arches | ➵ for deltas ● you scared me i see the glint of stone but you never come through

➵ for deltas ● you scared me i see the glint of stone but you never come through

_{( The battle is not yet lost, but it will be, soon. Loki has managed to scatter the Avengers, unleashing the beast and hurtling his brother off the helicarrier. Whith the Chitauri descending upon New York, only Iron Man and the captain are left to stand against them. And what of the Widow? She weighs her priorities, and chooses her partner over the rest of the world. She goes after Hawkeye.

Not that he is aware of any of this. After escaping the helicarrier with his master, the enslaved agent has been standing guard, waiting for orders. He is underground, in the subways. Arrows and bow at the ready, he is the perfect soldier. His eyes, his most famed feature, glow an eerie, lifeless blue. He stands straight, moves with hollow and robotic motions. He is an empty shell.

And the real Clint Barton? He is locked away, somewhere. Surrounded by darkness and shadows, he is minimally aware of what is transpiring around him. Only hollowly conscious, he must have still felt it when the helicarrier crashed to earth. Must have felt Phil Coulson's dying breaths. Must have known the name of every agent he took out. But locked away as he is, he can do nothing, not even scream. )}

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I can't do that.

_{( He means that in several ways. For one, his leg is all but useless, and he probably couldn't life himself off her even if he'd wanted to. There was the obvious fact that he was being controlled, and he didn't actually have control over anything he was doing. It was his skill, his training, and his connection to Natasha that were winning him this fight--but it was Loki's control that was making it happen.

But maybe there's something else. Maybe there's some small part of Clint Barton left in him, that remembers what it is like to touch her, to hold her, to embrace her. And maybe that part doesn't want to let go, even in this twisted scenario.

Clint Barton kills with arrows, from afar. He takes out his targets before they know that's what they are, and they don't feel pain. An arrow through the heart, through the head, through the throat--no time to think. But this isn't like that, at all.

Because now Clint is taking the knife, already soaked in Ntasha's blood, and lifting it to her throat. This will not be quick and painless, rather-- slowly, intimately. The orders echo through his skull. )}

Then do it quickly.

[Her voice is steeled as she watches him. But she knows, because Loki told her the plan. And quick wasn't it.]

_{( The knife moves from her neck to trace her cheeks, one by one. It lingers beneath one eye, and then against her lips.

He remembers the first time he saw her. He remember that she was the only target he'd ever missed. Had that just been a delay? Had they been living on borrowed time since then, so that this moment was inevitable?

He loves her. Has loved her, since that moment he saved her life. But all that emotion is being squeezed, pressurized, and warped. He's allowed to feel it, all too keenly, because that makes this worse.

He digs the knife into the spot where her neck meets her shoulder. )}

[She tries to bite back a scream - desperately clinging onto everything she knows about staying calm, but it escapes her lips as the knife digs in and she can no longer hold it back.

But she wasn't just going to lay down and die for him, and she moves her free hand to push on his shoulder, though between the two wounds there's not much force left in her.]

_{( When she pushes him her touch shocks him. He pulls away, yanking the knife out with him. The damage is done, however: without attention, that wound could kill her.

That realization ripples through him, and he blinks. His eyes clear, for a moment. )}

Natasha?

[Her instinct is to believe it isn't him at all, just another torture thought up by Loki for her last few minutes, but then, no. She can see it - in his eyes, in the way he says her name.]

Hey, you.

[Her voice is strained though she fights to keep it even. Don't freak out, Clint, don't freak out.]

Good to have you back.

_{( He shakes his head, viciously, like he's trying to knock something out of it. He looks down at his hands, at the knife and at his red-stained fingers. )}

Nat...

_{( The knife clatters to the ground, and he falls backwards, his palms hitting the floor hard. It's only after that that he can bring himself to look at her. )}

No.

Stay calm for me.

[There's a quiver to her voice, and she bites back a wince.]

I-I need to you to be calm, and go [where? could he even get back with a first aid kit in time to save her?] No. Forget that. Just stay here with me.

[she realizes that her whole body is shaking now, and she wills it to stop that right now, because Clint still has to live, he has to live through this and this is not what she is leaving him as a going away present.]

