Disclaimer: I do not own "The Avengers" or any of the characters affiliated with them. If I did, there would totally be a Hawkeye/Black Widow movie in the works. I do not claim any of the directly quoted lines from "The Avengers" as my own, they belong to Marvel and the writers. The cover art came from a google search with the original source being pinterest where it was credited to Anthony Genuardi.

Author's Note: While I embrace constructive criticism, remember this old saying if you choose to leave a review "If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all"

Here we are once again with another multi-chapter installment to the Vantage Point Universe. This story has been greatly anticipated by many of you and has been a LONG time coming. This story was a very long road for me. As many of you know, I started it probably over a year ago. And since then, life has thrown me a few pretty intense curve balls. This story served as its own sort of therapy for me at times, and was definitely a source of catharsis when I needed it. I'm very happy now, to be able to share it with you.

The reaction to my tumblr announcement (find me there at aggie2011whoop) that this story was going live today was EPIC and filled me with so much joy. I'm so happy to bring this story to you and have it mean so much. As an author, that is my dream, to make readers WANT more. So more is what I'll give you.

This ended up being the most difficult story to date, for the simple reason that I had to stick to a pre-established plot - namely the move "The Avengers". Not having the freedom to do whatever I wanted was maddening at times. And the trials of trying to piece together a logical timeline were frustrating. But, with the help of my betas, I pushed through and soldiered forward and we are finally here.

I'd like to take a minute to thank those two betas, who have both been so patient and supportive of me throughout this long, long process. Who the hell knows where I'd be without them. So thank you to Kylen and JRBarton. You both are amazing and I'm so truly lucky to have you on my team.

Now, last thing, a word about this story. It is meant to serve as a companion to the movie, not a replacement. This means that there are certain things in the movie that I don't address. This isn't me putting the movie to paper - though there are many many direct quotes throughout - that would be boring and that's not why you're here. This story is meant for one thing, to dive into the point of views of Phil, Natasha, and most importantly Clint throughout the duration of the Loki Incident. I stayed as accurate to the movie as possible, but obviously took some liberties here and there to fit it better into the VPU. There are time/place references throughout the story for the benefit of the reader AND the writer, so we can all keep the timeline straight. Each one has a reference to local time, where they are in that scene, and NYC time, the time in New York where the back half of the story takes place.

Now, with no more delay, here we have "The Untold Stories"

The supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting.
Sun Tzu

April 10, 2012
8:47 p.m. Local Time (10:47 p.m. NYC)
SHIELD Accelerator Test Facility, New Mexico

Clint adjusted the angle of his laptop screen as he lounged back against the metal frame of his bunk. His computer was braced on his abdomen and leaning back against his raised leg. He waited patiently for the video call to connect. When it did, his screen filled with a sleep tousled, but smiling Natasha Romanoff.

"Morning, beautiful." He smiled warmly. The sight of her waking up was one he'd never get tired of. No make-up. Hair a mess. That sleepy little grin when she would roll over and look at him. There was nothing sexier, nothing he'd rather wake up to every morning.

But he hadn't been expecting it. It was almost 7 in the morning there and Natasha had always been an early riser.

"Were you still sleeping?" he asked with a sort of disbelieving curiosity.

She yawned and snuggled farther into her pillow even as she used one hand to adjust her own laptop screen.

"No, just taking my time getting up. Gonna be a long night, so I don't want to rush it."

"Well, well, Natasha Romanoff lounging in bed…and I'm across the world. There's no justice." Just thinking of the fun they could be having if he were there, had him shifting on his bunk.

She smiled and laughed lightly, folding her pillow a little more compactly under her chin.

"I'll just have to make it up to you when I get back," she promised. He grinned deviously and she went on before he could put words to his lust filled train of thought. "So what are you up to?" She narrowed her eyes slightly, seeming to silently order him not to ignore the subject change. "Phil give you the night off?"

"Not specifically, but my time's my own unless I'm needed."

"Generous of him."

"Yeah, well, I think he feels guilty for keeping me cooped up here the past few weeks."

She smiled knowingly.

"You climbing the walls yet?" Her lips quirked in a teasing grin.

"Only when there's a bunch of scientists around to freak out. I think I heard one of them mention something about DNA splicing with a monkey."

