Summary: A year after the Civil War, the team go to investigate the Circus of Crime while unaware of how it links into Clint's dark past. Clint is trying to keep his past a secret, when he sees two sisters who he thought died six years ago. Clint/OC, Bucky/OC. Co - Written with Lannister418. Rated M for graphic violence, language and eventual sexual scenes.

Warning: Mentions of genocide and upsetting scenes.

Echoes Of The Past

Chapter 7


"You're giving them time to get away." It was a statement, not a question.

"Let me guess." Coulson glanced up at Agent May. "You think it's a bad move?"

To his surprise, she shook her head.

"I think it's the smartest thing you could have done. Romani have been treated like filth for centuries, even after half their people died in the holocaust. Those women have no reason to trust us and we've done nothing to convince them otherwise. The alternative would be to pick a fight with Barton and Barnes, you know how that would have ended."

Coulson sat back in his seat, Melinda was rarely this vocal on any subject.

"So you agree with me on this one?" He sounded vaguely disbelieving, a faint smile twitched the corners of her mouth.

"You occasionally make the right call, Phil." She said. "The Iordache sisters have presented no threat to date, the Avengers are capable of handling any potential risk they might pose and Barton deserves a break after everything that's happened to him.

He heard the tone of her voice change to one of slight rebuke.

"You think I should have told him?"

She shrugged.

"You chose not to tell Audrey; she moved on and began to rebuild her life. Barton? Maybe you owed him just one call, I'm not the one to say." She paused before leaving his office. "I'll keep Morse and Mackenzie occupied for as long as I can, give them more time to get clear."


"You sure about this? All I got is the surname, don't even know my grandpa's name let alone any of my mom's family."

Clint's voice and posture betrayed his nervousness. Viv zipped up the bag and turned to him, placing her hand over his heart.

"You are one of us, I feel it in here." she assured him. "We will prove it at the Kris."

"How? Clint swallowed, the idea of facing the Elders of Vivian and Viktoriia's clan at a tribunal of Romani tribal law intimidated him in a way he wouldn't have suspected. This was meeting the parents on a grand scale.

"We have ways." Viv smiled. "You have two Drabani vouching for you. That will count."

There was a knock on the door and Bucky poked his head in.

"Stark's sending a jet to meet us at the airport." He told them. "Vika and I are just about packed."


"How did he look?" asked Vika as Bucky rejoined her.

"Terrified!" He laughed. "I've never seen him look so scared!"

Vika kissed the Icon of St Sara before wrapping it in a silk scarf and placing it carefully in her bag beside her tarot cards.

"We will need to bring gifts for the Rom Baro and the Elders." She said, half to herself.

"Candy for the children would be good as well."

Getting no response, she turned to see Bucky deep in thought.

"I went out there, before the war, to meet my mother's family. She wanted me to see the 'Old Country'." He grinned at the memory. "Worked my passage on a freighter, spent the summer with my grandparents, uncles and aunts. Earned money picking fruit with my cousins."

Stevie had insisted on coming with him, poor kid was seasick every second of the way. The family had adored Stevie, as if Bucky had brought a puppy along, his cousin Eugenia flirted with him constantly. Hopefully Genie and some of his younger cousins might have survived and still be alive.

"I envy you." Vika said quietly. "You would have seen the true Old Ways, before the Pharrajimos came upon us."

She put a hand on his arm.

"Our people know the Howling Commandos, they saved many of us. You will be welcomed with respect and that may smooth the way for Clint."

"It's strange." He murmured, slipping his arms around her waist. "I never thought about it like that, maybe there is a purpose to all this..."

"Maybe there is... Kushti Vyusher." She kissed the tip of his nose and looked around with a sad sigh; this was a nice place with friendly people, she would have liked to stay longer.

"We have time to say a proper goodbye." He said with a sly smile, kissing her neck...


One of Stark's private jets waited for them on the runway at the island's airport, it would take them to Romania quickly, discretely and in comfort.

A slim redhead and a tall blond man were waiting for them in the cabin.

"Captains Rogers welcomes you aboard Flight 17 to Constanta; we hope you have a pleasant flight." Natasha said, smiling at Bucky and Clint's astonishment.

