"What are you thinking about?"
Tony glanced up at Pepper. There was a mouthwatering dinner laid out for two in a small dining room in the tower, a bottle of wine open on the table, and she was looking radiant, dressed in a gorgeous little black dress, her hair down, falling over her shoulders just the way he liked it best. And yet his mind wasn't in the room. He was, he decided, certifiably insane if he could be distracted at a moment like this.
"Nothing. Just enjoying the food." He smiled at her. "Not thinking about anything. Tell me how your day was."
She looked at him, and smiled. It was that smile he knew so well. That 'Tony, really? You think you can fool me that easily?' smile that had intrigued him from the first day he hired her. "I already told you how my day was…twice. So come on. Why don't you tell me what's going on with you instead? Maybe we'll have better luck."
Tony chuckled and took a drink of his wine. "Nothing...much. I guess I can't really get over something Bruce said to me the other day."
"About what?"
"Well, about Clint actually."
"Oh." She waited, watching him closely.
Tony swirled the wine around in his glass. "He was a friend you know."
"I do know Tony. And I understand that made the betrayal hurt, a lot."
"Yeah." He set down the glass and leaned forward. "The things is, he didn't capture or threaten to kill you. He didn't rip my reactor out and leave me to die. He didn't hand me off to some terrorists to be murdered. He's not Obadiah. So it's really, really easy to be angry at him. But it's not as easy to hate him as I thought."
"What are you saying?"
He leaned back in his chair with a heavy sigh. "I don't know. I guess maybe that it's not so simple? That while I'm not about to rush out and forgive him, that I find I can still worry about him? That part of me never wants to see that guy again and if I do I want to throttle him and the other part wishes I knew where he was right now." He gave a humorless chuckle. "I really don't know what I'm saying Pepper."
"I do," she smiled at him. "Tony Stark has a heart, remember? I've seen the proof." She got up and came over to him, sitting down on the arm of his chair and reaching out a hand to his cheek. "And you've got a very big one." She leaned forward and kissed him.
"We will put him in again, and now! I am growing impatient," Strucker snapped.
"There are risks," the doctor responded, placating, "We could do permanent damage to Barton if we don't give him enough breaks between sessions."
"The Asset survived it."
"Barton does not have the Asset's healing abilities or strength. His body is already suffering more of the after effects of the treatment than the Asset did."
"Good. We need to wear him down."
"We could kill him. We have no idea how many of these sessions in what space of time, will be one too many."
"Well, you're a scientist. You should enjoy the experiment." Strucker turned to Wanda and Pietro who'd been standing to the side, waiting through the disagreement. "Bring him. Now." He then nodded to the guards, who followed the twins out of the room.
Pietro glanced down at Wanda as they walked. She briefly glanced up at him and their eyes met, held for a fraction of a moment, and then she turned her gaze to the front once more.
They reached Clint's cell. He was asleep when they came in, but the sound of his entrance started him awake. Immediately, Pietro could see the tension set in. Barton knew what was coming. He knew how bad it was going to be.
When Pietro pulled him to his feet, there was no comment, he didn't even meet Pietro's eyes, and when he was pushed towards the guards he stumbled a little.
Watching him, as they walked back along the hallway and down the stairs, Barton seemed to be decidedly weaker on his feet than the previous times they took this walk. Pietro wondered how many times they could make this trip before Barton would be unable to walk it at all? He glanced at Wanda again at this thought.
She didn't seem to be watching Barton, nor the guards, nor did she return Pietro's look. But he knew that expression on her face. She was deep in thought. She had had that look when Strucker first approached them for one.
As they reentered the room with the chair, Strucker beamed.
"Barton, here we are again." He tsk'ed. "You're not looking too well."
"I'm fine." Clint tried for a light tone, but it came out a little too strained. "Thanks for the concern though."
"Tell me Barton," said Strucker, coming over to stand inches from him. "How long do you really think you can continue to resist? Hmmm? How long before you crack and tell me exactly what I want to know? You're not even killing the Avengers. All you're doing is giving me a little information. A little insight. What harm could it really do? While the chair, well, I've been told it can do a great deal of harm. Perhaps it will even fry your brain." He reached up and tapped Clint on the forehead. "Leave you a halfwit for the rest of your life? Would you like that Barton? To permanently lose your own mind? Left just sane enough to know what you're missing? I would imagine for a man who has been through what you have, for a man so determined to keep his mind his own, that would be a fate worse than death."
Pietro saw a flicker in Clint's eyes, anger or terror he wasn't sure which it was.
Strucker laughed as if he'd just told an excellent joke. He stepped back. "It might interest you to know, the dear doctor has expressed some concerns about putting you in the chair too often. He says we don't know what effects it could have, but frankly I'm quite curious to see the results. Aren't you?"
