WOW! That was a lot better response than I was expecting. I know, I mean to Hawkeye. Sad to say that the chapters get shorter from here, nothing too short. Don't worry.
"Clint. Clint, let me look." She insisted, cornering him after the two guards had left.
"No, I'm fine." He growled, walking the opposite way of the bed.
Now that they were alone, hiding emotions didn't matter. They had dismantled the cameras and killed all the bugs the first night. Marx didn't care. He had them locked away as tight as he could. Locked and guarded doors, too small a window, and pitch black darkness except for the moon's light. They might as well been trapped in a bank vault. Wall Street Bank Vault.
"Wrong way." She scowled, grabbing his arm and turning him around.
He grunted and turned the other way, only for her to grab his left arm. "Clint, let me see. One of us needs to." She whispered softly.
He shook his head, his entire vision a blur. "Natasha, what's wrong? I've never seen you… I've never heard you sound that…"
She shook her head and tried to regain composure. "Clint Barton I swear if you don't let me check your eyes…"
He grunted and sat on the bed. "How bad are they?" He asked her, letting her examine his eyes. Her fingers gently caressed his face as she examined the swollen, puffy, and scarred eye.
"Tissues scarred, it's bubbly and swollen, and it's going to be a miracle if you see normally again." She answered, shaking her head.
"So bad?" He asked, blinking before letting her continue.
"Yes." She responded, letting go of his face and setting beside him on the bed. She shook her head. "The bullet in your shoulder is infected."
"I know, I keep having hot flashes." He mumbled, eyes closed. Marx had definitely abused his wounded shoulder. The first day he taken the bullet out with a butter knife. The second day he had beaten it with a crowbar. Today he had dislocated it before leaving it alone. To make matters worse, it was his shooting arm. "Wouldn't be the first time I've gotten an infection."
She nodded. "What was all that?"
"What was what?" He asked her.
"That story. Where did he get all that?" She questioned him gently.
"I have no idea." He responded.
"Bullshit." She hissed, glancing at him "You know exactly what he was talking about. It was all true, wasn't it?"
"We're not talking about his." He hissed.
"We are. Clint, it was all true wasn't it?" She asked, staring at his scarred orbs. Marx wasn't kidding, those eyes fascinated any female. They seemed to see through anyone. They always saw someone's true intentions. Yet, while they analyzed a soul, they held a haunted soul.
He remained quiet for a long time, just staring ahead towards the opposite wall. He couldn't believe he was actually considering telling her. Even Coulson didn't know about his father. He knew everything from age twelve and up. "Yes."
He felt her hand on his shoulder and chose to ignore it. "Clint, all of it?"
He nodded. "Every last fricken thing."
She shook her head, trying to make him smile. "You weren't kidding, you actually learned in a circus. Who taught you?"
He shook his head. "Trickshot and Swordsman, they-it's easier to start at the beginning. Nat, I haven't even told Coulson half of this."
She suddenly felt horrible for invading his privacy. Stupid feather brain making me feel guilty. Black Widow doesn't feel guilt. She told herself. "Clint, you don't have to." She whispered, hand on his knee. What the hell was wrong with her? Why couldn't she look away from those blue scarred orbs?
"You're right, I know your past. It's only fair. I guess I have to start with my childhood. I grew up in a butcher shop with a small attic acting as my older brother's room and mine. Mom did cocaine, Dad was an alcoholic. They lost the shop when I was six. We moved into the trailer park and lived off of welfare. Dad still worked but he came home drunk. He wasn't a happy drunk either. I," she watched him swallow. "I could do anything and everything to stay away from him, but nothing worked. I tried hiding under the trailer, that earned me the belt. I tried hiding in the park, that earned me his cigarette. I started hiding in trees, and on roofs and I figured out Dad couldn't find me. No one ever looks up."
She looked at him, seeing tears of pain and something else in his eyes. Regret? Fear? She couldn't tell. She wondered if it was the same look she had in her eyes when she talked about her past.
"Mom and Dad died when I was twelve. Barney, my older brother, and I spent a year in the orphanage before running away to the local circus. Wipe the smirk off your face, Romanoff." He said, not even needing to look at her. He was leaning forward, hands clasped together. She recognized the position, it was the one where he was trying to looked relaxed. "We worked hard jobs for a year before fate found me and left him in the dust."
She smirked, he was starting to have fun telling her about his life. "What do you mean?"
