Chapter Text
"Hey, Stark, you have an admirer."
They've been at the technology expo for two days now, Tony going to marvel at good ideas and to poke fun at bad ones, Clint going on behalf of Shield, to keep an eye out for anything dangerous that may be under development.
"Well, of course I do, there's a lot about me to admire." Tony cranes his neck around and spots her. A petite woman with black hair and porcelain skin is watching him intently, and smiles beatifically when she notices him looking back.
"Yowza," Tony says approvingly under his breath. Clint rolls his eyes and wanders off as she makes her way over.
*******
"Clint! Hey, Clint!" Tony finally spots him in near one of the survival equipment booths, fiddling around with a pair of night vision goggles.
"What? We're getting some of these, by the way." He sets down the goggles and eyes a gillie suit speculatively. "And maybe one of those, too."
"Quit playing doomsday prepper and guess where I have scored us an invite." Clint ignores him effortlessly and keeps looking at the display. Tony bobs back and forth to stay in his eyeline. "Cliiiiiiint, guess!"
"No. It's probably an invite to something I'm going to hate."
"Bzzzzt, wrong! You remember the chick? With the hair? That's Anna Ford, the Anna Ford, and she said she could take us to visit Haven."
He can see the wheels turn in Clint's head as he connects the names. "Haven...wait, do you mean the cult?"
Tony scoffs. "It's not a cult, silly Tweetie, it's a commune, and it's where a lot of top scientific minds, minus myself and Brucie of course, live. Super exclusive, visits by invite only. I've always wanted to see it. She's their guru, or something, and said she'll take us today if we wanted." Tony rubs his hands together with a grin. "And I want."
"I've heard of these guys. God's Chosen, right? They're a cult, Tony--a crazy, religious technological cult. When they speak in tongues they probably use binary. Instead of handling snakes to prove their faith they use computer cables." Clint smirks, then points to the night vision goggles. "How many of these come in a case?" he asks one of the attendants.
Tony rolls his eyes and pulls Clint away by the arm. "You're a laugh riot, Barton, and I sincerely appreciate every chance I get to play audience to your one man comedy tour. But back to the point--it's not a real cult. They're harmless. They're scientists. And you don't have to go, if you're gonna be a killjoy. Stay at the expo and buy shit, and I'll meet back up with you tomorrow."
"This sounds like one of those scenarios that ends with 'And he was never seen again'. No way am I letting you go alone. They'd probably end up sacrificing you on an altar made out of computer servers and Iron Man parts." Clint crosses his arms stubbornly, then gives in and laughs.
Clint finds it funny, and Tony finds it harmless. Both would discover they were wrong.
*******
She tells them that no outside tech is allowed, and to leave their phones in the hotel. Clint doesn't like that, and he likes it even less when they drive up to the town a few hours later and there is a wall with guard towers around it.
"Hmm, how welcoming," he grumbles from the back seat.
"A lot of research facilities have security, Dodo-brains," Tony points out.
The town is attractive and quaint. All of the houses are in complementary colors, a telltale sign of carefully planned out development. There are parks and small shops and even a clock tower on the school. The largest building is a church in the center.
"We don't do much research in Haven itself," Anna says. Her voice is high pitched and girlish. "Most everyone works outside of the community and only come home in between long term projects. But their families are here. And of course the church."
"Well, of course," Clint agrees, widening his eyes and blinking with exaggerated innocence.
Anna's smile dims just a fraction, then brightens again when she looks back toward Tony. "We do have a project at the hospital that you will be interested in. Apart from our devotion to God it is our most important work."
*******
Anna leaves them in a windowless, somewhat claustrophobic waiting room while she goes to collect their head scientist. Tony is excited to hear it is Dennis Weaver, one of the top neuroscientists in the world.
"I think Bruce knows that guy. Or used to know him. Anyway, I hope he's got something good going on, because otherwise this place is a bust." Tony walks around the room restlessly, taking in the bland wall art. "I imagined it was going to be something like one of those little towns where everyone is devoted to weaving or pottery, except with, you know, science. I thought it'd be an idea nexus, a conglomeration of awesome. What about this place would ever make it VIP only? It makes me question the whole concept of VIP entirely."
Clint shoots him a dirty look. "Tony, if I find out this whole side-trip is just part of some quest to get into that chick's pants, I'm going to be super pissed."
