Author's Note: Okay, this chapter is where I start to veer away from comic book canon. Just a heads-up for that as we're going to start seeing how Clint goes from carnie to SHIELD agent. . .the first steps, anyway.
Twelve reviews for the last chapter?! Thanks, especially to those I can't respond to personally!
jessica: I knew that reveal was kind of transparent, but the point wasn't the mystery at that moment. It was the angst. :D I'm a sucker for good angst.
Hope you all enjoy the new chapter! ~lg
oOo
Barney Barton was in Tularosa.
Clint blinked at his brother, trying to put everything in place mentally. He still hadn't fully recovered from that nightmare about Jacques and Loki before Barney approached him, so he felt as if he'd just been rather rudely awakened. For a few moments, he simply paced away while Barney sat up, coughing.
Then, Barney cursed. "You got some skills, buddy."
"Don't call me that!" Clint whirled to face him. "I'm not your buddy."
"Okay. Little brother?" Barney held up his hands when Clint narrowed his eyes. "Fine. Your call."
"Why are you here, Barney?" Clint folded his arms across his chest.
"I couldn't come to see you?"
"You could have come to New York anytime for that."
"I tried. They told me you were gone."
"They?"
"Yeah, uh. . . .your landlady."
Clint rolled his eyes. When he'd closed down his apartment after the Council's acquittal, he'd intended to find a new place closer to downtown. Besides, everything about his life before Loki seemed to mock his current state of mind. So, without Natasha or anyone else knowing, he'd paid the remainder on his lease, put everything into storage, and lived from place to place for a time. The anonymity soothed his mind after seeing the suspicious glares on the helicarrier. It was one reason he wanted to get away for these four months.
Now, he started putting things together. "You were tracking me."
"Guilty." Barney held his hands out to his sides, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. "Of course, you found my first tracker a little quicker than I'd intended."
"First tracker? There were more than the two I found?"
"Just the two."
"Why?"
"Why was I following you?" Barney instantly sobered. "I need your help, little brother."
Clint blinked a couple times at his brother before turning and starting his jog back to the B&B. There was no way on this earth he planned to help his brother with anything, least of all to get into trouble. The last time he'd heard of Barney, the FBI had told him his brother had died. He had done a short investigation then, primarily to satisfy his own curiosity, and had figured out that Barney wasn't really dead. When he'd learned that, he'd shrugged. If his estranged brother wanted to fake his own death and live a lie, that was fine with Clint. After all, he wasn't a pillar of virtue or even a good man. Not the way Steve was.
"Hey!" Barney's indignant voice interrupted his thoughts. "I ask for your help, and you walk away?"
Clint paused, jogging in place. "No. I jogged away. Big difference."
"Really? How's that different?"
"It's faster than walking." Clint turned and again left his brother behind him.
Footsteps warned him that Barney had caught up. His brother grabbed his shoulder and forcibly turned him around. "Will you just listen to me?"
"Why?" Clint stepped toward Barney and virtually hissed. "You never listened to me, never even gave me a single thought when you left. Why should I do the same now when you're in some kind of trouble? Or was faking your death not enough for you?"
"I was working," Barney hissed back. "Don't you understand that?"
Clint laughed suddenly. "Yeah, working in such a way that you needed to die? Try a different line, Barney."
"Clint, listen to me."
"No, you listen to me!" Clint glared at his brother, his voice so low Barney could barely hear him. "You walked away. You made your choices. Whatever you're involved in, you need to work it out and let me get on with my life." Rather than jogging away, he turned and stalked.
Barney's voice reached him just before he rounded the corner. "It's hard to get on with life when you've got nightmares still open and chasin' you."
Clint froze. He knew a thing or two about that, understood what it felt like to struggle with memories that he could do nothing about. He closed his eyes and heaved a deep sigh. The sky had started to lighten, and Mary would be stirring soon. He needed to get back to the B&B, sneak back into his room, and pretend to have just awakened. Not arrive worn out from an emotional run and a rocky reunion with his older brother.
But Barney's words hit home. Clint had been crisscrossing the United States, trying to find that place where he could think and sleep without Loki rearing his ugly head. Ironically, he'd started where the nightmare began—Waverly. He had been haunted by memories of his entire life and knew he would continue to deal with them until he laid a few to rest.
Maybe it was a good thing Barney had showed up. Clint could deal with that particular nightmare once and for all.
Heaving a sigh, he turned and frowned at his brother. "Where're you staying?"
Barney grinned, clearly recognizing Clint's change of heart. "The Knotty Pine Motel."
Clint frowned for a moment until he registered where he'd seen the sign. Just a few blocks from his B&B. "Go back to your room and wait there. I'll come over later today."
Barney nodded. "Alright! I'll have us drinks an' maybe some companions."
"Just us, Barney," Clint warned. "This is a small town, and I don't do that."