"Barney and I were cleaning the tent with a couple of other hands and they found a knife and targets laying around and started playing with it. I've always wondered if they were left there on purpose. I just kind of hid back and continued working while the others messed with it. They all failed, and when Barney couldn't do it I laughed. He threw it in my hands and said to give it a shot. I did."
"A perfect hit?" She asked, smirking. She saw a speck of blood on his arm and went to wipe it with leftover sheets from yesterday.
"Not even close. I skimmed the top. Barney mumbled something along the lines of it's harder than it looks. Then Swordsman revealed himself and told me to stay and the others to scram. Next thing I know I'm not cheap labor anymore, I'm training in acrobatics and in weapons usage." He said, shaking his head and watching her blurred hand wipe blood from his arm. "Did you know I can you use a sword? They're just too hard to conceal."
She chuckled. "You really do belong in the Middle Ages. Where did the archery come in?" She questioned, wondering how a circus kid could become her Hawkeye. "Who gave you the name Hawkeye?"
"Trickshot. He was Swordsman's right hand, I was the left. He and Swordsman wanted to make me the ultimate attraction and halfway through being fourteen, he did just that. Trickshot began to train me in archery and it took me a six months to hit the target bulls eyes, dead center. I came extremely close, but not dead center. After the first hit, Trickshot wouldn't let me take a break until I did that ten times in a row, when that became easy, twenty times, and it kept increasing. After I hit one hundred, he named me Hawkeye. I loved to be in high places and hit the target, and I was only fifteen so he called me Hawkeye kid. It became my stage name."
She rolled her eyes. "That comment about them both wanting to kill you?"
He sighed. "Trouble in paradise, right. It was the day before my eighteenth birthday. I found Swordsman stealing money from the owner, and he cornered me and I told him I wouldn't be his partner in crime. He let me walk away and I went and told the owner. The owner didn't believe me, and said I should go practice. So I got the bright idea to practice the trapeze wire."
"Go one." She whispered, noticing the anger in his tone.
His eyes became cloudy. "Jacques came in and said no hard feelings and he helped me practice. I was stupid and believed him. He ended up shoving me off the wire and leaving me for dead. Told everyone I committed suicide since I accused him of stealing. They believed him, everyone except my brother and Trickshot. Barney left me saying I should have taken Swordsman's offer. Trickshot was the only one there for me, until I accidently shot Barney in a robbery at some crooks house. I refused to leave him, and Trickshot shot me a few times and again I found myself being left for dead by my mentor."
His tone was so bitter, so full of regret, that she found her hand on his cheek. He glanced at her, seeing her own blue eyes staring at him. "Nat," he mumbled, face so close to hers that he could feel her breath.
"Were you really married?" She asked.
"Yes, only for two years. It would have lasted, but shit happens. I left Bobbi, still talk to her once every couple months. We were too different and I was just starting SHIELD while she was leaving." He mumbled, staring down at her. Natasha was very different from Bobbi. Bobbi was blond, curvy, skinny, and a girl next door. She was intelligent, loving, and too nice for him. Natasha was a redhead with curves and muscles. Unlike Bobbi, Natasha would kick his ass in a heartbeat. He was more similar to Natasha. "Nat, we shouldn't."
"I know." She whispered, fighting that stupid childish emotion that she hadn't felt in seven years. Truly, she never felt this. Alexei was an arranged marriage, and while she did love him, something was different right now.
Throwing caution to the wind for once in either of their lives, her lips met his, and from that moment she realized she was in love with her partner. She was one of those girls that fell for those stormy blue eyes that saw through a person and right into their soul. She couldn't deny that his muscles and eight pack abs made her drool slightly. The blonde boyish hair, that sweet smile, the way he moved in a fight, she loved everything.
She actually fell for the stupid American archer who had saved her from the KGB.
She had never been so scared.
Review replies:
PrincessMnMz: Ha, that's pretty much it for punishment. Although, I'm really not in nice to him in the two stories I'm working on.
Blue-Songbirds: Ahhhh! I am :)
Sarcastic Musician: Well, I'm not doing anything with KGB since these are more one shots that interconnect, but as for what he whispered, it's up to you. I like to let people imagine sometimes. I almost made him take out both of Clint's hearing aids, but it was hard to do with this chapter.
Guest: You have no idea how much that means. I'm always terrified their OOC.