Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

This was not how Clint had seen his morning going.

He’d seen his morning going, more or less, the same as all his other mornings had recently: doing anything he could to stay busy. He’d fixed the roof, built two chairs and a bench, and repaired the hinge on the cabinet before Laura told him that he was driving her nuts. Nathaniel was a handful, and Lila and Cooper were loving the fact that he was home all the time, but...shit.

He was pretty sure he was going to lose his mind. The feds had confiscated his bow (and everything else - they’d even taken the pistol Laura kept in a lockbox in their closet). They came by every other day, lurking around the property, making nice with the kids (who, Clint was pleased, seemed wise to it).

Putting a strain on his and Laura’s relationship. Oh, she was on his side, all the way, but it was wearing on her, and Clint was acutely aware of the unfairness of it. No two ways about it: she was paying for his choices. And so were the kids.

It was probably a good thing that they’d all taken off for the week, even if it made Clint even more aware of how fucking bored he was.

Then he saw a flash of light over past the barn.

Oh, shit, was Clint’s second thought. His first, because he was an idiot, was thank god.

He went for his bow first, remembered it was sitting in the bowels of some government facility somewhere (fuck Ross and the entire high horse he’d rode in on), and scowled. It could be nothing, but Clint doubted it, and he wasn’t a fan of the idea of walking out there unarmed.

You could call your fed buddies, snarked a voice that Clint shut off hard. He glanced at his ankle bracelet and swore .

So how stupid are you gonna be, he thought, but he was already grabbing a meat tenderizer and heading for the master bedroom.

One hole in the drywall later, holding the spare handgun, Clint headed out the front door and across the yard. Glad, suddenly, that no one else was here, because if he was walking into a bad situation…

Well, hopefully he wasn’t about to leave his kids without a dad.

Gauging the distance to where he’d seen the flash of light, Clint realized that it was right at the edge of where his perimeter would reach. He couldn’t see anything yet through the tall grass - not high enough to hide someone standing, but someone crouching, maybe - or lying flat, in wait, for some dumb asshole to come walking along. He might not see them until he was right on top of them, and the second he stepped over the invisible fence line…

“Hey!” Clint yelled, slowing down. “Anyone trying to set up an ambush, do me a favor and get it over with?”

Nothing. Of course, it was possible this wasn’t a person. Some kind of...alien whatever. Or military shit. No way of knowing.

He inched a little closer. Five feet. Four.

And stopped dead, because there was a body lying facedown in the grass.

Not just any fucking body, either.

Yeah, this was not how Clint had seen his morning going.

Loki didn’t twitch when Clint shouted in horrified surprise, scrambling back and raising the handgun. He didn’t know what stopped him from pulling the trigger and putting all six rounds in his head. His head spun and his lungs seemed to have stopped working. Every hair on his body was standing on end, instincts screaming at him to run as far as he could in the other direction, fuck the feds, fuck the ankle bracelet, Loki was here and he needed to be somewhere, anywhere else.

But Loki was also sprawled gracelessly, unmoving, and facedown on the ground, and Clint had seen enough dead bodies in his day to know what one looked like.

“Fuck,” Clint said out loud, and heard his voice tremble. “Fucking hell.” He kept his gun trained on Loki and inched forward, carefully. “Hey,” he said loudly. “Hey, motherfucker, if you’re faking it--”

Nothing. Clint swallowed, a different flavor of unease slipping in next to the panic. He reached out a foot and prodded Loki’s shoulder, sucking in a breath. This didn’t feel right. Didn’t feel like Loki.

Still nothing. Not even a twitch. Finally, Clint crouched down, still keeping the gun on him as he grabbed Loki’s shoulder to flip him over. His body moved limply and fell with a heavy thud.

Clint reared back hard enough that he fell on his ass, gun dropping out of his hand. Loki’s face was an ashy shade of unnatural blue. His head lolled to the side at an angle that was just - wrong, clear marks of manual strangulation written all over his throat. His eyes were closed, features slack.

Loki was supposed to have been dead for four years. This wasn’t four years dead. This was - this was fucking recent, and Clint stared with mute horror because imagining the monster of his nightmares dead was one thing but actually seeing it--

Manual strangulation and a broken neck, a part of Clint’s brain noted analytically. Not an easy way to kill someone. Especially not someone as durable as Loki. Personal, too. Someone had really hated him. Or else was making a point.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck,” Clint said, pressing the back of his hand to his mouth. He needed to get away from the body, now. And...and what? Who the fuck was he supposed to call?

Clint found himself moving forward again, trying not to look too closely at Loki’s face. Focusing on - on what? Why here, why was Loki’s body here, was this a warning or a, a fucked up present or--

He saw something, out of the corner of his eye, and turned fast, holding his breath. Watching. Waiting. Ten seconds. Twenty.

He’d always had sharp eyes, so he saw it. The slight, barely there flutter of movement just under Loki’s jaw, masked by the bruises. Clint lurched forward, reached out with a shaking hand to put his fingers against his cold skin. Nothing, he couldn’t feel anything, but for some reason Clint waited anyway.

There. Just the tiniest little motion against his fingers. It could barely even be called a pulse.

“Holy shit,” Clint said. “You’re alive.”

Dealing with a dead Loki was one thing. Dealing with a living one - was a hell of a lot more complicated.

There was a second - five seconds - where Clint thought if you do nothing he’s probably going to die anyway. He’s barely hanging on as is. Wait five minutes and it’ll be over.

Then he was sprinting back to the house.

He grabbed a few things (wouldn’t it be great if you had a neck brace right now, how the fuck are you going to move him) and ran back, half expecting Loki to have died in the interim. He sure looked like it, but Clint put his fingers back on Loki’s neck and waited, counting seconds between beats. Twenty seconds. Like he’d gone into fucking hibernation or something.

Maybe he had. Maybe he could do that. Clint had no idea.

Okay. Okay, first things first, make sure he can breathe. Clint had to hold a hand almost to Loki’s lips to feel any air at all, and glancing at the ugly bruising on his neck - his trachea had probably been crushed.

Okay, he thought. Okay. You got this. He got the steak knife he’d brought from the house and the straw from Nathaniel’s sippy cup, taking a deep breath. Then stopped. A steak knife might not even work on Loki’s skin. He stopped, set it aside, and searched Loki’s clothes instead until he found a small knife. Felt carefully down Loki’s throat, right under the ridge, half inch wide, half inch deep, take it easy--

He eased the straw into the narrow incision, blew into it a couple times, and sat back, shaking. After what felt like too long, he heard air hiss out and whistle back in. Not...great. But better. If he could just do enough triage to keep Loki alive until his healing kicked back in…

Then what? What was he going to do then?

Clint pushed that aside and folded the towel he’d brought out into a narrow roll and easing it carefully around the back of Loki’s neck, trying to move him as little as possible. Rope to keep it in place. It was - shit, it wasn’t great but it was the best he could do as far as a neck brace. Broken arm, too, he noticed belatedly, but as far as things went that wasn’t something he was going to worry about right now.

Right now...right now he needed to get Loki back to his house.

And there was a sentence he hadn’t expected to ever think.

Clint rolled his shoulders back and looked down at Loki, towel wrapped around his neck, straw sticking out of his throat, and felt the corner of his eye twitch. It was a damn good thing that no one else was here right now. Just him. And Loki.

And the feds coming around tomorrow.

Fuck.

Clint rigged an awkward sort of travois to get Loki back to the house without making everything worse, though he had no idea how well it was working. Loki was still doing his best impression of a corpse, his skin that ashy blue color. Clint didn’t think it was hypoxia anymore, but it didn’t look good.

He set Loki down, breathing hard, in the middle of the living room floor. There, in his ridiculous leather get up - a different one than he’d been wearing last time Clint had seen him, and gone through the same wringer the rest of Loki had - he looked even more out of place. Clint stared down at him, suddenly feeling as though he was watching from outside himself.

What the hell are you going to do, Barton, he thought, rubbing the heels of his hands against his eyes, and wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

Then he heard a whistling sort of sigh and jerked his head up to see Loki’s eyelids fluttering. He lurched forward, then wondered if he should lurch back instead because if Loki came around and freaked out - Clint had no idea what he might still be capable of, even like this.

But he wasn’t exactly jumping to his feet. The fingers of his right arm twitched and he started to move it only to stop, fast, with a thin, hoarse cry of pain. Clint’s stomach twisted and before he could think about it he was crouching down next to Loki.

“Hey,” he said, and his voice sounded far gentler than he’d expected. “It’s, uh. You’re okay.” The instant the words were out Clint wanted to ask. That’s an obvious lie.

Loki’s breathing wheezed awfully, rattling in his chest. Clint eyeballed his pulse - not feeling like it was a particularly good idea to touch him right now - and it looked like it had picked up to something - still slow, but closer to normal. His head twitched like he was trying to turn it.

“Don’t,” Clint started to say, but Loki had already gone still, including his breathing. Clint swallowed hard. “Loki. You need to...stay still, all right? You’re pretty fucked up.” What are you doing, a voice in his head was screaming. What the fuck are you doing, do you know who this is, what are you, still his brainwashed stooge--

He shoved that out of the way. Fact was - fact was that he needed to know what had happened, because something strong and nasty enough to do this...not to mention that Loki was supposed to be dead, and Clint really wanted to know what that was about. He needed intel. And that meant he needed Loki well enough - and willing enough - to give it.

Didn’t have anything to do with the weird ache in his stomach at seeing Loki like this. And he could say it would feel the same with anyone, but he’d looked at a lot of dead bodies - dropped a lot of them, too - and not felt that knot twisting his guts.

Loki’s eyes opened, barely, and Clint hissed at the bright red he took at first for burst blood vessels and only belatedly realized...wasn’t. Absently, he belatedly catalogued the ridges on Loki’s skin, thought adopted, and just as quickly set it aside. Not relevant. His eyes fixed slowly on Clint and his mouth opened, but all that came out was another wheezing exhale.

“Like I said,” Clint said, trying to keep his voice steady. “You’re pretty fucked up.” The wheezing got faster, Loki’s eyes turning a little wild, and Clint recognized the signs of oncoming panic. Seen it before, and it was almost too easy to do the same thing he’d done then. “Breathe,” he said. “Focus on my voice-”

Loki made a choking sound, his left hand groping up and ripping the straw out of his neck before Clint could stop him. His body spasmed and Clint realized belatedly what was happening and turned him on his side so Loki didn’t asphyxiate on his own vomit. He went limp, and for a long moment Clint thought he’d passed out again, but then he pressed a shaking hand to his throat and flinched. His fingers flickered green, briefly, and Clint had to fight not to shy back.

His hand fell away.

“Am I--” Loki sounded like he was trying to speak with his throat full of gravel. He coughed, and then flinched again. “Am I dead?”

Clint swallowed hard. “Would you believe me if I said no?”

“I didn’t think it would hurt this much after,” Loki said. Every word was forced out like he was about to choke on them.

“Yeah, well,” Clint said, hating how his voice wobbled, “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again, so I guess we’re both surprised.”

Loki blinked at him. “They’re dead,” he said after a moment, barely audible. “They’re all dead.” He started shaking harder, and Clint squeezed his eyes closed and opened them.

“Who,” he said, because this was what he needed to know, wasn’t it? “Who’s dead? What happened?”

“Everyone who was left,” Loki said. “There wasn’t time - Thor…”

Clint’s stomach dropped. “What did you do to Thor,” he said roughly.

“Not me.” Loki’s eyes closed. “My fault. But not me. I thought maybe...if I gave him - a little time--”

His strained breathing hitched, and then hitched again, and Clint realized with a dull kind of horror that Loki was crying.

