BASKET: Bang Your Head (Mental Health) (3/4) (for kl_shipper1) - PG
Title: Bang Your Head (Mental Health) (3/4)
Author: oresteia
A Gift For: kl_shipper1
Rating: PG
Warnings: Some hint of violence and psychological torture and unwanted medical procedures but it's mostly dramatic angst mixed with happy endings
Pairings: Clint/Natasha, Tony/Pepper, Jane/Thor, Team
Summary/Prompt Used:
4) Who are they, besides their job, besides the assassins they're trained to be? Show me who Clint and Natasha really are and what they do when they're not on a mission-- when they have some time to decompress and be themselves. Basically, Agent Barton and Agent Romanoff vs. Clint and Natasha.
Things I like: Banter, happy endings, deaf!Clint, team!shawarma, team antics, UST and/or RST, (romance with) reasonable amounts of angst. AUs. Movieverse. Clint showing off his musical abilities (and Natasha having them too).
I don't want to receive: Dub-con/non-con. Torture. Character death. Unhappy endings. Lots of smut. Non-C/N.
Authors Notes:
The story is kind of told in an disjointed format. It’s almost built like Memento or Pulp Fiction. The beginning gives the ending away to some extent. There’s more after the beginning but it tells it all final conclusion (that is left open ended slightly). Time jumps quickly but the story is written linear, so that none of the time jumps are so misplace that they don’t make sense. Also, this story involves Phil Coulson as a general important character. The heart of it is about Clint and Natasha but really it’s him as their third (not romantically in the least, brotherly, friendly).
(June 2013-- a week after his departure from New York)
His vision was blurry, great, not only could he not hear anything (except maybe some ringing in his head assuming that it was not part of the delusion either) but he had absolutely no idea where the fuck he was or how he got there.
In fact, the last two weeks seemed to have melted away, he only knew two weeks had passed because of the date on his bar-less cell phone which probably explained why they did not bother removing it from his person.
Whoever they were.
He also seemed to have been relatively unharmed… which Clint was more worried about than anything. If he had at least been harmed then he would have known it was hostile territory for sure.
Instead the only sign of visible damage appeared to be to his right temple where there was a purple bruise, some faint bleeding and no sign that he been shot or stabbed anywhere. If anything it might have been confused for an accident with the exception that Clint knew for a fact that he didn't have accidents.
Why couldn't he remember? He knew his name, where he was from, what had happened prior to this but for whatever reason his memory was blank on the recent events.
The last he remembered he was telling Natasha that he was going on a mission without any details. He had been on the way to meet Sitwell.
Had he even met with Sitwell or had this happened before he had the chance to?
“What the hell?” he said slowly, his voice slurred but ironically he could hear his voice-- which was troubling. Clint had not been able to hear himself talk in years. Not really. He knew could talk or what he said but there was no hint of a tone or whether or not words struggled to formulate.
Normally Clint would assume his hearing aids were in but if they were why the fuck were they left in? Then Clint realized he could not actually feel his ears or much of anything. Drugged with morphine… procedure must have been done but what?
He was drugged. Numbing. Not paralysis. Therefore, whoever did it had felt no threat from him. However, they decided to take the pain off? What the fuck was going on?
“Ah you are awake Agent Barton.”
Clint turned his head, he paused-- somehow he wished he had been knocked out or killed.
---
(Three to six months after May 2012 aka the date of d-day round 3)
And did they get you to trade
Your heroes for ghosts?
Hot ashes for trees?
Hot air for a cool breeze?
Cold comfort for change?
And did you exchange
A walk on part in the war
For a lead role in a cage?
“Wow, that's a serious set of lungs especially on a dude with no hearing,” Tony whistled impressed by Barton's one man show of Pink Floyd's 'Wish You Were Here'.
Natasha smirked mirroring Tony's trademark, “Wait till you hear Shine On You Crazy Diamond.”
Tony looked at her mildly questioningly, “Isn't that mostly instrumental?”
“He plays guitar and bass.”
“Shit”
The entire room erupted in applause as Clint took a bow and then moved to take a seat with the others.
Bruce mused, “Losing your hearing as an adult must have been horrible but that voice….”
“Wouldn't have existed otherwise? Yeah, Doc I know. The problem I have now though-- I can't learn new songs. I can only sing to the ones I did before I lost my hearing. I can no longer tell what pitch I need to sing along to someone new…” Clint pointed out.
“Explains why you don't sing the Black Keyes,” Tony said dryly.
Clint rolled his eyes, “it's all based on memory anymore. If the music skips or something. I would be off key and never know it unless I watched the audience. I would hear and feel the vibrations of the missing beat slash band section but the words would go right by me.”
Steve looked uncomfortable briefly but spending time with Tony Stark had perhaps made him more forward than he had been before he woke up, “How did you lose your hearing?”
Natasha and Clint both flinched at the same time. The group did not miss how her eyes briefly asked him a silent question. One probably involving burying the Captain America body and how to tell Fury they had killed a national hero.
Bruce blanched, he had already figured out that whatever happened was similar to how he had become The Other Guy aka an extremely painful and bad memory. It probably wasn't a natural occurrence. For one if it had been Clint would not be able to mask it so well, his speech would be worse, and so would his ability to respond to sound geared towards him.
Steve had stepped into a minefield without even knowing it.
The group watched as Clint struggled to put on a straight game face but the brief hint of distress and even anger directed at Steve showed. However, he made a quick move to at least disguise the anger.
Logically Clint knew that Steve was being harmless with asking but Steve had no idea how much of a sensitive issue it was.
“I chose my fate and when I was presented with a 'cure' I refused.”
He stormed off.
The others turned to Natasha some in horror, some in shock, and Bruce with a grim affirmed look.
“He made a choice,” Natasha replied.
“I take it you mean not having the damage repaired,” Steve said nervously.
Natasha shook her head, “That was more stubbornness and guilt and it wouldn't have mattered. The 'cure' was a best case scenario and really with hearing aids he probably hears better than what the doctors at SHEILD wanted to do.”
“Like injecting something into your body and becoming The Hulk?”
She looked at Bruce sadly, perhaps he was the only one in the room that actually understood what led to the final outcome and he did not know the actual story.
“Exactly like that, Doctor Banner,” she answered shortly, “Only it wasn't to save humanity or the lives the others but his own.”
----
(August 2013)
“What do you mean you LOST him?” Natasha practically growled at Agent Sitwell.
She was not known for her explosive responses typically but Sitwell telling her that Agent Barton had been MIA since June was enough to send her into angry panic.
“He went missing about a week into the mission…”
“And you thought to tell me this almost eight weeks later?” she asked coldly.
He flinched, “I got a team on the ground trying to find him so that the Avengers wouldn't come out of hiding…”
“Where did you send him?” she demanded trying not to react about that statement about The Avengers. It was true, she was a superhero now that didn't mean however that Natasha wanted a daily reminder of it from former coworkers.
That she was a security risk now.
Something she may never be used to.
“Gaza”
“Why Gaza?”
“We had a package stolen from us and taken there,” he answered quickly.
“Stolen from where?” she asked.