Barney smirked. "Fine."
Clint watched his brother walk away, a frown on his face. The last time he'd seen Barney, his brother had been a strapping young man of eighteen. Taller than Clint by three inches, his work in the circus had hardened his body and developed his stamina so that he had been admitted into the Army almost too easily. And that had completed the severing between the brothers.
Clint shook his head, his eyes squeezed shut in an all-too-familiar manner as he pushed the memories away. He needed time to think. Barney's arrival and their subsequent disagreement had multiplied the headache he already had.
Since Mary was already up, Clint slipped back into the B&B and headed upstairs. He looked like he'd been out for a run and hoped his hostess wouldn't ask too many questions. Back in his room, he took a long shower as he allowed the hot water to pound the tension out of his shoulders.
He hadn't laid eyes on Barney Barton in. . . .Clint mentally counted the years. Had it really been twenty-one years since he last saw his brother? Most people would say it had been too long, but not Clint. In his opinion, it hadn't been long enough. He and Barney had always clashed, but their relationship deteriorated after Jacques tried to kill Clint. Barney might have stopped the Swordsman from striking the killing blow, but he always condemned Clint for not sticking by his mentor. According to Barney, Clint thought too much of himself. They weren't good people. They were carnies, kids without any way of proving their citizenship, much less their identity. Clint hadn't even known what a birth certificate was until Barney produced them a year after Jacques's attack. At that time, Clint hadn't understood the significance, but he'd guarded that certificate carefully in the coming years. When he ultimately left the circus, the value in that little piece of paper became very obvious.
As the water sluiced over his body, Clint closed his eyes and allowed himself to remember.
oOo
"Look what I found!" At eighteen, Barney was still excitable but much more contained than his fourteen-year-old brother. He produced two pieces of paper with a flourish and handed one to Clint. "Didn't even know they existed until a few weeks ago."
Clint took the paper, frowning. It was smaller than normal, with a bunch of fancy writing and a raised circular seal. He read the words aloud. "This is to certify that according to records on file in this office that Clinton Francis Barton was born January 7, 1977." Then, he blinked at Barney. "What is this?"
"Your birth certificate." Barney rolled his eyes. "It means you're a United States citizen and can get things like medical care and stuff. It also means that we can get out of here!"
Clint looked around doubtfully. He didn't necessarily like the circus, but he had friends here, people who cared about him. After Jacques disappeared, Buck took Clint as his apprentice, called him "Hawkeye," and said he made a great assistant for the show. Marcy had hinted that Mr. Carson wanted to make Clint a star, and Clint thought that might be a good thing.
Now, he squinted at Barney. "I don't know."
Barney snickered. "Don't tell me you like it here 'cause I know you don't. Listen." He put his hands on Clint's shoulders, bending down to look the other boy in the eye. "I just got word I've been accepted into the Army. That means food to eat, a roof over our heads. It means we can finally get on with our lives."
Clint frowned. The Army? Wasn't that fighting and dangerous? "Barney. . . ."
"I know it'll be tough at first, but all good things are tough." Barney shrugged. "I'm leavin' tomorrow, little brother. And I'd like you to come with me."
Clint stared up into his brother's face. "To—tomorrow?"
"Yep."
"But. . . ." Clint looked over his shoulder at the makeshift target he used when practicing his bow. Buck had promised him a special slot in the next night's show, and Clint had been practicing for days. "Tomorrow's when my show is."
Barney's face darkened for a moment, but he recovered quickly. "Sometimes," he said almost gently, "leavin' behind somethin' good gives you somethin' better."
"But. . . ."
"I'm leavin' tomorrow, Clint." Barney's voice had changed, become as firm as Clint ever remembered. "You're welcome to join me on the bus."
With that, his brother walked away.
Clint spent the entire afternoon and evening in a state of shock. He found his bow and some arrows, putting in the time he'd promised Buck he'd use to make certain he didn't goof up during his show. It was the introduction of The Amazing Hawkeye, according to Buck, and since Hawkeye was Trick Shot's sidekick, it needed to be pretty spectacular. Clint didn't know how that went with Marcy saying Mr. Carson wanted to give him his own show, but he wasn't about to say no when he got all the attention for a change.
But what about Barney? His brother still worked at the circus, still helped set up and take down the tents, and occasionally assisted during the performances. But he had to actually care for animals and be responsible, unlike Clint. Maybe that's why he wanted to leave? Clint wasn't sure, but he didn't want to lose his brother.
The next morning, Clint woke in his pallet, tired from trying to think through the night. He could take care of himself and had been taking care of himself since his parents died. Barney tried, but they had never really been that close. Besides, being the kid brother was tough, being the talented kid brother was harder. Barney always said he was showing off, that he didn't have to be so good at everything all the time. Clint usually shrugged, not understanding the problem. He wasn't trying to be good, he just was good.
