NOTE! I posted 2 chapters tonight! Make sure you read 20 first!

I Can Hear the Drums

Chapter 21

Drax appeared over Laufey's back. He grabbed the Frost Giant around the waist and hoisted him straight up and off of Clint. The archer scrambled to his feet, pulled the knife out of his boot, and sliced forward in a single, deep arc. The Frost Giant fell over backwards. His head separating from the remained of his body. Drax crushed the more important of the two beneath his boot. He held a hand out to help Clint stand.

"Thanks for saving my butt." Clint said.

Drax appeared confused. "I have not just saved your—"

"Metaphor! It's a metaphor." Clint waved his hand and started walking away. He returned to the rest of the battle field so he might survey the damage done. The herald's incantations were strewn around the sand and rock in various states of destruction. Quill was on his knees by the deceased body of his mother. He might have been sobbing, but it was difficult to say with his back turned to the others. Seeing the woman, made Clint think of his own mother, taken on by Loki. He caught a small glimpse of her dress blowing in the wind, but before he could consider drawing closer, the Frost Giant stepped into his line of sight.

"A fallacy to think the sight of that ogre might insight a response of emotion in me," Loki said, indicating Laufey's form.

"We all faced enemies and loves. My old man I've hated my entire life. He made me want to do whatever I could to save my mother who evidently was out to murder me," Clint replied. He looked up into Loki's face. "The only ones who didn't have two were Rocket and Groot. They're everything to each other and they never knew anything else. Then there's you. You only had Laufey. That means the other person you actually cared about is one of us."

"You dare imply something with those words!" Loki snapped his hand forward and clamped his fingers around Clint's throat. He squeezed mercilessly, but despite his assault, Barton remained standing and immobile.

"Hey, guys! I thought we already had the group fight," Rocket complained. He was perched on Groot's shoulder and strolled over on the tree man.

Loki held Clint a minute longer and eventually released. The last thing he wanted to handle at the moment was Clint's conspiracy theories. He already had enough on his plate.

Gamora gave the Frost Giant a slightly sympathetic look as he pushed past her toward the ship. It was then she realized just what sort of predicament they now found themselves in. "How exactly are we planning to get out of here now?"

Rocket shrugged. "I don't know, maybe if we glue that one with there and recycle the old fuel cells, we could turn it into a short-range Flight of the Phoenix kinda—" As he listed the options, the one remaining wing shuddered and broke off, nearly dropping on top of Loki who barely avoided it. He sighed. "Never mind. We're screwed."

"We can see if the communications work and send out a transmission to the rest of the fleet. Maybe if Pym's close by he can pick us up. At least we left our ship in Cross Lake. Looks like we'll need it now." Clint looked down at what remained of the Herald. "This guy went down pretty easy. I don't like it. So before we get too comfortable, Drax, gather these bodies up and get rid of them somehow. I don't want any cells left behind."

The Guardians set out to fulfill his requests. In the meantime, Clint took on his next challenge. He trudged over the moon landscape to come up behind Pete. The man hadn't even acknowledged the rest of the group. The wind whipped up around them on either side, pelting their backs in miniscule particles like a sandblaster. Clint's shoulders pushed up to tuck his head in against it. For the second time that war, he noticed he'd walked into battle in only his pajamas. He had to start making it a habit to sleep in his gear. Being a soldier in the War on Terror years ago, he'd done just that. Over time he'd gotten out of the habit.

Clint knelt down by Peter's side and tapped him. "You doing all right, Quill?" Clint asked.

"Low blow," Peter said, keeping his head tucked into his collar. "It's wrong. Screwed up. She was my mom. Geez."

Clint had to swallow against the lump in his throat. For the second time he considered looking for Edith Barton, but resisted the urge. Peter raised one of his hands and wiped something off of his face with his sleeve. Clint noticed the blood staining Peter's hands. He wondered if Quill killed her himself and that thought alone sent a shiver down his spine.

