Total Eclipse Of The Heart
Chapter Four: Total Eclipse Of The Heart
June 13th, 2014
“Alright, try not to put a hole in anyone with that,” Hunter said, loading the gun and carefully handing it to Cameron.
“Are we sure teaching a 13 year old how to shoot a gun is a good idea?” Daisy asked from where she and Bobbi were sitting on the counter at the front of the range room.
“What’s the worst that could happen?” Hunter replied.
“What makes you think I don’t already know how to shoot a gun?” Cameron pointed out.
Daisy frowned slightly and the girl and Coulson sighed from his spot in the doorway, not surprised.
“Sir, didn’t see you there,” Hunter said, jumping slightly.
“Let’s see what you got then kid,” Coulson told Cameron.
Cameron turned around and faced the range, flicking the handgun’s safety off. She planted her feet and raised the gun before taking a breath as she glanced through the sight on the barrel. Shots rang out through the quiet range in quick succession before the clip emptied and Cameron put the safety back on before setting the gun down.
“Shit,” Hunter exclaimed as he retrieved the target.
Cameron had put the entire magazine through one hole, right on the bullseye of the target. One perfectly round hole, smack in the center. The girl laughed at Hunter’s comment as Coulson walked over to examine the target.
“Looks like you have your uncle’s aim,” he murmured.
“John used to say I was a natural,” Cameron replied softly.
The memory of her uncle was a slightly painful one. He’d taught her how to shoot when she was barely nine years old, after convincing a friend to let him into his range after hours. He had shown her how to plant her feet just right and look through the scope, and then he let her at it. She could still remember the smile on his face, especially when she started hitting the targets at a longer distance. There’d been a compound bow hanging in one of the lockers but he’d gently reached out and stopped her from grabbing it before redirecting her back to the gun. It wasn’t that he had wanted her to shoot, but he thought it was important she knew how. And once Cameron learned the true nature of his job – that he wasn’t just an engineer – she understood.
“Well, he definitely wasn’t wrong,” Hunter laughed as he shook his head. “Maybe we should try a rifle tomorrow.”
“Not happening,” Daisy and Bobbi stated at the same time.
Hunter put an arm around Cameron’s shoulders and steered the girl out of the range. As they passed by Coulson, he heard the Brit whisper in the girl’s ear.
“We’ll do it while they’re sparring.”
Daisy had apparently heard him as well and was already heading down the hallway, calling after Hunter. Bobbi shook her head at the man’s antics before glancing over at Coulson, who was standing still by the range holding the gun limply in his hand.
“Everything alright, Coulson?” she asked, slightly concerned.
“Hm? Oh, yeah, everything’s fine,” he replied, shaking himself out of it.
Something about Cameron’s aim – how the girl could shoot a perfect circle – and the way her cornflower blue eyes lit up when she laughed had given him pause. It felt familiar somehow, like an odd sense of deja vu. But he brushed it off, assuming it was just old memories of John resurfacing. After all, the man never missed; he was one of the best snipers SHIELD had ever had. Bobbi stared at him for a moment before nodding and leaving the range to follow everyone else. He gently hung the gun back in the weapons locker and shut the door softly before turning the lights off in the range and continuing after his team.
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August 2nd, 2014
Clint woke up in the middle of the night, heart hammering in his chest. He was covered in a thin layer of cold sweat and his hands shook slightly as he ran them through his hair. For as long as he could remember, he’d always had nightmares. Sure, they had changed over the years; memories of his drunk father, Jacques stabbing him at the circus, Barney leaving him, and eventually, nightmares about Quinn. It was always the same dream about Quinn. He’d find himself in a dimly lit hallway, blood covering the floor, and all he could hear was the sound of Quinn screaming and crying for him.
Despite all the horrors he’d faced in his life, it was always the dreams about Quinn that affected him the most. They were a reminder of how much of a failure he was. If he couldn’t protect her, then how was he supposed to protect any of his other kids?
Throwing the covers off, he headed into the bathroom to splash water on his face before making his way to the communal kitchen. He wouldn’t be going back to sleep tonight.
He stumbled into the dimly lit kitchen and rooted through the cabinets to grab a bag of coffee. Setting it down on the counter, he quickly went to fill the pot with water, only to realize it already had fresh coffee in it.
“It’s not like you to have a midnight snack, Legolas,” Stark noted from where he was sitting on the couch.
Clint flinched slightly before reaching into the cabinet and pulling out a mug.
“Couldn’t sleep,” he murmured as he filled the mug with coffee and walked over to sit down at the opposite end of the couch from Tony. “What about you?”
“In case you haven’t noticed, I function mostly off of caffeine. Sleep is irrelevant,” he explained.
Clint looked over the man, trying to determine if Tony was having the same issues with sleep that he was. It was no secret the man had nightmares after he went through the portal and nearly died, and Clint had a good feeling he’d had them long before then. But it seemed for tonight, Tony was true to his word; there were no signs he was suffering from anything other than insomnia.
“I’m gonna say something, and don’t tell anyone because I’d rather not be accused of caring, but you don’t look so good,” Stark noted.
“That’s not inaccurate,” Clint replied quietly.
“So, lemme guess, Loki?”
Clint paused for a moment leaving the heavy silence hanging between them.
“No. Quinn. It was about Quinn,” he said softly, his voice catching slightly on his daughter’s name.
“That the kid?” Tony asked after a few seconds.
“Yeah, that’s the kid. Nat didn’t tell you?”
“She never gave us a name and we didn’t ask.”
“I’m surprised you haven’t read my file,” Clint scoffed, knowing the billionaire had no concept of boundaries.
“Oh, I have. That part just seemed like… crossing a line,” the man tried to explain.
The room fell into silence once again and Clint stared into the bottom of his coffee mug. Quinn’s screams were still echoing in his ear, the memory of the blood all too fresh. Usually, he only had dreams about Quinn near her birthday. He’d always been at home around then and Laura was the best at dealing with him after those types of dreams. Well, Coulson had known how to, back when he used to have them on missions, but Coulson wasn’t around to help anyone anymore. Nat could deal with them, but she could never truly understand what it had been like.
“She’s always screaming. In my dreams. There’s so much blood and she just… she never stops screaming. And there’s no relief in waking up, because then I remember that she’s dead. She’s dead and she’s not coming back,” he croaked out.
“Did they uh… did they ever find…”
“No. We buried an empty box. How fuckin’ ridiculous is that?” he said, shaking his head.
Tony didn’t respond and Clint got up to empty the last few drops of coffee into the sink.
“Do you ever wonder if maybe there’s a chance they didn’t… you know?”
It always struck Clint as odd when people who had never even met his child talked around her death. Like no one wanted to acknowledge the fact that there were horrible people in the world who murdered innocent kids every day. Everyone talked around it, never using the word death, and it had always been slightly infuriating to Clint. They weren’t suffering, Quinn’s death wasn’t causing them pain. Why should they avoid talking about it?
“No. Because if they didn’t… then my dreams are true. She’d be suffering somewhere, screaming for me, and I wouldn’t be coming. Trust me, I’ve learned it’s best not to wonder. Not if I want to get any sleep.”
Clint sniffed slightly as he dried the mug before shutting off the light in the kitchen and heading in the direction of his bedroom. As he entered the hallway, Tony’s voice stopped him.
“Night, Legolas.”
“Goodnight, Stark. Thanks.”