Chapter 6: Not everything is the way you see it
A/N: … I am lazy, I know... I am so sorry for leaving you guys for so long! God, I am such an awful person.
But I am planning on changing that! Hopefully... So, without further ranting, enjoy.
P.S. I would like to thank Andrewthegreat1, special agent Ali, Guest and Dark Universe for reviewing. Also, a big thank you to those who placed my story as a 'favorite' or on their 'alert list'…. Oh, and a thank you for the ones just read my story. You guys are awesome.
Okay, I'm done now.
Guilt.
The feeling that keeps you awake at nights, invading your dreams and thoughts every chance it can.
The burning pain that with time can only become stronger if we decide to do nothing about it, to make it smaller or just easier to live with.
Guilt is good sometimes.
It lets you know that you are still human, that you can still feel, and as long as you feel guilt, you can call yourself a human being.
But sometimes, we feel guilt that we shouldn't.
We feel guilt for the actions that we couldn't change, couldn't predict and that had nothing to do with us.
And yet, we feel it.
It's eating us alive, and because there is nothing we can do to make it right, it burns us completely in the end, turning us into ashes.
And we can only hope for that one person who will be strong enough to help us realize that the guilt we felt wasn't ours to feel.
Just that one person, one voice of reason and wisdom to erase it all and set us free.
Some of us meet that person and in the end they get a chance to live freely and in peace with ourselves once again, just like they should have, from the very beginning.
Yet…
Some of us never get that chance.
Bruce Banner.
Bruce stared at the lights of the candles, but his eyes weren't focused on that. He was somewhere else, lost in a memory or a thought. His voice was soft as he spoke, the words being only slightly louder than the whisper of the wind.
"That is some sort of a monument for their heroes, the ones that saved them."
"You mean...?"
"Yes. That is a monument for the Avengers... For Iron man, Captain America... And for you, too."
In the silence of the night, it seemed as everything stopped for a moment.
The time stopped flowing, the noises died out, and only soft breeze blew, making no sound on its way between the two man standing silently in the middle of the street.
Thousands of thoughts flashed through Clint's mind but he didn't try to catch them. The pictures of his days under Loki's control, all the people he killed, agents that he tried to hurt... It all played in his mind but just as suddenly as they came, the pictures were being washed away by the messages and photographs on the strange monument in front of them.
His body moved on its own towards the wall covered with papers and pictures from the people they never met, and yet they… worshiped them like they were some kind of Gods.
A strange emotion enveloped his heart at the encouraging messages on the wall. He was so fascinated by the amount of them that he almost forgot the quiet doctor that was standing next to him.
"Do you see it now?"
"See what?" He asked quietly as if he was afraid to break the harmony of the night. He didn't notice when he approached the monument completely, but he hesitantly touched the stuffed toys, little hawks and spiders mainly, and a small but genuine smile found its way to his face.
"Do you see that you are not the bad guy?"
A soft touch on his shoulder sent him to action and although he knew that it was only Bruce, he still jolted from the touch and in a second moved as far away as he could from the hand that was previously on his shoulder.
"Bruce, they don't know what I did. They don't know that I killed people, that I led the enemy into the base and helped them kill more people that they would kill without me." His voice was stained with desperation and pain, the lump in his throat reappearing again and making it hard to swallow, and even breathe.
He was a damn assassin, and he could barely keep his emotions under control.
Out of shame, he lowered his gaze, feeling the stare on the back of his head and thinking that Bruce probably realized that he was right and that he will leave him there and confirm his worst fears and nightmares.
That he was truly a Monster.
But then, Bruce just sighed and chuckled.
"God, Clint, you are so stubborn sometimes."
Clint's head jolted up, his blue eyes going wide from shock as he finally made contact with Bruce and found him smiling softly.
Smiling.
"Huh?" was the only 'intelligent' thing that came to his mind as he watched Bruce shake his head with a soft smile on his face.
"Oh Clint…."
"What?"
"You are making me angry."
Now that Clint didn't expect. A surprised chuckle left his mouth but in a second, he sobered up as the hint of green flashed through Bruce's eyes, but settled with brown once again as he smiled almost sympathetically at him.
"Listen to me, and listen closely, Clint, because I will only say this once and I need you to really hear me out. You. Are not. A bad. Person.
You did kill people, but it wasn't your fault. You need to remember the first thing you did when you were compromised. Yes, I read the report on what happened that day, when Loki touched you with his scepter. You could have killed Fury right then and there, by shooting him in the head. But you didn't, Clint. You knew he always wears the bullet-proof jacket and you knew that he will survive, so you aimed for his heart. Not the head, the heart."
