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The tread of weary, dragging footsteps crushing the dried leaves and twigs underfoot caused Natasha and Clint to both zero in on the direction Tony had been dragged off that morning. That gait had become far too familiar sounding over the fifteen to twenty days or so they had been captured. The sprained ankle that had occurred on their first day was almost certainly broken by now, forcing the billionaire to adopt a dragging limp as he did his best to avoid putting any further weight on it.

Not that their captors allowed him to favour it that much, not with all the stress positions they were having him hold for long periods at a time.

They had allowed Clint to bind it, which at least gave their teammate a bit of support. Seemed they weren’t interested in permanently maiming him. They just wanted information.

Information that Tony refused to give, and neither Natasha nor Clint knew. They had both been forced from time to time to sit there and watch as Tony’s weakening frame was forced to contort from one impossible-to-hold position to another. When he inevitably failed? He was hit until he re-adopted it. Whenever they were present then questions were shouted in both alphas faces, questions that neither knew the answer to. Questions about SHIELD weapons designs which, frankly, neither alpha specialised in.

They were such stupid things. Positions which appeared so easy at first; crouching, with his head bent forward so it was leaning past his knees and his arms held up straight behind him. Or kneeling without allowing his arse to rest on his ankles, but instead hovering about four to five inches above and his arms straight up over his head. Or just doing a half push up with his elbows holding his upper body up in a ‘plank’ position. All positions that were easy enough to hold for a few minutes a time but swiftly became murder for the half hour to an hour that Tony was being forced to maintain them for.

In a way, it was harder than direct torture would have been. The alphas monitoring were quick to inform Tony that it was clearly his fault that he was unable to hold the positions; he was too weak, too frail. Each time he was hit it was his fault. It made it harder to give him something to rail against as each hit he took was a clear consequence of his own actions as opposed to being senselessly beaten.

It was an insidious thought, designed to worm its way under his skin and into his brain until his thought processes, already worn down by the constant exercise, sleep deprivation and lack of food, were all twisted and warped.

Natasha and Clint could see it happening before them, and tried to bolster the omega’s flagging strength as best they could, but there was little they could say as so often they weren’t there to contradict what was said to him. Besides, every time they did say something, then Tony was hit, or forced to hold a pose for a longer period.

It was vicious, vicious cycle. One that had Tony’s limbs and muscles constantly twitching with all the strain that they were under. He was growing quieter and quieter too. He’d never really recovered from that angry rant the first day when he’d revealed to the group that he’d been raped and had a miscarriage previously. And blamed himself for it.

Natasha had elected not to quiz the omega on it then, figuring it wouldn’t be long before they escaped and they could talk about it then. She was now slightly regretting her decision, all these thoughts were clearly festering around in Tony’s mind, and nothing she or Clint could say seemed to break through the depression and sheer exhaustion that was coating the omega’s mind.

He was withdrawing further and further into himself as each day passed, almost seeming sullen in his silence. He barely responded when Natasha or Clint reached out for him at night these days, just lying there trembling through his exhaustion and pain.

That combined with the elements of sexual torture and rape the man was being forced to endure? Natasha and Clint’s ideas for escape were getting more and more desperate and outlandish each day. The previous day Clint had begun to pick apart his shirt sleeve in an attempt to get a thread long enough to do anything productive with. It had only been Natasha’s raised eyebrow that had forced him to recognise the pure futility and stupidity of the gesture.

It didn’t help that they weren’t getting much sustenance or sleep either. All three were being woken roughly every hour at night – either by having water chucked over them, or just being shouted awake. The pair of alphas were at least able to catch cat-naps during the day in order to keep their strength up. And they weren’t using all the extra calories that Tony was being forced to expend.

Instead, they were being forced to just wonder daily where the hell their team were? Escape without additional support was looking nigh-on impossible. They were kept under guard constantly, and chained to ensure that they had limited movement anyway. There was nearly always someone who training a gun on the more vulnerable Tony which limited the surprise attacks that Clint and Natasha could pull off. Plus the guards were always careful to never get too close to them.

The fact that they were outdoors didn’t help either. There were limited resources they could use in the forest – no doors to pick, or anything. Tony was too weak by now to maintain a long-distance walk, let alone run, through the forest to escape anyway.

That and it got so damned cold at night. Thankfully it was only late September, so the true cold of winter hadn’t set in yet, but it was still colder than their limited clothing allowed for. Especially since they were all constantly getting water chucked at them, either from their nightly wake-up calls, or the rain that seemed to be permanently drizzling… So much for April showers. It was clearly September shows, this month.

There was no way about it. They needed help.

Help that refused to appear magically, no matter how much Clint cursed for it.

All of this brought them back to their current situation, looking out and listening for their team-mates exhausted and pained-sounding shuffle. Keen to see any new injuries that he might be sporting. Clint, in particular, was keen to see him. In his frustration, he’d mouthed off at one of the guards earlier which had earnt him a black eye and dark promises of what his action would ‘force’ them to do to ‘the omega’ as they referred to him, as though it made him less of a person to not call him by his name, in retaliation.

