Shout out to my wonderful reviewers from last time! Batghost, Ms. Hawkeye, and discordchick!

hold onto you pants, this is the END of PART 1!

Chapter 11

The State of the World Council was, in a word, pandemonium. For everyone's mutual benefit, the original seat holders had somehow managed to survive the Kree attack, and gathered twelve hours after the surprise in order to better coordinate their future plans. Vanaheim was in ruin. Its capital coastal city would take years to repair, its people were either dead or displaced, and half the working force had met their doom while the other half hadn't been found. A handful of survivors, from both the populace and the fighting force, escaped and were picked up by the Alfheimr armada, but those numbers were crushingly low in the scheme of things.

This time, Clint found it prudent to attend, against sound medical advice, of course. Bruce glared at him from across the room when his attention drew away from the seriousness of their conversation. Despite his own want to stay below deck and tend to those in his critical care center, he understood the World Council's need for his presence. If they did go after the Kree, rooted them out wherever they hid, they might need to bring a heavy hitter along for the ride. The Hulk was their gambit.

"This declaration of war by the Kree can not go unmanaged. If we sit idly by, we are simply giving them free lease to do as they will and attack us again." Nova Prime said, to the agreement of those around her.

"We know they carry Dark Elven technology in their hulls. Discovering them will take strategy that we have not yet developed a method for." Brez of the Dark System said, to his counterpart, Krex's, hearty agreement.

"I found a way to track them." Tony leaned away from the wall by Clint's side and displayed a three-dimensional rendering of the Kree warships. He slid the rendering over the conference table, and expanded it to take up nearly half the room. "With a little help from our friendly Elves, I've cracked the frequency they use in their ship's cloaking devices while simultaneously altering our own. I can track them."

"How do we know it will work?" Petro, Muspelheim's representative, asked through his onscreen image.

"We've already tested it." Hank Pym announced. He sat to Bruce's right and watched the proceedings with interest from the outer rim of the room. With his own digital pad, he shrank Tony's ship mock-up, and inserted an overview of Bruce's star map. A jagged line cut an arc up along the rim of it.

"We tracked a Kree ship through the Dark System, right before it cut through Nine Realms airspace and headed toward the rest of the Kree fleet. The entire data plots are there. At the same time we cast our net, we found twelve more ships waiting literally in the dark side of the Vanaheim moon. If anyone happened to catch the fire show this morning, that was what happened."

"They attempted another ambush?" Oqquiri asked.

"We headed them off this time." Hank supplied, nodding toward the standing Rinon.

All attention shifted to the Elven general at this point, as if awaiting an explanation they did not understand would never come. To Elves, it was simply enough to show up one second and disappear the next. It was their nature. No justifications were ever necessary. Sensing keenly that he was not in the company of men and women who accepted such customs, Rinon indicated Clint with a careful tip of his head. A cry for help, if ever one existed.

Clint took the stage. He pushed away from the wall and strode toward the head of the table at Rinon's side. Steve Rogers sat just to his right. He still hadn't gotten to chew Clint out for his earlier save-the-Elves stunt, and Clint assumed that was well on its way to coming out. For Rinon's, and the present company's sake, Steve would wait until they were in private.

"Hi." Clint said.

Everyone waited, stared, and gleaned what they could from his simple appearance. He'd borrowed some clothes from Tony. Most of them were a hair too small, making him feel like the entire World Could count the rivulets of muscles comprising his abdomen.

"No need to introduce yourself, Mr. Hawkeye. I think the entire council knows who you are." Nova Prime addressed him. She looked around the room for any signs of confusion, but found none. Clint was known to them before the events of the Sarhorn played out. Now, with a full nine months since M-day spent understanding every aspect of his looming death, the council needed no reminding as to his particular significance.

"What Rinon won't say for himself is a matter of Elven tradition, not lack of support for what's being done here. Twelve years ago, I nearly died on Alfheimr soil. It was directly after the Dark Elves invaded Asgard and Queen Frigga was murdered. I'm sure Odin himself can attest to the fact that having me put to death in Rinon's kingdom would have incited a war."

Odin did not deny it.

"It was due to that fear, and the knowledge that Alfheimr was unguarded in a universe that was rapidly developing newer and greater threats, that he turned over the throne to the now deceased King Haladarrel so that he could pursue arming his people should a threat of this scale occur again. Through the graciousness of the Elven people, they are willing to lead their ships on our behalf and protect the project from here forward."

Rinon smiled faintly and inclined his head, acknowledging his acceptance of Clint's words.

Odin spoke. "I'm sorry for the loss of your king. He was a kind and gentle ruler. Taken much too early. I wish health to your queen. Does she travel to Alfheimr now to facilitate his funeral?"

