Shit's about to go down. That's all I'm gonna say. :D
Chapter Eight: Sacrifice
Mo's P.O.V.
I was not a screamer. Honestly. I went and saw Maroon 5 in concert a few years back and only clapped really enthusiastically while everyone around me, my best friends Grace and Jenna included, screamed their lungs out. Grace and Jenna could hardly talk the next morning, a fact that I laughed about the whole drive home from the cities. I was the only one that could physically sing along to the radio and gush over the events of the night before. The other two could just nod and smile.
And when we would have horror movie marathons on Halloween, Grace always ducked under the blankets and Jenna screamed at every jump scare. Me? I laughed. The chair moving across the room? Totally fake. Maybe I'm too much of a realist and can't be bothered to fully immerse myself in the fictitious affairs of ghosts and vampires. Whatever the reason, I had really never been much of a screamer.
However, my mind forgot that little fact as soon as the pet name "Princess" slipped past Barton's lips, and I screamed so loudly my throat instantly began to feel raw. It was high-pitched and shrill, a sound totally unlike anything I could recall ever making, and I had no idea how actors in those same horror movies I scoffed at could consistently strain their vocal chords.
Barton reacted immediately, darting forward to clamp his hand over my mouth. "Shut up, or you'll regret it," he hissed, but the voice was starting to become distorted. This was not Barton. I'd had a suspicion when he'd first assaulted me when I got here, but now I knew. My Barton would never intentionally hurt one of his teammates. He would never threaten to harm any of us, and he would never need to be restrained by Stark and Rogers because he was being an ass.
His blue eyes were lighter than I remembered them being, the pupils much blacker. The curl of his lip coupled with the anger on his face made my eyes lower away from his. The fight went out of me and my heart sank down to my toes. My Barton would never confess his love for me, let alone kiss me, I thought, exhaling slowly against his palm.
The door to the room burst open, and in a flash of blonde hair and biceps, Barton's hand was ripped away from my face and he landed heavily on the ground. Stark was at my side in an instant, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and drawing me into his chest. "It's okay, Rogers has him," he said, tightening his hold on me when I tried to pull away.
"Rogers?" I asked aloud. Stark let me move back enough to see Rogers pinning Barton to the ground, his eyes darker and full of more fury than I had ever seen before. He had one hand on Barton's throat and the other raised in a fist over the other man's face. His knees were pinning Barton's arms to the floor. My jaw dropped open. "Holy shit, I thought it'd be Thor."
Stark chuckled, his chest vibrating against the side of my face. "Thor and the others are still in the conference room. Cap and I left them to go and look for you. We ran here as soon as we heard you screaming."
Rogers was summoning the other three through his com, his eyes narrowed into a glare at Barton, who was simply lying on the floor with an amused smile on his face. The captain took his finger away from his ear and looked over at me, some of the heat disappearing from his expression. "What happened?" he snapped.
I knew he wasn't angry with me, but his harsh tone made me flinch anyway. Stark held me a little tighter, like he was trying to be comforting. Really, though, it was doing the opposite. I felt like they were trying to restrain me from doing something out of hand when all I wanted to do was curl up in a ball and die because Barton was so damn messed up in the head.
It's not really Barton...
The thought wasn't mine. It sounded like it was a man's voice, but it was too hushed for me to fully determine that. What the hell? I thought back, hoping maybe I'd get a response.
I did. That's not Barton before you.
I turned my attention to the man on the floor, barely noticing when Banner, Thor, and Natasha ran into the room to join us. Barton's eyes were closed, an easy smile on his face. As if he could feel me watching him, he cracked open one eye and smirked. "See something you like, Princess?" he whispered. Somehow, I was the only one that heard.
Think, Mo, the voice in my head whispered.
"Mo?" Rogers said, drawing my attention back. "What happened?" he repeated.
I took a deep breath (which was difficult to do considering Stark's arms were restricting my air flow) and looked back at Barton. Both of his eyes were open and he was watching me carefully. "I dare you," he mouthed. He winked.
"Princess" bounced around in my head, knocking against the deeper parts of my memory. There was only one other person I knew that called me "Princess" - although "person" was the wrong word to use.
