Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers or any of the characters in the story except Le Roux and his henchmen. If I did, there would totally be a Hawkeye/Black Widow movie in the works.
Author's Note: While I embrace constructive criticism remember this old saying if you choose to leave a review "If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all"
Again, special shout out to TuningMyViola who helped me out with Afrikaans translations!
Thanks to all reviewers and readers!
Enjoy!
Last Time:
"He's going to hurt you…and I can't stop him…"
"I know, Stark." Clint replied quietly. "I can take it."
Yeah, Tony thought, but can I?
In the end, you have to choose whether or not to trust someone- Sophie Kinsella
"You see any cameras or anything?" Clint asked even as he craned his neck to see around the room.
"No…and from what I saw of their set up out there while I was frog marched in, I doubt they have eyes or ears on us." Stark reasoned, pulling over a stool looking at Clint assessingly.
"What?" Clint snapped defensively.
"Can you lift yourself up again, like you did when you snapped that guy's neck?"
Clint blinked, then his eyes slid to the stool and comprehension lit his expression.
"Yeah." He forced out a deep breath and wrapped his hands around the chains he was bound to. He pulled his body up, his teeth clenching as his ribs protested painfully. Tony quickly slid the stool under him and guided Clint's feet onto it. He had to rest in a crouch, but the pressure released on his shoulders and he sighed in relief.
"Well," Clint picked up their previous conversation, "I doubt this is a permanent base…I don't even think they even have their weapons stash here." Clint frowned in disappointment.
"Let me guess...you're adding that to your to-do list." Tony sighed.
"Thousands of weapons we could get off the market…I need to at least find out the location." Clint argued.
"It's going to be hard enough getting out of here alive, Barton…it's like you're actually trying to make it harder."
"You gotta see the bigger picture, Stark…this is about more than just this weapon…"
"Well if we kill Le Roux, nobody will know where his stash is…"
"Can't risk that...do you want a bunch of kids to walk into a warehouse full of weapons one day? I know I don't."
"Melodramatic much? Has anybody ever told you that you're atrociously stubborn?" Tony snapped.
"Actually…yes." Clint shrugged, smirking a little. "But it's why I'm so good at my job."
"Yeah," Tony motioned at their cement prison. "You're awesome."
"Part of the plan, Stark."
"Yeah, okay." Tony scoffed, turning away.
Clint was silent for a few moments.
"If you can't handle this...I need to know now."
"I can handle it." Tony snapped, spinning back around. "I'm just trying to imagine a scenario where we actually make it out of this alive…I get that you've done this before…but the last time I did this, I had an iron suit to protect me when I busted out…and in case you didn't notice…they have it…we aren't bullet proof, Barton!"
"We'll be fine…trust me." Clint assured as he shifted his weight.
Tony's eyebrows hit his hairline.
"Trust you?" He scoffed, "Trusting you got us into this mess!"
"You want to blame me, that's fine…" Clint replied sharply, "But right now, I'm all you've got Stark."
"And I'm all you've got, Barton!" Tony shot back. "This trust shit goes both ways, and we both know that you've been playing this like I'm just along for the ride…"
"Stark…" Clint scowled.
"Right now, you've managed to get yourself captured, get all the guards so scared of you that they'll make sure you're already incapacitated before they get close, you've pissed of Le Roux, who for some reason hated you before we even got here, and put me in a situation where I have to do what they want or they're going to hurt you worse because of it…so thank you! You've really bolstered my trust, Barton…"
"Stark!"
"If you would just trust me and include me on this little merry plan of yours and give me all the information about this that you've been holding back, we might actually have a chance at surviving. I'm not a useless bystander anymore...I can handle being part of the plan!"
"STARK!"
"What?" Tony snapped, turning from his pacing to face him.
"You're right." Clint admitted as he shifted his weight.
"I'm what?" Tony blinked, then straightened, "Of course I'm right."
"I have been holding out on you. But it's not because I don't trust you."
"Really?" Tony challenged. "Would you have trusted me to back up Romanoff?"
Clint frowned, his answer clear in his silence.
"That's what I thought...see…isn't it easier when we're honest."
Clint's eyes suddenly darkened.
"You want honesty, Stark?"
Tony frowned, suddenly not so sure.
"Honestly, you drive me crazy with all your bullshit...you're arrogance, your egocentrism, and your inability to take anything seriously…."
"Way to target my main personality traits." Tony deadpanned.
