Chapter Thirteen

Clint Barton was Hawkeye. The freaking master archer, the guy who made Robin Hood look like a total amateur. He was the best sniper the world have ever seen (no, really, he had a certificate and everything). Put him with three hundred - no, four hundred yards of a target, and he wouldn't miss. Shooting from on top of a building? No problem. The top of a tree? Still, he wasn't affected. Hanging upside from the outside of a moving quintjet? That was one tricky, but still, he could hit whatever target you gave him.

But right now he was pretty sure he couldn't hit a brick wall.

He knew why. It was because he was on the ground. You don't snipe (Was that the verb form of 'sniper'?) from the ground. You get up high. Clint was just at a total loss. There were no trees here, Fandral wouldn't let him get on his shoulders, and the fact that he wasn't even close to six feet tall wasn't helping.

To make matters worse, no one understood his pain.

"Oh, come on, guys! My name is Hawkeye! As in 'hawk', as in bird, as in fly, as in in the sky, as in up high!" Horrible unintentional rhyming, but Clint ignored it. Instead, he waved his arms up in down, like a bird flapping its wings for emphasis.

Natasha rolled her eyes and loaded her gun. "You picked Hawkeye because he was your favorite character on M*A*S*H , and you thought he was a 'lady's man'."

Oh, right. He had told her that story, hadn't he? "No," he replied, shaking his head in denial. "Such lies. I picked it because Hawkeye taught me about thirty drinking games and thus became my idol. The fact that he was incredibly smooth and awesome had absolutely nothing to do with it."

"I hate to interrupt this little conversation," Fandral said in his silly, pompous accent as he stepped in between Clint and Natasha, "but I do believe that we have company." With one gloved hand outstretched, he pointed to the horizon.

Which reminded Clint of another reason he was beginning to doubt his archer awesomeness - the snow and wind. The snow made it hard to see, and the wind would totally screw up his direction. Sure, he could adjust to a slight breeze, but a blizzard? Nope. Not gonna happen.

But that was beside the point.

Clint squinted into the storm, hand involuntarily tightening on his bow. Through the white haze, he could just make out a mass of dark figures, advancing at them at what seemed to be a pretty decent speed. Even as he looked at them, a new sound pierced the roaring wind and made him shudder: some sort of terrible battle cry that was harsh, loud, and clearly blood thirsty.

The Frost Giants were coming.

Immediately, Clint reached over his shoulder and felt around in his quiver for an arrow that would work. Regular? No, probably not gonna work on giant ass ice people. Tranquilizer? He was saving those in case an upset and inconsolable Bruce came their way. Explosive? Yep. In one quick movement, he notched the arrow and pulled the bowstring back tight. Without thinking, he let it fly.

For a moment, there was nothing. Then, the sky lit up in a burst of red and yellow, and the Jotun battle cry turned into a wail of rage and pain. Clint grabbed another arrow, sending into the oncoming army in the same movement.

Four more giants fell, and he imagined their frozen faces melting in the sudden heat, like something out of Raiders of the Lost Ark.

Fandral let out a whoop. "Excellent, archer! I shall take them head on, with the assistance from your lady friend here, and you shall stay here and pick them off with more of your magic fire arrows! Come, my lady!" With that, the Asgardian warrior laughed, running towards the Frost Giants.

Natasha didn't follow him immediately. Instead, she stood back with Clint, giving him a once over. Her grey eyes were filled with emotions he couldn't place, and she opened her mouth like she wanted to say something to him. Then, corners of her mouth pulling up slightly in a sad smile, she turned and darted off.

He should have said something. 'Good luck', or 'watch your back', or 'come back to me', or something. God, she was his partner, and he'd let her run off without even saying 'goodbye'. Jesus, he was crap, wasn't he?

Shaking his head, Clint just reached for another arrow.

AVENGERS ASSEMBLE

So, Carter hated Tony with a burning passion right about now.

She could have been on the ground, fighting with a nice group of helpful partners that didn't zoom off and do their own thing, but nope. Not what happened.

