Chapter 1 – Clint Barton

"In your opinion, what's the problem with him?" The man in the black suit asked.

"He has become acclimatized to violence and pain. In my opinion he could very well turn out to be a psychopath, a serial killer or he may end up taking his own life. Whichever outcome it is, it won't be a happy one." The therapist replied.

Both men were standing in a room looking at the small blonde boy playing innocently in the room on the opposite side of the wall. The double-sided mirror allowing them to speak freely out of the boy's ear range while also keeping an eye on him.

"You're talking about a seven year old boy." said the man in black shaking his head; to him the boy looked so innocent.

The boy they spoke about was Clint Barton; he had been recovered from the scene of a crime. He had watched his father murder his whole family. No one knew why the boy had been left alive, though of course it could have all been a mistake. Clint had been beaten to almost an inch of his life; he refused to talk to anyone about what had happened, so he was sent to a foster home. Once in the foster home he refused to let anyone get near him and even attempted to run away, when that didn't work he climbed out the window and sat on the roof until child services got there to take him away. In the group home, he hit a few kids and some of the caretakers before attempting to make his way to the roof once more. It was after this whole ordeal that he had ended up here, the children's psychiatric unit in the hospital.

"I know, it's not easy for me to say this, but it is true. You did not see the bruises he left on some of the children or the caretakers for that matter."

"What do you plan to do with him?"

"My recommendation is he be sent to a mental hospital; perhaps there he won't harm himself or others."

"Don't you think that's a little extreme?"

"No one is willing to take him, not after everything he's done. He threw a knife at one of the caretakers in the group home; if the caretaker had not ducked, he would have died! He is far too dangerous."

"Perhaps I can offer a different solution."

The therapist chuckled "You cannot be serious?"

The man smiled, "I am, I'll take him. Seems no one wants him and you yourself are ready to sentence him to a life of sedation at the hands of a mental hospital."

"It's the only option I see, but if you are willing to take him in I won't object to it, just don't say anything when you lose an eye or something." The therapist said handing the man the folder with Clint's documents.

The man in the suit nodded as the therapist left, leaving the man to continue observing Clint who was innocently building something with Legos on the table. When arriving at the psychiatric center he hadn't exactly expected to find a seven year old, everything that the person on the phone had described sounded like something a teen had done. The man rubbed his eyes with his free hand, his boss was not going to be happy that he had just taken a kid under SHIELD's wing.

"Hey." He said as he walked into the room. Clint's head shot up and he stopped what he was doing but offered no response.

"My name is Phil Coulson; you can just call me Phil though, okay?" Phil offered moving closer to the table where Clint sat. "Can you tell me your name?"

Clint looked at the man, raised an eyebrow and then looked at the folder the man was holding, he knew that was about him. "You already know it."

Phil smiled as he followed Clint's gaze down to the folder that belonged to him, he didn't miss a beat. "Yes, I do know your name, but I rather hear it from you."

"Clint Barton." the boy said turning away from Phil.

"Well, Clint. I hear you have made a bit of a mess these past few weeks. Care to tell me why?" Phil asked as he moved closer to the table. He had already gotten farther than the therapist had; the damn therapist hadn't even gotten him to say his name. How could they judge the kid with so much ease?

"Not really."

Phil finally made his way to the table and sat down across from Clint. He had dealt with people like Clint before, what he had seen had been traumatic and he needed people around him to take it slow. "How about you tell me something, anything and I will see about getting you out of here and into a more comfortable place," he offered. Either way he was going to take him somewhere else. The room they had Clint in resembled an interrogation room, the only difference being the child's bed in it.

Clint considered him before looking around the room once, then returning his attention to Phil. "We are currently seven floors up from the ground. The windows have bars to stop people from escaping; however, the vents are not as secured as the doctors would seem to think. I could be outside and home free before they even notice I'm gone."

What Clint had shared was not exactly what Phil had thought he would when he started talking. The boy had actually already formulated a plan as to how he would escape his current 'prison'. "But I think you're forgetting one thing, cameras."

"Nope, the guard change happens at around two in the morning because they think that's when people are less likely to escape, seeing as they knock everyone out with pills." Clint smiled at Phil.

Despite being a child, the smile given to him by Clint was quite frightening. The seven year old in front of him did not seem like a child at all. Phil had to wonder what had made him like that, surely one traumatizing night watching your father kill your whole family had not been the only factor in this kid's whole demeanor. "I hate to break it to you, but you won't be escaping through any vents or ducts tonight. You've actually shared something with me, so I will keep up my end of the bargain and get you out of here."

