Chapter 10
The last thing Clint remembered seeing was Stiles, eyes wide and terrified as some asshole in a mask hoisted him up. He'd been shouting Clint's name - not that the archer could hear him, his hearing aids having been fritzed in the explosion - but he could see his name being formed, could tell by his expression that he was shouting. Then there had been pain and everything had gone dark.
He opened his eyes to darkness and knew right away that things were not in his favour. He did a quick check of his physical self - he seemed to be intact and in minimal pain - mostly his head from whatever knocked him out. He looked around then and realized he was in a cell much like the one he'd found Stiles in, but worse, he was alone. The realization had a rush of panic going through him, but he took a deep breath against it. Now wasn't the time. He was dressed in what he'd been wearing when he and Stiles had been out - jeans and an old T-shirt - but his cellphone, wallet, and his knife were all missing. He rolled his eyes at the stupidity of whoever had grabbed him. They'd left him with his shoes - that gave him everything he needed. Before he could act, he heard the sound of voices approaching and the realization had him touching his ear - so maybe his hearing aids were still working after all. He tapped a signal on it, knowing it would activate the GPS Tony had built into them, and again laughed at the stupidity these people obviously held. Then a door swung open, leading to the room that lead to Clint's cell, and 6 men came in, 2 of them holding Stiles. Stiles looked in rough shape and it had Clint's hands turning to fists. There was a bruise on Stiles' cheekbone and the hands holding him were definitely leaving bruises as well. Stiles looked up at him, eyes wide with terror, but there was a pride there too. He still hadn't given in. Good.
"I'll make you guys a deal. Give me the kid and let us go and I won't kill you." The offer was met with snickers and Clint shrugged. "Your funeral. Literally. I'm going to kill you."
"You're a funny guy. Let's see if you stay that way." A gun was pressed to Stiles' head. "If you attack, we shoot him."
"Don't listen!" Stiles shouted, and the man brought the gun down across his face, earning a whimper, but Stiles didn't shout again. Nor did he flinch when the end of the gun pressed against his temple. Clint clenched his jaw. They couldn't be far - the batteries in these hearing aids only lasted 8 hours cause his good ones were in the shop and he'd had these ones in for 5 hours before they were grabbed. So Clint put up his hands despite Stiles' pleading gaze. All the men save the one holding Stiles rushed into the cell, and they dragged him out, ziptying his wrists together but leaving his ankles free. Clint wanted to roll his eyes. Amateurs. But then he saw Stiles' face, and the terror there was unlike anything Clint had seen before.
"I'll be fine, kid." Clint said with an easy grin that didn't fade even when he saw two more guards bring in a tub of water. Was that meant to scare him? Did they not know who he was? He'd been round this bend before. But that's when he realized it wasn't meant to scare him. The man with the gun gripped Stiles tightly by the chin, forcing him to look at the tub of water.
"We're going to drown him. Your friend here. We're going to drown him over and over again." Stiles' lip wobbled but Clint just gave him an encouraging smile.
"I'll be fine." He repeated, and let himself be dragged over. He was glad that even his backups were water proof although he almost regretted it when he heard Stiles shout for them to stop right before his head was shoved under water.
Clint sucked in air in desperate breaths, still coughing up water, chest aching from having the water pumped from his lungs when he'd fallen unconscious after the 5th round. He lifted his head to give Stiles a bleary smile from where he was crying but being held in place by the man who was obviously in charge of this little interrogation as he spoke to Stiles, words Clint couldn't quite focus on yet.
"If you won't use your magic to save him, we don't need him anymore." The words had Clint going still but Stiles just shook his head, pleading.
"I don't have magic, I swear, please stop hurting him. I can't use magic! I've never used magic."
"Obviously I was mistaken. You don't really care about him." The gun was levelled in Clint's direction and he shifted, ready to move. His hands weren't zipped together anymore, the tie being cut to make it easier to resuscitate him, and that gave him full motion. "This is your last chance, Stiles. Show me your magic, or watch him bleed out." Stiles was sobbing, trying to pull away from the man holding him, trying to get to Clint, but the man held tight. "Very well."