Natasha laughed and the sound made Clint's smile widen.

"Why am I not surprised you've literally been climbing walls." She shook her head slightly, still grinning. "I'm surprised they haven't taken you in for testing and experimentation."

"Yeah, well, apparently this tesseract thing is all the shit. It's got all the nerds in quite the tizzy. No time for little old me."

"Tizzy, huh?" She smirked.

"Oh yeah, Selvig practically salivates over it. But there's no denying the man knows a thing or two…to hear him tell it, he's on the verge of a breakthrough."

Clint wasn't so convinced. As far as he'd seen, Selvig hadn't made nearly as much progress as the man wanted to claim and didn't understand the tesseract nearly as much as he tried to pretend. Clint's admittedly not-so-tactful comment stating just that had created a tension between them that didn't show any signs of dissipating.

"What's your take?" Natasha asked curiously.

"I think we're messing with shit we won't ever understand." Clint sighed and rubbed a hand through his hair. "I don't know…I just have a feeling like we should just be leaving well enough the hell alone."

"You tell Phil that?"

He had…quite colorfully.

"In just as many words, but it's not his call. And it's sure as hell not mine. So we do what we do until we're told differently…which sucks by the way."

Natasha quirked her lips sympathetically. He knew she understood. That she knew Clint didn't do inaction well. All the sitting and watching was starting to wear thin. At least when he sat and watched as a sniper, it was leading to something. This was just endless and monotonous. He was glorified security.

Phil had told him he should feel honored. Fury had chosen him specifically for this detail. The tesseract was possibly the most important scientific discovery of the last few decades, Captain America's defrosting not included. That the director trusted Clint to keep an eye on things should say a lot.

Clint was pretty sure he was just being punished for something. He just hadn't figured out what.

He shook his head slightly and changed the subject.

"What about you? You locate Luchkov?"

She nodded and ran a hand through her hair as she shifted. Clint's breath caught momentarily. It had been months since Germany, but seeing her once-long hair so dramatically short still caught him off guard. She claimed to be getting used to it, but he could tell she longed for it to grow back out again. Clint considered her drop-dead beautiful either way, but the sooner all traces of that horrific experience in Germany were gone, the better.

"Hey?" She frowned at him in concern and he shifted, raising his eyebrows in question. "Where'd you go?"

"Nowhere," he assured, "just wandering." She arched her eyebrow doubtfully and he quirked his lips in a slight smile. "Your hair…" he motioned vaguely at his own head, "I'm just not used to it yet."

Her hand shifted to run through the short locks again, with a hint of self-consciousness that was so out of tune with who she was that it made Clint's heart ache.

"You're beautiful," he stated in a low, warm tone. He knew pitching his voice like that always got to her. Sure enough, her green eyes slid back to meet his and she smiled, all hints of self-consciousness fading. Clint smiled back and then changed the subject, for both their sakes. What happened in Germany…and after… was still too fresh – for both of them.

"You said you found Luchkov?"

"Yeah," she nodded, and he could see her mental gears shifting into 'spy-mode' as she went on, "I'm going to move on him tonight."

"What's your play?"

She smirked. Clint knew that smirk. He knew exactly what that smirk meant.

"You know I hate it when you do that without backup."

She shrugged a shoulder and shifted to sitting, pulling the laptop into her lap.

"Clint, I've been running that play since I got into the game. I could do it with my hands tied behind my back." She smirked. "Which is kind of the whole point."

Clint rolled his eyes. She was right, of course. She was an expert in her field. This particular con – he liked to call it the Trojan Horse – was practically her specialty. Get yourself captured, find out what you need to know, and then rip them apart from the inside out. She was great at it, had used it more times than he could count with undeniable success.

"I know, but I'd just feel better if you had backup." It wasn't even about her being able to take care of herself. He knew she could. She knew that he knew that. It was about him, worrying and caring and living with the fear of not being able to get to her in time if something went wrong. Germany had screwed them both up in its own ways.

She knew all that too, which was why she just smiled.

"And who would I trust to back me up, but you?" It wasn't really a comfort, but then it hadn't been meant to be. "Besides, Luchkov is practically a soft target. He'll fold in under an hour and give me everything I need."

