Chapter 4: Anger

New York City was in absolute shambles.

Upon the top of Stark Tower, dazzling blue light roared up into the sky. The sky had cracked open, revealing the deep dark void of space. From it poured a multitude of alien spacecraft. Loki's plan was already in full swing. From beside him, Steve leaned forward in his seat, gaping at the spectacle, his mouth parted in shock and awe. "Wow," was all he could muster.

Clint's fingers tightened on the Quinjet's steering wheel. "Well… shit," he replied. There was certainly nothing like a sight like that to deviate one from the task at hand. Clint had hoped to reach New York before Loki summoned the Chitauri. He wanted to find Natasha and break her from Loki's spell before the shit hit the fan. He huffed and flew the Quinjet with fierce determination to Stark Tower. Now, he'd have to deal with protecting the thousands of screaming, hysterical citizens, and taking out the alien forces before he could go in search for Nat. He hoped that some higher power was taking note of what was going down, and was planning to send them some further aid. He didn't want to be overwhelmed ad killed before he could find Natasha. He wouldn't leave her under Loki's influence.

Stark Tower was a huge, eye drawing building. In another calmer time he would have laughed to see Tony's name proudly displayed across the tower's structure. Now, his eyes were drawn to two figures fighting ferociously. Thor and Loki. Thor wielded his great hammer, swinging it at Loki, who parried the blow with his golden scepter. Bright sparks flew from each blow. Even from here Clint could see the impressive muscles in Thor's arms standing out as he swung the hammer at Loki again and again. His long blonde hair flew around his head with each swift movement. Loki was proving to be no slouch in the fighting department. His long ebony hair framed his pale face, his mouth warped into a wild animalistic snarl. His slender body twisted and weaved in a serpentine fashion each time he dodged Thor's attacks. He moved the scepter far more quickly than Clint's eyes could follow and swept Thor off his feet. He whirled to face the Quinjet, his dark Asgardian garb flowing around him.

"Let him have it, Cap," Clint growled, keeping his gray eyes locked onto the God before them.

Steve moved immediately. The howl of the guns was music to Clint's ears. It would probably be far too much to ask that the bullets slay Loki where he stood. In the back of his mind Clint almost hoped they didn't. He wanted the pleasure of killing, or at least defeating, Loki himself for daring to take Natasha. It was. The bullets simply peppered the air in front of Loki, before dropping harmlessly to the ground. The air turned a sharp bright blue where the bullets struck. Clint clenched him jaw, enraged. 'Son of a bitch cast some spell.' He heard Steve's growl of frustration beside him. 'Yeah, you and me both, Cap.'

Loki pointed the scepter towards the jet. A blue light streaked from the end, slamming into the jet and making it sway and lurch alarmingly. A red light started flashing and a shrill warning alarm went off. No matter how tightly Clint gripped the steering wheel, the jet was out of control. It fell away from Stark Tower, twisting wildly in the air. It fell and rose like a bucking rodeo bronco. It rose up in the air again, past Loki who wore a satisfied smirk, and Thor who was regaining his feet and rushing back towards his brother, up to the top of the tower, where the beam of light was opening the portal. Steve let out a dismayed moan. Doctor Selvig had his back to them, staring up at the open portal, but someone else was with him, a cold smirk etched onto her lips. Clint only caught the slightest glimpse of Natasha's beautiful red mane, before the jet nose-dived back towards the ground.

Fiery anger coursed though his veins, threatening to burn him alive from the inside out. He threw his whole weight behind the wheel, gripping it with all his strength, trying to keep it from slamming into the many surrounding buildings or crushing the many terrified people below. It flew down low over the ground, shuddering violently. "Brace yourself, Cap," Clint bellowed, crouching low in his seat. The Quinjet hit the ground of the nearly abandoned street, sliding along the concrete with a bone-jarring quake. Cars were forced out of the way, some flipping over from the force, the remaining people running screaming to avoid being crushed.

The jet mercifully slid to a halt then. Steve gripped Clint's arm with the force of a vice. "Are you alright?"

Clint ripped off his belt. "Never better, Captain."

