A/N: ok, so this chapter was totally written before the guest review about cochlear implants. LOL! most of this medical info i've sort of spliced together. as a doggy doctor we dont do anything with implants for dogs or in depth hearing tests unless you're super specialist...which i'm not!
Oh- Subway pricing is totally my bad! I live on an island where the currency is in EC, so getting anything from subway costs nothing less that $20 (in EC...) so yes, American pricing, $5.00 US foot long... will try to remember that!
Bagel Thursday
PeechTao
Chapter 6
It was a strange sensation to have his bed suddenly start shaking in the middle of the night. Clint figured Tony was probably standing over him in an attempt to get his attention. Clint opened his eyes to see who was there, but was surprised to instead find Bruce. Bruce waved, pointed to the light, and turned it on when Clint agreed it was all right to.
"What's up?" Clint asked.
Bruce tapped his elbow, Clint lowered his volume.
"I finished the scope. I figured I could take a look at you tonight if you want. I have a few tests we can try and those will give us a better idea of what happened. Do you want to do this now, or wait?"
"I'm awake now, yeah, let's get it over with."
Bruce figured that would be his answer, so he laid a few things out on the desk and arranged his Stark database interface while Clint shook the sleep away.
"That was a good idea moving the bed." Clint told him. "Didn't freak me out like when people just sneak up and grab me."
Bruce nodded understandably. When he finished arranging the objects on Clint's desk he pulled the chair out and motion for Clint to walk over. The archer sat, and waited as Bruce faced him to explain what was going to happen.
"First I made up a scope. There's a camera on the end. I'm not an expert at brain scans, well, actually I am an expert at brain scans, just not an ear guy. This is hooked up onto my privately encrypted access to Stark's also very privately encrypted database. Whatever I find will be loaded onto the server, researched within twenty minutes, and similar case examples will be downloaded here for me to read. While that is downloading, I have a separate file with a standard hearing test. We'll go through that and based on the results I can tell what degree of hearing loss you have, Ok? All of this will give us a better idea of where to go from here. I've designed a new type of 3D imager, we'll do that too."
"I got it." Clint said. "Although I feel like a kindergartener I have to say."
"Don't worry, I won't tell Tony you feel that way." Bruce said smiling. As he finished setting the equipment, Clint looked around his darkened room. He noticed a towel pressed under his door, preventing the light from shining beneath into the hallway. When Bruce wanted to hide something, he was good at it.
"It's almost like you've done this before." Clint said.
Bruce's body moved as if it was laughing but he didn't reply that Clint knew. The scope was ready, so Clint remained as still as possible for what the results were going to show.
There was computer screen facing him. At certain intervals the image from inside his skull would freeze, disintegrate, and a load bar would be added to the bottom of the screen. Clint had a very rough knowledge of the inner ear. Enough to know if he clapped his hand hard enough against someone's skull it would rupture their eardrum. He waited to see that little membrane, but mostly the screen was clouded by the dark look of blood stuck in the canals. Bruce had expected this potential problem and had a tool ready for that as well. It felt like Clint was having someone picking through his brain, but at least the result was desired. Even on the second go, that little membrane he expected to see never appeared.
Ruptured eardrum. Clint thought. A few more screens captures, then the process repeated on the other side. When the second was finished, Bruce tapped a few keys on the keyboard and the system took over. The load bar returned and it became a waiting game.
Bruce grabbed his second medieval device and displayed it for Clint to see.
"This is a variation of Tony's 3D scanner he got off of Aldrich Killian except I've modified it. Now if you're about to go running for a lead apron, don't worry. There no serious radiation. Given my history, exposing myself to any is not exactly a good idea. This will give me an internal scan of your inner ear. All you have to do is stay still."
Clint did as he was instructed. Bruce set the device on the table attached to a tripod. A green laser scanned his face head on from left to right, then top to bottom. Clint then sat sideways and repeated the scan. After sitting to the opposite side as well, the scan was complete.
Bruce handed Clint a set of large earphones then explained the third part of the test.
"I'm going to play a series of tones, they change in decibels from low like a whisper to high like an air horn. I'm going to stand behind you so you can't cheat. When you hear a sound, any sound at any time, raise your hand. We're going to follow this time." Bruce placed his digital tablet in a cradle in front of Clint and the computer monitor. "Three minutes. When this time is up, it will restart. The second time I will test first your left ear, then the right ear. Three minutes, three minutes, three minutes, all the same sound range. Ready to start?"
