Hey, everyone. We're almost out of the plot of the Avengers, but I still have the chance to have fun messing around in my characters' heads. Well, the one character I can claim, anyway. If the short timejumps are confusing you, I apologize, but I had absolutely no interest in simply rewriting the entire movie.

Oh, and I have discovered that I am apparently incapable of writing a good fight scene without having a cup of tea handy. I have no explanation for this.

DakotaLyon, marvelgirl88, and CarlyCarnations - you guys rock. I'm glad you like it. Spread the word! My greatest joy as an author is when new readers enjoy my work, so tell your friends!

Enjoy!

K.S.

SHIELD Helicarrier – Undisclosed Location

Erian crouched in the dark, hidden from view by the broken, sparking electrical cords around her, dangling down amidst the torn metal wreckage. The Hulk had ripped apart six levels of priceless technology like it was plywood. She glanced down at her leg, and her mouth twisted. The explosion that had shocked Banner into becoming the Hulk had dropped a pipe on her, spraining her knee.

But the worst part of the Hulk's fury was the fear she'd seen in Banner's eyes just before he lost control. Erian had tried to talk him down, help him keep the Hulk contained, but she couldn't. She'd looked into Banner's eyes, and seen fear, and self-loathing, and she would stake her life on the fact that he had been trying to tell her to run.

Well, that's hard to do with a giant pipe on my leg. And by the time I could run, the Hulk was more than capable of keeping up with me. I don't put much stock in luck, but I do count myself lucky that Thor came along when he did. Still, if the Hulk keeps breaking things, this whole helicarrier will collapse from within.

Speaking of collapsing, that explosion was no accident. What the hell is going on?

Erian turned on her radio ear bud, but heard only incoherent shouting, and possibly the sound of something blowing up. Definitely gunfire. Fury's voice was in there somewhere, but she had no idea what he was trying to say.

The helicarrier shuddered, and Erian grabbed a support strut to keep her balance, only to have the metal beam come free of its moorings and nearly brain her as it swung past. She stood up, shaky on her bad leg, but at least she could stand. Loki. This is his fault. What's he doing, now that the Hulk is tearing this place to shreds? What's the second step in his plan?

Naturally, it was at that moment that Fury's voice said clearly, "It's Barton. He took out our systems. He's headed for the detention level. Does anybody copy?"

Some small part of Erian wanted to cry. Clint turned on us. Clint is destroying this fortress from within. And I have to take him down. How can I fight my own partner?

But she understood. In fact, she recognized it as inevitable. She was the only one who knew Clint well enough to stand a chance. It simply had to happen, sooner or later. Looks like sooner.

I have to be the one. No one else would get close. No one else can touch him.

And I would never let anyone else touch Clint, even if they could. He's my partner. My responsibility.

My second chance. And now I will be his.

Her hands shook, but her voice was steady. "This is the Ghostmaker. I copy."

Clint was moving with purpose, boots hitting metal in a steady rhythm along the walkway. So intense was his focus that it took him a few, fatal seconds too long to notice the lighter set of footsteps hiding any sound in the pattern of his own stride.

He whirled, bow drawn, ready to kill, and the Ghostmaker twisted the bow in his hands, sending the arrow whistling away towards the distant ceiling.

Oh, hell. His eyes. Loki's eyes. They're the same. Blue-black, and empty. That's really not him.

Clint attacked, using the bow like a quarterstaff. The Ghostmaker simply grabbed the ends of the bow stave and folded it in on itself, locking it in place. The look on his face would have been priceless, at any other moment.

Far away and very small, Erian rolled her eyes and thought, Really, Clint? How many times have I watched you snap that bow open and closed, and it never occurred to you that I learned a thing or two? I might not be able to hit the broad side of a barn using your weapon, but I know how to lock it shut.

The Ghostmaker was too busy for such thoughts. She was striking with knives in her hands, but only using the hilts. A quick punch to Clint's arm in just the right place to deaden the nerves. A hard kick to his knee, to put him off balance. She did regret using that one, because it meant she had to stand on her own bad knee to do it.

Clint struck back at her, of course. But somehow she just couldn't make herself use blades against her partner.

He'll kill you. This isn't Clint. He'll kill you. Fight him!

But she couldn't. The Ghostmaker narrowly avoided being stabbed with an arrow, and found her arm twisted back behind her, inches from snapping the bones in her wrist. She didn't give Clint time to use the hold against her – the Ghostmaker planted one foot on the railing, kicked off as hard as she could, and flipped backwards over his head, yanking her arm free with a painful jerk, and landing in a ready crouch behind him.

Clint didn't turn as quickly as she was expecting him to. It's Loki. He's using Clint's skills, but doesn't have his experience, especially not with Clint's body and limits, or lack of them. Clint will never fight as well for Loki as he does for himself. The tiny part of her that was still Erian loved that idea – there was a kind of justice in it.

The Ghostmaker caught Clint's shoulder as he turned, hooked a foot around behind his ankle, and tripped him, using his momentum to slam him headfirst into the metal railing.

She let him go, feeling that horrible crack sound reverberate in her heart. He tried to stand, staggered, and hit his knees. Clint shook his head a little, and looked up at her with blurred eyes – his own eyes, the color of a lightning storm, full of emotion, and confusion. "Erian?" he whispered, and tried to stand again.

Impassively, the Ghostmaker punched him in the forehead with the hilt of a knife.

But Erian caught him before he hit the ground, her merciless blades already sheathed. She knelt there on the metal walkway and cradled her unconscious partner in her arms. "Clint," she whispered, and stared down at the red mark on the side of his head where he had hit the railing. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. This is all my fault."

I should have been there. I should have insisted that Fury send us both. I should have been there when Loki stole his mind. I would never have let it happen.

I'm so sorry, Clint. I'm so sorry.