We Might Fall


Chapter 2: Clint of Ridiculously Good Aim

I'm with SHIELD, for god's sake. I could just look her up.

But that's an invasion of a civilian's privacy.

That's right, Clint, she's a civilian. You shouldn't be seeking out friendship with a civilian.

Yeah, as if friendship is actually what you're seeking out.

Right now, Clint Barton and Hawkeye were having a severe disagreement inside of the man's head.

How did you even forget to get her number? Or at least give her yours?

No, you shouldn't have gone out with her anyway. You shouldn't even have approached her on the bridge to begin with.

But what if she was really going to jump?

No, of course she wasn't. She said she wasn't.

God, you really need to stop thinking about this woman.

He wasn't entirely sure which side of him was arguing that last part.

He groaned and pushed himself off of the couch, turning on his heel and trudging over to the elevator, walking away from the chatters of the Avengers behind him. He pushed the button for the gym and ran a hand through his prickly hair. What have I done to myself?

Natasha and Steve exchanged a look, one that was soon shared among those remaining in the room.

"I bet it's a girl." Tony decided. "Anyone else notice that his walk was just a little longer last night? He was gone for 3 hours."

Natasha shook her head. "Really, Stark? Of course that's where your mind goes." But she didn't entirely want to admit that she had the same feeling. She was in two minds about it. If it was indeed a girl, should she point out the dangers of a SHIELD agent dating an outsider, or should she tell him to go for it?

"I happen to have a brilliant mind." Tony responded, taking a pause before continuing with his point. "JARVIS pulled up the security footage for me this morning. Our Legolas came back and was straight into bed, asleep in seconds." He stopped to allow the others to take in this information. "We all know how annoyingly restless he is." He finished matter-of-factly, resting his case.

They were all thinking the same thing – Natasha, Tony, Steve, Bruce, and even Thor. It was dangerous for someone even remotely associated with SHIELD to become involved with someone at all, especially if they existed outside of SHEILD's radar. But they'd all seen the decline in Clint's mental wellbeing. The dragging of his feet, the excessive amount of training, the silences that were just a little too long to be characteristic – it had been unsettling to them for a while.

It was almost a choice of whether to side with Hawkeye or Clint.

And none of the Avengers wanted to make that choice.


Clint pulled the arrow back, feeling the cool metal just below his cheek, and released. He stepped forward and inspected the projectile with a disturbed expression.

It was off.

Only by a maximum of one, maybe one and a half centimetres, an absolutely infinitesimal amount. But it was still off, nonetheless.

He growled and ripped the arrow from its place, shoving it back into the quiver and tossing it aside. He grabbed his leather jacket, appreciating the familiarity of the smooth material as he pulled it over his shoulders.

He didn't usually walk in the middle of the day.

But he didn't usually miss.


Hallie picked up the most recent manuscript that had been left on her desk, taking the rather large file and putting it in her rather large handbag, grabbing her cardigan and shrugging it on.

The office was oddly quiet – though it was a Tuesday. Tuesday was the typical deadline day of each week. It varied enough, but it was normal for not many people to be around on a Tuesday. Not quite as normal for there to be no one.

But then again, Hallie mused, I might just be even more out of it today than I thought, noticing something as meaningless as that.

She'd been hyperaware every time she saw the faintest glimpse of a leather jacket out of the window that was right by her desk. Or plaid. Or that familiar head of spiked brown hair. Or just anything that remotely reminded her of the evening she'd experienced not 24 hours ago.

She hadn't slept at all that night, but she wasn't sure whether that was a result of her insomnia or the excitement and restlessness she'd been left with after getting in the taxi that Clint had called for her. Maybe it was both. She was sorely disappointed, to say the least, when she realised that neither had exchanged numbers, and she didn't know his last name, so there was no way she'd find him in an address book. Not that she'd actually considered looking. That would be creepy.

She'd been on high alert – and she wasn't sure if it was quite conscious or subconscious – for anyone who looked the least bit similar, but she was simultaneously trying to convince herself to give it up. In a city of 8 million people, there was a very, very slim chance of meeting the same person twice. It would be worth something if I did.

As she stepped out of the small building, she felt the cool air hit her face pleasantly. The way to her apartment, if she crossed the bridge, would probably add a good half an hour to her walk. It's a nice day, she reasoned. As if that was the real truth in her detour.

