Chapter 3
When Clint Barton had first been brought in by Shield, he was an untrusting boy who had been living on the streets for a year.
Before that he’d been moving around with the circus for a few years, which was where he learned to hone his abilities at archery. But after a run in with a fellow circus member, he’d been kicked out.
Shield had brought him in when he was seventeen, after he’d been caught running in the wrong circles. Phil Coulson had been one of the first agents he’d met, along with a few of the man’s superiors. Phil had said that he was a level four agent, which meant that he was training to be a handler to lower field agents. As a final test for him to move to level five, Phil was put in charge of Clint’s intake into Shield. Clint had been weary of joining at first, untrusting of the government. But there was something about Phil’s comforting demeanour that made Clint think that maybe he was alright. And it helped that joining Shield would give him a roof over his head and three hot meals a day.
So Clint started the intake process, which included lots of doctors appointments to test his physical and mental health. Clint truly hated doctors and felt extremely vulnerable, but seeing his unease, Phil had gone with him after getting Clint’s permission.
The testing had revealed quite a lot, Clint was completely deaf in one ear and very hard of hearing in the other. Phil had been shocked to hear that, “Most sharpshooters would rely on their eyesight and their hearing for precision, and yet you never miss. You must have a real hawk eye.”
Besides his hearing, the only other thing that really showed up in his physical medical was severe malnourishment, which wasn’t a surprise. Clint was given top of the line hearing aids and a strict meal plan, and then sent to his mental evaluations. Here, he received quite a few diagnoses, including dyslexia, ADHD, ASD, PTSD, anxiety and depression. This did not feel encouraging to Clint, but Phil reassured him that this wouldn’t affect his ability to become a shield agent.
Clint was soon put into his first training classes. He then met his level three trainer, Brock Rumlow. Rumlow was a hard ass, pushing all the recruits to their max. But if someone had to tap out, he let them, without making a big deal of it.
One day during training, Clint was sparring with another recruit when they missed and hit him in the side of the head. His hearing aid was knocked out and his ear started loudly ringing. Clint felt disoriented and stumbled to the ground. His breathing was coming in fast and shallow, and his eyes must have been watering because his sight was all blurry. Distantly, he thought he could hear the other recruit apologising, but then there was a figure kneeling in front of him, grabbing his arms and hauling him up.
“Come on Barton, you’re all right, come with me. Just breathe in real deep, alright?”
The next thing Clint knew, he was sitting on a bed in the deserted med bay, with Brock Rumlow standing in front of him.
“Oh good, are you focused now? I was getting worried, you were really out of it for a while there.”
“Shit, I’m really sorry Rumlow, just, my ear was ringing and hurting real bad, and I just couldn’t think properly. I’m sorry.” Clint rambled.
“Don’t play dumb with me Barton, I know a panic attack when I see it. And don’t worry, I’ve got your aid right here, you can have it back just as soon as the doc checks your ear out.”
Nausea fills Clint’s stomach. He’s already high strung, he really doesn’t think he can handle doctors right now.
“That’s really not necessary,” Clint says, plucking the hearing aid from Rumlow’s hand, “I’m feeling better already, there’s nothing wrong with my ear, well, except for the fact that it barely works. But now it’s back to normal.” He finished as he put the aid back in place.
“You said it was ringing and hurting, I really think you need to get it checked out Barton.”
“Oh well, yeah, but that’s like totally normal, it always hurts when they’re hit.”
“How often are you getting hit in the ears Barton?” Rumlow asked, concern clear on his face.
Shit, Clint hadn’t meant to let that slip.
“Let’s just say that I wasn’t born deaf. But really, don’t worry about it. I’m fine, I don’t need any doctors. I’m good to go back to training.”
Rumlow stared at him for a moment, thinking. “Fine, no doctors. But you’re taking the rest of the day off. Go get some rest or something.”
“No, I’m fine to keep training, really, I promise!”
“Barton, that was an order.” Rumlow said, leaving no room for argument.
“Yes sir,” Clint said with a sigh.
Clint and Brock slowly got to know each other more over the next few months, Brock sometimes taking time out of his busy schedule to train with Clint one on one. Clint had been thrilled when, on his eighteenth birthday, Brock had asked him out on a date. When he’d expressed concern, Brock had assured Clint that it wasn’t against the rules. “But probably best not to go around advertising it yeah? We wouldn’t want the other recruits thinking I’m giving you special treatment.”
Clint had experimented and fooled around a bit with some guy from the circus a while back, but he lost his virginity to Brock after their second date. It hadn’t been earth shattering, but Brock had seemed to enjoy it, and told Clint he was really good, so they kept doing it.
They continued dating for the next few months, and soon, Clint was a fully fledged shield agent. Now that he was in the field, Clint had a handler instead of a trainer, which meant that he didn’t get to see Brock as often.
