Chapter Text
His heart beats too fast, his hands shake, and his vision darkens around the edges. He is weak. Still the agent is there. A steady hand set on Loki’s back, tense and ready should the god start to fall. The help burns at Loki’s ego, frays the already damaged edges but not enough for him to refuse. Not enough for him to send the mortal away.
The highly trained assassin is blind to nothing. Loki knows, he feels it when the agent’s quick mind picks out his every weakness. By now the man has no doubt identified exactly where to strike and make it hurt. Even in the midst of their escape he feels the attention on him, every misstep cataloged. He isn’t recovering fast enough, his time with The Other had damaged him more than he realized. He hates the agent for the grace, the ease of stride and quick motions prepared to catch him at any moment. However Loki watches too. The god watches and knows he picked the right one.
He finds himself leaning on the human who gives no complaint, no matter how many times Loki’s own grip tightens, begging him to slow, to stop for a moment. He waits for ridicule, he is of Asgard, a god who can’t keep his strength long enough to cross the room. Worthless. But the human remains silent.
He’s almost to the vehicle when he stumbles, focused so heavily on getting through each moment and keeping his eyes open. But he doesn’t fall. The agent is supporting him, quickly and gently catching him. Loki struggles to regain his footing, the distance between them and their enemies is quickly shortening.
He forces himself into the bed of the truck as his preferred mortal takes the drivers position, the second human rushes ungracefully into the passenger side. He closes his eyes as they race through the underground tunnels, the world passes by in a dizzying blur.
Finally outside the desert air clings to him. His skin itches with the heat and the layers of armor only makes it worse. They’ll be away soon Loki tells himself. The human isn’t bothered. Isn’t weakened by it. Another reason to hate the Midgardian.
Their exit is less than graceful and that is putting it kindly. It takes everything Loki has to down the helicopter. But it’s over. He won. Yet there is no triumph.
The other human, a scientist, practically cowers away every time Loki so much as looks in his direction. He can’t imagine he paints an intimidating picture as pained breaths are ripped from him. He grits his teeth while they continue to travel over uneven terrain. His energy is nearly drained and what’s left is almost entirely devoted to maintaining command of the two humans. Keeping control of an infinity stone is no easy task, but there is comfort in it, some proof of his divinity. He closes his eyes in a vain attempt to stave off the pressure building in his head.
They are stopped before Loki can fully realize what is happening. When he looks up he finds the agent stepping onto the vehicle. He suppresses the urge to move farther away as the human gets closer. The muscles in his legs tense in preparation to run. As if he could run.
“Let’s go!” The agent calls towards the nervous one, a hand coming down hard on the side of the truck. Loki flinches back at the harsh action. He keeps a close watch as the mortal tosses himself down so they sit practically side by side.
Loki grasps at the human’s shoulder at the sudden start, the scientist is clearly unaccustomed to driving this type of vehicle or is just generally inept. He hopes it’s the former as he has no second choice. He holds on to the irritation over the mortals he’s trapped himself well, hoping it will override the pain of his injuries. He’s panting hard, positive that he’s about to lose consciousness when the agent gently puts an arm around his waist. His muscle twitch at the contact. He doesn’t have the energy to refuse the unexpectedly kind touch. The truck’s speed finally levels out.
Soft wind blows through his hair and helps cool him down. When his attention is drawn back towards the agent Loki almost stops breathing. The human is looking at him as Loki is meant to be looked at. With absolute reverence and loyalty.
“Where to, sir?” The agent asks. It takes a moment for Loki to understand the question and noticeably longer to respond. The moral does not comment on it.
“I require a work space, a laboratory, well protected, well hidden,” Loki responds, he inwardly cringes at the sound of his own voice, once a smooth silk now harsh and wavering. He winces as they hit another break in the road and immediately the mortal is moving, readjusting them both until the pressure is eased off from the worst of Loki’s injuries. He can’t help the deep sigh that escape him and his human stills.
“You want a secret underground lab. That I can do, sir,” he says. “We’ve got them all over the world.”
“With out detection from your previous owner?”
“Not a problem,” his mortal assures. “They’re good, but not better than us with that head start. And we caught the last ride out of there, sir,” his voice is tinged with pride.
