Remembering Freedom

Torture

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This chapter is in Clint's POV. I'm going to apologize ahead of time in case there is anything wrong with the way I wrote Clint's deafness. I myself am not deaf, but I hope I did it justice.

WARNING: Torture occurs in this chapter.

Waking up bound and covered in bruises was nothing new to Clint, but the fact that he could hear absolutely nothing was something he hadn't experienced in years and it set him on edge that someone had figured this past trauma out. He tested the shackles holding his arms above his head, already knowing he wouldn't be able to break out of these. His eyes settled on the pile of his tactical gear and weaponry in the far corner of the room, relieved to find he hadn't been stripped completely naked. Now there was something he never wanted to experience again...

He could feel the slight vibrations against the wall as the door opened and met the dark eyes of Grant Ward. Clint remembered seeing him on a few occasions at the Triskelion, always observing others. He knew from Ward's personal file that their childhoods were somewhat similar, but rid himself of sympathy because of the events leading up to this.

Hello, Agent Barton.

Clint didn't need to hear him to know that that was said in that condescending tone. He smiled as he replied in a tone he knew was a tad too soft. "Hail HYDRA."

Ward didn't react outwardly, but Clint had spent enough years reading Natasha's minute emotional cues to know that he'd hit some kind of nerve. Which was why he wasn't surprised by the punch that slammed his head back into the wall hard enough to dent the drywall. He spit out the blood and smiled, "Come on...Natasha can hit harder than that." Another hit, this time to his ribcage. It took him a moment to pull in a breath and he could only read the last words of what the man was saying (Where? What?)- is she?

"Who we talking about?"

Where is Skye?

"Probably back at base with our two resident Russian assassins who want you torn to pieces." He smiled at the man's widened eyes. "The Winter Soldier will probably manage just fine on his own."

He can't be alive!

"He's a very stubborn bastard I'll give him that." His comment had a knife pressed underneath his jaw. His pulse remained steady as his smile widened. "You won't kill me. I'm as much a bargaining chip as Jemma is."

He narrowed his eyes, and instead drew the tip of the blade across his chest.

Clint felt the sting but didn't show a single response. It would take a lot more than that if Ward wanted to get any response from him. He could see the man's lips moving but didn't bother reading them. Sometimes he didn't mind to play the deaf guy to irritate people a little bit. Of course, this tactic only pissed off his captors more and it wasn't something he used often because it was a disadvantage in the field. That...and well, it fucking sucked. He noticed a slight tick in the man's jaw.

The knife now embedded into his shoulder was expected and he only ground his teeth at the pain. He knew nothing vital was hit but that it would take a couple weeks of physical therapy and just as long at the firing range to adjust to it...damnit. The knife was pulled out slowly, the serrated edge doing even more damage. Clint finally obliged Ward and looked up in time to catch the last part of his sentence.

-find me.

"What?"

I said, "That they won't be able to find me" or at least not yet.

Clint rolled his eyes as Ward purposefully emphasized each word carefully, as if Clint hadn't been deaf for years or that he wasn't one of the best lip-readers SHIELD had before it fell. "You know...Skye was right about you. You really are deranged."