Hawkeye: Agony

Ronin

Thaddeus Ross had been after me since I was a child. All he'd ever wanted was to see me arrested, since the day he first knew me. Now that I look back on it, I think my record as the 'perfect' soldier, ruined his chances of becoming anything close to Steve Rogers. An agent trained from childhood in government ideals, seems a lot more reliable than the old man who caused the world's greatest mind to turn in to a nuclear bomb.
But originally, little childhood me assumed I'd hurt someone close to him. Maybe I deserved it?
Whether it was deserved or not in the end, I got what was coming.

**

"All rise for the trial of Barton. Clint, Francis. Age 7. Occupation, circus entertainer. Charged with murder, assault, theft, arson, endangerment, animal cruelty, and anything brought to light in this trial."
"Francis?" Ward sniggered, "Why didn't we know about that??"
"That's why," Coulson sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, "Don't make this more unbearable."
"_Do you think he knows WHY it's Francis? I want to know that story."
"He can hardly say his own last name. Do you REALLY think he knows his middle name?"
"Fair point... Francis," he smirked and I saw Phil give him a small glare. Phil doesn't glare... He must be stressed.

I rose next to Fury at the accused bench. He told me to stand whenever he did, so I kept a close eye on him. He was my lawyer on that faithful day.

"I don't think we've ever seen a case quite like this one. A child younger than my own Betty, is a mass terrorist?"
"Terrorist is a strong word for a child."
"But isn't that what he is, Director?" Ross swung around in his pacing to face Fury.
Jokingly but with his usual serious expression, Nick responded, "A child or a terrorist?" He got a chuckle in response, "Even if we consider his previous actions to be endangering the public, his actions today were of a hero. Self sacrifice, standing and fighting even in terror. He saved more lives by standing up to them than he ever killed.
.. SHIELD can make him a hero, I promise you that."

Self sacrifice? A hero? ...Is that what it takes? Selflessness.
The moment I did something for myself, I ended up a killer, driven by the fun of the circus and archery. If I'd left_ If I'd gone just for Barney's sake_ could I have been a war hero instead?

**

"A hero?!" Ross spat out, almost hitting Phil in the face from across the room, "This man hasn't changed since we first saw him here!" Ross walked at my defense, Phil Coulson, and leant in to his face. "He's just become more and more like the terrorist I knew he was!"
"He was never a terrorist! The circus was a group of adults, Ross. He was manipulated, and the explosion in Sokovia had nothing to do with it!"
"So just to be clear, he wasn't manipulated this time? It was all Mr.Barton."
"Objection...!" Phil gave out a quick cry.
"Denied. We all know from the news feeds...It's clear Mr.Barton would have still caused injuries. He should not have had such dangerous weapons on his person to begin with. If Stark Industries didn't provide the arrows, as Mr.Stark already stated - then that means Clint Barton made these himself and has full responsibility. It is illegal. He doesn't have a license like Stark."

I was staring down at the tablet in front of me, not really reading the audio description that was showing. It was too slow, anyway. I'd have been too late to object. So instead I stared, until I realised that Stark had ratted me out? He told them I make the arrows? He could have said no, and I'd have been fine.
I looked up slowly and over my shoulder, sad eyes meeting Tony's as he stared at me, with Steve and Natasha sat next to him.
And that was how I was for the rest of the trial, letting Stark know how he was the one that sealed my fate. I didn't give Phil enough attention, but I was grateful for his help, whether it actually helped or not.

A part of me knew I wouldn't make it.

**

You know what's worse than being sent to a prison?
Being sent to a high security one on a barge.
And you know what's worse than that?
The showers they make you take.
They just spray you with an overpowered hose. As if I already don't have enough processing issues? I couldn't hear; I couldn't see; I could hardly breathe. But they don't care about that. I guess they thought my natural odour of blood and sweat would ruin their precious blue suit and collar combo.

James and Wanda were also sent here with me, but they had slightly more restricting jackets on: Wanda with her sleeves tightened behind her back.
We were all in a row, unable to see each other, and facing the other half of the circle's empty cells.
The bright white constant glare of their lights was almost mocking.
"You're the only ones bad enough to be here." Us three Avengers.
You won't see Thanos getting this sort of treatment. No, they'd let him run back to space.

Without being able to see the other two, I had no way of communicating. I hoped they were comforting each other. I occasionally felt a vibration from one of the walls, as if one of them was knocking on it to get my attention. Usually, despite the effort, I was still clueless to what they wanted.
But occasionally it was a warning.
Some guard yelling at me through the glass, and them warning me someone was there.

Usually it was food, showers, sign this paper, swear an oath, give a public statement.
But this time...
..this was different.

**

Being dragged out of my cell, I was able to look up and see Bucky and Wanda for the first time in weeks. They looked tired, with sullen eyes filled with guilt and sleepless nights. Bucky with a slight haziness, like he wasn't always sure what was happening - but I knew he was the knocker; he one looking out for me. I knew Wanda couldn't have in her restraint jacket.

They both looked up a little at me, scared for a moment, but almost with a look of pity. Did they know why I was being yelled at? Did I do something?
I snapped out of it as the guard pulled me up, only to yell in my face.
Bucky didn't seem happy with whatever they said. He looked angry.
'He's been here this whole time!' I could make that out.
..Do they think I escaped?

'Do you really think he can do anything in that cell? Look at him! He doesn't know when to get up, let alone break out and sneak back in. Why would he even come back?'
'Regardless, that's him.'

I was pinned down on to a table, with my wrists in one of the guards hands as he cuffed them together, and then dropped me in a heap on the floor. Putting some new looking hearing aids on me, he turned a tablet towards me.
'Is this you?'

A news reporter was interviewing Hawkeye on his latest save. He swung in to a burning building, broke down the door with a punch to the rotting wood, and ran in, carrying out two children on each arm. It was like a tv show. But that was me... Hawkeye.
Or a better version of me, at least. Whoever this is, is an action hero. They're not limping out of the building with broken bones or a torn muscle. They're big and strong and fearless.

'When was this..?' I croaked. I hadn't had to speak in a long time.
'This morning.'
I carefully reached forward and pinched the screen, zooming in on the face.

No.
No. It can't be.

'He's dead...' I listened to the hum of the hearing aids for a moment in the silence, staring at the sparkling turquoise eyes.
'That's my brother.'