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Puzzlement
Clint winced and froze in motion as his wheelchair gave yet another squeak. It wasn't loud, but still it is counted as a sound; a noise that wasn't supposed to be heard in the first place. Damm this wheelchair and the polished tiles of the stark tower that seemed to always create unwanted friction. Breathing out slowly, as in slow motion, he clutched the wheels and gave a weary push. Smiling in satisfaction as the chair rolled on soundlessly.
After a few more abrupt squeaks and turns, he reached the automatic sliding doors and finally… out in the open. This was the first time he was outside since he woke.
The cool wind ruffling his hair and caressing his cheeks, the fresh night air expelling the cloth that seems to block his mind. He suddenly felt refreshed, alert and… alive.
He stretched his arms and neck, enjoying the rush of blood as his vision sharpened and he was seeing objects that he didn't notice when he was in his room.
The cracks that ran through the opposite building that has yet to be repaired.
The slight peeling of paint of the warehouses.
The little alley that ran through behind apartments.
The little garden owned by private housing estate few metres away from the docks. Maybe the family owns a-
"What are you doing here?"
Clint cursed under his breath for being too absorbed in his own thoughts to hear anyone sneaking up on him. He totally hated the idea of someone doing things right behind him while he remained oblivious.
"Aren't you supposed to be in bed, little hawk?" the voice asked again.
Clint sighed, "Need to be outside."
"I think there's more." Thor appeared in his vision as he made himself comfortable at the edge. He did not look like he was leaving anytime soon.
Clint remained silent. His thoughts drifting away as he remembered the main reason for having the sudden desperation for the contact of nature.
Yes, he was desperate.
Every single night, once he close his eyes, those screams and images will appear. And it gets worse everyday. The voice is always there. His laughs echoing through his mind as he jerked awake. Panting and in a pool of cold sweat, rubbing his arms to get rid those disgusting touches that lingered. When he looked at his hands, he expected them to be caked with blood. He felt dirty but there wasn't anything. His hands were clean. His surroundings were dry.
"Is this about your memories?"
He flinched. Was he so easy to read?
"Don't worry about them, Doctor hulk says that they will be coming back soon."
"Unless…" Thor continued, a passive expression on his face, "You're having trouble with them?"
Bingo.
Clint finally surrendered and sighed heavily. "I am remembering bits and pieces here and there. But they don't make sense at all. They were just a few metres away from me and whenever I try to catch them, they just… disappear. I- I don't know what's going on in my head! I don't understand!A man will always appear, but i can't see or recognize his face! He-"
Thor placed his large hands on the agitated handicapped archer's shoulders, trying not to notice how much those once muscular and broad shoulders have shrunk into bones and just flesh.
"There isn't a need to pressure. Give yourself time and they will come back eventually. What you need to do now is to just relax and heal. You don't want everyone's efforts to go to waste, do you?"
"But… the nightmares…"
He was so soft. His confession barely a whisper that escaped Thor's ears.
It took the God of Thunder to realize what he meant and he suddenly understood.
He felt pure rage filled him and his fingers itched for Mjölnir. The sky became restless, clouds moving rapidly.
"Thor?" Clint blinked, not understanding Thor's sudden change in attitude.
"Get inside." Was all Thor growled as he jumped off the building, his cape bellowing behind him, leaving a bewildered Clint.
"Barton?"
Great, another one.
"Bruce?"
"What happened? I saw Thor…"
"I'm not sure. He took off suddenly."
Clint braced himself for the question that he was hundred percent sure Bruce will ask. However, the doctor just glanced at him before getting hold of the handles of Clint's wheelchair.
"Come on, I'll get you inside. A thunderstorm is approaching. My senses tell me it's going to be a heavy one."
"Yeah…"
Clint couldn't help but take one last look where Thor flew off.
What is wrong?
