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Damaged Bodies, Growing Lives, Building Families	By : StarLightMassacre Category: Marvel Verse Movies > Avengers, The Views: 21068 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Harry Potter, Avengers or the Marvel universe; all rights go to J. K. Rowling, Marvel and Stan Lee. I make no money for this piece of fictional writing and never will.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
A/N: The warning for the violence content has gone up for this chapter, please be aware that the dub-con warning is also for this chapter. There is one scene of dub-con only.

Last Time

Everyone he had once known were dead, all of his friends and family, everyone he would have even considered telling of his move to America was dead and he was alone in a world that had never felt right to him. He hadn’t made friends at work, he hadn’t made friends outside of work, not even his neighbours knew him past sight. No one would miss him and that thought clenched his gut. No one would be looking for him. He swallowed hard, he couldn’t help it, he hoped that those watching him thought that he was swallowing another mouthful of blood, and not swallowing down all of his hope and despair.

Chapter Two – Rescue Attempt

Nick Fury was determined to see this through to the end. He wanted Agent Potter back in this building as soon as possible. He had checked with the medical bay, Agent Potter was up to date with his tablets, but as they were only temporary, they would not be as effective and every single weekly tablet he missed, increased his chances of falling into his three monthly heat, which was due in just three weeks according to Potter’s medical file. The nurses were already trying to calculate if three missed tablets would be enough to push his body into a heat, or if the nine tablets he had already taken would protect him for this coming heat period.

Fury hoped that the boy would be protected, it was reasons like these that Omega agents were always to be on time to their med bay appointments for their suppressants, no excuses, and why Omegas were purposefully targeted by enemies and why S.H.I.E.L.D always rushed to get their Omega agents back and out of situations like these; being raped by the enemy was bad enough, being raped while on heat and begging for the people around you to fuck you even though you knew they were the bad guys and that you could potentially get pregnant from said bad guys had to be worse. He had seen it destroy Omega agents over the years and he had sworn that once he became Director of S.H.I.E.L.D that it would never happen again. So far that had been true, until one lazy, moronic senior agent had put a junior Omega agent in life threatening danger for his own selfish, ease of life.

Senior agents were trained to handle such situations of capture, torture and intense interrogation, junior agents weren’t because they didn’t go out to do field work and usually weren’t targeted because they weren’t put in a position to have such knowledge that enemies would find useful. Someone had known Agent Potter had information he wasn’t supposed to, someone in this building had sold the junior agent out.

The several agents he had pulled into this operation, some of his most trusted and specialised agents at that, were debriefed and sent out to subtly probe and search for anything that could lead them to Agent Potter. He had already set Agent Coulson on searching the agency internally for anyone who could have known Agent Potter was privy to information he shouldn’t have.

He slumped behind his desk and rubbed his face, being careful not to dislodge his eye patch. Agent Nasri had been pulled back in for questioning once it was confirmed that Agent Potter was missing, Fury wasn’t ruling the senior agent out of his part in Agent Potter’s kidnapping, the man’s actions had ultimately led to this situation and he wanted to know what that man had been thinking letting his intern, and then his most junior agent, look through, memorise and then write up all final reports of such secretive, sensitive information. He could only hope that Potter had been taken by amateurs and they found him quickly, or they may not want to find Agent Potter by the time they finally managed to track him down.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- X

Harry wasn’t sure how much longer he could outlast this treatment. His sleep deprived mind was confusing everything and muddling thoughts and memories up. He had been exhausted before he had been snatched off the street, but that had been nothing compared to now. Every time he let his eyes slip closed and fell into a brief, restless sleep, he was woken up painfully, and loudly, only a few moments later.

Perhaps they thought they could get something out of him if they deprived him of enough sleep and food, but he was Harry Potter, he would not endanger other people, especially not an entire country, for any reason.

He had been moved from the chair as hitting him repeatedly had not yielded his captors any results. He was now in a different, darker room, hanging from his wrists, his shoulders pulled back and together excruciatingly and his toes were the only thing keeping all the pressure from ripping his arms out of his shoulder joints.

His captors had moved on from hits and smacks to using knives and blades and his chest was a mess of red and inflamed cuts and half scabbed and fresh lines, rivulets of dried blood pulling his skin irritatingly all the way down to his thighs.

He refused to cry, even if he couldn’t always stop the pained gasps as the cold steel bit into his skin and the sensitive nerves underneath. He couldn’t always stop the jerking reaction as he was cut suddenly and unexpectedly and he had only screamed once, when the hard faced, emotionless man had sliced through his very sensitive nipple, which was more painful due to his suppressed preheat period. His nipples always became so very sensitive on his preheat period.

He had no idea how long he had been here, he had no sense of time, no way to tell if it was day or night, it was always dark in this room and the only light he saw was when his captors came to ask him more questions and to torture him again.

He breathed in deeply, even though it hurt his chest and pulled on his scabs, he held the breath before letting it out slowly, everything would be fine as long as he kept breathing. He just needed to keep breathing, everything else didn’t matter.

He had been asked all sorts of questions, from himself, to S.H.I.E.L.D, to the Director Nick Fury, who he had never in his life even seen, to Hydra, to the Avengers. They knew what topics of information he had, but they didn’t know anything about the topics, and they wanted to know, they were using him to get the knowledge, but if they had thought him some weak, snivelling, twenty year old Omega who would piss himself and cave at the first sign of violence, they had the wrong man.