Tony scoffs. "I'm already dating perfection personified. Why would I be interested in her? You, however, might consider making a move. You're single and she's gorgeous."
"She's not my type." Clint picks up a magazine with toothsome pop singer on the cover and frowns at it.
"Are you kidding? That skin and all that long, black hair...she looks like Snow White, for God's sake. Anna Ford is everybody's type. What's your problem?
"I don't like her." Clint rolls up the magazine and launches it neatly into the trashcan across the room. "She's a twist. Probably a good characteristic for her, being a cult leader and all."
"A twist?"
"Someone who likes to play mind games and generally fuck with people."
"You don't even know her. Why would you say that?"
"She reeks of it. I've dealt with enough of them in my life to spot one. "
Tony laughs. "You know that term describes every person that works for Shield, right? Including yourself. It must be a lonely life, being such a suspicious bastard."
*******
His suspicion is proven founded when Tony finally gets bored of waiting and tries to leave the room, only to find they've been locked inside. He pounds on the door, yelling, until Anna appears on the other side.
"You accidentally locked us in here," Tony says through the glass window with a grin, trying to play it casual.
She smiles back sweetly. "We want you to stay. It'll be so good."
"This has to be a mistake. We'd like to leave now."
"We want you to stay," Anna repeats. "Well, we want you to stay," she amends, looking pointedly at Tony.
Clint pushes Tony roughly aside from the window to glare at her. "Out. Now. Let us out."
She smiles again, and she doesn't look as pretty now, not at all the doe-eyed sweetling that had brought them here, but instead someone crafty and calculating. "I don't think so. I think I like you better in there."
"You can let us out of here right now and we can chalk all of this up to a big cultural misunderstanding," Clint says. "Or you can double down and try to keep us, and then it's gonna get ugly. And I'm talking 'pull out your skeleton and dance around in your skin' kind of ugly. The amount of shits I do not give about taking your life could fill the Grand Fucking Canyon."
Anna narrows her eyes at him. "I could make you love me," she says, and there is something dark about her eyes that contrasts with her saccharine voice. "You could be made to beg to lick food from my hand, if that's what I wanted."
"Lady, you're a goddamned screwball."
"Fine," she says, dropping the good girl act altogether, her voice suddenly sharper and lower in pitch. "I think the first thing I'll have them fix about you is that filthy mouth of yours. I've read about you, about the things you've done. You're a terrible person. You could be executed right now and the world would be better for it. But instead I'm going to be generous. You're soul sick, but luckily for you, we've found the cure. I'm going to give it to you. And when it's done, when you come back, you'll be different. You'll be happy. You'll be my own little ray of sunshine."
*******
She disappears from the door and Tony turns to Clint, eyebrows raised. "Okay, that speech was pretty fucking creepy, as far as monologues go."
"Come visit Haven," Clint sneers, gesturing angrily. "Meet some scientists, buy a funny T-shirt, take a picture next to their giant ugly ass church. It'll be a blast, at least until they take you hostage. Tony Stark, you motherfucker!"
"How the hell was I supposed to know this would happen? Snow White looks as innocuous as they come."
"You do realize that 'innocuous' is how the unwitting co-workers and neighbors later describe every serial killer ever, right?" Clint is still pissed, but plops down on the couch with a rueful chuckle and scrubs his face with his hands. "Oh, brother," he sighs. "This is going to be freaking embarrassing, if we can't get out and Natasha has to come get us."
"And boy, does Anna hate you," Tony teases, sitting down beside him. "Me, she totally digs. But you...she wants to chew up your nuts and spit them out." He grins and elbows Clint, who laughs. "Oooh, she's gonna put the whammy on you, Tweetie, gonna hurt you baaaad."
A few minutes later, when some sort gas is pumped in and both collapse helplessly to the floor it doesn't seem as funny. They drag Clint out and leave Tony behind.
*******
They literally toss him back in the room, and Tony figures the orderlies are a little angry about the way Clint had spoken to their tiny spiritual leader. He lays bonelessly on the floor, too weak to move, until Tony drags him up onto the couch.
"What did they do to you?" he asks.
"I don't know," Clint says shakily. His nose keeps leaking blood and his balance is so poor that he cannot even sit up. "I can't remember."
