Pietro was stood in a room in the avengers tower.

He was standing in front of a wall made of glass, looking over the city of New York. It was morning. The sun was floating in the light blue sky, just a little way above the horizon. A few wisps of cloud drifted around above the buildings. Pietro swallowed, his eyes trying to take in everything at once, finally resting on a spot near the sun. Someone came up beside him but he didn't move his gaze.

"How long has it been since you've seen it?" Clint asked quietly. "The sky... The sun."

"Five years."

Clint flashed him a quick glance. He's been stuck in a Hydra lab for five years! That means he was only fourteen when he was taken in! Poor Kid…

Pietro gave a tiny shake of his head, shutting his eyes. "What am I doing here?" He sighed the words.

Clint didn't answer. A door opened and Pietro whipped around. About five people walked into the room, standing in a line about two or three metres ahead of Pietro and Clint. Barton turned around and Pietro drifted his gaze over the line of people. One of the men stepped forward, walking over to them. The man had neat, blonde hair, was wearing black trousers and a white, short-sleeved, t-shirt and he looked down at Pietro curiously. The younger man forced himself not to move. This guy, though his eyes were kind, looked as though he could snap someone's neck in one move.

"Steven Rogers." The man introduced himself, holding a hand to Pietro.

He didn't take it, even after a nudge from Clint. Rogers lowered his hand, inspiring a snort of laughter from one of the others. Pietro flicked his eyes back to the line of avengers. A shorter man with dark hair was smirking.

"I think he left you hanging Steve." He grinned. "Does he know what a handshake is or…"

"Give him a break Tony." Clint murmured. "He's been stuck in a Hydra lab since he was fourteen."

"Yeah, you said." Tony's voice held no trace of compassion. "You also said he volunteered."

"What kind of monster would let someone experiment on them in order to protect their country? Hmm?" Steven's voice was flared with sarcasm as he twisted round to look at Tony. "Stark, you need to learn-"

Pietro froze. Rogers was still talking but Pietro hardly heard him. Stark… This guy was Stark! His power rose inside him, provoked by anger. Wait, wait, Barton asked me to give him a chance. But he couldn't control it. This man had been responsible for his parent's deaths. For countless others. Putting on a burst of speed, he raced up to Stark, not slowing as he grabbed him by the throat and forced him up against a wall.

"Pietro!" Clint shouted in alarm.

Stark gripped his hands to Pietro's wrist, trying to force him off as he attempted, and failed, to gasp in the air. Pietro immediately slackened his grip, his eyes wide with horror. What am I doing!? A heavy slam to his head left him sprawled on the floor and a woman was over him in an instant. Her eyes burnt with fighting spirit as she expertly flicked a knife from a sheath on the waist and quickly pressed it to Pietro's neck.

"Nat wait!"

She paused at Clint's yell. The blade was digging into Pietro's neck a little, blood welling at the cut. She's going to kill me. She's going to kill me. The woman drew the knife away and Pietro almost gasped with relief as she leapt off of him, tucking a strand of red hair behind her ear as she stood up. Pietro scrambled away from her, clumsily getting to his feet. He felt something warm dripping down his neck, onto his chest and raised a hand to where the blade had slit open his skin. Drawing his hand back, he saw his fingers were covered in wet, scarlet blood.

"What the heck is your problem!?" Stark practically yelled from where he leant against the wall, still recovering from the shock of Pietro's attack.

"Your bombs killed his parents Tony!" Clint matched his tone angrily. "He was just a kid! Ten years old!"

Silence encased them. Everyone turned to stare at Pietro with wide, shocked eyes. He raised his head, looking at them in return; he ignored the sickening feeling of blood dripping down his chest. Barton rushed over to him.

"Are you okay?" He asked quietly, raising a hand to touch the cut.

"I trusted you." Pietro muttered, sharply recoiling.

Clint opened his mouth to speak but obviously couldn't find the words and quickly shut it again with a slight sigh. He gestured for Pietro to follow him with a murmur of "come on." Pietro did so without question. The avengers moved to the sides as he made his way through them. Tony took a step forward.

"Listen, I'm sorry-"

The loathing look Pietro shot at him cut him off. His eyes were filled with hatred and a twinge of grief. Pietro didn't stop walking; just flashing that quick glance at him before following Barton out of the room.


"It's not too deep. You'll be fine."

Pietro remained completely still as a doctor inspected his wound, not meeting anyone's eyes, not talking to anyone. Clint was sat on the bed beside him, watching him carefully. The doctor hesitantly pulled Pietro's shirt collar down a little, seeing something that made him frown.

"Could you take your shirt off for me?" He asked quietly.

