Days Of Future Past
Chapter Five: Days Of Future Past
September 11th, 2014
Clint was sitting on the ground, browning grass beneath him and a few leaves were scattered around. It was quiet – save for a few birds chirping – and a cloudless blue sky hung overhead. It was cold for September, and a firm breeze whipped through the graveyard. Clint only ever made the journey out to Manitowoc once a year; he couldn’t bear to visit more often than that. Even when he did come, he couldn’t bring himself to go on the anniversary of Phil’s death. The day was painful enough to begin with. So, he went on a different anniversary; the day Phil saved his life and recruited him to SHIELD.
He still remembered the night Phil came for him like it was yesterday. After months of tracking the infamous assassin, Coulson had finally caught up to Hawkeye in Vienna. He could’ve shot Clint right then and there on a deserted rooftop in the middle of the night. He could’ve sent Clint to jail for the rest of his life. But he didn’t. Instead, he gave him a second chance. Coulson, one of the most respected agents in SHIELD, gave a 19 year old ex-carnie assassin who didn’t have anyone in the world who cared about him another chance. And it changed Clint’s life. It saved his life. Phil always used to make him celebrate his SHIELD anniversary, and despite the fact that Clint complained, he secretly loved it. It was a reminder that someone actually cared about what happened to him. But Coulson was dead. Clint had gotten him killed, so instead of watching a baseball game or going out to a bar to celebrate, he was in the middle of nowhere, Wisconsin, sitting in a cemetery.
“Are you ready to go?” Nat called from where she was waiting by the jet.
It was a fair question; Clint had been sitting out in the field for over two hours. He slowly stood up and brushed the dirt from his jeans before reaching into his back pocket and pulling something out. It was a vintage Captain America trading card, one of the only one’s Coulson had never been able to find. Clint had searched for it over the years, hoping to give it to the man for his birthday. He’d finally found it, just before Coulson died. He placed it on the headstone, looking at it for a moment. Steve’s face stared back at him and he took one more look at the name etched on the stone before turning around and heading back towards the jet.
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Coulson stared at the calendar, sighing at the date. He reached down and pulled the bottom drawer of his desk open, rooting through it before finding what he was looking for. A small framed photo of him and Clint. Della had taken it on Clint’s birthday, not long before Quinn was born. It was the happiest Phil had ever seen the man, except for the day Della gave birth to Quinn. Clint had finally been able to let go of some of his past – not that it had been easy – and it was before he was weighed down with the grief of losing Quinn. The picture of the two of them was one of the only one’s Coulson had, and happened to be his favorite.
There had been so many times he’d picked up his phone and dialed Clint’s number, only to stop himself from calling at the last second. He wanted to tell the man he was alive, he truly did, but he couldn’t. Someone needed to run SHIELD, and TAHITI needed to remain a secret. Besides, even if he could tell Clint, he didn’t know how. Before Phil, Clint had been abandoned by everyone in his life, and Phil had sworn to Clint – who’d been just a kid at the time, only nineteen – that he’d never do the same. But he had. He’d abandoned Clint and hurt him just like everyone else had.
A knock at his office door pulled him from his thoughts and he quickly shoved the photo back in the drawer before glancing back up. Cameron was standing in the doorway, eyeing him suspiciously.
“Aren’t you supposed to be with Daisy right now?” he asked the girl as he went to work putting some of the files on his desk away.
Several members of the team had been concerned about Cameron’s education – or lack thereof – that she was receiving at the Playground. Obviously, they couldn’t send her to an actual school, so they’d split up subjects. Although Cameron had an IQ of 173 and could spend hours in a lab with Fitz and understand whatever the man rambled on about, it still felt wrong not teaching her something. So, Fitzsimmons handled whatever science needed to be done, Daisy taught her coding and math, Bobbi made sure the girl could string a coherent sentence together for English class, and Hunter did… well, Hunter did nothing. May spent mornings sparring with Cameron, not that she needed much improvement, and Mack just made sure the girl could hotwire a car if needed. Coulson would throw some history facts out there once in a while, but other than that, he left the girl’s education to the rest of the group.
“She’s busy with Lincoln,” Cameron told him as she took a seat in one of the chairs across from his desk.
