I think I forgot to mention that Clint was 10 last chapter. He still is, but that last chapter was several months ago. :)

Clint couldn't remember ever feeling this nervous. His palms were shaking and sweating profusely. Feeling like he'd just run a mile, the boy kept wiping his hands on his uniform.

He'd been performing in trapeze for about a year and a half, but it didn't get any easier. Especially when you were preparing to go out and perform in front of a big crowd. Somehow, Carson had managed to book a prime gig on the outskirts of Seattle. Outer part of the growing city and they still had a load of rich folk coming down, lured by the food and entertainment.

Clint has never been before, but Annie had insisted that it was a lovely city. He also noticed how uncomfortable she looked around Carson, most likely from the argument they had all those moons ago. Clint didn't like Carson that much...but he still sided with him. He couldn't help feeling like his best friend's well-being was because of his choice.

Carson also seemed to have the impression that the scrawny boy was hiding something. He'd occasionally notice the man watching Clint from a distance, just observing and sometimes trailing behind. Carson would never get close enough for any confrontation. Maybe Clint was the Exchange thief, he thought every once in a while.

The thief at the Exchange hadn't been too active as of lately. Money was still there and there wasn't a single sign of an intruder sneaking in during the late hours of the day. Everyone had even been ignoring the case - not caring for Carson's personal bank after Annie let some of their conversation accidentally slip out to others, including Eddie.

Sitting on the crates backstage, Clint held up a water bottle. He'd only drank about half of it. The boy feared that he wouldn't be able to keep any more of it down. He sighed and took a shaky breath. Then Clint took a large sip and kept the bottle there, hoping the liquid will help his dry lips.

"Clint," Barney called. "Buck can't perform, but we nee' a bow and arrow. Can you substitute?"

The younger Barton promptly spit out the water and threw the bottle aside. "W- what?" He was stunned. Fill in for Buck?

Buck typically did all the dangerous bow and arrow tricks you always saw. They weren't meant to be done at home or by little kids. If something went wrong...someone could seriously get hurt - like an arrow to the eye.

"Substitute," Clint repeated. This had to be a joke. Anytime now, Barney would start laughing - but his face remained completely solemn.

Barney glanced behind him, probably checking around for stupid Jacques. "Sub, yeah? Can you do it?"

Clint hesitated. He'd used a bow before, but that was mainly as a hobby in his free time. Chris was really the circus marksman. He gulped and nodded slowly. Clint could remember the first time he released an arrow and the rush of adrenaline he got.

The bow wasn't that large, just a small recurve that had been scrapped together. It belonged to Buck, but he'd said Clint should learn. It was a good skill to have in life...especially in their lives specifically.

The wooden stomach of the bow felt slightly jagged in his hands. Likely from the lack of clean up and polishing Buck always gave it after practicing his usual acts. Clint glanced back and forth between the nocking point and his target - which sat about ten yards away from the boy's feet.

Clint used his foot and drew a line in the dirt, marking where he should stand compared to the target board. He put the same foot on one side of the line and the opposite did something similar. Then he lifted up the bow and reached into his quiver for an arrow.

The arrow wasn't that badly made, but it was still Buck's craftsmanship we're talking about. The fletching was rough and half falling apart.

Nock, draw, loose! Clint thought.

Breathing in and out, he nocked the arrow up and pulled the sting back. When the arrow point touched Clint's cheek, the boy knew it aim and release at the same time. The aiming slot was so small of time because of the draw weight being too hard to hold for very long amounts of time. The longer it gets held, the more inaccurate your shot will be.

Nock, draw, loose!

The arrow flew with the end and hit the target. It wasn't a bullseye, but not exactly bad either. Clint dropped the bow and yelped.

"Ouch!" He clutched his arm tightly, making it more red than it already was.

Buck, who stood on the side, cracked a smile and started clapping. "Very good, laddie, that's the stuff!"

"How do you avoid getting hit by the string?" Clint asked. His arms felt tired and sore - and that was just the result of one arrow. "It hurts. A lot."

Buck rolled his eyes. "It's about how you position your elbow. Lemme show you..."

"Okay. Great," Barney said awkwardly. This basically summed up the conversations the brothers had had over the past year or two. Other than that, it was Clint dragging Barney away from a bar - which wasn't easy. "Goo' luck, brother.

Natasha eyed Chris's bow. It was beside the rest of the circus equipment atop the open wooden crates. The bow was obviously cheap; the poor condition of the string made that clear. She had to give Buck credit - he appeared to actually provide sufficient maintenance. Although, the spy had seen Clint do even more to polish and prepare his array of weapons.

Clint opened his mouth to say something to Barney, but his brother had already left him to fend for himself. He walked over to the bow and ran his finger along the string. It wasn't very strong...but it'll do for now. With Buck's permission, Clint had some ideas for tweaking it.

Buuut, the time for improvement was not right now. It was showtime.

***

After quickly telling Annie he was dropping the trapeze routine for the night, Clint ran to the target area. He hoped to get in a little last minute practice - and by that, it means barely ten minutes.

Poor Annie was left there with her mouth in a small 'o' shape. She would've been too shocked to even move until Eddie collected her before they went on. He glared in the general direction of Barney and Jacques.

Clint used his foot to draw a straight line in the dirt, perpendicular to where his target board was. He had a weird habit of doing it every time he practiced, and Clint wondered whether or not he could do it during his performance.

The young archer tool his stance and whispered the same three words to himself, "Knock, draw, loose."

He pulled the string back and let the arrow fly. Then, Clint allowed himself to smile as he saw a perfect bullseye.

Yes, I really spent an hour researching bows and arrows. A lot of the information up there was from an amazing article I found, specifically for writing archery.