~Looks like a sequel is in the works. This is the bridge between what happened in Stuttgart and what happens next. Thanks for reading, and as always, I appreciate all feedback and comments!~

When I came back to myself on the Helicarrier; bound like an animal with Natasha hovering at my side, all I could feel was anger.

Anger that I had been reduced to this; anger that I had been used as an instrument of destruction; that I had killed my own on the orders of another. It burned through me, bright and clean and all encompassing, leaving no room for anything else.

Certainly nothing approaching pain, because pain was weakness…and I was not weak. Hurt had no place within me. It denoted that I cared what happened to Loki; that I cared he had left me behind now that I had outlived my usefulness.

Pain was not an option.

So I buried that deep and embraced the anger. I nurtured it as I regained my balance; fed it as I suited up to join the battle. And as it grew into a raging inferno, I tempered what remained of my heart in those flames.

Anger was always the safest emotion; the easiest and most familiar one. I knew how to be angry. I could work with that; use it to my advantage. Anger gave me the distance I needed. It focused me. Calmed me. I was never so Zen as when I was consumed with anger.

When I caught my first glimpse of Loki in Manhattan it was that Zen that kept me from crashing the Quinjet directly into Stark tower. It was that focused rage that reminded me I would be sacrificing more than just myself in a bid to take the fallen god down.

But it was a goddamn close call.

My immediate instincts; the little voice in my head that hadn't stopped screaming since he put me back under, it all urged me to end him, end him now, before he could kill anyone else, before he could hurt me again.

The second glimpse of Loki came with a smug feeling of vengeance. "I got 'im," was what I said, and I felt a smile crawl across my face. It didn't quite make its' way to my eyes, but that was okay. Everything was about to be okay.

I loosed the arrow, and ignored the odd twinge I felt in my gut as it sliced through the air. It was gonna hit; no question. And if by some fluke it didn't kill him outright…well, I had a backup plan.

One that Loki apparently knew nothing about, judging by the smirk he sent my way after he plucked the goddamn thing from flight.

And then it was all flames and billowing smoke and a low, thudding explosion that flung him from the sky, directly back into Stark tower. When the Hulk threw himself after Loki, I turned away; content in the knowledge that it was finally…finally…over.

But I didn't feel any better. Not one fucking bit.

Cap scrambled us all, leading the way into Stark's building, and there we found Loki. He was battered and bruised, but mostly in one piece. And he looked so small, huddled on the stairs. I dropped to one knee and drew back my bowstring, keeping my face carefully impassive as he tried to be flippant; pretending that he wasn't bowed and broken before us. But I could see it in his eyes; he knew he was defeated. The war had been lost, and he was our prisoner.

And I still didn't feel any better.

Thor stepped forward and yanked Loki up by his collar, and then he clamped one large hand around the nape of his brother's neck before marching him off. I held my position, but slowly lowered my bow, focusing on my breathing, trying to steady the surge of adrenaline that was thrumming through my veins.

"You okay," Nat asked in a low tone.

"Never better," I answered woodenly, and then my stomach lurched as I realized I'd repeated Loki's words to me just before I had been enthralled that second time. Immediately I was back in that moment, feeling the disappointment and the betrayal when I realized what was about to happen.

And I couldn't lie to myself anymore.

It fucking hurt.

-x-x-x-x-

The Helicarrier was the last place I wanted to be after everything was said and done, but Fury insisted the entire team return for debriefing. It wasn't so much the looks I got from the surviving crew, or the visible damage to the flying fortress; damage I had either personally inflicted or had ordered done. It wasn't any of that that made my skin crawl with a nagging, low level anxiety.

It was the fact that Loki was here, too.

He was tucked away somewhere, trussed and waiting to be dragged back to Asgard to face justice for his crimes. And while a part of me was doing goddamn backflips over that bit of knowledge, there was another part, a small, secret part that was terrified that I might have to face Loki again. That I might break down and demand answers from him. And if I lost control; if I let on to what had happened between us? That would be very bad, indeed.

So I steeled my spine and held on firmly to my mask of indifference. I listened closely as everyone spoke their piece, told my own when asked to do so, albeit with some careful editing, and breathed an internal sigh of relief when Fury dismissed us.

It wasn't until I stepped into the hallway and directly into the path of Loki's phalanx of guards that it occurred to me that Fury had orchestrated this as a test; one I couldn't afford to fail. Not if I wanted to continue on with SHIELD; not if I wanted to avoid being retired with a bullet behind one ear. There was no other logical reason to be parading the captured god past the command center.

Hell, the detention level was on the bottom deck of this boat, so if Fury was going to claim a cell transfer, then Loki's detail had gotten woefully lost on the way.

And goddamn it if that poison green gaze didn't snap directly to me.

Even though I was surrounded by the rest of the Avengers, and he was ringed by an entire platoon of guards, that focus was on me and me alone.

I didn't miss how his eyes widened just the slightest bit at first sight of me, and the way his gait faltered. I was also immediately thankful for the heavy muzzle that covered the lower half of the god's face, keeping that lying tongue firmly in check.

I felt the weight of Fury's single eye, studying my reaction as I was faced with my former 'master'.

