Rated T: Mentions of torture, memories of it. A bit of cursing.

This chapter title is a shoutout to a guest reviewer "Newboy" who commented that Snape could use a 'Vulcan Mind Meld' to free Barton. While I always planned for Snape to free everybody from the Mind Stone, the thought of Vulcans gave me the idea for the name of this chapter. So thanks!

One guest reviewer asked about Snape's wandless magic. My theory about it is that a wand works like a magnifying glass to focus the power and make it easier to perform magic. Without a wand, magic on a broad scale is definitely possible, but counts on belief and practice. Also it helps if one has more magic at their disposal. In my universe, I have it that Snape has a larger than average magical core, he is really powerful, and he is gradually learning that the only limits to his magic are what he imposes on himself. So he won't be getting a wand anytime soon, he'll fight aliens with wandless magic, and he'll be totally awesome. ;)

Some of you have asked about a Snape-Romanoff pairing. I am uneasy about writing a blatant pairing because don't think I can write romance smoothly or well, but I have thrown some subtle things into the chapters I already wrote that show how they have a certain chemistry together. If I get some ideas, and if it flows naturally enough, I think Severus and Natasha would be a GREAT pairing, and not just because she has red hair. Her and Snape have a lot more in common than Severus and Lily ever did.

Okay, so after such a lengthy Author's note, on to Chapter 7!

A~HP~V~HP~E~HP~N~HP~G~HP~E~HP~R~HP~S

Chapter Seven: My Mind to Your Mind

Severus' head was ringing painfully. His whole body hurt, hurt, hurt, and he couldn't understand why. He whimpered under his breath when he tried to move, and curled his arms slowly and painfully around his ribs. Somehow, he managed to blink. There were sounds ringing in his ears, but they were muffled and slow. A high-pitched alarm was going off somewhere, pounding feet were clanging on metal floors, and Severus was lying on his side surrounded by rubble and twisted metal and broken was swirling all around him, choking him when he tried to breathe. What happened?

Suddenly, with so much force that he gasped, he remembered the explosion, the Mind Stone, the calming draught! Gasping and shaking with a fresh burst of fear-fueled adrenaline, he frantically dug into his pockets for the bottle. He almost groaned with relief when he found it, still in his pocket and still miraculously unbroken. The ringing in his ears was giving way to sounds. A frantic, breathless female voice attempting to assure someone that they were safe, they were alright, that she wasn't going to let anything happen to them … and the low grunts, and pained growls of Bruce fighting the inevitable.

Severus levered himself up on all fours and fought a wave of dizziness that made his vision go black and his ears ring louder. He shut his eyes and bowed his head, struggling to get up off his hands and knees, and a roar shattered his eardrums. He cried out and flinched back, wrapping his arms around his head as fresh rubble was scattered across him. He could hear the giant Green Troll roar again before smashing something made of metal.

"Stop …" Severus croaked, lurching to his feet and stumbling toward the noise. "Bruce, stop!" he shouted hoarsely. Through the dim haze and the jungle of rubble and metal struts supporting the floor above, Severus could see the huge shape of the Green One, smashing metal support beams aside like twigs, breaking through rubble like children's blocks, and grabbing at a small, black shape that kept darting away.

He caught a glimpse of red hair and Severus' heart lurched inexplicably in his chest. Lily?! "Hulk!" The wizard shouted, yanking the bottle from his pocket and limping toward the beast. "Hulk! Stupid beast, I'm behind you!"

The Hulk stopped and turned, growling low in his throat, his brutish face twisting in an enraged snarl. "Hulk not stupid beast!" it rumbled angrily, and then roared like a furious troll before smashing his enormous fists into the ground and running back toward him. Severus uncorked the bottle and threw it with all his might at the creature's face, heart pounding painfully against his bruised (probably broken) ribs.

He watched in wary fascination as the solution splashed all over the Hulk's green face and chest and the glass shattered. But the Hulk merely howled in even more rage and took a swipe at Severus. The wizard ducked the blow and scrambled for cover, feeling sick. His potion didn't work, and he was going to die. It would have been nice to die properly this time, but no, he was just doomed to be killed by freaks of nature. Every. Single. Time.

Suddenly, just as Severus was sure that a giant green fist was going to snuff out his life for real this time … The beast roared once more before it suddenly swayed and blinked in confusion. Severus peered out from behind the metal strut he had been uselessly hiding behind, hardly daring to breathe. Slowly, ponderously, the green Hulk went down on one knee before he laboriously fell on his rear end, blinking at him as if wondering what he was supposed to be doing.

