Chapter Forty-Seven - Caging the Hawk
When in trouble with your superiors, it is common sense to lay low, keep your nose clean, and make the effort to catch up on responsibilities that you have let slide for awhile. Clint knew this and had advised many a fellow agent of the same over the years; and yet, he'd done the exact opposite in the three days since they'd apprehended Bad Loki.
The skirmishes in the wastes of the Jotunheim finally ended. Representatives of the realms streamed into Asgard to meet, take stock of their losses and figure out some common ground. Nick Fury escorted the World Council member who was taking lead chair for Earth to these discussions. Then the director chose to remain, taking over all S.H.I.E.L.D. operations within Asgard—a fact that seemed to irk Maria Hill.
Clint didn't give a damn what Commander Hill wanted these days. After delivering a detailed report of the events leading up to their final confrontation with Loki's double and sitting through hours of grueling, critical questions, Clint hadn't received a single shred of praise or thanks from her. As far as Hill was concerned, the Mischief Makers (the original four members, anyway) had disregarded orders and protocol while endangering numerous civilians in an unauthorized grudge match with a super villain. The phrase 'severe disciplinary action' had come up so often in her scathing rant that Clint flipped her a middle finger salute and walked out.
Natasha proved smarter, keeping her mouth shut unless specifically addressed. When she did speak, her explanations were short and respectful. She was playing nice, not pointing fingers or allowing things to get too heated.
Loki and Cami had been hiding out in their suite. Between her constant nausea and the news of losing Brandon Shale and Marcus Rodriguez, Cami was a mess and refusing visitors. Technically not an agent any longer, she could easily get away with such behavior; and having guards and servants to assist in keeping people away was frustratingly convenient.
Clint wandered, seeking out distraction and purpose amid the hustle and bustle, but diverted his path from the main corridor when he spotted Tony, Steve and Thor up ahead. Most of the Avengers were pissed at him for one reason or another. Stark and Thor took great offense that he hadn't evacuated their girlfriends from Asgard before luring in Bad Loki. Rogers and Banner were of the opinion that more lives could have been saved if they'd all downed the double together in the Jotunheim where his forces could have witnessed the defeat and possibly surrendered. Apparently, the concept of divide and conquer didn't impress them.
He needed to see a friendly face, but wasn't so lucky as Coulson stepped from behind a corner and into his path, forcing Clint to stop to avoid a collision in the busy corridor. The senior agent looked stern and contemplative, an unusual mix for most people, yet Phil pulled it off like only a man of his charisma, depth and complexity could.
"Sir?" Clint asked, crossing his arms in preparation for whatever punch his old mentor was about to throw at him.
"You've got a big chip on your shoulder," Coulson said. "I suggest you lose it quick."
Clint looked away, using a prolonged silence to contain the anger brewing inside.
"I know you've always been a wildcard, Clint, but this is serious, and it would go better for the team if you would acknowledge that you made some mistakes."
"Or what?" Clint asked, dropping his arms. "You're gonna fire me, throw me in jail, and cancel my wedding? We brought down the biggest threat to the nine realms in centuries and what do we get? Thanks? No! It's been nothing but criticism and threats." He felt his hands clenching into fists and forced himself to relax them. A physical confrontation was the last thing he needed right now. He took in a breath, shaking his head. "You know, maybe I'm tired of being on the agency's leash."
Coulson's expression had turned flat and unreadable. He shifted his gaze down as if attending to some important insight then looked back up at Clint. "Think through what you're saying before you commit to that. We value you," he said. "I value you—as an agent, Avenger and, more importantly, as my friend."
Clint chose his words and tone with great care, drawing off years of mutual respect and admiration. "Then back everyone off. Please, just give us some space? We need to process what's happened and recuperate a bit."
Coulson nodded, losing some of the tension from his frame. "Things are happening. So, I suggest you guys don't take too long."
Clint watched him walk away, feeling anger, sorrow and even a hint of guilt. That was a lot of emotion to deal with all at once and, after days of upheaval, his baggage was full to the point of bursting.
He weaved his way through the crowds, stepped out onto a wide, sunny balcony and eased onto a stone bench off to the side. He leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes. Though the sunlight warmed his face, a cool, constant breeze nipped at his skin as he inhaled the sweet scents of the nearby gardens. He tried to quiet his mind so he wouldn't remember, ponder or plan. He wanted to be silent and free, a hawk gliding on strong, supportive winds. Over time, his body grew heavier, his burden lighter and his mind drifted away.
"You hurt your eye?" a very young girl's voice asked.
"I got in a fight," another voice, this time a boy's, responded in a low, regretful tone.
Clint opened his eyes to find he wasn't on the balcony. He sat on a wooden bench with a high counter across from him and big windows behind. To one side an open door lead out to a hallway with noisy teens streaming past, most wearing backpacks. On the other side was a closed door. The nameplate read Principal Emel Harward.
He dropped his attention to the two figures beside him. The boy had jeans well worn at the knees, a faded shirt and shoes with fraying seams and a big hole in the toe of the left. The boy held a small ice bag over his eye, but Clint still recognized himself at the awkward age of thirteen.
