Chapter 2

Clint groaned as he slowly regained consciousness. The room around him was cold, icy cold. He felt the ground with his fingers and found piles of snow and ice. It wasn't a room then. Wind whipped past him, leaving him shuddering in the sub-zero temperatures. He opened his eyes and saw nothing but sky, snow, and a few mountain peaks.

"…The fuck?" He pulled himself into a seated position and grabbed his arms tight to his body. He was in his field suit and wished, not for the first time, that it had some sort of retractable sleeve option.

Suddenly the sound of birds enveloped the area. Clint whipped his head around, looking for the flock that had to be passing him. If he could figure out their pattern and direction, then maybe he could get off of this frozen fucking mountain. But all he could see was swirling snow blowing past.

"Somebody is going to fucking pay for this."

By now he realized he had been captured by someone and left out here, but at least it looked like he was alone. That was a blessing if only because there were no weapons in sight, unless one wanted to count snowballs.

He began walking, not sure where, but heading down the mountain plateau where he had been. Within a few hours he could see what looked like ground, but it was covered in such thick snow that he was only guessing. When he finally reached it he dropped heavily into the snow, out of breath and exhausted.

Clint looked around and again heard the calling of birds. The blowing snow cleared slightly and he was shocked to see still more mountain peaks. So he hadn't hit the ground like he though. In fact, he looked more closely at his surroundings and noticed the divots in the snow in front of him, leading over the edge. It looked like the same plateau he had started on.

"What the fucking hell?" His voice rose until it bounced off the mountains around him and echoed weakly.

The archer tried to calm down and think rationally.

"Could be magic." Yeah, that sounded lame, but not any less possible.

"Fucked-up drugs?" Also a very real possibility.

"Could be a damn dream." That one earned a whistle that sounded like a bird call. It was loud and bounced all around Clint, so he couldn't place where it came from.

"You win the prize, Little Bird. But I'm afraid it took you longer than I had anticipated and thus you must be punished."

It was that voice again and it belonged to the tormentor of Clint's nightmares. He tried to deny it when he woke from the dream that led him to shooting Captain America, but this time he couldn't brush it off.

Loki.

"No."

Loki laughed; a soft, cruel sound; but he still didn't reveal himself. Suddenly, Clint had his bow in hand and was reaching for the quiver on his back. One by one, he shot four exploding arrows, one to each side of himself. When the smoke cleared, overtaken by the ever-present snow, everything was silent. Clint stayed where he was, crouched in a defensive position with another arrow notched and ready to fly.

"My, my, that wasn't very nice." Loki appeared inches in front of Clint's arrow, smirking. His cape and hair blew in the wind but he was an unshakable force. Clint aimed for his head and let the arrow fly before a second could pass. The arrow lodged straight through the God's forehead, knocking his helmet to the ground. His image fizzled out of sight and Clint cursed.

"Of course it was a fucking copy."

Again all he could see was snow, but Loki didn't leave him alone.

"I didn't appreciate that, Little Bird. You will pay for it." His voice faded away towards the end until all Clint could hear was the howling wind. Seconds later the snow beneath him shifted and suddenly he was falling. He struggled to get his hands on his grappling hook arrow, and once he did, he tried to shoot somewhere close to where he thought the actual mountain might be. It didn't catch on anything and he fell toward the ground.

Before he hit the snow-littered floor beneath the cliff, Clint woke with a start, curled up in a corner of his room at the tower. He dragged the heels of his hands over his eyes and sighed.

"Not another fucking nightmare."

That made three in the last week alone. But each time, they seemed longer and more real, and now he had seen Loki's face again. It was the first time Clint had seen the face of the evil god since the actual battle. It was usually only his voice and his presence. But this time he was there, scepter in hand, grinning forebodingly down at Clint. What the archer really couldn't grasp, though, was that he had put an arrow through the fucker's head and he had laughed and disappeared. The only time he had seen Loki make copies of himself was while his mind was under Loki's control.

He had never remembered anything specific from that period of time before, so why was it just now manifesting in his dreams? However, it wasn't the time to contemplate the deeper meanings of his nightmare because the "Avenger's, Assemble!" call was going off throughout the tower.

He slipped into his tack gear quickly and grabbed his bow from where it was propped against his bedroom wall, right next to where he had woken up. He skipped the quiver, instead heading to what the team considered their weapons room and grabbing a more alien-level battle-ready arrow set. Stark found too much pleasure in making him new trick arrows.