"Don't be angry," Severus breathed softly. He inched forward, his hand held out as if he were approaching one of Hagrid's dangerous pets. He had never approached the Green One before, knowing the wisdom of staying out of the path of destruction, but now, with the Hulk being so calm and obviously disoriented, he felt that it was worth the risk.

"No … smash?" the creature asked thickly, looking more like someone hit with a powerful confundus.

"No smash," Severus affirmed. He was close enough to reach up and touch the beast's face, if he stood on his toes. The green chest was moving in and out in a steady rhythm, and his bewildered eyes looked rather … heavy.

"No smash," the green giant mumbled, still blinking in confusion.

Severus reached out and laid his hand on the Hulk's cheek, pushing a large amount of magic into his spell, one he had not often tried wandlessly. "Somnium," he whispered. "Sleep, my friend. I will see you when you wake."

The Hulk blinked, and a strange smile graced his square, brutish face before he abruptly fell on his side and started jumped back in fright when the Hulk fell so quickly, but he let out a soft breath of relief to see him peacefully sleeping. The wizard was suddenly aware that his heartbeat was slowing, his breaths were easier, and the sense of urgency and panic had left him completely. Absently, Severus wiped his damp hand on his trousers, and realized that he had soaked up a bit of the calming draught from the Hulk's face. It wasn't enough to render him stupid or sleepy, but it was more than enough to allow him to look up and assess his surroundings. He froze in horror as he realized that he had an audience.

Black Widow was crouching a few feet away, staring at him in open awe, and a little bit of fear. Severus' blood suddenly chilled, though he was spared the shaky rush of adrenaline thanks to the calming draught in his system. He had been seen. There was no mistaking the fact that he had somehow put the Hulk to sleep with nothing but his hand and a whispered word, not to mention the incredible effect his calming draught seemed to have.

"How much did you see?" the wizard demanded in a whisper. He stepped calmly toward her, and her eyes widened as she scooted back, one hand reaching for her gun. "Tell me, Natasha," he growled softly.

"You … you're … Who … what are you? How did you do that?" the red-haired agent demanded in a shaky voice.

"It is none of your concern," Severus hissed. "And if one word of this gets to Fury, I will know who is responsible and you will never be safe from me again." He paused realizing that he sounded like he was threatening her. "I would simply appreciate not being treated like a freak," he amended. "Do you understand?"

Natasha stared at him with wide eyes for several seconds, and she didn't move from her defensive position.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Severus said a bit more calmly, feeling apologetic. Slowly, he straightened his spine and shoved his hands into his pockets, assuming a non-threatening position. His ribs ached at the movement and his head was still swimming with pain, but he'd fought through worse. "I am not with Loki, and I'm not working against you or SHIELD," Severus added carefully. "I am simply a … gifted man, trying to make his way in the world without being subjected to experiments or glass cages."

"That's why you're so sympathetic to Banner," Natasha said quietly, pulling her hand away from her holster.

Severus tipped his head in agreement. "Partly," he said honestly.

"You're not hostile to … normal people?"

"I did just save you from the Green Troll, did I not?"

Natasha cracked a very small smile. "Thank you for that, by the way. What did you throw at him? It smells like … flowers."

"It is called a calming draught," Severus explained. "I was not lying about my skills in botany and chemistry. I developed it in the hope that I could use it to make Bruce's alter ego more passive. Otherwise my … magic, doesn't have much of a chance with him."

"Magic, huh?"

"Do you have a better word for it?"

Natasha glanced at the snoring Hulk and a better smile tugged at her lips. "Magic's a good word for it. I won't say anything. But we'd better hope he smashed any cameras down here."

Severus tensed and looked around as if he could locate them in the dark.

"Relax," the young woman laughed softly at his slight panic. "I'll take a look later and erase or loop anything incriminating."

Severus nodded gratefully at her and his muscles unclenched. "What happened?" he suddenly demanded. "Was there an explosion?"

Natasha reached up to her earpiece and nodded jerkily. "The people Loki … possessed. They're attacking. I guess Loki could still control them from his cell."

"I told Fury …" Severus muttered, unable to feel properly angry with the calming draught still coating his emotions like oil on water.

"He doesn't listen very well," the red-haired woman murmured sadly.

"What are we supposed to be doing now?" Severus asked. "Is anyone guarding Loki?"

"We're too far from the brig to do anything," Natasha muttered, frowning as she reached up to her communication device again. "And Thor is already there, along with Coulson. Rogers and Stark are trying to get one of the engines up and running again, and Fury is occupied with some of the possessed agents …" She trailed off. Even in the dark, Severus could see her face pale alarmingly and her red lips tightened until they were almost white lines.

"This is Agent Romanoff," she suddenly spoke into her earpiece, almost too loudly. "I copy."