Stepping out of the jet onto the street and Clint's senses were besieged. He could smell things burning, hear the roar of explosions and people screaming, glass shattering, the buzz of alien aircraft and strange, unearthly shrieks. He could almost taste the fear and destruction on the air. He gripped his bow tightly while he swung his quiver over his shoulders. He stepped away from the smoking jet, running over to a bus filled with frightened people, Steve on his heels. His stomach roiled at the sight of the young children inside. Some were dry eyed, just shivering in terror, others were crying and cringing. It pissed him off that Loki was willing to destroy the lives of innocent people. He pushed open the small window, holding his hands out to those inside. The people streamed out, some running off with other people, others fleeing alone. The sight of those alone made him feel a pang of sadness. He and Steve spoke in soft calming voices to the scared citizens. They had to get everyone out before Loki's army came in for an attack.

'Which is right about now.'

The alien aircraft swooped down over them, sending the last citizens fleeing like rabbits before a pack of hounds. Aliens leapt down amongst them, firing at both Clint and Steve with their odd-looking guns held either in their awful looking hands, or mounted onto their spindly wrists. Steve easily blocked the blindingly bright purple rays with his shield, while Clint snuck around the bus wreckage to surprise the aliens creeping up behind it. His hands moved fast, firing arrows with deadly accuracy at the oncoming enemy. He electrocuted one group and blew up another, keeping a cold steely glint in his eyes. No matter how many he killed, more took the place of their fallen comrades.

He dived forward to meet them in closer combat, springing off of one foot to kick a charging alien in the head. It rolled onto its side, its mask falling lose. It faced Clint and shrieked. Clint felt his face screw up in disgust. "Damn, you're ugly." He brought his booted foot down hard, feeling a grim sense of satisfaction when he heard its skull crunch. He rolled out the way as another charged forward, loading yet another arrow and letting it fly into the creature's throat. The creatures continued to swarm forward. His patience was unraveling fast. Fighting these hideous aliens was attention diverting, but his mind kept going back to Natasha. How he wished she were here, battling alongside him. He didn't feel complete with Natasha missing all the action.

Fleet after fleet of the alien craft zipped through the air above him. Clint's muscles ached and seized up, but he kept fighting. The sooner he took down these things, the sooner he could try to rescue Natasha. An ear-splitting grinding bellow filled the air, and Clint's head snapped up just in time to see several monstrous… things come down from the portal. They flowed through the air as if they were alive. 'Probably are,' Clint thought sourly, eyeing them apprehensively. 'That's gonna be a bitch to take down.' He watched as they descended upon New York, and aliens leapt off them onto surrounding buildings. 'Perfect.'

He heard a sharp intake of breath from behind him, and turned to see Steve staring up at the ships with wide blue eyes. "You noticed those things too, huh, Cap?" he quipped. "Yeah, it's a bit hard to miss them."

Steve's eyes flickered down to Clint's. "We'll deal with it," he replied, though Clint noted that he sounded a tad unsure.

Clint sighed deeply. "I hope you're right, Cap."

Steve's eyes focused on something behind Clint and brightened in surprise. The sound of the motorbike had been lost over the sounds of chaos reverberating through the city. The man astride it was short, perhaps on a height with Clint, and he looked thoroughly disheveled. 'Bruce Banner: The Hulk.' Clint was momentarily in awe. The guy didn't look very powerful or threatening, but Clint knew what power Bruce held inside him.

An alien shriek filled his ears, and he whirled around to put an arrow between its eyes, but Thor beat him to it, crushing its head with his hammer. Clint nodded his thanks, just as Tony's slightly muffled voice filled his earpiece. He appeared in a sudden scarlet streak in the dusty sky, closely followed by one of the long serpentine ships. "Tell me that isn't a mouth I see on that thing," he whispered to himself.

The ship dropped low, following Tony. Cars were smashed out of its path, courtesy of the massive fins on each side. Bruce hulked out, muscles bulging and shredding his shirt as easily as tissue. He slammed into the front of the ship, his feet digging hard into the road. The ship rose up with a shrill crunch, before coming back down to rest with a dull bellow. 'Thank God I didn't have to take that one on.' It felt wrong to use the word 'God' in his position, given that they were trying to save the world from the rule of one, and Clint certainly wasn't a religious man, but they were quickly running out of time and options. If there was a higher power watching over them, Clint was more than ready to ask for a bit of help and offer up a word of thanks. He'd sure need it.

Tony landed heavily on the ground with a metallic clang, his visor flipping up to reveal his sweaty face. "Call it, Captain."

Steve raised his head, eyes sweeping over the men (and Hulk) assembled before him. "All right, listen up." His voice was loud and rich with authority. Despite his concern for Natasha, Clint felt a surge of respect for the man, and his fellow companions. They would need each other to get through this mess. "Until we can close that portal up there, what we need is containment." Steve's eyes turned to Clint. He jabbed his hand at a nearby building. "Barton: I want you on that roof, eyes on everything. Call out patterns and strays."