"She does." Rinon said for himself.

"Godspeed to her." Steve said. "If there is anything we can do please ask."

"It is not necessary. But I accept your condolences on the behalf of my people."

Clint reclaimed their attention. "Rinon will stay here as a representative of his realm's interest and will govern his men. I'm leaving."

The news hit the room like a lead pipe might shatter an icicle. Given Clint's importance to the overall picture, they perhaps assumed he would remain in close hands for the next six years until Galactus himself arrived to herald in the destruction of the worlds. Nova Prime got out of her seat. Tony dropped his chin into his chest, more surprised at Clint's delivery of the news than the facts themselves. Natasha tried to hug a wall and pretend she had no idea of his plans. Steve finally regained the ground by picking up his shield and slamming the metal against the conference table. It created such a clatter the participants actually jumped.

He turned on Clint himself. "You have a good reason for deciding to drop this on us?"

"A few, actually." Clint replied, readying for a fight. "First off, it's my life; and whether I'm here or somewhere else, I'll be saving 20 billion people in six years. So what's it matter if I take off now? Secondly, this little show of force is nothing without one key piece of the puzzle: The Infinity Gauntlet. Peter Quill's been out there for the past nine months, and hasn't found so much as a lead yet. I, for one, am not just going to sit back and let Galactus get it first. Thirdly, after this little show from the Kree, we can assume things are only going to start getting worse. We might be looking at war fronts spread across seven galaxies, which leaves a lot of room for code breakers to get onto what we're trying to find. Somehow, somewhere, word is going to get out that we're looking for the Gauntlet. That's going to bring out every drifter and roustabout with Thanos in his pocket to try and find it before we can. Time is ticking against us."

"What makes this man think he could even discover the Gauntlet where another man has failed? And has anyone firm proof that Thanos controls an interest here?" the frost giant leader, Ligsri asked.

"Thanos is smart. He's not going to show his hand unless he has to." Steve said. His eyes never left the whole he mentally drilled in Clint's skull. "How do you expect to find the Gauntlet?"

To that, Clint motioned across the room to Hank Pym. "He's my bait. The Sarhorn said that his manipulation of the Infinity Stone is what starts off these events. We know all the stones are together. If we find one, we find them all."

Pym slowly managed to reach his feet. "Me?! I never – "

"I thought our aim was to avoid the Gauntlet falling into the wrong hands." Krex said. "Giving it to Dr. Pym would start the events, yes, but is there not a way to avoid them? That is what we must know."

Clint glanced at Rinon, but said nothing. He knew, wholeheartedly now, that there was no possible way of stopping what must come. It didn't do any good to burden the rest of them with the same news. "Which is why I'm going in alone first. Give me one year. If, in that time, I can't find it, then we take the next logical step and bring Pym in. We know that Galactus' heralds are going to start coming out of the woodwork. When they do, no world is going to be safe." Clint said.

Rinon reached toward Clint's shirt tail and grasped it between his two fingers. He showed his support without speaking. Clint decided he was going to one day show the former king how to speak in sign language. Rinon seemed built for the quiet symbols.

"You can understand why this is troubling to us. And your decision to deliver it this way is not exactly helping matters." Xavier said. He entertained nearly just as much notoriety in the galaxy as Clint. His work in the Shi'ar and the Kree war, which was what brought the Kree to Earth in the first place, had become quite legendary. The World Council hoped bringing him on would inspire further assistance from the might Shi'ar force. Thus far, that system remained impassive on all proceedings.

Clint smirked. "Come on, Professor. You read minds, you telling me you didn't see this coming."

"I may hold that capability, but I believe in the privacy of one's thoughts. So no, I had no inclination."

"Hate to tell you those are the facts. I'm leaving tomorrow." Clint folded his arms, and looked around for further protest. That old sharpness from his SHIELD days roared back in. He wanted to get that original edge he thought dulled with the loss of his first family and his entry to the business ownership world. Challenge mounted behind the disappointed faces around him, but few voiced that so openly.

"Oh, and Loki's coming with me."

The room completely erupted.

:(:):(:):

"You are an idiot."

"Be nice, Tony, I'm injured."

"No, you aren't."

"I think my bleeding kidney disagrees."

"You aren't, because you keep saying you are fine. And on top of that, you are going off, leaving us, and taking…uh, HELLO? Loki, the Prince of I'm-going-to-kill-you-all-in-the-most-interesting-ways-ever. You know what, fine, you are hurt. You fell on your head, or your brain tumor came back and you're dying. You'd tell me if that happened, right?"

