Chapter title from Bad Moon Rising by Creedence Clearwater Revival.

You have heart."

Blue, sinking into him, filling him up. New purpose, new objective, new targets. Sir – Loki – king. He is a blue-lined instrument, ready to be used. Blue-edged eyes gazing into the Source, a glowing cube of endless, untapped energy. Serve. Obey. Kneel.

He looks out at the world that belongs to the king and does as he's bidden. He's a weapon, a shield, an informant. He's what he needs to be, poured into a blue mould and shaped to his king's desires. Pliant, submissive, obedient. The swirling eddies of blue that shift constantly behind his eyes and under his skin move his limbs and command his thoughts, and he drifts with the tide. Compliant, yielding, amenable. Lost. Drowned.

The blue shudders suddenly under a heavy blow and he surfaces, gasping for air and searching blindly for an anchor, for something to hold onto, to reassure himself that he's awake and alive. "Natasha…?"

She punches him in the face and his world goes dark. It's black with no shining blue sneaking in, and it's a blessing he falls into gratefully.

x

The attack on New York is a blur of action and Hollywood-quality acting on Clint's part. He's not recovered when he slides into the pilot's seat of the quinjet, not even close. He can't remember anything clearer than the imprints of actions, smears of colour, and the echo of voices from his time under Loki's spell, and when he realises what he's done – how many lives must have been snuffed out in the attack on the Helicarrier – he can barely think straight. It feels like his heart is pumping liquid ice through his veins instead of blood, and when he thinks of the blue that swirls around the edges of his mixed-up memories, he wants to throw up. He doesn't think he's ever hated anyone or anything as much as he hates Loki for what he's done to him.

But when he says he can pilot the quinjet and Captain America looks to Natasha for confirmation, she nods without hesitance, and he doesn't object. Captain America doesn't second-guess her, doesn't try to check Clint himself, doesn't give any indication that he's worried about Clint's state of mind at all. It's kind of amazing, and as Clint walks next to Natasha, a step behind the man in red, white, and a whole load of blue, it feels natural. He hasn't ever met a man who can inspire trust and loyalty so fast, and he thinks that maybe Coulson was onto something with the hero-worship. He makes a mental note to tell him later, and the thought buoys him up slightly. Coulson's too busy to co-ordinate the mission, Natasha told him, and seeing the wreck he's made of the Helicarrier, it's not surprising.

They slot together as a team sort of accidentally. Clint doesn't know any of them beyond Natasha, and somehow that doesn't even matter. He doesn't even get a good look at Bruce Banner. He remembers first hearing about the man years ago on a plane from Coulson, and watching him transform into the Hulk and punch a giant alien space monster into the road is kind of incredible, and also kind of terrifying.

He's got to focus his gaze, narrow the window. He's got to keep his eyes on the task at hand, and not let himself think about the blue-edged blank space Loki's created in his mind. He can't think about it. He can't. If he does, he'll fall, and if he falls now he might not be able to get up. Natasha bumps shoulders with him, and he forces himself to anchor his feet on the ground for the time being. He taps out patterns for different arrow types on his bow, not actually pressing the buttons, and keeps his face dead so that no one will look too close.

Captain America assesses their abilities and gives them jobs that suit them perfectly. Despite himself, Clint's impressed. Stark calls him Legolas and tells him to clench up, and Clint does have to take a moment after being dropped on the roof to calm himself down, but then he pushes everything else aside – don't think about the blue edge to his memories, don't think about the Helicarrier falling from the sky, don't think about the consequences of what he's done, don't think about Loki touching the spear to his chest and invading his mind – and focuses on what's in front of him. He sees aliens and thinks enemies, thinks targets, and he twitches his fingers and selects his arrows with cold precision.

When Natasha hands him Loki on a silver platter, Clint selects an arrow he's been holding back. He knows what Loki's reactions are like, even if he doesn't remember how he knows, so he knows he'll catch it. He also knows that he's too cocky to throw it away immediately. When the arrowhead explodes, Clint feels a vindictive thrill, and when the Hulk leaps through the air to follow the path Loki had taken, he smiles a tight smile against the string of his bow as he releases it.