*******
They come for him again a few hours later. Tony tries to stop them, but two of them hold him back while the others drag Clint away by his ankles, making sure to crack his head on the door on the way out. Anna Ford watches and smiles.
"It will be worth it, in the end. You'll see." She's returned to her syrupy sweet voice and affect, and stretches her hand toward Tony. "But it doesn't have to be that way for you. You're smart, and you're good, I could see that from the start. You'll be able to understand what we are trying to do. We wouldn't have to change anything about you. You can live with me and we can be together. You liked me when we met, I know you did."
"Lady, I've got a partner. Her name is Pepper, and she's a goddess, and you're just a pseudo-scientific religious wackadoo. I'm sure you're great once people get to know you, but...it's never going to happen. Not ever."
She shrugs, looking unperturbed. "We'll see."
*******
They deposit Clint carelessly in again, bruised in random spots over his temple and neck with what look to be injection sites. Tony tries to check him over, tries to comfort him, but Clint just looks confused and keeps pushing his hands away.
"Clint," he says. "Clint B-B-Barton." He keeps repeating it endlessly, won't say anything else.
"Fuck," Tony whispers, his heart pounding.
"Clint...Barton," he rasps again.
******
When they come the next morning, Anna is with them.
"Don't do it," Tony pleads as they haul Clint limply out.
"Do what?" she asks innocently.
"Whatever the hell you're going to do to him. Whatever the endgame of this is."
"He'll be better off, in the end. He won't be so angry, won't remember all the horrible things that he has done before. He won't be dead. You can still have him--you can become friends all over again. It will all be so lovely."
"Please don't hurt him." He's begging and doesn't care.
"It will take him a little while to get better," she says, "and that's okay. We'll take care of him. But I'd prefer it if you didn't have to get treated also, because I don't want to have to wait for you. I mean, I will, if I have to...but I'd prefer if we could just be happy now." Her cloying, babydoll voice is earnest.
"Anna. This is crazy. Whatever you're going to do, please do not do it."
She shrugs and turns to leave, then stops and looks back. "When he gets back and you see how he is, then think things over. Decide how you want things to be, and let me know. We can all be happy now, or we can be happy later...after it's your turn."
*******
They carry Clint back in. There are black bruises under both of his eyes, and blood trickles steadily out of his ear. One of the attendants wipes it away with a cloth and makes soothing noises. They lay him on the couch and for the first time they are not rough with him, but exceptionally tender. And Tony feels a stab of horror because he knows that they are gentle because it's finished, it's been done.
Clint has been cured.
"Clint?" He gets right in his friend's face and there is no recognition, no reaction, no anything. He snaps his fingers loudly. "Clint. Hawkeye? Tweetie Bird?" His voice breaks a little.
Clint just stares up at the ceiling and doesn't move. He doesn't respond when Tony talks to him, or later when they bring food and Tony tries to get him to eat or drink. He stays that way for two days and Tony knows that Clint will die if nothing changes, if they won't give him help.
But they will do nothing while they wait for Tony to choose.
*******
Tony tells Anna he will stay with her, he will be good and won't complain. He won't try to escape, won't fight her or anyone else. He'll do anything, as long as they don't do to him whatever it is that they have done to Clint.
He's terrified and so ashamed that she believes him.
He is moved from the hospital into her home, which is bright and spacious with a big yard that has a wall around it. She has them bring Clint, too, and Tony knows it's to keep him close, as a warning, as leverage against any bad behavior.
It won't be hard, he thinks. It won't be hard to get away from her and her shitty little cultish town. He's one of the smartest people in the world, and he'll figure it out, even if he has to construct an Iron Man suit from scratch and fly them out. He's been in tighter spots before and made it. He'll get them out, and then Bruce and Shield can fix whatever has happened to Clint.
They'll be fine in the end. Just fine.
He tells himself that for the next two years.
*******
Anna is happy. Happy that Tony is there, in her house, no matter what reason he had for agreeing to it. He's not sure why she really wants him around. She doesn't seem to be interested in his money or his tech, and usually those are the only reasons anyone is ever interested in him. She doesn't ask him to do anything but help take care of Clint and be nice to her. As far as psychological terror goes, Tony has experienced far worse, so he goes along with it. For now.