Swiftly and silently, the woman turned away as if she had already forgotten about him, and jogged off into the dark maze of metal struts and rubble. Severus cursed under his breath and, with one last look at the snoring Hulk, he limped after her. He really wished people would talk to him instead of just marching off on whatever new mission they had. He followed Natasha to a metal ladder, which she climbed with the swiftness of a cat. Squinting up at the metal catwalk above them and rubbing his throbbing leg, Severus wondered if he could risk just flying up. If he concentrated, he could release a burst of magic guaranteed to be strong enough to knock out the power down here to render the cameras inoperable… but that would mean no lights either, and who knew what kind of sensitive connections there were in this place, which looked like some sort of engine room.

He decided not to risk it in the end, and grasped the ladder's rungs to start hauling himself up. He cursed himself and his Gryffindorish inability to just let things alone. He had been the Dark Lord's spy long before selling his soul to Dumbledore, simply because he was too curious for his own good. What was Black Widow doing that was so urgent? Was there another possessed agent down here heading for something important? His questions were answered by the rhythmic clanking of boots on the metal grate of the catwalk. He froze instinctively and peered up. A man dressed in black was marching along from the left, and he held something long and curved in his hand. Severus hoped it wasn't a sword, and climbed a bit faster.

The Black Widow attacked soundlessly, dropping the man with a single kick. "Barton!" she cried out. "It's me!"

The man simply twisted and attacked her back, using his fists, drawing a knife, trying to shoot her with the curved thing, which turned out to be a bow, not a sword.

"Clint!" Natasha cried out desperately. "It's Natalya! Remember me?!"

Severus shook his head and kept climbing. She just needed to knock him out or kill him or something. There was nothing anyone could do for this. Loki had taken the man's mind, and it wasn't likely that a simple muggle girl could break such a spell … but Severus might be able to. He winced at the thought, but it wouldn't leave him alone and he cursed himself for thinking of such a thing. It would be the height of stupidity. To break through a spell like Loki's would likely be difficult. It would be obvious that he was doing something … unnatural. But perhaps he could rely on Natasha to take care of the security cameras, and if Loki was going to find out his abilities eventually, he might as well.

With renewed effort, and his leg burning like anything, Severus reached the top of the ladder and rolled onto the catwalk. He was now behind Barton, but then in the next minute, the two fighting agents pivoted, and the man's laser-blue eyes spotted him. Severus stood and faced the man head-on. He glanced at the wizard briefly before throwing a knife in his direction. Severus caught it by the handle and tossed it aside before rushing the man at a limping run. With his wand, Legilimency was so much simpler, but it was actually best done without a wand, simply touching the one being legilimized. He supposed it was lucky he was going to be grappling with the man, as it would give him an excuse to touch him. Perhaps … perhaps there wouldn't even be anything Natasha would have to erase.

The woman and her foe were trading punches and kicks with such dizzying speed that Severus wondered how he was going to be able to get a hand in edgewise.

"Get out of here, Snape!" Natasha suddenly barked, finally catching sight of him.

She caught the man in a headlock and twisted her body impossibly fast, so that her legs were suddenly wrapped around his neck. He retaliated swiftly, and swiftly twisted her off him and threw her several feet away. She landed on the metal walkway with a cry of pain, and the man spun and fired an arrow at Severus. The wizard caught it by the shaft, though the tip sliced his palm, and he dropped it at his side as he leapt forward, completely focused on touching the man's bare arm, or his face. He ended up ducking a punch, parrying a kick, and literally throwing his opponent off balance when he caught the man's boot and jerked up. The man fell heavily on his back with a grunt and tried to sweep Severus' legs out from under him. Severus hopped over the leg-sweep and threw himself on top of the man, wrestling with him desperately. The first thing he noticed was that the man smelled rather bad. He smelled like sweat and blood and like a man who hasn't washed in days. He smelled like metal and smoke and burning. He smelled like desperation and despair. His eyes were bright blue, unnaturally bright in the gloom, and his short dark hair was almost dripping with sweat. They wrestled in near silence for several seconds. Quickly, the man managed to roll over on top of Severus, and they went on struggling, grunting and panting in the dark silence.

With a sharp twist, Severus freed his hands from the man's iron grip and slapped both of his hands on either side of the man's face, which badly needed a shave. "Legilimens!" he hissed, and fell into the blue eyes.

Down he fell, or was he falling up? He was flashing past an infinity filled with stars and brilliant colors where the predominant color was blue. Was this what Loki's mind-control looked like? Severus pushed past all of it and dove to the core of the man. The man's mind was so layered in images of space and empty infinity and meaningless beauty that it was disorienting.

But suddenly, without warning, he fell into a memory.

