I'm baaaa-aack!
Sorry about the hiatus, I just had a Spiderman movie marathon that lasted three days, during which I got perhaps 12 hours of sleep. For. The. Entire. Weekend. (My friend was in the top bunk and she was humming the Spiderman song in her sleep.) On the plus side, I have now seen all of the Spiderman movies and rewatched a few Avengersverse ones too. Amazing Spiderman 2 might have overtaken Winter Soldier as my favorite movie. Wow...
Ok. Fic. Here's a nice long one for y'all being patient with me. (Be glad, actually. The stuff I write after too much screen time and not enough sleep... Yikes.)
"She was a very nice woman, wasn't she?"
Yes, Rory. Yes, she was. Always made sure that we had enough soup.
"I don't suppose the funeral people will let us go. Still, I think I'm going to try. Will you come with me, Sophs?"
What kind of person do you think I am? Of course I'll go.
"Come on, pick your head up. I miss you when I can't see your face. I'm scared you'll look up and be somebody else."
Why does everyone have to go?
"I'll never go, Soph, if you never go either."
I'll never leave you, Rory.
"I love you, Sophs."
I love you too, Rory.
I bring my head up from my knees and look at him. He's been crying, like me, but the tears just make his liquid brown eyes even more beautiful. I could look at him and those eyes forever, I know it.
Then I blink, and he disappears behind a spreading wall of red.
"NO, RORY, NO!" I feel my fingernails biting into something soft.
"Sophie?"
"RORY! RORY!"
"Sophie, kiddo, I don't know what's wrong, but you need to wake up, it's just a dream."
"NO! RORY!"
"What is that racket?"
"Sophie's having a nightmare, Clint, I can't wake her up."
"Rory... Rory..."
Someone shakes my arm. I find the hand grasping me and punch at it, trying to make it let me go.
"Kid?"
"LET GO! LET GO!"
"WAKE UP!"
The shout jolts me awake, and I see that the lights in my room are all on, and that Barton is still shaking my arm. I blink a couple times, chest heaving.
"Wh-where'd Rory..."
"You were having a nightmare, kid. It wasn't real."
What a liar. How can he not know? Didn't he feel it when the world ended?
Laura tells me that I need to get up, and the two climb down from the attic. And that's when I realize that my iPod is gone from the table beside my bed.
Today's certain to be wonderful. Just stellar.
My mother never sent me to school-said that she didn't want me separated from her, at least in the daytime. Rory told me that it was useless, and he was smart-taught me to read and write a bit, and a few numbers, though I wasn't too good with them. So, basically, I've never been to school. And it's not like I've done so badly without it.
Why, exactly, is it necessary to go now?
It's not like anyone wants me here, except the Bartons. The teacher has been going on for about fifteen minutes and no one's even looked my wa-
Fly!
It buzzes around me and I wave my hand at it, trying to slap it out of the air. No such luck; it lands on my nose. I flick it off quickly, but-
Ah-
Ah-
AH-
"CHOO!"
The effect on the teacher is incredible. She was writing on some sort of white board with a marker, and she fumbles it out of her hands, spins around to face me.
Should I tell her that there is now a purple mark on her shoe?
The other people in the classroom, people my age, start chatting almost as soon as the teacher stops writing. The teacher tells them to shush, which does nothing except make then louder, before coming over to me. Her arms fold across her chest and she stares at me. I'm not sure what to do, so I stare back.
"Well?"
"I-uh...Well?"
"What are you doing here?"
Oh! Oh! I know what I'm supposed to do, I have a piece of paper from the boss here and everything!
"I'm, uh, I'm a new student." I hold the piece of paper out to her, but she barely glances at it.
"No one told me that I would have a new student."
"I-uh, I think, um, I think I'm supposed to be here."
"Well, then, perhaps you should take a seat." I walk into the room, find an empty seat, and sit down.
Why is everyone staring at me? Stop staring at me!
"Now then, perhaps we can continue. Can I have your name, Miss..?"
Why is the girl next to me glaring at me like I'm going to make her sick? For once in my life my everything is clean!
"Miss!"
