Knowing Was Enough
4/21/14
Popped into my head in the middle of class, so I had to write it down.
I haven't read the comic books, so I'm not sure how canon this is.
Also, this story has a scene of it from the Avengers that wasn't in the movies. It something that I imagined could have happened.
The Avengers is the property of Marvel.
XXX
There's not a day where Jacob Barton doesn't think about it. He realizes now that it was a stupid move, but his fourteen year old self thought that leaving his brother on the streets was the only way for him to be successful. To get a life.
Their parents had been dead for a year, and he had done his best to take care of his brother. Clint . That's what his name was.
Jacob was too young then to get a job, so they were stuck living in back alleys of New York. For the first few months, his only thoughts were about keeping Clint safe and out of the hands of the government. Having Child Services take care of them was the last thing he wanted. He didn't want to be separated from his brother.
But a little later, he started to have doubts. He couldn't take care of a nine year old boy. He thought that Clint had sucked all of his potential away. He could have had a job by then, he thought.
So one day he took him into town and told him to wait by one of the shops.
"I'm just going in to buy some bread," he had said.
Clint had nodded.
"Here," he pulled out the reminder of the money that they had, and gave it to Clint, "Take care of this for me until I get out, bud."
But his younger brother just stared at him with blank eyes.
"See you later, okay?" He said to him.
"Okay," Clint had replied.
Those were the last words Jacob had ever heard his brother say. He had walked into the store, and left through the back, leaving Clint alone.
By the time the next day had rolled around, he knew that he had made a huge mistake, but when he went back, Clint was gone. That was it.
Life was easier for Jacob without another mouth to feed, but the guilt ate at him every day. Clint was probably dead. What would his parents say?
He eventually got a job. He worked for a small café, taking out the garbage and cleaning the dishes. It wasn't much, but it was more than he had had before. He saved up his money, and got a ratty apartment in the bad part of town.
He worked at that café until he was nineteen, and then he worked at a little shop that sold trinkets for tourists. He was paid a little more there.
He saved every penny that he could, and when he was twenty five, some big corporation hired him. He answered e-mails for them at first, but them he was promoted again and again until he was the manager of a small department. He even had his own office on the fortieth floor of the company building. He had done well, and he lived comfortably now. But not a day passed that he didn't think of his fourteen year old self, and his nine year old brother.
He was thirty seven when the attack on New York happened. It started like any other day. He walked down the street, bought a doughnut from the bakery, and then walked up the steps to his office. He liked to think that taking the stairs instead of the elevator cancelled out the calories gained from the doughnut.
He worked until noon, and then he went to the restaurant across the street and got a salad to go. He got it, and went back to his office, taking the elevator this time.
He sat at his desk with his back to the window to avoid distractions, and begins to answer his e-mails while eating.
At twelve thirty, the portal opens and the attack starts.
He doesn't notice it at first. Even when the employees outside his door run from their cubicles to the window, he ignores it. Just more antics from the newbies.
Only when one pops his head into the door and says simply, "Look out the window," does he notice.
And because of the positioning of his window, he has a perfect view of everything.
He ran into the larger room outside of his office and saw everyone crowded in front of the windows. He tried to get the other employees out from in front of them, but none of them would budge. They want to see the show.
Others were gathering their possessions and running frantically out of the building.
And in that moment, he doesn't know what to do.
If he were to follow the people out of the window then he would be shot, but if he stayed here and those things got into the building, then he would be shot.
There really wasn't a good option. Do you want to die now or in a couple of hours? Neither? Not an option.
'Well', he thought, 'I'll choose the second option.'
So he turned his back to the door.
There were plenty of people who needed help here, and now it was his job to help them.
For the next hour and a half, he comforted crying women and men. He got food from the break room and gave it to people who needed it. And he had to do this without breaking down himself.
Eventually, a policeman appeared before them, and told them that they had a way out. He ushered everyone out of the door, trying to make sure that everyone was orderly. When about half of the people were out of the building, the glass window next to Jacob shattered.
A man with a bow and a woman with red hair fell onto the floor next to him. They were both bruised and bloody, but they both found their way back onto their feet.
"Everybody out!" The man commanded, "Out!"
The remaining crowd frantically followed the others, and pushed their way out of the doors and out of Jacob's sight. But Jacob stayed.
The man was leaning himself against a wall now, casually counting arrows like he hadn't just fallen through a window. The woman looked like she was talking into a device in her ear, communicating to someone what had just happened.
Were they from the government? They looked pretty beat up, were they fighting?
"How many, Tasha?" the man asked. Now the mystery woman had a name.
"I'll ask Tony," she replied.
"Hey, Tony. How many…" but Jacob didn't hear the rest. He wasn't interested.
The man with the arrows moved to the window and looked out.
"There are four Chutari on the roof and dozens on the street." Tasha answered his previous question, but the man continued to look out of the window. "Hey, Barton, you hear me?"
Barton?
"Yeah, I heard you, Tash"
Barton? Who else in the city was named Barton besides him?
Was this? No, it couldn't be.
But Jacob looked at the man, and saw his mother's eyes, and his father's lips.
This was Clint, the little boy he left alone so many years ago. He was alive.
What had his little brother gotten into, to become involved with this? When did he learn how to shoot arrows?
"We need to get out of here." Clint said, preparing an arrow.
"Agreed" Tasha replied, she looked out of the window, "You think you can manage?"
"I can always manage."
Jacob found his voice, and cried, "No! Wait!"
But the two were gone. They had leapt out of the window, and were now attached to a rope, flying across the streets to the top of another building. They were gone, and he would never see them again.
He sighed, and slumped down into the nearest chair.
The building was empty; it was quieter than he had ever heard it. The windows were all smashed in, and the wind flowed in through them. He could hear the commotion outside, but it all faded into the background.
It felt like the world was ending. The city was ruined. He probably didn't have a job anymore, but none of that really mattered. His brother was alive. Thriving, in fact. And even though he would never see him again, Jacob felt good. Because even though the world had fallen in to ruins, knowing Clint was alive was enough to get him through.