December 2013, Manhattan/Brooklyn

As Christmas approached, the Tower began to empty. The memories of the previous winter were clearly weighing on Pepper, and she and Tony had made a strategic retreat to the Stark property in Hawaii.

Clint couldn't blame them - if he had a private island, he'd be there every week.

Banner had tagged along at Tony's insistence (and Pepper's - apparently not even a vacation could shut off Tony's brain, so having his 'science bro' along would give her a break as well).

So Clint and Kate would be on their own for Christmas, since Peggy was flying to DC to spend it with Steve.

Normally the Bed-Stuy residence all got together and held a big potluck on the roof, just like they did for Thanksgiving, but this was a true holiday party; traditions and food from Christmas, Hanukkah, Pancha Ganapati, Yule, Koliada, Kwanzaa, and probably a few others that he didn't know about, all side by side, mixing and melting together.

He normally managed to get to it, and he loved it.

But this year, things were more complicated. He hadn't mentioned it to Kate, but he didn't want her to have to deal with her parents.

And then, just as he was reaching the point where he really needed to let Simone know they wouldn't be there, he received an email from the Bishops.

He read it three times, just to make sure he wasn't misreading it.

"Katie," he called, "what do you say to the rooftop holiday party?"

There was a telling pause, and she appeared out of her bedroom, her hair half-braided. "I'd like to go, but won't things be awkward with … them?"

"That's what I was thinking," Clint said, "but they've just emailed to say they're moving out, and asking if they can skip the notice period. I'm tempted to tell them to just go ahead."

"So they wouldn't be there?" Kate asked.

"Doubt it," Clint said. "They were only there because everyone else was, let's face it."

"True," Kate said, a smile spreading across her face. "Then, yes, I'd like to go."

A week later - and two days before the party - the apartment next to his had been vacated, and Clint made the trip over to Bed-Stuy while Kate was at school to do a walk-through.

On the way up, he texted Pepper.

CB: Know anything about renting apartments?

Her response came pretty quickly for someone who should be relaxing on a beach.

PP: You looking to rent yours out?

CB: Nah, mine can stay empty. Neighbours have moved. Haven't had any other tenants leave since I bought the building.

PP: We can talk when I get back.

CB: Thanks Pep - you're a star.

Clint put his phone away and knocked on the apartment door, just to be on the safe side. When there was no answer (as expected), he let himself in.

Since he'd never done this before, he wasn't completely sure what he was looking for, but he was also fairly sure that the Bishops would not have left any damage.

Sure enough, the apartment was spotless.

Even the walls were unblemished, even though he knew full well that there had been pictures up.

Then he got to the room that had been Kate's.

Her belongings had been shipped to the Tower within two weeks of the paperwork being signed, so he wasn't expecting to find anything, except the Bishops had decided not to take the furniture with them.

That, he wasn't surprised by - why would they take an extra bed they didn't need after all?

But on top of the bed was a small box with an envelope with his name on it on top.

He was fairly sure it was Joanna Bishop's handwriting, but he had no idea what she would have to say.

He turned the envelope over in his hands for a few minutes before finally deciding to open it, sitting down on the edge of the mattress.

Clint,

Since we signed the paperwork, I have been thinking about the situation we have found ourselves in.

You know by now that Kate was an unplanned baby. I never wanted to be a mother, and I know that Derek never wanted to be a father. I told myself that keeping Kate was the right thing to do, and I did try.

After she was born, I struggled. I just couldn't love her.

I thought I had fulfilled my duty, but I realise now that she knew she wasn't loved.

I do feel bad about that.

I didn't want to be a mother, but I should have tried harder to be one.

Looking back, I realise that you stepped up to be her parent a long time before we signed the paperwork. That you had such a profound influence on her even when working away for such long periods either shows what a good father you are, or what awful parents we were.

Maybe both.

To say thank you probably sounds meaningless to you, but I am grateful to you.

In this box are some items I found while packing. I think I probably kept them more because I felt like I should, but it seems pointless taking them with me.

I feel they would mean far more to you.

If Kate ever asks, please tell her I do wish her all the best.

Sincerely,

Joanna Bishop

Clint sighed, folding up the letter and tucking it into his pocket.

One day, when the wound wasn't as fresh, he might show it to Kate.

"Wish her all the best," he muttered, standing up. "You gave birth to her, you didn't fire her."

It sounded as though Joanna had needed some kind of support after having Kate that she never received, but that wasn't enough to make him forgive her.

He took the lid off of the box, and froze.

It was full of photographs.

Most of them had been professionally taken, which didn't surprise him. He didn't think the Bishops were the kind of people to take pictures of their child for the sake of it, but they were definitely the kind of people to pay a professional to do it.