“Who--” He cleared his throat and tried again. “Who did this?”

“Thanos,” Loki whispered. His throat worked and he made a pained sound that broke off halfway through. Clint shook his head.

“That doesn’t mean anything to me,” he said hoarsely.

“It will,” Loki said. He let out a rasping sort of sob. “I should have died,” he said. “I should have died.”

This, Clint thought miserably, even as he got up to find a blanket to drape over Loki. Like that would help. Like he was supposed to be helping at all, like this wasn’t the man he’d had nightmares about for a long, long, time even after he’d gone.

What the hell do you think you’re doing?

And if that wasn’t just the question.

Clint couldn’t tell if Loki was legitimately unconscious or playing dead - he hadn’t moved or said anything for a while, just laid there. His skin was starting to return to what looked like a healthier shade of blue, and the incision Clint had made was gone, but there was still a whistle to his breathing and Clint didn’t think the broken neck was all better either.

Broken neck. Shit. That was above his paygrade. Of course, every goddamn thing about this situation was above his paygrade.

He was going to have a bunch of government assholes here, tomorrow, and somehow he didn’t think they’d accept “I don’t know, he just dropped in here” as a decent reason for harboring an alien enemy of the state. So he’d be screwed, and they’d try to drag Loki off which would either end in blood (theirs) or…

Shit. Clint didn’t want to know what Ross would do. Shouldn’t matter, maybe, but since apparently he was an idiot, it did. Not to mention he still had no idea who Thanos was, or what Loki knew about him, or what he’d meant by it will. If Thor was really dead--

Thor might actually be dead.

Not for the first time, Clint wished he knew how to get in touch with Nat, or Steve, or Wanda, or someone. He hadn’t tried, knew he shouldn’t try - it’d just be putting them in danger - but...I could really use some help on this one, you guys.

Well, you don’t have it. You’re on your own, buddy.

Loki stirred, finally, either waking up or coming out of his stupor. “Are you going to fix up on your own,” Clint asked, “or should I be googling emergency first aid for a broken neck?”

Loki winced when he swallowed, quiet for a long moment, and Clint realized belatedly that maybe he shouldn’t be talking quite so casually about Loki’s very recent very near death experience. “I should...mend,” Loki said, though he didn’t sound completely sure. “Provided that…” He paused, and there was something...bizarre, almost absurd, about Loki, Loki, lying there on his side on the floor, makeshift towel-brace around his neck, huddled under a blanket and looking positively pathetic.

“Provided that?” Clint prompted.

“What are you going to do,” Loki asked, which wasn’t an answer. He sounded resigned, like whatever Clint said he’d be fine with it. Clint’s skin was back to crawling.

“No fucking clue,” Clint said. “Any ideas?”

“No.” The fingers on Loki’s right hand twitched and he let out a very quiet hiss. Right. Broken. That...that at least he could deal with.

He stood up and Loki’s eyes followed him, but otherwise he didn’t react. There was an old sling in one of the closets that Clint pulled out and tossed at Loki. He stared blankly at it. “For your arm,” Clint said by way of explanation. “Unless it needs setting, in which case...that’s another situation.”

“Oh,” Loki said after a moment, not moving.

“I thought you had, like. Super healing.” Clint knew he was talking because he was uncomfortable. That didn’t mean he could stop. “When the Hulk got to you you got up okay.”

“Some things are easier to heal than others,” Loki said. Clint supposed that made sense. Hit a certain level of damage and human bodies started functioning less on “fixing” and more on “surviving.” And he was definitely thinking about the unimportant shit so he didn’t start screaming about...everything else.

Should he be offering painkillers? Anti-inflammatories? Who the fuck knew what might be poisonous, and it wasn’t like Loki was asking.

Well, yeah. Loki’s a traumatized, half-dead wreck barely checked into this reality. Clint shoved that out of his head too and stood up to go get a cup of water, figuring that, at least, probably couldn’t go wrong.

Of course, then he came back to see Loki trying to get up. He’d made it to sitting, more or less, though his color was way off again.

“Hey,” Clint barked, a little sharper than he meant to. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I need to get back to - I need to find--” Loki’s voice shook as much as he was. Clint took a step toward him and Loki started to twist his head toward him only to cut off with a high-pitched sound of agony, his body buckling so he fell back against the couch. His chest heaved and Clint stayed frozen where he was, torn between the urge to go help and the ugly, vicious, part of him that said he deserves this.

He wished Nat was here.

Clint swore and set the glass down on the end-table, crouching down again. “You’re not going anywhere,” he said. “Not like this. Besides - where would you even be going?”

Loki went limp, still shaking. Clint hadn’t said it to be an asshole, but by the way his expression sort of crumpled, Loki heard it that way. Which...shit. Thor would fit as an end to either of those sentences.

The last time Clint had seen Loki it’d seemed like he’d kill Thor and laugh about it. Something seemed to have changed. A lot of things.

Stay focused.

Clint pulled one of the cushions off the back of the couch and moved it so that it would prop up the back of Loki’s head. The makeshift brace seemed to be doing good enough, but Clint didn’t want to take chances.

Do you even remember me, a part of Clint wanted to ask. Do you remember who I am, what you did to me, do you care, but he didn’t know if he could deal with hearing the answer. Priorities.

Loki had raised his hands up and was staring at them like he’d never seen them before, a strange expression on his face. “Right,” Clint said. “Yeah, the blue. Is that new?”

A choking sound that almost made Clint panic, and a little jerk like someone had slapped him. “No,” Loki said. “Not new.” He dropped his hands back down. Clint chewed the inside of his cheek and stood up again, walking a few steps away.

“Okay,” he said. “Okay. I need to ask you a couple questions.”

“Ask away.” Even with that fingernail-rasp, Loki’s voice sounded dull. Lifeless. It made Clint’s skin crawl, made him feel like he ought to be doing something. Fix it fix it fix it, like a buzz in the back of his skull, and Clint should’ve just shot him in the head and gotten it over with.

“What happened?”

Loki was quiet for long enough that Clint almost repeated the question. “Asgard was destroyed,” he said finally. “Thor was leading the people who were left back to...back here. Thanos found us. We managed to evacuate...some. Not enough. The rest - slaughtered. Heimdall sent the Hulk away - somewhere--”

“Wait,” Clint said, stiffening. “The Hulk? As in Bruce Banner the Hulk? What was he doing on Asgard?”

Loki’s eyes rolled toward him but he seemed to be struggling to answer, so Clint just shook his head. “Never mind.” He didn’t know who Heimdall was, either, but that was easier to ignore.

“Thanos killed Heimdall,” Loki said. “He would have killed Thor, I thought maybe, maybe there was a possibility that if I--” He stopped, the shaking intensifying again.

“I get the picture,” Clint said, even though he didn’t, really. He didn’t have enough pieces. But he didn’t think pushing closer to that one was going to go anywhere. “So Thanos, he, uh...Thor…”

Did you see him die, he wanted to ask, but that was probably a bad question. And at least right now wasn’t...going to help anyone.

“Never mind,” he said. “This Thanos. Who’s he?”

Loki’s eyes closed and his already unsteady breathing stuttered. “He sent me here,” Loki said. “For the Tesseract. The Tesseract for Midgard, that was the exchange, I was so stupid--” He broke off, coughing. Clint realized he was clenching his fists hard enough to hurt and made them relax.

Trying to pin the blame on someone else, you slippery little weasel, Clint thought viciously, but that wasn’t it, was it, and he remembered - bits and pieces in the times he didn’t like remembering. Loki vanishing somewhere on his own and coming back pale and tense, lines of pain around his eyes that nobody else seemed to notice. The way Loki’d looked in that underground facility, like he’d crawled out of hell.

“So...so what does he want? The Tesseract?”

“No,” Loki said, his voice raw. “Or. Yes. But not just...six Infinity Stones. He has two, now. There are four others.”

Infinity Stones. Had he heard that phrase before?

Shit, yes. Thor saying I've had a vision. A whirlpool that sucks in all hope of life and at its center is that. The scepter. The Mind Stone. Vision.

Fuck, Wanda.

“I’m guessing if he gets all of them that’s bad,” he said, not really a question.

“Yes,” Loki said. “It is.”

“How bad are we talking,” Clint said, mostly to fill time, trying to think. This shouldn’t be him. This shouldn’t be on him, he was the marksman on house arrest, not fucking - well, not Thor. A voice that sounded too much like Barney’s said you’re in over your head.

Now you tell me, Clint thought sarcastically.

“The end,” Loki said. For a second Clint thought he was going to vomit again, but he didn’t. Clint stared at him.

“The fuck does that mean,” he said harshly. “The fuck does that even-” He cut himself off.

“Half of all life,” Loki said, sounding numb. “Gone.”

Clint rocked back on his heels. “You’re exaggerating,” he said, hopefully. Loki said nothing. “Why? Why--” No, that didn’t matter right now either.

“He will - he will be coming here,” Loki said. His tongue slipped out, just wetting his lower lip. “Probably before long. He has the Tesseract - the Space Stone - now.” He let out a broken, awful noise that Clint realized belatedly was a laugh. “Because I gave it to him. I thought I was saving Thor--”

The part of Clint that wasn’t ringing like a fire alarm thought you fucked that one up, didn’t you, but he knew better than to say it. He didn’t even really want to. He just felt heavy, and tired, and he wanted to call Laura.

They were tapping his calls. He wouldn’t be able to say anything important.

“Call your friends,” Loki said. “Tell them to run. You should run. There’s no point in fighting.”

“Giving up’s not my style,” Clint said harshly. “Wouldn’t have thought it was yours, either.”

Loki didn’t argue and Clint felt a spike of anger and frustration, because he needed something, something to push against so he didn’t feel like he was flailing around like a kid in the deep end of the pool. A moment later he just felt like shit for lashing out at someone who - for once - wouldn’t hit back.

He walked away, over to the kitchen, and leaned his hands on the table, then straightened up and went back, picking up the sling off the floor.

“Here,” he said. “Let me help you put this on.”

Loki opened his freaky red eyes and looked at Clint. He held up the sling, and Loki twitched one shoulder.

“There’s no point,” he said. The back of Clint’s neck prickled. He’d seen people get like this. Get hit enough, hard enough, and you stop getting up. It wasn’t just Loki’s neck that’d snapped.

“Humor me,” Clint said roughly. Loki didn’t nod, but he didn’t fight Clint on getting the sling on, either, just watched him, and it was making Clint twitchy. He ignored it as much as he could, trying to think. So how come you never said anything about this before, Clint thought, but he didn’t think now was the time for that question, either. Here they were, and that was the hand Clint was going to have to play with.

And there was only one play he could make.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, shoving himself to his feet and heading for the upstairs.

He changed clothes, pulled a bag out of the closet, and packed light and fast. Slinging it over his shoulder, he descended the stairs to the kitchen and turned on the light.

You’re doing this, Clint thought, putting his foot up on one of the kitchen chairs. You’re really doing this. How stupid are you?

Pretty fucking stupid, apparently.

Clint got the anklet off without setting off any alerts. How long he had - depended on how closely he was being monitored, but it probably wasn’t long. By the time they figured out he was gone, he needed to be in the wind but good.

“What are you doing,” Loki asked. His voice was still hoarse, bruise circles around his eyes.

“We’re getting out of here,” Clint said shortly. “You said some big nasty is on the way fixing to kill a whole lot of people. Stopping that is kind of in the job description. And you know more than anyone else on this planet about him, so I guess you’re coming with me.”

Loki stared at him like Clint was talking gibberish. Clint gritted his teeth.