"It's not Barton," I said slowly, my voice just loud enough to be heard. His smirk grew wider at my words. Rogers stared at me, as did everyone else. "It's not Barton," I repeated. "It's Chris Garfield. Barton's been possessed."
Barton/Chris started to laugh, staring up at the ceiling with squinted eyes and a wide-open mouth. When he turned his head back toward me, rather than blue his eyes were a deep yellow, the pupil's nothing more than slits. I shrank away from him; Stark's arms tightened around me once again. Barton looked terrifying with alien eyes, and I couldn't help but wonder if I looked that psychotic and nightmarish when I was infected.
Why didn't they just shoot me when I looked that crazy? I asked myself, looking away from those foreign yellow eyes. Was I really worth all the trouble I had put them through? I sighed quietly to myself. I think that Barton is worth the trouble he's giving us. So why should they not have thought the same of me?
Barton - Chris - whoever - was still laughing, and Rogers tried to clamp a hand over his mouth to make him stop. But the possessed man was already speaking, easily shoving Rogers off of his pinned body. "You really think a ninety-year-old man can stop me?" he asked sarcastically, raising one eyebrow. Rogers barely batted an eyelash. "It doesn't matter if you're 'young for your age' or not, super soldier. You're not a match for me."
"What do you want with Barton?" I snapped, cutting to the chase. Stark gave me a warning squeeze around the ribs and he, as well as the rest of the team, shot me a look. They didn't want me to cause things to get out of hand - again. I carried on regardless. "Last I checked, you and your goons were after me."
He chuckled. "What makes you think we're not?"
I tried to swallow the fear that hit me like a brick wall. It was hard to look at Barton's face and know that it wasn't my closest friend staring back at me. It was even harder to hear his voice telling me that I'm still in danger of getting kidnapped by the aliens. The yellow tint to his eyes and the lethal smirk on his face made my blood run cold. My mind was fogged. I didn't need to know why Chris Garfield was inhabiting Barton's body. I just needed to know what I could do to fix it.
I exhaled slowly and mustered up all of my strength before bringing my elbow back and nailing Stark in the stomach with it. He gave a quick groan and stumbled back from me, clutching the spot I hit with one hand. With his free hand, he tried to grab my arm; I skirted away from him, inching closer to Barton. "Stop trying to hold me," I said quickly, shooting Stark a look and willing him to stay put.
"Mo, what the hell?" he snapped back, rubbing his stomach. "A 'please' would have sufficed."
Rogers, Banner, and Thor all tried to step toward me. I threw both my hands out and in a rushed, panicked voice, said, "No! Don't move any closer!"
Natasha tried to come forward next. "What is going on with you all of a sudden?"
My blue eyes were wider than I can remember ever having them. I held my hand out to her now, urging her to stop. I was walking backward, putting more distance between myself and the team and less between me and Barton. "I can handle this. I promise. Just trust me."
"Mo - " Rogers protested.
"Just trust me!" I screeched. I couldn't explain why I was so panicky in that moment. I just knew I needed Barton to be okay. No matter what it took. I turned toward the man in question, the wild expression on my face probably making me look like a psychopath. "What do I have to do?" I asked in a hushed voice.
The smug smile on his face kind of made me want to hit him. "What do you mean?" he asked cheekily.
"You know what I mean."
The smile grew wider, the taunting look making my skin crawl. "I'm sorry, I can't hear you."
"What do I have to do to get you to leave Barton's body?" I snapped, raising my voice. I didn't really want the rest of the team to know that I was okay with whatever Garfield requested of me, but then again, I really shouldn't have discussed it while they were all still in the room. I could feel them staring at me. I knew them well enough to know that they wanted to say something, to stop me from carrying on this conversation, but we all knew that Barton's life and safety was far more important than mine. We needed him back.
The cold chuckle that rumbled in Barton's chest was not his own. It wasn't something I ever wanted to hear again. Slowly, he approached me. My eyes instinctively followed the sway of his hips, and I cursed myself for it. This is not your Barton, I scolded myself. Stop ogling him. But with his body coming increasingly closer to me, it was getting harder to concentrate. I need him back. The real one. This furious beating of my heart would only be considered acceptable with the real one.
