Title: The Right Path

Pairing: Clint Barton/Phil Coulson

Warnings: Some violence, non-graphic reference to torture and some swearing.

Word Count: 28,463

Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers or the Labyrinth and anything you recognise isn't mine.

Authors notes: Written for the 2012 Marvel Big Bang on LJ. This started out as a Labyrinth fusion and it has since twisted beyond recognition. A big thanks to the mods at marvel bang for doing an awesome job, Sullacat for the amazing artwork/fanmix, and to everyone who cheered me on and put up with me going on about this fic.

Special thanks to Hazel_3017 and Archangelraphaelsdaughter for beta reading and making this story the best it possibly could be.

Clint's knuckles tightened on the grip of his bow as he tried to let the steady rhythm of repetition ease the frustration and worry that seemed to have sunk deep into his soul. The range was silent this late at night; the only sounds the heavy thuds of Clint's arrows meeting their targets dead centre.

Nock, draw, release. Nock, draw, release.

Over and over again.

It has been over a month (thirty-eight… no, thirty-nine days) since the worst day of Clint's life. Since the day when the entire world almost ended and he'd helped save it. High on the adrenaline from saving the world, Clint had been completely unprepared for the way Nat had pulled him aside, away from the others, to talk to him.

To tell him that Phil was dead.

He remembered the exact moment and how his stomach had dropped and his vision blurred; the way that he just couldn't seem to draw breath into his body. A sickeningly hollow feeling that Clint had been all too familiar with before he'd joined SHIELD had hit him hard. He'd saved the world, only to find that his own had ended, and wasn't that just unfair?

He didn't remember much between that moment and when Stark called him the next day. He didn't even remember the conversation, but essentially Fury was a lying bastard. And Phil…

Phil was alive.

But it had been thirty-nine days and Clint still hadn't seen him. He'd tried, God knew, he'd tried. He'd ranted and raved at Fury for hours. He'd been listed as Phil's medical proxy for years and while their marriage wasn't common knowledge, Fury had organised Phil's stag night. But Fury had Phil locked down in quarantine so tight that he'd even blocked off the air ducts. Apparently, Fury was a paranoid bastard when dealing with unknown magic and he wasn't willing to risk his assets, marital status and medical proxies be damned. Not even Natasha could get in, and so Clint was stuck on the outside, when all he really wanted was to be in there, curled up next to Phil until he woke up.

And Phil would wake eventually. He had to.

Fury had told Clint that there had been no change, and that while the giant hole in his chest was slowly pulling together, there was still no sign of Phil waking up. There was no way of telling what damage Loki's staff had done to him, or if there would be any magical side effects. They didn't even know if he would still be the same Phil that Clint loved when he woke up. Fury sounded almost apologetic with each update, but Clint didn't really wanted to hear it.

Clint wanted to scream in frustration, but he knew his range time was being monitored in case he decided 'to do something stupid' and he refused to give Fury the satisfaction of seeing him break. Instead, he just nocked his bow, drew the arrow back, and released.

He'd worked himself back into the easy rhythm of repetition when suddenly the air behind him distorted unnaturally, twisting slightly as a figure seemed to shimmer into existence. Clint didn't even hesitate. He'd trained a new arrow at the spot, almost before he'd even turned to look. He blinked as his eyes took in his arrow's new target. There was a woman standing there, tall and confident and entirely too buxom as her breasts all but fell out of her green dress. Clint couldn't help but stare, because really, this woman was gorgeous and she'd just appeared out of nowhere in the middle of his shooting range. She smiled pleasantly and a warm glow seemed to permeate the air around her. Slowly, Clint lowered his bow.

"Who are you?" he asked, frowning at his lowered arm. This was SHIELD, with its government trained spies and super assassins; people shouldn't be able to just appear, even leaving aside the fact that they were currently on a giant aircraft that was thousands of miles above sea level. At least it had been the last time Clint checked. For that matter, shouldn't there be alarms going off by now? This range was supposed to be monitored at all times. The whole situation was making Clint feel uneasy.

"Who I am doesn't matter. I've come here to help you, little hawk," the woman responded, her voice light and musical, and Clint's brow furrowed further as his mind went disturbingly blank. There was something wrong here. Clint knew there was something he should be doing, but he couldn't remember.

"Help me?"

"Well, you and poor Agent Coulson."