Appearance was everything, after all.

Looking like a good parent was far more important than being a good parent.

Whatever their motivation had been, he didn't care - he had pictures of his daughter.

Kate was five when he met her, so he had never seen her as a baby.

But there she was.

The photographs weren't dated, but he could take a guess. The earliest looked like she was only a few weeks old, if that, her tiny hands clenched in fists near her face as she slept.

There were photos of what he assumed was her baptism, although no pictures of her parents or godparents (whoever they were) holding her, just a little girl in one of those ridiculously long white dresses.

She had been blonde as a baby apparently - he knew her hair had grown darker over the years, but her earliest curls had been almost the same colour as her dress.

Then there were school pictures, one from every year, showing her slowly getting older.

And there, tucked right in the bottom of the box, was a picture that definitely was not a professional photo. It was surprising they even still had it, but it had probably fallen down the back of a drawer or something, only to be found when they packed up.

It had been taken at one of the rooftop parties - the first since the Bishops had moved in, and the first time he had met Kate.

Clint had only gone because he was too tired to argue with Simone about it; he had just returned from a mission in the Middle East, which had been draining and exhausting and somewhat soul-destroying.

He had tucked himself out of the way on a fold-out chair with a beer, watching the activity with dead eyes and a somewhat intimidating demeanour, he knew.

No one had bothered him, either put off by his resting expression or maybe assuming that he was a soldier back from duty.

It wasn't that far off - he had been in a war zone.

And then, all of a sudden, there was a little girl in a pink party dress with her hair in pig-tails, gazing up at him with big blue eyes. Before he could really understand what was happening, she had handed him her juice cup and clambered up onto his lap, before taking the juice cup back and settling against him with a contented sigh.

He had been so startled that he had completely missed someone taking a picture - probably Mrs Watts from downstairs.

He was glad he had it though, even if he did look completely out of his depth.

Kate obviously hadn't noticed, because she had fallen asleep right there, her head resting against his heart.

When that had happened, he had given in and wrapped his arms around her to steady her, half expecting a parent to appear and demand to know who he was and what he was doing with their child.

In hindsight, the fact that their daughter had wandered off in a crowd of strangers and they had never come looking for her should have been the first red flag.

Smiling, Clint placed the photo back in the box, and bent to check under the bed to make sure nothing else had been left behind.

Something had.

He pulled out a second box; this one was purple, so it had probably been Kate's, which was odd, because she hadn't said that anything was missing.

It could have been something old, of course, that she had forgotten about.

Just in case, he opened the box to take a look.

He was not prepared for what he saw.

December 2013, Manhattan

By the time Kate got home from school, Clint still had not decided how he was going to broach the conversation.

He had spoken to Peggy, and she had given him some advice and offered to do a bit of digging for some background information.

An hour later, he had received an email with some very interesting information, which had confirmed his worst fears.

He had even texted Natasha out of pure desperation.

She had sent him back three laughing emojis, and the words She is her father's daughter, but no actual advice.

Lucky's ears pricked and he jumped to his feet, pacing back and forth in front of the apartment door.

A second later, Kate let herself in, bending to pat him before he could jump up. "Hi Lucky. Dad, I'm …" she trailed off, seeing him sitting at the kitchen table with two boxes in front of him. "… home."

"Sit down," Clint said softly. "We need to talk."

Kate hesitated, her eyes falling on the purple box. "I can explain, I swear."

Clint raised an eyebrow. "Explain what? I haven't asked anything yet."

Kate hung up her jacket and came to sit opposite him. "Okay, go ahead."

"I went and did a walk-through of your old apartment today," Clint said. "Just to check there wasn't any damage. Joanna left me a box, but this was also left under the bed. I was a bit curious, so I opened it." He took the lid off the box and pulled out the purple uniform that lay inside, hiding a bow and quiver.

The uniform reminded him scarily of his Delta suit, complete with the triangle, but Kate had never seen the Delta suit.

"I spoke to Peggy," Clint said. "She did a bit of digging. Apparently there was another unknown archer running around Brooklyn. You want to tell me what you were thinking?"

"I didn't mean to," Kate began. "You were away a lot, and I wanted to go and practice. I know the code to your weapons safe, but letting myself into it seemed kind of rude, so I got myself another one. I was on my way back one day and … there was this girl, and she was being attacked by these two guys and I thought about calling the police, but I was right there, and so I fired. They ran off, and she didn't see me, but it felt amazing, being able to help someone."

"So you got yourself a onesie?" Clint asked.

"It's not a onesie," Kate said, rolling her eyes. "It's a uniform. I told the lady it was for working out. Which wasn't technically a lie."