The door opened and Harry tried to make absolutely no sign of fear or awareness that his tormentors were back. He breathed in, held it and then let it out; he focused so hard on repeating the action that the touch to his permanently scarred left hip had him sucking in a deeper, sharper breath.

“Let’s hope you are in a more talkative mood this time, hmmm. Where are the Hydra weapons that S.H.I.E.L.D is in possession of?” A voice further away asked him softly.

It was always this way. A man would question him from the door and when he didn’t answer, the man in front of him would torture him.

“You don’t need to put yourself through this little Omega. Just tell us what we want to know, what we know you know, and all this can end.”

Harry made no move, no sound, he just carried on breathing. When the white hot tip of something was pressed into the skin of his bare leg he couldn’t help the automatic tensing of muscles as his body danced with the pain. He locked his jaw and throat to stop any noise from escaping and when the tip of the white hot something was taken from his skin, the area throbbed with his erratic heartbeat and Harry sucked in a hissed breath through his teeth. Just breathe.

“Perhaps something easier. What is the formula for the super serum used on Mister Steven Rogers, codename Captain America?”

Harry relaxed his body and tried to ignore the throbbing pain in his leg, he sucked in a breath, held it as long as he could before exhaling.

The white hot tip pressed into his inside thigh of the opposite leg, he wasn’t expecting it on the opposite leg and it made a pained sound slip from his throat, which turned into a hysterical scream as it was pressed harder into his flesh, digging in deeper, harder, like the torturer was trying to shove it through his leg to the other side.

The tool was removed but the pain lingered, throbbing and searing and he hopped in his restrains, his bare toes curling hard into the concrete floor as his knees threatened to give out on him.

“Come now, surely you don’t want this treatment to last? It’s only going to get worse. Perhaps now you want to tell us your name?”

“Charlie.” Harry croaked through his parched, dry throat.

The tool was instantly pressed into his stomach and he howled. He couldn’t help but scream as his knees collapsed on him and the jerk on his shoulders rolled his eyes back into his head.

“Now now, do try not to lie to us little Omega. Koli always knows when people are lying to him.”

Harry quivered in his restraints and wished he could just pass out. He started breathing again, in and out, it was easy enough to do and simple for his dilapidating mind to remember, it was one of the most primal, instinctual actions of the body, everything would be fine if he just kept breathing.

“We are running out of patience with you, little Omega.”

Harry ignored the man and carried on breathing slowly and as evenly as he could. The white hot tool pressed into his side and his body wrenched under its touch, but Harry didn’t make a sound, even as his head fell forward until his chin hit his abused chest. He sucked in deeper breaths and remembered his times under the Cruciatus Curse. This pain was nothing compared to the curse and that knowledge helped in some small way as the tool was removed from his skin once again.

“Where is the undercover S.H.I.E.L.D base watching the shipment of nuclear armaments located?”

It would have been so easy to just open his mouth and tell them. All he had to do was tell them that the undercover base was so close to the armaments warehouse that the S.H.I.E.L.D agents watching from the inside could see into the armaments building and all his pain would go away, but it wouldn’t. He was already hurt, already in agony and if he told them then people were going to die, the agents assigned to the undercover base would all die and he knew every single one of their names, even if he didn’t know them by face. He couldn’t let all of those people die just because of him, it wasn’t a fair trade.

The white hot tool was pressed and held tightly to his front shoulder and Harry’s head snapped to the left away from the pain and he gritted his teeth against it. He could do this. He couldn’t let other people die just to save himself some pain. He would never be able to live with himself, wouldn’t be able to look at himself in the mirror, if he caved in and told them where the undercover base was and allowed twenty-seven other people to die in his place he would never be able to look himself in the eye ever again, he would be so ashamed, he’d feel vile and disgusted with himself for allowing those twenty-seven people to die just so that he could live. He couldn’t do it. He continued to breathe.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

They couldn’t find a trace of him. It had been two weeks and they couldn’t find the people who had taken Agent Potter. Phil felt guilty, he couldn’t help it, he just did. Agent Potter had been sat right opposite him the morning he had been taken. He had seen up close how tired and unwell the young man had looked.

He had seen on the security cameras as he was looking into why a junior agent would still be in the building after hours that Agent Potter was always very tired. In the short week that he had been observing the twenty year old, Agent Potter had had increasingly late nights as the due date for the final report came closer and he observed that the young man often and regularly forgot to eat anything, on the rare times he brought sandwiches with him, he took a few bites out of it before forgetting all about it, other times he worked right through breakfast, lunch and dinner with no snacks, the only thing that passed through his lips were uncountable cups of coffee and occasionally the end of his pen. How no one noticed was unfathomable. How he hadn’t noticed sooner was weighing very heavily on his already burdened mind.

Director Fury had called in the Avengers; it was at the point where they couldn’t not call them in as Agent Potter had had inside information on every single one of them and as the Avengers team as a whole. They were in danger as well if the information S.H.I.E.L.D held on all of them got into the wrong hands.

“So why are we here?” Stark asked lazily, lounging in his chair, hands behind his head.

“It could be an emergency Tony.” Steve coached disapprovingly.

“It is an emergency.” Fury bit out, he had been getting increasingly bad tempered as each day passed and yielded no results.

“Where is the emergency? We didn’t see any invading aliens or mass destruction as we made our way here.”

