The Wizard and the Void - Chapter Six
Author: Milady Dragon
Phil had changed in the years since Clint has last seen him.
Back then, the Wizard had been angry at the entire world, and that had translated to his appearance. His eyes had practically blazed with it, as if he wanted to set the entire world afire with his very gaze. His power was evident in the way he held himself, ready at any moment to attack whoever made just the wrong move… and he had, Clint had been a witness to that hair-trigger temper that would sooner kill first and then ask the question why, later.
He'd worn a beard back then, a well-trimmed goatee, and it had only made him look more…well, evil, not to put too fine a point to it. He'd oozed menace from every pore, and there had been times when the very air would crackle with the magic he could control so easily. That Phil Coulson, called the Dark One, had been dangerous and deadly and hadn't given a shit about anyone, with a few exceptions.
Clint had been drawn to him like a moth to a flame. He couldn't help himself, even though Phil hadn't shown the slightest bit of interest in an Elf who had perfect aim and had made his living as an assassin.
Now, though…it was like looking at a different person.
The fiery anger in his eyes was gone, replaced by a different sort of heat that didn't burn, but warmed a person through. There were now fine lines at his eyes that crinkled when he smiled…and this Phil smiled quite a bit, from what Clint had seen so far. His hair was a little thinner and much shorter, his face clean shaven, and the shadows that had lurked within him seemed to have faded away.
The control was still there, but it was softer, the fires banked, no longer seeming deadly, although Clint didn't doubt that the Wizard could still kill someone quite easily. He just didn't have a need to do that sort of thing now that he'd seemed to have found some sort of inner peace.
That inner softness had communicated itself when Daisy had appeared. Clint could practically feel the love that radiated from Phil because of the girl who'd become his daughter, replacing the sensation of physical threat that he'd given off as easily as breathing. Just that single change was enough to make him unrecognizable as the once-most feared Wizard in the Western Lands.
When Phil had been attractive before…now, he was absolutely devastating.
Whatever had caused these changes – and, while he was willing to bet that Daisy was responsible for a lot, he couldn't credit them all to her – Clint wanted to explore more of. He wanted nothing more than to get to know this version of the man he'd had such a crush on before. Back then, he and Phil could work together like a well-oiled machine, and had done, but this new person was something else altogether. He couldn't wait to see if any of their old rapport had transferred to this new Master Phil Coulson, who was so obviously not the Dark One any longer.
To be honest, the Elf was glad of it.
All that anger, while dead sexy, Clint had known was going to get Phil killed one day. And he'd believed it had, when the Wizard had gone up against Loki and had lost. Maybe that had something to do with it as well, he didn't know.
He was also glad that Phil was alive, although he still couldn't quite make up his mind whether to kiss him out of sheer happiness or to punch him in the face for lying about it.
"Can I get you something to drink?" Phil asked, breaking Clint from his thoughts.
He'd led Clint into a fairly fancy study, where he'd gone to a carved credenza against the wall, opening it. With his superior vision, the Elf could see that there were various bottles within it, as well as glasses. Phil quirked an eyebrow at him, awaiting his response.
"Sure," the archer agreed readily. "I see you have some of that fancy wine Nick likes so well…"
Phil reached in and grabbed the bottle. "I'm sure you can easily read the label from where you're standing."
"Please…you doubt?" Clint asked, teasing.
"You? Never."
Clint's heart decided it needed to beat just off pace at that simple confirmation of his abilities. He hid his pleasure at it by taking a seat on the couch, letting Lola jump up beside him and lay her wedge-shaped head on his thigh, her cooing practically a purr as she relaxed against him.
"This is a nice room," he complimented, thinking that the place was yet another facet of the new Phil Coulson. The man he'd known hadn't been one for accumulating things, and yet the study had those self-same collectibles that the Elf would never have guessed Phil owning. He particularly was impressed by the artwork of the long-gone hero, Sir Steven Rogers, hanging on one wall. Back during the time they'd run together, Clint would have said that the Dark One was about as far from the ideals that the Paladin had espoused – according to historical records – as a person could get.
