Avengers 1. Preview

**OH MY GOD! I have been away so long! I am sooooo sorry about that! But guess what! I have a completed story on my hands. YAY! ^_^**

**This is a Clint background story. I tried to mix in as much from comic universe, TV universe and MCU info as possible. But the ideas are basically my own. Course, I don't own any Marvel Characters. If I did, Clint would be the star of every movie. LOL.**

**Anyways, for those of you who read my previous stories. Baby Clint is doing great. He will be eleven months on Wednesday. Course he doesn't look it. According to his doctors, Baby Clint is the size of a two year old baby. He is crawling, standing with support and can say a few words like Dadda, Mamma, Babba, Elsa, and something similar to I'm done. And of course, every time I get on the computer to work, he wants my attention. So, I've gotten into handwriting as much as I can before typing it up on a day that my husband will willingly sit down and watch Baby Clint.**

**For those who don't care, here is the story!**

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Bruce groaned as consciousness slowly returned. His whole body ached and hurt. It was familiar. Too familiar. Almost like the pain after a Hulk transformation. _'I don't remember changing,'_ Bruce thought with a heavy heart. Whenever he changed without forethought, he usually always hurt someone or worse. It was why he was so glad that Tony made him try changing for the Manhattan battle. Hulk really proved himself during that fight. But why had he changed without forethought? Hulk had been very good about not coming out on his own. Thinking back, he remembered the Avengers being called for a mission. Something about inhuman creatures attacking downtown. S.H.I.E.L.D had been on scene before the Avengers arrived and so it was deemed that Hulk would not help and Bruce would be sidelined. A fact that the doctor hadn't minded. Especially seeing as Hulk still had a few issues with S.H.I.E.L.D employees that he didn't really know. _'So, why did I change?'_ Bruce wondered just before he flashbacked to why.

A building had exploded. The building had been overrun by the creatures and so S.H.I.E.L.D ordered its destruction before they tried to 'set up base' or something stupid. _'Hulk normally likes destruction. So, why would that make him come out?'_ Bruce was shocked when he heard a rumbled mental noise like someone growling 'Cupid.' His mind flashed to the call...

_"Agent Harris! Don't take the shot! I'm still in the building and I can't get out yet!" Clint had screamed into the comms. There was a grunt of a reply and a whispering of 'you deserve this' from the other agent before the deafening explosion. Bruce could only miserably watch as the building fell with Clint somewhere in the rubble. A flash of something made Hulk roar forward, surprising Bruce into the back of his mind and quickly the vision cut to green._

"CLINT!" Bruce cried, jerking up into a sitting position. There was a startled cry from beside the doc but it was too dark to see what it was. Bruce snapped to attention and kicked out at whoever or whatever made the cry, fearing that it was an enemy. This time there was a loud and clear shout of pain. Bruce barely focused on it as he scampered to the other said of wherever he was. His hands scrapped against a rough surface that felt strangely like rock and when he hit a hard surface on his back, it felt like some sort of stone. Bruce focused on that, rather than his mind flashing to the few things that Natasha and Clint had taught him in self defense. He also needed to calm down. Hulk was already stirring.

"DAMNIT!" a familiar voice cursed. That made Hulk pause and grumble a familiar word. Bruce focused on repeating the swear over and over in his head to place the voice. But before he could, there was a slight sound of clothes shifting and grunts of pain. Bruce slowly tensed a little, not wanting to risk Hulk coming out against a friend. At least he wasn't alone in this situation, even if this was an enemy or random stranger. This would certainly be a new experience. Normally, he always ended up alone after Hulk surprised him. Trying to think of anything other than Hulk, Bruce focused on the other person. Unsure what else to do, Bruce gently kicked out, making the other person scream again. Bruce didn't think he kicked out all that hard. So, why had whoever screamed? That's when it hit him. He knew who the voice belonged too.

"Clint?" Bruce questioned. There was a moaning confirmation just before there was more shuffling of clothing, grunts and moans of pain, and then a loud snap. Light flooded the small space which made Bruce and the other occupant wince and look away from it. A small tap of something hitting the floor made Bruce look back. Shadows covered most of the other person's body but even that wasn't enough. "Oh my god." Bruce said as he noticed the small snap stick light laying on the floor. It was surrounded by red rocks that glistened in the light. Red that looked awfully like blood. Looking back to the other person, Bruce could only see shadows and darkened clothes. Still no indication as to what was wrong.

"I'm fine," came the painful response from the crunched up body. Bruce shifted closer. He had heard the hitch in the person's voice. Only one person that Bruce knew hitched their voice when they were lying. It was Clint's tell. Something Natasha had admitted to the team after a while. It was a few months after the duo had moved in, Tony accused the archer of trying to distance himself from them. She told them that Clint only gave away his tells to people he trusted. He can normally hide them but he uses them when he trusts someone but doesn't know how they'd react. After that, everyone in the group paid more attention to each other and slowly began to learn each other's tells.

"Clint," Bruce warned, shifting close enough to grab the light and hold it up. Clint shifted away from the light when the doctor got closer to him. A good indication that something was really wrong. A weight fell onto Bruce's chest as he wondered if whatever happened, happened because of Hulk. There was no way he could know without seeing the damage. And Bruce could only pray that his limited knowledge could help him fix Clint.

"Bruce..." Clint answered, showing that he was going to ignore the warning. Bruce inched forward again and again, Clint moved away with a dark hiss. There was a seconds pause as the doc wondered the best way to get to Clint. It took that long for Clint to become relaxed. In a surprisingly fast move, Bruce lunged across the expanse and roughly pulled the archer away from the wall before Clint could even defend himself. Clint's scream of pain echoed though the space for an extra minute or two. Bruce looked over his body and was stunned into silence.

Clint's left eye was swollen shut. His entire left side was bright, blistering red and mixed with burnt, blackened areas that looked crusted over and dangerous. The worst part was the archer's left leg. It was blistered, red, leaking pus and something looked wrong with the knee. Bruce's eyes glanced down and saw that it looked like Clint's left ankle was broken and his right foot was turned away. Shifting the light, Bruce caught sight of something white sticking out around a ton of blood and red. Bruce turned away, as if looking for something to help treat Clint, but the archer could tell the real reason.

"Bruce, I swear to you, Hulk didn't do this!"

"What... What happened?"

"The building I was on exploded. I couldn't get off. Hell, I was surrounded by those creatures, so I was partly grateful. But then some of the rubble began hitting me. Breaking things... Twisting even more. I was falling into the larger pieces when... I think Hulk caught me and pulled me out of the free fall," Clint muttered. Bruce frowned, flashing back to the explosion and then the green vision. Not once did he remember even seeing Clint fall. Shaking his fears away, Bruce glanced around and used the small light to cast an eerie glow on their surroundings. It was now that both he and Clint finally realized they were in some sort of cave but there was no sign of which way the entrance was. Which meant that either Hulk made an entrance that closed in on itself or they were just too far back from it.

"Where are we?" Bruce questioned as if Clint would know. Clint basically admitted to passing out a short time after falling. The archer shrugged before hissing in pain and wincing. It was this that made Bruce figure that Clint may actually be worse off that he looks. The pit in his stomach felt worse with each passing second. Already he knew that this was going to be a long recovery for Clint, but now he was beginning to wonder if the archer had enough time to last until the others found them.

"I kind of blacked out," Clint admitted as if Bruce hadn't already assumed such information. Bruce shifted to his knees and moved closer to Clint. The archer winced and went to move away but stilled when Bruce placed a hand on Clint's right knee. Clint looked up into Bruce's worried gaze as the doc moved closer still. Bruce knew that Clint didn't like doctors. Heck, Clint even admitted to him that he didn't like when he checked him over for injuries. But the archer did understand that it needed to be done. Bruce just wished there was someone more qualified around for right now. It wasn't until Bruce was right beside Clint that he spoke.

"Tell me what else hurts," Bruce demanded, sounding more like a doctor then a friend. Clint gave him a look that showed he was going to refuse to answer honestly. Bruce countered with a look that told the assassin he better answer fully and truthfully or it could get very dangerous. Sighing deeply, Clint gave Bruce one last look before turning away. This was a normal occurrence for the duo, and it felt good to Bruce to have something normal happen here. But knowing that Clint leaving out any little detail of pain could be a matter of life or death, Bruce just wanted this whole thing to be over.

"Head. Nose. Ribs. My back. But the worse is my ankles," Clint admitted having not been willing to look at himself to actually know what was more obvious. Bruce nodded before checking out all the complaints and mentally cataloging it all. He made the archer remove his outer Kevlar so he could easily get at the archer's undershirt and chest. _'Concussion. Sprain, surprisingly little blood. I think a break or two... Shit...'_ Bruce thought before shifting Clint's shirt. _'Wow. That is a big bruise,'_ Bruce mentally stated as he lightly touched it. Clint winced before letting out a high pitched whine. The doc backed away, looking more worried than before. "Well?"

"We... You need to get to a hospital," Bruce responded after a brief pause. Clint chuckled, hissing as his broken ribs jostled. Bruce frowned wishing that the archer hadn't chuckled. Who know what could be going on internally at this point.

"Yeah, don't think that's gonna happen. Didn't Hulk grab a med kit?" Clint joked. Bruce frowned, knowing that Clint wasn't getting the severity of this situation. But as he glanced back over the archer's damaged body, he figured that might just be for the best. It was actually about now that Bruce wished he didn't understand the severity of the whole thing. Maybe then he could calm down.

"You're lucky if Hulk didn't make things worse," Bruce said, mentally cursing his other half. He was shocked to hear a pitiful whine come back. Clint scoffed, seeming to blow all his injuries off like they were nothing. Bruce rolled his eyes, knowing what was going to happen.

"I'm fine. Don't even feel much other then the occasional pin prick," Clint pressed. Bruce's frown deepened as his worry increased. Leaning forward, Bruce examined Clint again. This time he cursed at what he saw. Clint's unfocused gaze looked back at him and when Bruce bought the light closer they didn't dilate to the same size. Bruce's guilt sky rocked as he realized quickly what was going on.

"You're going into shock," Bruce snapped, wishing there could be more he could do. Hell, wishing he could do anything at this point. Clint nodded, having already known the symptoms.

"Sounds real good right now. No pain," Clint mumbled, becoming slightly disoriented. Bruce cursed again. He had to keep Clint conscious and aware. But he had no idea what to talk about. Clint was an enigma. He kept himself set off from the others to the point that Bruce couldn't find a topic that could catch the archer's attention. Clint seemed to understand this and looked over at Bruce. "Did you know I was in the circus?"

Bruce jerked up in surprise. Clint was giving him a solid gaze. One that was much clearer than earlier. It took Bruce another minute for him to realize that Clint must have had been in this type of position before. Whether it was himself or someone he knew, he had to deal with shock and dying. Bruce almost cried out at that in misery but held back and shook his head no. Clint smirked before looking away.

"Yeah. The Amazing Hawkeye! World's Youngest and Greatest Archer!" Clint declared, waving his hands in the air like a ringmaster. Bruce smiled, wishing that Clint could have opened up more earlier than right now when it may be his last chance. Clint looked back at Bruce. "My brother... Did you know I had an older brother? Well... I do... Did... Barney. His name was Barney."

"Barney? Is that short for anything?" Bruce pressed when Clint got a glazed look on his face and turned away from him. Clint snapped to attention. Bruce shifted closer so he could pay attention to when Clint was shifting out due to shock or due to memories. Clint frowned for a moment before smiling at the doc.

"Bernard. Charles Bernard Barton," Clint answered. Bruce smiled. "Mom... Mom was the one who called him Barney all the time. It just stuck after..."

"After?"

"Dad killed her..." Bruce winced, almost wishing he never asked. But considering Clint looked more alert then before, the doc couldn't really complain. "Hee... I was also in the military. Lied 'bout my age and got in. Got kicked out and turned assassin for hire. That's how S.H.I.E.L.D became interested in me."

"During the military?"

"Assassin," Clint mentioned. Bruce frowned. S.H.I.E.L.D seems to really like hiring criminals. Clint looked back to Bruce. "Being in the military, I never actually got to kill anyone. Rose up the ranks, which was weird... But as an assassin... I killed more than I can remember."

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**Hope you liked it! I'll try and update on Friday but I can't promise anything. Till then, Review and Follow! BYE!**


	2. Age 17

**Holy crap! The amount of feedback I got from everyone was amazing! I'm so glad that everyone likes this! Thank you all for reviewing, following or favorite-ing! It means so much!**

**For those who care, Baby Clint is doing great. Right now he's sitting at my feet demanding attention. Even when his father grabs him, he cries for me. It's because of him that I can't individually thank everyone. LOL. And now he's eating paper so let me go deal with that. _ **

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Age: 17

_"I was 17 when I got my first hit. I had just escaped a hospital-" Clint began explained. Bruce frowned. He wondered if maybe this was one of the reasons why Clint hated hospitals. Clint was about to continue on, but Bruce stopped him._

_"A hospital?" Bruce asked. Clint shrugged before wincing. Bruce regretted asking but it wanted to make sure to keep Clint on track as much as possible. And considering this was the first time the archer had ever willingly opened up about his past, Bruce wanted to get as many details as possible. Who know how long this could last._

_"Got into a bit a trouble. But anyways, I stole some clothes from the lost and found and took to the streets..."_

Clint sighed deeply as he stared through the window of the restaurant. A family of four was sitting at the table nearest the window and had ordered more food then it looked like their bodies could eat. To the starving teen, it seemed like each member of the family had ordered three meals. But they were doing a decent job of plowing through the lot. The father was already working on cleaning up a third plate. His wife, beside him was steadily clearing her second plate and the two kids... Both girls, who looked slightly overweight for their ages were mixed between their first and third plates. Clint hadn't eaten for almost three days now. Heck, looking down at the baggy clothes he wore, he tried to determine if he lost weight. He assumed he had seeing as all he had been basically doing is walking around trying to figure out what to do.

It was only a week ago that he had been beaten nearly to death by guys he had once called friends. Guys who had helped him fake his ID into the Army and trained alongside him. It wasn't news to any of them that he was too young to be with them. But he, and his special ops training for sniper school, climbed the ranks faster than the older men. One of them couldn't stand it... He began complaining to the others. And it didn't take long for them to agree. The Colonel found the group beating Clint to near death. When they explained why, he told them to continue. Before being called to medical, the Colonel asked Clint if he understood that this was what he had signed up for. After two days in the hospital to recover, Clint got his official discharge papers. He would still keep his rank of Captain, but he wasn't ever going to be allowed back to the Army.

There was a sudden pounding on the window before him. Clint jerked to attention to see a very angry man in uniform looking like he was screaming at him. Looking behind him to the family, the mother was hiding her two children behind her and the father stood before them, looking rather aggravated that Clint had to ruin their meal by watching. Glancing down at the table, Clint was despaired to see that the table had been cleared of the original meal and was now being replaced with wonderful looking dessert. Sighing, Clint flipped off the man in uniform before heading off. He knew where he was going to get food tonight.

Clint returned around eleven that night. Some of the lights were still on and one or two people milled about inside. He frowned. Maybe he had timed this whole thing wrong. Waiting a few minutes, Clint watched as the people cleaned tables, the floors, counters and other such random places. One of them went over to one of the few registers around, typed in a code (that Clint could just about see) and began pulling out money from the cash drawer. Clint frowned. Was he that good? Could this be more than just a food heist? Could he possibly get money from this place too?

_"You didn't!" Bruce interrupted when Clint went silent for a few seconds. Clint jerked in response before nodding. Frowning, Bruce leaned forward and noticed that Clint was going out again. Sighing deeply, he backed away. "So, did you get the money?"_

_"No."_

Clint waited for over thirty minutes before all the lights fully turned off. He stared intently at the alley way to the back door. Once two people left the alley, he made his move. Thinking back on the situation later on, Clint would wish he had counted each person who had stayed in the restaurant after hours to clean. Maybe then he would have been fine. Strolling as casually as he dared, Clint crossed the street and aimed right for the alley. It took until he figured he was hidden by the shadows before he rushed toward the back.

Without looking too deeply at the rest of the alley, Clint began working on picking the door open. He thanked whatever god out there that his brother had taught him such skill before he left him. A sudden noise behind him, made Clint whirl around. Standing just past the light was another person. Shocked, Clint went to run away but the person caught him. When the person pulled the teen back into the light, Clint was stunned. It was the employee from earlier that day. He had a really pleased look to his face right now and that scared Clint more than being caught.

"I knew you'd return!" the person snapped at Clint. Terrified, Clint struggled against the other man's grip. But he was too weak from lack of food. Clint fought for another minute or so before giving up and sagging like a rag doll in the man's hand. If anything he could act like dead weight for where ever the man wanted to take him. And if the man wanted to beat him, it would be easier for Clint to curl up into a ball to protect himself in this position. The man laughed. "Given' up?"

"What are you going to do with me?" Clint whispered so softly that the man had a hard time hearing him. The man smiled and leaned down to Clint's level. Clint twitched away when the man's awful breath blew up his nose. For a moment, Clint wondered how people could stand him in the restaurant. He looked nasty and he smelled just as bad.

"I know someone that you'd be of great use too," he cooed dangerously. Clint shuddered before the man began dragging him along behind him.

_"Clint?" Bruce called after a minute of silence. Clint jumped at the sound of his name. Bruce frowned, before leaning forward to check on the archer. He felt cool to the touch and his eyes looked like they were seriously dilated. The doc was shocked when Clint suddenly looked away from him as if he wasn't even there. Stopping himself from reaching out and slapping Clint, Bruce called out. "Hey!"_

_"What?" Clint cried, jerking into a more upright position. Immediately he groaned and slowly sank back into his relaxed position. Bruce winced when the archer moved but really didn't like that Clint didn't cry out in pain. Shifting even closer to Clint, Bruce lightly touched the archer's injured leg. Clint made no noise or even tried to move away. He pushed a little harder. Still, nothing. It wasn't until Bruce drew fresh blood that Clint distractedly looked down. "That's bad."_

_"Why don't you tell me where that man brought you and I'll worry about this?" Bruce suggested before working on ripping off some of his remaining pants (something Tony had been working on for a while and was still being perfected, but he had at least gotten it that Bruce wouldn't be completely nude). Clint briefly watched the doc work before reaching for his pants pockets. Bruce grabbed his wrist in an effort to stop him. "What are you doing?"_

_"I have bandages in my pants," Clint stated. There was a pause as both men processed what he said. Clint then grimaced. "That sounded so much better in my head. I meant, I get injured a lot and have to do field medical so I have some items in my pants pockets."_

_"Ah," Bruce responded before reached for the same pocket that Clint had been going for moments before. Opening it, the doc found bandages, meds, alcohol wipes, and other assortment of things one might find in a first aid kit. Bruce raised his eyebrow at the variety. Clint shrugged._

_"I get injured a lot," he answered. Bruce sighed before getting back to work. After a few minutes of silence, Bruce looked up at Clint. The archer was watching him in morbid curiosity. Frowning, Bruce lightly slapped an uninjured part of Clint's body. Clint quickly looked at the doc._

_"Talk."_

Clint ended up being taken to a warehouse downtown. One that was three buildings away from where Clint had made his current home. That surprised Clint more than anything else. How could he have been so close and not even notice? Then again, at this time in his life, Clint wasn't as well versed in paying attention to his surroundings. He would have been too concerned with trying to survive rather than seeing the danger that was around him. Hence why he had so easily gotten captured.

The man dragged Clint all the way inside and once past the guards at the front door, Clint was tossed to the floor in the middle of the large warehouse. Glancing around, but not lifting his head, Clint noticed numerous amounts of kids from his age and younger all tied up to the walls. They were all either crying, sobbing, hanging there in silence, or looking mostly dead. Clint was terrified at that. He didn't want to die just cause he had been hungry and the man who brought him here had gotten pissed off.

"What the fuck is this?" a new voice demanded. Clint glanced up to see a man, who could stand to lose a few hundred pounds, sitting in an overly grand seat surrounded by young, thin, naked, starving teenage girls. The girls were sobbing but whenever the man touched them, they would grab some bits of food from plates in front of them and feed them up to him. Clint's stomach growled as he stared at the platters before the fattened man. The new man smiled when he heard it. It was then that Clint knew that this man enjoyed the pain and suffering of all those around him. And it was going to be here that Clint died.

"New kid. Hanging round my restaurant," the man who had taken Clint replied. The new man frowned and looked down at Clint. If Clint didn't know any better, the new man looked as if he could be looking over a menu for his next meal for all the interest he was showing. The man that had dragged the teen here didn't notice.

"What good is he?"

"Almost picked the locks on my door." The new man hummed in amusement before pointing to some children on the right side of him.

"They can pick locks. What good is he?"

"Just met him. Don't know. Saw him, he pissed me off, figured you might need him," the original man stated as if he could care less if this new man killed Clint. Actually no, he made it sound like he'd enjoy it if the new guy killed Clint. Clint almost whimpered at that thought. Looking around at the other kids, he could see that they have all seen this new man kill.

"Kid," the new man demanded while staring at Clint. Clint snapped to attention. "Tell me something that you can do really good that you doubt I already have in someone else here. If you don't, I'll kill you. No special skill, I kill you. Already have, I kill you. So, you better answer."

Clint didn't respond. He just looked at the wide assortment of kids in the warehouse and wondered. Could any of them hot wire a car? How about analyze people and guess what they are going to do next? What about hide really well? Or climb things that should be really hard or near impossible to climb? Suddenly, the first man kicked Clint in the side and sent him flying across the floor. The new man laughed loudly while the kids cried out in mix of horror and fear. Clint didn't make a sound.

"Answer him damn-it!" he shouted at Clint. Clint winced but still didn't answer. The new man rolled his eyes, now bored with the show.

"You brought me a mute. Nice. Well, kill them," he ordered. From a back area, covered in shadows, a door opened and three burly men stepped into the warehouse. Right away kids began crying out in fear or sobbing miserably. Clint inched away from them but they went for the first man straight away. When he noticed, he backed up, raising his hands to defend himself. His eyes had gone from so pleased to terrified. Clint could smell a new pungent smell. Glancing to the man, he noticed he had pissed his pants.

"Hey, wait! I brought you a kid! I've brought you many kids! You can't do this!" he cried. The new man shrugged as if this whole thing was just another day for him. Which, it technically was, but it shouldn't be so normal to just kill people.

"You may have brought me kids. But they aren't very useful," he stated before the burly men caught the restaurant owner. It happened so quick. One second, one of the men was behind him, grabbing his head from the chin and the top and the next there was a crack and the owner dropped to the floor, his head twisted at a weird angle. Clint gasped at the dead eyes that stared at him in horror. That was when the burly men came toward him. He inched his way across the floor away from them but their long strides quickly caught up to him. One of them grabbed him in the same style as the man that kidnapped him but before he twisted, Clint cried out.

"I can shoot almost anything into whatever target you direct me too!" he screamed. The burly man paused and looked to his boss who was slowly getting to his feet. Once on his feet, he stepped over the girls, crunching on one of their legs, making her scream. He hummed in interest at Clint, ignoring the girl he had stepped on. Clint focused on her in stunned silence. She silently sobbed, grabbing at her injured limb as the other girl just stared in mute horror. It was like the other knew that it easily could have been her.

"What?" That one word made Clint look back to the man. Gulping, he tried to remember what he said. It had happened so fast and he wasn't really thinking right. For all he knew he could have screamed that he knew the Devil personally.

"I can shoot almost anything into whatever target you want. I've hit peas, beer cans, dimes, through wedding rings, targets, apples and more," Clint answered, knowing that the brute holding him hadn't loosened his grip at all. "Just give me a day or less to learn a new weapon and then I can hit any target, no matter how hard the shot is."

"Have you killed someone?" Clint hesitated here. He had no idea what would be the right answer. Of course he had never taken a shot at a person. But he had hit a few animals in his day. Mostly squirrels, raccoons, mice, rats and one bird. He hadn't wanted to hit the bird. It just happened to fly into his arrow after he fired and it hit. Slowly, Clint shook his head no. "Would you be willing to?"

"Will you feed me?" Clint countered. The man frowned, confused. Clint gave him the most relaxed smile he could manage while knowing that the thug holding him could easily snap his neck. It wanted to pull off a look that told the man that Clint didn't care what happened in the next few seconds. But in his blue eyes, Clint still showed fear. "I need energy to pull back the string."

"String?" Clint nodded, finally feeling the brute relax when the boss waved his hand. He could tell now that he had the man interested. That was good. He could work with interested.

"I shoot best with a bow and arrow. Tried throwing knifes, my brother used to be better at that. I've also done some 9 mil and a M16 semi-automatic," Clint replied. The man's frown deepened. Even he couldn't get a hold of a gun like that, so how did this kid?

"Where did you get a hold of the M16?"

"Army," Clint answered, shrugging as if it was no big deal. The man smiled, now he was really beginning to like this kid.

"Really? How old are you?"

"17 but I told the army I was 18 when I signed up last year," Clint admitted. The man nodded, pleased that Clint was becoming such a good catch. Glancing down at the dead body, the man almost felt sorry for killing the restaurant owner. For the first time, he actually brought a very useful child. This one boy made up for every failure the man had brought in the past. If only he had been more patient. But patience was never one of his virtues.

"I happen to have an employee with a bow and arrow in the back. Would you care to prove how good you are?" the man questioned. Clint paused here. He did want to live. But he had no idea what the man would make him shoot. Glancing at the kids around him, he noticed many of them nodding their heads. None of them cared if Clint was ordered to kill them. It would certainly end their misery. Hesitantly, he answered.

"Sure."

"Good," the man called, waving his hand behind him in a sign that he was ordering the bow and arrow before turning and sitting back down in his seat. One of the men who had come out before, turned and went to the back of the warehouse. It took a minute before he returned with a ratty looking bow and a quiver full of arrows. A lot of the arrows were missing their fletching and the rest had broken ones. Both objects were dropped at Clint's feet. Slowly he reached down to the quiver, picked it up and began picking through the arrows. Once he seemed to determine them as fine, Clint looked over the bow. It wasn't well treated but Clint had worked with worse in the past. Heck, the first bow he trained on had a crack down the entire center of the wood piece and broke in the middle of his first show. "Prove how good you are."

"Where do you want me to hit?" Clint asked before draping the quiver over his shoulder and readying the bow. Tensely, he tested the string to make sure it wouldn't break when he pulled on it. It made a slight whine when he pulled back, showing that it hadn't been used in a very long time but it was still good. Nodding, Clint felt pleased enough with the state of the bow that he could hit anything in the room. Looking back to the man, he waited.

The man pointed to a blond boy on the other end of the warehouse. Right away, Clint stiffened. Even from this distance, the would-be archer could see the boy's brown eyes widen in surprise. Apparently, this boy believed he was a good worker. The girl that was hanging next to him, shifted away. Her green eyes filled with fear. But the boy on the other side of him seemed to shift closer as if he wanted Clint to hit him. Clint really didn't want to kill one of the other kids. But when it came to survival, Clint has learned one thing. Only trust yourself.

"There is a small knot in the wood behind that blond boy. Hit it without hitting the boy," the man demanded. The blond boy sagged against his bonds before realizing how close the knot was to his head. He then re-tensed. On his other side, the girl, who was close to the knot as well, whined as she tried to inch further away. Clint breathed a sigh of relief at the fact that he was shooting a knot in the wood, before grabbing an arrow without looking at the fletching, knocking it and pulling the bow string back till it touched his cheek. A quick glance made Clint realize he picked an arrow with only one piece of fletching. Sighing, he sighted up the knot as best as possible and released. A few seconds later there was a sharp twang. The man looked to one of his men and nodded toward the arrow, he then rushed down to check it out.

"Boss! He got it!" the minion cried back, humor in his voice. Clint briefly noted that both the blond boy and girl had passed out from their fear of him missing. The man looked to Clint with an evil smile. Though it looked evil and menacing, Clint could see the pride. For a moment, Clint couldn't understand why the man was so proud that he made the shot until he realized the man wasn't. He was proud that Clint was such an amazing teen.

"You get to live. But now, you work for me. You follow only my orders, do what I want you too, and keep quiet about it. If not, you'll die," the man commanded. Clint nodded. At this point, he could barely hide his fear over this situation. It almost felt like he had just signed a deal with the devil. He must have looked really nervous because the man stood and walked over to Clint with a soft smile. That just made Clint feel even worse. And it didn't help when the man placed a hand on Clint's shoulder to hold the teen steady. "Don't worry. We'll get along fine. My name is Ivan Petrovich. And yours?"

"Clint Barton," Clint said, not a single bit of hesitation. There was no way he was going to mess things up with Ivan this soon. Already Clint could feel that he was on thin ice. Clint really didn't like that feeling. Ivan nodded, pleased that Clint was turning out to be a fast learner. "I used to use the stage name, Hawkeye."

"Stage name?" Ivan questioned. Not once has he ever had an employee that had a stage name. He was now beginning to fear that maybe Clint wasn't just an orphaned kid or even a run away. The boy may have someone out there looking for him. Clint nodded, not really knowing what was going through Ivan's head. Before he could speak, one of the men from before moved closer to Clint. He was getting ready to catch the teen and kill him in case he was going to be any trouble.

"I worked in a few circus and carnivals. Each one I used the name Hawkeye," Clint replied, sounding rather proud of the name. He barely took notice that the henchman had moved behind him. Clint was too pleased with himself and his stage name that he was distracted with good memories. Ivan looked to one of his men as if he was wondering if Clint was joking. The man shrugged, having never heard of the name himself.

"Could sound rather threatening boss. I mean, who can hide from the sight of a hawk?" the man joked. Clint frowned, unsure if the man was insulting his name or not. He working hard to make that name. Ivan smiled.

"Hawkeye... Hmm... I like it," he declared. Smiling larger than ever, he looked down at Clint. Clint felt a chill run down his spine when Ivan focused on him. Again, Clint got the feeling that this man was the devil and his whole life was going to change. "I'll have Boris take you to your room."

"He gets a room?" one of the other men asked. Ivan frowned before glaring at the man. Clint could quickly tell by that statement that most kids were locked up in this warehouse until they were needed. Looking around, he could see that some of them had been here for a very long time. That made him more worried than ever before. Could he have done all this to prove himself just to get locked up here?

"Yes, Boris. Hawkeye gets a room. I need him rested and well taken care of if he is to be any use to me," Ivan snarled as if the man was the stupidest person in the world. Boris nodded, really not liking that a room will be wasted on a teen, before grabbing Clint's shoulder and forcing the teen to move away from the main warehouse.

_"Ivan? I thought Natasha mentioned that as her adopted father," Bruce commented when Clint paused. Clint frowned, not realizing that Natasha had already opened up to the other Avengers. It took her almost a year before she began mentioning things to him. Well, willingly that is. A lot of times he tricked her into saying something or she needed to do or say something based on her past while on a mission. Slowly, he nodded his head. It was about here that Clint began to wonder why he was telling Bruce about all this. When he shifted, Clint remembered. "She never mentioned that he knew you."_

_"She doesn't know. At this point, Nat was still working with the Black Widow program and the KGB. She didn't rejoin up with Ivan until she came to America. That was when she met me... Like four years later," Clint admitted, trying to remember even the most minute detail of his past. Bruce frowned. Natasha had mentioned that she had no idea how old Clint was. She admitted to being only twenty years younger than Cap, which had shocked most of the Avengers until she explained about the Black Window program. Suddenly it hit him that Natasha would kill him for telling Bruce before her. "Don't... Don't tell her."_

_"I won't," Bruce swore when Clint seemed to look extremely panicked. After a minute to make sure that Bruce was telling the truth, Clint relaxed. "So... What did Ivan have you do?"_

It was a week before Ivan actually called on Clint. By this time the teen had had a good rest and actually even gained a few pounds of fat or muscle, no one could really tell. But Ivan had been meticulous. He made Clint train just as hard as Clint had when he was part of Carson's Carnival of Traveling Wonders. Especially since Ivan bought Clint some new, stronger bows, a new quiver and hundreds of thousands of arrows. That had been a nice surprise. One morning his room had that old bow and quiver and the next morning everything was brand new. Clint had trained nearly day and night just for the excitement of shooting once again. Ivan also made Clint practice with numerous sorts of guns, knives and even had the teen train in hand to hand combat.

The hand to hand combat was hard. Yeah, Clint had gotten a little in Army training but it was never his focus due to him being a sniper agent. It had been difficult to find someone who was willing to teach the teen. After most of the henchmen had seen Clint's skill with the other weapons, no one really wanted to mess with him. But when Ivan tells you to do something, you do it. So the next obstacle had been height and weight. Ivan really didn't want someone too much taller than Clint or even heavier than the teen in case they went too far in training. It especially didn't help that, to the others, it seemed like Clint was quickly becoming Ivan's favorite.

"Dear Hawkeye," Ivan called when he walked into Clint practicing with his newest bow, a recurve. Clint paused in his shot as he looked over to Ivan. He had a large smile on his face, one that Clint had gotten used to seeing when Ivan went to give orders to other men. It gave him the creeps, real bad. But he wasn't going to let it show. Since working with Ivan, Clint had been working extremely hard at avoiding showing his emotions. Surprisingly, many of the other men had been willing to help him with that. Glancing at Ivan again, Clint realized that Ivan had something for him. Figuring he was going to be talking for a while, Clint released the arrow without checking his aim once again. It hit dead center anyways. Ivan's smile, if possible, became even larger. "Dear, dear Hawkeye. I have a... Mission for you."

Clint nodded, having already assumed as much. He had seen Ivan giving missions to many of the other men at numerous times during the day. The worst is whenever Clint was in training, cause normally then his trainer kicked him out of the room. Ivan held his right hand over his shoulder to the man who was following behind him. A man that Clint hadn't noticed until then. Mentally the teen cursed himself. His teachers had tried to instill in him that he needed to pay attention to his surroundings.

The man handed him something which Ivan then passed to Clint. Clint glanced at it, quickly noticing it was a photo of someone he swore he had seen before. But considering he tried to forget most people he met, it was no surprise that the teen couldn't figure it out. Flipping the image around, Clint noticed a time and place written on the back. '10:30 pm, Apollo Theater.' He had never heard of that before.

"Apollo Theater? Where's that?" Clint asked, having not spent all that long in the area. Ivan smiled and jotted down the address. Clint frowned before realizing he was almost on the opposite end of New York. Glancing up at Ivan in shock, Clint was stunned to see that Ivan wanted him to get there on his own. Most of the other men, who all had licenses, could drive there. But Clint hadn't gone to get his yet and Ivan had shown no interest in getting him one. So Clint would be forced to walk. And if this address was right, it would take nearly all the time he had between then and now. Without another word, Clint spun on his heel and took off, bow and quiver still on him. Ivan's laughing echoed through the halls as Clint mentally began to prepare himself for getting to the mission site.

Clint got to the theater just as everyone was being let in for whatever showing was going on earlier that night. Ignoring the crowd, Clint looked around for some good sight lines. The best would have been across the street on the roof of what looked to be a clothing store. But that was too obvious. As was the Hotel Theresa and the taller building beside that. In the opposite direction was a building that looked like it was made of glass. It was a good distance away and it was far enough down the street that Clint could use it as an exit route and no one would even know cause he'd never have to pass the body. Smiling, Clint headed over there to get himself set up. Even though he was a few hours early, no one would even notice if he disappeared for that long. Hell, this was New York. No one paid attention to anyone.

At 10:15 pm, Clint really set himself up. His bow was ready, he had picked out the nicest looking arrow and was staring down at the theater for his target. Having used his shirt to whip off whatever fingerprints he may have previously had on the arrow, Clint then grabbed at the gloves that he had picked up off of some rich guy he had passed by earlier. The picture was even sitting against the ledge so that Clint could stare at both it and the street beyond.

Waiting the remaining fifteen minutes felt like an eternity. But finally, it hit time and right on cue, the man walked out and leaned down to do something. There was no pause. Clint confirmed that this was the man he was supposed to kill, took aim and timed it in his head. Only a second later, the man was coming back up. Clint released the arrow without a second thought as to why the man was reaching down. As the arrow flew, the man came back up and tossed a little four year old girl into the air. Clint could only watch in horror as the arrow flew true. The man would never catch her. Both the girl and the man landed on the ground at nearly the same time.

