Thick smoke filled the room, obscuring everything from Clint's view. He dropped to his knees, hoping to drop below the smoke, only to find it even thicker down low. Damn magic. Disobeying all logic. Clint hated magic. Give him good old fashioned guns and knives any day.
The smoke filled his lungs, causing them to itch and burn. He coughed, trying to clear them. It only caused them to fill with toxic air even faster. He held his shirt over his mouth to work as a makeshift filter. I didn't really help.
Clint needed to get out of the room before he collapsed. If he did, he'd be dead. There was no way anyone would be able to find him until the smoke cleared.
Clint started towards where he thought the door was; holding out his hands in front of him, eager for the touch of a solid wall beneath his fingers. He was in the largest room of the building and the emptiness around him was disconcerting. Emphasized by the silence that pressed around him. Even the comm was quiet. The smoke must have been blocking it somehow.
He walked on for what seemed like hours. His eyes were watering and his throat was on fire. Clint was starting to worry. Maybe he was just going in circles. Or maybe he wasn't in a room anymore at all. Maybe Loki had magiced him somewhere else entirely. Somewhere where the only thing that existed was this infernal smoke.
The panic felt like bile in Clint's throat, building up until he felt like he would hurl. He couldn't stand the idea of being at Loki's mercy again. Of being toyed with and led around like a puppet on a string. The bluish tinge to the smoke didn't help. It dredged up the blue memories that he tried so hard to repress. If only Clint could just hear or see something. Anything. Even Stark's snide remarks or Fury in the middle of one of his "screaming debriefings" would be a welcome sound. Something to make him feel less alone.
Clint was beginning to question if his life was even real or if he'd just dreamt it all up. If maybe the only thing that had ever existed was this endless smoke. His hand hit a cool, smooth surface. Relief flooded through him. Drywall. Clint had just enough time to register the thought before he blacked out.
;;;
Clint awoke to a throbbing headache and a parched throat. His whole body felt strange; emptier and prickly. An aftereffect of the magic smoke, he assumed. Plus whatever pain killers they had him on.
He could hear the hushed voices of Nat and Coulson. Their voices were strangely loud and piercing (another magical side-effect). He listened silently for a minute, gathering intel. It was easier to get the straight truth from those two when they didn't know he was listening. They were saying something about recovery times. Probably wondering how long Loki's magic smoke would keep affecting Clint. He hoped not long. This prickly feeling on his skin was uncomfortable.
Clint waited for their conversation to switch to the boring topic of the forms that would have to be filled out, before opening his eyes.
He immediately closed them again.
That was wrong. That was very, very wrong.
He eased open his eyes, hoping that the sight would be different. It wasn't.
His eyes took in two different images. The same room, but different angles. Like his eyes were somehow wider apart or facing different directions. The colors were warped; brighter and stronger and there were some he had never seen before. Each shift in movement, no matter how minute, drew his attention like it was wearing a flashing neon sign. It was equally overwhelming and fascinating.
The most worrying part though, was the rich blue softness he could see ringing his eyes and the mass of black solidness where his nose should be.
A beak and feathers.
"How the fuck did I end up a bird?!" Clint shouted. To his dismay, all that came out of his throat was a chittering sound. He saw Nat and Coulson jump, not having realized he was awake. It was rare that he managed to surprise either of them, getting them both at the same time was something for the record books.
"Hey Clint." Nat smiled down at him, warm and affectionate in a way she only was when it was just the three of them. "We can't understand you, but yes, you are a bird."
"A Belted Kingfisher to be precise." Coulson added.
"I don't fucking care what kind of bird I am!" Clint chittered angrily. "Wait. I'm not a hawk? I'm Hawkeye! How the hell did I end up as something not-a-hawk?!"
"Stop complaining." Natasha got an evil glint in her eye. "You're better off than Cap."
;;;
Neither of them offered any more of an explanation, no matter how much Clint pestered them for answers. Which was apparently even more annoying than usual in his bird voice. But Nat and Coulson had put up with Clint for enough years to learn how to effectively ignore him.
Clint shut up, pouting somewhat, as a SHIELD vet and doctor each examined him. Both proclaimed him to be in excellent health, besides the whole being-a-bird thing.