Sitwell was silent until he could see Natasha ready to physically attack him, he knew he should have did this over a phone. Unfortunately, the angel in his left ear told him that Barton's possible widow deserved to hear it from him in his own words.
Shit widow.
Sitwell paled again realizing his own monologue told the story he had been denying to himself. She wasn't asking as his partner. She was asking as his unofficial wife and he better answer or else.
“Iceland.”
Natasha stared at him blankly, “We only have an emergency medical facility there…”
Sitwell's shifted on his heels nervously.
“…What kind of package was this agent?”
Jasper looked down at his feet, “I can't tell you.”
She pushed him against the wall to where a picture of Iron Man was hanging up, probably Tony had put it up at some point. It was the common room and often it was covered in Iron Man junk because he was kind of vain and also it was a running joke among the entire team now.
“Tell me.”
“I can't! I'd lose my job. Fury could lose his job. Agent Hill would get the promotion she never wanted,” he insisted.
He really wanted to cave though, Coulson would have approved if he had. That realization caused Sitwell to let out a tortured laugh. This was getting to be the worst joke in the world, he only thought of Coulson as his all knowing disney movie cricket and not as an actual person.
And he was still an actual person for all the intelligence that Sitwell did have on the situation.
“WHO DID YOU SEND HIM AFTER?”
Both agents turned to see Bruce Banner standing there with green eyes visible. They paled when they realized that Stark had the entire team listening in and that Bruce had gotten upset for Natasha and maybe even Clint himself.
“Doctor Banner, you might want to…”
“Don't tell me to calm down. Who did you send Barton after? Whose safety would risk Barton's life for?” he demanded.
Natasha wanted to hug him.
Sitwell gulped, “Phil Couslon.”
Before Natasha or Bruce could make sense out of his answer, the rest of the team came barging in. Stark was irate shouting at them for being secretive assholes and he did not care if Coulson alive, if Barton was dead than he would kill Coulson himself.
Steve was kinder, saying he was glad the agent had a chance to survive but they should have told the team instead of just sending Barton out alone after him.
Bruce was still bright green.
Natasha was torn between thanking Sitwell and ripping out his throat.
Thor who might have been the most logical one of them all (not the most intelligent but definitely had a sound reasoning behind all his decisions) grabbed Sitwell by his neck.
“Agent Sitwell, I am very glad over this news. However, the Hawk is family and Son of Coul is not. How dare you think we would prefer him to go on his own for a friend when he is more than a friend to us,” Thor informed him grimly, “Should the Hawk not make it back, be forewarned the Avengers will never your organization of warriors again.”
Bruce ceased turning green and started panting when him and the Other Guy realized that Thor had taken care of what they both had wanted to do.
Natasha let out a sigh of relief.
“I'm going to suit up,” Tony announced.
Natasha looked at Sitwell sadly, “I know you did it for Clint. I'm glad you tried to help him like I asked.”
“I'm sorry it didn't turn out quite how you wanted it to,” Sitwell apologized, the grief on his face showing. He felt guilty beyond words but he knew the warrior in Natasha would forgive him even if the rest of her never would.
“If he dies though… if he's dead…”
“You'll never forgive me anyway, Agent Romanov. Don't pretend the outcome would be any different,” he replied.
“It's Black Widow or Natasha. I'm not an Agent anymore and neither is Clint. Don't ever forget that again.”
----------
(June 2013- prior to Clint's departure)
At the core of them both, they were agents.
It was more than some secret identity they put on.
Clint was solider, Natasha a spy.
They were fundamentally at their cores these people. They had a life outside of this. A way of life which was completely different, habits, pleasures, fun that these two agents would never have in the field. They cooked and had a dog.
Sometimes Clint dreamed of children and Natasha of her fairytale wedding (not that she would admit to it but once or twice she had called actual wedding planners and invited them for coffee to discuss her options).
However, for all their normalcy part of it would always be just an act like the one Natasha gave to all her marks.
There was a small part of them that would always been agents of death. The people that got into fights with the CIA and the FBI over op rights. The ones that got nasty with bad guys over a domestic dispute they would have during the day.
The days spent apart, the days spent together in a shithole in Vietnam. The ones spent in a small space in the forest shooting blindly at dangerous drug lords.
Neither could forget it or just simply move on. Their relationship could move forward or backwards as a result of this shift. However, as people it was a part of them that froze in time just like Steve.
The difference was Natasha could bury the ice and keep going.
Clint's ice would drown in the same sea that Steve did and remain there a lot longer than seventy years.
---
(August 2013)
The team bordered the private jet that Stark owned. It was not an ideal traveling option but not everyone could fly and frankly this was SHIELD's mess so borrowing one of their toys would be accepting it like a pardon. Natasha wasn't ready to forgive them quite yet.
Later, they all would when they had Barton but for now, it was better to act like they were completely rogue. If only to spare Fury's job and also to let them stew in their anger for a few days.
On the trip though all Natasha could think about is how much she would never miss being a spy. The ice had turned to water and lucky for Natasha, she could always swim.
And soon she would make Clint swim too. The ocean was bright and blue (with some emerald green too), vast and full of choices. Choices they never got to make before.
This time, Natasha would fucking hire a damn wedding planner. She would also stop taking birth control.
“Hey Stark?”
“Nat?” he asked taking her pet name from Clint, for once she didn't intend to stop him.
“Ask Pepper the names of some good wedding planners. I'm getting married in the fall.”
------
(May 2011)
'What are we doing here?' Clint signed noticing it wasn't just an bakery but one that was strictly geared towards weddings.
There were wedding cakes everywhere.
The building was designed with white and silver. There were bells hanging and little frilly touches all over. This was where brides and their lapped down grooms went to try and buy food for their big expensive shindigs.
Clint was torn between being horrified and excited. Natasha never wanted it though. There wasn't any time and it was dangerous.
Not sure why but it was. Clint would not fight her on it. After all, he only wanted to get married if he got children. A childless marriage was redundant to him. They could just keep dating if that. It sounded slightly medieval of him but Clint only imagined getting married because he was going to be a father.
He saw little reason otherwise and he selfishly wanted to be married if he knocked someone up because he had read articles stating it was better for the child in the long run. Maybe medieval but Clint was a fan of studies on metal health and personal lifestyles.
Not that he wouldn't marry Natasha if she wanted but it seemed like she never really interested that it was just something she toyed with. Like a fun game. He just would not bother asking until there appeared to be real incentive for him to ask. Not necessarily a child but at least a hint that she took it more seriously than just window shopping for it.
'I wanted to try out some of the cake styles, see if there was any I liked,' she answered greeting the woman at the counter, “My fiancé is deaf but he can read your lips if you talk to both of us.”
They were served by a very middle aged woman that shared the stories of her clients and her own relationship with her wife.
They tried chocolate, vanilla, red velvet, and strawberry.
Clint liked the vanilla the best, Natasha the red velvet.
They compromised on marble cake with some red velvet flavored icing. They picked out silly decorations instead of a traditional bride and groom on the cake.
Natasha asked for the ordering booklet.
They thanked her and promised to be back for their dream cake.
Once outside the shop Clint grabbed Natasha's hand and they started to walk away, “Did you find the one yet?” he said finally speaking.