The girl scoots away further until she's practically sitting in her neighbor's lap.
This. Is. Ridiculous. I am not a virus.
"MISS."
I look up to see that the teacher is glaring down at me.
"Yes?"
"What. Is. Your. Name?" She spits out each word, pinching off her voice at the end.
"Sophie."
"Sophie what?"
"Uh... I don't know?"
The girl next to me bursts into laughter, followed by the rest of the class.
I don't know is a perfectly acceptable answer!
"You. Don't. Know."
"Uh, yeah. I don't know."
"How do you not know your own last name, pray tell?"
"Mom never told me."
The laughter rises in volume.
"Then perhaps you should ask your father."
"Never met him."
The girl who had been creeping away from me practically falls across me in laughter. The teacher, however, just sighs.
"Then what is your guardian's last name?"
Uh...
Guardian. What is it with that word? I don't have a guardian! I think I do just fine protecting myself, thank you very much!
The dentist used this word the other day. Does that have something to do with it?
I need to go talk to your guardian.
And then she left and she-she went and talked to Laura! So Laura is my guardian! And Laura's last name is-
"Barton!"
For some reason, that makes everybody laugh much, much louder. The teacher even lets out a chuckle or two.
"Well then, Miss Barton, perhaps you can quiet down and we can get back to work."
Has she somehow failed to notice that I am the only person being quiet?
At midday we break for lunch.
I haven't had three meals a day since I was six and my mom started taking the powder.
I could get used to this!
I take a tray and sit in a corner, my back and side to the wall, in case anyone intends to try to steal it. I don't think anyone will, since everyone has a tray, but-
I leap out of my chair and stare down the girl approaching.
"Can I sit here?" she asks, brow furrowing.
Oh.
"Yeah, sure." We both sit down and I attack the stuff on my tray. Not sure what it is, but it's good.
"Hey, I'm sorry about what happened earlier today."
"Hmm?" I mumble through whatever's in my mouth.
"In math class."
Oh, yeah. It was math, wasn't it? That was a nightmare, I'm crap with numbers and once that x thing showed up I was done.
"I shouldn't have laughed, really, it wasn't that funny. I mean, of course when you said Barton I thought you were saying, like, Barton Barton, but Barton isn't that weird of a last name, we should have laughed at it."
"It's fine," I say, swallowing painfully. "I wish it wasn't Barton too."
"That must be weird, saying your last name and everyone thinking your dad is famous."
"It's not my last name, and Clint Barton is not my father."
The girl's blue eyes are already huge, but they widen even more when I say 'Clint Barton'. "You actually mean Barton?"
"Yeah."
"Like, as in Barton Barton?"
"Yeah."
She almost squeals. "That is so cool! That guy is one of the most incredible people on the pla-"
"Oh, please," I snort.
"But he's an Avenger!"
"That doesn't make him God Almighty."
"What's the matter?"
"He is a jerk. He is a complete and utter jerk."
"But... An Avenger."
"Still a jerk."
She looks incredulous. Time to change the subject.
I nod over at the girl who had been trying to escape me during math class. She's now surrounded by a group of kids and talking. "What's with her?"
"Kendra?" The girl across from me glances over at her. "Rich kid, likes attention, gets attention. The usual crap, you know what I mean?"
"Rich kid?"
"Yeah, her dad's some business magnate. She used to go to a super fancy private school but got caught with drugs, so now her darling daddy's sending her to school with the unwashed masses." She snorts. "I probably shouldn't talk about her like that, but-"
"You don't care?" I guessed.
"Not a bit."
Rich kid, huh? I wonder...
A bell goes off, and I cringe, shrinking into my corner.
"What's wrong? It's just the end of lunch bell."
"Oh." Doesn't sound like a lunch bell. Then again, I've never heard a lunch bell, so maybe it does.
"I'm Sophie," I say, sticking out my hand.
"Alicia," she says, and we shake.
After lunch, I end up just following Alicia to her classes. I know that I have a schedule of classes for myself, but I don't read all that well, and I can't make sense of the map either.