"Milano's trashed." Quill said.

"We're stranded for a bit unless I can get Pym here. I don't have the number for Denali's place, do you?"

Quill shook his head. He adjusted on the ground, sliding his feet out in front of him instead of beneath. "Guess that's it for me, then."

That was a funny thing to say, Clint thought. He could feel the small pulse of adrenaline shoot through him and he leaned forward to see Quill a little better. What he found made his heart stop. Peter's lap was filled in a pool of his own blood. His left hand was pressed against his stomach in a fist, but did little to stop the stream steadily flooding out. Clint closed in and grabbed his shoulder in his hand.

"Why didn't you say something?!" Clint cried.

There was a snub-nosed .38 revolver resting between the Guardian's knees. It was still wrapped in his mother's hand. Pete collapsed sideways at Clint's touch and let the Avenger cradle him to the ground. "Sick trick. Stupid, sick, twisted, trick," Peter growled out.

"Loki, help me here!" Clint flipped his head up and shouted for the Frost Giant. Hearing the tone in his voice, Gamora left Drax to handle the bodies and came over as well. She hit her knees by Quill's head, leaving Quill's opposite side for Loki.

"Gunshot wound," Clint filled them in. He yanked Quill's shirt up to reveal the flowing wound beneath. It was a bad spot, Barton knew. If it didn't hit the Guardian's stomach, it most likely caught his spleen. Internal bleeding, external bleeding, all of them now became enemy number one. "Gamora, get the med kit."

Gamora sprang up again and took a few steps in the ship's direction before she pulled up short. "We don't have a medical kit." A pair of green and a pair of blue eyes simultaneously impaled her as both Barton and Loki attempted to digest that concept. She shrugged. "Sorry?"

Clint looked at the mischief maker. "Do something. Keep him breathing. I've got some supplies in my gear."

Loki set to the task and Gamora returned to him in an attempt to help. Clint ran across the open ground and climbed his way back into the Milano's wreckage. Rocket and Groot were braced along the communications console. The hybrid raccoon worked a sea of wires out of the overhead compartment. He needed to reroute the power cells to the console. Something Clint was keenly aware of. One of his first missions with Stark had a situation shockingly similar to the one they were in now. Alone, stranded in a downed ship, with one passenger shot and their only rescue had no idea of their predicament. Back then, Tony plugged his ARC reactor into the ship and bled a little life to get them going again. The result almost killed him, but at the same time if saved Clint's life.

"Rocket, get those comms up. Quill's hit," Clint said, making his way by.

Rocket's head popped up from the panel "Quill? It bad?"

Clint didn't stop. "Yeah, it's bad. And you don't have med supplies." He climbed over some downed panels and traversed the slanted room to enter his bunk again. The ship shifted beneath him under the creaking metal of the second broken wing. Something snapped free and Clint grabbed the doorway to keep up right. The ship leveled out and soon settled.

Priorities kept shifting. Every time he thought he took a step toward something, he ended up four steps back again. Trying to fight this war was like swimming upstream. It came with that same sinking, choking feeling too. Peter needed their help. Clint needed to finish his mission and get his hands on the Infinity Gauntlet. If they were lucky, Galactus' Herald wouldn't be coming back to life before then.

Clint grabbed his old duffle out from beneath his bunk. The pack had followed him around since his SHIELD days. He rarely took things out of it without replacing them when a mission ended, ensuring that no matter where he went, he always had exactly what he needed. At least he was prepared. He yanked open the zipper and rooted around to dig up his mobile med kit. It wasn't much, but at least it could help. By the time he extracted the small pack and slung the strap over his shoulder, Groot was making his way into the cabin with Peter splayed out in his newly grown hands.

"Loki froze him or something." Gamora explained, resetting the conference table to set Quill on.

"Where'd he go?" Clint asked, setting his bag down beside Star Lord.

"The Herald."