Clint nodded his head. Bruce started the timer, then stood out of sight at Clint's back. Clint sat there in the silence, waiting and willing himself to hear anything beside the small ever present buzz in the back of his mind. He waited, watching that time tick closer and closer to zero, and all the while hearing nothing. His desperation was becoming near palpable. He almost imagine hearing a noise, but he knew there was nothing.
60 seconds left.
Clint was deaf. Totally deaf and he was going to be stuck that way for the rest of his life. He wanted to pull the earphones off, toss them across the room. He wanted to scream.
45 seconds. Still nothing. His heart was racing. His face flushed red. His chest hurt. This was pointless, useless. It was over. His life was over.
THUD!
The sound was so unexpected, Clint almost shot out of his chair. At the last moment he remembered to raise his hand.
A few seconds later, another thud. Clint raised his hand, almost giddy now. He waited in the dark, watching the time tick down and the sounds coming in with more and more regularity. Five seconds, sound. He heard it. Five more seconds, sound, he heard that one too. Five more seconds...
The clock wound down and after a brief pause began again. Clint focused on his right ear, waiting to see when the first sounds reached it. It was just passed fifty seconds, then every five seconds after that until the clock ran down. Now it went to his left ear. The same effect. Clint could hear, it was faint, but it was there. If it was there, he had hope didn't he? He could get better, right? When the clock went to zero the third time, Clint was desperate to see Bruce's reaction. The doctor was smiling, which did wonders to ease his mind.
"Great," Bruce said. "You are getting some higher decibels. I have to check to see what level of hearing loss you're considered, but it's a good place to start."
"Makes me feel better." Clint said.
The computer search popped up with a series of results. Bruce leaned over the desk to rifle through them, comparing case photos with the originals taken during Clint's exam. Clint and Bruce both saw the same image nearly simultaneously. Bruce pulled the information up, but that's where things took a turn for the worse. The title of the research article was "Inability of full Recovery From Patient Suffering Severe Inner Trauma as result of Sound Wave Frequencies."
Clint gulped, and fought through the medical jargon thrown around the page. His own case history was highlighted in corresponding points with the article. JARVIS did a full photo comparison, circling the page matches in the process. By the third page of solid text, Clint's brain was beginning to hurt and his eyes crossed. He waited for Bruce to explain the results.
After the first match, Bruce went on to read about the second. Even the title was fairly similar. "Irreversible Hearing Loss in Patient with Aural Trauma". Then a third, words rearranged, but title the same. The only part Clint was hanging on was the title that plainly read "Irreversible".
When Bruce finished, he didn't explain the news right away. Instead he opened another search pane and inputted the information from the hearing test. A percentage appeared in the panel. He did another search, now including the clinical findings, the percentage, and cause. It was the longest wait in Clint's life. He couldn't sit in the chair, thinking over what he was missing, so he got up instead and paced.
After nearly an hour of carefully arranging his thoughts Bruce waived Clint over, at last ready to share the findings.
"First things first, you are not 100% deaf. According to the results you have what's considered a severe hearing loss of around 80%. What that means is very high, loud sounds you are able to hear, like sirens, or someone slamming a door. Now, as for the actual damage I really don't have the news that I wanted. You're eardrums on both sides were ruptured. Many people have suffered that and it will heal on its own in a few months. But you have something a little more complicated than that. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
Clint nodded a little. "I have 80% hearing loss in both ears. I have ruptured ear drums. They'll get better on their own, but that's not my only issue."
"You have damage to the bones in your ears. There's three of them. The first one holds onto the eardrum, and that's been detached on both sides. The second and third bones were also fractured. All research says that the bones themselves and the eardrum will all heal on their own, typically. We'll have to recheck you periodically to make sure. The brain scan itself," Bruce accessed the 3D template and enlarged it. An image of Clint's inner ear floated in the air between them. Bruce pulled away multiple layer, blew up the image, and pointed out the area of concern. There was a curved image, small hairs floated back and forth in space, but those hairs were few and far between. Clint had the impression they were very important.
"Besides the fractures and the ear drums, this is the primary issue. These transmit sound. You can't send sound without them. The arrow, or even the sonic device, damaged and removed most of them. They don't grow back. You can't implant more. What's there was there, but now yours are markedly decreased. This isn't something I, or anyone, can fix. Have ever seen cochlear implants?"
Clint was having trouble processing everything Bruce was telling him. Even though he was speaking slowly, clearly indicating every word so that Clint could follow the movements of his mouth, the weight of what they were discussing was almost too much to bear. He reached a hand out for a second to stop him.
