Lie To Me

I've got a beta! Chris is awesome. Bow to Chris ^^ Any mistakes that remain are still mine ^^ Thanks Chris!

Special thanks to all my reviewers!: sv4me (I miss you too! There are lots of Clintasha moments ^^ Some chapters have more of it than others ^^ On of my personal favorites is in chapter three! ^^), kimbee (YAY! I'm excited you're excited! It makes me even more excited about writing the rest of it and seeing your reactions! ^^), Jaguarspot (Well, a little bit longer, but I hope you'll see why ^^), chris. (I'm excited! Thanks for betaing!), ZhaLenn (I'm glad you were looking forward to it! I hope it lives up to expectations! Feel free to hug Clint, he probably needs one ^^), discordchick (Ah, that's so cool! You reread my stuff ^^ I'm like beaming right now ^^ BTW it was confirmed that Clint is going to be in Avengers II and he's going to have a bigger part ^^ Joss said that Clint was his favorite character he wrote in the script! I'm so excited! I just hope he gets a cameo or at least mentioned in the upcoming films ^^), jpgFury (It's really cool to see so many still interesting in my series! I feel bad for taking this long to put it up ^^ Thanks for the interest!), Hawaiichick (I'm happy too! I love vulnerable Clint the most ^^)

On to reading! Enjoy!


Chapter Two

To say the Avengers were concerned about Clint Barton would be a colossal understatement.

Tony and Steve paced around the living area like expecting fathers and Bruce found himself performing his meditation more often than usual. Natasha was the only one of them who remained still – deadly so.

"Jarvis, update?" Tony's voice tore through the silence.

"Agent Barton's heart rate has elevated, he's been actively nauseous three times since last you inquired and he appears to be in distress." The AI responded dutifully.

The announcement did nothing to settle the Avengers feelings of concern.

"This is ridiculous, we need to help him." Bruce pointed out and stood.

"We can't." Natasha snapped but made no move to stop them. Instead she remained as still as a statue. "We can only go if he asks. If we go before that he'll never trust us."

"There's still a chance he could regain his memory." Bruce pointed out with sudden stubbornness. "Right now we need to make sure he lives that long."

"He'll be fine." Natasha insisted. "He's done this before."

Tony blinked and sunk into the nearest chair with uncharacteristic silence.

"Natasha?" It was Steve who spoke up. His hand rubbed his chin with worry. "What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I said. He's dealt with withdrawals in the past and he prefers to go off cold turkey." Natasha ignored the fact that she was now the focus of the room. "He said it was his choice after he had no choice."

"So, the drugs he got off before," Steve started as he joined Tony on the couch. "It was forced on him that time as well?"

"Yes." Natasha nodded.

"A mission that went wrong and Clint was taken by a drug dealer. They had him for a week before Coulson and I managed to rescue him."

"What – "

"It was a mixture of narcotics – Clint's control was stripped away. When he came off of the drugs he made all the calls and the doctors respected his wishes – it helped him cope. It also helped him stay on track after."

Steve looked contemplative but it was Bruce who spoke up next. "So that's why he's so against painkillers. Even in serious conditions."

Natasha didn't make any indications either way, but Tony could guess that Bruce was right.

"Okay, so we wait it out." Tony grumbled unhappily. "But we don't have to like it."

"No." Natasha agreed and the room fell silent once more.


Clint drank water as often as he could, but it didn't seem to help relieve how shitty he felt.

Though he wasn't entirely sure what symptoms came with withdrawal Clint almost wished he had let Dr. Banner help him through it about three hours in. His stubbornness kept his mouth shut instead of asking Jarvis to tell the others he needed them.

In his mind Clint thought he might die before this ended. Clint also thought darkly that he deserved it. When the pain and the sickness weren't overwhelming him, the guilt returned. He'd killed someone – even if she wasn't exactly a good person, it was still murder.

His body shook and his stomach cramped but the worse part was the hallucinations. They haunted his dreams even when he thought he was awake.

Clint stood center stage in front of a crowd filled with screams and cheers for someone called Hawkeye. The spotlight spilt over his body and he lifted an arm to greet the people before focusing on his intended targets.

There were twenty round wooden circles set up around the performance area. Each target was located in impossibly difficult angles.

He drew back the string, nocked an arrow and let it fly. Again and again he made the movements with practiced grace – each arrow hit dead center on its intended target.

The crowd went wild.

Clint rolled off his bed but remained curled on the floor. He huddled close as he shivered. What an odd dream, Clint thought to himself as his eyes slid closed once more. Especially since his own attempt with the bow had gone so terribly wrong. Who was he dreaming about? Why did it feel so familiar?

His mind floated away once more.

She was in his sights now. Finally the world-renowned Black Widow had dropped her guard. It wasn't so unexpected that as soon as she paused in his crosshairs that she bolted forward. He watched with the scope and tightened his pressure on the trigger before he stopped himself.

Clint watched as the most infamous and ruthless killer tackled a young girl out of the street just before a truck sped by. After a quick glance Clint glared deeply, the truck driver had been texting, the little girl would have been struck if it weren't for the Widow's actions.

She exposed herself to save a child from certain death. Clint hesitated again as he watched the redhead talk to the girl after. The moment ended and Clint still hadn't taken the shot, but a mission was a mission.

Clint blinked his eyes open and found himself in the bathroom attached to the bedroom he'd been in. He was huddled in the corner of the tub while cool water sprayed down on to him. Clint didn't remember moving, but he was alone as far as he could see.

He wasn't sure how he got there. Hadn't he been somewhere else? On a rooftop about to kill – Natasha? That girl, he wasn't sure what was happening anymore. Just that he was weak, tired and cold.

