Playing With Fire (EDITING)

Old Friends

Author's Note: So I'm experimenting with different viewpoints to show you the characters in a different light and hopefully things that may have been confusing or unclear until now are smoothed over. So until further notice, this will be in Han's PoV because he received the highest vote of approval. Also, please comment! I'd love to hear what you want to see happen and some things I could work on! Really, I find criticism helpful. Thank you everyone for 1.6K reads!! I love you all!

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Eventually, with much stumbling, tripping, giggling, and dizzy horseplaying, we made it to the village in one piece.... or at least mostly one piece; Kurt had surfaced from the stream missing much of the skin off his right arm after he'd been scraped against several rocks under the water. Otherwise, the race down the hill had turned out harmless. I was surprised.

As we turned a corner that hid us from view before we would be completely shown to the town, I stopped our odd party and glanced at Loki. He was dressed in full Asgardian armor, minus the flashy helmet. "This can't happen. Got any normal clothes?"

He glared at me before his armor shimmered with a blueish light and was transformed into jeans and a fall jacket buttoned up over a white shirt. "Will this do?" he snipped.

I nodded and we continued on our way down the main road, past an old church with peeling white paint and a stained glass window in the front door, past a courthouse with pillars holding the entryway covering, past the convenience store and a few cafés, to the opposite end of town. As we exited the clusters of buildings, a familiar shape came into sight.

Beyond the outskirts of town, way off in the distance, in the center of a large, grassy field, was a pattern of colorful tents pitched around the largest tent in the center with a flag flapping at the top in the brisk autumn air. Each tent was a different color and raucous voices carried across the expanse toward us from the site.

I sighed. I had never wanted to return to a circus again but we had no choice. Footsteps faltered in turn as they each realized where we were headed, but I was concerned for Lyrica. When I turned to look for her, she had frozen in place, staring fearfully at our destination. "Lyrica?"

She shook her head numbly, braid falling over her shoulder.

The poor girl- she was being forced to walk back into her darkest nightmare without a single say in the matter. And I was dragging her here after me. Sympathetically, I rested my arm around her shoulders and shook her gently just to see her move. "I can't do it, Parrain," she said, voice shaking slightly.

"Yes, you can. You're stronger than this. What if Jacques or Rose were here?"

"I'd have to go."

"And how is right now any different?"

"It's not," she sighed, resigned.

"Then let's go."

She was reluctant, but I got her walking toward the tents again, however grudgingly. As we neared the circus, distinctive voices could be heard as well as the sounds of animals and unseen instruments. But I realized with a start that many of the voices were familiar, like vague shadows of a hazy dream. With a glance at Clint, my fear was confirmed; this was no random circus; this was the same circus we'd run to and away from as teenagers.

Thankfully, it was not the same circus that had scarred Lyrica so many years ago. When she understood this, her pace picked up and she held her head a little higher. Clint and I led the way toward the tents and were spotted quickly by a woman hanging her wash on a line. She stared openly before her mouth dropped and her hands lost hold on the basket of clothes she was carrying.