It was obvious when Tony caught sight of the bruise painted on Clint’s skin.

The shuffling pace came to abrupt halt as Tony narrowed his eyes, evidently trying to ascertain whether his no-doubt exhaustion-blurred vision was misleading him. Natasha blinked. There was more emotion currently visible on Tony’s face than there had been in the past week. So many different micro-expressions revealing a deeper sense of horror than she would ever have expected over one, admittedly small, bruise.

Before her eyes the horror morphed into terror, swiftly followed by rage as he turned on one of the alphas ‘escorting’ him. The shove by the other alpha aimed to get him moving him again passing beneath his notice under the sheer rage that was assailing him.

Natasha found it impossible to label the noise that emitted from the omega’s throat; somewhere between a shriek, a scream, a shout… “You promised!” came the barely understandable words, the rage underlaid by a barely discernible level of… hurt? Hurt over a broken promise from their captors? Surely that wasn’t right.

“You promised! You swore! You.. You hurt him! You promised you wouldn’t hurt them! You promised! You promised!”

The words came over and over again, torn from a throat raspy from previous screams as Tony appeared to almost shrink before them all, seemingly broken by a small bruise on Clint’s countenance.

“You can’t. Can’t hurt them. You can’t! Can’t do it. I did things for you. You wouldn’t. Can’t”

No one saw the fist move until it was crashing into the omega’s cheek, sending him falling to the floor in a muffled heap. The sudden violence seemed so wrong for some reason. All three captives were well accustomed to the almost constant violence offered by their captors, but the silence of it was almost unexpected. It felt like the impact should have been accompanied by a loud crack as skin met skin, or…something.

Not the sudden silence that now filled the area as time seemed to slow down as Tony slowly struggled to push himself upright.

The silence was …inappropriate.

It should be accompanied by juddering breaths, or more screams, or….something!

“That’s better, whore.” The other guard grumbled, as he jerked Tony back to a standing position. “We can do what we want, remember that.”

Tony nodded, a disconnected motion that matched the blankness that had overtaken his visage.

The moment he was re-chained to his usual tree, both Natasha and Clint were stretching out in an attempt to reach him. Touch him. Do anything to reassure him and bring him back from that brink he’d fallen over just moments ago.
“I’m fine, Tony.” Clint muttered over and over again as he rubbed his cheek over the omega’s calf, so much thinner than the first time he’d done this over a fortnight previously. His wrists, encircled by metal chains, complained at him as the resisting metal chafed at them from the force he was putting into tugging against the tree, trying desperately to get closer to his team mate.

“It’s just a bruise. They didn’t do anything to me further than that. I promise. I’m fine, really.”

The blankness of Tony’s gaze terrified him as he barely seemed to register the alpha’s words or movements. What had the omega sacrificed to ensure his teammates wouldn’t be hurt? That was the first Natasha or Clint had heard of any sort of deal like that.

It was only the sound of heavier foot-steps crunching through the damp leaves that forced both alphas to draw their gaze away from their teammate. Natasha didn’t even try to stop the growl from clawing its way out of her throat as the leader of the group approached the trio. “I hope you’re happy.” Her tone, colder than death, was only matched by the threats her furious gaze promised the man before her.

“Not particularly.” Replied the man, who they still knew infuriatingly little about. “I will not get any answers from him like this. If I were to allow the three of you to be closer to each other for tonight, and tonight only, do you promise not to attack my men whilst we move the omega? He will, of course, have a shotgun aimed at him by one of my associates at all times just as added insurance.”

Natasha and Clint glanced at each other, years of teamwork between the two allowing for a moment of silent communication as they weighed up their options. Whilst the moment would allow for certain opportunities, there appeared to be little they could do with the threat being held over Tony’s head. The benefits of being able to hold Tony and maybe bring him some comfort outweighed the potential negatives.

Natasha nodded, a single jerk that expressed her dislike of the promise.

“Sensible.” Was the only response as he took a few steps back and beckoned at some of the gathered alphas to begin to unchain each of the trio and move them so that they were all attached to the same tree rather than three separated ones.

As soon as he had enough slack, Clint darted to Tony’s side, wrapping his arms around the shivering man and began to stroke at his hair, his cheek, his shoulder, anywhere he could reasonably touch without overstepping the boundaries of appropriateness. He turned the near-catatonic omega’s head so that it was resting at the junction where his neck and shoulder met, and allowed the omega to hopefully scent that Clint was well enough.

Natasha swiftly joined the pair, growling ferally at the other alphas that were still surrounding the three of them as they were all re-chained to the same tree. She swept an arm around each man, drawing them in until they were both enclosed within her protective circle, and glare at each of their captors until all but two had left them in peace.

“Tonight.” She whispered, a breathy sound, into Clint’s ear so quietly that even he could barely understand her.

“Tonight.”

Clint didn’t respond, keen to not alert those watching them to anything, he instead continued to run his hands over Tony’s upper torso, desperate to try and bring the omega back.