A/N: 2012 winner of NaNoWriMo contest and exclusively Beta'd by the wonderful ladygris.

Thanks,

~Sandy

Avengers

From Time to Time

Chapter 17

Standing at the edge of the tarmac, Trinidad's Chief of Police Gabby Lewis, formerly of the FBI and SHIELD, watched the quinjet come in for a landing. She remembered the last time she'd been in one, and it had been the day she took her current position. She'd loved both jobs as well as her current one, and the people of Trinidad. Most of all she loved her husband, Mayor John Taulbee and their son, John Junior.

Though she didn't show it, her excitement level was high. Having federal agents request her assistance in taking down a bad guy was big news in a town where the worst crime anyone had committed during her tenure had been when Miguel Sosa had gotten drunk at the county fair. He'd driven his truck into oncoming traffic causing a car carrier to lose its entire load of brand new pick-ups headed for El Paso, Texas. There were a lot of sad country boys the Cow Poke Bar and Grill that day.

She brought the travel mug to her lips for a quick sip of coffee as the agents, armed to the teeth, came to a stop in front of her. "Well, if it isn't Hawkeye himself. Welcome to Trinidad, Agent Barton."

Clint shook her hand. "Thanks, Lewis. Good to see you again." Gesturing at each member of the team, he rattled off their names. "This is Captain Steve Rogers AKA Captain America."

"No suit, Captain?"

Steve, ever the gentleman, shrugged sheepishly. "The suit draws too much attention and we're tryin' to keep a low profile, ma'am. If Kellerman heard we were coming for him, he'd disappear into the mountains and this would be a giant waste of yours and our time."

Instead of a uniform, she wore jeans, boots, a work shirt, jacket and baseball cap with "Trinidad PD" emblazoned on the front. "He prefers to stick around town on his off time." She saw that Clint was favoring his right side, but didn't ask. She'd heard rumors-she still had friends in the Bureau-but the info had been third or fourth hand so she didn't consider it reliable.

"Agents Savarese, Rosenbloom, McNealy, Miller, Peasley, Banfield, Veltri, Dwight and…" he snapped his fingers, "…Marks. Always forget her name for some reason." He tossed a glance over his shoulder, winking at Naomi when she stuck her tongue out at him. "Nice little town you got here."

"We like it." Turning toward the parking lot, Clint came along side matching his pace to hers. "And to think we've been harboring a fugitive here all this time."

"He's not so much a fugitive as he's on my personal s*** list. He's committed more than a few federal crimes. Treason, to start with."

Lewis nodded as she got into the driver's seat of an SUV converted or use by law enforcement. Naomi and Veltri, the only two women in the SHIELD group, got in behind Clint and Lewis with McNealy and Banfield taking up the third row. Peasley, Savarese, Rosenbloom, Dwight and Miller climbed into the other SUV driven by one of Lewis' officers. "Kellerman runs the auto repair shop and does taxidermy on the side. A combination I find just a little creepy."

~~O~~

The chatter continued until they pulled over and stopped a quarter mile from the garage. Clint ordered everyone to approach on foot and radio when they were in position then he and Lewis would make contact. When Naomi tried to follow, he stopped her. "Where do you think you're goin'?"

"With them."

He opened the back door and waited until she'd resumed her seat before slamming the door and getting back in the front passenger seat. "We talked about this. You're with me on this op."

Naomi crossed her arms and pouted. "You never let me have any fun."

Lewis stared at the two of them as if she thought they'd gone nuts. "Did I miss something, Barton?" She looked closer at Naomi, her forehead wrinkled in puzzlement when she realized the other woman looked familiar.

"Lewis, you remember Naomi DeLuca."

"Yeah! Didn't know you were an agent."

Clint answered before Naomi could respond. "She's a psychologist, not an agent."

Naomi's answer was to huff at him. "I passed my quals."

"Barely." She avoided Clint's eyes and didn't say a word, just crossed her arms and looked out the window as he faced forward again, his radio crackling. "They're in position. Let's go." To Naomi he said, "When we get there, stay by the vehicle until the others move in. Got it?"

"Got it. Don't like it."

With a snort of triumph, Clint pulled his weapon, checked the magazine, replaced it and chambered a round. "Don't have to. Just do it."

