Chapter 37: Goodbye, Ex-Lover

The first step was to recover from the incident at the bar. It was obvious from the moment Pietro woke up in bed after it happened that this wouldn't be an easy task. The idea of being touched, even by someone he loved and trusted, made his skin crawl. And then there were the nightmares. After a few days of this misery, he decided that perhaps actively trying to get over it was only exacerbating the problem.

So instead, he started distracting himself, trying to go on with his life as normally as possible. He started joining Steve and Sam on their morning runs. He'd sit and watch Tony tinker with whatever invention he was working on (Pietro thought it might be a robot, but he honestly couldn't tell). He got Bucky to show him more Game of Thrones. Anything to keep him from dwelling on what had happened. If he was going to learn to live with it, then the best way to do that was to start living.

Moving on from his grief for Clint was a whole different story. He had been living with that, for over a year now. He'd tried to distract himself from it with Loki, which had ended in disaster (though admittedly, that disaster was self-inflicted). He knew Natasha was right, that he had to let go of his grief, but it had become such a part of him by now that he really wasn't sure how to do it. And this sort of thing didn't come with a manual. It wasn't something you could be coached through. It was different for everyone, so asking for advice only helped so much. So distraction was Pietro's tactic for this too; dwelling on things seemed to be his problem, and keeping himself busy was a surefire way to stop his mind from wandering to more painful thoughts.

It was mid-July and the summer heat made the smoggy city air thick and heavy. The Avengers constantly found themselves drifting from one air-conditioned place to another in an attempt to escape the heat. Nighttime hardly brought much relief; the constant haze of exhaust fumes trapped the warmth from the sun even after it had set. Still, at least at night they wouldn't have the relentless sun beating down on their backs and they could spend a little time outside.

It was on one of these muggy nights that the Avengers were walking down a deserted side street after going to see some crappy action movie that they'd all forget the name of in a week. Pietro was finally getting better about being touched and was walking arm in arm with Wanda as they all laughed and made fun of the cheesy acting in the movie. Tony and Thor were reenacting a particularly melodramatic scene, complete with finger guns and (very fake) accents.

They turned a corner into an alley that would give them a shortcut to Steve's house. Steve and Bucky both stopped in their tracks; Tony was still joking around with Thor, not paying attention, and walked right into them.

"What the hell, guys, a little warning next time," he said. "Why are we stopping, this alley is sketchy as fuck..."

He trailed off as the thing that had made Steve and Bucky stop stepped out of the shadows into the only circle of light in the alley – it was Pierce, Hydra's new leader.

"The Avengers," he said. "Fancy seeing you here."

"We're just trying to get home, Pierce. Let us pass," said Steve.

"Sorry, Rogers, but I can't do that," said Pierce.

"We don't want any trouble, not tonight," Steve said. "Just let us go on our way."

"You may not want trouble, but we do. And we're gonna get some trouble in five, four, three, two..."

Wanda's grip on Pietro's arm turned suddenly vice-like. Pietro turned just in time to see Rumlow tear her away from him and drag her around the corner.

"Wanda!" Pietro shouted, and took off running.

"Pietro, no! Wait, dammit!" he heard Sam yell after him, but he ignored him and kept running.

He careened around the corner and saw them across the street. Wanda was kicking and trying to get away, but Rumlow was a great deal bigger than her. He pulled her around another corner and they disappeared. Pietro ran across the street and burst into the alley to find it deserted. He stopped, catching his breath, listening for some sign of a struggle, but there was nothing. He glanced behind him, half expecting one of the others to have followed, but none of them had. When he turned back around, he found himself staring down the barrel of a gun.

"Don't move," said a very familiar voice.

Pietro lifted his eyes from the muzzle that was pointed right between them. It was Loki. Just over his left shoulder, Pietro could see the ghost of Clint standing, watching.

"Good God, not again," he said exasperatedly. "You don't have to give in to their threats, Loki. They're just threats."

"They didn't threaten me. Not this time," said Loki.

"You mean to say you're aiming a gun at my face willingly?" said Pietro.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because the only two people who gave a shit about me were you and Wanda. And you abandoned me," said Loki, his voice trembling with emotion.

"I was trying to protect you," Pietro protested.

"From what?"

"From this. From Hydra."

"I don't need you to protect me from Hydra," said Loki.

"No, clearly not, since you're fucking working for them now..."

"You should mind your attitude, Pietro. I do have a gun to your head and orders to use it."

"Then why haven't you?" said Pietro. "You could've killed me any time in the last minute but instead you stopped for a chat. But you haven't. What are you waiting for?"

"I'm not waiting for anything."

"Then do it. If you're gonna kill me, then just do it."

"Trust me, I will," said Loki.

"Really? I don't believe you."

"I've never lied to you. I'm certainly not gonna lie to you now."

"So do it! Pull the fucking trigger. Splatter my brains all over the pavement, fill this alley with the insides of my skull," Pietro taunted. "Do it!"

The gun had been steady in Loki's hand until this point. But now it quavered ever so slightly. Out of the corner of his eye, Pietro could see Clint flicker and vanish. He was out of danger. He looked into Loki's eyes and saw fear there. And something else. Something that worried him, because there was a familiar sort of desperation in that look, one that he had felt himself.

"I'm sorry," Loki whispered.

Then in one fluid motion, he switched his aim from Pietro's head to the roof of his own mouth and pulled the trigger. The force of the shot threw him backward and he fell, dead before he hit the ground. Too shocked to shout, Pietro staggered back several steps and tripped. He fell to the floor and scrambled backwards until his back hit a dumpster, then curled his knees to his chest, trembling and gasping for breath as though he'd just run a marathon. He couldn't tear his gaze away from Loki's body, blood pooling quickly under his head, his eyes staring up at the sky, wide and blank. The sound of quickly approaching footsteps echoed across the buildings and Wanda ran into the alley. She had a cut lip and a bruise already forming under her eye, but she was otherwise unscathed.

"Pietro! Thank God, I heard the gunshot and I thought –" she stopped dead, her eyes falling on Loki's body. "Oh my God... what happened?"

Pietro couldn't answer. His voice seemed to have fled the second Loki pulled the trigger. Wanda came and crouched down next to him.

"Y-you didn't do this, did you?" she said quietly, as though afraid of the answer she would get.

Pietro shook his head. Wanda reached out her hand and hesitated a moment before laying it on his arm; Pietro didn't flinch away. Several more footsteps approached and the rest of the Avengers burst into the alley, all stopping in their tracks as they took in the scene in front of them. Pietro's heart sank as he watched Thor fall to his knees at his brother's side, tears already streaming down his face.

"It's my fault," Pietro murmured, his voice returning at last. "It's my fault, I drove him away..."

"It's not your fault," said Wanda soothingly. "You were just trying to keep him safe."

"Fat lot of good that did," said Pietro bitterly. "Now he's dead."