“Not that sort of emergency. One of our junior agents was compromised by a superior agent, who handed said agent, who is only twenty years old, top secret, very delicate information, including topics on S.H.I.E.L.D, covert operations, Hydra, and the Avengers, including all of your personal information and what makes you part of the Avengers team, including, but not limited to, the schematics for the Ironman suit and the arc reactor, the super serum for Captain America, the radiation treatment that made the Hulk and information on Asgard and Asgardians along with their form of transport with the Bi-frost.”

“And now this junior agent has run off with all of this information?” Tony demanded.

“No. This junior agent has been snatched off the street before we could get them into S.H.I.E.L.D protection, which was going to include Coulson and Barton along with two others.”

Clint Barton, codename Hawkeye, sat up straighter at hearing that and listened closer as his mind was now interested in the person who would have been on his detail.

“Right, I know there’s something else other than what you’re saying.”

“This agent happens to be an Omega with a potential heat period in approximately one week from today.”

“Isn’t it mandatory for all S.H.I.E.L.D Omegas to have the injection?” Natasha asked curiously.

“Unfortunately a near fatal allergy to Tarcolite Ormeloxirone prevents this agent from being able to have the injected suppressant.”

“That only leaves the temporary tablets.” Tony said, his face pulled in thought. “Even the oral liquid uses Tarcolite Ormeloxirone as the active ingredient. Omegas on the tablets have to take them at the same time every single week, one missed pill could ruin over two months of carefully taken tablets. Hell, one late tablet could ruin over two months of taking them.”

“I know.” Fury almost snarled, his hands balled into fists.

“So a twenty year old Omega who is going to go onto a heat period in a week has the information that could destroy this country, take the entire Avengers team down and ruin S.H.I.E.L.D? We’re doomed.” Tony declared simply.

“That twenty year old Omega has been missing for over two weeks.” Phil cut in sharply, unable to help himself. “We have still to receive any whisper that anyone knows what was in those files and all our enemies have been quiet.”

“They’ve been missing for two weeks?” Bruce asked horrified. Omegas were not built to withstand two weeks of violence, mistreatment and, at an educated guess, torture.

“Two weeks and three days.”

“So the Omega has missed two pills and is going to miss a third?” Tony questioned softly. “That heat isn’t going to be potential, it’ll be a certainty. One late pill has thrown Omegas into heat before now.”

“There have been recorded cases of Omegas missing four tablets and not having a heat period.” Fury countered, wishing fervently that Agent Potter was one of the latter cases.

“Those are usually older Omegas who are coming to the end of their breeding cycles anyway.” Tony argued. “We’ve got to find this kid and fast, preferably before their heat hits. I’m not going to fuck any Omega and have my ass sued when they cry rape as I was trying to rescue them from enemies.”

“If the people who have the Omega want the information badly, there may not be anything to be rescued.”

“Thank you for that addition Agent Romanoff.” Fury bared his teeth. “Our latest Intel puts a shoe that Agent Potter was wearing the same morning of the kidnapping in the middle of nowhere, our Agents believe that he could still be in a hundred mile radius.”

“Are you sure it’s his?” Clint couldn’t help asking, even if his handler, Phil, gave him a stern look. He stumbled slightly over the masculine pronoun.

“Forensics have confirmed that the shoe in question belongs to Agent Potter.”

“Right, who are we looking for here; do we get a description of him?” Tony asked, also picking up on the masculine pronouns. “Or are we supposed to go in blind and save every person we meet?”

Fury turned to the screen behind him and picked up a projector button and pressed it, watching with a heavy heart as a much younger looking, happier and healthier Agent Potter popped up onto the screen.

“Holy fuck. Every Alpha in a thousand mile radius is going to want that when he goes onto heat.” Tony said in admiration of the photo on the screen, ignoring the disapproving looks he was getting with a practiced ease.

“Meet Harry James Potter, twenty years old and one of S.H.I.E.L.D’s most junior agents. He was an intern last year for a long standing senior agent, who had retired from field work to supervise the department that Agent Potter joined eighteen months ago.”

“When did he become an Agent?” Tony asked curiously.

“Nine months ago, his superior noted that he showed high levels of intelligence, a diligence in work ethic and an enthusiasm next to none, said he was wasted as an intern.”

“Would this be the same superior who has now endangered him, us and all of America?”

“That would be the one.” Fury admitted grudgingly.

“Where is this Agent now?” Steve asked calmly, but his blue eyes showed steel.

“Down in interrogation with three Agents who are grilling him for his actions and for any information he might have, we’re not ruling him out of his part in Agent Potter’s kidnap, we want a list of names of people he even mentioned Agent Potter to.”

“Does anyone know he has the information?” Bruce asked softly.

“Not as far as we can tell. Agent Coulson has been subtly inquiring about it over the last two weeks and has found nothing that stands out or points a finger at any one person.”

“I want all the security footage.” Tony stated. “I’ll watch it and see if anything stands out.”

“Agent Coulson and two others have already watched the footage Stark; no one ever went into Agent Potter’s office besides Agent Potter and his superior, Agent Nasri.”

“I want the footage from his office as well, but I’m more interested in the other agents in his department.”

Fury sighed and nodded, letting Stark plug something in to access the security footage, he’d probably only break in and download it all anyway. This way was faster.

He was forced to watch as Stark flitted through days and weeks and months of systematic abuse in the workplace, was forced to watch once again as Agent Potter was overworked, not eating, drinking far too much coffee for a boy of his young age, being shouted at by Nasri several times a day for doing the work he was supposed to be doing himself, either ignored or treated with contempt by his fellow agents when he emerged from his office to refresh his coffee and the several times he pitifully crawled under his desk to sleep for an hour before getting up and starting again on his very heavy workload. It was a disgrace that no one had noticed.

