A/N: ANNNNNND we are back to Bruce, Clint, and some Tony bromance!
(thank you icanhearthedrums for editing!)
The Return to Asgard
Chapter 21
Bruce knew the outcome of the war when the first wave of warm air cut across the frozen wasteland. He was standing a few yards from the edge of camp with his arms wrapped across his chest. He had left Clint under Gulfurn's watch, though the company-man did little more than stare at the archer's back from a distance. Fandral had disappeared immediately after Clint had awakened. To where, Bruce didn't know.
The camp was in the process of being torn down. Someone must have heard of the victory won on the horizon and proceeded to break down the tents from the inside out. The billowing steeples remained in place, yet everything from within had already been gutted. Whether the workers knew it or not, Bruce understood the reasoning behind it: The walls were most likely observing them. The minute they saw the camp packing to return, the game was up.
He soaked in the warmth of the air as it passed over him to ruffle the abandoned tents. He was definitely not going to miss the abysmal cold of this place, but given the circumstances, his disdain for cold weather was not the paramount thought in his mind. Bruce was determined to get to the others before they came to find Clint. He had to warn them of what had happened. He still didn't know what he was going to tell them, but something was better than nothing at all. How was he to put to words how Clint's apparent torture at the hands of a crazed, obsessed psychopath left him a shaking shell of his former self. Thor, Sif, maybe they would know what to do. Anything was better than seeing Clint tearing apart emotionally.
Tony was easy to spot in his gold and red suit and so Bruce waved his arm over his head to call the man down to him. The rest of the foot soldiers were still making their way back. Iron Man lighted beside him, creating a puddle in the ice as his repulsers set him down. He pushed back his face plate and stood with a giant grin on his face.
"Actually live out Dungeons and Dragons...CHECK! What's next? Sea monsters?"
"Tony, I need to talk to you." Bruce blurted.
Seeing the frantic look on his face, Tony's grandeur deflated as panic set in. "Where's Clint?!"
"I need to tell you something right now. Clint won't talk to me, Tony, he freaked out."
"Whoa, whoa, are you saying he took off or something?"
Bruce shook his head. "No, no, no. You aren't getting it. He was sleeping! I was right there the whole time, I never left. Then all of a sudden he just stopped breathing." With that Tony immediately fired up to take off but Bruce grabbed him by the shoulder plates. "He's alive, Stark! He's alive. But something happened to him. I think it was that woman, or Loki, or someone. He won't tell me. He woke up screaming like someone cut him in half. He wouldn't even believe me when I showed him he was ok. That shadow of his is over there keeping an eye on him but asking him anything is like talking to a wall."
"But he's ok? He's fine, right?" Tony pressed. "What shadow?"
"Physically nothing's wrong with him, but he's been seriously screwed up. He refuses to talk to me. If he keeps this bottled up, Tony, he's going to kill himself with it. You've got to talk to him. The shadow is that Gulf-herd or Gilford guy. He showed up after you left."
"Where is he?"
Bruce started walking and Tony followed beside him. They found Clint sitting on the ice on the edge of camp, looking out towards the Asgardian city. He wasn't even waiting to see the troops come back. It was obvious, from just the sight, that someone had broken him. His shoulders were slumped, elbows propped on his knees and nothing beneath him and the ice but the fur coat on his shoulders. His arms weren't even in the sleeves. His breath blew in and out in foggy clouds.
Standing thirty meters back was Gulfurn. He was just as stoic as Bruce had described him to be.
"Go slow with Clint, Tony. I'm going to cut Thor and the wolves off at the pass before they come tumbling through here after him. Let me know if you need something."
Tony only vaguely heard him but he nodded. He strode forward toward the seated Clint, one step at a time. He'd seen that look before; the hollow eyes, the hopelessness showing on the younger man's face. Tony had that same look every day he'd spent in Afgahnistan as a prisoner of war. This was a dramatic change in Clint's face when, only hours before, it was lit up with triumph and glee for his conquered quest. His breath caught in his throat before he was able to speak.
Clint twisted to see who had come up behind him. He tensed in such a way that even at that distance Tony could see the muscles in his jaw contracting. He was trying, but dramatically failing, to hold it all together.
