[ The memories rush at him. It's a disorienting double-vision, the perspective reversed and the landscape strange, alien. Clint's face, his expression--
Let me go. It's okay.
(she'll feel his confusion, a deep, instinctive denial of something he hasn't grasped yet--)
In the memory she pushes off the cliff-side, and it's in that moment that he struggles to fight the empathy bond, force the vision from his mind. It continues in flashes, spikes of joy in the memories of Clint's family, Clint himself, and his own face smiling back--
Her weight pulls over the side of the cliff-ledge-building and he's still gripping tight when she wrenches herself away from him (the last thing she'll feel, if she feels anything at all, is a sudden rush of relief). The bodies of the bats litter the rooftop. They'll eventually find that they can thank Bucky for the cover fire from the next building over. There are angry, red half moons on his forearm where her fingernails had dug in, though he won't notice those until later either.
They're apart. Close, but no longer connected. His eyes are wide and full of questions, his lips parted as though he means to ask--
but he turns toward the shut door, their last sight of the kids, and she'll see his expression forcibly shift, reorienting himself. ]
You good? [ It's a question with multitudes, his features pained. You good right now? is the one he needs an answer for immediately, as he pulls himself to his feet and nearly offers her a hand to do the same, hesitating at the last second. ]
no subject
Let me go. It's okay.
(she'll feel his confusion, a deep, instinctive denial of something he hasn't grasped yet--)
In the memory she pushes off the cliff-side, and it's in that moment that he struggles to fight the empathy bond, force the vision from his mind. It continues in flashes, spikes of joy in the memories of Clint's family, Clint himself, and his own face smiling back--
Her weight pulls over the side of the cliff-ledge-building and he's still gripping tight when she wrenches herself away from him (the last thing she'll feel, if she feels anything at all, is a sudden rush of relief). The bodies of the bats litter the rooftop. They'll eventually find that they can thank Bucky for the cover fire from the next building over. There are angry, red half moons on his forearm where her fingernails had dug in, though he won't notice those until later either.
They're apart. Close, but no longer connected. His eyes are wide and full of questions, his lips parted as though he means to ask--
but he turns toward the shut door, their last sight of the kids, and she'll see his expression forcibly shift, reorienting himself. ]
You good? [ It's a question with multitudes, his features pained. You good right now? is the one he needs an answer for immediately, as he pulls himself to his feet and nearly offers her a hand to do the same, hesitating at the last second. ]