Fractured

White was so not his color.

Tony had woken to the whitest white he had ever experienced. The walls, the floor, the bedding – hell, even the scrubs he had been changed into whenever they had arrived at who knows where – was the sickening color. It was nauseating, to say the least. He pushed himself up and looked down at his arms. There were scars where his chips were. Correction – had been. Whoever had grabbed him had been thorough and removed them. He felt his legs and realized those had been too as well as another scar from on his thigh. Natasha. Of course she had chipped him and probably everyone else without them knowing.

He pushed himself up onto his feet, groaning a little at how stiff his limbs were. They also appeared heavy, which meant at some point he had been hit with some sort of drug. Oh goody, drugs. Are we going to hit every cliché in the book? The room he was in was larger than he expected. Plenty of room to pace. A camera in the top corner was clearly visible. Obviously they didn’t care if Tony knew they were watching. In fact, the annoying blinking red light was evident that they wanted him to know. He felt along the walls, looking for any cracks or hollow spots. All he found was how there was a wall of tempered glass.

Rephrase: Two walls.

There was another wall that was made of the same tempered glass. One was facing out to an observation room with a door leading down what was probably a hallway to the rest of wherever they were. The other he almost thought it was a mirror because the room was identical to the one he was in, but he didn’t see a reflection. He couldn’t see anyone in the other room and he wondered why bothering to set up cells like this?

His answer came moments later when the glass wall slid down for the other room and the hall door opened. Two Hydra goons were dragging another person in, also donned in all-white scrubs. Tony didn’t get a good look until they threw the other form into the room and sealed it off. “Clint?” he muttered softly, mostly to himself.

From where Tony was standing Clint looked to be relatively unharmed. Tony had waited until the goons had left before calling out to him to try and get him to wake up but Clint didn’t stir. Whatever they had given him was super effective so Tony resigned himself to sitting on his cot and waiting for Clint to wake up. It didn’t take long. A couple hours later he heard Clint groan and start to stir.  “Morning sunshine,” he called out, gazing over at the other man, “today on White Spa, Hydra’s distaste for black and red. I know, it’s a shocker really…all the white…I’m just surprised there’s not a Hydra logo on everything.”

He chuckled as he finished. Was he already losing his mind or did he just know how this was going to end, for having lived it before? Probably the bitter irony just taking over everything else in his mind. The wait for it to happen just drove him mad… he was not built for torture and he was not built to witness torture of people he cared about.

For Clint, this was not his first time waking up. The first time Clint had come around, he had been strapped down to a hospital gurney. Evidently he wasn’t supposed to wake up yet because before he could fathom what was going on he was injected with the tranquilizer again. It might have been a mistake, but that first time he’d woken up, he did learn something - he knew that if he was alive that it was for a reason and in more cases than most, they weren’t good reasons. He didn’t know what to expect when he came around the second time but definitely nearly be blinded by the white light was not on his list. He groaned as he tried to push himself up, feeling how heavy and slow his movements were and clearly annoyed by everything already. Every time he had been captured he always wound up in a either a dark room that smelled of mold or obnoxious white that made hospitals appear colorful. Why couldn’t the bad guys start becoming more original?

He was working on pushing himself up when he heard Tony’s voice. Shit, Tony, he thought to himself before pulling himself up into a seated position. “What did I miss?”

“Oh, nothing much. Woke up a few hours ago, then they brought you in there and then silence. But quick question: would Natasha sneak trackers into us without us knowing?”

Clint laughed as he put his hand on his thigh and felt the bump of a recent surgical scar. “You know, she always threatened to do that to me. I didn’t realize she had actually done it.”

“Well, you’re not the only one.” Tony glanced over and noticed how Clint was slowly moving onto his own cot. “Looks like they hit you with the good stuff too.”

Clint laughed hollowly as he groaned once he got into his seated position. “Yeah, well, it makes sense. Make it hard for your captives to fight back and slow the reflexes. I would have done the same thing.”

Clint’s eyes were already bouncing around the room, studying its layout and any faults for flaws. “I already checked. Not even an air duct for you to pass through. They did a good job securing these rooms. Plus, we have a live studio audience.”

It didn’t take Clint’s perfect eye sight to spot the blinking red lights in both of their rooms. “Well, now that we’re both awake, we’re bound to get some company here soon,” Clint muttered.

“So, what do you think they’re planning?” Tony asked.

“Well, considering the clicheness of everything around us thus far,” he thought aloud so Tony could hear him, “They’re probably going to come say hi, pull us out one by one for some light round of torture to establish both their power and the rules of their game.”

