Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters.
Author: As I noted before, I'm basing this off the movie. Most other character background is my invention, just a heads up.
Loki watched Clint crumple like a leaf at the sight of his arrows embedded in Natasha's ivory skin. Blood ran down her arm and sweat appeared on her brow, but she was silent. She was his silent pupil, just like Thor and he had so much to teach them. But first thing was first. Agent Barton stood beside the table; his hands were balled so tightly it seemed at any moment his bones might rupture through the knuckles.
Good, Loki thought, I've made myself clear.
"Won't you have a seat?" Loki gestured to the chair Clint had knocked over in his haste to defend Natasha.
"No."
"I insist." Loki said twirling an arrow idly. Clint didn't see it as an absentminded action, it was a message. Sit down or I'll us this arrow to open her up.
Clint relented and begrudgingly righted the tumbled chair.
"Now to my question," Loki began as Clint sat discontentedly. "I've asked you it I don't know how many times. Do you not recall it yourself? I know I allowed you to retain a vague memory of what you did while you're in my power."
"If you want me to answer any of your questions, then move away from her and take the arrows with you." Clint demanded.
Loki took a moment to consider his request then leisurely meandered back to his throne. As he passed, Clint noticed flecks of blood on his evergreen coat. It was her blood. Clint squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. This was his worst nightmare, being helpless to save her. He'd never told her because he knew she'd hate it, but he couldn't help feeling responsible for her given their past. He didn't delude himself that he was some sort of messiah to her, but he knew he'd given her a second chance. Still, that second chance came with risks.
Loki swept his coattails to the side and sat on his throne. He eyed Clint for a moment then cast with his spell. A glass of water appeared before Clint.
"What is this? A peace offering?" Clint eyed the glass with suspicion, but his mouth yearned for cool relief.
"I don't know anything about peace offerings, but since you will be speaking at length, I thought you may want something to drink. " Loki conjured again and a glass of water appeared in his own hand.
"To your health, Agent Barton." He raised his glass and took a long drink.
Clint knew it wasn't a trick, Loki already had him where he wanted him, but he detested the idea of taking anything from Loki. The water beaded down the side of the glass and his head swam. He needed to be able to think, if he was going to get out of this and there was no way to do that if he passed out. He took the glass in his hand and drank it down at once.
"Are you ready Agent Barton?" Loki asked leaning forward almost imperceptibly. He was so filled with curiosity at what had been hidden from his magic. At first considered, breaking Clint's skull open and picking the answer out by hand. That was always option B, but he felt that Barton could be reasoned with given the right encouragement. With his partner pinned to a chair by his own arrows, her blood beginning to change the color of her blue jeans into a deep burgundy, he felt confident Clint would tell him whatever he wanted to know.
"Yes." Clint replied firmly.
"Do you know which one it is?" Loki asked.
Clint had known the moment Loki had asked. How could he forget? When Loki had been unable to extract his answer from simple questioning, he'd entered Clint's mind. Clint shuddered as he remembered Loki's specter's use of a whip made of twined barbwire. His back was completely devoid of skin by the end, the ribbons of slick muscle exposed to the cool air. The blood tickled as it dripped down into the hollows of his knees. There was no relief. When he struggled to get away the barbwire on his wrist dug deeper, opening his veins again and again. Still, Loki questioned him relentlessly.
Clint could tell it was not something Loki reveled in; it was simply a means to an end. Loki wasn't even able to meets Clint's eyes when he had finally resigned due to exhaustion. Clint sensed he may have even been ashamed of himself, but Loki wanted his answer. He used whatever tactics necessary to achieve his desired endgame.
Clint nodded.
"Then you will tell me now?"
"Yes. I was in the bathroom of my dump of trailer. I was fourteen years old. I'd been traveling and preforming for the circus for five years at that point. I lived with Big John, his name was really Roger White, but everyone called him Big John, I guess it was just easier. He was the closest thing I had to family, took me in when I was nine and on the lam from a foster home." Clint shifted uncomfortably and glanced at Natasha.
"She doesn't know?" Loki asked intrigued.
Clint silence was enough confirmation.
"She can't hear you."
"But when I was-"
"I chose to let you see what you did. I choose to not let her see this. She is as good as sleeping right now. She'll never know."
Clint cracked his knuckles and looked over at Thor.
"I won't remove him and you have no choice in that matter." Loki said with finality. Thor furrowed his brow and Loki put up his hand to silence any protestations. Then with a blink he was gone.