So in that split second, I shut down every emotion I had except for my all encompassing anger and I let a smirk rise to tug at the corner of my mouth. I crossed my arms over my chest, tucking my hands under to hide the slight tremors I could feel, and I watched as Loki was marched closer.

"Gotta say that the muzzle is a good look," I commented dryly as he drew abreast of me. "Not very kingly, but at least it'll keep you from causing any more trouble with that mouth of yours."

I expected a glare; perhaps even a snarl from behind that draconian slab of metal. But what I got instead was so much worse. This close I could see the fear in his eyes, and I felt that weird twinge in my gut again, same as when I loosed the arrow that brought him down. Loki's shoulders slumped and he finally dropped my gaze to stare dully at the floor before him.

I forced my smirk to bloom into a grin, and I looked to Fury, who was still watching me intently. I quirked an eyebrow, and he gave a slight nod in return, which I took as my cue to cut out of there. Turning, I stalked away, telling myself not to look back, certain that if I did, I would find the broken god staring after me.

-x-x-x-x-

It was four days later that everything had settled enough to allow Thor to return to Asgard.

The council had howled for Loki's blood; claiming that they held dominion over the 'war criminal', and therefore should mete out his punishment. Fury had to remind them that attempting to hold Loki would be taken as a sign of aggression against Asgard, and since that realm seemed to be populated by gods, maybe pissing them off wasn't in Earth's best interest.

And still the jackasses tried to figure out a way to keep him.

It was only after Thor threatened to rain destruction down on a scale that would make the Chitauri invasion look like a children's scuffle that the council relented. Reluctantly.

I stayed out of sight for most of that battle. In fact, I pretty much holed up in my bunk for the entire four days, only emerging for meals and my all too frequent interrogations by various shrinks. Seems a guy can't get brainwashed by a mythological god and his Pokey Stick of Doom without earning a lifetime pass to Freud-Land.

During those few days, I puzzled over what was in my head. These…fucked up feelings that seemed to surge up from out of nowhere and lay me low. I heard the term Stockholm Syndrome a lot in the beginning, but I quickly ruled that out. I didn't sympathize with Loki. It was more than that.

Tasha tried to talk to me about it, and I shut her out. Hell, even Cap dropped by. But I had nothing to say. Not to my team, and certainly not to those goddamned doctors.

I just thought, a lot.

Twice I caught myself walking through the corridors, seemingly without aim. But in the back of my head I knew I was wending closer and closer to the detention level. And when that thought became too overwhelming to ignore; when my nerves were screaming that he was close; just down a few more levels or around that next bend, I would force myself to head elsewhere. To pretend that the gym or the cafeteria had been my destination all along.

I couldn't very well just pop by and visit my former captor, now could I? Not with Fury watching, and every SHIELD shrink within a hundred mile radius just frothing at the mouth to poke around in my head.

I'd had enough of that to last me a lifetime, thanks.

Four days later, as I readied myself to serve as a witness to the departure of the being that had officially turned me inside out, I was no goddamned closer to understanding what I was feeling, much less why. I spent a long time in front of the mirror that day, staring myself in the eye, searching for even the smallest fleck of that unearthly blue that had tainted my world.

But all I saw was my familiar blue-gray gaze.

And I can't quite explain why I felt a twinge of disappointment in that, but it made my stomach clench.

When I stepped away from the mirror there was a fresh spider web of cracks marring the silvery surface and blood on my knuckles. As I left the room I snagged a pair of sunglasses off my dresser and quickly slipped them on.

I was going to face Loki one final time, and I'd be damned if I was going to give him the satisfaction of looking me in the eye.

-x-x-x-x-

We came together in Central Park. I strolled in, Natasha at my side and my heart wedged somewhere behind my tonsils. Thor was on my right, guiding his brother toward the departure point by one arm. I kept my gaze fixed forward until Loki jerked away from the Thunderer's grasp and covered the remaining few feet under his own power. He was still trying to be stoic; pretending that he was unaffected by his failure; unconcerned about being dragged home to face daddy.

I didn't buy it for one second.

And my treacherous mind was replaying that too short amount of time we had spent together in Stuttgart; reminding me of how Loki had been when it was just the two of us. Still haughty. Still half crazed. But not a monster. Not by a long shot. He's been almost vulnerable by the end, and for the thousandth time since then, I wondered what he'd been about to say to me before his master called him away.

Selvig and Banner readied the Tesseract for transport as the rest of us stood nearby. It was then that Loki turned to face me, and the expression in his eyes nearly broke me. It was the way his eyes flicked up to seek mine; the disappointment that clouded that piercing gaze when he met the barrier of my sunglasses. I was frozen. Unsure of what may happen next. And then Natasha leaned in and whispered to me, "Don't let him rattle you, Clint."

And I forced my mouth to curve into my trademark, cocky grin. Even though, on the inside, I was still screaming.

Those dark brows drew together, and Loki dropped his eyes and turned away. A moment later Thor held out the transport tube to the dark god, he grasped it without hesitation, and then, in a blaze of light, they were gone.

I stared after them, head tilted back and the sun on my face as I muttered quietly, "Good riddance…"

But the words tasted of lies, and still…still…I didn't feel any better.