Explosions, gunfire, screams. It is dark, except for the flares of explosives. The eyes he is seeing out of are darting frantically back and forth, searching for a way out, an escape. Rubble, enemies, explosives; they're everywhere. They're going to die chest is heaving;he's desperate for air. Lungs are burning, eyes are streaming; he's fighting the urge to cough because that would give their position away. He turns and looks down at the one he is protecting. Her red hair is filthy and matted with blood and dirt, her clothing is ill-fitting and ripped and filthy. She still holds a pistol in the hand that isn't crushed and broken, though she isn't normally left-handed, he thinks. Her silver green eyes catch his.

"I was glad to know you," she whispers, a soft flavor to the words that he suddenly places as Russian. She's speaking in Russian, and he can understand her, Severus thinks in bewilderment before he slips back into the memory.

"Don't do it, Nat," his own voice rasps. "I'll knock you out and drag you out of here myself if you dare."

"Clint," she whispers with a soft smile. "It's the only way."

"No …!"

Severus jerked out of the memory, glad to find that he was still in the man's mindscape, and another memory suddenly rushed at him too quickly for him to escape.

A hospital room. It's quiet, save for the soft breaths of the woman sleeping in the hospital bed beside him. He feels a happy smile curl his lips as he looks down at the bundle in his arms. A baby rests there, with a head of dark hair and a wrinkled little face.

"Hello Lila-flower," he whispers tenderly. "Want to say hi to daddy?"

The baby's dark blue eyes open sleepily and a tiny mouth opens wide in a yawn …

Severus pulls away from that one too, and searches for a way to free the man's mind. This fellow's mind seemed to be intact. In fact, he seemed conscious. Was his consciousness here somewhere? What was it Natasha had called him?

"Barton?" Severus calls into the man's mind. "Clint?"

Another memory swallows him whole before he can see if his calling made a difference.

The room is dim and poorly furnished. It is night. A man rises from a wooden chair to greet him. He's dark-skinned and bald, and wears an eye-patch and long leather coat.

"Clint Barton? I'm Nicholas Fury. Pleased to make your acquaintance. You're a hard man to run to ground."

"I'm Hawkeye," he corrects the strange man in a rasping voice. His stomach groans and his vision doubles for a minute. He's sick and injured. He won't be able to defend himself if this stranger attacks him …

"I'm here to offer you a job, Hawkeye," the man says crisply.

"I've heard that one before," he rasps, and starts coughing.

"I know," Fury says with a hint of understanding in his steely voice. "That's why I figure you've got nothing to lose."

"I'm doing fine," he spits viciously. He tastes blood in his mouth.

"Well, it's either take my offer or rot here," Nicholas Fury shrugs. "You've got some important people mighty upset lately. I'm here to offer you a second chance. Your choice, Barton."

There's a beat, and the sense that here a road diverges. Here is the choice to decide all choices. He knows what he will say.

"… I'll take your job, Fury."

Severus fell out of that memory. He wasn't jerked and he didn't pull himself out. He blinked, and realized that there was a man standing before him. He looked battered and bruised, exhausted and wary.

"Who are you?" the man rasped. He clenched his fists as if grasping for missing weapons. Their surroundings were terribly dark. Severus could sense memories drifting around them, echoes of cries, laughter, voices, explosions, and crashes echoing faintly from the drifting memories. Severus suddenly shivered. He knew this type of prison. Loki had imprisoned this man in his own mind, trapped by his worst memories. As if to confirm, another memory swallowed him.

"What is SHIELD planning here?" a cruel voice with an Eastern European accent demands. "What is your mission? Answer me!"

His head snaps to the side as the fist connects with his cheek. Blood fills his mouth. He's naked, dangling upside down in a cold, drafty cell, trussed up like a Christmas turkey. The cords are cutting into his wrists, his arms, his legs, his ankles … He's thirsty, his body is one huge bruise, and all the blood has settled in his throbbing head. He's pretty sure he couldn't talk even if he wanted to.

"Any progress?" a harsh, accented voice echoes. He cracks open swollen eyes. The light is too harsh, too bright, and he closes his eyes, trying to concentrate past the pain in his battered body. He thinks he has gone through this before, he'll be fine, he just has to hold on until Nat or Phil come for him. Fury won't forget about him.

"He's a stubborn sonuvabitch," the first voice growls. "But I'll get him singing in no time, mein Herr."

"See that you do," the other voice growls. "But we've captured another one for you to play with. A pretty red-head. She'll sing if he won't."

No, no, no! His head screams. Not Natalya! Anyone but her! He was supposed to protect her! She was supposed to save him! Please no, he'll do anything …!