Clint was sure he would, Natasha was the best at her job for a reason. Didn't make it any easier to be a world away, to be too far, maybe, if she needed him.

A sudden pounding on his door drew his attention and had him sitting up straighter. The back of his neck tingled and something in his gut tightened.

Something was wrong.

"What's going on?" Natasha asked sharply, no doubt hearing the pounding and correctly interpreting the sudden change in his expression.

"Not sure. Hold on." He stood, holding the base of the laptop in one hand as he moved to the door. He pulled it open to reveal a red-faced, panting agent wearing security gear.

"Agent Barton?"

Clint eyed the strip of masking tape on his door that had his name scrawled on it in black sharpie. He let that be answer enough for that and waited for the young agent tell him what he needed.

"Agent Coulson, he sent me to get you."

Adrenaline surged through him. Something was definitely wrong.

He turned away from the door, lifting the laptop so he could see Natasha again and mostly closing the door so the agent couldn't snoop.

"Tash, I gotta go."

"Everything okay?"

"Jury's out, but my card's been called."

She nodded.

"Go, I'll be stateside in a few days and I'll find a reason to end up in New Mexico."

Clint smiled at the promise but then his expression turned serious and he lowered his voice.

"I know Luchkov is a soft target, but...Будьте безопасны, мой огненный паук." (Be safe, my fiery spider.)

Her smile grew wider and warmer at the familiar words and she replied,

"Стрелять прямо, мой ястреб." (Shoot straight, my hawk.)

He winked and grinned.

"Всегда." (Always.)

She ended the call and he closed his laptop, tossing it towards his bed. He watched to make sure it landed safely even as he pulled the door back open. The agent sent to fetch him was rocking impatiently back and forth on his heels.

"Where's Agent Coulson?" Clint demanded as he stepped out into the hall and pulled his door closed behind him.

"In the tesseract room." The agent – McGuire according to the name tag on his uniform – replied immediately. Clint nodded and took off in a jog.

His instincts were going off like an alarm. Something was wrong. He could feel it. The sooner he had eyes on Phil, the better.

Phil stood with his arms crossed over his chest just behind Erik Selvig's left shoulder. He watched with rapt attention as the scientist typed furiously on his computer.

"Anything yet?" he asked, checking his watch. Four minutes had passed.

"Not yet," Selvig replied without breaking pace on his work. "You'll be the first to know when there is progress."

Phil clenched his jaw and looked up when he sensed a new presence. Clint jogged through the door and headed for them.

"What's going on?" his agent asked as he joined them and peeked over Selvig's shoulder.

"There was an energy surge in the tesseract," Phil filled him in.

Clint frowned, arching a skeptical eyebrow at Selvig.

"You turned it on?" Clint rarely used what one would call a judgmental tone, but he'd made it no secret to Phil that he thought they were messing with powers they had no business messing with. And there was no mistaking the judgement in his tone now. Phil winced slightly. Clint and Selvig had a…strained working relationship. The reason for which, Phil didn't know. Though if he had to guess, he'd bet it had something to do with Clint's unsolicited opinions on SHIELD's – and thereby Selvig's – work with the tesseract.

He glanced at Selvig, hoping he didn't take offense.

The doctor lifted his head and turned it to meet Clint's piercing gaze squarely.

"No."

The simple, but telling response, had Clint's eyes widening in realization and looking to Phil.

"Where do you want me?"

Phil would forever be grateful for Clint's uncanny ability to perceive the gravity of situations without having to be told.

"Find a perch. Keep an eye on things…all things. We don't know what happened and until we do, I don't want anybody scratching their nose in this room without you knowing about it. Use your phone, vet everyone that's had access to this thing in the last 12 hours."

Clint nodded sharply and headed immediately for the ladder that would take him up into the catwalks that ran above them. Phil watched him go and then turned back to Selvig.

"Any progress?"

"In the last 30 seconds? No." Selvig sighed. "I'm working as quickly as I can. I'm trying to shut her down, but she's not cooperating. Give me some time."