"You're in trouble?" the pig-tailed and pink-clad girl inquired with big, blue-green eyes. She stood in front of the older boy, rubbing her lips together with worry.
Wow. Cami is so small, Clint thought, his chest warming with affection. He'd called her Rae-Rae back in those days when she insisted on following him around like a devoted pup.
"Yeah," the younger Clint said, looking crestfallen.
Little Cami stepped forward, holding out her arms. Clint couldn't help smiling at the touching scene when the boy leaned into the offered hug and planted a kiss on her rosy cheek.
The principal's door opened and his parents shuffled out.
"Come sing with me in the car. Daddy needs to talk to your brother," Edith Barton said, grasping Cami's petite hand and leading her into the hall.
Harold Barton took the available spot on Young Clint's other side, resting his arms on his knees and clutching his hands together. He looked wearier than, but not quite as angry, as Clint remembered.
"I didn't raise a bully."
Young Clint's head dipped lower. He swallowed hard before answering, "No sir."
"People aren't always going to be nice. There's plenty about us for people to tease or make fun of, but we can't be like that. Hate only hurts, not helps."
Clint studied his dad's features, overwhelmed by the lovingly-stern lecture. Warm tears started in his eyes at the thought of being with his dad again and believing that those words were also meant for him, not just the teen slouched between them.
"You're suspended for two weeks, and we're paying for the boy's stitches," Mr. Barton continued. "I'll have to pick up some extra shifts. So, we're not going fishing next weekend. Me and your mom will make a list of chores to keep you busy."
The boy nodded, sighing softly. "Sorry, Dad."
Mr. Barton reached over, resting a strong, yet gentle hand on his son's shoulder. "I can see that you are. Grab your things. Let's head home."
Clint almost wished he could go with them as they stood and walked out.
A form plopped down next to him, jolting Clint out of the vision.
Loki appeared sorry as he said, "I didn't realize you were asleep."
Clint sat up straighter, breathing deep to rejuvenate his senses and clear the fog from his mind. A low throb lingered behind his eyes, which were wet. "I was visiting an old memory," he admitted, wiping the tears and rubbing at the ache.
He glanced over, noticing that Loki's hands were full. He had two mugs and held one out to him.
Clint took the mug, but gestured to the sun still fairly high in the sky. "Isn't it a little early for alcohol?"
"Welcome to Asgard," Loki joked, "where it's never too early to start celebrating."
"I'd better not show up drunk to my own wedding."
"Drink it," Loki pressed. "It's mild, even by human standards. I think we both can use some mellowing."
Though Loki seemed to be in good humor, Clint could see through the playful mask to the darker mood buried underneath. They hadn't talked much in the last few days; and he didn't know what his friend had been up to other than sticking close to Cami.
"She finally let you out for some air?"
Loki took a sip of his drink. "It's more accurate to say that she threw me out."
"Uh oh. What did you do?"
Loki smirked. "I attempted to reason with a pregnant woman."
Clint figured it wasn't his place to pry. He gave Loki some time to tend to his thoughts while staring off over the grounds. He tried his beverage before breaking the silence, finding it to be similar in flavor to a spiced apple cider. "You do realize that I should be majorly pissed at you, right?"
At first Loki looked uncertain, but relaxed into a conceding half-grin as Clint explained.
"I asked you to take it slow with Cami. Next thing I know, you're bed buddies and everyone thinks you're engaged. Also, you had the gall to buy Natasha condoms, but must have no clue how to use them, since you managed to impregnate your own girlfriend."
Loki chuckled. "Are you done?"
"No," Clint said, trying to feign anger, but feeling too amused. "Give me a chance to think up something else."
"It was an accident. The condom broke."
"I didn't ask for details," Clint tossed back playfully. It wasn't going to take much to put the issue to rest. Clint didn't want more bad feelings floating around. Honestly, he couldn't push himself to real anger at him anyway. He offered, "I guess she was cursed with bad luck at the time."
"True," Loki agreed, "and we might have mistreated the condom a bit, switching between hot and cold like that."
Clint thumped Loki on the arm, causing him to spill some of his drink. "What part of 'no details' do you not understand?"
"Alright. Alright." Loki switched his mug to the left hand, wiping his right on his uniform pants. "My apologies."
Their chuckles kept the silence and tension at bay for awhile.
Loki said finally, "Director Fury brought Cami's personal items from the helicarrier." All cheer left him, and he slumped back against the wall. "Cami refused to speak with him. She's devastated that he took Hill's side; and I don't know what to do for her."
"What did Nick say exactly?"
"The World Council considers Cami too dangerous to return to Earth. They requested that Odin take permanent custody of her."
Clint's chest tightened and his stomach soured as he contemplated the news. By banishing his sister from Earth, the Council put them in an awkward position.
Loki added, "I have been relieved of duty until further notice."
That explained why he wore his leather jacket instead of his uniform one.
Clint understood the hurt in Loki's eyes. "Don't take it personally. It's a difficult situation. That doesn't mean they doubt anyone's intentions or loyalty."
"I can't truly believe that, Clint, because I can tell you don't believe it yourself."
