"What is your name?"
"Clinton Francis Barton."
"Where are you from?"
He hesitated. "I don't know."
"What are you here for?"
"To place Pietro Maximoff in the hands of H.Y.D.R.A."
"Try again." The voice was tired, impatient.
"To..." A pause, one that stretched in awkward silence for a few moments. "To be a part of the Avenger's Initiative." His face was screwed up in thought, concentration evident.
"Good. What is your job?"
"Assassin and field agent under the direction of Nick Fury."
"Well done, Clint," Steve smiled through his teeth as he walked out of the room. The archer watched him go, his hands now untied and resting gently on his lap. His posture was still ramrod straight, every move calculated and precise. The questioning had been going on for two hours; one hour held Clint's memorizing time, and the other was his test. It was meant to act as an attempt to trigger some form of recollection of his past.
It wasn't working.
"It's ready," Banner's voice called from the doorway that led down the hall. "Do you want to do it?"
"It's what's best, I think. How does it work?"
Bruce pulled a vial filled with light green gel, then a large syringe from his lab coat. "Essentially, the chemicals coat his mind with this serum. It's electromagnetically stimulated, so it will need something to jump start it, but it can't be an electrical surge, as that will short out the effects and leave him with a thin film of slime covering his skull. Once it's charged, his brain synopsis will shoot it through and his cells will become saturated with it, in which the chemicals will work as a bond for the memory portion to piece together the missing links. Hopefully, it will at least get most of his memory back. He might not remember the first 10 years of his life or so, but he'll do fine without them."
Steve swallowed and nodded. It all sounded foolproof. Nothing was illogical within the scientist's plan. He turned to Pietro, who was watching Clint through the glass.
Other the past few days, Clint had warmed up to Pietro. He wouldn't eat unless the runner brought the food, he wouldn't use the bathroom unless Pietro let him out, and he wouldn't sleep unless he was talking through the mic into the room. He had grown attached to him like a dog, every beck and whim was based off of Pietro. The reason was simple, really.
Pietro was all he knew.
"Piet? Are you okay with this?"
"How likely is it to work?"
"We tested it on some amnesia patients from the clinic wing. It worked perfectly. 9.5/10, I'd say."
Pietro scratched the stubble on his chin. It had grown out to be a little thicker, the two weeks he'd endured with this drama causing him to forget basic human hygiene. The only reason he still smelled decent was thanks to Wanda, who forced him to leave the room and shower every other day.
Were the odds completely in his favor? Not particularly. That .5 was enough to set him on edge. He wanted perfect, not even the slightest mishap could happen and effect Clint in any way other than it was supposed to. Then again, this was the only way they knew how to get his boyfriend back.
He didn't really have a choice.
Pietro nodded, showing Bruce into the room and grabbing on to Clint's hand before he could spasm. Anybody who came in that wasn't Pietro made Clint extremely fidgety and nervous, especially if the runner wasn't there with him. Clint immediately began to squirm, uncomforted by the sight of the needle.
Before anybody could move, Clint was on his feet, the only thing keeping him immobile being the hand that gripped his. He wanted to run, to get the mission done with, but he couldn't. These people wouldn't let him. They wouldn't let him do all he was worth for. Why why WHY-
A shock went through his arm, and he collapsed.
"Okay, we have to shock him into submission. His heart rate must go up, and his pulse will need to be clear for me to get an accurate reading. Anybody have an idea?"
"You just injected him without a backup plan?" Pietro barked, holding the man in his arms. Clint was still, his eyelids fluttering as the gel took over his central nervous system and other basic functions. All his energy was going towards staying awake and keeping his bowels in.
"Well, of course I have a plan. I just wasn't sure you'd go through with it."
"What is it?"
"You have to kiss him. I know, it sounds scientifically incorrect, but it will stimulate his brain enough for the gel to take hold. Quickly!" Banner exclaimed as Clint began shaking. Pietro faltered; everything was happening so fast, so sudden, it was too much for even him to keep up with, and it took a lot for him to become overstimulated.
Kiss him.
No problem, right?
Pietro sat Clint up and pecked his cheek. Nothing happened except for the archer's violent reaction. He took a drunken swing at him, afraid of the contact, not used to having it near his head. He wanted out, he wanted this nightmare to be over, he wanted the darkness in his brain to cease.
Clint knew what was going on. He knew everything. He knew he had been sedated by H.Y.D.R.A. He knew, somewhere, in the back of his mind, that he was trapped by this... this imposter that was posing as someone other than him. It infuriated him, knowing that he wasn't him, that something was wrong, but he couldn't act upon it. He constantly felt like he was drowning, banging against the solid ice that was blocking him. Everything felt broken. He just wanted to let himself out of his skin, to crawl from this cage and breathe again.
Everything and nothing was stopping him.
Pietro sensed a shift in Clint. His moves weren't as precise; they were based more off of instinct rather than precision. He was fading, his mind drifting, and he seemed to have almost the same spark of life back in his eyes that he used to have.
He was slowly coming to, his mind struggling to wrap around the incomprehensible. The steroid he had been given before he arrived was still in his blood, still trying to take control.
"On the mouth, Pietro," Steve commanded. Pietro wiggled uncomfortably until the other two understood and turned around.
"Thanks," he murmured as he let his hands trail up the scratchy face of the agent. He lingered there, watching Clint's eyes for anything. A sudden memory, a quick flash of recognition, something, ANYTHING-
And then Clint did what nobody would have expected.
He kissed Pietro first.
Pietro felt his insides melt, the familiar warmth of the other mixing with his own, a feeling he hadn't felt in weeks but had never gotten over. Everything about it felt right; nothing anybody would do could separate them in that moment. It was as if they had been submerged in their own world, an inky light swirling around them through air, both swinging on cloud nine. When they finally pulled away, Pietro held his breath.
He waited.
And waited.
"Pietro?"
That voice. It was clear, void of monotone and the emptiness he had become acquaintanced with during the last few days. It was, quite simply, alive.
Clint had surfaced.
He was back.
The sheer look of joy on the runner's face caused Clint to suddenly start crying, his head tucked away in Pietro's chest. Steve and Bruce smiled before leaving them to go tell the others. Pietro could feel his heart racing; it beat so loud he wouldn't be surprised if Clint could hear it loud and clear. He allowed Clint to sob before kissing him again, tenderly, silencing the harsh racket the other was making. It was a moment of pure bliss, pure happiness and everything good in the world.
That moment embodied what it was like to be happy.
That moment was one of pure love.
