"Miss me, Little Bird?"

Clint's eyes snapped open and he took in a world of darkness. This wasn't metaphorical darkness; this was the kind of dark that made the assassin feel around his eyes because it was like going blind. Clint tried to move but found that his limbs were too heavy to lift. He actively had to keep his breathing even in order not to panic.

"What the fuck is this?" He muttered to himself.

He heard a distant laugh, a familiar laugh that he couldn't place. "Didn't you wonder what happened to me, Little Bird?"

An icy chill ran through Clint's body. 'It can't be,' he thought. 'Thor took him back to Asgard over a year ago.'

"He did indeed. Brother of mine was all too gleeful to see me confined to chains and sentenced to live in the dungeons like a common pillager." The voice moved closer. "But aren't you glad, Little Bird? I came back for you, just like I promised. I wouldn't leave you to suffer at the hands of these mortals. You're far too valuable."

Clint resisted the urge to close his eyes even though he still couldn't see the owner of the smooth voice. That voice melted within him, leaving the archer with a cold lump of dread in his stomach. It was too familiar not to be the real thing, not even his mind could come up with the voice perfectly in his dreams, even if it had been taken over by the owner of it. He tried to move again but found the strange sense of paralysis to still be intact. Suddenly there was a presence against his back and Clint realized that he was standing.

"You're not real." Clint's breath started coming in short, harsh pants. He brought his hands up to cover his face; distantly the archer realized he could move again. He refused to turn and see the face that clearly still haunted his nightmares.

A bitter laugh came from directly behind him, so close that he could feel hot breath tickling the back of his neck.

"Oh, I'm very real. I can't return for you yet, my little bird, but worry not. Our reunion is imminent."

The presence behind Clint pulled away and a second later he woke up in the vents of Avengers Tower, gasping for breath. Sweat trickled down his forehead and the back of his neck. He whipped around in the confined space, needing to be sure that he wasn't there.

"JARVIS?" He gasped out.

The AI was with him immediately. "Yes, Mister Barton?"

"Where is everybody?"

"Sir is in his lab with Doctor Banner, Mister Rogers is in the gym, and Miss Romanov is asleep in her room."

"Is there anyone else in the tower?" Clint's breathing began to ease with the knowledge that his teammates were safe and close by.

"No, Mister Barton."

Clint closed his eyes and took a final deep, calming breath.

"Thanks, JARVIS."

Finally Clint felt as if he could move and his fingers itched for his bow. Slowly and silently, he moved through the vents until he was over the range Tony had built into the tower with the renovations. He dropped down and grabbed the bow and arrows he kept in the range. They weren't his best or his favorite, but they would do. He couldn't wait long enough to get the bow that was only his, the archer need to shoot. Now.

He slipped on his gear and notched an arrow, but didn't let it fly at the stationary target 500 feet away. There was someone watching him, he could feel it. Clint glanced around as much as he could without moving his head before leaping back into the vents, bow gripped tight. He closed the vent door behind him but could see the room through the slots and selected an arrow that would easily slip through.

He breathed shallowly, keeping his position easily, and his eyes never stopped searching the room below him. A cold feeling of dread crept through his veins and then there was someone in the range and he let the arrow fly. The adrenaline wore off as his target looked up to the vent door he was behind.

Oh shit.

He just shot Captain America.

"Fuck." Clint swore and slammed the back of his head into the aluminum siding of the vent before climbing out to face the man that was clearly staring him down. He dropped to the ground right in front of Steve and carefully set his boy and quiver aside before standing up straight.

He opened his mouth to apologize… or make a smart assed remark about not sneaking up on him, but the words couldn't get past his throat when he saw his arrow going sticking out of Steve's right shoulder. The man had his arms crossed, clearly more disapproving of his behavior than concerned with his pain or the severity of the wound. At least it wasn't one of the arrows he laced with poison or added spikes.

"Explain, Hawkeye." Clint winced at Steve's tone and his decision to slip into the headspace of leader, not friend.

"It was just instinct, a reaction. I didn't see that it was you." Clint rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous habit he never had been able to kick; no matter how many years he's served SHEILD as a spy and assassin. Natasha would smack him up the back of his head whenever she caught him doing it.

"I don't believe that."

Clint shrugged and studied his feet. Steve's arms relaxed and he stepped close enough to place the hand of his uninjured shoulder on Clint's shoulder. The archer looked up, and Steve noticed there was a certain sadness or self-loathing in his eyes.

"I'm just glad it was me and not one of the others, don't worry about it. We all still have our demons." Clint winced at Steve's choice of words. "So let's just forget it and get Dr. Banner to get this thing out of my shoulder."

Clint nodded and put his bow and arrows away before following Steve to the elevators that would get them to whichever lab Bruce was holed up in.

"JARVIS?" Steve called.

"Yes sir."

"Could you drop us off to Dr. Banner, if he's not too busy?"

"Of course, Mister Rogers."

New story and first time doing Avengers. What do you think? There may be Thor 2 and Iron Man 3 spoilers later on, but I'll give a heads-up.

Reviews are love.