She seems to like Clint this way, as though she truly thinks he is better for it. She fusses over him like an overgrown child, and in some ways that isn't far from the truth. There is always a medical helper around because Clint cannot walk, talk, feed himself, or do much of anything else.
Tony certainly doesn't know how to help him, because he isn't even sure what has been done. He doesn't know if Clint has been lobotomized or received another kind of brain trauma, or if it is some sort of mental injury that has also manifested physically.
There is no internet, no computer, no phone. He's stuck in the house with people watching from the outside, and Anna on the inside. He is allowed to walk around in the backyard, but he can't see anything over the high wall that surrounds it. Even if he could get over the wall he'd have to get through the town outside, then the mountains beyond that. And he can't leave Clint behind.
It doesn't seem possible that they haven't been rescued yet. The people that live in Haven are smart, and have surely covered their tracks somehow, but the Avengers are tenacious, and Shield is resourceful. Tony is sure Steve would never give up the search, and that Natasha would scour the earth to find her best friend. They'll come. They have to.
Tony looks out of the windows a lot, watching the sky for a quinjet that never appears.
*******
People come every day to work on getting Clint able to sit up, then to stand, then walk. That they already have a plan in place, that they know exactly how to help him tells Tony that many people before him have also been cured. Clint gets fatigued easily and usually they put him back in bed afterwards and he sleeps most of the day. Sometimes he is able to sit on the couch, where he rests heavily against Tony. He leans against Anna, also, when she sits by him and smiles dully when she runs her hand through his hair.
As time passes and Clint slowly improves Tony takes over all care of him. He gets him dressed every morning, Clint fumbling with slow, clumsy hands, trying to help but really just getting in the way, making the process take even longer than if Tony just did it himself.
"We're gonna get you back to where you can do this all by yourself again," Tony tells him, tugging on his socks. "Then you can pick out what you want to wear. Wouldn't that be nice? Or you could always tell me what you want. Can you try? Clint? Can you try to tell me?'
He just looks back with blank eyes and Tony wonders if Clint even has any idea who he is.
*******
Tony sleeps in her bed every night and has sex with her whenever she wants, tries to make it good. Tries to make her happy.
"I love you," she says, and he knows that she really believes that.
They're just words, he tells himself. Pepper won't mind if he says it, if he has to, as long as he doesn't really mean it.
*******
"A B C D..." Anna starts in a singsongy voice, then pauses and raises an expectant eyebrow.
"E," Clint says thickly. "E...E."
"That's good!" she chirps back. "So good! Now say 'E F G'. Can you say that, Sunshine?"
Tony clenches his jaw, hoping she won't notice. He hates it when she calls Clint that. He imagines smashing all her teeth in, envisioning how a toothless lisp would improve the sound of that stupid nickname.
"E...E....Ffffff."
"That's just lovely, sweetheart. You're doing so well!"
Tony wants to bury his face in his hands, but instead he smiles and sings the rest of the song with her.
*******
Clint starts to get a little better. He still doesn't say much, and what he does manage is slurred and usually monosyllabic. Tony thinks of his friend's formerly sharp tongue and sarcastic wit. Of him singing exaggeratedly soulful karaoke while Natasha laughed. Of how he tried, rather unsuccessfully, to cut down on his swearing for Steve's sake.
Tony feels like screaming, like tearing his hair out, but doesn't, because someone might see. The home care aides, the people that "drop in" unexpectedly, the guard outside the front gate--someone is always watching. He is supposed to be happy. He grins throughout the day until his face aches.
After they get Clint walking again he still struggles with fine motor skills, especially with using silverware. He manages pretty well at dinner one night and she cheers. Clint is pleased with her response and looks hopefully at Tony, so he makes a big fuss over it too. Anna smiles at them both affectionately and squeezes Clint's scrawny arm.
Tony thinks about how a few months ago that arm could've snaked around her neck and effortlessly broken it. He imagines them exchanging smiles over her dead body, Clint's grin that old combination of cocky and a little bitter, instead of the mindless one spread across his face now.
"Are you happy, Sunshine?" she asks Clint constantly.
"Yes," he always answers, and means it.
*******
She brushes her teeth and climbs in next to Tony. He spoons her from behind, just the way she likes. Her hair tickles his nose and smells like strawberry shampoo.
"I love you, sweetheart," she murmurs sleepily.