There was magic as well. While Clint didn't have a single magical bone in his body, Elves were closely connected to the universal forces, and that included Deep Ways and Void and elemental magic. There were several innocuous seeming things on the shelves that were obviously enchanted, even though he couldn't have said how.
Phil joined him and Lola, handing Clint a glass of the dark-hued wine and then taking the chair next to the sofa. "Thank you," the Void Wizard said. "Being settled has allowed me to indulge in some of my personal passions, and I'm rather afraid I've taken full advantage." He sipped his wine, blue eyes on Clint's as he did so.
"I wish I'd been here to see it," the archer blurted before he even knew he'd said it out loud.
He didn't miss the minute flinch. "I'm beginning to wonder if I was…wrong, in hiding from my friends. However, at the time it had seemed the best thing to do."
"Why did you?" Clint drank from his own glass; he wasn't much of a wine drinker, but Marcus knew his grapes. The wine was rich on his tongue, and he had to take another sip. "Phil, I…Nat and I…mourned you." He hoped the man didn't notice that little slip. "We would've been here in a heartbeat if you'd said anything."
This time, there wasn't a flinch; there was a full-on shifting of his weight in the overstuffed chair. "I…damnit, Clint…I…"
The expression on Phil's face told Clint that he really did want to say something. To explain his reasons. But, it was as if the words were lodged in the Wizard's throat, unable or unwilling to come out.
Suddenly, Clint didn't want to know. If it was bad enough to make Phil uncomfortable about even considering sharing, then maybe it was something that could and should remain hidden.
He did wonder if it had to do with his surviving Loki's attack. Clint would have bet good money that it was, as this was the root of everything. Each of them had thought Phil was dead; while the Elf hadn't actually seen the confrontation, he'd heard about it – from Loki, when he'd been under the crazy Wizard's thrall – and it had sounded as if it had been a mortal wound. And yet, he'd somehow survived, and the survival had apparently made Phil self-conscious and unsure of himself.
Phil slumped in his chair, cradling the wine glass to his chest. Lola, obviously sensing her Wizard's upset, was away from Clint and sitting next to Phil's legs, laying her head on his knee, the sad warble she gave him coming close to breaking the Elf's heart. Phil rested a slightly trembling hand on Lola's head, rubbing around the base of her crest, but it was an absent motion, as if he was doing it because it was something he was just used to doing.
"I…" Phil began again, "I was arrogant, Clint. I honestly believed I could beat Loki. I stepped into that fight overconfident, without knowing a thing about my opponent. I…didn't know he could cast such lifelike illusions. I…paid for my ego. I'm sorry…but I can't say." Blue eyes filled with pain met Clint's own. "I think I could tell you, but…I can't. And it's nothing to do with you. It's me, and my total inability to even mention the details. No one knows what happened, and maybe, one day, I'll be able to talk about it, but not now."
One of his hands released its grip on the glass, to rub his chest right over his heart, as if trying to disperse an invisible source of pain. And, as Clint watched, Phil's eyes changed.
The blackness of pupil began to bleed all over, until all there was left was darkness; no blue and no white, and it was like looking into the Void itself. Not that Clint had ever done that, but he'd been a witness to the Wizard's power over the Void itself, and it was very much like watching that, especially when a tiny puff of black arose from the corner of his left eye.
It certainly reminded him of the time they'd come across that Void Point on the western coast. Clint had heard of them before, but had never seen one: a Void Point was a crack in the universe, a place where the Void oozed into the world, and they were rare…which was a very good thing. The archer had watched as Phil had stepped into that Void Point, calling the Void to him, making it visible to those who hadn't had the magic to see. The Void had been like watching a living form of darkness, curling and twisting and breathing while the Wizard with the control to do so summoned it to him in order to make certain the breach was closed.
If Clint had had any doubt that Phil was a true Master, it had been destroyed as he'd watched the Wizard wrestle with the living Void, laughing as he playfully had it curl about him like a lover, and then he tucked it away back to where it belonged, sealing the wound once it was all gone.
Afterward, Phil had slept for three days.
The darkness in Phil's eyes now faded quickly, and Clint wasn't even certain that the Void Wizard had realized what was happening.
"What the hells was that?" he demanded, worried for the man he still had feelings for.
Phil's brows drew downward. "What do you mean?"