Lewis drove the rest of the way to the repair shop and parked. The sound of metal hitting metal came through the open garage doors. From their vantage point, Clint and Lewis could see a man with his head under the hood of a ten-year old Ford pick-up. At one time he'd been lean and muscular. He was still strong, but his waistline had begun to spread and his hair to gray. Even from behind, Clint recognized him as his former interrogator, the one he'd called George.

When they were beyond Naomi's hearing, Lewis whispered, "How long have you and she been married?"

"We're not." One eyebrow crawled up Clint's forehead and included a small grin. "Soon though."

"I've heard of long engagements, but this is ridiculous." Clint didn't get a chance to answer. Following Lewis' lead, he stopped ten feet away. Lewis had her jacket unzipped, one hand resting near the weapon on her right hip. "Afternoon, Billy."

The man addressed as Billy pulled his head from under the hood, took a rag from his back pocket and started wiping his hands. "Hey, Gabs." His eyes flicked from Lewis to Clint and back, and in the depths of his brown eyes, Clint saw recognition. "Who's your friend?"

"You two already know each other bein' as you tried to kill his a** a few years back."

For a big man, Billy was fast, but not fast enough. He dove into the garage, rolled and came up with a shotgun aimed at Lewis and Clint. It was lowered when he saw that he'd been surrounded by heavily armed agents all holding semi-automatic weapons pointed in his direction. Spreading his hands wide, he placed the shotgun on the ground and stepped away from it. "Pity I didn't succeed. Who are you?"

Clint holstered his Glock, producing handcuffs as he neared the former Consortium interrogator. "My name is Agent Clint Barton of SHIELD, and you are under arrest for illegal possession of firearms, possession of stolen property, money laundering, engaging in domestic terrorist activities, treason, attempted murder…"

~~O~~

Clint thanked Lewis for her assistance after locking William "Billy" Kellerman AKA George in her jail for later pick-up. He issued orders that Kellerman was to have no visitors except for Lewis and no phone calls.

The group returned to the quinjet and Clint took off, Rosenbloom filling the co-pilot's seat. Talk in the rear compartment was lively, and Clint was pleased to hear the agents treating Naomi with respect by including her in their conversations. Putting the ship on autopilot, Clint started to get up when Naomi handed him a bottle of water and ibuprofen knowing that he was hurting. He flashed a warm smile, the kind he reserved only for her, and received one in return. They hadn't said one word, but had somehow managed to communicate everything in just that brief encounter. He watched her go then faced forward thanking his lucky stars that they'd managed to find each other again.

"Ten minutes, sir."

Rosenbloom's casual statement had an immediate effect on everyone present. All chatter stopped as each member of the team readied themselves and their equipment to take on yet another Consortium operative. Clint figured they'd gotten lucky with Kellerman in that he hadn't put up much of a fight. Which had been too bad because Clint would've liked to have given him just a small taste of what had been done to him so long ago. He wouldn't brood over it though thinking that maybe Tiny would provide the entertainment this group of highly trained agents-and one psychologist-had been hoping for when they signed up for this mission. "Ready, boys and girls?" He received enthusiastic affirmatives from everyone making him grin. "We're playing this just like Trinidad. I've asked the locals to join us so they won't think we're poaching in their backyard. In and out. Piece of cake."

~~O~~

Another round of semi-automatic gunfire sent the SHIELD agents ducking for cover once again. When it stopped, they took turns trying to keep the people inside from getting away while not getting killed.

So far, so good, thought Naomi. She was crouched behind the bed of an old pick-up truck that now looked like Swiss cheese, Clint beside her, quietly calm as he negotiated with "Tiny" and whoever else she had barricaded inside with her. Listening in on the comm chatter, she knew there were at least five people inside armed with a variety of semi-automatic weapons. Most of the types meant nothing to her. All she knew was this couldn't go on forever because they'd eventually run out of ammo.

The gunfire stopped and she raised her head just enough to see Clint flip the phone shut with a muttered curse. He wasn't the only one frustrated. Creeping closer, she whispered in his ear. "You call this a piece of cake?!"

"Ah…" He shrugged sheepishly adding a half-smile.

She had yet to fire a single shot because Clint had ordered her to stay down, yet still held her weapon at the ready. "So, Secret Agent Man, what's the plan?"

"Send someone in through an open second floor window. They come down the stairs and take them out."

"And if that doesn't work?"

"Wait till they run out of ammo and swarm then place."

Rolling her eyes, she said, "No faith in plan A, huh?"

"Actually, that's plan C. Plan A was to walk in and arrest her. The window's plan B."

