A/N: The last of the four elements, and thus the final chapter, is upon us! Soon we'll see how Earth shaped Clint. BUT, first…

THANK YOU, so much, for your reviews and support! They mean more to me than you know. (HUGS)

Awkay, before I get all mushy… Let's go! I REALLY hope that you'll enjoy the ride.


Earth


Life wasn't done giving Clint its cruel little lessons just yet.

The circus was his safe place. A safe haven. Jacques taught him how to use a sword, Buck taught him archery and they both educated him on hand-to-hand. Life… was finally good, he felt like he belonged. Until Barney had enough and left. (After expressing very clearly how disappointed in Clint he was over not going along.) And almost immediately afterwards Jacques betrayed him, and the circus. In the worst way imaginable. Nearly killed him. Clint tried, he really did, but the circus didn't feel like a home anymore after that. So he did the only thing that felt logical. He packed his few belongings and left without any sort of a destination. Homeless yet again.

Clint remained all alone for a long time after that. (Too long.) He made a lot of bad decisions, because those seemed to be his specialty. It was a rather miserable life but he figured that it was just what he brought upon himself and endured.

Clint had just turned fifteen when he got into a 'worse than average' trouble. Such that could've easily cost him his life. He was shocked beyond all belief when Buck showed up to save him. (How the man even knew that he was in a trouble, he'd never know.) The man ensured that he recovered. Then offered him a job. The unvoiced but clearly present words 'You owe me' made Clint accept although he knew better. (He already lost Barney because he let his brother down, and he didn't want to lose anyone else.)

It was just robbing ridiculously rich criminals. Nothing to lose sleep over. What could go wrong?

For a while everything did go well. Suspiciously so. Until one arrow at a criminal's bodyguard on a stormy night. Until he looked into his victim's eyes and realized that he was staring at Barney. At Barney, who was dying because of him, with him being able to do nothing to stop it. And like things weren't bad enough already, Buck showed up demanding that they had to leave.

But Clint couldn't. Surely Buck understood that? He couldn't leave his brother. Couldn't…

An arrow hit him moments before Buck left him to bleed. Clint's blood spilled and joined Barney's. Soon, when more and more bodyguards appeared, the teenage archer had no other choice but to leave. In the morning Clint was told that Barney died. The younger brother nearly lost his life as well to his infected wound.

Clint survived, but just like the losses before the new ones carved away a piece of him, left him a little hollower.

Once again all alone in the world, with some more burden to carry on his shoulders, Clint continued to make bad decisions. Granted, he was very good at what he did. Enough so to bring him to S.H.I.E.L.D's radar.


The young, injured, pained and terribly angry, tightly handcuffed mess Phil Coulson found from a hospital did anything and everything imaginable to seem unlikeable. Too bad. Phil was fond of him instantly, anyway. And decided that he'd do something about the fire of mistrust in those eyes.

Almost everyone else questioned Phil's sanity.

In the first five months since having been brought to S.H.I.E.L.D Clint destroyed two training rooms. Beat up at least twenty other boys in the training system. Eight of them to a point of sustaining broken bones. (To be fair, five of them deserved it after trying to bully him over being smaller than the rest, weird and quiet. And one poor, unfortunate soul made the mistake of trying to approach the boy when he was in the middle of a flashback. Phil himself got several unpleasant tastes of those.) Six instructors announced that either they'd leave the system or Clint would.

"Are you sure that he's worth all this hassle?" Nick Fury groaned at last, after the latest… incident.

"He is", Phil announced firmly, without a shadow of a doubt. With thoughtful eyes he observed the boy in question, who was currently target practicing with a bow and arrows. Every time someone passed him by Clint shivered. In fact… A lot of times when Clint attacked someone the person approached him from behind. The realization came to him like a bolt of lightning. "You know, I think we should get his hearing tested."

Fury snorted. And took a sip of nauseatingly strong coffee. "You seriously think he'll consent to that?"

Clint did consent. After facing two options. He'd go through the same checkup every other trainee did, or he'd be kicked out of the system. It was a horrible experience on both the boy and the woman examining him. Phil felt genuinely sorry for her, even after the death-glare she darted at him.

A few days later Phil tossed a small box at Clint. Curious and suspicious, the boy caught it effortlessly and opened it. Questioning eyes rose to meet the man's when long archer's fingers dug out a hearing aid.

Phil shrugged. "I'm not sure I'll ever get you to listen to me. But this way you at least have a choice."

Clint's eyebrows furrowed. "Why?" It was asked with a heartbreaking amount of genuine confusion. Like the boy had never been given a gift before without being asked for something in return.

"Because you deserve it", Phil replied with equal honesty.

Clint didn't seem to believe him but said nothing. Two days later an exasperated looking instructor announced that the boy beat up someone over badmouthing Phil behind the man's back. He concluded that it was the only way the archer could think of to say 'thank you'. (And realized, with a heavy sigh, that they'd need to have another talk about controlling one's temper.)

A week later Phil finally caught the boy actually using the hearing aid.


Slowly yet surely the anger, most of which was aimed at himself, that'd been eating Clint alive began to settle. The weight of guilt would never disappear. But it got easier to breathe. And he began to wonder if he'd finally found a permanent home.

