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The situation they are in is rather unpleasant to say the least.
With a jammed tempad, time doors can be rather unstable. Making every and each universe they stumbled into randomized.
Right now, both of them seem to be in a universe devoid of life— it's eerie. From their surroundings, Loki could guess that this used to be a small town from the 21st century. What kind of destruction lay its fist against this world, Loki could only guess.
Though that mattered not, for he was stuck with a man who wanted him dead, he could see the rage in Barton’s blue eyes, all that pent-up resentment and pain piercing at Loki.
They’ve gotten into a fight, and Barton’s distrust of him is hitting its peak. He could understand where he's coming from, truly. It seems that this version of Barton was… different. Darker.
When the man first appeared in the TVA out of nowhere, wearing his Ronin suit, Loki could only assume that the man had fallen down into a darker path after an untold tragedy had struck.
Loki tried to take a small step forward, and Barton took a step back.
"I understand your anger—”
"You don't understand shit." Clint spats loudly than he should because how could he— how dare Loki claims to understand Clint's pain. "I lost everything!" His voice was shaky and so brittle. "You hear me!? Everything."
It was getting harder to breathe.
"My family is gone!" His eyes bore into Loki's, and even if it had been years since the god became his puppeteer, he could still feel the fear rising in his stomach.
And even if this Loki is technically 'different'— Clint couldn't care less, for now, his anger leads his heart.
"You claim to be good, but you're not, you will never be." He shook his head. "You know what you will always be? That pathetic excuse of an attention-seeking child that tried to rule over earth because his daddy doesn't love him enough, and that's it.”
Loki’s eyes twitched, and for a moment, he wanted to spit poison back at Barton, to twist the knife deeper into Barton's already broken body, but for a moment, when their eyes met, he saw a version of himself rather than Barton.
A version of himself that he had almost forgotten.
Full of anger and hatred, for himself and the others around him. Someone he hasn't been in so long since his attempt to raise hell in New York.
Barton was right in a way. He is an attention seeker.
He paused for a moment, letting the anger deplete.
"We should resume our journey," He declared instead. "Before the night consumes.”
They walk in silence after that debacle to find a place to stay. The two men find a small wooden cabin to stay in for the night. Inside the cabin, it was broken and run-down. With debris scattered around the floor. The only thing that could be considered a piece of furniture was the wooden table that stood at the corner of the cabin.
They settled down on the floor, across from each other. Leaving a huge gap in this incredibly small cabin.
Clint's back hit the wall, and he propped his knees up, resting his hands there, then he tried to relax.
Closing his eyes, the man tried to breathe.
It didn't really work.
“You’re wrong, you know,” Loki suddenly speaks up, breaking the silence. He has his back resting against the wooden wall as his head is tilted upward— lost in his own thoughts.
Clint's head snapped forward, looking at the god in front of him, and before he could bark out hurtful words to make him shut his own mouth, the god continued to talk.
“I understand you.” Loki said simply, biting his bottom lip before he continued. “Maybe… not in the same sense, but I do.” Loki’s voice was soft as he tread carefully with the marksman. One wrong word would shut the man out. “Truly.”
Clint’s hands balled up into a fist, he wanted to yelled at Loki once again, taking all his anger out on the willing god because ruining him should feel great.
It should feels great.
But when he spits those burning words at the god earlier, it really didn’t, so all he could do was let out a sigh before indulging in the god’s words.
“And what do you mean by that?”
Loki’s lips curled into a small smile, but it was not from a place of condescension or malice, more like a thankful kind of smile.
“Let me tell you a story,” He begins and sucks in a breath softly. It's been a long time since he last told this story to someone.
“The TVA… wasn’t always an organization that protected all timelines; it was something far worse.” He paused.
“Before there was a multiverse, before the ever-growing timelines flowed freely, there was only one.”
He thinks back to that day, when his life changed forever, the day the armored midguardians took him away from his home, the day the truth was revealed to him, and how angry he felt as he watched his life play out.
“One timeline. We called it ‘The Sacred Timeline’— a locked path, where everything goes as the one above us had planned it to go.”
“Every action, every decision, every breath you took was already written.” He continues as memories flashes through his mind, the devastation he felt as He Who Remains revealed the inevitable truth to him.
“And when you diverged from the already written path, that’s when TVA comes into play.”
It was a lot to take in as Loki begins to speak, he doesn't even know if he trusts Loki’s word, but the thought that there was only one timeline and that freewill was nothing but bullshit makes Clint feel uneasy because what does that say about his life?
“I don’t think I understand.” He muttered.
“TVA would arrest you for diverging from your path, changing the trajectory of your universe. Ergo, creating a branching timeline. That happened to me.” Loki’s eyes flickered to look at Clint for the first time as he told his story.
“I diverged from my path, and TVA apprehended me.” He could feel the tension rising inside him. Even though it has been more than various centuries since this life-changing event. He supposed he could never truly process all of it.
“And the damage had been done; no one could fix the branching timeline. There was only one solution.” His hands moved to wrap themselves around his own arms.
Clint thinks he knows what is coming, and even as his hatred for Loki was boiling— he thinks that no one deserves that, not even the god that had once destroyed New York, and god, he feels so sick for even thinking that, for offering Loki his pity.
His gaze lay on Loki’s hands, which were wrapped in a protective gesture as the god tightened them around his arms.
Clint felt so sick.
“And in the blink of an eye, they pruned my universe, destroyed every star, and all the nine realms.” He sighed softly. It felt good, telling someone his story; he never thought it would, but he finds that finding a connection forged in pain and loss with Barton was… comforting.
“That was the point of no return; I could never bring my timeline back. My family, everything I know... Thor, they're all gone,” It still hurts sometimes when the memories of his brother find their way into his head. Memories that were once a comfort now leave a bittersweet aftertaste as he lets them stay inside his mind, though he embraces them nonetheless. “So, yes— I do, I do understand your pain, agent.”
“Jesus,” Clint breathed, hitting his head lightly against the wall as he looked up. What was Clint supposed to say to that? The loss was even greater than Clint’s own loss, and Loki hasn’t fallen down further into the path of darkness.
And what does that say for Clint? For his loss drove him to bathe in blood and filth.
“That’s— that’s…” He tried to speak, tried to find words to describe Loki’s situation. “Fucked up.”
Loki only gave him a small chuckle; it was both humorless and warm at the same time.
“That phrase sums it up perfectly.” He hums.
Clint ducked his head down as a small, unwanted smile curled up on his face.
“So what happened?” He asked after a moment. “What changed?”
“That’s a story for another time,” Loki grinned, his eyes glinting with mischief. It was the same kind of mischief the Loki of his universe had when he waged war on New York, but it was softer somehow.
“I am not telling you this to weigh you down with my burden,” He added, “I’m telling you this to let you know that I understand your loss and that you’re not alone in your grief.”
And Clint was speechless when those words left Loki’s lips. He looked at Loki, really looked at Loki, seeing the man’s green eyes looking back at him. It was overwhelmingly green and bright, and everything about his features looked softer.
Like the coward he is, he tilted his head down once again, avoiding eye contact.
“Thank you.” He uttered softly, and then there was silence.
For the first time, Clint can breathe again.