"Wa-wait. Just let me, I," He closed his eyes, rubbing his forehead. "So, I'm screwed up. Like, no going back. No getting better. This is it for me. Is that what you're saying?" He knew without hearing it his voice was raised, panicked. That fear that crept on him before hit again now. His breath was thready as his body felt like it was about to pass out.
But Bruce somehow managed to cut through his panic. He placed his hands on Clint's shoulders, and Clint stopped. He looked at Bruce.
"Clint, it's going to be ok. Smart men, a long time ago, made things to help with this exact issue. Now you have one better. You have me, and an entire ten floors of cutting edge technology. And if, IF SOMEHOW I can't figure it out, which would be ridiculous, I can ask Tony Stark to help. He is one of the foremost experts on biomedical engineering. Do you understand?"
Clint nodded a little.
"Ok. Now we know the problem. Give me by this afternoon and I'll have the first stage in the solution."
"Bruce?"
Bruce waved him off. "Don't worry about it. Clint, I've got this."
:(:):(:):
Clint lay awake for the rest of the morning, considering all the things he'd just learned. Part of him wanted to feel sorry for himself. Another part was angry, in pain, and frustrated. But still the last of him, the part he held most tightly to was the one where Bruce Banner was helping him. He wasn't in this alone. He had a light at the end of this tunnel and he was going to figure this out. Clint thought about that part of himself for a long while as the sun came up over the city. He knew today he'd have to make an appearance, a good one, so the others wouldn't catch on to his reclusiveness. He was concerned that Natasha would have overhead his and Bruce's midnight testing, but that wasn't to be helped. He knew she'd keep whatever findings she came across to herself until Clint was ready to share the news with her. That too would have to come at some point.
He almost dreaded that. The look he'd receive from Tony, the pity from Steve, the motherly smother by Pepper and the betrayal by Natasha. Clint knew his friends, knew them well enough to predict exactly how this news was going to hit them. In a word: it would be devastating. He couldn't do that to them yet. If nothing else he had the power to delay the inevitable. He wanted to be able to say: Yeah, I'm deaf, but Banner fixed it, so were good. Until he had that little assurance he was keeping silent.
He showered, taking special care to protect his ears the way Bruce had instructed him in the night. Somehow the doctor was going to get a hold of some medicated ear drops. How Clint didn't know, but he trusted Bruce with everything now.
He toweled off, changed, and went out to face the day.
It was nearing eight, long passed the time he typically slept in. If Tony worked late in the lab he wouldn't be expected in the kitchen for another few hours. If He'd stayed up all night in the lab he'd be looking for dinner and breakfast combined.
"Yo Bird." Tony said as Clint entered the kitchen. Steve was in the sitting room to the left, enjoying the entire couch to himself and whatever morning news came on. The explosion outside Israel made all the top headlines. Apparently no government agency had taken credit as yet, but there was mention that a terrorist militant group was ready to step up to the blame if it meant a little publicity. Natasha was sitting at the kitchen island with a bowl of fruit and whip cream. Tony had a bag of Doritos, chlorophyll power shake, a cliff bar, and a left over burrito.
"Breakfast of champions?" Clint asked.
"Well, if Dr. Banner didn't require so much help with that plasma array last night and-" Tony's voice trailed off as he walked away. Clint watched the back of his head, the little subtle body movements, and assumed when Tony was finished talking.
"Have fun with that." Clint said, hoping the answer was somewhat appropriate. He went into the fridge and pulled out a carton of milk which he added to a bowel of shredded wheat and sugar. He baked the mixture in the microwave, conveniently located high enough for him to not feel strange about scaling the counter, sitting on the fridge, and waiting for it to finish. From his new vantage point and breakfast in hand he had a great look at everyone in the room. A mirror on the wall to the right of the television gave Clint a good view of Steve and Tony as well. Natasha was already facing him, finishing her bowl.
So maybe this was what life was going to be like. Sitting there in the morning, watching the TV, the people he knew, life walking by him without totally being a part of it. Clint was never really one to talk to himself, but since losing his hearing only two days before, he was now involved in intricate conversations with himself. He asked himself what Tony was saying, he made up his own reply. Part of him sent a reminder to look at Natasha. She was saying something to him now, the end of which he caught.
"-reefing tonight."
He gave her a puzzled, but comical look. "I have no idea what you just said to me."
She tilted her head in annoyance. "Absentminded. You've got the attention span of a toddler, I swear."
"Never seems to bother you."
"You say that but you know it does. I said that the new mission briefing was supposed to be coming over tonight. I got a call from Agent Clarkson, the one who took over our division after Coulson."