This suit wasn't going to do. Tony lowered his face shield and accessed his JARVIS mainframe. The suit peeled away until he was left, feeling somewhat naked, in his long sleeved Black Sabbath shirt and high tops. He walked over and sat beside Clint on the ice.
Not one to mince words, less they end up failing him completely in the end, Tony asked a tentative "So, what the happened?"
Clint was quiet. He was shaking but Tony knew it wasn't from the cold.
"Clint, you told me about your old man destroying your life as a kid." He was not going to point out that Clint was half out of his mind with pain at the time. "I told you about every nightmare I've ever dealt with. You were the one I almost choked to death after my PTSD kicked in and I wanted to kill the first person I got my hands on. Then when I thought you got Pepper in danger, I almost choked you again . . . sorry about that by the way . . . When I woke up from open heart surgery, you shoved Pepper out of the way so I could see you first."
He nudged Clint's leg.
Barton flinched at the touch, immediately regretting it afterwards. Tony tried not to feel hurt by the rejection.
"Loki?" Tony asked.
Barton shook his head.
"The other one? The one with the green tattoo?"
Clint stiffened. He said the first word in a gasp. "Enchantress."
Tony nodded. "Ok. Enchantress then. How long did she have you?"
Clint took a deep breath. "Long enough."
"Bruce, me, everyone, we thought you were sleeping."
"Thought I was too. I wished I was. I was wrong. We all were."
Tony glanced over. Clint's eyes were rimmed in red. This was bad.
"Tony, she took me . . . She did things and I don't know when she's coming back but she is coming back and I can't-"
"Slow down, ok, one step at a time. What happened? Calm your mind, just breathe and tell me one thing at a time."
Clint pressed his head into the palms of his hands. He saw the mark. The ring of green. The deal he made, the promise he gave, he brought all of it on himself and there was no way to get out of it. This was his fault. If he'd made the choice to let Fandral die, he could have avoided everything, but he knew he would never let that happen.
Tony knew Clint well enough to sense the emotional outburst before it happened. He reached over and grabbed Clint around his waist and pinned his arms to his side before he could pound his fist to a bloody pulp against the ice. At the intrusion to his release of emotions, Clint changed tactics. He was running on pure adrenaline when he fell to his side and turned on Tony instead. He kicked out at Tony's legs. Stark shifted out of the way and tucked his head to avoid the elbow sent for his face. If Clint needed to fight someone, that was fine with him. Tony knew the truth. He knew Clint was after his demons and that was all. Nothing helped like a good tussle.
They wrestled across the ice. Clint obviously sensed Tony's intrusion as an attack rather than a form of consolation. Tony merely had to avoid getting the crap beat out of him but, with Clint, that was hard to do. He was strong, an assassin trained to the height of human ability and fully capable of taking anyone down. Tony suffered more than one jab to his kidney before he was able to get on top of Clint and hold him down. A part of him suddenly regretted stepping out of his suit. Clint and he had sparred before, countless times. Tony owed those late nights in the ring to his present ability to even attempt to hold his own.
Gulfurn made to lunge forward and help, but he wasn't sure whether he would only do more damage by keeping them separate. Grappling with indecision, Clint's terrified cries cut him to the quick.
Tony was still on top, but not for long. Clint was rabbit punching him in the side. Clint had fallen back on a technique Tony had become familiar with. Clint was strong, stronger than he let anyone know. He often let himself be dragged to the bottom of a pile only to take advantage of his opponent's overconfidence just before throttling him. A haymaker was coming, and if Tony didn't move soon, he was going to catch it right on the chin.
"No! No! Get off! No!"
"Clint, stop! Just relax! It's me, it's Tony!"
Clint scrambled frantically beneath him. He was strong – too much for Tony to hold down for long. Before Clint let loose with his deadly right hook, Tony pushed off of him. He held an elbow against his bruising side. The archer rolled the other away to put distance between them. He hugged the ice with his flushed face as he panted. Tony eased closer but didn't touch him.
"Don't tell her." Clint said.