Clint was off before he could pull the trigger, moving for the man closest to him. He had his gun in under a minute and let off a quick succession of shots. He pointed the gun at the man holding Stiles even as the others all fell, and the man in question had once again placed the muzzle of the gun against Stiles' temple but he was watching Clint in obvious surprise.
"Here's how this is going to go. You're going to give Stiles back to me and I'll consider putting the bullet between your eyes instead of in the artery in your thigh." He watched the man's grip tighten on Stiles and despite the wary fear Clint could see in the man's eyes the man still smirked.
"I'll shoot him, then even if you kill me it won't matter."
"If you kill him, do you really think I'll let you off with something as easy as death?"
"Clint, it's okay." His gaze snapped to Stiles, keeping the gun level, and saw that somehow Stiles had actually relaxed and Clint found it more than a little alarming.
"I'm getting us out of here." He said, and watched Stiles nod. The next 30 seconds seemed to pass in slow motion. The gunfire came in through the door forcing Clint to flinch for cover and the man holding Stiles took that moment to level his gun at Clint, and shoot.
"No!" The shout was Stiles but it wasn't, and Clint could only stare as molten gold light seemed to pour from Stiles, his eyes glowing. Behind him, almost like an apparition, Clint could see a man, a man with tousled brown hair, moles like constellations, energy snapping around him in his anger, and bright amber eyes in a familiar face, though sharper with age, that turned to him and grinned, the expression fiercely protective, and Clint could see that it was for him. The man who'd been holding Stiles was screaming, Clint realized when he focused on the room again, and Clint turned to see him clutching at his face, eyes burned out of his skull, blood dripping down his face. The bullet that had been fired was frozen in the air and Clint moved out of the way, picking up the discarded weapons before turning to Stiles.
"I'm okay, Stiles. We're going to be okay." He said, gaze flickering between the young version that seemed lost in the energy and the older one who was watching him with a tiny little upturn of lips but rage still in his eyes. The liquid bright eyes looked down at his smaller self and he looked sad, heartbroken almost, and he lifted his arm then and his eyes, tapping two fingers against the inside of his elbow before he inclined his head in Clint's direction and the energy slowly receded back into Stiles. The boy blinked his eyes open, only able to give a look of relief when he saw Clint was okay before he fainted. Clint was quick to catch him and he moved to where he could shoot anyone who came through the door before they could even consider lifting their weapon. He stayed there, Stiles in his lap until Bucky burst through the door, Natasha on his heels. Then he slumped back against the wall, letting Bucky lift Stiles into his arms and help him to his feet, only passing him over to Natasha when the soldier was sure he was uninjured. His thoughts drifted back to the motion the older Stiles had made, tapping against the inside of his elbow, but he knew he'd probably have to wait for their Stiles to wake to ask.
Stiles remained unconscious for a week, and it was probably the longest week of Clint's life. He'd hoped it would just be a sleep it off kind of thing, but after having to watch Bruce hook the boy up to IVs, he was less hopeful. He was dozing off on the bed next to Stiles, wanting to stay on hand just in case, plus hey it was his bed - though lately Natasha had been trying to force him to rest in her room to give him a break. Bucky had vetoed the idea, glaring at Natasha and curling around Clint and Stiles both and it was as surprising as it was endearing. Clint wondered when exactly him and Bucky had become a thing because now he couldn't imagine sleeping without the super soldier in the room and hell they cuddled and held hands and all that emotional shit. He wondered if it was the moment Stiles had come into their lives; had trusted them the most and brought them together, because Clint had to admit, out of everyone in the tower, he and Bucky did have the closest life experience on their worst experiences ever list. He was dozing off to the sound of Jarvis reporting on the comings and goings of everyone in the building - resident, employee, maintenance - and wondering when Bucky would be getting back with food - when he felt the movement next to him. He was instantly awake.
