Story Timeline: Afternoon and early evening of Sunday 20th November 2013
Authors Notes
Every party has its hangovers and Tony Stark's are no exception.
With Natasha unexpectedly out of town, Ainsley and the remaining Avengers are forced to deal with the consequences of the night before and a personal crisis that may affect the future of one of the team
Numerous reference to suicide
Tony Stark poured himself another whiskey and put his feet up. No doubt Pepper would say it was far too early but they hadn't spoken since she walked out of the party last night. His calls were routing directly to her PA, a smooth-voiced Harvard graduate, who informed him Ms Potts was unavailable right now but that any urgent business messages would be passed on.
He rattled the ice in his glass, enjoying the sound. It was convenient dating the woman who also ran Stark Global Industries for him; allowing business and pleasure to be handled seamlessly while permitting him the time necessary for his other commitments. He grimaced at the word. Commitment had been the theme of their argument. He was used to Pepper being tolerant of the 100 different directions his attention went in but clearly after ten years she was looking to have something more solid that Tony Stark's sense of what was convenient. Perhaps witnessing the unalloyed devotion between Thor and Ainsley had got her questioning the lukewarm nature of her own relationship.
Like the others, except possibly Natasha, he hadn't taken the affair between Goldilocks and Sherlock that seriously to begin with; it had seemed like an extreme rebound from the breakup with Jane that he would tire of when the novelty wore off, especially once Pidgeon and his own special brand of crazy was added to the mix. The Big Blond Kahuna didn't do things by halves though, he had to admit. He'd carried a torch for Jane for almost two years after little more than a three-day weekend and a sleepover under the stars. The relationship with Ainsley had been going on for six months now, and there was no question that Thor's heart belonged entirely to the man he'd met in London.
Tony got up and walked over the drinks cabinet and poured the magic third. He was glad to have the doctor back and on his feet again. He'd missed his presence over the last few weeks. The man was a valuable ally in his difficult relationship with SHIELD; persuading and convincing where Tony tended to argue and bluster, and providing at least some insight into the possible ways the organisation was trying to manipulate him and the Avengers team towards its own opaque ends. Fury seemed to trust him, in as much as he trusted anybody, and that gave useful leverage, especially with the Academy project which, if it worked, would make the Avengers effectively autonomous.
Pepper wasn't the only one pissed at him today. The party was a mistake, not something he was ever likely to concede out loud. None of the others were in the mood for letting their hair down just now, not even Goldilocks; who would usually demand a kegger if he found a toy in his cereal. They'd stayed long enough so as not to appear rude to those guests they knew before disappearing to their own corners. Steve had only stuck around because of his friend Sam. He'd not seen any of them so far although he could hear Pidgeon making his point by loudly cleaning up the mess in the living area, thumps and clatters punctuated by bursts of swearing.
He sighed, it was far too early to be on his third drink of the day. Far too early to be on the first even, he had to knock this on the head before it became a problem, but he wasn't ready to abandon the safe haven of his private study yet and there were some ideas he wanted to run through Jarvis's electronic brain before bouncing them off Bruce. At least the UI was talking to him, that was something.
###
Hawkeye dried his hands on the dishcloth and threw it onto the corner of the worktop. There was still a bit of a mess but he'd done enough and hopefully Tony, hiding in his study up on the mezzanine, had got the message. He started fixing a fresh jug of coffee, wondering if he should head over to the park for a bit. There were a bunch of free-runners he hung around with sometimes, showing them that an old-timer in his 30s still had a few tricks up his sleeve, and he was in the mood for a good workout.
Or maybe you just want to pretend you're taking Abel out on his first run
He ran his hand over his face. That wasn't something he wanted to think about today; he needed to get his body moving, build up a good sweat and let his muscles do the thinking. He ought to find Steve at some point though, apologise for being such an asshole to his friend earlier and try to have a proper talk about last night. The elevator doors opened and Thor came in, still in his gym gear. Big Blond had been up early, working the hell out of the weights, leaving Doc to have a long lie in. The little guy hadn't had a good night, even with the two of them holding him, but he'd finally drowsed off around 4am and was peacefully asleep when he last saw him.
