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Warning: Long memory sequence.

Sorry- had to be written.

:o)

Enjoy.

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I had been trying to call him all day. The home phone had to be disconnected or off the hook. Deacon told me that his dad had lost his job about two months ago, so I knew someone was home. I, honestly, was not surprised. His dad had this really, really bad drinking problem. After his mom left or after she abandoned them…things hadn't gotten considerably worse. Trudging through the woods, my rain coat on, thunder booming in the background- I almost turned around. I was already in trouble for breaking curfew four nights ago and I had just snuck out of the house. It was Deacon's fault…if I hadn't had to drag his drunk ass home, I would have made curfew just fine. My flash light flickered and I growled. I shook it a few times and the light burst back through the night. I sighed, "You better be at the damn hut…or I will kill you."

These woods had a reputation to creep me out at night. Deac knew that. Maybe he was hiding from me because of that fact. I saw the old shack, finally, and brushed a piece of wet hair from my eyes. This damn raincoat wasn't helping at all. The shack, or hut as Deac called it, had been abandoned for a while now. We technically were trespassing, but the old man who owned the land didn't seem to mind. We never bothered anything. We played here quite often when we were kids. Now it was just a place for us and a few close friends to drink and goof off. In worst case scenarios…Deacon slept there when his dad was horrible to him. The shack was an old house that had been built in the 1920's. It was a three room house, no bathroom. It consisted of a bedroom, living room, and a dining area/kitchen with a fireplace. The walls weren't painted…the wood was splintered. A few holes in the walls had been covered up by pieces of material I had taken from my mom. The fire place seemed to still be in good shape. We used that often.

I pushed open the door and the soft glow of the fire that he had built lit up the room. He turned toward me, not surprised that I was here, and then faced the fire again. Apparently he had been expecting me.

"Deacon, God…I've been trying to track you down." I shut the door and shrugged off my raincoat. I shook it and hung it on one of the many nails sticking out of the wall. "I've called your house, your job, Kyle's…I even went over to the pool hall and asked Bryan. And you know how much he scares the shit out of me…"

I turned back around and stopped. He was sitting cross legged on the blow up mattress in basketball shorts and a hoodie. His tennis shoes sat close to the fire. His eyes were fixed on the flames that engulfed the wood. I eased toward him.

"Deacon?" I whispered.

He finally looked at me as I neared. My mouth fell as I sat down heavily on the blow up mattress. "Oh my…Deacon…"

I reached out to touch his face and his pulled away. The right side of his face was swollen. Angry red, purple, and blue covered his right cheek, chin, and right eye. It was blood shot. My eyes shifted down as I caught sight of the bruises on his neck that resembled fingers. "Don't need your fuckin' pity Marc'. Go home."

I ignored him, "Your dad do this?"

"Who the fuck else would it be?" He spat as he glared at me. I back away slightly and his gaze softened. He let out a sigh, "I'm sorry…I'm just…I don't know. I'm worried about him. I shouldn't be, but damnit…I am."

I gnawed on my lip for a second, "He didn't answer the phone. I think that the Ford was outside Dickerson's when I went by the pool hall though."

"I hit him…with a lamp. Th-that one that my bought at the McKinley's yard sale. She loved that stupid ugly ass lamp." He gave a weak chuckle as he lifted a bottle of Jack to his lips. I hadn't noticed it before. I could smell it now. "You think I'll be like him?"

I lifted my eyes from the bottle to his. He was watching me closely. I shook my head and turned toward the fire as I moved back a bit further. I pulled his blanket around my shoulders. I was wet and cold. "You aren't him Deac…you never will be anything like that bastard."

"Still have his blood coursing through my veins Marc'." He took another sip of the amber colored liquid and turned slightly toward me. I could see his face full on now. There were a few butterfly bandages across his brow. "Harold fixed me up."

Harold, he was the old man that owned the land.

"He fixed me up, gave me a cooler with a few sandwiches, chips, and a bottle of water." I eyed the bottle of Jack closely. He held it out and I shook my head swiftly. He smirked, "I think its Kyle's…was in the cabinet in the corner."

I shifted uncomfortably on the bed as he took another few swigs. He swayed and then shook his head, "You're afraid of me, aren't you?"

I shook my head, "No…I'm not. I've handled you before when you were drunk. I'm like a pro."

I finished with a smile, but it faded quickly. He leaned closer and I forced myself to stay still. His blue eyes were dull and cloudy. The small smirk he had on his lips grew, "You can handle me like a pro, hmm?"

The air changed then. He leaned closer as he clumsily sat the bottle on the ground. The fire crackled suddenly causing me to jump. I clutched the blanket tighter to my body. I shivered. I heard the rain pick up outside. The wind began to howl through the cracks in the walls. I swallowed dryly. "Maybe we should head back to my house Deac. Storm's gettin' worse."

"You're safe with me."