Severus cried out in pain as he jerked himself out of that memory, finding himself back in the dark bubble of memory torture. The man was still crouching close by, watching him with a dead, exhausted look on his battered face. He looked much the same as his real-world self, just more battered and bruised. Every memory seemed to be leaving its marks on the man, or rather, on this representation of the man's mind. In no time, he erected occlumency barriers around the two of them, and the whispers and echoes disappeared. In fact, the darkness seemed to thin and he could see sunlight, as if he was peeking through shreds of cloud. It was more proof that this man had a strong will and was still fighting for his mind. That would make Severus' job easier.

"Who the hell are you? What're you doin' to me?" the man rasped, standing shakily.

"I am Severus Snape," the wizard replied. "You are Clint Barton? Or Barton Clint?"

"Clinton Barton," the man answered, still looking suspicious. "Why're you in my head? I've never met you before."

"I am here to free you from Loki, Mr. Barton. Can you think of what happened when he took your mind? I must know exactly what happened and it is simpler if I view it rather than rely on hearsay."

The man nodded, looking rather stunned. He closed his gray eyes and concentrated, and the two of them were swept away in yet another memory.

He crouches high above a contraption that sparks and surges. He stares at the glowing blue cube in the middle of the array, feeling apprehension starting to claw at his throat. People are scurrying around down there, panicking and evacuating. He readies his bow as the blue thing suddenly surges even stronger than before, creating something like a window to something else.

A portal opens and when the light fades, a man dressed in green and gold in crouching there on the contraption's platform. His back is to the man, and he raises his bow. But the stranger moves incredibly fast. He swings a golden staff and bats the arrow away before shooting some kind of blue beam at one of the agents demanding he stand down and declare himself. His hair his dark, his face is thin and handsome. The smirk on his face is cruel and arrogant.

As he launches down to help the technicians, a blue beam hits him in the side and he falls, and suddenly the man is over him. He jumps upright and draws a pistol, gritting his teeth against the pain. He won't go down without a fight, he won't …

Suddenly the dark-haired man in green is standing very close, smiling sardonically into his face and pressing the point of his golden staff to his chest. "You have heart …" he murmurs.

And power floods his body.

It is as if he never knew anything before this. Knowledge pours thick and fast into his brain and its hurts because it's too much. His head spins and he wonders why he was worried before. A soft voice whispers in his mind to raise the pistol in his hand and shoot the man called Fury.

Fury … he knows that name …

He obediently raises the pistol and aims at the dark-skinned, one-eyed man, and memory flashes through him, of this man saving him from a life of crime as a bounty hunter, this man giving him missions, this man allowing him to take Natalya under his wings … He can't shoot. He won't kill him. But he can't not do it. Already his finger is on the trigger.

Hawkeye never misses. But today, he shifts his aim from a head shot, to a chest shot, knowing somehow that it won't kill the man. He fires.

He is ordered to shoot all resistance. He shoots them without thinking and curses himself for obeying. He fights the comforting voice in his head, but it's too confusing. He has no control over his limbs, and even his head wants to obey. Dr. Selvig, a portly man whose eyes are now an eerie glowing blue, takes up the Tesseract in its container and follows the Master from the room.

Wait, no. He stops and shakes his head briefly. He calls no man Master, not after that circus he grew up in. The voice hisses in his mind to forget the past and follow his new god. While he is puzzling over that, he finds that he is driving a military jeep. He is swerving to avoid a collision. There is a woman in the other car. He knows her, he thinks. She accompanies Fury around a lot. He won't kill her, just slow her down.

When they leave the collapsing caves behind, he is directed through the dark to an abandoned subway station at the edge of the city. He fights again. He won't be taken underground. Under the earth is where torture happens, where your bones are left to rot.

"N-no …" he croaks, fighting, clawing for freedom. He clutches his head; get out, get out, getoutgetoutgetout …

The man in green whirls on him, his blue eyes furious.

He is slapped.

Hard.

It hurts. Blood trickles from his lip and he battles against the strain of fighting this fog, this thing that controls his body and forces him to do things he doesn't want to do. He can hear that soothing voice telling him to kneel down, and he does it. A hand settles on his hair, and soothing words comfort him. He was doing the right thing. He is a good soldier. Now he needs to stop thinking so much and just do it. Fulfill his orders and there will be peace …

"NO!" he screams, and claws his way up and out. He rises to his feet and takes a swing, but that damned staff hits him in the chest again, and he's swallowed by a void filled with dizzying colors and terrible memories. He is so busy fighting them off that he can't pay any more attention to his body …

Severus blinked as the memory faded away. The man was … impressive. It was rare to meet a muggle with such a strong will, and he actually broke free on his own once, for a few seconds! It shouldn't be hard to snip the strings connecting the man's mind to Loki.