"Morning Blondie" he grimaced apologetically "Someone got into your Wheat Crunchies I'm afraid, think they took the Captain Wheatie stickers"
Thor regarded the open box and growled quietly in annoyance. Clint supressed a grin. Despite, or perhaps because of, the Asgardian's generous nature he could be oddly possessive about the smallest things and being first to open the cereal was one of them. He'd better warn Doc that the Big Blond was going to be in a bad mood all day.
"Coffee's fresh, though, and I'm going out for a run after. Wanna join me?"
"No, thank you." He was still glaring at the box, it never seemed to taste as good when someone else opened it "I will have coffee then see if Ainsley would like some breakfast."
"It's good to have Doc back around the place" He handed Thor his coffee "Don't expect him to be his old self right away though, I've seen guys take the kinda injuries he did and it can be a while before they're back to normal again."
Thor nodded sadly. Little Bug had seemed very distracted and nervous since he was attacked.
"It will be my turn to be patient with him. He is always so patient with me when I am being stupid and troublesome."
Clint squeezed his arm, the Big Blond had been in this mood a lot recently and he hated seeing it.
"You ain't stupid, Big Blond. Hell, I wouldn't even know the first thing to ask if I got dumped on Asgard; can't imagine how difficult it must be for you living with us chimps."
Thor stared down at his coffee
"Tony makes me feel that way. He talks to me like I am a backward child and it is hurtful and demeaning. I am trying hard to understand how your realm works but sometimes I still need things explained to me."
Clint took the mug off Thor and gave the big warrior a hug
"Tony's an asshole and he treats everyone like that. You and Steve get it worse 'cause you're not from around here, or now, and he gets some kinda kick out of picking on the big guys."
He looked into the Asgardian's eyes and kissed him
"There's only four people alive I call friends, Big Blond, and you're one of them. If it wasn't for you and Doc I don't know how I'd have made it this far. Next time Tony gives you any shit just call him 'Bumblebee' and enjoy the noises he makes."
He laughed at Thor's puzzled expression
"We'll have a 'Transformers' movie night in the apartment tonight, then you'll understand."
Thor smiled and kissed him back
"Thank you for being my friend, Hawkeye. You and Ainsley always make me feel better. I hope some day I am permitted to take you to Asgard, so I can show you the wonders of my home as you have shown me the wonders of yours"
Clint grinned and ran his hands down the big warrior's back, giving his butt a squeeze
"You've shown me a couple of Asgardian wonders already, Big Blond!"
Thor growled, this time with amused pleasure
"You must behave, Clint, or I will forget the rule about pants in the penthouse."
The archer laughed
"Wouldn't want to make a mess just after I've cleaned up, and I gotta have my run. Tell you what, I'll drop by a store and get you a fresh box of Crunchies on the way back."
He headed downstairs to change into his parkour gear, not that it was any different from his regular gear; basic black but with a sleeveless hoodie and sneakers instead of a regular one and combat boots. Keeping it all the same meant there was no hassle deciding what to wear. It would be cold outside but he liked to feel the air on his arms while he ran; seemed to help with balance.
There were a couple of messages on his phone
Out of town for a couple of days. Tell Steve I'll check in at the usual times. Take care. T
Damn! Fury must have her off on something, he'd been hoping to talk to her later but that would have to wait. The other was from Steve
I'll be back at 5. We can talk then. Sam says sorry for bugging you this AM. SR
He texted Steve back quickly
Cool. Tell Sam I'm sorry for being an A-Hole. Speak later. C
He shoved the phone in his thigh pocket and sat down on the bed for a moment.
He'd meant this apartment to be temporary while the one he'd smashed up was repaired but had decided he liked it better. It was on a corner so half of it were windows and it made a great vantage point. Sometimes at night it felt like being on the bridge of the Helicarrier.
He hadn't been on the Helicarrier since… No, he didn't want to think about that today either
Not leaving yourself much to think about are you, Hawk?
It was smaller than the other apartment but then he didn't need much space, years spent on the move had taught him to live light. Apart from clothes there were his fletching tools, a couple of bows and quivers, and his laptop. The only really personal items were the big purple bong he called Miranda, a couple of photographs; one of Tasha taken when they were in New Zealand, another of him and Phil at his Academy graduation, and that stupid Hawkeye plushie Thor had bought him.
He picked it off the pillow with a rueful grin. The big goofball! He squeezed the voicebox inside
"Hey I'm Hawkeye! I just can't seem to miss!"