“None of you noticed this going on?” Stark scoffed as his sharp eyes scanned the footage that was being played at double speed.

“I noticed the week before he went missing.” Coulson sighed. “I should have caught it sooner, but Agent Potter hid everything so well. I only clicked on when I was in the building early to debrief several Agents for an early morning raid and I happened to be walking past his office as he was crawling from under his desk. No junior Agent should have such a heavy workload as to keep them in the building overnight. It was odd, so I looked into it.”

“And found a year and a half’s worth of mishandling and exploitation.” Clint said, looking at his handler curiously. He had never seen the man more upset and wondered if there was more than what was being said.

“I was right there. He sat opposite me in the break room just an hour before he went missing. I was watching him as he finished his work, he checked his watch before sliding under his desk with his jacket, I knew he would be tired so I went and got him a coffee as well as some blueberry muffins, he hadn’t eaten anything in at least two days.”

“So as well as being an Omega with a heat approaching, he was also sleep deprived and hungry before he was kidnapped?” Natasha raised a single eyebrow.

“It sounds hopeless, but I want him back in whatever state.” Fury cut in adamantly. “I won’t abandon any of my Agents in this sort of situation.”

“Of course we’ll help.” Steve said. “I’m sure between us we can find him and soon enough to do some damage control too.”

“I really am going to need all the footage if we’re going to do what Capt. says.” Stark murmured as he started downloading all of the footage with just a few typed keys to his personal database.

Fury hoped that they could help find the missing Agent. He hadn’t had a good night’s sleep since Agent Potter went missing; he needed the Agent to be alive and as undamaged as could be realistically expected.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

Harry wanted to die. His body was a mess, his head wasn’t much better and the endless days of no sleep had him acting like some sort of mindless drone. His breathing hitched on every inhale and stuttered out wetly with every exhale, his arms had long since gone numb from being suspended over his head for so long and he couldn’t even feel his fingers anymore. He hung limply in the ropes that held him from a solid metal loop screwed into the ceiling.

His one leg jumped convulsively out of his control. The burns that now covered most of that leg had affected his nerves; he could only hope it wasn’t permanent damage as his knee jerked, again completely out of his control.

He let his eyes slip open, he had long since gotten used to the almost pitch blackness of the room and he could see vague shapes and outlines in the dark, he could see he was standing on his abused toes still, how was anyone’s guess, but likely had something to do with sheer stubbornness. He could see how his one ankle was twisted wrong, how his foot now stood sideways from his body from where it had been broken early on, when he had kicked his abuser in anger for putting the white hot tool he used to burn him so very close to his groin.

He took comfort from the small fact that he hadn’t been castrated yet, partially or otherwise and that he still had all of his limbs and digits, even if he did have a broken ankle, even though he couldn’t feel his bloodless fingers, he knew he still had them along with all ten of his toes and all thirty-two of his teeth. He hoped that this lasted.

His vocal tormentor had lamented the fact that they might have to start breaking bone soon enough if he didn’t start answering his questions, because he wasn’t responding to any ‘traditional’ torture methods, like blades and burns. Harry wondered idly how much breaking bones hurt compared to having them removed and then regrown in a twenty-four hour time period.

His mind flitted from this thought to thoughts of Ron, which led to Hermione and the other Weasleys, who had given their lives for him to make the world a better place for people they didn’t know and probably weren’t half as grateful enough for what had been sacrificed. So many lives, so many of his loved ones dead. All dead. Why couldn’t he join them? What was tying him to life, what was keeping him in this world, what did he have to live for now?

His head flopped to the side as his body tried to shut down once again to get some rest, but a moment later a sound like an air horn jerked him painfully back into awareness, they hadn’t once stopped watching him, he hadn’t once been able to catch just a minute of sleep.

He could feel his heart beating several times faster than normal, could almost feel his stress and blood pressure rise each day as his paranoid mind produced hallucinations so real that he sometimes talked to them and envisioned them talking back to him.

His stomach, now completely concave, his skin clinging to his ribs like a Clingfilm covering, had long since stopped grumbling in hunger. His captors hadn’t given him anything to eat since he had been taken; they only allowed him sips of water through a bendy straw, telling him that if he didn’t drink it then they would force him to. Harry allowed them this small control, knowing that if they shoved a tube down his throat then he would lose any and all control of how much, and exactly what, he drank.

His leg jerked again and a spasm of something racked his whole body, it was likely pain from his sudden movement, but his entire body was in so much agony that he had become so used to after so long that he just didn’t register it as pain any longer.

His head dropped down onto his chest, his burning, red rimmed eyes closing, just for a moment, his body slumping in his restraints and then he was jumping again as the loud blast of noise woke him, jolting him into making more sudden movements, which racked his body with a full body quiver.

He swallowed around his dry tongue, his mouth long since dried and rubbery; they hadn’t let him have a drink today. Maybe this was some new form of torture, or maybe they had gotten so fed up of his continued silence that they were just going to watch him die from dehydration instead.

The door creaked open on its rusty hinges and Harry barely heard it over the conversation he was having internally with himself, or maybe he was speaking aloud, he didn’t know anymore.

“You amaze me little Omega.” His tormentor spoke softly from the door. “Before you, I would have said adamantly that no Omega could withstand such treatment for longer than a few days, but you are almost on your third week in our expert care and you have not told us a thing besides your babbled daydreams and what I suspect are hallucination influenced conversations, I would be impressed if we did not need the information you hold so desperately. Our bosses are not best pleased with us and our lack of results, so let’s step it up a bit shall we?”

