All my reviewers are amazing. I am stunned by the responses to this story. It's even more popular than my series with all the Avengers in it. I'm sort of in shock, I think. Fortunately, I write better in shock, so keep them coming. ;)

Enjoy!

K.S.

Erian hadn't expected to have nightmares. And why would she? She had no guilt over her mission; she'd watched a good movie; and her partner was asleep on the couch across the room. So why would she have nightmares?
She didn't know why. But why wasn't important in Erian's nightmares, only the fact that they were happening at all.

Blood. Blood, everywhere, on the knife, on her hands, on Kirbee's shirt, on Kirbee's face, everywhere. . .

Too much blood.

She'd killed Kirbee. Of course she had, she'd meant to – no, no she hadn't! She hadn't wanted Kirbee dead, just to stop her – keep her from telling –

She ran, blood dripping from her fingertips. She fumbled in her pocket for the masking tape she always carried – she was just trying to look cool, just to look cool, she'd never meant to use the knife –

She knew what to do, she'd seen it all on TV – much too violent, television – she had to get rid of the knife –

"Erian! Wake up!"

She was screaming, slapping Barton's hands away from her, reaching for her knives, but freezing when she saw him. "Don't touch me!" Erian gasped. "Blood – everywhere –"

Barton grabbed her head in his hands and made her look at him. "Erian. It's over. Whatever it was, it's over now. It was just a dream."

"No," she whispered. "No, it wasn't. It was my first kill. An accident . . ."

His eyes darkened, and Barton said softly, "Kirbee?"

Erian shuddered, and whispered, "Don't touch me." He let her go, and she sat up, shaking.

She looked at her partner and suddenly wanted very much for someone else to help her carry the weight of her memories. "Clint," Erian said softly, "I – I want to tell you . . . some of it . . ."

Barton was perched on the edge of her bed, worry in his face. "I'm right here," he replied, and Erian looked away.

"It was a play," she said softly, jerkily. The telling wasn't easy, not after so many years. Erian had thought she'd forgotten it all, but there it was, every detail, plain as day. "A play with the high school, a musical. I wanted the lead. So did another girl, and she was a better singer."

Erian closed her eyes, trembling. "I wanted it more than she did. More than anyone. More than I should have. She was allergic to nuts, and I knew where she always left her lunch when she went to get silverware. It was easy, really, I just put ground nuts in her sandwich, and she couldn't sing that night." Erian drew in a shaky breath, and felt Barton's hand on her shoulder.

"Kirbee found out," Erian whispered, and didn't say anything else.

Barton was quiet for a while, his hand on her shoulder. Erian could feel his warmth behind her, and almost wished he would move closer.

"I lost a brother," Barton said suddenly, surprising her. Erian turned her head to look at him, and found he wouldn't look at her. "In the circus. No, really. It's where I learned to shoot."

He didn't elaborate, and Erian didn't ask. Some things weren't meant to be shared.

And some things were. She glanced at the clock, and saw that it wasn't even four in the morning. Erian looked back at Barton, who was staring down at her bed and twisting the sheets between his fingers. He seemed to have forgotten his hand on her shoulder.

Erian reached out and grabbed his other hand, untangling the fabric from his grip. Barton looked up, surprised, and Erian said quietly, "Mangling my bedding won't help." She hesitated for a moment, and then made her choice. Neither of them wanted to be alone tonight, and apparently across the room wasn't close enough.

She tossed him a pillow. "Don't steal the blankets," Erian told him, and lay back down. Barton slowly followed, lying with his back to her. Erian bit her lip, and told herself firmly, No more nightmares. Don't wake him up again.

Erian turned off the lights, and let the sound of her partner's breathing lull her to sleep.