_"No! What happened to the girl?" Bruce cried, stopping Clint from continuing. The archer smirked and looked over at the doctor. It had been rather obvious the way Clint had been describing the scene. But apparently that didn't matter._

_"I find it interesting that you don't care that I killed a man in cold blood but you care about the man's daughter who fell because her father couldn't catch her," Clint commented, a slight tinge of sarcastic humor lingering on his voice. Bruce frowned, unsure what that meant about him at this point. In the past he may have been bothered by such news, even if he knew the outcome. But after so long, Bruce couldn't seem to care._

_"Well... I guess it's cause I kind of knew about your job before and so... I knew you started somehow. But... Please, don't tell me the little girl died too," Bruce nearly begged. Giving the doctor a look that told Bruce the answer, Clint sighed. At the time, he had really wished the same thing. Hell, he had felt sick to his stomach over such a fact. But... Clint stayed silent for a few minutes before going back to his story as if Bruce never even spoke._

Even from such a huge distance away, Clint could hear the sickening thud of the little girl falling to the pavement below. The teen's Army training kicked in and stopped him from expelling his last meal. No matter how much he wanted to be sick, Clint knew he couldn't leave any evidence. It may take the cops a few days before they realize that this was where he shot from, but vomit could still be enough evidence to trace back to him. Slowly, Clint picked up his things.

He was meticulous. Grabbed everything that could be considered evidence. He packed away the picture. The bow, his quiver and extra arrows. Wiped away the small scrapping off the roof edge from where his bow lightly smacked the concrete when he released the string. Hell, he even moved around the sand on the roof to make his footprints disappear. By the time he was done, police were already at the scene. The bodies were being taken away. No one paid any attention to the teen as he calmly left the building, glanced in the direction of the scene but walked the opposite way. For who would believe that he could be a killer? No... An assassin?

_"I went back to Ivan. Didn't arrive until the middle of the night. One of the guards mentioned that there was a running bet on if I ran away or not. I asked if he won anything. He said a couple hundred bucks. Ivan was so pleased that when I woke up the next day there was an extra helping of food and brand new knife. I used that knife up until the day I saved Natasha. It wasn't until two days later that I also found five hundred bucks in my quiver. Along with a note. __Keep it up and we'll be rich.__ Five hundred dollars for killing a father and a four year-old girl," Clint moaned. Bruce said nothing. He had been praying that the girl has just hurt herself. But... Unconsciously, he knew. As much as it sucked, Bruce knew. Clint sighed, realizing he had never gone back to keep his silent promise to the little girl. He had promised at the time that he would return to her grave one day and leave some flowers._

_"Did you ever figure out who you killed?"_

_"Some senator that was trying to rebuild the warehouse into some sort of strip mall. Would have produced hundreds of jobs and a richer community. But it was the warehouse that Ivan hid all his kids and business. Supposedly, Ivan tried to be civil about it but the senator wouldn't hear it. It had to be his warehouse. So, Ivan threatened him. Still didn't work and then... Well, I came along," Clint admitted, sounding completely guilty. Bruce looked away. He had always wondered if assassins ever felt guilty over their kills. Bruce had asked Natasha once... Her glare afterwards made him never even want to try to ask Clint. "I worked with Ivan for over a year. Killed over 180 people. Mostly all of them innocent people that had gotten in Ivan's way for whatever reason."_

_"Do you regret it?" Clint gave the doctor an odd look. It was like Bruce had spoken a different language. Bruce sighed before adding on. "Working for Ivan?"_

_"Every damned day. But if not for Ivan, I wouldn't have met Coulson... And Natasha... And all the Avengers. I... I actually probably would have died," Clint muttered, realizing now that his whole life had pretty much lead up to this moment. Bruce nodded before inching forward. Clint glanced over but didn't move away. Slowly, cautiously, Bruce began checking Clint's pulse. For a moment, Clint wondered why but then he remembered his injuries. He couldn't feel the pain anymore. And he was slightly chilled. Not wanting to tell Bruce that, he decided to crack a joke. "Am I gonna live?"_

_"Of course. The others are out looking for us! I'm sure they'll find us," Bruce responded, not understanding that Clint knew the truth. Clint nodded, not believing the doc for even a second. Instead he sighed again and leaned back against the wall. His body twitched when he twisted an injured limb the wrong way. Bruce assumed that Clint felt it but when the archer's face never changed, he wondered if that was true or not._

_"Before the Avengers... Hell, before Coulson, I never thought anyone cared for me," Clint mumbled, moving onto another part of his life. Bruce stilled. He wasn't sure if he wanted to move off of Clint's life or not. But he was still worried about shock. Clint couldn't sleep and talking certainly seemed to be helping._

_"I thought you mentioned a brother," Bruce called, wishing there was more he could do to help then just keeping the conversation going._

_"Barney? Yeah, such a great brother. Left me to die..."_

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**Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please continue to review, follow and favorite! See you next Friday!**


	3. Age 10

**I'z back! I can't believe it's Friday already! _ Started working on the story after this one already. Got one chapter done so far. Working on the second chapter. Baby Clint is dealing with me on the computer a lot better lately. Mostly cause I realized that I could put him in a stationary jumper and he'd just sit behind me jumping up and down. lol. He's finally beginning to shift off of formula, thank god. But we don't know if he is lactose intolerant like me or not. So, I may have to put up with a lot of vomiting. Who knows. Oh, but enough about Baby Clint and me. Here is the next chapter!**

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Age: 10

_"I probably should start with how we got to the circus first," Clint said after Bruce twisted his legs to look at the damage and make sure nothing horrible was happening to them. The archer had taken some interest to watch what the doc was doing but when it hit him that he should be in immense pain, Clint felt it would be better to keep talking. Bruce said nothing, just kept on checking over all over Clint's injuries. It was almost as if both of them didn't want to know the truth. After a moment, Clint continued._

Barney and Clint ran away from the orphanage they had been stuck at since their parents died. It had been a little over four years since they first arrived. And it had taken that long to form a plan that sounded decent. Barney, who was now old enough to go into town and try to look for work, had seen numerous posters about the Carnival in town. Normally, he would ignore such a thing but he had been looking for a way to get away from the orphanage for a while now and this may be the best idea. Many people were talking about one of the acts, the Swordsman. Just from the sounds of what the people were saying, the man would be amazing to meet. But Barney wished for more than just that. Course, at this time, Clint didn't know about Barney's other motive. All Clint knew was that he had to get away from Waverly Home of Orphans and it's owner.

It took less than a few hours to get from the orphanage to the carnival. Most of that time, Clint could only remember Barney telling him all he had heard about Swordsman and the rest of it was demanding that he hurry up. When it finally felt to Clint like he would just drop where he stood, they were greeted to the sight of the Carnival. The two boys first spotted a large billowing sign that read Carson's Carnival of Traveling Wonders. Nearly fainting with joy, Clint felt an extra burst of adrenaline and looked around. Right away Clint was hooked. He loved the place. People from town wandered all around the area (thankfully none of them usually paid attention to the orphaned kids). Costumed employees shouted out in glee as they tried to attract the largest part of the crowd to their areas. Many stood behind stands or even stood on empty boxes that they used for platforms. But there was one voice that cried out the loudest. Even from the entrance, you could hear this voice shouting from the far back point of the carnival.

"You've heard the name! Maybe in passing! Maybe in a full conversation. But now you are here to watch! THE SWORDSMAN! Come see him perform feats of wonder! Let him surprise and amaze you! THE SWORDSMAN will make your coming here worth it! Him and his partner TRICKSHOT are the best at what they do! Don't believe it, come see for yourselves!" the voice shouted. Clint unconsciously followed his brother toward the loud voice. He had no clue what his brother had planned. Barney didn't even notice that his younger brother was following. In truth, Barney had already forgotten about his little brother.

The duo slipped past the man shouting at the crowd and entered into the big tent. Everyone was standing around a center ring that Barney and Clint moved closer and closer too. Inside the ring stood two men. One dressed in a tank top of dark maroon color and jeans. He held onto a bow with a quiver strapped to his back. The other was dressed in such a colorful and fanciful outfit that Clint could barely concentrate on him. He held onto a few throwing knifes and had a large saber attached to his belt and hung down below his hip. Barney was staring at that man like he was heaven on earth. Clint focused on the other man.

"Welcome one! Welcome all! I am the Swordsman!" the man with the saber cried to the crowd. A large cheer filled the tent. He then pointed to the man behind him who was beginning to grab an arrow and string it up. "And this is my partner, Trickshot!"

Again the crowd went wild. Trickshot aimed for a target, glanced at Swordsman and shot. It landed dead center. Another cheer. It took two more shots before Clint was convinced that that's what he wanted to do. He didn't want to be anything but an archer. He could care less about how he would make a living with that skill. He didn't care that there were going to be no jobs for him outside of what his life would turn into. His ten year-old mind saw Trickshot making impossible shots and Clint wanted to be better. No, he wanted to be the best.

Meanwhile, Barney was focused on Swordsman. All the older Barton could think was that he could do the exact same things. He could throw knifes. He could fence. Barney wanted to be the next Swordsman. And he would do it, no matter what it cost him. Barney wasn't an older brother anymore. In his mind, he already was Swordsman's apprentice.

_"Barney went to Carson after Swordsman finished his set. Didn't even say a word to me. Trickshot had his own little show after and admittedly, I barely even noticed that Barney left. He came back with Carson just as the show was ending. It was around then that I had noticed that Barney had vanished. When he pointed to me, I felt like he was trying to get me in trouble. Back at the orphanage, he hadn't been all that great so I could see him doing that. So, I almost ran... Wouldn't have gotten far," Clint said with a laugh thinking back on that day. Bruce frowned, stopping his check of Clint's pulse and reaction. Clint blinked in surprise at Bruce's voice._

_"Why not?" he asked, backing away from the archer. Clint glanced over at him just as the light began to die. There was a long pause as he shuffled through his pants to find the next snap stick. Once he found it, he cracked it with a loud pop and tossed it in Bruce's general direction. Bruce watched as it landed on the ground before slowly picking it up. Briefly he wondered what made Clint carry all these things. Never mind where he was able to hide it all in his rather tight looking outfit. Yet again though he wondered if he wanted to know. How many dangerous situations made Clint this paranoid that he carried all this stuff?_

_"Trick was standing behind me. He actually had just taken a shot from right in front of me and had laughed at my large wide eyes," Clint muttered. Bruce smiled. "I had thought he had already moved away. But he had also seen Carson and my brother speaking."_

_"What was Carson like?" Clint paused, surprised that Bruce would ask such a thing. Shaking his head at the memories of Trickshot, Clint answered._

_"Carson was a nice guy. He accepted Barney and me into the group with no issue. Not once did he ask if we had other family. If anyone would care if we disappeared. Hell, he didn't care, just glad that he had two more helpers," Clint answered._

The Barton boys ended up having to stay in the animal trailer that night. Carson promised that it wouldn't always be like that. But because they joined the carnival so late at night, he couldn't find room for them in other's tents. The next night the duo also spent in the animal trailer. And the night after that. No one wanted two newbies in their tents until the duo could prove their worth. So, Clint began caring for the animals. First cleaning their pens, then feeding them and watering them.

Barney waited until the whole carnival had to be taken down, almost a week later, so that the group could move on before he showed his use. He helped lift the heavy boxes and bags. His larger size helped him carry a lot of items and many of the smaller Carnival folk appreciated his work. But Barney became jealous when Clint climbed to the top of the large tents with the tightrope walker and trapeze sisters. As he angrily watched Clint helping to untie the big tent, Barney plotted his revenge.

It was no surprise that Clint was moved into a different tent that night. He had done so much work since he first showed up. Clint didn't even seemed bothered by the change. Heck, he even mentioned that he hadn't minded staying with the animals. That had produced a good laugh around the group for a while. Meanwhile, Barney was stuck with the animals, sulking and angry. It took until they hit the next town and Barney helped reset things up that he was shifted to the same tent as Clint but the damage was done.

Barney began beating Clint after that. At first he tried to keep it a secret but when the bearded lady walked in on Barney going at Clint, she just walked away. Clint had stared after her for a long while and whenever they passed each other around the Carnival, he would give her odd looks. But she never mentioned what she saw to anyone. That was when Barney began doing it more openly. Clint was almost always bruised or healing. As long as he could still work, no one really cared. So Barney just kept going. Every time Clint tried to ask a question, help his brother, and sometimes even when the younger Barton tried to help others, Barney would beat him senseless. It was like Barney didn't want Clint to be useful. Course it really didn't help that most of the other carnival employees felt that Clint was the better worker.

It took three weeks after the bearded lady first saw Clint being beaten before the Barton boys began staying in two different tents. Barney had gotten so mad at Clint that he had beaten him so badly that Clint was bedridden for two days. At first, Clint was hurt by this change in their places. He almost wondered if Barney was getting a different tent because he had done more work in those two days that Clint had been stuck in bed. No one corrected him on the subject but when he asked, the psychic told him it was for the best that they separate. And who was Clint to argue with a psychic? Neither Barton really seemed to care and after a few weeks went by, neither one seemed to notice. Not that it changed much. Just made it harder to Barney to go after Clint.

_"So what did you guys do? How long did it take for you guys to get trained?" Bruce asked when Clint went silent. Clint laughed at the eagerness in Bruce's voice. For a few seconds, Bruce pouted in a way that reminded Clint of Tony. That just made the archer laugh harder until there was a twinge of pain that made him gasp in shock. Bruce rushed over but Clint waved him off and smiled._

_"It wasn't until I was 11 then I got picked to be trained," Clint answered. Bruce sighed, amazed at how much had happened to Clint in his young life. It was then that Bruce realized he didn't even know how old Clint was. He looked to be the same age as Natasha... Or, well, what she looked to be, considering she admitted to being only a few years younger than Steve. Unaware of Bruce's current train of thought, Clint went back to his story. "In the mean time, Carson was changing up the rules..."_

"We've got some slackers," Carson called out to the whole carnival one morning at breakfast. He had actually been the first one up that morning and had cooked. It was a rare treat when Carson cooked considering he was actually trained as a chef. And he had access to foods that the rest of the folk couldn't get too. So everyone was out in the make shift cafeteria enjoying the meal.

Everyone stilled at his loud declaration. Even Clint and Barney. They hadn't ever been around when something like this happened but both boys were smart enough now to follow what everyone else did. No one wanted to be punished for something they didn't understand. Carson stood from his seat and showed his now empty plate. Clint looked down at his. It still had more than half of his meal. Glancing down his table, he noticed that so did everyone else's, including Barney. It was extremely likely that the leader of the carnival had planned this. Clint could only believe this as fact considering everyone wasn't done with their meal.

Carson walked over to one of the three clowns that traveled with the group. In the past week, Clint had noticed that this particular clown had been passing off most of his chores to other members of the troop. And he had been going out getting smashing drunk in town. The three clowns stiffened, unsure what Carson had planned. He snatched away the man's plate without a single warning.

"Hey!" the clown cried, the only sound in the whole area at this point, but silenced when Carson leveled a glare. The clown looked back down at the table before him, almost miserable in his now missing plat. Knowing that the clown wasn't looking but everyone else was, Carson dumped the remaining food to the ground. Clint's mouth dropped open. One big thing he learned in his first week, was to never waist any food cause who knew when you were next going to eat.

Carson moved on, carrying the plate with him. By the time he was done, five more people were missing their plates. No one tried arguing with the owner. They just watched him work. But he wasn't done. Clint and Barney, who happened to be sitting together so that Barney could steal more of Clint's food, could only watch in horror as Carson walked over to them. The whole gathering was silent as they wondered which of the two boys were going to lose their meals.

Carson quickly scooped up both plates. Without a word to either boy, he promptly dumped Barney's plate onto the ground and added it to his collection. But Clint's plate, he carried away, still filled with his meal. Carson stopped at his seat and looked back at the frozen Barton boys. With one finger he signaled to Clint to go over. Slowly, the young Barton did. Once he was before Carson, Carson pushed him into his seat, smiled, and moved on to stand at the entrance to the whole area. Glancing back, Clint could see from Barney that he was going to pay for this whole thing later.

"You all, who have had you plates dumped on the ground, have not done enough work. We're losing money and I think it's all your faults. So because of that, I'm gonna save money by not feeding you. Now I know that most of you have been holding onto your paychecks. Use them wisely. No one will be getting a pay increase this month. Unless we lose some mouths," Carson called, looking over to Barney with an upset gaze. Barney held his head high as if he understood what Carson was getting at. Clint still had no idea what deal Barney struck with Carson to stay. But he assumed it was just generally being useful, which apparently Barney wasn't being. "Those of you who lost your plates, you have one week to prove that you are useful. If not, I continue to keep your plates. If I end up holding onto your plates for two weeks, you're gonna get left behind. So you better change your attitudes right quick."

Barney went to Clint later that night. He had a determined look on his face. Clint, who had never been afraid of his brother before, was terrified. Automatically he curled into a ball and wished that he could go back to the orphanage. At least Old Man Winters promised that it'd be quick. Barney could take hours beating him. And what hurt even more about it all is that Clint knew it was his brother beating him. Not some stranger like it had been at the orphanage. The beating seemed to last forever but only lasted around fifteen minutes. When it was over both boys were breathing heavily.

Clint had a split lip, a bloody nose and he could already tell one of his eyes was turning black and blue. His arms were already bruising, as were his legs. His back was sore and his ribs were hurting but none of them were broken. All Clint could do was sob into the ground. Barney recovered first and kicked Clint once in the stomach to gain his attention. Slowly, Clint looked to his brother's eyes.

"You're gonna do my chores," Barney demanded. Clint's expression changed to confusion. "I'm too busy to do most of them. Hence why Carson thinks I'm slacking. I see you all the time. Looks like you got nothin' going on. That means you can cover for me. Just, don't get caught."

Clint gave his brother an odd look. The younger Barton never really had down time. He was always helping someone do something. It wasn't until show time, when no one had chores, that Clint was able to relax any. Thinking that Clint was giving him the odd look over the idea of him doing to chores, Barney got even more angry. He kicked the boy in the face before leaning down.

"You will do my chores. It's cause of me that we are here. And it's cause of me that they haven't booted your ass!" Barney claimed, making it seem like every statement was based in fact. Clint frowned, unsure if he believed his older brother. But why would Barney lie about something like this? Was Clint as useless as their father claimed? Where people only saying he was being helpful cause they felt bad for him? "Better keep me happy kid. Cause I can disown you and Carson would throw you back into Waverly Home for Orphans for Old Man Winters. And trust me, no one will protect you then."

With that, Barney walked away. Clint stayed on the floor for a good half hour before the lion tamer came by to check on why the boy hadn't feed and watered the animals. He didn't look at that surprised about Clint's condition. Just sighed and said he'd cover for Clint but only for today. If he had to again, he'd tell Carson. Clint was up and back to work an hour later. Even though everyone could tell he was in pain and suffering, no one else offered any help. Carson saw him later that day and just gave Clint a nod of his head. Almost a way of saying thanks for suffering for the group. Clint couldn't care less. All he knew was that his brother was threatening him and no one would help.

_"At that time in my life I had never been more miserable. It wasn't until much later that I really learned what misery was," Clint mentioned. Bruce said nothing. There was a long pause. One in which both Bruce and Clint yawned. Bruce was tired because of his transformation and Clint was still dealing with the shock to his system. Slowly, the archer looked over to Bruce. "Hey man... I'm really tired."_

_"No. Why don't you tell me about your mom?" Bruce suggested. Clint shrugged, he could care less at this point. He just wanted to sleep._

_"Not much to tell. She was always depressed. Barely took care of herself, never mind Barney and me. She would just sit back and watched as our father beat the living shit out of us. Then her and dad got killed." There was a minute pause as Bruce registered what Clint had told him. Snapping to attention, Bruce looked at Clint as if he was nuts. Who talked about their parents that way? Not even Bruce was that nonchalant about his father beating his mother to death._

_"How?" Bruce asked. Clint groaned, really not wanting to remember that night too much. He and Barney had both been in the car when their father had crashed it. Clint couldn't remember much of the whole thing as he tried to block it out of his mind, but Bruce looked so insistent._

_"I don't... Drunk driving. Dad killed her. I think... I think Barney and I were in the car too. Just remember going out that night for dinner and then blackness till I woke up in the hospital with some blond broad telling me that my parents were dead. Once Barney and I healed up, we were shipped off to Old Man Winters."_

_"You mentioned him a lot. What did he do to you and Barney?" Clint shook his head with a sarcastic laugh. He only wished that Bruce's statement could be true._

_"Not Barney. Barney was too old. He was eight at the time... I was fi- No... My sixth birthday was the day we arrived at Waverly Home for Orphans," Clint began. Bruce sighed in relief. He had to keep the archer awake even if both of them wanted to sleep. It was too dangerous for Clint. Hell, it was dangerous if Bruce fell asleep cause then no one would be watching over the still bleeding archer._

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**And that is that. Yet again, thanks for all the reviews, favorites and follows! Please keep them up!**

**Oh, have any of you read my other story "Valentine's Day"? If so, can you tell me in a review on either this story or that one if you want to see a sequel to it? I've been debating about doing one but my husband says it should be a stand alone. So, I'm leaving it up to you guys. A sequel or no sequel.**

**THANKS!**


	4. Age 6

**Holy crap, another week already! Wow. Been busy lately. Trying to work on the next story. But, son is crying so... Here is chapter 4!**

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Age: 6

Clint's legs just wouldn't stop shaking as he stared at the old Victorian mansion that was to become his new home. It wasn't that it looked scary for any reason. Nor did the many children who were hanging out the various windows to get a good look at the two new boys. Clint just felt frightened. Almost as if he could sense his doom in the mansion. Barney, who was still recovering from his injuries from the crash, was calmly sitting in his wheelchair. He was always used to changing situations. Clint never was. Taking a nervous glance over to his brother, Clint wondered what Barney was thinking. The older Barton's eyes were wandering over the other kids as if he was deeming them well enough to lead. Considering he used to be the 'boss' man of their neighborhood before, it was no surprise to Clint.

Old Man Winters, a ratty looking old man that seemed to be barely able care for himself never mind the many children in his care, stood with the female agent that had been put in control of the Barton boy's case. He kept nodding his head at every word she said. Though it looked like he was paying attention to her, the agent almost felt as if her words were going in one ear and out the other. Little did she know how true that was. Knowing that most kids the Barton boys ages get adopted first, she wasn't too concerned with Old Man Winters paying attention to her. Neither boy paid any attention to what they were talking about. As of this point they had heard it all before.

Just before the female agent was about to bid them a good-bye, Barney looked over at his little brother. He was disappointed to see the boy shaking like a leaf. Through their lives, Barney and their father had tried to instill bravery in the small boy, but Clint seemed to either ignore it or just couldn't care less. Slowly, the older Barton leaned over and grabbed Clint's shaking hand. Clint looked over and saw his brother gazing back at him. In the friendly looking brown eyes, Clint couldn't see disappointment, or even anger. All the young boy saw was brotherly love and caring. He'd never know how wrong he was.

"Don't worry. I'm gonna protect you. I'll keep you safe. I ain't gonna leave you," Barney told his younger sibling, knowing those empty promises would calm his brother. Clint nodded, believing those words with all he was worth. Even though he had heard his mother once telling him those same things until his father beat her, Clint still believed Barney. Cause Barney was different. Barney meant it. His mother... Their mother changed. Barney hasn't and wouldn't. Clint knew he could trust Barney. His older brother had never steered him wrong before.

Old Man Winters had set up the orphanage in such a way that the two boys actually couldn't be in the same room together. They were just about one year apart from being in the same room. Barney argued with Winters about how the two boys were still in shock and needed to be close together. Winters ignored Barney and grabbed his wheelchair before wheeling the boy away. Barney screamed and raged the entire time, crying out to Clint to follow. But the young boy didn't move. Clint could only watch in shock as he stood at the door to his new bedroom. Slowly the door closed and Clint allowed it as he listened to the fading screams of his brother.

He would end up sharing the room with ten other kids. All ages varying between ages 5 and 7. It also didn't seem to matter the gender because Clint's soon to be new bunk mate was one of three girls in the room. Many of the kids just stared at Clint after the huge scene his brother had caused. No one really wanted to mess with the younger brother of someone like that. So, slowly, Clint entered and walked over to the nearest empty bunk. He dropped his stuff on it and faced the rest of the room, as if daring them to comment on what just happened. Once he did that, the whole room seemed to come alive and everyone went off into their own groups, ignoring Clint.

At first, no one bothered him. Hell, no one even tried talking to him. Not even the girl he shared a bunk with. Clint really didn't mind that. He was certain that someone would come for him soon. His mother had always talked about asking a sister of hers for help before his father began beating her. So that meant he had an aunt out there somewhere. She'd come for him.

_"Why didn't she?" Bruce interrupted. Clint paused before sighing. He hated his father and the law so much for this part. If only there had been some loophole... Not that it would have matter, just looking for the loophole took Clint the same amount of years he spent in the orphanage. And it wouldn't have been possible without S.H.I.E.L.D resources._

_"My father hated her family. Despised my aunt real bad. So, in his will, he wrote that none of them would ever be able to take Barney and me. Hell, they weren't even allowed to come see us and if we went to see them, they had to call the cops on us. At the time, no one argued with the words of a dead man. Not that it mattered. Once, Barney and I escaped the place, my aunt wanted nothing to do with either of us," Clint muttered. Bruce sighed. He had no idea that Clint's life was so rough. And to think, he still didn't even know all of it. Then again, most of the Avengers had rough lives. That's part of what drew them together. Bruce shuddered, wondering why that was the thing that brought them together. Why couldn't it have been something more simple?_

_"Did things ever get... Well... Was the orphanage okay?" Bruce asked, wondering if that was the right question. Clint laughed at the wording, which quickly turned into a coughing fit. It ended with both men staring at Clint's hand covered in a light sheen of blood. Clint looked over to Bruce. He could see the worry in the other man's eyes. Slowly, Clint waved his hand back and forth, as if telling Bruce to forget it._

_"The others better find us soon," he muttered more to himself than to the doc. Clint was really beginning to feel like this might actually be the end. Bruce nodded, in complete agreement with the archer. Sighing, Clint relaxed into the wall. He almost wished that the others were here as well. If only to hear about what made him... Well, him. But then again, if they were, then Clint wouldn't have to be opening up like this. When Clint closed his eyes, Bruce gently touched his nearest arm until Clint reopened his eyes in curiosity. "Still here... But no... The orphanage was never okay. Almost right away, Barney broke his promise. I don't think he knew... But he did."_

A month after first arriving at the orphanage, Clint began to notice three of the oldest kids in his room were beginning to stalk him. Few days later, Clint spotted some of the kids from Barney's room were also beginning to follow him. These kids were the leaders of the whole orphanage. And they took no shit from anyone. In his first few weeks, they had just sat back and let Barney and Clint get comfortable. But now, Clint knew Barney was beginning to show his own leadership skills. In desperation, Clint went up to Barney and asked for help.

"Have they done anything? Are they hurting you?" Barney asked, sounding really worried. He was still at least a week off from getting out of his wheelchair. And the older Barton knew that the damned wheelchair made him look weak, so no one was really starting to follow him yet. But there was talk that everyone would quickly switch to his side in a fight. Barney just needed more time to show his dominance. He didn't want Clint to ruin his chances. Clint looked down at the chair and wished that it had been him that had gotten ejected from the car and not his brother. The young boy wasn't good at stuff like this.

"No... But I... I don't like that their following me," Clint whined, sounding so much like the six year old he was. Barney scoffed, rolling his eyes at his brother. Did Clint really think that Barney could do anything right then? Though they lived in a mansion, the amount of room that the kids could go into was actually rather small. Many kids would walk the same paths to get to other places. Clint was just being paranoid.

"Maybe they were just going the same way as you? I can't help until they do something," Barney told his sibling. Clint nodded wishing that Barney would do something about it before it came to that point. Just like he had wished their mother to do the same thing. But it seemed that Barney would take after her and like Clint would learn later, also their father. If Clint wasn't so afraid of Old Man Winters, Clint would have gone to him. But there was just something about the man that made Clint stay away. It wasn't much longer that he'd regret his actions.

The next week, Clint spotted some of the kids that had been following him conversing with Barney. They were all laughing and seeming to have a good time. So, Clint figured maybe Barney was right or even that Barney was talking to them about the younger boy's fears. Though the mansion was big, not many of the rooms were allotted to the kids. Most, Old Man Winters had blocked off or even locked up. It wasn't until the next day that Clint figured out why those kids were becoming buddy/buddy with Barney. This was the day that Barney was brought to the hospital for a checkup and to see if he needed the wheelchair anymore.

"Yo! Brat!" one of the oldest kids called. Clint spun around and noticed Vick (short for Victor), a boy who was in charge of Barney's room, was following him. Behind him were six other kids. Two of which, Mickey and Brent, were part of his room. The other four, Clint didn't know. No one really had introduced themselves to him. He just learned their names by overhearing others kids speaking to them. he tended to hide out in random places and just listen to the other kids. So far, either none of them noticed or none of them seemed to mind. "Get over here."

"Why?" Clint asked, not moving from his spot. Vick and the others came closer. With each step they took closer the Clint, the angrier Vick looked to be getting. Instinct told Clint to run but he was slightly jealous that Barney was getting along with these kids better than he was, so he figured he might as well try to become friendly too. And why not get friendly with the kids that seemed to be getting along with his older brother. Never mind that he believed that Barney had spoken to them. But as he stared at Vick, Clint began to see the signs of anger that reminded him so much of his father. Gulping, Clint began to wonder what he had gotten himself into.

"I said, get over here," Vick snarled. Clint tensed in his spot but still didn't move. He almost feared that if he tired to step closer to Vick and the other boys, he turned tail and run. It was something he had always been good at when dealing with his father. Clint was always smaller and faster than the old man and he used that to his advantage all the time. The other boys stalked closer until Vick was standing in front of him, Mickey and one other boy stood on his left, Brent and another boy was on his right, while the last two moved behind him. Clint nervously glanced at all the boys before focusing on Vick. He already could tell what this was going to turn into and he really wished he had indeed run away.

"What's up?" Clint muttered, trying to not sound as scared as he felt. He was going to play this off that he was as big and mean as his brother. Clint had to act like he feared nothing. He almost completely forgot that the whole place had seen him shaking outside of the home on his first day. Vick rolled his eyes, not amused with Clint's act of bravery. He knew the truth. Hell, in an act of 'trust', Barney had spilt the beans about Clint and his cowardice.

"Just wanted to ask some questions," Vick told the younger boy, sounding deadly calm. Clint nodded, wishing that there was some nice way out of this situation. If only Barney was here, he'd know what to do. But Clint couldn't act like Barney. He couldn't think like Barney. So, Clint just tried to play it off if he couldn't care less.

"Okay, shoot," Clint said with a gentle smile. Vick frowned, unsure what to make of the youngest Barton. Barney had been upfront with him. He had told Vick that once he got out of his wheelchair, Vick would no longer be in charge. Barney, though younger then Vick, was taller and larger so the threat was well placed. But Clint, at six years old, barely looked old enough to be called three. So Vick assumed he could threaten the youngest to get the oldest to stop. Course if Clint was as crazy as Barney, maybe Vick would want to back down.

"How did your bro break his legs?" Vick questioned, having already been told the truth by Old Man Winters. Barney had lied to Vick already and when the older kid called him on it, that was when Barney threatened him. Clint frowned. That was so not what he was expecting. Clint went to answer truthfully but something Barney once told him stuck in his head. 'The more badass you sound and look, the less people will bother you. That's why Dad is so tough.' Clint never believed Barney but he knew his brother was going to become leader here, so why make it harder on him?

"He jumped off a bridge into a raging river," Clint answered. Vick stared at Clint for a minute, trying to determine if the boy was seriously trying to pull off that blatant lie. It took a second before Vick noticed it. Clint's left eye twitched. Right away, Vick could tell that Clint was lying and he snarled in anger. If there was one thing he really hated, it was being lied to. Barney only got away with it because he was bigger than Vick. Clint... Clint was a lot smaller than Vick. And the younger boy was surrounded by kids loyal to Vick. Snarling, Vick raised his fist and the next thing Clint knew, he was on the ground. His left cheek sore and his head spinning. Vick leaned in close.

"Tell your brother that he should back off. Step down and learn his place. He'll never be the leader here," Vick growled. Clint frowned, unsure why Barney's saying hadn't worked. Was it because he himself wasn't as threatening as Barney? Or was it because he lied? Knowing he had to answer Vick, he looked up into the older boy's eyes. Still wanting to believe in his brother and stay in good graces, Clint took a deep breath.

"No," Clint groaned, trying to make it sound like a threatening growl. Vick kicked him in the guts. Almost right away, Clint just about threw up but he was used to this sort of thing. Clint knew how to act when he was getting beaten. He held it in at the last second and glared up at Vick.

"Tell your bro, to smarten up or you'll regret it," Vick said, his voice going deathly soft. Clint groaned, wishing he wasn't going to do what he was about to do. But Barney would take revenge. Clint knew that Barney would defend his younger brother.

"Tell him yourself," the boy snapped. That was the end of their conversation. Vick nodded to the other boys and they descended.

_"Can't remember much after that for a while. Just pain and black. When I came too, I was still in the hallway. Old Man Winters was walking down the hall, his back to me. I knew he had seen me, but he just didn't care. When I could move again, I went to Barney," Clint told Bruce. After he finished speaking, Bruce suddenly stood. Clint stopped to stare at the doc rather than moving on. It took Bruce a minute before he noticed that Clint had gone silent. Snapping around to look at the archer, Bruce paused when he noticed Clint was staring at him. Bruce gave him a sheepish smile._

_"Legs went numb," Bruce explained with a small laugh. Clint snorted in humor before groaning as pain laced through his body. Bruce shifted forward but Clint held up a hand to wave him off. "Well, I guess it's kind of good that you're feeling pain again."_

_"It's times like this that I kind of wish I had the super solider serum as well," Clint moaned. Bruce frowned. He was making it sound like more than just Steve and Bruce had it. Seeing Bruce's confusion, Clint smiled. "Guess she didn't mention that. Her longevity comes from a poor version of the super solider serum. The Red Room didn't want to make them stronger or smarter or anything... They just wanted them to stay younger for a longer time."_

_"When did you met Natasha?" Bruce wondered. Clint sighed, remembering back him being ordered to kill her. He wasn't really sure he wanted to go into this story just yet. But he needed to do something._

_"Three weeks after my 21st birthday, Coulson came up to me with a mission... I was to go kill the Black Widow..."_

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**Hope you all liked! Review, favorite and follow! Reviewing helps me get the next story out faster than six months! Lol.**


	5. Age 21

**Tried to get this out when I first got home at 4 today but Baby Clint wanted to play games online. A week and a day away from being 1 years old and he knows that when I sit on the computer, he can bother me to play games online. Well, actually it's more like he gets to slam his hand on the keyboard as images on the screen change and make noise, but either way. He has fun. Anyways, enjoy this next chapter! I loved writing this one and the next one coming next week. ^_^**

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Age: 21

Mission: Execute Black Widow aka. Natalia Alianova Romanova

Coulson walked into the debrief room like he owned the place. A rather large file was tucked under his arm. Having been prepared, Coulson had memorized the whole file beforehand so this copy was his agent's. Clint had already been reclining in one of the seats which rather surprised the older agent. He had only informed the younger agent about this mission less than an hour prior. But considering this was going to be one of the archer's first mission post injury, Coulson really shouldn't have been shocked. Not that you could even tell. Coulson covered his emotions well and dropped the file down before Clint. It took the archer a moment before he stopped reclining to lean forward and grab the file. Slowly, he began scanning the information over. If the archer felt anything about what was said in the file, Coulson wouldn't know. For Clint had learned from his handler well. After a minute of complete silence he looked up at Coulson.