"And how often did you go out … helping people?"

"Once or twice a week," Kate said.

Clint raised an eyebrow, waiting.

"Okay, most nights," she conceded. "And after school, sometimes. I haven't done it since April, Dad."

"I know that," Clint said. "If you were sneaking out of a highly-sophisticated, AI-controlled tower, and under the nose of an experienced spy, I'd have to just hand over my bow. Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?"

"Dad, I know what I'm doing."

"No, Kate, you don't," Clint said sternly. "You could have been hurt, you could have been killed - what the hell were you going to do if something went wrong? Jesus, Kate, you're smarter than that!"

Kate scowled. "I didn't get hurt, Dad, and I was helping people. I know I was, so I'm sorry if you're freaking out about it, but I am not going to apologise for doing it."

"You're scared," Peggy had said, "not angry. Remember that."

Clint took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. "Why a triangle?"

That took the wind out of Kate's sails, effectively calming her down as well. "What?"

"The triangle," Clint said, tapping the symbol on the front of her uniform. "Why a triangle?"

Kate dropped her gaze. "Oh, um … I wanted something that … meant something and … I thought about your tattoo."

Clint had the Delta symbol tattooed on his shoulder, but he hadn't known Kate knew about it.

"I saw it one summer," Kate continued. "It confused me, but it must have been important to you, so I asked the lady at the shop if I could have it."

That certainly went a long way to settling his nerves. "According to the reports, you started doing this when you were fourteen."

Kate shrugged. "I was fine."

Clint closed his eyes. "I understand that, Kate. I do. And - honestly - I'm kind of proud of you."

"Kind of?" Kate asked.

He looked at her seriously. "I do not want you to think I condone what you did, Kate. You could have been hurt, and you could have hurt someone else. But you did do exceptionally well, and for that I am proud of you."

"Dad, I was not trying to hurt anyone," Kate said.

Clint sighed. "Katie … I know you weren't trying to hurt anyone. But all it takes is one gust of wind. One person to move. One panicked civilian." He could see that she wasn't quite with him.

He was going to have to have the one conversation he had never wanted to have with her.

"Kate, I have never told you what I did for SHIELD."

"Yes you have," Kate said. "You're a spy."

"I'm an assassin," Clint said quietly. "I kill people, Katie. That's my job. And I can tell you now that killing someone … it changes you, Kate. Every person I killed, they deserved to die. They were awful people - murderers, rapists, human traffickers, you name it. But it does something to your soul, and I don't want you to ever be in that position."

"Have you ever hit someone by accident?" Kate asked.

Clint sighed again. "No, Kate, I haven't. But I was trained in combat; I have been doing this for twenty years; and I have always had someone watching my back. You weren't, you haven't, and you didn't." He softened his tone, seeing the look on her face. "I'm not trying to scare you, sweetheart."

"You did kill that guy, didn't you?"

Clint faltered. "Kate, you'd already figured that out."

"Well, yeah, but …" Kate trailed off. "I don't get why."

"You will never know anger," Clint said, "until your little girl comes to you in tears because the people who are supposed to be protecting her aren't."

Kate squeezed his hand. "I don't want to kill anyone, Dad. That's not why I was doing it."

"I know, sweetheart," Clint said heavily. "I'm not trying to scare you. I am proud of you. You did exceptionally well. But I'm glad you're not doing it now."

Kate nodded. "I get it. Why did you ask about the triangle?"

Clint chuckled. "Well, when I saw it, it nearly gave me a heart attack, and I'll show you why." He ducked into his bedroom and retrieved his Delta uniform.

Kate's mouth dropped open when she saw it. "Wait. That's …"

"It's almost identical," Clint confirmed. "It's not a triangle; it's a Greek letter - Delta. All of SHIELD's strike teams are labelled with Greek letters. Nat and I are Strike Team Delta."

"Does she have a tattoo as well?" Kate asked.

"No, it's not Nat's style," Clint answered. "Also I think she'd probably end up stabbing the artist."

"What's in the other box?" Kate asked, apparently deciding not to ask about that.

"Photographs," Clint answered.

Kate frowned. "They actually had photos?"

"I assume they had professional photos taken for your grandparents," Clint said. "And school photos."

Kate wrinkled her nose. "My grandparents all died when I was young, and I never saw them anyway. Why did they even still have them?"

"Well, I'm not complaining," Clint said. "You were a very cute baby."

"You knew that," Kate said.

Clint raised an eyebrow. "Well, I guessed. But I never saw you as a baby. You moved in when you were five."

"Really?" Kate asked. "But I remember … I mean, my earliest memory is sitting on your lap on the roof at one of the parties. And I was wearing a pink dress, and I had a juice box, and … Did I make that up? I don't remember Derek ever letting me do that, or even wanting to do that."

