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"Aren't you proud?"
There was a hideous recognition.
Something he did.
"Look at your good work."
Clint looked down at the hazy floor. It was red. All of it red, and black.
His mind lit on fire as his eyes widened at the sight of what he had done.
Cruel, cruel laughter filled the frigid air.
His lungs split open in one sickening scream.
Then, a sharp crack.
And then silence. Blood everywhere.
He could see his own empty eyes. They reflected in her dead, black eyes.
Clint awoke with one violent recoil. He took hold of Natasha before she could even react, but she was already awake from his sudden motion. He held her so tightly.
"I'm here. I'm here. It's ok." She said folding her arms around him and yawning.
"I'm sorry, Tasha." His voice was very quiet.
"What, Clint?"
He shook his head. "No."
"Please. Just tell me."
His face was hidden in her shoulder.
"My good work." He said.
Natasha froze.
"He told you that?"
"He never said it. I just knew I had to do it."
"He told me about it." She said.
Clint pulled away and looked in her eyes.
"What did he tell you?"
"He told me what he was going to make you do... to me"
She could see his jaw clench.
"I'm sorry." He looked down "I told him everything."
"I know, Clint." Her voice ever steady. "Stop. You know it wasn't your fault. We both know you could never choose to give me up, and least of all torture me to death."
Barton visibly shuddered and closed his eyes. He leaned back against the headboard and ran his hands through his hair.
"I know." He said. "I know, I just-. It's in my mind, Tasha. I can't get rid of it."
Natasha took his hand in hers. "It'll pass."
He nodded, but neither of them were quite convinced.
/
The mug between his two hands steamed and stung his palms. The smell of coffee and the sensation of pain lately had been the best ways to start his day. Clint was alive. He was in control. That felt right.
Barton never used to drink coffee. Not before Natasha became apart of his life. He thought she made the best coffee. Granted, Clint had no frame of reference for coffee. If he had, he would know that Tasha's coffee was of a strength not even the Hulk would enjoy. But Barton enjoyed it. That may have had something to do with the fact that he dumped copious amounts of sugar into his cup and colored it nearly white with milk. Natasha on the other hand drank hers black.
Clint took a sip. So damn good. He loved coffee meant Natasha. This coffee meant home.
The sun was up over the city. It's light bathed across the table where he sat, slowly heating his bare arms. Natasha had left only a few minutes ago and now he was alone. Clint still had "his good work" fresh on his mind that morning. He hadn't thought much about it before, but now needed to see his confrontation with Natasha on the helicarrier. He didn't know why. He just needed to. The man literally had nothing to do besides try to fill his thoughts. He walked, he unnecessarily practiced shooting, sparred when Tasha was around, etc. etc. It was like the never ending snow day from hell. For Clint Barton, not working was nearly as bad as pain and fear. For once, though, he was going to indulge in painful memories. He was going to look into that abyss he kept avoiding.
There was no way he was going to ask Stark, and Barton wasn't stupid. He just asked Jarvis. Of course, that was only after he'd made his way through air vents into one of Tony's locked labs. It would have been easier to just access the system from Tony's penthouse, but that wasn't private enough. Clint made sure he knew Tony was occupied elsewhere when he made his way to the lab.
Jarvis pulled up the security feeds from the helicarrier.
Clint sat sifting through footage until he found what he was looking for. Even on the security footage you could see the bright glowing blue in his eyes. Clint hadn't seen this before. Something quaked in the back of his mind causing him to avert his eyes momentarily. He swallowed and then looked back at the screen.
As he watched their fight his eyes danced, following the movements on the screen. Clint hated the man on the feed. He hated him for the way he fought her. It wasn't sparring or even an effort to subdue her. He wanted her dead. Clint hated that man for the look in his glowing eyes. There was nothing in them save for a burning desire to plunge a knife into her neck.
He searched his face for any sign of himself.
"You should turn that off." Natasha said. She'd approached in total silence and was standing at his shoulder.
"I never wanted to hurt you." He said, not taking his eyes off the video.
"I know."
Clint shut down the screen and got up. Taking her hand, he pulled Natasha into a gentle embrace. Pulling her head toward his shoulder, he kissed her cheek. Natasha relaxed against him.
"I love you."
"I never doubted that."
/
That night Bruce was typing away furiously at the computer. He adjusted his glasses as he consulted a stack of paper beside the keyboard. He was alone, lost in his lab rhythm. He also had a Tony rhythm, but it was far less fluid and far more disjointed. When Tony was not in the lab, he returned to his own.
Data flew across the screen as he typed. Just as he was reaching for the stack of paper to flip pages, a voice behind him made him jump.
"Looks boring."
The stack of paper flew into the air.
"Shit!" Bruce shouted in surprise.
Clint froze in place for a second, fearing the appearance of "the other guy". But all was well. He put his hands up in a peaceful gesture. "I'm sorry."
Bruce held his chest and breathed deeply.
"It's ok. I was just in my own little world."
"You ok?"
"Yeah, we're fine."
"Sorry about you stuff." Clint said as he knelt to pick up the papers.
"No worries. They're numbered."
Five minutes of silent paper stacking passed between the two of them.
"Thanks." Bruce said as he stood up and placed the papers back on the desk where they had been. When he looked back up, he didn't see Barton.
"I'm here."
Bruce looked over toward the windows. Barton was inspecting an unfamiliar machine. Dr. Banner decided not to press him and went back to what he was doing. Some minutes passed as Barton meandered around the lab getting a closer look at things and touching things he probably should not touch. Stealing a few glances over at him, Bruce was amused because Barton had the look of a curious child. Eventually he reappeared on the nearby stool. The same as on his last visit to Bruce's lab. Bruce looked over and offered a nod to let him know he was aware of his presence. Clint absently watched Banner's fingers fly across the computer keys for a little while, his mind clearly somewhere else.
"Do you trust yourself?" He suddenly asked.
Bruce stopped typing.
"In what way?"
Clint stared at his hands. "How can you know you won't kill Tony and Pepper?"
Bruce again took off his glasses and crossed his arms as he leaned against his desk.
"Because they trust me."
Clint shook his head, thinking of Natasha. "It's not enough."
"Why not?" Bruce asked.
Barton had no answer and Bruce let the question hang between them a little longer.
"Why do you think Loki still has your mind?"
Clint looked up. "I don't."
Bruce maintained his eye contact. "Then you can be trusted. Same as always."
"Clint, it was temporary. It's over. He had powers out of our grasp and he used them on you. -Did you know he tried to do that to Stark too? But the reactor in his chest blocked the scepter." He nodded for emphasis.
"You can ask him. He'd be happy to tell you all about it." Bruce added.
Clint rolled his eyes.
Banner didn't notice it, but Barton's hand instinctively moved to his chest where Loki had placed the scepter. His fingers pressed against the spot. No reactor, only flesh, weakness.
"The point is" Bruce continued. Loki could have and would have done that to any of us. He hurt you. There's no question there, but it's done. Loki did those things. Not you. He used you as a tool."
"But I shouldn't have let him!" Clint interjected vehemently. He stood up quickly. "I've gotta go." His voice instantly reverted to the usual unattached tone.
"Ok." Bruce said amiably.
When he was alone again, he found his mind from wandering back to his own predicament with "the other guy". That was not temporary. Bruce shook off the thought. He had been down that road enough times. Turning back to his computer he got to work again.