"Clarkson took over?" Clint exclaimed in disbelief.
"Clint, you knew that! I just said he did and Director-"
"I know Director Fury mentioned it last week, but I didn't think he was actually serious. Clarkson can't even find the Georgian border on a map."
"Well, we don't get a say. He had a mission file supposedly coming over for the two of us, but given the heat I'm under from Cairo, and your exploits in the desert, it seems he doesn't want to touch us. He's giving the case to that blonde CIA import. There is something brewing in Baltimore but he didn't mention anything further to me. You?"
Clint shook head. He continued eating, sitting back against the cabinet with his legs folded. "Bad idea on the blonde. I don't even know the mission. Doesn't matter the mission. Giving anything to that CIA drop in rookie is just bad. She going alone?"
"I think Clarkson was looking for volunteers."
"Girls night?"
"He wasn't about to ask you if that's your question. He knows what you do to women. Especially the new ones."
Clint laughed. "Ok, you have got to let that go. And I did apologize."
"It was her first op. Ever. And you just had to show her a thing or two."
"I told her not to follow me."
"But she did, because you are you and they just can't help themselves."
"Right off that fourth floor." Clint reminisced. "Granted that ledge was small even for my standards, but when I tell someone I am doing recon and to stay put generally I think they are going to do what I say, not follow after me trying to prove something and then fall four stories."
Natasha smiled and went back to her breakfast. Clint continued to eat his cereal while enjoying his little moment of normalcy. He knew not all conversations were going to go that easy, but at least he'd gotten one hard back and forth out of the way. He hoped it left Natasha none the wiser. After all, she was going to be his toughest critic.
Banner drifted up from the elevator and levels of R n D. He'd been working throughout the night on his little side project. Clint didn't know exactly what that entitled him to do, but again he didn't really want to know. He offered a small wave at the doctor's entry.
Bruce smiled. "Morning kids." He went to the fridge, smacking Clint's leg out of the way in order to get in. He and Barton shared a little private smile and Bruce assembled himself an array of eats not dissimilar to Tony's.
"Staying perched up there all morning?" Bruce asked Clint.
Now that his signalman had arrived, Clint felt at ease to get down. He followed Bruce and his snacks out to the living room where instead Clint parked on the top of the couch. Bruce sat directly beside him and together they watched the morning news. Clint was thankful for the scrolling bars at the bottom of the screen, at least they kept him up to date on what was being discussed. Periodically Bruce would give him a discreet tap, depending on which Avenger was addressing him. Clint would look over, respond, then the game would begin again. By the time the nine-o-clock hour began, Bruce and Clint had perfected their art of signaling.
"How's that pet project coming?" Tony asked Bruce.
"Coming." Bruce said. "Got most of the early phase finished. Now I'm just finishing the secondary work. How about those theoretically anomalies in the plasma core? Figure them out?"
Tony dropped his head back in a sign of exhaustion. "Did I? Yes. All but two other anomalies that have rerouted the drive capacitor from working at maximum. You had some pivotal, but highly sophisticated, errors in that drive. Whatever you screwed up was almost poetically compiled."
Bruce smiled inwardly at his good work. "You don't say? I don't know how many times I de-formulated to the theoretical basics and still didn't come up with any intrinsic errors to the infrastructure. Where did you find them?"
"That was the problem, they weren't individualized, and they were building on each other. The two errors were found when running the theory through the first set of-"
Clint stopped trying to read the conversation when Tony used words so large and meaningless he couldn't properly pronounce them in his mind. He stayed in the group for what seemed like a reasonable period of time and eventually filtered out after the intensely mathematical conversation wore thin against both Steve and him. They left together, split paths in the hall, and Clint headed out his window to spend some quality time alone on the radio tower. Or he would have, if his phone didn't suddenly come to life in his pocket.
Clint pulled it out to check the number. SHIELD. Specifically Special Agent Clarkson. There was no way Clint could actually answer the phone and expect to know what was going on. He did the next best thing. He answered it, hung up, then texted the number.
"Area non-secure." Typical agent jargon for Clint's inability to talk.
"Trouble in Baltimore. Sending address and mission brief. Meet Agent Morrison." Came the reply.
Well, crap. Clint stuffed the phone back in his pocket. Now if that wasn't just about the worst news he could receive. Clarkson called him that meant that Natasha was not to be involved. He was in this for himself.
just for a little clarification: any time Clint's having a "conversation" with someone, he's reading their lips. it gets repetitive to constantly type that:)
-what's coming up next was inspired by Squirrel the Man's challenge! Please review!