Clint pulled out the photograph. "You mean this?"

"That's it!" Kate said.

"Kate, that was the first time we met," Clint said. "If you look closely, you can see the utter terror in my eyes as I try to figure out where this small child came from and who you belonged to."

Kate smiled softly. "I think I knew then that you were my dad. Was that really the first time we met?"

"It really was," Clint said.

"Can we frame this?" Kate asked, touching the edge of the photograph.

"Already planning on it," Clint said. "I'm framing your baby pictures too."

"Dad!"

December 2013, New York

The holiday party was brilliant, as it always was. Simita from the second floor cornered him at one point to enquire about the now-empty apartment.

Apparently, her parents were looking to downsize, and he gladly told her to pass on his details.

If he could find a new tenant without going through all the drama of looking for one, that would make his life far easier (and mean he didn't need to bother Pepper when she got back).

As always, he ate far too much, and was almost tempted to crash in his apartment rather than go back to the Tower.

But, as the skies darkened, and people began drifting off (mostly the families with young children), Kate appeared at his side, nestling into him. "Dad, is it time to go home?"

Clint smiled at the word. "Yeah, I think so. I don't think either of us will need to eat until Christmas Day."

They got a taxi back to Manhattan. It wasn't that late, but Kate seemed to be drifting off on his shoulder all the same.

"I'm not carrying you upstairs," he warned.

"Like we're taking the stairs," she mumbled. "And you so would."

Clint rolled his eyes, nudging her as they pulled up outside Stark Tower. "Come on, get out."

The driver's eyes lingered on Kate as she got out. "Dude."

"She's my daughter," Clint said coldly, handing him the payment.

The man's eyes snapped back to him. "Sorry."

"And she's seventeen," Clint added.

Kate had completely missed the conversation, thankfully - after last Thanksgiving, men staring at her scared her more than it made her uncomfortable - and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, guiding her into the Tower.

As they stepped into the elevator, JARVIS said, "Good evening, Mr Barton, Miss Bishop."

Clint grimaced, feeling Kate flinch under his arm. He wondered if she did that every time JARVIS called her that, and if he was only just noticing it. "JARVIS, is there any way you can call Kate by her first name?"

Kate perked up at that. "Yeah, can you? Please?"

"Certainly, Kate," JARVIS said. "I will log your preference."

"Thanks, J," Clint said. "Everything quiet?"

"Agent Carter is visiting," JARVIS said. "As you have given her the authorisation, I let her into your apartment."

"Thanks." Clint was marginally surprised by that. It was Christmas in four days, and as far as he knew, she was supposed to be in DC already.

So what she was doing in his apartment, he didn't know.

Peggy was examining the new photos, hanging in pride of place in the living room, much to Kate's embarrassment.

"Where did you get these?"

"The Bishops left them when they moved out," Clint answered. "I figured you'd be in DC already."

Peggy turned her attention to him, and he braced himself.

"You first."

Clint raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"You're going to DC," Peggy clarified. "There's a Stark jet waiting for you at LaGuardia. You fly back tomorrow evening, and then I'm flying out."

"Peggy …" Clint began.

"Dad," Kate interrupted. "You haven't seen Natasha for over a year."

"I'm a big boy; I can manage," Clint said. "You …"

"I'm a big girl; I can manage," Kate shot back. "I know that I can't go with you, because you're worried about the wrong people learning about me. You're not abandoning me."

"I'm staying here," Peggy agreed. "It's one day, Clint."

Kate shook her head. "Dad, you miss her." She kissed his cheek. "I'm going to bed; I'll see you in a few days. If you're still here for breakfast, I will be very annoyed."

Clint chuckled. "Alright, Katie-Kate. Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Peggy echoed, watching her disappear into her bedroom. "I packed you a bag."

Clint raised an eyebrow. "You are weirdly invested in my love life."

"I'm invested in your happiness," Peggy said softly. "And you do miss her. This has to be the longest you've gone without seeing her."

"Yeah," Clint admitted. "I still feel bad about leaving Kate though."

"You're a parent," Peggy said. "Of course you do. You're just getting it a bit later than most parents. When Tony was five months old, Maria had to step out for about ten minutes and it took her twenty minutes to leave. You didn't get to do that when she was a kid."

"I did get it," Clint admitted softly. "Whenever I knew I was leaving for long periods, I found it really heard to leave her."

Peggy smiled. "That doesn't surprise me. I will be here with her. It's one day. You know you can trust me."

"Yeah, I know." Clint hesitated for just a second longer. "Alright, you talked me into it."