Barton . . .

Gasping and drenched in sweat the SHIELD agent shot up in his bed. Barton's hand immediately went for his bow, knocking a photo frame off his bedside table. He cursed as he heard the glass break but lost no time in knocking an arrow. He peered around his room through his bow sights ready to shoot. Eventually, his grip slackened as he realized that there was no one else there. He was alone in his farmhouse like had been ever since she left. There were probably a few reasons why Laura left him and many for why he kept a picture of the two of them, taken in front of the pond out back, on his bedside table.

Slowly Barton set his bow and arrow down before leaning over and picking up the frame and the glass. He hissed as he cut his finger. Letting out a sigh Barton got up and set the frame on his desk before heading into the ensuite bathroom to wash his hands and bandage the cut on the pad of his left index finger.

Barton . . . please. . . don't!

The man whirled around, grabbing the sink to avoid falling since he had gotten his feet tangled in the bathroom rug. He looked around as he cautiously made his way back to his bow and arrows. "You can't scare me, Loki," he growled. "I know your tricks! Come out now!" There was nothing. Barton snatched up his bow and quiver, slinging it over his shoulder as he knocked another arrow. "Just show yourself, Loki, I'm tired of your games." Once again he was met by silence.

Barton leered into the darkness of the hallway for a while before determining that it was safe. Slowly he padded down the hallway to the stairs, checking every room he passed. He reached the landing of his house, slowly slipping into the darkened study.

A knock at the door made Barton lose his grip on his arrow and it went sailing into the forehead of a 3 point buck's head that had been left to him by a grandfather he didn't know. He let out a sigh, "You have gotten soft, Hawkeye," he chided himself. "Two years ago you would have never let your arrow loose because of a sudden noise." He glanced back at the arrow embedded in the stuffed animal's head before shaking his own and going to answer the door.

"You look like hell."

"Nice to see you too, Natasha," replied Barton with a roll of his eyes. He glanced at the clock, it was nearly four in the morning. "I assume you have a mission for me? You don't come calling this early just to socialize. Coffee?"

Natasha was studying the arrow in the deer head as Barton spoke. She looked back at the archer when he asked about coffee. She shook her head, "No, I won't be here long enough for all that. Were you using that deer's head as target practice?"

Barton froze for a second before busying himself with the coffee and grumbling that it was "something like that." Natasha tilted her head and pursed her lips, knowing that Barton was lying. He was not a very good liar, even a stranger could see through Barton's lies. Natasha was a world-class spy and Barton's best friend so he might as well have just shouted at her that he had put that arrow in the deer's head accidentally, probably recently, since Barton was still wearing his quiver.

Natasha slid onto a barstool at Barton's kitchen island. "Something have you spooked?" she asked casually.

Barton set the coffee kettle on the stove. "I thought Loki was here."

Natasha's eyebrows rose into her fiery red hair, now having grown out since the attack on New York by Loki and the alien army he had borrowed. "He's been locked up in Asgard for two years. There's no way he could get back here, not with Thor standing in his way."

"Do they . . . torture people on Asgard?"

Natasha opened her mouth before closing it again and reconsidering what she wanted to say. "I don't think so, Thor seemed to be one of those noble warrior types and I would imagine, being the Prince, he is a good example of how their society is. But why ask the question?"

Barton shook his head. "No reason . . ." he dismissed.

"Oh no, I can tell that something is bothering you. Spill, don't make me interrogate you," chided Natasha.

"Can't get anything past you, can I?" asked Barton with a soft chuckle. Natasha shook her head. Barton sighed and poured his coffee. "I've been hearing his voice calling out. He calls my name and then begs for something to stop. I've heard the tone before . . ." Barton swallowed. "When I was under his control, he relied on me more than anyone else. He was always happy to see me." He gripped his head for a moment before letting out a breath.

"You've started to remember things from when you were under the tesseract?" asked Natasha with astonishment.

Barton nodded. "Just a few bits, nothing of the battles just the quiet times. A time looking at stars on the roof, an aquarium trip, a cafe in Germany. Just these moments when I felt like myself again, moments when I could see that he was being controlled as well. Times when I was sure that he wasn't acting true to himself."

"Did you just say that you went to the aquarium with him?" asked Natasha incredulously.

Barton flushed and took a long drink of black coffee. "Weren't you here to tell me about a mission?" asked Barton changing the subject.

"Fine, fine, if you don't want to talk about it, I won't make you," replied Natasha shrugging her shoulders. She set a Minella folder on the table. "Dr. Strange mentioned to Director Fury that there were strange signals of magic coming from this compound. They were hoping to borrow your eyes to investigate. The island is off the coast of Bar Sinister."

"Sinister is a mutant, he doesn't use magic," replied Barton. "Does Strange think that Sinister has someone imprisoned on that island? That sicko does do some horrendous experiments."

Natasha nodded. "That's their theory. Fury said that if you can… rescue this person."

"One of Strange's students?" Asked Barton.

"They didn't say and gave no indication that they know who it is or what it is. All Strange could say for sure was that those magical bursts were pleas for help," she explained as she spread out some maps and showing Barton the drop zone. Barton listened as carefully as he could, trying to ignore the growing sense of dread in the pit of his stomach.

Thirty minutes later Barton was suited up and on a SHIELD carrier heading to the drop zone. He leaned slightly out the open door as they approached.

Barton...please…

The archer winced as a chilling scream of pain echoed through his head. He must've noticeably flinched as the other SHIELD agent on board asked him if he was alright. Barton nodded grimly before looking back out over the trees. "How long?"

"3 minutes, sir!" Called the pilot.

"Close enough," mumbled Barton as he made sure all of his gear was properly fastened before stepping out of the plane. He could hear the SHIELD agent's shout for only a moment before the sound of the wind filled his ears, even then the scream still echoed in his head as that small quirk of a smile Loki gave him once swam into his mind. Barton gripped the handles of his parachute tighter, "Hold on…"