Clint noticed Pietro's jaw clench slightly at the request. What's up with him? He probably just wants to clean the blood off. After a moment of silence, Pietro stripped off his top, putting it down beside him on the bed. Clint almost gasped aloud. The Kid's torso was covered with scars and bruises. He was unbelievably thin; Clint could see every individual rib. All the usual signs were there. He'd been beaten, starved and almost definitely tortured. Pietro stiffened, tensing as Clint lay a hand on his back, inspecting a couple of long scratches crossing diagonally over his spine.

Something caught his attention and Clint focused his eyes on the younger man's left shoulder blade. There was a mark there, a stamp of skin which was much whiter than the rest of his body. It looked like a crescent moon on its side; the gap pointing upwards. A dot was in the gap so it looked a little bit like an eye.

Clint's hand wandered up to the mark.

"Don't touch it." Pietro muttered suddenly and Clint froze.

"What is it?"

Pietro looked at him. "It's the brand Hydra gave failed experiments the day before they kill them... Because they want people to suffer before they die. So they coat a burning metal marker in… I don't know… Some kind of acid. And then they press it on your skin."

Clint looked at him in shock. He wasn't sure which was worse, what Pietro said or the fact that he said it so casually.

"Does it still hurt?" He asked gently.

Pietro's face darkened, his eyes haunted. "All the time."

Clint's eyes narrowed in empathy. He looked to the doctor, who was still regarding Pietro's wounds with an expression of subsided horror. "Have you got anything for it?" He queried.

The doctor tore his gaze away from Pietro's scars and, silently, walked over to a cabinet in the corner of the room. He fumbled around in there for a moment before finally closing it and tossing a small bottle over to Clint. The archer caught it carefully and stood up, walking over to the doctor.

"I think it's best if I talk to him without anyone here." He whispered, lowering his voice so Pietro wouldn't hear. "It's fine." He interrupted as the doctor began to speak. "I know how to clean the cut."

The doctor slowly nodded, understanding bright in his eyes. He cast another quick glance at Pietro, and briefly explained what Clint had to do with the medicine, before leaving the room. Clint made his way back to Pietro. The younger man was looking at the floor, his hands in his lap, twiddling his thumbs as if he was bored. He didn't move as Clint sat beside him. The archer took a cloth off the bed and touched it to the slit on Pietro's neck. He flinched away a little.

"Making a habit of this." Clint commented, wiping the blood from his chest and throat.

"I didn't mean to." Pietro whispered. "I just…" He sighed. "I couldn't stop myself."

"I get it Kid."

Pietro shook his head unsurely. "I was angry… That's why Strucker came up to us. That's why we volunteered… Because nothing we did could stop it. I-I couldn't stand it. Everyday we'd find out someone else had been caught up in a bombing… Children… Younger than me and Wanda had been. I…"

He broke off, shaking his head again. Clint felt a suddenly surge of empathy towards him. He's been through terrible times. He's seen things that no kid should ever have to go through.

"I'll find you something to eat after this." He offered. "I expect you're hungry."

Pietro shrugged and turned his head to the right, facing away from Clint. The archer frowned and concentrated on cleaning away the last of the blood. Surely he must be starving, Clint thought to himself. He looks like he hasn't eaten for days.

"When was the last time you ate?"

"Couple days." Pietro muttered. "I can't really remember."

Clint narrowed his eyes worriedly. He lowered the cloth, putting it down beside him on the bed.

"This is probably going to sting a little." He warned, taking the pipet from the top of the bottle.

He carefully dripped a couple of droplets onto the burn. Pietro tensed, clenching his fists and gritting his teeth. "Ah!" He let out a quiet noise of anguish.

"Sorry." Clint apologised quietly.

The doctor had told the archer it would hurt but he hadn't really expected Pietro to show pain. The younger man just didn't seem like that kind of person. It must hurt a lot. Pity rushed through Clint. He thought back through his life and reflected on him much burns hurt on their own. Then he imagined acid mixing with that and had to supress a shudder. Another few drops splashed onto his skin and Pietro grunted in pain, clenching his fists so hard they momentarily turned white.

Clint apologised again. "Sorry, one more."

The Kid shut his eyes and winced as Clint dripped the final splashes onto the mark. He blew out a long, calming breath, trying to control the pain. Clint put the pipet back in the bottle and stood up. Walking across the room, he put the bottle back in the cabinet.

"I'll see what I can find for you to eat." Clint threw the words over his shoulder as he walked towards the door. "Stay put, okay?"

Pietro nodded, trying to ignoring the stinging in his back, and Clint walked out of the room, the door shutting quietly behind him.


A/N- Hey Guys! Hope you're enjoying this story so far. Imfine19- It's a great idea and I've already started to write it. I'll try and post it as soon as I can. :)