"Still kicking?" Clint moved down Peter's side and checked the injury. He'd seen men gut shot before. Hell, he'd been the guy shot, and Pete got it good this time. Whatever Loki did helped stem the blood flow temporarily. "I've got this, you help him and Drax."

Gamora looked up. "I don't—Loki and me—"

"You got history, fine, I got that. But me doing something for Pete isn't going to mean jack if you don't prevent that thing from pummeling us again." Clint laid out his supplies. When she still didn't leave he raised his voice. "Look, I'm trying to keep a lot of moving parts in place right now and you aren't helping! Rocket's got to get those comms up and I need working technology and power cells to do that. Stop holding a grudge, kiss and make up, and go kick some Herald butt."

Gamora's eyes narrowed. Before she decided to leave, her hand made a swift trip across his face, sending the sound of her smack throughout the cabin.

Clint continued to give her a deadpan stare. "You done?"

She sneered again, might have even hissed like a cat, but took his advice and cleared out. Groot stood to the side with some trepidation, but at Clint's insistence he too went out to face the Herald again. They'd need help, guidance. Clint had to get Peter stable enough to leave him. Pete grabbed his hand, drawing Clint's attention.

"Sucks. Didn't think—Hawk, this looks bad."

"Shut it," Clint said. He tore open a few packs of bandages and pressed them against the hole.

Pete winced as the cotton hit skin. "Look, I thought . . . I thought I made the right choice. They might get—it. If I don't tell you."

Clint tore himself a strip of ace bandage with his teeth and forced it around Star-Lord's abdomen. "I said to shut it. Whatever you did because you were an idiot doesn't make any difference right now. We've got our own issues. Now if you somehow figured out a way to beat the tar out of a Galactus Herald and didn't tell me, then I would take that personal."

Pete shook his head again. He reached down into his jacket pocket and extracted the sphere. Clint knew what was hiding inside of it, the universe's most unstable Infinity Stone. He forced himself up and shoved it against Clint's chest. "Do—Don't hate me. Just wanted to do my part. The save Clint parade. Ya know?"

Clint looked down at the sphere and back at Stark. "Pete, what did you do?"

:(:):(:):

Natasha stared at the reflection in the mirror. She faced it at first, her eyes inevitably traveling downward as her hands circled were waist. Then she turned to the side, imagining the change she thought she should see. Rinon's thumping image, the beat of the war drums he called it, continue to echo in her distant mind. So did that strange voice in her head. Mother. Natasha wasn't a mother. She couldn't ever be one. That was one important thing that kept Clint and her separate for so long. It drove her into Steve's arms when Clint found happiness with his second wife. It kept her at a distance when Clint held his child in his arms. Like a wall that unhappy reality separated some part of her from him.

She tried to remember the words the Sarhorn told her that night on the Gateway. Rinon had the power to save Clint, if he chose to do it. That sacrifice most likely would come only at the expense of his own death. Would an Elf ever choose to shorten his own life for another? Especially someone that didn't even share his own species? Someone that Rinon was convinced would be dead no matter what he attempted? But there was more. By saving Natasha, Clint was saving himself. She always considered that to be a metaphore. As if she might go on to preserve his legacy, or help Kate Bishop to. What if the reality was much more tangible than that.

What if Clint had an heir?

She'd seen the Sarhorn do things she couldn't possibly explain. Healing Clint when all hoped was long lost, was only one of the steps to gaining her trust. Could he have changed her? Done something to her? If so, when? The last time she'd seen Clint was months ago, but maybe it wasn't too much time to . . . she didn't dare consider the idea that something living might be sharing a body with her, like a parasite infected a host. She shuddered at the possibility.

"Tasha, I know you're there and I'm coming in. I don't care that you locked the door."

Natasha hurriedly yanked her shirt back down and faced Tony as he barreled into her temporary stateroom on the Alfheimr flagship. She grabbed her knife off the nightstand and threw it across the room at him. It dropped by his feet and pinned his left boot to the floor a mere centimeter from his big toe. Tony's eyes narrowed.

