Whumptober Day 28
It's Not Just in Your Head
Prompts: "Good. You're finally awake."/nightmares/panic
Another short one for you! This one was a fairly easy one to write.
Blue, blue, so much blue. Everywhere he looked, he was surrounded by blue. In between the subtle shades of blue was a greasy, long-haired maniacal wannabe dictator. Without saying a word, Clint knew what the man towering over him was asking him to do. He pulled back the arrow and let it fly, knowing it would hit the mark. This was the one skill he had, the only thing he was good for, shooting where he was told. It had been that way since the circus where he first learned archery. He honed it when he was forced to go freelance after being abandoned by Barney and the circus of crime. Instead of strictly using a bow and arrow, he expanded his repertoire to include guns and knives. Being homeless, you never knew how you would need to defend yourself, only that you would need to. It was either you or the other guy. Clint was determined it would always be him that came out on top. He knew what it was like to hit rock bottom and knew he never wanted to be in that position again, swearing he would never depend upon another person for anything. Once he hooked up with SHIELD (OK, talked into joining by Phil's persuasive job offer, which was Coulson telling him it was SHIELD or jail, and he hated orange and stripes), Clint thought those days were over. It was rough at first, having to live under their rules and regulations. Not that Clint was a saint by any means, but he at least felt like he tried to do the right thing when it came down to it. As his responsibilities grew at SHIELD, so did his freedom. He was given the ability to make his own choices, to lead a team of his own, which included Natasha after helping her to defect to his side with a persuasive offer of his own ("come with me, and I'll let you live. Choose not to, and you die. He always was a man of few words.) Then came New York; then came Loki. Loki took away his desire to choose, leaving him to follow whatever direction Loki gave him.
Now, Loki was back, and he had one more instruction to follow, then Loki would set him free. But something was wrong. He missed. He never missed. Clint stared at the target and watched as the target got closer to him. "Your ancient weapon won't work on this one, archer. This one requires a more personal touch." Clint tossed his bow to the side, removed his quiver, and stalked toward the target without a second thought. Upon reaching his mark, he reached out his left hand, placed it around the victim's neck, and squeezed. Clint heard the person begging for their life. It felt good to have that kind of power, knowing he held someone's life in his hand and that with one motion, their time on earth would be no more. He squeezed again, the target stopped moving, and Clint dropped the person to the ground. "Now, what do you say?"
"Good riddance, Mikayla Fitzgerald."
Clint flew out of bed, his heart racing and sweat pouring off him. He tried to throw the sheet off but found out he was too tangled up in it. Clint finally ripped the sheets apart, then got out of bed. "What the hell is wrong with me? Where's Mikayla? What did I do? Did I kill her?" Clint searched their suite, but Mikayla was nowhere to be found.
"Agent Barton? If I may be of assistance? Agent Fitzgerald is in the main living area with the Captain and Sargent Barnes."
Clint threw on a t-shirt and went into the hallway where Friday was holding the elevator for him. Once he got to the main room, he ran off the elevator. Mikayla was on the couch between Cap and Bucky, holding an ice pack to her neck. "Good, you're finally awake." Mikayla greeted him with a raspy voice.
"Oh, my God, Mikayla!" He knelt in front of her. "What did I do?"
Steve spoke for her, giving her a chance to rest her throat. "You were having a nightmare and tried to strangle her. She broke free, then came downstairs. Apparently, this was the night for all of us to get hit with nightmares. Hence why we're here."
Clint continued kneeling, laying his head in Mikayla's lap. "I didn't mean it. I didn't. Saw that shade of blue somewhere. Loki."
Mikayla ran a hand through his hair as he sobbed. "I know you didn't mean to."
Bruce walked in from his lab. "It's just bruised, Clint. She'll heal. No one holds you responsible." The doctor handed Steve some salve for Mikayla's neck. "This should help ease the pain. It would probably be too painful for her to swallow pills right now." Steve nodded as Bruce sat down in one of the chairs.
Steve handed Mikayla the medicine. "You want to do it?"
Mikayla shook her head. "Can't see it."
"OK. You mind if I treat them?"
"Clint." Mikayla knew even in her terrified state that having Clint treat her injuries would be the only way to put him on the road to forgiving himself. "Please, Clint?"
"I can't," Clint murmured. "I'll hurt you again."
"No, you're awake now. I trust you." She leaned down and whispered. "You fall, I catch."
Lifting his head, Clint gave a slight nod of agreement, so Mikayla handed the ointment. Clint squeezed the tube, put some cream on his finger, and began gently rubbing it into her bruises. His shoulders remained tense. "Better?" He asked when finishing.
Mikayla wrapped her hand around his wrist. "Better." Smiling, she saw his shoulders releasing some of the tension. Steve and Bucky stood up and relocated to other chairs to give Clint and Mikayla room. Clint stood and sat down next to Mikayla, still not believing what he'd done. How could she forgive him? He tried to kill her. Clint felt a soft hand on his cheek, and he leaned into the touch. "Hey," Mikayla said softly. "You with me?" He nodded. "Good." Mikayla curled up next to him, laying her head on his shoulder. "Hold this?" She handed Clint the ice pack. He took it and held it against her neck. The trio watched Clint and Mikayla as they dozed off. Once they were sure the couple was asleep, the men rose to go back to bed. Bucky took the ice pack, returned it to the freezer, then the trio left the couple curled up next to each other on the couch. Were things perfect? No. Would their two friends make it through? Absolutely. The group knew everyone in the tower dealt with their own demons, but having this family around them meant no one was ever alone, and the group would support the pair in any way possible.