Clint set a second crate of supplies on the running board to the Quinjet hull while Bruce watched as disapointed as any doctor with the worst patient ever. He had half the galaxy map to cross before coming up on Quill's last known location. The Vanaheim portal would take them as far as Xandar, and they'd rely on the onboard systems to take them the remainder of the way. He hadn't been on an actual mission with the Guardians of the Galaxy in nearly six years. There was no telling how they would react to his suddenly showing up.

The night went by sleeplessly. He wanted to travel to Alfheimr with the queen and see Haladarrel one last time before his burial, but even Rinon quashed the plan. Clint was needed elsewhere, and Haladarrel wouldn't know of his presence or absence either way. He would be taken back to his Outer Glencove clan, and buried in the tombs of his ancestors. The archer could visit when the business was done. For now, the living needed him more than the dead.

Tony smacked Linnor in the arm and indicated Clint. "You tell him something! He's not listening to me!"

"When do I ever listen to you?" Clint asked, shoving the crate into position with his foot. He stretched to his side, holding his arm across his waist to rub the newly sutured hole.

"I believe your faith in the frost giant, Loki, is misplaced, and my hearty opinion is he will defy you, kill you, and send your body to the depths of an unknown world." Linnor said very honestly.

"That's what I told him." Bruce sat on one of the jump seats in the hull, and fiddled with the safety belts. None of the Avengers were particularly supportive of Clint's potential suicide mission.

"Is your midlife experiencing a crisis?" Thor asked.

"No, Thor, it's not." Clint said.

"I think it is. He married me, did a suicide entry through a portal, then flew down to Vanaheim under heavy fire and almost got himself killed. No offense, Faraday." Natasha added.

Faraday bowed slightly to the left, and took a step in that direction as well. He held no ill will to her statement.

"You are married?!" Thor boomed. "Why, we have not feasted over this excitement!" All at once everyone seemed to converge on him and it was al Clint and Natasha could do to shove them off.

"Not that exciting!" Clint exclaimed. He lied. He was giddy that she'd finally consented to it. "And again, I am not having a midlife crisis."

"I do concern myself over your safety." Rinon whispered to him.

The ring of heroes had stuffed themselves into the smaller quinjet model that settled in the corner of the expansive Gateway hanger. First, Natasha had followed Barton there from their room, determined to help him despite her pounding concussion. Following her, came Tony Stark. One by one, everyone else came also. Linnor, Faraday, Rinon, Thor, Steve, and Bruce were all spread out around the hull, and considered how they might convince Clint to stay on the Gateway. Once his mind was made, changing it took a great deal of doing. They hoped that approaching him like an intervention would have some kind of impact.

Loki leaned on the cockpit doorway and watched them all like a shark. "Your keen ability to discuss me in such irreverent terms whilst in my very presence gives me little condolence toward your opinion of me."

Tony leaned to see Loki's face around Clint's shoulder. "Oh, are you hearing good enough back there, Lord Voldemort? If not, let me repeat a little louder exactly how much the sight of you makes me want to pluck out my own eyes."

"I would not object if you did." Loki shot back.

Thor stepped forward into the center of their group, and extended his hands to both warring parties. "Let not our disdain over one another cloud our current judgment. And Loki, if you preferred not to listen to our ill assessment of your character, you might do yourself a favor and depart. Or, better yet, agree not to go of your own accord."

Loki pushed off the wall and sneered at his brother. "Where the archer goes, I go. I have a strange interest in my self-preservation, and it just so happens that I believe I may be able to lend something to his search. Is that such a deplorable cause?"

"Coming from you? It's terrifying. Actually, it makes me distrust you even more." Steve Rogers said, standing.

"Seriously, Loki, not helping. Go sit in the cockpit or something." Clint told him.

The Frost Giant gave them a departing, withering look, but did as Clint suggested and slipped away. He closed the door behind himself and sank into the co-pilot's chair alone. Clint waited for him to settle in before turning to the cabin of concerned friends. Not one of them held a look other than pure amazement.

"Um, since when did he start listening to you?" Bruce asked the obvious.

"I said not to worry about it."

"Well, too late, because we're all worrying about it."

"Look, I'm sorry, but I can't stand being here. I mean, Tony, the clock wall? A countdown? Seriously?!" Clint threw his arms out to the sides and let them fall. "Everyone on this ship is just counting down the days, wondering when it's all going to go down. Wondering when I'm going to jump and die. I can't stand it, I'm over it. I got myself a new lease on life the minute I woke up on that hospital bed, and I want to actually do something with my time. Ok? Tony, you can understand that, can't you?"

Stark didn't look at him. "Uh, no. Actually, I'd prefer if you just stayed here, never left, and when that clock ran out I had this whole plan that included locking you into the cargo hold."