"Seriously? Shoes don't grow on Alfheimr trees you know."

"Get out of my room," She growled.

"No," Tony replied, deadpan. He pulled the knife from his shoe and continued to approach. "Look, lady, I'm sick and tired of being the odd man out, here. I know you found Rinon. No one on my end's talking. I'm stuck on the most technologically advanced ship in the fleet and it's chuck full of elves that don't talk, an absentee leader, and my own teammate is avoiding me." He lifted a fist and slammed it down on her window sill. "Don't you guys get that I'm the one here trying to keep us together? I've got my entire team spread across six galaxies and the only one who wants to make us a team after this is me!"

That got her attention. Natasha took a step forward, her hackles raised for a fight. "Are you actually insane?! The fact is, Stark, the only reason any of us are out here risking our necks is because we do want it all to end! Things change. The team got old, that's what happens when you're human. There's other kids taking our slots. Kate Bishop, Scott Lang, it's only a matter of time before the next Iron Man comes rolling around and there's enough femme fatales out there for the world to just forget I ever came along. Earth doesn't care if we come back. The only ones we are fighting for is ourselves." She folded her arms. Emotional outbursts weren't typically her thing. Her conversation, that vision from Rinon, must have triggered a few repressed feelings. She stopped for a moment and collected herself again. She supposed Tony deserved some answers. "I did find Rinon. He's not just avoiding us, Tony, somethings actually wrong with him. He's sick and it gets worse the longer we're in the Nine Realms. It's some kind of Elven thing, I'm not really sure. He did tell me the reason we're heading to Earth. Tony, that's where the evacuation is going to happen."

She explained to him Rinon's fears but stopped short of discussing the details of Rinon's visions. Tony wanted to stay grounded in reality. Any more predictions from other races and he might just throw himself through a window. Revealing shades of truth was her super power.

"Earth." Tony whispered, shaking his head. "Why . . . Never mind. I know why. It's smart, strategic. The Kree know we're stuck in Vanaheim and Earth's pretty much undefended. If they take Svartalfheim it would give them even more of an advantage."

"They can't do that, though, as long as Alfheimr controls it. But then Rinon told me something a little worse. One of his technicians is missing. A young girl, by their standards, bright, intelligent, and working under Doodle. She disappeared at the same time as a considerable amount of their plans. One of which was the invisibility matrix which creates the Elven cloaking systems."

"So that's how the Kree got it?" Tony asked.

She nodded. "Stark, you know these men as much as I do. You know the only person with the MO of abducting girls like that is—"

"Thanos," Tony supplied.

She nodded.

"We all know he's involved. Maybe this is him showing his hand. If he took the girl, then he supplied the technology to the Kree. Means they're working together. The Shi-ar aren't for us, but they're staying out of it too. Maybe it's because they know about him pulling the strings. They don't want to be seen as his allies when this whole thing shakes out. This is an angle we can use. I'll get Xavier to chat with his friends in the empire again. Getting him to ask the right questions will probably get us the results we want at last."

The ship's gravity shifted forward as they felt her begin to decelerate. The spinning particles of light on either side of them which symbolized their light speed shed back along the aft of the ship and the looming presence of another world bobbed outside their window. That little planet dangling in the field of blackness held the most beautiful sight they'd seen in months. To think of her, invaded and destroyed by the Kree forces simply because they wanted to send a sucker punch into the fighting force's armada was a low they couldn't come to grips with.

"Kinda seems small now, doesn't it?" Natasha asked.

"I don't own the whole thing yet, so nope. It doesn't," Tony replied. "So Rinon expects to evacuate the entire population. Where is he going to bring them?"

"I think he was working that out with Nova Prime before we came here. He wanted someplace that could support life. They found a temporary home deep in the Xandar system and far from where Galactus should show up. Nova Luna."

"Sounds much less Earth-like."