Clint couldn't help the way that his body jerked back at the mention of Phil. Who the hell was this woman, and how did she know about him and Phil? It was like shaking off a haze, and Clint brought his bow back up, alert once more. The woman smirked at him, seemingly more amused than threatened by Clint's bow.

"It's quite the tale on Asgard. One prince bringing his supposedly dead little brother back from Midgard in chains. Quite the scandal," she giggled girlishly. "Thor of course commissioned the king's own bards to tell the tale of the great warriors of Midgard. He was very impressed by the your strength and courage, despite your mortality."

Clint said nothing, his jaw clenched tightly. He'd spoken to Thor often since he'd returned to Earth a few weeks ago. The blonde man kept trying to make amends for Loki's actions, but Clint had refused his offer of retribution. He knew better than most that a man should not be held accountable for the acts of his brother.

Instead he'd asked Thor about his home world. Thor had told him tales of his adventures with Sif and the warriors three. Clint had heard about the tournaments of Thor's youth, mighty feasts that lasted for days and what had really been going on in New Mexico. And he'd learnt that while magic itself was a neutral force, many of those that sought to wield it, did so to further their own mischievous or nefarious plans.

"Of course I just had to come see for myself. Such brave soldiers, such tragedy." She sighed dramatically for effect, pushing her hair over her shoulder with a practiced flounce. "I've been watching you, little hawk. You're the most tragic of them all. Well you and Agent Coulson."

"Leave him out of this." Clint didn't know what this was, but whatever it was, he didn't want Phil anywhere near it.

"I'm afraid I can't do that; he has everything to do with this. Such a brave man, it'd be a terrible shame if he never woke up again." The woman paused, taking in Clint's defensive stance with an amused glance. "Don't tell me you thought the damage done by Loki's staff was merely physical."

"What are you talking about?" he growled out, his teeth gritted as he forced himself to keep his weapon trained on the woman and his mind firmly focused on Phil. He had thought Phil would be fine. God, even with all the crazy things that had happened, he hadn't really considered that there was more to Phil's injuries than the physical hole in his chest. Clint had been too busy focusing on how lucky Phil had been that the staff had missed his heart.

"You did!" the woman laughed, and Clint felt his grip loosen. "Poor Agent Coulson, lying all alone in that quarantine bay, an empty husk that will slowly wither and die. He won't wake. He'll never wake. Your pathetic human science may be able to knit together flesh and bone, but it can't mend what's beyond your meagre understanding. No matter how you beg and plead, Phil Coulson will never wake."

Clint's hands shook violently and the bow in his hand clattered to the floor. The woman moved forward and that warm sensation crept over him again. Slowly, she reached out a hand to cup his cheek. Her hand was cold, but his body still leaned into it. She smiled. "Do not worry. I'm here to help you, little hawk."

"How?" He hated the way his voice sounded; pathetic and weak, but he couldn't seem to draw forth his usual sarcasm.

"Loki's staff dislodged Agent Coulson's soul. He's trapped in a place of magic, between this realm and the next."

"Can you bring him back?"

The woman smiled gently, but her eyes were cold as she answered. "It is beyond my power to return his soul to his body, but I can take you there. It must be your task to find his soul and bring it back to this realm."

"Why are you helping me?" Clint demanded. There was an uneasy feeling that had sunk into his gut, warring with a growing sense of hope. He shouldn't trust her, he knew. He didn't trust her, not that it really mattered. This was Phil and if Clint had to leave this world behind; he would. There was nothing that he wouldn't do to get his husband back.

"What can I say? I'm a sucker for a love story," said the woman, the glint in her cold eyes making Clint increasingly uneasy.

"So, what now?" he asked, trying to draw up his confidence. She smirked at him and drew back a little. Her right hand came up to her face and she blew Clint a kiss. A pale dust flew off her palm and into Clint's face. He coughed and spluttered, shocked at the sudden action, as the woman laughed.

"Now little hawk, you find the heart of SHIELD."

When he finally stopped coughing, the woman was gone and Clint was still in the range. Somehow, though, he knew that it wasn't the same. He glanced around for his bow, but it seemed to have vanished along with his arrows. He frowned slightly as he shook his head clear of the daze that had settled over him with the arrival of the strange woman. He never should have dropped his bow. Clint wasn't sure if she had been lying or not, but there was definitely something… off about her.

It was too late now.

Squaring his shoulders, he moved towards the door. He didn't allow himself to dwell on the hope she'd promised him, but focused on her final words instead.

He'd find the heart of SHIELD, no matter what it took.

For Phil.