Burning Bridges: Return to Hell's Kitchen
Category: Stories
Current mood:  moody

Location: The Jolly Goat Coffee Bar, Hell's Kitchen, New York

A familiar but distant to many figure sits at a table, sipping a cup of black coffee. Every time the door opens, a crisp breeze rushes in to remind him how much he hates winter in the city. It's a far cry from Myrtle Beach, South Carolina where he's been laying low for the past year.

He thought going back to a familiar place would drown out all of the pain and emptiness he had left in the city.

"......"

He sighs and slowly lifts the cup to take another sip of his coffee, then sits the cup down gently to the tabletop. His expression is blank as he stares out the window of the coffee shop.

Kate had gone and on about how he was being a p**sy and running away instead of confronting his problems head on. In a way, it was kind of demeaning having a kid half his age tell him how it really was and him being just immature enough to blow off her advice. Deep down? He knew every word she spoke was the truth. At the time, he just didn't want to admit it.

Kate just didn't understand how hard it had been to lose his brother and when he need his friends the most, Clint bailed.

Now? Here he was again. He had gone down the east coast and back again. Nothing was resolved. He was still stuck with the same issues he had when he left. Withdrawn? That would put it mildly. This was the first time he had come out of his hotel room since he had gotten back in town. Baby steps was what Sampson used to say he needed to get back. Clint called it bullsh*t and excuses.

The hardest thing about being away so long was saying hello to those he had left behind. What would he say after all this time? The old clique was right, when you leave the way he had, it was hard to come back. Hell, for all they knew, he was dead. No one knew where he had been except Kate.

What would Tasha say to him if he just popped up? More than likely, he'd loose a few teeth if he tried. Then there was Bobbi? Did she even care after the way there last conversation had ended? Probably not. Same with Jessica and Kate. Too many burnt bridges and not enough time to put out the fires.

He had to start somewhere. Today was as good as any. Smoke or not.

Taking one last sip of his coffee, he placed the cup down and stood up, pushing in the chair and making his way towards the door. A moment later, the cold air hit his face, the smell of the city in all its' various forms tickled his nose. Sirens could be heard in the distance. At least one thing was certain, he was home.

Baby steps...one day at a time.

He flipped the collar of his coat up around his neck and whispered.

"Time to start putting water on those fires, eh, Clint?"