A/N - Hello fine reader and welcome to my little AU slice of Avenger Movie-verse, of witch i do not own, so sad I know. However I think I shall survive this heart break, Alright its over. Welcome Welcome to my story. I wrote this because like an ear worm the idea got stuck in my head and played itself like a broken record.

So here is my back story on the fairly aloof and all to secretive Agent Barton. With an OC thrown in along the way to make things interesting. Enjoy

And please read, review, and remember to look for the next chapter, after all those are the four R's.

Lots O' Love

All4TheBest

(update 7/6 - I fixed the spelling errors pointed out to me in this chapter. :) Thank my guest reviewer for that. I understand I do allow many spelling mistakes to slip through my fingers. I have always had issues with spelling but I will try harder in the future. Thank you.)


The strong stench of alcohol and smoke filled the air. Heavy particles of dust and fog clouding the assassin's vision as he stepped carefully over a broken beer bottle. Loud screams in Spanish languages where heard as he passed closed doors and saw children ducked under their windows awaiting his impending gun shots.

The man could not help but feel remorse. Since he had been approached to flip sides he had been having this feeling. Yet he couldn't bring himself to call the agents who approached him and give up the life he knew. Clint Barton was stuck in his ways, a young man who was at the most in his early twenties and looked nothing like his background would point to.

He had blue eyes and blond hair that was cut so it spiked slightly on the top of his head, the cut much closer near his ears. He stood there in his black jacket, wife beater, straight cut jeans, and combat boots. He leaned heavily on his right side his left hand being held straight with in a splint and a cut on his jaw that was much more severe than a razor cut. In short the young man stood looking like he was just called out from the front lines of war.

His old black sneakers squeaked as he saw the door he had been searching for, 30214, the numbers where imprinted and painted black in a chipped and ware worn metal plate the lock broken and door hanging off its hinges. One of his two partners for the mission had already been through now it was just him, the third and last was the more obnoxious of the group and the two others handler so to speak, never was one to do the foot work by choice but was the most deadly once on the field.

He stepped into the house waiting for noise was no answer until he heard the voice of a woman. Quickly he ran to where the noise sounded from. Loading the gun in his right hand, wishing once again it was a bow he kicked the door down to see a woman huddled over a child's bassinet and softly signing. The sight stopped him dead in his tracks though he didn't make him lower his firearm.

"Fuentecita que corre clara y sonora

Ruisenor que en la selva cantando llora

Calla mientras la cuna se balansea

A la nanita nana, nanita ella" The woman sang softly before realizing someone was in the door way. Her blue night gown fluttered as she pivoted quickly she screamed and Clint shot out of reflex two rounds into her chest. Tearing his eyes form the look of fear that the woman held as he did so.

The woman fell into the bassinet tipping it onto a rocking chair resulting in a bundle of blankets rolling on to the rocking chair and a cry from what he guessed to be a baby swaddled with in. Slowly he patted his way over to get a better look at the child. It was small and helpless only its head being visible.

"It is alright it's alright don't cry please do not cry" He said watching the baby not moving closer the child than screamed louder. He sighed and tried to think of something else. Then it dawned on him, the child was used to hearing Spanish, thankful he has spent the past year or so in the lower point of Texas and knew Spanish quite well.

"Está bien está bien, no llores por favor no llores, Está bien está bien, no llores por favor no llores, Está bien está bien, no llores por favor no llores" he repeated again and again in Spanish and the child stopped wailing and opened its eyes staring up at the man with wide blue eyes.

"Hawk, you got the job finished," His partner in this case of which he neglected to learn the name of asked he looked down at the child as the words of his employer flooded his mind stripping him of all other coherent thoughts.

"Kill anyone and everyone you see." He had yet to finish that job he tried to do as such and kill the infant, but something stopped him. He physically could not hurt this child. The partner called to him over the com-link once more and in response he tore out his ear wig and threw it across the room.

Smiling as he listened to it break as it crunched against the wall, He then tossed the gun aside, why was he doing this. What did it do, his knees buckling from under him he knelt down on the now blood stained floor he placed his hands on the rocking chair for support as he fought the tears that weighed his eyes. His body stiffened however when the small child wrapped her hand around his hand he looked over to the girl that was still staring at him.