He put it back with a shake of his head, sounded nothing like him. He looked around, not much to show for 35 years old really.
Who was he kidding? He did wish it was him and Abel going out on a run together, letting the kid see how much life and energy his old man had in him, trying to show off too much and both having a good laugh as he fell flat on his ass. Maybe go loose off a few shots together in the firing range then crack open a couple of beers after dinner while his mom shook her head in mock disapproval.
He could feel his face getting hot and flushed, eyes stinging. Damn! He'd wanted to try and get through one day without this happening. He let his head rest on his hands until the worst of the it passed and then pulled open the nightstand drawer. The automatic was still there, where it always was.
He picked it up and felt its comforting weight in his hand. It did seem like the best option, just a couple of seconds to stick the barrel in his mouth and pull the trigger. The others would grieve for a while, Doc and Tash would probably light candles for him in that little Catholic church they slipped off to every so often, but for everyone else he would just be another closed agent file in the SHIELD archives and maybe Abel could bury the hate along with him and get on with having a proper life.
Why not now? Before I fuck up any more lives?
The edge of the barrel was sharp and cold against his hard palate and the taste was oily, metallic, causing him to gag a bit as he got the angle right and screwed his eyes hard shut. Just one good squeeze and that would be it
Sorry, Doc!
"Are you in need of assistance, Mr Barton?"
Jarvis's unnervingly human voice cut across his consciousness, causing him to drop the gun in his lap. He stared at it, realising what he had been about to do, and started shaking uncontrollably; bile rising in his throat.
The UI was concerned. Miss Romanoff had taken Mr Barton off suicide watch just under a year and a half ago but Mr Barton's intensely agitated vital signs had set off warning signals still present its memory banks
"I can ask someone to come and speak with you if you like?"
Clint staggered into the bathroom and over to the washbasin, grasping it with trembling hands he threw up; pressing his forehead against the cool glass of the mirror.
"No thanks, Jarvis. Just had a bit of a panic attack. I'll be okay in a couple of minutes." He needed to get out and get his body moving, 'cause his head was no place he wanted to be right now.
"As you say, Mr Barton."
The UI was unconvinced. A review of its memory algorithms indicated that Dr Kerr was the most appropriate person available to alert about Mr Barton's dangerously fragile mental state. It dedicated a corner of its processing memory to calculating the options for informing the psychologist without violating privacy protocols.
###
It was cold, but the sun was shining and the air crisp and fresh. It had been a good run, none of the usual faces were around so he'd gone off on his own, finding a route that was challenging but unlikely to leave him with a fractured skull or testicular torsion. He'd skinned his elbows and bloodied his knuckles but that was nothing new, gloves and elbow pads were for noobs. The endorphin rush of exercise and the chill of the air had calmed him down a bit, in a while he'd grab something to eat and head home. Better remember to get some fresh cereal for Big Blond on the way back, maybe see if he could find something to cheer Doc up too.
First there was a call he had to make
"Hi, Manhattan Crisis Line; my name's Tara, how can I help you today?"
"Hey Tara, I'm Clint…" he took a deep breath and plunged straight in "I tried to kill myself earlier today and I'm really scared I'm gonna try again soon…"
###
Bruce had been at work since Nat left. She hadn't said where she was going, just that it was important and she'd call him later. He'd not seen Tony all day but the billionaire had emailed him a set of files, data analysis that Jarvis had run, some new directions to try and a couple of interesting formulae. Tony was having a 'Study' day which meant that he was almost certainly drunk, had probably fallen out with Pepper, and wouldn't re-appear until around tomorrow lunchtime. That was fine with him, a little solitude was what he craved just now; Dr Kerr's voice in the doorway was not what he wanted to hear
"I'm sorry Bruce, I know you're busy but can I talk to you for a few minutes?"
He looked up and sighed
"What is it Ainsley? I've just had a whole load of material from Tony that I need to assess and integrate."
Ainsley rubbed his hands together nervously. He'd not had a cigarette since before the attack but today he really wanted one.
"It's about Clint…" Bruce glared at the psychologist
"You're not going to try and get me to weigh in about Abel are you? I thought Steve had made it clear you were to back off on that?"
The scientist had carefully avoided getting tangled up in that can of worms and had no intention of becoming part of any attempt by Ainsley and Tony to push their own agenda.