"Tell me what I can do," I said in a hushed, almost breathless voice. He was close enough that my chest was almost touching him. It was becoming increasingly difficult for me to breathe.
His hand slowly settled against my waist. His leaned in until his lips were dangerously close to my ear; my breath caught in my throat. "You can come away with me," he whispered, drawing back to lightly brush his lips against my cheek.
"W-what?" I had expected that answer, of course. I hadn't expected him to be so upfront about it. I imagined I would just get whisked away in the middle of the night. I suppose I didn't think he'd actually give me a choice in the matter. Although, when I thought about it, I didn't have a choice. I had to save Barton. I would do anything.
His fingertips slowly ran up the length of my side, raising goosebumps on my skin. "Think about it, Mo," he said softly. I jumped; he'd never called me by my name before. "You don't really have a choice, do you? Turn yourself over to me, and Barton walks away as though I've never been in his mind. My aliens and myself, as well as you, will leave this planet behind, never to return. Your world will no longer be in any danger - well, from my species." The pads of his fingers traced the line of my jaw, the yellow of his eyes seeming to burn my retinas with their intensity. "What do you say?"
"Would there be any way to stop you from taking me?" I had to ask. I had to know if there was anything I could do.
He smirked. "Well I would prefer to have you living rather than carrying a corpse back to my world." The smirk grew into a grin. "But you don't appear as though you have any ailment that will cause you to drop dead overnight, and you're hardly brave enough to take your own life. So erase that thought from your mind and make the right decision."
I mulled that over for barely a second. No, I couldn't kill myself. I knew I couldn't. I'd known people who had family members that took their own lives, and I saw what it did to the people that loved them. There was no way I could do that to everyone I knew and cared about.
"Okay," I said suddenly, my voice back to its normal octave. The Avengers all jumped, startled at hearing me speak so suddenly. "I'll do it. But you have to leave Barton. Now."
The cold laughter I associated with Chris Garfield filled my ears. "As you wish, my princess. I will leave this man's consciousness as you asked, but he will be..." He trailed off, thinking. "Deactivated. Tomorrow morning, as soon as the sun rises, I will come for you. As soon as you're by my side, Clint Barton will return to consciousness, good as new. But - "
"But what?" Stark snapped, moving to step toward me. I held up a hand. There was no stopping me now.
The malicious smirk on Barton's face made me lower my eyes to the floor. "But if you choose to struggle, or if any of your friends try and stop you from coming with me, I will snap Barton's life force as if it were nothing but a twig." The voice speaking to me was so venomous and laced with danger that I tried to take a step back. He gripped my forearm, dragging me back toward him. "He will never see the light of day again. Understand?"
I nodded solemnly. "Yes."
"Yes what?"
I swallowed the lump in my throat, fighting back tears. What was I doing, sacrificing my life to save Barton's? What would my parents do once they found out I was gone? Or Adam, what would he do? Brendon, Grace, and Jenna? When I returned to New York it was under the assumption that Barton only had a minor infliction that needed fixing. I didn't think I'd be giving up my life for one man... But it was Barton, the one man I knew I loved more than anyone else in the world. The choice was easy.
I looked back up into the cold yellow eyes of Chris Garfield. "Yes, I understand. And, no, I won't fight you. Just leave Barton." My voice faltered. "Please."
His voice grew quiet again. "As you wish, princess," he repeated. The yellow slowly faded from Barton's eyes, returning to the deep blue I'd fallen in love with. Just as suddenly as they'd changed color, they closed, and Barton's body collapsed.
I caught him in my arms, stumbling backward before falling to my knees, struggling beneath his weight. I was not a strong person - that much I knew - but if I'd known I'd have to completely carry the weight of Barton's limp body, I would have tried to lift weights more. My lack of strength, coupled with the fact that I was starting to dissolve into tears at the realization of what I'd just done, led me to crumpling to the floor with my arms wrapped around his shoulders and my tears staining the fabric of his shirt.
Natasha came over and crouched down beside me, resting a hand on my shoulder. "It's okay," she said.