Loud foot falls from outside shook the assassin from his dazed state, he heard a gunshot and then more foot falls. That was his partner carrying out the mission. Quickly and on instinct he pulled the child into his arms careful of her head and grabbed the bag in the corner leaving his gun lying on the floor. His brain thought no more than 'save the child, run, save the child, run, save the child.' As his feet pounded the old dirt road he knew then he could never go back, and he just wasn't talking about the house, he wasn't just talking about the town, hell he wasn't even talking about Texas.

He was talking about the job, as he looked down he saw the small child that was huddled in his arms with in a green polkadotted blanket. The infant had taken to the world of dreams her hand wrapped around his dark purple rounded collar shirt.

Then it dawned on him, reality making his shoulders hunch and knees buckle, what he was supposed to do with this child. He let out a long sigh as he stopped running and rested his back against the tree sinking down the child still slumbering in his arms that only half an hour ago held a gun. What was he supposed to do with this child, of which he did not know now that he was out of the house?

He couldn't take care of the baby, he was the one who killed her care taker, he was a killer, a hired gun, an assassin. It was his job, the only job he knew. He blatantly refused to do the society acceptable thing and take the child to an orphanage. He had ran away to the circus because of an orphanage, he ended up killing her caretaker in the first place.

Shit he just orphaned a child.

He just became like the drunken man that hit his parents, the man Barney wanted to kill.

This was stupid, he needed to sleep he would think better after an hour or so of shut eye.

The night was steadily becoming colder. It didn't faze the man but the child that slumbered in his arms had to feel the effects of it. Getting back to his feet he continued to walk trying to find the road they rode in on. Or any road for that matter glad that he always had his wallet with him and had managed to grab the baby bag. Maybe he should trust his instincts more often, or maybe he shouldn't after all that is why he was in this mess to begin with.

Before long the two travelers, one with eyes shut the other eyes wide found a small in paid for a room and where bunkered down before long. With a sigh Clint placed the baby on the sad excuse for a bed and then placed the two striped pillows the hotel counted as decor on either side in case she flipped herself over. Then he kicked off his old trainers and fell face first on the couch welcoming well needed sleep.

The infant however had other plans. Almost as soon as Clint had settled into the couch and allowed his eyes to close the child began to scream making the normally level headed assassin jump into the air and move to pull out his fire arm before remembering he no longer had it and was now pointing an invisible gun at no one. He looked down at the child who was still screaming and approached it as if it were a ticking time bomb. Once next to the bed he could see the child's face now beet red as she screeched. He took a deep breath and thought back to what he said to quite the child at first.

"Está bien está bien, no llores por favor no llores." He said and despite the effort the baby still screamed he then turned to the bag hoping to find a doll or a pacifier or really anything to make the child stop screaming. Throwing the various baby item's around the room as he searched for something his already taxed emotions on edge as the child continued to scream.

He deserted all other attempted and picked the screaming infant up carefully, hoping the child would fall asleep once again even bouncing to create the effect of running. Of course he had no such luck. He then moved outside maybe she liked the fresh air, Once again no luck.

"That's a hungry cry." He heard a voice and turned to see a tired looking middle aged woman emerge from the next room. He just stared at her wide eyed as she approached and held out her hands to take the child, relieved he handed the child over to the woman.

"Wow she is brand new. Probably not even a month old," She said addressing the baby but looking to Clint for an answer.

"I, well I don't really know." The man said truthfully without telling this woman he had stolen the child.

"Its normal, days run together at the beginning. I have a son that is three months; my mom had to call me to tell me he turned a month old. I couldn't believe it I swore he was older." She said bouncing the baby and succeeding in consoling her cries. Clint couldn't help but stare. He wasn't a person others usually just approached. He absolutely was not the type of person others stopped on the street to lend a hand to. Well really he took a lot of time making sure he did not look approachable example one entire wardrobe consisting of either deep purple or black or a combination of the two.

"You may want to get this little one a bottle." She said and jogging him from his dazed state he nodded and walked into the room grabbing a baby bottle from the edge of the bed and the large pink plastic tin he guessed was baby formula. The woman stood in the door way before he waved her in with his hand not wanting to talk to her more than he had to. With a smile the woman walked into the room, He then looked at the two unsure how to prepare a bottle. It wasn't something he did on an every day basis.

"Never made a bottle huh, its normal, my husband didn't either for the first few weeks. A friend of mine say it was a different form of P.M.S Protective Mother Syndrome." She said laughing handing the baby over to him and then taking to where he stood to make the bottle, He just marveled at this woman as she helped him. He sure as hell didn't deserve it.

