Chapter title: Your Brother, the Demi-God
Author's Note: I might have toyed a bit with the timelines here – but imagine that Thor: Dark World took place within this time span. So… spoilers! for the Dark World – in case you have snoozed or forgotten any events from that movie…
Disclaimer: I claim no ownership of anything or anyone you might recognize. Everything goes to Kevin Feige, the MCU, Marvel or whatever else.
You Got It in You - BANNERS
Avengers Tower, New York – 4 months post the Battle of New York
Thor stepped onto the roof of the Tower, running his eyes over the vast horizon that stretched for miles in each direction. He breathed in the chill, night air as he took in the city skyline with its towering buildings and stark, contrasting lights. It was a world with many similarities to his own and yet it was so vastly different.
The Asgardian admired the view that was so remarkably strange from the one he was used to, as he got ready to be summoned back to Asgard. Back to home. Before he could, he caught sight of the distinctly human shape lounging on the roof level above him.
Barton looked almost startled at his presence and Thor shared his sudden surprise. He hadn't expected to find anyone else out here either. The archer seemed practically at ease as he reclined there with one leg dangling over the edge that led to Thor's level. It was surprisingly unnerving, given his inability to fly and the fact that he was hundreds of feet up in the air with nothing to stop a potential drop.
"Friend Barton. I did not know you were home," Thor said in greeting. He noticed how Clint flinched slightly at the usage of the word 'home'. He didn't comment on it.
"I didn't know you were stopping by. Short visit?" Barton answered, his tone carefree and neutral.
"Aye. The Allfather keeps me busy and I have but little time to visit."
Thor briefly contemplated the man crouched above him. He had not spent much time with any of his new Earthen teammates and Barton least of all. He did not fully know or understand them all but he felt strangely alienated from the archer, who seemed intent on keeping to himself and idling in secluded corners. Some were no doubt simply personal preference but mostly he seemed determined not to mingle or trust, as if someone would come down from the heavens and stab him in the back.
A sudden rush of guilt tore through him as the realization that his own brother's actions had caused this self-deprecating behavior hit him with full force. The decision was made easily enough then.
Spurned on, Thor began to climb the slim ladder that led to the other level, squeezing his way in between the circular, iron rungs that surrounded the steps until he was mercifully up and out. Next time, he would just jump.
He settled down next to Barton with a heavy sigh, and the two of them sat in complacent silence as each of them admired the radiant view. Thor then took a deep breath as he prepared himself for the news he was about to deliver. Barton seemed to sense his sudden mood change and eyed him with a weary expectancy.
"I have yet to share this with the others, but I do believe you deserve to know." Thor still felt the lingering grief tighten in his chest as he uttered the next words. "Loki is dead."
Thor watched Barton's reaction carefully. The archer's gaze dropped as he simply nodded silently with the information. Thor felt conflicted at the response. There was a hint of gratitude that the man had the decency not to smile and cheer. But he also wanted Barton to feel like he could express what he truly felt. So, Thor continued with a sad, comforting smile on his lips.
"You need not feign sadness on my part, my friend. I know he inflicted a great hurt on you, and your kin. I do not expect you to forgive him that."
"Then I won't pretend I'm not gonna sleep better tonight knowing he's dead," Barton honestly replied. Thor swallowed down the hurt from the statement. But he must have radiated the emotion because Barton surprisingly continued.
"But he was your brother. And no matter what he did that won't make his death any easier." Here, Barton took a steadying breath, as if steeling himself for the next sentence. "I get that more than most."
Thor frowned at the statement. He wanted to ask but he was concerned about overstepping a boundary. The archer seemed almost uncomfortable, staring off into the distance and avoiding the Asgardian's gaze. But Thor remained intrigued about his fellow warrior and was determined to learn more about him.
"Pray tell," he gently coaxed.
It was Barton's turn to sigh. His words were careful and slow, as he spoke, eyes still aimed at the horizon.
"I had a brother too. For some time, it was just me and him against everyone else. And there were moments. Moments where I believed he loved me. And those are the ones I still remember. Even after all the betrayal and hurt, when he died-," Barton turned his tumultuous gaze back at Thor, "- All I felt was grief."
The words resonated deeply inside of Thor's chest. For a second, he allowed himself to feel his heart constrict painfully at the reminder that his brother was gone. There was someone who didn't judge him for grieving. And somehow it felt just a tiny bit better.
"Aye. Despite of all the chaos, and the lies, I still mourn his loss. I know this will not soothe your troubles, and I will not condone Loki's actions, nor justify them, but you should know, before the end, I got to see the brother I grew up with. The one I loved."
Barton flashed him a sad and knowing smile that spoke volumes. "You're right; it doesn't help. But I do understand. Better than most. Believe me, when I say that I am sorry for your loss."
"That is much appreciated, my friend. Thank you," Thor said. He placed a meaty hand on Barton's knee in what he hoped would be perceived as a comfort. "I am sorry for your loss as well. Family is and always will be complicated."
