To Know

There was a difference between torture. There was normal torture and holy hell why was it accurate to call it normal torture? Then there was Hydra torture. Clint had never asked Bucky about what he went through in his time with Hydra. He had read the files and figured the guy didn't want to relive the biggest nightmare of his life. Clint sure didn't like talking about his low times.

Now he wished he had, not for the details  of it all, but for how he endured it. You never expect to get caught on a mission, you train for it, but you never expect yourself to be that guy. Why worry about what may or may not happen?

Clint hadn't expected for them to get the drop on him. But now waking up with a sore head, he had to start gearing himself up for the next move. He was in a gray room, all cement, dirty and damp. His clothes were gone to dehumanize him, and while he didn't remember exactly everything when he was caught, he had taken a helluva beating because he was covered in bruises.

He tucked himself into the corner and waited. The camera in the left corner had surely made them aware that he was awake. He didn't wait long, guess they weren't trying that particular tactic. Two men came in and before he could even make a sarcastic comment on their clothes they had tazed him. He went sideways quick, the voltage on it was high so it took him a minute to realize that it had stopped and they had picked him up and were hauling him out of the room. Their grip was firm which was a good thing because his body was still jerking.

They brought him to a large room, several people were standing around in white coats. Clint started to feel fear creep into him as he was swung around to face The Chair. He had read about it in the files on the Winter Soldier. He stamped it down quick. Kept his face neutral, it wouldn't do to show fear now. They hauled him into it, and despite his struggling had him strapped down in minutes.

"Clint Barton, better known as Hawkeye. Do you know why you are here?" The head douche as Clint named him asked.

He shrugged. "I dunno, you guys need a lesson in having a brain?"

A backhand to the mouth had him tasting blood quickly.

"We want the location of the Winter Soldier and seeing how you were "dumb" enough to get captured, we will get the location from you." These words were spoken with a smirk.

"Don't know the guy, maybe he doesn't exist?" Clint replied acting casual.

"Oh I'm sure you will tell us in due time. In the meantime let us show you some hospitality."

A mouth guard was shoved into his mouth and his head was brought back, strapped in like the rest of him when they turned it on. White hot pain coursed through him, his hands clenched up and his scream echoed against the walls. They set up a steady rhythm quickly, zap him, let him relax a fraction, then hit him again.

Hours or maybe even minutes later, the guard was removed and they asked him again, the location of the Winter Soldier. Clint gave another sarcastic answer. The guard was shoved back in and again they turned the Chair back on. Eventually he screamed himself hoarse. He was unstrapped and drug back to his cell and thrown in. He lay there in a heap on the floor. Never in his life had he hurt so bad before. So when his next exhale ended on a sob, he didn't feel so bad. He curled up into a ball, and let himself drift....

He didn't hear the door open this time and a kick to the ribs brought him back to reality. He didn't know how long he had been asleep, but it didn't matter because he was being drug back to that room again.

He didn't have the energy to fight them this time. He was strapped in again and asked again the location of the Winter Soldier.

"F*** you.." Was his whispered answer.

The mouthguard was shoved in again and they turned on the Chair. Clint screamed and screamed until his throat burned. He lost track of time and the only thing he knew was pain. He wasn't sure how long his body could keep this up. But he would die before he told them anything. He began to hallucinate, he saw them all. Steve telling him to just tell them what they wanted, Bucky telling him that he wasn't worth the loyalty, Tony spouting off the statistics of how long his body could hold up against the voltage. And finally Natasha, telling him it was better to live and fight another day. Clint shook his head, realizing he could move it and saw that while he was still in the Chair, they had hooked him to an IV, pumping fluids into him and god knows what. His friends still stood around him, urging him to give in and he shook his head at them.

"No can do...sorry..." They all vanished in a haze as Head Douche stood in front of him.

"You must think yourself very brave Barton, but in reality all you are doing is prolonging your death."

"Can't keep a good dog down..." Clint mumbled, laying his head back. He had resigned himself to die.

A tsking noise was made and soon the IV was gone and the mouthguard was once again in his mouth. Clint's mind blanked out completely, he didn't know up from down, white from black. When he came to he was back in his cell. He drug himself into a corner and turned away from the camera. He didn't want the bastards to see him cry. He fell asleep dreaming of his team, his family, urging him to give in.

Days past and Clint knew he was breaking into pieces, he flinched away from touch and nothing he said made any sense. It was all just babbling nonsense. They hadn't taken him from the cell today, just left him there laying in the corner. He couldn't move much now, just a gentle tapping of his finger on the floor. 

A loud boom had him jerking up and backwards, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. He shut his eyes so he wouldn't have to see them come for him. His door banged open and he wrapped his arms around himself shaking his head.

A touch to his shoulder had him screaming and he fought against the hands that held him.

Suddenly sound came rushing in and he vaguely realized hearing aides had been placed in his ears.

"Clint! Clint! Its us, we're here!"

Clint finally opened his eyes to see Steve and Bucky. He stopped fighting them, but began shaking his head. No Bucky shouldn't be here, they would take him. He tried to tell them but his voice was shot. So he began signing it to them. Steve's concerned face watched him before answering.

"They won't get him Clint, they're all dead. "

Clint looked to Bucky who nodded in agreement and Clint noticed that their clothes had blood stains on them. His body decided that finally he could rest and he collapsed against them. Broken sobs of relief wracked his body as they dressed him in loose sweats. Steve picked him up and they began moving, Clint a dead weight in his arms.

"You did good Clint, you can rest now, we got you." Steve said as they moved out.

Clint nodded weakly before looking towards Bucky.

"I know now...I know now..." He felt the inky blackness of unconsciousness start to fall over him as he whispered to himself.

"I did good...I know now..."