Clint saw as Phil got up and headed towards the door, a look of pure confusion on his face. "I thought you were just saying that to get me to talk."

Phil raised an eyebrow as he turned to see the boy still sitting at the table. The boy answered his question before he could think of a way to ask it. "Nope, I meant it. One thing about me Clint, I will never lie to you or try to coax you into doing things. Now, let's go before it gets any later. We will have to pass by and get you some clothes as well as some dinner; I doubt the food here has been great."

Upon arriving at the psych unit, Clint's clothes had been removed and all but his jacket had been thrown away due to bloodstains. Clint grabbed his jacket and headed towards Phil with caution. He didn't know why, but Phil did not scare him like everyone else nor did he see him as a threat. However, just because he did not set off any alarms in him did not mean he could wholly trust him. He had been burned before and it would not happen again.

They had been driving for about 40 minutes since leaving the children's hospital and Clint had been extremely quiet. Phil looked every so often at his rear view mirror to check that the child was still in the car with him, he was. He was not asleep or distracted with anything, but seemed very alert and conscious of his environment. All of this worried Phil, but he knew that Clint wasn't bad as everyone made him out to be and in the few minutes they had spoken for in the psych ward, he had learned that he was extremely smart.

They arrived at the mall just in time to buy some clothes and toys for Clint. After that, they made their way over to a nearby diner where they had dinner. Both of them were quiet, although Phil could feel Clint studying his every movement. At this point, he wouldn't be surprised if the boy noticed every exit in the diner just in case he had to make a quick getaway, he didn't seem like he would run away but it was obvious he had yet to begin trusting Phil. He was studying Clint too though, there were so many pieces that did not factor out. There had to be a motive for his violent outbursts and he was going to find out what it was.

The drive home from the diner was also quite silent; luckily, Phil's home wasn't far from the diner cutting the trip and the silence short. "You should try and get some sleep; we have a long day tomorrow. I have to enroll you in school and if they don't let you start tomorrow then you'll accompany me to work." He led Clint to the extra room in his place and tucked him in.

"I'm not sleepy though." Clint said fighting to keep his eyes open.

Phil let out a chuckle "Your eyes say otherwise. Goodnight Clint."

"Sir he is just a child and they were going to send him to a mental institution. He has great potential and does not belong in such a place!" argued Phil. Director Fury was livid that Phil had accepted to take in Clint. The point of Phil being at the psych ward was because they thought they could recruit Clint, however, they couldn't recruit a child and Fury did not see any use for him. They were not going to send a seven-year-old out on missions! Phil let out a sigh of relief as Fury told him that if he wanted to keep him he'd have to take care of him; this meant the boy did not have to be sent anywhere else.

Putting his phone away he decided he should get some shut-eye as well, Clint wasn't going to be the only one to have a long day later. He checked his watch; it was already one in the morning. As he made his way over to his room he spotted Clint sitting on the window ledge, he looked almost like a baby bird the sight was heartbreaking.

"Hey Clint, are you having trouble sleeping?" He asked as he entered Clint's room.

Clint looked up at Phil for a while before looking out the window again. "No. I don't want to."

Phil frowned at the answer he had received. "Why not?"

"I just don't want to!" Clint said getting away from the window and climbing into his bed. At the hospital he was forced to go to sleep via drugs, he hated it. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see and remember everything, he didn't want to relive it all. The drugs they gave him kept him asleep trapped in his own nightmares.

Taken aback by the sudden change in attitude, Phil decided to take a different approach. "Do you want me to stay in your room tonight? That way if anything happens I'm nearby."

Clint turned to look at Phil; he was surprised that Phil had not left him alone yet. Usually the other people had hurriedly gotten away from him at the sudden change of tone. "I'm not a baby."

"I didn't say you were. I was merely asking if it would help you go to sleep, everyone needs to sleep in order to regain energy." Phil considered the boy for a moment before speaking again. "I'll tell you what, you may think I wouldn't be able to defend you but I can. If you go to sleep right now, you will be able to go with me to work and you'll see what I do. I promise it will be the coolest thing you have ever seen. For now, I'll stay here with you, alright?"

After a moment, Clint sighed and nodded at Phil, a small smile on his face. Phil hadn't told him what he did, what if he was like a bodyguard to a rock star or something. He hoped his job was as cool as he described it to be. He let himself go to sleep while thinking of all the cool jobs Phil could have; it went from owning a zoo to an amusement park to something involving rock stars or movie stars.

I have a few chapters of this story done already. It's not the first fic I write, but it is the first multi-chapter one I write. Please be kind.