“I guess it was too much to hope they would just ignore us until Nat brings the cavalry then?”

Clint laughed as he stood up. “What are you doing, Barton?”

“I’m going to get some answers.” This was probably going to backfire but there was no point in continuing to wait around for their gracious host to come see them. He much rather get this over with already. “Hello?! Hey!” he started yelling while waving at the camera, “I think you put me in the wrong scrubs. I ordered cream and these are definitely pearl white!”

“You sure that is a good idea?” Tony asked, looking towards the door as he heard it start to open.

“Nope,” Clint replied, turning his body around so he could face whatever was going to walk through first. It was just three goons who had their rifles up and aimed at them. “Alright, boys, let’s get this over with,” Clint stated, getting them to look at him.

They pondered his presence for a moment before the door slid open.

To Tony’s cell.

“Come with us, Mr. Stark,” one ordered as they all three had their rifles trained on him.

Clint was already over at the glass barrier between them, pounding on it. Apparently they had cut off the microphones to both of their rooms because Tony couldn’t hear whatever Clint was yelling. “And what if I don’t want to?”

As if on cue, Tony noticed how Clint clutched his ears and fell to the ground. His mouth was open wide but Tony couldn’t tell if Clint was screaming or not. “Okay, okay, I get your point. Take me to your leader, then.”

Two of the men shackled Tony’s hands in front of him and escorted him out of the room, the third guy following behind. Tony glanced back and saw how Clint was pushing himself up but that was the last image he got before the door closed. The rest of the building was much darker than where they had just come from and it took a moment for Tony’s eyes to adjust. They twisted down a few halls and wound up in a grey room with a table, a couple chairs, and a television. Tony was sat down and the shackles were hooked onto a loop on the table in front of him before the door opened and a man stepped through.

The man was about average height and build, but the furs he wore spoke volumes of the man. Wealthy, powerful and proud enough to show it off. “Greetings, Tony Stark,” he greeted in an Austrian accent and it didn’t take long for Tony to piece together who this was.

“Zemo….so you’re the one behind the curtains. I should have guessed. Although last I heard, you were in a Russian prison.”

“We are all full of surprises, aren’t we, Stark?” Tony didn’t answer. Instead he just followed Zemo with his eyes as Zemo moved closer to the table. “Would you like to know why I brought you here?”

“I’m going to assume that you want my tech. Isn’t that what you bad guys typically want?”

Zemo laughed and Tony didn’t like that, let alone how he laughed. It was uncomfortable, to say the least. “No, no, I have no need for your tech, Stark. You have something much more interesting. You and Agent Barton.”

Zemo turned on the TV screen and Tony looked down, recognizing the cell and Clint in it. “The rules are very simple, Mister Stark. I expect full cooperation. Failure to comply will result in unwanted consequences.”

Tony was about to make a comment about how all consequences were unwanted when he heard a loud, high pitched piercing noise from the TV. His eyes were drawn to it and he watched as Clint covered his ears and groaned while falling back to the floor. “Agent Barton is hard of hearing, no? I believe we saw the hearing aids when we were doing our initial examination of you both.”

The noise ended and Tony was relieved when Clint’s body seemed to relax. The screen went dark and he looked back at Zemo. “Do I make myself clear, Mister Stark?”

“Painfully.”

Zemo seemed to smirk as he turned the TV back on and a grainy footage started to play of a lone street. “Let us start at the beginning, then, shall we? December 16^th, 1991…”

Tony knew the date well and he knew about the events that unfolded. He even knew about the lone assassin sent to make sure his parents were taken care of – Bucky had told him everything. Had he been angry? Absolutely, but with Bucky having been forthcoming in the information and at the behest of certain individuals (Natasha and Clint) reminding Tony that Bucky had been brainwashed, he was able to somewhat forgive the man.

That didn’t mean it meant watching it happen wasn’t painful to say the least. “This is really when everything started for you, wasn’t it Mister Stark?”

He kept his eyes glued to the television as Bucky strangled his mother to death, swallowing the lump that formed in his throat as he noticed the sheer look of terror in his mother’s eyes. “You may not have been Iron Man or even thinking about it, but this night would unleash that chain of events for you.”

“What are you trying to get at, Zemo?” Tony asked, looking away from the television as the footage cut to the fuzzy screen of grey and black.

“I wish to get to know the real Tony Stark,” he replied, pulling out a pad and a pen, “I need to know everything I can in order for this experiment to work properly. The devil is in the details, as you Americans say. Perhaps, then….you wish to start with the emergence of Iron Man?”