The dream was still floating around in his mind, and it was slowing him down. He was the last one on the quinjet, and he slipped into the pilot's seat, ignoring Natasha's questioning gaze from the seat next to him.

"We ready?" He asked.

His teammates in the plane nodded and Stark's smart-ass remark came from outside where the billionaire was already taking off. Thor had, unfortunately, left for Asgard the night before so they were a member short, but with any luck the aliens – or maybe just tricky humans for once – would be easy.

They were on the scene fifteen minutes later in some random field in east-Jesus-nowhere, Pennsylvania. Clearly these weren't the villains going for a high death count, and he couldn't see a house for miles around. At least Banner wouldn't have to worry about letting the Hulk out; he could only hurt these three-headed dogs and maybe some corn stalks.

Really, the dogs reminded him of Fluffy from the Harry Potter movies. Either monsters were getting less original or he was becoming numb to the abnormalities of his targets. Clint landed the plane a safe distance away and heard pained howling before he even got his bow strung. Clearly Stark needed to blow off some steam today.

"Trigger happy, Iron Man?" He called over the coms.

"Shut it, Hawk-ass."

Clint smirked at the expected response. Within moments he found his perch on the top of the jet and started letting arrows fly at the snarling beasts. Loki was firmly wiped from his thoughts.

Since it was a corn field the top of the jet was as high of a perch he could find, and it wasn't high enough to give Captain America the answers he was demanding.

"Are there any more behind these four, Hawkeye?"

"Don't know, Captain. I can't get high enough." He fired three arrows in quick succession, each hitting an eye in each of the three heads of the mutant dog closest to him; the creature hit the ground with a last pitiful snarl. "Ask Iron Man."

Before Stark could reply, Hulk's roar could be heard from behind the crowd they were fighting, so the answer must have been "Yes." After putting another dog down, Clint only snickered a little at the crude joke, Iron Man flew higher to report that there was only one dog left behind the fallen front line and Hulk was having fun with his new pet.

"Stop playing, Hulk." Captain America ordered.

Hulk snarled, but obeyed orders in his own special way. He stopped playing, but still threw the dog into the ground repeatedly, refusing it the quick death it likely desired.

"Hawkeye?" Captain America called over the coms.

"Yeah?"

"End Hulk's fun, please."

Clint didn't bother to answer; instead he just notched a poisonous arrow and aimed at the moving target. Even with Hulk's back blocking most of the dog's body he could easily make the shot.

But suddenly, an icy feeling ran through his veins. His vision clouded slightly and even though he no longer had a clear shot, the arrow flew from his fingers.

As quickly as the feeling came it was gone and Clint watched, as the arrow hit Hulk in the back of his neck. The green-rage monster stopped thrashing the dog and felt around the back of his head. He found the arrow quickly, yanked it out, and threw it to the ground. He let out a ferocious roar and turned to search for the culprit. Considering that Clint still had his bow raised it was easy for Banner to find the target of his new anger.

Clint swallowed hard as the Hulk roared again and came charging at him. He prepared a retreat and the rest of the team got into formation to stop their angry teammate when the Hulk stopped suddenly and fell to the ground. Moments later, he was becoming Banner once more.

"Fuck," Clint swore. Banner with poison coursing through his veins was infinitely worse than an angry Hulk coming at him in a corn field.

Natasha reached the fallen doctor first and checked his vitals.

"He's alive." She announced.

Steve took charge and ordered them back onto the jet. Stark gathered up Banner and joined the team in the quinjet. Clint fell into the pilot's seat and got ready to take off.

"Should we take him to SHIELD?" Clint asked. Usually Banner doctored the team of any non-life threatening injuries, but now he was the one injured.

Stark shook his head.

"No, lucky for you, Birdbrain, I have the antidotes for all the poisons I ever made for your arrows." Stark bit out the words. "Take us back to the tower, now."

Clint didn't bother rebuking him for the insult. The knowledge that he had just poisoned Bruce Banner - the fucking Hulk - was hitting him harder than Stark's words ever could. He simply nodded in response and took them back to the tower as fast as he could fly.

Once they were back at the tower Steve and Stark carried Banner to their version of a medical wing and locked out Clint with a glare. Natasha consoled him in her own, very Russian way – with a fleeting hand on his shoulder – before disappearing to report to Fury.

First he had shot Steve in a moment of panic, and now he had downed Banner in the middle of a battle.

What the fuck was happening to him?

Thank you for all the follows and the reviews! I'm glad everyone likes it so far. And thank you very much to my friend Lita for editing and keeping me writing.

Reviews are always love.