"Don't tell who?"
Clint straightened his elbows to bring his torso up. His face turned back to the Asgardian city hidden high behind its wall. "Don't tell Natasha." He said, emotion thickening the voice in his throat.
He'd kept secrets for Clint before. Usually, if they involved Natasha, it was either a gift or something so horrible Clint could never think to burden her with it. Tony seriously doubted there was a gift, this time.
"You know I wont." He replied. He waited patiently, expecting Clint to begin talking when he felt he could do so without shattering. Tony could only expect the very worse. What he got surpassed those expectations.
"She knows everything. When she gets into your head it's like every fear you ever had is her playground. She thinks of it like a game and you sit there, unable to do anything about it like some mannequin. I thought I'd wake up...dreams can't just sneak up on you and hurt you like that. I knew I would wake up. Then she crushed my hands."
Clint rotated his body, bringing him back into a seated position. Hi legs crossed and he looked into his palms as he flexed the fingers. The phantom pain Bruce described reminded him of exactly what it felt like when she twisted them in her grasp.
"I can still feel it. Not waking up. No chance of escape. I was trapped there. It was like drowning in an ocean while everyone you cared about just stood there and watched it happen."
"Bruce said you stopped breathing. Is that what brought you out?"
Clint shook his head. "I did that. I wanted to do it. She stuck me with needles. She impaled me with them, strung me out in some desert like I was being crucified. It felt like I was there for days, drying up in the sun with these things stuck through my body and I couldn't get them out."
Clint's worst fear, Tony thought. The only thing that terrifies him and that witch used it against him. He fought hard to remain calm and collected like Bruce might be as he listened to Clint pour his heart out. In the back of his mind Tony considered every possible torture he could conjure up for this wretch. He briefly remembered Gulfurn and motioned the man back with a hand. He didn't want him overhearing what Clint was most likely telling him in confidence. The wavering soldier stayed for a moment. He shifted his weight from left to right, and then took a few cautionary steps backward.
"Then she'd stop. She'd let me think it was all over. The pain would go away and I'd feel like it was nothing. Then it would start all over again. Something new I couldn't control. Something she'd want to enjoy watching and laugh at. She burned me in a furnace. She peeled off my skin. She tied me to a post and pulled my arms out of their sockets, and then she kept on pulling until they ripped out of my body. That's the kind of person I'm talking about." Clint never thought those words would ever come out of his mouth. Not ever.
The sheer defeat on him made the hair on the back of Tony's neck stand straight up. Was this really happening? He dropped his voice, easing closer as if all of Asgard would be listening in. He noted how Clint pulled away from him, unwilling to let them touch. They were friends. They were like brothers. He'd never seen Clint act this way with him. Then Tony remembered the unhinged panic in Clint's eyes when Tony held him down. The scream for him to stop.
Clint didn't have to say it. Stark already knew.
"I wont tell her. I won't tell Nat." Tony whispered to him. "There was nothing you could do about that."
"She's deranged. She infested me with spiders...Black Widows. I still feel like they're crawling on me. I feel like I'm going crazy. When she finally gave me a door, I tried to take it. You know what was on the other side? A cement wall. I busted my fist open trying to claw my way out. She gutted me like a pig while she sat there with her lips all over me. Someone had to have been on the outside watching me. Why it took me that long to decide to hold my breath, I don't know."
Tony put a hand over his face as his emotions almost leaked out. He had to turn away from Clint. He couldn't keep looking at Clint's face and not imagine what it was like to be trapped in his own mind all over again. Loki had done that to him. He'd scooped Clint out from within and controlled every aspect of him...but this was different. There were things this woman did that even Loki never dared try. Tony never really wanted Loki dead. He wanted to stop him, yes, but never wanted him dead. The Enchantress? Well she was going to get a repulser to the face until her flesh melted off.
"I'm not going to tell you I'm sorry."
"What?"
Tony stood up, dusting the snow off his pant legs. "I'm not sorry. You know why? Cause I have nothing to be sorry about. You know who is going to be sorry really soon? I'll give you one guess."