Phil sighed and looked up to where Clint was settling in on the catwalk in a crouch, arms hooked over the bar that ran parallel between the rail and the base of the structure, phone already in hand and brow furrowed. He would be able to see the entire room from that vantage point and Phil knew that even with his focus apparently on his phone, Clint was tuned into the entire room.

Phil nodded, satisfied with that at least, and then looked around the room. There were agents and scientists alike working various jobs throughout the room, and exponentially more spread throughout the facility. If they couldn't shut it down and it came to an evacuation, it would take hours to get everyone out.

He turned back to Selvig.

"You've got an hour, then I'm making the call."

April 11, 2012
12:39 a.m. Local Time (2:39 a.m. NYC)
SHIELD Accelerator Test Facility, New Mexico

Phil narrowed his eyes, watching the helicopter as it continued towards the facility. It would touch down in less than a minute and then he'd get to tell the Director of SHIELD how he let this all get so out of hand.

The tesseract was, for all intents and purposes, doing whatever the hell it wanted, no matter what Selvig did. The instability of the situation grew with every passing moment. And like Clint had said, they didn't have a clue what they were really dealing with. The energy surge could mean anything and that thought alone was cause for concern.

He really tried not to think about the fact that he'd ordered Clint to stay in the room with the damn thing. If something went more wrong, his agent would be at ground zero. That thought was enough for him to seek distraction. Luckily, the chopper was landing.

A few moments later Hill and then Fury were climbing out and heading for him.

"How bad is it?" Fury asked without preamble. Phil understood, this type of situation negated the use of pleasantries. But damn, was that not the question of the hour and the one he didn't have an answer for.

"That's the problem, sir. We don't know."

Lack of knowledge in a field like theirs, which was built on intelligence gathering, felt like going into a gun battle without ammunition.

They moved quickly to the elevator access that would take them down to the level of the tesseract room. Once they were in and moving, Phil began his explanation.

"Doctor Selvig read an energy surge from the tesseract room four hours ago."

Fury frowned as the elevator reached the correct floor and they stepped out, moving through the throngs of evacuating personnel.

"NASA didn't authorize Selvig to go to test phase," Fury pointed out.

"He wasn't testing it. He wasn't even in the room. Spontaneous event," Phil explained. And that brought to light a whole new slew of concerns.

"It just turned itself on?" Hill questioned in disbelief.

Phil just tossed her a look and let that be answer enough.

"Where are the energy levels now?" Fury demanded, tone nothing but business.

"Climbing. When Selvig couldn't shut it down, we ordered an evac." Phil was still worried he'd waited too long to make that call. That he'd cut it too close.

"How long to get everyone out?" Fury asked as he glanced around at the masses of people moving around them.

"Campus should be clear in the next half hour."

"Do better." The order was clear. Fury wanted him directly overseeing the evac, making sure the pace continued, or improved. It meant he wouldn't be going back to the tesseract room, wouldn't be going back to Clint.

Phil wanted to buck against the order, but instead he turned away and headed the other direction. But every step – as it took him farther and farther from Clint – felt wrong. Clint, as usual, was right in the thick of things, going toe-to-toe with danger with no regard for his own safety. Clint would sooner complain at getting ordered to safety than ordered into the fight. It was his nature. Phil admired him for it.

But this was different, right now the enemy didn't have a face. And Phil feared that all too soon it would, and that that face would be unlike anything they'd ever seen.

Phil forced himself to keep moving, to trust the one thing that had always proved unshakable no matter how bad the situation got.

Clint's ability to survive.

Nick continued through the base with Agent Hill, trying to convince himself that this wasn't as bad as it seemed. That they were just being cautious and that Selvig would have this all figured out by the time he got to them.

"Sir, evacuation may be futile." And there was Maria Hill, ever the voice of calm, rational reason. It was why she had risen through the ranks so quickly, why she'd taken the coveted spot as his deputy director.

She was here because she called a spade a goddamned spade. Rose-colored glasses weren't even in her wardrobe. But sometimes she had a tendency to point out the goddamned obvious.

"We should tell them to go back to sleep?" he questioned sarcastically.

"If we can't control the tesseract's energy, there may not be a minimum safe distance," she pointed out logically.