The second class after lunch is in the same room as that math class, and as soon as everyone is inside, a man with glasses starts talking about information stored on the internet. Clearly, he had been talking about this at some point before now, because within five minutes he tells us to get on the computers and 'complete yesterday's assignment'. Alicia grabs my hand.
"You don't know the password, do you?"
I shake my head.
"Okay, I'll help you." We sit in two chairs next to each other. Her screen flashes on.
Um... Okay... Computer! Turn on!
How do I turn this thing on? I randomly press buttons on a white piece of metal near my hands.
"Uh, Sophie?"
I look up at Alicia.
"Why are you trying to type? Your computer isn't on."
"I'm trying to turn it on!" She reaches over me and presses a button that's actually on the computer.
"Ok. Now you can type. The password is," she laughs, "artishot27."
"WHAT?"
"Shh!" She glances over at the teacher. "First day of school, we played a game and he lost, so we made the password for the class computers."
I don't follow, but ok. So...
Uh...
I get in the artishot part after a while, but the numbers completely throw me. This is embarrassing.
"Alicia?"
"Hmm?"
"Can you write the password down for me?"
"Forgotten it already? It's-"
"Just write it down, please!"
She raises an eyebrow, but scribbles it down on a piece of paper and hands it to me.
Ok. 2 is... there, and 7 is... there.
I click the green button-at least this slidey thing is straightforward- and the screen changes.
"Now what?"
Alicia looks at me funny before moving the slidey thing and clicking. A white screen comes up, and she presses more buttons on the board. One more click, and yet another new screen comes up. "Now look up your name."
Uh... Is that supposed to help me any? Oh! Hey! The button board has letters on it!
s... o... p... h... i... e
I click a blue button next to the place where I put my name.
Wow. That is a lot of Sophies.
s... o... p... h... i... e... ... b... a... r... t... o... n
I get only one Sophie for that. Ok. Time to read it.
Haven't done this in forever.
Sophie ?
Gu-ga-gard-guard-oh, Guardians: Laura and Clint Barton
Beneath it there's a blue button that says View Record.
"Now, you all should have a screen with your name and a button to see your criminal record. I would hope that you all have grey buttons, of course," the teacher says, earning a laugh from most of the kids in the class. I don't get the joke. My button is blue!
I click the blue button, and the screen turns white before-
Oh, crap.
They're all here. Every single one of them.
"Hey, Sophie, what're you looking at?"
Agh! Don't look, Alicia, don't look!
I press the button with the x on it, and the screen with my record goes out.
"Nothing," I say, and her response is cut off by the ringing of the bell.
What have I done?
I rest my head against the window, hearing the people behind me whispering.
"...'ndra be okay?"
"...'an't believe what happened..."
"...all that blood..."
Blood. Blood. Blood.
"RORY! RORY, WATCH OUT!"
The light in his eyes. In those beautiful eyes. Gone. Gone.
I'm just working myself up. Kendra isn't dead, just unconscious, I didn't kill her...
Calm down, Sophie, calm DOWN.
"Your stop, kid."
I feel someone tapping my shoulder and I clench my hands into fists to stop them from shaking.
I will not have a panic attack on this bus. I will NOT.
I notice someone glaring at me and try to smile. They only scoot closer away.
"Get away from me, you freak."
I jump down off the bus and my knees nearly buckle beneath me. I stagger towards the farmhouse.
Door. Door. Locked. Crap. I beat against it with my fist.
"Kid?"
"Barton," I mumble out, and the world goes suddenly black.
I wake up in m-the attic room.
Oh, hey! The sun hasn't gone out after all! Hello, sun. Good to see ya.
Then I glance over in a corner, and I see dark hair and a scrawny form-
"Rory?"
He glances up. Oh.
"My name's Cooper, remember?" He goes back to the computer that he's playing with. "This is super cool. My school never gave me a computer."
Oh, yeah. I remember. They gave me that backpack at the start of the day. "You can have it."
He laughs, eyes still glued to the screen. "Yeah, right. Don't you need this for school?"
"I don't know."
"Why'd you pass out on Dad?"
Was that what happened? All I remember is him opening the door.
