Time to go

I'm sorry

Clint felt like an addict.

He couldn't stop it anymore.

Every night after the show he would stuff his suit with weapons and go find a crime to stop. A person to save, a deal to end.

He almost screamed when Zachary came to his tent after the supposed last show in New York and said that they were staying for another month. Leaving New York was supposed to be the end of his little vigilante routine, but if they weren't leaving he couldn't stop. The screams were too much.

Yet he knew he had to leave his tent each night, if he didn't who would? Those people, all those unlucky people who get caught on the streets at night and mugged would die. They didn't deserve it, he couldn't lay in his tent and listen to their screams.

So he stopped the screams.

Every night, another bad guy ended up in just in the vicinity of the police and Clint went back to his tent hoping to look in the mirror and see someone else. But his own reflection was all he saw, a wolf trying desperately to hide in sheep's clothing. Trying to make himself something he's not, trying to tip the scales back.

Tonight though he strayed from his usual side of town, tonight he was drawn toward the centre of the city, the highest building of them all. Clint was being drawn toward the Avenger's towers, a place he had been avoiding like the plague ever since he promised himself that night that he'd never go back.

But tonight he felt that he needed to be there and he didn't know why, it was like he was moth to a flame.

And like any moth being near the flame wasn't enough, he had to be closer, even if it would burn him up.

Luckily getting closer proved a lot easier than it should've been. Tony's window cleaners had left their pulley system on the far side of the building, hovering just over the first floor. Clint had done harder jumps trying to reach something of a top shelf. Once he pulled himself up onto the little platform he loosed the string slightly and began to slowly inch the platform up the building. It may have been easier than some of the pervious times he had snuck into places,but that didn't mean it was fast. No,the lift was usually powered by a small motor on the roof which was strong enough to pull two grown men to the top of the tower in the span of a minute, but for the sake of stealth Clint sacrificed speed and ease.

Because of that by the time he reached the roof his arms were aching and he decided that it would be safer to climb up onto the roof of the stairs hatch so he could rest. It wasn't one of the best hiding places if he was hiding from someone on the roof, but it wouldn't be seen by the camera and if anyone came through the door Clint would have enough time to slip back to the window lift.

Pulling off his helmet and setting it down next to him, he sat crisscrossed applesauce like a little kid and looked out over the skyline. Out of everywhere he had performed, New York's skyline was his favorite. Wherever he went, it always felt familiar. Feeling his eyelids start to drift close,Clint started to uncurl himself from his perch but stopped dead when the stair door hatch open.

Every bone in his body was telling him to get out of there, that he was a sitting duck, this person could turn around at any second. He had to get out of here.

But he didn't. Instead he watched, he watched trapped in his own body.

The man wasn't an Avenger, he could tell that, but he looked so familiar. Like a person from an old memory that was half gone...

The man let the door small quietly behind him and made his way to the side with his back still to Clint. Leaning on the edge, Clint could hear the man breathing heavily then collapse onto the roof in a fit of sobs.