Nick barely resisted the urge to roll his one good eye. What did she want them to do? Stay put and wait? The personnel may already be the walking dead, but they needed to believe they had a fighting chance. So they would continue the evacuation even if it was futile. And speaking of…

"I need you to make sure the Phase Two prototypes are shipped out."

She stared in shock.

"Sir, is that really a priority right now?"

Now Nick turned. He valued her opinion – above all but perhaps Phil Coulson's – but when he gave an order, he expected it to be followed. No matter what certain other agents under his command, namely one, seemed to think.

"Until such time as the world ends, we will act as though it intends to spin on," he told her sharply. "Clear out the tech below. Every piece of Phase Two on a truck and gone."

She nodded sharply, looking a shade less rebellious in the face of his stern tone.

"Yes, sir." Now that was more like it. She looked to the guards standing nearby. "With me." And then she was gone. Nick blew out a breath and headed into the tesseract room.

He made a beeline for Doctor Selvig, wondering where Agent Barton was and why he wasn't glued Selvig's side monitoring his progress.

"Talk to me, Doctor."

And Selvig told him everything he knew. Nick was frustrated to learn absolutely nothing new from the short conversation with the scientist…until he mentioned gamma radiation and had the nerve to say it lacked the ability to do harm. Nick happened to know a certain other scientist who would emphatically disagree.

"That can be harmful," he corrected firmly before glancing around. "Where's Agent Barton?"

Selvig looked up.

"The Hawk? Up in his nest, as usual."

Fury frowned at the trace of annoyance in the doctor's tone. Barton was apparently making friends just as effectively as he always did. How one man could repel people in one breath and draw them to him in the next wasn't even the most intriguing contradiction in all that made Clint Barton who he was.

Nick looked up – realizing he really shouldn't be surprised the archer was watching from a vantage point – and scanned the catwalks until he saw Barton lounging comfortably, looking directly back at him as if he'd been waiting for Fury to finally spot him.

"Agent Barton," he called over the radio. "Report."

Barton moved immediately, practically leaping off the catwalk as soon as his hand had purchase on the rope attached to the railing. His repelled down to the ground floor with smooth ease and headed Fury's way. Why he couldn't spare the extra few seconds it would have taken to use the ladder would apparently remain a mystery.

"I gave you this detail so you could keep a close eye on things." Fury made sure to keep his tone firm. He was mostly just saying it because it was expected – because Barton might just faint from shock if Nick didn't call him to task for keeping his distance in such a critical situation. But Nick knew that Barton had his own way of doing things – always had. He'd never been anything but effective.

"I see better from a distance," came Barton's quick and unaffected reply. Nick had known 'stern' would have no effect; he'd have been disappointed if it had.

"Have you seen anything that might set this thing off?" Nick trusted that nothing would have gotten past the archer's sharp eyes. Seeing the big picture was what Barton did. It was why he was the best at his job.

They both stepped farther away from Selvig and his computer even as a scientist shouted about the tesseract spiking again. Together, they moved towards the glowing cube.

"No one's come and gone. And Selvig's clean. No contacts, no IMs. If there's any tampering, sir, it wasn't on this end."

Fury ignored Barton's typical hint of insubordination with his inflection of 'sir' and focused instead on his final assessment.

"At this end?" he asked warily. Barton had figured out something Nick was still missing. Something Selvig apparently hadn't deduced.

"Yeah." Barton replied as if it were an obvious conclusion. "The cube is a doorway to the other end of space, right?" Barton looked to the cube. "Doors open from both sides."

Fury was in the middle of marveling at how he'd managed to be surprised by Barton's inherent perceptiveness and intelligence after all these years when the tesseract sparked.

They both looked at it as behind them Selvig spoke.

"What's that?"

It sparked again.

Clint shifted, opening his mouth to suggest they back the hell up. The last thing he wanted was to be standing right next to the damn thing if it blew up or something.

He never got a chance to say the words. Abruptly, the cube sparked bigger and then exploded in a beam of energy that startled them both back a step.

He stared in wide eyed shock as a figure of a man appeared in the fading light of the…portal?

What the hell?

He had just said it was a doorway. So why was he so surprised that someone was using it?

The man was kneeling, head bowed. For a long moment, the entire room was deadly silent. Then the intruder lifted his gaze.