Clint smiled. Excellent. He'd have the perfect vantage point from up there. Still, he felt a flutter of concern. The smile melted from his face. His team needed him. How, and when, could he get back to Stark Tower to find Natasha? She was his to rescue. He owed her. Grim determination seized him. He would find her.

Tony turned to him, tearing him from his thoughts. "Better clench up, Legolas." Clint smiled despite his angst-ridden thoughts. This would save him from entering the perilous buildings. Tony's suit was cold against his skin, when he wrapped an arm around Clint's torso. When he blasted off from the road, the rush of wind caught Clint's face and hair. Really, it was almost fun. He probably would have enjoyed the experience more if he weren't so worried.

Tony let him down on top of the roof. From here, Clint had a grand view of his surroundings. Aliens aboard the spacecraft flew by rapidly, though not so fast that they could avoid his arrows. He fired and felt satisfaction with each explosion he heard. He didn't even need to look at them, using his keen ears to determine their location. He kept an eye on his teammates, shouting out information to them when they had aliens of their trail, or when there was an attack headed their way.

Clint didn't escape the notice of the aliens. They scampered up the side of the building, springing up to meet him. He met them in attack, punching and kicking, stabbing them with the sharp point of an arrow, or shooting the various arrows at them. He was starting to run low on supplies. He launched forward to barrel into one particular alien, swiping at its head. The armor they wore protected them to some extent, but left other parts of them wide open to a strike. He punched up under its jaw, making it reel back with a cry. Its mask fell askew, and it howled at him, twisted fury in its eyes.

"For all of us with good eyesight, and decent morals, please put your mask back on," he told it. "C'mon, you repulsive bastard, don't make me beg." The creature flew at him, its gun raised. Clint dived low, taking its legs out from underneath it. He kicked out and sent the alien tumbling off the side of the building. It screamed almost comically as it fell. "What?" he called down after it, "don't you like my witticisms?"

He reached back into his quiver. All but one of his arrows was gone, and the remaining arrow he was planning on keeping for Loki. For a microsecond his heart leapt into his mouth. The sky darkened ominously and bright lightening flashed above the Empire State Building. Thor sent the bolts flying amongst the Chitauri closest to him, effectively frying them. Clint's hand went to his earpiece. "I'm all out of ammo," he said to anyone listening. He paused for a moment before continuing with, "I'm going to Stark Tower. I need to get Natasha."

Silence rang in his ear for a minute before Steve's voice came over. "Clint, are you sure that's a good idea?"

"I need to, Captain. I promised."

Silence fell again, this time for so long Clint didn't think he would get a reply, before Steve replied, "Be careful, solider."

"Good luck, Barton," Tony's voice chimed in.

Clint took a deep breath. He didn't fancy taking to the streets below. More alien craft zipped by, and an idea came to him. He braced himself on the very edge, his muscles so tense he felt as though he was a gargoyle carved from stone. One of the aliens flew by him, so close Clint thought that the creature had meant to knock him off the building. He sprang with easy grace, landing on the back of the craft. The creature turned to him, a nearly human look of astonishment of its gruesome visage. Clint had to be careful now. The craft didn't steer well at all. The last thing he wanted was to crash before he reached his target. He burrowed his fingers into the extraterrestrial's shoulders, making it wail in pain. The craft wobbled in the air, jerking left and right. Clint kept his eyes fixed on the blue shaft of light above Stark Tower.

The tower grew closer and Clint's heart leapt as he caught sight of Natasha's red curls. He saw her eyes; veiled by Loki's spell, grow cold as he approached. The aircraft flew right at the light, and the machine Doctor Selvig stood before. The man turned in shock and surprise as the alien craft slammed into the beam of blue light. Clint threw himself off the craft a split second before impact. The alien wasn't quite so quick. A shield had been placed around the machine so when the craft plowed into it there was a deafening bang, and it was blasted back. Smoke streamed from it, and it dropped like a stone back to the ground far below. The alien didn't make a sound. Perhaps the impact had killed it. Clint didn't know. He didn't care.

'Of course Loki would have put a shield up around the machine. Can't have things too easy now, can we?' He was here now. He could help both Natasha and Selvig. He paused a moment, the impact of falling had knocked the breath from his very lungs. He sat up with a weary groan, his body aching something brutal. Selvig lay unconscious on the ground beside his machine. Clint let out a shaky breath. 'Well, that was easy.'