"I love you, too."
It sounds pretty natural now when he says it.
*******
Anna tells Tony they need to take Clint to the hospital for some tests. He knows now it is actually just a large clinic and not a true hospital--anyone that needs surgery or other real treatment has to go out of town--but it is big enough to take care of things like broken bones and stitches.
And curing soulsick people, of course. That's the house specialty.
Clint is excited to ride in Anna's car, which he and Tony rarely get to do, but grows quiet and anxious once they get to the hospital. He's been back here before, but the visits were during in the very early months after his procedure and Tony doesn't think Clint can remember those days very well.
Anna sticks to Tony's side like glue; doesn't like him near all the machines and computers. He knows he's lucky to have been allowed to come at all and doesn't try anything. It isn't worth the risk, because he wants these tests to be done. Clint is beyond nervous, but gets into the MRI machine because Anna tells him to. Afterwards he is so shaken that he sobs against Tony, who holds him grimly and rocks him back and forth.
"Aww, poor little Sunshine," Anna says tenderly, patting his back. "It's over now." She's all sweetness, but Tony sees that little uptick of her mouth and grits his teeth. He thinks back to Anna and Clint glaring at one another on opposite sides of a locked door and knows that a large part of her gets a thrill out of seeing him this way.
"Yep, your job is all done," Dr. Weaver confirms, and taps the edge of a file folder against his other hand. "Pastor Ford, would you like to talk about the results?"
"Of course. Tony, why don't you take him to the waiting area while I meet with the doctor?"
Bitch, Tony thinks to himself. Bitchbitchbitchbitchbitchbitch. He wants to be there, wants to hear what the doctor will say about Clint's recovery so far, hear his prognosis. He wants to look at a copy of that brain scan, to see if he can figure out what they even did to his friend. Tony is frantic for information and Anna knows it.
But instead he says, "Okay," and they leave the room. Two orderlies just 'happen' to accompany them, sitting in nearby chairs.
She's a twist, he remembers Clint saying, what feels like a hundred years ago now. How right he had been. The woman is all about mind games and power plays, interspersed with huge doses of smothering affection.
"Let's go," Clint begs him, still teary eyed. "Let's go, huh?" He starts snapping his hands open and closed repeatedly in the way he does when he's getting really worked up.
"We will, as soon as Anna comes back out. Shhh, calm yourself down, buddy." Clint's tics drive Anna crazy, and the last thing Tony wants is her angry at him when he's already wound up this much.
Tony has gotten him mostly settled when she waltzes back out a half hour later with a cheerful "All done!" They pile into the car and drive home.
*******
She doesn't say anything about the results, and Tony knows better than to ask. Never in his entire life has he been a patient person, but he's gotten good at pretending to be one. He's much more thoughtful and measured in his approaches now. He reflects bitterly that, yeah, all these months spent cuddling up to a mind fucker while wiping his best friend's ass have really changed him for the better.
He waits until they are going to bed, when she's in her nightgown and brushing out her long black hair in front of the mirror. "Can you tell me what the doctor said about Clint?" It's all about the phrasing. Asking in such a way that doesn't show how desperate he is.
She knows, anyway. Anna puts down the brush with a sigh. "You remember how he was before? How violent?"
That's not the way Tony remembers Clint Barton at all. "Yes."
"Well, his treatment had to be a little more radical than usual, because he was so sick. But the scans show that he's all healed up now, and that's good."
He waits.
"Dr. Weaver thinks he can still improve, get a quite a bit better than he is now. But he's not going to ever be able to live by himself." She bites her lip and looks almost regretful. "Do you understand what I mean?"
Oh yeah, Tony understands perfectly, having spent the last six months day in and day out with Clint, understands probably better than either she or the doctor does. Still, it hurts to hear it put so definitively, and everything seems too loud and bright and far away as he manages to choke out, "That's okay. He lives here with us."
"That's right," she says happily. "We're a family."
*******
Time ticks by, and he doesn't think as much about leaving. That idea seems so remote now, an impossible dream. The days are long and hazy with monotony.
He gets up, kisses Anna, makes everyone breakfast. He and Clint wave goodbye to her and she goes about her business, sometimes tooling around visiting parishioners, sometimes leaving to do whatever it is she does outside of town. Tony has no idea what she gets up to.