Harry did nothing but suck in a deep breath, trying to ignore his heart, which beat uncontrollably fast. His mind flitting back to the broken bones conversation and the one before that when his tormentor had told him that he was going to let every man in this compound rape him as soon as his heat hit. If he really had been here for almost three weeks then they wouldn’t have long to wait.

The knife was a sudden blow into the once meaty, but now shrunken flesh of his side, just above his hipbone. He jerked in his restraints, more from surprise than at the pain, which had become almost familiar to him than the memory of the back of his hand, with the neat, cursive letters that formed out the sentence ‘I must not tell lies’, a souvenir from Delores Umbridge. What right did that woman have to still be alive when there were people, so much better, so much kinder and so much brighter than her all dead?

“So it is true, you are becoming desensitised to pain. Perhaps something that your body can’t ignore then.”

‘Please don’t take my toes.’ Harry thought right before he screamed, roughly and tiredly, as something small and grainy, like sand, was rubbed harshly over the fresh knife wound.

“That’s better, it’s been a while since we last heard you scream, I had missed that sound, I’m very happy to have it back. Now, how does Anthony Stark, codename Ironman, make that curious arc reactor in his chest work?”

“Magic.” Harry answered groggily.

Another knife wound, followed by the grainy substance had Harry howling as his head thrashed from side to side.

“We have been through all of this before little Omega, just tell us what we want to know and all of this will end!”

This was the first time Harry had heard his tormentor raise his voice and he wondered what was different to all the times before. What had changed to put that hint of stress in his captor’s voice, the slight note of rising panic, what was different?

A slice to his already cut and scabbed chest and the grainy substance being rubbed all over, getting into half healed cuts as well as the fresh ones and into the open burn wounds had him screaming his throat hoarse and dancing in agony, his toes curling into the concrete floor.

“You’re not getting out of here alive any other way; why not tell us what we want you to and save yourself the pain?”

Harry breathed raggedly, fighting back the urge to sob or to scream again, but he didn’t answer. Another slice, to his leg this time before the sandy granules were scrubbed into his skin and into his open cuts and burns and he screamed again.

“What is your name?”

His torturer cut his belly in a long line, almost from hipbone to hipbone before getting a fistful of whatever he was using before using the heel of his hand to force the stuff into the long wound, forcing it into the cut over and over and Harry thrashed in his restraints, forcing his torturer to wrap an arm around his thighs to keep him still as he rubbed more sandy stuff into his belly wound.

“Harry! Harry, Harry, Harry!” He screamed desperately and a tad hysterically as his body clenched, writhed and then tried to curl in on itself.

The hands slipped from around him and he hung limply, sobbing onto himself as his chin rested on his chest.

“Hmm, Harry. A lovely name for a little Omega. Who knew that finely ground rock salt would have had such an effect on you? It seems we have found your weakness after all. Give him a reward Koli.”

Harry fully expected more salt, but what he got was a straw shoved into his mouth. He cracked his eyes open to see the clear fluid. He took a tiny sip and when the liquid had no taste, he suckled greedily. Really, even if it was poison, what did he care anymore? But he had had caution drilled into him and it wasn’t reassuring to know that the strongest truth potion, Veritaserum, was colourless, odourless and looked very much like water. Though where Muggles would get such a heavily controlled potion from in the first place was anyone’s guess.

“Now that we have made a break through Harry, perhaps you are in a talking mood today.”

“Please let me sleep.” Harry begged, he thought it had been internally, but apparently it hadn’t been.

“Well, you are in a talking mood! Brilliant, perhaps today can go that much smoother. You can sleep after you have answered all of my questions Harry, I promise.”

Harry sobbed. He didn’t want more salt, now that he had caved once, they would carry on using it and he cursed his idiocy and his weakness, he shouldn’t have caved in. He wasn’t going to talk, not about anything that put anyone other than himself in danger, they could have his name, he was going to die anyway, but by giving them that small inch, they now expected to seize a mile from him and he wouldn’t let it happen.

“Now Harry, where is the undercover S.H.I.E.L.D base located?”

It always came back to that one question. That one question was asked more than any other, it was that question that they wanted answered more than any other, even if they did want all of them answered at some point, they wanted that one first. Probably why they had snatched him first and foremost, before they realised he had more information on things that he shouldn’t have. He was going to give his supervisor a right piece of his mind if he ever got out of here. He was going to curse the lazy fucker into a puddle of goo as soon as he was recovered and had collected his wand from the safe in his house.

“Oh Harry, I’m so disappointed.” His tormentor crooned.

His torturer sliced his chest and rubbed a fistful of salt into the wound harshly and he screamed as the salt caught in his partially healed nipple cut, the sound stronger, louder and healthier now due to his cup of water which had rehydrated his mouth and throat.

Harry sniffed hard and choked out an exhale of air. He couldn’t last much longer, his mind was playing tricks on him, making him see things that weren’t there, his body was crippled, broken, he just wanted to sleep, even if that sleep came in the permanent form of death.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- X

Steve Rogers took the point of the attack, leading his team into the reinforced building in the middle of an abandoned, dilapidated factory, in the arse end of nowhere. He had several S.H.I.E.L.D agents milling around with his team, they had air reinforcements, ground reinforcements a bit further back and Fury on earwigs fitted into all of their ears, he commed his team just to make sure they were working still and after receiving an affirmative from all of them, he signed for them to move into position.