Clint had seen enough power-hungry, evil men in his twenty-six years to recognize those qualities when he saw them. And the smile that curved that man's mouth practically bled them both.

The man stood and Clint's hand drifted to his side arm, almost saying 'screw it' to all their protocol on engaging hostiles. For once he'd like to fire before they could be fired upon. But next to him Fury spoke, staying Clint's hand and drawing the intruder's attention.

"Sir, please put down the spear!"

Clint almost rolled his eyes. Fury would choose now to go with polite diplomacy. But the talk of the spear drew Clint's attention to it. He knew weapons, and that was definitely a weapon. He saw the energy build in it a moment before the hostile pointed it in their direction.

It was that split second of warning – of him realizing there was a threat – that saved his and Fury's lives because he was able to shove the director out of the way.

He rolled with the momentum of his own dive and came to his knees, side arm already drawn. He didn't wish for his bow, didn't waste the time. Gun or bow, his aim would be true. And it was, but the bullets had no effect. Before he could puzzle over that for more than a breath, Clint saw the energy build in the spear again and dove to his right, narrowly avoiding the energy beam a second time.

He came to his feet, watching as the intruder fired on the scientists and agents who were nearest. Clint moved towards him, intent on stopping him, or at the very least drawing his fire so the others could get to safety and he could buy Fury time.

He brought his gun up, figuring a head shot would be his best bet, but the enemy caught hold of his arm. The strength in the grip ground the bones of his forearm together and drew a startled wince. He'd never felt strength like that. He tried to free himself, but couldn't even manage to make the man's grip shift. Just when he was sure the bastard was going to just break his arm right then and there, he cocked his ebony-haired head to the side and met Clint's rebellious gaze.

"You have heart."

What the fuck? Clint drew in a breath to spit back something sarcastic that was sure to get him killed when the intruder touched the tip of the spear to his chest.

Ice rushed through his veins like wild fire, freezing and burning at the same time. He drew in a startled gasp as it overwhelmed him and then crested like a wave, rushing back through him in a torrent and washing away everything in its path. Every trace of free thought, every emotion…it just bled away, leaving behind nothing but his ingrained, battle-hardened instincts and an overwhelming compulsion to obey.

He looked at the man before him and felt a swell of loyalty. But on its heels came a trickle of doubt. He knew in his head that he would do whatever this man asked of him, giving everything up to and including his life. But at the same time, he felt no basis for that loyalty, no reason to offer it. But still it was there – the compulsion so strong it overshadowed almost everything else.

Before he could think too long about what that meant, a single thought suddenly reverberated through and overwhelmed his consciousness.

Put your gun away.

Something in him twitched, like an itch that demanded to be scratched, but at the same couldn't be reached. It made him pause, but only for a moment.

Then he slid his gun into its holster and waited. The man before him had a plan – that much was obvious. Clint would help him execute it. He would do what was needed. He'd be the warrior he'd been bred to be.

But still, that itch remained – a tickle like when you held your hand above a flame, far enough away not to be burned, but close enough to feel the brush of the heat. It was nestled somewhere in the back of his mind, demanding attention, but at the same time, staying just out of reach.

Nick carefully grabbed the cube, moving it to its case and shooting a nervous look at Barton. The archer was a lot of things, and compliant wasn't one of them. Whatever that spear had done, it was damn powerful. He'd known Barton to go toe-to-toe with an armed enemy, with nothing but his own body and his sharp tongue to do battle with. He'd never seen him back down, not even to him and not even to the Council.

To see him just go still, to see the fight just drain out of him – it was eerie and terrifying. If someone like Clint goddamned Barton could be turned that easily, they were in trouble, serious trouble. Fury stood, eyeing the door.

"Please don't." The enemy turned, looking directly at him as if he'd sensed Fury's plans. "I still need that."

Fury took a slow breath and carefully weighed his options.

"This doesn't have to get any messier," he tried.

"Of course it does," the invader stated plainly. "I've come too far for anything else. I am Loki, of Asgard. And I am burdened with glorious purpose."

