A snippet of a moment that I needed to see. Not beta'd because mine hasn't seen the movie yet. No rating, no warnings.
Title: Found Word Count: approx 700 She told him there would be redemption. Not in so many words, but that’s what Clint held onto during the flight back to New York. He hadn’t been in the States for years, choosing to right the wrongs in other places that didn’t have a base of operations for Earth’s Mightest Heroes. All he’d cared about was finding a wrong and righting it.
Funny thing was, as much as he distanced himself from his old group of friends, the closer he got to them. There were whispers about the work they were doing all around the world and he ran into them constantly. The word “Avenger” still brought hope with it, no matter the state the world was in.
“Are you one of them?” a grateful woman has asked, holding her bleeding child close because he was safe at home and not fodder for some foolish man’s dream of dominating the weak around him. “Are you one of the Avengers?”
“Just helping out where and when I can,” he’d answered, gruffer than usual. Kids always got him down deep where he’d pushed all his feelings. His memories. His might-have-beens.
She hadn’t looked like she believed him. It was the first time he’d given out a name, hoping to dissuade the villagers from thinking he was anything special. Ronin had just been at the tip of his tongue, coupled with a fleeting memory of a long-ago movie night with Nat curled up beside him with her usual non-stop commentary and a bowl of over-buttered popcorn. There was meaning behind the name that he didn’t think anyone else got in that dusty village.
The silence between them on the flight had gotten heavy with unspoken words and complicated emotions. Just when he thought he might jump out of his seat and race for one of the exits, Nat had turned to him with her lopsided grin like nothing had put a distance between them. “Ronin? Really?”
“You heard about that?” It wasn’t really a question. Of course, she’d found out the name. He knew that she would. The part of him that had hated hiding from her (because he knew this whole five-year long ordeal had been about hiding from his oldest friend and not because he’d been yearning to work alone) had known she would recognize the name and would come looking for him.
He had wanted her to make it better but had known that she couldn’t and hadn’t been been ready for the consequences of watching her fail him.
“Of course, I heard about it, Clint. Everyone heard about it. It was just a matter of getting one step ahead of the shadow.” The hurt was thick in her voice again but her eyes were clear. She wasn’t looking guilty or sad or hopeful. God, he didn’t think he could look at her again if she was going to look hopeful. He was no one’s answer to anything right now.
“I needed to,” he didn’t want to say it out loud, knowing that it would only disappoint her but he couldn’t stop the words from spilling out, “hurt people.”
“Did it help?”
He thought she might try to absolve him. Tell him it was okay. But he’d forgotten that she was the Black Widow who knew all about red in ledgers and needing to find outlets for pain when it seeped out from the hidden places.
“No.”
“It never does. But neither does trying to help people. Pain has to work itself out without any help or hindrance from us.”
“Who,” he began to ask but then thought better of it. He didn’t want to know who was left. It didn’t matter. What was done, was done. He couldn’t take mourning more people. Instead, he shook his head and started over again, “I like the ombre thing you’ve got going on.”
She fingered the end of her braid. “I hated the blonde. It was a reminder of having to hide. But I also didn’t want to forget that I’d been hiding. It seemed important to hold onto a reminder that some things got better.”
His jaw clenched but he held in the immediate retort. She noticed and looked away, probably thinking his anger was her fault. It was only his fault, though. He hadn’t done enough while they’d been alive. If he’d been there, there would have been purple-people blood dripping from an arrow on his mantle and the world would have been safe. If, if, if, if, if...
“I’m glad you found me.” His voice was soft but he could tell from the way her body softened that she heard him.
Her hand found his again. “I’m glad you let yourself be found.”
Title: Found
No rating, no warnings.
Title: Found
Word Count: approx 700
She told him there would be redemption. Not in so many words, but that’s what Clint held onto during the flight back to New York. He hadn’t been in the States for years, choosing to right the wrongs in other places that didn’t have a base of operations for Earth’s Mightest Heroes. All he’d cared about was finding a wrong and righting it.
Funny thing was, as much as he distanced himself from his old group of friends, the closer he got to them. There were whispers about the work they were doing all around the world and he ran into them constantly. The word “Avenger” still brought hope with it, no matter the state the world was in.
“Are you one of them?” a grateful woman has asked, holding her bleeding child close because he was safe at home and not fodder for some foolish man’s dream of dominating the weak around him. “Are you one of the Avengers?”
“Just helping out where and when I can,” he’d answered, gruffer than usual. Kids always got him down deep where he’d pushed all his feelings. His memories. His might-have-beens.
She hadn’t looked like she believed him. It was the first time he’d given out a name, hoping to dissuade the villagers from thinking he was anything special. Ronin had just been at the tip of his tongue, coupled with a fleeting memory of a long-ago movie night with Nat curled up beside him with her usual non-stop commentary and a bowl of over-buttered popcorn. There was meaning behind the name that he didn’t think anyone else got in that dusty village.
The silence between them on the flight had gotten heavy with unspoken words and complicated emotions. Just when he thought he might jump out of his seat and race for one of the exits, Nat had turned to him with her lopsided grin like nothing had put a distance between them. “Ronin? Really?”
“You heard about that?” It wasn’t really a question. Of course, she’d found out the name. He knew that she would. The part of him that had hated hiding from her (because he knew this whole five-year long ordeal had been about hiding from his oldest friend and not because he’d been yearning to work alone) had known she would recognize the name and would come looking for him.
He had wanted her to make it better but had known that she couldn’t and hadn’t been been ready for the consequences of watching her fail him.
“Of course, I heard about it, Clint. Everyone heard about it. It was just a matter of getting one step ahead of the shadow.” The hurt was thick in her voice again but her eyes were clear. She wasn’t looking guilty or sad or hopeful. God, he didn’t think he could look at her again if she was going to look hopeful. He was no one’s answer to anything right now.
“I needed to,” he didn’t want to say it out loud, knowing that it would only disappoint her but he couldn’t stop the words from spilling out, “hurt people.”
“Did it help?”
He thought she might try to absolve him. Tell him it was okay. But he’d forgotten that she was the Black Widow who knew all about red in ledgers and needing to find outlets for pain when it seeped out from the hidden places.
“No.”
“It never does. But neither does trying to help people. Pain has to work itself out without any help or hindrance from us.”
“Who,” he began to ask but then thought better of it. He didn’t want to know who was left. It didn’t matter. What was done, was done. He couldn’t take mourning more people. Instead, he shook his head and started over again, “I like the ombre thing you’ve got going on.”
She fingered the end of her braid. “I hated the blonde. It was a reminder of having to hide. But I also didn’t want to forget that I’d been hiding. It seemed important to hold onto a reminder that some things got better.”
His jaw clenched but he held in the immediate retort. She noticed and looked away, probably thinking his anger was her fault. It was only his fault, though. He hadn’t done enough while they’d been alive. If he’d been there, there would have been purple-people blood dripping from an arrow on his mantle and the world would have been safe. If, if, if, if, if...
“I’m glad you found me.” His voice was soft but he could tell from the way her body softened that she heard him.
Her hand found his again. “I’m glad you let yourself be found.”