"It's more of a moon," She admitted. "Apparently Quill used to scout it out as his crash pad years back so they know it supports human life. It's temporary."

The comm in Tony's pants pocket signaled him. He withdrew the device and accessed its clear screen to expand in a holographic array. Most likely it was just Reylano or Lirrie announcing they'd arrived. If he was lucky, it might be Logan or Linnor with good news about locating Bruce Banner. His curiosity both peaked and deflated when Hank Pym showed up instead.

"Hank, what are you doing?" Tony asked.

"Sorry, but I got diverted from the primary mission. I figured you wanted to know what was going on," Hank said. "I just got a transmission from Hawk's team. They got hit hard by a Galactus Herald. Quill's shot. The ship's stranded. I'm about an hour out from them, so I've changed course to try and help."

Tony and Natasha looked at each other. Evacuation of a planet. Hank Pym getting close to an Infinity Stone. This wasn't right. It was all happening too fast. They were supposed to have another six years. Nothing they'd prepared was ready!

"I think that's a bad idea, Hank." Tony said seriously. "Look, you might not have all the facts. Hang back until—"

"Can't. They could only send one transmission. We need Clint, alive. I'm not letting anything happen to him. And he's not going to end up saving anyone if he's trapped somewhere. I'll keep you posted."

"Hank!"

"And don't worry, Stark, I'll stay away from any Infinity Stones. I am a scientist after all."

:(:):(:):

"Got the message out, boss. Ant-boy will be here in twenty," Rocket said as Clint braced on the forward console. The archer's body was tense as he looked out over that coming battlefield. The Herald had changed shape again, multiplied. He wasn't playing their loves against their fears anymore. He was Failure. Their failures.

Clint's dead wife, Marie, Gamora's adopted sister, the Enchantress, others he didn't know or recognize. Rocket understood why Clint might want to hesitate. He wasn't ready to walk into that field either.

"Quill?" Rocket asked.

"Did you know?" Clint asked him.

Rocket's ears pricked forward, twitching in distress. He held his gun a little tighter to his chest. "Know what?"

Barton continued to stare out over the battlefield. He was lost in some dark thought Rocket couldn't hope to grasp. "Quill found the Gauntlet seven months ago and hid it. That's how he got the Stone. He thought separating them and keeping as far from it as possible, then not telling anyone about it might save us. Save me. It was stupid of him. If this Herald kills us here, he gets the Time Stone, and that will lead him right to the others."

Now, Clint broke his focus to stare at Rocket. "I get how he wanted to help, how everyone is trying in their own way, but all of these stupid choices is exactly what's going to tear all of us apart. So I need to know, did this team help him?"

Rocket wanted to deny it with every bone in his body, but Clint had a way of turning those baby blues on anyone and making them crack. Which is precisely what he did. His chin bobbed slightly. "Ye – yeah, Clint. Yeah, we knew. We knew all of it. We just wanted to help."

Across from them, the visage of the Enchantress plucked Loki off of his feet, and sent the frost giant hurling through the open viewport of the ship. He splayed against the forward consoles, and looked up at Barton.

"Are you honestly allowing me to take the brunt of this attack alone?" He shouted angrily.

"I just wanted to see Amora kick your butt again," Clint joked. Loki sensed the lack of feeling in his jest. He could tell that something had happened, but they didn't have time for questioning. Clint had his answers.

He opened his hand, pulled an arrow against his bowstring, and leveled a shot on the Enchantress' left eye. He released it immediately and pulled out another. He hardly batted an eye at Marie Barton's return and subsequent demise.