Loki suddenly appeared behind Thor and placed a hand on his shoulder. "In time brother you will see that everything I do has a purpose. This too is part of the lesson, so listen carefully." Thor heard Loki's voice whisper in his ear. Then suddenly he melted into air like breath on a frozen window pane.
Loki reappeared in the center of the room.
"Now Agent Barton, do continue." He beckoned warmly.
Clint looked at the ground below Natasha's chair and saw that red was beginning to paint the legs and trickle onto the floor. There was no more time to hesitate.
"The night that you're asking about I kissed a woman for the first time. She was older than me and it wasn't love for her, but it was for me. I loved her. That's what the memory is about. That's why I won't tell you about it. It is one of the few good memories I have and I try to keep it to myself for that reason."
Loki's face dropped.
"Agent Barton, I cannot express my disappointment in you enough. Do you really think I am a fool? Do you want her to die, fastened to that chair by your own weapons? Don't you think I chose my weapon well? It is rather poetic I will say."
"You wouldn't-"
"I do enjoy her very much, her hardened placidity, but don't think I will hesitate to let her die before you. Now, tell me the memory or I will put the remains of your quiver to good use."
Clint set his jaw. There was no turning back.
"It was my first kiss. I was fourteen. I'd been living with Big John for a year or so. He was a boozer and he got mean when he was all gassed up on liquor."
"He hurt you." Loki asked. His eyes seemed to glint in the torch's flickering light.
"He laid his hands on me every so often. It wasn't personal; he was blind drunk, but yeah. I'd been hit by adults before."
"So what happened?" Loki asked, his voice impassive.
Clint shook his head and hand his hands over his sandy hair.
"I can't-"
The torches began to dim.
"You don't have to say it. You can show me." Loki said gesturing with his scepter. The room fell into sudden darkness. Clint tried to move, but it was as if the blackness was a heavy, velvet cage laid over top of him. He was pressed back into the chair and his lungs struggled for breath.
In the corner of the room there was a breath of light. It was a dingy, caramel colored haze that flicked to life and exposed the inside of filthy, cramped bathroom.
Loki appeared suddenly beside him. Thor's chains clinked just a few feet away. Clint could sense Thor's unease.
"Let go and show me Clint and this will all be over." Loki said placing a soothing hand on Clint's chest. The weight of the hand brought air flowing into his lungs. Clint breathed deeply. He saw there was only one choice to end this. Comply with Loki's request or suffocate.
Clint let go. The light grew and illuminated more of the room beyond that crack in the bathroom door. In the next room there was a large man. He was dressed in a sloppy pair of jeans with patches on the knee and a shirt stained with a variety of browns. There was a hole worn in the left armpit that exposed knotted, kinky black hair. His face was red and long, but angular. Beside him was a woman. She must have been at least twenty years his junior. She was dressed in a juvenile, ruffled skirt, but she was clearly at least ten years too old to be wearing it. Her face was painted in painfully garish blues and pinks, but despite all that she had pleasing features. They spoke, but no words could be heard, though their bodies explained what was going on well enough. Abruptly the man's face twisted into dark angry lines. He seemed to be shouting. The girl shot up off the couch.
Clint closed his eyes. He didn't need to see it again. He never wanted to think of it again.
"Then you came in?" Loki asked. A slender finger tipped Clint's head up to meet his eyes. Clint swallowed.
"Yes."
A young boy entered the room, bursting through the bathroom door and standing stock still for a moment in the living room. He was frozen by the scene in front of him, chilled in horror from the inside out. It was too much for him. The images came to him fragmented like polaroid photos. The man on top of the girl, the shards of glass from the broken table, the ripped underwear caught around an exposed thigh, the blue streaks on her cheeks from the brash makeup mixed with hot tears, the phone cord like a cheap necklace around her throat.
Then something snapped. The boy acted and there was blood speckled on the girl's face. A gurgling and thrashing. The boy stabbed, stabbed, stabbed. His lungs sucked air. He didn't stop until there was pulp instead of a face. He fell to his knees and sunk his curled fists into the warm blood that's begun to pool and felt no remorse. The boy leaned down and placed a chaste kiss on the girl's lips. The first girl he'd ever loved. The first dead girl he'd ever seen.
Before he can cry he gets to his feet. He lights the burners in the kitchen and leaves to go have a smoke. He lights the trailer on fire and walks to the highway by the light of the moon.
"I see." Loki said.
Unbidden tears slide down Clint's face.
"I see."
Author: Wondering why this is so important to Loki? You'll find out soon enough. Please send me a review if you liked it. Thanks for reading!