Loki almost manages to smile at the plural. It had only ever been him. I, me. Never we, us. The brief good humor is washed away as his vision fades in and out. Dizziness threatens to overwhelm him and unconsciousness looms as he finds himself completely at the mercy of a stranger.
He stiffens at the thought and the agent does the same in response, searching the area for some unseen threat that he must believe Loki to have noticed. His attention darts from left to right.
“What is your name?” Loki asks.
“Call sign, Hawkeye. Given name, Clint Francis Barton. SHIELD identification number-”
“Enough,” Loki orders and Hawkeye falls silent.
Loki stares into the electric blue eyes searching for any reason to distrust the man. The color almost flickers for a moment as Barton slowly, carefully reaches out for Loki. Instead of drawing away as habit urges him to, he remains still even when a hand brushes the strands of hair from his face.
“Rest, sir. I will watch over you,” Hawkeye promises. His hand goes to rest on Loki’s shoulder.
Loki stares at him, he knows the man believes what he is saying. He knows his control over Barton is nearly absolute, nevertheless a voice outside himself whispers trust no one. All others ever do is hurt you, they keep track of your weaknesses, they search them out, and they remember for when they betray you. Even this one.
“There won’t be any trouble until we arrive at the airfield.” Barton adds, his voice is unsure like he is trying to guess what Loki wants to hear, which is appreciated.
And there is that word again. The plural, the two of them together. The light touch on his arm becomes firmer and he is guided closer to the mortal, until finally he rests in Hawkeye’s lap. The armor and leather of his attire dig into his skin. He moves to free himself from his outer coat and the agent’s hand lifts from Loki’s shoulder to assist. Despite the wind, the heat of the desert is suffocating. Even the warmth of the man beside him burns, still he does not move away.
Leather finally cast off he wraps his free arm around himself, the other unwilling to release the staff. Already he misses the extra layer of protection. Uncomfortable as it was, he has now been left with a feeling of vulnerability without the armor, without the intimidating silhouette he casts. He had long learned perception is everything, yet Barton gives no reaction.
His heart is beating harder than Hawkeye’s, he can feel the steady pulse under him. The predator is under more stress than the prey. This human is nothing Loki reminds himself. His life could be ended in a second. Would it feel better to wrap himself around a cooling body? Clinging to it as the last signs of life faded. He imagines it. The human’s neck breaking and death following. An un-dodged blast of magic or gun shot. How long would it take, he wonders, until the temptation is too great and he ordered Barton to do something terrible.
He is a god curled up in the back of some military vehicle of a species not fit to speak his name. Finding solace in the lap of a mortal. Pathetic, he thinks. However the position is significantly better. The pressure on lower spine lessened. Sore muscles no longer strained to keep himself up. Still he keeps the staff clutched tight between shaking hands and Barton stares out into the darkness behind them.
Blue eyes look down at him from time to time. He can feel the mind stone’s energy radiating from him, could overexposure to the stone burn up the human from the inside? Would it eventually do the same to-
Barton runs a hand through Loki’s hair and with it all anxieties fall silent for now.
“We’ll be there soon, sir,” Hawkeye promises.
“Alert me to our arrival,” Loki orders.
“I will, sir,” comes a clipped reply. Quick and eager.
Much sooner than Loki would like Barton carefully wakes him. So gently that for the first time in a very long time he isn’t shocked back into awareness but guided. Could it really have been more than a few seconds since he closed his eyes?
“We have arrived, sir.”
Without prompting Barton helps him sit up, a warm and steading hand at his lower back. The airfield is teeming with life and lights.
“I’ll just be a moment,” he promises and after Loki is fully supporting himself again, he jumps out of the truck. Loki watches as Barton stops to say something to the scientist, and starts off towards the lit runways.
The scientist exists the car to stand near Loki, he wisely remains silent.
He’s being woken up again by Barton kneeling at his side and he can’t remember falling asleep, he can’t even remember laying back down. He doesn’t know how much time has passed, Hawkeye now wears a new set of clothes, he has a bag slung over his shoulder and is carrying some type of modified archers bow. Stars still hang in the sky above him, the scientist is out of sight yet with this new connection Loki feels he is near.