And then Stark tells them that there's a nuke. Clint feels a second of panic before he shuts it down and concentrates on staying alive. He's out of arrows, running through a building that's crumbling around him, and there's a nuke headed for the city. He really wishes he had Coulson's voice in his ear right now.

Natasha's voice is there instead. "Come on, Stark," she mutters, and Clint would ask her what the hell is going on, but he's out of arrows and very much at risk if one of the aliens sees him

"Close it," Captain America says, and Clint realises with shock that Stark must have flown the missile through and not come back. "Close the portal."

Clint reaches the bottom floor and backpedals immediately when he sees aliens. After a second though, he sees that they're also all very dead. He throws a knife at one just in case, but when nothing happens he leaves his vantage point, collecting his knife on the way. It takes him a while to find the others, but when he does, Stark's there.

"Thought you went through the portal," he says as he approaches.

"I did," Stark hauls himself up and grunts, testing his joints. "Man, space is not good for these suits, I've got to make some serious modifications before I try that again. How did I get down here in one piece, by the way? Did someone catch me?"

"That would be the big guy," Captain America nods to the Hulk, who skitters back on his feet and knuckles towards the tower.

"Hulk smash puny god," he says, and Clint feels the vibrations in his bones.

"Loki?" Thor starts forward after him. "Where?"

"In Stark's tower," Clint tells him, going around to a few of the alien corpses and finding a few with arrows in them. He checks them over and puts the good ones in his quiver. He knows Loki will be alive, and if he so much as twitches, he wants to make good on his desire to put an arrow in his eye. It won't kill him, but it'll hurt like hell. Loki's eyes are dark, green and blue and full of control. Clint doesn't know how he knows that. "Widow, you copy?"

"Loud and clear. I've got Selvig up here with me."

"Stay put," Captain America says, "we're coming to you."

"Does my brother live?" Thor asks the Hulk, though Clint's sure he must know the answer.

The Hulk snorts derisively, but nods. "Puny god."

"Thor, go ahead," Captain America orders, "make sure that Selvig and the Black Widow are okay. We'll meet you there."

Loki doesn't seem to see them when they assemble behind him. He's slow, but it could easily be a trick. Clint keeps an arrow trained on him as he turns around, and he feels a sick jolt in his stomach as Loki's eyes pass right over him. "If it's all the same to you," he says, and actually has the gall to smile, "I'll have that drink now." Clint almost releases the arrow then and there, but Thor steps forward into his line of sight. He might be making sure that Loki can't escape again, but he's shielding his brother as well. Clint lowers his bow, but doesn't put the arrow back in his quiver. He can nock, draw, and release it in a second flat if he needs to. He doesn't know Thor well enough to truly trust his judgement, especially where it concerns his brother.

Stark stays with the Hulk at his tower to wait for Bruce Banner to reappear while the rest of them take Loki to SHIELD's New York base. After they've deposited him in the most maximum security cell on offer, Clint notices the Captain staring around like he's been there before. "You okay, Cap?"

"Yeah," he nods and smiles slightly, "I just…this is where I woke up."

Clint remembers Coulson telling him that and glances at Natasha. She doesn't see, so he nods at Captain America. "You ran off, right? Right out of the building?"

"Yeah," Captain America sighs and straightens when Thor joins them. "Loki secure?"

"I have restrained him," Thor says soberly. "I can return us to Asgard as soon as I have the Tesseract."

"I'm sure that won't be a problem," Captain America says confidently, and Clint exchanges a disbelieving look with Natasha. After all the effort Fury put into trying to tap the thing, he can't believe he'll let it go so easily. He says nothing though, and when Natasha suggests that he go ahead to check the path, just in case of anything untoward, he agrees. He's glad she gave him the excuse to walk alone for a while.

The path back to Stark's ego-trip of a tower is more rubble than road, and Clint clambers over wreckage and around burning cars, trying to sort his mind out. He thinks he's probably in shock – he can't process the fact that he was responsible for so much death and destruction, not yet, and when he thinks about the people he knows he contacted to help Loki, his gut twists. Half because he can't remember actually talking to any of them even though he knows he did, and half because he knows that uniting them like that will start a whole lot of problems for SHIELD in the future. They have each other's numbers now, and that's his fault.