"She hasn't even asked me for the favor yet. I don't know what I'm going to—"
Stark turned on him. The fury was impossible to mask from his voice. "You aren't doing a thing for her, got that? Not while I've got a say in it. Not after that! Bruce, Cap, Natasha and I are going to figure this out. You can help, or you can look pretty and stay in camp. I'd rather you stay but this is your place and I'm not going to tell you what to do in your own house. Way I see it, if you remain with Thor she's going to figure out some way to use you against him. If you stay with us, I don't know what she'll do."
"Or I can just leave."
Tony twisted his head as if he hadn't heard Clint correctly.
"Fandral told me to run. Go back to Midgard, Blenheim, Alfenheim, anywhere but here. To escape while I could before she comes back. Maybe she couldn't follow me there, but who's to know?"
Tony couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Clint, you love it here. You would leave?"
"I'm not leaving. I thought about it, sure, but I'm not. And if you think I'm going to sit here like some damsel in distress, you're crazy. I'm going with you, we're finding her, and I'm the one that gets to cut her head off!" Clint got to his feet and trudged back to his discarded coat.
Tony touched his arm, forgetting the offense until Clint rapidly pulled away. The archer gave him an apologetic look.
"Don't you be sorry, either!" Tony shot at him. "I don't care if you feel like throwing me through a wall because you can't get to her yet. If you need that, you tell me! Just give me a chance to get my suit on next time. I think you actually cracked my rib."
"I'm not about to turn you into William Tell, but thanks. I'll keep it in mind. And yeah, you might be peeing blood for the next three days." He moved past Tony intending to head back into camp. His time to himself was over. He was not going to sit there and feel bad about himself or wonder what he could have done differently. What happened to him would not change.
Tony went to his suit intending to climb back inside if for nothing else but the warmth. He was freezing to death without it. He didn't have far to go to catch up with Clint. Something had stopped the archer in his tracks.
"You eat some bad boar or something?" Tony asked.
Clint was folded over with an arm across his stomach. He shook his head at him. "Bruce called it phantom pain. My brain's not catching up with the fact that I still have all my intestines inside my body."
Tony had the feeling of vomit in the back of his throat. "You want an aspirin? I can fly back through an inter-dimensional portal and get one for you."
Clint glared at him, amusement in his eyes despite the seriousness of the situation. "Remind me again why I think you're my friend."
"Cause I'm the only one who lets you do stupid things by helping."
It was difficult to deny that kind of logic.
"Yeah, you know I'm right. Come on, Legolas, let's go blow something up. Did I tell you I got to fight a giant?"
Officially distracted, Clint's thoughts were taken off the ache. Tony hauled him forward and they made their way into camp together. For what felt like the first time, Clint caught sight of Gulfurn. Was this the soldier who had been following him around? Who had told him of the victory on the line? Who draped the coat over his shoulders, retrieved his quiver, and tied the boots on his feet? Surprised, Clint opened his mouth to say something at the same time that Gulfurn looked like he had his own grandiose speech to recite. But neither had the chance to form words as two thundering forms dashed around Bruce Banner's useless attempt at a blockade. Tony had to duck out of the way as a fur pile knocked Clint down. Geri and Freki had outrun the marching line to get back to their favorite friend. It was obvious as to their opinion of his absence on the battlefield. Clint's troubled heart melted beneath their loving touch.
Tony grinned at Banner. Bruce, in return, darted his eyes questioningly to Clint but a gesture ended the question before it formed. Clint was fine, Tony privately conveyed. The matter was quickly dropped.
The clouds parted with a roar of thunder as a form flashed to the ice beside them. There was no doubt it was Thor. He had a better look to him now than he had in the past week. He was invigorated, the adrenaline rush of a battle won still coursed through his body. He gripped Mjolnir with the air of a man victorious.
"My brother, you have been roused! A fanciful sleep, I take it?" Thor laughed in his heavy bellied way.
Clint was calm, even covered from head to toe in wolf fur and slobber. "Course it was!" He lied through his teeth.
"And here you did so very much to get us to this point and you miss every bit of the defeat of Jotenheim. It is a tragedy, I say." Thor continued.
