Part 5
Stranded
Chapter 1
"No, I like this, I've got to say it makes a lot of sense. Hiding on the roof from a ninety year old woman? She'll never find you here."
"I'm not coming down." Clint said steadfastly.
"I didn't ask you too."
"I don't want anything to do with his family. I don't care who it is, I don't want to see them."
Tony crossed his arms over the blue arc in his chest. "I didn't tell you to do that either."
A helicopter flew over. It was one of many city tourist traps expressing an up close look at the day-to-day Avenger's lives. As it cruised up for a closer look, the boxer-clad Clint Barton waived shamelessly. A few girls donned in "Hawkeye 4-Ever" shirts nearly clawed their way out of the helicopter.
Tony looked up and sighed.
"I don't know how Pepper even found her. I'm not coming down. I don't want to see her. I've been doing really good at pretending I was immaculately conceived and I don't want to ruin that. Talking to someone he came from, that would ruin it."
Tony stood there looking down at him but gave up on talking to him.
"Besides, if she even cared, then why didn't they find her when our parents died? Why'd they just pack us off to the orphanage? She should have stepped in or something. I never even heard about her before today. My parents never spoke about them. That's weird, isn't it? To never talk about them? She's gotta be ninety. I'm not getting close to anyone who's planning to die tomorrow."
Tony's wrist plates peeled away to reveal the face of his watch. He made a big show of checking it.
"If my grandkids were in an orphanage I would have done something. If they were getting beaten every day I would have at least said something. But now? Today? What even made her come here at all?" Clint started to get up. "I mean, I have questions that need answering. She's been out of my life since before I was born. I think I deserve a little explanation, don't you?"
"Are you actually asking me?"
"No."
Clint pulled up the repel arrow he'd used to get to the roof and looped the rope around his waist. While Tony repulsed his way back to the normal living level, Clint made his own way down. When the archer really set his mind against something there was nothing anyone could do to convince him out of it. He could balk, throw a tantrum, or simply disappear for four months and mysteriously one day Tony would walk back into the living room and there Clint Barton would sit as if he'd never left at all. The entire fridge suffered at these long coming returns as well. If he left this time, no one had a right to blame him.
With their SHIELD backgrounds on public display when the Triscelion fell, the Avengers team had no trouble glimpsing into the true histories of the spies they associated with. Natasha had a host of her own issues to attend, from the hospital fire, to her previous life as a ballet dancer. The latter of which created an incessant need to nag her over such events that seemed so contrary to her current behavior. Clint, though, provided something very different for the team to gander at and became, quite possibly, the most tragic hero among them.
Bruce Banner grew up in a home infused in terror and fear before watching the murder of his mother by his own father, a history which no doubt added the fuel to his rage-filled fire. Steve Rogers came from humble, bullied beginnings as a parentless teen determined to join World War 2. Tony Stark, spoiled from the day he entered the world, lived in the shadow of an unfeeling father. Thor . . . that was an entirely different can of worms. But, despite everything the Avengers knew of each other, they assumed they knew the true heart of Clint. How very wrong they were.
He was a jerk, an endless prankster, and an incredible marksman. He had a propensity to get into trouble but even SHIELD left him to get out on his own. He was mortal, able to bleed, break bones, and lose his life if he didn't take special precautions in everything he did. And Clint Barton, above all else, was good. His positive attributes far outweighed his disagreeable knack for eating all the snack food or using explosive arrows in the gym at 3 a.m. As for what the higher power did to form the man they knew and cared about today, none of the Avengers truly comprehended.
Then, the Triskelion fell.
Clint Barton grew up in the little town of Waverly, Iowa in literally the middle of nowhere. He had a brother, Barney, who according to all recent accounts may still be alive somewhere though Clint denied having spoken to him in the last ten years. His father was a drunk, mother indifferent, and one night when the children were home alone both of the parents died in a drunk driving accident. Clint and Barney were sent by the state to live in an orphanage. Between his father's long track record of child abuse, hidden in a not-so-intricate cover up by some dirty cops, and the torment from bullies in the orphanage, Clint decided to run away with his brother. They ended up at the circus where the abused, bullied, child became the Clint Barton the Avengers knew today.
Clint rarely opened up about the things his father did to him, or the betrayal at the hands of his mentors in the circus, or the falling out he'd had with his only living relative, Barney. He refused to think of his past, knowing in some ways it was better to pretend he didn't have one. That was a difficult task to complete when Pepper Potts existed in the world.
She had a heart of gold in the end, but that heart considered the best way to bring a little humanity and closure into Clint's life was to track down a relative he never knew he had and bring the woman right into Avengers Tower as a surprise.
Rolling over in bed at seven in the morning, Pepper tapped his shoulder and promptly declared, "Clint! You'll never believe I could do it! She's out in the living room, I found your paternal grandmother and she can't wait to meet you!"
At which time, his response to her declaration included little more than climbing out the nearest window in his boxers.
"Think you should put some clothes on first?" Tony asked as they re-entered Clint's previous escape route.
Barton looked down at his white-and-red polka dotted drawers. "You don't think this is appropriate attire for a woman with one hand on a headstone?"
"I don't want you to offend someone who grew up with Abraham Lincoln." Tony replied. He tapped his wrist and the Iron Man suit clam-shelled open for him to step out. He stretched his neck left and right and swung both arms in large circles.
"That a new suit?" Clint asked, fishing around for his pants.
"Built it this morning. The padding's stiff like a new pair of jeans. You know, like the jeans you buy from a rack. Not the ones I get hand sewed onto me."
Clint smirked and dug beneath his bed for a shirt that didn't smell old. One that did, he threw at Tony who deflected it to the side.
"Tell me one more time how much richer than the planet you are. I think I missed it the thousand other times per day we spend together."
"I'm rich." Tony said.
Clint pulled his shirt over his head and tucked it into the waist of his jeans. "I'm decent, all right? Now can we get this over with?"
One hand swept widely to the right in a flourish that invited Clint to exit the room first. Barton passed his fellow Avenger and headed out the door. Tony walked along beside him. As far as he knew, the little old lady Pepper tracked down hadn't decided to leave yet. Stark hadn't seen her himself. He'd been stolen out of bed the minute Clint took off for the roof. There were few Avengers who could talk Clint into seeing his father's mother. The horrid relationship Clint endured with his parent ensured that if he had the choice, no one from that side of his family would ever be part of his life. Facing the woman that produced and raised the abusive man Clint had been slated with affected him deeply. What kind of woman must she be to have raised that sort of monster?
They entered the circular living room together. Pepper sat on the arm of the nearest couch with her back turned to them. It shielded the old woman, who had yet to flee herself, from view. Opposite of them Natasha stood in a cross-armed interest. Whatever they happened to be discussing was fascinating enough to keep her attention, never an easy task. Steve stood by the bar, extracting something from its fridge. He emerged holding two glasses of amber liquid, too tall and too early in the morning to be alcoholic. He grinned seeing Clint arrive of his own free will. Instead of returning to the group, he held out one of the glasses to Barton.
"Ice tea. She was thirsty. You should give it to her and introduce yourself. If you want to leave after that, we'll understand. No one's pressuring you on this," Steve said, planting one of the glasses in his hand.
"Don't think I can handle a single conversation with an old lady?" Clint said hotly.
"Her name is Kitty Jenkins. Her middle name is Alice. That's how she likes to say it." Steve said, ignoring the outburst. Without waiting for Clint to walk over, Steve went ahead of them and rejoined the group. He sat on the sofa beside Natasha's legs, inspiring the Widow to finally take a seat.
Clint walked over.
Continue...if you dare...