Whumptober Day 7

My Spidey-Sense is Tingling

Prompts: helplessness/numbness/blindness

See, I'm catching up! Thanks for being patient with me. Please enjoy the next installment.

Trying to keep his mind busy while Mikayla went to physical therapy (because, of course, she was all sorts of stubborn and independent and didn't want him to accompany her), he thought back to when another Coulson found him.

Clint had just escaped the circus/carnival/whatever hell you wanted to label it. His former brother, along with his mentor, had tried to kill him, not with kindness, of course, but with honest-to-goodness weapons. After failing to rid the earth of his presence, the two had left him in a field under a tree to die on his own. Even then, Clint had shown how stubborn he could be by refusing to check out. Thankfully, the bullet had been a through and through, so once he escaped the ropes tying him to a tree (Houdini would be proud), he ripped off the bottom portion of his shirt, turning it into a tourniquet, tying it around his thigh, stopping the bleeding. It didn't take long for him to be able to stand up and put weight on it without collapsing. Let's face it; he'd been disguising injuries for years, thanks to his asshole father, who used him for a punching bag at every opportunity, so he was used to hiding pain away and not dealing with it. The more he walked on it, the easier it was to cover up the pain. Now he just had to figure out what to do next. He no longer had anything holding him back, wasn't restricted by whatever his brother was doing or where the circus was going. He still had the money he'd been hiding from Barney, and, adding to what he took when they left his parents, he was able to buy some food and a couple of nights in a cheap no-tell motel on the outskirts of whatever city he'd found himself in. Pulling the phone book out of the nightstand, he discovered he was in a suburb of Cleveland. He knew this was the farthest east the circus would go, so his safest bet would be to keep going east. "I'll figure that part out tomorrow," he said to himself in his best Scarlett O'Hara imitation.

Waking up, he took a quick shower and was thankful he'd located a thrift store down the road where he picked up some clothes and a gym bag. His other carrying case contained his bow and a few arrows. How the assholes screwed up and left the bag with him, he'll never know, but he was grateful. Although he had no idea how he was going to use them, archery was all he knew. His nickname wasn't The Amazing Hawkeye for nothing.

Clint needed to figure out what his next move was. He fixed himself a bologna sandwich and contemplated his options. He'd snagged a newspaper from the motel's office and searched through the want ads; that's where he found his ticket out, discovering a help wanted ad for dock workers. Clint figured he'd start there, working his way up to a job on a ship. He was able to earn extra money by doing chores around the motel, giving his leg a chance to heal.

When he felt his leg had healed enough, Clint said farewell to the motel and headed toward the docks. On his way, he spotted a trainyard, giving him another idea. He hung around the city parks during the day, blending in with groups of college students. Evening rolled around, and he left the city to go to the trainyard. He found a train appearing to be heading east, so he located a car with an open door and jumped in, hiding in the shadows as workers passed by, shining their flashlights inside. He relaxed a bit when the doors shut, wondering where his journey would end. That was his last thought as he dozed off.

Waking up, he found the train had stopped, and he could hear rail cars unloading, so he knew it was time for him to make his exit. Clint stuck out his head, made sure the coast was clear, then jumped down and hurriedly left the yard. After some exploration, he found himself in Brooklyn. Not knowing anything about New York, he wandered around, eventually finding a small diner. He collapsed into a booth, ordering coffee. He counted how much money he had left as he drank the coffee, knowing he would need to get a job soon. He vowed not to resort to pickpocketing, leaving that lifestyle behind. When ordering, he noticed a help wanted sign in the window. Upon inquiring, he discovered they were looking for a dishwasher and part-time cook. He applied and was hired on the spot. During his wandering, he'd come upon a vacant apartment building that was in decent shape, so he decided to stay there until he had earned enough money to get an actual apartment of his own.

Clint put in long hours at the diner, working from morning to night. Wilma, the elderly owner, took him under her wing, making sure he got fed every night, and generally looked out for him, telling him he reminded her of her son who died in the war. She even helped him find a small studio apartment in the Bed-Stuy area. Clint mostly kept to himself but would help his neighbors out in a pinch. Most of the tenants were working single parents and older people. Clint took it upon himself to become their protector. He spent many nights on the rooftop, keeping an eye on the neighborhood. As a child, he'd felt safer up high. When his dad would go on one of his drunken rampages, Clint and Barney would try to scramble out to the barn and up to the loft; sometimes, they'd even climb up trees and hide in the highest branches they could get to. After joining the circus, Clint was still small but was all limbs, so he was trained as an acrobat on the high wire. After learning archery, one of his routines became launching arrows from the high wire and the trapeze. He felt right at home on the apartment rooftop. He'd bring his bow and arrows with him, becoming the neighborhood crime watch.

