It had a cot now and Patrick had gotten him a remote for the light holes.

The Avenger clippings were still on the wall. When Patrick had asked about them, about maybe throwing them away, Clint had turned him down. They were an important reminder.

After exercising one day, Patrick came up to Clint in the showers, a shy smile on his lips. Clint didn't move, just allowed Patrick to lean in and kiss him. He closed his eyes when he felt a tongue trace over his lips.

It wasn't the same. It didn't feel the same.

But maybe that was a good thing. Everything before this hadn't lasted, and Clint wasn't going to be naive again and think this was going to last either, but maybe this was all he was ever going to get in this life. Maybe this was what he was good for.

Clint pushed away the sadness that was trying to build and pulled Patrick close, kissing him back.

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The first time they had sex was in Patrick's room. He had moved his quarters to be by Clint.

He felt like he was going through the motions, but Patrick seemed happy enough, and Clint was glad he could at least do that. Patrick was all he had left.

Really? Do you actually have him?

Patrick held Clint close that night. He had never really enjoyed being the little spoon, having someone behind him, wrapped in there arms; arms that wouldn't let go, making him feel trapped.

So, Patrick had Clint. That would be good enough.

Clint ignored the emptiness that was now always in his chest.

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Time didn't seem to matter, but it passed anyway. Clint could now leave his room by himself. And the collar was finally taken off. That was mainly due to the fact that he had gone with Patrick on a hit, had taken out the target himself with, what Patrick enthusiastically called an impossible shot, and didn't try and make a break for it. He had nowhere to go anyway.

They had taken precautions anyway, so that Clint wouldn't be able to retrace his steps. Clint had given Patrick an amused look and the man had rolled his eyes. Yeah, Patrick knew Clint would be able to retrace most of it. This was for show.

It didn't seem real, being out in a city, watching people move around their lives. Life moved on everywhere else. Just another reminder that he really didn't matter. He was glad when Patrick joined him in his room that night to celebrate.

Patrick was behind him, Clint could feel the breath on his neck and made himself relax into his arms.

"Bet the guards love this free porn," Clint said eyeing the cameras that were still up.

"I turn them off for this," Patrick said.

"And you're bosses are ok with that?"

"As long as they turn back on when I say they will. They've got nothing to say when you're not being hostile." Clint could feel Patrick smile into his neck but it faded and Clint could tell he was was looking at the clippings on the wall across the room.

"You know they probably think you died months ago, right? After that phone call with Stark?"

Clint's jaw twitched. "Yeah, I figured."

Patrick took a deep breath. "I'm sorry things turned out this way for you. That it took this for you to find out what they really thought of you."

"Better than living a lie," Clint bit out. He didn't want to talk about this.

"I may not think much of them," Patrick continued, "But professionally, you've got to respect them. When I heard there was a hit out on most of the team, I said good luck, because if any actually thinks they can take them-"

"There's a hit?"

"Yeah, you wouldn't believe how much. They keep-"

"For everyone?"

Patrick hesitated. "Yes. But they don't actually expect anyone to kill that green Hulk. Isn't he unkillable or something?"

"Pretty much," Clint mused. "So take out the team. Make sure they don't bother anyone again?"

Patrick pulled his arms away and sat up. "Clint?"

Clint nodded, staring at the clippings, "I can work that out."

This is the last flashback chapter, only present time chapters now!

The Devil Within by Digital Daggers