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Chapter Two

In the Dark

Her nightmares always started the same.

She was utterly alone in the dark, lost and left by her own subconscious, her survival instinct kicking in and clawing uselessly at her sleeping mind, desperate to find a way out and back into reality, no matter how painful it was.

And then the screaming would start.

She still wasn't exactly sure whose dying screams she heard-she knew her parents' were in there somewhere, along with every one of her kills'-but their agony and fear had long been carved into the very fabric of her soul.

The others shifted and changed as much as she did.

Sometimes Clint was in there, his cries tearing at her heart until she screamed along with him, his name becoming a battle cry in her own mind until she would wake abruptly, bathed in sweat and gasping for mercy.

Those were the nights Clint would stay until dawn, his arms holding her close, his heartbeat the only thing keeping her sane.

Sometimes she heard Pepper Potts, and the guilt was strong enough to kill her, suffocating her in its icy grasp until she would hear Stark's yells too, and the guilt would only increase tenfold, because she knew it was her fault that he was dead, because she hadn't protected Pepper well enough.

Those were the nights she allowed herself to cry, for the woman she barely knew but couldn't stand the thought of dying, and for Stark who loved that woman far more than anyone knew.

Those nights were followed by the days when she was actually nice to him, something that scared the hell out of him to no end.

Her other colleagues-friends? Did she dare call them friends yet?-intermingled every so often, until she grew to know their screams better than their voices.

Those were the nights she stayed up and talked, so as to smother their screams with their laughs.

Lately, she had been hearing Loki, and those were the nights she locked the door and allowed herself to feel.

At first, she'd been sure it was some trick of his; to wriggle his way into her mind and drive her mad, to find out SHIELD's secrets and use it to destroy them.

Then she'd realised he was screaming too.

She had never heard him scream, though she had fantasised about it after all he had done to Clint, imagined the noises he would make as she pulled and tore at his body like a wolf baying for blood.

She had wanted to hurt him as he had her, to rip away all that he cared for, to attack what he loved most.

But Loki cared for nothing; he was cold and unfeeling, driven to madness by despair and rage and-though she hated to quote anything Tony Stark had to say-'daddy issues.'

All she could hurt was his flesh, so that was what she craved most.

Fury had put a stop to those thoughts when she was told he was being shipped back off to Asgard for good-she'd believe that when she saw it, seeing as he had apparently fallen to his death in outer space but still managed to return; escaping Asgard would be nothing compared to that-and so instead she had calmed herself, and told herself to wait and watch.

Watching, always watching, a voice whispered, and she fought the urge to tell it to shut up; talking to oneself was never a good sign.

Loki's screams sounded too much like her own.

She rarely made mistakes concerning her own life, though it often felt like one as a whole some days.

One mistake had been allowing Clint Barton into her heart, but she would never be willing to rectify that; Clint was hers and she was his, and that could never be changed now.

Another mistake had been visiting Loki.

She had been warned against it by just about every member of SHIELD she had told and the Avengers, as Stark had taken to calling them, but in the end Fury had said it was her decision.

It had been the wrong one.

Now his face filled her mind in her waking hours, his screams filling her nights, drowning out the others with his anguish, and she found herself oddly grateful for the relief, for finally ending her parents' eternal suffering in her mind.

A darker part of her wanted to comfort him, to hold him close and calm him, to keep him safe from his brother, and Odin, and any other part of his adopted family in Asgard who had hurt him before and probably would again.

She had hated him with everything she had until she had met his gaze, and then any wish to hurt or torture him had disappeared like smoke in the wind, for she had looked into his eyes and seen herself.

And that was the most fearsome thing in the world to her.

He screamed again.

She bolted upright, throwing Clint's arm off her stomach as she leaned forward, head bowed as she braced her hands on either side of her legs in an attempt to fight off her nausea, gulping down the humid air.

"Tasha?" Clint mumbled, his voice heavy with sleep, frowning blearily as he reached for her.

"I'm here," she murmured, twisting herself round so she could brush her hand down his back, the contact soothing the both of them. "Go to sleep."

He did so, his hands held tightly in her free one, the other still stroking his skin.

She could not sleep, she would not.

If Loki waited for her in her dreams, then she would stay in reality, where her thoughts of him could easily be pushed away.

And for three nights, she did so, focusing on whatever it was she needed to, barely noticing the concerned glances thrown her way, the questions she didn't want to answer.

But in shoving him away she had only brought him closer, his voice becoming clearer to her than her parents', his eyes watching, always watching in the shadows of her mind, and she knew then that he had released her from her own torment whilst enslaving her to his.

She had only succeeded in making herself weaker and wearier, and that made him harder to fight.

