I have decided to revise this chapter due to its being very, well, umm... Heart-wrenchingly awful and small. When I reread it, I noticed that it was very unclear at some points so I added some bits and pieces to help. Hope it seems better!
Disclaimer: I do not own Ranger's Apprentice or Avengers. However, thankfully, I do own Jack! So I get to keep the little munchkin all to myself! So no stealing, or else I'll send his uncle after you.
Jack could not wait until his uncle got here. He had been anticipating this moment for months! It was just about the only thing in his life that he could look forward to because there really wasn't anything else that was exciting enough for him to do so. One of the true reasons why he loved it when his uncle came over was because of the simple fact that he felt like he was truly family. He was also the only person in Jack's life that treated him like an actual human being.
But, that didn't really count for that much. When he thought about it, the only person he did know besides Uncle Clint was of course, his dad.
He wasn't allowed to call him that though. No, to him he was just the little boy that lived in the same apartment that he does and that cleans the whole place for him. The kid, who was now eleven years old, that had learned to stay a good distance away from him at all times because he had started to become a very depressed-looking person.
The thing that was really confusing the poor boy was that, well, it appeared that the guy hated his entire being. It didn't seem like there was a real reason as to why, in Jack's own mind he saw himself as being a pretty well behaved kid. But at the same time, he didn't really know how a well behaved kid acted. He also couldn't really compare himself to other children, unless they were of course on TV.
The boy didn't really have a life outside of the apartment. He had never gone to school in the entire amount of time that he had existed, which to him was very saddening. He could still read and write, but that was because a certain generous relative of his had helped him to learn. That same person had also on different occasions brought with him some books that he was able to practice with whenever he wanted to. So, he had never really worried about not being educated. But this whole having never been able to go to school meant that he didn't have any friends or even ever really saw someone that was his own age who he had actually got to talk to. It had really become a very lonely experience that was really starting to have an impact on his poor heart.
But back to the topic at hand. He really had no idea for the purpose of why his own father seemed to despise every fiber in his body. That is, until he had decided to eaves drop on a conversation during one fateful day only a little while ago.
Two months ago, his uncle had come to visit. After a long day of him and his nephew watching Robin Hood movies that he had brought over with him, he had tucked Jack into his small, rickety bed. Then he had gone to his room to "discuss something that had been on his mind."
After the sounds of footsteps had receded and he picked up the squeaking of the bedroom door closing, echoing in the confines of the small two bedroom-apartment, the boy's curiosity got the better of him. So he had quickly scrambled out of the bed, trying his very hardest to not be heard, and went over to the wall that separated his and that man's room. He pressed his ear against it and quietly waited.
At first he could only make out the faint sounds of their voices, and it appeared that they were arguing. Then suddenly, it was as if something had snapped in his uncle because his voice rose dramatically to a much higher volume that the boy could now very easily make out the words to.
"WHEN WILL IT GET THROUGH YOUR HEAD MARCUS!" Uncle Clint shouted at the top of his lungs. "I DON'T CARE THAT YOU THINK THAT HE IS THE REASON THAT ELLIS IS DEAD!"
Ellis? Who's Ellis? Jack thought to himself. It sounded like a very familiar name. He mulled it over, trying to think of one of the few people that he knew, and narrowed it down further to the only girls. Well not physically, but by their name. He had never actually met anyone, just found out about them because of seeing them in an album or something like that. Maybe this 'Ellis' was the name of an aunt or maybe-
But then, he remembered. The realization caused him to quickly seize up. He remembered who that name belonged to. Ellis. Ellis Barton. That was the name of his own mother. The person, who he was told by Uncle Clint, had died in a car crash on the way home from the hospital on the day that he was born.
Dad had never said a word about her in his entire life, at least as far back as he could remember. A few years back Jack had gotten up enough courage to finally ask the question that had plaguing his mind for some time about what his mother was like, but he had immediately regretted it after the words had come out his mouth. His dad's eyes seemed to begin to get the same foggy look that they did after he had a long night of doing the thing he had been doing usually, staying up to very late hours consumed by darkness, simply sitting in the couch or chair and looking straight ahead, transfixed on whatever the thing that he was thinking about.
But there was something about the look that he had accompanied with his eyes this time that warned Jack of very immediate danger, that would probably be directed at him.
