Do you have any idea what its like to be forced out of your own mind?

Staring up into the black eyes of the trickster god, I almost closed my eyes. Almost. I didn't want to see what he was going to do to me, didn't want to feel the physical pain he would cause me. Little did I know it would be much much worse than any physical pain I had ever received.

I refused to close my eyes though. In an act of courage I kept them open, so could see the glee on his face as he pressed the glowing scepter up against my chest. At first nothing happened, and I almost laughed. But the triumphant look on his face stopped me.

A force entered me. That's the only way to describe it. A dark, black, heavy force that weighed me down and sucked every morsel of good out of me. For a second- a split second- I resisted. But it was useless. It overtook my, coating me in an odd resin, leaving helpless, trapped inside my own body. Oh I was still there, hanging on the outskirts for dear life, for any chance to retake what was mine. But what was talking, moving, and breathing wasn't me. It was an imposter, something of Loki's that had taken residence in my body.

If only I could take that dammed scepter and smash it! But my body was no longer mine to command. It was Loki's. I watched as I shot at Fury and grabbed the briefcase, cursing myself each time I did. Jumping in that car and driving away with Loki in it was the hardest thing iv ever done. The scary part was, I could feel myself growing weaker. Each time I struggled, more and more of my energy was drained, until eventually I stopped fighting. I drew myself into the deepest, darkest corners of my mind, praying that I wouldn't have to see the hurt and shock in the faces of any of the people I was killing.

The cube really was amazing. Took bad it was being used for evil. The Loki part of my said it was truth, it was real; it was the only thing that was really important in this world.

And I fought that view with every inch of my being. No truth was what my mother used to call the bible, real was Natasha when she saved my ass when it needed saving and what was really important was my mother and my little sister that S.H.I.E.L.D kept hidden from the world so nobody that wanted to hunt me down could find them and hurt them.

But it didn't matter how many times I repeated this in my head, I head myself say something about a target, and a reassuring weight dropped into my hand. Well, usually it was reassuring. Now it was just reminding me of what I was about to do and how much I would hate myself later for it.

Each arrow I let fly cut me deeper and deeper. Each man or women I shot down killed me a little inside. "Somebody wake me up!" He wanted to cry. "Wake me up or kill me I don't care just stop me from hurting these people."

I knew what Loki was planning. He was going to make the Hulk take down the aircraft, effectively killing everyone inside it. He was going to kill my partner. My best friend. The one person I actually relied on and would trust with my life. And I would be partly responsible for her death.

Every second that Loki had that force in me, I lost more and more of who I was and became more and more like the thing inside me. Soon, just to escape it, I let myself black out, let myself drift blissfully unaware of what I was doing or who I was hurting.

Firing a shot at Fury seemed to wake me up. And even though I despised what I was doing, I was powerless to fight it. Everything was a blur, and to my displeasure, I discovered Natasha was the one sent to take me down. Must life be this cruel?

I held back as much as possible, intentionally trying to slow myself down, knowing if I was the one that killed her, I would never be able to live with myself. Ever. Every time my fists came in contact with her skin, I flinched, hating that I was hurting her. Hating that I was powerless to stop it.

Usually I hate loosing to anyone, especially Natasha because she would gloat for at least a day, and then after that she still wore a smug smile. But then of course I would come back and beat her, and I would gloat and the vicious cycle would repeat. But finally she brought me down, and for a second I blacked out, and it wasn't by choice. And when I opened my eyes again, I wasn't seeing things from behind a veil; I was seeing the world clearly, and very obviously had control of my own head. Gazing up at the Russian redhead, I attempted to keep at the shaking out of my voice. "Natasha?" And with that she roundhouse kicked me in the face, and I fell back into unconsciousness.

Weeks had passed. We'd won. Whoop-Dee-doo. We now had a place to stay, curtsy of Tony Stark. The rest of the team hadn't exactly, gotten over the fact that I had been taken over, but had delicately skated around it and refrained from bringing it up. For that I was extremely thankful. I don't know it Tony always did it to his rooms, but mine was sound proof, which meant no one could hear my screaming when I woke in the middle of the night, drenched with sweat, shaking from the nightmares that plagued my dreams.

