Lie To Me
Hey, so this is not the edited version. I mean, I read over it…but my beta hasn't gotten to it yet. Well, Chris did but there were complications because of technology and travel and all that fun stuff. I'm busy this weekend but I wanted to get this to you guys before I vanished from the internet for the next couple days.
I will replace this chapter with the edited version either Saturday night or Sunday.
Special thanks to those who reviewed for the last chapter:
ZhaLenn (It's finally Friday! I'm excited for you! I hope you enjoy!), Qweb (Yay! I look forward to your reviews! You rock!), kimbee (Poor Clint, I put him through some serious crap and he is rather confused. Poor guy! Thanks for the cheers! I have the fifth chapter written and I started on the sixth. I do have a test this week so that'll put things on hold, but I'm excited! Lots of fun stuff coming up!), discordchick (You'll like this chapter because it has my favorite Clintasha moment in it! So cute! Thanks for reviewing!), jpgFury (I agree with you wholeheartedly, it's a terrible situation I've developed! Thanks for your encouragement! It helped so much! I've written chapter five! Yay! Onto chapter six ^^), Boooyakasha (Ooo, I love hearing from new readers! Thanks so much for picking this up! I'm so happy you picked out the "no shit Sherlock" I felt very clever when I wrote that ^^ Thanks so much for the review! You are awesome!), jaguarspot (I'm glad you like it! I figured he wouldn't want to remember from the flashes he's had so far! Thanks for the review!), Hawaiichick (Poor Clint and his dilemma that I've created. I feel bad, seriously! Although it's too much fun to quit now! I'm glad you are enjoying! I hope you like the new chapter!)
Sorry if there were typo's in my responses…I'm rushed! You guys are awesome!
Chapter Three
Clint woke to the sound of rain as it broke against the window that painted the cityscape before him. He was curled up on the couch but unsure of when or why he'd moved out of the bedroom. Or for that matter the bathroom.
His fever had broken sometime during the night. He hadn't remembered anything after the bodies had appeared around him. For that Clint was grateful. He shut it down. The memories weren't worth remembering, Clint didn't want to be that person – if that was even who he used to be.
It was better if the memories stayed locked away. Now Clint had a chance of a fresh start. Perhaps he could even make up for the lives he took, or at least he could try.
Slowly Clint sat up on the couch and ran a hand over his face. He needed to shave, he decided silently. His body was sore, but the worse of it had passed. A shower might be a good idea as well.
Clint's mind felt clearer than it ever had and his body was as light as a feather. He almost felt like he could fly, but Clint knew better than to try.
For a moment Clint thought he might be high on some kind of drug – it took a moment to realize this is what it felt to be off drugs.
Ever since he'd woken up he'd felt heavy and weighed down by something. His head had been in a fog and everything had been bouncy and unstable. Now the heavy feeling he had felt all along was gone and he could see clearly. His senses were pin sharp and everything was steady – Clint was grateful.
His eyes were alert and his vision was sharp as he looked around the room. The colors were brighter, Clint noted. Everything felt so much more in focus than it had before. The clarity was amazing and Clint inhaled a fresh breath of relief as he sat there and took everything in as if it were the first time.
Clint's body still shivered from the after effects of the withdrawal, but for the most part he felt like he was more together than he ever had been. Well, at least as far as he could remember.
Amnesia sucked out loud.
With a sigh Clint stood and made his way to the bathroom again. He had to walk through the bedroom and the smell of sickness and sweat told him why he wanted to sleep on the couch. With a wince Clint avoided the puddles of mysterious content on the otherwise pristine carpet and slipped into the bathroom.
Carefully Clint stripped out of his shirt, which was more or less plastered to his sweat soaked body. He looked at himself in the mirror then. Clint's face was pale and his hair was plastered to his forehead. He looked down from his face to his chest and his heart froze. Faded splotches of dark purple and healing green appeared on his skin from where Randle had punched him.
The punches had been deserved and Clint felt shame as he touched them gently with his fingers. Reese may have not been good, but she hadn't deserved to die like that. Cruel and senseless – Clint couldn't take something that permanent back.
With a heavy sigh Clint leaned over and turned on the shower with ease. The water started to warm as Clint pulled off the sweatpants and boxers and folded them along with the shirt and left them on the counter with the sink.
When he stepped under the spray Clint groaned softly and enjoyed the warmth the water provided. He vaguely remembered spending some time in the shower during his fevered delirium, but the water had been cold then. The steam filled the space around Clint as he enjoyed the bliss of the water over his naked skin.