The screen turned back on to the “ransom note” the Ten Rings had left for Stane. Had it really been seven years ago? “Tell me about Afghanistan…”

Zemo didn’t stop with Afghanistan. It was like listening to his greatest hits, up until New York. “Before the Avengers, you really had such failures. Ones that left scars on your soul. Tell me, how did you cope?”

Tony didn’t want to answer but he didn’t know what Zemo would do if he kept his mouth shut. “I had my methods.”

Zemo smirked as he played some cell phone footage from Tony’s disastrous birthday party. “That you did. Putting that much poison in your body….it leaves its own mark, doesn’t it?”

“Well, I’m not a doctor.”

The door opened behind Zemo and Tony found himself staring at two men in medical coats. “No thanks, I just had my check up last week. I’m in perfect condition.”

They came towards him, a syringe in his hand and Tony instinctively pulled against the shackles keeping him chained to the table. “Oh, but I don’t think you are.”

The syringe plunged into his neck and Tony groaned as he felt the warmth of the liquid enter his blood stream. “This is a serum of my own design. I am curious to see how it works on an individual with your medical background.”

Tony groaned as he felt his chest start to get heavy. His breathing became more labored and his heart felt like it was racing. “I think it’s time I spoke with our other guest.”

The medical guards undid the shackles from the table as three guards came into the room to collect him. Tony’s mind was racing as he worked to just breath.

