The Next Archer: A Hawkeye fanfiction

2

Conner pulled up his boxers. He felt the material slide up his leg, stopping mid-thigh. He wanted to leave. To go home. To leave before Coach Tigner came back, demanding answers. Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned around and saw Coach Tigner. 
"Conner, if you ever want to talk, about anything, you know where my office is. My door is always open. I'll wait until your ready to talk."

Conner smiled weakly. "Thanks, Coach."

"By the way, you were looking pretty good out there today. And now that I get a look at you, I can see whatever you are doing is sculpting you into a lean muscular stud. That's my goal with all my students. You got nothing to be ashamed of. Now, get on out of here." 

"Conner, can you grab the souffle?" His mom asked.

Conner's mom was a natural redhead. Something Conner did not inherit. He had dark hair that darkened with length, along with grey eyes. He had tanned some from being in the sun. Conner grabbed the souffle. 

"We got to go. The Bartons are expecting us."

"I'm coming!" 

They both got in the car and drove off to The Barton homestead. 

"Lila!" Mrs. Lura exclaimed at the table.

"What, he was picking on Conner!"

"So you hit him?" She asked.

"Did you win?" Mr. Clint asked.

"Yeah, dad. Hit him straight in the nose. He fell back instantly. It was great right, Conner?"

Conner looked up from the food. He had missed the beginning of the conversation.

"Uh, yeah. She laid him out. Gloriously." He said. 

"Good job Lila." Mr. Clint said about giving her a high five, then seeing his wife's stare allowed his hand to pull back. "I mean, uh, don't go punching boys." 

Everyone at the table laughed. 

"So, Conner." 

oh no.

"Cooper told me that you guys are working together on a project." Mr. Clint states, looking at me.

This is fine. I can do school talk. Conner thinks to himself.

"Yeah, the Avengers Memoriam project. We are supposed to look at one specific Avenger and their record. What the have done, what they haven't, other stuff like that." Conner responded as he sipped his water.

"So who gets to be the lucky one for your stalking?" Mr. Clint said jokingly. 

"I was thinking of the archer guy. Hawkeye."

A look of unease passed over many of the Bartons' faces but quickly passed. 

"I thought we were going to do Thor." Cooper asked.

"Thor gets all the fans, Hawkeye barely gets any."

The evening went on uninterrupted. The Bartons avoided the topic of Hawkeye for some reason, oh well. It' s not as it matters anyway.

"Hey Cooper, did you ever realize that Hawkeye looks kind of like your dad?" Conner asked. 

"Hm? Oh nope. Not at all." Cooper said, perhaps a bit too fast.

Conner remembered the man with the bow from Sokovia. He led him to the lifeboat in the sky. He avenged Emma's killers. He covered his face with sunglasses, of sorts. Conner wished he could thank him. He wished he could tell him how much he looked up to him. But this was ok too. A project to honor him. Because he isn't like the other Avengers. He isn't a genius billionaire philanthropist. He isn't a god from another planet. He isn't a big green rage monster, or whatever he is now. He isn't a patriotic WWII vet with super reflexes and strength. He is just a man. A man that wants to save his world with arrows. 

"Well, I wish I could meet Hawkeye, he saved my life," Conner said, remembering.

"What?"

"Yeah, in Sokovia. He and his arrows. He also avenged Emma. He killed the robot things that killed her. He saved my life." Conner said longingly.

"Maybe you can meet him someday, but for now we have a project to do." Cooper replied.

Conner woke up, sweating. He had another nightmare. He could hear his heart and feel it in his head. He was breathing too fast. He needed to calm down. He could still hear the buildings fall. Smell the smoke and taste the blood in his mouth. He jumped out of bed. He started pacing in a circle. 

It was just a bad dream, that's all.

He heard the screams in his head. 

That was then, this is now.

"Survive, for both of us."

He could hear Emma, see her face.  He could feel her curly blond hair. 

She's gone because of you.

"No. No no no no. It's not my fault."

Isn't it? Without you, Emma wouldn't have done what she did. She did it to protect you. She is dead because of you. You, Conner Constantine, killed your sister.

"I killed her. It's all my fault."

You should have taken her place. Saved her. In this world of heroes, you should have been one for them. You failed your family. You failed your sister and now she is dead. 

"It's all my fault." He whispered. He could feel the tears coming. He couldn't. His dad taught him that men don't cry, that it's a sign of weakness. He remembered when he cried in front of his dad. He hit him so hard that he hit the wall and dented it. He was right. 

But that's the thing, you are weak.