He spends the day prodding Clint through physical therapy exercises and working with him on relearning everything from toothbrushing to writing his name. He cleans up around the house and makes lunch. Tony doesn't give a damn about food anymore, and Clint needs something easy. They eat a lot of macaroni and cheese, endless bowls of spaghetti. Tony wishes there was a television or computer so he could stare at something and not think for awhile. Instead he reads and rereads books and helps Clint struggle through the easiest selections from the town library's suspiciously well-stocked remedial section.
On church days--and there are far too many of those littered throughout the week for his taste--Tony wrangles Clint into a button down shirt and a tie, because Anna wants her family to look nice. The word turns Tony's stomach whenever she says it. He and Clint sit in the front row with their ties and their smiles and listen to their tormentor stand in the pulpit and drone on about God, science, progress, and togetherness.
Tony imagines her with her eyes torn out, with a Glasgow smile, with her head wrenched around backwards. He thinks about how he'd like to cut her legs off at the knee and watch her try to crawl away as he follows behind.
"Let us go forth," Anna says at the end of the service, "and do great things with love, together."
"Amen," Tony says solemnly.
*******
He's much stronger now, but Tony still has to help Clint in the shower--he's fallen in there more than once and also does a crappy job of rinsing the shampoo out of his hair--and one day puts his finger to a star shaped scar on Clint's upper chest. "You remember how you got this?" he asks.
Clint cranes his neck awkwardly to see it. "I....fell down?" he guesses.
"Yeah, you fell down right onto a bullet." Tony rolls his eyes. "No, someone shot you there, before I ever met you. Back when you were a badass."
"Oh." Clint looks disturbed, touches the scar with his own clumsy fingers. "I'm sorry," he says, and Tony winces because he knows Clint doesn't even mean to apologize, that it's just become his go-to answer when he doesn't know the right thing to say. "I guess that...hurt?" he adds, turning it into a question.
"I'm sure it did." Tony turns off the water with a weary sigh and offers a steadying hand while Clint steps out.
"It's okay," Clint tells him with a smile. "It doesn't hurt anymore."
*******
Sometimes Anna has people bring things to the house that they need fixed. Microwaves. Televisions. Lawn mowers. Everyone is pleased and grateful for his help, and no one ever asks why their pastor's partner never leaves the house beyond going to church. He figures that their lack of questioning is what led them to end up somewhere like Haven in the first place, what keeps them there.
No one ever brings a phone or a computer for him to look at, and that's either by some amazing town-wide luck, or by her design.
Tony draws pictures sometimes. Clint works on writing a shaky alphabet with one hand and weakly snapping his fingers repeatedly with the other. Tony sits beside him and draws pictures of Anna on fire, Anna hit by a car, Anna crushed dead under Thor's hammer.
One day he writes a hymn, throws in every trite platitude he has ever heard, makes up a few of his own, then adds a sprinkling of religion and woo on top for good measure. He puts it to the tune of "Love in an Elevator" but changes up the tempo so that it is less recognizable. Anna loves it, and whenever they sing it at church services Tony has to bite his cheek to keep from laughing.
He doesn't search the skies for quinjets anymore.
*******
Anna tells him that one of the scientists' children, a teenager, had been cured earlier that afternoon.
"Oh," he says. "Wow."
"It's good that he's so young," she says. "He'll recover faster and better than Sunshine, and have a long, happy life to look forward to."
Tony hopes he never runs into that kid and has to see him looking dead eyed and broken the way Clint had, but between town events and church three times a week he knows that he probably will.
*******
"It's a new time, for a new start...with the...right way..." Clint trails off.
"To a..." Tony prompts.
"To...for a...heart." Clint already knows he's gotten it wrong, and that makes him stumble over the words even more.
Anna slams her book onto the table, making them jump. She has been pissed about something all day; Tony has no idea what. It's nice to see Anna's true face come out every once in awhile, to remind him who he is really dealing with. He prefers her this way--au natural.
"How can you not know it yet?" she screeches. "We sing that song at Every. Single. Service. How can you not know it by now, you stupid shit?"
"I'm sorry," he pleads. "I'm sorry, Anna."
"You can take your I'm sorrys and shove them up your--" She sees his hand start to tic and her eyes bulge. "CLINT! If you start up that goddamned twitching again I'm going to lose my fucking mind!"