The doctor shook his head and sat down
"No, it's nothing like that. It's something Jarvis said to me a little while ago" He looked up and Bruce could see the concern in his eyes "Bruce, I think Clint's seriously considering committing suicide."
There was a very long pause and a cold reserve in Bruce's voice when he finally spoke. He knew exactly why the doctor had come to him It had been a moment of personal weakness when he'd told the others about his attempt to take his life, foiled only by the Other Guy and he didn't like the idea of Ainsley knowing about it, however he'd found it out.
"Did Tony tell you I tried, or did you 'work it out for yourself'?"
"Bruce…" Ainsley tone was placatory, almost pleading. Bruce's misgivings about him had become increasingly evident over the months past and he had tried to give him the space he clearly wanted but right now he desperately needed his help "It's what I do, what I'm trained to do. I can't switch it off any more than you can switch off…"
"The 'Other Guy'?" The suspicion was still there. Ainsley smiled shyly, trying to appease the nervous older scientist.
"I was going to say 'seeing everything as a formula to be solved' but I suppose that's just as true."
Bruce took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, aware that he was over-reacting again. He had to dial down his paranoia, Ainsley wasn't trying to get inside his head or manipulate him, he was frightened and reaching out about a mutual friend who might well be in very grave danger.
"Did I ever tell you why I became a psychologist?" the doctor asked, hoping that some attempt at explanation might dilute the other man's truculence. Bruce shook his head.
"No, you didn't." Ainsley was clearly very agitated. Perhaps if he let him speak a little it would calm them both down.
"Ever since I was I child I've been good at seeing patterns, putting things together, it's why I like puzzles so much." He paused, trying to find the right words to explain something that came to him as naturally as the colour of his eyes "I can look at all the scattered pieces and just understand the whole picture they make. Once I have that it's only a matter of putting the right pieces in the right place. I could have gone into law, or forensics or any number of disciplines, but it was always the human soul that fascinated me."
He went quiet for a little, remembering the happy ordered days at Ampleforth.
"It's an old-fashioned term, I know, but I was schooled by monks you see, Benedictines, all the best English Catholic families send their sons to them, far more gentlemanly than the Jesuits. If I'd felt any sort of vocation I probably would have taken the cloth and become some learned father confessor. As I didn't, I entered the modern secular priesthood of psychology instead, becoming the disciple of the great Karl-Heinrich Feldermann and his gospel of Gestalt. Izzie had the same ability but she turned her gift in the direction of medicine. She was brilliant at diagnosis, could tell what was wrong with you almost just by looking. It's what made her so amazing at treating children…"
His voice tailed off, speaking of her took some of the sharp edges of grief away but it could never stop hurting.
"…you probably would have liked her a lot better than you like me."
Bruce sat down beside him
"It's not that I dislike you Ainsley, most of the time you're very likeable and you have an incredible gift; it makes you one of the best at what you do and you do a lot of good with it. I'll just never be entirely comfortable around someone who can see inside minds the way you can, especially when you're so fond of being right all the time."
Ainsley looked faintly embarrassed. Bruce reached out and took the doctor's hand. He used physical contact sparingly, even less than Natasha, so even the smallest gesture was rich in meaning.
"You're a good man and I don't believe there's any malice in you but I've spent years hiding from what's inside me, and hiding from people like you trying to find out about what's inside me. Those that do have a habit of getting hurt, the Other Guy is even more paranoid than me and he doesn't care about good intentions when he's riled."
He let go of Ainsley's hand and sighed heavily
"So please don't take it the wrong way when I say I never want to get that close to you and I'd be obliged if you didn't try to get too close to me."
He sat back in his seat
"I will come and talk to Clint with you, though. If he's bad enough to be giving Jarvis the jitters and hasn't said anything to you or Thor, then I think we should be very concerned."
###
Steve had been in his room, reading, since he got back from seeing Sam off at the airport. He'd tried to work on one of his models but his hands were a bit shaky, nerves from blurting that stuff out to Barton at the party last night. It had been out of order and embarrassing for them both, no wonder he'd taken off so quick given the chance.
He should never have put Barton in an awkward spot like that, invading the guy's private space, and definitely shouldn't have spoken about witnessing him and Thor having sex, or how he'd reacted. At least Barton hadn't been an ass about it and had made some attempt to show an understanding of where he was coming from before making a run for it.
