prologue
Bitter, piercing cold flooded his chest and seeped up into his brain.
His thoughts turned to slush as his senses washed out; his vision went black and his ears prickled with frost. The sudden silence was deafening. There was nothing. He was alone. He was going to freeze to death and no one would care.
Then he became aware of a whisper seeping into his mind. A comforting sound. A voice that called to him so deeply it felt like an awakening.
I have come for you, it breathed, smooth as ice. You belong to me now. You are mine.
His eyes cleared in a rush and somehow he knew it came from the man standing before him. He had to look up to meet those cool green eyes, sunken in an ashen face framed by wild black hair. The smile that dawned on those thin lips sent unexpected warmth blossoming in his chest.
"Ah," the man said and turned away, spinning on his heel. But Clint Barton stood where he was and awaited further direction from the stranger that now filled his heart and his mind. He felt the desire to follow the man settle deep into his bones as he stood quietly. All at once it seemed like he had real purpose in his life; everything he'd done, everyone he'd loved before were meaningless. He had a true god now.
He stood there with his limitless patience (his own superpower, if he did say so himself) until brighter blue flashes began to catch his eye. The swirling, writhing energy from the portal clustered near the ceiling. It looked like it was collecting all remaining vestiges around the room, too. Pulling inward, like a deeply drawn breath. That couldn't be good.
Clint flicked his attention down to the tableau before him: his old master facing down his new. Director Fury was talking, asking questions he had already figured out for himself.
Ah. Playing for time.
"Sir," he cut forward, interrupting the dance of words. The eyes of both Fury and this new god—he'd called himself Loki—snapped to him but Clint stopped beside the stranger. "Directory Fury is stalling. This place is about to blow, bring a hundred feet of rock on us. He means to bury us."
Clint met Fury's gaze and saw the subtle tumult in his face. Anger, disbelief—each buried quickly and he was at once pure professionalism. "Like the pharaohs of old."
Loki turned to him with a slow smile: "Well, then." Clint knew at once what he was meant to do and his gun (ugh, gun) was in his hand in a heartbeat. He squeezed off the shot and Fury hit the ground hard.
Time to move on.
Author's notes: Ok so I am probably the worst human being in existence. This story has been in the works for almost three years, I am so bad at writing plot it's embarrassing. I'm so sorry.
Timeline-wise for the two fandoms: Takes place directly after "Many Happy Returns" (Season 1) for Person of Interest and during The Avengers (the good one in 2012, not The Long Weekend of Ultron). Some brief dialogue is taken from the Avengers movie.