“I did but there's still more shops in the city to look at,” she replied knowing he couldn't hear her and his gaze was not on her.
After a minute of full silence, Clint shrugged feeling that there would be answer coming in his future, “Anywhere else you want to go?” Moving on without any prompting.
Natasha turned her gaze onto his sharply but with a hint of fear showing on them, “Can we go to Tiffany's?”
“Only if you want to pretend we have money that we'll never have,” he answered amused. Like they could afford to shop there.
She laughed and pointed to the bar that Clint often went to after a mission for some downtime. Tiffany's could wait… at least until they could find some drug dealer to steal a couple thousand dollars from.
------
(June 2013)
Sometimes, Clint liked to pretend that he did not remember his life before the incident that led to the loss of his hearing. Sometimes he liked to make up scenarios of how his life was before it happened.
In these fake scenarios, Barton was a happy go lucky nomad musician. Every Saturday, he and his traveling band would play a new dive bar out in the middle of bumfucknowhere.
On Tuesdays, he would phone home to his mother-- she would complain about his bohemian lifestyle and ask how that girlfriend/bass guitarist of his was.
Clint would laugh and tell her he missed her and he had to go off again-- another exotic city, another trip into the unknown.
Of course, these were all just made up stories in his head. In reality, life before was anything but stable. Often it was disjointed, days shooting people in the middle of some country whose name he could barely spell, other days at home staring at a wall.
His only calls were to Couslon. No catching up was ever needed.
Occasionally there was some sex, some rock and roll, and should the occasion warrant it- a cigarette and a movie.
The reality and the fantasy had one thing in common though, they blocked out the truth of Clint's loss. In both these world's, Clint was normal regular hearing not so smart (which was far from true honestly) marksman not some deaf superhero.
Clint missed that life, well did until now.
Former S.H.I.E.L.D. Doctor (aka mad scientist/inventor) Reynolds was staring him through his cell and reminded Clint of why he went deaf in the first place.
Reynolds not directly responsible but if anyone had been, it was him.
--
(August 2013)
“How the hell did this guy pass a psych eval?” Tony asked once on the plane looking at the file Natasha presented to the team.
“Are you sure this is who kidnapped Clint?” Steve demanded.
Natasha nodded, “He's the only logical explanation. Only a former agent would know the location of a secret base like that one. And he has a grudge against both Coulson and Barton.”
“The psych eval?”
“All agents are to take one but sometimes if someone is too important to the organization, their results however bleak are ignored. Emil Blonsky would have been one of the people automatically bypassed had the council gotten their way,” Natasha informed the team, “Incidentally Clint and myself were excused from even taking them.”
“So this guy actually passed at one point?” Bruce asked indicating to the file, “He seemed unstable even before working for SHIELD based on the readings.”
Tony snorted, “More like insane ramblings of a cracked inventor”
“Misgardians thought my Lady Jane to be mentally off balance,” Thor pointed out about her theories on his home.
Bruce shook his head, “No this not Doctor Foster's realistic predictions that people were skeptical about. This is straight forward bag full of cats crazy.”
“You understand this?” Steve asked them both looking over the readings.
They made little sense to the solider.
“Sadly,” Bruce mused, “This guy- Doctor Michael Reynolds-- well he sounds a lot like those crazy religious zealots that think the world will end in five months…”
“Yeah but only by his hand because you know he has more power than god,” Tony retorted.
Natasha sighed, “Fury and Coulson objected his hiring on many occasions to the council. They wouldn't hear of it and it's not like there's so many genius inventors running around. Reynolds had ideas on how to improve warfare to eliminate the need for torture and C4.”
“And replaced with ideas about forced mind control and sonic noise devices that can make people deaf,” Bruce pointed out grimly.
------
(June 2013)
“You can just kill me and get it other with. I would rather be dead than listen to your insane prophesies-- no offense doctor,” Clint said with as much annoyance as possible.
Honestly, he would rather be tortured and be done with it.
Reynolds made Loki almost appear sane. Almost.
“Ah Agent Barton, you hurt my feelings,” he spoke in a calm almost jovial face as if talking to an old friend.
The man in his mid fifties had brown hair with little streaks of gray woven through it. He had a facial scar across his left cheek and deep gazing blue eyes. Eyes that reminded Clint of New Mexico to some extent.
He would accuse him of being held hostage by Loki but Reynolds was insane way before anyone had heard of Loki. No this crazy ass was working with humans only.
“You have feelings besides doom, gloom, and mass destruction?” Clint taunted.
Reynolds shook his head, “Barton, Barton you have me all wrong. I'm a scientist. It's my job to gather data and then test out the hypothesis.”
“You mean experiment on innocent beings and then kill them when you're done?” Clint offered.
“I would hardly call you innocent Agent Barton nor anyone else that works for SHIELD. It's organizations like them that will cause this world to end. You know it-- I know it. Look what happened with your alien friend. The world is becoming a dangerous place and we are being taken over by leeches from outer space. Death is the only answer,” he answered.
“And until then you'll just kidnap people and use them to experiment and make your dream weapon.”
“I'm insulted that you think that's the only reason why you're here,” Reynolds said with his hand over his heart as if he was a wounded boyfriend.
Clint sighed, dramatically rolled his eyes and stared at Reynolds, “By all means share your master plans with me. There's a movie joke in here somewhere but what the hell you're already on a roll. You only resemble half the cinematic nutjobs in film anyway.”
Reynolds made a tisk-tisk noise, “Come on surely you think I'm not that crazy?”
Clint snorted, “I don't know man, you were always stark raving mad to me. Very Doctor Frankenstein if you know what I mean.”
Reynolds slapped him and Clint coughed amused, that didn't even tickle. Some because of the drugs but mostly because Reynolds hit like a child.
“No more playing Barton. I tried to be civil but you couldn't play nice. Well Agent, maybe you will later after Johann comes in and does some of his finer work,” Reynolds replied only mildly tweaked.
Clint sighed, what these guys possibly do to him?
----
(March 2007)
“That man is highly unstable Coulson, why the hell did we give him a job?” Clint asked after a mission, “Controlling agents minds through their dream cycles?!”
It was a chilly March out in Eastern Russia, five enemy agents had arrested. All had refused to talk, the inventor had eagerly come up with a plan to make them talk.
“The council wouldn't take no for an answer,” Phil replied somewhat disappointed and clearly dissatisfied by that truth.
“What the fuck is there problem? We get results just fine. So they ask us to hire a wackjob?” he demanded.
Coulson nodded, “Fury is waiting on him to snap but to be fair, he did just propose a good idea with minimal loss or injury. We're Americans we have standards to live up to-- Geneva Convention.”
“Like the council ever gave two shits about that,” Clint muttered bitterly.
“I don't like it anymore than you, Barton. The council will probably pat him on the back. Personally in my report, I will request suspension from the field but I can almost guarantee you that the council will ignore it and if Fury tries to enforce it, they will ask for his head.”
Doctor Reynolds had ignored SHIELD orders and taken civilians from the ground and began to experiment on them. In the end, he had failed to make a mind control drug and had created one that allowed him to essentially have a truth serum. The council would thrilled. All Phil and Clint would care about is how he tortured thirteen innocent people to make it. Enough that three had to die to create his drug and five had to be mentally institutionalized.