Fury felt a shot of trepidation even as he resisted the urge to roll his eye at the melodrama bleeding from the man's voice. The name Loki was familiar in the kind of way that made your gut tighten and your instincts flare. Their intelligence on Thor and the mess with the destroyer in New Mexico was limited – Jane Foster hadn't been all that forthcoming – but they'd learned enough from Selvig to get a pretty good picture of what went down. The most important plot point being that Thor's Asgardian brother, Loki, had been at the center of it. Thor had ended up putting all that to bed, or so they'd thought. They hadn't heard a whisper from Asgard since the day the blonde god had returned home and Fury had counted that as a good thing.

Selvig frowned, as if he were coming to the same realization.

"Loki, brother of Thor?" he asked curiously.

These sons of Odin were turning into a regular thorn in SHIELD's side.

"We have no quarrel with your people." From what Selvig had told them, Loki's beef had been with his brother, everything else had been collateral damage. That begged the question of why the hell he was back and what the hell he wanted.

"An ant has no quarrel with a boot," Loki replied dismissively.

Fury arched an eyebrow.

"You planning on stepping on us?"

Loki smiled again, that slick, worrying smile he'd given them when he first arrived.

"I come with glad tidings, of a world made free."

"Free from what?" Fury was sure he wasn't going to like the answer.

"Freedom," Loki answered. "Freedom is life's great lie. Once you accept that, in your heart," he turned and pressed the tip of the spear to Selvig's chest, "you will know peace."

Nick watched the scientist's eyes go black and then fade to an icy blue, just like Barton's had.

Shit.

This was getting rapidly out of hand. With any luck, Loki would do what villains tended to do best and wax poetic about his grand plan. Then, at least, the energy he could see building from the portal would do its thing and maybe he'd be stopped. Nick was just sorry that Barton, Selvig, and the others still stuck in the room would die too.

But then Nick saw Barton's eyes cut over to the tesseract cloud and he knew it was over. The archer was too damn smart for his own good. Fury tried one, last-ditch effort to stall.

"Yeah, you say peace. I kinda think you mean the other thing."

Barton moved, walking stiffly to Loki's side.

"Sir, Director Fury is stalling." Fury had never missed the sarcastic inflection in the word 'sir' as much as he did right now. To see Barton submit to any authority willingly was unnatural. "This place is about to blow and drop a hundred feet of rock on us. He means to bury us."

The jig was up. He might as well embrace it.

"Like the pharaohs of old."

"He's right," Selvig spoke up. "The portal is collapsing in on itself. We've got maybe two minutes before this goes critical."

Loki looked suddenly full of new purpose.

"Well, then."

Out of nowhere, Barton moved. In the split second it took Nick to process the action, Barton aimed and fired. The shot impacted Nick's body armor with enough staggering force to knock him down and loosen his grip on the case, sending it skittering away. He could only watch as Barton picked it up and followed Loki out of the room without a backward glance.

Nick winced and could only lay there, his body stunned, for several moments. Finally, he was able to force himself to move. He needed to warn everyone. Barton was damn near unstoppable even when people knew he was coming. With the element of surprise and a little Asgardian juice on his side, Fury had little hope that he'd even be slowed down. He had to try though. They were probably heading for the motor pool, looking for a way out.

Hill was there. She could try to stop them.

So Nick sat up, hand going to his chest as he reached for his radio.

"Hill!" he called. "Do you copy?" He didn't wait for a reply before issuing his warning. "Barton," he couldn't believe he was saying the words even as they passed his lips, "has turned."

"Barton…has turned."

Phil snatched his radio off his belt and brought it to his mouth.

"Say again?" he demanded sharply, but Fury ignored him. Another order for Hill came through instead.

"Get the tesseract. Shut them down."

"Director?!" Phil called. He had to have heard wrong. Clint wouldn't turn. It wasn't possible. The compound shook around him, but Phil couldn't move. He was frozen, waiting for Fury to make his world start moving again.

"Barton's been turned, Coulson, that's all I can tell you."

Phil felt a wave of emotion rise in his throat, threatening to choke him. It wasn't possible. It just couldn't be. He had to find Clint. He had to save him from whatever had happened.

"Don't even think about it." Fury's voice snapped over the radio, sounding out of breath. "Hill is pursuing." He paused and when he spoke again, his voice was quieter, a little gentler. "There's nothing you can do for him right now. So do your job."