That ship has long since sailed, Tony thinks grimly and grabs Clint by the arm and pulls him toward the back door. "I'll take him out, Anna. We'll go sit outside for awhile."
They sit on the back porch swing and Tony rocks them back and forth while Clint wrings his hands and looks miserable.
"It'll be okay, buddy," Tony tells him. And it will be. By the time they go inside again Anna's anger will have burned off and she'll be back to her syrupy self. She won't ever apologize, but she'll fawn all over Clint the rest of the day and he'll be relieved and grateful.
Crazy bitch, Tony seethes silently. I hate you, you mean, crazy bitch.
He would love nothing better than to storm back into the house and stab her to death, and would do it in a heartbeat if he wouldn't be lobotomized by her fucking cult two minutes later. He would risk everything and try to escape, if not for Clint. But Clint can barely walk a straight line through their backyard, much less make an escape attempt through the mountains, and Tony can't leave him behind, especially when he has already suffered so much.
Clint is Anna's hostage to fortune, her perfect trump card.
He decides if the team ever does show up to rescue them, he'll let Natasha take care of her. She would probably insist on it, anyway, after she sees what's been done to her partner. Anna versus the Black Widow--now that is something he would really enjoy seeing. Tony smiles and lets the fantasy play out in his head while he swings them back and forth, back and forth.
*******
He misses real conversations. He wants to talk about things that are not God's Chosen, not Anna, is not God's Plan or The Great Work. The people around town are vapid and cheerful, and don't talk to him much outside of church events, probably by Anna's direction. He can talk to Clint, and does, all the time, but that isn't particularly stimulating. He feels like they have more of a parent/child relationship now instead of the evenly yoked friendship they used to share.
He misses music. He misses playing music so loudly that he can feel the drumbeat in his bones. He'd give his eyeteeth to hear some jazz, some rock and roll--he'd gladly listen to even the shittiest of pop songs if it meant hearing something different.
He misses building, creating. He misses exchanging ideas back and forth with Bruce, or even with JARVIS. He feels like he's losing his intelligence, his wit. He dreams of all the things he always planned to build when he "had time". Now he has endless time, and nothing to create.
He misses Pepper.
Sometimes, having sex with Anna, his mind tries to go to her, to picture her instead, but it seems even more wrong, to bring an image of Pepper into that scenario. Instead he fantasizes about actresses, models, old flings, any pornographic image he has ever seen.
He thinks if they ever get out of here Pepper might forgive him. He hopes that she would. But he's afraid she might also hate him for what he's done, what he's had to do to keep himself from being cured and to keep Clint safe. Afraid she might question if he sometimes enjoyed it.
*******
Anna bakes a cake for Tony's birthday. It is chocolate and actually pretty good.
There are presents, and he is looking forward to the prospect of there being anything new added to this house that he is stuck in. She gives him a book of photographs of famous paintings, and seeing familiar images after so long in an artistic desert is a balm to a wound he had been unaware even existed. His gratitude is genuine, and she is radiant, happy because he is.
The good feeling doesn't last, because Clint's gift to him is a drawing that either she or one of her cronies has helped him make, and a card signed in uneven, childish letters. It is a brutal reminder not only of how his friend has been diminished from the agile fighter he had once been, but also that it was pretty Anna that made him this way. His clumsy drawing is a harsh contrast to the elegant art in the book, and Tony isn't sure if it is the most obtuse gesture Anna has ever coordinated or the cruelest. Knowing her, it is almost certainly the latter.
"What a nice picture, Clint," he makes himself say. "I just love it."
*******
He and Clint lay side by side on their stomachs on the floor of the living room, the art book open in front of them.
"This one is called 'The Kiss'" Tony points to the words beneath the painting. "The....Kiss. See here, where it says the name?"
"It's so pretty."
"And this one is 'Starry Night'," Tony tells him. "Do you remember seeing it before? Everyone has seen this one. Look, there's the moon." He taps the page.
"That's pretty, too."
He turns to the next painting. "This is "Girl with a Pearl Earring.' Look, there's her stupid earring." He sighs.
"That's pretty." Tony frowns a little in frustration and Clint, wanting to please him, adds, "That girl looks like Anna."
She doesn't, at all. Tony turns the page.