"Seriously? This is my mission?" Clint asked as if the whole thing was a joke. Coulson nodded, looking more serious than normal. And if Clint didn't know any better, Coulson looked slightly nervous. Considering the file said that this person had killed many agent and handler pairs before, Clint couldn't tell what Coulson was more nervous about, the archer or himself. Clint dropped the file down onto the table. He already knew a lot about the mysterious woman the S.H.I.E.L.D could only call Black Widow. In fact, he had secretly been in on every meeting about her. "I am to go kill her?"

"Do you have a problem with this mission? We have many other agents we can send," Coulson questioned, unperturbed by Clint making sure this mission was actually his. Heck, even he had been shocked when Fury demanded that Clint was the next agent to take on this dangerous assassin. Clint snarled, thinking of some of the other agents that worked for S.H.I.E.L.D. He didn't really want any of them going after Black Widow. She and he had a history. One that S.H.I.E.L.D didn't know about, if it was the Widow he thought it was. He had been told that there were multiple Black Widows.

_"Really? You knew Natasha before you were sent to kill her?" Bruce called. Clint nodded. It wasn't that big of a deal now to mention it. He actually had already assumed Natasha had mentioned it. But then again, considering how she reacted back then, he wouldn't be surprised if someone had erased her memory of their first meeting._

_"Yeah... Actually, when I left Ivan's group, I met her. She helped me become a better assassin till Coulson found me," Clint admitted. Bruce sighed. "It wasn't until years later that I was actually assigned her case... So... It's no surprise that she doesn't remember that she met me before. Then again, even I don't really remember much about it. Just that we met, she helped me and we moved on."_

_"So... Did Coulson try to take the mission away when he found out?" Bruce wondered. Clint snorted and shook his head._

_"I didn't tell him..."_

"No one else can handle this," Clint snapped as he slammed his hands down onto the table. If Coulson wasn't the extreme super agent that he was, he would have jumped at the sudden noise. Instead his eyes twitched to look up at Clint. His eyes showed the slight shock at Clint's reaction but otherwise he showed nothing of how he felt. If Clint didn't know Coulson at all, he'd say that Coulson didn't care if he lived or died. But Clint did know Coulson and so he knew that the old agent was worried that Clint was overreacting.

"We have indeed already lost over twenty agents who tried to go up against her. But Fury and I believe that you are our best shot now," Coulson told him. Clint nodded. He agreed completely that he was S.H.I.E.L.D's best choice. Even without his prior history with the Widow, Clint was one of the best (if not the best) agent S.H.I.E.L.D had. Sighing deeply, Clint leaned forward against the desk. There were some bits of the mission that weren't outlined in the file before him.

"How deep undercover am I to go?" Clint questioned. Coulson sighed deeply. This was the part that really bothered him the most about the whole thing.

"We have intel that Widow will be appearing at the Gala in New York. Her target is supposed to be the head of Stark Industries, or so we believe," Coulson began. Clint frowned, holding up a hand to stop Coulson from speaking any more.

"Tony Stark? Is he finally the leader?" Clint muttered, reaching for the folder again. He was never one for watching the news or even reading it online. All his info came from over the water cooler, cafeteria, and shooting range. Gossip mainly focused on S.H.I.E.L.D stuff and not the outside world, so it was no surprise that Clint had no idea. Coulson shook his head while he began making plans on getting Clint more aware of the rest of the world.

"No. Obadiah Stane," Coulson answered. Clint growled at the name. Something about that guy just rubbed him the wrong way. Sadly, everyone loved him. "But our intel states that Stark may make a surprise appearance at the gala."

"Should I worry about her changing over to him?" Clint watched Coulson for any sign of confermation. Sometimes it wasn't in the actual mission to watch for things like that but if Coulson gave Clint any sort of sign otherwise, the archer damned well did his best. Coulson shook his head.

"Not that we are aware of. But just in case, watch over him," Coulson answered. Clint frowned, finally understanding what Coulson was getting at. His eyes widened in shock. Coulson couldn't be meaning what Clint thought he was meaning. Quickly he grabbed the folder again and flipped through. After a few seconds of looking over the papers, the archer groaned loudly. Coulson smirked. "Yes, you have to attend the gala and not watch from a perch outside."

"Do I seriously have to attend? I could easily spot her from outside!" Clint complained. Coulson smirked, having been ready for this argument the moment he saw the orders. At first he had thought Fury was joking when he was handed this order. He had even confirmed it with the Director. Though

Clint was a distance agent, he was also a remarkable spy. Slowly, Coulson shook his head. "I see better from a distance."

"You have a secondary mission to keep all the guests at the gala safe. You can't do that from a distance. Never mind that she would spot you and run," Coulson mentioned. Clint frowned. That was just an insult as to his talents. And Clint didn't take kindly to those.

"Do you take me for a rookie? I know how to hide from a mark!" Clint snapped. Coulson leveled a hard gaze onto the other agent.

"Agent Green wasn't a rookie either," Coulson calmly pointed out. Clint's frown deepened before once again, he looked at the file. Coulson didn't give him that much time to read over what he wanted to before speaking again. "We lost him, her mark, his handler and her after that. She reappeared a year later."

Clint didn't look at his handler. Instead he looked over the other various failed missions. Many were indeed distance missions where Black Widow would find them and kill them before they even spotted her. The rest, she would either never have been seen or talking on the other side of the room and suddenly, they'd die. Nearly all of these missions were from poisoning that induced a heart attack, her M.O. But no one ever saw her actually poison the agents, nor the others on the mission. Each and every time it was agent and handler who died. Clint suddenly realized that Coulson must really trust him if he was going to be acting handler.

"Who got the picture?" Clint wondered, looking at an extremely blurry picture of a lithe red headed woman. It was hard to make out her features, but Clint knew what they looked like anyways. Her face was burned into his memory forever. Though the time he spent with her was brief, Clint swore that he'd never forget her.

"A guest from a party on one of her missions. It's actually from before we even started chasing her. To be honest, intel isn't even sure that it's her. But all missions before mentioned a red haired woman before we lost contact," Coulson said. Clint nodded, used to lack of information. But the more he was told about this particular mission, the more he began to feel like this would be his last mission. Glancing over the file to look at Coulson, Clint swore that it wouldn't be the end of his. The archer would stop the Black Widow, even if it killed him.

_"We then went into the logistics of the whole mission. Where we were going to be, how many other agents I'd need to help protect the guests, what agents would be best, if we should let security know and so on. Then we split up to pack and got to the gala," Clint explained, resting his head against the rocks behind him. He had a fond smile as he remembered the suit he was forced into wearing that night. Never mind the huge fight Coulson and he had at the hotel about the monkey outfit. Clint had started that fight for fun but by the end of it, he was so pissed that he almost punched Coulson's face in._

_"When did you figure out you knew her?" Bruce asked. For a moment, Clint didn't register what the doc was asking. Then he smirked._

_"When she slammed me into a wall..."_

"What are you doing here?" a woman hissed in Clint's ear after he bashed into the hard surface that was now behind him. Dazed from hitting his head, it took the archer a bit to realize what was going on. Thankfully Coulson was silent in his ear, as well as the other S.H.I.E.L.D agents. The woman was close enough to Clint's face that he feared she'd hear them talking to him if they tried. She had an arm against his throat to hold him in place and a gun jabbing into his side to make sure he didn't try anything. Watching her as he cleared his head, Clint noticed her emerald green eyes and fiery red hair that was done up into a tight bun. It took Clint a minute more to realize that this was the Black Widow and... He knew her. Worst of all, she remembered him. "This is my mark!"

"I have a different mark," Clint grumbled in Russian, a language that he knew Coulson didn't know and he wasn't even sure he told S.H.I.E.L.D that he knew. He couldn't let S.H.I.E.L.D know that he knew this woman. It was bad enough that they knew most of his history. But Clint couldn't be removed from this mission. Especially now that he knew her. Natalia, the woman holding him, had taught him Russian so long ago that as he used it, Clint realized he was rather rusty. Thankfully, she got the gist. Slowly her eyes narrowed.

"I thought you got out," she called, still in English. Clint squeezed his eyes closed as she tightened her arm against his neck. It was a clear enough threat that meant if he lied, she'd know. When she backed off, he looked at her again and shook his head. He needed to get her to switch languages.

"Got out of the 'for hire' part," he explained, again in Russian. With a dark hiss, she backed off, letting him drop to the floor but she kept her gun trained on him. Clint watched as she looked him over for some sort of sign. When she got it, surprise flitted over her features before she looked as if she just shut down. Unsure of what to make of that, Clint just watched her. Slowly, she lowered her gun, but still kept it pointed toward him as a just in case. Clint took a little pride in the fact that she refused to fully put it away. Even though he shouldn't, it meant that she assumed he'd be a challenge.

"You're here for me?" she asked, this time in Russian. She finally understood that someone was listening in. Clint wanted to nod but stopped. He could only pray that this wasn't true. As much as Clint wanted to fix his past and redo most of his life, he'd never regret meeting Natalia. Nor would he ever regret what he learned while working with her.

"Are you the Black Widow?" he countered in Russian, even though he knew that Coulson might understand her code-name. There was a gasp on the other end of his comm, but Clint didn't make any response to it. Natalia frowned but slowly nodded. While he watched her, she put her gun away again. A pair of party guest walked by. Clint could only sigh deeply before closing his eyes. When he opened them, Natalia was still there, which partly surprised the archer. She was watching him, sadly.

"I have to complete this mission," she told him in her native language. Clint frowned. That was totally not what he was expecting her to say.

"Why?" he asked in English. Natalia jerked at his abrupt change but didn't run. Grunting, Clint reached up and ripped his comm out of his ear. There was a brief sound of protest at the sudden crackle from the removal but Clint didn't respond. Natalia just watched him. "Why is this mark so important?"

"I want to make it my last one," Natalia answered. Clint shook his head. She gave him a sad smile before reaching out to stroke his cheek. In the years after she had abandoned Clint, she found she missed him. It had been good to have someone watching her back. Her memory tended to betray her at many points in time but her time with Clint was something she'd hold dear and private.

"I can't let you do that," Clint responded. Natalia gave him a sad smile and Clint knew, before she could do anything, that he might not be able to stop her. She shifted in just the slightest before she attacked. Clint, having just barely remembered her tells, was able to dodge by the skin of his teeth. Her right leg swung over his ducked head so fast that Clint was amazed he had actually dodged. But her next attack, he couldn't. She dropped her foot to the ground and back kicked out with her left leg, catching Clint in the side. He grunted when his momentum slammed him back into the wall. "You don't have to do this!"

"Yes. I do," Natalia told him as she threw a punch toward him. Clint shifted so that her hand would just skim his cheek before reaching out and grabbing her wrist. Growling, she pulled him closer toward her. He fell into her, intentionally knocking her off balance. The duo fell into the opposite wall with it looking as though Clint was giving her a kiss. Another party couple came by and giggled at the position the two assassins were in. Natalia began to blush slightly until they were gone and then she lifted her left leg up to slam into his stomach. With a grunt, he backed away, releasing her. By the time he recovered, she was gone. Clint cursed.

_"We lost track of her after that. Coulson was pretty much furious with me after that. Even though no one died, he didn't care. Refused to speak to me. Didn't even ask what we talked about. Nothing, he just didn't care," Clint remembered. Bruce smiled, thinking about the agent that he hadn't really spent that much time with. Even though he didn't have that long with the agent, he could see Coulson acting like that. Especially after how everyone else talked about him. "He wanted to take me off the mission. But when I told Fury that I'd look for her on my own, Fury had to give in and keep me going. I think he also gave in because I was the only one who had seen her and lived to tell the tale."_

_"Did Coulson ever find out what you two talked about?" Bruce mumbled. Clint laughed._

_"He wishes!" Clint said, still laughing. Bruce's smile widened, enjoying that Clint was being so open. Clint calmed and relaxed against the stone once again. He sighed deeply. "No... Coulson never did find out. I didn't tell him. Natasha thought I already did... And Coulson never asked me."_

_"But that doesn't rule out Natasha telling him when you weren't around," Bruce pointed out. Clint nodded, having already thought of that before._

_"Trust me, if Coulson knew or was even told, he'd take some sort of revenge on me. Seeing as he never did, I believe he never found out," Clint carefully explained. Bruce laughed. Clint gave him an odd look but before he could ask, Bruce just shook his head. There was a long silence. One in which Bruce forgot that Clint was slowly dying and needed to stay awake. It wasn't until Clint suddenly jerked and then loudly cursed, that Bruce remembered._

_"Shit, I'm sorry Clint!" Bruce cried as he rushed to check over the archer's body. Clint grunted as he shook in fear. He had felt himself drifting off to sleep and he couldn't stop himself. After so many times seeing so many other agents falling into the same trap, Clint had sworn he would never do that. But he never understood how much the darkness called him. It was so... enticing. "Jeez! How close were you?"_

_"Nearly out..." Clint admitted softly. Slowly he looked to Bruce. "I don't want to die."_

_"I won't let you! Tell me about how you got Natasha to join S.H.I.E.L.D," Bruce suggested. Clint nodded, tears rolling down his face as he tried to cover his own fear of nearly dying. He was really beginning to believe now that the others wouldn't find them in time._

_"Natasha showed up on the assassin's hit list a few days after the gala. On the run, S.H.I.E.L.D found it a bit easier to track her. Considering I was on probation for about a month, other agents were on her case. They never found her and she never killed any of them. All she did was turn tail and run. Until I was back after her. We met again in Miyajima. Natasha was checking out the Torii with a huge crowd of tourists when I spotted her. I was stationed in the temple, a good distance back and Coulson was wandering the crowd," Clint began. Bruce smiled, remembering the Torii from his own travels. He had happen to catch it at high tide where it looked to be floating on the water and so he never got to enjoy getting up close to it._

"Overwatch, I see her," Clint called into the comms without much preamble. Coulson jerked just slightly in surprise at his voice. He had told him about an hour before to keep off comms unless absolutely necessary. Clint believed this to be necessary, but judging by Coulson's angry glare back at him, he was wrong. Natalia jerked in response, glancing quickly at Coulson. Somehow she had heard the nearly silent comm. When she noticed that Coulson wasn't even looking at her, she followed his line of sight and spotted Clint. Clint could just about see her mouth his name before she suddenly vanished. "Shit! Overwatch, get out of there!"

"What happened?" Coulson snapped, rushing to get away from the huge Torii. Clint quickly prepared his bow and loaded an arrow. Coulson's eyes widened when the archer aimed them straight at him. Just before coming on the mission, Coulson was informed that Clint may be turning against them to join Black Widow. Coulson had just hoped that that was just a bad explanation as to her sudden change of habit. But now, Coulson wasn't so sure. "Hawkeye?"

"Watching your six," Clint declared, watching the rest of the crowd behind the older agent for any signs of the red head. Coulson swore into the comm, glancing back at the crowd. Natalia had vanished so fast that Clint couldn't even tell if she was still in the crowd. "For someone with such bright red hair, she sure can disappear."

"Not helping," Coulson mentioned, now almost halfway to the temple. That was when Clint spotted her. She was at the other end of the temple, rushing across the roof and heading straight for him. Clint's eyes widened when he noticed she had two twin guns in her hands. Coulson snapped to attention when Clint swore once again into the comm. He looked to see Clint spin away from his direction and toward a different end of the temple. Following the archer's gaze, Coulson spotted the lithe red head rushing toward his agent. Briefly he wondered how fast the assassin was to have gotten all the way over there. But it didn't partly explain how she got away with the other agents' murders. "Get out of there!"

"No can do!" Clint called back before grabbing the comm from his ear, dropping it to the ground and rushing toward the Black Widow. Natalia smirked when she saw Clint coming toward her and shifted direction away. Clint didn't even think for a moment that she might be baiting him. The chase was on.

_"I lost track of her three times... Each time, I think she made herself seen so that I could follow her. At the time, I didn't think about the fact that she was leading me away from Coulson and any S.H.I.E.L.D backup. I just wanted to get her," Clint admitted. Bruce snorted, imagining the whole thing in his head. "She let me catch up to her on the top of Mount Misen."_

"Hello again," Natalia said as Clint reached the peak. No one else was there except a small monkey that was watching the duo with an interested gaze. Clint snorted as he tried to catch his breath. Chasing her up the mountain was something he hadn't expected, nor was he ready for. Though medical had approved him for missions a while ago, Clint still wasn't up to his full endurance. She smirked at him. The only sign she gave of enjoying his discomfort. "What are you doing? Doesn't S.H.I.E.L.D have a price on my head?"

"How do you know who I work for?" Clint gasped out. Natalia pointed to the logo on the chest of his uniform. Clint growled at it as if it completely offended him. A soft chuckle made Clint frown. That couldn't have been from her. But it wasn't from him and certainly not the damned monkey. Slowly, he looked up at Natalia. It took him a bit to realize she was just standing there, watching him catch his breath. "Why aren't you running from me?"

"If I have to die by anyone's hands, why not my predecessor?" Natalia questioned. Clint took a moment to realize what she meant. Then he stared at her as if she told him that he was 'god'. She gave him a smile and opened her arms as though welcoming him to attack. Clint just stared at her. After a minute, she looked at him. "Well?"

"No fighting? No more running? You're just going to go... Like this?" Clint asked, wondering if there was some type of punch line or something. This whole thing just felt... Wrong. Natalia shook her head. Clint frowned. "No..." Natalia looked at him in shock. Was he refusing her request? Was he actually refusing an order from his newest authority? Was he risking his life for her? "No... I won't do this."

"Are you refusing?" Natalia growled, feeling too insulted to be fully relieved at not dying. Clint nodded his head, now beginning to wonder if he was making a mistake. Natalia was better than he was. She was a better fighter, a better assassin. Hell, she was the one who trained him so long ago. So what makes him think that right now he could survive not killing her when she was giving him the chance to?

"I won't kill you like this," Clint told her, a grimace already beginning to form before her face can narrow into a glare. "You don't deserve this."

Natalia lunged toward Clint, wrapping her hands around his throat. He fell back in shock but his mind registered the attack and moved his arms in an arch over his head and down into the inside of her elbows. The force made her release her rather loose grip on his throat. Backing up a step, she swung her leg out to kick him. He had only a second to realize what that meant before he raised his arm to defend himself. The strength behind the kick sent the archer stumbling back a few steps. Enough for Natalia to recover and come at him with her other leg. He couldn't defend this time and took the shin of her leg into the right cheek of his face. It sent him spinning down onto the ground, where Natalia began to straddle him before he could recover.

"I deserve so much worse than this," Natalia snarled into Clint's ear as he tried to recover. Feeling her legs tightening around his neck, the archer knew he was at her mercy. Slowly, he raised his eyes to look into hers.

"What if I could help fix it?" Clint softly asked her. Natalia raised an eyebrow but patiently waited for him to continue. "What if, you went after the force you used to work for?"

"Kill the Red Room? Impossible," Natalia scoffed. Clint shook his head for only a second but was forced to stop when Natalia flexed her muscles. He gulped before centering himself and continuing.

"Not just the Red Room. But everyone you ever worked for. All those who stand for... Well, evil," Clint finished pathetically. Natalia stared at Clint for a minute. Her eyes searched his face for something. Almost like she was looking for the truth. No... It was something else. Finally she let out a barking laugh and got off of him. He rolled away from her before stopping and watching as she clutched at her sides.

"Are you serious? Please, tell me you're joking!" Natalia begged. Clint frowned, unsure if he should be insulted or not. Natalia shook her head before getting onto her knees and looking out over the mountain view. Clint focused on her for a moment before turning to look over at the monkey that had surprisingly never left. "Do you really believe in all that?"

"All what?" Natalia tilted her head just slightly to look over at him.

"All that crap? That 'we're trying to save the world' shit that these companies spill," Natalia questioned. Clint sighed and sat up. This wasn't how he had expected things to go. But at least she had stopped attacking him.

"No... No I don't," Clint admitted. Natalia turned to face him fully. Now it was his turn to look out over the view. Below, he could see the small town that the two had run from. The town that Coulson was searching him for. Clint sighed deeply. "I believe in one man. One man that was willing to look past all I had done. He believes in all that 'save the world' crap."

"What did he do to you?" Clint slowly looked to her. She had a wondering, yet hopeful, gaze. He smiled at her.

"He gave me a chance."

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**Wow... Did you enjoy? Review, Favorite or Follow! Thanks!**


	6. Age 21 part 2

**Sorry for the later in the day update. But I had to wait until Baby Clint went to sleep. Over the last week or so, I have been holding him so he could play some educational games. Now, every time I sit at the computer he demands to play those games and I can't work. Thankfully I figured out that we can easily put him to bed at 8 and then as long as I feel like, I can stay up and work on future stories.**

**For those of you reading today (9-12-14) or Saturday (9-13-14), it is Baby Clint's 1st birthday! So, if you wouldn't mind reviewing him a happy birthday and I can show it to him when he is older, that'd be great. ^_^ I still have the reviews from when he was born and leading up too to show him. But anyways, here is the chapter that you've been waiting for!**

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Age: 21

Mission: _Execute_ **Rescue** Black Widow aka. _Natalia Alianova Romanova_ **Natasha Romanoff**

_"I didn't see Natasha much after I handed her over to Coulson a few hours later."_

_"Why hours later?" Bruce interrupted. Clint snorted and glance over at him._

_"The damned monkey stole her gun," Clint said sounding more like a joke then it was meant to. Bruce raised an eyebrow at that but when Clint nodded his head down, Bruce began laughing. "We spent most of that time trying to get it back."_

_"Did you tell Coulson?"_

_"Hell no. We went back to her hotel room and packed all of her stuff. Never reported in and just appeared in front of Coulson together as he was calling Fury. It was that reason that Coulson didn't stop Fury from throwing my ass in the jail cells for two months," Clint laughed before chocking on the pain. Bruce leaned forward as if he could attempt to sooth the pain by rubbing his hand on Clint's back. But as a doctor, he knew that there was nothing else he could do to help Clint out._

_"You were thrown in jail for Natasha?" Bruce questioned once Clint relaxed back against the wall. Clint smirked before nodding. It was almost as if the archer was proud of himself for getting thrown in jail. Bruce sighed before shaking his own head. It was becoming slightly more evident why Clint didn't really want the others to know his history. He was certainly a trouble maker. Either that or trouble loved to come to him. If it was the later, Bruce wondered if everyone would be as concerned with Clint as he currently was._

_"Yeah. Coulson reported that I took off with Natasha and didn't check in. When I arrived with her beside me, not even tied up, toting all her weapons... Well, Coulson freaked. By then, back-up had already arrived and promptly arrested both of us. Natasha almost broke out, just to kill me. But I begged Coulson and so once we reached the Helicarrier, he spoke to Fury for both of us," Clint said with a smile that seemed to spread larger on his face. Bruce snorted as he tried to imagine the whole thing. Clint's smile grew as he turned to look at Bruce._

_"If Coulson spoke to Fury right away, why were you in jail for so long?" Clint gave a soft laugh before grimacing at his wounds. Bruce frowned before leaning over and going through the motions of checking over his patient. Clint relaxed as much as he could. He didn't want to tell Bruce that his legs were beginning to go numb._

_"Fury claims he forgot about me. But I know that it just took them that long to get Natasha into the system," Clint answered. Bruce nodded. "By that time, Natasha had proven herself as a possible good agent."_

_"Possible?"_

_"Everyone was too afraid to go on a mission with her. Hell, nearly all of S.H.I.E.L.D was too afraid to even train with her. By the time I was let out of jail, she had thrown nearly thirty people into Medical while 'trainin,'" Clint mentioned. Bruce chuckled. After having seen Natasha put Steve in his place on the mat, Bruce was certain that Natasha could put down that many agents. "I was only let out to give her someone to train with. When I lasted against her, Fury demanded that we try to go on a mission together. If it didn't work out, I'd go back to jail and she'd be killed."_

"I work alone," Natasha restated as if Coulson hadn't heard her the first time she said it since the beginning of the meeting. Clint just relaxed back in his chair wondering who was going to win the glaring contest first, Natasha or Coulson. Natasha had her arms crossed across her chest and her head tipped down so that her glare was just barely visible below her eyebrows. Coulson sat with his arms crossed in a similar manner but his head was tilted up and he looked down on her with his glare just looking over his cheeks.

"Agent Barton is assigned to watch your back. No one works alone in S.H.I.E.L.D until they have proven themselves," Coulson countered.

"I don't need a babysitter," Natasha snarled. Coulson twitched at that, having already felt before that he babysat Clint. Now he had to watch out for Natasha as well? Coulson was almost certain that these two would spell his death. He didn't know when. It was just a feeling that they would.

"I don't need to babysit, but we don't always get what we want," Coulson mentioned. Natasha lowered her head a bit more, showing that Coulson scored a point in their little back and forth. When she raised her gaze back up, Coulson looked a bit more prideful.

"My agreement for working in S.H.I.E.L.D states that I can choose to work alone," Natasha pointed out.

"Your agreement also mentions that that can occur after a trial period with other agents as your partner," Coulson explained. Natasha snarled, thinking back to the paper she had glanced through. For once, she wished that she had spent more time trying to understand all the mumbo jumbo. But this time... This one time, she decided to trust in Clint. Spinning, she glared at him. It was his fault that she was here.

"Hey, don't blame me! I couldn't even read my paperwork when I first signed up!" Clint admitted. Natasha growled this time but knew that it was true. She had known that Clint didn't have a good education before her and it never bothered her before. But she almost wished that he could have warned her.

"So what is this mission?" Natasha snarled darkly at Coulson. The older agent just gave her a nod before sliding two files across the table. Clint grabbed one and Natasha the other. She raised her eyebrow when Clint opened his and began reading. When he felt her gaze, he looked up, shrugged, and went back to reading. Rolling her eyes, she scanned over the documents.

"Natasha will be sent into the ballroom to play with the mark. She'll get him to bring her to his bedroom where he will give her important information. Clint, you will be stationed on the building across the street. You will watch their every move. There are many other groups after this info and we need to be the first ones at it," Coulson began.

"I'm to seduce him?" Natasha questioned, not sure if she liked this plan.

"If that is what it takes. We leave those types of details to the agents. Whatever you feel comfortable with," Coulson explained. Natasha nodded.

_"Wait, I thought Natasha was good at that?" Bruce muttered. Clint stopped, surprised at the interruption. He had almost completely fallen back into the memory and lost track of what was going on around him. Actually, Clint was partly surprised that he had still been talking. But his sore throat was proof that he had been talking the entire time._

_"She is. Doesn't mean she likes doing it. It actually really tends to bother her," Clint mentioned. Once again, he was struck by how much he had thought Natasha would have told the others. She had once before made it plain and clear that she hated seducing marks, yet she never mentioned it to the Avengers? Shaking his head, Clint continued on. "We headed off an hour later. Arrived at the site about four hours ahead of the party. Gave enough time for me to scout a vantage point, Natasha to get the basic rundown of the schematics, and for her to buy a dress. She told me none of her plans and I never expected her too. but Coulson was on edge. He was used to at least some bit of information."_

"Will you use these?" Coulson smartly questioned Natasha as he showed her a few comm units. Natasha paused at them. She hadn't really ever used one before, not that she'd ever admit that to Coulson. But when Clint snatched one up without question, she grabbed one as well.

"Don't distract me with orders in my ear," Natasha snarled as she placed the unit into her left ear and was surprised when it fit perfectly. Narrowing her eyes at the older agent, she wondered when they got a mold for her ear. Coulson nodded, ignoring the looks of surprise at the perfectly molded comm. He wasn't about to explain to her that it was made out of nanotech that wouldn't be released into the public for another five years or more.

"Just so you know, I chat," Clint stated, his back facing Natasha and Coulson. She glanced at the archer before glaring at Coulson. He shrugged and nodded again. Clint did indeed chat a lot on comms. "Just wanted to let you know. I ain't gonna change."

"You distract me, I'll kill you myself," Natasha snapped. Clint straightened and faced her. His eyes looked darker and narrowed. For a moment the Black Widow became frightened. She almost wondered if Clint had been holding back in training. But she stiffened her shoulders and glared back at Clint as if it didn't faze her.

"Give it a try, Romanoff," Clint growled. Natasha sniffed in agitation before spinning on her heel and heading off to get ready. She wasn't sure how long she could hold up her act and so she figured leaving was the best course of action.

_"Well, given you're alive, I assume you didn't?" Bruce mentioned when Clint paused to take a breath. Clint shook his head, a smile slowly forming on his face. Bruce wondered what Clint actaully did._

_"No. I bothered her a great deal. But it actually fit well into her persona. Each time I distracted her, she used it to her advantage. I don't really remember much of it but I do remember we got the info, Natasha wasn't disgusted with the mission, Coulson was pleased, Fury was pleased and we ended up being set up as partners," Clint mentioned. Bruce nodded. He had assumed as much._

_"You mentioned that other agents didn't like her. Is it still like that?"_

_"Mostly. I mean, no one really cares for either of us right now. A lot of other agents were also in line to be Avengers. Hell, I don't even really think either of us were chosen but seeing as we did fight in Manhattan, no one could argue against us."_

_"Is that why you still have a lot of problems with S.H.I.E.L.D?"_

_"I guess. I mean... I was the youngest agent to ever be recruited so... I have a lot of shit on my back just for that," Clint admitted. Bruce frowned. Had Clint mentioned that before? He couldn't remember. It was then that Bruce began to notice that Clint had stopped bleeding. Bruce rushed forward and began to inspect the wounds. "Stopped bleeding?"_

_"Clint, this really isn't good."_

_"I know. Hey, why don't you go check to see if you can find a way out. I'll keep talking," Clint promised. Bruce frowned but nodded. Slowly, he stood and headed toward where he though the entrance would be. He was so surprised at finding it, that he didn't even notice that Clint hadn't spoken since the doc stood. Without a word to the archer, Bruce slipped out of their little hole. Clint smirked at the doctor's receding back. Once he was certain that Bruce was far enough away to not hear him, Clint spoke to the air around him. "Coulson. I am so sorry. I wish I could have done more. Erased more. But I can't. I can't hold on..."_

_Clint closed his eyes. In the distance he heard something that sounded like Bruce shouting. But it wasn't loud enough for Clint to concern himself with. He relaxed back. Seconds later, the shouting got louder. Then there was shaking. Clint groaned as his wounds made themselves known. Slowly he peeked an eye open and his glazed vision spotted Bruce shouting at him. 'Clint, they're here! Tony is right outside! S.H.I.E.L.D is here, we're saved!' But Clint was too relaxed. He smiled at the doctor and drifted back off in time to hear Iron Man's repulsors enter the cave._

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**So mad... I thought allowed lines through words... I wanted it that the title had some worse as if they were crossed out... Oh well... Hope you enjoyed.**

**Review, Favorite and Follow!**


	7. Present Day

**So baby Clint is now 1 years old! He had an awesome birthday party! Got lots of gifts and had fun with family. But many of you care more about Marvel Clint right now. Specially considering I am killing him. lol**

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Present Day

The Avengers (minus one) all stood around the door for medical waiting for news of their missing member. It hadn't been that long ago that they had found the archer and doc. Once found, Clint was brought right into surgery and everyone else was told to wait outside. Tony had been the only one to see the duo until this point. At the time, when Tony first spotted Bruce standing outside the cave that Hulk had hidden the missing Avengers in, the genius felt like nothing was wrong. But as he descended, JARVIS noted Bruce's accelerated heart rate. Noting such, Tony frowned and watched as the doc rushed back into the cave. Tony almost dismissed the issue until he realized that Clint hadn't been outside as well. With his own sense of panic, Tony had rushed after the doctor.

"Tony! He's unconscious!" Bruce had shouted as soon as the Iron Man landed. "You have to get him to medical! NOW!"

Tony didn't even have a second to process what he was seeing before he numbly nodded at Bruce's words. Noting that Tony was falling into a sort of shock at Clint's damaged state, JARVIS briefly took over the suit. Together, JARVIS and Bruce loaded Clint into Iron Man's arms as gently as they could. Clint's grunts and moans of pain drew Tony out of his shock long enough for his fantastic mind to understand that he was holding his dying teammate. As soon as he understood that, Tony began to have a rather large panic attack, so once again JARVIS took over the suit and flew it off toward the Helicarrier waiting in the distance. Tony was so out of it that he didn't hear the cry of surprise from the other Avengers as he flew past the Quinjet that was now left to pick up Bruce.

That all happened over two hours prior. Bruce had gotten rescued only a few minutes after Tony landed on the Helicarrier deck and was not pleased by what he saw waiting for him when the Quinjet arrived back at the Helicarrier. Rather than rushing off with the dying patient, two nurses and a doctor patiently waited for the Quinjet. Bruce was so pissed off that he almost Hulked out on them for waiting to check on him, rather than working on Clint. As Bruce screamed at the nurses, the others, having not really knowing how close they were/are to loosing Clint, headed off toward Medical to check on their archer. They meet up with Tony at the door to Medical. He had stripped his suit off and laid it in a corner of the room.

"Is it really that bad?" Natasha questioned when she noticed the discarded suit. Tony looked over to her.

"He wasn't breathing."

* * *

_"If there was any tampering, sir, it wasn't at this end."_

_"At this end?"_

_"Yeah, the cube is a doorway to the other end of space, right? Doors open up from both sides."_

* * *

"Did you guys know that Clint was from the circus?" Bruce suddenly asked after almost another hour had passed with no updates. Natasha, who was sitting in a folding chair across from the Medical door, frowned. She had sort of remembered hearing something about that. But it was from so long ago, she wasn't sure if she could trust her memory. Tony, who had collapsed on the right side of the doorway, had his eyes bug out in surprise. He had no idea but now was getting some great ideas for some new nicknames and practical jokes to pull on the archer once Clint got better. Steve shook his head no, a small smile on his face at the news as he relaxed into another folding chair beside Natasha.

"What is a circus?" Thor retorted, having never heard of such a thing before. His pacing stopped as he stared at Bruce. The doctor almost laughed before smirking and trying to figure out how to explain what a circus was. Before he could, Tony stood up and placed a hand on the Asgardian's shoulder.

"I'll bring you to one, once Katniss recovers," Tony responded without missing a beat. Thor smiled and nodded his thanks to the genius. He was beginning to understand that when the others couldn't explain something than they'd just show him. Bruce smirked, wondering if Clint would care that the others now knew. But considering how much the archer knew about the others, it was only even. "How did you find out about that?"

"He told me," Bruce answered, not realizing the problem this may cause with the others. There was a long minute of silence as the other Avengers stared at Bruce. Feeling something off, he glanced up at them. Natasha looked stunned, Steve was surprised, Tony seemed shock and Thor had a confused expression. Realizing what he said and how he said it, Bruce grimaced. "We needed to keep him conscious. Without much else to do, we talked about his past."

"He willingly opened up?" Natasha inquired. Bruce nodded.

"Well, what else did he tell you?" Tony pressed. Bruce frowned, unsure if he should actually tell the others about everything Clint had discussed. Would the archer be fine with the info shared? How much of it was supposed to stay secret? Was any of it? Well, Bruce was certain of one thing. Keeping it too himself was not good for team bonding. So even if it meant that Clint and his relationship took a hit, Bruce had to share. With a deep sigh, Bruce told everyone all the stories that Clint told him.

* * *

_"Sir, Director Fury is stalling. This place is about to blow and drop a hundred feet of rock. He means to bury us."_

_"Like the pharaohs of old."_

_"He's right. The portal is collapsing in on itself. We're got maybe two minutes before this goes critical."_

_"Well then."_

* * *

As Bruce finished the last story, the doors opened to Medical. In shock, all the Avengers jumped to their feet. It of course ended in disappointment when the person who exited the doors was just a newly released patient. At the sight of the Avengers (minus one) the agent almost had a heart attack. After taking a moment to recover the agent slipped past the group as they began to relax back into their seats from before. No spoke for a bit. Then Tony got too aggravated with the silence and waiting.

"This is such a pain in the ass!" Tony whined. "I want to know how he is!"

"Don't we all, Stark," Natasha snarled. Tony sighed deeply before suddenly snickering.