“I’m not leaving you here,” he said. “So come on. We’re wasting time.”

Loki stood on his own, but Clint had to catch him to keep him from falling over. He bundled him into the front seat where he slumped back, breathing hard, and Clint jogged around to climb in on the other side, throwing the car into reverse.

Last chance to turn around. Put the anklet back on. Go to the proper authorities, turn Loki over, hope they don’t throw you back in jail and do nothing about the actual threat.

Clint swung the car around and jammed down the accelerator. It occurred to him, as he drove for the road with Loki sitting next to him, that this was a lot like another drive six years ago.

It’s different, Clint told himself. I’m different.

(Or you just think you are.)

“Where are we going?” Loki asked.

“To get help,” Clint said. “We can’t fight this on our own.”

“You can’t fight this at all,” Loki said. Clint gripped the steering wheel tightly.

“Aren’t you a ray of sunshine,” he said and took a deep breath. “We beat you, didn’t we? We can handle this asshole. Just you fucking watch.”

That’s it, Barton. Make it sound like you believe your own bullshit. Maybe then you actually will.

So maybe they were screwed. At least he was going to do like he always had, and go down swinging.

Chapter Text

For the first ten miles, Loki didn’t speak at all.

Of course, Clint wasn’t speaking much either, other than the vigorous swearing he was doing in his head, the screaming of what are you doing, what the fuck do you think you’re doing, and the certainty that any second now he was going to be surrounded by a convoy of black cars that would bury him deep down somewhere, this time for good. If he was lucky. And Clint wasn’t, as a rule, very lucky.

Witness the fact of the asshole sitting silently next to him, hands loose in his lap and staring straight ahead, unnervingly still.

Midway through the eleventh mile Clint pulled into a Walmart parking lot. He expected Loki to say something when he got out of the car, but he didn’t - Clint almost threw something at him to see if he would flinch, then made a disgusted noise and slammed the car door. He withdrew as much cash as he could from the ATM and picked up a neck brace, a prepaid phone, and a few other basic supplies before heading back to the car.

Still no sign of the feds closing in. It was a long ways from here to anywhere safe, though. Just him and Loki.

Great.

He got back into the car and dropped the brace onto Loki’s lap. “Put that on,” he said. Loki looked slowly down at it, and then twisted to look at Clint.

“What are you doing,” he said. He speaks, Clint wanted to say, but he didn’t actually want Loki to shut up again.

“I told you already,” Clint said. He jerked his chin at the brace. “Do you need me to open the box?”

“What are you doing with me,” Loki said. His eyes were still dull, like he didn’t really care about the answer to the question.

“Good fucking question,” Clint muttered under his breath. Loki didn’t acknowledge it, or move to do anything with the brace. Clint took it with a growl and ripped it open, pulling it out of the packaging. “Do you need help or do you think you can figure this out,” he said harshly. Loki flinched and Clint just felt like shit again, which pissed him right off, and Jesus fuck Loki wasn’t even doing anything and he was still fucking with Clint’s head.

Loki’s hands lifted a little toward his neck and then flinched away before he even got close, and - okay. Okay, yeah, so maybe two hours ago Loki’d had his fucking neck snapped and his throat crushed and he hadn’t had so much as a couple of Advil, so maybe telling him “here, take off the thing keeping your spine more or less aligned” wasn’t actually such a little thing to ask.

He rubbed his hand down his face. “Okay,” he said. “Okay, fine, let me help.”

Loki shied away from him, eyes flashing with - fucking terror, and that hit Clint like a punch in the stomach, because what did Loki have to be scared of. (You, apparently.)

“Don’t look at me like that,” Clint snapped. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Loki just stared at him, breathing a little too fast and loudly. Clint held up his hands, palms out, and tried to moderate his tone. “Hey,” he said. “It’s just me. Barton. You need something a little bit better than a towel and some twine while your neck’s healing. That,” he pointed at the brace, “will help.”

More staring. Clint waited, though he felt time ticking away and they should be moving, they should be driving as fast as they could, he was pretty sure he’d found a camera blind spot but he could be wrong, hadn’t had time to case the lot properly.

Finally, Loki said, barely audible, “fine.” Clint almost slumped with relief that he didn’t want to feel.

“Okay,” Clint said. “Okay, good. I don’t have a backboard, so I’m going to say...lean the seat back and I’ll try to make this quick.”

It wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Loki let out a little pained hiccup when Clint accidentally jostled his head, but otherwise didn’t make a sound; Clint wasn’t sure which was worse. The bruising wasn’t as bad as it had been, though still ugly. He could see Loki clinging to the edge of panicking by his fingernails, but he didn’t quite slip over - though when his hands released from their fists Clint caught blood on his nails.

He waited until Loki was sitting up again, then threw the car into gear and peeled out of the parking lot. Loki looked sort of ridiculous wearing a sling and a neck brace over his filthy, battered armor.

Clint was going to have to find him some new clothes. And figure out how to get him cleaned up. Somehow.

In five miles he’d stop again and call Laura. Hopefully before the Feds did.

(Funny to think about them like that, Clint supposed. He’d been one of what most people would probably call the Feds for a while there, though he’d never really felt like one.)

“Okay,” Clint said, after another half mile of silence. “Tell me more about what we’re up against. So far I’ve got: Thanos, big and bad, wants to wipe out half of the universe using these Infinity Stone things. How am I doing?”

Loki twitched. “That is what’s important.”

“Why don’t you let me decide what’s important and what isn’t?”

Loki swayed slightly. “He is from the planet Titan,” he said, voice dull. “The last one living, as far as I know. I don’t know how old he is. Old. He has used various armies over the years, including the Chitauri, but his most formidable warriors are his lieutenants - the Black Order - and his two daughters.”

“He’s got kids?” Clint said, though he supposed he shouldn’t really be surprised. Plenty of absolute shitheads reproduced.

“More or less,” Loki said. “Mostly I think they are his weapons. They have both been - altered. One more extensively than the other.”

Altered. Clint didn’t know what that meant, but it probably wasn’t important right now. At least Loki was talking, and there was some decent information in there. “I guess you met these people? The daughters and the - uh, Black Order?” What a fucking name that was.

Loki rocked a little, forward and then back, and okay, that probably hadn’t been a great question. “Yes,” he said after a moment. “You could say that.”

Well, Clint was filling in some pieces of a shitty, shitty, picture. “Yeah,” he said. “Okay. And how many of them are there in this elite squad?”

“Four,” Loki said. “They are-” He made a little coughing sound, body twisting away. “Very good at what they do.”

And what’s that, Clint wanted to ask - needed to ask, needed to know so he could size up his opponents. But he didn’t think he’d get anywhere with that other than sending Loki off over the edge again, which would be real helpful.

“What about weaknesses,” he asked. “Think an arrow to the eye will take him down?”

Loki started to turn his head, then let out a choked little noise that sort of hurt hearing. Clint kind of wished he’d just go ahead and scream. “Careful,” he said sharply. “You know that brace is there for a reason, right?”

Loki licked his lips. “Hard to forget,” he said hoarsely, and yeah, Clint guessed it would be. He’d never broken his neck - thank God - but he’d broken his collarbone, and that had fucking sucked. And that was with painkillers. “Weaknesses - I don’t know. He was always powerful. Now, with two Infinity Stones…”

Loki started shivering. Fucking hell. “Hey,” Clint said again, snapping his fingers. “Focus. The more we know the better prepared we’ll be to fight this asshole.” Powerful. Yeah, powerful enough to break Loki’s neck with his bare hand and go toe to toe with the Hulk. We’re so screwed.

No. You couldn’t fight strong, you fought smart. Or dirty. Or both.

“I don’t know,” Loki said again, rocking slightly against the seat belt. “I don’t...I can’t, I’m sorry-”

Oh, fuck, that sounded wrong. Clint flinched. “Don’t apologize,” he snapped. “Just - shit. Okay. We’ll get back to that. Right? Not like he’s here right now.”

“He will be soon,” Loki said, his voice hoarse. “Or the Order will be. There are - you have things that he wants.”

Right. Infinity Stones. Vision. Wait. “What do you know about what we have?”

“Thor–” Loki made a noise, then, like a sob and a gag at the same time. “Thor said. The Mind Stone was here. There’s - another one too. With a...with a man in New York. I don’t know if he...knows what it is.”

“A man in New York. There’s kind of a lot of those.” It was unnecessarily snide and Clint knew it, but he needed to do something with all the adrenaline pumping through him, and he half hoped to provoke some kind of response from Loki. All he got was a little twitch of his hunched shoulders.

“The sorcerer,” Loki said, which - there was a sorcerer in New York? News to Clint.

“Well,” he muttered. “That’s good to know.” He shifted his hands on the steering wheel and glanced at Loki, feeling like he should probably say something, and not sure what he was supposed to say. There was that urge to comfort him, make him feel better, but that mostly just freaked Clint the fuck out.

“Do you need something to drink?” Clint asked.

“No.”

“What about food?”

“No. Thank you.”

Those two words, like I’m sorry, set off clanging alarm bells in Clint’s head that screamed that’s wrong, that’s wrong. He shrugged one shoulder.

“Don’t thank me,” he said harshly. “When I pull over to call Laura I’ll get some waters and, I don’t know, yogurt or something. You’re going to need to eat if you want to heal.”

Loki made a sort of rasping non-laugh. “Who said I want to heal,” he said.

Clint almost slammed on the brakes, those words shivering through him like he’d been electrocuted. “Fuck that,” he said harshly, when he recovered. “You don’t get to bail now.”

“Is that up to you?”

“Yeah, it is,” Clint said. “You fucking owe me, asshole.”

“That is an interesting perspective on what lies between us.”

So that answered the question about if Loki remembered who Clint was. Anger flared up in Clint’s chest again and he shoved it down because there was nothing he could actually do with it, at least not right now. “It’s the perspective that matters. You’re part of this mess. You’re sticking around to help solve it. Got it?”

Loki said nothing.

“I’m going to take that for agreement,” Clint said savagely. “Close your eyes and try to sleep. We’re going to be driving for a while. I’ll wake you up when it’s time to eat.”

Loki’s eyes didn’t close. He just stared straight ahead, little shakes still periodically going through him. Clint clenched his jaw and tried to ignore it, and him.

Clint knew security cameras would catch him at the gas station, but there was no way of helping that. The tank had only been about a quarter full when he’d peeled out, and better to stop sooner rather than later, while they still had a lead. He was just going to have to keep moving fast. Ditch the car soon, too, swap it out for something that wasn’t registered under his name. Used to be he’d tease Nat for being overly paranoid about the need for contingency plans and escape routes and backups. He’d have to eat crow next time he saw her.

If she didn’t knock him out cold the second she saw him with Loki.

“Sit tight,” he told Loki, and found a blind spot, checking the cameras carefully before dialing Laura’s number.

She picked up on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Laura,” Clint said. “It’s me. I can’t talk long. Has anyone called you?”

“Clint? What’s this number?” The shock in her voice gave way quickly to worry. “What happened? No, no one’s called me–”

“Something’s, uh - come up,” he said, and then grimaced and said, “no, sorry. It’s just - kind of hard to explain.”

“Clint,” Laura said, a warning in her voice. He blew out a loud breath.

“I’m not on the farm,” he said. Silence. “So, uh...you’re probably going to be getting a call in a while asking if you’ve heard from me. Tell them the truth. I don’t...I don’t want you or the kids in trouble.”

“What the fuck are you doing,” Laura said, Laura who never swore, and Clint cringed.

“There’s something bad on the way,” he said. “Really bad.”