He resists the urge to call Coulson, because he needs to stay focused, and he really doesn't want to hear about how much damage the attack on the Helicarrier sustained. Despite that, he needs a little reassurance. He knows already that Natasha doesn't blame him for what he did while he was under Loki's control, but he needs to hear that from Coulson before he'll start being able to deal with it. The streets are still bare, SHIELD clean-up probably delayed because of the chaos on the Helicarrier. The Stark Tower looks empty, and he's about to start tackling the stairs (there's no way he's trusting an elevator) when Natasha calls him.

"We're going to meet Stark and Banner outside," she tells him. "You there yet?"

"Just outside the tower, yeah," he looked up at it. Only the 'A' is left, and his lips quirk. A for Avengers. The team that he and Natasha were never supposed to be on, but ended up fighting for anyway.

"We're on our way. Stay put."

"See you in a bit."

He checks the perimeter, more out of habit than because he thinks they might be in any danger, and he comes back just as Natasha, Thor, and Captain America pitch up, Stark and Banner exiting the tower at the same time. Thor smiles broadly. "I do not believe Hawkeye and Dr Banner have been introduced."

Banner seems skittish, more of him than any of the others, but Clint doesn't mention it. He supposes it isn't really surprising – Banner's been running from military personnel for about seven years now, and out of him and Natasha, he looks more intimidating at first glance. Over shawarma, Stark waits until Thor goes to the restroom and then shows them footage from his security cameras on his phone of the Hulk smashing Loki around his living room like a toy. Banner looks embarrassed as hell, but Clint laughs properly for the first time that day and asks if Stark can send him the video. Stark looks delighted and tells everyone to call him Tony. Captain America tells them all to call him Steve. Clint and Natasha exchange a look, shrug, and tell the rest of the group they can call them by their first names as well. Tony puts his hand on Banner's shoulder and says everyone should call him Bruce, and since the guy smiles, Clint figures he's okay with it.

They eat in comfortable silence, and Clint sneaks glances at the rest of them when they're not looking. He wonders if Coulson got Captain –Steve, if he got Steve to sign his trading cards yet. He'd been very excited about the prospect last time Clint had seen him. Nervous too, really. Not surprising, since his childhood hero had come back to life and was actually walking around SHIELD HQ in New York. Last time Clint had seen Coulson, he had come down to check on Project Pegasus, and Clint had teased him about not working up the courage to ask Captain America about signing his cards yet. He smiles to himself as he watches Steve chew his shawarma. If Coulson hasn't already, Clint will do it for him.

They sleep at the New York base, and Clint grins up at the ceiling when they walk under the place he had hidden when he decided to panic his superiors. And Coulson had walked in, looked around, and called him out with only a faint smile. "You talk to Coulson yet?" he asks Natasha before they bunk down for the night – Thor's taking Loki back tomorrow.

"No," she shakes her head. "Fury told me he was still busy when I asked."

"See you in the morning," he says, and she nods.

"Try and find some decent civvies to wear for the press," she says, and closes the door to her room.

Clint wakes up earlier than he'd like, and he doesn't feel as refreshed as he'd hoped either. He puts it down to knowing Loki's in the cells below, and keeps a lid on the well of blue-edged panic and horror that he's been carrying below the surface since Natasha snapped him out of it. His watch says it's five past six in the morning, and Clint finds a bundle of his own clothes outside of his door. The fabric of his favourite jacket is familiar under his fingers, and he forms a plan as he dresses. There are still clothes outside Natasha's door, so she isn't awake yet. He takes his badge with him just in case and makes his way down to the cells.

He feels numb, in a sort of narrow-edged, totally focused way. It's his combat mind-set, when he can't afford to focus on anything more than the target. Everything else goes. He isn't a person, he has no memories or history – there's only the target, and he's just an instrument. He lets himself sink into the mentality he's so used to and flashes his badge at the guard to the cells.

"Here to see anyone in particular, sir?" the woman asks in a hard voice. Her breath smells of coffee.

"The prisoner we brought in yesterday," he tells her, expression blank and eyes dead. Focus on the target. "Loki."