After his shower and a quick shave, Clint poked around his room for fresh clothes. Boxers he found in a drawer easy enough. Jeans were folded in the next one down. A few shirts were hung in the closet and Clint looked through them with disinterest and pulled down a simple black shirt that looked comfortable enough.
Once dressed Clint walked back out into the living area and paused at his door. Should he go out and face the people who claimed to know him? Or should he stay where it was safe?
Clint knew it would be easier to hide away, but he was hungry and his apartment held no food.
The sound of his stomach's growl was enough to give Clint the courage to unlatch the lock and open his door. Half way down the hallway Clint felt far more exhausted than he thought he should. The withdrawal had left him a little weak on his feet. When he entered the shared area of the – what had Mr. Stark called it? Avengers Tower – Clint blinked back his surprise. Apparently the others had camped out there ever since Clint locked himself away.
Mr. Stark was asleep, sprawled out on a couch. Dr. Banner and another man Clint didn't recognize were also asleep on the floor and Natasha was curled in a chair, her eyes were on him.
"Hi." Clint croaked, his voice dry and gravely with disuse. Suddenly Clint was very aware of how tired he was and leaned heavily against the doorframe he was standing near.
"Hi." Natasha echoed with a calculated once over. Stark startled awake and in turn the others stirred.
"Clint?" Mr. Stark asked and blinked the sleep out of his eyes. "How'ya doing buddy?"
Clint resisted a step back, but didn't answer right away. His eyes landed on the strange face among them. He tried to place if he'd ever seen the man before.
The blond blinked back in confusion before a look of dawning washed over his face. "Oh, yeah – I'm Steve Rogers." He held out his hand quickly, awkwardly.
"Captain America." Clint recalled as he shook the offered hand, more from some obscure fact in his brain than a clear memory.
Mr. Rogers' eyes lit up. "You remember?"
"No." Clint answered just as disappointed as he made the stranger look. "I'm sorry." He added tiredly. "Are we friends?"
"Yes." Rogers nodded with a smile that looked more like a wince. "Friends and teammates."
"The Avengers." Clint recalled.
Natasha nodded and gave him a smile of encouragement. "Yes, that's right."
Clint suddenly felt like a child. He rolled his eyes and shifted awkwardly in front of the group. "Is there somewhere I can get something to eat?" He asked and dropped his eyes back to the floor.
"Sure." Dr. Banner piped up first. "I could – we could cook something. Anything you'd like."
"I – " Clint hesitated. "I'm not sure what I like. You guys can choose." Compared to the other place he'd been, this place was nicer. Clint was open to going with the flow. Especially now after he'd been given choices. It felt better. Even if Clint still was unsure of everything, this felt right.
Dr. Banner smiled and waved him to follow. Clint hesitated for a moment and eyed the others in the room before trailing after Banner. Suddenly Clint had the irrational fear that the doctor might slip something in the food. Clint never wanted to take drugs again if he could help it. Life felt too good being free of the drug-drag.
"Would you like to help?" Dr. Banner asked with a kind smile. The memory of Clint's hallucination flashed through his mind. The doctor turning into a terrible green monster – it couldn't be true.
Clint shrugged. "What do I do?"
Banner motioned him forward and handed him a knife that felt comfortable in Clint's hand. "Cut up these cherry tomatoes," Banner instructed with a smile. "And I'll prepare the lettuce. Natasha, can you get the Italian dressing out of the refrigerator and the feta cheese?"
Clint set about his task, which was easy enough. He cut the cherry tomatoes in half and glanced at Bruce when he was finished. "Is there anything else I can do to help?" He offered.
Banner smiled, setting a pot of water to boil on the stove. "Sure, um, you could cut the feta into cubes if you want. You always did."
Clint froze. "I've helped cook before?"
"Yes." Banner smiled and poured some pasta into the boiling water. "This is your recipe. Farfalle salad."
Gently Clint set the knife down, unsure. He didn't remember ever cooking before.
"You made it for us after a battle once." The doctor continued. Suddenly Clint didn't feel so hungry anymore. "Clint? Are you okay?"
"I – um, I think I'm going to sit down." Clint whispered. Natasha was quick to take his elbow and guide him around the counter to a seat. Banner watched with worried eyes and Clint ducked to avoid them.
"I'm sorry," The doctor offered. "I didn't mean to push anything. I just – I guess I was trying to make small talk."
Clint swallowed thickly. "It's fine. I'm just a little – " He shook his head and let out a sad laugh. "I really have no idea what I am."