Naomi snorted. "I'm not military or an agent and even I know plan A never works."

Clint tossed a glace over his shoulder before taking his turn at keeping the people inside busy. They retaliated and he ended up on the ground, bullets whizzing over his head. "That's why we have plans B and C. Time to put B into action."

"Oh, no! You're staying with me!"

Taken aback by the strength of her words, Clint ignored her for the moment while he worked out the logistics. Bullets pinged off the truck, dumpster and the four-door sedan in the parking lot. Clint had sent McNealy, Miller and Peasley to cover the back while Dwight and Veltri took the side door that opened onto the patio. Most of the first floor windows had been shot out, the cotton eyelet curtains fluttering in the fall breeze. Clint pushed her down covering her with his body, which was less painful than when he'd tackled her. But at least his truck hadn't blown up this time. Her voice slightly muffled, she asked, "What's the highest you've ever gotten?"

"I'd have to ask Nat, but I think it's L."

She couldn't help the snort that came out. "Really? Where was that?"

"Budapest." Clint held up a finger silently asking her to wait then popped up, let loose a volley of gunfire then dropped back down next to her, wincing when a bullet whizzed past them and embedded itself in the tire of a small sports car that was already a total loss. Though his expression didn't change, apparently it was the last straw. He tapped his comm. "All units. I need eyes. There should be a tree on the east side that reaches above the second floor. Can anyone confirm?"

Veltri's voice sounded tiny in Naomi's ear. "Veltri here, sir. Affirmative. Still got most of its leaves, if that helps."

"Copy that, Veltri. All units stand by."

Not liking the sound of any of it, Naomi grabbed his arm. "Clint, what are you doing?"

He pulled away, speaking as he unzipped his vest and shrugged out of it. "Y'see, there are three kinds of people. Those who learn by reading, a few who learn by observation, and the rest who have to test the electric fence for themselves."

"And you're gonna test the electric fence." The bantering tone in her voice vanished at his emphatic nod. "I can't let you do that."

Shooting a glare at her, she watched him transition from the Clint she loved into Agent Clint Barton. "You don't have a choice. When you came on this mission, it was with the understanding that you would obey orders like the rest of the team."

What could she say? He was right. "Fine. But if you get yourself killed, I'll never speak to you again."

"Not gonna happen." Clint busied himself with securing his weapons, the AR-15 strapped to his back leaving his hands free. After issuing orders to create a distraction, his left hand removed the comm from his ear and shoved it in his pocket. He positioned his feet in preparation for his run, but before he gave the signal, he placed his hand on the back of Naomi's neck and pulled her close for a quick kiss. "Wait for me."

And he was gone just that fast while the other agents laid down cover fire. Naomi glimpsed him disappearing around the corner on the east side of the building, silently whispering, "Always."

~~O~~

When he'd climbed high enough, Clint realized that he was too far to reach the window. Positioning himself as far out on the branch as he could, he gauged the distance, less than five feet, and jumped. Ignoring the pain in his side, he hung from the newly installed clog-free gutter then braced his feet on the window ledge while he opened the window and slipped inside. He recognized the frilly bedclothes and antique furniture from when he'd stayed here on his previous visit to Waverly. It was as annoying now as it had been then, but he hadn't really had a choice.

Making no noise, he crossed to the door, easing it open just a crack. If anyone had been on this floor, they were gone now. Creeping down the hall to the front stairs, he peeked over the rail and could see a man and a woman hiding behind the front desk while another man and woman crouched next to the front windows on either side of the main entrance. If their assumptions were correct, that meant there was only one guarding the side door.

Reversing direction, he took the back stairs down to the kitchen. There at the back door, another man crouched near a broken window taking the occasional potshot at the three agents taking refuge behind the patio furniture. Silently, he took the man out with a well-placed rap on the pack of his head. He disarmed him and zip-tied his hands before making his way slowly across the tile to the door that opened into a hallway leading to both the side door and the lobby. A man a little taller than Clint huddled behind a love seat that had been turned on its back to provide protection.

One careful step at a time, Clint snuck up behind the man. He turned just as Clint reached him, attempting to bring his weapon around, but Clint was faster, quickly disarming the other man then getting him in a sleeper hold. Within seconds, his opponent was out of the game. Clint used a zip-tie to secure his hands behind him.

Clint sidled up to the door and pulled the curtains aside, flashing hand signals to Veltri and Dwight. Veltri responded and very shortly, they were inside the building. A few whispered orders and the three separated to perform their assigned tasks.

