Avengers 1

Clint's been on enough battlefields to know when something's gone wrong, even in the split second before the alarms starts ringing. There's a taste, or a smell – it's palpable, and he's off his ledge immediately.

He stays when the rest of the senior security staff leaves to coordinate the evacuation, walking around the perimeter of the lab. Then he goes back to his perch, where he's out of the way, and watches. And thinks.

Fury shows up: Clint relaxes.

"If there's been any tampering, it wasn't at this end," he tells his boss, who actually has the power to do anything about that.

"This end?" Fury repeats, and Clint's taken by surprise. The cube's a door. That's what doors do: open.

And then, mid-explanation, it does.

--

The alien has his arm caught, a point of pain that's keeping Clint's thoughts from clearing out, but he hasn't killed him yet. Above the unearthly hum of the Cube, the sickly crackling of the energy gathering in the roof of the room, he thinks: That's probably good, that means he needs Clint, that means Clint can figure out his plan, figure out–

The alien smiles, and Clint's breath catches in his throat.

"You have heart," he says, and before Clint can figure out what he means, the blade is pressed lightly against his chest, and it's probably just the cold that makes it feel so sharp—

The cold that washes over him, that burrows deep, that suffuses into his tissue and his brain and his heart and the blade doesn't feel sharp anymore. It feels right.

His boss smiles again, stepping back, and Clint holsters his gun. He's not a threat: he's a loyal soldier.

And he can draw it again the moment Loki needs aid.