My eyes flickered back down to his as he pressed his lips against mine. He tasted like whiskey and cigarettes…and blood. My lips parted further, I couldn't stop them. I had been waiting since I was twelve to kiss him. His lips were more skilled as they moved quickly against mine. He was suddenly on his knees, hands on either side of my head, his thumbs brushing against my faux diamond studs. His tongue brushed against mine and I moaned at the warmth. Six years. I waited for this moment six years. Suddenly his hands were under my shirt, his warm hands pressing against my soft stomach and I pushed him away gently. I shook my head.

"We can't…I-I'm dating Jarrod. We can't do this. This isn't right." He held onto my hips with firm fingers. His thumbs dipping under the waistband of my jeans. I swallowed feeling that familiar pool in my stomach. I had loved this feeling when fooling around with Jarrod. It was the sense of need, want, and urgency I loved. The need to be that close to someone. Although I hadn't been with anyone in that way…didn't mean that I wasn't experienced in other activities though.

Shaking his head, he pushed me back onto the mattress, further and further. I was falling. I wasn't fighting him like I should have been. I wanted this. I know I did. I felt wet drops hit my face quickly. I wiped them away thinking it was the rain, but I realized quickly it wasn't. I gently wiped the tears from his tender cheeks. He winced and he let out a sigh. The whiskey on his breath was incredibly strong. I should drag him back to the house and let my mother tend to his wounds. I should let him sober up on the couch in the living room. I should.

"You are the only thing…the only person that I care about Marcia."

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Leaning against a tree about ten feet away from the broken down shack I could hear leaves crunching behind me. I had left the house early this morning, before Clint or mom had even woken. I wanted to see if it was still standing after all of these years. My eyes were glued to the engraving that Deacon and I had made the summer we were twelve.

D & M 4 EV

I smirked at the thought. Deacon had cut his hand when he was making deep lines through the wood. My mother had been the one to drive him to the hospital, which blessed him with fifteen stitches and a nice scar from the base of his thumb down to his forearm. I cried all the way to the house. Deacon was calm, my pink cardigan sweater wrapped around his left hand, right hand pulling me through the woods. He was trying to make jokes, but now…I remember the tears in his eyes. As usual, he put me first. I turned as the crunching stopped. Clint smiled and handed me a thermos.

"Compliments of your mom."

"Thank you," I said, taking the thermos with a smile. He swung his backpack around and produced two Styrofoam cups and a thick blanket rolled as tight as it would go. I scrunched up my eyebrows trying to figure how in the world he managed to cram that thing in there. "You got pancakes in there too?"

He chuckled and reached in once more. He held up two foil objects, "Bacon, egg, and cheese biscuits ma'am. Slightly warm."

He began to unfold the blanket out and I watched with a small smile. I glanced back at the house again before I eased down on the thick blanket. "This is the blanket that I used in the field when I was younger."

"Yea. Your mom gave me the backpack and thermos. Told me to follow the tree line South until I reached the red rock, turn right and follow the stream until it forked, then go left. Oddly enough..here I am."

"You've had your scavenger hunt for the day." I said as I poured our coffee out into the cups. He unwrapped the foil covering the biscuit before handing it to me. He glanced back at the shack as he sipped his coffee with care. I took a bite of my sandwich and watched him for a moment. "Mom never showed this place until now?"

He shook his head and dove into his biscuit, "Nope. She said it was private."

He chewed slowly, but I knew he was giving the place a good clear evaluation. The initials on the wall, the multicolored pieces of material, the front door was gone now and there was a clear view of an old broken down couch. "We played here a lot when we were young."

His eyes drifted back to me silently and he nodded slowly. He continued to eat quietly. His jaw moving strongly with each bite, each chew, each swallow. Even eating- he was sexy. I liked my lips and moved my eyes back to the shack, "Where was your first time?"

He choked. My eyes crinkled, my lips pursed together tightly to prevent laughter. His face was red and he pulled a bottle of water from somewhere in the pack. I glanced over wondering what else was in that thing. It was a bottomless pit. "What?"

"I asked where your first time was." His mouth fell open slightly and his eye flickered every where else, but to me. He scratched the back of his head and gave a small awkward laugh. "Did I embarrass you Hawkeye?"

He grinned at that, "Caught off guard…yes. Embarrassed…hm. You first."

I smirked, sadly. I shifted my eyes to the shack. He laughed deeply, "Seriously? Here?"

I didn't answer him right away and he ran his hand through his hair. "His dad had just beat the shit out of him…and I…I think I felt sorry for him. I don't know. I think I loved him. At least then I did. You know?"

He stared at the shack and nodded his head slowly, "I know. I get it. So…you two never…you said you never dated."

I shrugged, "I got up early, so I could sneak back into the house and get us breakfast. Came back and he was already up. Didn't remember anything from the night before. Apparently he had a lot more to drink than I had originally thought. So…I didn't say anything."

He reached out and tugged on hem of my pants just above the ankle. He dipped his head to catch my gaze, "You never said anything?"

I shook my head, "Two months later…we joined the Marine's. I-I think he remembered something though because about eleven months later, he asked me out on a date. I told him no. He just nodded and said he understood. He…gave me a kiss and then played with my earring that I had in my ear. It was something he did that night. I think he remembered…but…"

"It was too late."