They knew the missing Agent was in the building, their Intel told them that it was the only part of this factory that was even remotely safe to stay in and he had sent Hawkeye to confirm that there were people inside, the nimble, sharp eyed archer was perched on the roof of the building, having climbed up expertly to find a skylight to look through because all of the windows were boarded up.

‘Capt., I can hear screaming inside.’ Clint commed him through the earwig.

Steve wanted to sigh in relief that the young Agent they were here to rescue was even still alive, but he was torn between knowing he was alive and knowing that him screaming likely meant that he was currently being tortured.

‘It’s getting worse; I think they know we’re here.’ Clint said lowly and urgently.

‘Can you smell any pheromones?’ Tony’s voice came over the earwigs.

‘Negative, can’t smell a damn thing only sulphur from the factory behind me, the wind’s blowing too strongly to pick anything else up.’

“That’s good.” Steve remarked. “He might not have gone onto his heat period, he might have been protected.”

‘Just because birdbrain can’t smell him doesn’t mean anything!’ Tony snapped. ‘Sulphur is a very overpowering scent and Potter might be in a controlled room with no windows to leak his scent.’

Steve sighed. He had tried endlessly to try and stop Tony from name calling and teasing the other Avengers, especially Bruce, but he had come to learn that it was all inflected with affection and it was just Tony’s way of being Tony, he had shown countless times how much he cared for them in his own way over the last few years and Steve had learned to put up with it, just like Thor’s eating habits, Natasha’s wounded rhino like snoring and Clint’s very heart wrenching habit of doing stupid, dangerous stunts when bored. He did see himself as a Father to them all, because they made it so easy when they all acted like children, with the exception of Bruce, who was so level headed and controlled that Steve’s heart ached for him.

‘Will you stop your quibbling and get on with it!’ Director Fury’s voice matched his namesake as he snapped at them over the com devices.

Steve slipped around the discarded crate he had hunched behind and moved closer, gesturing to Clint to stay where he was, of course the man never liked staying still, so he had slipped down off of the roof and began scouring for an entrance to use before Steve could so much as open his mouth.

‘Seems like the only entrance is being guarded from the outside as well as the inside.’ Clint informed them ‘The door is on the back of the building, facing away from you and out towards the abandoned factory complex.’

“Where are you Clint? You know I don’t like you being out of my sight.” Steve murmured as he tried to move into a position that allowed him to see Clint, to no avail.

‘I’m fine daddy. I’m going to get back up on the roof and go through a vent, see if I can’t scout around a bit more.’

“I don’t like that idea.” Steve countered.

‘We’re never going to get in otherwise.’ Clint answered softly. ‘I can still hear him screaming Capt. He hasn’t stopped.’

Steve swallowed hard. “Okay, do what you can, we’ll see what we can do from out here, try to draw the guards away before getting inside. We might lose communication when you go into the vents.”

‘I know, but that should only be when I’m in the vents, unless the walls are double thick with steel and concrete. We’ll find out.’

Steve felt his heart clench as he watched a member of his team slip back up onto the roof like liquid, he never got over how easy Clint made climbing things seem, even seemingly impossibly things, but it was when Clint reported his position for the last time, and a few minutes later Steve tried to contact him, only to hear nothing.

“Right, we’ve lost Clint, we need to get those outside guards away from the door so we can get in, though we need to be aware that Clint thinks that there are guards inside the door as well, they might be there to ambush us once we gain entrance.”

Steve received affirmative responses from his team and held his shield tighter, he moved more to his right and slipped around a large piece of factory debris and wondered who would get the guards first, Natasha or Thor.

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Clint Barton slipped as silently as he could through the vents, he couldn’t crouch and move, his footfalls would make too much noise, instead he had to lie on his belly and crawl using just his arms to move himself, keeping his feet elevated so that they wouldn’t scrape across the metal vent, lest he be found.

He had tried to communicate with his team, but he only received static. The screaming was worse from inside the building. Long, ragged, helpless screams that wrenched every single protective, Alpha string in his body. He wanted to rush to Harry and help him, but it would likely get them both killed sooner if he did.

He followed the screams to as close to the source as he could get, looking through each grate as he came across them, so he could scan for threats and so he wouldn’t be seen by anyone below looking up. He came across no one, there was no one in the hallways, they all seemed to be preparing for the Avengers outside of the building, not thinking that one could get inside their secure building.

He stopped at one grate where the screaming came through the loudest and he looked around as much as he could, there was no one. He slipped the grate off quickly and quietly and again checked for people, nothing. He poked his head down and checked more thoroughly and there was again no one near him.

He righted himself before dropping down to the floor where his com immediately burst into life in his ear making him want to rip it out at the sudden assaulting agony of noise. It seemed his teammates were having no luck trying to get in through the only door and Tony was asking for permission to blow a hole in the wall.

“Bad idea Tony, there are gas pipes running along all the inside walls, the entire building will blow.” Clint hissed, putting his back to a wall and looking up and down in case anyone heard him and came running to investigate.

‘Clint! Where are you?’ Steve asked, relief thick in his voice.

If he didn’t know any better, Clint would have thought that the Captain like liked him, but he did know better and he knew that Steve looked out for all of them, but as he was always the scout who came in first and did stupid, dangerous stuff like crawling into a hostile building on his own, Steve was often more worried about him than the others.