"You didn't think we were going to miss this, did you?" Grinned Steve.

"I honestly thought it was risky for you to come, but I'm glad you're both here, Stevie." Bucky said touched, and hugged Steve tightly while Clint spoke to Natasha.

Steve hugged him and Vika back tightly, his blue eyes soft as they all buckled into their seats and began flying to Constanta as they all talked about their hopes at meeting the Rom Baro and Drabani Elders as well.

"Pietro, Wanda, Thor, Jane, Darcy, Sam, and Sharon. Bruce, Vision, Rhodey, Tony and Pepper will join us once Ross backs off, turns out he and Gonzales along with Senator Nadeer decided to attack the tower. Nadeer's facing a hearing over her use of racial discrimination against Viv, Vika and Inhumans." Natasha explained grimly, Clint exchanged a glance with Viv who nodded at him.

"Coulson's alive, he was with a SHEILD team who were trying to find Viv and Vika." Clint revealed grimly. No emotion showed on Natasha's face, except for the hardness in her green eyes while Steve looked betrayed.

"What the fuck? Fury knew Coulson was alive and didn't tell us, what the hell?" Steve said angrily, hurt and upset.

"He said that Fury did it to have the Avengers unite, his words." Clint said bitterly and swallowed.

"Pierce didn't want me finding out the truth, that Viv and Vika were still alive and being hunted." He said betrayed.

Viv held him tightly.


Telling the rest of the team had been no fun, which was for sure. Thor had been hurt, Darcy and Jane were pissed at the fact that Coulson had been alive all this time while Tony, Pepper, and Bruce were hurt while Sharon was outraged. Pietro, Wanda, Sam and Helen didn't know Coulson but were angry that he had hurt their family members.

Their hand luggage was filled up with gifts for everyone, which included candy for the children as they landed at the airport and got off the plane.

Clint walked beside Viv as they grabbed their luggage and started walking towards the settlement of where the Iordache clan resided, they could hear a guitar playing a beautiful song. A young man saw them approaching and eyed them suspiciously, he stared at Bucky, Viv and Vika in shock.

"Rom Baro Mico, they have returned to us!" The man called out shocked, a man with thick grey hair walked over and that was when Clint saw he was wearing a Manchester United shirt and was short but there was an air of respect around him.

He looked at Viv and Vika with a sad, happy smile.

"Vivian and Viktoriia, it has been too long. The last time I saw you both was at your Cousin Adam's wedding."

"It has been too long, Rom Baro. Life has been hard." Sighed Viv. Mico put his brawny arms around the two women and hugged them close to him.

"Life is always hard, little doves! But you are here with us now..." He looked at the four Avengers "and who are these guests you have brought to honour our camp?"

Mico, the Rom Baro of the Iordache Clan, was a man in his mid-40s, around the same height and build as Clint; compact and powerful, with black eyes sparkling in a shrewd, intelligent face and close-cropped iron-grey hair. Despite the casual, friendly, manner there was no mistaking that this was his domain and his word carried weight. As he addressed them he shifted from Romani to heavily accented English.

"They are the friends who protected us against our enemies, Mico." Viv told him. "This is Clint Barton, Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff."

As Mico shook Steve's hand, his eyes narrowed and he looked the tall man up and down with an alert, appraising eye.

"The Steve Rogers?" He asked cautiously. "The Captain America? And the Bucky Barnes? The Howling Commando?"

"That's correct, sir." Said Steve with a friendly smile. "It's an honour to meet you."

Mico's eyes widened in disbelief and then his face split into a broad grin.

"Fratii mei! The honour is mine, and the hospitality of the Iordache Clan is yours" he boomed, seizing the two bigger men by the shoulders in a fierce bear hug. He turned to look at Clint and Natasha. "And you? You are also of the Avengers?"

"This is the Black Widow, and Hawkeye the archer." Viv told him, slipping her arm around Clint's waist and kissing his cheek. The look Mico gave him was sharp, but not unfriendly.

"He is no bigger than me!" He laughed, patting him on the back. "I like you Hawkeye the archer, we little men must stick together in a world of giants. Come, let us eat and you can all tell us of your adventures..."