Phil Coulson had officially been promoted to level five and Clint was one of the first agents assigned to him. Clint was glad that Phil was his handler, as he hated meeting new people, and he already trusted Phil.
It took a while for Clint to realise that Brock was jealous. Angry that Clint spent more time with Phil than he did with Brock himself. But one night, when Clint was staying over at Brock’s apartment instead of the Shield barracks, Brock snapped.
“But then, Phil said, ‘you don’t have to worry about it Clint, it’s just your ADHD that makes you think that way, and it’s really not a big deal anyway, if anyone looks down on you for that, that’s their problem.’ And that just made me think that Phil really gets it, you know-“
“Then why don’t you go fucking talk to Phil about it then, huh? Jesus Christ Clint, he’s all you ever fucking talk about, Phil this and Phil that, why don’t you just fucking shut up for once!” Brock yelled, the steak knife in his hand now buried in the wooden dining table.
Clint visibly flinched, but was then stuck, sitting frozen at the table, eyes locked down on the plate of food in front of him, unable to move, his eyes glassy.
“Aw fucking hell, you can’t just shut down every time someone raises their fucking voice Clint, jeez. Look, I’m sorry alright, it’s just been a stressful week, and I’m tired. I didn’t mean to take it out on you, alright Clint? You can just be so annoying sometimes, you know? I’m sorry, why don’t we just forget about dinner and go to bed alright? I’ll make it up to you.” Brock finished the last bit with a grin.
Clint had calmed down a little, but was still uncharacteristically quiet, “Yeah, ok Brock. Whatever you want.”
***
The following months were difficult, on one hand, Clint was excelling at Shield, moving up to level two quickly, and being sent out on more dangerous missions. He enjoyed the work, the high he felt whenever he was tracking someone’s every move, the adrenaline caused by a fight. But when he would come back, Brock’s mood swings were always erratic.
Clint had officially moved into Brock’s apartment after many complaints that Clint spent too much time with other people. Clint had thought that this would be a solution to Brock’s anger, but there was always something else that would piss him off instead.
The first time they got into a big fight, Brock hit Clint. Clint had cried, had a full on panic attack, but Brock had apologised, said he hadn’t meant to, that he never would again.
The next time it happened, Clint was pretty sure it was going to continue to happen. It was just like how his father always said he would stop hitting his mother, stop hitting Barney, and Clint. But he never did.
Sometimes Brock really scared Clint, but deep down he knew that he couldn’t leave him. Clint was pathetic, breaking down every time Brock so much as raised his voice. But Brock was always there to put him back together. No one else would have the patience or care to bother with someone as broken as Clint. So he stayed, and it kept happening. He told himself it wasn’t a big deal, he got hurt at work almost daily, how was this any different? No one even thought the bruises were suspicious, assuming that Clint was hurt during sparring, or a mission.
About a year after Clint joined Shield, he was promoted to level three, he was now able to do overseas missions, with Phil still as his handler. That meant that his missions were getting longer, and he grew to look forward to the time that he would be away from Brock, but then Brock would do something nice for him and he would feel guilty for ever thinking like that.
A few months after his promotion, Clint was sent on a mission that would change his life forever. When he came back, he brought Natasha Romanov, A.K.A the Black Widow, with him. Phil had been furious that Clint had gone against his orders, that Clint had put himself in danger over a hunch that Natasha would switch to their side. Phil was made to be her handler, but Clint was really the one to show her the ropes of Shield and how it worked.
Clint felt like Nat was his only real friend here besides Brock. He’d never gotten close to the other recruits in his class, worried that they would be disapproving of his relationship with their superior. So he’d kept to himself. Getting close with Natasha made him realise he’d become lonely. He enjoyed spending time with Natasha, but eventually it started to annoy Brock. Things kept on building up until they had a massive fight that landed Clint in the infirmary. Natasha had of course found out the cause for Clint’s severe injuries, and had begged Clint to leave Brock. But he was still too scared.
Realising Clint wouldn’t listen, Nat took it upon herself to pay Brock a visit and tell him that if he laid another hand on Clint, she would slit his throat in his sleep. It seemed to work for a while, but Brock knew all of Clint’s deepest darkest secrets and fears. He didn’t need his fists to hurt Clint. Regardless, Brock did slowly slip back to his harsher treatments after a while. Months continued to pass, and each new bruise would have Nat begging Clint to leave him, but Clint could never quite bring himself to. He was terrified of Brock’s reaction if he even tried bringing it up.
The straw that broke the camels back, so to speak, was one night, when Brock finally pushed Clint too far. Brock was a bit kinky in bed, and often enjoyed tying Clint up. Clint wasn’t a huge fan of this, but it wasn’t a deal breaker, so he allowed it. Brock had also mentioned before, that sensory deprivation was something he’d love to try with Clint. But Clint had been firm that this was a hard no for him. They’d used a blindfold once or twice, the experience making Clint slightly uncomfortable, but that was absolutely as far as he was willing to go.
