Kate Bishop hadn’t had a nightmare for three years. Not even one of those where you feel like you’re falling or being chased by an invisible entity. No murder, no abduction, no death. Nothing. No nightmare in the last one-thousand-and-thirteen days.
But tonight it seemed that everything was starting all over again. The nightmares, waking up sweaty, confused, shaking, out of breath, feeling vulnerable and just plain scared. Her body was forcing her to deal with things she didn’t want to deal with anymore.
She would have given everything for it to be a normal nightmare. But instead she dreamt of a stranger’s hands in places where they shouldn’t ever go. She dreamt of hot breath hitting her neck, the stench of alcohol and god knows what else. She felt the disgust and fear. She heard her clothes ripping, cold air hitting her exposed skin. She felt pressure, she heard her own pleas for the stranger to stop as if on repeat, she felt her own tears rolling down her freezing cheeks, even if it was just a dream. The only problem was that was not quite true.
It wasn’t a dream. It was a memory. And a date that had gone awry a few days ago had brought these memories back from the pit in her head she had buried them in.
She had met him a few weeks before while she was on a coffee run for her team. He was cute and seemed considerably nice while she was talking to him over her phone. Then, a few weeks later, he took her out to dinner and a movie. But when it came to saying good bye his facade gave way to his real intentions. Kate was proud of herself. What had happened years ago was now the reason she was able to defend herself and help other people. So when he started to get too handsy, muttering ‘I know you want it’ and ‘stop fighting this’, she handled herself. A bleeding nose and a few broken fingers on his side, and bruised knuckles on her side later and he was on his way, nasally cursing her out while he held his shirt to his bleeding and probably, hopefully, broken nose. She was safe. But his actions triggered something within her.
And that was how Kate came to be in this situation. Sitting in her bed after the memories had intruded on her peaceful sleep. Sweaty, out of breath, chattering teeth, burning eyes, damp cheeks and the promise of no sleep. She knew it would start all over again if she tried to fall back to sleep and tonight she just couldn’t handle that. She felt sick to her stomach and willed herself not to throw up.
The silence and loneliness of her own apartment were further things that started to drive her crazy. Every creak sent shivers down her spine, making her lose her breath. She knew where she could go, even if it was three in the morning. He wouldn’t mind. Clint wouldn’t mind, she told herself over and over again as she put on her shoes and coat. He wouldn’t mind. She just couldn’t stay in her own apartment any longer.
She would have walked the distance between Clint’s apartment in Brooklyn and hers in Manhattan but even with a taxi it would have taken her up to forty minutes. Even if she didn’t want to subject anyone to her teary-eyed self, she couldn’t care less about what a taxi driver thought of her.
So while it got closer and closer to four in the morning, she tried to keep her breathing even and her tears at bay. The taxi driver, a black man in his sixties, had shot her concerned looks throughout the ride but she was thankful that he hadn’t said a word about it.
The minute she arrived at Bedford-Stuyvesant, she told the driver to pull over, that she could walk the rest. When she went to pay him, he dismissed her, saying, “Looks like ya had a rough night, kid. Don’t worry ‘bout it.” But she still wanted to pay the driver for bringing her weepy self here, in the middle of the night, so she at least paid half of the bill. She wished the driver good night and briskly walked towards Clint’s apartment.
The streets were almost empty and except for a few cars and a siren here and there. It was silent and calm in comparison to what was happening inside of her head.
Thankfully, Clint had given her a key the moment he noticed that she spent more time in his apartment than he ever did. It also didn’t hurt that she sometimes brought coffee with her, so it hadn’t been all too big of a deal. A crying Kate, however, would probably constitute as a big deal.
At least Lucky didn’t mind her late night visit, even as she buried her nose in his fur. That dog never minded how he got attention, food or cuddling, just that he did. He kept pressing his head against her hand, groaning while he did so. While Lucky did pose as some sense of comfort, he was not what she had come here for. So after a few minutes dedicated to Lucky, she went on to Clint’s room.
His room was dark but even then she could see the messy outline of his sheets with his form sprawled underneath them and just for a moment she thought whether she really wanted to risk waking him. But she felt miserable and the only one that would understand was the man that was soundly sleeping in his bed.
So she crawled in beside him, careful not to wake him. But as soon as she was lying next to him and a feeling of calmness finally came over her, she started crying.
In this moment Kate would have despised anyone else touching her but with Clint it was different. She trusted him, calling him her best friend wouldn’t even suffice.
So as he she felt him shift beside her, she didn’t cower away.
“Kate?” he asked, his voice thick with sleep and confusion.
“Yeah, it’s me,” she answered, trying to make her voice sound less strained. But Clint noticed anyway. He raised his head and even in the darkness Kate knew he was looking at her with concern in his eyes.