“What does that mean?” Her voice was rising dangerously. Clint swallowed. If he didn’t tell her then she wouldn’t have anything to deny. But...he’d always tried to be truthful with her, as much as he could.

“Loki turned up in our field three-quarters dead after an attack by some monster named Thanos who is apparently trying to collect a bunch of magic stones to wipe out half the life in the universe,” Clint said.

“Oh,” Laura said. She sounded faint. Clint hoped she was sitting down.

“I can’t stay on the bench,” he said. “Not for something like this.”

“You said...Loki turned up in our field?”

“Yeah,” Clint said, and then let out a slightly hysterical sounding laugh. “He’s sitting in the car right now.”

Several seconds ticked by. Clint wondered if Laura had turned off the microphone so he wouldn’t hear her scream, but then he heard her take a deep breath and say “are you out of your mind?”

“Maybe,” Clint said. “I don’t know. But Laura...I don’t think he’s lying about this Thanos thing. And that means…”

“You can’t stay out of it.” She sounded tired. But not like she was going to argue. She understood. She hated it, but she understood. “But Clint...you’re alone with him. Is that...”

“Safe?” Clint paused. “I know this is going to sound weird, but other than the fact that I feel kind of like I’m going crazy...I don’t think he’s going to attack me, or anything. And right now he’s in a neck brace and a sling and barely coherent, so…”

“God,” Laura said. “Clint…”

“I know,” he said. “Trust me, I know.” He took a deep breath. “I have to go. If they haven’t realized I’m gone yet, they will soon, and I need to put some distance between me and them before then. I don’t know when I’ll be able to call again.”

“Be careful,” Laura said.

“You too.” Clint swallowed hard. “And...get to a safe place. I don’t know what the next week is going to look like, but I don’t think it’s going to be pretty.”

When he got off the phone, he smashed it with his heel and threw out the pieces, then headed back to the car. Loki hadn’t moved. If it weren’t for the fact that Clint could see his chest moving - barely - he would’ve thought he’d up and died while Clint was gone.

He threw the water bottles in the back after ripping out two from the case and tossed the bottle of orange juice on Loki’s lap as he climbed in and started the engine. “Drink that,” he said. “They didn’t have anything that’d be easy on your throat, so we’ll start with juice. At least it’s got some sugar in it.” Nothing, and Clint made a frustrated noise. “Come on. I know this sucks, but work with me a little here.”

He hated, really hated, that fucking wheedling note in his voice. Fuck Loki for doing this to him.

Loki opened his eyes. “It hurts to swallow,” he said mechanically. “Do you know what it feels like? Not just having your neck bruised, but crushed. Cartilage crunching as it gives way. Every time I swallow it is a reminder, and my throat closes, and that is a reminder too.”

Clint almost flinched, catching himself just in time. That was altogether too vivid and Clint didn’t particularly want to think about it. So he wouldn’t. He was really fucking good at compartmentalizing.

“You still need to get something in your system,” he said, ruthless. “Drink. It.”

Loki moved, finally, unscrewing the cap with hands that were shaking bad enough that Clint was worried he’d spill all over the inside of the car. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Loki took one small sip and then another.

“You don’t happen to know any of the chemicals your people would use for painkillers, do you,” Clint asked, just in case.

“Not in terminology you could understand.”

“Yeah,” Clint said. “I kind of figured that was the answer.” He sighed, and bit back his sorry, because he shouldn’t have to apologize, didn’t have to apologize, was never fucking going to apologize, for anything, to Loki.

"Did you reach her?" Loki asked abruptly. His voice still rasped in a way that made Clint want to flinch. "Your wife?" Clint glanced at him sideways. It wasn't like he hadn't known that Loki knew about his family - Loki knew everything about him, and just thinking that made Clint's skin want to crawl off his body. Hearing him say it like that, though, still kicked up some panic instinct that made him want to shove Loki out of the car and drive away.

"Yeah," he made himself say. "I did."

Loki just nodded. His eyes closed, and he fell silent again.

"How long is it going to take you to heal?" Clint asked bluntly.

"I don't know," he said. "I have never had my neck broken before." There was a dryness to his voice, but it still wobbled slightly, betraying his nonchalance. Clint sighed.

"You're going to need new clothes," he said. "Yours are a mess."

Loki went a little pale. "I can't...fix that right now."

Clint blinked, then remembered the footage of Loki seemingly transforming in a few seconds from a bespoke looking suit into alien armor. "Right," he said. "Wasn't thinking you would, anyway. I meant sweats and a t-shirt, something more like that." Loki's eyes slanted in his direction, and Clint sighed. "Yeah, that wouldn't mean anything to you, would it. Don't worry about it. I'll take care of it."

"Thank you," Loki said, though he sounded uncertain. Clint shifted uncomfortably.

"Yeah, whatever," he said. "Don't make me regret this."

Loki huffed out a quiet breath. "Don't you already?" He said, too tired to be ironic. Clint grit his teeth and didn't answer. Loki closed his eyes, and Clint let him. It was already going to be a long ride; there was no need to make it longer.

Either Loki somehow went to sleep or he fell unconscious again, because after about an hour of quiet he jerked up with a gasp of "Thor--!" and then quickly broke off. His hands flew up to the neck brace like he was going to claw it off, his breathing quickening, and Clint reached out to catch him.

"Stop it," he said sharply. "That's supposed to be there."

Loki took a gasping breath. "Choking me," he said.

"No," Clint said. "It's not. That's you. Panicking." Loki's breaths only got shorter, and Clint tightened his grip on Loki's wrist, though he wondered if he could even really feel it, and damn if this didn't feel familiar. "Hey. Hey. Look at me."

Loki twisted to stare at him, eyes wide and fuck, scared, and Clint hated this so goddamn much.

"It's okay," Clint said, trying to sound soothing. "Nobody's dying. You're just - freaking out."

Loki clawed himself back, though it took a while and out of the corner of Clint's eye he looked pale, exhausted, and shaky. Yeah, he's going to be real helpful, a dry part of Clint's brain said, and he grimaced just a little at how callous that was.

"Better?" He said, eventually. Loki made a strangled sound that might pass for a laugh somewhere, maybe.

"For a given value."

That seemed like a fair answer. Clint grimaced. "We got maybe a half an hour to the next town," he said. "I'm going to dump this car there and jack another one. Get you some fresh clothes while we're at it. From there it'll be another couple of hours to the first safe house."

"And then?" Loki asked.

Jesus fuck. I don't know. "I'm kind of flying by the seat of my pants, here. If you've got any suggestions, I'm open to ideas."

"What about your compatriots? Shouldn't you be seeking them out?"

"They're not exactly the easiest to get in touch with right now." Tony. He could probably get Tony, but it was anyone's guess whether he'd actually help or just have Clint arrested. Especially when he heard about Loki. "And getting to them would probably involve a plane, which, can't exactly pull one of those out of my ass."

Loki frowned faintly. At least he seemed more lucid. Paying attention. "Why aren't you in contact with them?"

"Long story," Clint said flatly, "also none of your business." He grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck and wracking his brain. Loki fell quiet again, and Clint almost regretted snapping at him. He'd probably find out eventually. Was there any real point in holding out?

Clint's satisfaction at not telling him, mostly.

Breathing out through his nose, irritated at everyone in this goddamn car (including himself), Clint reached out and turned on the radio, tuning it to the news.

"--mysterious attack on New York," he heard, and immediately sat bolt upright. "The object that appeared over the city appears to be gone, but significant damage remains in the vicinity of Bleecker Street, where the attack seems to have been centered."

Loki jerked forward, eyes widening. "No," he said breathlessly. "No, already--"

"That him?" Clint asked, jerking his head at the radio. Loki looked like he was going to start hyperventilating again. "Hey," Clint said sharply. "Focus."

"Yes. It has to be. Or at least - his lackeys. With the Tesseract - the Space Stone...and one of the others is there. In that city." Loki was shivering again, shaking like a leaf, both his hands balled into fists.

“One of the others? Which one? How do you know?”

“Magic recognizes magic,” Loki said, and Clint was pretty sure that if he hadn’t been on the verge of losing it, there would have been a lot more snide you idiot in there. He didn’t miss it. “There’s a sorcerer–”

Right, yeah, Loki’d mentioned that. The things you missed when you were stuck on house arrest and out of the loop. “What do you know about - okay, doesn’t matter. Broadcast said that they were gone.”

“Then they have it,” Loki said, his voice weak. “They wouldn’t have left without - achieving their goal. Or dying first.”

“Shit,” Clint said. “Shit. So that’s - that’s, what, two out of six?”

“Three,” Loki said. “He had - he had Power, already. I gave him-” his breathing hitched and Clint was ready for him to lose it, but he held it together. “I gave him Space. And now a third - I would guess either Time or Mind–”

“Time,” Clint said, gripping the steering wheel. “It’d have to be Time.”

A brief silence in which he could just hear Loki’s rasping breathing. “What do you know,” he asked.

“Doesn’t matter,” Clint said flatly, though he didn’t really know why he was holding back. What was Loki going to do with the info now? Maybe just because, fuck, he really needed some kind of proof that he was still in control, here. He expected Loki to argue with him, but he didn’t; Clint supposed that shouldn’t really be a surprise. Loki didn’t seem to have much fight in him right now.

“Okay,” he said. “Okay. So...three out of six. That’s…” That was bad. Really bad. “What about the other two?”

Loki looked like he wanted to curl up and press himself into the seat. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Cut it the fuck out,” Clint said harshly. “You’re giving up? Where’s the guy who pried himself out of a hole in the floor after getting beat by the Hulk and asked for a drink?”

Loki closed his eyes. “I know when I’m beaten.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t,” Clint snapped. “And I’m dragging you along with me, so pull yourself together and help.” He sucked in a breath and went low. “Do you think Thor would be moping around waiting to die?”

Loki sucked in a breath and Clint saw his body seize up and his face tighten and for a second thought, whatever Loki’s shitty condition, he might’ve signed his own death warrant. A moment later he swallowed hard, jaw clenching and then relaxing.

“Don’t,” he said, voice rough, “bring him up again.” Clint said nothing, waiting, and Loki closed his eyes. “You need to find a way to contact your friends,” he said. “The only way you stand a chance at all is together.”

“Yeah,” Clint said under his breath. “If only it was that easy.” If he knew how to get in touch with his friends, he would’ve called them the second Loki dropped in the middle of his front yard.

Shit. Well. He knew where to find at least one person, though Clint wasn’t feeling much like calling him a friend these days. He was going to have to get another phone.

Hopefully Tony would actually listen and not just sic some of Ross’s dogs on him. At least it might help that New York had already been hit. He’d know Clint wasn’t making shit up for fun.

God, he wished he was.

“Drink some more orange juice,” he said flatly, fixing his eyes on the road. He could feel Loki eyeing him sidelong.

But he drank the orange juice. So that was fucking something.

Chapter Text

Tony wasn’t answering his fucking phone.

There was no way even he had a way of knowing that it was Clint calling, at least at first. Maybe he’d thought it was spam, but he’d left three voicemails so far telling him to pick up his phone and stop being a self-centered fuckwad, or did you miss the attack on New York?

No answer. He’d have tried Pepper, but he didn’t have her number.

Clint hung up on his fourth attempt to reach Tony and couldn’t keep himself from shouting “ fuck! ” at the top of his lungs. The side door of the car was open and he could feel Loki staring at him. Spinning around, he snapped, “what are you looking at?”

Loki flinched, which just made Clint want to yell at him more. Shake him and say pull yourself together, asshole, you helped make this mess, you’re going to help fix it. I don’t care how freaked out you are.