The man had shot straight up from the couch and started scolding the boy for asking him such a thing and for having had talked to him without permission to do so. Jack had than preceded to run straight into his room and slammed the door close. Then he had hid under his quilt in fear.
After that, Jack had never again asked anything that even remotely involved her, not even to his uncle. He was worried that if he did ask, it would somehow get to his father's ears and he would be angry at him again.
Quickly he got back to his eaves dropping so that he would be able to hear the rest of the conversation. He wondered who Uncle Clint had meant when he had said "You think 'he' is the reason that Ellis is dead?" Whoever this person was, he seemed to have been a part of his mother's death in someway. Perhaps that might be the reason that his father was always angry? Because this person had somehow gotten away with Ellis's death and he was now always thinking about that fact?
He realized he might be able to get the answer to who the person was if he continued to listen, so he put his ear back to its position on the wall.
"Marcus, you have got to listen to me!" Well, it sounded like his uncle's voice had gotten softer. Perhaps he was trying to reason with the guy now? "Look, no matter how he had been a part of it that kid is your son, alright!?" Clint ranted. "You can't act like it was solely Jack's own doing! When will I be able to get the fact that it was her decision-
What had he just said? He had said 'Jack.' He had distinctly said 'Jack.' As in, his very own name.
What? He began to feel a bit dizzy after hearing his name spoken. So I'm to blame for my own mother's death? He couldn't hear anything anymore and his vision was beginning to go out of focus of his surroundings. Well, he had gotten the answer to one of the many questions that he had been asking himself for years.
His father despised him because somehow, it was his fault his own mother was dead. The reason why he was always either treated like garbage or nothing at all for every day of his life. But how? How had he been a part of it?!
Does it actually matter how? No matter the reason, it was still apparently his fault.
He just sat there next to the wall. He felt like he was empty, hollow and completely lifeless inside with the realization starting to ebb into him.
He ever so slowly stood up, not really knowing why he was. His legs felt like they were made out of led. He trudged over to his bed and collapsed on top of the old mattress. Slowly he pulled the itchy quilt that was his only blanket up and over himself robotically, not even really realizing that he was doing so.
Underneath the shield that he had created was a miserable sight indeed. After a minute had passed of him simply lying there motionless, the true gravity of the words that he had heard felt like a pile of rocks that had gotten stuck in his stomach and were now weighing him down. It was giving him a horrid feeling inside. The young boy began to clutch to his pillow as if it was for dear life. In truth, that was what it appeared to be to him.
Jack felt like he had cracked. The pillow seemed like the only link he had to life at that moment. It was himself who had caused all of the misery that he was experiencing in his life. The mother who he had always thought and dreamt of being one of the people to actually love him was killed somehow by his own doing. That in turn had also caused his father to hate him.
The entire time that he was desperately clutching on, his face was stuffed into that pillow in an attempt to stifle the sobs that were coming out. After all, he didn't want to make him angry with any loud noises.
"BOY, ANSWER THE DOOR!"
Jack snapped out of the memory when he heard his father's harsh yell that had been directed at him. Then after a quick second of processing what he had been told, he excitedly sprinted over to the door. All of the sadness that had come from the memories that he had been thinking over quickly dissipated and was replaced by pure joy.
It had to be his uncle! It wasn't like anyone else ever came over! He was so glad his uncle was finally here, he probably had so many different things planned for them to do for the day!
He stood on his tip-toes to look through the small peephole. He saw his uncle's spiky dark brown hair and he had a smirk on his face that seemed to be because of something funny that he was currently thinking about. As he looked at his uncle, it seemed as if he could tell that Jack was looking right at him, even with the door dividing them.
Jack silently laughed to himself inside. Well, of course he knew he was looking at him. He HAD to be only the most observant person in the entire world! Why else would he be called 'Hawkeye' at work?
He unlocked the door and swung it wide open. These were the days that he always craved. They were the only reason why he felt the need to put up with his life at home and continue living with at least some happiness for the what was to come in the future. It was because of that amazing guy who would take time off from his supposedly very important job(The one of which he was still keeping what exactly it was from the boy, even with all his nagging questions), just to spend time with him and to make sure that he was still doing alright. The person that seemed like a real life superhero to Jack.
His uncle, Clint Barton.