Rounding a corner of the camp at their backs walked the formidable visage of a battle-ready Odin Allfather. He was riding the back of the famed eight-legged Sleiphner with his gold covered raiment splattered in Joten blood. He held Sleiphner's reigns over the pommel of a leather and silver saddle. Walking on foot beside him was Fandral. He held a look as severe as Odin's.
"Barton." Allfather said.
The wolves backed away, crossing over to Sleiphner's side. The horse puffed a breath at their scent but remained still as any good warhorse could.
"Yes, Allfather?" Clint replied.
Odin shifted his body in the saddle and, with barely a touch to the reigns, brought Sleiphner in a direction back towards the command post. Clint didn't have to be instructed on the obvious sign meant for him to follow. He left it to Thor to keep Tony and Banner from following after. He shook hands with Fandral, only able to exchange a word or two before he was after Odin's retreating form.
Natasha and Steve were standing in a ring that included Lady Sif and Volstagg. Seeing as Sleiphner and Odin preceded him, the Asgardians knew to leave Clint alone. Natasha was more difficult to convince.
"I'm going with you." She announced.
Clint tilted his head with a strained smirk. "Really? Into the tent? I'm not leaving this realm, Natasha. And I've been in there before, so I should know."
Her look changed from one of simple pleasantries to one of profound confusion. "Clint, what happened to you?"
Crap!
Natasha was impossible to fool. Who was he kidding to try and keep her in the dark? The faster he got away from her the better. He tossed a look to Volstagg who immediately did the necessary intervention, and Clint slipped into Odin's tent alone.
Odin was standing by his long wood table as he removed the pieces of his armor and carefully arranged them in place. With the amount of action they'd just seen, it was obvious they'd need to be tended to at some point for cleaning and repair. Now that the main war was won, he may just have time for such a luxury.
Without turning to him, Odin motioned to a chair. Clint sat and Odin spoke first.
"Here tell from my men, and those I hold very close, you were quite an inspiration yesterday afternoon."
Clint smiled. He leaned his head against the high back of the chair. These little meetings with Odin were only helping him to relax more in the king's presence. He hardly even felt like Odin was going to chop his head off this time.
"They named it. The speech, I mean."
Odin's head bobbed as he agreed. "I had heard that as well. I found my men in a curious position out on that ice. Perhaps it is time you explain it to me. There I was, pushing my men against the very edge of the new Jotenheim leader, Tusse, with Thor at my side when suddenly Thor was felled. As I turned, I saw the warriors who were following him retreat just as one of the men fell on his own sword. That sword was covered in blood, Asgardian blood, before he ever had a chance to impale himself upon it. When I turned to my left, I found my men as well had retreated." Odin removed his chest piece and left that beside the others. Through the side of the tent, Freki and Geri entered. They loped past Clint and arched themselves against Odin's body like a pair of cats. Side-by-side they relaxed in the corner of the tent. The ravens were perched to the left and right of Odin's desk.
"I didn't realize it went that far." Clint said to himself.
Odin moved away from the shelf of armament to the basin of water left for him. He wiped his hands clean and dried them before speaking again. His tone remained calm and measured. "So you suspected this."
"This? No. I couldn't even imagine that. You're saying that someone tried it. Someone actually went right up to Thor and tried to gut him in the middle of the battlefield and failed. Even with you telling me it's true, it's still hard to believe. I'm sure Wagren assumed that Tusse would be enough to destroy you and what life remained in Thor." Clint was musing to himself more than he was holding a conversation and Odin could see that clearly. It was fortunate Fandral had met him before his return and informed him of everything that occurred with Amora. Otherwise, these cryptic surmises may have irritated him.
Instead of sitting across from him, Odin leaned on the table directly in front of Clint. He spent a moment looking Clint over, seeing all the hard lines that had Natasha instantly on alert. Wordlessly he held out his left hand toward Clint's right. The Avenger revealed the mark to him.
"She's already taken a part of you." Odin remarked, releasing Clint's hand again. "I was told you were dreaming in camp while the line advanced. Here, I expected to see you running into my midst riding Freki or Geri, perhaps even both with some flag trailing at your tail. It was a surprise when you did not show. The warriors were disappointed, I will say."
