A new normal was established. Steve was disappearing - that one wasn't new. He was definitely doing worse that usual, though; sometimes Clint felt sorry for the kid.
Other than that, things changed.
Banner and Stark took to healing their captive every other day, with occasinal few-days breaks for when the patient was taking it particularly badly.
Banner took to taking him out and bringing him back every time - always Banner, never Stark.
Stark took to avoiding the man he owned with admirable consistency, while also staying in his proximity with determination worthy of a man with a target.
Tasha took to splitting her time between staying with their guest and staying in one or more of her hiding spots around the city, over-the-woods roof only one of them.
Steve took to going to libraries and studiously avoiding Shield archives. He installed privacy tools on his previously-abandoned computer - Clint discreetly turned the eye of a certain spyware away from that - and generally took to being less well than usual in more ways than one.
Clint took to watching them all.
He spent his days in the common room now, eyes on the elevator door well-visible from the kitchen table, sipping coffees he drew smily faces on and doing crossword puzzles that may or may not be in 20 years old Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles magazines. We all have quirks.
With one half-a-sentence about socialisation, man, you know? at the precisely right time, Tony decided that his captive should be taken for a meal with everyone after each doctor's visit, and then roped their little Captain into attending.
"Think Cap will join in?"
"Who knows. Capsickle isn't doing great lately."
"Eh, I'm thinking he might. Duty, right? Taking care of the team, taking care of a wounded soldier. All his things. Not sure when I'll see him and have an opportunity to invite him, though."
Cap joined in.
Even Natasha joined, which he was actually a little proud of. The look she gave him told him immediately that she knew exactly what he was doing, but Clint wasn't trying to fool her. Just to get her to go along with it anyway. Looks were far less important than results when you didn't have to worry about the other person stabbing you.
Which with Natasha Clint didn't, most of the time.
The whole operation failed spectacularly two-thirds of the time, with their captive too exhausted to sit or stand, or their captive pale and swaying on his feet, or Banner pale and swaying on his feet, Stark looking like he wanted to puke, Stark puking on three memorable occasions, Tasha and Captain closed-off in remarkably similar fashion and captive refusing to eat alltogether.
(He would bet his right arm that Natasha was bringing him meals every night, so there was that).
He always had someone to observe, though. That was something.
Part 27 - Clint
A new normal was established. Steve was disappearing - that one wasn't new. He was definitely doing worse that usual, though; sometimes Clint felt sorry for the kid.
Other than that, things changed.
Banner and Stark took to healing their captive every other day, with occasinal few-days breaks for when the patient was taking it particularly badly.
Banner took to taking him out and bringing him back every time - always Banner, never Stark.
Stark took to avoiding the man he owned with admirable consistency, while also staying in his proximity with determination worthy of a man with a target.
Tasha took to splitting her time between staying with their guest and staying in one or more of her hiding spots around the city, over-the-woods roof only one of them.
Steve took to going to libraries and studiously avoiding Shield archives. He installed privacy tools on his previously-abandoned computer - Clint discreetly turned the eye of a certain spyware away from that - and generally took to being less well than usual in more ways than one.
Clint took to watching them all.
He spent his days in the common room now, eyes on the elevator door well-visible from the kitchen table, sipping coffees he drew smily faces on and doing crossword puzzles that may or may not be in 20 years old Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles magazines. We all have quirks.
With one half-a-sentence about socialisation, man, you know? at the precisely right time, Tony decided that his captive should be taken for a meal with everyone after each doctor's visit, and then roped their little Captain into attending.
"Think Cap will join in?"
"Who knows. Capsickle isn't doing great lately."
"Eh, I'm thinking he might. Duty, right? Taking care of the team, taking care of a wounded soldier. All his things. Not sure when I'll see him and have an opportunity to invite him, though."
Cap joined in.
Even Natasha joined, which he was actually a little proud of. The look she gave him told him immediately that she knew exactly what he was doing, but Clint wasn't trying to fool her. Just to get her to go along with it anyway. Looks were far less important than results when you didn't have to worry about the other person stabbing you.
Which with Natasha Clint didn't, most of the time.
The whole operation failed spectacularly two-thirds of the time, with their captive too exhausted to sit or stand, or their captive pale and swaying on his feet, or Banner pale and swaying on his feet, Stark looking like he wanted to puke, Stark puking on three memorable occasions, Tasha and Captain closed-off in remarkably similar fashion and captive refusing to eat alltogether.
(He would bet his right arm that Natasha was bringing him meals every night, so there was that).
He always had someone to observe, though. That was something.