"Any idea of how long this will last?" Coulson asked the doctor, a medic Clint had never seen before, meaning she was probably new. He was in Medical enough that he'd meant most of the doctors at least once. (Usually only once. Doctors got fed up with him fairly quickly.)
"I have no idea. It's magic. If you want answers your best bet would be to talk to Thor."
Clint liked this doctor. Straightforward. No bullshit. Even when face-to-face with the understated intimidation that was Coulson. And a distinct dislike of magic. Not to mention she was damn hot. He just might consider cooperating during exams if she was doing them.
"I'll take that under advisement." Coulson didn't flinch at her directness. "Thank you Doctor Gibbs."
The woman nodded to Coulson and Natasha before turning to Clint. "I would recommend not flying too high, since the magic could reverse at any moment." She slipped from the room.
Clint felt like she'd reminded him that today was Christmas. He could fly. He hadn't really gotten to that in the acceptance process yet. This was a dream come true. A chance to actually soar over rooftops. To see the city the way he loved: from the sky. Without the constraints of metal or machinery getting in the way.
"No." Coulson's voice cut through Clint's mounting joy. Clint turned an eye on him, still adjusting to the dual vision. He tried to scowl, but he didn't think he pulled it off. "No flying above ten feet. We don't want you turning human again just to plummet to your death."
"Fuck you." Clint chirped.
"Language, Barton." Coulson deadpanned. Apparently not needing to actually understand Clint to know what he was saying.
"Fuck you, sir."
;;;
The feel of air through his feathers was almost sexual it was so amazing. Clint beat his wings, testing the limits of the new muscles. He sped down the hall, banking sharply around the corners before doing a backflip and returning to Nat and Coulson. Who were both looking at him with their 'don't let him see we like him' scowls.
Clint repeated the process, flying further and faster each time; making sure he always stayed just above head level, low enough that Coulson wouldn't yell at him, despite the fact that every fiber of his being wanted to get outside and climb to a thousand feet. To feel the wind and ride the currents.
"In here, Clint." Nat waved him forward as she held a door open. It was another hospital room, just like the one they'd left. Only this time it was Thor, Banner, and Stark gathered around a bed.
Clint nearly fell out of the air in shock at what was lying on the bed. It was a pigeon. Except it was Cap too. This is what Nat and Coulson had been talking about. Clint may have been magiced into a bird, but at least he hadn't been turned into a pigeon.
"What, no bald eagle?" Clint chittered, swooping down and perching himself on the railing at the side of the much too large bed.
"You should talk, Hawkeye." The pigeon-Cap cooed. It was weird hearing the soft bird call and understanding it perfectly.
"You can understand me?" Clint asked. He really shouldn't have been surprised. They were both birds after all.
"The avian language is nigh universal, my friend." Thor boomed. His version of an inside voice.
"You can understand me too?"
"All-speak." Cap cooed. "He understands everything. Even birds."
"Okay." Stark said. "This is not cool. I do not like being clueless in this conversation. What the hell is everyone saying?"
"Worried we're gossiping about you?" Clint asked, hoping that his feathered face could still pull of an arrogant smirk. He figured it must have worked since Stark snarled at him.
"Barton, stop antagonizing Stark." Cap said. He still managed to sound authoritative despite the fact that it was only a soft coo. Even Tony seemed to straighten a little.
"So, what now?" Banner spoke up for the first time.
"We wait for this to reverse itself. Until then, we go home." Coulson said.
;;;
Clint raced Cap through the hallways. Cap was faster, but he didn't have Clint's ability to judge corners and angles. "Eat my tail feathers!" Clint couldn't resist throwing the taunt as he banked around a corner that Cap didn't adjust for, having to throw out his wings and scramble to avoid crashing into the wall.
-;-
Phil couldn't help smiling slightly as a bright blue streak flew past his head, just ahead of a tannish-grey one. At least the two were enjoying themselves. They were handling the change better than he had expected. Barton didn't even seem to mind too much that he wasn't a hawk. Phil wondered if there was any rhyme or reason to their bird forms or if Loki had just picked them at random. He somehow doubted it. Loki loved mischief. He was constantly overthinking everything. Meaning he'd picked out the birds forms with a goal in mind.
"Captain, a word." Phil dropped back from the rest of the group and held up his hand for Cap to use as a perch. The man – bird – Phil wasn't sure what to call him, settled elegantly on his hand. Standing in what Phil assumed was his attempt at attention. "I trust you to obey orders and keep low. Barton is another matter. I cannot keep an eye on him all the time. Do your best to keep him safe."