Loki raised up on his arms, and watched Clint bathe the battlefield in arrows. The archer worked mercilessly from one foe to the next, sweeping the lines of them even as they began to duplicate. Half a minute later, Clint had worked through every arrow in his quiver. Not a man beside the Guardians was left standing. Loki often forgot just how good Barton was. Moments like this reminded him how fortunate he was to be on Clint's side. But then again, technically, he wasn't at all. Not with that old Enchantress brand on his flesh placed there by Thanos. Loki still had to figure out what in this galaxy he could promise the conqueror to dispel his debt. He didn't want to give up the Gauntlet itself. That was out of the question. The last time Thanos had it, three worlds were destroyed, and Loki nearly along with it. He knew Thanos wouldn't hesitate to destroy him and all of his network of informants first.

Loki pushed himself up into a sitting position. Clint walked past him to retrieve his arrows again. He held no feelings for the archer. Humans lived fickle, short lives, and Barton had more than once cheated a warrior's death. Killing him with elaren venom might have been the cruelest death Loki could conjure up, but it was also the most definitive one also. When Clint lived through that, Loki had the notion that no matter what he tried, Clint would never die from any causes beyond natural. Diagnosed with cancer, Loki considered that revenge a fitting end to the archer who had always been a pain in his side. The Sarhorns came along and ruined that.

If you cannot kill an enemy, join them, and find a way to destroy them that way. Loki lived his life by that notion. This time in Clint's confidence, though, put his ideas through a trial by fire. He wasn't necessarily apologetic for attempting to destroy Clint in the past, but he had changed his ideas about whether to help that process along. It was the greatest compliment he could give a human.

"If our foe continues to reassemble himself, how is it we hope to defeat him?" Drax asked, considering the bodies.

"Like I said the first time: burn it," Clint said despondently. Arrows retrieved, he headed back into the ship. He handed a couple of arrow heads to Rocket as he strode by. "Exploding tips."

Rocket took them, and reached out to grab Clint's pant leg and stop him. He could feel the dejection in the archer. They'd lied to him for a month. Took him on a wild goose chase through the Oore system. Worst of all, they'd wasted the precious time he had left. Drax and Gamora watched him return to the ship.

"What happened?" Gamora asked.

Rocket's ears drooped to the sides. He rattled the nitroglycerine arrow heads around in his palm as he trudged over to the pile of bodies Clint downed effortlessly. "Clint knows," He told them.

Gamora's head lifted in the archer's direction. Loki stood as if to follow him, but stopped with the sharp look sent in his direction. Clint wanted to be alone. She couldn't blame him.

Quill thought, and convinced all of them, that the best way to protect the universe from itself was to stow the Infinity Gauntlet away. How he planned to stall for seven years, none of his team knew. They weren't made for long term plans. The Guardians of the Galaxy just wanted to do their jobs; protect the galaxy at large, even if it was from itself.

The fighting force Steve formed, the World Council, all of them held the potential of betrayal. As long as the Gauntlet remained in Guardian hands, they assumed it would be safe. Until now, they had dodged all of the Herald's attempts to ferret them out. The time for running, hiding, and keeping secrets had passed.

For Clint's part, he tried to ignore their stares, their intent to reach out. Climbing back into the main cabin and seeing Quill unconscious and bleeding, brought on all the pain he'd been trying to suppress for so long.

Betrayed. Alone. Helpless.

His life held by a thin thread left in the hands of others. He had no decisions, no say, and no control over those things happening in his life. He didn't get the choice to wake up from his stroke. He was never asked whether or not he'd make that sacrifice play. He was expected to. That was his job. Let go of everything he cared about, and just let the world roll right on without him.

In frustration, he lashed out at the first thing he could get his hands on. The already broken display panel went careening across the cabin, shattering a stack of mismatched mugs in the kitchen. He screamed, slammed his fist against the wall, and felt absolutely nothing when the ship listed under his fury. All this time he was just chasing his own tail. Being kept busy, happy, contained. He was sick of being safe and having his life dictated for him.

This was it.

When he found the Infinity Gauntlet, no one was going to contain him. Not anymore.

BAHHHHHH! SO MUCH HAS HAPPENED! What's Clint going to do? What's going to happen?

Next time: Returning to earth, Loki's secrets

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