The amount of food and drink would have been enough to keep Thor happy, Clint thought, as afternoon wore into evening and the meal slipped seamlessly into a party. Lamps were lit, musical instruments came out, and the whole of the clan seemed determined to show themselves at their best for these unexpected guests. Even Mico had changed out of his Manchester United top and into a spotless white dress shirt, his hair slick with pomade.

Every child in the camp was besieging Steve and Bucky while Tasha was at the centre of a knot of the younger women, talking and laughing while a few of the young bucks of the Iordache clan hung around the edges. Viv and Vika were deep in conversation with three of the older women. Those must be the Drabani Elders, he thought, only one of them like he would have imagined; an ancient grandmother dressed in black with clear bright eyes that kept darting in his direction. The other two looked like middle-aged housewives, in brightly coloured skirts and blouses; the only 'exotic' touch being the quantity of elaborate gold jewellery they wore.

"My mother, my wife and my sister." Said Mico, sitting beside Clint with a grunt and handing him another beer. "A man with three Drabani in his house is to be honoured or pitied!"

Clint glanced over at Viv and Vika and smiled.

"I'd call it an honour." He said, clinking his bottle against Mico's and taking a drink. The Rom Baro sat back and let out a contented belch.

"They will advise me at the Kris tomorrow night, when we will judge if you and Bucky are to be accepted as Romani of the Iordache clan. Bucky is Didikai, he only has to demonstrate his lineage, but you…?"

Mico's face and tone became sober and serious. A surname shared with the Romani was nothing near to proof, especially for a man who knew nothing of his ancestry beyond the names of his parents. The judgement of the Kris was no formality; despite Viv and Vika vouching for him there would be many who would argue that they could not accept him without being convinced of his true heritage. Clint might be an Avenger, but recognition as Romani was not some celebrity accolade to be bestowed at will. The ruling of the Krisnitori, the Judge of the Kris, was final but no wise judge or Rom Baro would fly in the face of the Clan's wishes.

"It will be a hard thing for you, and the way will not be easy. Why do you wish to do this?" Mico's questioning gaze was turned firmly on him and, in his gut, Clint felt that the Kris had already started. "You are already a friend of the Rrom, we accept you as such, and it will not diminish Vivian's status to be with you, so why take this road?"

Clint knew that whatever he answered had to be the truth from the depths of his heart and that, whatever the ruling of the Kris, Mico's own opinion depended on it. He'd better let his brain step out of the way and let his heart do the talking

"I can't think of anything I'd be more proud of, Mico." Clint turned his head to look directly at him. The Rom Baro's eyes glittered like black diamonds in the firelight, betraying nothing of his inner thoughts. "The world's set it's face against your people since day one but you're still here, still fighting back, never giving up; I kinda relate to that. I never really felt until I belonged anywhere, or to anyone, until I met Viv and Vika; then it kinda felt like I was home."

Mico put his arm around Clint's shoulder and leaned in confidentially

"As Krisnitori, Judge of the Kris, I must be impartial, and respect the wishes of the clan." He said quietly, tapping the centre of Clint's chest. "But Vivian is right, your heart is of our people, I will do what I can to open the way for you."


Bucky was in the middle of translating another one of Steve's war stories for the rapt youngsters when he saw Vika approaching with Mico's mother. He stood respectfully; Mico might be Rom Baro, but Madame Iordache was undisputed empress of the camp.

Vika smiled at him

"Madame Iordache would like to hear about your mother's family, she knows all the Vlach clans and where they live nowadays."

"Of course, Madame!" He said with a smile. "My grandparents were Iacob and Mirela Balan, of Transylvania..."

His smile faded as he saw the old woman's expression.

"Oh, my child!" She exclaimed, crossing herself. "My poor, poor boy..."

Bucky felt his heart pound quicker, something bad had happened as he looked at Vika whose face paled as Antonia did the sign of the cross and swallowed.

"Please sit down, James." Antonia said quietly, Bucky did as she instructed and the elderly woman looked at him sadly, before she began to explain what had happened to his maternal family.