Banner bit his lip lightly before he refocused on making the salad. "You've just gone through withdrawals cold turkey, you also just went through some kind of hell." He smiled and Clint felt as if it was genuine. "It's okay to feel like crap right now. We understand. Just sit back and this will be done in a few minutes."
"He's right." Natasha agreed and slid into the chair next to Clint. "We're here for you, if you want us."
Clint sighed. That was what Reese had promised. She said that she wanted to help him and to be his friend.
"So." Clint spoke after a few awkward moments of silence. "I cook?"
Natasha smiled next to him. A bright smile – it took Clint a bit by surprise. "Without you we'd all live off of takeout and curry."
"Really?" Clint asked. He didn't exactly feel like he was the cooking type.
She smiled kindly and bumped his shoulder like an old friend. "Yes, but don't worry. Bruce has learned plenty under your tutelage. We won't starve any time soon."
They were silent again as the doctor strained the pasta and mixed all the ingredients into a large bowl. Clint thought it was nice how all the different things came together so easily. The salad that was placed in front of him was fresher than anything he'd received at the other place.
Shyly Clint picked up the fork offered to him and speared at some of the pasta and took a bite. It was good. Suddenly another fork appeared and stole one of his tomatoes and Clint frowned at the culprit next to him.
Natasha smiled back and popped the red fruit into her mouth before he could say a word.
They both chewed their mouthfuls and swallowed and finally Natasha explained. "You don't like tomatoes."
Clint frowned and speared another half of red fruit and looked at it. "I don't?" He studied the object in question curiously. Instead of taking her word at face value Clint took a bite out of the tomato and winced at the flavor of juices and the over all unpleasant texture. "Yeah," he agreed and swallowed it down thickly. "I don't think I do."
In the other room Tony and Steve stood worriedly together. "It was a good idea to stay out of the way." Steve told his pale friend.
"He's clearly freaked out." Tony shrugged. "Crowding him isn't going to help anyone. I just want everything to be okay again."
Steve cleared his throat and shook his head. "I'm not sure if it will be any time soon. Without any real knowledge of how he lost his memory we can't really be sure how to help him regain it." Steve hesitated and shook his head. "He had no idea who I was at all, at least he dreamed about you and Natasha."
"Bruce found some odd stuff in the scans we took when he first got to the tower. That glowy spot was wild, but we have no idea what it means. Bruce thinks they woke that part of his brain up, but why would his memories be gone?"
"Maybe the unidentified drugs did that?" Steve suggested, although he was clearly only guessing.
"You might be right, but if that's true why doesn't he remember us now?" Tony wondered out loud. "The drugs should be out of his system, so he should be able to remember, but he clearly doesn't."
Steve shrugged. "We'll figure this out. Even if it seems impossible, right now we need to show him he can trust us."
"Those people, how they treated him. Like a lab rat, using his whole memory-loss as an advantage. It's sickening." Tony's anger bubbled to the surface. "He'd never seen the sky before, Steve. Those bastards didn't even let him outside. We have to make sure we treat him better – he deserves better."
"I thought I might take him for a walk when he feels better." Steve announced. "Take him to the park we used to run to in the morning. Maybe it'll jog some memories?"
"Good idea." Tony agreed. "We should all think of things like that. Bruce's idea of cooking was good thinking, I don't know if it worked though." The billionaire's eyes turned back towards the kitchen.
Steve placed a hand on his friends shoulder in an attempt to reassure him. "He'll be okay. We'll work things out."
"Yeah, I know." Tony sighed. "Steve, do you think he'll forgive me?"
Steve looked back at his friend with knowing eyes. "Have you forgiven him?"
Tony looked away and shook his head. "He didn't do anything wrong. It just took me too long to realize that. He told the truth and paid the price for it. It was Pepper who I should have been mad at all along. She's the only one who betrayed me that day."
"You had a right to be upset at him as well, you know that, right?" Steve asked warily. "It all went to hell, yes, but you had your heart broken and he was the messenger of the worse news of your life. He'll understand."
"I hope your right." Tony sighed. "I remembered his facial expression when he opened the door. Just before he disappeared. He looked afraid, like I was going to attack him or something."
"Or break his cover." Steve chuckled. "You weren't exactly supposed to be there."
Tony managed a small smile. "True. I'm not known for my subtly, but still I betrayed his trust too. I just hope I can win it back."
Steve nodded. "Helping him through this will help your friendship afterwards. Just be true to yourself and to him. I know we'll get through this if we all work together to help him."
Thanks for the encouragement! You guys are awesome.
Reviews are loved ^^