As she walked, she felt her feet become numb, every step an echo of another, no effort or real thought required.

"I was thinking about how blue your eyes are."

The words were impossible to push out of her head. She'd been hearing them all day.

'Hallie'. She could get used to that.

She didn't even see that he was just a few feet away from her by the time she came upon the bridge. Not at first.

Clint was leaning over the edge of the bridge, his elbows rested on the cool metal as he looked out over the flowing water, the sun still high in the sky among the blue and the clouds.

The blue reminded him of her eyes.

"Not gonna jump, are you?"

He threw himself around at the sound of that familiar voice, and he blinked twice at the sight of her. She was shifting the handle of her large handbag, one hand holding her hair back in the soft breeze.

After a moment of recovering himself – and refusing to question why he hadn't noticed her approaching – he smiled. "Are you?" He couldn't fight the chuckle that came out with the words.

He wasn't sure if she'd play along further, but was happy when she did. "What kind of a response is that?" She quipped.

The pair smiled wider as he responded. "I've had a long day." They both laughed, jovial sounds that merged favourably.

Hallie hung her head for a moment before flicking it back up, pursing her lips. "Well, I happen to make some exceptional tea."

He stepped towards her, cocking his head slightly. "Oh, you do?"

She smiled and laughed, nodding. "I've got quality cheap teabags at home."

"Quality cheap?" He raised his eyebrows with a grin.

"I don't have all the money in the world." She smiled, dropping the banter. "But I really do have tea, and I really would like to pay you back for last night."

Clint nodded, dipping his head and gesturing away from himself. "Well then, lead the way."


As Hallie opened the door to her small apartment, the first thing Clint noticed was the traditional, almost old-fashioned style. From the small, well adorned fireplace, complete with a small stack of minimal firewood, to the overhanging wooden beam that ran across between the lounge and the kitchen, the entire place was quaint and very quiet, though it was a pleasant quietness.

"This is it. I know it's pretty… uh, outdated, but yeah. I prefer it."

The apartment was divided into two sections by the overhanging beam, the first housing the lounge area and a door that he assumed led to her bedroom and bathroom. The second was the small kitchen that had its place beside a large desk. The desk was covered in papers, and it had a wooden back with a pin board on it, leading up towards small draws. It seemed more like the desk of a young girl than a typical office desk. It suits her more, he decided.

Just as he was finishing his inspection of the space, his eyes fell upon the dartboard that hung on the wall between the kitchen and the desk. He couldn't help but notice the many small pinholes that decorated the wall around it. Someone isn't a good shot.

He smirked and pointed towards the source of his observations. "Someone not a good shot?" He voiced his previous thoughts.

Hallie looked up from the desk, where she had just set her handbag. "Uh, no, that was my brother. I'm actually a decent shot." She held her hands up with a small laugh, and Clint could tell she was lying.

Why is she lying? Is she trying to impress me? He smirked at the thought. One does not simply 'impress' Hawkeye. Hawkeye does, however, impress others.

"I'm a decent shot." He shrugged as a grin crept onto his face. "Alright, how 'bout a bet?"

She quirked an eyebrow in response, waiting silently.

Clint thought for a moment. "Whoever has the best shot wins. If I win, you have to make me tea again tomorrow. If you win…" He gestured towards her, leaving the terms open for her alteration.

He caught the sly biting of her lip, and he knew she was considering backing out. Come on, love, that'd be no fun, he thought as he waited.

Finally, she nodded. "If I win, you have to take me to that restaurant again. But we have to order something other than tea this this time."

Clint's eyebrows perked. "Like a date?"

Hallie nodded awkwardly.

His smirk remained prevalent. "Well, I'm almost tempted to let you win if that's the case."

He was glad when Hallie took the challenge he'd presented, biting back with a quick, "Let me win? We'll see about that."

He almost felt guilty for how truly unfair this bet was, unbeknownst to her.

They took a dart each and Clint gestured for her to go first, allowing her to step back and take aim.

He could see where she was going wrong… Actually, it was hard not to. She was tense, putting her arm too high, and when she finally released, she flicked her entire arm – lacking any strength in her flick to even sustain the thing – as opposed to flicking her wrist.

Clint shook off the silent judging of her technique, willing Hawkeye to sit back for a while as he stepped up, pushing away the thought of his near miss just a short time before. He took aim briefly and, with a rapid flick of his wrist, launched the dart.