"It's not okay," I said back, my voice thick with tears. I wasn't sobbing; rather, I was silently crying in Barton's chest, clutching him like he was my lifeline. There were a few sniffles here and there, but compared to other times I've cried, especially since meeting the Avengers team, this occasion was by far the least embarrassing. "Natasha, it's not okay."
She sighed and guided my head away from Barton's chest and toward her shoulder. I closed my eyes, my fingers deadlocked around the fabric of Barton's shirt still. "No, it's not okay."
Banner approached us, bending over in front of me and extending a hand. "Come on, let's get you out of here." There was a smile on his face, but everything about it looked forced, from the wavering quirk of his lips to the sympathetic look in his eyes. There wasn't an ounce of happiness in his expression. Just sadness.
I merely stared at him, my eyes watery and my hands sweaty from holding on so tightly. Banner placed both his hands over mine and gently pried my fingers off the dark material, quietly taking both my hands in his and tugging me to my feet. Now that I wasn't holding on to him, Barton's body fell to the side, landing on the floor with a dull thump. My heart throbbed painfully in my chest and I struggled half-heartedly against Banner's hold, a small, soft whimper slipping past my lips.
Someone ruffled my hair from behind. Half a second later, Stark walked past me, Rogers following closely behind him. Together they lifted Barton by his arms, carefully draping them across their shoulders. Stark nodded to me and I nodded back. Natasha rose to her feet and Thor came to my side, wiping a stray tear off my face with a brush of his thumb. I tried to speak but nothing came out but a sad croak. Clearing my throat, I tried again. "What now?"
Rogers and Stark exchanged a glance. "We need to get you out of here, Mo," Rogers said simply.
"No!" The word exploded from my mouth, making everyone jump - except Barton, obviously. "No, I have to do what Garfield said. If I go against his orders, he'll kill Barton!"
Rogers gave me a long, sad look. "Mo, you can't really think Barton would want you to give your life up for his."
I frowned because I thought smirking would alarm him. "Since when have I given a damn what Barton wants me to do? This is what's best for him." I swallowed the sudden lump in my throat. "And what's best for all of you."
None of them said anything. A few tense moments of silence passed before Stark sighed. "Let's go to my place. I have a feeling people are going to get suspicious if we don't come out soon, and I'd rather Fury not get involved in this case."
Rogers exhaled slowly. "Alright. Let's go."
Banner switched from holding both my hands to putting a hand on my back instead. When I gave him a questioning look, he winked. "You never know. Barton may wake up early." I tried not to let those words sink in too much and fill my heart with hope. Come sunrise, I wouldn't be seeing Barton again. It was best to start forgetting my feelings now.
The seven of us walked out of the room in silence, Thor switching off the lights and shutting the door when the last of us entered the hallway. Banner matched my curious look from before and stared at me until I got uncomfortable and looked over. "What?"
"Do you - " He stopped and lowered his voice. "Do you know how he feels?"
I sniffed quietly and looked away from Banner's imploring brown eyes in favor of staring at the back of Barton's hanging head. "If this is your idea of trying to convince me not to go with Garfield, it won't work," I said softly. "How Barton feels doesn't matter anymore. It won't make me stay." It can't.
Banner sighed. "It was worth a shot."
We walked the rest of the way out to the jets in silence and didn't speak a word until we reached Stark Tower. Jarvis greeted us when we entered the elevator, but nobody answered him with anything other than a muttered "Hello". I walked out into the main room behind the rest of them, watching as Stark and Rogers gently set Barton down on the floor to the side of the room. I trailed after them, sinking down to the wooden floor beside the "deactivated" man. I bumped his arm on accident and his head lolled onto my shoulder. I bit back a wail.
Natasha sat down on the end of the couch nearest to the two of us. She exhaled slowly. "So what do we do now?" Her face was passive and her voice was monotonous, but I knew she was as worried about her friend as I was, if not more. She'd gone through much more with him than I had. "I mean, we can't just let them take Mo."
"Yes, we can." I absentmindedly drew shapes on the back of Barton's hand, scowling at the rest of them. "And we will. We have to."
