Story Timeline 8th/9th August 2013. The night after the events of Secrets and Truths
Authors Note
Even the strongest have their breaking point. The revelation of his brother's actions wakens a new resolve and determination in Clint but Thor's inner conflicts come bursting violently to the surface, causing the archer to fear his friend has done something unthinkable.
Graphic torture reference and implications of domestic violence
Hawkeye put down the pencil and examined the sketch with a critical eye. The design looked sleek but impractical.
The room was dark except for a bright patch of light around the table where he was working. Sketches and diagrams covered his makeshift workbench. He was shirtless and the bandages were off, exposing the livid marks on his torso. Most of the burns were relatively minor but he had two bad ones on his chest and stomach. Dr Ames at the Medical Facility had him trying out a new treatment, a gel supposed to promote cellular regeneration. Part of the process meant giving the wounds plenty of air to allow the blueish-green goo to be fully absorbed.
He had no idea what was in it, just hoped it wasn't pureed Chitauri. If it worked like they said he wouldn't need a skin grafts on the one where Sweatbox had started to sear a love-heart into his chest, or where he'd almost burned himself a new navel getting free. Just as well, if this kept up he wouldn't have any skin left on his ass.
Putting the paper to one side he opened the drawer and pulled out a couple of fresh sterile dressings.
Better wash my hands before putting these on
He was feeling more like his old self tonight, caught up in working on the schematics for a new arrow design.
It was an idea that'd been bouncing around his head for a while. Everyone seemed so hot on those new dendrotoxin rounds he might as well see if it they could be adapted for his weapon of choice. 'Night-Night' rounds, it was a stupid name but had caught on. If the arrow idea worked he'd call them something cooler like 'Sandman Specials.'
He might need to brainstorm with Tony about the delivery mechanism though, all the plans he'd come up with so far worked in theory but looked like they'd have the awkward side-effect of death.
He dried his hands and fixed the dressings in place, grinning.
Tash had been down earlier, looking at the sketches with an approving eye, and asked if he was aiming for capture rather than kill. The implication beneath her words was obvious.
He pulled a T Shirt out of the drawer and held it in his hands for a moment
They'd told him earlier that day, all of them together in the living room. He'd sat and listened in silence, asked to read the file then handed it back to Steve and stood up
"I need to get some work done." He'd been down in his apartment ever since.
He pulled his T Shirt on and sat down on the end of the bed. He wasn't fine, he was so far from fine he wouldn't know how to programme the satnav, but they needn't worry about him going rogue; running after Barney. He would've done, not too long ago. Dropped everything and not cared about the consequences because there wasn't anything for him to lose.
Last time he saw Barney was when he and Duquesne left him to die in a ditch when he was 16, over half his life ago. It was two days before someone found him. He might have lasted another day or so before thirst and exposure took him. Leaving him to Sweatbox and gang didn't come as too much of a surprise in the circumstances, although it wasn't the best thing in the world to find out. He just wished he knew what had turned his big brother into a man who wanted him dead.
The bastard didn't even have the guts to stay or to do it himself. He'd drove off like Clint was a piece of waste to be discarded all over again.
He held out his hands and looked at them, no shakes or trembling; firm and steady. He'd go down to the range tomorrow and put in a few test shots, starting waking up the old Hawkeye magic. Maybe try and catch Tash giving Ainsley his first proper shooting lesson. He laughed softly to himself
Bet anyone $20 Doc's flat on his cute little butt after the first shot
He caught sight of his reflection in the wardrobe mirror. His face was set and composed, the sadness still in his eyes but something of the old determination and fire creeping back in. No temptation to open the nightstand drawer.
He picked at a loose thread on his T Shirt. Deciding to tell him must have been a tough decision given the way he'd been recently but they'd trusted he was strong enough to take it. Maybe that was it, realising that his friends did still trust him despite the bad patch or perhaps it was simple as discovering he wasn't a liability, just a man who hadn't expected there to be two Bartons in the woods.
He stopped trying to unravel his shirt and remembered Tasha saying something about a big pot of soup.
It was dark in the Penthouse and there was no-one else in the living room. It was late, well past 1am; he hadn't eaten since breakfast and realised he was ravenously hungry. He sat in front of the fire munching on chunks of bread dipped in cold soup, watching one of Cap's 20th Century History DVDs. Steve was catching up on the last 70 years the old-fashioned way.
Jarvis interrupted him. Clint couldn't get used to how human the computer sounded, it honestly creeped him out.
