While the other Avengers walked ahead and were chatting about the show in excited tones, Natasha walked silently behind them with her head swirling.

It felt so familiar, she thought wearily. It felt like I was watching someone I knew train or fight, not some random circus freak flip and jump around the tent.

Yet her mind knew what she had seen; some boy that either left home or trained at some gymnastic school and got a job lighting himself on fire for a crowd.

"Not Clint." she said under breath trying to make herself understand.

But ever since that drunken night one year ago when she swore she had seen him come out of the vents and carry her to bed. The other Avengers tried to sooth her when she told them about this, telling her in soft tones that Clint wasn't in the vents and that she must of imagined him. She hated them coddling her so she left to the training room and beat the hell out of four of Tony's state if the art fighting dummies. Natasha thought that if she just kept practicing maybe she could block out the thoughts but she couldn't seem to make her brain realize that he's dead.

He didn't hold me and put me to bed that night, he didn't just perform in front of this huge crowd. Clint isn't kicking anymore, his body is a few minuscule. particles of ash that are probably blown across New York now.

She'd been telling herself that ever since he died and it never seemed to help.

__________________________

Clint didn't even take of his suit, he just made a beeline for his tent. The others tried to pull him over to the little fire that had been built near the main tents so he could socialize, saying that they needed their "Hawk-fire" to have a good time.

He had almost caved and went to sit by the fire when Patricia and Sasha called him that, but he'd had enough fire for one night. All he wanted right now was some sleep and a memory suppressing pill.

Sadly since only one of those were at his disposal, he climbed onto his dusty cot and yanked off his helmet. He decided that he would probably smother himself to death if he kept that on while he slept. In hindsight maybe he should've kept it on, because it would've blocked the screams.

Not even four hours had passed when Clint was forced from a restless sleep by the sound of screaming. He sat up straight on his cot and instantly went for his pack that was stuffed between the ground and his mattress.

Inside was a few small hunting and boot knives, a travel size garrotting wire and last but not least his spare collapsible compound bow and a quiver stocked with a range of trick arrows. It was hardly anything compared to what he had stashed throughout the vents of Stark Tower, but it was enough that he wasn't walking around like an unarmed baby deer.

Reefing the bag open he pulled out two throwing knifes and stuffed them into the fireproof socks that were wrapped around his feet. He was out of his tent when he heard the second scream ring out. It was coming from behind a nearby apartment building. The scream was female and very high pitched, signalling that this girl was at the end of her rope. Clint broke out into a silent run, the only sound he made was a slight swoosh sound as his breath exited the helmet.

He knew this part of the city vaguely, it was hard to remember every dirty corner of New York when he had lived in an apartment building not far from here, it was almost impossible to know anything about the streets after traveling Europe's twisty streets for a year.

So he used the screams echoing of the ugly buildings to guide him. This wasn't a very safe neighbourhood even when you could defend yourself, gangs tended to run rampant through the streets day or night. This place a place were finding criminals was like shooting fish in a barrel. Clint had spent some of his time down here for jobs he didn't want to talk about before he was found by SHIELD. He sped up his pace, no need to get caught in memories when someone needs help.

As he rounded the corner to a darkened alley way he found the maker of the screams.

A small girl was curled up against the mucky wall in a cold puddle with a large man looming over her. Clint sadly could instantly recognized the situation, the girl was dressed rather skimpily for the night air in a thigh high cocktail dress and high heels. She was most likely walking home from one of the numerous clubs in this part of town. The man was wearing dark jeans and a dark jacket with a symbol that confirmed his suspicions of a gang kid.

The girl was trying to scrambled her way away from the man but was having no luck at all, she began to curl into an even tighter ball and start sobbing rather pitifully. This made the man began to stalk in closer, he had broken the girl's spirit and he knew it.

It was time for Clint to intervene. He crept stealthily like a cat behind the man, there was no point being all macho like the movies and alerting this guy that he was right behind him with a witty one liner. Nope, Clint was too well train for that.

Instead he wrapped one arm around the man's neck and used the other to yank him by the back of his jacket over to the wall nearest to a rank dumpster. The man choked at the sudden lack of oxygen reaching his lungs and tried to claw at Clint's arm. But it was like a kid trying to break out of their dad's bear hug, pathetic really.

Clint pinned him to the wall then dug into the man's pocket, quickly looking for something to subdue him with and what he found utterly repulsed him.

"Zip ties, really? That's just sick!" Clint pushed the disgusting man into the wall harder and quickly zip tied his wrists together, then using another attached him to the side of the dumpster.

"Stay there or I'm going after you and you won't like what happens after I catch you." Clint warned the man and brought his knee up into his head, knocking him out cold. Then with his hands up went over to the girl who was still cowering in the puddle, sobbing.

The second she saw Clint coming towards her she stared screaming again. "Get away! Leave me alone!"

Clint instantly stopped moving and put up his hands, why was she so scared of him? He just took down her attacker!

"It's okay, I'm not going to hurt you." Clint tried to sooth but it wasn't really working all that well. The girl screamed even louder.

He suddenly understood, he was wearing a black skin tight suit and a huge helmet that covered his entire face. To this girl he must look like some creature from the black lagoon, not human in the least.

"Hey, hey!" Clint pulled the helmet off and tossed to the side "See I'm human! It's okay, I'm not gonna hurt you." He touched the girl's arm so she would look him in the eyes.

Her eyes were filled with fear but once she saw Clint's face the fear diminished, slightly.

"Okay? See that's better." Clint sat down lightly next to the still shaking girl.

"I don't usually dress like this you know." He said putting his head up against the side of the building, giving the girl a sideways glance. She was still shaking in her tiny dress. " I'm an acrobat in the circus, this is my costume." The girl still wouldn't meet Clint's eyes.

He sighed. "My friends in the circus call my Hawk-fire, what do your friends call you?"

"M-my name's Jocelyn," The girl said hoarsely.

Clint smiled lightly, at least she was talking. "Okay Jocelyn, I need you to do something for me, can you do something for me?"

Jocelyn nodded jerkily, her blonde hair falling into her face.

"Good. I need you to phone the police, tell him where you are and the gist of what happened so he can arrest this guy. You don't need to tell him every gritty detail, if he asks you to stay here say no then get the hell out of this alley and get home. If you stay you risk some of his buddies finding out you are the reason he's going to the slammer." He instructed, "I've got to go now, I'm not all that fond of police and this guy won't be waking up anytime soon. But just incase.."

Clint reached into his sock and pulled out one of the smaller knives. "Take this, it's a good thing to have on the streets at night."

Jocelyn took the knife and looked up at Clint, her brown eyes still a little wide, "Thank you."

"Don't mention it." Clint pulled the helmet back over his head then began to walk back to his tent.

"Wait!" Jocelyn called after him, "I don't even know your real name! How am I going to give you back your knife?"

Clint turned back to look at Jocelyn who had scrambled out of the puddle and was standing rather fiercely with his knife clutched in her fist. For the first time tonight she didn't look scared anymore.

"Keep it. You will need it more than me." Clint smiled then disappeared into the deep shadows.

When he got back to his tent he stripped of his suit and pulled on some new boxers and a shirt, laying the suit on the cheap chair next to his bed. He stared at the suit with a strange calmness.

No one knew that under that suit and helmet he was just a circus freak that used to be an Avenger. No one knew that he had helped Loki, no one knew how many people he had hurt. Clint was anonymous. He could try to help people again, he could try to make up for some of his mistakes. Maybe one day he could look in the mirror and see someone who was worth while, maybe he could close his eyes without seeing the faces of every person he had hurt.

And that's how it all began.