Clint shrugged. It was a forced effort and a small act of defiance, Barton trying to cling to his earlier bravado, but Pietro admired it nonetheless. "Not particularly."
"Of course, we could leave this room right now. Go upstairs. I could pour you a drink. I have an excellent vodka. We could relax, and have a little chat about the Avengers. No one outside of this room would ever have to know."
There was a beat. "I don't like vodka. So I think I'll have to pass."
Any trace of a smile slipped from Strucker's face. "Put him in the chair," he snapped.
Two guards grabbed Clint and brought him forward. Wanda moved to stand beside Pietro. He looked down at her again. The expression of deep concentration and thought was still there.
Strucker gave an order, the engineers moved to their positions. At a snap of the finger by Strucker, a switch was flicked, and Clint's screams filled the room, echoing around the walls, burrowing into Pietro's brain-
"ENOUGH!" Red energy exploded from Wanda, roaring across the room, slamming into Strucker, the engineers, half the guards. At almost the same moment Pietro moved, taking out the remaining guards that stood behind.
He hadn't realized until now how prepared he was, how absolutely certain he'd been that she'd make the move. He'd been waiting, not to see if she acted but only when.
Wanda rushed over to the chair and shut it off. Pietro, checking first that everyone was down, joined her and disconnected Clint from the device.
"He's shaking," he muttered. "It's not stopping. Are you sure the chair's off?"
"Yes. Here," she came over quickly. "Barton? Barton?" Whether Clint heard her or not was unclear. His whole body was convulsing. "I'm sorry about this," she whispered. "I have to do it."
She reached out a hand and placed it on his forehead. Red energy sparkled from her eyes and from her palms, tendrils wrapping about Clint's head. She concentrated on waves of calm and peace, soothing his brain and body and then as he slowly stilled, sent him to sleep.
Wanda looked up at Pietro. "It will be easier to get him out this way. Can you carry him?" He nodded. "Good. I'll lead the way. You follow. I can take care of myself. You keep him safe. If you have to, run with him. I'll make my own way."
Pietro didn't like it, protecting Wanda, no matter how strong she became, what abilities she possessed, would always be his job. But he also knew better than to argue with her when she was in this mood, when the steel was in her voice. So he nodded and, with an effort, grabbed Clint, and picked him up.
They moved towards the door. Pietro behind, Wanda leading the way, energy sparking at her finger tips, power radiating from her.
The guards never stood a chance.
The phone rang and kept ringing. Pepper reached over and nudged Tony who let out a grunt. He, refusing to get up more than he had to, reached a hand out and felt around on the nightstand for cell without lifting his head from the pillow.
"Yeah?" he yawned into his cell phone, keeping his eyes closed so he'd be able to slip back to sleep in just a moment. "This had better be good."
"Hey," said a cheery voice on the other end of the line, "I'm calling to earn that lovely paycheck you send me every month. It's been feeling pretty unearned lately, you've gotten dull Tony, but I've got something good for you now."
Max Shepherd, one of the many employees spread around various newspapers and tabloids, that Tony paid a healthy stipend to in order to be given advanced warning of unpleasant stories about to leak. Sometimes they could even kill it for him.
"Max," Tony groaned, "couldn't it wait for the morning?"
"No can do. Look, Tony I couldn't kill the story for you. Frankly the best I could do was buy you twenty-four hours, and that was tough. This is big."
"Okay." He pulled himself up into a sitting position, which caused Pepper to give a sleepy groan and roll over. "Hit me with it."
"Well you know all those files from SHIELD that got leaked? Yeah, well like every other news organization and government we've been going through them too. Absurd amount of stuff on there. I mean you're having a slow news day, just dip into them and you can find some good dirt."
"None of this is exactly news Max. Cut to the gist before I fall asleep on you." He yawned again.
"I'm getting there. Well our researches stumbled on something…about one of the Avengers."
Tony sat bolt upright. Pepper, sensing the shift in position and the atmosphere in the room, looked round at him. His expression caused her to sit up too.
"Which Avenger?" he asked.
"Hawkeye. Look Tony, no easy way to say this. We have proof that Clint Barton was a Hydra agent. And the story's getting written up as we speak."
Tony stared at the wall for a full minute in silence.
"Uh? Tony? You there?"
"Yeah…I have twenty-four hours?"
"Yep. But I can't buy you anymore time after that. These files are available to everyone; it makes the paper antsy about getting scooped."
"Thanks Max. Expect a bonus this month." Tony hung up the phone.
"Tony?" asked Pepper. "What's wrong?"
"A paper's made the connection between Clint and Hydra."
"Oh. Well we knew it was only a matter of time before someone did. It was inevitable."
Yeah, Tony thought, it was inevitable. But then again, when had Tony Stark ever rolled over and accepted the inevitable?
He got out of bed. "Jarvis! Call an emergency Avengers meeting."