Clint refused to tell anyone anything when he returned to normal. He remembered it all clean and sharp, the layers of time and experience he'd put between himself and old aches having disappeared to leave him raw and open. How could he tell someone that for the first time in years he'd felt the ache of his brother's disappearance like a knife in his back? But what hurt most, what he buried in the deepest parts of his subconscious in the hopes he would never have to look there again, was what he thought and did when he met Loki for the first-second time with the history between them forgotten (along with him).

When he heard the brat talking to Steve the Stick-Thin Wonder about some prisoner he was going to meet, Clint decided to tag along. Why wouldn't he? There wasn't anything to do here except hang out with Bruce in his room, or spend time with Natasha (who was not Nat, Natty, Nats or Tash, as she'd made very clear).

The guy – Loki – was sort of interesting. He noticed Clint fast and had believed him when he said that he didn't know what had happened; there'd been lots of adults in his life who'd had to make absolutely sure, usually by saying the exact same question in different words at different volumes. He was fifteen, not stupid. But he was trying too hard to be one of the good guys to actually be good. It was like he was trying to perform a trick he'd learned as a kid and hadn't used since he was small – he was out of practice and it showed.

Steve and Tony left, and Clint went with them at first before telling them he needed to piss and doubling back. Loki looked tired, but when his eyes flicked up to see who had entered Clint could almost see the gears in his head turning, plotting and planning. He didn't blame him, it must have been pretty boring stuck in a cage. That, and he had to have done something to deserve being there so he was fairly certain he would be doing his best to get out. It was a bit creepy, though, because as he watched he could see the effort Loki put into locking that part of him away behind a false smile.

"Hey," he said for lack of anything else to say.

"Hello," Loki answered curiously. "What brings you back so soon?"

"I wanted to ask you something," Clint told him.

"Very well, feel free to ask whatever you wish," he replied, leaning forward expectantly.

"Why do you talk to us?" he asked. It had been bugging him for a while – why would a criminal talk to three kids?

"Will 'boredom' suffice?" was the answer.

"No," Clint said flatly, and Loki smirked. Then, to Clint's not-quite surprise, the glimmer he had wiped from his eyes when he first saw him relit, and he was looking at a man he was quite certain was not on anyone's side but his own.

"Do you trust me?" Loki asked, and it seemed like an honest question.

"Not really," Clint said, opting for an honest reply.

"You're a sensible boy," he said, and it sounded a little sad.

"Look, as long as you don't tell me to do anything totally stupid I'll not not trust you, if you get me. I'm just not going to be jumping off any cliffs for you anytime soon," Clint replied, fidgeting to avoid eye contact. "Hell, I don't even know you. Not really."

"I will not harm you, not while you are this vulnerable. This I swear," he said softly, insidiously. "It would be of no benefit to me."

"So what do you want me to do?" Clint replied, wanting nothing to do with some stranger's promises and trying to get it back to something he understood.

"Pardon?" Loki asked, thrown but quick to recover his composure.

"When someone asks if you trust them they really want to ask if you'll do as they say. So tell me what you want me to do, and I'll tell you if I can or will do it. Simple," Clint shrugged.

"You are forthright," Loki said almost admiringly. "I want to know what happened to you. I want to know how to resolve it."

"Why? Aren't we the guys who beat up guys like you?" he asked, challenging him to lie to his face.

"Yes," Loki laughed ruefully, surprising him. "Which is why I require you all to be at your best. Good rarely fights good but evil cannot stand competition. I do not wish to have to continually prove myself against the dregs of this world, so in that respect you, and this organisation, happen to be useful to me."

"Right," Clint said, oddly disappointed, "it's all for you."

"You do not trust me, and yet you ask me to trust you with my motives?" Loki said with a twisted smile. "I have a hundred reasons for what I do. All you need to know is that our interests align – anything more is superfluous, the purest emptiest sentiment."

"How am I supposed to find out anything?" Clint asked after shrugging his acceptance, and Loki spread his arms expansively.

"Why not get your friends to help you? You will, after all, be helping yourselves," he pointed out, and Clint sighed.

"There's no way I'm getting any of them involved if I can help it. But yeah, fine, I'll be back whenever," he said. "I don't know what I can do, but I'll try."

"Then farewell for now, Clint Barton," Loki called after him.

As Clint made his way back to the rooms they were allocated, wondering how he was supposed to explain away the extra-long toilet break, he wondered why Loki tried less with him. With Tony and Steve he'd attempted to be nice, but with Clint he'd just told the truth. Or as much as he was willing to tell at least, which was better than nothing at all.

He couldn't complain. It was harder to deal with people who thought they were doing good when they hurt you, and at least Loki acknowledged he wasn't to be trusted.