Thanks for the suggestion in the reviews. I'm not ready yet to try it out since I am beyond terrible at writing either Thor or Loki. But maybe I'll be able to meet the challenge on another day.

October 17th: Keep breathing

(mentions of Claura, rated K+)

It was cold but his body felt burning hot. The wind played with his hair and tugged at his clothes – at least where they weren't covered in blood. It was getting dark already and his hopes that someone would find him in that hell decreased with the minutes passing by just like the temperature which was dropping at an alarming state. He forced himself not to close his eyes and somehow it worked out for a while. He almost had to be thankful for the overthrown car jamming his leg, pinning it down onto the ground. Every now and then he felt an intense shot of pain circulating through his whole body with his blood, seemingly attached to it. Parts of the broken windows of said car were most likely ripping his flesh open. The blood loss would be immense if it weren't for the other parts of the car slowing his circulation down.

Once again he tried getting a signal over his earpiece. With shaky hands he slighly sat up and meddled with the device. There was only static over static over static. Letting himself fall to the ground again he swallowed hard and sighed: „Guys… it's Clint. I can't find any kind of signal again. If you still hear me, please come for me. I'm pinned down next to that collapsed building. It's hard to see me, because the pieces of rubble are supporting each other over me like a tent. It won't hold so long, I'm afraid…"

He pressed his lips together in frustration and stopped talking. It was not of use after all. If he couldn't hear them they couldn't hear him either. Carefully he pulled the earpiece away and dropped it next to him.

Tiredly Clint looked up at the rubble lingering over him menacingly. The wound spanning from his ribcage to his belly button was bleeding heavier again, but he didn't have the strength to press his hand on it again. Slowly his eyes were fluttering close and this time he couldn't help it.
The sound of the cracking in the rubble and the wind grew distant, the sirens blaring that had been distant before disappeared shortly after with the rest of the sound. He wasn't lieing in the middle of a catastrophe anymore. His surroundings changed into a wonderful green space. The sun was shining and the birds were singing. There were a few benches lined up in front of him and people were sitting there waiting in anticipation smiling up at him. Slowly Clint looked around. He was standing by a table and everything was decorated with flowers. He looked down and gasped in confusion as he was no longer wounded and dirty. He was wearing a suit with a tie in a soft lilac. Suddenly string players started doing a wedding march and he looked up instantly. Laura appeared at the corridor with her father. She wasn't just beautiful, she was beauty. Her long white dress was flowing and the soft lavender bowtie around her waist was the same shade as the bands and flowers in her hair.

This was their wedding… but it had happened years ago. He wasn't supposed to be here. This wasn't good at all.

Laura was stopping next to him, a soft smile on her face. The smell of flowers intensified since her wedding bouquet consisted of lilac, lavender and soft pink roses. All shades of purple. When the priest started talking she whispered: „Are you alright?" Clint only nodded and closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them he was back in the rubble. He was dizzy and barely resisted the urge to immediately close his eyes again. He couldn't even feel the pain anymore. The noices hadn't come back since the… dream, memory. Everything was deadly silent. Everything was numb.

In the back of his head Clint could hear Natasha's voice: „Idiot! Don't die on me now. We are on our ways. We have been searching for you for hours and there isn't much space left. The only thing you need to do is stay with me, okay?"

His eyes snapped back open when the voice disappeared again. He stared up at the debris still leaning against each other optically not moving but he knew they were cracking and shaking. The archer managed to stay awake for about five minutes before his eyes closed again automatically. He saw Cooper and Lila sitting at the table at home. Cooper was looking at him with a sad expression: „When will you be coming home again? You promised it would only take you a few more days."

Clint didn't know what to say and looked over at his daughter who was standing up from her chair and walking over to him: „We miss you, daddy… We need you here. Please don't go away."
Immediately Clint started shaking his head and pulled his daughter into an embrace: „No… I won't leave you, deary."
Lila was hugging him too and started talking in a low voice again: „But then you need to wake up, daddy…"

The voices of his children grew distant again, replaced by another familiar voice calling out for him. Slowly he was opening his eyes once more. Everything was in a blur, but once again he heard a clear and not so far away ‚Clint'. It was Steve's voice. They found him.
Clint took a shaky breath and as loud as he could he answered: „Steve! I'm here!"
After that he could only remember other voices joining Steve's and hands all around him and he felt the pain start again when the heavy car was lifted off his leg. He now knew he would be okay – He had to be okay again, for his family.