At the prearranged time, the agents burst into the lobby. Dwight taking on the man by the window while Veltri handled the woman. Clint had given himself the duty of taking out the other two, and because they were behind the desk, that meant they had little maneuvering room so the advantage when to Clint.

There was a flurry of fighting with the retired consortium operatives who were no match for SHIELD's finest. Soon, they too were tied up and being settled into the back seats of Waverly's police vehicles. Before Clint closed the door on Tiny, he said, "You know, you really should've killed me when you had the chance."

Bessie, the owner and sole proprietor of Bessie's Bed and Breakfast, as Tiny was known to the citizens of Waverly, didn't honor him with a reply. He closed the door and watched the last of the police vehicles drive away with the SHIELD agents following leaving Clint and Naomi behind. "A sweeper team will secure the place as soon as I give the word."

"So give the word."

"Already done." Naomi helped him into his vest then took his hand as they walked to the last of the vehicles SHIELD had borrowed from the Waverly PD. "We're gonna turn this in, rent a car and take a few days."

He put her in the front seat then got behind the wheel. As he pulled onto the road back into town she asked, "We're staying here?"

"Just one night. I've got a little business to take care of, but it won't take long. We can do it on the way to the station."

Settling back in her seat, Naomi watched the scenery without really seeing it. That is until Clint pulled into a cemetery. He parked and she followed him to a set of three headstones. William John Barton, Hannah Elizabeth Barton and Charles Bernard Barton. The first two had the same date of death more than twenty-five years in the past. The third was much more recent, three years ago. She hung back, facing away from the scene, letting him have the privacy as he needed.

Not a talkative man, Clint knelt in front of his mother's grave, one hand on the curved stone, his eyes flicking from one small slab of marble to the other, and suddenly it hit her. This was the first time he'd ever visited the graves. She already knew he'd only found out his brother was dead recently and wondered why he hadn't come sooner for his parents. He'd tell her eventually.

Getting to his feet, Clint her by the hand. "Mom, Dad, Barney, this is Naomi. She's my…girlfriend."

Naomi hadn't thought what would happen when they got here and was startled when he spoke. But she had to say something because he'd just introduced her to his family. "Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Barton. Nice to meet you. And you too, Barney." What else should she say? Nothing came to mind so she just held tight to Clint's hand and let him lead the way.

He didn't say another word and she hadn't expected him to. Together, they returned to the car and Naomi knew that the chances of him ever coming back were slim at best. She would let him work it all out and suggest repeated visits in the future.

~~O~~

Ever since the cemetery, Naomi had been silent, staring out the window simply nodding as he pointed out the sights of the town where he'd been born. Not that there were many to see, but some of the buildings were designated as historical landmarks and were mildly interesting to most who passed through town. But not to her, apparently. Still, he kept up a running monologue until they reached the county line then he too lapsed into quiet contemplation of the roadway.

Naomi had been on a bit of a high from being on her first real "mission", but that had changed in just a few minutes. He didn't know what had caused her sudden gloominess and wasn't certain what to say or do to change it. But at least they had plenty of time now to deal with the hurts and disappointments that lingered, and the good thing was they'd do it together. Whatever her problem, she'd let him know soon enough.

Clint had rented a car deciding their little get-away would be a road trip. Anything they needed could be bought along the way. When he'd asked Naomi her opinion, she's just shrugged and that was disconcerting. She had opinions about everything and wasn't shy about sharing. But this long period of silence was beginning to worry him. It reminded him of himself after learning she'd been kept in the dark while he'd recuperated from his injuries all those years ago.

As they cruised into Cedar Rapids, he began talking about anything that came to mind trying to re-engage her. He didn't know if it would work, but he had to try.

"Nat and I were on a mission, another cakewalk. Easy-peasy, in and out. Done it hundreds of times. My job was to wait on a rooftop while she lured the target to a hotel room and I'd take him out when she gave the signal. But everything went sideways when the target's wife caught Nat seducing him. The guy takes off, so I follow him, and now he's taking me on a tour of the city.

"We're at a light and I've got him in my sights when he blows the through the intersection. I can't follow because a group of kids are in the crosswalk so I radio Nat who's on the way and let her know. Good news is she'd managed to attach a GPS locator to him and we caught up with him at his residence. It was a fortress! Twelve-foot walls, guards, a gate, huge dogs roaming around at night…" He continued talking until he parked the car in the lot at the hotel realizing that she was still not listening. "And then I broke into his house. I didn't steal anything, but I did rearrange the furniture."