His thoughts were premature, and the higher powers decided he hadn't been roughed up enough for one day. A heavy blow struck his back, sending his sprawling face forward. The rough concrete bit into the soft skin of his cheek. He grunted in pain and tried to regain his composure, before another blow fell on him. He used his hands to spring forward, tucking and rolling. He got to his feet and faced Natasha.

And his heart stopped.

The zipper of Natasha's cat suit was pulled down enough for him to see the hickeys on the soft skin of her neck and chest. He stared, vacuous, for a moment. 'Loki.' That one simple thought was all it took. Rage like he had never known roared up inside of him. Not only had Loki taken Natasha, he had taken her. Clint's hands balled into fists and his snarled in anger. 'I'll kill him.'

Natasha saw the anger on his face, and her plump lips split into a glacial sneer. "Jealous, Clint," she whispered, fingering the largest hickey on the top of her cleavage.

The words that came from her lips weren't Natasha's. Clint knew that. He knew she was deep inside, trying to fight for control. Her fight was futile. He remembered enough from his possession to recall trying to fight Loki's control. Those were Loki's words that slipped from Nat's sweet lips.

"Shut up," he growled.

She laughed, her lovely smoky voice high and harsh. Her eyes… no, not hers, hers were exquisite… sparkled with malice. Those enchanted eyes were dire and sinister. "You should have heard her, Barton." Loki's poisonous words twisted Natasha's face. "How she moaned beneath me."

"Enough!"

"My king, she called me. Loki, my king."

"Shut the hell up!" He wouldn't leap into an attack. He knew that was what Loki wanted. In truth it wasn't Natasha he saw before him now, it was Loki. Well, Loki would be left disappointed. Clint wouldn't allow the mad Norse God to antagonize him. 'It is tempting, though,' some dark part of him thought. 'After what he has done to Natasha, it would be justice. You want to kill him anyway, why not show him that you're his better? Hit him where it hurts. Humiliate him. Let him get fought down by a mortal.' No. He wouldn't. As enraged as he was with Loki, he wouldn't take his fury out on Natasha. He didn't want to lose himself in his anger and do Natasha's body severe harm.

"This isn't you, Nat," he said, softly, using his pet name for her. He thought of something she had told him one. "Men are fools for women." He didn't know what brought that thought on, but he supposed it was true. He had just jumped off a building to reach her. If that wasn't foolish what was? He wouldn't abandon her. He would fight to the very end to get his Natasha back.

Her eyes narrowed, though she still smiled. "Oh, but this is me, Clint." She moved forward just an inch, and Clint's inner alarm systems went off. He rushed forward just as she sprang, with all the lissome grace of a big cat.

They collided in mid-air together, dropping to the ground in a tangle of limbs and flesh. Natasha wrapped her thighs around his head, jerking them to snap his neck, a seductive move worthy of her code name. Clint grabbed her ankles, hauling her off her feet. She hit the ground with a grunt, and he took the chance to gain the upper hand. He held her down under his weight, his knees pressing against her stomach, his hands holding her upper body down.

"Fight it, Nat," he whispered to her.

Her head whipped back and forth. She spat like a provoked snake ready to strike. She hadn't been trained for nothing, and even Loki's mind control hadn't taken the knowledge of that training from her. She rocked her head back sharply, arching her body ever so slightly, her feet finding purchase on the ground. That was all she needed. She moved quickly, flipping Clint off of her. He tumbled across the roof. His foot came into contact with the wall of the stairwell, and he used it to lunge forward. He moved just in time, Natasha had been drawing her guns. He grabbed her arms, twisting them until she dropped them. She yowled in fury and pain, head-butting him in recompense. Her hands wrapped around his throat, squeezing with all her strength. It pained him to hurt her, but it had to be done. He punched her in the gut. She slumped to the ground with a cry that tore him up inside.

A moan came from Selvig. He sat up, clutching his head. Clint kept an eye on Natasha's prone form as he scurried around to the man, snatching up Natasha's guns and pocketing them as he did so. Erik's face was a mess. His eyes were bloodshot, and the bags beneath his eyes were heavy and discolored. His hair was a disheveled mess. He mumbled something Clint couldn't understand. Clint grabbed his face, locking a desperate gaze with him. "What did you say, Erik?"

"The scepter," Selvig whispered, through cracked, dry lips. "The scepter."