Busted, Clint thought. "Yeah, I guess." He took another sip of the drink before asking, "When did it become us versus them?"
"I suspect it's been building over time, since before Cami or I even joined."
Clint nodded. It felt like Loki had gazed right into his soul—not the most comfortable idea for him. He couldn't deny that he'd been increasingly unhappy with decisions made by his superiors. Natasha rarely voiced dissatisfaction, but Clint knew and saw the signs in her too. He'd often wondered if she would be happier just being an Avenger. He assumed she chose to stay with S.H.I.E.L.D. to show her appreciation of the second chance they'd given her and to support the other agents she held dear.
Loki tapped his communicator. "Murphy," he said, answering an incoming call.
Clint hadn't worn his own communicator all day. In fact, he made a point to leave it in his room that morning.
"I have him. We're on our way," Loki reported then closed the line.
"Duty calls?"
"Natasha actually. You're late." Loki took another drink from his mug then put it down to climb to his feet.
Clint had made an appointment of sorts with the All-Father to have his magic suppressed. It seemed logical and appropriate to have it done before he married, but the reality of all he was giving up nagged with more prevalence in recent days.
"Nervous?" Loki asked, resting his hand on Clint's shoulder.
The reassuring touch dropped away as Clint rose from the bench. "I told myself I wasn't going to get attached to these abilities."
"They are powerful and useful gifts. If only you could keep them."
A debate was pointless. The magic would eventually blind him, stealing away the marksman talent that set him apart from other agents. Also, Clint gave his word to Natasha. He couldn't let anything or anyone dissuade him from following through.
"You're lucky Fury hasn't confiscated your communicator," Clint commented as they stepped into the corridor and the steady flow of traffic.
"In fact, he did. Then Natasha acquired another for me."
"Are you two planning more mischief?"
"Hardly. We've been coordinating peacekeeping efforts."
The door to the king and queen's suite opened as they approached; and Cami rushed out. Natasha followed, attempting to catch her when Cami's form faded away behind a concealing shroud of magic. It was a new trick she'd picked up after absorbing an abundance of shadow energy from Loki's grimoire and the Bad Loki's shield.
"What's wrong with Cami?" Clint asked Natasha.
"She wants to return to Earth with us, but Odin wasn't able to suppress her magic."
Clint gave a weary sigh, wondering why his sister couldn't catch a break. "I should go look for her."
Natasha grabbed his arm. "Odin is waiting. You know Cami will come around as soon as she wants some attention."
Odin and Frigga's conversation quieted as the trio entered their sitting room. Clint apologized for being late then felt a rush of apprehension as the king stepped toward him. What if his own magic couldn't be suppressed? What if he was predestined to go blind?
King Odin studied Clint and his expression softened. "Have you changed your mind? We can wait if you need to think."
"No," Clint said. "Please try, your majesty?"
Odin settled his broad hand over Clint's face. His fingertips touched at the hairline with the rest of his hand arching over the nose and features. He warned, "You should feel some dizziness and temporary disorientation."
Clint drew in air, filling his lungs before directing it out again. Maybe if he focused on the simple task of breathing all his troubles could be kept at bay.
The first sensation Clint registered from the king's efforts was a low vibration just beneath the surface of his skin. It spread across and deeper into his forehead, tickling his sinuses and flaring the headache he'd been ignoring. The aforementioned dizziness came next with a vengeance. He would have hit the floor if Natasha and Loki hadn't been on guard. They held him upright as the effect worsened into a terrible pressure that pulsed inside his skull and caused him to blackout.
Natasha dabbed his face with a cold, wet rag when Clint awoke. "Hey handsome," she whispered.
He took a moment to admire the relief and love in her gaze. "Did it work?"
"We think so."
Glad to hear this, Clint pulled her down for an eager kiss.
"I think he's feeling better," Bruce's voice joked, drawing Clint and Natasha's attention to their fellow Avengers and Loki shuffling through the doorway.
Tony wandered past the room's child-sized beds to some toy chests against the far wall, snatching up a battered, wooden sword. He turned to look at Clint and tease, "They downgraded you to the kiddie suite."
Thor gestured to Loki, who'd settled into the rocking chair between the beds. "This was our room as children. I'm certain it was just convenient to move him here to rest."
Tony continued to explore while the others collected around Clint and the little bed with a medium blue bedspread and curtains.
"What's up?" Clint asked, trying to read their expressions. Overall, everyone appeared calm, a definite improvement from the last time they'd been together.
Steve leaned against the bedpost. "We might not agree about how things were handled with Bad Loki, but we certainly don't want to keep fighting over it."
"That's right," Bruce added. "It's not every day that two good friends get married. Let's move on."
Clint could have insisted again that they'd done nothing wrong, but his dad's words came to mind, humbling his pride. These were his best friends, and though the team didn't always get along, they'd been through plenty together. Today was meant to be special; and he did want all of them at his side.
"Agreed," he said, exchanging a subtle smile with his bride.
Tony strolled over, tossing aside a few trinkets he'd been examining. "Well, the clock is ticking. Let's suit up."