Clint stared at the reflection in the mirror and peered into his own eyes. Memories from the time he had been brainwashed by Loki flowed his mind and he closed this eyes tightly, shaking his head to rid his mind of those thoughts. He had to keep reminding himself that it wasn't him, it was "the other guy," stealing that term that Bruce so affectionately called the green monster he became. That was a month ago now, when he had been compromised. Had he ever not been compromised, though? He felt more compromised now than ever. Every time he caught his reflection, he had to look away because he knew there was so much blood on his hands. Oh, how he wished he had gotten to put an arrow through the god of mischief's eye. Clint glanced down at the military-issued watch clasped around his left wrist and sighed at the time—3:24am. He needed to get some sleep, but his dreams were invaded by memories of the S.H.I.E.L.D. members' deaths that were on his hands.
A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he walked out of the bathroom and back to his room, where he perched himself on the edge of the bed. With his head in his hands, Clint closed his eyes and tried to chase the memories away. He succeeded and the memories that replaced those were the ones from the battle, the one he and Natasha shouldn't have even been a part of in the first place because neither of them were soldiers. When Natasha had first suggested they join the fight, he'd been perplexed. Of anyone, he did not expect that coming from Natasha. But, of course he agreed. He couldn't let his partner go into battle alone.
During the battle, Clint had been surprised with himself. He kept stealing glances at Natasha to make sure she was okay. He knew from first-hand experience that she could handle herself in a fight, but this wasn't anything that had ever been trained for; a god with a scepter that changed your allegiance and an army of aliens. He never let himself get distracted, though, even with the stolen glances in her direction. He was more worried about his partner than anyone else on the team. When Steve told him to get up on a rooftop, he went into a minor panic; he was quick to mask, it, though, by asking Tony for a ride. Besides, he knew Steve wouldn't let anything happen to Natasha.
When he saw her fly passed him on one of those things, he was caught off guard by how much worry he felt on the inside. On the outside, though, he put it off as confusion. His worry and confusion passed, though, when he had the ability to shoot an arrow at the mischievous Loki. The bastard had caught the arrow, however, but Clint still got to have his moment of pride when the arrow blew up in the god's face. He'd turned just in time to dodge a blow from one of the aliens and reached into his quiver for another arrow, but came up empty. The archer improvised, though, and took the thing down easily. It was when he was out-numbered by them that he knew he'd be in trouble if he didn't act fast. He'd grabbed the arrow from another alien and slipped into his quiver so that he could make it a grappling hook and then took a leap off the building, turning to make sure the arrow connected to the building.
When he crashed through that window in the next moment, he took the time to assess his injuries since he was away from the battle momentarily. Clint knew crashing through the window would hurt, but he hadn't imagined it would hurt as much as it did. He had the wind knocked out of him and he lay there for only a few minutes before he stood back up and went back to the battle. He knew Natasha was safe up on the rooftop with the tesseract, so he went to the streets to fight with Steve and Thor.
Clint opened his eyes and glanced around his room. During the battle, he had not expected to worry about Natasha so much; he never had during any of their other missions. Why was this one so different? He supposed it could have been because of Loki's brainwashing. Loki had replaced his feelings for Natasha with hatred and had made Clint see her as a target. When he went to the base, his intention was to find her and kill her. Or, the other guy's intention had been that. When Natasha knocked him on the head, and he finally started to come to his senses, he realized what he had been doing and muttered her name before she knocked him unconscious.
This whole month had been hard on him. He'd barely slept at all since the whole ordeal; no more than a few hours during the night. Clint didn't make it known to anyone, though. When he was around the collective group, or just alone with Natasha, he thought he did a pretty good job at being himself with his sarcastic remarks and witty comebacks. Most of his time had been spent training, though, since that was about the only place he felt comfortable anymore. Clint would be there now if it hadn't been for the late hour. He supposed he could just roam the newly renovated Stark Tower, which had now become a headquarters of sorts for the Avengers.
He pushed himself up off his bed and walked out of his room. When he passed Natasha's room just down the hall, he paused. Was she still awake in there, too, with the same turmoil he was going through? Or was she sleeping peacefully? Clint found himself wanting to turn the doorknob and look in, and his hand had even stretched out to turn the knob, but he forced himself to stop short and turn away from the door. He stalked the rest of the way down the hall and up a flight of stairs that lead to a balcony that overlooked the city of New York. Clint immediately went over to lean on the rails of the balcony to look down on the city. He stared out and let the cool breeze ruffle his hair and cleanse his mind of his previous thoughts and memories.