For a brief second, as Thor's mighty hand squeezed around his kneecap, Barton tensed and froze. Quickly, some of his muscles eased their tension, and a relaxed, genuine smirk spread across his face. "You bet your ass."
Clasping the limb one final time, Thor released and rose from his seated position with a hefty sigh. He had already lingered too long. But the distraction proved fruitful nonetheless. He was glad for their conversation. Glad that it eased some of his own conflicted feelings about his grief, and glad that it had removed at least part of the strain that pulled at Barton's shoulders.
He bid the archer farewell and jumped down to the lower level of the roof and prepared for departure. Barton's voice halted his movements.
"Hey Thor?"
He turned around expectedly at Barton, who hadn't moved, except to cross his arms and lean further backwards. The smirk remained fixed on his face, glinting in the stark city lights.
"Don't be a stranger."
Present
The snowflakes floated around the air as they leisurely fell down from the black, clouded sky.
Clint's eyes lazily tracked their swirling descent through the massive hole in the ceiling. Their pure white color was a stark contrast to the dark night above. It was strangely peaceful.
Everything else was not.
He hadn't moved from his position. Only rolled onto his back to stare up at the torn roof and the sky beyond. His right leg was twitching because of the burn, the wound pulsating and screaming for respite and a cool touch. The broken rib sent rippling waves of agony across his chest and taking in a proper breath was next to impossible without the pain spiking a millionfold. He had to regroup. He had to get to the rendezvous point. He had to move.
He just didn't have the energy. He didn't know why. He had been in equally screwed situations before. Situations where he had been alone, abandoned and with no extraction plan and no backup. He had always found a way to carry on, to push through, until he physically couldn't anymore. Right now, he was down but not defeated.
Deep down, he knew it was because he deserved this. He deserved to be alone. He deserved all the hurt and the despair. He deserved death.
"Barton." Coulson's voice only served as the steadfast reminder of his guilt and incompetence.
"Just leave."
"You have to get up. I can't help you," Coulson said as he crouched down beside him, an intensity shining in his eyes. "You have to move."
"I'm fine right here," Clint muttered.
"Move. That's an order."
"With all due respect, Sir," Clint tilted his head tiredly to look at the ghost of the man hovering above him. "But you're dead. You can't give me orders anymore."
"You know, you keeping telling me that I'm dead, kinda hurts my feelings."
"Doesn't make it any less true. You're dead. You died because of me."
"Now, why would you say something like that?"
Clint ignored the question, caught up in his own despairing train of thought. "And now Loki's dead too. It's just too bad I couldn't be there to bury him personally. He deserved that. I guess, I do too."
"Alright, that's enough!" Coulson's sudden frustrated shout broke through Clint's self-punishing ramblings. Coulson waited until Clint's focus reverted back to him, his features crumpled and distorted with guilt and self-doubt.
"I did not show up here just to listen to you berating yourself. Loki did this. It might have been your hand that pulled the proverbial trigger, but he was the one to told you where to aim. He was the one who put the gun in your hands in the first place."
"But it was still me… My actions almost broke the world. It got you killed."
Coulson's words softened. "The world was always broken, long before you come along. And you didn't get me killed. I got me killed. And I would do it again without hesitation. As would you. It's part of the job description."
"The job description sucks," Clint said. "If there was any equality in the world, it would have been me. It should have been me."
There was a pause, as Coulson pondered. Then he changed tactics. "You know, if you really wanted to, you would have hurt a lot more. You followed your mission objective to the letter, no more, no less. Whatever plans you and Loki devised, you didn't deviate. Not even if it would have helped achieve the end goal. Think about it. Fury was at close range and you chose to shoot his Kevlar. Hill was out in the open. Your reflexes are faster than hers. You should have hit her. You didn't."
"So, I'm not at my best with a gun. What does that prove?"
"I've seen you throw a dart into a man's eye from 30 yards away. Don't employ that pitiful excuse on me," Coulson said. His words were stern and unrelenting in their sincerity. "You found loopholes. And you used them. You're a smart guy, Clint. So, don't you dare insult me by insinuating my choices were your fault. That anyone else's choices were your fault. Not even Loki's. The universe doesn't rest on your shoulders. Quit acting like it."
Clint looked away, unsure and lost.
Coulson sighed exasperated at the seeming lack of progress anything he said generated. He looked around at the deserted warehouse and the four bodies scattered across the floor. Then he turned his attention back at the stubborn archer.
"Allow me to share an observation we made when you joined. Despite the annoyance you seemed to generate with your superiors you don't have many disciplinary actions on your record. You wanna know why?" He didn't wait for Clint to answer before he continued. "Because you never mouthed off to any of them. You just showed off to shut everyone up instead. Can't really discipline that."
"What's your point?"
"Actions over words, Barton." Coulson rose from his crouched position and stretched out his hand. "So, are you gonna sit there and give me attitude… or are you gonna prove to me what I've always known?"
Clint eyed the offered hand with hesitation and reluctance. But Coulson was right. It was time to get off his ass. He clasped his own hand into Coulson's.
"You're a damn slave-driver, you know that?"
TBC