Phil Coulson confused him. The man's honesty and kindness were such he wasn't used to. He kept expecting his handler to betray him. After all, wasn't that what everyone else had done, sooner or later? He kept waiting for the bomb to go off, for a disaster to strike. But that never happened, and the wait for the inevitable left him anxious.

Until one day of late spring, when he was on one of his first missions.

Clint had always loved forests. And when it came to climbing trees he was a natural. There, high up on a perch of his liking, he had a full view to everything. Or so he imagined.

There was absolutely no way Clint could've seen the bullet coming. No prior intel had warned them that this particular criminal organization's cell had a sniper at their disposal. The mission was almost over when the boy felt it. A sting. Then burning. Then sheer agony. He looked down with a gasp, and blinked twice upon discovering a bleeding wound right above his stomach area. He stared at it incredulously for a few moments, like not quite understanding what it was. He never registered his lips moving, nor did he hear his own whispering voice. "Coulson…!" Since the day on the beach when his father let him down, that was the first time he asked anyone for help. He didn't realize that, either. Because he was busy with the slowly dawning understanding that he was falling.

The forest spun above him as he lay on the ground. He blinked slowly every now and then, marveling the tall trees and the beautiful nature spreading everywhere around him. The forest-floor was shockingly soft and comfortable underneath him. It wouldn't have been a bad place to die, not at all. Besides, didn't everyone return to earth's embrace eventually?

The only problem was that he really didn't want to die, not yet.

Clint was too out of it to understand why his eyes blurred when Phil appeared to hoover above him. Why hadn't the man just left him there? And why did his handler seem… anguished, almost?

Phil's lips moved constantly but Clint was in no state of mind to catch the words. Instead he gasped. Never knowing that he succeeded in whimpering out a word. "Phil…!"

'It's okay.' Phil's lips moved slowly, reassuringly. Grounded his panicked mind. 'You'll be okay. I promise.'

When everything faded to black Clint was no longer scared.


Upon waking up Clint could still smell the ground and the forest. Until the false sensation was replaced by the sterile reek of S.H.I.E.L.D's medical wing. He opened his eyes faster than would've been advisable and squinted them fiercely against the blinding assault of light, fully prepared to fight. Until his line of vision cleared enough to reveal the tired but smiling face of Dr. Winter. She was the only medical professional in the whole world he could stand. It made sense that they'd chosen her to handle him.

"Welcome back." Apparently his hearing aid was in place, because her voice was slightly static but audible. "You got yourself hurt pretty badly, so no escapades or other stupidities for a while. Understood?"

He scowled and scoffed.

Dr. Winter rolled her eyes, already used to his antics. "Try to get some rest before trying to run away for the first time, at least." She nodded to her right. "And let him sleep." She leaned closer conspiratorially. "I think he's been up for the last couple of nights, watching over you."

Curious, Clint turned his head. There, sitting on a visibly uncomfortable chair right beside his bed, Phil slept. Loud evidence of exhaustion all over his face. Turned so that before falling asleep he'd been keeping an eye on both him and the door. Phil had been keeping watch for them both, for as long as he could.

Clint stared, uncomprehending.

Not only had Phil stayed, even after he failed at his job. Even after he was injured and useless. But the man also wanted to make sure that he wouldn't leave, either. It gave the boy who'd been abandoned by everyone else a lot to think about.

Then, like he wasn't overwhelmed enough already, he discovered a cupcake on the small table beside the bed. There was a note underneath it, written in his handler's familiar handwriting. 'Happy 19th Birthday!'

It was the first one of his birthdays someone actually remembered.


When Phil woke up he discovered immediately that his young protégé had been awake at some point. At the moment the boy slept with his back turned towards him. Most people would've imagined it to be a sign of rejection. Phil smiled, because he knew Clint well enough to take the turned back as the sign of trust it was.

Clint finally trusted someone else to have his back.

Then Phil's gaze traveled further. To discover that half of the cupcake had been left uneaten and pushed towards him. Some more writing had appeared under his own, in Clint's messy handwriting. 'Thank you.'

If Phil teared up, just a little bit, no one would ever have to know.


Life had taught Clint to never, ever trust anyone. Even those closest to him. (Especially them.) Because sooner or later everyone would betray him. Or leave him. Or both. Those harsh lessons built an armor of steel around his heart. Taking the risk of leaving that shell, working against everything his life so far had taught him… It wasn't easy. And the marks his past experiences, good and bad, left on him would always remain.

Clint's heart had always been too big for his own good. That was why it'd been harmed so many times. But slowly yet surely he learned to trust. First there was Phil Coulson. Then, gradually, others. And he realized that he wasn't all alone in the world, after all.

Forget about shooting arrows and dangling on a tightrope, that was the greatest thing he'd ever discovered in his life.

Years later – when the four elements of the world had shaped him into a grown man who was Clint Barton – he met Natalia Romanova, and knew exactly what he wanted to teach her.


End


A/N: Awwww! Hooray for happy endings? Clint DEFINITELY deserved one.

SOOOOOO… Was this conclusion any good, at all? PLEASE, let me know! I'd LOVE to hear from you.

AND THANK YOU, to all those who have been sticking around through this whole, strange little ride! You're amazing. (HUGS) Who knows, maybe I'll see you again.

Take care!