Despite that, Brock had every once in a while, continued to bring up how he’d like to take out Clint’s hearing aids, trying to convince him that he’d not know if he liked it until they tried. This had caused numerous fights, but eventually Clint was sure the subject had been dropped for good. But one night, after Clint had been handcuffed to the bed, Brock had slipped a blindfold onto Clint, and while distracting him, taken out his hearing aids. Clint had frozen for a moment, before asking Rumlow to put them back. But he couldn’t hear his response, there was only a brief muffled sound from what seemed to be a thousand miles away. Clint, unable to see or hear Brock, had descended into a full on meltdown, kicking and screaming and struggling to breathe. He felt his legs being held down, and he felt like his chest was being compressed. It could have been seconds, or hours, before he felt his hearing aids slip back in, he couldn’t tell. The blindfold was then removed, and Clint could feel the metal of the handcuffs being undone. As soon as he was released, Clint jumped to his feet, grabbing his clothes and haphazardly pulling them on as he stumbled his way through the apartment, still struggling to breathe.
“Clint, calm down, you have to calm down, you’re gonna make yourself pass out.” He could hear Brock saying.
“Yeah? What do you care?” Clint gasped back.
“Look, Clint I’m sorry, I really didn’t think it would be that big of a deal, you’re blowing this way out of proportion.”
“No I’m not Brock! That is the one thing that I said I was not cool with! And you did it anyway! I can’t trust you! I’m leaving!”
“Yeah? And where are you gonna go sweetheart? No one else wants you. You’re an uneducated middle school drop out with daddy issues!”
“Fuck you Brock, anywhere is better than here!” Clint said before Brock took a swing at him, managing to get him clean in the ear despite Clint’s efforts to dodge. Clint looked up at Brock, stunned, his ear loudly ringing.
“Goodbye Brock.”
***
Now, almost six years after Clint had finally left Brock, he felt himself slowly waking up, his head pounding. He flexed some of his muscles, and from what he could tell without opening his eyes, he appeared to be tightly strapped to a chair. He tried to keep his breathing even, not wanting to alert anyone to the fact that he was awake, while he tried running through what had happened in his head.
Things were still fuzzy, he didn’t understand, how could Brock just kidnap him? And at the Triskelion of all places. Someone should be there, be able to help him. But wait, Brock had said something about Hydra. Clint was struggling to wrap his head around what was going on. Hydra didn’t exist anymore right?
Just then, he could hear footsteps walking down what sounded like a hallway, some distant voices talking in hushed tones.
“This is a big thing I’m trusting you with Rumlow. I can’t have you messing it up. Barton will have lots of important intel. We can’t afford to lose that. He’s well known for his ability to not crack under torture.”
“I understand Secretary Pierce. But you don’t need to worry. No one knows Barton like me. I know things about him that you can’t find in a person’s file. If he’s able to be cracked, then I’m the one to do it.” Came the unmistakable voice of Brock Rumlow.
“Good. If you succeed, you will be allowed to keep him. If not, he will be terminated.”
“I understand sir, thank you.”
“Now, I have to be getting back to project insight. You’re dismissed agent Rumlow.” Pierce finished before the sound of a single person walking back down the hall the same way they came.
Clint continued to hold his breath, eyes still closed, not so much as making a sound when the door opens. A beat. The door shuts. Slow footsteps walk close to him. Silence, then…
“I know you’re awake Barton.” Came Rumlow’s low voice.
“It was worth a shot.” Clint answered, eyes slowly opening, carefully taking in his surroundings without taking his gaze away from Rumlow.
“You are a sight for sore eyes, sweetheart.”
“Enough with the pleasantries Rumlow. What do you want?”
“Here’s how this is gonna go sweetheart. I’m gonna go easy on you for these first few minutes, cause I know this is all gonna be terribly confusing for you. You always did take a long time to process things.”
“You really think you can still get to me by insulting my intelligence?” Clint said with a scoff.
“I know it hurts you more than you let on. But right now, I need you to shut that chatterbox mouth of yours and listen to me. I’m gonna make this nice and simple for you… Shield has fallen. Hydra has been living inside of Shield for decades, and now they’ve finally taken over. Fury is dead, and so is your friend, Captain America. As we speak, agents are on their way to pick up Stark, and pretty soon they’ll have Romanov too. We know we can’t contain Banner, which is why they’re gonna just take him out… I need you to understand Clint. No one is coming to save you. There is no way out of this. There is only Hydra, and the new world we are creating. So, I suggest you make this easy for the both of us, and just tell me what I want to know. So tell me sweetheart. Are you going to comply?”