Among the Asgardians: The Goddess of Love

Haunted

"What is it, Thor?" I asked, sitting up a bit.

"You... It is all coming back now!" Thor threw his face into his hands. "I should have known! This is all my fault."

"What is?" I asked. Thor was frightening me. He looked quite demented, and I was terribly alarmed. His eyes had taken on a wild, rabid look, and his hands clenched his hair in tight fists and pulled at it, as if trying to yank it from his skull.

"I am forbidden to tell you," Thor whispered. "I need to visit Jane."

"Thor, you can't leave," I pleaded. "I need someone who understands what I'm going through. I'll go crazy without you to tell me everything is okay."

"That is the problem, Lady Kathryn. I fear everything may not be okay. I need someone to help me sort all of this out as well. That is why I must speak to Jane."

"So bring her here," I suggested.

"That is not a bad idea," Thor sighed, shaking his head. "I need to go arrange this with Fury, if you will excuse me."

"Bye," I whispered as he stood up. "Can you send Clint in for me?" I asked.

Thor nodded and walked out. I heard rustling and the murmur of voices outside the room. My eyes began to close. My shoulder hurt, and I was tired. Funny. I'd been out for two days, and yet I was still tired. I was starting to nod off when I felt a gentle tap on my arm. I opened my eyes. It was Clint.

"Hey, Kathryn," he smiled. His bow was carelessly slung over his shoulder, along with his quiver of arrows. I grinned. It seemed like he never went anywhere without them. I guess when you're in his line of work, you always have to be prepared for the unexpected.

"Clint," I whispered. "Steve said you took out the guy who shot me."

"Yeah, I did," Clint replied. "He was easy for me to pick off. I shot him with an explosive arrow. SHEILD was having a hard time scraping bits of him off the surrounding buildings."

"SHEILD?" I asked. "Isn't that the German government's job?"

"Not really. SHEILD likes to help keep the peace by assisting the enemy with cleanup after we make a mess. It's our way of saying we're sorry for the destruction, no matter how necessary our actions were. Sort of like a truce," Clint explained.

"Thanks for saving my life, Clint," I smiled.

"My pleasure," he replied. "Nat would never have forgiven me if I hadn't. She's grown quite fond of you."

"About Natasha," I sighed. "Clint, it is so obvious that you like her. You never go anywhere without each other, and I've seen the way you look at her. Do something about it before she slips through your fingers."

Clint shook his head and looked at the ground. "It would put her in danger. I would never be able to live with myself if I was the cause if her death. It almost happened twice, and I can't allow it to happen again." I laid my hand on his, in order to open my link with his mind.

There was much darkness in Clint's past. He had worked for SHEILD ever since an experimental surgical procedure had left his eyesight three times better than that of an average human. His arms were also twice as strong as the average human's, and he had an uncanny ability to determine the reaction of his quarry to his shot.

In the beginning, Clint had enjoyed his job. He loved watching the positive effects of his actions. He saw people being liberated from their oppressors, he saw the deaths of evil men, and he saw new improvements in technology that would change the face of the Earth.

But, over time, Clint began to despise his role as paid assassin. He didn't like to watch people die, no matter how evil. His arrows didn't cause trauma that left their victims unknowing, unable to be awake for their death, which was standard with guns. Most of his victims had time to understand they were dying. Their eyes would look to Clint for help, only to realize he wanted them to die when he retrieved his arrows from their still-living bodies.