----
(August 2013)
Steve finished reading the file, the part that included the missions Doctor Reynolds had been privy or apart of. All of them had one thing in common a highly unusual amount of casualties of both innocent people and field agents.
How did anyone express that to the family of the deceased agents?
“No one would fire him?”
“He was lucky, his ideas worked just enough to please the council and never went too far that they felt the need to act. Fury was irate but every time he tried, he was met with resistance from the council,” Natasha expressed.
“Were you there for that one about the mind control?” Bruce asked her timidly as if afraid to bring up bad memories.
“No,” she answered softly, “But I was there for the mission before that. Not much of a better outcome however as he had not did anything technically outside the books. There was no way to discipline him.”
“Barton was there correct?” Tony asked.
“As was Coulson,” she confirmed, “They were the ones that pushed for his immediate dismissal and Hill and I assisted with getting the council the agree.”
“Jesus those people,” Tony replied angrily, “They essentially let a terrorist in training hang out in the super secret spy base for ten years and then finally fired him only after some blackmail and espionage on your part Romanov.”
“SHIELD would definitely be a better place without them,” Natasha told him honestly.
“Something to consider working on after we save Barton,” Tony remarked.
Natasha tensed, she was trying not to worry the team but it had been eight weeks and she knew what kind of man Reynolds was. Not exactly an effective killer but he knew how to make someone's existence truly a traumatic experience.
“Is there anything else we need to know?” Steve asked after a beat.
“Yes, he's also the man that invented the weapon Clint used to take out his ear drums.”
----
(September 2003)
Logically Clint knew the situation looked bad. There were dead agents everywhere. Civilians lying on the ground covered in bleed. Crying and screaming going on in the background.
The harsh whistling noise continued. It was a device used to cause extreme pain to ones ear drums. A way to distract even the most competent men in battle. Ear splitting, it made Clint want to cry himself.
However, there were still living people out here. The sound controlling mutant still could cause some serious damage. She had already forced men to kill themselves against their own free will.
She had gotten them to even smile while doing it.
The noise was a distraction so she could retrieve whatever that mental loving mutant boss of hers had told her to.
He was desperate to move, he found himself crawling on the ground. The only thing in his reach the experimental arrow created by doctor frankenstein.
He tried to aim for the device with the first arrow, it failed. The device she had planted on the ground was not easily struck. He had a single arrow left and he was rolling and screaming in pain himself.
Clint decided there was only one option to not only stop her toy but her power as well. If he couldn't her or it with the arrow. His best bet would be to temporarily shatter his own hearing. That way he could break it, fight her off, and end everyone's suffering.
So Clint stabbed himself with the arrow gently hitting the button on his bow to activate the secret inside, it would be enough to cripple him but not pierce the drum.
Unfortunately, the not so good doctor had failed to mention he designed it with shoot to kill only in mind even though he had been told to create something that would be somewhat disabling.
Granted he had never been told to use it or that it could be used on his ear drums but Clint knew whatever the doctor did was well beyond his orders because the second the arrow the got near him-- it was like an explosion had gone off inside his head.
All Clint heard was silence as his brain faded to black.
----
(August 2013)
“What kind of arrows were they supposed to be?” Bruce asked looking over the file.
“They were meant to be disable sound waves hearable to the human ears. Obviously going into the OP SHIELD and the agents on the team were aware that they were after a mutant that controlled sound waves. That she used maliciously to subdue people and commit crimes for the Brotherhood.”
“So it should have then only temporarily disabled Barton's ability to hear the screeching,” Tony assumed reading over the cliff notes by Agent Coulson.
“Right. Everything should have been fine. Clint saw it some sacrifice for the job. One of his own choosing. A chance to end the suffering. He saw it as doing the right thing. A decision none of us might have came to. We probably wouldn't have thought far enough ahead to use a special built arrow to end the noise,” Natasha explained, though perhaps her explanation over simplified the sacrifice or how dark it really was for Clint.
How badly he had been at the time of the incident.
“Instead it ripped out his ear drums and nearly killed him. A blow to the head would have been kinder,” Bruce remarked looking over the medical notes.
“Reynolds had thought they would kill the mutant. He hadn't known Clint would use them on himself-- obviously.”
“Did he even show remorse over the outcome?” Steve asked.
“Not really but it's not Clint went looking for someone to blame either. He mostly blamed himself,” she said with a hint of sharpness to her tone.
“But this guy still can claim he technically ruined Clint's hearing,” Tony pointed out, “To an insane egomaniac with a grudge, shit that probably gets him all turned on deep down.”
“Thank you for that creepy thought,” Bruce said dryly.
Thor had remained silent through their in-flight debrief. He vowed to himself if they saved Clint from this monster, that he would find a way to make sure this man paid with the power of Asgard behind him.
----
(June 2013)
Clint logically knew there was no way that Agent Jasper Sitwell was a traitor or a double agent. He had known, hell been friends with Sitwell long enough to know that was not true.
He had been Coulson's pet project.
But how else could it be explained that doctor evil would know he had been sent on this mission? How else would have known what was in the medical wing at their base that he supposed to kidnap?
Who was giving the information?
Someone had to be pulling the megalomaniac's strings.
His team had done a great job. Barton was bleeding in his ears from where they had “tested” his hearing. Sick twisted ideas to cure his “disease” with the most painful results in mind.
Clearly Reynolds wanted to relish his handiwork or so he claimed was his handiwork. Honestly as far as Clint was concerned the douche bag was just the sick fuck that made the weapon, it was Clint's own hand that was responsible.
Or that's what he had to keep telling himself in order to keep the anger and pain in check. To show them meant to show Reynolds his weakness.
The aids were useless and now Clint's ears were bleeding, not that it mattered he couldn't hear anyway but by the time Reynolds is done he might never able to wear aids again either.
--
(May 1994)
“This isn't the life I wanted,” Clint said to the waitress fixing his coffee.
“Preaching to the choir.”
Clint looked up at her steaming cup of coffee in hand, “At what point do you decide to change everything you've done?”
“In my experience or in the world according to the movies?” she asked.
“That's matters?”
“Movies are a running gag on life, kid. They tell you everything about everything and still 90% of it isn't true. According to the movies, it's never too late to change,” she said wistfully.
“And the truth?” he asked slowly.
She shook her head, “You spend your entire life trying to change the one you got. Often, you never do.”
(June 2013)
There's this theory at the end of your life, you picture the life you always wanted or maybe had in an alternate reality.
Sometimes, Clint wondered if that waitress- any waitress got to be so lucky. She might have discouraged him by saying that but deep down he understood that pain that belief. Others had it. It surprised him when his own life turned out nothing like that.
He wondered if this was punishment for living the life that had not been laid out for him. The starving broke criminal/artist. Maybe this was karma for everything good deed he did that maybe he never should have done.
If he was just tortured he would be fine. Being barely touched and then beaten severely than put back together only to be broken again was getting to him.
Clint was worried that for once Reynolds would get exactly what he wanted.
In his head, Clint dreamed that he was holding Natasha's hand on the deck of a boat, orange pink and purple colored sky above them. The waves crashing mildly around them-- their hands steady and strong molded together at peace.
