Where was I to go? Reaching the perimeter of the park, I tugged my sweat-damp boots on – still slick from that night's performance – and knotted all the ribbons into bows so my sweat-soaked garbs didn't look as drab. I still looked like a laundry basket that had got up and walked: flecks of mud splatted on my leggings and sweat patches soaked under my arms. Not to mention the exuberant colours – faded from use – looked comical outside of the carnival setting.

I reached the iron railings and clambered over like a hooligan, the sash around my middle catching on one of the spines. Hissing with frustration, I tugged it away; leaving a ripped portion of purple fabric impaled on the fence.

Landing in the main street, I took one final peep over my shoulder at the carnival. It was reminiscent of the first time I'd seen it, all the colours stark against the steel and concrete of the city, the lights erupting into the night sky.

I was leaving another home behind. Another family. I felt a stabbing pain in my chest at the feeling of desertion and a prickling in my eyes as tears began to well. What had been the best chapter of my life so far had come to a close, through no choice of my own. I was leaving behind a family, friends, a girlfriend.

Mentally, I rebuked myself. I rebuked myself for thinking that I ever belonged with the misfits at the circus, for thinking that they would ever accept me, for thinking that the circus was my home. Frustration forked through me and I clenched my fists, tears of anguish raining from my eyes.

I was snapped out of my wistful stupor as a pedestrian bustled by, shouldering me out the way.

"Watch where you're goin', kid!" They yelled, flipping the birdie as they rejoined the throng of people traversing the midnight streets.

I didn't look back. I couldn't. I hung my head and walked away, mopping up the tears with a mucky hand.

Aimlessly, I trudged with the strangers, the anonymous faces of New York City. Without it's ambience, the city was but a mass of flaring lights and grey pillars. The cold night air, poisoned with the taste of fumes and garbage and sewage, was humid as I breathed it in. The tarmac still held the heat from the day and the warmth radiated from beneath my feet.

I turned down street after street, avenue after avenue, the soles of my shoes wearing thin. A searing pain was shooting up my calves and my legs soon felt leaden – my body was a burden to me. The weight of my make-shift knapsack and bow and quiver began to eat into my muscles and I hunched over. The city rewarded me with no respite, strangers bumping into me carelessly, cars trying to run me down when I was too slow to cross at traffic lights and passing people turning their nose up at my rough visage.

I couldn't wander the city forever, and spotting a quiet alleyway, not quite as damp as most, not overflowing with bin-bags from rotten dumpsters, I settled down. Pressing myself into a corner, I shut my eyes, allowing the silence and the sightlessness to wash over me; every now and then the light of the back of my eyelids was intersected by a shadow of a passer-by and soon I drifted off to sleep, teeth chattering in my skull and horribly damp.

I was awoken by the first shaft of daylight that darted between buildings, the city no kinder than the night before. There was a dull ache that had settled into my bones and my joints clicked as I swayed to my feet. I gathered together my possessions, by sheer dumb luck not pilfered and slung them on my person.

What the daylight had revealed – beyond the abundance of people now crammed in the streets – was the building opposite. By some miracle, I found myself a block down from the Bishop Publishing Firm.

My mind pulsed with possibilities.

Looking down at my dishevelled body – my circus clothes now drenched with more than sweat and mud, I was praying it wasn't pee – with my uncut hair hanging in my face, I realised I wasn't fit for going anywhere near the suave offices.

Faced with the option of another night in the gutter, or chancing getting chucked out of a palatial foyer for looking like an urchin, the latter looked more appealing. I had one hope. One shot. And I never missed a shot.

Muddy knee-high boots leaving a trail of footprints behind me, I made for the traffic lights; a ripped flap of my costume flailing behind me where it had been torn on the fence the previous night. I grouped with the rest of the crowd waiting at the lights, getting a few sneers and scolding looks at my state of wear. But as the lights turned green, I crossed the street with the rest of them.

I placed my hands on the glass revolving door, leaving a sooty smear on the crystal clear glass. I immediately raised eyebrows in the foyer and security guards instantly dived on me the moment I got through the door.

I didn't blame them. I could imagine how I looked; shabby clothes, ponging like a wet dog and armed with medieval weapons.

Having learned a thing or two about avoiding being pounced on in my misspent youth; I darted out of their reach and scarpered to the desk.

"I need to talk to-" I sucked in a deep breath, wracking my brains for a name. "Derek Bishop!" I cried, throwing myself at the desk with hopelessness.

The young woman with her dark eyes, bronze skin and dark hair recoiled. I supposed she could smell me if my appearance wasn't enough to drive her away. I knew I was a state, but I was too desperate to care.

Guards grabbed me from behind, pinning my face down to the desk and twisting my arms up. "Please!" I cried. "It's about his daughter!" I screamed, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. My possessions were being snatched by grabby hands and all I could do was writhe and kick like a donkey.

"I'm his daughter!" The young woman announced, standing up from behind the desk, outraged etched across her features.

Streams of memories of Kate coming back, I joined the dots and saw the parallels in their appearance. "You're Susan Bishop?!" I spluttered, voice muffled by the desk pressed against my cheek.

She waved at the guards trying to drag me away, much to their dismay; I scuffed my shoes on the floor and threw my weight forwards. "Wait, wait!" She halted their brawling with me. "How do you know me? We've never met," she said calmly, her nose still rumpled in disgust. The curiosity of the Bishops was clearly an inherited factor.