"Mr Barton; Dr Banner asks if you could come to the medical laboratory immediately. Dr Kerr has had an accident."
He was there in a couple of minutes, not even slightly out of breath from running the four flights of stairs. He didn't like taking elevators if he could avoid it, too slow and too easy to get trapped. Ainsley was on the gurney looking dazed, blood on his face. Bruce was gently feeling around his neck and shoulders to check for any injury.
"What's happened?" Clint's voice was sharp with concern. Bruce shrugged slightly
"I don't really know yet. Ainsley's not making much sense just now and as for him…"
He followed his gesture to the far corner of the room. Thor was curled there white faced and trembling.
Fuck, what now?
He dropped to his haunches beside the Big Blond.
"Hey Thor, wassup?" There was no response
Christ, I think he's going into shock
"Hey! Hey Blondie! HEY!"
The noise of the slap took Bruce by surprise, Clint too. He never imagined he'd ever have the balls to smack Thor across the face but it seemed to work. The Asgardian focussed in on his presence, noticing him for the first time. He was crying and trying to form words
"Thor! Talk to me! What's happened?" The Big Blond murmured something he couldn't hear "Louder, I can't understand you."
Then he heard what his friend was saying repeatedly, almost inaudibly
"I hit him."
###
He was trapped in the cycle of pain and questions. They would not believe the truth and he could not find a lie to convince them. It had gone on for hours, or was it days? Relieved only by the short breaks when his torturers took refreshments and the man in the white coat gave him an injection that kept him from passing out. He could not see out of his right eye and it was hurting him to breathe. Blood clogged his nose and crusted round his beard.
They had forced his legs apart and were pushing something hard, cold and metallic into him, twisting and tearing at his insides. Bellowing in agony, rage and humiliation he pulled desperately at the straps holding him down. The restraint on one of his wrists snapped and he lashed out, frantic to stop the torment even for a few seconds.
It was the crash that woke him and he sat up, sweating, gasping for breath, pulling himself out of the horror of the dream. It was then he saw Ainsley crumpled against the coffee table trying to stand, blood running down his face.
###
Bruce had been unable to get any sense out of the hysterical warrior, only that Ainsley had been hurt and it was somehow his fault. As soon as they arrived in the med-lab Thor had collapsed into the corner, totally incoherent.
Get Clint was his first and foremost thought. He was the only one likely to get some sense out of the man or get him out of the way.
"What?" Clint couldn't believe what he was hearing. They'd all been under a hell of a lot of stress lately but surely Thor wouldn't… Not Doc!
He turned to Bruce with a stunned expression
"He says he hit him."
Bruce looked dubious. It wasn't impossible, but his initial assessment was that Ainsley had tripped or fallen and cracked his head against something, there was no immediate sign of concussion and the blood was from a cut on his earlobe. He was reasonably certain that a blow of any sort from Thor would have left him more seriously injured.
"Okay, I'm going to need you to get Thor out of here. He's clearly in a disturbed state and I work better without a naked man crying in the corner."
"Is that why you don't let Stark in the lab on Tequila Night?" asked Clint bracing his back and hooking his hands into Thor's armpits.
"C'mon Big Blond, let's get you out of here so nice Dr Banner can work in peace."
He pushed up and Thor started to rise. The trick was to dig the thumbs into the sensitive skin under the arms and let the other guy do the work. It was still heavy going and he briefly considered getting Steve or Tony but cancelled that thought. The night was already getting way too complicated. At least Thor was allowing himself to be led to the elevator, adding a hernia to his list of injuries wasn't going to be an issue.
He got Thor into the apartment and onto the couch, throwing him a pair of sweatpants. He noticed the coffee table knocked to one side, a smear of blood on the corner. His practised eye assessed the scene. Doc must've fallen back and caught his head against the edge. Looked like Thor had been sleeping on the couch. His clothes were by the side of it, still neatly folded.
Did they have an argument this evening?
He should stop jumping to conclusions. Bruce seemed to think Ainsley's injuries weren't consistent with being hit and Jarvis had clearly said 'an accident'. The private rooms weren't directly monitored but the AI was primed to detect and react to any dangerous or hostile activity in or around the Penthouse. If someone were physically assaulted an alert should have sounded.
He needed to find out what Thor thought had happened and then hear what Ainsley had to say.
He poured Thor and himself a drink. Ginger ale. Putting alcohol into the Asgardian just now felt like a colossally bad idea and his antibiotics meant he couldn't drink no matter how much he needed one.
"Right. What happened tonight?"