*******
Anna tells him to try out the men's group at the church, thinks he needs a social outlet besides their family. Tony could not give two shits about any of the guys at church, but he is sick to death of Anna, and could use a break from Clint as well. Things are a lot better since Clint has grown more capable of taking care of himself physically, but his general neediness and constant anxiety are wearing Tony right the hell out.
The men's group spends most of their meeting time doing landscaping on the church grounds, which, in retrospect, Tony should have totally seen coming. Still it is a treat to be anywhere that is not their house, though he has no doubts that several of these men have been tasked with keeping an eye on him. When they are done working and hanging out at the picnic tables afterwards, enjoying their water--it's always water for God's Chosen--some of the men get to talking. Tony picks up a few things, like how Anna's grandfather had started the whole movement, and how many of the families have been there since the beginning.
"And some are welcome additions, like you and Clint," a guy named Patrick says. "Everyone was so happy when you two moved in with Pastor Ford. I know you and Pastor are sweethearts, and he's your...brother?" No one can ever quite seem to figure out how Clint relates to Tony and Anna, and her strangely maternal attitude toward him confuses things further.
"No, he's a friend. We used to work together."
"He must've been really troubled, to need treatment before anyone could even meet him," one of the others says. "Kind of like Patrick's little lady." They all laugh knowingly, Patrick a little ruefully.
Tony looks up in surprise. "Wait, what? Your...wife? Your wife got cured?"
"Yeah," Patrick says casually. "She was always really unhappy, especially after our oldest was born. But after she got better we've had nothing but good years. She's been really sweet, and easy to be around. We've had two more kids since, and she didn't have any problems with them."
Tony thinks of Pepper, so smart, efficient, and wonderfully argumentative, and tries to imagine subjecting her to the cure. Tries to imagine getting her pregnant afterward, and leaving her with an infant if she was as confused as Clint seems to be most days.
He wishes he were Bruce Banner, wishes he could Hulk out and kill these bastards that speak so casually of such horrible things, laughing them off. These men are some of the world's brightest thinkers, and they choose to live in a crappy commune and take direction from a raving madwoman.
The next time the men's group meets Tony tells Anna he prefers to be at home instead, and she doesn't ask again.
*******
"Come on, buddy, let's do some work, alright?"
"Okay," he says agreeably. He looks a little nervous, because sometimes the questions Tony asks are hard, but he's getting better at remembering the things Tony wants him to. Most of the time, anyway.
Tony grabs his hand and pats it reassuringly. "You can do it. We'll just do names today. Ready? Okay, what is Captain America's real name?"
"Steve." Clint smiles, glad the easiest one is first.
"The Hulk?"
"Br-ruce." He stumbles a little, but it's good enough.
"Our Norse-god-wannabe alien bro?"
"Thor," Clint says determinedly, but his smile disappears, because now all the easy names are gone.
Tony knows what he's thinking and squeezes his hand. "Black Widow?"
"Na-Natsh...Sh-sh-sh" Her name is difficult for him; too many syllables and he gets tripped up by the t and sh being so close together. He bites his lip in frustration, hard enough to draw blood. Tony sighs and wipes it away with a tissue from his pocket.
"No big deal," he says mildly, though he actually feels like screaming. "Na-ta-sha. Split it up that way. Keep practicing; you need to be able to say it, or she's gonna be pissed when she comes and you can't greet her properly."
"Her name is so long. I bet she would like a shorter name."
"You used to call her Nat, sometimes," Tony tells him. Clint was the only one that could ever get away with nicknaming the Black Widow.
Clint makes a surprised noise. "She had...red hair," he says suddenly, then looks up fearfully when Tony's grip on his fingers turns bone-crushing.
"Yes! And, she has red hair. She still out there, still around. You remembered her a little, huh? That's great." Tony relaxes his grip and Clint pulls his hand away quickly. "We're going to see her again, you know. We'll see them all again, and be together like we were before."
"I don't remember them," Clint says fretfully and starts snapping his hands open and closed, holding them under the table, hoping Tony won't see. "And they might not like me anymore."
"They're your best friends. You're still Clint Barton. They'll still like you even if you're a little different."
Clint looks doubtful. "I don't think they will. You don't."
"Of course I do, buddy," Tony says tiredly. "Of course I do."
*******
They've been here a year now.