Another worrying part of him kept telling him that he should be helping. Offering some kind of - fuck, comfort.

He told himself it was only human. Someone was that fucked up, anyone with a heart would want to help.

Didn’t make him feel a whole lot better about it.

“What’s happening,” Loki said. He was tense enough that it looked like he might start shaking.

“I’m trying to get in touch with Tony,” Clint said. “He’s not picking up.” Loki’s eyebrows furrowed a little and Clint added, “Tony Stark. You threw him out a window.” He scowled. “I can kind of understand the urge at this point. But he’s the only one I know how to reach.”

“Are the others dead?” Loki asked.

“No,” Clint said automatically, but...he didn’t actually know that, did he? They could be. It was a dangerous world out there, especially for rogue Avengers on the lam. Plenty of people had reasons to want them dead. Some of them might have the means.

“Then why can’t you reach them?” Loki asked again.

“I just can’t!” Fuck He was going to have to tell him, wasn’t he. “Some stuff happened. The Avengers split up. Half of us went into hiding.”

“Us,” Loki said. “But not you?”

“They offered me a deal,” Clint said, his voice flat. “Security for my family in exchange for house arrest. Since Stark spilled the beans about them...I did what I had to.” Why was he defending himself to Loki? He didn’t need to defend himself at all.

Except he was, sometimes, a little ashamed. For backing down. He knew why he’d had to do it, but he still hated himself, a little, for not holding his ground.

Loki didn’t say anything, though, and Clint remembered that he’d made his own deal, worse than accepting a government leash. Loki’s choice might’ve doomed the entire goddamn universe.

Oh, good. There was the anger.

“You know,” he said, “I’ve been wondering. You said Thanos sent you here for the Tesseract. Is that true?”

Loki gave him a dull look. “Why would I lie?”

“I don’t know,” Clint said. “Maybe trying to pin the blame on someone else? Didn’t want to admit you were happy to sell out to Thanos as long as you got something out of it?” Loki’s jaw tightened and then relaxed. He looked away.

“Does it matter now?”

“Does it?” Clint’s voice was hard. “See, if he sent you here, that means you’ve known about him for years. What he wanted. What he was trying to do. And you still agreed to put one of those things in his hands?”

Loki twitched, his eyes flicking toward Clint and then away. His hands twisted together. “It wasn’t that simple,” he said, and the faint tremor in his voice almost overwhelmed the simmering in Clint’s stomach. Almost.  

“Yeah, okay,” Clint said after a second. “I can believe he’s not the kind of guy it’d’ve been easy to say no to. But tell me this: did you ever think about telling someone about this guy?”

“I did.” Loki was breathing a little too hard, digging his thumb into his palm.

“When,” Clint said ruthlessly. “Because three years ago when I last saw Thor he sure as fuck didn’t say anything about a homicidal space warlord. In fact, he said you were dead. ” He knew he should probably stop, but now that he’d gotten going all the pent up frustration and fear and anger and confusion were damn hard to shut back down. “So what that tells me is that you were sitting on this info for at least three years, probably longer considering Thor didn’t come back to give anyone the heads up. Am I right?”

“No one asked, ” Loki said. Hissed, really. He’d gone pale and his hands were clenched into fists. “No one ever asked me anything about what happened, or how I survived, or–”

“So you kept your mouth shut about an intergalactic threat because your feelings were hurt?” Clint said. “Nice. Real nice. And now here we are, on the brink of the fucking apocalypse, your own brother–”

He cut off, realizing too late that he’d crossed a line. He tensed, ready for Loki to lash out, but instead he just...crumpled. The brief glimpse of naked expression on his face before he closed off completely made Clint want to wince. Shit.

“You’re right,” Loki said, his voice hoarse, and Clint thought it was only partly because of his damaged throat. “I should have said something. I should have told him sooner. Maybe he would still be…” He trailed off, eyes open but staring at nothing.

Clint cleared his throat, suddenly just feeling rotten. Big man, Barton, kicking a guy while he’s down. Never mind that, even like this, Loki was almost certainly still physically capable of killing him at least twice over. Psychologically...that was another thing.

“Doesn’t matter now,” he said. “We need to focus on what we’re gonna do next.”

“I didn’t want to think about it,” Loki said, like he hadn’t heard Clint at all. “About him. I wanted to believe that I’d escaped. Like a child - like a stupid child, I imagined that if I didn’t speak of him he would remain...no more than a nightmare.” He swallowed hard, and winced with it. “I never thought he would be successful. ”

Jesus Christ. Clint didn’t want to be the one dealing with this. He wasn’t cut out for it. He wasn’t cut out for fucking any of this. He was an assassin, a marksman, really fucking good with a bow and arrow.

He wasn’t a therapist. He was barely even a proper hero.

Tough fucking tomatoes. Do you see anyone else, Barton?

Clint ran his fingers through his hair. “Yeah,” he said tiredly. “I guess if you’d said ‘some guy sent me here so he can use the Tesseract as part of his plan to kill half the universe’ in 2012, we probably wouldn’t’ve believed you anyway.”

Loki let out a ragged sound that might have passed for a laugh somewhere, with someone. He didn’t say anything, though, and his stare forward looked a little thousand-yard. Nice going. Send him spiraling for the sake of venting a little. There were lines of pain around Loki’s mouth.

“How’s your neck,” Clint asked awkwardly, by way of peace offering.

“Broken,” Loki said. Clint grimaced.

“Yeah,” he said. “I know. I meant more...is it getting better.”

“Yes.” Loki’s chest was barely moving with his breaths. Clint felt a burst of frustration.

“You’re being real talkative, aren’t you,” he said, and walked around to get in the driver’s seat and start up the car again. Loki twisted toward him, but having that flat, distant gaze actually looking at him wasn’t actually any better. At least he was getting better at remembering not to try turning his head.

“Would you rather I were?” Loki said, and there was something soft and vicious in his voice even with the lingering rasp that made the hair on the back of Clint’s neck all stand on end. “I think not. I am aware that you do not want me here. No doubt you would rather have Thor. That is fine; I would rather you had Thor, too. Don’t think I am not aware of the long and manifold list of my failures. That does not mean I want them enumerated to me by you. ”

Well, shit, Clint thought. That was probably the most Loki had said in one go since he’d dropped into Clint’s field like a half-dead meteor.

What was he supposed to say to that?

“There someone you’d rather have them - ‘enumerated to you’ by?” he said, before his brain completely caught up to his mouth. Loki’s expression somehow flattened further and he twisted back forward, leaning against the seat back with his mouth a flat line and his eyes eerily blank.

“No one living,” he said, and yeah, he’d walked into that one, hadn’t he.

“Let’s just go,” Clint said. “We might as well head east toward NYC. Unless you’ve got better ideas.”

Loki said nothing. Neither of them mentioned the possibility that Tony might not just be ignoring his calls. That there was another reason he might not be picking up. If Clint was thinking it, though, Loki had to be too.

Tony had the suit, but he was as human as Clint was underneath. All it ever took was one little slip at the wrong time and your number came up.

Clint shoved the rising dread down, compartmentalized it as something to deal with later. Right now he was still a fugitive with an injured and unstable alien in tow.

There was only so much he could take on at once.

After about twenty minutes of silence driving down the highway, Clint put on the radio. Skipped past the news in favor of some top forty bullshit.

Loki didn’t react to his choice of tunes. He looked like he’d spaced out completely, and still, if Clint was honest, only a little better than half dead. He battled down the urge to tell him to drink some juice and focused on the road.

He wasn’t a fucking therapist. Whatever was going on in Loki’s head, he was very far from qualified to deal with it. As long as he kept it together enough to function, they’d be fine.

As long as they lived through the next few days, anyway.

There was only so long Clint could drive without a real break. He probably could compensate with coffee, but Loki hadn’t said a word for the last three hours, Clint’s nerves were fried, and the adrenaline that had been powering him this far was starting to crash.

They’d swapped cars in a shopping mall parking lot a ways back, and while Clint wasn’t about to relax, it seemed likely they might have a bit of time still before pursuit started. Hopefully (and shit, if this wasn’t a nasty thing to hope), the crisis in New York would be occupying some of their attention.

So he pulled over in a motel parking lot and turned off the engine. Loki jerked a little, the first sign of real awareness he’d shown recently.

“We’re stopping?” he said.

“Yeah,” Clint said. “I need to rest. And you probably should too.” He opened the door. “Stay here while I check in, okay?”

Loki gave him an odd look, somewhere between annoyed and spooked. “Must I?”

“Yeah,” Clint said. “Must you. You look like something the cat dragged in. Stay put. I’ll be right back.”

He paid for a room in cash, and after considering the money situation grimaced and got a single. He’d sleep on the floor. However much he hated Loki ( you don’t ) broken necks probably took priority.

He glanced around to make sure no one was watching before poking his head in the car and tossing Loki the keys. “Room 4,” he said. “Go. I’ll get the stuff.”

Loki, to Clint’s faint surprise, obeyed without question. Clint pulled his go bag out of the back seat, along with the supplies he’d picked up at the shopping mall where he’d stolen the car, and followed him into the room.

“There’s only one bed,” Loki said.

“No shit,” Clint said. “I’m not exactly flush with cash. Don’t worry, we’re not sharing.” He set the plastic bag down, dug out the clothes at the bottom, and tossed them on the bed. “You need to change. Also a shower.” Though, Loki looked like he might keel over if he tried to stand too long. “Maybe a bath.”

Loki eyed Clint, and the clothes on the bed, and didn’t move. “What,” Clint said, “do you need someone to show you how to work a faucet?”

Loki stiffened. “Of course not,” he snapped, and snatched the clothes, stalking into the bathroom. Though maybe it looked too unsteady to be a proper stalk.

The door closed firmly behind him and Clint collapsed onto the bed like a puppet with his strings cut, putting his head in his hands. Without Loki right there he was really, truly feeling the exhaustion he’d been trying to avoid. Still, he listened until he heard the faucet in the bathroom start running before getting up and starting to change.

Loki was in the bathroom for long enough that Clint started to wonder if he’d passed out in there, and was starting to think about going to check when the door opened. Loki didn’t step out, though, just said, “I need assistance,” voice both flat and strained.

Clint rubbed his eyes and stood up. “With what?”

“The shirt,” Loki said after a brief pause. “My arm…” He trailed off, and Clint sighed out, wondering how long Loki’d been in there trying to put on his own shirt with one broken arm. And still wishing he’d found some way to figure it out.

“Yeah,” he said. “Come on. We also need to replace the padding on the brace.”

After another moment Loki emerged. He did look a bit better with the grime washed off and out of the battered leather, though the lack of shirt did make obvious the fact that the damage he’d taken wasn’t limited to his neck and arm.

There was also a really, really nasty scar down the middle of his chest, like someone’d done open heart surgery on him and then taped the incision shut rather than using stitches. The fuck, Clint thought, but he pushed that away.

And he looked damn weird in sweatpants.

“You know,” Clint said as Loki approached him slowly, almost warily, “I kind of figured you’d ask for help before hurting yourself trying to do it on your own, but in retrospect that was probably a stupid expectation.” Loki gave him a baleful look that almost made Clint laugh.

“How bad’s the break,” he asked instead, holding out a hand for the shirt - button down, and out of a dumb sense of humor Clint’d gone for plaid. He’d almost hoped Loki would complain about it.

“I’ve had worse,” Loki said. Clint gave him a hard look.

“You’re standing here with a broken neck,” he said. “I know you’ve had worse. Not what I asked.”