Phil gripped the radio so tightly his fingers ached and he pressed it against his forehead. Instinct was warring with duty. He had a job to do, he knew that. But Clint…

"Do your job, Phil." Fury's voice was commanding now. The breathless quality didn't even begin to take any of the authority out of his tone.

Phil blew out a breath and forced himself to focus. He didn't know what had happened or what was even going on. But he did know he was on the opposite side of the compound from Hill and if Barton was headed that way, Phil had little chance of catching up.

No matter how much his heart demanded he do something.

He forced himself to take a deep, calming breath and focused back on his task.

He looked at the agents carrying the cases down the stairs, moving towards them as an explosion rocked the compound, causing the cases to fall.

They were out of time.

"Let's go!" The agents started to reach for the fallen cases. "No, no, no! Leave it! Go!" He urged them down the stairs and followed quickly. He waited until everyone was in the truck and then he climbed in last. "We're clear upstairs, sir. We need to go."

Phil looked back in time to catch sight of Fury's chopper rising from the helipad. The truck sped away even as the chopper moved over them, away from the compound.

Then another explosion, the biggest yet, shook the compound, making the truck jump jarringly.

The ground started to break in a spider web of cracks. Phil could only watch in stunned horror as the road behind them split almost as quickly as they drove, as if hell itself was coming for them. If he stared long enough, he could almost imagine the devil himself giving chase. But then, just as it seemed the ground would break beneath them and swallow them whole, they outran it and left the crumbling ruins behind them.

A shout from the driver caught his attention.

"Director Fury's chopper just went down!"

Phil felt a wave of dread. If they lost Fury and his firm leadership, then the situation had the potential to spiral even farther out of control.

He reached for his radio.

"Director?"

There was no response for a long moment. He tried again, forcing himself to remain calm.

"Director Fury, do you copy?"

The radio crackled to life.

"The tesseract is with a hostile force. I have men down. Hill?"

Phil waited with a held breath for Maria to respond.

"A lot of men still under. Don't know how many survivors."

Phil breathed a sigh of relief that she, at least, was all right. His thoughts turned to Clint even as Fury spoke again.

"Sound a general call. I want every living soul not working rescue looking for that briefcase."

That meant they'd be looking for Clint too…but as what? A hostage or a traitor?

"Roger that." Then Hill went silent, no doubt moving to follow her orders.

"Coulson, get back to base." Phil blinked, drawing his focus back from his spiraling thoughts with only limited success. "This is a level seven. As of right now…we are at war."

Phil clenched his jaw.

War.

The direst situation SHIELD could ever fall into and the most important person in the world to him was on the wrong side of the battle lines. He clenched his hand tighter around his radio.

"What do we do?"

Fury didn't answer, but he didn't need to. Phil knew what would happen next. It was the only thing that could happen, the only thing that gave them a chance. It was time to activate the Avengers Initiative. But the one man whose name rested at the top of that list, the first name to ever be added to it, wouldn't be there.

Phil wondered when in the hell had this all gone so wrong. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. When the Avengers went active, Clint was supposed to be there. He was supposed to finally, finally, realize that he was a goddamned hero.

Fate was a cruel bitch.

Phil rubbed his face roughly, willing away the emotion that was trying to overwhelm him. He had to focus. He was no good to anyone, especially Clint, if he was an emotional wreck. He had a feeling, Clint was going to need all the help he could get by the end of this.

That thought swiftly brought another. There was someone else that would be vital to saving Clint – to making sure saving him was a priority. Someone who would fight beside him just as fiercely to see their archer safely returned.

He had to find Natasha.

End of Chapter 1

And we're off again! This chapter was a lot of set up, just like the first few minutes of any movie. But things get rolling really quickly. This one is a doozy, sitting at 17 chapters and WELL over 100K words. So it'll be a fun, long ride.

Drop me a line, let me know if you're excited to join me on this new adventure! Let me know how you liked the kick-off chapter! :D

Until tomorrow, here's your preview:

She reached up and rubbed her eyes wearily.

"There are more subtle ways to keep me from looking for him myself. You don't have to send me to India."

"I think we both know sending you to India is one of the only ways to stop you."

Natasha frowned.

"Exactly how long has Clint been missing?"