Naomi turned to look at him as if he were nuts. "What did you say?"

Clint gave her a lopsided grin. "So you are still in there. I was beginning to wonder."

She scooted around in the seat seeming to just realize they were no longer moving. "Sorry I'm such bad company."

"Don't be." He touched her hand. "Let's check in and order some room service then you can tell me all about it, if you want to."

"Sure."

Once in their room, Clint ordered sandwiches and tea. After she'd eaten, Naomi seemed a little more like herself, more animated. Clint sat on the love seat pulling her onto his lap, his arms around her waist and hers on his shoulders. "Just before we left, I had a talk with…my father. All these years I thought…did you know he was there for my first ballet recital? He also came to my high school and college graduations. Every major event in my life, he was there. Watching."

"Nothing wrong with that."

"It's just that…if I had known…if he'd even once tried to talk to me in the all this time, sent me a birthday card, anything…" she shrugged, her left hand rubbing up and down his right bicep below the sleeve of his shirt taking comfort from the sensation of skin touching skin. "He asked me to call him Nick. What am I supposed to say to him now? Do I tell Mother I've seen him? I wanted to stay angry with him, but now he's made it impossible. I'm not ready for us to have a father/daughter relationship, but everything I've thought and felt for all these years seems…ridiculous now."

Turning his head just a few inches, he kissed her cheek. "If that's how you felt, who's to say it was ridiculous? That your feelings aren't just as valid as someone else's?"

She leaned back to look into his face, one side of her mouth lifting in a small smile. "You make an effective argument, Agent Barton. But I thought I was the psychologist."

"Let's just forget about everything and everyone for a while. We could both use a distraction."

"Oh?"

From her expression and smirk, he knew what she had in mind. But that would come later. For now, they needed a different kind of distraction. He stood, putting her on her feet and weaving their hands together. "But first, we need clothes. There's a Walmart down the street. We'll stop on the way."

"On the way where?"

He winked and grinned. "It's a surprise."

~~O~~

Night had fallen and the temperature had dropped, the wind making it feel much cooler. At the store, Naomi and Clint purchased jeans, long sleeved T-shirts, jackets, ball caps, underclothes, socks and personal items.

As they neared their destination, Clint's expression and attitude changed. The delight on his face grew and his breathing increased the closer they got to the bright lights and music of the circus just outside of the city limits. The sheer number of people that had come from across the state line was staggering.

Clint held her hand so tight it was close to painful, so she pulled free and tucked her fingers around his arm just below his bicep. He glanced down at her with a smile. "This is Carson's. The first circus that Barney and I ever joined. I wonder if the old man is still around."

"Let's find out."

Once inside, he led the way through the crush of people on the midway, scrutinizing the faces of the people manning the games looking for familiar faces. He slowed down a few times peering closer at a few faces, but didn't stop. When they reached the food court, he led her between the corn dog and the falafel stands, his excitement growing with every step.

He stopped to get his bearings then they were off again. "Here it is."

In front of them was an ancient RV painted bright red and gold with the words "Carson's Carnival of Traveling Wonders" splashed across the side with renderings of animals, clowns and acrobats gallivanting from one end to the other.

Naomi waited, but he seemed reluctant to knock, so she took the initiative. The door opened and a woman with jet black hair and not much older than Clint dressed in white shirt and black pants and holding black top hat peered at them. "Yeah?"

"We're looking for Mr. Carson. Is he around?"

"Mr. Carson's dead. I'm his daughter. What can I do…" Then she looked closer at Clint, her eyes going wide as she came down the steps showing herself to be the same height as Naomi. "Hawkeye?"

He smiled fondly at her, his blue-gray eyes sparkling. "It's good to see you again, Marty." The carny's response was not what Naomi expected. Clint either, to go by his expression. Marty looked Clint over then her right hand came up to slap him on the cheek.

"What was that for?"

Now Marty's arms were crossed and she was tapping the heel of her right foot. "Detroit."

Clint thought for a moment, nodding. "Oh. Right."

She gave him another once-over then opened the RV's door. "Come inside. The show's starting soon and I gotta finish getting dressed." They followed her in taking seats at the small dining area while Marty walked to the back, returning with a long back and red jacket. "You were like a son to Dad, and it broke heart when you left."