Loki glanced down at it. “Both bones in my forearm,” he said. “It should be...healing better.”

“You’ve got bigger problems,” Clint said. “Okay. Well, since I don’t have a splint–” He’d have to get on that, joy - “I guess we’ll just try to not make this too awful an experience for either of us.”

It was better than the neck brace, anyway. Loki sweated and clenched his teeth but thank God didn’t scream, and Clint tried not to think too hard about the part where he was dressing Loki, and Loki was pretty clearly trying to ignore the fact that he needed help getting his own goddamn shirt on.

So all in all: fun. But at least at the end of it he was dressed, and had ditched the wrecked armor he’d almost died in. Clint kind of figured that had to be a relief, at least.

He sat down on the bed and turned on the TV. After a second he switched to the news channel, watching the fly-over footage of New York with a big scar of destruction around Greenwich Village. As far as Clint could tell, none of the reporters knew a goddamn thing. Lot of wild guessing, no real answers.

Loki was standing next to him, cradling his arm to his chest and staring wide-eyed at the footage. Clint shifted uncomfortably. “Look familiar?” he asked, maybe a little unkindly.

“Not really.” Loki’s shoulders were drawn up and slightly hunched. “It’s the Black Order. I’m certain of it. And if they aren’t dead, then they will have achieved their goal, and brought Thanos the Time Stone.” His voice stuttered a little over the name, Clint noticed, every inch of his body screaming terror.”

Maybe Tony was in Malibu, Clint thought. “So that brings him up to what, three?”

Loki twitched. “Yes.”

“Great.” Hopefully he hadn’t gotten Vision as well. Made it a twofer.

If that happened they were probably pretty much for sure all screwed.

He changed the channel over to some procedural, SVU, NCIS, something, they all looked basically the same to him - and turned toward Loki. “Okay,” he said. “So you said that all of these things are accounted for except for one - Soul. That you don’t know where that one is and neither does anyone else.”

“That I know of,” Loki said. “Nobody that I know of. But somebody will. Somebody must. ”

“What’re the odds this guy knows who that ‘somebody’ is, versus that he’s just going to be hunting blind?”

Loki paused, and then said, “I don’t know. I am not...counting on the latter.” His voice was heavy, and he was staring down again, clutching his arm tighter to his chest, lips white.

“Hey,” Clint said awkwardly. “Ease up. You don’t want to make the break worse.”

Loki’s eyes slid toward him sideways. He didn’t exactly relax, but he stopped holding onto his arm like it was a security blanket. Fucking...fuck.

He turned on captions and muted the TV. “Try to get some sleep,” he said. “Betting it’ll help.”

The look Loki threw his way was just plain incredulous. “You think I am going to be able to sleep? ”

“I think you’re gonna try,” Clint said ruthlessly. “You’re gonna be useless to everyone if you don’t.”

Loki’s expression suggested that he was thinking I’m going to be useless anyway, and Clint wasn’t sure he disagreed, but he ignored it. Maybe he should’ve picked up some sleeping pills. Not that they probably would’ve worked anyway. He just stared stubbornly back at Loki, who unbelievably enough backed down first and crawled under the covers. He lay there stiffly (like a corpse, and that was a hell of a thought); Clint turned his back and pretended to be watching the show, though his eyelids felt heavy. He needed to clear out his head a little before he tried sleeping.

It didn’t work too well, though. His thoughts kept circling back to Tony not picking up, his friends scattered across the planet, Loki half dead on a motel bed behind him. Less than twenty-four hours and everything in his life had been upended, and now he was on the run with his worst nightmare trying to stop the apocalypse.

He wished he could call Laura. Or Nat. If wishes were horses, Barney’s voice sneered. Clint turned off the TV and stretched out on the scratchy carpet, piling the spare blankets he’d requested over himself and closing his eyes.

Hell. Maybe tomorrow this would all look better. Or at least like less of a shitshow than it did right now.

Loki must’ve fallen asleep at some point, because he woke up screaming.

Clint slammed into consciousness himself reaching for a weapon before he realized what was happening and scrambled to his feet, swearing. He tripped over a bag and stubbed his toe on the corner of the bed before he made it to where he could shake Loki awake, realized what a terrible idea that was, and settled for a loud-but-not-shouted “wake the fuck up, dammit!”

Thank god, it worked. Loki came flailing awake, eyes wide, trying to sit up only to stop with a sharp and quickly cut off noise of pain. Clint groped for the bedside lamp and turned it on.

“Jesus Christ, ” he said, heart pounding. Loki said nothing, panting, breathing getting shorter and shorter and oh great. “Loki,” Clint said. “ Focus. You’re awake, in a shitty motel, with me. Clint Barton. Deep breaths.”

Somewhere in Clint’s head he registered, again, just how fucking surreal this whole situation was.

Loki’s eyes rolled toward him but he didn’t quite seem to be seeing him, and he was still just taking those hitching breaths like his throat was swelling closed.

“ Deep breaths, ” Clint insisted. “Come on. You can do this. You’re not dying. You’re fine. Okay? You’re fine. ”

Loki wound down an inch at a time, tension draining out of him until he went limp, and Clint was pretty sure the strain of his breathing now was just pain. He slumped back, wishing the chair was closer.

“Fuck,” Clint said. “Our neighbors probably thought someone was being-”

Shit.

Loki’s eyes closed. Even lying down he looked like he wanted to sway. “Didn’t mean to...fall asleep.”

“Not surprised that didn’t work out,” Clint said. He could hear the bite in his own voice and was just glad Loki seemed not to - or maybe was just too preoccupied to care. Either way, good thing. Clint wasn’t actually upset with him.

Mostly. Not about this, anyway.

Loki twitched, squeezing his eyes closed more tightly. “When is it enough,” he said, barely audible, and Clint didn’t really think it was directed at him. “When does it end? ”

Clint’s skin crawled and he said, “not now, asshole.” Loki looked at him like he’d forgotten Clint was there and wasn’t happy to be reminded. “Yeah,” Clint pressed on, doggedly. “I get it. You’re tired. Too damn bad.”

Loki made a faint, rough noise. “Your sympathy is breathtaking,” he said.

“You don’t want my sympathy.”

Loki didn’t argue that. His eyes moved off Clint to stare somewhere else. Nowhere on Earth, Clint was pretty sure. “Go back to sleep,” he said finally. “I won’t wake you again.”

“Don’t give me orders,” Clint said automatically.

“Consider it a suggestion.” The tension had gone out of Loki’s voice, and now he just sounded exhausted, and Clint felt bad again. He grimaced and scrubbed his fingers through his hair. Casting around for something to say, something to do...something. Coming up pretty goddamn empty.

“Don’t strain yourself,” Loki said, and Clint jerked. Loki was looking at him through his eyelashes, expression unreadable. “There is really nothing you can say, and trying appears to be hurting you.”

“You don’t need to be an asshole when I’m trying to be nice,” Clint snapped, stung. “Fine. Whatever. Suit yourself, don’t sleep. We’ll both have a great time when the hallucinations start.” Loki just looked at him, and Clint shook his head. “What the fuck do you want me to do? This isn’t just about you. You’re already shit company and I doubt sleep deprivation’s going to help.”

Loki said nothing. His shoulders hunched slightly, a defensive little move like he was getting ready for Clint to hit him, and if that didn’t make Clint’s stomach clench up in a hard little knot. He exhaled, rubbed his eyes, and said, “this isn’t your first go round.”

It wasn’t a question, and Loki’s eyes flicked back toward him fast. Clint rolled his shoulders back. “You think I forgot? You weren’t sleeping - then, either.”

“There wasn’t exactly a great deal of time.”

“Yeah,” Clint said. His skin was crawling, but he pressed onward. “But you were exhausted then, too. Running on fumes.” It’d pissed him off, back then. That he wouldn’t take a fucking break to take care of himself.

Jesus fuck he didn’t want to be thinking about this. Didn’t want to think about Loki fresh out of hell and the desperate relief in his smile when Clint - turned.

He scrubbed his mouth. “Too bad sleeping pills aren’t an option,” he said flatly. That was the only way he’d slept, the first months after. Loki’s face didn’t so much as twitch.

“What’s your point,” Loki said finally. Wary, like he expected a trap.

Good question. “Fuck if I know,” Clint said wearily. “Don’t suppose your magic thing can soundproof a room.”

“It could,” Loki said after a several second pause, “if I had the strength to spare.”

“But you’ll get it back,” Clint said, and fuck, Loki actually having his powers would sure as hell be useful, but it also made Clint’s skin feel like crawling off his body.

“Eventually. Provided I live that long.”

“Thanks,” Clint said. “Real encouraging.” He rubbed his aching eyes. “I need to get some more sleep. I guess you can always sleep in the car.” He went back over to his spot on the floor.

“Barton,” Loki said abruptly, and he stopped, tensing.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Loki said, after a long pause. “Never mind.”

Clint almost pushed, but dammit, he didn’t really care what Loki had to say. Or didn’t want to care. It could at least wait until morning; hopefully Loki would hold off any more screaming fits until then.

If it were you you wouldn’t be any better off, said a little voice.

Yeah, well, if it were me I wouldn’t even be alive, Clint shot back, and closed his eyes with grim determination to actually get some fucking sleep.

Early in the morning, just after sunup, they got back on the road.

“Any better,” Clint asked, gesturing at Loki’s neck.

“Yes,” Loki said. There was still that faint rasp to his voice, but he said, “slowly.”

Clint tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. “Would it usually take this long?”

“No,” Loki said. “But I haven’t come this close to dying before, either.”

Clint thought of the scar he’d seen again, remembered Thor mentioning briefly that Loki had died (obviously not), thought about asking, and decided against it. “Yeah,” he said. “Okay. Fair enough.”

“Apologies for the inconvenience,” Loki said.

“Yeah,” Clint said flatly. “I’d like a refund.” Loki made a noise that fell just short of a laugh, and Clint was briefly pleased, and then was pissed at himself for being pleased.

The highway they were on wasn’t too crowded, but every time traffic slowed down Clint got tense, half expecting a checkpoint up ahead. He turned on the radio again, but there were no reports of fugitives; the reports about New York had been shunted to the side by another shooting. Clint switched the station back to music and started looking for someplace to get breakfast.

They pulled over at a diner (risking security cameras, but fuck, Clint needed some real food). “Are you up to something solid now,” Clint asked Loki. “Because the fact that you haven’t eaten anything might be part of your healing problem.”

Loki’s expression remained flat. “I am not hungry.”

“Too bad,” Clint said. “And not the question I asked.”

A spark of faint defiance, but it faded quickly and he just stared at Clint, expressionless.

Shit. Clint didn’t want to have to bully Loki into eating. Let him fucking starve, if he was going to be like this about it. “Fine,” he snapped. “Stay in the car. Your choice.” He got out and slammed the door.

Clint wolfed down a stack of pancakes and slammed back three cups of coffee.

On the way out he ordered a fucking yogurt parfait.

“Eat it,” he said to Loki, shoving it in his direction without looking at him. “You owe me. And I paid for it. Don’t make me waste the money.”

Loki’s eyes slanted in his direction. “You are buying me food as part of the debt I owe,” Loki said.

“No,” Clint said. “You’re doing what I say as part of the debt you owe. That you’re never going to pay off, so as long as you’re stuck with me, that’s how this is going to work. Okay?”

Loki just stared at him, still blank, and said, “I could leave.”

“You’re not going to,” Clint said, vicious. “You don’t have anywhere else to fucking go. ”

It was a low blow and he knew it. And there was a chance, he knew, that Loki would walk away just to be contrary. But he was pretty sure that whatever Loki thought about Clint, he didn’t want to be on his own.

