You guys are too good for me *blushes*. Especially you Geek for God and DemonColours. I think those are some of the nicest reviews that I've ever gotten!
I'll admit, this piece isn't some of my best work. Cringe. I try, though.
He doesn't usually sleep.
He tries, of course. He always tries. He knows what's good for him, and what will keep his body in peak physical condition. When the others disperse for the night, he always follows, walking to his room alone and shutting out the lights. He goes through all of the motions; he lies down, closes his eyes, and clears his mind. It almost works. He drifts away, slowly but surely, until his mind is completely blank. But then the nightmares come again, and Loki's there, in his head, and he's sitting upright, a knife in his hands, whipped out from underneath his pillow. He tastes blood from where he's bitten into his tongue. There's no one in the room. He's completely alone, but that never reassures him. He won't sleep again tonight. Instead, he trains.
Tony was generous enough – as Tony himself had pointed out, he was a 'very generous individual' - to build a full scale target range for him in the training room, and that's exactly where he spends most of his sleepless nights. His own bow is under lock and key in the safe in his room, but he keeps spares in the training room. Low-tech, standard issue. Available at any hunting or sporting goods store. Simple. That's how he prefers it, not that he would ever admit it to Stark. But his standard cross bow reminds him of his beginnings, and the Carson Carnival of Traveling Wonders. It feels substantial in his hands, and it smells like wood and oil. A truly archaic weapon, despite Stark's best archery cracks.
He takes his stance in front of the target, slowly going through each and every one the motions, as if it were his first time again. Deep breath in. Widening his feet, until they rest about shoulder width apart. Deep breath out. Notching an arrow, tilting his bow so it doesn't slip off of its rest. Deep breath in. Raising the bow, twisting his left arm out to avoid the snap of the string and the uncomfortable bruises that it leaves. Deep breath out. He draws the arrow back to his cheek, feeling the slight pressure of his hand on his skin as it rest there. He holds his breath out, sights along the arrow, and fires. Thwack. Right in the centre of the bulls-eye.
He secretly loves these moments, when he shoots simply because he can. It's not for a mission. His goal is not to save or end a life. He shoots for himself; he's in control. To him, nothing is more important than that fact. Being in control. He is his own person, and when he shoots, he's untouchable. Completely in charge. He goes through the motions again: notch, draw, breath out, and fire. Thwack. Another bulls-eye. He never misses. He's in control.
Perhaps that's why he loves his job so much. Because even when he's taking his orders, even when Fury is shouting down his nose at Clint, he knows that he's in control. He could refuse at any time, but he doesn't. Because the moment someone else's life is placed in his hands, Clint gets to play God for a moment. Should he allow them to live, or will he follow orders and let them die? He's the one in control here, no one else. Usually, he does as he's told. But when he does, it's because he wants to. He never relinquishes that control.
Sometimes, he'll disobey his orders. He makes a different call. The moment he held Natalia Romanova's life in his hands, he knew what call he was going to make. He didn't follow his orders. Instead, he chose to reason with Soviet agent, and he never regretted it. SHIELD was angry, even mistrustful for a short time, but Clint knew that as long as he made his own calls, he was in control. And Natasha, as she now preferred to be called, had become the most reliable partner he could ask for, and the closest thing to a friend that he'd ever had. On his most difficult nights, he toys with the idea of waking the Widow, but he never does. Because despite their friendship, as long as she's in his debt, he's still in control.
He never fully realized his need to be in charge until after the Loki-mind-fuck. In an instant, everything that he held dear was gone, and so was his control. He took the backseat in his own mind and watched as Loki made him methodically destroy everything that was important to him. He tried to resist. He tried to fight back. It didn't make a difference. If Natasha hadn't performed a cognitive recalibration, he would still be Loki's bitch, and he still wouldn't have control even over himself. That thought scares him more than anything else does. Notch. Draw. Breathe. Fire. Thwack.
He tells himself that he's okay now. He tells Natasha the same thing, and the psychologists at Shield, and Fury and the rest of his new team. He's okay, he says, Loki's influence is gone. He's in control. He says it again, to reassure himself; or the others, he doesn't know. He's in control. When a fellow agent flinches away from his touch, or defies his orders just because of his time spent being Loki's bitch, he doesn't strangle them. He could, but he doesn't. He tells himself that it proves he's in control, because Loki wouldn't hesitate. He would kill them in an instant. Clint will never admit that deep down, he wants to.
So he retreats to the range again, because it's where he feels the safest. Because when he shoots, he's untouchable. Notch. Draw. Breathe. Fire. Thwack. He's split another arrow in two, but he doesn't care. He keeps shooting, because the instant he stops, his fear creeps back in. His fear of losing control. Notch. Draw. Breathe. Fire. Thwack. He's exhausted, but he'll sleep later, he tells himself. For now, he shoots. He'll stay there all day if he had to. He'll stay there until his fear dissipates, until he can reassert his control on himself. Until someone can reassure him that he is still his own. He's in control. He repeats the mantra, over and over, hoping that someday, it will be true. He's in control. He hates lying to himself. He's in control.
Notch. Draw. Breathe. Fire. Thwack.
I'm very sad to say that I don't really know all that much about Hawkeye, except for what's in the movie. I did some Googling in preparation for this piece, and I was shocked at how much of his backstory isn't included in the films! He needs his own movie, in my opinion. I really hate being one of those people who's only into Avengers because of the movie, so I'm currently hunting down the comic books :P
Reviews?