She hesitates, but must decide that it's okay because she presses her thumb to the pad next to the door and bends down to let another device scan her retina. The door beeps and hisses open an inch, and she waves him ahead. "You know the rules?"

"Sure," he says, not looking at her. "Don't communicate, don't approach the glass, don't kill him. No problem."

"I'll be keeping an eye on you," she nods to her surveillance station. "Take as long as you want."

"Thanks."

She locks the door behind him, and he takes a slow breath in before walking down the row of cells. Loki's in the one at the end, the most secure. The glass is pretty much bomb-proof and air is filtered in through a ventilation system impossible for even Clint to breach. Loki's sitting down, and he's got a sort of metal gag over his mouth, his wrists chained together. He looks up when Clint appears in his line of vision, and the corners of his eyes crinkle.

Clint crosses his arms and stares at him; trying to…he doesn't know what. Trying to remember, perhaps. He remembers Loki appearing in Selvig's lab. He remembers him shrugging off bullets like they were balled-up bits of paper. He remembers rolling out of the way and then attacking when Loki passed. The strength in Loki's hand, holding his wrist still. The unearthly pallor of his face. The glow of the sceptre. "You have heart," he'd said, Clint remembers that, and then everything blurs. Blue too bright to look at seeping into him, locking him down, twisting him about.

Peace. He remembers feeling calm, battle-ready, and loyal above all else to Loki, his king. The peace that came with such assurance overwhelming and powerful.

The realisation almost makes him flinch, but behind a solid foot of bullet-proof glass, Loki's eyes crinkle again. He misses nothing. Clint holds his gaze steadily and tries to remember more. Nothing much else comes.

He knows he shot at Fury. He knows that he drove Loki out of the complex and left Agent Hill and everyone else to die. He knows that he drove them away and put Loki in contact with enemy agents. From AIM, he thinks, and the Ten Rings. Maybe HYDRA as well, he isn't sure. He knows he loosed the arrow that took out the third engine on the Helicarrier. He knows these things, but he remembers none of it clearly. It's an uncomfortable sensation that doesn't sit well in his mind, and he can tell that Loki knows it.

The thought of what else he might have done under Loki's orders chills his blood, but he stands there in silence and stares at the god who played with his brain like it was a toy put there for his personal amusement. Loki sits back, spreads his knees, relaxes. Looks back at Clint from under hooded eyelids and smiles under his gag.

Clint's never wanted to kill someone more than he wants to kill Loki. He's got an advantage too – he knows how strong Loki is. He knows how much it would take to kill him.

It would be his genuine pleasure to muster that power and loose it on the trickster. But he can't. For the sake of universal peace, because Thor had been very clear on that when they left Loki here yesterday – if anyone attempted to harm Loki, they would have Asgard to answer to. And Clint's seen first-hand the kind of firepower Asgard can bring down on them. He's under no illusions about whose life matters more in this situation, but he's used to his life meaning less than the success of the mission. It doesn't make it any easier to swallow.

"Agent Barton?" the guard's voice comes over the intercom. "Agent Romanoff is here."

Clint doesn't reply. He doesn't want to say a word in front of Loki, whose eyes crinkle again as he nods. Clint walks away and doesn't look at the guard when she opens the door for him.

"You had breakfast?" Natasha asks him. When he shakes his head, she rolls her eyes and grabs his arm, dragging him away. "Come on. You're meant to know this place better than me anyway."

They arrange to meet Tony and Bruce at the launch site, where the press will be waiting. A SHIELD press relations manager gives them a quick run-down on the dos and don'ts of the gig, and they're driven there in SHIELD cars. It passes in a blur for Clint, and he doesn't take his sunglasses off once. Tony swans around like he owns the ground they're walking on, but Clint can tell by Natasha's tone when she mutters, "Asshole," under her breath that he's not the only one who finds it amusing rather than irritating.

"Thought Coulson would've been there," he remarks to Natasha when they've driven away, and she frowns. "I guess he's still busy." He thinks for a moment and then grins. "I'm gonna call him."

"Wait," Natasha tells him, eyes on the road. "Wait till we're out of here."

"You want to talk to him too?"

"Uh huh." She takes a left, and Clint frowns.