One night/early morning, he found himself in over his head. Who in the hell were these idiots running around in black tracksuits and calling each other 'bro, anyway? All he knew was they were harassing the tenants in his and other buildings; something had to be done, and who better than him? If he died saving the neighbors, then at least he did something right in his miserable life; it's not like anyone would miss him. Every paycheck, he'd purchase archery equipment, building up a nice stockpile of bows and arrows, even managing to obtain a couple of excellent cases and some quivers. Clint heard the bad guys breaking into nearby apartment buildings and making off with other peoples' hard-earned possessions on the night in question. Finally, he'd had enough and started shooting. Unfortunately, with no one to watch his back, a few of the men had made their way upstairs and overpowered him. As he tried to stab one with an arrow, he was punched in the face and fell to the ground. When he hit the ground, the group began beating him until he was unconscious.

When Clint woke up, he discovered he'd been tied with think rope to a chair. After that, he realized he couldn't see. How in the hell was he supposed to be Hawkeye if his eyes weren't working? What was he supposed to do with his life now? He sighed, feeling helpless. He also noticed his fingers had gone numb, probably because the idiots had tied his hands too tight behind him. Well, that was just great. Not only had he lost his sight, but his hands were also useless. These were the thoughts running through his brain when he heard a lot of commotion off to his right. He shouted, hoping anyone could hear him over the noises, which sounded like a huge fight. He heard bodies falling to the ground, then nothing.

"Mr. Clint Barton?" He heard a soft-spoken male voice on his left.

"Yeah?" He grunted.

"I'm going to take the blindfold off you now, so please remain calm. Oh, before you ask, we did not tie you up or blindfold you, but we've taken care of the heathen that did." Clint nodded, agreeing to let the unknown man remove the blindfold as if he had a choice.

Clint noticed while the blindfold was being removed, someone else was untying his hands and feet. Once the bindings were removed, he shook his hands to get the feeling to return. "Who are you?"

"I'm Agent Phil Coulson, and this," the man in the three-piece suit and dark hair pointed to a dark-haired woman next to him, "is Agent Melinda May. We are from the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division."

"How long did it take you to memorize that?" Clint asked.

Agent Coulson smirked. "A few tries."

Clint nodded. "So, what do you want from me? Am I under arrest for something? Is someone looking for me?"

"We've had our eye on you for some time, Mr. Barton." Agent Coulson explained to him what SHIELD did. "We'd like to offer you a position, give you a chance to make a difference in the world."

"Why me?"

"You have a skill set that can be beneficial to our agency."
"What do I get out of it?"

Agent Coulson pinched his nose. "A chance to make a difference, a good salary, a safe place to live, and government benefits."

Clint thought about it for a moment, then figured what did he have to lose? "Sure, why not?"

While Clint was lost in his thoughts, the door opened, and Mikayla was back home. "Hey."

"Hey, babe." Clint looked up from the couch. "How was therapy?"

Mikayla ambled toward the couch, leaned over the back of it, and kissed her husband. "Slow but steady. I've got a little more range of motion in my fingers and hands now." She lifted her hands and was able to straighten a couple of her fingers.

"That's progress." Clint slid back and made room for her on the couch as she stretched out next to him. As she settled in, she released a sigh. "Sore?"

"The usual, yeah."

Clint slowly began massaging each finger and hand. She told him once how that always seemed to help her. "How's that?" He heard her purring. "I'll take that as a positive comment." After he paid attention to each finger and hand, he began rubbing her shoulders, working out the tension, then softly kissed the nape of her neck. "Better?"

"Always." The couple stayed on the couch until Mikayla fell asleep. Clint sent up a silent thanks to Phil for recruiting him to SHIELD. If he hadn't, Clint would've never met the gorgeous woman next to him. He then nuzzled her neck and dozed off.