Here you go. I hope you enjoy it. Rights for the characters and some events go to Stan Lee.
When Steve got his friends out of the raft, he never would've imagined they'd been tortured. He had gotten everyone now except for Clint.
He stopped in a doorway and saw Clint on the floor, bloody and beaten. A guard dragged him to his feet by his shirt, pointing a gun at his head.
"There's always the water if you'd rather that form of torture," he snarled. Clint's eyes widened in pure terror.
"No! No, please. I don't know anything! I swear. I don't know where they are." The guard didn't seem to like his answer. Before he could do anything, Steve knocked him over the head with his shield and he went down.
He picked Clint up, as the man didn't have enough strength to stand, and carried him to the jet. He gave him to Bruce to clean up. They were okay. They could heal now.
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He was dunked into the water. When his lungs burned and he thought he'd drown, they pulled him up. Many times they repeated this. Until...
"Are you ready to answer?" someone snarled into his ear.
"I don't know anything," he tried. He really didn't. He didn't know where Steve or Bucky were. He didn't have that information, yet they were torturing them for it.
"Let's continue, then, shall we?" And he was dunked into the water again, lungs burning, about to drown.
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Clint shot up in bed, trying his best to stay calm, but it wasn't working too well. He suddenly felt like throwing up. He managed to get out of bed and walk to a connected bathroom, emptying his stomach, which wasn't very much, into the toilet. Then, he started throwing up stomach acid, which really hurt.
He finished and flushed the toilet. He stood up and got a cup of water, greedily drinking the contents.
"Clint," Steve said, softly, walking into the bathroom. "Are you okay?" The younger man shook his head as his body shook with pain. Pain from the wounds, pain from being sick. He wanted it all to just stop.
He suddenly fell to his knees, arms wrapped around himself, and started sobbing. All the crying he'd kept in when he wanted to just sob was coming out now.
Steve knelt beside the younger man, wrapping his arms around his frail, small frame. He'd barely gotten any food while he was there and he was really skinny.
"I didn't know anything," he sobbed. Steve just kept ahold of the young man, guilty he'd dragged him into this. He was soon calm.
"I'm sorry, Clint. I never should've dragged you into this." Clint didn't answer. Instead, he just buried his head further into Steve's chest.
"Don't leave," he whispered. "Please." The older man ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm him down.
"I won't. I promise."