"Can you get me out of here?" the man rasped desperately, his body soaked with sweat and his limbs trembling with weakness.

"I can help you," Severus replied at once. "Follow me, if you can. Simply think about me as strongly as possible. I believe that if I pull out, and you follow, you can reassert your own will. I will fight Loki if he retaliates. Agreed?"

The man nodded eagerly and followed, and Severus let himself fall upwards, out of the cloud of memories. Some of them seemed to claw at the man's legs, but he reached up and Severus caught his hand, and pulled him free of the bubble of darkness. They were flying at breathtaking speed through the colorful void that surrounded the man's waking mind like a shield. More memories flashed past; some seemed very recent, with a memory of the man firing an explosive into a monstrous flying vessel that was likely the helicarrier they were now in, and some were old, like the one showing the man as a boy walking a tightrope to the amusement of other children.

"Barton," a voice echoed softly around them, and the void disappeared suddenly, leaving them standing on something solid, surrounded by deep shadows and faint outlines of pillars.

"It's him," the man gritted out, again flexing his hands as if looking for weapons.

"Concentrate," Severus murmured. "Close your eyes and breathe, then take up your weapons. You are in your own mind. You can fight back."

The man blinked at him in surprise before his expression hardened and he briefly shut his eyes. When he opened them, he was holding a bow and a knife, and there was a quiver on his shoulders. He hesitated before he held the knife out to Severus.

The wizard smiled thinly and shook his head. "My weapons are not visible," he explained briefly.

Loki appeared suddenly before them, just as Severus had seen him in Stuttgart, dressed in his rich green and gold robes. The wizard clenched his jaw and stepped forward, motioning for Barton to drop back. The man obeyed silently, and Loki blinked in surprise at seeing the two of them.

"A Seidr?" the god of mischief said in surprise, his blue eyes glowing mockingly. He clicked his tongue and shook his head mockingly. "What a surprise. You are good, I'll give you that. I thought you were quite … ordinary, when we met."

"Release Barton, and all the people you have under your control, Loki," Severus hissed. "Or you will not like the consequences." Good grief, he sounded like Potter, Severus silently groaned. But he simply raised his hands and light flickered over his fingers like ghostly St. Elmo's fire. He hoped he would not be forced to use magic to evict the god of magic from this man's mind. He did not want to think of the damage the two of them could inflict on a muggle with their battle.

"You think yourself powerful enough to best me?" Loki laughed, leaning on his staff and smiling mockingly at him. "I have no time to waste fighting you, sorcerer. Take Barton, if you must. I am finished with him besides. He has completed the work I sent him to do." He turned with a mocking smile to the man crouching behind Severus, waiting with an arrow on the string. "You do have heart, Clint Barton," Loki said softly, almost proudly. "I will break you when next we meet."

Barton roared in fury and loosed his arrow. It pierced where Loki's eye should have been, but his illusion had vanished. Then Barton himself vanished, and the void around Severus was suddenly filled with memory, thought, feeling, identity … there were corridors instead of a void, memories no longer floated but were secure behind doors. Severus sighed and pulled away from the man's mind, canceling his Legilimency. Barton was free of Loki, but now that insufferable god knew that Severus was a wizard, and he had likely escaped as well. This was a mess.

Severus blinked his real eyes and found himself looking up at the unshaven, sweaty face of Clint Barton, a man whose deepest fears and desires he had probed in the last few minutes. His eyes, blinking dazedly above him, were no longer blue. They were soft gray, and filled with confusion and awe.

Severus jerked his hands away when he realized he was still holding the man's face between his palms and Barton seemed to stiffen when he realized that he was still on top of Severus.

"Holy … what did you do? How'd you do that?" Barton mumbled, pushing himself off and rubbing his face. "You're real," he muttered suddenly, looking dazed.

Severus sat up and eyed the embarrassed man with amusement. "Of course I am real," he snorted. "Did you think I was a product of your imagination?"

Barton shrugged, looking lost. But he didn't have much time to feel lost, because Natasha was suddenly beside him, startling him so he nearly reached for his weapons.

"You're back!" she said softly, fighting tears as she quickly embraced him. "Are you alright?" She demanded before she sat back and shook him slightly by the shoulders for emphasis. "Clint, don't ever do that to me again."

"… Tasha?" Barton whispered shakily. He reached out and traced a nasty bruise on her cheek. "What … what did I do? How many agents?"