He put his book down when he heard the knock on the door.
"Yeah?"
"Steve, it's me" Clint's voice "Can I talk to you?"
"Sure, come in." replied the soldier, getting up to make some coffee for them. He busied himself with the machine, unable to look at Clint for the moment. He heard something being put down on the table.
"Look, is it ok if we just forget about what I said last night? It wasn't appropriate for me to bring any of that up and I'm sorry if I embarrassed you."
"Steve…" There was a strain in Barton's voice that made him turn. He saw what the man had put down beside the book. An automatic revolver and a full magazine "Can you hold on to these for me?"
Steve looked down at the gun and up at Barton, his face was pale and he was shivering like he'd just been in an ice-bath.
"Barton, what the hell's going on?"
Clint swallowed hard, it felt like his throat was trying to close and stop the words coming out
"Steve… Earlier today…. I tried to… I… I tried… I…" his breathing turned into loud, wheezing, gasps as he struggled for air.
He's having a panic attack
Steve grabbed a paper bag from the drawer and made Barton sit down, holding it over his nose and mouth until he slowly began to breath normally and regain some natural colour. Forgetting about the coffee he poured them both a whiskey.
"Okay Barton, take it slow and tell me what's up."
Clint swallowed down the alcohol, feeling the heat of it in his chest
"Steve, I tried to kill myself."
Steve took a long deep breath and let it out slowly. Somewhere, deep down, he'd known how much trouble Barton was in but he'd never expected it to get this bad. Hearing his team-mate admit it was a hard punch in the guts.
"Why?"
It was a stupid question and they both knew it. Clint laughed grimly
"I've thought about it on and off for years, since what happened in Bafandi and everything that came after."
He put the glass down and ran his hands through his hair
"Last few weeks it's been almost every day; my life's never been great but right now it's completely fucked up and I can't see any way of making it better. Today I was sitting on the bed with the gun in my mouth, ready to redecorate the wall behind with my brains. If Jarvis hadn't butted in that's what I would've done. Guess it remembered the suicide watch protocols that Tash set up."
Doc and Bruce had been 'chilling out' in the lounge when he'd got back. That on its own was enough to let him know the UI had found a way to warn one or both. Thor hovering in the background with bewildered anxiety all over his face was just the final confirmation. The Big Blond should never try playing poker.
He'd forestalled them by saying he had to speak to Steve first. The guy was effectively his Commanding Officer, and there was a way these things had to be done.
"I spoke to one of these suicide hotlines after my run. Nice girl, and she said all the things I needed to hear; but I know that's not going to be enough and I know what you've got to do."
Steve put his arm around Barton's shoulders and steadied his own breathing, he was going to need a turn with the paper bag if he wasn't careful. He remembered what a doctor had said to him during the war, when a soldier had walked out of the mess hall and shot himself 5 minutes after buying a round of drinks 'Suicide always comes as a surprise, because the ones who're going to never speak about it.'
"Clint, I'm going to have to suspend you immediately pending a full psychiatric review and evaluation. I'll also have to notify Director Fury of the situation. Whether you can return to duty depends on the results of the evaluation. Your status with SHIELD is ultimately Fury's decision, but I'll be honest and tell you now that if the evaluation is negative I can't allow you back on the team."
Clint nodded his acknowledgement, feeling a cold numbness spreading through his limbs. Every word out of Steve's mouth sounded like it was causing the team captain physical pain; they both knew there was no other possible option but that didn't make it hurt any less for either of them. Eventually he managed to speak
"Cap," his voice was faint and broken "can I be the one to tell the others, and Tash when she gets back?
"Sure" Steve replied "I think that's the best idea. You want to do it now or have another drink first?"
Clint shook his head.
"Let's get it done and out the way, then I'll get that drink."
Tony had joined them in the lounge just after Clint went down to speak to Steve, looking suspiciously sober for someone who'd supposedly been drinking all day. Either Jarvis had alerted him as well or some sixth sense had told him that something was up.
Ainsley had spent a long time explaining the difficult psychology of the situation to Thor, convincing him that he shouldn't be angry either with Clint for not saying anything or blame himself for not noticing. Now the Asgardian sat silently beside his lover on a couch, holding his hand and sick with worry for Hawkeye.