This was going to be a long night…

~~~

Clint had lost track of time. After they initially had taken Tony away and the noise had stopped, Clint had been pacing in his cell. His eyes were glued to the door, waiting for it to open and see what else may come through it. Or, hopefully, Tony in one piece. At some point his cell was filled with that piercing noise again and he tried his best not to scream, despite the pain it caused in his head. He wanted to yank his hearing aids out to at least muffle the sounds but he knew he needed all of his senses to find a way out of here for both of them. Eventually the noise ended and Clint’s feet grew tired so he rested himself on his cot, watching the door.

It opened not long after and the guards escorted Tony back, pushing him into his cell. Clint was on his feet and moving to the barrier between them, glad to see that, for the most part, Tony looked unharmed, although the look in his eyes said otherwise. “Tony…”

The glass wall slid away to Clint’s cell and he watched as the two guards came into his, shackles already at the ready. “What? Just two of you? I’m insulted.”

“Clint…” Tony warned. There was something about his voice that seemed distant and hollow. Not at all like the usual Stark charm that Clint had grown accustomed to. He noticed how Tony stumbled to his cot and fell onto it as well as how it seemed like he was having a hard time breathing. Clint clenched his fists as they moved towards him, the restraints at the ready. As soon as they reached for him he blocked their grab and threw them into the wall. The second made the same move but he was able to push him away. He knew he was gonna lose but he was putting on a show for those watching. He had a plan, despite the fact he knew it wouldn’t end well. The cattle prod to the ribs reminded him of that as he collapsed, the restraints quickly forcing his hands behind him before they drug him out. He looked back at Tony and saw him falling asleep just as he was forced down the hall.

Clint struggled just enough to give his escorts trouble. He wasn’t known for going quietly. He also wasn’t known for keeping his trap shut. “You know how cliche this all is, right? I know Hydra is old school but couldn’t you at least make this somewhat interesting?” He asked, trying to push one of them off him.

The two men said nothing as they guided him through the maze of whatever this place was. It seemed almost like a fortress but he couldn’t be sure. Eventually the pulled him to a stop outside a steel door to wait for one of them to pull it open. “Oh, I wonder what you boys have hidden in here,” he teased as they pushed him in. The moment he was inside they closed the door, the metallic click of the lock sliding into place echoing in the vacant room. “Really, you couldn’t take these off first?!” he yelled at the closed door. It was pointless but he was sure there was at least one camera in the room, even if he couldn’t see a damn thing, it was so dark.

For a while they left him alone, never once coming in. He wasn’t sure if it was mind games or they were just holding him until they were ready. Either way, he didn’t care. He was a patient man. He wasn’t going to worry about what they were planning because what was the point? There was nothing they could throw at him that he hasn’t already experienced. A projector suddenly turned on and Clint saw Zemo’s ugly face smiling at him. “Greetings, Agent Barton.”

“Well, well, if it isn’t the famous Helmut Zemo,” Clint greeted as he raised his bound hands up in front of him. “You really couldn’t come in and say hello in person? What are you, afraid of an unarmed, restrained man?”

“All in good time. First, I would like to show you the consequences of your actions.” The image of Zemo disappeared as the wall to his right lit up as a projector began to play the footage of Tony during his “talk” with Zemo. He watched as Tony watched something on a screen, unsure of what it was until Zemo mentioned the date. That sick bastard, but Clint didn’t show how disturbed he was by that. The footage kept playing until Clint was forced to watch as the lab coats injected Tony with something. Well, that explains the state that Tony was in.

“Stark is not the only person you’ve made suffer because of your actions, is he?” Clint narrowed his eyes as the projector lit up again and he was forced to watch security footage from an old warehouse. The date made his blood turn cold. He knew that date. “Where did you get this?”

“I have my methods,” Zemo’s voice spoke over the intercom as Clint was forced to watch. His own voice echoed in the room. “Just get out of here, Barney!”

“I almost lost you once, I will not lose you again, little bro.”

“Chisholm is insane. He’ll kill you.”

Barney just smiled as he held up his gun. “I’d like to see him…”

The arrow flew, lodging itself in Barney’s chest. Clint could hear himself screaming for his brother even as the footage ended. “You couldn’t take care of your own mess, and for that, you got your brother killed. Like all those SHIELD agents because you couldn’t stop Loki…you’re actually lucky that the enhanced boy didn’t die for you. All because he wanted to save you.”

Clint’s blood was boiling as he tried to hide how much those words were affecting him. “All of it your fault.But you know this, don’t you?”

Clint remained firm even as his whole inside self fought to break his facade and scream. “I am going to tell you the same thing I told Mister Stark. You are here to take part in an experiment. If you do not comply or try to fight back, I will take out my frustrations elsewhere. I know you are used to special interrogation tactics, but I do not think that Mister Stark has been trained in the same ways you have. So, Agent Barton, this is what is going to happen next. My two men are going to come in and collect you. You will not fight or attempt to escape. You will go with them willingly or I will fetchMister Stark and let you sit and watch as I punish him for your mistake. My threats are not empty, but if you wish to test this theory, well, I’d be more than happy to prove otherwise.”

The door was pushed open, light flooding the room and nearly blinding him as the two guards came in. As they approached he wanted to lash out and fight back, but Zemo’s threat rang in his ears so he let them guide him through the maze to another room. Inside a gurney sat with Zemo himself standing next to him. “I must say I am impressed. Here I thought you would perceive my threats as a bluff.“

Clint kept his gaze cold and hard as he glared at Zemo. “Oh come now, where is that infamous Barton cynicism I have heard so much about? Come now, tell me what you’re thinking?”

Looking to his right and left he said, “Let me out of these restraints and get rid of Hank and Bob and I’ll show you.”

Zemo laughed as “Hank” dug his fist into Clint’s gut, causing him to double over. Slowly his head lifted up to glare at Zemo, only to yelp as “Bob” hit him in the back, sending him to the floor. As soon as he hit the ground, he growled and moved to retaliate but Zemo sang, “I wouldn’t do that, if I were you, unless you want me to go fetch Tony.”

And so Clint let them beat him and as each punch and kick came, he fought back the urge to attack them back. He had to take it - for Tony. He could take it. He took the beatings his father gave him. He took the beatings, the bullets and torture during his SHIELD days from the greater good. He could take this for his friend. By the time they were done, Clint’s left eye was swollen shut, his lip split and a few ribs were broken. Blood was trailing from the cuts on his skin where the steel toe boots broke the skin, purple and green skin bruising around it. “I think he is ready. Get him on the gurney.”

Soon he was on the bed, getting strapped down so he couldn’t move. All the while he stared straight at the ceiling. Eventually Zemo came into view with a syringe with a clear liquid. “Before we get started, go ahead and tell us what is on your mind.“

Very slowly he turned his head so his good eye was staring at Zemo. "I can’t wait to put an arrow through your eye.”

A smirk appeared on Zemo'said face as he grabbed Clint’s hair and exposed his neck. “I don’t think you will feel the same when I am done with you.”

He felt the prick as the needle broke the skin. Soon the feeling of the drug running through his system rushed through him, making his limbs heavy and his head swim. He could barely feel them as they unstrapped and sat him up. “It looks like we made a mess. We should clean him up.”

The scrub top Clint was wearing was removed, nothing replacing it and leaving him in nothing but his scrub trousers. “There, much more presentable. Take him back to his cell and turn down the temperature. Let’s see how long he can endure for his friend. What is worth more to you, Agent Barton?”

The guards dragged him back to his cell, dumping him like a lifeless doll before closing the door behind him. Tony was still passed out in his own cell next to him, which was a slight blessing. He didn’t need to see how Clint was already shivering as the temperature in his cell continued to drop. He could handle it, though. He would not bend.

He would not break.

TBC…