“What’s wrong?” he worried while he tried to reach out towards her. But Kate beat him to it. As soon as the question had left his mouth, Kate had turned towards him and clung to him, crying into his shirt.
His hands went to her head as he started petting her hair, trying to make comforting sounds consisting of hey and shh, pulling her closer. But instead of calming down she just cried harder.
Clint never liked dealing with crying women. But it was Kate and Kate hardly ever cried. She didn’t cry because she hurt herself somewhere or because a character on a TV show had just died. She was tough, she was sarcastic, she was funny and witty. She was his Katie. So to have her sobbing against his chest turned his stomach to knots and his mind ran wild with possible scenarios that could have had the magnitude to make his Katie cry like this. And with each passing second his worry grew.
They laid like this in Clint’s bed for what felt like hours, Kate crying and him trying to comfort her, although it was probably half an hour at the most. But she had finally started to calm down and Clint dared to ask her what was wrong again.
He felt her take deep breath and sigh against him. “I don-.. I just couldn’t be alone tonight. I’m sorry ,” she answered him after a few seconds of thinking.
As far as she knew Clint didn’t know what had prompted her to become Hawkeye. Except for her therapist and exactly two others, no one else knew. She felt bad for waking him up as a crying mess and even though she trusted him like no other, she didn’t think she could talk about it.
“You don’t need to be sorry,” he softly murmured against her hair, tightening his hold on her, “Do you- do you want to talk about it?”
“I… N-no. I- I don’t know,” she stammered and tears threatened to spill over again. “I just… I don’t want you to think differently of me,” she confessed with a shaky sigh.
“Katie, nothing could ever - do you hear me? - ever make me think of you as any less than amazing. You’re perfect. It’s just not possible.”
“I-,” she started but she willed herself to continue. Otherwise she would have never told Clint and after she turned up at his place like this she felt that he at least deserved to know why. “I had a nightmare,” she confessed.
“Oka-.”
“Not just any nightmare,” she interrupted Clint hastily. She just wanted to get it over with because she was already starting to cry again. “I-it was memories o-of something that...happened to me when I was younger.”
Clint’s bedroom was so silent that she heard the distinct sound of him sucking in air.
“What happened, Katie?” he asked her slowly and apprehensively. When she didn’t reply he tried again. “You can tell me anything. You know that, right?” He tried to sound confident but Kate heard the unmistakable strain in his voice.
She had planned this conversation so many times in her head but now that it was actually happening, all of the possible and imaginary conversations with Clint were gone. So before she left him wondering and worrying, she hastily blurted out her confession. And then - there was silence.
There was silence because Clint, she was sure, had just stopped breathing. Or had had a heart attack. Or was trying not to show his disgust with her. She thought of so many possibilities but then she heard a silent and breathy “shit” from the stunned and horrified man she clung to. And then she cried harder.
“Katie, I’m sorry,” Clint told her as he sat up and gathered her in his arms, trying to somehow comfort her. “I’m so, so sorry. Kate.”
Kate pulled away from Clint and cringed at herself. Oh god, how exactly had she imagined this would go?
“I’m s-sorry, Clint. I- I’ll go back to my place,” she stuttered and cried and hurriedly scrambled up from Clint’s bed.
“Kate, stop,” she heard him call softly after her and froze in place, “Come back here… Please.”
She turned around and saw him sitting there in his bed, the street lamp outside providing enough light for her to see the concern all over his face. He too could probably see all the streaks her tears had left.
She hesitated but then slowly made her way towards her friend who took her hand and pulled her down onto the bed.
“Listen to me,” he told her and waited until her eyes weren’t avoiding him anymore. He was going to make this right. “I was wrong. This does change things for me - but not in the way that you are thinking.”
She sniffed and croaked out an ‘okay’.
“You are the most amazing person I know. You are funny and strong and yes, you get on my nerves sometimes,” he added with a laugh which made her smile just the tiniest bit, “but you are my best friend and I love you. And now I know that you are so much stronger than I ever thought you were. You didn’t deserve what happened to you, no one does. Please remember that.
“But you turned it around and made the best out of this situation. You are so strong, Kate. You’re a damn superhero and even superheroes are allowed to be weak from time to time. And having a nightmare is not going to be the end of the world because when that happens I will be here for you and I don’t mind it, not one bit. I just want to see you happy. And you can’t be happy without a little bit of sadness from time to time. But I’ll be here. Same as you are for me. Everytime”
Kate sniffled at his words as relief rushed through her. She pulled Clint into a hug and and held on as tightly as she could. “Thank you,” she murmured into his neck.
“Anytime, Katie-Kate,” he replied, rubbing her back, “Anytime.”