"Yea. Things were different and I…couldn't bear to be hurt again by my best friend." I watched him silently as he stared into his cup of coffee. I wasn't fond of straight black coffee, but the smell and the warmth was slowly making my senses come alive. I could vaguely notice the constant tingling in my fingertips. The gentle hum in my ears. The Flame burning deep within. Not desire…but the Flame. I could feel it…constantly. I glanced over at Clint who was studying the shack with the up most scrutiny. It was either now or never. "Do you trust me?"

His head snapped back to me and he stilled for a moment. He scrunched his eyebrows in confusion, "Trust you?"

"Yes," I nodded swiftly. "Do you trust me?"

"Of course." He said firmly. He sat his coffee and what was left of his biscuit to the side. "With my life."

"Will you trust me to try something?"

He looked at me, head tilted to the right, eyes squinted together as if he were trying to read me. He gave a firm nod and cleared his throat, "Wh-what are you wanting to do?"

"Give me your hand," I said setting my coffee aside and holding my hand out palm up. He hesitated for a moment and then held his out. I ran my fingertips over his palm and he let out a slow breath. I heard him swallow.

"Your fingers are freezing." His eyes drifted to mine and I smirked with a shrug.

"The Flame runs very, very cold. I'm not sure why…" I quickly produced the Flame by running my fingers over the palm of my hand. His eyes flew from mine to the Flame. I could see the reflection in his eyes, the slight hint of worry, curiosity too. "You still trust me?"

His eyes never left the blue ball of flame that flickered brightly casting a blue glow over us. The chill from the burn off felt nice to me. Refreshing even. I moved the ball to his open hand and he flinched slightly as I dropped it in his hand. His lips parted slightly in amazement…relief maybe? "It's…it's not…"

"I can control it. Better than I thought I ever could. I've secretively been working with Stark." I watched it dance up his hand and arm. He laughed nervously. It extinguished quickly and I inhaled slowly, "I think…that since I'm part of what Crystal and Peterson were making or have made….maybe I can control it enough to make it not harmful to anyone. So that we can control the situation."

"We don't even know where they are Marc. Let's just enjoy what little vacation we have and not think about it."

"Stark emailed me. They found Crystal. They plan on going after him tomorrow. I want to be a part of that."

He shook his head violently and muttered a few obscene words. I sighed and tossed my coffee into the grass. I did the same to his. Time to start cleaning up because this picnic was a scrap. He started shoving things into the pack. "You said you trusted me."

"I do Marcy…just stay away from Crystal. Stark, Thor…Cap will handle it just fine," he stood yanking his bag off the ground. He was already on the move back to the house. I could feel the rain start up again. I folded the blanket quickly and jogged after him.

"I'm part of this team Clint. I'm part of whatever Crystal is planning to do. The Flame is inside me. I can control it. I just proved that."

He spun around, "And what if you can't Marcy? Huh? What if your worst fear comes to life and it swallows you and burns you to ash? Where does that leave me? Explaining to your mom how….no!"

I flinched at his outburst and bit my tongue hard, "I'm going. I would love the support of you coming with me." The rain was coming down harder now. I could feel the cool rain seeping into my clothes. He shook his head as he turned slightly toward the direction of the house. Reaching out a hand gently, I grasped onto his forearm, "You said you cared for me…let me do this then. I could have taken this guy down years ago Clint."

"All this because you feel guilty?" He shook his head.

"I need you there beside me." I pleaded stepping closer. My heart quickened seeing the rain drops flowing down his face freely. He brushed away the strands of wet hair away from my face. Turning my cheek into his palm I kissed it gently. "I care for you too, you know…"

His lips met mine and I tasted him…rain…coffee…bacon. It felt like a Sunday morning. Sunday morning's curled up under blankets, rain pouring down outside, thunder booming overhead as you make love. His hands on either side of my face pushing me back further. My back hit the tree behind me and I dropped the blanket. Moaning, he shuffled the back pack off and grabbed my thighs hauling me up higher. My legs wrapped around his waist tight as his hips bucked up. Breaking the kiss, he trailed warm kisses down my neck. I leaned my head back and stared up at the tree with wide eyes. I could barely feel the rain hitting us under the protection of the branches and leaves.

Clint raking his thumb over my nipple caught my attention. One hand under my shirt, the other resting on my hip. I moaned in pleasure as he pinched it, grinning lustfully.

"I'll go with you. I want to keep you safe." I looked into his eyes and he kissed me suddenly before thrusting up again. He growled softly, it echoed in my ears. God, how I wanted him. His eyes drifted over to the shack. I smirked. "We're leaving tomorrow?"

"Yes," I caressed his face as he eased me back down to the ground. "I need to know everyone is safe. My mom will understand. I need to do this."

He gave a swift nod before he stilled, "Do you trust me?"

"Always." He picked up the backpack and the blanket before grabbing my hand. He brushed his lips over my knuckles before leading me off in the direction of shack.

Always.

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Thank you for reading! Now…go review!

–wink-

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DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything. Marcy is an original character I created.