Cap bowed his head once in acknowledgement before spreading his wings and taking off after the flash of blue that streaked past. It was truly a shame that the man didn't get turned into a bald eagle. Fury would have loved that. It would have been a perfect opportunity for good press. Instead Cap, the most incredible and unique man Coulson had ever met (well, maybe not. Because when it came to unique, Barton outshone everyone) so to see him as a common, lowly pigeon… Phil was almost embarrassed for him.
Wrangling Barton into the elevator took far too much effort. The man wouldn't stop flying. Not even for a second. He kept flying small and fast circles above their heads. Phil hoped that the magic wasn't going to wear off and have him come crashing down on their heads. Cap at least stayed perched on Stark's shoulder during the trip in the confined space. Though he flew off again as soon as the doors slid open. Barton dashed after him.
"Stop moping, geez." Stark shouted after them. Neither of the birds seemed to notice. "You'd think they actually like being birds." He said more quietly, to the rest of them, as they made their way to the huge black SUV that SHIELD had built specifically for transporting the Avengers. It had extra support to handle Thor's weight (and Hulk's if it ever came to that) along with the standard bullet-proofing.
"Knowing Clint, he does." Natasha smiled and slipped into the passenger seat.
"Hey!" Tony shouted at her. She simply closed the door and made a show of locking it. "Not fair, you had shotgun on the way here."
"I do not remember that being listed in the rules of Shotgun." Thor said, confused. "Did I not understand the game correctly?"
"You understood fine." Coulson opened the door to slide into the driver's seat. He didn't trust any of the others behind the wheel. "Stark is just upset that he didn't think to call it."
Getting Barton into the car turned out to be even more difficult than getting him in the elevator. Phil spent ten minutes arguing with him through Thor about all of the reasons that flying back to the Tower behind the car would be a bad idea. The discussion had ended when Natasha had threatened getting involved. Even with a literal bird brain Barton wasn't an idiot. He finally settled himself onto the back row that was usually reserved just for Bruce. The man needed space in order to handle all of them in the car for any length of time. Not that Phil could blame him.
-;-
"Holy fuck!" Clint couldn't help saying as he perched himself on the railing of the balcony. He'd always loved the main balcony of the Tower, but now… well shit! It was indescribable. The reflection of the setting sun glistening off the glass buildings, creating a rainbow of colors. The purply-reds taking on a richness that he couldn't describe. It was like living with a box of 12 crayons then stumbling upon the 64 pack. He had never even realized he'd been missing anything. Now he felt sorry for the people who would never get to see this.
"The colors are something else." Steve settled beside him. "It's going to make drawing frustrating. Not being able to use these shades."
"Yeah."
They fell into a comfortable silence. Content to simply watch the shift of colors as the sun set over the skyscrapers and feel the shift in the wind. It felt like a storm was blowing in. Nothing too bad though. Just a quick summer storm. It was weird to Clint that he could figure all of that out from the shift in the wind and the changes in the pressure and temperature. All without thinking about it. He just knew. Like he knew that Coulson was approaching behind them.
"Hey Coulson." Clint chirped.
"You are both needed inside."
"Of course." Steve got up immediately and flew off. Clint didn't move.
"I said both, Barton. That means you too."
"I'm fine here. Thanks." Clint knew Coulson would get the gist, but he settled down more comfortably on the railing to help get the point across.
"Barton." Coulson switched into handler mode. Clint still didn't move. "I can't believe you're making me do this." The next thing Clint knew he was being lifted up and away. Coulson's hand holding him firmly as Clint struggled to get free. "Stop being difficult. Stark has a present for you."
Clint relaxed slightly. "Well why didn't you say so?"
-;-
As soon as he was safely in the living room, Phil released Barton, who took off instantly to start flying around the room. Phil settled himself on the one free chair. His normal spot. It was positioned slightly away from the others who were sprawled over the sofa and other chairs. Phil slightly resented the positioning, but it was necessary. He wasn't a part of this team. He was their handler. He needed to stay separate.
"Ten feet, Barton." He said as the blue streak started pushing up towards the 20ft ceiling. Barton chittered something that Phil was pretty sure was inappropriate. He decided to ignore it since Barton dropped down to an acceptable height. Phil looked away from him to survey the room. It was an old habit. The only threat he could see was Stark approaching with two small metal circles in his hands.
