Clint Barton, professional rodeo rider, was currently what you would call "down on his luck." (May be a one shot, may be continued at a later date, sorry about that. Think of it as a one shot...)

Clint didn't have much other than his skills with a Paleolithic weapon and the ability to survive almost every shit storm life ever threw at him. His life before Coulson found him was tough. His life afterwards may just prove to be tougher.

The man shows him a new picture. A large blond man was huddled in the center of the paper, his face hidden in his hands. Surrounding him were pictures of another man with brown hair. Underneath were the words I have nightmares, too. The Soldier doesn't know how to draw 'safe', so he draws 'hurt'.

Courage doesn't mean you're never scared. Courage means doing what you have to, even when you're scared. Clint Barton spent many of his formative years in a circus, as a runaway from the system and the law. He's got a lot of stories to tell from that time, and sometimes, in the dead of night, he shares them. Please watch rating of each chapter for violence/adult situations

Clint has a wicked sense of humor. Clint gets bored easily. Clint is friends with people in the R&D department. No good can come of this. (Several people asked for snippets of life at SHIELD. Be careful what you ask for.)

Hope is a tiny speck of white, surrounded by a bigger area of blue. The outside of the paper is red hurt and orange anger and grey confusion and black forgetting. He curls the sides of the paper under so the Hope shows the most. This is gifted to I'vebeenLOKI'Dyetagain. I was replying to their comment, when my reply turned into a plot bunny for this story.