Title: All He Sees is Shadows
Characters: Clint/Natasha, Loki if you squint
Rating: PG
Summary: Mid-Avengers, Clint is trapped in his own head and can't seem to get out.
Length: 625 words

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“You had this coming,” she whispers, breath hot against his neck.

Clint turns, grasping dumbly for her, but Natasha’s already danced out of reach. “What?” he croaks, feeling half asleep. She’s blurry; he can barely see her. “Natasha…” Her name, normally so smooth off the tongue, comes out as rough as the morning after a whiskey night. He shakes his head and blinks, but all he sees is shadows within shadows. And then there’s her: a blur of black, pale skin, and red.

“You had this coming.” It’s her voice, but he can’t see her mouth, he can’t see it move.

He steps forward, but she doesn’t seem any closer. “I don’t understand.” Clint presses the heel of his hands against his eyes and ice blue sparks swarm his vision.

“Look.”

Frustration catches him. “I’m trying, damnit.” He scrubs a hand through his hair and cringes. Pulling his hand back, he stares. Blood smears his palm, creasing every calloused line. Half dried rivulets slide down his wrist.

Laughter sounds behind him, close at his back. A man’s. Someone he should know.

Clint spins, heart racing, feet moving automatically into a ready stance. There’s a threat. Danger. He’d forgotten, but he remembers it now. His hands feel achingly empty without his bow. Where is it? Did he lose it? His thoughts sprint past him, refusing to tell him… tell him… what? “I’m forgetting something,” he murmurs. “I should be doing something else.”

A fist grabs ahold of his hair and yanks his head back. He grunts, bending backward. “That’s the problem, Barton,” Natasha says, suddenly crystal clear and furious. “You should’ve been doing something else a long time ago.” She jerks her arm, sending him stumbling.

He gains his footing and looks back at her. “Nat?” Confusion and the instinct to fight tears at him, but it’s her. And while they fight, they never fight like this.

“We would have all been better off if you’d disappeared years ago.” She says it matter-of-factly. “Even me. Maybe if you’d been a better man…” she starts, and lets it hang there.

And it hurts. Even though he knows something’s wrong, that maybe he’s dreaming, it hurts deep. “Don’t say that!” He starts towards her, but she bows her head, curls tumbling past her cheeks.

Slowly, her hands close to cover her stomach, and her entire posture changes. A small cry escapes her lips, and it freezes him in his tracks as she moves one hand away. Her fingertips glisten red. She looks up and his gut twists. “You did this to me?” Her voice is small, questioning.

Her face and hair are damp with sweat, one cheek is rapidly swelling, and she looks at him like she just found out he was never who she thought he was. She’s still clutching the side of her stomach with one hand, shoulders hunched forward, spine curled. Blood spreads across her abdomen, soaking the uniform fabric. “Clint?” She sounds so lost, his heart skips a beat.

He moves towards her, and vertigo crashes over him. The world spins on its axis, and when it stops he’s standing over a dead man. The arrow jutting out of his back mars his black suit.

Clint can feel his own hand holding a cellphone to his ear. He can feel his mouth speaking words, and he can hear his boots on the pavement as he turns away from the body. But he can’t control it. He can’t control it and he knows that Natasha is somewhere on his new list. Her name’s a little further down than the dead man he just walked away from, but it’s there – and it won’t be quick.