"Uh-bad memories."
"Is that why you kept yelling?"
"What?"
"Only sometimes. Mostly you were just whispering. But a couple times you yelled."
"Wh-what did I say?"
"Mostly just 'Watch out' and 'No'. A couple times you said 'Rory'. Who is he, anyways?"
My stomach turns. "J-just a friend of mine."
"Is that why you keep calling me Rory?"
"Guess so." I squeeze my eyes shut.
"Dad wants you downstairs."
"Ok."
"Do you know how to use this computer?" he asks, finally looking up from it.
"I'll figure it out."
"I can show you, if you want."
"N-" Actually, that's not such a bad idea. I can't use the thing and I might as well learn. "Yeah, sounds good."
"Okay." He looks back at the screen and I start to leave.
"Don't forget your bow!"
It's on my-my wall?
What's it doing there?
I take it down and scramble down the ladder from the attic.
"What are these?" I take one of the arrows out of the quiver I'm holding. The tip is dull and faint lines split it into three sections.
"Don't touch-"
I place my finger against the tip of the arrow. It opens and clamps down on my finger before-
AGH!
Barton pulls the arrow off of my finger, and I rub my sore arm.
"That," he snaps, "is an electrical arrow. It sends an electrical pulse into anything it touches. And they're what you'll be using for the time being."
I move to put the quiver down, but he stops me. "First things first. You're going to have to get used to having this on your back. That strap goes over your head."
"I've seen a book bag before, Barton."
"Don't get mouthy with me," he barks. "Ok, let's see if you can hit the target."
I look at the target. The cloth target.
"Won't it catch on fire?"
"How do you-you know what, I'm not going to ask. Stark says they won't set anything on fire, and I've never had them set anything on fire, so let's assume that nothing is going to catch on fire."
Ok. I reach behind me and grab an arrow without much trouble, but as soon as I nock it and pull back on the bowstring, I remember the cut on my hand. I ease the bowstring back to a resting position and look down at my hand. The cut has scabbed over, but putting pressure on it stings.
"Something wrong with your hand?"
"I'm fine," I growl, and draw the bow again. I fire and hit the farthest ring of the target. This target is a lot farther away that last time, maybe forty steps away, rather than twenty like last time.
"Not that bad, kid, but you'd do better if you put one foot back to brace yourself."
I move one foot back and fire again, hitting near where I hit earlier.
"Here, like this." Barton walks over to me and puts his hands on my shoulders. "Turn your body so that you're facing the bow." I turn. "You're lef-wait, you are left handed, right?"
"I don't know."
"Which hand do you want to draw the bowstring with?"
"This one," I say, holding up one of my hands.
"Good, you are left handed. I probably should have asked you that the other day. So, take the bow in your right hand-there, you got it-and turn your left foot-this one," he taps one of my feet with one of his, "little bit farther, little bit farther-now try."
I take another arrow from my back, nock, draw, and fire. This time I hit nearer to the center. It's not as good as I did last time, but these are extremely weird arrows.
Barton steps back. "Try pulling back a bit more."
I do, and this arrow shoots way over the target and lands somewhere in the the trees.
"Nope, see, you have to stand the way I told you."
I move around a bit and fire again, and the arrow bounces off of the side of the target.
"You still haven't gotten back to the way I showed you."
"What's even the point of that? It's not like it's going to help me any." I nock another arrow and pull back, but before I can let go, my feet fly out from under me and I land on my butt, shooting myself in the leg.
YEOWCH!
I yank the arrow off of my leg and glare up at Barton, who's standing behind me.
"That's the point of it. You're easy to take down." He offers me his hand. Nope, not falling for it. I clamber to my feet myself.
"Now, remember. Brace yourself." I put one foot behind me and twist it slightly, like Barton told me, and nock another arrow. Before I can fire, though, I see movement out of the corner of my eye and, on instinct, remove the arrow from the bowstring and stab to the side. Someone cries out, and I turn around to see Barton pulling one of the arrows off of his side.
"Stark isn't kidding," he pants, "when he says... those are... painful."