"Iacob and Mirela lived up in the mountains of Transylvania with their children and grandchildren, when...when Hitler invaded Romania. I am so sorry my child, it grieves me to tell you this but they were all rounded up and sent to Auschwitz where they...they were killed in the Porajmos. Sebastian was the only one who escaped as he'd joined the Resistance, he was betrayed by a villager and was shot." Antonia said sorrowfully.

Bucky couldn't speak, he was completely numb with grief at hearing that his aunts, uncles, grandparents and cousins had all been wiped out just because they were Romani.

He wanted to cry.

"All of them were killed?" He managed to whisper, Antonia nodded sadly and touched his shoulder comfortingly while Vika held him tightly, her own eyes brimming.

"I'm afraid so, you have three cousins who would like to meet you and they are the granddaughters of Sebastian and his wife Irina. You are going to be a great uncle." She said softly.

Bucky nodded shakily, comforted by the fact that his cousin had children but heartbroken at hearing that his cousin had been murdered by the Gestapo.

"Thank you, Madame Antonia Iordache...I'd like to meet them if it's not too painful for them." He said moved, the woman nodded and kissed him and Vika on the cheek.

"Grieve for them, and remember them, my boy."


The camp had gone into a respectful silence of mourning so they could share solidarity with Bucky, Antonia had revealed that his whole maternal family had been killed in the Gypsy camp of Auschwitz when it had been liquidated.

Steve had excused himself afterwards, and they could hear him crying in the distance.

Vika was with Bucky, and Clint found himself lost in thought as he thought of how the Romani must have felt when they had been sent to the camps, all because a mad man hated them and Jews.

All gone, Clint saw two dark haired young women with one looking heavily pregnant and wearing a hospital uniform, she must be a doctor of some kind.

"Uncle Bucky?" They called out softly, Bucky came out of the caravan he shared with Vika and saw the two women, who stared at him in wonder.

"You...you look like grandmama Mirela, Sonja and Eugenia."


The knock at the door pulled Steve out of his reverie and he looked up to see Natasha standing there with a bottle of some clear spirit and two shot glasses.

"Tsuika, the local plum brandy." She said, coming into the room and sitting down without invitation. Uncorking the bottle she filled the glasses and handed him one. "I know it's hard for you to get drunk, but this stuff could get Thor hammered."

She paused and laughed at her unintentional joke. Steve managed a smile.

"Natasha, I..."

"Drink!" She ordered. "Nostrovia!"

She knocked back the shot. Steve shrugged and followed suit, gasping as the pure alcohol exploded on the back of his throat. Natasha refilled their glasses.

"We are going to do what all sane adults should at times and get wasted. If you want to talk, fine; if you don't, drink!"

Steve swallowed the second shot, feeling his eyes water. Natasha was right, this might just be the thing that would get him drunk.

"It was like travelling to another world..." Seasick all the way to Istanbul as a messy hand on that greasy freighter, then train sick in a succession of third class carriages from there to the heart of Transylvania, the boy from Brooklyn had stepped off into a rural world hardly changed since the 18th century. He'd wanted to accompany Bucky to visit his mother's Romani family, a once in a lifetime adventure, and had been welcomed as one of their own; especially by Eugenia, Bucky's hazel-eyed cousin who thought the skinny little Steve was the most beautiful boy she'd ever seen...

"She was my first... my only..." Steve's voice trembled and his eyes filled with tears. "It was in an orchard and I still remember the way the apples smelled. When I think about what happened..."

He buried his face in his hands, shaking with grief. Natasha moved to sit beside him and put her arm around his shoulders.

"Viv and Vika are taking Clint and Bucky to the church tomorrow, to have the Prayers for the Dead. We should go with them."

Steve nodded silently and accepted another shot. They drank some more, mostly in silence, Steve's grief and anger too deep for words. Eventually Natasha got up to go to her own bed. Steve caught her wrist.

"Please..." he looked up at her with earnest, pleading, eyes. "Stay with me..."

She'd never seen such need or hunger in a man before, reaching for comfort from an unimaginable depth of despair.

'This may be a mistake,' Natasha thought as she took his face in her hands and kissed him, 'But who cares...'