Lincoln, when he was around, had taken it upon himself to teach the girl first aid and other medical things. With the way Cameron soaked up knowledge, Coulson wouldn’t be surprised if the kid was a qualified paramedic by now.
“Fitzsimmons?” he asked.
“Fitz and I finished updating the cloaking for the quinjets this morning so he and Jemma left base for a bit.”
Coulson looked up at the girl from his desk, recognizing the look on her face all too well.
“You want the key to the range,” he stated.
Everyone at the Playground had a keycard to let them into the rooms they had clearance to be in, but Coulson flat out refused to give a thirteen year old free access to weapons.
“Please, Coulson, just for a bit,” she pleaded.
He sighed before reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a spare keycard.
“One hour. I’ll be down there as soon as I’m done with this,” he said, waving to the stack of files on his desk.
“Thanks,” Cameron said as she reached out and grabbed the card from him before disappearing down the hall.
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True to his word, Coulson headed down to the gun range exactly one hour after Cameron had left his office. As he got closer to the range, he was surprised at the lack of gunfire. The range was somewhat soundproof, but given how close he was, he should have been able to hear something. He scanned his card on the reader mounted on the wall and swung the door open, freezing slightly at the sight before him.
Cameron was standing in the middle of the room, shooting at the targets. It would’ve been a completely normal sight, except for the weapon she was using. A bow. Music was playing through the speakers in the wall and after Coulson shook himself out of his stupor, he reached forward to lower the volume. Cameron let the bow fall to her side and turned around as she heard the music turn off.
“Oh, hey, Coulson,” she greeted him with a grin.
“I… I didn’t know you could use a bow,” was all he managed to say.
“I saw it in the locker a few weeks ago. Thought I’d give it a try,” she replied as she shrugged her shoulders.
Coulson glanced at the targets the girl had hit so far, and sure enough, they were all perfect bullseyes.
“Looks like you’re doing pretty well,” he noted.
“It’s fun. A bow’s quieter than a gun, so I guess it helps me think.”
“Got a lot to think about?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at the girl.
“Maybe,” Cameron said noncommittally.
Coulson didn’t reply to that and walked closer to get a better look at the targets. From the way Cameron was shooting, he had no doubt she could achieve the same results at a farther distance.
“I… I can stop using it. If you want me to,” Cameron assured him, biting her lip slightly as she looked down at the floor.
The apprehension of the girl was something that had worried the entire team. Coulson knew she’d been abused, all it took was one look at her CPS file to see that, but he had no clue how bad it had been. He got the sense the file wasn’t exactly the most truthful report. But no one could miss the way Cameron flinched sometimes, especially around men, or how she avoided eye contact. No one could miss the way the girl constantly kept checking on their emotions to make sure no one was upset with her. She had all the signs of a kid that had been through extreme abuse. Hell, Coulson should know. It was every single sign he’d seen in Clint Barton.
“It’s fine,” he promised her. “If you like doing it, why stop?”
Cameron seemed to want to say something in reply but was holding back, so he waited in silence, giving the girl a moment to say what she wanted.
“John didn’t want me using a bow,” she finally murmured.
“Maybe he just thought he’d be able to teach you better with a rifle. After all, he wasn’t the assassin that specialized in using bows and arrows.”
“Maybe,” Cameron said, giving him a small smile before packing up the rest of the equipment and hanging it up in the correct locker.
“I’m gonna go see if Mack needs any help in the garage,” she told him before heading towards the door.
“Hey,” he called, making the girl pause in the doorway and turn to look at him. “You’re doing great, kid,” he said, nodding towards the targets.
“Thanks, Coulson,” she said, grinning.
It was sad how easy the girl responded to a simple compliment or praise; yet another sign she’d been abused. But Coulson didn’t comment on it – that was a topic for another day – and watched the girl give him one more smile, blue eyes twinkling, before going off in search of Mack.
It was the sight of the girl’s blue eyes in combination with the bow she’d been holding, and the memory of the picture in his office that hit him like a train. Ever since he’d met Cameron, something had been bothering him about the girl. Something he couldn't place his finger on. He’d assumed it was just the fact that she was Delaney’s niece, but he should’ve known it was more than that. He should’ve recognized the girl’s eyes instantly.
They were the same eyes he’d looked at almost every day for well over a decade.
The same eyes of the boy he met on a rooftop in Vienna.
The same eyes as Clint Barton’s.