| the truth |

❝ o k a y ❞

"You got a minute?"

Celeste glances up slowly from where she sits in one of previously empty barracks, having been lost in thought. Since getting back on board the ship and learning of Phil's death, she had secluded herself for the past few hours, claiming she needed time to recover from her near death experience, which isn't entirely a lie.

Dr. Bolton stands in front of her, gesturing for her to join him. She stands up, stretching her aching muscles before following the doctor into the lab she gave blood in. Now, instead of syringes sitting out, several files are.

"Your mother, Darlene Wilson, is of English descent, while your father, Paul Wilson is of African descent," he states without any sort of preamble, throwing her off. "Neither appear to have any genetic mutation such as yours though."

Celeste grows still, her eyes scanning over the papers before her, unable to wrap her mind around that tiny piece of information after going so long without any of it.

"Where are they?"

"They're deceased. But, they have three other children, none of which were placed into different homes. I can obtain their locations, if you'd like."

Celeste's breathing hitches in her throat, an overwhelming sadness hitting her. Not for the loss of parents she never knew, but for the fact that they had other kids they didn't leave behind. She had always imagined them to be heartless people that didn't want children; not the kind of people that wanted every child but her.

Dr. Bolton hands her a picture and the sight of it makes her knees nearly buckle. A woman with blonde curls sits in a chair with two children in her lap - a boy no older than three and a girl with pigtails who looks to be old enough for kindergarten. The woman stares adoringly up at the man with kind, brown eyes standing next to them, a genuine smile lighting up his features as though the camera caught him mid-laugh. A third child - this one being another boy, although slightly older than the other two - dangles off of his back, laughing. The image practically radiates a loving environment and Celeste would be worried about getting sick if she hadn't already lost her breakfast earlier.

"I need to go," she murmurs, absentmindedly allowing the picture to fall from her fingertips as she spins on her heel. "Thank you for doing this for me, but I- uh, promised Fury I'd keep an eye on Agent Barton as he recovers."

Hurrying down the hallway, she nearly crashes into Natasha, who had been on her way to find the woman.

"Hey, Clint is a- is everything alright?"

Celeste nods a little too fast, forcing herself to calm down. Deciding to deal with her own problems later, she offers the concerned redhead a reassuring smile.

"Everything is great," she lies. "What were you saying about Clint?"

"He's awake, but-" Natasha reaches out and grabs Celeste's elbow to prevent her from running off. "If something is wrong, you can talk to me about it. Us badasses have to stick together through all this testosterone."

"Damn straight," Celeste agrees before growing serious. "I promise I'll come to you if something comes up, but right now I'm okay. Just worried about Clint, I guess."

Natasha nods and releases her hold on her, pointing her in the direction of the medical unit and allowing her to hurry off. Celeste was grateful for her newly formed friendship with Natasha, but her mind was simply too preoccupied currently to fully appreciate it.

Stepping into the medbay as the doors automatically glide open, a wave of relief briefly washes over her as her gaze falls on Clint's figure sitting up on a hospital-like table. She knocks quietly against the wall to announce her presence, causing him to jump.

"You okay?"

"As okay as can be expected," he replies, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "My leg is as good as new, no thanks to you."

He grins to let her know he's joking, but it disappears when she doesn't return it. Moving to stand directly in front of him, an uncomfortable silence falls between them as she braces herself for the conversation she desperately needs to have with him.

"Why'd you do it?" Celeste finally breathes out, a brokenness in her voice Clint had never heard before.

"Loki was controlling me. You know I'd never do-"

"No, not that," she cuts him off. Taking a shuddering breath, she pauses to collect her thoughts before continuing. "All those years ago, when we were together. Why did you leave? And why didn't you at least tell me goodbye?"

Clint sits up, taken aback by the new topic. It was something that's bothered the woman for years, ever since the day she woke up to that godforsaken sticky note pressed onto her vanity mirror.

Before Loki meddled with Clint's mind, she had been perfectly content to simply allow him back into her life with no questions asked, but after he was ripped from her grasp again, she realized she didn't want to risk losing him without getting all of her pent up emotions out of the way.

"I didn't think it would effect you that much," he admits.

"Of course it did! I loved you, Clint."

"Loved?"

"Yeah, but I guess you didn't feel the same."

"Of course I did," he argues, attempting to take her hand in his. She folds them together across her chest, causing him to pull back. "Leaving was for the best. I did it to protect you!"

"From what?" She raises an eyebrow dubiously. "We both know I can do that myself."

"From your parents," Clint sighs, running a hand through his hair.

"That's crazy. What could have possibly-"

"Your dad spoke to me the night before I left," he cuts her off. "He made it pretty clear that if I didn't leave soon, you would."

Celeste inhales sharply, the new information taking her by surprise. Her father had always been the biggest supporter of hers and Clint's relationship. The morning after Clint left the circus, he had even been the one to comfort her, claiming he didn't have a clue as to why the archer would leave.

"Why?"

"I told him I was going to propose."

Her heart drops and she has to sit next to Clint on the table, no longer able to hold herself up. A headache begins to form, a sign that her walls to block out everyone's thoughts are weakening as her mind swims with confusing information and the inability to form a coherent sentence.

"I figured he would at least tell you that much," he continues, watching her facial expressions carefully. "And when you never bothered to reach out, I thought it was you that didn't feel the same way."

"But I did," she murmurs, fighting back tears. "Though it doesn't matter anymore. It looks like you were able to move on."