A Kris Romani is a serious matter under any circumstances, but the memories of the crime that destroyed entire families and Clans gave an added sobriety to the crowd that assembled in the early evening. The matter of Bucky's heredity was quickly settled, he was proven Didikai by virtue of ancestry and one of the few survivors of an ancient and honoured Clan. Clint's case was posing more of a challenge. Family history hadn't been a big thing in the Barton home. Harold Barton had always been quicker with his fists than with tales of his forefathers so Clint knew nothing more than his parents' names. Before today that wasn't something which ever bothered him.

The debate rolled on onto the night, the Clan divided between those willing to accept Clint on his character, courage and the vouching of two Drabani, and those who believed while that made Clint a good man and a friend of the Romani, and it was insufficient for him to be numbered as one of their people without evidence of ancestry.

Mico, as Krisnitori, took no active part in the debate, sitting back and listening, occasionally asking a question of his own and conferring with the Drabani Elders sitting with him. The arguments were loud, overlapping and raucous, conducted in fast-paced Romani. Mico had charged his cousin Ioann, who like him had worked many years in America, with providing a running translation for the non-Romani speakers present

"They do not doubt your worth." He whispered, keen to make Clint understand the dissenters in no way intended to dishonour him. "It is a question of precedent and tradition."

"I know." Clint whispered back. "And I told Mico I'd respect the verdict of the Kris."

Mico appeared to be deep in discussion with his wife, mother and sister, the three Elder Drabani. Eventually all three nodded in agreement and he rose to his feet, silencing the arguments with a loud whistle.

Despite its apparently anarchic quality, the Kris was conducted with all the intense seriousness of any other court of law and clearly had a protocol of its own.

Mico stepped forward into the middle of the ring.

"The Kris stands in the balance." He declared in Romani as Ioann translated. "Normally, in such matters, the Krisnitori must make the call of judgement but in this business the whole clan must be united or risk sowing division..."

Mico's summing up was as thorough as any Supreme Court judge. No one present doubted Clint's courage or honour, or that he was a true friend to the Romani, but with no knowledge of his family it was impossible to prove to everyone's satisfaction that he could be counted among their number. Therefore, Mico had consulted with the Drabani Elders on how to resolve the impasse in a way that would end all doubt.

"…There is one way, the oldest of our ways, by which this can be resolved without question. The trial of Combat."

A murmur of surprise ran through the assembled Romani and all eyes turned towards Clint.

"I was not expecting that." muttered Ioann.

"Clint Barton, do you agree to the trial of Combat?" asked Mico, looking him straight in the eye. Clint stood and ran his fingers nervously through his thatch of dark blond hair.

"I agree, Rom Baro." He said, his voice thick with emotion and nervous tension. "And I accept the judgement of the Clan."

Clint felt Viv and Vika take his hands, the sisters had been his advocates throughout the proceedings; passionately arguing the case on his behalf. Now they stood on either side of him as Mico explained the trial of Combat. It was not a play fight, or a formality, he emphasised. Combat would not end until one of the fighters was on the ground and stayed there, either unconscious or in submission, in such a fight a man could get seriously injured and killed. Viv and Vika's grip on his hands tightened.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Clint my brother?" He asked quietly in English. "There is no going back from here…"

"I'm sure Mico…" Clint replied, looking at Viv. "I've never been surer of anything in my life."

Clint stripped down to his jeans as tables and benches were moved to create a clear space in the centre of the camp. He and his opponent would fight barefoot and bare-chested so there could be hidden weapon brought into play. Clint would be fighting a man named Petru, a seasoned champion of the underground fighting rings; short and wiry with long, powerful arms. Both men looked well matched. As they emptied their pockets of coins, keys and knifes in front of witnesses, Petru called something over in Romani which raised a laugh.

"He says that out of respect for me, he'll try not to mess your pretty face too much." said Viv, handing him a glass of water. Clint laughed as well and grinned across at his opponent.

"Tell him that out of respect for his honourable wife, I'll try to leave his balls attached."