"Was your name really Natalia?" he asked. Natasha sighed deeply. Slowly, almost as if she'd regret every movement, she nodded. Tony snorted in a humor that only he would understand.

"Did you choose Natasha?" Steve questioned. Natasha nodded. "What made you choose that?"

"It was close enough to my own name. And I... I had used Natasha as my cover enough that there would be no hesitation when someone called me it. So, it just seemed to work," Natasha admitted. Steve nodded.

"Is that why you don't tend to change your name when undercover?" Bruce inquired. Natasha nodded.

"As I said, Natasha was originally a cover name. So once I changed my name over to that for S.H.I.E.L.D, I just never saw the point in faking my name. Now a days, I only use a cover when working with a partner and mostly all of the time, my partner is Clint," Natasha mentioned.

"It was mentioned that you did not originally fit within S.H.I.E.L.D. Why would you trust in the Eyes of Hawk?" Thor added. Natasha sighed deeply.

"Clint and I met once before. He was only seventeen. Naive as fuck. Already had a bunch of kills under his belt. His boss had sent him after one of my marks. Knowing that I couldn't do the job alone and sending the boy in alone was a death sentence, I promised to train him if he helped me. Needless to say, two weeks later, we killed the mark and I didn't see him again until S.H.I.E.L.D was after me," Natasha concluded. Bruce frowned. There were so many more details that had gotten left out. Then again, he was used to Clint's versions of stories. And the archer was rather elaborate on details. Almost as if each event could have happened the day before.

"You trained him in only two weeks?" Steve called, incredulously. Natasha nodded and shrugged her shoulders like it was no big deal. And technically, it wasn't. Everyone had seen that Clint was fast at learning new things.

"He was a quick study. Claimed that some guy named Trick made sure he learned fast or died trying," Natasha stated.

"How much more do you know about Clint?" Tony muttered. "How much more could have happened to him?"

"A lot," a new voice mentioned as it entered into the Avenger's space. The group jumped just slightly at the voice before looking to see Director Nick Fury standing before them. "Clint was orphaned by age 6, raped at as early as age 13, joined the Army at 16, killed at 17 and was recruited at 18. Here in S.H.I. , he went through many handlers before I dropped him onto Coulson. Then the bastard goes and saves her, gets married, gets divorced and then gets possessed."

"Jeez... How old is he? Forty?" Tony half joked. Fury shook his head.

"26."

There was a long pause for this. No one said anything. They just stared at Fury in shock and surprise. Even Natasha, who had known about some of Clint's past before, and had met Clint when he was 17 had never done the math to realize how old Clint was. Learning about it from Fury was an even bigger shocker to the team. Originally, they had all thought that Steve was the only one in his twenties. Course Tony always joked that Steve was 90 something.

"You're joking. Right?" Tony practically begged. Fury shook his head no.

"I was there as Director for only my second year when Coulson brought him to my attention. He had been reviewed before and denied but I trusted Coulson. Two years later, I handed Clint back over to him. I claimed then, 'fix him, or kill him.' And we all know what happened then," Fury described.

* * *

_"Need these vehicles."_

_"Who's that?"_

_"Didn't tell me."_

_"Hill, do you copy? Barton is..."_

* * *

Another two hours passed without a single word on Clint's status. Even Fury hadn't been able to get an answer as to how his favorite archer was doing. The Avengers were getting really tense. Tony and Steve had already had a pretty big argument which left Tony pouting in the hallway, looking over his once discarded suit and Steve place in the corner of the room furthest from Tony. Bruce had almost Hulked out when a passing secretary tried to drop off coffee to the group. He of course apologized for the behavior but the poor woman was already too frightened to see if she really believed him. Thor, who had gotten bored faster than the others, had begun to toss Mjolnir up and down but the first time he dropped it, Natasha draped her legs over it as if the hammer was a footstool.

"This is ridiculous! We should have heard something by now!" Tony snapped, startling a lot of the others. "How could he have been this bad off?"

"Tony, he was bleeding internally in at least two areas, a minimum of two broken ribs, his left leg was broken, his ankle shattered, a concussion, and so much more. That's not even counting the second to third degree burns over most of his body," Bruce commented. Everyone focused on the doc. As Tony and he had been the only two to see the archer, and even then, Tony had been rather out of it, none of them had any idea of what to expect.

"Was it really that bad?" Natasha whispered, feeling dread begin to creep up on her. Bruce frowned, wishing he could give her better news. But slowly he nodded. Her gasp of shock and trying hard to hold back tears tore at the other's hearts.

"That's why we chatted. I needed to keep him awake. If he slept, there would be no shot. He had just fallen asleep when I spotted Tony. But even that long, he could have slipped from us," Bruce admitted. His response was met with silence. None of them really wanted to understand that Clint basically died on them. Hell, no one wanted to think that the archer may already have died and no one wanted to tell them.

"How did this happen?" Natasha mumbled before dropping her head into her hands. She had been on the opposite side of the battle when the building blew. For all she knew, Clint had gotten surrounded by the creatures and beaten.

"He was on that building that blew, wasn't he?" Tony softly mentioned. He had been nearby during the explosion but too distracted to notice. Slowly, Tony moved away from his suit to stand in the doorway that lead to the hallway. With a deep sigh, he leaned against the frame. "Why didn't he just get off?"

"Clint was trapped by the creatures you guys were fighting. He called out to Agent Harris over the comms but the other agent still fired anyway. I think... Hulk may have seen Clint in the debris and went to rescue him," Bruce told the others. Steve jerked up at the news.

"Agent Harris's report mentioned that Clint said he was in another building a good distance away," Steve stated, having been the only one to read the reports of the other agents. While Tony had been working to find Bruce and Clint, he had gone back and tried to find out why Hulk would kidnap Clint.

"I was in the HQ truck on scene. Clint clearly said he was trapped. And even after the fact when we were stuck in that cave, Clint told me a second time that he called out," Bruce explained as if Steve was accusing him of lying rather than the S.H.I.E.L.D agent.

"Are you guys saying that Harris did this intentionally?" Tony muttered darkly. He had a hard time believing that Harris would have been able to get away with it if it was true but then again... S.H.I.E.L.D was a spy group. Natasha jumped to her feet with a shocked look on her face. Then it slowly darkened into such a face that the men shied away from her. With a huff, she stormed off. After a pause to recover, Steve realized where she was going and rushed after her. "Do you really think it's possible?"

"Clint had mentioned that since Loki, he had a lot of people in S.H.I.E.L.D that wouldn't mind if he died," Bruce claimed. Tony frowned, remembering such conversation. Natasha had said back than that no one blamed Clint for what he did under Loki's control. But what if they actually did and just never admitted it? What if it took them this long to plan the best way to do it? Or what if this just happened to be the first time someone had the best chance of succeeding? Before he could mention his fears, the doors to Medical opened and one of the doctors exited. Bruce jumped to his feet as Thor backed away from the wall and Tony entered more fully into the room. The doc was still dressed in rather bloody scrubs and almost seemed rather shaken. When he noticed that only Bruce, Tony and Thor were waiting, he seemed partly relieved.

"Where is Agent Romanoff?" the doc asked as if she was the only one he could speak too. Once the team had been created, Fury made sure that each of their files mentioned that they could hear everyone's medical status.

"She went for a short walk," Tony lied. The doc nodded, glad that he didn't have to relay this troubling news to her. "How's our little archer?"

"Well... We fixed the internal bleeding. That came from one of his broken ribs which we were also able to fix. His leg is in a splint and will be so for a few weeks. We had to add a rod to keep his bones together. The ankle looked more serious than it was. It actually ended up being a sprain. Even though the burns seemed bad, none of them were really over a minor second degree burn. A couple days of ointment and it should turn into a lovely tan," the doc informed them. They all nodded. Here is where he took a deep sigh and the others wondered how bad the news was going to get. "What I and the other doctors are most concerned with is his concussion mixed with lack of blood for such a long time. If he had one or the other, it'd be fine. But both is troubling news. Normally, we would try to keep the patient awake for signs of more trauma to the brain but... Due to his other more serious injuries, we had to knock him out. Our fear is... Well, he may not wake up."

"I do not understand. Why would he not awake if things are fixed?" Thor questioned, not really getting how limited human medicine really was. The doc sighed, having feared the worse.

"Sometimes, the damage done to the head could be too great. As we don't fully understand how the brain works, it could basically shut down. If that happens, Agent Barton won't be able to wake up. He'd be what we consider... Brain dead," the doctor described to the Asgardian. Thor looked troubled by this idea.

"Can we see him?" Bruce muttered, not wanting to hear any more about the chances of loosing Clint. The doctor nodded before leading the trio to Clint's room. Bruce was mildly surprised to see the room was a bigger room than necessary for just Clint but when he looked down the hall and saw the secondary bed just sitting there, he understood. They had removed the bed to make room for the sure to be waiting teammates. In silence, the three Avengers set themselves up around Clint's bed. Knowing that they now wouldn't leave, the doc mentioned that he'd get some more furniture for the group and left.

* * *

_"The Tesseract is showing me so much. It's more than just knowledge, it's... Truth."_

_"I know. What did it show you, Agent Barton?"_

_"My next target."_

_"Tell me what you need."_

_"I'll need a distraction... And an eyeball."_

* * *

Clint slowly came too sometime in the middle of the night. The room was dark and many of the monitors that were hooked up to him were silent. Glancing at his heart rate, Clint was glad that this was one of the silenced machines. He had been dreaming of Loki and whenever he did that, his heart would race. Slowly, cautiously, Clint looked about the room. He was used to S.H.I.E.L.D medical enough to know that the room size was larger than a single sized room. But as he spotted his teammates, he understood why he was in a double room.

The second bed had been traded out for a rather large and comfy looking couch that had Steve and Thor spread about the whole thing. Two small reading chairs from the waiting lounge sat on either side, each one holding another Avenger. Natasha was on Steve's side while Bruce was on Thor's. Not seeing Tony over there, Clint looked to the windows were he knew a large bay window sat. And indeed, sprawled out on the cushion was none other than the genius himself. Everyone looked to be fast asleep, a time that Clint rarely could catch everyone at.

"We feared you wouldn't wake up," called a familiar voice that didn't belong to any of the Avengers. Clint turned to face the doorway that was right before his bed. He was almost surprised to see Fury standing there. The Director wasn't normally one who visited his injured agents, no matter how friendly he was with them. Fury waved off the archer's confused expression, showing instead that he was there with news. "Harris is being suspended, pending full review of the whole situation."

"What? Why?" Clint asked knowing that he hadn't once complained about Agent Harris. Hell, Clint had no intention of reporting that Harris had heard the archer state he was in the building before he blew it up to kingdom come.

"Your friends believe Harris fired on the building even though he knew you were inside," Fury explained. Clint paused, thinking back on the whole event. Yeah, he had heard Harris mutter something like 'you deserve this,' but he didn't think anyone else had caught it. And yeah, Clint mentioned to Bruce that he had reported his position but... He never thought that Bruce would tell Fury. Slowly he nodded with a large frown on his face. Fury nearly laughed at the look. "We need to see what disciplinary actions need to be taken."

"I killed his fiancée," Clint stated as if that meant the whole even was justified. Fury raised an eyebrow. It almost sounded like Clint had resigned himself to die. But then again, last thing Fury knew, Clint hadn't been told who was killed during the attack on the Helicarrier. Nor did he ever plan on telling the agent. Clint lowered his gaze to patronize the Director. "Don't give me that look. I can clearly see who's not around."

"You being involved in her death does not forgive Agent Harris of his current actions. If something like that makes him believe he can get away with killing you, how can S.H.I.E.L.D trust him to make the right calls in the future?" Fury pointed out. Clint frowned, seeing the spin that Fury was already beginning to use to get rid of Agent Harris. There was another person to add onto his 'fucked up' list after Manhattan.

"How many others?" the archer nearly growled. Fury sighed. He never wanted Clint to know any of what he was about to tell him. But as the archer had pointed out before, it was easy to get said information.

"Fifteen agents have been transferred. Four at their request, six at the request of Psych, and the others due to who they knew. Three more were placed in new positions around the Helicarrier to keep them away from main ops. And... Well... One more was jailed," Fury answered. Clint raised an eyebrow, almost like he expected more to be affected. Fury rolled his eyes. "The agent who was jailed was found to have a fully planned strategy to kill not only you but Deputy Director Hill and myself."

"Why?" Fury shrugged. He wasn't going to go into the mentality of why that agent thought they all deserved to die.

"I didn't come here to recount Manhattan," Fury stated, changing the subject. Clint smirked, he had known that all along. He just wanted to prolong the other reason why the Director was there. As said before, Clint didn't want Harris to get in trouble. "Nor did I come to check on you. I actually come to get your report of this latest mission."

"I just woke up after almost dying! Aren't I supposed to be resting or some shit?" Clint whined. There was a snort from his left.

"Not with a concussion and lack of blood, if you'd even rest to begin with," called a female voice that the two had both thought to be asleep. Clint and Fury turned to face the voice and spotted Natasha, Bruce and Steve all staring at them. Giving her a mock smile, Clint was graced with Natasha's narrow gaze, daring him to prove her wrong.

"The doctor was afraid you wouldn't even wake after surgery. He claimed that if you did, he'd like you to stay awake for a minimum of 24 hours," Bruce added. Fury turned back to Clint with an evil smirk on his face.

"So, your report?"

* * *

**Tee hee! ^_^ Hope you all liked. Review, Favorite and Follow! Till next week!**


	8. Age 18

**I is bad... Very very bad... I am so sorry that I missed a week! I can't believe that I did that! There is no excuse. Anywho, here is last week's chapter!**

* * *

_"You know, I don't want to sleep anyway," Clint moaned as he focused on his very sleepy looking teammates. After recounting his side of the mission, Thor and Tony woke. Fury bid them all farewell with his good eye looking to be flaming with anger. But now that Clint was awake, none of the Avengers wanted to sleep. Some were afraid to miss juicy private info, others wanted to make sure Clint didn't slip into coma. But no matter what, they were all afraid of losing Clint again. It was frightening to think of how close they actually had been._

_"Why?" Bruce asked, having been previously declared 'the talker.' As he was the only one who had gotten Clint to ever share such private stories, they all wanted him to get the archer to open up. The reasons for such was never really given, but everyone just assumed it was the same. That they all wanted to know their teammate. Natasha had admitted that Bruce had gotten more out of Clint than she ever did in all her time with him. That had really shocked the other members of the team. They had all believed that Natasha and Clint shared everything but now they learned that Clint never shared._

_"I was remembering Loki," Clint admitted after a beat. He looked away from the others as his free hand began to kneed the blanket that covered him. Natasha stiffened. Clint didn't mention his time with Loki to her at all. Not even telling her when he had nightmares about the demi-god. Thor looked away from the archer, wishing he could undo the damage his brother caused. Tony turned to the window, wanting to give Clint privacy but too afraid that he'd miss something important. Steve shifted, feeling rather uncomfortable considering his position. Bruce sighed, knowing that what the others had said was true. Clint was only going to open up to him._

_"Do you want to talk about it?" Clint shook his head no. "Do you want to talk?"_

_"About what?" Clint questioned, sounding mildly curious. He focused on Bruce to the point that his mind went back to the cave and he forgot about the others in the room. Course that also meant his mind was telling him that if he slept, he'd die. Adrenaline rushed through the archer's system and he seemed to perk up on the bed. Bruce's eyes narrowed at the movement as his mind registered that Clint might be having a flashback to the cave. Knowing that keeping Clint awake now was still rather important, Bruce made a suggestion._

_"How about meeting Coulson and your start at S.H.I.E.L.D?"_

_"Really?" Clint muttered, having thought that Bruce knew about all that. It was listed in his file and for what he knew, none of it was blackened out by high ranking information. Bruce smirked at Clint's tone. Tilting his head to the side, Bruce turned his own tone of voice into a mocking manner._

_"Heard a rumor that Coulson recruited you but he wasn't your first handler," Bruce mentioned. Clint smiled, pleased that Bruce was entertained but at the same time, knowing Fury must have told the doctor. the archer shook his head. Natasha relaxed back into her seat, glad that Clint was beginning to open up even with everyone around. Tony turned around again, shifting in his seat to anxiously wait for Clint's story. Thor smiled, pleased to finally be hearing a tale from a man he was starting to call his friend. Steve watched Bruce carefully, wondering if the doctor was okay with basically tricking Clint into telling more about his life. But Bruce patiently waited for Clint to begin his story at his own pace._

_"I met Coulson at a little coffee shop while I was following a mark..."_

"May I sit here?" a voice inquired. Clint almost spilt his rather bland tasting coffee all over himself in surprise at the voice. Mentally cursing himself for his lack of awareness, Clint focused on the man standing behind the other seat at his table. The man was older, beginning to show signs of balding and even having his eyes grow dim in age. He was dressed in a crisp suit and seemed like a stuck up business man. Clint didn't like the look of him. While Clint just glared at the man, he waved to the rest of the shop. "There are no other seats."

"Fine," Clint growled as he began to clean up the table and scan his surroundings to look for any sign of danger. He had the table partly covered in language arts books and a notebook. Not that Clint could read any of it. But after spending the previous day on a roof top across the street where he overheated, Clint wanted to be more comfortable today. Sadly, his luck proved as bad as before as this day happened to be the shop's ten year anniversary of being open so all drinks were half off and you got a free pastry with every order. Clint was beginning to rethink his course of action by not analyzing the area before taking this particular hit.

"Russian? Hmm... Interesting language," the man commented as he looked down at the books that Clint was packing away. Clint once again cursed his luck. Of course the one person who'd sit with him would not only want to start conversing but also understood Russian. Thankfully, Clint knew a little bit of Russian but he was sorely out of practice. Maybe his luck would hold and the guy would just be able to read it and not actually speak it. "Do you speak it?"

"Not really," Clint admitted in relief when he spotted his mark getting ready to leave the now extremely crowded shop. The man took a sip from his cup and placed it on the table as Clint stood, dropping the items into his bag and moving to follow his target. Before he could even get two steps away, the man spoke. He was still as calm as before. But now Clint was strung tighter than an elastic band.

"It took Agent Stock until yesterday to realize he was being followed. But I think you've been following him longer than that," the man calmly stated. Clint froze. Only once before had someone caught him trailing someone. Thankfully, Natalia was willing to help him out. This man didn't look like he would. He looked like he'd kill Clint without really even moving. "Sit. Let's enjoy another coffee. It's on me."

Clint didn't move. He had two choices. One, run from the shop and hope the man wouldn't keep up. But, supposedly the man knew the archer's mark. If that was true, the mark could be waiting to eliminate Clint once the teen ran outside. Or, an even worse thought, the duo weren't alone and there was a sniper somewhere waiting for the order to kill Clint. Second choice, sit down with the man and wait. He might slip up and give Clint a clue on how to get away. Or, even better, Clint would be able to find his own way out. Figuring it wouldn't hurt to talk to this man, Clint glanced back at him.

"I actually hate coffee," Clint mumbled as he slowly sank back into his seat. 'Agent Stock' took a quick glance in their direction. Seeing Clint giving him a dark glare, Stock rushed out of the shop. "So now what? It's not illegal to follow someone."

"Well, that depends. But you're right. We can take no legal action on you for this. But we can tie you to a minimum of forty murders over the last year and a half," the man mentioned, calmly sipping his drink again. Clint began to fidget. He really wasn't liking this. But Natalia always told him to use his bravado. People tend to become deterred when the person they were dealing with seemed too calm. Clint relaxed back into his seat even though his left leg was bouncing like crazy.

"Only forty? Your number is a bit low there," Clint countered. The man nodded, making Clint's leg jump up and down so bad that he bumped the table a few times. Clint was beginning to see what Natalia meant by keeping a calm bravado up. It was creepy as crap. He had never seen her do it and she never really practiced with him. Mostly, she tried to teach him out of situations like this one.

"We assumed as much," was the reply. Clint tensed, wonder when there was going to be a point to all this. "Your scores in the Army was excellent."

"Yeah well. It's too bad people tend to get pissed when a sixteen year old outranks you," Clint snarled, remembering the abuse his unit gave him. They were fine working with him, but when he got the promotion they were all going for, they got jealous. The man again nodded as if he knew this before Clint even told him. "Who are you?"

"Forgive me. Agent Phil Coulson." Clint raised an eyebrow. "Agent Stock and I work with the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division."

"Lengthy. Not CIA? FBI? NSA?" Clint joked, trying to stop bouncing his leg. He knew that he needed to be able to run at a moment's notice. As lengthy as the name was, it sounded dangerous for his health. The man smiled at this.

"I used to be FBI and USMC," Coulson retorted. Clint jerked his attention to Coulson at the familiar term. He hadn't heard it in a few years but that sort of code tends to stick with a fellow.

"A jarhead? Really?" Clint laughed. Coulson shook his head. He had been gone from the Marine Corps for so long that he almost forgotten about the nickname. Though it wasn't relevant now-a-days, other members still called the Marines by that name. "I can't really see that."

"Well, believe it," Coulson stated. He raised his cup for another sip but before the cup could reach his lips, another customer bumped into his back and knocked the drink down onto his lap. For a moment, it felt like time stopped as Coulson and Clint stared at the spilt drink. It was in this moment that Clint realized he had a chance to run. Coulson looked up at Clint just in time for the customer to apologize and for Clint to jump to his feet. Abandoning the items he brought into the store, Clint spun around and vanished into the crowd. "WAIT!"

But it was too late. Clint was already slipping through the front door. Once on the sidewalk, Clint turned to disappear into the crowd that had formed around the shop but was shocked to see Agent Stock standing at the building's corner. The teen had assumed that Stock would have been called off at this point or been waiting further away. While frozen in place, Clint watched as the man moved a hand to his ear before turning to look dead at the teen. Spinning to head in the opposite direction, the archer was stunned to see an unknown man in a similar suit to Coulson's was stalking toward him. With a curse, Clint jumped into the street.

_"Wait? Seriously?" Tony loudly interrupted. Clint jumped in surprise at the sudden voice. His mind snapped back into focus as the archer realized he wasn't dying in a cave. He almost couldn't believe he had forgotten about the others. As he glanced over their faces, he could see that they were all afraid he'd shut back down and wouldn't share. Sighing deeply, Clint began to realize that he couldn't and needed to tell everyone about his life. He almost laughed at Tony continuing on, unperturbed about the fact that he may have ruined the sharing for everyone. "And you didn't die?"_

_"No... I got really lucky for once. I was able to dodge or they stopped in time. But, you know... Thinking back on it now, I'm not sure how lucky I really was," Clint mentioned, thinking back on the whole event with a slight smile to his face. Tony turned to this others, his face showing surprise at the fact that Clint answered him. Bruce smiled, glad that Clint was willing to open up. Natasha relaxed, feeling good that Clint was finally beginning to trust his team. Steve rolled his eyes at Tony but gave his a look that told Tony he wasn't out of the woods yet. Thor smirked, pleased that his newfound friend and teammate was willing to share such stories._

_"Why?" Steve asked when Clint didn't continue on. Having figured that Tony already ruined things, he couldn't make things worse. Could he? Clint winced at the captain's voice but his smile still remained. It was joined with a slightly faraway look. Bruce recognized it as one that he had while in the cave. Clint was focusing on his past. At the other's worried faces, Bruce waved it off and shook his head to stop them from questioning it._

_"Cause one of the agents chasing after me decided that I'd slow down with a bullet in my leg. It normally wouldn't have if it hadn't torn through the muscle to the point that I couldn't even twitch my toes. And Coulson once mentioned that it may have nicked a main artery or something but at the time, I didn't trust anyone in S.H.I.E.L.D, so I didn't pay attention," Clint told the group. Natasha shifted forward._

_"So, how did Coulson convince you to join S.H.I.E.L.D if you clearly didn't want too in the first place?" she questioned. Clint smiled._

"You didn't have to shoot him," Coulson berated the other agent as he held tight onto Clint's injured leg. Clint tried to struggle away but the bullet had ripped through his calf muscle and made every little twitch hurt. Groaning, Clint knew he was caught but stubbornly, he still tried to get away. Coulson's hand tightened on the holes to stop the bit of blood that began to leak between his fingers when Clint shifted. The pain that raced through his limb made Clint stop shifting around.

"You just said to stop him. You never requested how," the agent retorted, anger beginning to fill his voice as he glared down at the duo. Coulson rolled his eyes at the agent before mentally filing in his head that he needed to report the agent's actions and have him reviewed for duty. Quickly, the older agent dismissed the other agent before focusing on Clint. Clint watched with extreme pleasure at the other agent walked away, grumbling about Coulson on his way. Coulson shifted his grip on Clint as the other agent rounded the corner which made Clint wince at the pain. Frowning, Coulson listened to his comm to find out how long until the medics came to check on the teen.

"You gonna kill me now? Or are you just going to make me slowly bleed to death here?" Clint groaned when he spotted more blood leaking through Coulson's fingers. Grunting, Coulson looked down at the teen. Yet again, he tightened his grip at the teen's words. Clint moaned before leaning his head back against the concrete. "Please, do it quick."

"Why in the world would I kill you?" Coulson countered, wondering where exactly the teen had gotten this idea from. Clint looked up at the older agent in shock for a second before thinking it had to be a trick. Slowly, he looked away.

"Cause, I'm evil," Clint muttered, feeling it best to just admit the truth. Coulson shifted, making Clint wince yet again. A hand reached out and grabbed the teen's chin before turning his head to face the older man. Coulson's eyes were a mix of sadness and anger.

"You are not evil," he stated with as much force as he could muster. Clint snorted, trying to turn his head away again Coulson tightened his grip on Clint's chin. "You're just... Misguided."

"Misguided?" Clint tried to clarify. Coulson nodded, a soft warm smile appearing on his face.

"Besides, I didn't come here to kill you. I came here to recruit you," Coulson explained. Clint raised an eyebrow at that. After a minute of staring at Coulson, he laughed. There was no way that the older man was serious.

"Are you kidding me?" Clint called. Coulson made no comment. Just watched the teen as Clint's mind tried to wrap around the idea that someone would want him. How could he be needed? Hell, even the 'for hire' jobs that he took were hard to get. Many people only used him to make a statement. His bow and arrow weapon choice was a very nice sign that their group was after you. After a few more minutes of this, Clint began to get that Coulson was serious. "Certainly a hell of a recruitment job. Injure me before you could even mention the dental plan."

"Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division wants to recruit you into their service. We want to use your skills for a better purpose," Coulson explained. Clint rolled his eyes. For most of this year, he had been spent as a contract assassin, so this was making no sense now.

"So, why didn't you just hire me?" Clint groaned when Coulson shifted once again. The older agent gave him a sad smile that pretty much begged for forgiveness. "I would have taken the hit, given the right price. Why go through the trouble of recruiting me?"

"We wouldn't want you for just one mission. And you'd have a place to stay, three meals a day..." Coulson began but Clint scoffing at him, made him stop in surprise.

"Sounds a lot like jail," Clint mumbled. Coulson laughed, mentally agreeing that it did.

"It does. But, we'd keep you safe." Clint looked at him, confused. "You're name is on a lot of hit lists. Especially a lot of gangs. Jail guards can't protect you all the time."

"How would you be any different?"

"We would teach you to cover your tracks."

"I can do that already," Clint grumbled. Coulson laughed again.

"Yeah, and that's why we found you," Coulson pointed out. Clint rolled his eyes. The older agent had a point with that. "We would teach you how to fight. Especially when backed into a corner."

"I can fight," Clint whined. Coulson leveled him with a gaze. "I can!"

"We'd teach you to be better. We would also teach you the best vantage points for each hit. One where you'd never be spotted, no one would even know what happened. You would be the best ever," Coulson finished. Clint frowned. There had to be some type of catch to this whole thing.

"You'd turn a killer into a better killer? Why?"

"There are some people in this world that need to die. They are too big of a threat to be kept alive. We need people like you who can kill them from fifteen buildings away in a hurricane. Or, someone who can stalk a mark for weeks, spying on them without ever once being spotted," Coulson described. Clint frowned, shifting away from Coulson and wincing when the old agent moved his grip on the injury to keep it protected. Suddenly, Coulson could tell that Clint was uncertain. "Something wrong?"

"What if I don't want to kill them? What if I see something that you don't?" Clint asked, knowing that his marks before hand normally always threatened to kill him if he refused a hit for any reason. It was because of that that his first hit was a good man and his poor little daughter. Coulson smiled, he knew that there was still good in this kid. That was why he asked Fury to bring him in rather than kill him.

"We don't always kill people. If there is another way to stop them, we'll take it. If you have a problem with any target, make it known. The case will be reviewed. But if you don't have justifiable evidence against the mission, the higher ups may decide to send in another agent. You'll never have to kill someone you don't want to," Coulson answered. Clint stared at him. In all his time in the Army and being an assassin for hire, Clint never had so much control over his life before. Coulson could still see that Clint didn't believe him. "We don't kill because it's easier. We kill as a last resort."

"Why me? Sounds like you have enough agents. Especially better agents," Clint muttered, beginning to become self conscious. Coulson winced, having just lost two agents on his most recent mission. He wanted to admit the truth to Clint but he also didn't want to drive him away. So instead, Coulson decided to point out Clint's current skills.

"How long were you following Agent Stock?"

"About two weeks," Clint answered, sounding very wary. Coulson nodded, having known that Clint had been following the agent longer than was reported. Yet again, it just proved how much S.H.I.E.L.D needed Clint.

"Agent Stock only noticed a few days ago. He had enough time to report that he was being followed and describe you before I was already flying out here. I found evidence, very minor evidence, of someone that had been following him for weeks. We need more agents like you who can follow a mark for so long and not be noticed. You're good. We just want to make you better," Coulson explained and before Clint could argue any more about the whole thing, Coulson held up his hand. "We've been following your exploits for a while now. Not only are you an amazing distance operative, but you are a decent spy. We've recorded you bumping into your mark while slipping poison in his drink before walking away and no one was able to describe you.

"Why didn't you ever stop me?"

"Most times we noticed all this after the fact. But twice, we were chasing after the mark that you were sent after. We tried to speak to you then, but each time our agents lost track of you," Coulson stated. Clint frowned as the medics finally arrived. Coulson gave them an angry glare at the length of time it took for them to get there. One of the medics looked sheepish and muttered an apology but both the medic and Coulson knew that he'd get a talking to later. Another of the medics began preparing a sedative with his back turned to Clint. The teen watched the others with an air of suspicion. Coulson knew that the teen needed to be distracted. "So, will you join us?"

"Do I have a choice?" Clint countered, turning to glare at Coulson. The medic shifted around and inserted the needle before Clint could even see it. Feeling the pinprick of pain, Clint turned a glare on the man. Coulson smiled, knowing that Clint was about to slip into sleep.

"Think on it."

_"When I woke up next, I was tied to a bed in Medical. They were treating my leg. Course, I felt that they were still going to kill me. So, I tried to escape. Didn't realize that I was in the middle of their headquarters," Clint said. The others smiled, knowing to well about Clint's dislike of Medical. Course they all thought that the archer's dislike came from before this moment. They were sadly mistaken. "I was caught later that same day by Coulson. He found me after I dropped from a ceiling vent near the lobby. I was limping around while agents came in and left without glancing at me. He brought me back and... Well, this started my dislike of Medical."_

_"Really? I figured you escaped cause you hated Medical," Tony mumbled. Clint shook his head._

_"Nah. I was fine with medical until they tied me down, failed to replace my IV like five times, and then sedated me for the rest of time healing," Clint told them. Tony laughed while Clint smirked. As the archer looked over everyone else's amused faces, Clint began to wonder why he never told any of them this information before. "Would have been a bit better if it wasn't for after the fact, during physical therapy, Medical requested that I be kept locked up in either jail or my room. Fury ordered me into the jail cells until I agreed to sign the consent forms for working for S.H.I.E.L.D."_

_"Why did you ever join if that was the beginning of your treatment here?" Natasha nearly snarled as she realized that Clint made her join this same group while promising that things would be better than on her own. Clint laughed at her, knowing right away what she was thinking about. He ignored the question by continuing with the story._

"So, is this my other choice?" Clint growled when Coulson arrived for the escorting to PT. Coulson sighed. It had been almost a week now since Clint had been released from Medical. After day one, when he tried to escape again, Medical and Fury ordered the archer to be locked up. It was because of this that Coulson knew Clint felt horribly betrayed and just wanted to leave the whole place. Coulson had tried to keep on explaining to Clint that if he hadn't tried to run then he wouldn't be locked up. But the teen seemed to have been waiting for some type of betrayal.

"We wouldn't be the ones jailing you. But yes, we would have to turn you over to the correct authorities," Coulson calmly replied, wishing he had a better answer for the teen. But there was none and both knew that Clint would have to be punished for the things he had done. "But remember, if you agree to work with us, we'll wipe the slate clean. You wouldn't have to worry."

"So you tell me every day," Clint grumbled as the door unlocked and two agents walked in to unlock the archer from the bed that he was currently tied to. Coulson sighed. If Clint just gave S.H.I.E.L.D a little slack then they could do the same for him. "When will this shit be over?"

"Just know that once PT is over, if you haven't decided, we will have to send you to jail and that will be your only choice," Coulson reminded. Clint rolled his eyes before sighing as the two agents got him out of the bed and onto a wheelchair that Coulson brought into the jail cell. Once seated, the two agents then began to strap him to the chair. And like every day, Clint commented on it.

"Must we go through such extreme measures?" Clint questioned. Coulson refused to rise to the bait today. Once the two agents finished, the group headed off toward the room where Clint would continue his PT. "I'm not that dangerous. I'm just a kid."

"And you nearly killed my buddy three days ago," one of the bland agents who had tied him up commented. Clint raised an eyebrow at that. Each day, he tended to test all the agents that deal with him. He was waiting for the day that they'd underestimate him and he'd be able to escape.

"Is that why I'm being recruited? Cause you have such stupid agents already and I'm the best you can find?" Clint pressed. Coulson gritted his teeth knowing the agent behind him was going to fight back.

"You stupid little shit! I can kick your ass so fast that you wouldn't see me coming!" the agent cried. Clint smirked.

"Prove it! I bet I could take you down while still in PT!" Clint countered. Coulson stopped for a moment. That's when it hit him what he needed to do. "Uh... What's going on?"

Without a word, Coulson turned down a different hallway than before. Clint glanced down the normal hallway that they had traveled for the past week. He had memorized the path after the second time they brought him down, but Coulson never brought him anywhere else. Especially when it was PT time. Coulson seemed to be a stickler for the rules and right now, the older agent was not following them. Clint wondered what changed.

"Sir?" the agent who had spoken out called when Coulson took another turn that the agent recognized. They were heading for the gym. "Shouldn't we go to the kid's PT?"

"You claimed that you could kick his ass so fast that no one would see you coming. I would like to see that," Coulson calmly stated. Clint tensed in his chair. Even though his leg was mostly healed, Clint wasn't really sure he could take down a fully trained agent. But he had claimed that he could and there was no way to back out of it now. Soon after the group arrived at the gym. Clint was amazed at the size of the place but what surprised him the most was that the mat was bare of agents and already there was a crowd arriving around the back end. Coulson barely noticed as he rolled Clint up to the end, locked the wheels, unbuckled Clint from the chair and backed away. Slowly, Clint turned to stare at Coulson.

"You sure you want me to show up your agent?" Clint joked, trying to hide his own fear of the situation. The agent smirked before stepping onto the mat and began warming up. Clint took no notice of it. He was staring at Coulson. The older agent nodded. Frowning, Clint shimmed his way out of the chair and onto one leg. Slowly, he placed weight down on the bad leg. It tinged in pain but Clint felt he could handle it. Sighing, he limped onto the mat.

"You ready for this?" the agent snapped, looking much readier than Clint was. Swallowing some built up saliva, Clint nodded. The agent lunged forward, hoping to get the first strike. Clint stepped back onto his bad leg just in time for it to give out on him. The teen dropped to the ground, using the movement to his advantage, Clint turned the falling into a roll away from the other agent. Unperturbed, the agent pressed his sudden 'advantage.' Too bad he didn't account for Clint's acrobatic skills. While still rolling away, Clint kicked out with his good leg when his back was on the ground. Still spinning, the foot connected with the agent's chin as he chased after the teen. The agent was tossed back, giving enough time for Clint to get back to his feet. This time, he stood on his good leg and barely placed his bad leg on the mat. "What the fuck was that?"