All through the morning, Barney gave him sidelong glances. Clint knew his brother wanted an answer, but he didn't have one. Finally, Barney appeared with his bag packed and waved goodbye to everyone who cared to notice. Then, he walked down the trail into town.
Clint watched his brother go, not at all surprised that he'd followed through with his threat. Barney was like that. Clint could depend on him to do what he said he'd do.
All at once, he understood. If Barney said they'd have a better life, then Barney meant they'd have a better life. Clint raced back to his spot, grabbed the battered suitcase Jacques had given to him when they first arrived at the circus, and threw everything he owned into it. He hesitated briefly, snatching up the bow Trick Shot had given him for that night's show. He could handle not being a star if it meant something better than this.
Racing through town, Clint prayed with every step that he'd make it to the bus stop on time. He rounded the corner just in time to see the bus pull away. Yelling for it to stop, he started chasing it, making good time at first. Then, the bus picked up speed.
Clint stared after it, his heart falling, as Barney glanced back one final time. That was the last time he saw his brother.
oOo
"Clint?" Mary's concerned voice pulled him out of the memory. Somehow, he'd managed to get out of the shower, shave, dress, and appear at the breakfast table.
Now, he blinked. "Sorry. Lost in thought."
"I could see." Mary poured him a cup of coffee as he reached for the bowl of eggs she'd placed next to him. "Everything okay?"
Clint debated what to tell her. "Ran into an old friend while out for my run this morning."
"Based on that scowl, I'm thinking this 'friend' wasn't a welcome sight."
You have no idea, Clint thought. Rather than admitting that, he ate a bite of his breakfast. Conversation flowed between the pair at the table, with Mary picking up on Clint's hesitation to talk about said friend. Instead, she commented that her place would likely start filling up as the weather got cooler. She chattered on about the Christmas season, making Clint remember his promise to be back in New York for Christmas.
When breakfast ended, Clint went upstairs, straightened his room, and debated his next steps. He and Barney needed to talk, and Clint did not look forward to that. Deciding that sooner was better than later, he left his room and walked over to Barney's motel.
Finding his brother's room wasn't tough, and Barney offered him a bottle of water. Clint accepted it and took a moment to truly study Barney. His brother stood just over six foot tall, dark hair cut close to his head. But, where Clint's features were round and somewhat "pudgy," as he'd once heard it called, Barney was long and slender. He'd lost a lot of weight since Clint had seen him, and he now looked almost scrawny.
Barney didn't miss the analysis. "Wonderin' what happened?"
"Yeah, Barney, I am." On the walk over, Clint resolved to be as polite as possible. "I'm also wondering why you decided to track me down."
Barney picked up on the unspoken message, nodding and taking a sip of his own water. "Like I said, I need your help."
Clint narrowed his eyes. Barney's joking grin had melted away, and he now stared at Clint with serious eyes. Clint nodded once. "Okay. How?" He sighed. "If you don't give me any kind of information, it's hard to know what to do."
Barney stood and paced to the window. "Seven years ago, I was sent undercover into Egghead's organization."
Clint sat up straighter at that. Elihas Starr, a.k.a. Egghead, was on SHIELD's Most Wanted list for a number of crimes, including selling US secrets to the highest bidder. He'd leaked information on American assets around the globe, once nearly getting Clint killed in the process. "The FBI was investigating Egghead?"
Barney shrugged. "We had word that he was operatin' a cell out o' Atlanta. I was sent in to infiltrate and bring them down." He paused for a moment, taking a long drink of his water as he gathered his thoughts. "Things went well, at first. Then, I was discovered. Still don't know who ratted me out, but that's beside the point. The Bureau yanked me outta there so fast my head spun. And I knew how fast they could move.
"Short while later, we got word that Egghead had put a hit out on me." His eyes slanted toward Clint. "I heard you were even contacted about that."
Clint blinked, truly surprised. "Seven years ago, I was. . . ." Clint frowned as he mentally rolled back the years. "I was in Ireland, working to find a sniper responsible for killing several agents from my organization. We thought he had IRA connections."
"So you didn't. . . ."
Clint shook his head. "Nope."
"Oh." Barney frowned. "Anyway, I had several attempts on my life before I came up with the plan to die. I faked my death and managed to live well for the last several years."
Clint finally put everything together. "But Egghead found you again." He ran a hand down the back of his head. "What do you want me to do about it?"
"I dunno." Barney shrugged. "But I need help, little brother. And, at this moment, I'd rather it be from you than someone I don't trust."
Clint's eyebrows rose. "You trust me?"
"Well, no." Barney waggled his head back and forth. "I hardly know you. Frankly, I'm not sure I want to know. I mean, who are you? Last I heard of Clint Barton, he was wanted for theft from the German government."
"That was a lot of years ago, Barney."