"Honestly I don't know how people stand you…but your record as Iron Man is undeniable…so obviously you have some redeemable qualities…"
"You say that like its unexpected."
"I don't get you, Stark…I'm pretty good at reading people…and I don't get you…"
"Is that what your glitch with me is? I annoy you and you don't get me? So therefore I'm not to be trusted? Yeah, that's sound reasoning...if you're a crazy person."
"The rest of the team," Clint went on sharply, "I get…I know why they're here…why they do what they do…Cap, he feels like he let his whole generation down…he has this remarkable morality that is unshakable and he's the most patriotic person I've ever met…He's the real deal when you talk about a hero…He does this because it's who he is…
"Bruce…he's ashamed of his green side…he's with us because he's finally found away to use it for good…not to mention your labs feed all his nerdy needs…
"Thor…when the guy's around…he fights with us because he loves Jane and through her he loves our planet…he'll protect it because he loves her…and he genuinely cares about us…he's got a big heart for a warrior god…and he fiercely protects anyone and anything he lets into it…
"Tasha…she's got a ledger that bleeds red…she wants to make up for that…she wants to wipe it clean…so she's doing that…one day at a time…she fights to be redeemed.
"And then there's you…genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist...right?" Clint cocked his head mockingly, "You're a billionaire who used to make weapons for a living…then you had a run in with some Afghanis and suddenly you're a changed man…still doesn't explain why you do this…why you wear that suit and fight with us…how can I trust someone, when I don't know their motivation?"
Tony stared at him, suddenly understanding. He thought for a moment, choosing his words carefully.
"I do it because I can." He finally stated simply.
Clint's eyebrows drew together over his nose as he shifted on the stool.
"I do it because if I can and I don't, what kind of man am I? I watched a good man die in those caves in Afghanistan. He didn't die for any great cause and he died without a lot of fanfare…he died because he had a chance to give me a chance…and he took it…he gave me a shot because he could, no matter the cost to himself…
"So now, I fight as Iron Man…I fight because I have the power to give other people a chance…I had that power for a long time, it just took something like this," He tapped his arc reactor, "for me to figure out how much time I'd wasted."
Clint was quiet as he absorbed Tony's words, shifting silently on the stool.
"So maybe I am arrogant, but I'm a genius...I've earned that…maybe I am egocentric…but you can't change innate personality traits…and maybe I don't take anything seriously…call it a coping mechanism for a high stress job." Tony shrugged.
Clint met his eyes seriously and Tony knew something had changed between them. The impatience and annoyance that usually clouded the archer's gaze was absent. In its place was something else, not exactly trust, but an openness that hadn't been there before.
"Maybe I shouldn't have written you off from the start." Clint admitted. "I've been told I can be...standoffish."
"To say the least." Tony snorted. Clint continued undeterred.
"I've been betrayed before...by people I should have been able to trust…so I don't just give trust blindly…it's earned…usually over time."
"I suppose I can understand that tendency...given you're an assassin." Tony allowed. "Not exactly a profession that breeds trust."
"But our circumstances are putting me in a position to move up that time table…like I said in the warehouse…until we're home safe…we can only trust each other…"
"If we're going to do this." Tony started seriously, "we need to keep it all out in the open…I'll keep you updated on that," He jutted his thumb towards the gun, "and you just...keep me clued in on what's going on in that crazy head of yours."
Clint nodded with a sigh, shifting.
"Starting with what the hell is wrong?"
"Huh?" Clint's eyebrows rose in confusion.
"I've seen you sit in the same position for hours without even twitching, now you're shifting all over the place…what is it?"
"Honestly?"
Tony nearly laughed at the smirk on the other man's face. And Barton accused him of not taking things seriously.
"Yes please."
"Broken rib."
Tony sobered.
"Is it bad?"
"Well…it's broken." Clint's eyebrow arched as if Tony was an idiot for asking that question, "But it's only one…so..." he shrugged dismissively.
Tony rolled his eyes at the bravado, wondering if it was false for his sake or if one broken rib really was small potatoes to the archer.
"Anything I can do to help?"
"Don't suppose you have an ace bandage I can wrap around my rib cage..."
"Ah, no...left all my ace bandages in my other pants."
"Then no...just...just do what you're doing and I'll be fine."
Tony sighed, accepting there was nothing he could do for now.
"If we're going to be doing this whole trust thing…I think you should call me Tony."
Clint stared hard at him and Tony found himself wondering what had caused such a serious bout of reflection. Finally, after several agonizing moments of deliberation, Clint replied.