"A kick to the jaw," Clint called, watching as the agent readied himself.

"Watch out Mendoza. Don't want a little kid beating you up," someone in the crowd laughed out. The crowd joined in the laughter. Mendoza, the agent facing Clint, turned beat red before lunging after Clint again. Clint leaned back onto his heal, kicked off the ground with his bad leg and spun out of the way, bringing his elbow down onto Mendoza's back as the agent rushed by. Mendoza dropped to the ground with a grunt. Clint lithely jumped into the air, bringing his bad leg around to kick Mendoza in the chest. Mendoza went spinning away before landing with a thump a good distance away. He looked shaken by Clint's attack, while Clint seemed completely relaxed on his good leg. The crowd laughed.

"We should probably stop before I really get into things," Clint mentioned, beginning to feel more confident in his skills against the agent. Glancing around the crowd, Clint began to try and become aware of his surroundings. Right above him was a metal pole. It looked to be high enough away but as Clint mentally judged the distance, he realized, he could make it. Coulson sighed deeply. This was why he wanted Clint to be a S.H.I.E.L.D agent. He was good. The crowd laughed as Mendoza slowly got to his feet. His face was red with anger.

"I was just warming up," Mendoza lied. Clint nodded, trying to act like he was taking the agent's word for it, but he knew better. Mendoza wanted to kill him and right now, he couldn't even touch the teen. Yet again, Mendoza charged. Except this time, he watched Clint for signs of dodging. Clint bent his knees to get ready. Mendoza, not understanding what the move was for, continued charging. At the last second, Clint sprung up and as Mendoza ran beneath him, Clint kicked out. His feet connected with Mendoza's neck and there was a clear crack. Mendoza dropped to the mat and stopped moving. Clint's hands gripped the pole above him even as his eyes trained themselves down onto the prone body below him.

The crowd was silent as they waited for Mendoza to move. But everyone knew what that crack was. Clint had broken the agent's neck in the right place. Mendoza was dead before Clint's shoes even cleared his back. Coulson stepped onto the mat as Clint pulled himself up onto the pole and watched. Without a word, Coulson walked over to Mendoza's body, felt for a pulse on his neck and then looked up to Clint.

"This is why I've been trying to recruit you," Coulson stated before turning to the agent they had come in with. He nodded to the body before walking away. Clint hung out on the pole for a few more seconds before deciding it was best to go after the older agent. With a grace he had learned from the tightrope walkers, Clint walked across the pole and jumped to the ground in front of the older agent. Coulson's only response was a raise of an eyebrow before walking on. It took until they were a good three minutes away from the gym before Clint looked over at the older agent.

"I'm in."


	9. Age 19

**PLEASE BE SURE TO GO BACK AND READ CHAPTER 8!**

**OMG, I suck... Missed last week... Felt horrible all week. Now I'm sick and staying up to post. Thankfully Baby Clint is already in bed and asleep so he left me alone this whole time but god, I feel awful. News on Baby Clint, he is beginning to speak! YAY! Maybe by the end of this story I'll be complaining that he talks too much, lol. ^_^ He is such a doll! And boy is he really smart. We can't stop watching him for a second before he gets into something he shouldn't. Thankfully at work there are three of us to watch him. Just yesterday we were working and suddenly realized that Baby Clint was being rather silent. So we all looked over and saw that he had gotten a hold of his baby bag and took everything out of it! And there he was sucking on the dropper for his Tylenol medication. All I could think was 'thank god that's empty'.**

**Anyways, you guys all waited two weeks so here is the chapter meant for this week! Enjoy!**

* * *

Coulson couldn't help but smile as he watched Clint rise through the ranks of the training agents. He, after killing one of S.H.I.E.L.D's other agents, only had one more week of PT before Fury ordered he be put through training. Considering how well the teen was doing, Coulson couldn't help but be proud. Already, Clint had proven himself more times than not. Sadly, after accidently killing Mendoza, Clint wasn't very popular among other agents. Nor did his ability to rise through the ranks make him very popular. The worst was his attitude. Anyone who tried to get close to the teen was driven off by his rather antagonistic personality.

"I'm thinking of putting Agent Avery as his handler," a dark brooding voice said from beside him. Coulson frowned, trying to place the agent from his memory of everyone. When he couldn't, Coulson looked to Fury. Already the Director had a file ready. Slowly, Fury handed it over. Taking a minute to look away from Clint training in the other room, Coulson read through the file.

"This won't work," Coulson stated, not even past the first page. Fury frowned. It had been near impossible to find someone that looked like they could work well with the teen. Never mind someone who was willing too after learning about Mendoza. "Avery doesn't have enough experience."

"Who do you suggest?" Fury countered, turning to face his friend. Coulson sighed deeply, mentally shifting through the names of agents through his head.

"Agent Tanner?" Coulson suggested. Fury frowned. He hadn't thought of him before. Clint suddenly shouted for joy at something in the training room below. The duo looked down to see that Clint, who had been running through an obstacle course, had just beaten the time record. Already they could see the other agents in the room grumbling in disgust even though Clint didn't brag about beating the record. Sighing deeply, Coulson became even more distressed when he noticed that Agent Tanner had been in the room as well and was as upset as the other agents. Fury noticed as well.

"You sure?" the Director asked. Coulson rolled his eyes.

"Give me a bit."

_"I was in training for only two months," Clint told the others._

_"How old were you at this point?" Steve questioned. Clint shrugged as he thought back on the whole situation._

_"About four months away from turning 19," Clint answered. The others froze._

_"You were that young?" Bruce called. Clint nodded, feeling that the others were overreacting just a bit. Especially Natasha, who had been an assassin since she was close to about four years old._

_"I'm the youngest S.H.I.E.L.D agent in the history of the organization. And more than likely there will never be someone younger after all the trouble I gave them. Most agents who get recruited are around 21 years or older," Clint informed them._

_"You mentioned that 40 was a low number of recorded kills. What is the true number?" Thor mumbled. Clint tensed. He had kind of hoped he could skim over that part. Then again, Clint wasn't even sure his mental number was the right number anyways. Sighing deeply, and fearing that he was about to lose his team, Clint answered._

_"Around 167 or so."_

_"Skipping to a new topic," Tony muttered after a long, long pause. Clint almost sagged in relief at their lack of reaction. "Who ended up being your handler? It was Agent, wasn't it?"_

_"I actually had around five handlers before Fury demanded that Coulson take me back. And all that happened around the time that I was 19. Hell, my first mission was on my birthday," Clint laughed. No one laughed with him. But Clint wasn't fazed. "My first handler was a chick. A stupid blond bitch named Agent Holiday."_

"Barton," a female voice snapped down the hall as Clint swiftly moved through the crowds to sneak back into his room. He froze at the authoritative voice. It didn't sound like Deputy Director Maria Hill. But he didn't know any other female agents. Slowly he turned around to see a blond woman stomping toward him. Her brown eyes were already giving him a disapproving gaze. "You were supposed to meet me in my office at 8. It is now 12."

"How was I supposed to know? No one told me," Clint answered. The agent didn't seem to agree with this as she reached out and grabbed Clint by the collar of his shirt. Knowing that this woman was his higher up, Clint fought with his sudden need to deck her. Her brown eyes narrowed into angry slits. Clint forlornly stared at what was his lunch. It had now fallen to the ground.

"You will meet me in my office at 1 o'clock. If I don't see you then I'm going to suspend you range privileges for a week," the woman snarled as if Clint understood who she was and where her office was. Clint's eyes narrowed at the threat as he looked up to her. No one threatened to take away his range access since Fury announced that Clint was a distance operative.

"Who are you?" Clint called. The woman scoffed, tossing Clint back down onto his feet. He stumbled back two steps, his leg still giving him trouble now and then. Without answering she turned with a huff and stormed off. Everyone gave her a wide birth and watched as she passed before turning to look at Clint. Many of them wondered what the teen had done to piss the woman off.

Grumbling, Clint glanced down at the watch that Coulson had given him once he finished signing the papers to join S.H.I.E.L.D. It read that it was 12:10 pm. Sighing, Clint headed off in the direction that the woman stormed off too. After about thirty minutes of wandering around, Clint understood that he had no idea where he was going. For a minute he wondered if he should ask for help but as he looked around for someone to ask, he realized that he couldn't. He had no idea who this woman was and there were surprisingly a large number of female agents who were blond with brown eyes.

"Great... Now I'm gonna lose my range privileges," Clint moaned. Someone cleared their throat from behind him. Clint turned around, trying to hide the fact that the person surprised him. It ended up being Coulson, and judging by the twinkle in his eye, the older agent knew he had surprised the teen. "What?"

"Why would you lose your privileges?" Coulson asked. Clint groaned, leaning against the wall.

"Some female agent wants me to meet her in her office at 1 but I don't know where it is or who she was. She also claimed that I was supposed to see her this morning but no one ever told me," Clint whined. Coulson nodded, already knowing what was going on. Slowly he began to move away. Without question, Clint pushed off the wall and followed. Five minutes later, they were standing outside of the locked office door of Agent Krystal Holiday. Coulson knocked on the door but received no answer. Clint glanced down at his watch. It was 12:52. "She still has time to show up. But Coulson, who is she?"

"Agent Holiday has been assigned as your handler," Coulson explained, deciding to stay with Clint until the female agent arrived. Clint cocked his head to the side in confusion. Coulson smiled. "She'll be dealing with your missions, your files, and anything else needed. It is her job to make sure you are healthy, always mission ready, and in control."

"She sure doesn't make a great first impression," Clint mumbled. Coulson nodded, agreeing that Holiday may have treated Clint unfairly before being properly introduced. Two minutes to 1, Holiday appeared, rushing around the corner.

"Oh! Agent Coulson, I didn't expect you. I would have gotten here sooner," Holiday called when she noticed the older agent was leaning against her locked door frame along with her newest asset. Coulson nodded.

"Was just helping Agent Barton find your office," Coulson answered before nodding his good-bye to Clint. Clint nodded a thanks back and watched as the older agent left. Holiday kept a soft smile on her face until she was certain that Coulson was indeed leaving and not going to turn around and check on her. Once she was good, she spun on Clint, slamming him into the wall. Yet again, Clint resisted beating her off of him.

"Don't ever bother superior officers for such menial tasks. You should have known where my office was," Holiday snarled at him before unlocking her door and stepping inside. Clint waited in the hallway, working on trying to calm his angered body. All he really wanted to do right then was go in and beat the living shit out of the woman called Holiday. But before he could fully calm down... "You coming in or not cause I can still revoke your privilages."

"Coming," Clint grunted before heaving a breath and walking into the office. Holiday was sitting behind her desk on the far side of the room. Only the desk she was behind, the chair she was in, and filing cabinets that lined the place filled the room. Clint had nowhere to sit. Grunting at the knowledge that Holiday was using this as an intimidation factor, Clint stood at Army rest.

"I have a mission for you," Holiday began without even looking up to see if Clint had indeed come into the room. Clint nodded, not knowing that S.H.I.E.L.D regulations demanded that handler and asset is supposed to train together on fake missions before real world missions. Used to going out on a mission with limited intel and sometimes even a tag along partner to confirm a hit, Clint felt like he was ready. "The mission is to follow this man here for a week before executing him in a public area."

"Why?" Clint questioned, having believed that he would be able to considering what Coulson had told him during the recruitment phase. Holiday jerked up as if she had been struck.

"Why?" she snarled. Clint immediately knew he shouldn't respond. "Why?" She stood up, her voice getting angrier than before. "You don't get to ask why. You just do."

"Yes ma'am," Clint retorted, sounding slightly hurt and confused. Holiday walked around her desk, picking up a file on the way.

"Here is the mission, read it on the way. Your flight leaves in five minutes," Holiday mentioned, slamming the file into his chest before turning back around. Clint frowned at her back but accepted the file and turned to leave. "Did I say you were dismissed?"

"I thought we were done, considering my flight is in five minutes," Clint explained. Holiday sneered at him.

"Don't forget to go to the weapon's locker and get the sniper rifle," she growled. Clint stiffened. Though he had been training on the rifle for the past month, he was still more comfortable with his bow. And even then, the trainer had told Clint that he wasn't signed off on most weapons still. "Make sure you us the rifle. I got the paperwork filled out this morning."

"Yes, ma'am," Clint answered before nodding a farewell and turning out of the office.

_"Holiday didn't go on the mission with me. I had just the pilot until he dropped me off and then I was on my own. I had to use the file, which I could barely read, to find the safe house and stalk the mark. Needless to say, I never made it to the safe house. I set up a nest in the middle of the city and moved it every couple of days. Four days into the mission, I finally realized that this man wasn't doing anything wrong. He was just involved with the wrong men. In fact, they had his daughter and wife and were threatening him. So I tried to report it in."_

"I don't care," Holiday snapped. "You are ordered to find a public place and kill the target."

"But he's innocent!" Clint cried into the comms in shock. Already Holiday had gone on a huge rant about the paperwork she had to file when he never made it to the safe house. Clint tried to explain that he couldn't read the file she handed him but she apparently didn't believe him. Holiday huffed into the comms.

"You are ordered to kill the target," Holiday snarled. Clint stiffened. He remembered what Coulson had told him during the recruitment. As much as Holiday was refuting everything the older agent had told him, Clint didn't want to ruin things. But he also didn't want to take the hit. His decision was made when the target was able to get a visit from his little girl. The man held onto her so tightly and all Clint could do was think about his first target ever. The first kill where he got two for one.

"I won't do it," Clint called. Holiday growled.

"You will do it or I will have you tossed in jail," she yelled into the comms. Clint tensed, thinking back on his short time in the cells while he was healing. While it was admittedly not as great as he thought, it wasn't that bad either. He now had a choice of deal with the guilt of killing this man who was protecting his family or getting thrown in jail.

"Then throw me in jail," Clint hissed before shutting off his comm. Not knowing that his comm had a tracker in it, Clint went on a new mission. He was going to kill all the men who were stopping this father from protecting his family. During the day, they were all spread out too much. These men were smart. They didn't want anyone to notice that they were keeping the wife and daughter from the father, so they followed the two woman all day long. But at night, the woman were kept in the basement of the house. The father was upstairs and the men all spread about the first floor.

At first, Clint had assumed that these men where security personal. So he had written them off. But as he watched them, he had learned enough. These men were meant as a threatening tool against the family. They were thugs. Only one of them seemed truly intelligent and even then, S.H.I.E.L.D had trained Clint to be thousands of times better.

Night hit faster than expected and Clint was please to see that it was a night of a new moon. In the pitch black, his darkened S.H.I.E.L.D clothing made it even easier to disappear. His hide out from the day was different from the area he planned on actually doing the killing from, so he waited until most of the neighborhood was shut up in bed before moving. Shouldering the rifle, Clint set himself up in the building adjacent to the house of the original target. Wishing for his bow, Clint began to get prepared.

The lights in the basement were the first out. A sign that the wife and daughter had gone to bed. Minutes later, a man arrived in the front living room. The wife and daughter were now alone. Clint readied his rifle but just watched. Only three men were in the living room. But Clint already knew that seven men watched over the family. Two more men entered the front room and the five began to gather around the TV. Using his scope, Clint found the other two men in an adjacent room. Knowing he had all his targets sighted, he took his first shot.

The man in the back room dropped his head onto the dining room table as if he had just suddenly fallen asleep. Clint reloaded his rifle as the other man in the back room began to understand that his leader was dead. The archer watched as the man jumped to his feet and opened his mouth to call out before taking the second shot. It hit before a sound was made. Clint glanced at the rifle with a smile as he reloaded it once again. The silencer on the rifle was better than he expected. It almost seemed as silent as his bow.

Refocusing on the remaining five men, who were too distracted by the TV to realize that two of them were dead, Clint readied himself. This was going to be tougher. Five men meant once one was dead there was going to be four different reactions. And who know what each one would take. Analyzing the men, Clint decided to go for the largest man in the room. He was sitting at such an angle that once Clint took the shot, his brains splattered all over the TV. Clint only had three seconds to load the next round before the remaining four men reacted. One jumped to his feet, another ducked down and the third spun to trace the angle of the shot. The fourth was the one that Clint killed as he tried to cry out in shock.

Clint watched as the fourth man dropped onto the one who had fallen to the ground. The one who had jumped to his feet pulled a gun. Clint readied his rifle again as the third man pointed in a similar direction to where Clint was hiding. Frowning, Clint shot him next. The man who had drawn his gun spun and took a wild shot in Clint's direction. A good six feet away, dust exploded as the bullet bit into the building. Clint grimaced and loaded another shot. The man, using a small handgun, took another shot. This time it was only two feet away. Clint shot before he could get closer. The last man rushed to his feet and ran toward the stairs. Growling, Clint followed the shadow of the man as he rushed upstairs and into the master bedroom. The father, who had been trying to sleep in his bed, jerked up in shock and watched as Clint took his final shot.

The father was quick to realize what happened and jumped out of bed and ducked below the window sill. Clint shifted the rifle down as he watched the window. It took five minutes, a long time for someone to freak out mind you, before the father shifted to look out the window. When nothing happened, the man slowly got to his feet. Clint watched as the man took another minute to realize he wasn't getting shot at before rushing to the door and moving the dead body. Once the door was open wide enough for him to slip out, the father quickly moved downstairs. Clint waited until the basement light turned on before packing up his rifle and getting ready to leave.

Just as Clint was stepping out into the street, a few cop cars appeared at the end of the road. Clint smiled at the scene before turning around and heading toward the airport that the S.H.I.E.L.D pilot told him to meet at unless there was any trouble. Not really considering disagreeing with his handler as any trouble, Clint didn't expect that anything changed. He arrived almost hour later after making sure that no one was following him and was stunned to see not just the pilot sitting there but Holiday, Coulson and a few more agents that Clint didn't know. Before Clint could speak, Holiday looked to the unknown agents and pointed at him.

"Arrest him," she demanded. Clint stopped, gaping at her in surprise. As the agents marched forward, readying some twist ties, Clint looked to Coulson. The older agent was staring at him with a rather blank face. A face that Clint would later deem Coulson's disappointed face.

"Wait, you don't understand!" Clint cried, dropping the rifle case to the ground as he held his hands up in defense. The agents tensed, knowing that Clint was a highly trained assassin. Coulson's hand shifted to his waist, an area that Clint already knew held the agent's gun. Holiday didn't pause, she drew her weapon, flicked off the safety and trained it on the teen.

"Just make this easy on yourself. We wouldn't want a repeat of your recruitment," Holiday stated as if Clint intended to get shot. Clint frowned and focused on Coulson. The older agent shook his head, indicating that he wanted him to give up. Clint dropped his hands behind his back and turned around, giving the other agents the ability to tie him up. Not facing them made him anxious, especially knowing that Holiday had trained her gun on him. When the agents finally grabbed his wrist, Clint jumped and the agents acted as if they thought he was going to fight. Slamming him into the ground, Clint felt his cheek getting cut up by the asphalt as he called out.

"I'm not fighting!"

"Go easy," Coulson commanded after that. The agents backed off slightly but still forcefully tied him down. The ties were wrapped around his wrists and tied together before being pulled tight. So tight that Clint almost swore that they cut off circulation. Once they finished that, they began to pat him down. Pulling out a small Army knife, a set of nail clippers, a nail file and a packet of gum, they finally pulled him to his feet. Holiday stepped forward when they turned the archer back around.

"If I had my way, you would be shot where you stand. But the Director has ordered that you be brought in for a review. I pray you fail," Holiday growled. Clint said nothing to her. He focused on Coulson. The older agent sighed deeply. Clint looked away, not wanting to feel his own disappointment and failure at this whole thing. He had thought S.H.I.E.L.D was going to be good for him but apparently, Clint was destined to suffer.

_"Coulson didn't believe that bitch did he?" Tony called. Clint smirked, looking over everyone's faces. They ranged from shocked to horrified to pissed off. It made him feel even better. Maybe there was something good about sharing his past with his teammates. But as he looked over them again, Clint began to feel that maybe that he shouldn't just call them teammates. They were quickly becoming his friends._

_"He could not have! Our friend is more intelligent than that!" Thor declared._

_"Does this Agent Holiday still work for S.H.I.E.L.D?" Natasha hissed, wanting to beat the crap out of the female agent that she had never meet before._

_"Holiday died on a mission a few years back. And if Coulson believed her, would I really still be here?" Clint questioned. Bruce chuckled at the others as Clint sighed back into the bed._

_"How are you feeling?" Steve questioned. Clint shrugged._

_"Like a building exploded on me," he joked. This time everyone lightly laughed. "These pain meds do a hell of a job, making me feel better all."_

_"Are they making you tired? I can ask to have them changed," Bruce mentioned. Clint shook his head._

_"I actually can't have anything else. I'm allergic to most pain meds," he admitted. Bruce shifted. He hadn't known this before and considering the fact that S.H.I.E.L.D was pushing for him to become the Avengers' primary doctor, this was something he'd need to know. Then again, Bruce hadn't had the time to read through the files that S.H.I.E.L.D had e-mailed him a few weeks prior. "Don't worry. The talking is helping."_

_"Well, were you tossed in jail or did Coulson rescue you beforehand?" Tony cried, wanting to know the rest of the story. Clint laughed at the billionaire's reaction._

_"I got tossed in an interrogation room and left for a few hours. Maybe around three or four hours. Just enough time for the news to get an interview of the target announcing his thanks to the mystery assassin that killed the group that was trying to blackmail him into doing something against his wishes," Clint began. Tony smirked, pleased with this turn of events._

"I thought you said I could deny a hit! I told Holiday that the mark was good! I told her what was going on! Why wouldn't she listen?" Clint screamed as Coulson entered the interrogation room. The older agent was shocked at the veracity of Clint's voice and backed away from the teen in surprise. After spending so long reviewing the whole situation, Coulson and Fury had come to the same conclusion. Clint and Holiday were the worst match ever and Holiday was the one who needed review, not Clint.

"Don't worry about it. We've gone over the whole case and you were in the right about the mark. But, there has to be some action against going on your own and killing all those other men," Coulson began. Clint went to whine but the older agent held up a hand and stopped him. For a moment, Clint thought to speak anyways but wondered what Coulson wanted to say, so he clamped his mouth shut. "You are going to be banned from missions for three weeks. Most of that is also going to be spent introducing you to your new handler."

"Who do I get now? You?" Clint asked, nearly beaming in pleasure. Coulson shook his head no and Clint nearly deflated at the idea.

"Agent Paradise," Coulson answered, looking toward the door. Clint frowned wondering why all the handlers had such stupid names. The door opened again to a tall man with black hair and dark chocolate brown eyes. Clint glared at him as the man calmly walked over, thrust his hand out to Clint and waited. Slowly, Clint gripped the hand and was stunned at the rather fake strong grip and forceful shake of his hand.

"Agent Remmy Paradise," the agent stated in a rather feminine tone. Clint glanced over at Coulson. Coulson smirked and nodded his head, pretty much asking Clint to get along with the other agent. "I want to be upfront with you. I am gay and in a very stable relationship."

"Okay," Clint muttered, unsure what to make of the agent. He had no problem with the guy being gay. There were two gay couples that traveled with the circus. Just as long as the agent did hit on him.

"I heard that you are not allowed on missions for three weeks?" Paradise asked. Clint nodded. "Good, gives me time to see what you can and cannot do!"

_"Paradise lasted those three weeks before he resigned as my handler. Apparently his lover didn't like him spending so much time with me. Even though the other man knew that Paradise was my handler," Clint said. He stopped when he heard chuckling. Someone was trying not to laugh. Clint immediately turned to Tony. And indeed, the genius was trying not to laugh._

_"I thought Bruce was lying when he said you were in the circus!" Tony guffawed. Clint shook his head._

_"Nope. Most of my teenage years were with the circus. Actually... I was 10 when I first joined and 16 when I left," Clint mentioned._

_"You learn anything interesting in the circus?" Steve asked, looking very interested. Clint realized that Steve had grown up during the time when Circus's were really popular. He must have always dreamed of either going or even joining himself. Clint smiled._

_"I learned a lot. Most of my first year was spent being as helpful as possible and doing not just my chores, but Barney's chores as well. It was maybe three days after my 11th birthday that that all changed."_

_"That was when you got found by Trickshot?" Bruce guessed. Clint nodded, glad that the doctor had actually been paying attention._

_"Yeah. I had stole a practice bow that he was using for another boy he was trying to train. The boy kept complaining that the bow was making him miss. I used it whenever they weren't training. The first time I used it, I hit the edge of the target. My second time, hit the inside ring near the center. The third hit dead center. In less than a week, I was hitting near dead center every time. But that was just standing still in front of a stationary target. Not good enough for a show, but good enough for Trick to think it was worth switching over to me."_

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**I'm so glad that I go back through each chapter before I post it. I almost completely skipped over Clint saving his original target. _ Hope you enjoyed! Please Review, Favorite and Follow!**


	10. Age 11

**Baby Clint has gotten a slight cold... So he refuses to go to bed at night since about Wednesday night. Hence why this post is now officially two days late. Sorry. Hopefully he'll be fine soon.**

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Age: 11

Place: Carson's Carnival of Traveling Wonders

"Yes!" Clint cried as yet again he hit the center of the target. There was already a grouping of five arrows around the little yellow dot on the far away target. He hadn't been out here long. Thankfully no one seemed to miss him when he did go to practice. Clint danced in place before preparing another arrow. A soft smile appeared on his lips as he prepped the scene. "The crowd goes silent as Young Barton prepares for this daring shot! He steadies himself. A hush falls over the arena. Sighing, Barton shoots! The crowd goes wild as yet again the youngest archer in history hits the target! AHHHH!"

"Nice shot," a voice called from behind him. Clint tensed. No one was supposed to know he was out here. Heck, the only two who normally came out here to practice archery didn't even know Clint had been as well. Knowing he had to see who it was, he slowly turned around to see Buck Chisholm standing behind him. The master archer was staring down the range at the target. Clint could only stare. He half wondered if Buck would beat him for taking the bow. Not that he or his partner used the bow anymore. But Clint almost feared that Buck would report him to Carson. The owner of the circus had strict rules about taking things from the other carnies. Clint would get kicked out of the circus, no matter how much work he performed before and after. Buck glanced down at Clint. In that second the old master understood what was running through the boy's head but ignored it. "Try that from here."

Silently, Clint nodded and moved over to Buck. Standing beside the master archer, Clint felt more frightened than ever before. Shakily, he raised the bow. Knowing he couldn't shoot like that, Clint tried to calm. For what felt like a lifetime, Clint tried his hardest to calm his shaking body. After a minute or so where Clint still had yet to shoot, Buck glanced down at the boy and saw him shaking like a leaf. Pleased that he instilled a bit of fear in the boy, Buck smiled. It was easier to train kids if they were terrified of him. Made it so much simpler. But, right now, he really wanted to see if Clint was as good as he seemed. Could the boy only shoot from that one spot or was there something more hidden behind his small frame.

"Calm down. I won't punish you for taking the bow," Buck stated as he turned back to the target. He had no idea if his words would calm the boy or if that was even why he was frightened. All Buck could do was assume he was right. Clint sighed, relieved at the saying. He had indeed feared Buck would punish him. After that, Buck wasn't all that scary. How he trained the other boy was no different from how his own father had treated him in his youth. But, even knowing all that, it still took the boy another minute or two to fully calm down enough to take the shot. Once fully calm, Clint focused on the target. Releasing a breath, Clint steadied his aim and fired.

THAWK!

Clint smiled, pleased that he had hit the outer line of the yellow circle. Buck grunted in amusement as he looked around for a new area to try from. As he looked about, Buck noticed that grass was pressed down in an exact path from where Clint previously stood to the target. Buck smirked, it was a sign that Clint hadn't changed distance before. But as he thought about it, the master archer wondered about Clint. If the boy had never switched positions before, how was he so good now? Shaking his head from such thoughts, Buck moved to a new area, further away and further to the side of Clint's normal spot. Once there, Buck motioned that Clint should follow him. Hesitantly, the boy did as he was told. Buck focused on Clint.

"Again," he demanded. Clint frowned, glancing at the target before nodding. Setting himself up, Clint took the shot in less than half the time as before. The arrow struck closer to the center than before. Raising an eyebrow in surprise, Buck shifted positions again. This time, Clint followed without prompt and took his shot before Buck could ask. Clint then focused on Buck as he took another arrow out and shot it without looking. Surprised, Buck looked down the range. Both arrows were nearly dead center.

"Well?" Clint questioned, almost accusing Buck of claiming that he hadn't been a good shot. Buck looked to the boy, almost daring him to act like that again. His smile had begun to morph into something deadly looking. But Clint stared back at Buck as if he was the one daring Buck to step out of line.

"Meet me at my range, tomorrow, before breakfast," Buck retorted before storming off, knowing there was nothing else he could say to the boy. Breakfast was normally at dawn, something that Clint normally never got to enjoy. It wasn't that he slept in late, it was usually that he was busy doing some chores. Clint tended not to sleep at night. Instead, he used the time to explore the circus or even work on his chores and some of Barney's. But now that was going to change.

Clint stared in the spot that Buck had previously occupied for a minute more before understanding what the archer meant. Buck was going to train him. Buck was going to train _HIM!_ Excited, Clint ran back to the tent that Barney was currently using as his. Even though the brothers had barely spoken the past few months, Clint needed to tell his brother the happy news. But before entering the tent, Clint paused. He could hear voices speaking.

"What the?" Clint muttered to himself before sneaking around to the back of the tent. Having once been caught spying on his brother before, Clint had gotten the beating of a lifetime. Not wanting to repeat that incident, Clint was very cautious now. He had gotten better since joining the circus but Clint still knew that he wasn't in the clear. Anyone could come walking by right now. And even though Barney was one of the most hated people here, circus folk tended to like their privacy and would love to report Clint.

"I'm gonna train Clint with or without your permission. I just wanted to let you know that I was planning on training him," Buck's voice snapped through the rather thin cloth. His voice told Clint that the master archer had been speaking to Barney for a while now. More than likely, since he walked away from Clint. Feeling odd listening in now, Clint almost turned to leave. But, they were talking about him. Curiosity won out. Clint slunk down deeper to the ground.

"Why? The damned brat can't do anything worthwhile," Barney stated. Clint frowned. He had been doing more work around here than Barney. Where did he get off saying things like that? "He'll just be a hassle."

"That 'brat' taught himself how to shoot. I want to train him into my show," Buck hissed, downplaying Clint's skills so that he didn't have to fight Barney over money, food or chores. Barney scoffed, clearly not believing that Buck would be interested in Clint for only being able to teach himself how to shoot. But, Barney didn't have the time to watch over the younger boy so, he couldn't really stop Buck.

"I knew he had too much time on his hands!" Barney muttered to himself, sounding louder than normal. Buck stomped his foot, making Clint jump. He knew that Barney must have turned away from the archer to have gotten that. There was also the sound of quickly moving cloth. Clint shifted to lift the edge of the tent off the ground and peeked in. Buck had Barney by the collar of his shirt and held him a good foot off the ground.

"Listen! None of us have told Carson that you keep making Clint do your work. It's dishonorable and cruel. But, I will make everyone continue to keep quiet..." Buck trailed off, leaving his tone as the threat of what him implied to do.

"Thought you said you'd train him anyway?" Barney snarled, shifting to try and shimmy out of his shirt. A move that Barney hadn't done since before their father passed away. And now it was proving ineffective as he had grown too much and his shirt was a size too small. Buck hummed before tossing the teen to the ground. Barney landed with a huff and Clint had to freeze in order to avoid backing away too quickly. "What else do ya want?"

"If Clint begins training with me, he needs more free time than he currently has. So, you'll have to do your own chores from now on," Buck explained. Barney huffed, thinking that Buck must be joking. But when Buck lunged toward him, the teen backed down. "And... If he is really good, you'll have to pick up on his."

"Hell no! I need my free time!" Barney declared, stopping before explaining about the reason he needed the time. Buck raised an eyebrow at the declaration but didn't pressure Barney into saying more. The master archer really didn't need to know what Barney was doing with his free time. After all, the less the circus knew about criminal activities, the better.

"Is your free time more important than staying here? No? Then you'll do your chores!" Buck shouted. Barney winced as Buck spun on his heel and moved closer to the entrance of the tent. Clint lowered the tent down to the ground and backed away. "Just so you know, if you had actually been doing your chores this whole time, you would be fast enough to actually have this much free time."

Clint counted to ten before there was a loud scream followed by items being tossed about and broken. Some things even hit into the tent flaps and made the cloth flutter. The boy winced, knowing that this was going to come back harshly on him. Clint slunk away, intent on finding a place to hide for the night before Barney went after him. His tent wasn't safe. Barney knew where that was. No one else's tents were safe either. Quickly running out of places, Clint turned to the main tent. Julissa, one of the trapeze artists, had once shown him a small crow's nest on the main pain. That area had the other poles that the tent needed connect to it. Knowing that Barney was afraid of heights, Clint scampered into the tent. Taking one glance at the tall pole, he smiled. It was perfect. Climbing up the pole was easier than Clint suspected and then getting comfortable was even easier. The whole area was just big enough to fit him.

Morning came faster than Clint expected. The sunlight streaming through the small hole above him made the boy wake up in a flash. Fearing he may have already missed training with Buck, Clint rushed down the pole and took off to the range that Buck set up. He didn't even notice that no one was awake yet. If he had missed training, breakfast would have been over and everyone would have been starting work on their chores or practicing for the night's performance. A few minutes later, Clint arrived at the range to see no one there.

"Crap!" Clint called, thinking that Buck must have moved his training elsewhere or canceled training for his apprentice. Buck had a penchant for doing such things if he had gotten drunk the night before. It was the apprentice's job to figure out if Buck changed plans. Kicking the dirt before him, Clint sat on the ground wondering what he was going to do now. If Barney found out he already messed up, he'd get beaten up so bad. And Barney still needed to beat Clint for what Buck had said the night before. What the older Barton didn't know was that Clint tended to abuse himself mentally much harder than he could get physically beaten.

"Good, you're here," a voice said from behind the boy. Jumping to his feet in surprise, Clint turned to see Buck walking toward him. In the master archers hands was Buck's normal show bow, the bow that Buck's apprentice recently switched too and a new looking bow. There were three quivers draped across his back as well that Buck dropped onto the ground as soon as he got beside Clint. Without really focusing on Clint, Buck glanced around. "Where the fuck is Pat?"

"I haven't seen him," Clint muttered, staring at the third bow in complete and utter awe. He had been expecting to use the bow he had been working with before. Buck glanced down at him and noticed him eyeing the bow. Smiling, Buck handed it over. It was a thin bow curving back toward the string before turning back toward the front at the tips where the string sat.

"This is a recurve bow. It's similar to the one you were using before just a bit bigger and bit more tension on the string. Don't be surprised if your shots are off a bit," Buck mentioned, sounding kinder than he ever had before. Clint looked up to the master archer in surprise. What the archer hadn't implied was what Clint had grabbed a hold of.

"This is... Mine?" he asked. Buck nodded, smiling at the fact that Clint picked up on that of everything he had said.

"Even if I end up not choosing you, Jacques requested to use you in his show," Buck explained. Clint nodded, feeling better and better about this whole ordeal. Buck turned away to try and find his actual apprentice. Knowing that Buck wasn't watching him, Clint stood facing the target on the far end of the range and began to aim without an arrow strapped to the string. Buck looked back before Clint even had a chance to dry fire it. "NO!"

"What?" Clint cried, slowly releasing the string and turning to face Buck. Buck sighed deeply, holding his chest in shock.

"Never, ever! Dry fire a bow!" Buck demanded. Clint nodded, having watched Buck train Pat a few times before.

"I know," Clint answered. Buck raised an eyebrow. Knowing what it looked like he had been about to do, Clint smiled. "I was checking the tension."