"Don't worry, there won't be a next time." Clint assured him.
"You need to sleep sometime."
Clint met his eyes. It was the first time since entering Odin's presence he'd done so. He knew it came from a heart full of shame. He couldn't bear to see the pity that Odin was now sending his way.
"Yes, I know." Odin answered the unasked question. "I did not reach this age without witnessing the effects and common guiles of Amora. She was Loki's teacher in his youth, a fact I'm sure you are unaware of as yet. In that time, however, I have encountered nothing of which to match her. Has she asked something of you?"
"No. Not yet."
"She will. You may attempt to resist, great men in the past have, and she has felled each one under her influence. I have seen men kill themselves to escape her. Or kill themselves in the shame of what they have done for her. I do not envy this trial of yours, Midgardian. Was the life you saved worth the promise you have made to her?"
At least to that Clint had an answer he was confident in. "Yes."
"Then hold on to that. No trial in your life will compare to what you must sojourn now. You have support of those around you. A recommendation, from an old man who has been through this before, is to not shut those closest to you out. It will harbor regret in you deeper than you can imagine."
Clint silently took in his advice. His thoughts drifted to Natasha's face.
"There is one thing only, I must command of you."
"Anything, of course, I'll do. You know that."
"Keep far from Thor."
The words struck him like a blow from Odin's staff. Clint felt his body stiffen, but tried to breathe himself back to a state of relaxation. He expected the words. More than anything Odin said, Clint knew that was coming. The added caution made sense in many ways. Amora was the jilted lover of Thor, no doubt she would do anything to either get him back or kill him in the process. She was working with Loki, giving all the more likelihood that she would agree to Thor's death. Recent events on the field of battle even proved so. If her request for Clint was to end Thor's life, would there be anything he could do to refuse it? If he agreed to do as she wanted, would putting distance between Clint and Thor do anything to save Asgard's heir?
Simply hearing it from Odin's mouth cut deep. He knew it wasn't because Odin didn't trust him, that this was all due to what the Enchantress was capable of, but regardless of all those things he felt his heart break.
"Yes, sir." Clint forced out.
Odin waited for Clint to look at him again. He'd seen that same degree of hurt in his son once when he was told he could not be king, that instead the crown was passing to Thor instead. The same shadowed eyes, the reservation, and the determination to hide any feeling of shame. Odin kept the observation to himself. Surely it would do the Midgardian no good at all to be compared to one of his greatest enemies, Loki. Neither would it do any good to tell Clint the full truth of that Asgardian who killed himself after attempting to take Thor's life. That the man was called Oruggr, a name meaning trustworthy, and the Brigadier General second only to Wagren's authority who answered to Odin alone. Oruggr had a mark discovered on his hand. A ring of green and a heart turned cold by the Enchantress.
"You, Barton, are a man apart. You have stolen the heart of my wife, how I shall never understand, to the point where I can have no moment of rest lest she petitions to Heimdall to check on your welfare. The Warriors Three have been set at rebuilding the Bifrost to further travel between your world and ours, and," Odin indicated the wolves' whose heads popped up. "you have enchanted even my greatest pets. If you remain much longer in this realm, archer, I fear my family will have no use for me whatsoever."
Clint smiled and Odin chuckled.
"You are my ally, my ears, my pathfinder, and my friend. Anything you ask of me, it would be given to you. You are chosen of the courts and an honorary personal sentry. But, despite all these awarded to you, there is always a greater stake: My family, archer, will always remain paramount. If I were meant to choose between your life and the safety of this realm and my son, understand my hand will not hesitate."
"That's a lie." Clint told him bluntly. Odin scoffed.
"It would falter," Clint went on "because you'd never have the chance. I've been possessed before. She can ask whatever she wants of me but I'll die on my own before doing it."
Odin opened his mouth to protest when his voice cut short. He lifted his head, staring up as if to look into the sky beyond the tent roof. The wolves, sensing a change, stood. The ravens shook on their perches. Clint got out of the chair.
"The walls." Odin breathed.
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