He took the parfait, and the spoon. Clint watched him until he started eating it, then said, “ thank you,” and started the engine.

You could leave him, whispered a voice - Barney’s - at the back of his head. How much good is he really going to be?

Shit. He probably should. Dump Loki by the side of the road like an unwanted litter of kittens.

He wasn’t going to.

“Thank you,” Loki said stiffly, after they’d been driving in dead silence for maybe twenty minutes.

“Yeah,” Clint said. “Whatever.”

It happened around midday.

It. Clint didn’t know at first what it was, only that the car in front of him suddenly swerved, veering across his lane, and he slammed on the brakes with a shout. Loki lurched forward against the seatbelt Clint had thankfully made him put on and let out a muffled cry at the jolt to his neck. Clint bit back and apology and said instead, “what the fuck!” thinking at first he was being cut off, but the car kept going, drifting across the highway and slamming into the guard rail on the other side.

And then everything went to hell.

It was like half the drivers on the road suddenly lost their minds. Clint pulled to the side in a hurry, swearing, only to stare in horror as a semi bore down on them at fifty miles per hour, with no sign of stopping. Loki’s hands came up, abruptly, and the truck hit - something, and crumpled against it like it’d met a steel wall.

Loki’s hands dropped and he slumped back, panting, curled up around his broken arm. Horns were blaring. There was a five car pile-up to his left.

“What the fuck,” Clint said again, his voice shaking. “What the fucking fuck- ”

Wounded, he thought. There’d be people in those cars. He needed to call emergency services, see if he could do any triage…

He opened the door and stumbled out, going to the nearest car crashed into the guard rail.

There was no one in it. The driver’s seat was empty. Mostly empty, anyway, other than a pile of what looked like ashes.

Clint’s stomach lurched up into his throat. He took three steps back and reached for his phone even as part of him thought this is way beyond 911, Barton .

“He did it,” he heard Loki say, his voice faraway and hoarse. “He did it.”

“What,” Clint said, only it didn’t come out intelligible and he had to try again. “What did…”

“I told you,” Loki said. “Half of all life.” He swayed, looking like he was barely staying upright. “Thanos gathered the Infinity Stones. He brought them together. And he killed half the universe.”

Clint stared at him. He remembered Loki saying. He remembered thinking shit, that’s insane.

Somehow he hadn’t really managed to think what it would look like if he succeeded.

Because somehow, he hadn’t really believed that he would.

Half of all life. Half the people on Earth. Gone.

Clint dialed, numbly, thinking please please please pick up pick up.

The phone rang. And rang. And rang.

“Laura,” he said, when it got to voicemail. “Laura, call me back. Call me back right now.”

He hung up. A car alarm was blaring. Clint could see a few people crawling out of the wreckage, knew he should be helping, should be doing something, but he just stared at Loki, clutching his phone and willing it to ring. And Loki looked back at him, expression bleak. Like he’d expected nothing more than this, all along.

Welcome to hell, Clint thought his expression said. I’ve been waiting for you to join me.

Chapter Text

Clint managed to shake himself out of his numb horror enough to try to help. As much as he could, anyway - there was pathetically little he could do other than try to get people out of their wrecked cars, and treat the minor injuries he could. Everyone else looked as dazed and shell-shocked, as confused and horrified, as Clint felt. And he had an advantage on them.

At least he knew what had happened.

He didn’t tell anyone that, though, just mumbled “I don’t know” when they asked. Didn’t know how the fuck he’d even explain it, and thought he might fall apart if he tried.

Why, why, why. Everyone wanted to know, and Clint had even less of an explanation for that.

“You could be helping,” he snapped at Loki, when he circled back to the car and found him right where he’d left him, sitting on the blacktop next to the car.

“How,” Loki said. “I have one functioning arm, a damaged spine, and if anyone recognizes me it is likely to make everything quite a bit worse.”

He was right, and Clint hated him for it. Hated him for his calm. Clint kept trying to tell himself that maybe Laura was just out of cell range, or not picking up because things had gone batshit around her and any minute now she was going to call, frantic, telling him that she was okay and the kids were okay and it was all - okay.

“So you’re just going to sit there and do nothing?” Clint growled.

“What are you going to do?” Loki asked.

“Help,” Clint said, almost viciously. “People are hurt. At least until someone can get emergency services on the line-”

They’re not going to. It’s going to be like this everywhere. If not worse. Planes losing pilots in midair. Half the government gone. Chaos. And how many people will even know why?

He swallowed hard, his throat closing, and dug his fingertips into his eyes. “Fine,” he said. “Fine. Do whatever you want, but I’m going to try to make myself useful.”

Loki’s lips twisted, but he didn’t say anything. Clint turned on his heel and went back to what he’d been doing. There was a hole chewing itself in his stomach, though, and his thoughts kept going back to Laura, and to his team. Were they still alive, wherever they were?

No way of knowing.

He could be the last one standing. The only Avenger left on the planet.

Fuck. Fuck.

“Help me!”

Clint spun around. An SUV had crashed into a sedan, crumpling it; the SUV was empty, but Clint could see someone in the back of the sedan. He jogged over, checking the front seat, but it was empty except for those piles of ash.

In the back...Clint’s teeth clicked together. She couldn’t be more than eight or nine, her face streaked with tears, still buckled in. Must’ve been her parents in the front. Clint wasn’t sure if he wanted to scream or cry.

“Hey,” he said, trying to keep his voice level. “I’m gonna get you out of there, okay?”

“Mom,” she said. “Where’s Mom and Dad?”

Clint choked on an answer. “It’s gonna be okay,” he said, lying. “Let’s just…” The door had crumpled inward. She might be able to get through the window, but he wasn’t sure she’d come through without bleeding. He tried the door just in case, but it didn’t budge, and he swore under his breath. “Okay, kiddo,” he said. “What we’re gonna do-”

A hand reached past him and wrenched the door off its hinges, ripping it all the way off the car and dropping it to the road with a clang. Clint turned around and looked up at Loki, who looked down at him, face blank, and then walked away. The little girl let out a startled yelp and stared at Clint, wide-eyed, then dissolved fully into tears.

He extracted her the rest of the way from the wreckage (Lila, Cooper, they’re okay they’ve gotta be okay) and set her on her feet. Loki hadn’t gone far - only a few feet away with his back turned. “Where’s Mom,” the girl said again.

“Uh,” Clint said, his mind gone completely blank. “Sweetheart…”

“She is gone,” Loki said. “Dead. Your father as well, I gather.”

Oh, fuck you, Clint thought wearily. The girl turned toward Loki, staring up at him, her sobs momentarily pausing before redoubling in intensity. Fuck you very, very much.

“Do you have a phone, sweetheart?” Clint asked gently. She looked toward the car, still crying, and Clint trekked over to check. He found a phone under the front seat and to his relief it still turned on. “What’s your name?” he asked, checking the contacts for someone - an aunt, or a grandparent, something.

Please, god, let her have someone left.

“Julia,” she said, voice trembling.

“I’m Clint,” he said. “I’m going to call...Aunt Irene. Is that okay? We’re going to get you away from here and somewhere safe.”

“I want my mom,” Julia said.

“I know,” Clint said. “I’m so sorry, kiddo.” He raised the phone to his ear. Pick up, pick up.

“I don’t understand,” she said, bewildered, plaintive, looking for an explanation he didn’t fucking have.

“Hello? Julia?” A frantic voice on the other end, and Clint breathed out loudly, squeezing his eyes closed. Realizing he’d been afraid that the kid would be completely on her own. He didn’t know what he would’ve done then. Take her with them? With Loki?

“Hey,” Clint said. “Julia’s here - just a second,” and he held the phone out to her. “It’s your aunt.”

Julia gulped a couple times, blinking at him. She was trembling a little; shock setting in, Clint thought. She was overloading. But she took the phone. “Aunt Irene?” she said, wobbly. “The car crashed, and, and mom and dad…something happened, I don’t know what’s going on-” She started crying again, too hard to talk, and Clint gently took the phone back from her.

“Are you close by?” he asked. “She’s on her own here. I can drive her to her house, or if there’s somewhere else she can go…”

“Oh god,” Irene said. “Oh god - what’s happening? Do you know what’s happening?”

“Ma’am,” Clint said, keeping his voice level with an effort. “Right now - right now what’s important to me is getting Julia somewhere safe. Where are you? Can I take her to you?”

“Oh god,” she said again, and then took a shuddering breath. “Jenny and Carl, they’re really - they’re - are they…”

“Ma’am,” Clint repeated. She took another breath.

“Yes,” he said. “Yes, we’re close by. Can I give you an address?”

“Yeah,” Clint said. “I’ll take an address. Go ahead.” He didn’t need to write it down. His memory was good enough for that. He kept one eye on Julia, who looked like she might collapse any second, and the other on Loki, who still hadn’t moved, his arms folded around himself, staring at...who the fuck knew what he was staring at. Maybe nothing on this planet.

Clint hung up the phone and held it out to Julia, who took it, clutching it like a lifeline and back to staring at him.

“Okay,” he said. “I’m going to take you to your aunt. Okay? My name’s Clint.” Give her something to do. Something to focus on. “Can you get the directions to her house on your phone?”

She nodded, but her eyes strayed back over to the wrecked car with its piles of ash that had been her parents. Clint took a deep breath. “Let’s go. Get out of here.”

“I don’t want to leave,” Julia said. “I’m not - I’m not supposed to get in cars with strangers.”

Shit. “This once, it’s okay,” Clint said. “Besides, I’m-” well, worth a try. “I’m a superhero, actually. You know the Avengers?”

She gave him a confused look and nodded, barely.

“I’m Hawkeye,” he said, with an attempt at a smile that couldn’t possibly have looked very good. “The guy with the bow, yeah?”

It took a second for the recognition to dawn on her face. “Oh,” she said, and he’d worried she’d be angry about how he hadn’t saved a single goddamn person from this shitshow, but she just went sort of limp and nodded, and let him take her hand when he reached out.

“Lo-” he cut himself off. “Hey, you,” he said. “We’re leaving.”

Loki didn’t move, and Clint grimaced. “Hey,” he said, louder, and that time Loki’s shoulders twitched and he turned around, like he was just then coming back to life. Or Earth, anyway. His gaze went to Julia.

“What are you going to do with her?” he asked.

“We’re going to her aunt’s house,” Clint said. Loki stared at Clint for several seconds, and then his mouth twisted and he looked away.

“I suppose it makes no difference what you do now,” he said.

“Who are you?” Julia asked.

“You don’t want to know,” Loki said, and turned to walk back to the car ahead of them. Julia looked at Clint.

“Don’t worry about him,” he said. “He’s just...grumpy.” Yeah, sure. That covered it. At least Julia seemed to accept it, or maybe she was just too exhausted and overwhelmed to push.

Loki was back in the passenger side seat. His eyes were closed like he was sleeping, but Clint doubted it. Still, at least it meant he didn’t have to worry about what Loki might say to Julia.

There was so much clamoring in Clint’s head, a thousand things that he couldn’t take right now, not all at once. One thing at a time, he told himself. And right now that was getting at least one fucking little girl to safety.

At least as much as anywhere was safe when the world was falling apart.

Clint managed to get the car off the highway and onto a road with few enough cars that driving was possible. He tried to ignore the ones he did see, the people next to them looking bewildered and dazed, staring at him as he drove by. Loki, thank god, kept his mouth shut.

Clint tried to keep Julia engaged, asking her innocent questions, but she just withdrew further into herself and went quiet, shock taking over.