Buck hummed, not sure he really believed the boy. But not having any proof otherwise, Buck couldn't really yell at Clint. So, instead he went back to looking for Pat. Clint looked down at the quivers. Each one had a color that matched the grip of each bow. Finding the color that matched his, Clint picked it up and began adjusting it onto his back. A few minutes later, he was done and began joining Buck in waiting for Pat. It wasn't until the sun was cresting the mountain in the distance that Buck turned to Clint.

"Go over to that tree and shoot the furthest target from it," Buck told him, knowing that in the weeks of training Pat, the boy hadn't been able to do it. He half hoped that Clint would be able to. Nodding, Clint gladly jogged over to where Buck pointed and set himself up. In seconds, Clint was shooting and hitting the target in the yellow circle. Buck smiled. "Good-bye Pat."

Slowly, he walked over to Clint. The boy barely noticed, just kept shooting away. Buck watched the boy shoot for a few minutes before moving forward and lightly corrected Clint's stance. Then he allowed him to shoot for another few minutes. His aim improved and his arms hurt less when he pulled back. Buck watched and corrected. Sometimes he had to explain why Clint missed just slightly. By the end of the day, Clint could hit every target, dead center, from any point that Buck had on the range.

"Tomorrow, we'll work with targets in motion," Buck announced. Clint frowned.

"No animals, right?" he asked. Buck laughed.

"No. We'd run out of animals before you got it right every time," he said. Clint smiled, glad that he didn't have to shoot animals. Barney had done it once before when they were little. Before the orphanage and before their parents died. The mess that that squirrel made, still scarred Clint to this day.

_"My friend, how long did it take for you to learn?" Thor questioned when Clint paused to take a breath. Clint smiled._

_"By the next month, I began performing with Buck," Clint mentioned. "It took another two months before Carson labeled me as Hawkeye, the amazing boy marksman."_

_"Wait, S.H.I.E.L.D didn't give you that name?" Tony asked. Clint nodded._

_"I got that name from the circus and even used it when I was a gun for hire. That's how S.H.I.E.L.D knew so much about me. They traced me back from Carson's. It's also partly why I'm not big on codenames. Don't need them when people can easily figure out who I am," Clint explained. Tony smiled, pulling his phone out before Clint could finish._

_"You deck out the tower in his circus posters, I'll kill you myself," Natasha snarled at the billionaire. He pouted for a bit before realizing there were many other areas that the assassin hadn't included in that. Smiling, he happily went back to his hunting._

_"Is this one of the reasons why you never talked to us about your past?" Steve inquired, pointing to Tony as he spoke. The others laughed as Tony pouted at the captain. Clint shook his head no._

_"Nah. He wouldn't bother me, no matter what he finds. It's just... I've never really been around people who cared about my background. The circus was more of a 'keep it to yourself' place. S.H.I.E.L.D is a place where, even secrets have their secrets who sometimes even have their secrets. So I wasn't about to open up to anyone. I guess, I just got used to keeping quiet," Clint answered._

_"I never thought of it like that. I almost assumed you didn't want to get close to us," Bruce admitted. "I mean... I figured when Natasha and I began opening up about our pasts, you'd follow suit. But you still didn't say anything. So... I guessed I assumed the worst."_

_"Most people tend to. It's why I went through about four more handlers after Paradise before Coulson was subjected to me as a 'last chance,'" Clint replied._

_"Last chance?" Steve muttered. Clint shrugged._

_"The four handlers in between kept trying to change the way I tried to do my hits. And when I wouldn't change or they didn't listen to my suggestion, they spun the reports to me being disobedient. I think what sucked the most about it was that because each of them had been part of S.H.I.E.L.D longer than me, no one believed me. Well, 'cept Coulson. I think that's why Fury allowed him to be my last chance. Otherwise, Fury would have tossed me out long beforehand."_

_"You know what always has bugged me. Why'd you marry Barbara?" Natasha asked completely out of the blue. Clint burst out laughing at her before groaning as his ribs didn't like the motion._

_"Wait! He's married!?" Tony nearly screamed. "And I didn't invite the wife to live with us?"_

_"No! No, god no!" Clint cried as he tried to calm his chuckling down to talk. "No, Bobbi divorced me the next year. She got wicked jealous of Natasha and claimed it was either Nat, or her. I chose Nat cause Bobbi and I didn't mesh well on missions," Clint explained._

_"Still, why her?" Natasha nearly growled now. Clint laughed a bit more._

_"I thought I loved her."_

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**And I thought reviewers loved me... JK. Anywho, please review, favorite and follow. ^_^**


	11. Age 23

**HAPPY HALLOWEEN! I've been bad... very very bad... I am soooooo sorry this took so long. No excuse... Just... I guess things happen. Baby Clint is walking now with support. He's too afraid to let go of the support and even stand on his own. It's cute cause when we try to get him too, he'll over-balance toward us and slam his face into our chests. He's also waving now. And I mean waving to everyone. Car drives by, wave. Person comes toward him, wave. Cat walks passed, wave. Say hi, wave. Say bye, wave. He loves, loves, loves to wave. Heck, even today I saw him wave at the opening to Mickey Mouse Clubhouse on Disney Junior. Right now he's out trick or treating with his father while I stay inside and update and pass out candy. Trying my hardest not to eat it all but you know how it is. You intentionally buy candy you know you like in case there are leftovers. Whoops, doorbell, BRB! ^_^**

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Age: 23

Place: S.H.I.E.L.D New York H.Q.

"Excuse me, could you help me?" a woman called from behind him. Glancing back, Clint spotted a woman with vibrant blond hair and bright blue eyes. She was just slightly taller than him and rather thinly built. Clint almost wasn't sure if there was an ounce of fat on her and wouldn't really believe if she weighed over 130. If one could believe in 'love at first sight' then Clint was totally smitten. He had no idea who this woman was, what she was, or even if she worked for S.H.I.E.L.D. She could have been an assassin sent to kill him and he'd more than likely just stand there with open arms. Yeah, Clint was a goner from the start. There was going to be nothing stopping him.

"What's up?" Clint asked, trying to sound like his normal self. Sadly his voice slightly cracked due to nerves. The woman smiled at the sound. To Clint it was almost like the heavens opened up on her teeth. They shined in the light and looked beautiful. He sighed in pleasure before promptly praying that it was only in his head. When she smiled a little more and chuckled, he knew that he didn't.

"I'm supposed to meet my new handler at the range, but... Well, I got kind a lost," the woman admitted with a sheepish look that made her look too cute for Clint. He laughed lightly at her to cover his own blush. That just made he seem to relax a bit more and chuckle at him again. Clint gave a sheepish laugh of his own before glancing around. He kind-of forgot where he was at the moment.

"Yeah you did. Especially considering the range is like four floors from here," he said. The woman looked really sheepish now which made him laugh even more at her. But she didn't seem to take offense to it, so Clint felt she was fine with it. Before she could prompt another question at her, he waved at her. "Come on, I'll show you."

"Thanks," she told him as the two began walking in the supposed correct direction. She smirked as she mentally congratulated herself for this whole thing. Clint smirked at her. "I'm Bobbi, by the way."

"Bobbi? Hm... Isn't that a guy's name?" Right away Clint mentally cursed at himself. He wasn't supposed to make fun of her name! God that was horrible. Thankful she just laughed at him.

"Well, actually. Barbara Morse. But I like people calling me Bobbi instead."

"Yeah, I get that," Clint answered as they finally arrived at the elevator. Clint pressed the button which stared a pause in conversation as they waited for the elevator to arrive. Bobbi looked to Clint, waiting for him to introduce himself. Sadly, Clint was too used to all of S.H.I.E.L.D knowing who he was. So he had no intention of doing so. He just assumed she already knew who he was. And if she didn't, then she wouldn't last long enough in S.H.I.E.L.D for him to bother. Bobbi huffed as the elevator arrived and opened.

"And you are?" Bobbi pressed as the duo entered the elevator. Clint hummed in confusion. She laughed at him, trying to brush off her agitation at him not being so forthcoming as she assumed he'd be. Rumors of him being a big flirt may not be as true as she once thought. She almost began to wonder if any of what she heard about him was true. "What is your name?"

"OH! Clint... Clint Barton," Clint answered, wondering why he was introducing himself but nonetheless did so. She laughed at him again. This time, Clint joined in as well. He would never really get over the awkwardness of this moment with her.

_"We didn't really get to see much of each other for a while. She had training with her handler for a month and then was put on separate missions from me. I know Natasha worked with Bobbi at least once during that time. But I never did. It wasn't for a few months after that, maybe a month after working missions, that she joined me for lunch in the cafe. Natasha happened to be on a mission by herself. Something that was a bit of a rarity during this time..."_

"Hello, stranger," a familiar voice seductively whispered beside Clint in line for food. Clint lazily glanced over, thinking it was some junior agent who felt that Clint was good looking and wanted a date for the night. Whoever spread the rumor that Clint was a bit of a flirt was really ticking him off. He still had yet to find out who it was and each day that passed that he couldn't figure it out, Clint wished more vengeance on them. But as he looked at the person beside him, he was surprised and rather pleased to see it was Bobbi.

"Hey, Bobbi," Clint greeted. Bobbi jokingly gasped at the archer. He almost winced, knowing what was coming next. Another rumor that was spread about him. This one he knew the origin from and had taken vengeance. But it was too late by that point.

"You remembered my name!" Bobbi said with a laugh. Clint nodded, giving her a soft smile but she could tell he wasn't pleased with this joke. A year or so before, Clint had mistakenly forgotten a junior agent's name that he was training. He had only met her and thirty other students the day before and when he couldn't remember her name and three other female students, she spread a rumor that he could never remember names. What the agents hadn't known is that he had just gotten back from a mission where he had gotten such a bad concussion that when he first had woken, he could barely remember Fury, Coulson and Natasha.

"Ha, ha. Guess I only remember important people," Clint joked back before grimacing. Bobbi smirked in humor at his words. "That sounded so much better in my head."

Bobbi laughed as the two continued collecting their food for lunch. Clint barely noticed what he had grabbed as they went. He couldn't even remember much of the conversation he had with Bobbi. All Clint could really focus on was Bobbi's body, outfit and the gossip beginning to spread around about them. He knew that for at least the next two months this whole deal was going to be the talk of the HQ. Why people were so interested in him, he'd never know but it really did get annoying.

"Really? Her?" someone called to their friends in disgust. "Isn't she married?"

"She's so blond," another whined, a voice that Clint recognized had asked him out the month before.

"I've been on a mission with her. She was such a whiny brat," a third voice said with such knowledge that even if they were lying, people would believe it. Clint rolled his eyes.

"I was her roommate during training. She was such a bitch."

"I could be so much better than her!"

"What makes her so special?"

"What the hell is his deal? He turns down everyone else but accepts her?"

"I thought he and that red head were together?"

Clint wasn't really surprised about the gossip that began overlapping each other as time passed. Especially the news about Bobbi. Natasha had gone on a mission with Bobbi before. Neither woman had gotten along during the mission, making it that much harder on all of them. It also didn't help that Bobbi complained about everything, including Natasha. Once they returned to base, Natasha spent the next week complaining about Bobbi and everything she did. He shrugged it all off as such more rumors that people were trying to spread. It was something he had gotten used to since joining.

"Are you even listening to me?" Bobbi suddenly asked in a rather whiney voice. Clint, jerking out of his thoughts, focused on the woman in surprise. He gave her a sheepish smile to which she rolled her eyes smiled back. In the back of his mind, Clint realized that Natasha was right. Bobbi was a bit of a whiner. "I asked where you wanted to sit."

"Uh..." Clint glanced around. Normally, he took his food to his room or the range or some other hiding place. It had always been like that. Since he joined, Clint was never too comfortable in crowds like this. Heck, he used to even wait for everyone to eat and leave before he went to serve himself. But lately he'd been trying to break himself of that habit. He just hadn't gotten around to sitting in the cafe. So now, as he stared out at the numerous amounts of tables filled with other agents, he couldn't figure out what to do. Most were watching the two with curios expressions. And Clint could see everyone already making plans to listen in. For a secret spy organization, S.H.I.E.L.D had some really crappy agents. But as much as Clint wanted to sneak off, he didn't want to sneak off with Bobbi. That would just cause more talk. Talk that he didn't want. So instead he looked at her. "Could care less."

"Okay," Bobbi responded before moving toward the middle of the room. Clint slowly followed, becoming more and more tense with each passing second. He watched as she plopped down at a table that had two other agents already cleaning up their lunch. Nodding their hellos and goodbyes, they left, leaving the blond all alone at the table. Smugly, she turned to look at him with a huge smile on her face. Clint gave her a weak one in return. "Here good?"

Clint glanced around, stiffening with each bit of realization he came up with. The table was pretty much set up as the exact center of the entire room. No matter where he sat, people would be behind him. He wouldn't have sight lines on everyone around him. It was one of the worst positions for a sniper. Hell, it was the worst position for him considering how many times people he trusted attacked him from behind. But as he looked back at Bobbi, he saw her pleased about the fact that they would be enjoying lunch alone at the table. Knowing this would be highly uncomfortable, Clint nodded and sat across the table from her. Bobbi smiled, but mentally growled at him sitting so far away, as the two began eating. She had to plan on better spots in the future. Meanwhile, Clint tried not to flinch anytime someone moved or made a noise behind him.

_"Bobbi pretty much seemed to stalk me after that. She claimed that that was our first date and that we were now in a serious relationship. Considering she never told me this first, I couldn't really refute it by the time it got to me," Clint began explaining. Tony and Thor laughed at him. Bruce smiled, chuckling as he remembered how girls could be. Steve shook his head. Natasha shook her head, already knowing what was coming next anyways. "She followed me to the range after lunch. Then to the roof and the next day, she met me for breakfast and followed me around all day."_

_"After all this, what the hell made you want to marry her? Hell, what the fuck made you propose to her?" Tony commented as he calmed down from his laughing fit. Clint shrugged, really unsure how his whole relationship with Bobbi went. She controlled most of it. Actually, she tended not to tell him things first and made others get the information back to him so that he couldn't stop her from moving their relationship forward._

_"I actually never proposed to her. She did it to me about three days before I turned 24. We got married about a month later," Clint answered. Before he could fully say everything, Bruce spoke._

_"What made you say yes?" Bruce wondered aloud. Clint laughed at this one. He had Coulson keep the recording of the event in his file as a just in case. Clint watched it numerous times over his marriage to Bobbi._

_"I was high on a bad mix of drugs. Most of which I happen to be allergic to. Bobbi caught me after I had just explained to Coulson that I'd say yes to fucking a polar bear. She came in, told me she was petrified for me, wanted to spend the rest of her life with me and proposed. I said yes and she went into planning mode," Clint mentioned. Tony chuckled at this. Bruce shook his head. Thor smiled. Natasha snorted but Clint couldn't tell if it was in anger or humor. Steve frowned._

_"Did you even want to marry her?" Steve questioned, feeling sick that Clint was basically tricked into marrying Bobbi. Clint shrugged as Natasha got to her feet and began pacing the room. The archer watched her for any signs that she was going to snap at him. But she just seemed like she needed to move otherwise she'd go hunt Bobbi down and kill the woman._

_"I don't know. I certainly wouldn't have proposed or even agreed that fast without the drugs. But... Who knows. It happened and I agreed and we got married. Not much either of us can do about it now." The other men traded looks. There was more to this story but they weren't gonna hear about it with Natasha in the room._

_"Why did you divorce?" Tony asked, figuring that would be a safer topic with Natasha around._

**Age 25:**

"Clint Barton, are you even listening to me?" snapped Bobbi during breakfast. Clint jerked away in surprise, having dozed off during their conversation. Bobbi huffed at him. She had lately been noticing that Clint hadn't been spending much time with her and even when he did, he wasn't all there. This was just a perfect example. He had fallen asleep after just waking up. What she didn't know is that Clint had just finished a late night debrief only to get home, drop in bed for an hour before the alarm went off to wake the duo up.

"What?" Clint mumbled in a half daze. Bobbi rolled her eyes at her husband. He was getting worse and worse around her. She was beginning to feel as if she was the only one in this relationship. And she blamed it all on one person. That red headed she-devil, Natasha Romanoff.

"I was saying that I was going to ask Director Fury to make us partners," Bobbi reiterated. Clint snapped to attention so fast that his neck cracked with the force. Bobbi winced at the noise but wasn't all that surprised. Any time she had mentioned him leaving Natasha as a partner in the past it hadn't gone over well. She was beginning to feel that Clint liked Natasha more than her. And it bothered her more than she wanted to let on to even herself.

"What? Why?"

"Cause, we are married and you don't need to work with someone else. We are basically the perfect partners," Bobbi claimed, believing marriage to be a sacred union of two perfect partners and that it was nothing about love or feelings. Clint frowned. Bobbi was too different from him. He tried working with her on missions before. Most of them hadn't gone over well. Clint was always told to chalk it up to his inability to work with change, but Clint didn't feel as comfortable with Bobbi watching his back as he did with Natasha.

"Tasha and I work well together. We're one of S.H.I.E.L.D's best teams!"

"And I think you and _I_ could be better," Bobbi said, making sure to stress the 'I'. Clint's frown deepened as he stared at her. He couldn't believe they were having this argument again. "Sides, you spend way too much time with Agent Romanoff."

"Nat and I are partners. We're supposed too to be such a good team."

"Agent Fredrickson and I are partners, but we don't spend as much time together as you and Agent Romanoff," Bobbi pointed out as though her partnership, which was mid-level group at best, was equal to the top group. Clint raised an eyebrow as he began to see where this whole idea was going. Agent Fredrickson was another female agent. One that Bobbi had requested after marrying Clint. And since then, she's begged for Clint to change partners. She even told Coulson once that Clint worked better with men than with woman. The next mission hadn't gone well.

"Are you jealous?" Bobbi looked offended for a moment. Clint smiled, thinking he figured it all out. "You are!"

"No, I'm not!" Bobbi snapped. Clint scoffed. "You shouldn't spend so much time with another woman when you are married!" Clint shook his head, having had this conversation many times before in the past two years or so.

"Nat and I are partners. Barely even friends. You have nothing to worry about," Clint tried, again, not for the first time. Bobbi took her turn to scoff at him now. Clint rolled his eyes.

"That's why there are rumors that you guys screw each other in the gym," Bobbi bitched. Clint snarled, having heard the rumors before. No matter what Natasha and he did, the rumor mill loved to hook the duo up in the craziest of ways. He launched to his feet in anger, the chair he was on clattering backwards on the ground. Bobbi winced knowing this was getting out of hand but she couldn't stop now. Not until she had won this argument. She was sick of being second fiddle to Natasha.

"We train! That's all we fucking do, Bobbi! We train to be better partners!" Clint shouted at her, sick of hearing this. Bobbi's eyes flashed with anger and betrayal. Clint winced, knowing that look all too well. He had ticked her off and he was about to get it. This look was something he had been seeing more and more over the past couple of months. He always tried to avoid it but it kept coming. Especially when Natasha's name was mixed into the situation. "Bobbi..."

"No! Don't you dare 'Bobbi' me," she snapped. Clint looked away for a minute. There was no backing down now. They were about to get into a huge fight and there was nothing that either of them could do about it. If Clint backed down, Bobbi would call him a coward. If Clint tried to apologize, Bobbi wouldn't believe him. If Clint argued back, than Bobbi would be put in the same boat as Clint and she never was one to back down when she believed in something.

"Look, Bobbi-" Clint began, trying to figure out how to avoid an argument. But Bobbi stopped him by standing and shouting back at him. Clint could only wince at the words coming out of her mouth.

"No! NO! I'm trying to make things better! I'm trying to work with you! But all you do is throw it back in my face! You want to stay with Romanoff! You barely ever see me! We haven't fucked in months. God! I don't even know if I love you anymore!" Bobbi screamed. She gasped at the words as soon as they left her mouth. Slowly, her hands came up to cover her mouth. Clint just stared at her. There were no words to say after that. Sighing deeply, Clint turned and grabbed his chair. As he righted it, Bobbi rushed around the table and placed a hand on his shoulder. He shrugged it off as she spoke. "Clint..."

"No. It's been said," Clint muttered. Bobbi let her hand drop back to her side. Clint walked toward the front door. Slowly he looked back at her. "I'm gonna stay at HQ tonight. Still got some emergency clothes there."

"Okay..." Bobbi moaned pitifully. Clint nodded before walking out the door. Softly closing it, he leaned against it with a huff. Inside he could hear Bobbi begin to cry. He shook his head. There was nothing he could do now. If Bobbi didn't love him, then she didn't love him. But as he stood there, Clint realized that he wasn't bothered by this. He wasn't bothered by the fact that Bobbi didn't love him. Sighing deeply, he pushed off the door and began heading to S.H.I.E.L.D HQ to meet with Natasha for training. The entire time he thought about his relationship with Bobbi.

_"Bobbi gave me the divorce papers maybe three days after. I had never gone back to the house so she did it while at S.H.I.E.L.D. Rumors spread fast blaming Natasha, Fury, hell, even Coulson. Not a single one was right of course. Bobbi got the house and most of my paycheck to keep it until she could find a cheaper place to live. I was able to go in with the cops to get my things and make sure I didn't take her stuff. Even though we broke up mutually, the court ruled it as such," Clint described._

_"That doesn't sound right," Bruce muttered, having seen divorce cases in his past. Clint shrugged. Bobbi had again controlled most of the whole proceedings. He wouldn't be surprised if she had given them a much different story than he gave of her._

_"Doesn't matter now. I got divorced. Bobbi was moved to a different location by her request and we haven't really talked since," Clint explained._

_"How long ago was this?" Thor muttered. Clint frowned._

_"About two months before my 26th birthday and... Six months or so before Loki attacked," Clint responded. The others stiffened at the trickster's name. Even Clint shifted uncomfortably. "But that doesn't matter now."_

_"You once mentioned other handlers that you had?" Steve questioned. Clint nodded but before he could start with a new story, Tony interrupted._

_"Hey! No! I want to hear more about the circus!" he called. Clint smirked, knowing that that was going to be basically the only thing that the genius would be interested in._

_"You had your chance, Stark," Natasha snarled. Tony puffed up his chest in a show of bravado._

_"So didn't you!" Natasha nodded._

_"Let Steve have a chance," she snapped. Tony frowned. Clint just laughed._

_"Listen, it's fine. I can tell you guys everything. As long as it keeps me awake," he said._

_"I would like to hear of this place you call an orphan home," Thor muttered. Clint glanced over at him. The last time he mentioned the orphanage had been a long while back. To have such good memory over a small piece of his history, Clint was beginning to wonder if this was the best idea. "Why would you leave such a place?"_

_"Old Man Winters wasn't the most... Hospitable. As you know, I arrived when I was six. It wasn't until I was seven and a half before I realized why some of the other kids didn't like the place either. I hadn't been paying much attention to the other kids after Barney abandoned me. So Old Man Winters took me by surprise when he went after me..."_

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**OMG! My doorbell just rang for like the fifth time tonight and I just caught my cat growling like a dog at it! He growled! Like legit, 'I'm a dog and I'm gonna get you!' It was so funny! I so hope he barks soon, that'd just make him the perfect cat.**

**Anyways, can't wait to see you all next time. Remember to review, favorite and follow!**


	12. Age 7

**Please don't kill me... I am soooooo sorry about this. Baby Clint has gone through this whole 'need's Mamma' phase and I can barely get a second to breath. Never mind my internet keeps crashing, so I've done this dang note at least five times by now. Ugh. This time, I swear I'm gonna just copy before saving the document. Anyways, here is chapter 12!**

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Age: 7

Clint huddled deeper down into the chair in an effort to get comfortable. The other kids had left him alone since his seventh birthday and so he had taken to hanging out in the library area. Most of the books were for really little kids but considering he could barely read, nearly all of them were at his reading level. He actually enjoyed reading the stories over and over, even if he didn't understand some of the words. Even the harder books were enjoyable. More times than not, Clint made up definitions for each word he didn't know. It was almost like 'fill in the blank.' And that was one of the best games ever. Clint always enjoyed making his own story. If it was a picture book, he tried to keep it like what he could see but the older books. His imagination would go all over.

"Hello," an old craggily voice greeted, surprising Clint out of his most recent book and fanatic idea. The cardboard item fell to the ground with a clap, making the young boy shudder at the noise. Clint focused on the person as they entered the room and closed the door. As mentioned, he didn't tend to get bothered by other kids so no one would have greeted him. So it was even more shocking to see who it actually was. It was Old Man Winters. Clint had watched the old man closely in his first year at the orphanage. At this time during the day, the old man normally was in his study or bedroom so Clint hadn't planned on seeing him. But he still wanted to be polite so he nodded a hello.

"Hello, sir," Clint calmly replied. Technically, the young boy knew that the old man wasn't into pleasantries and so he wouldn't have cared if Clint had completely ignored him. But Clint learned early that polite was better than nothing. Old Man Winters moved deeper into the room without a word back. Not that Clint was expecting one. Years of abuse from his father made Clint look the old man over. He looked tense for some reason. Almost like a spring waiting for release. Clint wondered if he was the cause of this. He normally tried to avoid Old Man Winters as much as possible so as to not cause trouble but this time, it was like Old Man Winters went searching for him. "Am I bothering you?"

"No, you keep reading," Old Man Winters told Clint as he reached for the book that Clint had dropped. Nodding, Clint hopped of the chair to go grab a new book. He had mostly finished reading the other one anyways and figured Old Man Winters might want to look at it now. While he searched, Clint noticed that the old man sat down in his seat. The old man's eyes closed in a look of pleasure as he stretched back in the well worn seat. Feeling a little weirded out, Clint grabbed a book far too old for his age and turned to leave the library. He didn't get far. Just about made it down the aisle and turned towards the door when Winters perked up. "Hey, where you going?"

"I was going to my room" Clint admitted beginning to feel like this was not a good situation for him. Old Man Winters shifted in the seat to create some room for Clint's rather small frame. He patted the area, silently demanding that Clint sit in it. Gulping, Clint slowly slunk over, wishing he could escape. But he feared what Old Man Winters would do if the young boy ignored him.

"No need for that. Here, come read that story to me," Old Man Winters said. Nodding, but not comfortable, Clint slowly climbed onto the old man's lap. Before he could even snuggle into the seat, Winters placed a hand on Clint's upper thigh. The boy tensed, never having been touched there before by another. Right away, Clint regretted his choice of wearing shorts for the day. Old Man Winters looked down onto the now frightened boy and smiled softly, thinking that would calm him. If anything, that made Clint more wary of the man. "Go on, read to me."

To this day, Clint can't remember what he read to Winters. He can't even remember if Winters tried to teach him how to read certain words. All Clint could focus on was Old Man Winters' hand beginning to move closer to the middle of his legs and rubbing. The worst part was feeling a bulge on Winters growing more and more as time passed. It throbbed and pulsed with each movement that Old Man Winters made. Clint was close to the end of the first chapter of the book when Old Man Winters shifted his hand to try and slip down into Clint's shorts. The boy skyrocketed out of the seat.

"What are you doing?" Winters cried, shifting to grip his throbbing member. Clint cringed at the sight. "I was enjoying this."

"No... I... I didn't," Clint whimpered, unsure what to do. He had never been in this position before. Old Man Winters forcefully patted beside him again, his eyes narrowing on Clint's shaking form. Clint shook his head so slightly that the old man didn't even notice.

"Come, sit with me. It's okay. I won't hurt you," Winters claimed, knowing that many of the kids who were orphaned in his home had past histories of abuse. That was what made this whole thing easier in his mind. The kids wanted someone they could trust, someone who loved them. Clint frowned, unsure if he could actually trust the old man. He couldn't trust his father. And lately his brother was becoming rather distant when he had previously claimed he'd protect him. Hell, even his mother wasn't very good at protecting him. Old Man Winters patted the seat once more. This time Clint shook his head no so that Winters could see. He was too uncomfortable with the situation. Winters frowned. No kid had yet to refuse his demands.

"Actually, I think I want to go outside," Clint explained, wanting to get away from the old man. He began to back up toward the door. In a stunningly fast move, Winters lunged out of the chair and caught Clint's right arm in a firm grip. Yanking on it, Winters pulled the boy off his feet. As Clint crashed toward the ground, his shoulder twisted and popped, something that had happened to Clint before. Having learned from his father to not cry out, Clint simply whimpered at the intense pain that radiated from his now dislocated shoulder.

"No, you will stay here with me," Winters snapped, looking almost as threatening as Clint's father used to look on a drunken rampage. Clint pulled at his injured shoulder with all his weight to try and free the limb. Knowing his strength may fail at any second, Old Man Winters brought his other hand down onto Clint's exposed face. Stunned, Clint stopped fighting as he stared at the old man. Feeling that Clint had given up, Winters released his arm for a moment to shift his grip before dropping to his knees and pinning Clint to the ground by his arms. Frightened, Clint began kicking and screaming in an effort to get away.

"No! No! Stop!" the boy shouted but Old Man Winters ignored it, knowing that no one would come to help Clint. Working hard to keep the boy pinned, Winters slowly began working on undoing his pants. Horrified, Clint screamed as loud as he could before aiming a perfect kick into the bulging member now pointing toward him. Winters howled in pain and let go of Clint's arms for enough time to let the boy scramble backwards. Spinning around and getting to his feet, Clint rushed to the door. Grabbing the handle, he was shocked to find it locked. He didn't even know this door could be locked.

"Get back here," Winters roared as he got to his feet. Clint squeaked before rushing off to find another exit. Winters stalked after the boy, knowing there was no other exit from the room. The windows were blocked with metal bars and the only visible door was locked. Winters had blocked the second door with a bookshelf a long time ago, so no one but him knew of its existence. But Clint wasn't a normal kid. He knew how to look for good hiding places. And most of those were up high. So as he looked up, he noticed a small vent unit at the top of one of the shelves. Desperate, Clint began climbing the unit one handed. "Get down!"

"No!" Clint cried, kicking out when Old Man Winters grabbed his ankle in an attempt to pull him down. Clint barely was able to cling to the thin wood. Old Man Winters grunted as the foot him in the face but he dealt with worse. When the foot struck a second time, Winters was forced to let go and Clint quickly slithered out of his reach. Old Man Winters snarled as he stared up at the frightened boy staring down at him. Winters tried to reach up toward Clint, which just made the boy turn and begin working on freeing the vent cover from its position.

"You can't hide from me forever, boy," Winters snarled as Clint got the cover off. Huffing, the old man stormed away. Clint stopped as he listened to the old man. It wasn't long before he heard the door unlock and then open. Clint frowned. Did he really trust that Old Man Winters had actually left? Glancing around, he realized that he could follow the top of the shelves almost directly to the door. Feeling better about being high up and out of reach, Clint slunk across the units to the door. The entire time he looked for signs that Winters was still in the library. Thankfully, there was no sign that the old man stayed but Clint was still hesitant. So he settled himself down on the units and waited, his arm still throbbing lightly in pain.

_"I had some practice in replacing my shoulder, so I did just that. Nearly knocked down the shelf I was on. But it was in place and the pain for once actually had me passing out moments later. I woke up maybe two to three hours later to find the girl in the bunk next to mine, had an encounter with Winters. She had some large bruises on her arms and legs. Signs that I began to see on other kids as well. That was actually what really started my love of heights. I used them in the past, but it wasn't until Winters that I began to really enjoy being high up above it all. Old Man Winters couldn't climb and the other kids were too afraid to try. The higher I got, the safer I was and the more I could see," Clint described. Bruce smiled at Clint as the archer seemingly turned this horrible life event into something so much nicer. Steve frowned, not knowing how much of a hard life the archer had had before. He couldn't understand how Clint was the way he was after everything. Thor wished he could travel back in time and change what happened to Clint. There was no way he needed to suffer this much._

_"So, basically you became a sniper because of him?" Tony theorized after a moment. Natasha began pacing the room, wishing she could change things that had already happened. Clint smirked, wishing things could be put so simply._

_"You could say that," he replied, not really wanting to give Winters that much responsibility into his life choices. Steve stiffened, having not thought about it that way. Thor felt ashamed that he had not realized that some things had to happen to people in order to get them to their final goal in life. Clint, having not noticed his friend's reactions, shook his head. Being high up wasn't the only reason why he liked archery. Most of that belonged to Carson's Carnival of Travelling Wonders._

_"Did Winters ever... Um... Well... Catch you?" Steve murmured, wanting there to be a better way of saying it. Clint glanced over at the super solider who looked extremely embarrassed. Bruce looked a little sheepish, which meant that he was slightly curious as well. Thor had turned his head away, a look that Clint took as in the demigod was upset. Clint shook his head but only Natasha and Tony were focused on him._

_"He beat me a couple of times but never fully went and raped me like some of the other kids. Mostly he used me to get rid of his rage and if he couldn't find me, than another blond boy would suffer in my place..."_

Clint could hear the sobs from down the hall. It was normal to hear someone crying here at the orphanage but for some reason, this struck him as abnormal. Following the sounds deeper into the orphanage, Clint began to realize why this sound was abnormal. At the end of the hall was Old Man Winters private rooms. He always had these rooms locked and the doors closed. But today the last room, one Clint happened to know as Winters' study, was open. Even being a few doors down, Clint could tell the cries were emanating from that room. Slowly, Clint inched closer to it. Before he rounded the doorframe, Clint briefly wondered if this was a trap for him or some other kids. Old Man Winters could have recorded a crying voice and used it to entice kids into his study, right? A board creaked as Clint shifted his weight in confusion and the crying halted for a moment.

"Hello?" a timid voice called out. It was a voice that Clint knew well. While Clint couldn't remember the boy's name, he knew that the boy was one of three other blond boys staying in the younger kids room. The same room that Clint was going to be moving out of in a few short weeks. "Is someone there?"

"Yeah," Clint softly answered as he rounded the doorway and headed into the room. The boy was hiding by a large desk in the back of the room. Shadows covered most of his body but the light from the bay window behind the desk showed evidence of what happened. The floor in front of the boy and desk was splattered with blood. But even though Clint knew the boy was injured, he didn't know the how or why. "What happened?"

"Not allowed," the boy whimpered, not that it really mattered. Once hearing that, Clint put two and two together. Only Old Man Winters had a key into this room. Winters was the only adult in the whole building for the day. Frowning, Clint wondered if it was a smart idea to get involved with this boy if Old Man Winters did this to him. Staying put, Clint glanced around for a sign of what to do. Talking had helped him in the past when his father got a hold of him. Even if he wasn't allowed to talk about the incident.

"Why?" Clint asked, not really thinking that the boy would answer. But maybe the boy would begin a conversation in an effort to forget about the pain. A talent that Barney and he had perfected over the years. Not that either had to really use that skill in a while.

"He said... He couldn't find 'the Barton boy,'" the boy mumbled, not realizing who he was speaking too. Clint tensed. Technically, Old Man Winters could also mean Barney, but Clint knew that wasn't true. For the past few weeks, Winters had been catching him and beating him every couple of days. Clint was still bruised from his latest beating a few days prior. The boy sobbed into his arms. "He said... I reminded him of the... Other boy."

"Oh," Clint replied, unsure what to say about this boy taking his beating. Slowly, Clint inched forward. The light from outside shone on his pale skin, making the boy tense. "Can I help?"

"No... I'll be fine," the boy sobbed, trying to hold it all in. Clint grimaced, knowing what that was like. He had also cried after his first beating but his wasn't with Winters. Clint's first beating was from his father. It was after the second beating, moments after crying from the first, that Clint learned not to cry during or after. Course Clint took it to the extreme and stopped crying completely. But as he looked down at the boy before him, Clint wondered if this boy had been beaten before. The boy looked up when nothing happened to him. His eyes widened in recognition. "Aren't you one of the Bartons?"

"Yeah," Clint freely admitted, knowing he wouldn't be able to hide it forever. The boy cringed away from him. Clint winced. "I'm sorry."

"Forget it," the boy whispered so softly that Clint almost missed it. Clint stepped forward, wanting to help. The boy held his hands up. "Just... Leave me alone."

