Full prompt at avengerkink. livejournal 16524. html?thread=37936524#t37936524 (you'll need to get rid of the spaces after the dots)

Clint and Tony were/are in a relationship in this story, I don't normally ship them but it worked well in this story, so I kept it in. I tried to make their relationship as realistic as I could for their characters, I dislike ooc, so don't expect mushy wushy/lovey dovey crap, I don't do cavities.

As a warning, there is torture and non graphic rape in this story. It is M for a reason.

flashwitch was nice enough to beta this for me, she's wonderful! Thank you!


I'm coming back to beginning to give warning. This story is 'M' for a reason. If you don't read the prompt, you won't know that there is a lot of torture and will be rape in this story. It is not explicit but there is a fair amount of creepy touching involved. Also past abuse and rape will be talked about. I don't want to catch you off guard.


"Lies and secrets, Tessa, they are like a cancer in the soul. They eat away what is good and leave only destruction behind."

-Cassandra Clare, Clockwork Prince


"JARVIS deploy flares!" Nothing. "JARVIS?" Tony growled in frustration and tried to fire his repulsors again.

Sparks shot out and one of the robotic sabertooth (cyberteeth?) snarled and released his hold on the suit, only to get a better grip on his arm. There was nothing he could do; facedown on the pavement with three prehistoric cats ripping through his suit like he hadn't spent weeks on a titanium alloy that Thor couldn't dent with one punch.

"I could really use some backup right about now!" He was met with grunting and pants. Which, alright, everyone was busy. Last time he looked, Widow and Cap were dealing with giant spiders, Thor was wrestling a snake the length of a city block and Hulk was chasing down a swarm of over sized bees, but -.

"I'm headed your way Tony." Clint's voice came across the comm. "High Bridge?"

"Yeah," Tony bit back a cry of pain, as the armor on his right foot dented inward further. "No rush," he hissed. "Simba and Mufasa are just using me as a chew toy, while uncle Scar seems to think I was propositioning him. Man, these things are heavy." The pressure on the suit was beyond uncomfortable now.

"Hawkeye." Widow said, and that's all she said. He's not sure what she means but it was clear to Clint. Tony took a second to be jealous of how she could communicate so completely with his boyfriend, with one word, while Tony couldn't seem to stop shoving his foot in his mouth.

"I've only got one EMP arrow left and it's going to Tony." Alright, being first on his list helped.

"Remind me to work on those for you, Babe. Limited range? Really, SHIELD?"

"How's JARVIS coming with that signal?" Rogers asked, his voice strained.

"Don't know. Scar's been tearing through my suit systems, I'm losing them left and right." Left and right, arms, legs, he's going be torn apart. "I can't…" Literally torn apart. "...the suit…" Eaten out of his suit. A slightly hysterical laugh bubbled up, "Local, it was local, he was talking with SHIELD, they'll find them."

"I'm coming, Tony." Clint reassured. He voice was hard and smooth and just what Tony needed. "It's going to be alright. I'm almost there."

The sound of metal tearing is getting worse. Trapped in his suit. There was no air on the other side. Bright and beautiful and empty; sucking the life out of you. "Not everything's shielded," Tony gasped. "The arrows going to shut down some of my suit systems."

"Does that include anything that's actually still working?" Clint asked, breathing hard.

Tony paused. "No, we're good. Fire whenever you can."

"'Whenever I can?'" Clint huffed a laugh. "What happened to firing when you say so?"

"We've all got our areas of expertise, Sugarpie. You trust me in the bedroom and I'll trust you to end these things before they pop this can open and realize there's not tuna fish inside."

Tony cried out as his right boot began to tear away, the dented areas ripping into his calf. He had been laying still, in the hope that they would lose interest but that idea flew out and he started thrashing again, trying to knock the cats off, making them rip and tear more earnestly.

"Now! Now is the best time! Fire now!" He felt the metal on his back rip away, fresh air cooling his skin and he screamed.

"Tony!"

"Now!"

A heavy weight landed on his back and silence descended around him. The ripping had stopped. No more creepy metallic roars echoing through his suit.

"I shot, Tony!" Clint yelled.

Tony closed his eye and let out a haggard breath.

"Tony?" Clint asked, sounding uncertain, fearful.

Tony pushed himself up to his knees, the now 'dead' cyberteeth falling away.

"Where?" He asked, looking around.

Clint sighed in relief, "To your left. Cafe roof."

Tony lifted his head higher, looking over the left side of the bridge. There are shops and a cafe along the shore, with a ten foot drop to the river. He saw Clint on a roof, his hands on his knees. "I thought…" Tony began.

"I wasn't going to make it to the bridge in time," Clint said, leaning over the side of the building, grabbing the drain pipe and sliding down, "I needed altitude. You in one piece?"

"Just barely." Tony said, looking down at his mangled suit, "Perfect timing."

"Hey, you're the boss, remember?" Suddenly Clint grunted, like the air was being forced out of his lungs.

"Clint?" Tony looked over the edge of the bridge again and felt his breath catch.

Clint was swaying where he stood, at the edge of the water, his bow, forgotten on the ground. He was looking down at his hands as they left his chest, wet. Red.

"Clint," Tony whispered, in horror.

Clint looked up, right at Tony. His mouth opened to say something, but then his body seemed to waver and he fell over the edge. Clint hit the water and Tony screamed his name. And kept screaming "no", over and over as he attempted to take off.

The suit was shredded. The boots, almost torn off. He tried to run, but fell back to his knees. Something was broken. His foot. His mind. He crawled to the edge of the bridge. Clint hadn't surfaced.

He heard the others yelling over the comms, yelling his name, trying to make themselves heard over his own screams.

"Pause."

The screen froze.

Tony leaned over the couch to the end table and grabbed the bottle of whiskey.

"Rewind 28 seconds and pause."

Sir, please allow me to call someone-

Tony cut him off. "Twenty eight seconds and pause, JARVIS."

The AI was silent as the suit footage rewound. It stopped, and Clint was back on the boardwalk, looking down at the blood.

"Play 2.7 seconds and pause."

Clint looks up, right at Tony. His mouth opens to say something. What was he going to say?

He'd never know. Clint's body was never recovered. Clint was dead; because Tony couldn't handle three Robocats alone. He had helped draw the archer out into the open. Let the sniper take his shot. Two minutes later SHIELD finished tracing the signal and shut the robotic animals down. Three and a half minutes and the team was at the bridge. But it didn't matter. The water was too dark. It had rained the day before, emptying silt into the already dirty Harlem River.

Tony stared at the screen until it blurred. It was already ingrained in his mind.

Twelve months was nothing. Twelve years could pass and he would still remember Clint's face. The hazy shock and fear.

Tony would never forget the day he failed to save Clint.


A man lowered himself into a chair, watching the man on the security screen as he slept silently in his cell. Nodding, he opened his phone and dialed. While it rang, he stretched his wrist out, loosening the wide leather cuff around it.

The line picked up. "Yes?"

"He's almost ready."

"Almost? We have already moved our timetable back much further than we had planned."

"You know he's strong. He held out longer than anyone ever has. But he's mine now," he said, glancing at the electronic control cuff on his wrist. "He'll do anything I want."

"And you're sure he'll go for the kill?"

"Absolutely. He hates them now. He just needs time to train; get himself back in top shape, plan the attack, and we'll be ready to go."

"It's always a pleasure to see your end product. Broke and rebuilt at the same time. Keep me updated."

"Of course," he said, hanging up.

"He's mine." The man whispered, fondly, eyes moving back to the sleeping man. "My Hawkeye."