"Exactly!" Barney frowned at him. "After that, you just dropped off the face of the planet. Now, your name's in the news after that attack in New York, you're able to take me down like a pro, and you travel to Ireland to find the killer of a couple agents in some secret organization! Why'd they send you?"
"Think about it," Clint said shortly. "I'm Hawkeye, remember?"
Barney snorted. "Yeah, I remember. Quite well."
Clint bit back the instinctive retort that tried to come out and sighed. He needed to get this conversation back on topic. "So, how'd Egghead find you?"
"I don't know."
"If you don't know, then you can't be sure someone's trying to kill you, Barney."
"Oh, I know they're tryin'," Barney said sarcastically. He yanked his shirt to the side, showing the bandage over his collarbone. "Bein' grazed by a bullet as you're runnin' for your life kinda sends the message home."
Clint ran a hand down his face, trying to think about this objectively and to devise a plan. "Alright, run me through this. Everything, down to the drink you had on the night you were found out. Let's see what we can figure out."
For the next several hours, the brothers talked. Clint listened closely as Barney told his story in its entirety. He knew how Barney had been found out, but he didn't say so. Being aware of triggers that criminals used to find moles made him a good SHIELD operative, but it also meant he wanted to slap some people upside the head for stupid mistakes. From what he could tell, Barney had been careful. Someone had just been a little more careful.
Sometime after lunch, Clint finally let himself out of Barney's room. The two of them needed to move fast if they wanted to stay off Egghead's radar until they could bring the guy down. To do that, though, Clint needed information. A lot of information.
Back at the B&B, Clint paced for several moments before tugging his phone from his pocket. He turned on his shower and slid into the bathroom, sitting on the closed toilet. Then, he dialed from memory and listened to the other end ring.
She answered before the third ring. "Romanoff."
"It's me." Clint smiled involuntarily at the sound of her voice. He missed his friends more than he realized.
"Clint!" Natasha seemed more enthusiastic than she'd been in a long time. "How are you?"
"Good." He nodded. "Listen, I need a favor."
"Anything."
"Don't say that until you hear what it is." He frowned. "I need everything SHIELD has on Elihas Starr."
A long pause told him he'd managed to surprise her. Then, she sighed. "Why?"
"Friend's in trouble, and he's asking for help."
Natasha paused for another long moment. "You know I can't just hand over something like that to an off-duty agent, Clint."
"I know." He ran a hand over his face. "Tasha, it's Barney."
She huffed. "So, he finally decided to come back from the dead?"
"No, Egghead resurrected him, so to speak." Clint shook his head to clear the bitter thoughts. "Barney's not gonna come back with me unless I tell him everything, and you know I can't do that. But what I can do is help him get out of this. And maybe apprehend Egghead in the process."
"Then what, Clint? What'll you do after you put one of SHIELD's Most Wanted behind bars?"
"Continue with my vacation?" Clint answered with a question of his own. "I know it's not ideal, but it's what needs to happen. Barney needs to stay off the radar for a while, and. . . ."
"Then bring him in."
"You know Fury would never authorize me to do that."
"Who said anything about Fury?"
"Natasha, you can't just go and do what you want now!" Clint jumped to his feet and let out an explosive breath. "Besides, I didn't call to argue." When she didn't respond, he frowned. "Tasha?"
"You're right," she growled. "It's just. . . .This is different. Being in Coulson's office and doing Coulson's job. I'm not supposed to be here. He is."
Clint nodded his head, hearing the grief in her voice. "I know." He ran a hand through his hair. "How are things back there?"
"Good." Natasha's smile could be heard. "We're all more or less living at Stark Tower now. Stark insisted on it, and Banner likes it there."
"What about you?"
"I like it," she admitted, and Clint smirked. He could just see her sitting behind the desk, not wanting to admit just how much she did like the luxury of Stark Tower. "I've been meaning to call you, by the way."
"Yeah? Why?"
"I found something in Coulson's things." Her voice strained, a sure sign she was struggling with her emotions. She only allowed two people to hear that tone: Clint and Coulson. "Part of it is a letter to you."
"Me?" Clint blinked. "What's it say?"
"I don't know. It's sealed, and I didn't open it."
He nodded again and rattled off his address. "Overnight it to me. I'll be here until then."
"After that, where will you be?"
"Depends on what else you send with the letter."
A few moments later, Clint hung up the phone and turned off the shower. Back in the bedroom, he sat on the edge of the bed and stared at nothing. Barney's question from earlier that day ran through his head. Who are you? While he'd meant it in reference to his alias, Clint now asked himself the same question.
Who am I? Am I the circus performer who laughed and joked with Marcy the other day? Or the operative so jumpy he took down his own brother? Or the kid who still wants his brother's approval? Is that all there is of Clint Barton?
He couldn't answer that question, and he pushed away Loki's voice that told him he never would.
~TBC