At least there wasn’t that far to go. Half an hour. Either she lived close by or they’d been visiting family.

Clint knew he was thinking about trivia so he didn’t think about anyone else, but he didn’t try to stop himself. You did what you could to hang on to sanity, and right now he desperately needed to hang on to his sanity. He was the only one in the car right now who had any.

Maybe that was unfair to Julia.

He glanced sideways at Loki, whose eyes were closed, but the tension in his jaw and the lines of pain around his eyes gave away that he wasn’t asleep. It occurred to Clint that pulling off car doors wasn’t probably the best move for someone recovering from serious injury.

“Drink some more juice,” Clint said, before he could stop himself. Loki said nothing, and Clint’s voice hardened. “Come on. We talked about this.”

Loki opened one eye and looked at him. Clint tightened his hands on the wheel and turned his eyes back forward.

“I am not thirsty.”

“I don’t care.”

“Have you heard from Laura?”

That hit Clint like a slap. Not just the question - the casual use of her name, the reminder that Loki knew her name, knew all his kids’ names, and he was asking, like he actually wanted to know, or maybe this was just him kicking at Clint for telling him to do something he didn’t want to do and either way for a second Clint wanted to turn and punch him in the throat.

He doubted he’d do any actual damage, but it would sure as fuck hurt.

“No,” he said flatly.

Loki let out a very quiet breath. “I am sorry.”

Oh, fuck no. Clint almost slammed on the brakes and only didn’t because of Julia in the backseat. “No,” he said, his voice vibrating. “You don’t get to - apologize. You don’t get to say that like you have any right, like it’s some kind of, of, like you know what happened, like they’re - like it’s some kind of foregone conclusion. You don’t get to say you’re sorry, to me, I don’t want your goddamn sympathy and I don’t want your pity, Loki, just because you’re willing to lie down and give up and die doesn’t mean I am-”

Shit. Kid in the car. Traumatized kid in the car, and Clint was yelling, and Loki’s shoulders were hunched like he was expecting Clint to fucking hit him, and he felt like he was going to puke.

He took three deep breaths and twisted around to look at Julia, who was staring at him with wide eyes. “Hey,” he said. “Sorry for shouting.”

“Okay,” she said in a small voice. She glanced back and forth between them like there were things she wanted to ask, and Clint realized he’d just thrown Loki’s name out there and had no idea if she’d recognize it. She didn’t start freaking out more, anyway.

Clint took another deep breath and turned back around. He didn’t apologize to Loki.

(They’re okay. They’ve gotta be okay. I won’t believe anything else.)

Loki didn’t speak up again. He didn’t drink anything either, just sat there perfectly still with his broken arm and broken neck and broken everything, and Clint was pretty sure wherever his head was at it wasn’t in the car.

Julia clung to her aunt like she was never going to let go, and her aunt asked the same question that everyone was: “what’s going on?”

Clint gave her the same answer: “I don’t know.” He doubted saying ‘a crazy alien just killed half of all life using a bunch of magic rocks’ would help. “Is the news working?”

“It was, up until a half an hour ago. It’s a state of emergency but they’re not saying why-”

Clint rubbed his hands on his legs. “I’m sorry,” he said, stupidly, meaninglessly. “I - I hate to ask, but can my - friend and I use your bathroom?”

Irene - Clint remembered that was her name - nodded vaguely, glancing toward the car where Loki hadn’t moved. “Sure,” she said. “I...sure.”

Clint went back to the car, opened the passenger side door, and kicked the seat. “Hey,” he said. “Earth to Loki.”

He blinked, slowly, and looked up. Clint almost flinched from the look in his eyes: hollow and empty like everything behind them had been sucked out. He kept his face stoic, though. “Bathroom break,” he said. “Get up and come on.”

To his immense relief, Loki stood up. He’d half been afraid he’d need to drag him out of the car. The man who must’ve been Irene’s husband had come out to join her and they were both staring at the two of them.

“What happened?” Irene blurted out, maybe too out of it to have her filter on right.

Loki blinked at her and before Clint could say anything, said, “the architect of this chaos tried to kill me.”

Clint could’ve killed him. Both their eyes went round as saucers. Irene’s mouth opened and closed a couple times. “You know - you know who...did this?”

“Yes,” Loki said, like his throat was full of gravel. “Intimately. His name is Thanos. You are among the lucky survivors of his annihilation of half the life in the universe. Congratulations.”

Fuck, Clint thought. Fuck fuck fuck.

Irene made a little hiccuping noise and put her hand over her mouth. Her husband went pale. “Half…?” he said faintly.

“Get inside,” Clint said harshly. “Stop helping, okay?”

“I wasn’t trying to,” Loki said. “But it seems to me you might as well tell people why their world is crumbling. It isn’t going to make it any worse.”

Fuck you, Clint wanted to say, but Julia was right there and he held it back. “Debatable,” he said, and pointed at the house. “Go.”

Loki just looked at him for several seconds with those hollow eyes and then went. Clint turned back. Irene looked like she might faint. “I don’t understand,” she said faintly. “Is it...is that true?”

Clint breathed out through his nose. “Seems like,” he said wearily. “Yeah.”

“You said,” the husband said. “You said you didn’t know. Right? Didn’t you say he said that?”

“I don’t know,” Clint said. “Not for sure. All I have is his word to go on, and - look, does knowing actually help? All you know now is that you’re not the only ones who’ve lost someone, and that things are worse than you knew. You’d’ve figured that out on your own, and maybe you’d’ve had a few hours to fucki- to process before you had to deal with the next shitstorm.” Right, child. Watch your mouth, Clinton Francis Barton.

They both stared blankly at him. Clint could imagine what they were feeling, because it was what he’d be feeling if he let himself stop moving for five seconds to think about the enormity of what had happened. Three and a half billion people. Conservatively.

“I’m sorry,” Clint said, and he meant it. “As soon as I use your bathroom, we need to go. I...I have a family, too.” His throat closed as he said it. He hadn’t really meant to.

But he’d been thinking it. Since the second everything went to hell, he’d been thinking it, a scream in the back of his head Laura Nathaniel Lila Cooper oh god oh fuck oh god.

Now Irene and her husband - what the fuck was his name, should he know it? - were looking at him with pity. Irene was stroking Julia’s hair like if she stopped Julia might vanish too.

“Sorry,” Clint said again, “and thanks,” and went after Loki before he had to hear their response.

Loki was standing in the middle of their living room, staring blankly at the fireplace. Clint almost said something to him, decided to ignore him, and used the bathroom. Loki hadn’t moved when he came out.

“Do you just want everyone else to be as miserable as you are,” Clint said to his back.

“No,” Loki said. “I didn’t want this. But I think it was inevitable.”

“Nothing’s inevitable,” Clint said harshly, though he didn’t know what it mattered now. Whether it had or hadn’t been, it’d still happened, and they were living with it. And yet some dumb part of Clint still kept thinking how could we lose, how could we all lose this badly.

You could always lose, and lose badly. That was just how life went sometimes.

Loki turned fractionally toward Clint. “What are you going to do now?”

“We,” Clint said, emphasizing the pronoun, “are going north.”

“North where?”

“Would it mean anything to you if I told you?” Loki said nothing, and Clint grimaced. “Come on. Let’s go.”

Loki trailed after him without further objection, and didn’t pause when Clint did. “Good luck,” he said. “Take care.”

“You too,” Irene said. It sounded like automatic manners. Julia turned her head just a little to stare at Clint, her face puffy and red, her eyes wide, and Clint’s heart and stomach twisted. How many little kids like her, he wondered, out there suddenly on their own. How many parents–

Stop it. Fucking stop it. Keep it together.

He got in the car and pulled out of the driveway. Loki was pale and sick-looking.

“You okay?” Clint asked grudgingly.

“What do you think?”

“I mean, are you worse. Physically.”

“No.”

“Is that the truth?”

“Would I tell if you it wasn’t?”

Clint held back the urge to slam his hand against the steering wheel. “Do you have to make this so goddamn hard? Don’t you think things are bad enough without you acting like this?”

“Like what,” Loki said dully. “Like I have lost everything, the world is ending, and my only company is a man who hates me?”

There were a lot of things Clint could have said, but what he did say, without his mouth really consulting his brain, was “I don’t hate you.”

Loki twisted toward him, disbelief almost palpable. “Really.”

Clint set his jaw. “No, I’m just fucking with you.” Loki stared at him, and he snapped, “yes, really.” He took a deep breath. “I don’t like you. I don’t forgive you. But I don’t hate you. Not anymore.” Maybe, if he was honest with himself, not ever. He’d wondered more than once if that was something wrong with him. If it was a sign that Loki’s magic was still stuck in him.

He didn’t know. He probably never would.

Loki didn’t seem to know how to respond. Good, Clint thought. Chew on that, you bastard. “So you can strike that one off your list, anyway.”

No answer. Predictably. At least not for a while.

“Why am I still here?” Loki asked eventually.

“What?”

“I said-”

“I heard you,” Clint interrupted. “Just wondering what that’s supposed to mean.”

“The worst has already happened,” Loki said. His voice had that heaviness to it again, the exhaustion that sleeping didn’t chase away. “There is nothing I can do. For you or anyone else. I do not see why you insist on dragging me with you.”

Clint squeezed the steering wheel like he could strangle it. “You’re back on this?”

“Yes.”

“You know,” Clint said, strained, “you dying won’t actually bring Thor back.” Loki flinched when Clint said Thor’s name. Just a little, but it was still a flinch. Clint twisted the knife. “And somehow I think he wouldn’t be happy about you throwing your life away. God knows why, but he fucking cared about you.”

Loki’s jaw spasmed. “Do you think I care? I am selfish. I have always been selfish.”

“Are you waiting for my permission to kill yourself?” Clint said harshly. “Cause I’m not giving it.”

Loki exhaled through his nose. “I don’t need your permission.”

“Yeah,” Clint said. “You do, actually. Remember? We talked about this. That you don’t get to quit until I say you do.”

Loki looked like he wanted to snarl. “And what do you expect me to do, exactly?”

“You think I fucking know what I’m doing?” Clint said, his voice rising several decibels. “I don’t have a clue what I’m supposed to do now. All I know is that I’m going to Minneapolis to find out if my family is still alive.”

Shit. Shit shit shit, he hadn’t meant to say that. It wasn’t even that he hadn’t meant to say it to Loki, but because now he’d said it, out loud, and acknowledged the too-real possibility that he hadn’t gotten a call because there was no one who could call.

He told himself maybe Laura hadn’t picked up because she didn’t recognize the number. She wouldn’t have known what phone to call, since he’d swapped burners. He told himself that she was probably going crazy with worry just like he was, only she wouldn’t even know what’d happened, or why.

Clint was a damn good liar, but he wasn’t that good.

Loki said nothing. That was probably for the best. If he had, Clint thought he would’ve killed him. He still kind of wanted to, no matter what he’d said.

But pathetic as it was, Loki was also the only person he had, right now. And he was the only person who knew anything about what was going on. And sure, Clint could kill him, maybe, but what would that accomplish, really? What would Loki’s death actually do for the world?

Nothing.

He didn’t glance in Loki’s direction to see what expression was on his face. Didn’t really want to know. If there was pity there, Clint was pretty sure he would kill Loki and regret it later.

He just drove, jaw set and eyes fixed forward, and tried to empty out his brain. Natasha. Steve. Wanda. Are any of them still alive…?

Focus, Barton. It’s a long way still to Minnesota.

Clint swerved around a truck stalled in the middle of the road. There was a hollow pit in his stomach that just kept growing. And a monster sat next to him, perfectly still.