“Sir,” Barton starts, Loki’s attention snaps back to the him. “I have eight planes ready to go. We’ll take one and send the other seven off in different directions, that will buy us some time as SHIELD tries to pin us. From there we’ll keep switching modes of transport and pick up more personnel until we reach our destination.”
Loki exhales sharply.
“Which is?” He asks. How much longer must they remain in this desert?
“The Ural Mountains,” he responds and brings forward a tablet from his bag. “Which is here,” he continues, illuminating the piece of technology that now displays a map. “And we are over here in Nevada, North America. SHILED has got hideaways all over, this one in particularly has been abandoned for the past three years but still has a good amount of updated tech. Should be easy to get it up and running again. Not too remote either, so SHIELD won’t pick up on the energy usage right away.” Barton laughs lightly. “You wouldn’t believe how many secret labs are in those mountains.”
“You believe all of this necessary?” Beyond elaborate it sounds exhausting, crossing the airfield would be journey enough let along crossing the planet.
“They only have to get lucky once sir, we have to get lucky every time.”
Barton stands and offers a hand to the god. There is nothing but sincerity, no mocking glare that Loki can see and, like it or not, he can hardly get up on his own at the moment.
“I’ve got six cars and six trucks ready to set out and a driver to take this one, they won’t know where we are or if we’ve left at all,” he continues to explain.
Loki takes the offered hand and Barton gently helps him up. Without the distraction of their escape Loki notices the calluses on the man’s hand, mostly centered around where one would draw back a bow. A practiced archer then.
“Whenever you’re ready, sir,” Barton says, waiting at attention. Loki gazes out at the airfield where many aircrafts of different sizes are lining up in preparation for flight. This single human had been able to do this all in such a short amount of time.
“What did you tell them,” Loki asks.
“Nothing, sir. I am a special agent of SHIELD, they know to do what I ask when I ask.” He smiles. “One of the best things about the job,” he adds.
Somehow everyone here places more faith in a ‘Special Agent of Shield’ then any of Loki’s own people had ever put in him.
He steps off the truck with the archers guidance, as soon as he’s on stable footing he releases his grip on the human. On the edge of his vision he catches Barton reaching for the forgotten leather coat.
“Selvig!” Barton yells while raising an open palm and bringing it down hard to strike at the truck, at an inch away he pulls the hit. It’s the first time Loki has seen him second guess an action.
“Let’s go,” his mortal says quieter than the previous order.
Loki looks to see the scientist stepping around from behind the truck.
“That one,” he hears Barton say, and the other man starts towards the indicated craft.
“They’ll be expecting us to take the luxury jet, closest thing we have here that’s fit for you,” he says. “Which is why are are taking the second cargo plane,” he gestures towards one of the larger aircrafts further down the line. Loki nods. The pair start to slowly walk towards the runway.
“The majority of personnel here won’t be sure which one we are taking, the other crews have all got orders to do the same as us. Keep jumping from plane to plane, country to country. We’ll lose them, sir. They think we’re SHIELD. Once Fury-”
Loki can only try to keep up with what the agent is telling him as he continues on. He understands the overarching idea, they are going to disappear. However most of his focus is going towards each step he has to take.
“-and by the time they realize-“ Barton continues.
Heat floods Loki’s cheeks at how difficult he finds walking the short distance. The human must notice.
“-it won’t be as fast but we can make up the time-“
He clutches at his clothes like that may keep him standing. For some reason the man’s incessant talking is helping, it’s something to focus on.
“-we’ll be safe there don’t-“
The calm casual tone and steady cadence of the archer’s voice lowers his racing heartbeat. A reminder he isn’t alone.
“-enough power for weeks if not-“
Barton is at his side supporting him as he had only ever seen those leaving a battlefield, as if the archer is proud to do so. Still Loki clutches at the staff, the infinity stone remaining safe in his control. It whispers to him even now. Here, without The Other, the stone corrupts but he can not let it go.
“-I doubt-Oh!”
Barton catches him. Loki doesn’t come anywhere near close to falling despite his sudden collapse. The archer is stronger than Loki had originally given him credit for.
He pulls himself back up and just manages to continue on.
Others join their procession towards the aircrafts, all ahead of them. None, under any circumstance, turn around.