Chapter 10 – Revelations

AKA That one time when Natasha tried telling Clint the truth, and didn't go exactly according to plan

He stares at the city below, a symphony of moving lights.

A lifetime spent on rooftops and he's never considered jumping… until now.

But, no. He won't. He CAN'T. For exactly the same reason he wants so badly to meet the pavement right now.

Her.

Partner, wanton, friend, liar, whore, sacred, profane; she is all things to him, everything.

Natasha will need him in by her side, her partner, and leaving the team or the planet is unthinkable if it means she'll be harmed because he let her down. He's in purgatory, hell, forced to watch the woman he loves in the arms of another man till the day he dies.

There's a gentle tapping sound. Blood hitting the rooftop. His gaze wanders down to his hand, watching rivers of red dripping from shards of glass embedded in his flesh. He stares at the bloody mess apathetically, oblivious to the pain.

It's his bow hand; he should care, he doesn't.

Nothing means anything any more. She's taken everything from him. EVERYTHING.

He takes a long pull from the bottle; the harsh burn does not warm him, the thought of her does— it burns.

Apathy gives way to a wave of rage. Natasha has been PLAYING him. Playing them all. She never wanted him, never loved him, she just created a scenario where she had the excuse to give him what she knew he wanted most… Played him like a fucking mark. Then moved onto the next person who needed her 'special skill set'. Binding them all to her.

Now, she's giving Steve fucking Rogers exactly what he wants, a fairytale romance, a happy ending, TRUE FUCKING LOVE. Natasha will marry the bastard, he's sure of it… it's what Steve wants most. He wonders if she'll ask him to be her 'bridesman'.

He sees the wedding in his minds eye, the white wedding… Natasha, a vision in a white gown, Captain fucking America in full uniform, holding hands they stare at each other in adoration as a priest officiates the 'wedding of the century'. Clint envisions himself and Darcy in matching puke green bridesmaid dresses, watching the ceremony in shared misery.

He feels ill. It has nothing to do with the half bottle of rye in his system.

His ears pound with the sound of blood, rage renders his world white around the edges. How dare she? How dare that woman reduce him to this; a drunken mess, alone on a rooftop, imagining himself in a pea green bridesmaid dress.

He turns away from the sea of lights below determined to find her, to demand answers, to-

And there she is, framed in the light of the doorway. The glow from within illuminates the hourglass figure, hair nearly aflame in the darkness. Arousal spikes though the rage, and it infuriates him more that she still has this power over him. He hates her. Hates the control she has over him. There is nothing she could do, nothing she could say…

"I love you."

He stops breathing.

As gambits go, it's a good one. But he doesn't buy it.

She's telling him the lie she knows he desperately wants to hear. To keep him by her side, watching her back.

"Liar."

Natasha recoils at the cold venom in his voice. Then steels her resolve, walking toward him, remember what Rogers said… keep telling him the truth till he believes it.

"I love you."

He sneers. What a brilliant strategy for playing him like a mark. Playing her own fucking partner like a fucking rookie.

"Stop lying, Natasha. I'm tired of your games." He glares at her, closing the distance between them slowly; a predator stalking it's prey. "Let's play a new game. This game is called 'Truth'.

Natasha nods, she cannot deny him. That's why she's here; to tell him the truth.

"Did you come to me from Steve fucking Rogers bed?"

He watches her flinch almost imperceptibly and knows the amazing Hawkeye has once again hit his target.

"I won't ask again, Tasha. Did you spend last night in Steve fucking Rogers bed?"

Swallowing back any excuses, unable to lie, she nods, mutely.

The bottle of whiskey sails past, inches from her head, exploding as it hits the wall behind her.

"You can't even say it, can you? You can lie to everyone else, but I'm your partner, you owe me the truth."

He closes in on her, hoping she'll retreat, flinch, anything but the cold, emotionless response he's getting. "Tell me something that isn't a lie, that isn't you playing me like a fucking mark."

She lifts a hand to his face, gently caressing his cheek, tears welling. "I love you."

It's an amazing performance. He wishes he could believe it.

Frantically he grabs her by the throat; they fall to the rooftop together. She could mop the floor with him in his current inebriated state, but instead, she just stares up at him levelly. "Stop lying, Natasha. I'm not one of your marks, don't play me like one. Just tell me one thing that isn't a fucking lie." His voice is rough with rage.

"I love you."