Thor drained his glass. He wasn't crying right now but there was still something dull and heavy about his words and movements
"I told you. I hit him."
This was going around in circles, he needed to push a couple of buttons.
"That doesn't help me much man. Did you guys have a fight? I know things have been pretty tense"
Something about the positioning of the room fell into place; Ainsley was a small guy, 5'7" or so and slight, if he'd been bending down beside the couch then the table would have been just a few feet away from him and behind his head.
"Was Doc trying to make up and you smacked him away? Easy for a big guy like you to forget his strength when he's pissed off"
"NO!" Thor was hoarse with shock and anguish "I would never lift my hand to Ainsley in anger. Such a thing would be unforgivable. Do you think I am capable of such an act?"
Clint kept his voice firm and steady. There was strong evidence against an act of violence but the years of abuse he'd grown up with made him sensitive to the possibility of it. He wasn't going to rule any option out until he was convinced.
"No Thor. No I don't think you would do that, but I can't let myself be certain until you snap out of this and tell me exactly what happened."
Thor's dropped his gaze. His breathing slowing down and his posture relaxing. Clint crouched in front of him and took hold of his hands.
"Talk to me, Big Blond. Tell me what's going on"
The distressed warrior looked back up at him.
"I have been having an evil dream. That is why I am sleeping on the couch, so as not to disturb Ainsley."
Clint sat down beside him, feeling a surge of nausea in his stomach. The Big Blond always seemed so solid and confident. He hadn't imagined there might be a lot more more going on behind the Asgardian's open, friendly, face.
Or maybe I just couldn't be bothered taking the time to notice
"When did this start?"
"I have had it for over a year now, perhaps once or twice a month, more often if my heart is troubled; but since you were taken it has been almost every night."
Thor had spoken to him about the guilt he felt at not trying harder to find him, about leaving him to be captured. He'd tried to convince Big Blond that he'd done exactly the right thing but maybe he hadn't taken on board how much his friend blamed himself for what had happened.
"Can you remember the dream?"
"It is always the same. I am back when I first arrived, stripped of my powers, and taken captive. In this dream, I am handed over to the interrogators. I have no answers to give them so the pain never stops. Every night it is worse and I believe I deserve this for causing my father's death."
Thor was shaking again, the colour draining from him. The horror he had woken from was nothing compared to the guilt and shame he felt at injuring his lover. Whether unintended or not, he had done an inexcusable thing.
Clint had never stopped to think about what would have happened to the Big Blond if Coulson hadn't made the call to let him go. His job was to take a man down or take him out depending on orders. What came after that was left to others. The 'Special Interrogation' teams; well, they weren't fussy about how they got an answer or how long it took. Blondie would have had gone through an extended waking nightmare before they finally decided to put a bullet in his head or dump what was left of him in a cell somewhere.
They'd all thought that Phil had gone crazy, releasing him to Erik Selvig on the strength of a fake ID and a lame-ass excuse. He'd just done that whole 'trust me on this one' routine he was so good at. Maybe he saw something in the guy that made him realise the game wasn't what it seemed.
Like he saw something in me
He filled a glass with whiskey and thrust it at Thor, this was going to need something stronger than ginger ale. He just wished he could have one himself. The thought of what might have happened to his friend turned his stomach. Finding out this had been preying on Thor's mind for so long disturbed him more than he wanted to admit
"Drink!" he ordered
The big man swallowed it down in a single gulp, gasping as the fire hit the back of his throat
"So how did Doc get hurt?"
Thor grasped his hand and held it tight
"Tonight, it was the worst of all. It felt like I was being torn apart and the more I cried out the greater the pain they inflicted. It was… degrading, agonising, beyond my capacity to bear. I broke the restraint on my wrist and struck out to drive them away, to make them stop what they were doing."
He paused, forcing himself to breathe
"I was woken by a noise and I saw Ainsley there" he pointed to the coffee table "He must have heard me in pain and come through to help me. When I struck, I caught him instead."
He began to cry again, burying his face in his hands. Clint put his arms around the stricken man, suddenly feeling like the biggest shit in the world. All those times that Thor had made mention of his own inner pain yet the conversation always turned back to what was going on in the train-wreck of Barton's life after a token pat on the back for the big guy. That was Thor all the way though, first up in a firefight but too ready to go to the back of the queue in the aftermath, when the real hurts had to be dealt with. He'd been happy to let Doc deal with all that mess while he just enjoyed the sex and a shoulder to cry on.