Clint blacked out.
Author: oresteia
A Gift For: kl_shipper1
Rating: PG
Warnings: Some hint of violence and psychological torture and unwanted medical procedures but it's mostly dramatic angst mixed with happy endings
Pairings: Clint/Natasha, Tony/Pepper, Jane/Thor, Team
Summary/Prompt Used:
4) Who are they, besides their job, besides the assassins they're trained to be? Show me who Clint and Natasha really are and what they do when they're not on a mission-- when they have some time to decompress and be themselves. Basically, Agent Barton and Agent Romanoff vs. Clint and Natasha.
Things I like: Banter, happy endings, deaf!Clint, team!shawarma, team antics, UST and/or RST, (romance with) reasonable amounts of angst. AUs. Movieverse. Clint showing off his musical abilities (and Natasha having them too).
I don't want to receive: Dub-con/non-con. Torture. Character death. Unhappy endings. Lots of smut. Non-C/N.
Authors Notes:
The story is kind of told in an disjointed format. It’s almost built like Memento or Pulp Fiction. The beginning gives the ending away to some extent. There’s more after the beginning but it tells it all final conclusion (that is left open ended slightly). Time jumps quickly but the story is written linear, so that none of the time jumps are so misplace that they don’t make sense. Also, this story involves Phil Coulson as a general important character. The heart of it is about Clint and Natasha but really it’s him as their third (not romantically in the least, brotherly, friendly).
(June 2013-- a week after his departure from New York)
His vision was blurry, great, not only could he not hear anything (except maybe some ringing in his head assuming that it was not part of the delusion either) but he had absolutely no idea where the fuck he was or how he got there.
In fact, the last two weeks seemed to have melted away, he only knew two weeks had passed because of the date on his bar-less cell phone which probably explained why they did not bother removing it from his person.
Whoever they were.
He also seemed to have been relatively unharmed… which Clint was more worried about than anything. If he had at least been harmed then he would have known it was hostile territory for sure.
Instead the only sign of visible damage appeared to be to his right temple where there was a purple bruise, some faint bleeding and no sign that he been shot or stabbed anywhere. If anything it might have been confused for an accident with the exception that Clint knew for a fact that he didn't have accidents.
Why couldn't he remember? He knew his name, where he was from, what had happened prior to this but for whatever reason his memory was blank on the recent events.
The last he remembered he was telling Natasha that he was going on a mission without any details. He had been on the way to meet Sitwell.
Had he even met with Sitwell or had this happened before he had the chance to?
“What the hell?” he said slowly, his voice slurred but ironically he could hear his voice-- which was troubling. Clint had not been able to hear himself talk in years. Not really. He knew could talk or what he said but there was no hint of a tone or whether or not words struggled to formulate.
Normally Clint would assume his hearing aids were in but if they were why the fuck were they left in? Then Clint realized he could not actually feel his ears or much of anything. Drugged with morphine… procedure must have been done but what?
He was drugged. Numbing. Not paralysis. Therefore, whoever did it had felt no threat from him. However, they decided to take the pain off? What the fuck was going on?
“Ah you are awake Agent Barton.”
Clint turned his head, he paused-- somehow he wished he had been knocked out or killed.
---
(Three to six months after May 2012 aka the date of d-day round 3)
And did they get you to trade
Your heroes for ghosts?
Hot ashes for trees?
Hot air for a cool breeze?
Cold comfort for change?
And did you exchange
A walk on part in the war
For a lead role in a cage?
“Wow, that's a serious set of lungs especially on a dude with no hearing,” Tony whistled impressed by Barton's one man show of Pink Floyd's 'Wish You Were Here'.
Natasha smirked mirroring Tony's trademark, “Wait till you hear Shine On You Crazy Diamond.”
Tony looked at her mildly questioningly, “Isn't that mostly instrumental?”
“He plays guitar and bass.”
“Shit”
The entire room erupted in applause as Clint took a bow and then moved to take a seat with the others.
Bruce mused, “Losing your hearing as an adult must have been horrible but that voice….”
“Wouldn't have existed otherwise? Yeah, Doc I know. The problem I have now though-- I can't learn new songs. I can only sing to the ones I did before I lost my hearing. I can no longer tell what pitch I need to sing along to someone new…” Clint pointed out.
“Explains why you don't sing the Black Keyes,” Tony said dryly.
Clint rolled his eyes, “it's all based on memory anymore. If the music skips or something. I would be off key and never know it unless I watched the audience. I would hear and feel the vibrations of the missing beat slash band section but the words would go right by me.”
Steve looked uncomfortable briefly but spending time with Tony Stark had perhaps made him more forward than he had been before he woke up, “How did you lose your hearing?”
Natasha and Clint both flinched at the same time. The group did not miss how her eyes briefly asked him a silent question. One probably involving burying the Captain America body and how to tell Fury they had killed a national hero.
Bruce blanched, he had already figured out that whatever happened was similar to how he had become The Other Guy aka an extremely painful and bad memory. It probably wasn't a natural occurrence. For one if it had been Clint would not be able to mask it so well, his speech would be worse, and so would his ability to respond to sound geared towards him.
Steve had stepped into a minefield without even knowing it.
The group watched as Clint struggled to put on a straight game face but the brief hint of distress and even anger directed at Steve showed. However, he made a quick move to at least disguise the anger.
Logically Clint knew that Steve was being harmless with asking but Steve had no idea how much of a sensitive issue it was.
“I chose my fate and when I was presented with a 'cure' I refused.”
He stormed off.
The others turned to Natasha some in horror, some in shock, and Bruce with a grim affirmed look.
“He made a choice,” Natasha replied.
“I take it you mean not having the damage repaired,” Steve said nervously.
Natasha shook her head, “That was more stubbornness and guilt and it wouldn't have mattered. The 'cure' was a best case scenario and really with hearing aids he probably hears better than what the doctors at SHEILD wanted to do.”
“Like injecting something into your body and becoming The Hulk?”
She looked at Bruce sadly, perhaps he was the only one in the room that actually understood what led to the final outcome and he did not know the actual story.
“Exactly like that, Doctor Banner,” she answered shortly, “Only it wasn't to save humanity or the lives the others but his own.”
----
(August 2013)
“What do you mean you LOST him?” Natasha practically growled at Agent Sitwell.
She was not known for her explosive responses typically but Sitwell telling her that Agent Barton had been MIA since June was enough to send her into angry panic.
“He went missing about a week into the mission…”
“And you thought to tell me this almost eight weeks later?” she asked coldly.
He flinched, “I got a team on the ground trying to find him so that the Avengers wouldn't come out of hiding…”
“Where did you send him?” she demanded trying not to react about that statement about The Avengers. It was true, she was a superhero now that didn't mean however that Natasha wanted a daily reminder of it from former coworkers.
That she was a security risk now.
Something she may never be used to.
“Gaza”
“Why Gaza?”
“We had a package stolen from us and taken there,” he answered quickly.
“Stolen from where?” she asked.
Sitwell was silent until he could see Natasha ready to physically attack him, he knew he should have did this over a phone. Unfortunately, the angel in his left ear told him that Barton's possible widow deserved to hear it from him in his own words.