"Wh-"

The doors slide open, successfully ending their conversation and revealing Natasha. Celeste gets up, allowing the assassin to be close to him as well.

Not saying a word, Clint glances between the two and pushes himself off of the medical table, slowly making his way into the bathroom.

"So I ran into Cap on my way back here," Natasha begins, a smirk forming on her lips. "And he's pretty pissed at you for killing those men."

"He willingly joined the army during a war, where one of their top priorities is to kill people," she huffs defensively. "He'll get over it."

➵➵➵➵

Celeste stands still, not budging as swarms of people brush past going in the opposite direction. She closes her eyes, taking in the familiar scents and sounds of the circus as it winds down after the night's show.

The sun has long since disappeared for the night, showing that hours had passed since her conversation with Clint. Since then, the woman decides she needed a break from the superhero shenanigans, mostly to recover from her near death experience and to avoid an angry conversation with Steve.

With no particular location in mind, she simply telaported off of the helicarrier without informing anyone, and her subconscious took her to the one place that has never let her down. And, maybe it's luck or maybe it's fate, but it just so happened to be one of the few shows her parents came to oversee.

"Let me guess," a familiar voice calls out, snapping her out of her thoughts. Her eyes open, only to land on Sam and a woman with shockingly blonde hair she doesn't know walking towards her. "You can't get enough of the good-looking man that saved your life, so you're following him now?"

"I was actually looking for a man with a questionable sense of fashion, a thing for birds, and who thinks speaking in third person actually makes him attractive," Celeste replies with a sly grin, causing the woman next to him to laugh. "Have you seen him?"

"I'm wounded," Sam gasps, placing a hand over his heart as though he's bee shot. "You know, I was going to introduce you to my sister, but since someone wants to have an attitude, I'm not going to now."

"That's alright, I can introduce myself," the woman says, earning a playful glare from her brother. "I'm Charlotte."

"Celeste," the other blonde responds, shaking her hand. She can't help but to stare longer than necessary, feeling as though she had seen the woman somewhere before. Before she can piece it together, Sam clears his throat, causing her to lose her train of thought. "I'd love to stay and chat, but I've got somewhere to be."

"Don't you dare-" Before Sam can finish his sentence, Celeste has already disappeared. "She has got to stop doing that!"

Celeste opens her eyes, glancing around the familiar dressing room. Having changed into civilian clothes before leaving the helicarrier, she has to wait a moment for the cocoon of heat to disappear.

"You nearly gave me a heart attack, dear," her mother exclaims, standing from the chair at her vanity. "We've talked about arriving unannounced."

"I'm sorry," she apologizes with a chuckle, allowing her mother to wrap her up in a tight hug. "I was hoping to surprise you."

"Well, you certainly did," the older woman admits. "Stefan has told us all about this new job you have, so what brings you home?"

"My new job, actually," Celeste says, her smile disappearing. "It's brought a few things to light and I thought I'd talk to you and Dad about it. Where is he?"

"He's-"

"Right here!" Her father's loud voice booms as he steps into the curtained dressing room, quickly wrapping Celeste into a bone crushing hug. "I've missed my favorite show stopper!"

Celeste groans, squirming out of his grasp. Her parents share a look, concern written across their features at her sudden shift in attitude. In unison, they sit down on the moth-bitten couch, gesturing for her to sit in between them.

"Talk to us, sweetheart," her mother coos.

"I work with Clint now," Celeste begins without preamble, refusing to sit and watching her father's expression carefully.

"How is he?" Her mother asks, her voice turning sickly sweet. "I've missed that boy."

"We had the craziest conversation today," she presses on, disregarding the comment. "Apparently, before he left on such short notice all those years ago, he spoke to you, Dad, about proposing?"

"You were only eighteen," he immediately argues, as though he been prepared to have this conversation for years. "That's much too young for anyone to marry."

"So you threatened him?"

"It's not my fault he believed me!"

Celeste frowns, wishing more than anything in that moment that she could read her parents' minds as easily as she can everyone else's. Unfortunately, they learned years ago how to block her out.

"What else have you learned," her mother interjects, hoping to keep the hostility between the father and daughter to a minimum.

"You're not going to like that topic any better than this one," Celeste huffs, rubbing her temples as a headache starts to form. "But, I know who my biological parents are now, and that they have three other kids."

This time, it's her mother that recoils against the conversation, her pleasant expression disappearing.

"If they had truly cared for you, they wouldn't have lost you in the first place," she states coldly. "Your father and I have-"

"What do you mean by lost?" Celeste interrupts, fighting to keep the rising hysteria out of her voice. "There's a huge difference between losing me and leaving me!"

"No one said lost," her mother hurriedly corrects herself, standing and walking closer. "They left a frightened little girl behind and didn't think twice about it."

She reaches out to comfort Celeste, who subconsciously flinches away.

"I- I need to go," she murmurs, her thoughts running rampant.

Before she can telaport, her mother's hand latches onto her wrist to prevent her from doing so.

"At least let me give you a gift before you go."

Celeste barely nods, watching silently as the older woman moves swiftly to her jewelry box and rummages through it.

With a triumphant smile, she pulls out a golden necklace with a matching golden charm on it. Upon closer inspection, it appears as nothing short of sinister - with a glaring skull and six tentacles branching out from it, it resembles an oddly evil octopus.

"It was meant to be a birthday gift, but now seems like a better time to give it to you," she explains, latching it around Celeste's neck. "Your job is going to cause you to keep uncovering harsh realities. But, no matter what happens, I just ask that you don't forget where you came from."