"Kate. I grew up with Kate," I breathed, no longer struggling and standing upright. "If she's here, please, just tell her, Clint Barton is waiting for her in reception..." I tried to massage the sensation back into my wrists after being manhandled like a rabid animal at the zoo. I maintained hope that she might be here; this was my only and last chance.

Susan's eyes skimmed over me, her mouth hanging open with alarm. "Go, I know who he is," she admonished the security, waving them back to their post. "Follow me," she beckoned me as she wandered around the reception desk and made for the lift.

And that seed of hope within me began to bloom.

"Thank you..." I looked to the heavens, sending a small prayer to whichever deity had blessed me with good luck. It was about time. I'd paid my dues.

The elevator was called down in no time and suited businessmen strolled out, many turning their nose up at me, before we stepped into the enclosed face. The doors drew shut, and I could see Susan trying her hardest not to look repulsed.

My eyes darted about the mirrored elevator and I saw just how rough I looked. My hair was organised into greasy clumps, tinged with dirt. My eyes looked bloodshot and were encircled by purple rings. In my age, I'd come to sprout some stubble on my chin; I really did look homeless. I was skinny, bordering on skeletal, but my arms looked normal; owing to the bowmanship I supposed. The clothes were shamefully filthy; ragged and with plenty of unidentifiable stains on them. No wonder everyone was so repelled by me. I still felt worse than I looked though.

I looked down, and then at Susan. I noted the ring on her finger. "Congratulations on your engagement," I noted, trying to do anything to dispel the tension.

"Thanks," she replied, shuffling in her Kurt Geiger heels.

"Thank you for giving me a chance," I replied awkwardly, leaning towards her and having her step away from me. "I know I look and smell like shit."

She giggled lightheartedly. "It's no problem. Kate and mom never shut up about you." She smiled at me.

"How are they both..?" I inquired, scratching the back of my neck.

Susan paled, and conveniently, the doors peeled apart to reveal an office floor; busy as a hive. "If you wait here-" She guided me to an empty meeting room. "You can ask her for yourself."

I was ushered in, away from prospecting high-class business people like a shameful secret. I wasn't all that offended; a bad smell can drive away even the kindest of souls. I watched the seconds tick past on the clock nailed to the wall of the board room, with it's one way mirrored windows.

I was impatient. I always had been. I spent my life waiting for good things to come to me; and they hardly ever came, and when they did, it was late. My hope was flagging every second I spent waiting for someone I hadn't seen it two years.

Then, behind me, the door clicked open and I pivoted to face a familiar face. Except older. Colder.

"Thanks, Sue, you can go..." said an elegantly looking young woman, files clasped to her voluptuous – it must have been a long time – chest. Poise, that's what her posture exuded; she was stood straight as a ruler, her body in one perfect line. Her appearance was pristine, a white blouse with a black pencil skirt and blazer. The only hint of personality was in her indigo Gucci heels.

"Kate..?" I gasped, my jaw having hit the floor. "You... You look amazing." She didn't look like Kate.

Her lips were pressed into a thin unimpressed line, her dark eyes emotionless. "You don't. You look like you joined the circus," she spoke, her voice one humourless tone.

Two years did a lot to people. I was living proof.

I gave a gentle laugh, but my amusement was quickly doused by her icy stare. "What happened to you?" My brow furrowed.

"What happened to me?!" She burst out abruptly, chucking the stack of files down on the table with a thunderous clap. The poise was gone, and it was replaced by a fiery temperament – that was the Kate I knew. "What the hell happened to you?! You left without so much as a word, Clint! No apology, no explanation, no goodbye!" She roared, flapping her hands about. "And now, two years later, you turn up here, acting like nothing has changed?! Thinking that I'll just happily welcome you back into my arms like it's no big deal?!" She screamed.

My head wilted and my shoulders drew up. I couldn't meet her eyes. I felt guilty. She was right. Everything she said was right. "Kinda..." I replied, sincerely as I could muster.

The anger drained from her in an instant, and it was replaced by a tearful look, her lips drawing into a tearful pout. "Well, you'd be right..." She retorted and closed the distance between us, crushing me into a hug.

I could feel her sobbing onto my shoulder, her shoulders twitching with every sob. And relief and sadness entered me in equal parts.

"You reek," she muttered between hiccupping mewls.

"I know," I replied, laughing, my laugh staggered by sobs threatening to escape me.

"Where have you been?" She asked, stepping away from me and looking me up and down. I must have looked an absolute clown. She dabbed the tears from her eyes, the mascara starting to smudge down her rosy cheeks.

"Like you said... I joined the circus." I couldn't help the smirk that stretched across my face. "Master archer, Hawkeye, with 'Carson's Carnival of Travelling Wonders'. You might have heard of me..." I said hopefully, twiddling my thumbs modestly.

"That big circus up in Central Park?" She exploded. "Explains the bow and arrow, I s'pose," she jeered, gently nudging me in the bicep. "C'mon... You look like trash; I'm taking you back to my apartment and getting you cleaned up. There's no way I'm being seen with you like this."

A/N - You all are completely lethal; I am bowled over by how many votes accumulated and over what time period! But as promised, here is the bonus chapter! I sincerely hope you enjoyed it. I am putting the option up for another bonus chapter; but this time, the goal is 70 votes. That might buy me a few days! Thank you very much for reading and voting!

Dedication goes to SynonymousWithSing! x