Just another minute, okay? And then go put an arrow through his head for me.

No, I-- I--

_{( His brain isn't working right, not the way he wants it to. It's jumping around, showing him things he's done, snatches of memory of arrows fired and the hellicarrier crashing and Loki giving him orders that he didn't once try and disobey.

He runs his hands over his face and just ends up smearing it with her blood. )}

...'Tasha, you're going to...

_{( Be alright? What a foolish thing to say. Hawkeye doesn't miss a target, and if he stabbed her he's bound to have hit at least one vital organ.

He shakes his head the entire time she speaks, and then just drags himself over to her and puts his head in her lap, one hand against the wound. )}

What did I do?

_{( Rhetorical. He knows what he did. )}

Don't. It wasn't you. Promise me you won't forget that. Promise me that...

[she reaches over to touch him.]

Right now, Clint. I'm serious.

How can you even say that? You can't expect me to--

_{( His voice breaks off. He may be slightly hysterical, because he laughs, then, so bitterly. )}

Damn it, just [she closes her eyes tight against the pain, and bites the inside of her mouth.]

Take care of yourself.

I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry.

_{( For a lot of things, and also because he's not going to promise her that. )}

It's --

[a shudder, then, and she knows her body is giving up on her as she feels her hand fall away from him. Damn it, this wasn't supposed to work this way, and she tries to say it but she can't, and she can't even open her eyes. A moment longer before she can't even hear him, just the lingering feeling of him next to her, and then nothing after that, not even pain.]

_{( And he feels her slip away, and reaches up to brush her hair away from her face and close her eyes. He doesn't make say anything, just lays her on the ground and scoots away from her, hands over his face.

It takes him a minute to realize he's screaming, a harsh, guttural noise from the back of his throat that won't stop. )}

[And that's when Loki comes back, one hand on Clint's shoulder, the other with a knife ready.]

Agent Barton.

[Oh, he knows it'll make him angry, the way he he stands calm and collected as if nothing had happened, as if he didn't understand - or perhaps more appropriately, care - for the situation at hand. Coffee cup casual, until he speaks again, and then his voice is at a biting whisper, meant to cut as sure as knives.]

What fine work you've done.

_{( When Loki says his name, he doesn't react. He registers the presence but can't stop screaming, can't even brush off the trickster's hand. It's when he speaks again that Clint lunges, with a strangled cry, not going for any weapons or thinking about what he's doing. All he knows is that he wants this man dead. )}

And yet, I find that I need you no longer.

[Clint is far too clumsy in his anger to really best Loki. He'd always fought with knives, and it made him quick and nimble on his feet, and that was saying nothing about his magical abilities. He avoids Clint's lunge with ease (there's little to avoid when he's unarmed) and retaliates throwing a knife. It's not the kill he wants, oh no, he'd rather make it personal. This entire plan had been about making it personal.]

_{( His vision is blurry with anger and pain and fatigue. The knife catches him in the chest, close to his heart. He lets out another howl and the momentum from his lunge drops him to his knees as he hisses in pain. There's pain behind his eyes, pain born of emotion and loss. But he gets up again, and grabs for one of the arrows that had scattered to the ground earlier. He's still turning around in circles, trying to get a lock on Loki. )}

[It doesn't matter, he's suddenly behind him, reaching around to twist the knife, pull it closer to the mark.]

What do you think she thought in her last moments? Watching you do that? Did she stay as unattached as you've always thought?

Shut-- _{( He can barely draw breath, now, can't stop himself from screaming in between the words-- )} Up--!

You're a good fighter, Barton. [He pulls the knife out, it's not like there's really much more he needs to do.] I will miss you.

_{( And that just about takes it out of him; Clint crumples to the ground in a pool of his own blood. He can barely crane his neck to shift his view, but he forces it--if he's going to die, he's not going to die looking at Loki's face.

He's going to die looking at Natasha's dead body. )}

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➵ for deltas ● you scared me i see the glint of stone but you never come through

because i love you

i love you too but i don't think that's an appropriate response

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