"Kay..." So Clint left. He saw the boy the next day, the bruises looked a little better but judging by the glare Clint getting, the boy blamed him for the whole situation. Clint just ducked his head down and continued avoiding Old Man Winters. Each time he saw another blond boy with deep dark bruises, he tried to remind himself that it wasn't his fault.

_"It really wasn't," Steve interrupted. Clint scoffed, feeling so much more guilty than he had in years. He had allowed so many kids get hurt in his name that it wasn't funny. Couldn't Steve see that he was too big of a coward? Steve stood from the couch and walked over to Clint's bed. Placing a hand down on Clint's uninjured arm, Steve drew the archer's attention. Steve could see the guilt in Clint's eyes and it nearly killed him knowing there was nothing he could really do to help. "Winters was the one who beat those boys. Not you. You hiding was the best thing you could have done. There was nothing else you could have done in that situation."_

_"I could have taught the other boys to hide. I could have stayed and taken the beating," Clint began listing but Steve shook his head._

_"No one should have been beaten by that man. He was a coward. And he was a fool, thinking that by beating on kids, it would lessen his anger. You did nothing wrong," Steve claimed. Clint shook his head before looking at Steve._

_"You wouldn't have hid," he stated. Steve tensed knowing that to be true. In his lifetime, Steve had taken many beatings that weren't meant for him. And even some that were. So how could he sit here now and tell Clint that it was fine to not do that? To run and hide? Looking away, Steve sighed. He only seemed to make matters worse._

_"Not everyone can be like Captain America, Clint," Tony said from his corner. He looked a little timid, a first time for everyone to see. Clint gave him a curious look before remembering Tony's file. S.H.I.E.L.D had slight evidence that Howard Stark tended to abuse Tony and many times compared the young genius to Steve while in the presence of agents and other people. Feeling self-conscious, Clint looked away._

_"But I should have been."_

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**Hopefully the next update won't take so long to happen. It should be up next week, if not sooner. Anyways, keep Reviewing, Favorite-ing and Following.**


	13. Age 13

**WARNING! Scenes of rape and death mentioned in this chapter!**

**Anyways... Baby Clint is currently sleeping still in his bedroom. So glad for that. He's been really cranky these past couple of weekends. Not much has changed since my last post. Just getting mad at myself for missing my set update schedule. But anyways, next chapter. Please pay attention to the warning above!**

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Age: 13

_"You mentioned that Old Man Winters never raped you. Did someone?" Natasha asked, changing the subject after the depressing silence that filled the room moments before. Clint almost laughed at what she deemed to be a good subject change. Yeah, he had once told her that he had been raped in his past but he never told her the story. She had told him her story and for some reason, she never cared about his. Until now. But then again, Clint realized a good while back that everyone was using this chance to find out as much about him as possible. He could only guess that this was the repercussion of being so secretive._

_"Yeah," he said, knowing that Natasha already knew that and judging by her glare, she had only asked for the others sake. He smirked at her, knowing that he was getting her riled up. After a moment, she rolled her eyes. A sign that meant she knew what he was doing. For a moment, Natasha feared that Clint was already starting to close back up. He had gone through so many years of his life. So many stories. For one a private as him, it was a huge step to take. She was just waiting for when it would end._

_"Who?" Bruce called when it seemed like Clint wasn't going to continue. Clint looked over to the doctor surprised. Out of everyone, he never expected him to be curious about that incident. Somehow, Clint had assumed that Bruce would actually ignore the whole subject. He believed Steve may have asked, just so he could find the person and punish them. Tony would have asked out of curiosity. Thor might had asked out of confusion and Natasha would just pressure him to open up more. Bruce looked sheepish at Clint's surprised glance. "I mean... When was it?"_

_"I was at Carson's. My act with Trickshot was beginning to get really popular. Carson was starting to hear from the crowds that they only came to see me. He was thinking of turning me into a single act. One of the tightrope walkers, Angela, happened to have a huge fascination in anyone who seemed popular. She cornered me one night after a show..."_

"Hawkeye! Wait!" a woman's voice called from behind him. Not used to being called out, Clint wondered what he should do. Should he turn around and see who was calling him? Or should he just ignore it? Curiosity won out and Clint stopped to turn back and see who it was. It ended up being Angela, an older girl with brunette hair and deep brown eyes. She was the leader of the tightrope walking group. And the rumor was that she'd fuck a frog if he had enough attention drawn on him. "Oh good! I've been wanting to talk to you for a couple a days but could never catch you."

"What about?" Clint muttered as she laughed lightly about not being able to catch him. She smiled at him, tilting her head to hide her face slightly behind her eyes. It was a little creepy smile that set Clint's senses on fire. He almost stepped back.

"Well, I was thinking... We could talk in private?" she suggested. Clint frowned, not wanting to be with her alone. Many of the other folk had warned him about getting popular. And most of the women warned him about Angela. Supposedly, they believed she had sex with every man in the carnival. And knowing that he was still a virgin, many women wanted to keep him that way.

"I don't know... I mean, Trickshot demanded that I rest for tomorrow. We got three shows," Clint mentioned as if she didn't know that her group lost one of their spots to the archery duo. She nodded before inching closer to the new teen. The archer at least figured that she wasn't upset about losing the attention herself. But something about this seeming achingly wrong. Clint tensed, feeling uncomfortable with close to Angela.

"Well, we could rest together, I have some really tough shows coming on tomorrow," she claimed. Clint nodded, not really believing her. In fact, he was beginning to think that she had a different meaning for 'resting' then he did. Angela placed a hand on his arm and slowly rubbed it. In his two years since becoming Trickshot's apprentice, Clint had really grown a ton of muscle. It helped that Trickshot wanted to make Clint better and so he would change the draw strength on his bows every couple of weeks. Once Clint got too used to one strength, Trickshot would arrive with a new bow the next day. But every show was done with a draw strength lower than what he was training with so as to not have any miss shots. And trust me, a missed shot during a show proved very hazardous.

"Uh, I think we should just rest in our own tents," Clint told her, edging away from her. Angela pouted before gripping his arm and pulled it close to her. Clint tried not to tense as he felt the urge to rip his arm away from her. She didn't even notice his internal battle to fight being polite or to just run away from her.

"Oh, don't be a sour puss. Please! I rest better with someone lying next to me," she whined. Clint frowned, wishing that she didn't deem him worthy enough for that position. Slowly he shook his head.

"No, I'd rather sleep alone," he said. She whined and gripped his arm tighter and pulled him toward her tent. It was starting to seem like he wouldn't get a choice in this matter. Looking around, Clint was surprised to see that none of the other folk were around. Almost like Angela had been waiting for the precise moment when Clint would be alone.

"Please. I promise not to do anything," she lied. Clint groaned, not wanting to follow her but already she was beginning to drag him toward her tent. Trickshot walked out from the main tent and spotted the duo. Clint gave him a horrified look, knowing his master had demanded he go practice some of the shots that he almost missed on this latest show. Angela pouted over at the older gentleman. "He won't rest with me."

"Oh," Trickshot called, not surprised that Clint didn't understand what Angela wanted. He had fucked the girl when she was only seventeen. But that was years before. Now she stood there, a beautiful twenty year old girl who was addicted to sex as if it was a drug. Her last victim had been Trickshot's other apprentice. She had thought he was going to go all the way, like Trickshot had thought. But Clint surprised a lot of people.

"Tell him it's okay," she pouted. Trickshot looked to Clint's petrified face. Already the older man could tell that the teen was frightened for the morning training. Normally if Clint defied an order, Trickshot would 'punish' him. But tonight, Trickshot wasn't in the mood. The show had gone poorly in his mind because he had nearly missed ten of his own shots and Clint had only nearly missed two. It was getting harder and harder to go out with a boy that was better than him.

"I could care less," Trickshot waved it off and walked off. He knew that if Clint didn't do good in the shows the following day, he'd punish the teen with such ferocity, Clint would never be interested in sex again. Angela squealed in delight as she pulled Clint closer and closer to her tent. Clint wished he was brave enough to fight back, but instead he allowed himself to be dragged away.

"Oh, I can't wait!" Angela cried in delight. Clint winced as a few other members of the troupe noticed the duo heading to the girl's tent. A few shook their heads in disgust at her while others gave him a disappointed look, as if this was his choice. The worst was the fortune teller lady, Ms. Rosa. She sighed deeply at the duo as they passed but her eyes shown with resentment. And when their eyes meet, they turned guilty and Clint could tell that this wasn't going to be a restful night.

"We're just gonna sleep," Clint tried to confirm. Angela chuckled at his naivety. He was really wishing that he had better courage to just tell her to leave him alone. But he didn't and it wasn't long before she dragged him into her tent.

Angela had been with Carson's Carnival long enough to have saved up some money. Money that she frequently spent on items for her tent. A tent that she bought first so that she had a private area to have fun with the many men she meets. Inside Clint was pleased to see a nice padded down area on the ground that was covered in a rather large rug and multiple sets of pillows and blankets. All of it combined to looking like a beautiful bed. The rest of the place was covered in clothes of all sets, clothes that Clint knew to be her outfit. Far in the back was a mirror with a box set up below it that was covered in different colored powders and such.

"Wow," Clint muttered at the sight. Angela giggled before letting go of Clint and walking toward the back of the tent.

"I know, impressive, right?" she said as she began to strip off her costume from the show. Clint blushed and looked down at his own dingy costume. The purple suit had turned a little darker since before the show. He had done a lot of work and produced a lot of sweat. It might need to be cleaned before his next show. But for now, all he had was this.

"I think I'm gonna go get a change of clothes from my tent," Clint told Angela as he tried to sneak out. Angela spun to face him, giving him a full frontal of her rather medium sized breasts. Clint's blush deepened as he tried his damnedest to focus on her face. She placed her hands on her free hips and glared at him.

"Don't you dare. For what I have planned tonight, we won't need clothes," she snapped. Clint raised an eyebrow as his gaze drifted down. It took another minute to realize what she meant.

"Uh! No! I'm good," Clint cried, holding his hands up and backing away. Angela rushed back over to him and pulled him into her. Clint lost his balance and his face fell into her ample breasts. She laughed heartily before gripping the back of Clint's head and held him there. Clint fought against her, twisting his head back and forth in his attempt to get away. She continued to laugh as he basically tickled her chest with his movements. Just as he was about to pass out from lack of oxygen, Angela tossed him down onto her bed. There he laid as he tried to catch his breath. It gave her just enough time to strip the rest of her costume and climb on top. "Angela, I need to leave."

"You're fine, sweetheart," Angela cooed as she reached down to take of Clint's own dirty costume. He fidgeted before her but it just seemed to help her strip off his clothes. In only a few quick minutes, Angela had completely stripped him. She then paused to stare down at Clint's broad chest. It was covered in light scars but she was more fascinated with the muscle that rippled with each squirm he attempted to use to get away.

"Angela, stop," Clint begged. Angela ignored him and began to rub her hands across his chest. He tensed, wanting to throw her off of him but he couldn't find the strength. Her hands drifted across his chest and down his arms. When she got to his hips, she shifted down onto his legs and he propped himself up, thinking he could escape.

"Don't," she commanded before her hands shifted to the area above his member. Clint tensed, already feeling the blood rushing downward. Angela smirked as the member began to tense and grow at her gently prodding. Clint groaned at the feeling that he had never felt before. Yeah, he had gotten hard before, but never at someone else's touch. Slowly, his body fell back and began to relax into the feeling of Angela playing with an area he had never really focused on.

"Oh," Clint moaned. Angela smirked and leaned closer, her breath tickling the hairs that covered the area. Clint shuddered, looking down over his chest just in time to see her light pink tongue dart out and lick the tip of his member. He moaned again and his head dropped back. "Angela, please!"

"Oh, just you wait," she promised, not understanding that Clint had actually been asking her to stop and not continue. In a move that shocked Clint into stillness, Angela wrapped her mouth around the throbbing part. When she started to shift up and down, licking and nibbling on the member, Clint began to understand what was going on. He placed his hands on her shoulders to try and push her off. Angela used that to lick the tip again which made his muscle weaken and so she would drop back down. He moaned, this time in agony.

"Angela!" Clint cried, wishing that he didn't sound so desperate. It only made Angela smirk, thinking she was doing her job properly. She had no clue that Clint was wanting this whole thing to end so he could escape. All she knew was that she was causing him pleasure and she was certain that she'd get hers after. She kept plugging away at it, making Clint grow more and more crazier with unbidden feelings. After a few more pushes, Angela nibbled on his tip and he cried out as white fluid shot into her face. She laughed hysterically at that as Clint fell back into the bed in the throes of his first orgasm from someone else's hands.

"Who knew you'd be so quick!" Angela announced in peals of laughter. Clint blushed, unsure if that was a good thing or not. Calming, Angela shifted further up onto Clint. He gasped at the wet slit that landed on his rapidly refilling member.

"Angela-" Clint began in protest. She silenced him with her now sticky lips. When she backed away, Clint almost gagged when he realized that she had kissed him with his juices all over her face.

"Uh uh. My turn now," Angela demanded. Clint frowned, trying to figure out what she meant. His member was back to its full length now and Angela slammed it into her without preparing either of them. Clint screamed in a mix of horror, surprise, revulsion and pleasure. Angela joined in his cried as she went about pleasing herself. Clint couldn't mentally handle it. He took one last look at Angela, as she threw her head back, before blanking out.

_"Angela didn't just do it that night. She kept at me for almost half a year. Every night. I couldn't escape her. As a tightrope walker, Angela didn't fear heights. Hell, at times she would end up higher than me," Clint admitted, blocking out all feelings so he could say the whole story. He kept his eyes focused on the wall furthest from him so he wouldn't have to see his friends. Natasha had stopped pacing to stand away from Clint. She focused on a corner of the room. Tears leaked from her eyes. Tony focused on the ground. He had gone through a rape himself. Not many knew that he had been raped. Instead, they assumed he was the rapist. He covered up his feelings about the whole thing by becoming a sex addict and so no one really focused on it._

_"Why... Did she stop?" Steve muttered, more to himself than to anyone. Clint focused on him, surprised at the captain daring to ask such a question. Thor twitched away as he remembered Frigga once yelling at him for asking Loki a very similar question during their childhood. Even Bruce looked at the super solider oddly. Steve took an extra second before realizing that everyone was staring at him. Turning up, he realized he had spoken aloud. Embarrassed, Steve turned away from Clint. "Sorry."_

_"No, it's... Fine... She... She ended up pregnant," Clint answered, praying he wouldn't have to go into the full story of what happened. Hell, he wished he could forget what happened. But anytime he was forced to recall the rape, he remembered what happened to Angela._

_"You are a father?" Thor loudly questioned. Clint winced at the sound. It was almost as if the demigod was shouting it to the world. The others turned to Clint stunned at the realization that indeed the god was right. If Angela ended up pregnant and she had been going after Clint nightly, than he would be the father of said child._

_"No."_

_"What happened?" Tony asked when Clint didn't continue. The archer tensed, not wanting to remember but was already mentally reliving the event. At least he was among friends, he thought as tears began to fill his eyes._

"You've been gaining weight," Neal, another tightrope walker, accused of Angela one day after practice. Clint stopped walking to his own practice archery range at the words. He had noticed lately that Angela had been getting heavier on him and had become a bit more aggressive during sex. Having assumed it was his imagination, Clint never mentioned it. Hell, he was afraid that Angela might beat him if he mentioned it to her. "It's been getting harder to hold you during that last stunt."

"Oh, you're just a wuss," Angela cooed, having once used Neal in the same way she currently used Clint. In the back of her mind, she knew this to be true but hated having it pointed out to her. So instead, she turned it around onto Neal. Neal was insecure with his strength. Outside of the 'Strong Man,' and maybe even Clint, Neal was the strongest person in the carnival. He was also insanely jealous of another member of their group, Sean. "Maybe I should get Sean to grab me instead."

"Sean's weaker than me! Besides, he doesn't know the routine!" Neal pleaded, wishing he could take back what he said. Angela scoffed, having known that fact before. All she wanted was to change the subject off her weight. And while this wasn't completely off that topic, making Neal become really jealous of a guy she fucked long before Neal was fun.

"He has a few hours before the show," Angela mentioned off-handed. Neal shook his head as Angela began to walk off.

"It took me weeks to learn the whole routine! Angela!" Neal whined. Angela chuckled to herself, pleased that she knew how to manipulate the men around her. Neal shifted closer to Angela in an effort to stop her from moving. "Please, don't let Sean do the routine!"

"You should learn not to mention a woman's weight. Ever," Angela snapped before storming off, faking a pissed off mood. Neal took off after her, shouting her name. Clint shook his head. He half wondered if Angela would let Sean take Neal's role. It would be highly dangerous. Even when Neal was the catcher, the routine was dangerous. Clint had seen it once before. The safety net would be taken down before Angela and Neal would do an elaborate 'dance' on the many ropes stationed above the main tent floor. Near the end of the 'dance,' Angela would leap across most of the ropes toward Neal. But she would miss the rope she wanted and as she fell, Neal would rush across that particular rope in time to catch her. It was that end that made the show really popular.

_"Oh god!" Bruce called, seeing the ending to this. Tony, Steve and Natasha even looked at Clint stunned. Thor was still lost in the story to understand the conclusion that they all drew. Clint took one glance at them before knowing that they all came to the right assumption. Slowly he nodded. "No."_

_"Yeah. Sean took Neal's place. Neal had apparently insulted Angela before the show for a second time. I watched the show from the ground. Sean ended up on the wrong rope and Angela was too distracted to see," Clint explained. Here he sighed as he remembered watching her fall. A huge smile on her face until she looked up and didn't see Sean there to catch her. Horrified, her screams mixed with the crowds as she plummeted to the ground. "Surprisingly, the town we were in actually cared why she died. They did an investigation. Without being able to prove if Sean or Neal was the culprit, the police ordered an autopsy. Her sex scandals having made them think that was why."_

_"But she had been fucking you? Did she cheat on you?" Tony interrupted. Clint laughed at that._

_"Wouldn't be surprised if she did... But... They found out she was over four months pregnant. That was why she had gotten heavier. There was then a test performed on the... The thing... Knowing she was a sex addict, the police compared it to everyone," Clint replied, feeling more upset by this than he was used to._

_"Why?" Tony questioned, feeling indignant to more people knowing that Clint had fathered a now dead child. Clint gave him an odd look. "I mean, who the fuck cared?"_

_"They needed to know if Sean was in the wrong place intentionally. If the baby was Neal's, Sean would be accused of murder. If the baby was Sean's, then Neal backed down to be her partner knowing that Sean wouldn't do well in the routine. So he'd be accused of murder. Even though the whole carnival knew that Angela was screwing me, no one anticipated the baby to be mine," Clint muttered, remembering the police walking up to him with an apologetic face. He had known that it was his kid the second it was announced that she was pregnant. But having it confirmed, hurt more than finding out._

_"You weren't accused?" Bruce wondered after a minute. Clint nodded, having been surprised about that at the time. "I mean... She raped you. That's good motive there."_

_"Neal and Sean were supposedly honest enough to say that they were the only two involved. And no one fought that," Clint explained. He had actually never known why the police never tried to accuse him. All he knew is that after the autopsy, the case was dropped and Carson packed them all up and moved on without attending Angela's funeral._


	14. Food Break

**I am horrible... At least there is only two more chapters after this! ^_^ And then I get to post my next story which is mostly complete already. Just have to edit and finish the last couple of chapters. Anyway... Here is the chapter...**

* * *

Silence filled the room for a while after that. Clint relaxed into the hospital bed with a deep sigh. He had never wanted to relive what happened to Angela. It had been horrible enough to live through it the first time, never mind telling it to people he would either assume to be his friends or soon to call his friends. That was one of the main reasons why he never talked about his past. Too many bad things happened have happened in his life. The worst is knowing that Clint hadn't even spoken of the main events that made him who he was. Yeah, he mentioned the mother of his child dying and his first murder but... Neither was the first death he had ever actually seen. Yeah, he had dealt with his parents dying but he had never seen it.

"How old were you when you first saw someone die?" Natasha asked out of the blue. Clint jerked forward, snapping his eyes open. He hadn't even realized he had closed them. Looking over at Natasha, he could see her concerned look. Even Bruce looked a little worried. It was then that Clint realized he must have been drifting off to sleep. A still currently dangerous thing considering his injuries.

"What?" Clint mumbled, still a little dazed from almost passing out on the group. Natasha looked to Bruce, unsure what to do now. Clint assumed then that they must have been trying to get his attention for a while. Becoming slightly worried himself, Clint shifted in the bed to try and get uncomfortable. Cause if he was uncomfortable, then he wouldn't try to sleep again.

Bruce slowly stood and walked over to Clint. Methodically, he began checking on the machines, making sure everything was going smoothly. He had also noticed that no other doctor came in to check on them and it had been a few hours. Clint was silent as he watched Bruce work. Steve and Thor shifted on the couch, each wanting to do something but unsure what to do. Suddenly a loud grumble burst through the room. It almost sounded like a rumble of thunder or an earthquake. Everyone turned to look at the two. It was a noise they were getting rather familiar with lately.

"Sorry," Thor said sheepishly as he gripped his stomach. After a second, Clint burst into laughter followed by Steve, then Tony and finally Bruce. Natasha shook her head with a small smile until Thor finally began joining in the laughter as well, then she let out a soft giggle.

"Guys, go get some food," Clint ordered. Thor took a glance at Steve. When the captain nodded his agreement, the demigod was the first one out of the room to get something. Tony stood and shifted toward the door. He stood next to the frame as Steve got to his feet. Natasha slipped out the door but stopped in the hallway. None of them wanted to leave Clint alone and they weren't sure if Bruce would be fine being ditched with the archer.

"Go! We'll be fine," Bruce called to them. Natasha nodded and vanished down the hall. Tony smirked before slipping into Natasha's place. Steve moved toward Tony's old spot.

"Would you guys like anything?" Steve asked. Bruce nodded.

"Some toast, or a sandwich," Bruce answered. Steve nodded and turned toward Clint before realizing he had no idea if Clint could eat anything at the moment. Bruce noticed and smiled. At least someone else was concerned for Clint. "He can eat."

"Okay, what would you like?" Steve questioned. Clint shrugged, not used to S.H.I.E.L.D food for a while.

"Nat will know what to get me," he replied. Steve lifted his thumb up in agreement before mentally noting that he'd have to make sure that Natasha got food for Clint. The duo disappeared after the remained of the team in an effort to find food. Left alone, Bruce and Clint didn't know what to do or even say. Clint couldn't continue with his history and Bruce had no idea what topic would be safe. Feeling awkward, Bruce returned to the seat he ditched earlier.

"Thanks," Clint called after a few minutes of utter silence. Bruce stiffened before humming a question to the archer. Clint smirked. "Thanks for telling the others."

"About what?"

"About... Well, everything I told you," Clint retorted. Bruce waved it off like it was nothing. Clint shook his head, understand that Bruce didn't get why he was thanking him. "I would never have told them..."

"Why?" Bruce asked. Clint jerked up to stare at the doctor. Bruce smiled softly. "Why didn't you want to tell us anything before?"

"I... I don't really know... I guess... I was afraid that... That you guys wouldn't... Wouldn't still want me on the team," Clint claimed as he turned away from Bruce. Bruce stiffened, knowing the feeling but his never stemmed from his past. It always had to deal with Hulk. He sighed before relaxing and getting to his feet once again. Slowly he walked over to Clint and placed a hand on the archer's shoulder. Almost as if it was painful, Clint turned to look at the doctor.

"There is no need to ever worry about that. We've all been through so much already. Nothing is going to break this team apart. I can promise you that," Bruce told the archer. Clint smirked, not sure if he could truly believe Bruce.

"But... What if I miss a really important shot?"

"What if I destroy the tower?" Bruce countered. Clint laughed even though he knew it was possible. "Clint, there is nothing you can do wrong that will make us want you off the team. Trust me when I say that someone on this team could do something worse, or did something worst."

"Helicarrier?"

"Thor's brother."

"The hijacking arrow?"

"Jericho," a new voice called as Tony walked into the room. In his hands was a green crap-stinking shake. Clint and Bruce grimaced at the sight. For a brief moment, Clint wondered if he lost his appetite. Then Tony drank a sip and Clint gagged a little. Tony frowned at the archer before making sure to take another long drink while Clint was looking. Once over the shake, Tony smirked. "Hell, I used to be the biggest weapons manufacturer in the world."

"Were you listening in?" Clint muttered, trying not to focus on the shake in the genius's hand. Tony shrugged, a pleased smile on his face. Bruce rolled his eyes. It was at least somewhat pleasing to know that Tony would still mess with Clint.

"From Bruce mentioning that someone did worse or could do worse than you," Tony admitted. Clint laughed. "Hey, it's true man."

"Now I sound like a weak link," Clint joked. Tony and Bruce turned serious. That was so not what they meant.

"No," they both snapped together. Clint winced at their tones. He had joked but it was something that had been on his mind for a while. Something he had wanted to bring up a few times before.

"Don't ever think that," Bruce demanded.

"You mean so much to this team. You're our eyes in the sky!" Tony cried. Clint shook his head, thinking the billionaire was joking as well. "Hey, don't knock it! You can do a shit ton of stuff, not just fire arrows at our enemies."

"Oh yeah?" Clint challenged. Tony nodded but before he could go on explaining what Clint had done for the team that didn't involve shooting arrows, Natasha stormed in and slammed a tray down on a rolling cart next to Clint's bed. It was filled with fruits, veggies and a ton of healthy foods. Clint looked at it despairingly before turning to Natasha. "Where's the burger?"

"Wouldn't let me in with one. The ass hats said that you'd be better with this," she snarled. Clint wanted to argue with her, but considering she looked ready to rip out someone's voice box, Clint left it alone. Thor and Steve entered a few minutes later. The demigod was rapidly finished what looked to be a hamburger. Clint glowered at the god until Steve pulled a cheeseburger out from behind his back and tossed it to the archer. It took a moment for Clint to realize what the captain did before he smiled and began ripping apart the package to get at the grease bomb inside. "Course, I made Steve sneak some in for you."

"Thanks," Clint grumbled between bites of his warm meal. It actually meant a lot that Natasha had thought of a secondary way to get the burger inside and that Steve was willing to 'break the rules' to bring it to him.

"Be careful, we wouldn't want you getting sick from eating too fast," Bruce mentioned. Clint nodded and slowed it down a bit. Steve then handed over a turkey sandwich to the doctor. He nodded his thanks and began peeling away the saran wrap. For a while the room was only filled with munching and slurping as the Avengers ate their meals.

"So... This is fun," Tony called after he finished his drink. "Anyone wanna play a game?"

After a round of groaning deeply and even tossing some trash at the genius, it was determined that they would continue to sit in silence for a bit longer. It was just after Clint finished eating his second burger and began working on some carrots that a S.H.I.E.L.D doctor came in.

"Hello, and how are you?" the doc asked without even looking over Clint's chart. Bruce knew that this doctor wasn't the same one that had been on duty when Clint first arrived. He tensed when it looked as if the doc wasn't even going to go look over the notes that sat at the end of Clint's bed. The same notes that mentioned what was wrong with him at the moment. Clint frowned. He hadn't ever seen this doc before. And considering his history with S.H.I.E.L.D medical, normally he kept the same doc for every visit. But, who was he to currently argue against this?

"Tired," Clint admitted. Everyone made a noise of agreement as none of them had slept for over twenty hours. The new doctor nodded.

"Have you slept?" he inquired, thinking Clint was just being a hard ass. Bruce's eyes flashed green as he glared openly at the doc. The scientist was already tried, cranky and on edge with what was happening to Clint, he really didn't want to deal with a moron trying to masquerade as a good doctor. Tony's eyes narrowed. He almost wished someone had mentioned that Clint could have slept. Would have been nice for the all. Natasha felt her hip pocket for a small knife. She had seen Bruce's eyes flash and was prepared to attack the new doctor in case Bruce let loose. Steve frowned at the new doc. Something about this didn't seem right. Thor gripped so hard onto the metal fork in his hand that it bent. The tension in the room had made him tense as he waited to see what would happen next. Clint's eyes darkened. This was why he hated doctors. They were never on the same page.

"I'm not allowed," Clint snarled, wishing that he had the strength to get up and beat this idiot to death. He had been having trouble with the docs at S.H.I.E.L.D for a while but none of them ever openly did something wrong in front of the others. It was almost as if this guy had a death wish. His eyes narrowed, wondering when the doc was going to correct himself.

"Why aren't you allowed?" the doc muttered, having never heard another doctor tell a patient such a thing. Clint almost shouted out the answer to his questioned but Bruce jumped to his feet, green beginning to tinge his skin. Almost right away, Clint knew that this was going to get bad. Bruce may be a doctor of physics but he had spent time as an actual doctor before and knew the right and wrong things that a real doc would do.

"Get out," Bruce growled. The doctor turned to Bruce and with one look everyone knew this guy either didn't know they were the Avengers or was a complete moron. Bruce was going with complete moron as he watched the man stiffen and try to puff out his own chest to intimidate Bruce. The doc had no idea what he did when he basically challenged Hulk. Steve shot to his feet to try and get ready to stop Bruce if needed. Thor gracefully stood, following his leader's silent order to defend the moron before them.

"You can't order me around," the doc claimed. Clint stiffed, seeing the deteriorating issue. He almost wished that he could get out of the bed and force the doc to back down himself but in his current condition, the doc could probably put him on the floor instead. Tony picked up his cell phone with an angry scoff at the doctor before him as he backed away from the group. After a moment to make sure no one was watching, he made a call. Natasha shifted so that she was one step away from being between the two angry doctors.

"GET OUT!" Bruce roared, his body getting slightly larger and the green tinge darkening. The doc frowned before glancing around, taking a really good look at the group that surrounded him. As he suddenly paled, Clint knew that the doc finally figured out who he was dealing with. Bruce took a meaning step forward, redrawing the other doc's attention. This time his voice took on a deep guttural growl. "Get out."

"Yes!" the doc squeaked in horror before rushing off without another word. Everyone watched him go before focusing on Bruce. This was one of the first times they got to watch Bruce calm himself down without changing over. Bruce took a full minute before relaxing his body. The green tint vanished first before his muscles disappeared but even though all trace of Hulk was gone, Bruce still looked livid. Knowing the situation was under control, Thor relaxed and sat back down on the couch.

"What was all that about?" Clint questioned, staring at Bruce in surprise. He had no idea what was going through the doc's mind. Surprised by the question, Bruce jerked his attention over to the archer. He was even more surprised by Clint's angered face. Steve shifted to stand one step away from the two of them. He knew better than to upset Bruce in this situation, but apparently, Clint had a death wish. Natasha joined Steve on the opposite side as she leveled a glare at the archer. "He was doing his job."

"No, he wasn't," Bruce nearly snapped. Taking a deep sigh, Bruce backed away from Steve and Natasha, showing that he was calm and there was no risk of Hulk. The duo nodded and backed off as well. Clint glared at the doc. "If he was doing his job, he would have picked up your chart when he first entered the room. Instead he began asking questioned and diagnosing you without the full image. I didn't want him to tell you it was okay to do something that would hurt more than help. God forbid, he got you to sleep or even tried to drug you. You could slip into a coma!"

There was a long pause here as Clint thought over the interaction with the doc. For a moment, it looked like he might not come to the same conclusion as Bruce but by the slight widening of his eyes and then the blank look that replaced it, everyone knew he had. Clint mentally sighed as he thought back to what things had been like before Manhattan. Before then, he only had one doctor. Now, no one wanted to deal with him. And when they were forced too, no one really diagnosed him properly. Hell, lately he had been taking care of himself, much to Natasha's chagrin.

"Could some of the medical staff, misdiagnose him out of some sort of revenge?" Steve wondered aloud. Everyone focused on him in shock. Clint's eyes darkened, wondering what the super solider may had heard. Natasha seemed the most stunned before she looked back to Clint, thinking that the archer would have mentioned something to her. Bruce frowned, not liking this at all. Thor growled, believing that S.H.I.E.L.D was as dangerous as his father had once suspected. Tony snarled before focusing back on his phone call, his voice darker and angrier than before. "I mean... Last month Clint got that fractured ankle. The doctor that was treating you then mentioned signs of a healing sprain."

"From my mission before. A different doc said I was fine even though my ankle hurt like a bitch," Clint finished, knowing where this was going. He had been seeing this happening long before now and just kept silent. No one wanted to hear him complain. Steve nodded, remembering the situation as if it was the day before. Bruce frowned before his eyes opened wide in realization. What if the entire time they were dealing with Clint's strange illness (where he lost his hearing), S.H.I.E.L.D doctors knew what was wrong with him? Could they have done it intentionally? Natasha focused on Bruce, wondering if he had any clue on what was being stated.

"Are you saying that the other doc knew Clint was injured by approved him in hopes that he'd get hurt even worse or killed?" Natasha summarized, unsure if she could believe that S.H.I.E.L.D would allow that. Hell, how could the spy group even have let that slip through the cracks? Steve yet again nodded, wishing he could do something else. Natasha's eyes turned murderous as she thought about all the times that Clint had been to medical since Manhattan. Steve, misunderstanding her expression, raised his hands up in an effort to calm the red headed assassin. Clint shifted deeper into the bed as he wondered when Natasha would turn her fury on him.

"Doesn't mean it's true! I could be wrong and they're just distracted!" Steve called, trying to fix the situation he had wrought. Thor stood up again, tensing his free hand into a fist as the other tightly curled around the handle for Mjolnir. Bruce shook his head, knowing that Steve was wrong.

"Or incompetent," he snarled. Natasha shook her own head in dismay. S.H.I.E.L.D went through thorough tests on all staff members to make sure they could handle any situation. Hence why none of them batted an eye about aliens, mutants or evil robots that frequently attacked. Clint winced at the darkness in Banner's tone. Glancing over his now angered friends, Clint could see where this was beginning to go. Fearing his termination from S.H.I.E.L.D, he knew he had to diffuse the situation.

"Guys! Hey! It's fine!" he cried, trying to get them to focus on him. No one looked at him. Frowning, Clint continued on. "I'm okay! Bruce got the stupid doc away. No harm, no foul!"

"No, Clint," Natasha said as she turned to look at the archer. He frowned. She continued on as if she didn't understand why he was frowning. "It's dangerous. If there are doctors out there using their positions to serve out revenge or their diluted version of justice, they endanger more than just the one agent. They endanger the whole team."

"I can handle it," Clint growled to her, shaking his head. Natasha stalked forward, pressing her hands down onto the end of the bed as she tried to control her rage. It was now that she realized he had known this for a while now. But why he hadn't told her, she couldn't figure out. She shook with rage.

"Like you handled anything since Manhattan!" she screamed at him. Clint's eyes narrowed. She knew that that was a sore subject. Hell, everyone in the room knew that was a sore subject. Yet here she was, throwing it in his face. Bruce shifted to grab Natasha and pull her away from Clint. Steve moved to help. Thor positioned himself near Clint's bed, making sure to show that he was just there to keep the archer sitting in the bed. Clint didn't even notice. Natasha looked away from Clint, knowing she may have gone too far.

"Drop it," Clint muttered so darkly that everyone winced at the tone. His eyes roamed over everyone. "Everyone just drop it."

"Clint, we can't. We care about you. If the doctors aren't treating you correctly, we worry. Hell, we even want to go fight them on your behalf," Bruce mentioned, not catching the shudder than ran through Clint's body. Bruce simply figured that after all of his life, Clint never really got used to the idea. Natasha tensed before shaking her head. One thing she had learned about Clint was that people hadn't ever stood up for him. But when they miraculously did, they usually had an ulterior motive, or they betrayed him, or they ended up dying on his behalf. Steve frowned, not understanding the assassins' reactions. Bruce looked back and forth between the two before he realized it was his fault. "Clint..."