"No, don't do that to yourself," Natasha said sternly through her tears of relief, catching his hand and squeezing it. "This was all Loki. This was magic and monsters and stuff we were never trained for. You're free, that's all that matters." She turned suddenly and got off Barton before stepping towards Severus, reaching out to help him up. "I don't know what you did or how you did it," she whispered, and hugged the wizard tightly, startling him stiff. "Thank you, Severus," she whispered, her voice thick with tears. "I'll never, ever forget this."

"And she takes debts pretty seriously," Barton drawled from behind her, seeming to be coming back to himself. "I think you broke him, Nat. He's not moving."

Laughing wetly, Natasha pulled back and wiped her tears. Severus blinked at her before painfully hauling himself to his feet.

"We need to find the others," he rasped, his voice a great deal more hoarse than he would have liked. He needed to forget the feeling of those arms around him, the warm breath on his cheek, and the smell of the red curls in his face.

A~HP~V~HP~E~HP~N~HP~G~HP~E~HP~R~HP~S

Severus slowly sat down at the round table on the bridge. Some of the computer systems here were smoking and people were bustling around, talking in hushed voices. Where they sat across from him, Captain Rogers and Stark looked windblown and dirty and tired, but thankfully they seemed uninjured. Natasha had taken Barton to the infirmary despite his protests that he was fine, and Severus had limped his way to the bridge. The wizard's first question had been simple.

"Loki?" he demanded of Fury.

The one-eyed man glared at him and shook his head. "Escaped," he replied tersely.

Severus nodded, and then sat down at the table across from the only other two people in attendance. Rogers was gazing vacantly at the wall and Stark slumped in his seat with his arms crossed. Neither of them gave Severus more than a brief glance.

"Coulson is dead," Fury announced abruptly.

He's up to something, Severus realized. He frowned at the man in the dark coat, but he was careful not to let his suspicion show. Dumbledore would often start Order meetings with a regretful list of the tragedies they hadn't prevented, as a way of emotionally controlling his soldiers. A soldier filled with righteous rage and the memory of gruesome atrocities fresh in his mind would fight far more fiercely than a complacent one.

"He attempted to stop Loki from escaping," Fury continued in a regretful tone. "But somehow that bastard got his magic stick back and stabbed him." The one-eyed spy fished in his pocket and tossed a bundle of bloodstained cards down on the table. Severus glanced at them and was mildly surprised that he recognized them as muggle trading cards, featuring a picture of a cartoon man that looked a lot like Captain Rogers in his 'spangly' suit. "I guess he had those in his pocket, waiting for a chance to get you to sign them," Fury said slowly. "But that never happened."

Rogers slowly picked up one of the cards and fingered the bloodstains with trembling fingers. Severus suddenly glared at Fury, detesting this emotional blackmail more with every passing second. The man was a manipulative bastard, much like other men he had worked for in the past. Any minute now, he would start telling them in a regretful tone how Coulson hoped things would work out, and he would start subtly suggesting they avenge the Agent's death …

"Phil Coulson died, still believing in the Avengers Initiative," Fury said, right on cue. He turned to face the panoramic windows and clasped his hands behind his back. "He believed that we could bring together a team of remarkable individuals, to fight the battles we never could …" Fury turned and looked over his shoulder at them with his one, steely eye, and Severus felt the urge to roll his own eyes at the man's taste for drama. "And I still believe in heroes too."

There followed an uncomfortable silence. Stark sighed and got up before leaving the bridge all together.

"Well," Fury said softly. "It's an old-fashioned notion."

Captain Rogers didn't reply, his eyes still riveted on the card in his hand. Severus sighed sardonically into the silence and rubbed his aching knee. He probably had a fracture, but he could keep going for a while still. He absolutely was not stepping foot into a muggle infirmary where they might take his blood and see his scars …

"Banner is asleep in the Hulk's form down in the engine room," Severus announced to break the hyper-dramatic moment, shaking himself out of his own mind. "Romanoff freed a man from Loki's control and took him down to the Medical center, but he did not seem adversely affected by his stint as a 'flying monkey'. What of Thor?"

"Thor is gone," Fury answered, turning all the way around and facing them. "He tried to stop Loki too, and he's missing."

"Hopefully he'll turn up again," Captain Rogers murmured, tossing the blood-stained card back into the pile. After another minute, the Captain sighed, shook his head, and stood up without a word. He left, still without saying anything. Severus did not move, partly because his leg was beginning to hurt worse, and partly because he anticipated Fury telling him to stay behind. He wasn't wrong.

"So, you really were able to stop the Hulk," the one-eyed man muttered grimly once Rogers was gone.

"It was a chemical calming solution I invented," Severus replied tiredly. "Please don't ask for the recipe."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Fury snorted, but there was a glimmer of something in his eye that wasn't scorn, or suspicion. He seemed relieved, and impressed. Severus himself felt something uncoil in his chest at the sight. At least Fury would get off his back now, at least until he did something else suspicious.

