Water Or Wine

Chapter 3

Clint winces as I help him up from the floor "that wasn't the welcome I was expecting." He says through gritted teeth. Once he is steady on his feet I retort "well that's what you get for sneaking up on someone with super powers in a dark alley way." He winces a small smile and clutches his side. I give you a soft look "Romanoff is worried about you." I say to fill the silence.

He scratches the back of his neck "I need your help." He says ignoring my comment, I allow this interested in what he has to say. "Shoot." I answer but he shakes his head "not here." He looks around the alley, as though someone might hear us but it is deserted.

I sigh and help him back to my place. No gym for me tonight I guess. Clint collapses on the sofa and I brew us both a coffee. "Where have you been?" I ask as I busy myself in the kitchen. There is some rustling as Barton moves around "around, I have uh I have taken up a hobby." This snags me a little bit but I try to gif it. I clear my throat unsure of what to say.

I bring the two steaming mugs over as Clint brings out pieces of paper. "What's this?" I ask with a frown as I sit down next to him "I have to take care of some people however they are tricker to get ahold of than I thought." I lean forward and read the files on each of the guys.

"Why?" I press, scrunching my nose up "what's so special about these guys?" I didn't ask the question I was begging to ask. What happened to his family, did they disappear? Clint sucks in a breath "they are just bad people." He says looking down at his hands, I take them in mine and squeeze them gently. "Clint, Natasha told me you have gone off the rails, vigilante type. Tell me it isn't true." I heard from Natasha a while ago that Barton had started to kill innocent people, he was on a rampage and not even she could track him down. He pulls his hands away and stands up "they are bad people Noel, and they lived while my family didn't. How is that fair?" His voice wobbles slightly and I sigh, I guess I got my answer.

It's my turn to look down at my hands "how many Clint?" I ask shortly "how many have you killed?" I raise my head just in time to heat him answer gently "95." I gasp. My eyes widen and my hand shoots to my mouth "Barton." I whisper, barely audible "why." He shakes his head, backing up for the door "I am sorry Noel." He says seemingly sincerely "I shouldn't have tried to drag you into this, I will figure out a way to do it on my own. I am sorry." He leaves and I shoot out of my chair.

"Clint!" I shout as I race after him "wait." But when I get outside he is already gone. Damn spies. Its still raining, I go and grab my coffee, Clint's one laying forgotten on the coffee table. I sit down on the front step, clutching the mug with both hands. At times like this I miss T'Challa, Wanda and Bucky so much. Wanda would have loved to sit and gossip with me on the front step and I remember Bucky loved the rain, always loved it even back in the 1940s. But T'Challa, I just miss him, like an open chest wound that refuses to heal no matter what I do.

I look up at the night sky, alarming clear for New York City. So clear you can see the stars. I suck in a breath and bring my coffee mug up to my lips. I have the sudden urge to figure out a way to get them back. I bite my lip hard enough to draw blood and close my eyes, pictures appearing in my head. Memories. Things I have pushed down for the last five years, they are all resurfacing because of the god damned rain. It's getting cold now so I head back inside.

I wash up the mugs before taking a long, hot shower. Every time I close my eyes I see flashes of all the friends I've lost, the ones I gave up on and I start to feel sick. I get changed into my pyjamas and settle back down on the sofa where I end up staying for the rest of the night.