Interlude
Clint was screaming.
Not that anybody could hear him, but he was still screaming. As he followed Loki around the abandoned cellar and told people where to put what, he was screaming. It didn't take long for the God to get more people under his touch, but there were some that seemed to have been around longer than the time he was known to be on the planet.
And equally screaming Selvig told him that Loki had been in his mind since about a week after the incident in New Mexico. Clint wanted to know more, but Loki could hear them. Loki could tell when they discussed things, even within the mental cages they were trapped in.
Clint decided that screaming was the easiest way to distract Loki, so he did it often. It stopped Loki from trying to take information out of his head, like he had the first time they touched.
Shield was not going to like how much Clint had let slip. Tony was not going to like it.
Something told him that Loki didn't really need him for Tony, though. He smirked like he knew and Clint didn't like that.
The idea for Iridium moved through their minds once Selvig through of it. Plans of attack and ways to get it already flew through Clint's head before he could stop himself and he hated the way Loki looked at him, victory and impatience in his eyes.
“Tell me what you need,” he had said. Clint felt sick when he replied and the crazed glint returned to Loki's eyes.
It wasn't hard to do what Loki needed them to do. Clint could do this alone and part of him felt insulted that Loki had others help, but he understood. Despite the fact that Loki was in his head, Loki didn't trust him. Because there were ways to break the hold and while Loki didn't know of them, he knew they were there. So Clint went in with a team.
He came out with the same team and Iridium to see Loki fighting in the courtyard. Inside, Clint was screaming again. Telling himself to go out and help Captain America. When Tony arrived, the urge to go was twice as strong.
Go. Go help them, you son of a bitch!
He got into the car that would take them away.
Now that they had what they needed, it was a simple plane trip across the ocean for Selvig to power the machine. For the army to come.
Clint wanted to die.
The orders were there before Loki had even left. When he was captured, they were to continue on. Clint would leave Selvig with those that truly hated Shield (they were the most loyal), and he would take those under control and rescue him. And by rescue, Loki meant take down whatever facility Shield managed to put him into.
Clint knew the Helicarrier like the back of his hand. He was stationed there. He had a room with Natasha on the lower decks. He knew where the cat walks went, and which hallways were built specifically with the intent to lose somebody in. He knew where to fire an arrow that would cause damage. He knew where to hide for the best view of the bridge.
He knew what points Fury wasn't watching, and he knew how to get on board in the first place.
The closer they got to the Helicarrier, the more Clint felt the control Loki had over him tighten. He wasn't sure if it was time or something else, but he knew that he had to get rid of it soon. The other agents around him seemed to be a lost cause (there had been a small hint of clarity in Smith's eyes up until half an hour before), and Clint didn't want to be like them.
He wanted to cry when the request for landing came through clear. He would need to talk to Coulson and Fury about who they let run the bridge. Usually Markson did it, but he was currently sitting in the pilot's chair on the same jet Clint was on.
The entire situation was terrible and he could see the retraining schedule being written now.
Clint wanted to take all of them.
He had a job to do. No! It was wrong! First he had to take down the carrier. Stop it, Clint! He stepped to the edge and aimed his arrow. He didn't have the multiple tips he usually had, so this had to count. Aim far, don't hit it!
The explosion came exactly as it should and, for a moment, Clint had wanted to laugh. Fear ran through his chest, though that was soon followed by a gentle calmness that he hated. He was getting close.
Landing on a possible falling object was the stupidest thing a pilot could do, but that's exactly what they did. Clint had a third of the team stay behind to man the jet for Loki's return, and he took the rest of the team to an unused vent system.
If he ever got out of this, he was dead. He wasn't supposed to know these back ways and Fury was going to have his head for hiding them all.
Clint named every agent he brought down. The names soon disappeared in his memory as Loki's hold dug further.
His mind came to a small reprieve of peace when he shot at Fury, though that peace only lasted a moment. He had days where the director irritated him beyond reason, so a mix of shooting him point-blank and knocking an arrow by his face eased some of that tension.
Clint immediately felt ill after he had done it, though.
Even with his stomach in knots, it was ridiculously easy to shoot into the socket, delivering a virus some other person (not an agent) had installed.
He could hear the roar of the Hulk from his position.
He was wasting time here, he needed to move.
No, stay! Let them take you! Let them... let them...
He had a job to do. Clint disappeared from the rafters he had set up in while viewing the bridge. He was supposed to have two others with him, but they were dead. Brought down by Maria and Fury's pistols right before they were supposed to leave.
His mind circled around what he needed to do, alone, now. Further sabotage by removing their ability to stay in the air permanently. He was halfway down the walkway when he heard familiar footsteps behind him.
He wanted to run, to tell her to get the hell away from him. Save yourself. Don't fall under this!
Instead, he turned and attacked her.
They scuffed, evenly matched due to months of training together. He knew her moves just like she knew his.
Clint was slower, his mind taking too long to process things.
Never before had he been more happy to see the pole coming to his face. The ceiling as he lay on his face.
Natasha. Natasha. He might have even murmured her name.
Clint wanted to cry as the fist came down him, knocking him back against the ground.
Loki. He couldn't feel Loki. Thank god.