The feedback I got from this chapter was absolutely AMAZING. I don't want you to get too excited that I'm posting another chapter this quickly because I'm really busy with college classes and won't be able to post this quickly a lot, but I'm giving you another chapter now. Thank you all so much and I hope you and others will read this story and love it too. By the way, I never did mention that the P.O.V.'s are mostly Hannah's. The only time I ever title the P.O.V.'s is if there is a Hannah/Clint switch-off. And the title of this story is based off the song "Bruises" by Train. It really fit for this story, and hopefully you'll see why soon. Enjoy!

Chapter Two

We were taking a plane to New York City. It was far from the small town in Iowa I had been raised in. My uncle's place of employment was flying us there, so there was not a big problem with security or anything like that. It was an airline I didn't recognize, one with an eagle on it, but I didn't really care to address the matter. That meant talking, which was the exact opposite of what I wanted right now. My uncle sat across from me, looking out the window at the clouds. I decided to look at the floor. That way, I didn't have to look at him.

"My wife and I, we live at the apartment some of the time." He finally spoke up.

"Some of the time?" I glanced up at him curiously.

"Work takes us around the world a lot." He replied. Good. I wouldn't have to see him all the time. "Her name's Natasha. She already has a room set up for you."

"Great." I said dismally. I would be sure to lock the door the second I was there.

The plane was again filled with a saddening silence, and it continued until we got off the plane. The eagle emblem like the one on the plane was on the car, and a redhead was standing by it as we got off, bags and all.

"This must be Hannah." She said, giving me one of the fakest smiles I had ever seen. I didn't even give her a second glance as I walked past her. She looked to her husband in question, but he only shook his head. I climbed into the backseat and we headed off to the apartment, and, true to my word, I quickly locked myself in my room, leaving my uncle and his wife to themselves.

Clint's P.O.V.

"She's taking it pretty hard." Nat said as she sat beside me on the couch.

"She's seventeen and an orphan. Not really the bright future everyone looks forward to." I pointed out.

"And you're taking it pretty hard too, from what I can see." She said, her eyes focusing on me intently. We had known each other for years and she could read me like yesterday's newspaper.

"How could I not have known I had a niece for all these years?" I asked her. "I didn't even knew where he was."

"Clint, don't be so hard on yourself."

"I'm not angry at me. I'm angry at Barney. How dare he not even tell me where he was. And then to drop his kid on me like this. I mean, how irresponsible can he be?"

"You don't mean that." Natasha said skeptically. And I didn't. I wasn't angry at Hannah. God knows I didn't blame her for this. But Barney, well, we hadn't been on good terms since I was a kid. But he could have at least tried to find and tell me about his family. But then again, shouldn't I have tried to find him? It was an anger mixed with guilt and remorse.

"I'm not angry at her. I just...what do we do with a seventeen year-old? You know what our jobs require...but I couldn't just leave her in foster care."

"I know. We'll make the best of what we can." Natasha reassured me. "We'll take some time off work. Director Fury will understand."

"He'll have to." I replied. "We don't have a choice right now."

"Try to think of it as a vacation." Her attempts to cheer me up were quickly marked with skepticism.

"With a niece I've never met?" She shrugged her shoulders. Neither of us knew what to do with a seventeen year-old. I guess we'd find out.

Hannah's P.O.V.

I listened in on their conversation through the door. So he thought I was just some kid that got dropped off on him? Fine. If he felt like I was such a burden, then why stay? I was in New York City. I could find a place far away from him. From his totally fake-nice wife. From everyone. Because that's all I wanted. To be alone. Away from the world. Away from human beings. Away from life in general. Tonight, I was getting out of here.

Later...

It was about eleven at night and I had swiftly and silently packed what little I needed. About two hundred dollars in babysitting money, some clothes, and the picture, my most treasured possession, in a backpack. I had assumed the two had gone to bed for the night when I saw the lights turned off. I quietly opened the door and looked around. Not a soul in sight. Good. I made my way over to the door of the apartment; it opened without a sound. I quickly made my way to the elevator and out of the apartment building. Even at eleven o'clock on a Tuesday, the city was lit up with lights and bustling with people, much to my distaste.

I weaved my way through the hoards of people, trying to get as far out of New York City as humanly possible. Even if somehow my uncle did have an ounce of caring in him, or at least didn't want to be charged with reckless child care, I wasn't going to be anywhere close when he called the cops to go out looking for me. With the speed I was moving at, I would be out in no time. I decided to take the subway for the quickest way out of town. I paid for my ticket and made one last stop to the bathroom, but as I came out, I was quickly grabbed and a hand clamped over my mouth.

"Be quiet and I won't hurt you." The voice, a deep male's, whispered in my ear. I could feel him slowly take my backpack off. He wanted money. That's when I remembered my picture was in there. In anger, I bit his hand and he yowled in pain. He flung me to the ground, backpack and all.

"Why you little..." He advanced towards me, his now bleeding hand formed into a fist, ready to strike. That's when he was tackled by and thrown against the wall by someone, the one person I didn't want to see; my uncle. His eyes were seething as he grabbed the man by the throat.

"And what do you think you're doing to this young lady right here?" He snarled.

"I just wanted money, man." The guy said fearfully.

"Well, you won't find it here. Now get out before I really give you something to fear." He said fiercely as he threw the man on the ground. He quickly hoisted himself up and ran as fast as his legs could carry him, leaving me alone with my uncle.

"And what do you think you're doing here? You're supposed to be at home." I snorted.

"You call that place home?" I asked angrily. "That is NOT my home."

"It is while you live with us." He retorted.

"I'm doing you a favor." I spat back. "I know you don't want me here."

"What?" As if he was confused.

"I heard your little conversation. I know you both think I'm just some kid that got off dropped on you." His eyes went wide in realization.

"Hannah, I..."

"Look, as far as I'm concerned, you don't want anything to do with me, and I certainly don't want anything to do with you. So just let me go, alright? You'll never have to see me again. It'll be like this whole thing never happened." I could feel hot tears well up in my eyes. I hadn't cried since Dad had died. Not even once. And now I was crying in front of an uncle I didn't even know.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean...you're not a burden. I was just angry...but not at you." It was a mad scramble to get his thoughts together, however, it was a pathetic attempt.

But his words were slowly becoming less and less important as the sinking realization of my father's death became more and more unbearable. I had pushed it away, tried to ignore the feelings welling up inside of me. But now, those emotions were tearing me apart.

"I miss my dad." I whimpered as I started to shake with sobs. And then he did something I really didn't expect (truthfully, I don't think he did either). He hugged me, right there in the middle of the station. But I didn't care. I needed someone, even if that person was a stranger that just happened to be my uncle.

What did you all think?