Oh boy. Here comes the storm.
Then, all of a sudden, Barton starts to laugh-a loud, side-splitting laugh, one that reminds me of better times, the days when my mother wasn't taking the powder, the days when Rory came and we were happy and for once in my life I had a friend...
"Not so bad, kid," Barton says when he's stopped laughing, and for a moment, just a moment, he smiles. At me. It's a small smile, but it's a smile anywa-
"Clint!" Laura's standing on the porch, holding a phone. "It's the school, they want to talk to you."
"One sec, honey!" he calls back. "See if you can find your arrows, kid. I'll be right back."
I watch him walking back to the house. If it wasn't for the iPod...
This isn't so bad.
"You broke a kid's nose." Barton's eyes are back to the usual thunder-and-lightning.
"I-I-"
"Is that why you passed out earlier?"
I clench my eyes shut and shake my head.
I'm not going down again.
Red. Red. Blood.
NO! I'm not passing out again, I'm not!
"Look. At. Me."
I open my eyes again and glare at him.
"Don't give me that look. You broke a girl's nose."
"I know."
"Don't you have anything to say for yourself?"
"I'm not sorry. And she deserves it."
That just came out of my mouth?
I am sorry. I am, but I'm not sorry for him.
"Get out."
"Clint?" Laura walks up to him and takes his hand.
"You heard me, kid. Get out of my house. Now!"
"Wait, Sophie-"
I don't care. I don't care. I turn and I run out of the door.
I planned to be halfway to NYC by now, but instead I'm spending the night on the Bartons' roof.
It wasn't intentional. I didn't really intend to be on the roof, but these things kind of happen. And I needed to be up in the air, needed to be able to see and hear and think and breathe.
Also, I'm right above Barton's and Laura's room, and I'll admit that if they talk, I want to know what they talk about.
I hear someone thumping around (luckily, they have a window open), and I lean my head over the overhang to see if I can see anything. Laura's in her pajamas reading, and Barton is-jeez, shirtless. I've heard that guys sleep shirtless, of course, but Rory didn't, so...
"I thought you were going to go look for her," Laura says, looking up from her book.
"I did. I think she's on the roof."
So much for secrecy.
"Shouldn't we get her back inside?"
"Nope." Laura glares at him. "Kid can sleep wherever she wants to sleep. Don't care."
"You seemed happy teaching her earlier."
"Well, I didn't know she broke some girl's nose at school. Forgive me if that changes my view of the nose-breaker."
"Do you know why?"
"She wouldn't say anything. Principal said that the other girl was calling her names. It wasn't right, but to break that girl's nose for it..."
"You need to go find her."
"What if Cooper said something that got her mad, huh? What about Lila? What then?"
"Clint." Laura takes one of his hands in hers, rubbing it slightly. "Clint, I love you, but you see the bad in people so easily."
"It's why I'm alive." He kisses her cheek.
"She's not an evil person."
"It's not my job to be a therapist, Laura. My job is to be your husband and and our kids' father, not some correctional officer. I told you I'd give it a try, but this, no."
"What do you mean?"
"I'm not going to keep that kid in my house anymore, Laura. She's not my job and she's not my responsibility."
"Clint..."
"I've made up my mind. Tomorrow, I'm calling Fury and letting him know that he can have his prodigy back."
Yep, I'm a jerk. The next chapter won't be so long coming, I promise.
Comment responses are down here now!
fezwearingjellybananas: Yeah, something to that effect. Glad you're liking the story!
Winter262: I'm glad you like it! Sorry about the horrendous wait, life has an annoying habit of getting in the way of writing.
lollypops101: Thanks! Hope you liked this chapter too!
Sorry again about the wait, I wrote the above comment several days ago and things just kept coming up. I have the PSAT in a few days, hopefully after that things will quiet down a bit.
-IceFyre
1/15/17 EDIT: Being the meticulous, been-writing-fan-fictions-since-eight-years-old girl I am, I referred to Clint Barton, alias Hawkeye, as 'her'. Whoops. Anyways, all gender confusion is fixed now. Happy non-gender-confusing reading! ;)