Clint looked up and things flashed in and out of focus. He stayed huddled where he was but the room changed. There was a man with him although he didn't really look like he was entirely there.

"Coulson?" He found himself saying even though he had no idea what was happening or who the man was.

"You were reckless and nearly got yourself and your team killed. Do you have anything to say for yourself?" The man in the suit yelled.

"Got the job done, didn't I?" Clint mumbled back softly.

The scene changed again; faded in and faded out.

Clint punched a stranger in the face. The man was uniformed but not military – some weapons dealer's soldier. Someone swiped at him with a knife and Clint easily disarmed him. After a small tussle Clint found himself opening a door.

There in the center of the room was a woman with red hair curtained over her face. She looked beaten and bloodied but Clint didn't hesitate as he moved forward. A knife appeared in his hand and he cut her free.

"Took you long enough." The battered woman whispered, her eyes still closed as she dipped forward.

"Traffic was a bitch." Clint responded and gathered her up in his arms.

There was that girl again. Natasha. She seemed to be there in his dreams a lot. It was the third one that he could remember that had been about her. Maybe she was real, maybe they did know each other. They had obviously been through a lot, but why had he tried to kill her? Clint managed to drink some water before he slipped away again.

This dream starred Dr. Banner. It wasn't long but it was terrifying. One minute the mild mannered doctor was normal and human and the next he roared and his skin started to bubble and morph into a green beast.

The beast turned and roared in Clint's direction. He froze. No, he raised his hand and started to speak. "Hulk, it's just me – "

Dr. Banner – the Hulk, apparently didn't want to listen though. In rage the beast picked up a nearby car and Clint felt himself gasp and take a step back.

"Wait – let's talk about this!" Clint yelped and moved to dodge the flying vehicle when the green giant tossed it in his direction.

That one had to be a dream, Clint thought as he came back to consciousness. There was no way that could have been real. Maybe none of this was real after all. He groaned and managed to crawl out of the tub and back to the bed before another nightmare took over.

Clint screamed as his leg snapped cleanly under the power of his opponents boot. He growled and hissed before rolling out of the way of a second hit. He bounced up and balanced carefully as he dodged a third attack. He screamed as he was pushed down again but managed to hit something solid as he fell.

When he hit the ground his hand slipped in something wet. When he looked Clint saw the sticky red blood staining his fingers. It was surreal as he turned and saw the body. A man that had his throat slashed from ear to ear.

Clint heaved violently as he came back to himself. He leaned over the bed as he dry heaved for several minutes. The blood had covered his hands. There had been so much of it. The visions of the bodies didn't stop now that he was back in his room. Instead they piled around his bed. The bodies were people with arrows sprouting out of their eyes, ears and hearts. The dead – his kills, Clint realized and heaved again until his vision went black from not being able to breathe.

When Clint came back to himself he decided that he couldn't handle who he used to be. Not anymore. He didn't want that much blood on his hands and he definitely didn't want to add to it. If he had been an assassin he didn't want to remember all the faces of the people he had killed. Good or bad he couldn't stand the idea that he'd killed Reese let alone countless others.

His heart sunk and he pushed the memories that had surfaced as far back as possible. He was still in the throes of withdrawal but nearing the end of the torture. The cramps in his stomach weren't nearly as violent as they had been and his mind felt clearer than it ever had been – even if it felt like an elephant was currently sitting on it.


The wait was hard. It had been two days since Clint shut himself inside his room. Two long days that their friend had to suffer alone. Tony still had Jarvis give them updates and ordered his AI to inform them if Clint's condition got critical. Tony could live with Clint's lost of trust as long as Clint lived through this hell-like situation.

No one relaxed, even though Clint stayed stable enough. They remained together in the common room, but didn't bother with small talk – not when all their minds were so focused on their friend's health.

Tony couldn't help but think that everything that was happening was his fault. Clint would have never left the tower if Tony hadn't thrown him out. Fury would have never sent him on that mission.

Pepper still would have betrayed him. Clint still would have come clean – that was Clint, after all. The martyr. The self-sacrificing douche-bag Tony couldn't picture his life without.

Still, Tony could have heard Clint out.

No, because that wasn't Tony. Tony was the type to act fast and irrational. He had perfected the art of pushing people away and acted out of anger and emotion. Clint had done the right thing and was now being punished for it. Tony had done the wrong thing and now someone else was paying the price.

"Stop that." Natasha's sharp voice drew Tony's eyes to her. Steve and Bruce were looking at her too with curious eyes. Natasha's attention was focused on Stark.

"What?" Tony asked finally.

"Blaming yourself isn't going to change what's happening." Natasha told him. "It isn't going to make you feel better or help Clint. Strip those thoughts from your mind and move on. The past is over; all we have is the future. Focus your mind on making him as comfortable as possible. Or, if you want to be even more helpful, try to figure out a way to make him remember what he's forgotten."

Bruce shook his head. "How? We went through the information we were able to gather from the compound. There was no useful information. Nothing on the process or any kind of drugs used as a memory suppressant. Even his toxicology report came back with a ton of question marks."

"We'll know more when we can talk to him." Tony tried to become more positive. Clint was alive, for now that was all that mattered. "He'll remember. Somehow. And if not, we'll deal with it."

Steve nodded. "We'll built back his trust, that's the most important thing right now."

"Hopefully that's possible." Natasha leaned back in her chair. "After everything he went through – all the things we don't know."

"Trust first." Tony agreed with Steve. "Answers later."


Depression has come to me in the form of a writing stall. Blame the intensity of my classes. However, the next two chapters are written and you will be getting them next Friday and the Friday after that. Hopefully by then I'll have more written for you guys. Again, it's all plotted out and such, it's just finding time to write it…

Encouragement is awesome ^^

Reviews are love ^^