Nat knew something was wrong, but she stepped back. Gave me time to recover. But she was an impatient person, very impatient. Three weeks after the battle, she came knocking on his door. "Clint can I come in?" Rolling over a pencil in his fingers, I sighed. "Sure Nat, you can come in." Opening the door slowly, she slipped inside, closing the door behind her and padded over to where I sat on the windowsill. Curling up beside me she rested her forehead on my shoulder. "You shouldn't beat yourself up about it. It wasn't your fault Clint and you know it."

Turning away from her, I swallowed the lump beginning to form in my throat. "I killed so many innocent people." I choked out. "And I could see it. I could feel myself shooting them! But I was powerless to stop it." Beside me, Tasha hesitated slightly, and I could feel her take a deep breath, meaning she was nervous about whatever she was about to do. I tensed, waiting for her to hit me for being stupid or something, but was shocked when I felt her small hand in my chin, guiding my face so I was looking at her.

"Clint-" Taking a deep breath Natasha slowly placed her hand on my cheek, staring into my dark brown, shocked eyes. "-You need to stop beating yourself up." She said softly. "I know your upset about it, but here really wasn't anything you could do. Loki is a god Clint, how are you going to fight that? I know you did everything you could to fight him, and I knew if given the choice you would have loved to put an arrow right through his heart, but he's going to get what he deserves in Asgard. You can rest easy. You're not alone Clint, we're here. We can protect you." He gazed at her for a few seconds, and she hastily withdrew her hand, cheeks burning in humiliation.

"Why are you embarrassed?" I asked lowly, trying to get a good read on my partner. She was never embarrassed. "I-I'm not embarrassed." She insisted. "You just stuttered." I murmured. How did they get this close? There were practically nose-to-nose. As if she was burned, she jerked back. "I-I'm sorry I didn't mean to- I'll just go-"

I had never seen her this flustered! What was wrong with her? Grabbing her wrist, I stood slowly, keeping her firmly standing in one spot. Moving in front of her, I looked down into her blue eyes that were usually so guarded, not letting any emotion escape, but were now pooling with emotion. Caution, fear, hope and something else, something else he couldn't quite place. "Nat?" I questioned softly.

It would be an understatement to say I was surprised when she threw her arms around my neck and began sobbing into his shoulder. Natasha never cried. Ever. The only times she cried was when she was faking it for a mark or something. Rubbing her back soothingly, I carefully maneuvered us to the bed so we could sit down and I could figure out what was wrong with my Tasha.

"Tasha what's wrong." Gulping she lifted her head and wiped furiously at her eyes. "I'm an idiot." She choked out. "I haven't cried in- I don't even know- I just- I mean- I don't even-" I placed an arm around her reassuringly. "Just talk Tasha. It's me. It's Clint. I'm the same as always I'm ok."

"No Clint. You're not ok. You don't come out of your room, you barely eat, and you haven't talked to any of us in days. I'm scared for you Clint! I know what Loki did was horrible but that doesn't mean you need to curl up into yourself! Didn't you always tell me that no matter what happens, it doesn't matter because you just need to be strong? Once it happens, its over but then you just need to move on? Get past it? That's what you always told me Clint. You also told me that if I ever needed anything I could rely on you and talk to you about anything. You know that goes both ways right? You have been the only solid thing in my life since I was a child Clint, you cant just disappear on me. You can't just disappear. Not like everyone else I've ever known. You're not like my family, or my friends, you're-you're Clint I cant even begin to describe how important you are to me you cant just go away! You promised you wouldn't!"

Never, in all my years of working with her, had I ever heard her say so much that was extremely personal at one time. It just wasn't what I did. It killed me that she had probably been bottling up every single emotion she ever felt for so long. "Hey I'm not leaving. I'm not leaving you Tasha, I wont leave you." Stroking her hair calmingly, I held her close. I thought she couldn't surprise me any more, but when she leaned up and kissed me softly, I found that she could. "Are you always going to think up things to surprise me?" I asked softly, brushing a strand of red hair out of her face. "Oh of course." She responded. "I gotta keep you on your toes Agent Barton."

And with that she tackled me, kissing me fiercely and pressing me into the bed.

And all at one, my worries about Loki were forgotten. I had been trapped in walls of black, but a bright red light had been kind enough to set me free.