"No. Just fucking drop it," Clint mumbled sounding like a mix of depressed and pissed off. Tony took this moment to finally finish his phone call and turned to face the group. It was obvious that they had forgotten all about the billionaire. Hearing Clint, the genius frowned. For a brief moment his mind ran through the bits and pieces of conversation he had heard and began to wonder if he was making the right decision. Clint looked too upset that the group was caring for him. But everyone else looked even more worried about the archer than before. Knowing that it was the best for everyone, even if some of them didn't agree, Tony put his decision into play.

"I've been meaning to tell you all for a while now. I've been working on a medical wing for the tower. It's actually been complete for almost a month now and Pepper and I have been going over applicants for the new positions but I think we're done with that now," Tony announced in the silence after Clint spoke. Bruce turned to Tony, pleased that the other Avenger saw fit to do such a thing. Thor frowned, wondering what the billionaire meant by his announcement. For all he knew, every building had a medical area. Steve and Natasha turned to look at Tony with pleased faces but Steve's face seemed more surprised than Natasha's. Clint's reaction happened to be the worst. The archer had been stunned into silence as Tony went on explaining about what was in the medical wing and what it was really for. But Clint couldn't focus on the genius's words. Instead he assumed the worst. "The cool thing about this is that I got Pepper to agree to this mostly because we can use it for Stark Industries. Yeah, it'd be helpful for the Avengers but not practical for the amount of times we get hurt or sick. So the full time staff would also work with our employees."

"Are you fucking insane?" Clint loudly questioned over the rant. His voice filled with anger and humiliation. Tony stiffened, not believing that something as simple as a medical facility in the tower could cause such a reaction. Thor's grip yet again tightened on Mjolnir in case he needed to break up a fight. Steve shifted his weight as he wondered what Tony could have said that set Clint off on another rampage. Bruce tensed, unsure what was going to happen next. Natasha pushed Tony back so that she could set herself up between the two. Tony easily stepped back, too stunned to do anything else.

"Go. Get permission to move him from Fury. Don't talk to the staff. Steve, go with Tony. Bruce, Clint has a lot of allergies to meds, get his full file from the docs. Thor, act as backup for him," Natasha ordered, kicking everyone out. One look from her head the men scrambling to follow her order. It took less than a minute before they were gone and Natasha turned all her attention on Clint. "What the fuck is your problem? Tony is trying to be helpful!"

Clint looked away from Natasha, more embarrassed than he had ever been before. He had nothing to say to her at the moment. All he could focus on was the fact that he had gotten close to the group. He cared for them. He cared about their opinion of him. And even worse, he felt horrible. It was all things that he had at one point in his life sworn to never do again. Now, he didn't know how to escape them. But at the same time, Clint couldn't help but think that the others shouldn't care for him so much. He wasn't worth it. Even as he thought it, Clint remembered back to what they said when he had lost his hearing. This whole situation was very similar.

"Clint, we care because you are important to us. Not just as a partner or even a team mate. You are our friend," Natasha declared after a few minutes of silence, feeling as if she had this talk once before. Remembering when he lost his hearing, Natasha recalled them proving themselves to Clint. Yet here he was, yet again, putting himself down. Thinking no one should care for him. "What happened?"

"Too many people betrayed me," Clint honestly answered as Tony and Steve appeared at the doorway. They stopped and listened to Clint's statement. Knowing they shouldn't interrupt, Tony patted Steve's shoulder. Surprised, Steve looked to him. Tony mouthed that they should give them a minute. Nodding in agreement, the duo then shifted into the hall. Sadly, they could still hear the two.

"Have I?" Natasha muttered. Clint paused for a moment before shaking his head. Bruce and Thor appeared in the hall and stopped at Tony and Steve. Tony mouthed that Natasha was trying to figure out what was going on with Clint. Agreeing with the fact that they should leave it alone, Bruce shifted to the other end of the hall and promptly sat down. Tony and Steve smiled at that as Thor gently placed Mjolnir on the ground beside him. "Have any of the others?"

"No but... It may just be too soon. It will come," Clint whined, but his voice spoke of the numerous experiences he had with betrayal. Natasha's heart ached at the sound. Tony closed his eyes, remembering the times his father had ignored him. Steve shook his head, wishing that Clint's past could have been different. Thor sighed deeply, wondering how right Loki was when he seemingly chose someone to control that was just like him. Bruce groaned, thinking about the different things he might be able to do to help convince Clint that none of the Avengers would willingly betray him. "It always does."

"What brought this on? What makes you think we'd betray you?" Natasha questioned, trying to figure out this line of thinking. Clint shuddered as his mind thought back to the biggest betrayal of his life. Natasha nearly screamed in frustration when she realized what might have been causing all this. "Is it talking about your past?"

"More like thinking about it," Clint admitted with a deep sigh. It was then that the Avengers realized why Clint never brought up his past. Yeah there was a lot of good things that happened but thinking about the good things normally always led to thinking about the bad. Especially when he had given them no hint about his past before. Slowly, Clint looked up at Natasha. His eyes were slowly beginning to fill with tears. "Did you know that Barney almost killed me?"

* * *

**So... Update on Baby Clint... He has double pink eye and his second ear infection ever. But he is still a really happy baby! ^_^ Barely ever cries, is always laughing at something... He's walking on his own perfectly fine. It's just... HE DOESN'T TALK! I know that sounds strange but... He can only babble with 'd' sounds or say 'I did it' and 'Done.' He hasn't said 'momma' in forever, only says 'Elsa' with extreme prompting... But he'll do the Simpsons theme song... _ Ugh. As weird as this sounds... I can't wait till he starts talking. Remind me to read this chapter in the future when I complain about him talking... LOL.**

**Until next time. Review to remind me if it's been longer than two weeks. K? Good.**


	15. Age 16

Age: 16

_"I had been Hawkeye for a few years now. Hell, I was headlining the main tent every night. I was the main draw to the carnival. Guess Barney got real jealous or somethin'. Don't really know. All I know is that he got into something that he shouldn't have. Swordsman was in on it too... I found out most of it from Carson talking to a new hire that arrived only a few weeks before..."_

"Look, I don't care what you need the money for. I need it back," Carson snarled to the newest tagalong. Clint stopped walking toward the practice range he had set up the night before. He wasn't the only one who stopped either. Jacques Duquesne (Swordsman), Barney, Buck and a few other members of the troop created almost a half circle around the fighting duo. It wasn't strange to hear fighting but when Carson got involved, it meant things were serious. "NOW!"

"I told ya, I ain't got it!" the new kid snapped. Clint frowned at the boy. He was so new to the whole group that no one had taken the time to learn the boy's name. Then again, most people don't learn names until the new person had followed Carson's for over a year. Hell, Clint didn't even know if the boy had done any work for anyone yet. The new kid turned to walk away, thinking that was the end of the conversation. But before he got too far, Carson grabbed his arm, pulling the boy back. The boy looked outraged for a moment before he spotted Carson's angered face. Somehow, seeing that made the boy realize this was serious.

"Give me the freakin' money!" Carson demanded. The new kid began to look pissed all over again. Serious or not, the boy was stubborn. He ripped his arm out of Carson's grip and stood face to face to the old man. There was no way that he'd get pushed around here. That was why he left his own family. Carson's was different.

"I don't have your freakin' money!"

"It didn't go missin' till you showed up! So, you must'a taken it," Carson accused. The kid looked insulted. It wasn't too big a stretch to assume that this kid had stolen the money. But Clint was shocked to hear that it's been going on for weeks. His money had never been affected and he never really cared what the others got. But he had been noticing a few people getting rowdy these past couple of pay days. Must have meant that they got pay cuts. Carson used to always mention that he wasn't really making enough money. After paying the acts, filling the gas tanks in the numerous trucks and vans, paying the towns for the grounds they used, buying food and drinks and even the stuff for some of the stands... Carson had once mentioned to Clint that he used to still have enough money left over that he would save in a safe in his room. But lately, Carson hadn't seemed pleased. Must have been cause he either had to dip into those funds or he wasn't adding to it.

"I swear that I didn't take it! Search my shit, you won't even find a penny! I spend my paycheck on my own food and I don't eat none of yours!" the kid shouted at Carson. Carson frowned, not expecting that answer in the least. Hell, Clint was even surprised. Most people ate Carson's food so they could save their paychecks for better equipment, better clothes and other odds and ends. Jacques took that moment to step forward.

"Carson, why don't we give the kid the benefit of the doubt? No need to go through his menial belongings," Jacques calmly mentioned. Carson nodded, agreeing with the Swordsman. Though he had already made a huge spectacle over the situation, there was no need to make it worse. One thing Carson always tried to pride himself on was his view on privacy. Slowly, Carson leaned into the kid's face. Clint shook his head. Things were about to get much worse.

"Just know, if any more money is taken, you will be searched and kicked out," Carson softly threatened. The boy paled as he nodded. Already, Clint could see the ideas flowing through the kid's head. If he really didn't take the money then more money would be taken by the real thief and that person could frame the kid. But, if the kid did take it, Carson might be convinced into thinking that the kid took the previous money and was just stopping cause he almost got caught. More than likely, the safest thing for the kid to do would be run. Course that would make everyone think he's guilty anyway but at least he wouldn't be forced out. Shaking his head once again, Clint moved on. It wasn't his problem what happened now.

_"So, what happened to the kid?" Tony asked, reentering the room, when Clint paused to take a breath. Steve went to reach for the genius in an attempt to stop him from ruining the moment that Natasha and Clint had started. But the billionaire's voice had already made both assassins turn to look at the door. Just past Tony and Steve, Thor and Bruce looked into the room. Seeing Clint staring at them, Bruce waved and Thor smiled. After a second, Clint shook his head and chuckled at the group._

_"Maybe if you actually shut up for two seconds, Clint could tell us the rest," Natasha snarled at the billionaire. Tony snorted at her before shrugging Steve off of him. Proudly and boldly, he walked into the room and headed back to his previous spot. Clint snickered at the sight before nodding his head toward the questioning stare of a super soldier. Taking that as an invitation to return to their positions from before, Steve, Bruce and Thor reentered the room. "When are we moving him?"_

_"Fury has to prep a jet for us. So in about another hour or so," Steve answered before Tony could speak. Natasha then turned to Bruce who responded by lifting an orange folder. Tony jumped to his feet and rushed over to stand beside the doc. In his eagerness, the genius reached for the folder. Smartly, Bruce shifted it away and looked over at Clint. The archer didn't say anything, just watched. Figuring that meant that Clint could care less, Bruce shifted it back within reach._

_"Don't you dare," Natasha snapped at the billionaire. Tony froze, his hand just lightly brushing the top of the folder that Clint assumed was his medical file. Knowing it was better not to piss off the red headed assassin, Bruce moved the folder further away from Tony. While still watching Tony, Natasha spoke to Clint. "Continue please."_

_"Sure," Clint sarcastically replied. Natasha snapped her head back to glare at the archer. He gave her a light smile. She was beginning to see the signs that he was tired of this. He was tired of sharing. It wasn't going to last much longer. Natasha couldn't help but be saddened by this. It was good of Clint to share._

Later that day, Clint, still set up at the range, heard laughter from the woods behind him. None of the other members of the troop usually ventured this far from the circus grounds outside of Buck, Jacques, Barney and himself. Slowly, Clint lowered his bow and listened for more sounds to try and place who may be out there. A moment later, he heard voices to his left. The way to the circus was to his right and the voices were getting softer, so whoever it was, was moving away from him and the circus. For a few seconds, Clint thought to leave whoever it was alone but then he remembered that someone was stealing from Carson. Now Clint would normally let this whole idea drop but if Carson wasn't making enough money, he'd start canceling acts. Clint didn't want his act canceled. Figuring he wouldn't hurt anyone by spying on whoever it was, he started to head over to the woods.

"Where are you going, boy?" Buck shouted just as Clint reached the woods edge. Clint stopped in his tracks and turned to face the older archer. Normally Buck never came out to Clint's practices. Heck, Clint could barely remember the last time he saw Buck coming to watch him. "You still got more training to do!"

"Sorry, I just thought-" Clint began, forgetting that Buck never cared what he was thinking.

"Thinking? I don't care what you think! You shouldn't even be thinking at all! Just shootin'. Unless," Buck paused. Clint frowned wondering what Buck was going to say next. The older archer's eyes darkened. "Maybe you're the one stealin' from Carson."

"No, sir! I wouldn't!" Clint loudly declared. Buck's eyes narrowed as he glared at the teen. Clint puffed out his chest, daring Buck to accuse him again. After a moment, Buck laughed to himself.

"Yeah, you ain't smart enough to cover your tracks like this sneaky thief," Buck laughed to himself. Clint nodded, agreeing with Buck even though he didn't like what the man was saying. But as Clint thought about it he wondered. Did Buck know who the thief was? Did Carson confide in the older archer? Was Buck actually the thief and he was trying to cast suspicion elsewhere? No... Buck couldn't be the thief. He was too dependent on Carson's. Buck was an avid gambler and tended to lose his paycheck long before he even earned it. There was no way the old archer would jeopardize losing his paycheck. "Back to training!"

Clint wasn't allowed a millisecond to think for the remainder of the day. Buck worked him through past show routines, random ideas that floated through his head and whatever else Buck wanted to do. Clint was almost certain that Buck wanted him to drop dead by the end of the show that night. Thankfully, Buck allowed a reprieve long enough for Clint to rest and recover for the show. In that time, Clint didn't think about the thief cause he pretty much dropped where he stood and slept.

After the show, Clint normally helped cleaned up the grounds. But tonight he was too tired. He needed rest if he was going to be of any use the next day when the whole place packed up and left. Mostly all the clean up was in front of the main tent and the rest of the front grounds. So it was no surprise that the sleeping tents were always set up behind the main tent. That meant that Clint wouldn't see anybody as he headed toward him now single tent. He set it up on the far end of the grounds. Pretty much falling asleep as he walked, Clint almost missed the familiar sounds of his brother speaking.

"We taking it all tonight?" Barney loudly whispered without fear of someone listening in but trying to keep quiet nonetheless. Clint froze at the sound, his tired mind slowly filtering the meaning of the words. Barney was usually in bed by the time the end of the show came around. The older Barton never wanted to work. Still had issues at time with keeping up on his tasks. "That old idiot thinks it's the new kind. I heard he already took off."

"Did you see it or just hear it from someone?" countered another familiar voice. Clint's eyes widened in surprise when he realized it was Jacques. But then his mind focused on what they were talking about. He couldn't think of it. Slowly, his mind reminded him of Carson yelling at the newest follower. Did the kid really take off?

"I... uh..." Barney stuttered. There was a loud crack of skin meeting skin. Clint recognized it as a slap across the face. He winced in sympathy for his brother. Jacques had beaten him before. All those long days training with a sword actually produced a lot of muscle on the old man. And the many years without the old Barton father had made Barney's skin loose and weak.

"I told you to watch the kid!" Jacques snarled. Clint shuddered at the dark and evil tone of voice that Jacques used. There was another loud crack followed by a thud and soft 'oof'. Clint figured that meant that Jacques hit Barney hard enough to make him fall to the ground. For a moment, Clint wanted to rush in and beat the crap out of Jacques but he'd need Barney's help. And history proved that Barney only helped himself nowadays. Clint just figured he'd be better of listening.

"He supposedly left before you told me!" Barney argued. Clint winced, knowing that it was never smart to argue with Jacques. Judging by the loud thuds and grunts and cries of pain, Jacques was teaching Barney just that. "STOP! PLEASE!"

"This won't work if that stupid kid is still here!" Jacques nearly screamed. Somewhere nearby a noise sounded, almost like a box shifting due to too much pressure. Clint glanced around. He was standing in a wide open area. His tired mind never told him before that it would be smart to hide from the conversation. It took him less than a second to dodge behind the nearest tent to hide. As he turned back, Jacques peeked out and glanced around. Seeing nothing out of place, the old man moved back. Clint tensely waited a minute and was glad he did when Jacques quickly looked out again. The old swordsman still saw nothing and so he nodded in a pleased way before retreating back to his conversation with Barney. Slowly, Clint slunk over to where Jacques kept peeking out and listened in.

"I looked everywhere, sir. But that kid is gone! Even his side of the tent is bare," Barney begged. Clint grimaced, beginning to finally understand what was going on. It was never the new kid that was stealing from Carson. Barney and Jacques were.

"He better be or I'll put all the blame on you," Jacques snarled. Barney whimpered. Clint frowned, wondering what he should do. Should he tell Carson that both Jacques and Barney was involved or just Jacques? But Jacques wouldn't keep quiet about Barney. Clint sighed, wishing that Barney never got himself involved in this type of thing. He was about to turn around and go find Carson when someone spoke.

"Lookie who's here," a familiar voice softly said from behind Clint. The archer jumped, spinning around to see Buck standing over him. Before Clint could explain himself, Buck grabbed the front of Clint's outfit and lifted the teen up off the ground. With two large steps, Buck entered into Barney's and Jacques's secret meeting.

"Buck!" Jacques nearly shouted. Spotting the teen in Buck's hand, Jacques's eyes narrowed in anger. Buck smirked and tossed the young archer down onto the ground in front of his brother and the old swordsman. Clint landed with a huff and smartly froze, his eyes focusing on the shocked look on Barney's face. The younger Barton tried to see if he'd get any help from the older one but Barney just seemed stunned.

"You should really make sure no one is around when making plans. This is too important to fuck up now," Buck commanded. Jacques snorted in disgust. He almost moved to beat the crap out of Buck but stopped himself. It would do him no good to get rid of the old archer now. Jacques still needed the other man.

"I checked," Jacques growled, growing defensive. "Must'a snuck by me."

"Sure," Buck sarcastically replied. Clint shifted to get a better view of Barney. His blue eyes gazing at his brother's face, trying to get an idea of what he should do. The older Barton looked away, hating the betrayed gaze of the younger sibling.

"Barney?" Clint whispered to his brother. He almost hoped that Barney wasn't actually involved. That this was some sort of mistake. Or, even better, Carson hired these three to find the real thief. But as Jacques lunged forward, kicking his leg out into Clint's side, Clint knew this was no mistake. And he was in serious trouble.

"Shut it!" Jacques demanded as Clint bounced away. The young boy curled up onto himself, trying to protect his vital organs. Though Barney hadn't been abused much these past years, Clint had gotten it from various sources. So he knew what to do to protect himself.

"Leave him. He's an idiot," Barney pleaded. Clint frowned into his arms. Barney sounded so desperate. Could he really be defending him? What was going on? "He ain't gonna do nothin'."

"Yeah, well. Even an idiot can get lucky, sometimes," Jacques mentioned, his statement not making much sense to the others. Not that it bothered Jacques any. Barney tensed, wondering what was going to happen to his baby brother. Never in all of his plans had he expected Clint to get involved and even then, Barney never thought that Clint would support Carson.

"What are you going to do?" Barney mumbled, keeping his gaze off of Clint. Jacques glanced at the older Barton. The Swordsman could see that the young man wouldn't be ready for what he had planned. But he needed Barney just as much as he needed Buck. A quick look at Buck, showed Jacques that the older archer had given up on Clint sometime ago.

"Go make sure no one else is around. We need to finish our plans in peace," Buck demanded, knowing what Jacques wanted to do. Jacques smirked, pleased that Buck was the one getting rid of the older kid. Barney had always trusted Buck, even Clint did. The young man hesitated long enough to look at Clint, feel guilty and then nod before taking off. Once he was gone, Jacques nodded to Buck. Buck assumed that Jacques wasn't pleased with what he had done. "We need him on our side."

"You're the thieves?" Clint questioned in a mix of astonishment, anger and betrayal. Jacques smugly looked to Buck. The old archer rolled his eyes. For a moment, Clint believed they were going to tell him that he was wrong. But then Jacques kicked him in the chest again. Gasping for breath, he looked up at the men he had admired. "Why?"

"Carson started cutting my pay after you took top slot," Jacques honestly answered, kicking the younger Barton again. "Can't afford it. So, I began skimming off the top. Just enough to cover my decrease."

"Why take more?" Clint mumbled, holding his chest tightly, knowing it was already beginning to bruise. Jacques laughed at the question. Clint figured that Buck's reason for all this was his various gambling debts. Glad that he didn't have to mention his real reason for stealing, Buck backed off. He really didn't want to tell Clint that it was his fault that Buck started stealing.

"Got greedy. Carson wasn't noticing. So, I figured a pay raise couldn't hurt," Jacques replied. Clint shook his head. Having never really felt the need for more, Clint couldn't understand the feeling of greed. In his past, Clint had been caught stealing. But what he had been stealing was actually a gift for Barney. Something that Clint would never have been able to afford.

"Why? Carson pays you! He feeds you!" Clint started describing. Jacques grabbed the teen's shirt collar and lifted him off the ground. A quick punch to the boy's nose had it spurting blood and silencing him.

"Wake up, boy! No one can be content staying in a place like this! Times change! I need more. And Carson can't give it to me," Jacques informed the teen. Clint shuddered, allowing his bleeding nose to drip down onto Jacques's boots.

"Then leave!" Clint cried, still not understanding how the world worked.

"We need money. Enough to get us by until we find a new place. Our current paychecks from Carson just isn't enough," Buck calmly pointed out. Clint frowned. "Trust me, this is our last time. We plan on leaving after this."

"Leaving? But... I don't understand," Clint whined. Unbeknownst to the trio, Barney returned to the tent. He opened the flap and paused at the sight before him. Clint bleeding in Jacques's hand, dangling off the ground. Jacques looking like he was about to beat Clint into a writhing mess and Buck just standing off to the side. Hearing the desperation in his brother's voice, Barney grimaced. He knew that this was going to go downhill as soon as Clint arrived.

"Carson's is going downhill, boy. It's over for guys like us. Buck and I are doing things now, before it gets too bad," Jacques growled. Clint frowned, tears beginning to form. Slowly, Clint was starting to see that the place he was just starting to call home, was about to fall apart. Nearly all the men he admired were planning on leaving without him. Clint just wished it came as a surprise but for some reason it didn't. "Now, the real question is, what are you going to do? Will you tell Carson? Or join us?"

Clint paused. Jacques was seriously asking him to help them steal money from Carson? Clint couldn't believe that the old swordsman could be that dense. There was no way that Clint would steal anything from Carson. The man had given Clint a life. A job. A home. No. He would never betray Carson, even if it meant his life. Slowly, Clint shook his head. Understanding right away, Jacques couldn't stop the smirk that spread across his face. He was going to have fun with this. Glancing at Buck to see if he was on board, Jacques noticed a sadness in the old archer's eyes. Shaking his head, Swordsman harshly kicked Clint across his face. The boy went flying backwards into a wooden box with a loud crash.

_"I blacked out for a bit after that. When I came too, Jacques's fist slammed into my face and again, everything went dark. The next time I came too, Jacques was threatening Barney..."_

"You listen to me, you punk nose brat! Shut that fuckin' kid up or we'll leave you to take the hit!" Jacques shouted at the older Barton. Barney winced, one of his eyes already beginning to darken and swell. Clint felt sore all over. Pain flared in his chest, which made him briefly wonder if his ribs were broken. One of his arms was twisted awkwardly around the box that he had been propped up against. Blood poured freely from his nose. Shifting, Clint's vision white-ed out. When it came back, Barney was standing over him with a gun. Jacques and Buck were missing.

"Barney?" Clint whimpered, figuring he could get his brother to stop easier now that the older men were gone. Barney's hand shook as he held the gun toward Clint's bruising face.

"No! No! You don't get to do that! You don't get to make me feel guilty!" Barney cried, his voice cracking in misery. Tears began to form in Clint's eyes as he realized that Barney may actually kill him. Barney noticed them and sobbed in pain. "I need to do this! Carson's has done nothing for me! You have done nothing for me!"

"Barney," Clint mumbled, wanting a minute to talk to his brother. Barney shook his head, his hand dropping minutely.

"YOU LEFT ME! YOU WENT AND BECAME A STAR! I... I was left cleaning up crap. I can't... Can't stand it here," Barney explained, his voice going soft. Clint moaned, shifting to move toward his brother. Barney sharply inhaled, his hand steadying as he pointed the gun solidly at Clint. His eyes hardened even as tears formed and slowly fell down both of their faces. "I can't have you ruin this."

_"I woke up two days later. Carson found me dying, alone... Everyone joined their money together to help pay for my hospital fees and to keep the carnival going. But by the time I was released, Carson couldn't afford to keep us afloat. We disbanded, going our own ways," Clint muttered. He paused for a moment. "But, to this day, I wonder. Barney was a good shot. Almost as good as me. So... Why did he miss my heart?"_

_"What ever happened to Barney?" Tony whispered, almost as if he was afraid to speak. Clint shrugged. He never really cared to hear about the older Barton after that._

_"Coulson told me he went MIA with the Army soon after he became my handler. I told Coulson then that Barney would never have joined up. He hated the Army. But Coulson was adamant. I told him to drop it and that was the last I heard about it," Clint told them. Before anyone else could speak more on the subject, Fury stepped into the room._

_"The jet is ready."_

* * *

**Almost done. One chapter left. Until next time...**


	16. Age 8:The End

Age: 8

_Clint kind of faded out as everyone set about getting ready to transfer him from the Helicarrier to Stark Tower. He still thought that Tony was doing too much and that he'd regret this whole thing later. S.H.I.E.L.D medical was fine. No need to make too much hassle. Especially not for him. But as he was carefully moved to a wheelchair, Clint let his mind wander to a darker time in his life. A time that he prayed no one ever found out about._

It was a month and a half after his 8th birthday that Clint found his favorite hiding spot. Tucked up in the rafters of an old barn that Winters claimed was on his property, Clint created a small 'nest.' He hid all of most prized possessions up there. A photo of his family, his favorite book from Winter's library, a couple of comfy blankets, two pillows that he had stolen from some empty beds, and some old Captain America comic books. Barney had bought those before coming to the orphanage and gave them to Clint when he got sick of reading them. Thankfully, Clint had seen Barney reading them enough that he had the words memorized.

"Get in there!" Old Man Winters roared, barging into the barn so loudly that it startled Clint. He almost dropped one of the comic books in his surprise. Looking down, Clint saw Old Man Winters pushing a shorter frame around. Leaning further over the extra thick beam he was on, Clint focused on the other person. It was a boy, about seven or eight with dark chocolate brown hair. But the real feature that set him apart in Clint's mind will always be the old healed up scar of a knife wound going from the boy's blind right eye down to the left cheek bone.

"Toby!" Clint whispered in shock. Toby was new to the orphanage. He had actually arrived dead on Clint's birthday. When the boy found out, Toby said that as a present they could be friends. Clint agreed and they had gotten real close until Clint caught Toby stealing some of the other kids things. The boy claimed that they gave it to him, till Clint noticed one of his shirts in Toby's collected pile. Clint never told Old Man Winters about it, or any of the other boys involved. But it seemed everyone had noticed their 'falling apart'.

"Gonna teach you a lesson, boy," Old Man Winters loudly snarled, pushing the boy deeper into the barn. Toby stumbled a few steps before turning in time to catch Winters's open palm against his right cheek. Clint frowned, thinking it might be a good idea to leave, but figured Winters was in a worse mood than normal and the old man didn't know he was here. No good losing his best hiding spot over something like this. So, Clint just watched. Toby dropped to the ground when he caught a second hit. This time a backhand against his deadened left cheek.

"Please, sir! I promise not to do it again!" Toby cried, sounding more horrified than ever before. Clint rolled his eyes, knowing that Toby had promised such things before. But then again, Clint had never seen Old Man Winters punish Toby for stealing. Winters laughed at the boy before backhanding him again. Toby fell to the side and Winters promptly kicked the in his chest. "No! Stop!"

"No! You damn brat! I ain't gonna look stupid again! You're done!" Winters grunted, kicking Toby again, this time in the boy's stomach. Toby let out a 'woof' of air and barely caught his breath before Winter's kicked again, catching his arms this time. Clint watched on in horror as Toby tried his best to defend himself against the old man. But one good kick hit his forehead. Clint stared as Toby's head snapped back with a loud crack and then he stopped moving. Winters didn't notice. He kept kicking until he ran out of breath a few minutes later. Clint silently stared, holding back his sobs of horror as he noticed that Toby's body had twisted to look up at his hiding place. With his good eyesight, Clint could clearly see Toby's lifeless brown eyes focusing on him. The mouth was slightly open, as if Toby had been in the middle of crying out.

"Ah!" Clint let out when he spotted a final muscle twitch from Toby's foot. Winters looked up at that point and looked down at Toby. He was used to seeing boys twisted up in pain, trying to cover as much of their bodies as possible. Not just laying there like a useless pile of trash.

"Toby?" Winters muttered after he caught his breath. It took him a while to realize that Toby wasn't breathing. Slowly, Winters looked the boy over. Clint knew there was nothing that Old Man Winters could do. But still, he watched as Winters tried to revive Toby. Time passed as Winters began to realize what he had done. Clint watched when he finally understood that he was screwed. Old Man Winters sat back, staring down at the body. "Shit."

They sat like that for a while. Above the graphic scene, Clint watched, wondering what the old man would do next. An hour passed before Winters suddenly smiled. He stood, grabbed the body by its left ankle and dragged it out of the barn. Clint waited another minute before letting out a sobbing sigh. It was that moment that Clint finally understood what he had watched. Tears formed as he realized that Toby was dead and never coming back. Curling into a ball, Clint sobbed and cried for the boy he had known.

_A shocking jolt made Clint jerk back into awareness. Pain flared from one of his still healing injuries. Gasping, he glanced around. Everyone was in a seat, strapped in. He was strapped to a medical table in the jet, rather than the wheelchair he last remembered being in. Bruce looked over as Clint looked toward the doc._

_"Hurricane," the doc mentioned with the archer prompting. "How you doing?"_

_"Pain," Clint grunted as the jet twisted again. He groaned. Bruce frowned but nodded as if he had expected as much._

_"You were due up for some meds just before we took off, but I was afraid you'd fall asleep on the flight," Bruce told him. Clint nodded. He normally either flew the jet himself or slept in the back. As much as everyone claimed he loved to fly, he actually hated being a passenger. The jet suddenly dropped and then regain the altitude. Clint hissed, narrowly missing Bruce's sympathetic grimace. "Sorry."_

_"No, it's fine," Clint moaned. Natasha, who had positioned herself sitting above his head, shifted to face him. Slowly she began running her fingers through his hair. Clint hummed in contentment. Natasha continued until he closed his eyes. Then she stopped. Whining, he opened his eyes and looked at her. She softly smiled._

_"Don't want you sleeping," she murmured in Russian. He pouted but she shook her head. "You had us worried," she continued, still in Russian. Clint raised his eyebrow in surprise. "You were lost in thought. What were you thinking about?"_

_"I don't want to remember it again," Clint silently answered in Russian. Natasha raised her own eyebrow, staring at him in confusion. He shook his head. Her eyes softened and she began rubbing his head again. Slowly, Clint relaxed into the feeling._

_"What's up?" Clint heard Steve whisper to Natasha as he closed his eyes once again. The jet jerked and he hissed in pain over her answer. "Oh."_

"Barney! Barney!" Clint cried, running into his older brother's room. No one else was in the room. Not that Clint cared, the more people that heard, the better. Barney glanced up in surprise. Neither brother had really spoken to each other in the past couple of months. He had no clue why Clint would suddenly come looking for him now. "BARNEY!"

"What? What? What?" Barney replied. Clint would normally have smirked and laughed at the older boy's response but he was too frightened too. It was only six hours prior that he had witnessed Old Man Winters kill Toby. He had no idea what Barney had already heard from the lying old man.

"Toby! He's... He's dead!" Clint loudly called. Barney frowned, having heard different news. But Winters had mentioned that younger kids tended to see the world differently from older kids. So he shouldn't be surprised.

"Old Man Winters just called the cops. Said he run away," Barney told the younger boy. Clint desperately shook his head.

"No! I just saw it! Winters killed Toby!" Clint screeched. Barney rolled his eyes, beginning to think that Clint was just too upset that his newest friend had left. Trying to be a good older brother, Barney pulled Clint into a hug. Both boys froze at the strange contact. Neither was used to the feeling. Barney unfroze first and began awkwardly patting Clint on the back.

"It's okay," Barney tried to soothe. Clint frowned as Barney continued to awkwardly try to help. This wasn't what he wanted. Backing away, Clint glared at his brother. "The cops are looking for Toby. He'll come back."

"He's dead. Winters snapped his neck," Clint sobbed, still angry at his brother. Barney frowned and went again to calm Clint down but the younger boy shook his head. "Toby is dead! Why won't you believe me?"

_"Clint," a soft voice murmured in his ear. Surprised, Clint opened his eyes. Natasha was leaning over his head with a worried look but once he opened his eyes, she smiled. "We're at the tower."_

_Clint nodded as Bruce began unbuckling the restraints they had used to transport him. Once free, Bruce and Natasha shifted Clint into a sitting position. He wavered there, blinking as his world spun. Steve pushed a wheelchair over at Bruce's nod and slowly the group worked him into it. Once he was seated, they worked their way to Tony's new medical facility, somewhere in the tower._

_"You okay?" Bruce asked when they got into the elevator. Clint shook his head yes as he shifted to get his ribs comfortable in the damned chair. Bruce smirked at the archer. "Need any meds?"_

_"Please?" Clint nearly begged when the elevator jerked into motion. Bruce frowned and turned to Natasha. She shook her head no._

_"Can you wait until we get to the medical area?" Bruce questioned. Clint groaned but agreed to it._

_"What were you thinking about on the flight?" Steve muttered when the elevator went silent. Tony and Thor had gone on before them to make sure everything was ready. Clint shrugged, really not wanting to talk about it. In fact, he was basically done with talking about his past. Natasha frowned and poked Clint's arm. He shook his head no._

_"Clint," Natasha whispered, almost sounding desperate._

_"I don't want to talk about it," Clint nearly snapped. Natasha jerked back in shock. Bruce, Steve and Natasha traded looks with frowns on their faces. The elevator slowly stopped. Clint hissed at the sudden loss of motion. Slowly, Steve took the handles and began gently pushing Clint into the hallway that would lead them to the medical wing. Tony and Thor were waiting outside a door._

_"Got it all ready for ya!" Tony happily called down the hall. Clint nodded, looking away from the billionaire with a depressed sigh. Tony frowned and glanced at Natasha. She shook her head but said nothing as they all entered the room. Silently, Steve and Bruce worked to get Clint into the bed and comfortable. Turning around, Bruce began to get a needle ready with some pain medication._

_"Am I okay to rest now?" Clint grumpily asked. Bruce stiffened, pulling a little too much meds into the needle. With a deep sigh, Bruce readjusted the meds and turned to look at Clint._

_"It hasn't been 24 hours yet," Natasha pointed out. Bruce frowned, injecting the meds into Clint's arm. The archer jumped at the pinch from the needle but relaxed as the meds flowed into his blood stream. Clint groaned and relaxed into the bed. His eyes drifted closed._

_"I glanced over his chart on the flight over. You've had concussions before?" Bruce mentioned, sounding more like a question than a statement. Clint nodded, keeping his eyes closed. "I... I think you should be fine."_

_"Good. Get out," Clint grumped, rolling over to his side in an effort to get comfortable. The others stiffened at his tone but figured it had more to do with the amount of pain he was in than anything. Slowly, they all began to leave. Natasha was the last one._

_"I wish you'd tell us everything," she muttered. Clint huffed._

_"Not much more I can tell that you already can't guess. Became Hawkeye, was put as main act at the circus, went through a shit ton of handlers in less than a year before Coulson became my last chance. Still on my last chance," Clint groaned to her. Natasha frowned, wishing that he could be as detailed with all that as he had been before. He sighed deeply. "Look, I just don't want to talk about it anymore."_

_"I get that. Just... Know that we're here for you," Natasha said. Clint nodded. She drifted deeper into the hall. "I'll check on you later."_

_Clint waved to her, letting her know that he had heard her. With a frown, Natasha closed the door. Clint glanced over to the door and could see the others' shadows from the opaque glass door. They seemed to converse at the door before slowly drifting away. Clint sighed deeply and relaxed back into the bed as the medication began to kick in. He closed his eyes as a tear formed._

_"I'm sorry."_


End file.

Avengers, Friendship, Hurt-Comfort