There was a soft flutter of wings and a twittering as Steve landed on the arm of the chair nearest Stark.
"The Captain is inquiring as to what you have created for him." Thor offered.
"Ahh, well." Stark held up the two circles proudly. "Translators!"
Phil watched silently as Stark clipped the metal bands around first Steve then Barton's necks. He wasn't sure if he should be allowing them to use untested StarkTech. It had too high of an explosion rate. But Stark usually didn't put the dangerous stuff on others. He left that to himself. So if he was willing to put the device around Steve's neck, Phil figured that he was pretty sure it wasn't going to kill anyone.
"Well? Try it out." Stark took a step back, surveying his handiwork.
"Were you really that worried that we were talking about you?" Barton's voice, slightly mechanical, but most definitely his, spilled out of the collar. The wave of relief at the sound unnerved Phil. He spent far too much of his life trying to get Barton to shut up, he shouldn't have missed the sound of his voice. "Cause we only gossiped a little. Or was it about something little?..."
"And yours, Captain?" Phil interrupted before Barton could work Stark up.
"I don't know, sir. You tell me."
Phil allowed himself to grin openly. "Good to hear your voice."
"Hey, what about me?" Barton whined.
"We can take that away from you." Natasha smirked as Barton glared at her. He ruffled his feathers, and Phil had to stifle a laugh at how ridiculous it looked. "That's not nearly as intimidating as you think."
"I will peck your eyes out."
"Try it and I find a nice tiny cage to keep you in."
"Do you two do anything other than fight?" Bruce shifted awkwardly in his seat. Phil tensed and the room fell silent as they all studied Bruce. Looking for any hint of green. "Relax, I'm good." He held up his hands reassuringly. "Just making an observation."
"No. They don't." Phil said as he stood up, smoothing out his suit. "Now if that's all. It's late and we've all had a trying day." None of them moved. Not that Phil had expected them to. They were grown-ups, they did what they wanted. But he wasn't in the mood to let them do their normal unhealthy shit, like staying up all night watching movies or working in a lab or training. They all could use a good night's sleep for once. "That wasn't a suggestion. Beds. Now."
"Aww, mom. Five more minutes?" Stark whined. Phil felt his hand twitch for his taser.
"I am not your mother, Stark. I'm your handler. I have no qualms about using tasers and/or traquilizers." That got them moving. Grudgingly, yes, but moving. They walked as a single mass down the hallway, Steve and Barton circling overhead, and Phil sank back into the chair as they disappeared from view. He let out the sigh he'd been itching to release since Barton had failed to respond over the comms. He let his head drop into his hands.
It'd been nothing. They were all still here. He had to keep reminding himself. But one day… One day that'd be different. One day the comm would fall silent and one of them wouldn't return. With each day that passed, Phil felt his ability to keep his emotions out of the equation slip. These people were becoming his assets less and less and his friends more and more. Losing any one of them…
Phil should transfer. He knew that. Before his emotions clouded his judgment in the field. Because if any one of them got hurt because Phil had made a bad call, Phil would never be able to forgive himself. But Phil would never quit. Because the thought of not being there to watch all of their backs was an idea that made Phil's stomach heave. It would destroy him.
There was a soft rustling and something small and light perched on Phil's knee. Claws digging in ever so slightly. "You need to sleep too, sir." Barton said quietly. Phil let out a single cough of laughter. "Don't make me start clawing the suit." Phil leveled Barton with the sternest glare he had. Barton simply stuck out his tongue and flew a few feet away, hovering in the air. Waiting to Phil to move.
Phil heaved himself to his feet, using the arms of the chair to push himself up. As soon as he was up, Barton sped off down the hallway. A flash of blue. Phil smiled. Of all animals Loki could have turned Barton into, he was glad it was a bird. The one thing Barton would enjoy the most.
The smile dropped from Phil's face while the thought was crossing his mind.
Why would Loki pick a bird? He knew Barton. Knew that the man would love having wings. So why would he give him that? What was he playing at? Phil shivered as he remembered the gleam in Loki's eye as he had stabbed Phil in the back. The God of Mischief. Always manipulating and playing mind games. Loki was up to something. And Phil was going to figure out what it was.