Shit widow.
Sitwell paled again realizing his own monologue told the story he had been denying to himself. She wasn't asking as his partner. She was asking as his unofficial wife and he better answer or else.
“Iceland.”
Natasha stared at him blankly, “We only have an emergency medical facility there…”
Sitwell's shifted on his heels nervously.
“…What kind of package was this agent?”
Jasper looked down at his feet, “I can't tell you.”
She pushed him against the wall to where a picture of Iron Man was hanging up, probably Tony had put it up at some point. It was the common room and often it was covered in Iron Man junk because he was kind of vain and also it was a running joke among the entire team now.
“Tell me.”
“I can't! I'd lose my job. Fury could lose his job. Agent Hill would get the promotion she never wanted,” he insisted.
He really wanted to cave though, Coulson would have approved if he had. That realization caused Sitwell to let out a tortured laugh. This was getting to be the worst joke in the world, he only thought of Coulson as his all knowing disney movie cricket and not as an actual person.
And he was still an actual person for all the intelligence that Sitwell did have on the situation.
“WHO DID YOU SEND HIM AFTER?”
Both agents turned to see Bruce Banner standing there with green eyes visible. They paled when they realized that Stark had the entire team listening in and that Bruce had gotten upset for Natasha and maybe even Clint himself.
“Doctor Banner, you might want to…”
“Don't tell me to calm down. Who did you send Barton after? Whose safety would risk Barton's life for?” he demanded.
Natasha wanted to hug him.
Sitwell gulped, “Phil Couslon.”
Before Natasha or Bruce could make sense out of his answer, the rest of the team came barging in. Stark was irate shouting at them for being secretive assholes and he did not care if Coulson alive, if Barton was dead than he would kill Coulson himself.
Steve was kinder, saying he was glad the agent had a chance to survive but they should have told the team instead of just sending Barton out alone after him.
Bruce was still bright green.
Natasha was torn between thanking Sitwell and ripping out his throat.
Thor who might have been the most logical one of them all (not the most intelligent but definitely had a sound reasoning behind all his decisions) grabbed Sitwell by his neck.
“Agent Sitwell, I am very glad over this news. However, the Hawk is family and Son of Coul is not. How dare you think we would prefer him to go on his own for a friend when he is more than a friend to us,” Thor informed him grimly, “Should the Hawk not make it back, be forewarned the Avengers will never your organization of warriors again.”
Bruce ceased turning green and started panting when him and the Other Guy realized that Thor had taken care of what they both had wanted to do.
Natasha let out a sigh of relief.
“I'm going to suit up,” Tony announced.
Natasha looked at Sitwell sadly, “I know you did it for Clint. I'm glad you tried to help him like I asked.”
“I'm sorry it didn't turn out quite how you wanted it to,” Sitwell apologized, the grief on his face showing. He felt guilty beyond words but he knew the warrior in Natasha would forgive him even if the rest of her never would.
“If he dies though… if he's dead…”
“You'll never forgive me anyway, Agent Romanov. Don't pretend the outcome would be any different,” he replied.
“It's Black Widow or Natasha. I'm not an Agent anymore and neither is Clint. Don't ever forget that again.”
----------
(June 2013- prior to Clint's departure)
At the core of them both, they were agents.
It was more than some secret identity they put on.
Clint was solider, Natasha a spy.
They were fundamentally at their cores these people. They had a life outside of this. A way of life which was completely different, habits, pleasures, fun that these two agents would never have in the field. They cooked and had a dog.
Sometimes Clint dreamed of children and Natasha of her fairytale wedding (not that she would admit to it but once or twice she had called actual wedding planners and invited them for coffee to discuss her options).
However, for all their normalcy part of it would always be just an act like the one Natasha gave to all her marks.
There was a small part of them that would always been agents of death. The people that got into fights with the CIA and the FBI over op rights. The ones that got nasty with bad guys over a domestic dispute they would have during the day.
The days spent apart, the days spent together in a shithole in Vietnam. The ones spent in a small space in the forest shooting blindly at dangerous drug lords.
Neither could forget it or just simply move on. Their relationship could move forward or backwards as a result of this shift. However, as people it was a part of them that froze in time just like Steve.
The difference was Natasha could bury the ice and keep going.
Clint's ice would drown in the same sea that Steve did and remain there a lot longer than seventy years.
---
(August 2013)
The team bordered the private jet that Stark owned. It was not an ideal traveling option but not everyone could fly and frankly this was SHIELD's mess so borrowing one of their toys would be accepting it like a pardon. Natasha wasn't ready to forgive them quite yet.
Later, they all would when they had Barton but for now, it was better to act like they were completely rogue. If only to spare Fury's job and also to let them stew in their anger for a few days.
On the trip though all Natasha could think about is how much she would never miss being a spy. The ice had turned to water and lucky for Natasha, she could always swim.
And soon she would make Clint swim too. The ocean was bright and blue (with some emerald green too), vast and full of choices. Choices they never got to make before.
This time, Natasha would fucking hire a damn wedding planner. She would also stop taking birth control.
“Hey Stark?”
“Nat?” he asked taking her pet name from Clint, for once she didn't intend to stop him.
“Ask Pepper the names of some good wedding planners. I'm getting married in the fall.”
------
(May 2011)
'What are we doing here?' Clint signed noticing it wasn't just an bakery but one that was strictly geared towards weddings.
There were wedding cakes everywhere.
The building was designed with white and silver. There were bells hanging and little frilly touches all over. This was where brides and their lapped down grooms went to try and buy food for their big expensive shindigs.
Clint was torn between being horrified and excited. Natasha never wanted it though. There wasn't any time and it was dangerous.
Not sure why but it was. Clint would not fight her on it. After all, he only wanted to get married if he got children. A childless marriage was redundant to him. They could just keep dating if that. It sounded slightly medieval of him but Clint only imagined getting married because he was going to be a father.
He saw little reason otherwise and he selfishly wanted to be married if he knocked someone up because he had read articles stating it was better for the child in the long run. Maybe medieval but Clint was a fan of studies on metal health and personal lifestyles.
Not that he wouldn't marry Natasha if she wanted but it seemed like she never really interested that it was just something she toyed with. Like a fun game. He just would not bother asking until there appeared to be real incentive for him to ask. Not necessarily a child but at least a hint that she took it more seriously than just window shopping for it.
'I wanted to try out some of the cake styles, see if there was any I liked,' she answered greeting the woman at the counter, “My fiancé is deaf but he can read your lips if you talk to both of us.”
They were served by a very middle aged woman that shared the stories of her clients and her own relationship with her wife.
They tried chocolate, vanilla, red velvet, and strawberry.
Clint liked the vanilla the best, Natasha the red velvet.
They compromised on marble cake with some red velvet flavored icing. They picked out silly decorations instead of a traditional bride and groom on the cake.
Natasha asked for the ordering booklet.
They thanked her and promised to be back for their dream cake.
Once outside the shop Clint grabbed Natasha's hand and they started to walk away, “Did you find the one yet?” he said finally speaking.
“I did but there's still more shops in the city to look at,” she replied knowing he couldn't hear her and his gaze was not on her.