Thor was pacing, his ripped arms folded across his chest. "I do not understand why you would agree to the alien man's terms so quickly, Mo," he snapped, throwing me an angry look. Were it any other day, any other occasion, I would have shied away and cowered in the corner. But I knew what I was doing was important and that there was no other foreseeable option. There was nothing any of them could say to stop me.
"If you have another idea on how to stop Garfield from both killing Barton and kidnapping me, then I would love to hear it." The room was silent at my harsh tone. I received sheepish looks all around. "That's what I thought. I'm going with him."
Stark threw himself down on the opposite side of the couch from Natasha, kicking his feet up in her lap. She gave him a death glare and he promptly moved them. "We can't just sit around here and wait for that inevitability though. We have to do something." He sighed. "To pass the time, at the very least."
Rogers caught Stark's eyes wandering toward the counter where the billionaire kept all the alcohol. "No, Stark," he said in warning. "Drinking your problems away isn't healthy."
I looked at the two of them. Stark knew it wasn't healthy. That was the same exact thing he'd said to me when I drank with him my first night back. He knew what he was doing, even if Rogers didn't think he did. For the first time in a while, I felt no sort of contempt for Stark at all. "Leave him be, Cap," I said loudly enough for them to hear. "He may as well occupy his time doing something he enjoys."
Everyone gave me a surprised look, to which I merely rolled my eyes. If this was going to be my last night on Earth, I didn't want it to be spent listening to everyone argue over Stark's drinking habits. I leaned my temple against Barton's hair and closed my eyes, breathing deeply. When I heard the rest of the team merging into their own discussions away from me, I opened my eyes back up and looked at Barton's unconscious face.
His breathing was slow and steady, like he was only sleeping and not completely dead to the rest of the world. His eyelids twitched every now and again, and I stupidly let myself hope that he was waking up. After the third or fourth time, I stopped. He wouldn't wake up until I was on board Chris Garfield's alien ship.
My fingertips were running along the edge of Barton's jaw before I could stop myself. He shifted in his sleep and pushed his face into my palm, his lips parting slightly as he breathed. I traced my thumb across his bottom lip, feeling moisture pool behind my eyes before I blinked it away. Garfield was doing this on purpose. Barton had no way of knowing what I was doing because he wasn't present in his mind yet. Garfield was controlling him, trying to get me to crack and come running to him.
As I looked at Barton's empty face, I realized that was exactly what I was doing. All this time spent struggling to keep out of the aliens' grasp, and now I was willingly going along with them. I only wished Barton hadn't had to get caught up in it in order to get me to change my mind.
Almost in spite of myself, I ended up thinking about the night of the masquerade ball, when I discovered that Garfield was working with the aliens. I ended up kissing him... I hadn't realized at the time that he was actually one of the aliens, but would it have mattered? Would I have still kissed him in order to get away? Or if I had, what would have happened if I hadn't pulled away and ran? What if I hadn't gone home and stayed in New York instead? Would Barton have still been taken and shut out of his own mind?
No, of course not, I thought. They want me, not him. He was just a way to get to me, to convince me to return to New York. And now they have him in their grip, free to do whatever they want with him until they have me in their grasp. No matter how much it stung to hear him talk to me so harshly, his words were not his own. I closed my eyes again and leaned my forehead against his. He's trapped somewhere deep inside, and only turning myself over to the aliens will bring him back.
I shifted positions and immediately felt the tip of the arrow in my waistband digging into my outer thigh. I bolted upright, suddenly remembering what Garfield had said earlier. I ran my finger along the length of the arrow, thinking, I could end it. Right here, right now. But I pushed that idea away almost instantly. If I killed myself, the aliens might never leave Barton alone. And what would happen then?
Pulling my hand away, I gave a shaky sigh. Garfield, if that was really his name, was right. I didn't have it in me to actually kill myself.
Or did I? The sudden memory of my journey to Asgard entered my mind and I tensed, glancing about myself warily. Barton's body was slumped against the wall beside me still. Stark, Rogers, and the others were quietly discussing things several feet away from us, every once in a while tossing a look our way.
What was it that Loki had said?