"So … the Avengers," Severus said slowly, tapping his fingers on the table. "Humanity's last hope and all that … I suppose your little speech and attempt at emotional blackmail didn't have quite the reaction you'd imagined?"

Fury sighed and shook his head. "You don't get it, boy," he muttered, his voice sounding strained and tired and old. "I've given them the challenge. Now all they've gotta do is take it. I know these people, prob'ly better than they know themselves. Stark acts like a self-centered jackass but he really would find it hard to stay outta this fight, team player or not. Romanoff and Barton'll jump on board as soon as they hear about it. Rogers is rounding them all up as we speak, 'cause that's just who he is."

"And my part in your little plan?" Severus demanded, feeling peeved and used, but not surprised.

"You've gotta go wake up Banner. Hopefully he's stable enough … and you're gonna escort him to the rest of the team. Lord knows having the Hulk on board will be more'n enough to stop Loki … I imagine Loki's gone to get a power source, and the only one that comes to mind is Stark's reactor in New York. Clean energy and all that … Then I guess you can take a nap here until they come back."

Severus drummed his fingers on the table and bowed his head so his lank hair hid his face. He was at a crossroads, and he had a choice here … but what did he want? It was possible at this very moment, to play the part he was given, get Banner, (hopefully de-Hulked by now) and then he could sleep off this crazy day and wake up after the drama, hopefully in a better mood. So why was his heart screaming at him that he shouldn't do that? He was a Slytherin. He lived by his wits, and he used his wits logically. There was no room for nobility, or semantics, or heroism. A Slytherin was cunning, and always looked out for himself first of all.

But Severus Snape had never been a typical Slytherin. In school, he had always been more of a Ravenclaw than a Slytherin. If it weren't for the bullies making his life harder, he probably would have preferred learning books of magical history to learning vicious curses. As an adult, Dumbledore had occasionally hinted at him that he was more of a Gryffindor than he would like. And lately, he realized that his loyalty to Bruce had crossed into dangerous Hufflepuff territory.

Who was he, really?

And like a lightning strike in the dead of night, Severus Snape suddenly knew, in that moment, what he truly was.

He had once fought the Marauders not only to defend himself, but also to defend the other Slytherins targeted by them.

He joined the side of light during his first war to take vengeance for the death of Lily.

He fought throughout both wars to defeat a Dark Lord bent on world domination and mass genocide, and never was he given anything but suspicion, scorn, and hatred as his rewards. From both sides.

All his life, he had preached that life wasn't fair, when somehow he knew it should be. Like a child, he had believed that somehow, he could even the scores and avenge the wrongs done to the innocent.

For the past decade, he had been traveling the world to even his own scores, and pay for his sins.

Now, he could not step back and let a megalomaniac take over the world when he could do something about it, however futile. Because, that was just who he was. He never did it for praise, or for ridiculous notions of 'doing what was right' or 'standing up to evil'. He did it because no one else would. And if no one else stood against evil, it would win.

Always.

The 'right' and 'wrong' sides in a conflict didn't matter to him, most of the time. All that mattered was that people would suffer if evil won, and Severus could not allow more sins to darken his life. He'd had enough sneaking and spying for a lifetime, and for once, he was free to do something about this threat to the world. The thought was … amazingly freeing. It almost made him want to smile, but he didn't, because he didn't want Director Fury to think he was up to something.

Severus rose silently from the table, ignoring Fury's murmur of 'good luck', and left to find heart pounded uneasily, but he held his head high.

He knew who he was; who he'd always been. He didn't personally like the revelation, but he'd had enough of hiding who he truly was, even from himself.

He was an Avenger.

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I hope it wasn't too much of a stretch to say how Snape has always been an Avenger of some sort. But this was my whole idea behind the fic, realizing that Snape has always been a man of his convictions, who doesn't give a damn what anybody else thinks, and his entire reason to committing to the light was Lily, not himself and certainly not Dumbledore. He is a good liar when he needs to be, but he hates hiding, hence the reason he was such a nasty guy to the kids, since he had to do something with all that pent-up frustration. He may have acted like he liked being a nasty jerk, but he really didn't. He just wanted to be left alone. And teenagers are SO stressful to be around all the time. I'm surprised other teachers at Hogwarts didn't have grumpy days! Now that Snape's living a life HE chose, he's a lot mellower. Plus, not having a painful Dark Mark throbbing in his arm 24/7 has gotta be a good reason to be cheerful.

Thank you for your reviews and encouragement! I've almost finished this fic, I'm in the aftermath of the Chitauri attack already!