My War Is Over (Original Unfinished Version)

Chapter Twenty-Five

Forty-seven Hours Ago

While there isn't exactly a change in light, the Stark Tower hallways seem darker than they ever had been before. JARVIS has been offline ever since Stark left. The elevators are out-of-service. The doors open manually. The lights don't turn on or dim when one wishes for them to. Their food is ordered by a cellphone call and no longer by a simple request to the AI. 

It's dangerous and stupid how quickly they have all grown accustomed to Stark's AI. To electronic assistance throughout their everyday lives. Natasha isn't entirely certain what she hates more, the fact that she too had grown accustomed to the slight dependencies on the AI, or the fact that she almost misses the small comfort of its presence. 

The tower has been quiet too. While insufferably annoying, Stark did bring life into the place. The team hasn't eaten together or done their usual movie night for a month now, and with Stark gone to Malibu, that doesn't look like it's changing anytime soon. 

Natasha will freely admit that she doesn't particularly enjoy having Loki stay here. What she won't admit is why. His words still eat at her soul. Can you? Can you wipe out that much red? She doesn't like it. She doesn't like that he's free to do as he wishes, his power unrestrained and apparently unparalleled. But he's innocent. Despite everything, he's innocent. He's been harmed more than her. It's hard to accept, even harder to move on from, but it's true. So she needs to. So she will. 

She doesn't know Loki, and that unnerves her. She doesn't know him like she knows Clint or like she knows Steve. Like she thought she knew Stark. There are little cracks in her walls, not of vulnerability, not yet, but of fear. She's always been on top. She's always been one step ahead. So how did she not realize that Loki was the victim here? How did she underestimate Stark's capabilities? 

Natasha has to slide open the back stairwell door for floor 38 manually. She doesn't for a moment. 

The floor is dark when she does eventually enter, noiselessly. It's spotless, devoid of any sign of life save for the man chomping down on popcorn in the living room, staring at the television playing some local reality tv show with blank eyes. 

"It was you, wasn't it?" She doesn't pose her words like a question. Clint chokes on his popcorn, launching himself off of the couch, a knife instantly in his hand as he slams a fist against his chest, hacking away. 

"What?" he finally chokes out.

"It was you."

"You're gonna have to be more specific than..." Clint's voice fades out as Natasha steps forward towards him. 

"Director Fury didn't give the order for Loki to be captured. You did." Clint's body seems to deflate. 

"Tasha, I-" 

"I don't think you realize how badly you've screwed up. Sit, won't you?" She points to the couch, leaving no room for arguments as she strides past him, taking a seat opposite the couch on one of the recliner chairs he had there. Clint obeys, sitting down heavily and rubbing his face tiredly.

"I had my suspicions from the beginning, which is the only reason why Fury is unaware of why Stark went solo. But that can quickly change. Just what the hell were you thinking, Clint? Impersonating Fury and threatening Tony?"