After a minute of full silence, Clint shrugged feeling that there would be answer coming in his future, “Anywhere else you want to go?” Moving on without any prompting.
Natasha turned her gaze onto his sharply but with a hint of fear showing on them, “Can we go to Tiffany's?”
“Only if you want to pretend we have money that we'll never have,” he answered amused. Like they could afford to shop there.
She laughed and pointed to the bar that Clint often went to after a mission for some downtime. Tiffany's could wait… at least until they could find some drug dealer to steal a couple thousand dollars from.
------
(June 2013)
Sometimes, Clint liked to pretend that he did not remember his life before the incident that led to the loss of his hearing. Sometimes he liked to make up scenarios of how his life was before it happened.
In these fake scenarios, Barton was a happy go lucky nomad musician. Every Saturday, he and his traveling band would play a new dive bar out in the middle of bumfucknowhere.
On Tuesdays, he would phone home to his mother-- she would complain about his bohemian lifestyle and ask how that girlfriend/bass guitarist of his was.
Clint would laugh and tell her he missed her and he had to go off again-- another exotic city, another trip into the unknown.
Of course, these were all just made up stories in his head. In reality, life before was anything but stable. Often it was disjointed, days shooting people in the middle of some country whose name he could barely spell, other days at home staring at a wall.
His only calls were to Couslon. No catching up was ever needed.
Occasionally there was some sex, some rock and roll, and should the occasion warrant it- a cigarette and a movie.
The reality and the fantasy had one thing in common though, they blocked out the truth of Clint's loss. In both these world's, Clint was normal regular hearing not so smart (which was far from true honestly) marksman not some deaf superhero.
Clint missed that life, well did until now.
Former S.H.I.E.L.D. Doctor (aka mad scientist/inventor) Reynolds was staring him through his cell and reminded Clint of why he went deaf in the first place.
Reynolds not directly responsible but if anyone had been, it was him.
--
(August 2013)
“How the hell did this guy pass a psych eval?” Tony asked once on the plane looking at the file Natasha presented to the team.
“Are you sure this is who kidnapped Clint?” Steve demanded.
Natasha nodded, “He's the only logical explanation. Only a former agent would know the location of a secret base like that one. And he has a grudge against both Coulson and Barton.”
“The psych eval?”
“All agents are to take one but sometimes if someone is too important to the organization, their results however bleak are ignored. Emil Blonsky would have been one of the people automatically bypassed had the council gotten their way,” Natasha informed the team, “Incidentally Clint and myself were excused from even taking them.”
“So this guy actually passed at one point?” Bruce asked indicating to the file, “He seemed unstable even before working for SHIELD based on the readings.”
Tony snorted, “More like insane ramblings of a cracked inventor”
“Misgardians thought my Lady Jane to be mentally off balance,” Thor pointed out about her theories on his home.
Bruce shook his head, “No this not Doctor Foster's realistic predictions that people were skeptical about. This is straight forward bag full of cats crazy.”
“You understand this?” Steve asked them both looking over the readings.
They made little sense to the solider.
“Sadly,” Bruce mused, “This guy- Doctor Michael Reynolds-- well he sounds a lot like those crazy religious zealots that think the world will end in five months…”
“Yeah but only by his hand because you know he has more power than god,” Tony retorted.
Natasha sighed, “Fury and Coulson objected his hiring on many occasions to the council. They wouldn't hear of it and it's not like there's so many genius inventors running around. Reynolds had ideas on how to improve warfare to eliminate the need for torture and C4.”
“And replaced with ideas about forced mind control and sonic noise devices that can make people deaf,” Bruce pointed out grimly.
------
(June 2013)
“You can just kill me and get it other with. I would rather be dead than listen to your insane prophesies-- no offense doctor,” Clint said with as much annoyance as possible.
Honestly, he would rather be tortured and be done with it.
Reynolds made Loki almost appear sane. Almost.
“Ah Agent Barton, you hurt my feelings,” he spoke in a calm almost jovial face as if talking to an old friend.
The man in his mid fifties had brown hair with little streaks of gray woven through it. He had a facial scar across his left cheek and deep gazing blue eyes. Eyes that reminded Clint of New Mexico to some extent.
He would accuse him of being held hostage by Loki but Reynolds was insane way before anyone had heard of Loki. No this crazy ass was working with humans only.
“You have feelings besides doom, gloom, and mass destruction?” Clint taunted.
Reynolds shook his head, “Barton, Barton you have me all wrong. I'm a scientist. It's my job to gather data and then test out the hypothesis.”
“You mean experiment on innocent beings and then kill them when you're done?” Clint offered.
“I would hardly call you innocent Agent Barton nor anyone else that works for SHIELD. It's organizations like them that will cause this world to end. You know it-- I know it. Look what happened with your alien friend. The world is becoming a dangerous place and we are being taken over by leeches from outer space. Death is the only answer,” he answered.
“And until then you'll just kidnap people and use them to experiment and make your dream weapon.”
“I'm insulted that you think that's the only reason why you're here,” Reynolds said with his hand over his heart as if he was a wounded boyfriend.
Clint sighed, dramatically rolled his eyes and stared at Reynolds, “By all means share your master plans with me. There's a movie joke in here somewhere but what the hell you're already on a roll. You only resemble half the cinematic nutjobs in film anyway.”
Reynolds made a tisk-tisk noise, “Come on surely you think I'm not that crazy?”
Clint snorted, “I don't know man, you were always stark raving mad to me. Very Doctor Frankenstein if you know what I mean.”
Reynolds slapped him and Clint coughed amused, that didn't even tickle. Some because of the drugs but mostly because Reynolds hit like a child.
“No more playing Barton. I tried to be civil but you couldn't play nice. Well Agent, maybe you will later after Johann comes in and does some of his finer work,” Reynolds replied only mildly tweaked.
Clint sighed, what these guys possibly do to him?
----
(March 2007)
“That man is highly unstable Coulson, why the hell did we give him a job?” Clint asked after a mission, “Controlling agents minds through their dream cycles?!”
It was a chilly March out in Eastern Russia, five enemy agents had arrested. All had refused to talk, the inventor had eagerly come up with a plan to make them talk.
“The council wouldn't take no for an answer,” Phil replied somewhat disappointed and clearly dissatisfied by that truth.
“What the fuck is there problem? We get results just fine. So they ask us to hire a wackjob?” he demanded.
Coulson nodded, “Fury is waiting on him to snap but to be fair, he did just propose a good idea with minimal loss or injury. We're Americans we have standards to live up to-- Geneva Convention.”
“Like the council ever gave two shits about that,” Clint muttered bitterly.
“I don't like it anymore than you, Barton. The council will probably pat him on the back. Personally in my report, I will request suspension from the field but I can almost guarantee you that the council will ignore it and if Fury tries to enforce it, they will ask for his head.”
Doctor Reynolds had ignored SHIELD orders and taken civilians from the ground and began to experiment on them. In the end, he had failed to make a mind control drug and had created one that allowed him to essentially have a truth serum. The council would thrilled. All Phil and Clint would care about is how he tortured thirteen innocent people to make it. Enough that three had to die to create his drug and five had to be mentally institutionalized.
