Time to go

Try me

"And that's how I ended up here." Liesel finished, then looked around the ring of people. "Who hasn't told their story yet?"

Clint tried to shrink away, he preferred listening to the stories, not telling them. The others' stories were wonderful and almost fairytale like. Like going to the circus as kids and realizing that's what they wanted to when they grew up and how their family told them stories about the circus. Sadly Clint didn't have a story like that, no sweet old grandma telling about her days as a show girl or a shiny memory of eating popcorn as men juggled swords and tamed lions. He had a pitiful story about two skinny kids sneaking out the window of a foster home in pouring rain and finding a circus that both saved their lives and tore them to shreds.

"Clint hasn't told us about how he made it to the circus the first time, maybe that'll be a good story." Jason suggested.

Clint shrugged, desperately trying to find a way to curl in on himself so he didn't have to share.

"Isn't it getting a bit late? I'm kinda tired, maybe we should turn in and I'll tell you my story some other time?" Clint said trying to work his sad silver tongue for all it's worth.

"Bull Crap." Called Dawn, one of the elfish looking pony riders. " You just don't want to tell us your story. What ya do kill someone?"

Clint was assaulted by a flash of memories; coming home alone to the faint smell of blood, the way his dad's limp body swung lightly from the ceiling, his mom's mangled body lying in the car's shattered windshield ,the way the other kids in the foster homes shied away from him whispering that he brought bad luck, his brother beating him to the ground while the swordsman watched, the dead look in Barney's eyes when he left Clint bruised and beaten in a muddy ditch outside of town, the countless men and women he killed before shield for money and the ones after for 'peace'.

Clint hung his head " You wouldn't believe me if I told you. My story doesn't really fit the legend mold."

Dawn sighed "Try me."

Clint almost laughed, then took the whiskey bottle from one of the twins, draining the last inch in one gulp"Okay let's start at the beginning. My mom died in a car crash, then my dad hung himself, blaming me in the note and I was sent to a foster home with my brother. We ran away to the circus before they could separate us, I was small enough to be an acrobat so that's what I did. Then the swordsman trained me as a marksman, it was good until I missed my shot by a centimeter. The swordsman decided I wasn't worth the trouble anymore and had me bagged and thrown in a ditch outside of town to die." Clint leaned back " That's all, I think it's time I turned in."

The carnies were all silent, staring at him like unblinking dolls.

Why are they staring at m-? Oh god. It hit him like at ton of bricks, he told them everything. He called himself a marksman. Stupid alcohol! He cursed himself. I never should have drank that much. He could see the wheels spinning in their heads, what if the knew he was an avenger? Clint looked around at them once more, no one looked like they had hit realization yet. For once he was thankful that he was the other guy in the avengers.

Finally a strongman seemed to take pity on Clint and broke the silence;

" He's right. I think we all need some sleep,we've all had a lot to drink. Patricia show him to Jared's old bunk."

Nobody moved from their spots around the fire.

"I said I think we all need some sleep, so everyone screw off!" The man said more forcefully then stood up to walk to his tent "Now!"

Everyone jumped from their spots and instantly scrambled off to their own bunks in the small canvas tents that surrounded the big top.

Patricia stretched her arms and yawned, walking over to Clint.

"Come on Hawkguy, lets get you to your tent." She said sleepily.

Clint resisted the urge to flinch at the name 'Hawkguy'. In the back of his mind a memory resurfaced of a fiery black-haired girl, a dog with one eye, a large pot of coffee, a red car , a messy quiver of trick arrows and a man named Grills? A memory of a time that no one knew about .It felt so warm, but to far away for him to reach. That was before the battle of New York, before he was a blue eyed Loki lackey.

Patricia led him past the other large tents to a small tent made out a rough canvas. She shrugged,pushing away the tent flap revealing a rickety cot, a kerosene lamp and not much else. It wasn't a lot but more than Clint could've ever asked for.

" I know it's small but all the other tents are full at the moment..so you're on your own." Patricia seemed almost apologetic.

Clint nodded slightly, he didn't care that he was alone. It was most likely better for him, nightmares about the past tended to hunt him more when it was dark out. He didn't want to scare anyone be waking up screaming at three in the morning.

"No that's fine. I'll be okay out here on my own, I'm a big boy." He smiled and laid down on the cot " Thanks Patricia, I'll see you in the morning."

"Good night Hawkguy." She laughed lightly and left Clint alone in the tent, staring blankly up at the canvas ceiling.