The fingers around her throat constrict. "Stop saying that! Stop selling me the lie you think I want to hear! Tell me the truth."

Tears fall as she gazes up at him, not breaking eye contact, trying desperately to convince him.

"I love you."

Clint feels his sanity break, as he watches her tears fall; he knows they are only crocodile, fake, another ploy to convince him of a lie. Darcy told him she cried for Steve Rogers, tears she promised were only for him.

"The truth, you lying bitch!"

"I love you." The words are a raspy whisper as she struggles for air.

His own tears of rage and sorrow fall on her cheeks, melding with hers. "Say that one more time and I swear I will end you." The words are a deadly hiss.

She looks into his eyes and reads the truth of those words. She could get out of this a dozen ways, she could overpower him, probably, she could even talk her way out of it… And lose him forever. If he won't believe her now, he never will.

"I love you, Clint."

He screams, an anguished, injured sound.

Whiteness begins to close in on the edges of her vision, she can barely see the outline of her hand as it come up to caress his cheek once more, but she feels the wet tracks as he leans into her hand, sobbing.

Darkness closes.

Steve Rogers stares dully at the screens, barely registering the security feeds.

He thought working might be a decent distraction from the fact that he just pushed his dream girl into the arms of another man.

He was wrong. If anything this is worse, because he has to deal with the pitying looks Bruce Banner keeps throwing the captain's way.

"It get's better you know…"

Bruce's sympathy is about as subtle as a hulk in a china shop. Steve resists the urge to plant his hand firmly into the nearest wall.

"I know what it's like…"

Steve shuts his eyes, imagining himself anywhere but here, with a mutant astrophysicist trying to have a chick flick moment.

"When you don't all the time, get what you want…" Bruce glances backward at the doorway momentarily. "Tony I can hear you breathing back there, and I swear to god if you try and make this into a Rolling Stones quote I won't step foot on the R&D floor for a week."

Tony let's out a disappointed huff. "Ruin all a guy's fun already. I was just about to drag spangles out to my favorite strip club, see if we could distract the old man."

Steve closes his eyes, ignore them and they'll go away. Ignore them and they'll go away. Ignore them and they'll go away.

Tony is suddenly distracted by an image on the security feed. "What the fuck?"

Iron Rat 7's security feed quite clearly shows Clint Barton straddling his partner, hand wrapped around her throat, insanity and wrath written on the archers face.

Steve looks up bolts out the door nearly barreling into a brunette poly sci assistant on his way to stairs.

Banner's eyes flash green. He stands and is immediately shoved back into the chair by an angry billionaire.

"Tony-"

"No Bruce, you get to sit this one out, if this goes as sideways, I don't want to be scraping bits of Katniss off my roof for the next year."

Bruce nods mutely as Tony gets ready to catch who ever might go sailing off the top of his building.

As her eyes shutter closed, the madness clears.

What has he done?

Hands loosen their deadly hold, begin checking for a pulse when the sound of gravel on the roof draws his gaze…

Just in time to see Steve Rogers barreling into him, landing a solid right hook before the archer can even comprehend the man's presence.

"You son of a bitch!"

Another solid haymaker connects.

Clint barely even tries to avoid the blow. He deserves it, looking over at his partner's prone form, he knows he deserves it.

"You idiot. It was never me she wanted, it was always YOU, you undeserving ass."

Denial flashes across the smaller man's features. It's not true, can't be true. She is a liar. She was lying.

"And I, like an idiot, told her to go to you… to tell you she loved you… to make you believe it." Steve grabs Clint by the throat, roughly. "Believe this Barton, if she dies, you die, I don't care how many team members I have to go though to get to you."

Clint looks steadily into the eyes of his team leader. "If she dies, I'll let you."

Green eyes stare down at the scene below.

His archer and the spider in a dance of love, pain and sorrow. Now the soldier threatening to kill HIS favorite plaything.

How dare they?

How dare they manage to screw thing up even more beautifully than his best laid schemes.

He had plans… plans to make them pay… promises he intended to keep, and how here they are, infinitely more broken than he had ever dreamed, but WITHOUT HIS HELP.

It's positively insulting.

…

A snap of fingers and the men are rendered immobile. Their eyes widen as Loki glides toward her. He can feel their desperate attempts to break his hold as he brushes back a lock of red hair.

Fools.

He presses a finger to her forehead. "Awaken my little spider, you're missing all the good parts."