Carter briefly debated hurling a disk at Tony as he swooped over her head, but the sudden brush of air next to her left ear brought her back to the battle. With a glance back at the spear that had just whizzed past her, she held her hands up in time to block the next barrage of spears arrows, clubs, and chunks of ice. Then, once it was over, she let her shield fall and formed two light discs in her hands. Swinging them forward, she grinned as three newly beheaded giants fell near her feet.

Three down, about twenty-five more to go.

And those twenty-five? Yeah, they were kind of upset that she'd just killed some of their brethren. With a drive Carter hadn't seen before, the first set charged her, swords and clubs outstretched.

Carter side-stepped the first one, aiming a well-placed kick to his butt as he passed. The extra force only added to the giant's momentum, and he continued forward until finally stumbling over the edge of the plateau. Whipping back around, Carter formed her force-field just in time to stop a sword from impaling her. She pushed forward, the shield flying from her grip and knocking the Jotuns directly in front of her over like bowling pins.

From there, she dropped to her stomach, the cold snow making her shirt wet and unbearably cold. The giant who had tried to take her head off with his club stood just to her right, slightly off balance from his missed blow. Carter swung her legs around. When her feet connected with the Frost Giant's legs, the beast immediately fell to the ground.

Upon hearing a rush of air, Carter rolled to the side and leapt to her feet, spinning around to see a spear stuck in the ground where she had been only a minute ago. She drew her arm back, made a disc, and slung it forward. It sliced through the giant's torso with a sickening crunching sound.

That was when things went wrong - really wrong.

Pain roared up her arm like a wildfire, and Carter looked down in horror to see a sword sticking out of her upper-arm. Pain half blinding her, she retracted the outstretched limb as quickly as she could, stumbling back uncontrollably. As if sensing her weakness, the giants surged forward, forcing her further back. The edge. She was getting closer to the edge.

Whether it was the fact that she hadn't been feeling well since their arrival in Asgard, the sudden loss of blood, or the fact that she was suddenly painfully aware of how high she was, Carter's head began to spin and her stomach began to churn. It was all she could do to hold her hands out in front of her, making a thin barrier between herself and the Frost Giants.

They pressed forward, sending her closer and closer to the edge. She couldn't hold them off - she could only shuffle backwards and pray that that damn Iron Man would swoop in and carry her off like he had earlier.

But, nope, that wasn't gonna happen. In the distance, Carter could make out the light of the arc reactor and the glow from Tony's pulsar. There was no one who could save her now.

And she was standing on the precipice.

Then she heard it. That familiar roar of pure emotion that was so loud the cliff began to shake. Daring to glance down, Carter saw something that made her heart leap: Bruce. His green skin made him stand out against the plain white background, and she could tell that his face was tilted upwards towards her. He roared again, but it was quieter this time, more gentle. He was calling to her.

Still, despite the softer growl, the edge shook, and Carter's stomach did a couple of unwanted somersaults.

Oh, God, she was so high up. Her breaths became shorter and more rapid, her head spun, and her vision blurred. Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God, oh -

One of the Frost Giants made a sharp jab at her shield, shattering it in the process.

Everything happened in slow motion after that.

Carter stumbled back, one foot sliding off the edge. Arms pinwheeling, she felt herself losing her balance as she teetered dangerously. The Jotuns raised their weapons, preparing to go in for the kill. Carter saw her entire life flash before her eyes. Either she would be skewered, or she would fall to her death, just like she'd always thought that she would.

But then she heard that roar again. Bruce. Bruce was down there. He would catch her if she fell - he would always be there to catch her.

A confidence that she'd been lacking filled her, and with an impish grin in the Frost Giant's direction, she let herself fall.

The air whipped and roared around her, rendering her senses helpless. Like a leaf caught in the storm, she spiraled downward, not knowing where her journey would end or when. After what felt like forever, her cool confidence began to fade, and panic filled her again. What if Bruce didn't catch her? What if she went splat, and became a frozen pancake? Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God, oh, God -

Then a pair of large, warm arms wrapped around her and Carter's world went black.