I narrowed my eyes at the wall across from me, instinctively linking my hand with Barton's limp one. I remembered slipping away from Thor to find that mysterious door in the lower level of the palace. I remembered meeting Loki and getting my head slammed against the prison cell's bars. I could remember the semi-casual banter between us as he constantly seemed to insult me, but I knew there was something else, something important that I couldn't for the life of me remember. As hard as I was concentrating, it wouldn't come to me.
"Mo?"
My concentration broke at the sound of my name, and I almost grasped onto Barton in a sort of protective way. I caught myself at the last second. I was being stared at by five pairs of eyes. Natasha came closer to me, a small smile on her face. "You should go and get some rest. There's only a few hours until dawn."
I shook my head. "I'm okay."
"Mo," she said sternly, almost sounding like my mother. "Get some rest."
I frowned at her. "I'm not leaving Barton."
She sighed. "Fine. But at least try to sleep a little."
I gave her a forced smile that I knew she didn't believe for one second. "Okay. I will."
Natasha lightly patted my cheek. "We'll wake you when they get here."
I watched her walk back to the four other men before settling in beside Barton once again. It wasn't very comfortable sitting against the wall, but I nestled my head onto his shoulder and draped one arm across his waist and decided to call it good. Closing my eyes, I slowed my breathing down to match Barton's and quickly fell asleep.
oOoOo
The sound of glass shattering startled me out of my sleep. I snapped my eyes open to see light was just beginning to appear behind the tall skyscrapers around us. Stark was muttering obscenities and there was a smashed bottle of alcohol at his feet. He'd either dropped it or thrown it down in frustration. Either was likely. Given that they were all gathered around the entrance to Stark Tower from the runway and landing pad outside, I was going to guess it was the latter.
I heard the quick chopping sound of a helicopter approaching and knew Garfield and his aliens had arrived. I fought past more tears and clutched onto Barton before any of the rest of the Avengers could look over. I didn't want them to catch me hugging the life out of the man before I joined them. My heart snapped in two and sank to the pit of my stomach and I pressed a kiss to Barton's forehead. Breathing raggedly, I brushed my lips against his ear. "I love you," I whispered. "Please don't be angry with me when you wake up." There was no way he could hear me. That much I knew.
I got to my feet before I could change my mind and went to join the group by the runway. The helicopter was hovering at the end of it, just above the landing pad. The door in the side slid open and Garfield stood before me, a winning smile on his face. His black hair blew around his face from the wind. "I'm here for my princess," he yelled, narrowing his eyes at Stark's face in particular.
I pushed past Thor and Banner, slid around Natasha, and tried to force my way between Rogers and Stark, who were standing shoulder-to-shoulder. They each gripped an arm and dragged me to a stop. "Let me go," I snapped. "He'll kill Barton."
"Just stop for a minute," Rogers ordered in his commanding captain voice. I quickly shut my mouth and listened. His blue eyes were hardened as he stared at me, but behind the tough act I could see the small glimmer of hope. "We're going to find a way to fix this," he said in a hushed voice. "I promise you. We will get you back."
I pressed my lips together and looked away, avoiding Stark's brown-eyed gaze as well. "Good luck with that," I said lowly. I pulled my arms away from them and stepped away. "Thank you for everything." I swallowed the lump in my throat. "I'm sorry none of this turned out the way we wanted it to. It's my fault."
I could hear them protesting behind me, but I ignored them in favor of stepping outside. The force of the air created by the helicopter blew my hair back from my face and dried the few tears that had slipped out on accident. I would face Garfield with a straight face, acting like I didn't care. I had to be strong for all of us.
Garfield extended a hand toward me, an inviting smile on his face. "You've made the right decision, Princess," he shouted. Even with his raised voice, I could hardly hear him.
I slipped my hand into his uncomfortably warm one and allowed him to pull me inside the large helicopter. The door slid shut behind us almost immediately, barely giving me enough time to see the Avengers watching me from inside with somber expressions on their faces. Garfield pressed a button from beside me, and I caught sight of Barton lifting his head before the door shut completely, cutting me off.
I leaned my forehead against the metal and closed my eyes, the faint, quick image of Barton's body waking up burning behind my eyelids. I'm sorry, Barton, I thought, even though he couldn't read minds and there was no way he'd know. Goodbye.
