Hello Darkness, my old friend

I've come to talk with you again

Because a vision softly creeping

Left its seeds while I was sleeping

The walls were bare, the wood panels make it seem like he was out of place and the air had a faint smell of death he recognized immediately.

Clint Barton walked forward slowly, very aware that he was alone and weaponless. His sweatpants were loose and matched the gray shirt that seemed to mold to his sleek form. His bare feet made no sound as he continued forward keeping an eye open for anything that could come out at him.

He had started by trying to open the doors on either side of him that lined the walls for as far as he could see. However, each door was locked and some he could hear screams or crying behind them. Those he turned from quickly as something in his brain pushed him away silently. How he got here he wasn't sure but he knew he needed to leave.

Now ignoring the doors he continued walking forward through the never-ending hall wondering if there was ever going to be an end. Occasionally he would look behind him at a sound he heard but nothing was there. He couldn't see any light fixtures yet the entire hall was bathed in an eerie light.

"Keep walking. There has to be an end."

Why he was talking to himself he didn't really know but his soft voice seemed to bounce off the walls to hit him again. The sound filled his ears and sounded wrong. His bare feet suddenly stopped when he saw a door to his left slightly ajar. A white light was spilling through the small crack and it beckoned the archer closer.

Every part of Clint wanted him to turn away from the door and run. Run for his life but his body was moving forward on its own. His hand reached the handle and opened the door up so he was standing in front of the entryway. It was bathed in a blinding light that had Clint squinting as he tried to look through it. He could see or hear nothing beyond the light and his feet stepped forward involuntarily.

The light caressed him as he stepped through the entryway, closing the door behind him slowly.

A strong sense of blood filled his nostrils and made him want to turn away from the open room before him. He could see something at the far corner but his vision was blurring for some reason. His muddled mind realized too late that he was crying as he stepped towards the corner lightly. His body trembled as he fought the tears and an overwhelming terror overtook him.

As he got closer his heart seemed to stop and before he knew what he was doing he was running to the figure. She was lying away from him but he could identify that red hair from miles away.

Clint skidded to his knees next to the body and moved to flip her over. As he went to move her he noticed that his hands were covered in blood, it covered his forearms in splatters all the way to his elbow. He gasped at the image but didn't stop at turning Natasha onto her back in front of him.

Her head turned limply towards him and he backpedaled away from the sight, screaming at whoever could hear him.

Natasha was unrecognizable. Her face was bashed in and as his eyes roamed over her he could see not one inch of her was unhurt. Cuts of different sizes and depths littered her entire body and Clint could see broken bones on both her arms and legs. Her eyes were open and even with the blood covering her face he could tell she was dead.

His best and closest friend was dead. His hands grabbed a hold of his hair in agony as he screamed his grief.

"Nice work Hawkeye."

Clint turned at the sound to see Loki coming towards him with an air of confidence that had Clint gasping. He crawled away from the god to eventually back into the wall, his eyes blown wide with fear and panic.

Loki didn't stop until he was right before the archer and Clint couldn't move as Loki reached down and grabbed him by the throat. He lifted Clint ever so slowly as he choked from the pressure. His hands were limp at his sides even as his mind screamed at him to fight.

"Now it's your turn."

Clint felt the pain that came to him and the blood that started to cover him but he screamed for another reason besides the pain.

And the vision that was planted in my brain

Still remains, within the sound of silence

Clint woke screaming into the night air and it took longer than a second to realize that he wasn't in the hallway anymore. His chest rose and fell quickly as his body gasped in every ounce of air it could get. The pounding of his heart was the only thing he heard, as his mind slowly became clearer and clearer.

The door to his bedroom opened suddenly and the light beyond silhouetted the slim figure. Natasha stepped towards him a second later and the vision of her bloodied at his hands filled his head. Nausea swept upon him and had him sprinting to the bathroom.

"Clint…"

Natasha barely had his name in the air before he was slamming the bathroom door in her face. He barely made it in time to the toilet as his stomach heaved from the nightmare. He couldn't get her image out of his head as he heaved and sobbed over the porcelain. He gripped the sides with white knuckles not bothering responding to the soft knock at the door.

"Is he hurling?"

Tony. He wondered who else was out there with Natasha and thought maybe that he woke up screaming a little too loud. He groaned from the embarrassment before he ignored it as his body heaved again.

"Quiet Tony. Clint. Are you alright?"

Natasha's voice changed from annoyed to sympathetic in a span of a few seconds going from Tony to Clint. If Tony responded Clint didn't hear him through the door.

"We should leave him alone. Come on."

That was Rogers and Clint just rolled his eyes at his predicament. He couldn't do anything half assed and even waking up from a nightmare had to drag the party into his room. He wasn't sure he would ever live this down from Tony but he couldn't do anything about it now.

Tony grumbled something but Clint didn't hear him as he leaned from the toilet to rest against the cool tub. He leaned his head back to lie against the side of the tub and the cold tile felt good against his neck. As he closed his eyes his body was slowly crawling back to normal. Silence filled the bathroom and before he knew what was happening he was asleep.

Soft gentle hands carded through his hair and he hummed his contentment. His eyes opened and he was filled with the vision of Natasha in front of him. She was unharmed but at a blink Clint saw her face bloodied and swollen. He closed his eyes with a groan and turned away from his partner.

"Want to talk about it?"

"Not really."

"Clint….they are getting worse. Maybe…"

Clint opened his eyes now to look at Natasha's worried face. He felt heat from his anger and he knew it shouldn't get to him. However, he would rather the anger than the fear. He wasn't sure he could live with the fear.

"Maybe what? Go to a therapist?! Hey Doc, I got brainwashed and now I'm having nightmares. Give me some pills!"

"Clint…"

"I'm not going to a therapist."

"Fine. I won't bring it up again."

Clint pushed away from her and stood on shaky legs as he used the sink for support. He felt Natasha right behind him in case he fell but he straightened up on his own.

"Do you mind? I would like to take a shower."

He knew he shouldn't take it out on Natasha. She did nothing wrong but that vision of her wouldn't get out of his head. Maybe with a nice cold shower and not seeing her for a little while will drive it away. He could only hope.

Natasha squared her shoulders at him before she nodded silently. She left the bathroom, closing the door a little more violently than he wanted. It made his head ring with the sound and he closed his eyes against what he just did.

He would explain later and would let Natasha know it wasn't anything to do with her. This was all about Clint and his inability to get over what Loki did to him. No one could help him but himself and he was just stubborn enough to make it through. He just needed to be strong enough.