The two men circled each other careful and quiet, without bravado or bluster. Both were hardened fighters who felt no need to show off for a crowd; besides, the matter at hand was too serious for adolescent display. They were well matched, agile and strong, Petru had already got a couple of good jabs in at Clint whose eye was bruising up, while Petru's bottom lip was split and bleeding. The crowd was quiet as well, none of the cheering and jeering or placing of bets that would normally take place. This wasn't a brawl, but a serious process that would decide a man's fate.

Viv and Vika kept a tight hold of each other's hands, Bucky's arms about their shoulders, while Steve and Natasha sat beside them. The group of friends could hardly breathe, they all knew the importance of this to Clint. If he lost, he would accept the judgement with honour and respect but it would still be a bitter blow to him.

The two men met in a flurry of kicks and punches, Clint sending Petru back with a head-butt that split the bridge of the Romani's nose. He shifted into a light-footed karate stance, keeping his right side turned away. His forehead was bleeding and Petru had got a good punch in just above the scar from where Scarlatti had nearly gutted him in Paris. Even after all these years it was still a weak spot and a couple more strikes there could do some serious damage.

Petru came in again, Clint catching him in the stomach with his knee, followed with an elbow strike to the back. The fighter staggered and Clint locked his hands, smashing him in the face with both fists. A blow to the diaphragm was blocked and Petru hooked Clint's leg, sending him onto the ground. He rolled fast, avoiding the blow that would have smashed his collarbone. The fight became a fierce grapple in the dirt, both men clawing and biting as well as punching in the attempt to overcome the other. Clint's vision blurred with blood and sweat, one hand jammed against his neck to stop Petru closing a chokehold and he snarled in angry pain as another punch caught him in his side. He snapped his head back hard, cracking Petru in the face and breaking the hold. Twisting round, he kept a grip on the Romani's arm; pulling it up and round with his entire body weight on it. There was an audible snap and a high-pitched scream as Petru's forearm suddenly bent the wrong way.

Clint leapt back, putting distance between himself and the injured man as Mico's piercing whistle brought the combat to an end and Petru's seconds ran to aid him as he slipped into unconsciousness.

"Mico, I didn't intend…" Clint began, aghast at the injury he'd caused, but Mico held up a hand to stop him.

"I told you this is a true fight, men get injured and killed, and no blame is attached in the trial of combat."

He seized Clint's hand and held it aloft.

"Do any here still dispute that Clint Barton is of true Romani blood, worthy of adoption into the Clan Iordache?" No voice was raised. "I did not think so."

He took a bottle of Tsuika from his wife, holding it to Clint's lips so he could swallow three mouthfuls 'in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit' he then poured the remaining contents over his head, washing away the blood and crudely disinfecting his wounds. Clint gritted his teeth at the burn of the alcohol on the open cuts and grazes, only slightly numbed by the adrenalin racing through his system. He felt close to collapse and could barely focus but felt a hand holding him up and through the rising surge of emotion faintly heard Mico's words.

"Vivian calls you Tale, which will be your name among us." The Rom Baro raised his voice so all could hear, shouting the name for Heaven to witness "O Tale lo Haroldsko la Edithko anda le Iordache vica."

The crowd clapped happily in the stands, all of them delighted to have Clint as one of their guardians along with Bucky as well, Viv was smiling widely at Clint who smiled back at her.

"O, Tale!" The crowd cheered loudly and Clint shook hands with Mico and Petru who had regained consciousness, Clint helped him up and told him to go to a hospital.

"You hit your head pretty hard, could have caused some damage." Clint advised quietly, Petru nodded in thanks and was helped to a car by his wife, Elisabeth.

He was part of the clan, he smiled at Viv who smiled back at him widely and went to join him, as Bucky, Vika, Steve and Natasha raced over to congratulate him on becoming a member if the Iordache Clan.

He finally belonged somewhere.


Later that evening, Viv tended to Clint's cuts and bruises as Petru had gotten full hospital care and had come home with his left arm in a cast, and his nose fixed.

The man had shaken his hand warmly and had left with his wife, Clint had made sure that the family would be well taken care of while Petru recovered.

"How are you feeling, Tale?" Viv asked softly, she'd bandaged his bloodied knuckles and had cleaned up his cuts.

"A hell of a lot better, thank you, Viv." Clint said quietly, she hugged him tightly and he hugged her back tightly.

He was home.


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