"Jarvis. Call Bruce. Stiles just moved." Even as he said the words he watched Stiles' eyes blink open, in a confused haze, and Clint couldn't help the wide grin he knew was on his face. "Hey, Stiles. You're alright. We're back at the tower. You've been asleep for a few days, okay? So you're probably confused, but you're safe." Stiles just stared at him through the whole spiel before he smiled reaching out his hand which Clint immediately took. "I've got you, Stiles."
Bruce came in the room with Bucky on his heels and Clint knew the only reason the others weren't here as well was because they were all out if the building. He couldn't help his relief that Bucky was back though, despite the fact that he didn't seem to have the promised lunch.
"It's nice to see you awake again." Bruce greeted. "How are you feeling?"
"Thirsty." Stiles admitted, voice rough, and Bruce nodded, accepting the bottle of water Bucky pulled from seemingly nowhere and he brought it over to Stiles, allowing Clint to carefully sit him up before helping him take a few sips of water.
"How's that?"
"Better. Thank you." Bruce inclined his head before setting the bottle aside. He did a quick check up before allowing Stiles to be unhooked from the everything. The boy didn't go far, just crawled into Clint's lap, cuddling in. But he did reach out a hand to take Bruce's, the other reaching in the vague direction of Bucky who appeared immediately, taking the offered hand, his other arm curling around Clint's back so the archer could lean into him.
"I love you." And they knew the words were for each of them and all of them, even the ones who weren't there.
"Feelings mutual, kid." Clint told him, and Stiles couldn't help but remember how the professor had told him almost the exact same thing. He smiled at them, but the smile grew sad.
"He told me what you need to make me older again. He said it was in the needles so now it's in my blood."
"Who told you this?" Bruce asked, confused, but Clint understood. That's why the older Stiles had tapped the inside of his elbow.
"Older me. He talked to me. Before he left again." He cast Clint an anxious glance but the archer just gave him a small squeeze of comfort.
"He told me the same thing." Clint assured to the surprise of the others, but nobody denied his words, instead Stiles nodded in understanding.
"He said you would figure it out. He wanted to talk to you but he couldn't."
"Why did he talk to you?"
"Because he said if I stayed young too long I'd never be able to get older again. He said he understood that I was scared, cause he was me, but that I shouldn't forget my friends. He said that I'm the only one who can remember some of them and that if I stay young they'll be forgotten by everyone for forever."
"That's a lot of pressure, kid."
"He also said I should say goodbye to my friends if I'm not going back cause they'll miss me. He said especially Scott. I remember Scott. We're in the same class in school. But I guess not really cause he's older. Like I'm supposed to be. He said I have a lot of other friends now too and that they're looking for me." He looked up at the 3 adults around him. "It's my responsibility to protect them." He said solemnly, and though there was no doubt that those words belonged to the adult Stiles, there was no denying this Stiles' conviction.
"Is that what you want? To be older again?"
"Do I have to leave if I'm older again?" There was a fear now, and Clint wondered if this terror of being abandoned was something all children felt.
"Big or small, you're one of us." Bucky said suddenly, drawing Stiles' gaze. "I don't care how old you are." His hand flexed around Stiles', as if it was now Bucky who was scared of the other leaving, but the words had clearly been the right ones because Stiles relaxed.
"I want to stay." He said decidedly. "But I want to be big again too."
"I think I might know how to do that." Bruce admitted then, "But we should wait for everyone else first." Stiles agreed and so he just leaned back into Clint.
"Can we get spaghetti again?" He asked, wanting to repeat the first meal he'd had with them, and Bruce nodded.
"Jarvis?"
"The order has already been placed Doctor Banner."
>>>
"He promised I wouldn't forget." He whispered into Natasha's hair as he hugged her and she hugged him back just as tightly. "I'm glad." He admitted, "I wouldn't want to be older if I had to forget again." She just pulled back and combed a hand through his hair, pressing a kiss to his cheek.
"I'm glad too." She whispered back.