Clint knew from the man's tone he was being completely serious. Clint strode over to him and thumped his shoulder with one hand. Tony looked at him, and Clint made a few, curt signs at him. Before the Sarhorn cured Clint's hearing, he'd been deaf for nearly fifteen years. Adjusting to his new found sense took time, but he still retained the old habits of signing certain words. Especially ones that referred to his friends' names. His special sign for Tony started by writing the letter T, then I, and lastly, he dropped one hand over his face like the fall of Tony's face plate. Only five living people had a specialized sign language symbol for their name. It was one that Clint used as a sign of endearment just between himself and that person. Even Steve Rogers didn't have one.

~"I'll be ok, and I'll be back."~ Clint signed between them.

~"I'm worried."~ Tony signed back.

~"I know. Don't be."~ He indicated the Elven general, Rinon. "Do me a favor and fill up your time showing Rinon how to use sign language. I know he'd appreciate it."

Rinon was indeed intrigued by this mysterious private movements, and watched their hands with earnest excitement. "A fascinating form of communication." He said.

"Clint?"

Barton nodded.

~"Goodbye."~ Tony signed. He had to say it, like a ritual. When Clint nearly died of the stroke, Tony tore himself up over it. He'd seen Clint only minutes before and failed to recognize the danger brewing beneath the surface of Clint's skin. He never had the chance to utter those simple words. Now, when they parted, he couldn't help himself. He had to say them, just in case he never got the chance to again.

Clint repeated the sign. Whether the Avengers, Elves, realms, and worlds liked it or not, he was leaving.

:(:):(:):

Through the closed forward hatch, Loki overheard the muffled leave-taking of Barton and the other heroes. It may have hit him in a sensitive place once to hear such tender exchanges, now it brought little more than disdain. He had no patience for the affections of others since the terrible business of Thor's coronation, the day Loki was passed over for his brother. He had friends then in his own way. The Warriors Three, Thor, even Amora the Enchantress herself had at one time been a pivotal figure of his young and naive life. Eventually all of them fell away. Such was the fickleness of nature.

For a moment he allowed himself to remember that blond Asgardian woman. Amora had been his teacher in his youth. She manipulated the world in a way no other could. Frigga had talents too, tricks she'd passed on to her adoptive son, but Amora was his real teacher. Perhaps once he fancied some affection for her, despite her obvious affinity for Thor over him. Jealousy. That was the root of his life. Thor and all those things he had been awarded that Loki had not. Everywhere Thor turned he encountered blessings from heaven without ever lifting a finger to their creation. Loki's blood boiled at the very idea. It fueled him in his task like nothing else could. Whatever happiness he once considered in Amora was long dead now. He had a slight pang of slight regret when he learned of her murder. He may have been prepared in his past to destroy her himself but that didn't mean he wasn't still fond of her abilities. There were few creatures in the galaxy that might accomplish the things she could. Her secrets didn't necessarily die with her, and that was the greatest crime of all.

Loki's eyes fell closed as he listened to the voices outside die away. Though he may not need the normal sleep cycle of a man, he did require something every few days. Having survived these last three months with only four such opportunities threatened to ruin him. Even now, his body attempted to dive into that great blackness in the back of his eyelids. That wasn't, though, what awaited him. A hand began to materialize as the darkness cascaded around him like a pool of ink. A golden glove, studded in six brilliant gemstones, sought to take hold of him. Loki inhaled, his body shook, the fear raced up his spine at the reality flashing toward him closer and closer. The invasion of dreams was one of Amora's greatest abilities. Loki had never mastered it, but someone had. Someone he feared more than the death that would soon run rampant in the galaxy. A scream threatened to form on his lips as the glaring red eyes pierced through him in the dark.

"Loki!" Clint exclaimed, shaking the Frost Giant awake.

Loki sat up very quickly. He looked around and gained his bearings before he risked uttering the scream he threatened to release.

Barton chuckled. "That was fast. Are you going to help me pack this bucket? Or do you plan on not eating for the next year? Come on, I've got a hole in my kidney."

"Whatever this ship may offer for sustenance would be unfit for even Odin's dogs." Loki complained. He tried to mask his horror of what Clint had just saved him from.

"Uh, huh. Get to work." Clint replied, retreating back into the main cabin.

Loki watched him go. He took the moment alone to glance at the mark covered by the small leather wrap on his palm. It hadn't changed. The circular mark remained, like a tattooed brand displaying for all the world to see that Loki was no more than a controlled slave who'd made a deal he could not hope to escape. It was the Enchantress' brand but issued by another.

His debt remained with Thanos.

WHAT? WHHHAAAAATTT?!

So that is the End of Part 1! I know there was a lot of lead in, so thank you for bearing with me. I am almost finished writing part 2, so get ready for all the action, suspense, and kidney punches of death!

Please review!