1. A New Family
Clinton Francis Barton was born to a drunkard and a naive woman. Both orphans, they had met as children, grew up together, married each other, had two boys, Bernard Charles and Clinton Barton, and wanted to have a third one, hopefully a girl. Clint was five and Barney, nine, when their mother died due to complications during labor. The baby girl never made it.
Not too long afterwards, their father began to drink. He lost his job, and the money he'd made was all spent on the booze. Barney realized he was going to have to provide for himself and his little brother, and at the tender age of ten, he began to search for work. Clint was six at this point, too small to fully understand, too small to help. He stayed home with Dad when Barney went out and so he was the first of the two to be at the receiving end of his father's fist. But Barney wasn't spared for long and when a neighbor asked little, seven-year old Clint how he'd gotten a bruise that size on his cheek, he said the truth. Barney had been in bed, nursing bruised ribs after being brutally kicked in the side by his father. Social services got involved and the boys got sent to a foster home, their dad to prison.
Barney and Clint behaved home after home, leaning on each other for comfort and familiarity, longing for the warmth and safety of a permanent family. However, after two years of being passed on, foster parents after foster parents, they both realized that a permanent family wasn't going to happen.
So they ran away.
It just so happened that the particular house they ran away from was right next to the town's fairgrounds and that the circus was in town, at the fairgrounds.
The circus master had been taking a stroll, looking for a fleeting moment of peace, a break from the chaotic organizing of a circus, - when suddenly he came across two blond, blue-eyed boys. They practically ran into him, unaware of his presence until they were a mere foot away from him.
"Where exactly do you young 'uns think you're going?" The circus master asked.
Thirteen-year old Barney kept his mouth shut defiantly while Clint followed suit out of shyness.
"Where are your parents, huh?" The man asked, not unkindly.
"We don't have any," Clint blurted out before being elbowed in the ribs by Barney.
"Got a home, kids? Some family anywhere?" The Circus master questioned with a kind face.
"No." Barney admitted.
"Nobody's looking for you, then?"
Barney looked at Clint before meeting the Master's gaze. "No," he said sadly. They'd left a note saying that they were leaving, they didn't need anyone to come after them, they were going to be fine.
The circus master looked conflicted for a few seconds. But then he smiled and said, "Well, you do now. Come on."
The boys followed him hesitantly as he made his way to the circus tent.
"Welcome to the Circus. This is your new family. Your new home."
Thus, Barney and Clint found a family; and also a school.
They were taught to find their center of gravity, to balance themselves perfectly, acrobatics, aerodynamics, for elegance, agility and grace in every step and stance and movement. They were taught to aim, to shoot. This became Clint's speciality. Bows and arrows were his favorite, knives, boomerangs, even guns when the circus entrepreneurs had any lying around. Barney helped him refine his aim. He learned to never miss. People would crowd to see him shoot things he shouldn't be able to.
Clint became an aerialist, too, a talented one. Floating 100 feet above the ground, shaping his body mid-air into impossible yet graceful postures. He grew to love heights, the view and vantage point they offered. He felt free up above.
But they were also taught other not so glamorous skills. How to fight, different styles of fighting and wrestling, martial arts, - in case there were ever any " inconveniences" with burglars, angry people, etc,- how to steal, how to pickpocket, how to play mind games.
At first, Barney had had a serious conversation with Clint.
"I know you're still little, bro, but-"
"I'm not little!" Clint had argued.
Barney had smiled. "Alright, you're not little. But you may not yet know that it's bad to lie, to steal, to cheat. You understand?"
"Why is it bad? Everybody does it here."
"I know, Clint, but it's bad to do it."
"So are we gonna stop?"
Barney had sighed. He was too young to be parenting. Too young to be worried about moral issues.
"No, Clint. We can't stop. But whenever you can, try not to do these things, okay?"
"Okay, Barney." And Clint had resumed playing with his bow.
And since the circus was prestigious, won a lot of money and travelled to many different countries in the Americas and Europe, they were also taught a lot of languages. Spanish, German, French, even some Russian and Clint excelled at all of these, though Barney found it a little harder to learn them. But after five years, Barney, now 18, grew tired of the circus. He was fed up with it all, and he told so to Clint. But Clint wanted to stay. He enjoyed this life. Why couldn't Barney enjoy it, too?
"I'll come back when you turn 18, alright? I'll come get you."
So Barney left. And for three miserable years, Clint was alone. But for a total of 8 fun years, Clint worked for the circus, enjoyed his time with his "family," travelled to so many cities he lost count, performed in front of so many people that he didn't really mind that he'd been left behind anymore. He missed Barney terribly, though, and had actually given up hope that his brother was going to come back for him.
But Barney came when he said he would and when he did, he didn't come alone.
"Clint, it's Barney. He's back!" A fellow aerialist said, when he'd finally found "The Hawk," as he'd come to be known.
Clint had been at the highest point of the circus tent, the trapeze. It was his sanctuary, where he could find peace.
But he'd come scrambling down from his vantage point and raced to find Barney, wearing a black T-shirt, waiting for him with two, black-clad, intimidating men.
Barney smiled and embraced his baby brother.
"Happy birthday, little bro," he said. "You've grown."
Clint hugged him close, his throat tight. He swallowed, not trusting himself to speak.
"Barton." One of the men behind the brothers cleared his throat.
The brothers separated.
"Right," muttered Barney. "I want you to come with me, Clint. Leave this circus bullshit, let's go."
Clint looked at the two men behind Barney. They were both tall, muscular, wearing black suits and black sunglasses. Clint wouldn't have been too surprised if he'd known they were carrying guns hidden in the waistline of their trousers. Then he looked back at Barney.
"Why would you ask me this?" He asked finally.
"Listen, Clint - "
"No. You listen to me." Clint pulled his brother aside. "This circus bullshit is my family. They're my family and my home. You want me to leave them just like that?"
"Yes."
"..."
"Do you trust me, little bro?"
"Of course I do. But I haven't heard from you in three years, how do you want me to - "
"No, no. That's not what I asked. Do you trust me?"
"Yes, I trust you."
"Aren't I your family?"
"Yes. Yes, you are."
"Then come with me."
Clint looked away, towards the trapeze, as Barney waited for his answer. "Fine," he sighed. He looked up and met Barney's gaze. "I'll come."
Barney's relief was palpable. His shoulders sagged and he let out a long breath. Clint narrowed his eyes at this. He might have only been 18 but he'd been around many, many people. He knew how to read them, what to expect from them, how to know what they expected of him. This wasn't just relief at being reunited. This relief was much more profound than that. As if. . . as if someone's life had been hanging in the balance.
"Who are those guys?" Clint asked quietly, indicating with a nod to the men in black.
"The one on the left with the blonde hair, that's Lynch, The Boss. The other guy with brown hair, that's my handler, Mann." Barney answered just as quietly.
"Handler. What, do these people own you?"
"No, Clint. Please, don't be ridiculous."
"What do you do for a living, Barney?"
The older Barton scratched the side of his head, looking down.
"We'll talk about this later. Let's get your stuff and talk to the circus master, alright?" Barney successfully evaded the question.
"Fine."
Author's Note: Hi, thanks for giving this a chance. Please tell me what you think. I'm thinking this is going to be a long story to be able to get Clint through Marvel's cinematic universe. Let me admit I'm all for Clintasha. But it'll take a while and I'd like Laura to have her day, as well. Anyways, hope you enjoyed the first chapter.