"Your eyes…they changed."
"Changed how?"
The archer had been correct. Phil hadn't had a clue about what had just occurred.
"They…went black. Totally black. Like the Void had covered them or something."
Phil was up and out of his chair in an instant, his half full wine glass on the table between the couch and seat, dislodging Lola in his haste; the dragon chirped in questioning concern. He strode toward the desk, rifling through the drawers until he found what he'd been searching for.
A mirror.
It was palm-sized, but ornately wrought from pure silver. As Clint watched, the Void Wizard held it up to his face, looking closely at his reflection.
But there wasn't anything to see anymore.
"It's gone now," Clint pointed out, "but it was the strangest thing I'd ever seen."
Phil dropped the mirror onto the desk with a heavy thump. His face was pale, and he looked as if he'd been spooked. "Are you sure it was like that?" he demanded. Clint opened his mouth to reply, but Phil held up a hand to stop the archer's response. "It's fine, I'm not doubting you. You saw what you saw, and now it's gone." He leaned against the desk, the only thing keeping him on his feet was the clenched fists that were propping him up.
Clint was on his feet instantly, moving past a dragon who was busily freaking out, her cries frightened, keening in both her own terror and her Wizard's. He was by Phil's side just as the man's elbows buckled, and the Elf practically carried the Void Wizard back to the sofa, putting him down as carefully as he could. He didn't even have time to react before Lola was climbing all over her Wizard, her wings shivering and her blue eyes whirling in agitation.
Phil put his arms around her, gathering his familiar to his chest, cuddling her close as if needing to reassure himself that she was there. "I'm fine," he mumbled, and Clint wasn't sure if he was talking to him, or Lola. "I'm fine."
While Clint didn't know much about magic – only what he'd picked up hanging out with a certain Void Wizard, and from his own experiences – he couldn't help but assume that the eye changing thing was somehow connected to what Phil had been fighting to tell him. Yes, Clint recognized that struggle as such. Phil Coulson wasn't the sort of person who would fumble their words, and that had been far more telling than anything. He was pretty sure, in that moment, that Phil was incapable of actually speaking about his reasons for faking being dead, and he suspected it was the Void magic keeping it from happening.
What in the ever-loving hells had happened?
Because it was apparent that Phil hadn't known about his eyes. Had they changed before when he'd attempted to tell anyone? Was Clint the first one to actually notice? Had Daisy seen it, and dismissed as something to do with the Void magic?
Had Melinda seen it, and not said anything?
And what about Nick?
Clint had so many questions.
Instead, he fetched Phil's wine and made him take a healthy swig, moving Lola slightly in order to do it.
"That…that's the first time I can recall ever feeling like that," Phil admitted, once the glass was completely empty. "It was as if I was being stabbed all over again." His eyes met Clint's, and the Elf wished he had a clean handkerchief to lend his friend, if to wipe the suddenly appearing sweat from his brow.
"What were you thinking?" Clint asked, wanting to comfort Phil himself, so he reached out to rest a hand on the Void Wizard's trembling shoulder.
"I…" Phil frowned. "I don't remember."
Clint wanted to prompt him on their conversation, but he didn't dare. He didn't want a repeat of what had just happened, afraid of the outcome. "I'm not sure you're up for this mission," he said instead.
"Nonsense." And the shaking was over. Phil was back to himself, as if nothing had been wrong just moments ago. "I said I'm fine."
"Phil…" He wanted to shake the Wizard in frustration. Whatever wobbly the Wizard had just pulled was over, as if it had never transpired at all.
"I said I'm fine!" the Void Wizard snapped.
Clint pulled back, feeling a little hurt at his friend's waspishness. He raised his hands in surrender.
The anger in Phil's expression vanished. "I'm sorry, Clint. I know you're worried, but there isn't anything to worry about. Earlier today, Garrett's arrival interrupted some very complicated spellcasting, and you know how tiring it is for a Wizard when that happens. I'm just tired, and I'll be fine in the morning."
The archer really didn't know any such thing, but he was willing to let it lie…for now. But he was going to keep his eye on Phil, and have a little talk with Melinda about this. Perhaps she knew more than what Phil was telling…