----
(August 2013)
Steve finished reading the file, the part that included the missions Doctor Reynolds had been privy or apart of. All of them had one thing in common a highly unusual amount of casualties of both innocent people and field agents.
How did anyone express that to the family of the deceased agents?
“No one would fire him?”
“He was lucky, his ideas worked just enough to please the council and never went too far that they felt the need to act. Fury was irate but every time he tried, he was met with resistance from the council,” Natasha expressed.
“Were you there for that one about the mind control?” Bruce asked her timidly as if afraid to bring up bad memories.
“No,” she answered softly, “But I was there for the mission before that. Not much of a better outcome however as he had not did anything technically outside the books. There was no way to discipline him.”
“Barton was there correct?” Tony asked.
“As was Coulson,” she confirmed, “They were the ones that pushed for his immediate dismissal and Hill and I assisted with getting the council the agree.”
“Jesus those people,” Tony replied angrily, “They essentially let a terrorist in training hang out in the super secret spy base for ten years and then finally fired him only after some blackmail and espionage on your part Romanov.”
“SHIELD would definitely be a better place without them,” Natasha told him honestly.
“Something to consider working on after we save Barton,” Tony remarked.
Natasha tensed, she was trying not to worry the team but it had been eight weeks and she knew what kind of man Reynolds was. Not exactly an effective killer but he knew how to make someone's existence truly a traumatic experience.
“Is there anything else we need to know?” Steve asked after a beat.
“Yes, he's also the man that invented the weapon Clint used to take out his ear drums.”
----
(September 2003)
Logically Clint knew the situation looked bad. There were dead agents everywhere. Civilians lying on the ground covered in bleed. Crying and screaming going on in the background.
The harsh whistling noise continued. It was a device used to cause extreme pain to ones ear drums. A way to distract even the most competent men in battle. Ear splitting, it made Clint want to cry himself.
However, there were still living people out here. The sound controlling mutant still could cause some serious damage. She had already forced men to kill themselves against their own free will.
She had gotten them to even smile while doing it.
The noise was a distraction so she could retrieve whatever that mental loving mutant boss of hers had told her to.
He was desperate to move, he found himself crawling on the ground. The only thing in his reach the experimental arrow created by doctor frankenstein.
He tried to aim for the device with the first arrow, it failed. The device she had planted on the ground was not easily struck. He had a single arrow left and he was rolling and screaming in pain himself.
Clint decided there was only one option to not only stop her toy but her power as well. If he couldn't her or it with the arrow. His best bet would be to temporarily shatter his own hearing. That way he could break it, fight her off, and end everyone's suffering.
So Clint stabbed himself with the arrow gently hitting the button on his bow to activate the secret inside, it would be enough to cripple him but not pierce the drum.
Unfortunately, the not so good doctor had failed to mention he designed it with shoot to kill only in mind even though he had been told to create something that would be somewhat disabling.
Granted he had never been told to use it or that it could be used on his ear drums but Clint knew whatever the doctor did was well beyond his orders because the second the arrow the got near him-- it was like an explosion had gone off inside his head.
All Clint heard was silence as his brain faded to black.
----
(August 2013)
“What kind of arrows were they supposed to be?” Bruce asked looking over the file.
“They were meant to be disable sound waves hearable to the human ears. Obviously going into the OP SHIELD and the agents on the team were aware that they were after a mutant that controlled sound waves. That she used maliciously to subdue people and commit crimes for the Brotherhood.”
“So it should have then only temporarily disabled Barton's ability to hear the screeching,” Tony assumed reading over the cliff notes by Agent Coulson.
“Right. Everything should have been fine. Clint saw it some sacrifice for the job. One of his own choosing. A chance to end the suffering. He saw it as doing the right thing. A decision none of us might have came to. We probably wouldn't have thought far enough ahead to use a special built arrow to end the noise,” Natasha explained, though perhaps her explanation over simplified the sacrifice or how dark it really was for Clint.
How badly he had been at the time of the incident.
“Instead it ripped out his ear drums and nearly killed him. A blow to the head would have been kinder,” Bruce remarked looking over the medical notes.
“Reynolds had thought they would kill the mutant. He hadn't known Clint would use them on himself-- obviously.”
“Did he even show remorse over the outcome?” Steve asked.
“Not really but it's not Clint went looking for someone to blame either. He mostly blamed himself,” she said with a hint of sharpness to her tone.
“But this guy still can claim he technically ruined Clint's hearing,” Tony pointed out, “To an insane egomaniac with a grudge, shit that probably gets him all turned on deep down.”
“Thank you for that creepy thought,” Bruce said dryly.
Thor had remained silent through their in-flight debrief. He vowed to himself if they saved Clint from this monster, that he would find a way to make sure this man paid with the power of Asgard behind him.
----
(June 2013)
Clint logically knew there was no way that Agent Jasper Sitwell was a traitor or a double agent. He had known, hell been friends with Sitwell long enough to know that was not true.
He had been Coulson's pet project.
But how else could it be explained that doctor evil would know he had been sent on this mission? How else would have known what was in the medical wing at their base that he supposed to kidnap?
Who was giving the information?
Someone had to be pulling the megalomaniac's strings.
His team had done a great job. Barton was bleeding in his ears from where they had “tested” his hearing. Sick twisted ideas to cure his “disease” with the most painful results in mind.
Clearly Reynolds wanted to relish his handiwork or so he claimed was his handiwork. Honestly as far as Clint was concerned the douche bag was just the sick fuck that made the weapon, it was Clint's own hand that was responsible.
Or that's what he had to keep telling himself in order to keep the anger and pain in check. To show them meant to show Reynolds his weakness.
The aids were useless and now Clint's ears were bleeding, not that it mattered he couldn't hear anyway but by the time Reynolds is done he might never able to wear aids again either.
--
(May 1994)
“This isn't the life I wanted,” Clint said to the waitress fixing his coffee.
“Preaching to the choir.”
Clint looked up at her steaming cup of coffee in hand, “At what point do you decide to change everything you've done?”
“In my experience or in the world according to the movies?” she asked.
“That's matters?”
“Movies are a running gag on life, kid. They tell you everything about everything and still 90% of it isn't true. According to the movies, it's never too late to change,” she said wistfully.
“And the truth?” he asked slowly.
She shook her head, “You spend your entire life trying to change the one you got. Often, you never do.”
(June 2013)
There's this theory at the end of your life, you picture the life you always wanted or maybe had in an alternate reality.
Sometimes, Clint wondered if that waitress- any waitress got to be so lucky. She might have discouraged him by saying that but deep down he understood that pain that belief. Others had it. It surprised him when his own life turned out nothing like that.
He wondered if this was punishment for living the life that had not been laid out for him. The starving broke criminal/artist. Maybe this was karma for everything good deed he did that maybe he never should have done.
If he was just tortured he would be fine. Being barely touched and then beaten severely than put back together only to be broken again was getting to him.
Clint was worried that for once Reynolds would get exactly what he wanted.
In his head, Clint dreamed that he was holding Natasha's hand on the deck of a boat, orange pink and purple colored sky above them. The waves crashing mildly around them-- their hands steady and strong molded together at peace.
Clint blacked out.