~I do not own anything to do with Marvel, Marvel's character's, or Scarlett Johansson and Jeremy Renner~
This is a short one shot that I wrote tonight.
It's a small insight to the confliction and confusion that I'm sure Clint was going through during his time with Loki, and when he was to kill Natasha.
Review and tell me what you think about it. Seeing I have reviews on something I've cared for, no matter how short the time may have been, always makes me smile.
Thank you.
Clint Barton was compromised.
Each step that echoed under his hard boots didn't belong to him; each breath he took swirled around lungs that weren't moving on his accord.
The heart that beat inside his chest was cold. Loki had compromised him and, deep inside, there was nothing Clint could do but watch as this unknown mixture of his body and Loki's mind crept around and stole the essence of human life; leaving misery in its wake.
Even though Loki had pulled Clint out and pushed evil inside; he couldn't doubt the power of the Tesseract. It was a commanding object, rich in knowledge and strength; he could at least understand Loki's desire for it.
As he made his way to the detention section, his master calling to him in his thoughts, Clint kept his steps light, listening intently to the corridor around him.
His senses heightened when he felt her presence approaching him delicately from behind. The air felt just that little heavier, as though he was fighting someone for the rights to its oxygen. His body pulled at him to turn around, an instinct he chose not to act upon; not yet.
Of course she came.
Natasha had never been one to back down from a fight, especially when it was for the good of SHIELD and her urge to wipe her ledger clean with her fresh start didn't fail him today. Fury had needed someone to stop the archer and the redhead had copied.
Loki told him that he had an advantage over her.
Clint was prepared to kill her when the fighting began; he'd even made a mental promise to seek her out if she hadn't followed him just so that he could kill her. Natasha, however, wanted to keep him alive if she could – her bond to him weighed her down. A bond Clint no longer felt tied to.
The part of the archer that was still truly him fought back against the grim beliefs, a small sound in a room full of buzzing. It was easy to overlook him.
He wanted to pin her down. Hold her against a surface that she couldn't back away from and drive an arrow into her throat. Clint could already see it; the way she'd squirm under him and try to break free, he could see the fear in her eyes. He could taste the blood in the air as a different image took over.
Natasha was pinned beneath him, just as he'd pictured killing her, but this time they weren't pressed against a metal barrier in the Hellicarrier, or the steel floor underneath them. Clint had her pressed against purple silk, and was supporting his weight on his elbows as she looked up at him. Her green eyes weren't filled with the fear he longed to see; instead they were warm and settled. The hypnotic orbs stared into his own with a desire that made him rethink his plan in a brief moment of weakness. They'd made love many times, but their first would always remain his favourite.
The imprint of her eyes clouded his vision as he approached the doors blocking the detention sector; the green hanging in the air long after the shapes had vanished and providing the part of him that was real some strength to fight back.
Different imaged ran through his mind; the night he'd saved her, sparring with her on different occasions, their first kiss, the first morning he'd woken to her sleeping curled into his side, dancing with her and finally; the look on his masters face when he explained how to kill her.
Clint Barton was compromised, but it was too late.
His calloused hands had already strung the arrow.