"Has she been asleep?" She asked with her back turned. 'She' Clint thought. 'who was, oh the baby it must be a girl.' He concluded before glancing around and seeing the pink bottle and other pink accessories including the tin he was just holding. How could he have missed it?

"Yeah," He answered after a moment his brain still a bit fuzzy.

"You may want to change her before the bottle then. It's bad to lay them down right after." The woman instructed in Clint nodded and then slowly laid the baby back down on the bed. The woman instructing him on how to make a bottle all the while, He didn't mind though he had changed a dipper before; this was not a new thing.

When he and Barney lived at the orphanage the care taker made the other children help with the babies who lived there. Clint being one of the youngest and unable to do much else was always placed on diaper duty. A bit rusty but remembering most Clint grabbed an extra diaper and wet cloths and quickly unswaddled the child who at this point had resumed crying.

He quickly then worked on taking off the small girls yellow striped footy pajamas. The feet themselves having the face of ducks, the outfit was complete with a zipper and a little piece of fabric to keep the zipper from scratching the girls face. With one foul swoop he had unclicked the button and wiggled the small girl out of the pajamas.

Then he quickly changed the girls diaper and went to close the new diapers tabs. There is where he ran into an issue. The girl had blocked his hands by lifting her legs and squirming quite a bit protesting the clean diaper quite adamantly. After all she had worked quite hard to dirty the last, a few seconds of trying to dodge the infants' legs Clint finally got the tabs down and then zipped the baby back into her pajamas and cradled her back in his arms. Keeping her closer to the right side of his body and holding her with one arm. The woman, whose name he had yet to learn placed the bottle in the infants mouth before handing the end of the bottle to Clint.

"Isn't that better sweetie, I bet it is," the grown woman cooed at the child who now was eating the bottle that rested in Clint's hand.

"I am Paige by the way." The woman introduced herself with a smile. "Clint," he answered, "And who is this little cutie?" She asked once again cooing at the child who was now quite content with the bottle and closing her eyes. The question was innocent and light hearted but stopped Clint dead in his tracks. What was her name? He had no idea, he had NO IDEA! He looked at the woman who now looked up at him curiously.

"Erin," He said quickly trying to cover at this point before cursing himself for using that name. Erin was the name of Clint's mother, a part of him always knew he would name his daughter after his mother. But then and again this was not his daughter. "Erin Johanna" He said once again his mouth failing him. Though the name resounded in his ear and he wanted to repeat it again. Erin Johanna, it had a nice ring to it. It would work for now.

"A pretty name for a pretty girl, well I best be going. The my family will wonder where I stalked off to. Nice to meet you Clint, and you as well Erin. Oh and Clint, I know it's difficult but you are doing fine, Erin is lucky. Already has her daddy wrapped around her little finger." She said before disappearing and closing the door behind her.

"Im not," Clint began but his voice betrayed him so he just blinked and then glanced down at the child who was looking at him with her wide blue eyes once more. He moved to sit on the bed Erin still balanced safely in his arms.

The first rule of not getting attached to things is not naming them. As he looked down at Erin he sighed, he could not abandon this child. Not now, he just, well he just couldn't. He wanted to know what her first word would be. How old she would be when she first walked, when she wrote her first word, he wanted to know what would make her smile, what her favorite color would be, and so much more. He wanted to know and that scared him.

Though the thing that scared him even more is he wanted to be there. He had the urge to sit and hold the child that now slept lazily in his arms until she took those first steps. He wanted to be the one guiding her hand as she did so. About a half hour later he had moved back to the couch this time lying on his back Erin asleep on his chest. Her legs tucked under her bum green blanket covering her and her face peaceful. She had not been that way for long. Clint had taken to singing the lullaby who ever

The logical side of this brain then kicked in If he wasn't going to kill, and killing was not an option, he needed something to do he needed a job. He grabbed the wallet he disposed of on the table and picked it up balancing it in his hand, he pulled out the card he was looking for and for the millionth time read what it said.

Agent Phil Colson

Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division

Under that read the agents number, Than in hurried penmanship on the back of the card the Agent had wrote 'call me when you want to shoot straight' he sighed and put the card away being an assassin didn't fit him any longer yet he knew nothing else other than the circus, which was not an option. his exhaustion set in he closed.

This, he concluded, was something that could wait a few hours.


A/N - Hello again reader, did you like the story?

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Lots 'o Love

All4TheBest