"Bruce, you can't know f-…"
"I can. And I know. You are a good person. You saved us numerous times that day. You fell from a building to help us, you always had out back during that fight and no matter how hard you want to present yourself as a bad guy, you will always be a true Avenger. To us, and to them, too, you are a hero Clint. The famous Hawkeye, the man who saved the world. Don't you ever forget that. "
By the time Bruce finished talking, Clint was staring at him with his eyes wide open. He wasn't sure what shocked him the most: the amount of the words that the quiet Doctor just said, the choice of the words and encouragement he heard in them or the fact that deep down in his heart something... changed.
Something small, insignificant to others but to him it gave a new spark of… something he couldn't quite name... For a moment, he actually felt like he could forgive himself one day and move on.
And that feeling didn't start fading away.
The pressure on his shoulder that appeared at one moment was gone in the other one and the presence beside him vanished without him even noticing. He chuckled to himself quietly.
He had to admit it to Bruce, the man surely knew how to sneak out from a scene.
Throwing one last glance towards the monument, he caught the glimpse of a stuffed animal, a hawk, standing next to the drawing of the bow and arrow that probably were supposed to look like his. Below that child's picture was a note, clearly written by the same child because the letters were huge and red, and every one of them was bigger than the previous one and messier.
But that didn't seem as important as the simple message that the paper held.
One short sentence, two words, eight letters... A simple thank you.
Without glancing back at that place, he started walking back to the Stark Tower, watching as the street slowly started waking up.
The sun peeked over the horizon and started its journey, coloring the sky in warm yellow and light orange.
The sunrise was always Clint's favorite part of the day, because it held so much hope. It was so pure and clean, something he couldn't say for himself, and he remembered that he couldn't enjoy that sight for the past few months of his life.
But at that very moment, he could see every single color, every single shade the sun created… and he enjoyed it.
A warm smile spread on his face as he finally named the feeling that was born in his heart.
Hope.
The days that came to Stark tower had a new glow surrounding them.
To an untrained eye, nothing would seem different or special. The team still barely talked, the time they spent was still minimal and there were no 'movie nights' or funny times.
But to the ones who knew where to look, who knew how to look below the surface, they would see it.
They would see the change in one of them and the care he gave. The way he would make two coffees and then take one to Natasha's room when she was in the shower, or the way he avoided the pop tarts because he knew that Thor loved them. He even acted calmer around Stark and his jokes were lighter, brighter and... happier.
It wasn't fast, and it certainly wasn't a big change, but it was a start. And it was all Clint needed.
The day after their little talk, the things between Bruce and Clint changed. There were no uncomfortable silences, shifting gazes and trying to get away from each other as fast as they could.
The change started with a small 'good morning' and an informal chat, but at the end of the day Two, they found themselves talking about everything and nothing from time to time, relaxed and comfortable in each others company. The comments they received from the team about their behavior were brushed off as a 'change of heart' and 'seeing that the whole thing might not be that bad'.
But only two of them knew the impact of that conversation, and Clint will be forever grateful for what Bruce did.
And to thank him, he decided to do one thing he was the best at.
Watching from the height and protecting the ones close to him.
It hurt her to admit that she was a little jealous.
She knew that she shouldn't be, but that aching feeling in her heart reminded her that he had something that she didn't. That he achieved something what she longed for, but it seemed that it always managed to slip away from her and escape further away.
And little by little, she watched him interact with others, watched him open up to them. He laughed a little louder, he joked more frequently and he was constantly near the Doctor, as if watching over him in some way.
Yes, Natasha Romanoff was jealous.
Because why should Clint be so peaceful when she was suffering inside?!
...
No, it's wrong. She shouldn't think about it like that, she knew that.
She should be happy for him because he deserved it. He deserves the best and he is her best friend, for God's sake!
She should be happy, thrilled!
... So she tried to be like that.
She kept to herself and masked her feelings with one of the masks she perfected with time, watching him from afar as he slowly relaxed, as his face became more peaceful, as his laugh-lines became more visible...
As he moved on.
But with every day, she was getting worse.
All those emotions that were supposed to be locked in a box and thrown away, in the back of her mind, somehow resurfaced and she found herself drowning.
Drowning from the amount of them and from their intensity because she never had to deal with them. Or at least not on her own.
Slowly, Natasha Romanoff was drowning, and there was no one to safe her.