“Inside Capt., right where Harry is if the volume of screaming is any indication. If I can get in and get us both back out through the vents I’ll do it, or maybe find a window.” He added as an afterthought as the idea of dragging the small, damaged body of a twenty year old Omega who had undergone over three weeks of continuous torture through those small vents rubbed him the wrong way.

He started moving, feeling exposed and vulnerable where he was and tried to find the room Harry was in, without opening the wrong door, if he did and there were hostiles behind it he was screwed.

‘Can you smell any pheromones?’ Tony asked over the com and Clint would have rolled his eyes if he dared.

“Negative Tony. This place smells like bleach and like too many men living together for too long.”

‘Chinese food, stale sweat and mould then.’ Natasha answered and Clint snorted before he could help himself.

“About right.” He answered as he slipped down the corridor and looked either way, before moving towards the sound of high pitched keening. “I think I’ve found the right room.”

‘Be careful Clint!’ Steve told him with a grunt as he did something that forced him to exhale heavily.

“My guard’s up Captain, promise.”

Clint tried to listen under the screaming and keening, but he couldn’t hear anyone else. He tried the heavy steel door and to his surprise it was unlocked, but it was obvious why when he pushed it open and saw the tiny body suspended from the ceiling, there was no way Harry was getting away from that.

“Holy fuck!” He exclaimed wide eyed, not even breathing as the light from the corridor illuminated the state of the body before him. “Get the medical team set up and waiting. Incredibly heavy, sustained damage, the amount of blood is very worrying, he’s still conscious at the moment; the only obvious broken bone is the right ankle. I’m not getting him out through the vents; I’ll have to find a window.”

‘Do what you have to; just get him out Agent Barton!’ Fury yelled into his ear, the man had become almost manic in the search for the young Agent, taking it heavily and personally that one of his senior Agents was responsible for this boy being here, in this situation.

“Will do, Sir.”

Clint stepped into the room and rushed to Harry, only to stop suddenly as a wave of pheromones hit him full blast along with the cool wave of air conditioning. He had made a grievous error in judgement. Harry wasn’t screaming and keening because he was in pain, he was doing it because he was in heat and no one was taking care of his needs. The industrial air conditioner was sucking the air out of the room and recycling it into cold air to push back into the same room, but it had also been sucking up Harry’s heat pheromones so he couldn’t smell them, it was only when he had stepped into the room, moved closer to Harry and into the path of the air conditioner that he could smell them, but it was too late as he felt his pupils blow wide as his own pheromones leaked out to mingle with Harry’s.

He approached the boy and touched him gently, getting a soft coo back, he picked up Harry’s head gently and looked at him, broken, battered, bleeding and couldn’t remember anyone being so gorgeous when in such a state as those emerald eyes locked onto his, still bright, perhaps a bit too bright as he felt the fever warm cheeks under his palms.

“Please.” Harry begged him softly. “Please.”

“I’ll take care of you.” Clint promised, not even thinking that the Omega meant anything other than taking care of his heat.

Clint touched the naked, painfully aroused body, not even seeing the bruises, the red raw, inflamed cuts and slices or the horrific way the discoloured skin clung to bone. All he saw was an Omega in heat; it was all he smelled and all he heard was the little Omega begging for him.

He moved around the small body and touched his back, slipping a hand down to cup a bum cheek. He didn’t like it like this. He liked to fight for his Omegas, not just take them, but the pheromones were so strong, so overpowering this close up, that he couldn’t move away and instead he popped open the buttons on his trousers, being mindful of the straps that supported his leg muscles and the belt that held the quiver of specialised arrows and the bottom of his backup quiver.

“Please.” Harry repeated again, shifting restlessly in his bonds.

“I know. It’ll be okay. I’ll take care of you.” Clint promised again as he pulled himself out of his trousers and touched himself lightly to ease the build-up of tension, the first joining was always harsh and fast.

Clint lined himself up and pushed into Harry, hating that he couldn’t fight to prove his worth to his little Omega, but promised he’d do so later, to prove that he deserved to mount him.

Harry’s spine bowed back into him, his head coming to rest on his shoulder. Clint wrapped his bare arms around the Omega, resting him against his vest, making sure nothing was digging into him, hating that he wasn’t naked also as he moved within the keening Omega, trying to bend him forward in the illusion of mounting him, but the ropes holding him upright wouldn’t let him move that far so he had to snarl and make do.

Clint’s blood ran hotter as the Omega moaned and panted for him, keening as a hard stroke caught his prostate, his knees shaking as Clint picked up pace and licked at his neck, the strong taste of salt had him pulling his head back and grimacing, before moving back to suck a mark, any mark, onto his Omega, ignoring the horrible taste.

‘Clint, where are you?!’ Someone screamed into his ear. He hated that it was disturbing his mating to an Omega. ‘Clint report!’, ‘Barton, where are you, where is Agent Potter?’, ‘Clint?!’

His orgasm pulled at the edges of his body, his belly filling with a warm, familiar heat and he sucked harder at the Omega’s neck, determined to get a mark on there without biting him. His Omega didn’t need any more wounds; he would mate his little Omega and then take care of his little body.

When his Omega pushed back, however minimally, onto him and keened higher, Clint lost it and he orgasmed hard, he was surprised his knot didn’t form only for as long as it took his mind to come back and for him to realise what the fuck he had done to a torture victim he was supposed to be rescuing. He felt sick.

His knot hadn’t formed because the smaller part of his brain had known that he wasn’t in a safe place, though the bigger part of his brain, which had been with his cock, had snarled at seeing his seed leaking out of the Omega’s body. He wanted to cry at what he had done.

