Hey guys! Long time no write. Over the next two weeks I'm hoping to have time to write the long awaited sequel to Your Lie!

This is simply a teaser to see if anyone is even interested in the continuation of the story. It's been a while and I'm the curious kind.

Chapter One (teaser)

It felt like his mind was covered in heavy layers of blankets. Every time Clint thought he might finally breach the surface of the pile, another thick sheet of wool like fog washed over him to keep him buried.

Clint would rise and fall with the ocean of drugs being pumped into his veins. Just before he would be pulled back down into the dark abyss, Clint would sense something off, gathering snippets of information about the mysterious world around him. Things were adding up, but Clint was never able to hold on long enough to let the fragments of panic to do anything productive.

For example – escaping his current hell.

All together the information Clint had gathered was listed as following: He was tied down onto a bed with padded cuffs encircling his wrists and ankles. An IV was securely fastened to the back of his left hand – pumping all sorts of fun drugs into him to keep him heavily sedated. After a painful attempt to open his eyes the archer had learned the room was bright and white – which brought him to one conclusion.

He was in a hospital.

Not one of SHIELD's.

It didn't smell like SHIELD. It didn't feel safe. Clint knew that someone from his team would be there with him if he were somewhere safe. They would be watching over him and making sure the doctors tie him down. It was a well-known fact that Clint hated to be tied down. No, not just hate, he loathed it.

Vaguely Clint was aware he had been screaming. His throat was raw from over use and the strangled sounds he had been making hung in his mind as he tried once again to open his eyes only to fail miserably with a pathetic groan.

"He's reacting badly to the treatment, Dr. Randle." A female voice said through the grey haze. Whoever she was Clint noted that she didn't sound overly concerned for whoever's health she was talking about – she was simply stating a fact.

"We are nearly there – the bastard will not die now." A somewhat familiar male voice responded. Clint didn't like the voice – it didn't belong to a friend. "I won't give him the mercy."

Fire. It shot through his mind like a bullet – shattering his skull with webs of lava filling in the cracks left in the wake of the impact.

Clint was sure he was screaming again, but the darkness drowned him out and replaced the air in his lungs.

When it was over Clint floated away in the current, the pain and darkness swirling together until he knew nothing else.

I suppose it isn't much of a teaser, more like whump. But it does beg some questions, right?

No promises about fast updates but I am working on completing this section in the near future…anyone excited? ^^