He should have known better by now. The big tough ones often had it worst because everyone expected them to suck it up and move on. That'd been him for years, Clint the joker; had to be fine because he had the smartass comeback for every situation. Maybe he should've spent more time being the friend Thor thought he was.
You've been a bad friend, Hawkeye, but there's something you can do just now
He dug in his pants pocket and pulled out his wallet.
"Hey, Big Blond!" He nudged Thor in the ribs and he looked up, wiping his face with the back of his hand. Clint took out a business card and handed it to him
"Give Dr Osario a call in the morning and make an appointment. Promise me you'll do that first thing?"
"You have my word"
He knew about this doctor who Clint had gone to for help. Ainsley had spoken well of her skills and he could tell that his lover was gently hinting he should speak to her also. He had dismissed this idea in his head, telling himself he was strong enough to face the demons in his sleep.
Hawkeye put his arm back around the shaking Asgardian.
"I'm sorry, man. I know how much you love Ainsley; you'd never want to hurt him. The things we've been through can fuck with a guy's mind, make him do or say things he'd never do otherwise. Ainsley's kind and clever but this is stuff he's not trained to handle and we shouldn't expect him to."
He looked down and sighed, remembering Laura
"I screwed up my marriage because I thought I was tough enough to deal with what happened to me, put the woman I loved through hell before she had enough and threw me out. It'd kill me to see the same thing happen to you two."
Thor tried to smile
"I will not let that happen." He put his hand on Clint's "I have you, my worthy friend; and I shall speak to this good doctor tomorrow. I will find out how she can help me with these evil imaginings."
The door opened. It was Ainsley. The young doctor had a plaster on his earlobe but appeared otherwise fine. Thor looked up at him, his voice shaking
"Ainsley, I am sorry. Forgive me, I am so sorry. I did not mean to hurt you…"
Ainsley sat beside his lover and took his face in his hands
"Babe. You didn't hit me." The two men stared at him. He could see Thor didn't believe him, probably thought he was just saying that to calm him down. Clint seemed thoughtful, as if considering possibilities.
"I woke up hearing Thor having a nightmare. Normally I wouldn't disturb someone when they're in that state but it sounded like you were in real physical pain and it scared me. I shook your shoulder and you punched the couch, hard. I got a fright and fell back into the coffee table. I hit my head on the edge and cut my earlobe. That's where all the blood came from."
He pushed back some of the tangled hair from Thor's face and kissed him
"Poor Snuggie-Bear; Bruce said you looked absolutely terrified." He took Thor's hand and placed it against the side of his head. "See, just a little bump, not even cut. Bruce says I should let him know if I have any dizziness or nausea over the next couple of days but otherwise I'm fine."
Ainsley noticed the look on Clint's face, the lingering suspicion.
"You can see the mark where he punched it. I'm surprised it's not broken"
Clint looked where Ainsley was pointing, he hadn't noticed it previously because of where Thor was sitting. There was a deep dent in the upholstery. He tried not to think what would have happened if that had hit the doctor.
"You truly just fell?" asked Thor, Ainsley nodded in confirmation. The warrior felt relieved but still upset. He had not struck his lover as he feared, but it was still his actions that had caused him to be injured. He showed Ainsley the card Clint had given him
"I will speak to this doctor tomorrow and ask her to help me." He paused; when he spoke again his voice was quiet and hesitant
"Perhaps Clint would let you stay with him for a while…. Until my dreams are less terrible."
Ainsley leaned over and kissed him tenderly
"I'm going to stay with you and help you through this" he reached over and took Clint's hand "it's our turn to be your rock. If your dream gets that bad again I promise I won't come near, I'll get Jarvis to wake you instead."
He looked at them both with a fond smile
"Besides, you've not seen the state of Clint's bathroom!"
The pair of them put Thor to bed and sat with him as he fell asleep. In his exhausted state, it didn't take long. Ainsley wasn't in the mood to go back to sleep for a while, so after they were sure Thor wasn't going to wake any time soon they went up to the living room. Ainsley instructed Jarvis to keep a watch on his lover's vital signs and inform them if he started exhibiting any signs of physical or mental distress.
Despite the early hour, it still felt quite warm. It would be dawn before much longer. Ainsley lit a cigarette and offered one to Clint. He didn't usually smoke tobacco these days but felt the night deserved one. He took a long draw and exhaled slowly. Ainsley glanced across at him
"You know, stick you in a cowboy hat and a check shirt and you'd pass for the Marlboro Man."
The archer laughed and cranked up his soft Iowa drawl
"Well, shucks Doc! If you wanna see ol' Clint in cowboy gear, just wait till these here brands've healed up and I'll give you the Barton Rodeo treatment!"