Clint understood what he was trying to say. He nodded to show the desperate man he was following. "Where is it? Does Loki still have it? Where is he?"

Erik Selvig smiled. "I'm looking at it." He pointed to the balcony below.

Clint leaned over and his smile mirrored Selvig's. The scepter glittered on the ground. There was no one in sight. He straightened up, offering Selvig a hand, when the other male let out a warning cry. Clint yanked the man out of the way, turning and raising his hand just in time to block Natasha's punch. His hand curled around hers, and he pulled her towards him. It was something he had wanted to do since he had saved her life. There was no pleasure in it now. "I'm sorry, Nat," he whispered to her gently. He punched her with all his might, knocking the consciousness right out of her.

He carefully, and tenderly, placed her body against the wall. "Watch her," he told Selvig, who nodded wearily.

He had to move fast in case Loki tried to retrieve his scepter. Luckily, he encountered no one as he dashed down the staircase to the lower level. The scepter wasn't as heavy as it looked. The sun had warmed the gold, making it feel pleasant in his calloused hand. He held a finger up to his earpiece. "It's the scepter. The scepter will shut down the portal."

Steve's voice filled his ear, crackling with static. "Good work, Barton. Where is the scepter now?"

"Right in my hands, Captain."

"Not yet," Tony broke in, his voice constricted with fatigue and worry. That chilled Clint to the bone. "There's a nuclear missile headed straight for us."

The world felt as though it was about to reel away. Clint gazed over at Natasha. He should have said something, told her how he felt. Their end may very well be drawing in, and he had never said so much as a word to her. "What are we going to do?" he asked.

"I'll take care of the missile," Tony replied. "You shut down the portal."

"Will do. Best of luck, Stark."

He went to Natasha, bending down beside her and stroking the hair from her face. He knew Stark had the missile when he heard Doctor Selvig's gasp. He gazed adoringly at Natasha's face, thumbs stroking the apples of her cheeks. "I love you, Nat," he whispered. 'There you go, Barton. Wasn't that simple? Just four little words.' It had been simple, even though Natasha hadn't been conscious to hear him. It didn't matter. He'd finally said the words, and the weight of them had been lifted from him.

He regained his feet, standing before the portal, scepter at the ready. Tony flew up higher and higher toward the portal, and the open cavity of space beyond. He disappeared inside, and Steve shouted, "Now!"

Clint sank the scepter into the beam of blue light, putting his weight behind it to get it through the shield. The shaft of light sputtered, making a sickly rushing noise, before dying away. Selvig's machine stopped humming and fell silent. Clint cast his eyes to the heavens, Erik coming to stand beside him. "Come on, come on," he chanted quietly.

A deep rumble rang out dully above them. Whatever alien craft were coming down from the portal promptly exploded. Tony must have done it. 'But where is he?' The portal began to close in on itself, the blackness of space being hidden away again. Clint's stomach clenched. Time seemed to crawl by, each second stretching out to an eternity. Then, just before the portal closed completely, Tony reappeared. Doctor Selvig exclaimed joyfully, but the sick feeling in Clint didn't let up. Something wasn't right. Tony was falling, not flying. Tony fell past his tower, and Clint closed his eyes, not wanting to see what happened. A slight breeze stirred up, ruffling Clint's hair. It felt almost obscene that something could feel so natural after everything he had witnessed and heard today. The seconds crawled by…

"He's alive!" Steve's voice coming in over his earpiece made Clint jump. He paused, not daring to believe what he had just heard.

"Say that again, Cap?" Clint's voice quavered so very slightly.

"Tony's alive, he's going to be ok," Steve repeated, voice heavy with relief.

Clint sighed deeply, repeating the message to Erik, who closed his eyes and looked as though he was praying. Clint made a mental note to do the same thing. Though he was not a religious man, he felt he should offer up a word of thanks to whatever higher power was watching over them. He was aching all over, trembling slightly, and more drained than he had ever been. And the day still wasn't over. They still had Loki to deal with. His army may have fallen, but there was no doubt in Clint's mind that Loki himself was still around. Anger flared up in Clint again. An arrow through the eye socket would be too humane a death for him. He had dared to touch Natasha, and Clint would see that he paid for it.

A soft moan made him turn sharply on his heels, the anger dissolving away into anxiety. Natasha moved on the ground slightly, murmuring a name too quietly for Clint to hear. He dived to the ground beside her, taking one of her small hands in his. "Nat?"

Natasha's eyes fluttered open.