"Where're we going?"

"A safe house. We're on leave for a while."

"According to who?"

"Me. I cleared it with Fury, don't worry."

"Where's this safe house of yours then?"

"Not far from here. Less than an hour, if we make good time. Put some music on?"

"Sure."

They fall into a comfortable silence, and Clint stares out of the window as they drive, reminded of Lori and their year of driving. For once, Natasha doesn't object to anything he puts on, so he takes advantage and plays Toby Keith, The Velvet Underground, even some Bowie. It takes them an hour exactly to get to Natasha's safe house, which is a one-floor two-bedroom place outside a town called Clinton. Clint finds this highly amusing, and teases Natasha about it as they get out and go inside. She checks each of the rooms thoroughly, and he waits in the front hall for her to finish. When she comes back in, he raises an eyebrow.

"Okay, what's up with you? You haven't hit me once, and you let me play Muse on the way here. Are you okay?"

She draws in a breath to reply, but ends up frowning instead and jerking her head at the living room. He follows her inside, and she closes the door slowly, not turning around to face him until he speaks, worried now. "Natasha?"

"Clint," she turns, and she doesn't look happy. "I've got some bad news."

He frowns as she crosses her arms and looks down. "What about?"

"It's about Coulson," she says quietly, and Clint feels suddenly cold.

"You said he was busy," he says, confused and worried. "You said you called him."

She appears to steel herself and looks up to meet his eyes. "I lied."

The implications of that sink in slowly, and Clint swallows, feeling himself losing his grip on the fear he's been keeping down since he came back to himself from Loki's control. "What do you mean, you lied?" he says, and he's speaking too fast. "You mean he's injured? He's hurt?"

"Clint," Natasha sounds so sad, and he thinks no no no, please, no – "Coulson's dead."

He's numb, both distant and painfully present. No, he feels himself mouth as he shakes his head. No, no, it can't be true. "Lying," he manages to say, just a mutter at first, and then louder. "You're lying," he approaches her, not connecting his words with the pleading tone of his voice. "Natasha, please tell me you're lying. Please," she's shaking her head, looking down, and he grabs her arms. "Nat, please, tell me you're lying, tell me this isn't true. Please, tell me this is a lie. Nat –"

"I'm so sorry," she says at her feet, a crack in her voice, and that hits him harder than her words ever could. He stumbles back towards the couch, and she sucks in a shuddering breath and lifts her head. "Clint, I'm sorry."

He's losing it, a part of him thinks distantly as his eyes refuse to focus on anything solid. He's got no window, he's losing himself.

"I'll tell you what happened," he hears Natasha say as if from a great distance. "You should sit down." The couch is there against the back of his legs, so he falls and lets it support his weight. He can't form thoughts, he can't seem to catch his breath – "Thor saw it happen," her voice is quiet and slow, "Loki…tricked him into the Hulk's cage. He was about to push the button to drop it when Coulson showed up with the Destroyer prototype and told him to back off. Loki used some sort of illusion, some sort of magic – he appeared to be in front of Coulson, but he came up behind him and stabbed him with the sceptre." Clint's hands start to shake. "Coulson fell, and Loki dropped Thor out. The security footage shows Coulson talking to Loki, getting him off his guard so he could get a clear shot at him. Fury arrived not long after, but Coulson died before they…before they could do anything."

There's a noise, low-pitched and pained, and it takes a moment for Clint to realise that it's him. He can't breathe properly, can't seem to suck in a full lungful, and he gets to his feet jerkily, unable to look at Natasha. "I need," he gasps, losing his grip, "I, I need a window, I need…"

"Here," Natasha says, her voice thick, "follow me," and he follows her through the door and goes into the room she gestures to, which turns out to be the bathroom. He locks the door and peels off his clothes with shaking hands. The world feels like it's spinning, and he can't think straight. The water's cold when it hits him, but he grits his teeth and puts his hands out to the cubicle walls to keep himself upright and waits until it begins to grow warm.

No, he thinks, over and over, his mind sticking on one simple thought. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, please, no, not Coulson, not Coulson, no…

The water heats up slowly and when it starts to steam, Clint squeezes his hands into fists and screams.