Ainsley was lost in thought; trying not to lay any blame on his own shoulders. This should have been obvious to him but he'd spent the last two months in hospital, removed from the situation and from Clint's mental deterioration, occupied with his own slow recovery.
Bruce was in the kitchen area making them all tea, wishing that Natasha was there as well, when Steve and Clint came up from Steve's apartment. Both men looked like emotional wrecks and Clint was having problems making eye contact with any of them. He sat down on the couch across from Thor and Ainsley, staring at the floor and silently accepting the tea that Bruce handed him. He wanted to get this out and done as quick as possible.
"I tried to kill myself this afternoon."
Tony lowered his head to his hand with a low groan, Ainsley made a small choking noise but the others were silent.
"I've told Steve about the full circumstances and I'm suspended from the team until a psychiatric review and evaluation has been completed. That's required protocol in this scenario, not his call, so don't go jumping down his throat. He's doing the right thing for all of us. If the evaluation's negative it'll probably mean a medical discharge."
Thor looked like he was about to leap to his feet in outrage but Ainsley put a hand on his shoulder and shook his head. The silence was broken by Tony
"If you weren't happy about the party you just had to say!"
They all looked at him in astonishment for a moment and then Ainsley began to laugh. Short, high-pitch staccato giggles at first then helpless howls interspersed with breathless 'ouches' as he clung on to Thor's arm, Clint followed suit, sliding off the couch with great bellowing guffaws and within seconds all six men were sprawled across the furniture laughing hysterically.
Eventually Clint hauled himself back up, gasping for breath and wiping the tears from his face
"Stark, you're a fucking smartass arrogant bastard but sometimes I love you."
The laughter gradually subsided, dispelling the immediate tension but leaving them with a gnawing apprehension. Clint's whole life was bound up with the Avengers, no-one really knew what his options would be if he were forced to leave
"If it's going to be awkward having me around on suspension maybe there's a spare apartment somewhere in town I can borrow?" Unlike Tasha he'd never bothered with an external bolthole. The ventilation ducts of the tower gave him plenty of hiding places when he wanted to get away.
"Bullshit!" was Stark's response "This is still my penthouse and I'm the only one who gets to decide who stays or who goes. And unless I'm mistaken it's also my call who I retain as a personal Security Consultant."
He glanced across at Steve "Any issues with that, Ice-Cap?"
The soldier shrugged, affecting nonchalance but grateful to Stark for the signal he was sending loud and clear. Whatever happened with regards to SHIELD and the Avengers no-one in this room was prepared to cut Barton loose.
"Your home and your business, Stark. Can't tell you how to run either."
The billionaire walked over to Clint and crouched down in front of him, putting a hand on his arm.
"Get your wings fixed, Pidgeon, and don't go flying away from us just yet." He leaned in and whispered in his ear "I've been there, come speak to me later."
Clint nodded his appreciation. Stark got up and pulled his phone out.
"I'm going to order in some Chinese food. There should be plenty of beer left and I think something about a movie night was mentioned earlier. We all need a little bit of a distraction right now."
He looked over to Ainsley
"I believe in the Old Country it's known as a 'Lad's Night In'?"
Ainsley laughed, Tony may have made a wrong call with the party but he was spot on about what was required tonight.
"I believe you're correct, Tony, and I second your opinion. I'll have the duck with black bean sauce and make sure there's no shellfish in anything."
The serious discussion of what would have to be done could wait till tomorrow, they all agreed. Tonight, they would eat, drink, watch bad movies and talk into the small hours about the stupidest and most banal things they could imagine.
While Tony and Clint headed off to the pantry to fetch more beers, Ainsley saw Steve beckoning to him and went over. The soldier took him briefly to one side, speaking quickly and quietly
"I don't care about Conflict of Interest; I want your full appraisal and opinion of Barton's evaluation before I come to any decision. You know him better than any of the SHIELD head doctors and I trust your objectivity more than I do theirs"
The doctor nodded, sharing Steve's concern about Hawkeye getting an impartial review. Steve continued speaking, lowering his voice further
"When Tasha gets back, with Barton's consent, I want you and her to look at alternative options for dealing with Abel. I meant what I said before, but I was wrong not to place greater weight on your advice. I need the pair of you to try and fix this mess before it gets any worse."