"Then you should probably call me Clint."
"So, Clint," Tony asked as he started carefully disassembling the gun, "who is this Fourie guy that keeps coming up?"
Clint sighed deeply.
"I had a mission a few years ago…it went sideways…Fourie lived to hate me for it."
"Someone on one of your missions lived? I thought you never missed." Tony feigned shock.
"I don't." Clint replied sharply, "And I didn't...he just proved to be remarkably resilient." The coldness in Clint's eyes clearly told the billionaire he didn't want to talk about it anymore.
Tony decided not to push just yet, but his curiosity was definitely peaked.
"It seems that Le Roux has ties to him."
"It seems." Clint frowned, wondering, not for the first time if he was going to have an unscheduled reunion with his old enemy. He hoped not. He didn't need to have anyone around that could be used against him when he and Fourie met again.
Tony realized he wasn't going to get anymore on the subject right now, so he shifted his focus.
"Who do you think set us up?"
"My money's on Collins." Clint replied immediately.
"That was unexpectedly certain." Tony arched an eyebrow, granting the other man a glance before returning to his work.
"He knew about Fourie…I don't care what he says, Fury would never release classified mission intel of that nature, not without telling me."
"What do you mean of that nature?" Tony questioned.
"Something that could get me killed."
"Ah."
"So Collins knew from another source…possibly Le Roux…hell, maybe even Fourie, himself..."
"So Collins is the leak?"
Clint nodded.
"Which means we were screwed from the beginning."
Clint nodded again. "I just don't know how we can prove it."
"I do." Tony grinned. "I hacked their network with my phone when we were in his office…I'm willing to bet I could do it again when we get back and find evidence in his personal computer."
Clint grinned. "Tony, if you didn't make a habit of hacking into every network you came across, I'd be impressed."
"Hmmm…not quite a high five, but I'll take it…" He quirked his lips, "Seriously though, I think we should have a word with him when we get out of this mess…Iron Man and Hawkeye style…" Tony decided.
"And what style would that be?" Clint questioned with an amused arch to his eyebrow.
"I'll blast him and you perforate him with arrows."
"Seems reasonable."
"We'd need background music though…a theme song would be handy in that type of situation."
"We'll get on that…as soon as we escape."
They'd been left alone for about four hours before Le Roux made another appearance. Tony had completely disassembled the weapon, and was inspecting the piles of weapon parts he'd been supplied with, figuring out what he could use. Clint was dozing on the stool, still crouched, his head resting on the crook of his arm.
Tony glanced at Clint when the archer suddenly tensed, straightening from his semi-relaxed position. The assassin's gray-blue eyes were on the door and he shifted on the stool as if preparing for something. Tony turned when the door slammed open.
Le Roux stalked in with two of his men flanking him with rifles. A third man carried in a metal chair with armrests.
"Kry hom af." (Get him down.) Le Roux pointed at Clint.
"What's going on?" Tony demanded. He watched Clint shift on the stool, bearing a remarkable resemblance to a crouching lion preparing to attack. Le Roux's men hesitated, looking at each other, then at Clint, then at Le Roux.
"Moenie lafaards wees nie!" (Do not be cowards!) Le Roux snapped.
"Maar Remy..." (But Remy) one of the men protested.
"Was 'n dwaas! Daar is drie van julle, en hy word gebind!" (Was a fool! There are three of you and he is bound!) Le Roux shouted, "Nou gaan!" (Now go!)
The men inched slowly towards Clint and Tony realized what he'd meant by being able to use their fear. The assassin whispered something in what Tony was coming to recognize as their enemy's native language. The men froze.
"Ek het geen gebruik vir lafaards!" (I have no use for cowards.) Le Roux warned firmly to get them moving again.
As soon as one was close enough, Clint struck. He jumped from the stool, wrapping his legs around the nearest one's neck and twisting in the same way he'd killed "Remy". The man dropped and the other two retreated a few steps, whispering fearfully in their native language.
"Dwase! Hy is geen duiwel nie! Hy is vlees en bloed." (Fools! He's no demon! He's flesh and blood.) Le Roux yelled at them. He snatched one of their guns away and stalked over to Clint, driving the butt of the rifle into Clint's already injured side; much like René had done earlier.
The archer grunted, clenching his jaw to keep from crying out. Le Roux kicked the stool out from under him and left Clint hanging there, body tense with pain. He shoved the gun back in his man's hands and turned to Tony. The billionaire had realized what was going on and his mind raced to figure out a way to stop it. No matter how uncomfortable Clint was up there, it seemed a lot safer than down here.
