Fury returned to his office to find Black Widow pacing the length of the room and Stark sitting in Fury's chair with his feet up on the desk. His entrance had both Avengers look at him in expectation; Natasha stopped her pacing and Tony even moved from Fury's seat without being ordered to.

"The council has declared Barton a threat to security and has decided to detain him for questioning," explained the Director. Natasha felt her stomach drop and nausea rise.

"What does that even mean, "Barton's a threat?" Like the way your little club believed Cap belonged on the threat list?" protested Tony. "He's one of us; he helped save the world."

"The council wants to find out for themselves." There was a miniscule pause "I was told we would be informed of their findings."

"And what if they decide they don't like what they find?" demanded Stark.

"We'll deal with the situation as it arises. Doing something brash is not going to help Barton's cause; so for the moment we will wait for the council's next move."

"Are you just going to stand there and say nothing? This is your partner we're talking about," Tony snapped as he turned his anger towards his oddly silent teammate.

Unlike Stark, Romanoff knew the weight of the situation; she had worked for all types of people and organizations and knew what they were capable of. Agents were only as good as their skills and ability not to draw attention to themselves, and Clint had drawn a lot of attention lately. The whole Loki incident had caught the council unaware, and the victory of the Avengers in the face of the council's solution had left them looking foolish; Barton was going to be their scapegoat to save face and validate their existence amongst the world's powers.

She could see the conflict in Fury. He had a very precarious position to hold; the council was still angry about him disobeying orders regarding sending the nuke to Manhattan. The Director had to think about the whole Avengers' initiative and all of the agents under his command; they all could be made to pay if they interfered with Barton's interrogation and that would cost the man his new weapon.

She wasn't sure if it was selfish or not but she didn't want to see the look in Clint's eyes if the council took out their frustration on everyone. If they rushed in and saved him before he was vindicated then her partner would never forgive himself or believe that the charges weren't true; but if they left him there, right or wrong he could be convicted despite the evidence. She also had a fairly good idea what lengths the council would be willing to go to get the answers they were after. She would act but she would wait for the most opportune time; she swallowed the lump in her throat. "We wait and see what they decide."

"So we just sit around and hope for the best?" Stark's incredulity was almost comical.

"For the moment, it seems to be the only option available to us," confirmed Fury with a deliberate nod as he stood up and left his office.

Stark looked around as if everyone had completely lost their minds apart from him. Natasha walked over and punched Tony in the arm. For lack of a better response he punched her back, causing her to hit back harder then point at the computer the Director had conveniently left on...and open to several servers Tony had not accessed yet. Following the less than subtle hint, he sat down and began uploading his usual tricks to maintain access to SHIELD's systems.

"Alright, let's go wait and see what they say," declared Stark. He would be able to use Jarvis to help him search through the information SHIELD had on the council and hopefully find something that was going to help the archer out.

Drugs could be wonderful things but at that moment they were a huge hindrance rather than a benefit. The doctors weren't barbarians, they wanted their patient comfortably numb to all the poking and prodding they were ordered to perform but Agent Mason had made absolutely sure Clint was doped up beyond all ability to move. Mason wasn't going to take any chances; he had extensive SHIELD training and knew how dangerous and cunning its operatives could be.

Clint lay on the examination table starring at the bright lights above him. The sound of his own breathing thundered in his ears while the sounds that he knew should be in the background ceased to exist. His body felt heavy but he wasn't attached to it. Knowing he should be worried, afraid even, he couldn't seem to get his limbs to respond to any command his mind was desperately trying to issue. The moments that weren't transfixed with the oddly hypnotic overhead lights were flashes that alternated between random faces with surgical masks, brief flickers of pain and the looming smug smile of Agent Mason. His last brief coherent thought was how he'd love to wipe the smirk off that gorilla's face.

It could have been the constant beep or the jackhammer destroying the resolve in his head that brought him slowly to awareness. If there was a millimetre of Clint that didn't ache fiercely he couldn't find it. Testing his range of movement in his arms revealed that his coordination was still off and he was securely restrained to the bed.

He was surrounded by four grey walls with no windows and the medical team that had been evaluating him was no longer present; to his relief neither was Agent Mason. At some point he had been dressed in a set of surgical scrubs. His first instinct was escape but as the strong arms of the drugs being pushed through his IV tightened their grip, the idea of chasing freedom came to nothing.

The quietness of the room was unsettling; he didn't want to be alone with his thoughts. Unable to move, to fight, the next thought to accompany the growing sense of panic was 'what if they found something that proved Loki could still take control.' The thought had always lingered in the back of Barton's mind as a possibility, but he'd been assured by Fury and the first group of medical experts that they couldn't find any evidence that it was possible; not that there was any way to be sure, it's not like there was a precedent for it.

The groan of the door betrayed Agent Mason's entrance. Clint turned his aching head slightly to catch a glimpse of the man who was moving a chair closer to his bed; Mason began flipping through the file folder he'd brought. He never said a word but nodded his head every so often as he turned the pages. Barton didn't even have the energy to glare at his tormentor anymore.

"Well it seems the tests came back inconclusive Agent Barton; looks like we'll have to proceed to the next round of tests." Mason's words dripped with cold indifference.

"Yeah and what are those?" croaked the archer knowing it wasn't going to be good.

"Outside stimuli."

On cue with Mason's explanation four large men entered the room and began undoing Barton's restraints. Clint knew he couldn't put up much of a fight, but he wasn't going to make it easy on them either. Fighting for purchase against the cold cement floor with his bare feet, the men dragged him down the corridor to a small room. He was forced into a chair and quickly strapped down.

Mason sauntered in behind Barton's escort, smiling arrogantly as one of the guards delivered a quick blow to the prisoner's head in an effort to cease the ineffective struggles. Slightly dazed, Clint's head lulled to the side as his captors finished tightening the last of the buckles. Several straps ran around his legs, arms and torso. A small metal chain was strung around his right arm, up his shoulder, hooked over his ears, around his chin and then down his left arm. A series of sensors were attached to monitor his vitals next.

"Let's begin," declared Mason.

Several switches were flicked and the machine next to Clint hummed to life. Mason's words were drowned out by the blood curdling scream that escaped the archer.