Bullseye.

A grin, that same rush of accomplishment he always felt upon hitting a target, flashed across his face, and he glanced sideways to see Hallie with her mouth hanging slightly open. Where her dart had barely caught the board, his had been a perfect shot.

She turned to him slowly and narrowed her eyes. "You said you were a 'decent' shot."

Clint just shrugged. "So did you."

Hallie huffed and stepped over to the board, pulling the two darts out and stalking back over to him, handing him one. "That was lucky. There's no way you'll do it a second time."

Clint paused for a moment before holding out his hand. She gave him a confused look, but handed him the second dart.

He positioned himself with the darts between his fingers, almost as if they were throwing knives. He faltered momentarily, mentally chastising himself for drawing nearly everything back to his marksmanship. That is my life, a part of him reasoned. He dismissed the thought and, with another flick of the wrist, landed both darts within the bullseye, turning and giving the now doubly surprised Hallie a sheepish grin and a shrug.

"Special forces." He claimed with a sly smirk.

Hallie shook her head, recovering from the moment. "Okay, so, yeah," she began, heading over to begin the tea. "I might have lied in saying I was at all decent. And yeah, the holes in the wall are mine. The majority of the wear and tear on the actual board is really just my brother." She paused, but continued at Clint's curious expression. "He's 11, turning 12, and ever since the Avengers saved the city – or, well, the world, I guess – he's been ridiculously in love with the prospect of being a superhero."

She let out a laugh then, and Clint couldn't help but smile at the softness of it. He trained his eyes on her hands as they soaked the two cups of tea gradually. "So, he's always going on about saving people, and it's really just adorable. But he has this particular obsession – don't ask me why – with the archer, Hawkeye." She didn't glance up as she continued. "I mean, I could understand, say, Captain America or Thor – they are clearly superhuman in some way or another – but Hawkeye is just an ordinary guy, right? He's just really good with a bow and arrow." She looked up now and shrugged as she handed Clint his tea, not noticing the frown on his face. "But, I guess, maybe that's the appeal."

"What's appealing about being a human?"

Hallie noticed the twisted expression on Clint's face this time. He's on the special forces… She reasoned, revelation washing over her. Maybe he feels like he's not 'on par' with the Avengers? She decided that it was something like that, and quickly tried to amend her words as best she could.

"I don't really know what makes up being a human – I mean, there are a million different arguments when it comes to what being human actually means. Biological, spiritual, emotional…" She paused to sip her tea in thought, grimacing when it was too hot. "I guess… It's the ability to be weak, as well as strong."

Clint looked up from his own tea, staring her directly in the eyes as she continued carefully.

"I think that a lot of people regard being human as weak, and that's meant to be a flaw. But weakness is… Subjective. It's also kind of beautiful." Her eyebrows drew together at this, and the seriousness dripped away from the conversation as she headed to the freezer, grabbing a block of ice. "Except for when you burn your tongue on your tea." She popped the block in her mouth, glad that the tingling sensation gradually numbed.

Clint smiled half-heartedly at that. He felt weakened, ironic as that was. He wasn't sure if she'd ever realise just how close to his heart she had hit with those words. It was all that and more – he really was just a human. It had become acutely apparent to him ever since he was so easily controlled by Loki. He was just human.

He felt a moment of anger, and he couldn't tell whether it was Clint or Hawkeye who brought it on. 'Weakness is beautiful?' He internally scoffed. She knows nothing of what it is to feel so weak.

And then, as quickly as the anger had come, it ebbed away, replaced by the gentle words he heard from the gentle girl who, he reminded himself, had intended no harm.

"… wasn't allowed to take archery lessons, so when I brought it in, his face just lit up, like Christmas. It was kind of just blackmail to get him to visit me more often." Her laugh comforted the hollowness he felt, and he was suddenly aware of how drained he was after the mix of emotions. "He comes around a lot more often now. Still not a great deal, but at least enough to have done that." She gestured to the board. "I'm just glad he has someone to look up to."

There was something else behind her words, but he couldn't even begin to draw on the energy required to question it. So he left it with a simple response.

"Yeah."


A significantly important note: Thank you eternally to the two people who reviewed the first chapter. The story had only been up 6 hours by the time two reviews came in. It made me really happy. Also, thank you to the followers and favourites. It all means a lot to me.

Please drop a review if you have the time!