"I just couldn't stay after…" Clint looked down at his feet, rubbing his hands together.

"I understand." Marty slipped on a pair of small gold hoops then leaned against the counter and Naomi could see the wheels spinning the other woman's head. It was the same look Clint got when he was getting one of his crazy ideas. "Wanna make up for Detroit?"

"How?" Clint's voice was laced with suspicion and Naomi didn't blame him. Marty had a predacious glint in her green eyes as she laid out her idea. Clint balked at first, but in the end, he agreed…

…And that's how Naomi found herself dressed like a Las Vegas showgirl watching Clint dig through trunks of costumes trying to find something appropriate for what Marty had in mind. Finally, he found a pair of black pants and a sparkly white long sleeved shirt. Naomi pulled out a long red scarf which she tied around his waist as a belt. She was straightening his collar when Marty came in carrying a case that looked old yet lovingly cared for.

"Here you go. It was Buck's. He left it behind when…"

Clint interrupted her by opening the case and carefully lifting out an old wooden flatbow. He ran his fingers reverently over the wood and along the string. Taking out one of the arrows, he nocked it, raised it into position and pulled back to the anchor position, but didn't release. Clearing his throat, he set the arrow and bow back into the case. "That works."

~~O~~

Uncharacteristically nervous, Clint paced in the tent where he and Naomi waited for the signal. "I can't believe I let her talk me into this."

Naomi snagged his hand as he passed pulling him into her arms. "The question is how did she talk me into this?" She gestured at her skimpy red, white and gold outfit with a very short skirt that flounced as she walked. He rather liked the headdress with all the feathers and sparkly things.

"The Amazing Hawkeye needs a beautiful assistant."

Her hands gripped his upper arms as she looked up into his eyes. "You're not gonna throw knives at me, are you?"

"Of course not." He tugged on his cuffs and ran a hand through his hair, a smirk turning up the corners of his lips. "Just arrows."

While Naomi was sputtering incoherently, one of the roustabouts stuck his head in. "Forty minutes, Hawkeye."

Clint nodded and took a deep breath, grinning ruefully. "Almost show time." He slipped the quiver over his head so that the strap crossed his chest from left to right and picked up the bow.

As they neared the big top, the band began to play the opening strains of Entrance of the Gladiators as Marty strode confidently out to the center of the big top. "Ladies and gentlemen! Children of all ages! Welcome to Carson's Carnival of Traveling Wonders!"

Watching from the wings, Naomi and Clint laughed at the antics of the clowns, gasped at the feats of the acrobats and held their breath when the lion tamer stuck his head into the mouth of a Bengal tiger. Then it was their turn.

"Ladies and gentlemen, tonight we have a special treat. Appearing for the first time in more than twenty years right here on the center stage, we have the World's Greatest Marksman and hero of the alien invasion in New York City, the Amazing Hawkeye!"

Marty waved grandly as Clint took Naomi's hand and they both grinned broadly as they walked out into the spotlight while roustabouts quickly set up several targets. Clint bowed and Naomi curtsied.

Over the next twenty minutes, Clint performed some of his most popular tricks to ohs and ahs from the audience. He had to admit that sometimes he did miss performing, and because this would be his public last performance, he thought he'd go out with a bang. Motioning Naomi to him, he had a quick whispered conversation with her. At first, she was adamant that she would not participate, but he persisted, even resorting to flashing that smile he knew she couldn't resist. "Do you trust me?"

"Of course I do. Just one question: What's my father going to say about one of his agents making a public spectacle of himself?"

"What was New York? A quiet dinner for two? He'll get over it." Finally, Naomi agreed, and Clint positioned her in front of the large center target, arms out to the side. He started away then returned. "Almost forgot this…" After taking a huge bite, he placed a bright red McIntosh apple on her head then returned to the firing line.

Marty strolled over and tied a blindfold around his eyes. She pressed the bow into his hands and faced the crowd again, gesturing for quiet. Her voice stern, she solemnly stated, "During this next trick, we ask that you do not speak…Do not move…Do not even…breathe." She drew out the last word letting it trail off as she faded into the shadows.

Dutifully, the crowd became utterly silent as Clint drew the string back to its anchor point. He breathed in…let it out…inhaled one more time and released.

TBC

A/N: "Entrance of the Gladiators" or "Entry of the Gladiators" is a military march composed in 1897 by the Czech composer Julius Fučík.