Ainsley smiled and took his hand
"Just so long as there aren't clowns." His face became serious again "Did Thor tell you about The Dream?"
Clint took another long draw
"Yeah. I didn't think what happened in New Mexico affected him that much."
The doctor sighed heavily and Clint could see the strain and distress in his face.
"He told me he was prepared to accept whatever happened to him there as some kind of punishment for the death of his father. Now he's punishing himself for failing his mother and all the other things he thinks he's done wrong. Deep down he believes if he'd treated Loki differently none of this would have happened; the betrayals, Agent Coulson's death, the invasion…"
It never occurred to Clint that the Big Blond could or would feel that depth of responsibility. He felt sick at how much he'd underestimated what both his friends were going through, and how much it must have cost Thor to allow the one man who did understand to spend so much time with another.
"…I'm glad you got him to agree to speak to Louise. Post-Traumatic Stress isn't my field of expertise, even if it was I don't have the degree of objectivity necessary to give him the help he needs."
Clint swallowed hard
"Doc, I've been so caught up in my own stuff I'd no idea things were that bad for him. Maybe I shoulda paid more attention. You've both done so much for me, now it's kinda time for me to step up and be there properly for the pair of you."
Ainsley lifted his hand to his lips and kissed it
"Thanks, he's going to need both of us."
He went quiet, looking out towards the horizon where the first hints of pre-dawn light were appearing. Clint could guess what the doctor was thinking. Ainsley's political ethics were broadly liberal, non-partisan. He wasn't naïve about the hard realities of the world, or what organisations like SHIELD sometimes had to do in the belief they were protecting others, but the archer knew there were limits to what he deemed acceptable.
"It really would have been that bad, wouldn't it?"
Clint nodded, not wanting to make eye contact just now
"Yeah. Probably worse. Those Spec Int guys creep everyone out, even Fury. Phil couldn't stand being in the same room with any of them. I don't know where they're recruited but I'm guessing it's some place that don't allow metal cutlery."
Ainsley rubbed his eyes, tiredness starting to creep back up on him. He'd seen the sort of men Hawkeye was talking about. There'd been a group of them eating together that day he'd been in Washington and Maria Hill had taken him for lunch at the Triskelion. Even in the crowded restaurant no-one seemed keen to take the tables nearby.
They looked at each other in the growing morning light. It was a standing joke that Clint had 'resting murder face' but it didn't seem funny to Ainsley right now. The man's face was cold and impassive, his eyes hard and appraising. He could imagine him looking like this as he chose the moment to take that one perfect shot. It was impossible to tell whether a mask had been dropped or raised. He lowered his gaze and sighed heavily
"We've dragged you into our world, Doc, and I'm sorry."
Ainsley put his hand up to Clint's face and stroked his cheek with his thumb. It was one of the doctor's tells, a gesture for when he found it hard to express the depths of his affections in words.
"I wasn't dragged anywhere Clint. It's where I choose to be. I'm not going to pretend that I like a lot of the things SHIELD does but I'm not with them. I'm with Thor, you and our friends."
He lifted Clint's face so he was looking him in the eyes again
"I don't like what you have to do, even though I understand why. What I hate a is world where these things must be done but I believe that the Avengers are about trying to change that, which is why I'm here with you. It's Clint Barton I love, no matter what the job he must do; maybe not the same way I love Thor but certainly not any less. I'm not planning on letting go of either of you any time soon."
He pulled the bigger man forward and kissed him hungrily…
"Wow" gasped Clint as he refastened his pants a few minutes later "That was… unexpected!"
Ainsley ran his hands through his hair and straightened his own clothes. The sudden, fierce desire had taken them both unawares.
"Unexpected, but very welcome… Marlboro Man!"
The archer grinned, that sure beat 'Snuggie Bear" as a pet name.
"You'd better get some sleep, Doc. Tash'll be expecting you at the firing range 10am sharp."
###
Thor woke a couple of hours later. The sleep had been deep and dreamless and he felt physically better although still troubled by the memory of what he thought he had done earlier that night. He was surprised and happy to find Ainsley curled up in bed beside him. He hated being on the couch, waking up without that comforting presence next to him.
Sleep would not come for him again tonight so he moved closer, careful of not waking his lover. Ainsley mumbled something in his sleep and automatically nestled in, resting his head on the Asgardian's massive bicep. Thor kissed him lightly on the cheek and lay back on the pillow, watching the room slowly grow brighter with the rising sun.