That would soon change.

"No," she heard someone say, and it took her a moment to realise that the word came from her own mouth.

Clint frowned at her, but said nothing, waiting for her to elaborate.

She tried to remember what they had been discussing, what was happening right before her eyes.

But all she saw was him, his icy blue eyes swimming before her own.

"I-"

"Why can she go to Asgard but I can't?" Stark butted in, and she wanted to kiss him for it, something she knew would never be repeated; she blamed it on lack of sleep and overwhelming gratitude.

Her memories came flooding back, alarming her with how she could have forgotten them so quickly; she was at Stark Tower with the rest of the Avengers, minus Thor, a meeting to decide-

"We haven't decided anything yet," Steve cut in, always the mediator, their calm and composed leader.

"If Thor's reports are anything to go by, it sounds like Loki's even crazier than ever, we don't need you going over there and pushing him off the edge," Clint explained in an even voice, though his anger was clear in his steel-grey eyes.

"I thought he'd already fallen off the edge once?" Stark said, raising his eyebrows innocently, smirk already in place.

Clint narrowed his eyes, his fists clenching on the table.

"See? This is why neither of you can go," Steve said quickly, gesturing to the two men. "Barton, if you go you'll let your temper get the better of you."

"But he-"

"I know, but we can't promise Thor that no harm will come to his brother and then send you there to beat him up."

"Which is why I should go, case closed," Stark said, tapping his hand against the table lightly.

"No, Judge Judy, because if you go you'll either piss him off or come back as his best friend," Clint snapped, and Stark's smile dropped.

"Personally, I think me and Doctor Banner should go, seeing as we can both control our tempers," Steve said reasonably, before catching the disbelieving looks he was being thrown and adding quietly, "Most of the time."

"And what would you know about prison cells?"

"Enough, and if Director Fury is coming-"

"Which is why I should go to even it out," Stark interrupted, a superior expression on his face.

Clint snorted. "Because you know all about prison cells too."

Stark bristled, but said nothing for once.

"We're going in circles. Since I am an actual SHIELD agent, I will be the one going."

"Since Fury's already going, some who is not a SHIELD agent should go so that we're not all told a pack of lies when they come back."

Steve's mouth twisted as he watched them, his nostrils flared in a calming breath.

Natasha decided to speak before he either started on the lecture he was planning or spontaneously combusted.

"I'm going," she said firmly, and Steve was startled by the strength in her voice, the intensity with which she gazed at him, daring him to contradict her.

"Tasha," Clint started, but she already had an answer for him.

"You can't-you don't think rationally when it comes to-him. You're too close to it. You're off this one, I'm sorry," she said, and she saw the hurt fill his eyes, turning him from a hardened agent to a lost child.

Hearing it from them was one thing, but for her to say it.

"I want to see the bastard locked up, surely you can understand that-" he started hotly, but she spoke over him again.

"Lost," she muttered, glancing around, her mouth half-open as though she were about to speak.

"I don't understand," Steve murmured, glancing over at Bruce who had remained silent throughout their meeting.

He barely noticed him, too intent on watching Natasha with sad eyes, his mouth down-turned, as though he were about to tell her something awful, and it reminded Steve of the look doctors wore when they told someone they had only days left to live.

The thought made him feel sick.

"Look, we have a rapport," Stark said, his tone condescending. "So I'm going. Tell Fury, I'm sure he'll be thrilled to have me as his travel buddy."

Natasha didn't even hear him, trapped in her thoughts and memories, as though she were dreaming wide awake.

"He's hurt, he's angry, and he's defeated. He hates you and your father and all that Asgard stands for. He has been lied to for most of his life and it has broken him. That's enough to make anyone dangerous."

"I don't know, I think he just looks…sad."

We are the same, she thought, rising to her feet and brushing past a whining Stark, barely noticing Clint calling for her, nor Bruce and Steve sharing worried glances.

I am lost and alone in the dark.

In the dark she was neither man nor woman. In the dark she was a shadow in the night, hidden, feared, hated. In the dark she couldn't see the red in her ledger, the blood that would forever stain her hands.

In the dark she could be anything; human, Asgardian or Frost Giant.

In the dark she was his light, his hope.

She was his salvation, as he was hers.

"What is going on?" Clint asked, his hand closing around her arm, loose enough not to hurt her but still tight enough to restrain her should she try to escape.

She whirled back to face him, a smile already blooming as she leant forward, her lips at his ear.

"I'm going to see Loki," she murmured, and she could see the confusion, the rebuke in his eyes as she drew back, moving her lips to his and kissing him gently, ignoring the startled looks around her-and Stark's smug expression in particular-and whispering, "And then I'm going to kill him."