"Why are you doing this? I'm working, just like you wanted me to." Tony protested, watching with wide eyes as the men released the chain and let Clint drop into a heap on the ground.
They moved to grab the archer, who was determined to stoke the fear he'd instilled. He surged to his feet and wrapped his hands around the nearest man's head, one on the jaw, one on the crown of his head. He twisted sharply, hearing the tell-tale snapping of bones. He froze, breathing hard, as a rifle barrel pressed into his temple. He almost took it. He could have, easily. But Le Roux was looking pissed had a gun pointed straight at him.
Dammit.
"Sit down, Agent Barton, if you please." Le Roux instructed angrily.
Clint hesitated. He didn't want to show weakness in any form. But he needed to stay alive, so he could keep Tony alive and get them both out of this mess. Le Roux looked pissed enough to pull the trigger. He'd be pissed too if a supposedly captured prisoner kept killing his men. He may have pushed a little too hard, he admitted grudgingly, if only to himself.
"You can't take his and dodge mine at the same time." Le Roux pointed out. Clint glared at him darkly and sat.
He didn't move as the final guard, who he recognized as Johan, handcuffed his wrists to the arms of the chair. He didn't wince when the metal bit into his skin sharply. He didn't struggle when his ankles were duck tapped together next.
Two more men came in to clear out the dead bodies, all eyeing Clint with mixtures of hate and fear. Johan in particular, was watching Clint with wide eyed caution, as if he expected him to break his restraints at any moment. Clint's eyes narrowed marginally.
Interesting.
Then René came in carrying a simple strip of cloth and a jug of water.
"Are you just a sadist? I'm literally doing what you want right now...you coming in here is actually slowing me down." Tony protested as Le Roux put his hand gun away and moved over to Clint, who just watched them all with an eerie calm. Tony moved forward as if to physically intervene, but Johan turned his gun on him in an instant. Tony wanted rip his hair out in frustration.
"I've found that if one wants results, one must provide the proper motivation." Le Roux explained calmly. "René." He nodded to the man with the water and cloth. René handed the water jug to him and moved over to Clint.
"You don't need to do this." Tony tried to reason. "I'll get your damn guns built!"
He and Clint had discussed how he was supposed to act when this time came. Clint had warned him about it, and told him to play along. Act like he was going to do what they wanted. Hopefully that would keep them from being too destructive and rendering Clint incapable of the escape he insisted he could pull off.
Tony found, now that the time was here, that he didn't even need to pretend.
Le Roux looked at him with a sadistic smile.
"Yes, Mr. Stark, you will."
René stretched the cloth across Clint's mouth and nose, forcing his head backwards. Le Roux lifted the jug of water and started pouring it over the cloth.
Clint closed his eyes, holding his breath as the water soaked the cloth and filled his nostrils. He could hold his breath for exactly 6 minutes and 26 seconds. He knew that to be a fact. He'd learned that fact during a particularly brutal SHIELD anti-interrogation training session. Coulson had been away on an assignment just after Clint had passed his training and been made an Agent. A man named Hanson had been assigned as his temporary handler for those two weeks.
Coulson had come back early to find Clint convulsing behind a very similar wet rag. It had taken him 6 minutes and 26 seconds to start drowning.
He'd been counting.
He remembered the door to the training room bursting open and Coulson letting a litany of curses fly at Hanson as he ripped the cloth of Clint's face and pulled him out of the chair.
He'd pounded on his back, yelling at him to keep coughing. Clint had coughed until he expelled all the water in his lungs and vomited up his breakfast. Then the pounding on his back had stopped and Coulson had been in front of him, strong hands on either side of his face.
"Breathe, Barton." He'd said.
He'd repeated it over and over, staying on his knees in front of Clint until Clint wasn't hyperventilating and he didn't feel like his lungs were trying to turn themselves inside out. Then Coulson had smirked at him.
"6 minutes and 26 seconds, Barton…that's a record."
His record had been put to the test a few times over the last nine years, usually with Coulson reminding him over comms that he could hold his breath for 6 minutes and 26 seconds and that the water his head was submerged in, or that was pouring over his face wouldn't last that long.
6 minutes and 26 seconds.
End of Chapter 6
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"Oh, you have a plan?"
"Well…half of one." Tony hedged.
"Let's hear your half a plan." Clint's eyebrows arched in amusement.