She blinks up, uncomprehending.

"Look at them."

Natasha looks up to see the two men frozen, locked in battle, Steve's hand around Clint's neck.

The mad god lifts her to her feet, almost chivalrous; Taking her hand but refusing to release it as he leads her to circle her two lovers.

"You've been so entertaining my dear… I'm feeling generous. I'll let you choose one. You decide which one lives, and which one gets to die in order to save you. They'd both be happy to sacrifice themselves for you, you know…"

She does.

"Do you pick your love, the archer, your soulmate? Do you sacrifice a man the Avengers so desperately needs, the symbol of hope and freedom for the country, the world, just so you can play spies with your love?"

Cold words, cold breath on her cheek, she can't breathe.

"Or do you choose the greater good. Give your new country the hero it needs? You must choose little spider… quickly before I lose my patience."

Looking at the two men she gives the only answer she can.

"No."

The grip on her wrist tightens painfully as the mad god makes a displeased sound. "That's not an option Natasha, make your choice."

"I will not burden either them or myself with that knowledge."

"Your not playing the game correctly little spider… I can just kill you all…"

"I choose me." She glares up at the furious green eyes. "The only way you get me to play is by taking them off the board." Confusion crosses Loki's features momentarily. "I will go with you willingly, do anything you ask of me… or let you devise whatever tortures you see fit, I'm sure you're very talented. Kill me… kill us all, I can't stop you… but I will not choose between them."

Rage makes the handsome face ugly. "No mercy then, you mewling quim, you expect me to take you up on such a ridiculous offer, when I could crush you like the insect your so obviously are!?" He pushes the redhead to her knees. "I'll make them I skin you alive… I'll force them to take turns, devising better tortures with each one, I'll have you begging for death before-"

The enraged monologue is suddenly cut short as he jerks up, eyes rolling in the back of his head.

"Wooohoo – take that asshat!" Darcy raises her taser in triumph.

Natasha gapes at the girl

Darcy wrinkles her nose at the collapsed figure at her feet. "Gosh these guys love the sounds of their own voices, don't they." She presses the taser against the unconscious man and watches him writhe. "That's for being a pervert." And again. "And that's for being an asshole." Once more. "And that's for being a lousy brother."

After that, there really wasn't much to say.

Alone on the rooftop, the sniper and spy lean back and look up at the stars.

A bottle of whiskey between them.

"Tell me again… Please Natasha. I don't deserve to hear it, but-"

She puts a finger against his lips. Smiling she whispers "I love you."

"Again."

She crawls into his lap, fingers biting into his scalp as she forces his gaze to meet hers. "I love you." The words are fierce, a demand, a plea.

He catches her lips in his, the world narrowing to the only thing that's ever mattered, her.

Rough demanding fingers pull his teeshirt exposing flesh to her ravenous touch. Clint growls and reaches for the hem of her shirt-

…

The screen goes black and Tony whines with disappointment, frantically searching for the tablet. He sees Bruce holding it and glares at him. "Bring it back up!"

Bruce shakes his head. "I agreed to help with the Iron Rat program for security purposes, not for pornographic ones." He decides not to think about the fact that his reflex time getting to the tablet was probably a little slower than it could have been.

"No, no, no… you don't understand. Iron Rat 6 knows me, he understands me, that's why he WANTS me to have the best assassin porn of all time. Iron Rat 6 demands you turn it back on at once!"

Bruce rolls his eyes. "We made the rats cyborgs, not psychic, Tony. Iron Rat 6 couldn't care less about naked assassin porn and is heading back to the lab."

Muttering threats under his breath. Tony goes back to the bar, glowering.

Steve Rogers gives a whistful sigh, looking at the blank space where image of the lovers was moments ago, then turns to Bruce. "Thank you, for that. Few people can handle him so well… You must have been channeling Pepper Pots."

Bruce smothers a smile and pours them both tea as they settle in for the evening. "Sometime… it feels more like I'm channeling Jerry Springer."

The two men clink glasses and turn to the computers, time to refocus and save the world. Again.

Well kids, that's it, I hope you've enjoyed the ride. Sorry the last part took so long – and thanks to everyone who checked in to make sure I hadn't died after it took a year to post the last chapter

A million thanks to DJliopleurodon and OddDoll for their beta work. You all rock my stripy socks.

Would love to hear what everyone thought – reviews = love!