He cleaned the boy up as best as he could, both his own seed and Harry’s as he had orgasmed himself, against his own belly, before he tucked himself back into his trousers and cut the ropes holding Harry up and caught him in a hold over his shoulder. The Alpha in him snarled at the naked body that no one else was allowed to see, but his rational mind knew that he had to get them out of here, right now.

He got out of the room, hoping against hope that Harry’s heat pheromones didn’t kick in again before they escaped, the orgasm should have taken the edge off it for a while, but he hadn’t knotted, so he didn’t know if Harry would accept it as a successful mating or not.

The screaming in his ear for him to report distracted him and he cursed them all, he was getting a headache from them.

“Shut up!” He hissed viciously at them.

‘Clint! Where are you? What happened?’

“Where am I? Where do you think I am?! Where are you?!”

‘We can’t get in, they’ve got explosives rigged to the walls and they keep firing at us.’ Steve told him, his voice thick with stress.

‘Where are you Clint, are you okay?’ Natasha asked, her own voice heavy and breathless.

“Still in the building. The steel room they had Harry in blocked the com device. I’m looking for an exit that won’t kill him. I think everyone who’s in this building is up front with you lot, so carry on doing whatever it is you’re doing.”

‘Are you okay?’ Natasha asked again, refusing to relent.

“No.” He snapped angrily. He had just raped a twenty year old Omega who had been tied to the damned ceiling and had been tortured for over three weeks, he was not alright. He felt ashamed and sick; he’d never be able to look in the mirror at himself ever again.

He ignored all of their pestering for answers, even Fury, who demanded that he report in full. He had snapped back that he’d do it as soon as he wasn’t in imminent danger. That had shut them up for all of two seconds.

‘You’re in imminent danger?’ Steve asked, Clint could almost see his horrified, wide eyes and he felt bad for the lie, right up until a gun fired and he felt a searing pain in his leg.

He turned around to see a large man with a gun out and aimed at him. He looked like he was all muscle and no brains, but he knew how to aim a gun. He had purposefully aimed at his legs to incapacitate him without putting Harry in the line of fire. They wanted him alive still.

‘Barton! Report, now!’

“Shut the fuck up!” He yelled, inching his way back along the wall as the large man loped forward, hesitant to shoot because Harry’s body was laying over his own. His Alpha hated the idea, knew instinctually that he needed to protect his Omega, not put him in the line of fire, but this man was hesitant to shoot Harry, it was their best bet of getting out alive.

He checked over his shoulder quickly, letting his sharp eyes look for other men, possible hazards, or any corners he was backing into. There was a corner coming up, he hoped there was no one around it because he was going to run.

‘Don’t think I won’t fire your ass for this Barton!’

“All due respect Sir, if you don’t shut up I won’t be coming out of here alive, so it won’t matter if I’m fired or not!”

Clint reached behind him, he had made it to the corner and he spun around and ran, thanking god that there was no one around the other side, he heard the heavy foot falls behind him and prayed that he was faster, even with Harry’s dead weight over his shoulder. He had to get them out of here.

Several more shots and two more bursts of pain in his legs and he stumbled. He shouted at himself internally, he couldn’t falter now. Not now that he was so close. He could see a window, boarded up from the outside, but he could also see that it was rigged with explosives; he was not jumping through that. He ran around in a circle, avoiding the fucker behind him, who was likely just following the blood trail he was leaving, until a patch of light from above had him remembering the skylights.

“I’m not getting out.” He said into his com. “I can’t get into the vents and all the windows I’ve come across are rigged with explosives.”

‘Can’t you climb?!’ Steve’s desperate voice sounded strained and thick with emotion.

“Negative. Bastard’s taken out my legs, I can barely stay upright. Our only hope is to get through the skylights, but I can’t climb and Harry’s unconscious now.”

‘Do you know where you are?’ Tony’s voice asked quickly.

“I’ve been running around a lot, but I should be on the East side of the building from the only door.” Clint replied, moving on as he heard the distinctive sound of a gun magazine being reloaded and a bullet being chambered into a gun barrel. He swallowed thickly.

He moved as quickly as he could, slipping around a corner just as a shot fired and a pain burst through his hip. He grunted and stumbled again, cursing the persistent fuck and hoping that he hadn’t called in his location or for back up, it hadn’t looked like he had a talkie on him or a com device, but the guy had pockets, for all Clint knew he had a phone on him and had already called the situation in.

Glass shattering just ahead of him had him running on his protesting legs. He turned a corner and had never been so happy to see Tony in his life.

“Have I told you recently that I love you Tony?” He said in relief as he almost fell into the waiting arms of Ironman, who sent off a jet propulsion as the big ugly with the gun came around the corner.

“Not recently.” Tony replied cockily and Clint could almost hear the smirk that was bound to be on his face in his voice as Tony flew them back out of the skylight, calling in his success and getting everyone to pull back. They needed medical attention, especially Harry, but he’d be fucking damned if he was now hobbled or left with a permanent limp because some fucker had shot up his legs and hip. He’d come back just to make sure the bastard was dead.

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A/N: Well this had a wonderful response for you readers! Thank you so much, it makes me so much happier to write when I know I’m doing it for readers who actually like what I’m doing.

Thank you all for reading, reviewing, alerting, favouriting and C2ing this story! It makes me all warm and happy inside when I get the emails, so thank you!

StarLight Massacre. X
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Damaged Bodies, Growing Lives, Building Families