Authors Note: I'm back. Sorry for the long pause, but this story caught me by the nose and has been leading me on a merry chase. I have six more chapters written and I'm just waiting for my beta to get back to me so I can start posting.
Couple things before you get back into the story: First, if you haven't figured it out yet, the point of view changes according to the symbol at the switch. Clint is the arrow, Logan is the "W". They trade places a lot in this chapter, so I don't want you to get confused. Second, the course of this story has shifted a little. It was going to be relatively short and sweet, but it has bloomed into a massive undertaking. Stick with me please and I'll do my best to make it worth it.
Thank you. Now enjoy some shenanigans from my two favorite characters.

Chapter 3-New Beginnings

Clint had never, ever, in his whole life, liked mornings; so when he woke up in a musty smelling blanket on a lumpy mattress, which was definitely not his bunk at the circus, he just groaned and rolled over, pulling the blanket over his head.

"Rise and shine, bub," he heard someone say from outside his cocoon.

"Aw, morning, no," Clint whined.

The voice chuckled. "I'm going outside for a smoke. You should finish waking up by the time I get back."

Clint heard a door open and close, so he guessed he was alone. He knew where he was, really. It was pretty obvious that he wasn't with the circus, so yesterday hadn't been a dream. He pulled the blanket tighter over his head. He wished it had been. He wished that he would wake up and he'd be back in that ratty trailer with Jacques and Buck. He wished that he was still welcome in the circus that had been his home since he was 9. He wished that he still had mentors who, while rough around the edges and merciless in their training, did care about him, probably, maybe. But like the saying goes, if wishes were fishes or horses or whatever. It was early; he couldn't remember a pointless aphorism. Instead he had to face the reality that yet again he had to start over from scratch and this time he was alone, without his brother. He pulled the smelly comforter tighter around his head and allowed himself to wallow. It wasn't fair. He had loved the circus. He loved the animals and the people. He loved the training, most of the time, and being Hawkeye. He loved being the center of attention and hearing the crowd cheer for him. Now it was all gone. He was all alone with a hairy, stinky old man and hunted by some shadow government agency which meant he had to rely on the weird old man. It sucked.

For a minute, Clint allowed himself to imagine running off on his own. He would be his own man and no one could tell him what to do. He could be a superhero like Captain America, using his trusty bow to take down bad guys. He imagined becoming a famous hero and saving damsels in distress and having enough money to buy whatever he wanted and never going hungry gain. He smiled as he dreamed about using a boomerang arrow to take out a dozen goons and saving Captain America. Cap would smile at him and thank him and offer him a place on his team and it would be amazing.

But it was just a dream, and with a sigh, Clint made himself consider the facts. He was a fourteen year old boy who hadn't even finished primary school. He could read okay and do his maths, thanks to some of the people at the circus but it wasn't like a normal education. If he ran, he'd end up on the streets, hungry, cold and still hunted by SHIELD, whoever they were. He really, really hated to admit it, but he owed Logan big time for getting him out before those guys found him and for driving them off last night. Even worse, Clint knew he needed to stick with the man a while longer, at least until they figured out why SHIELD wanted him and how to get them to back off. He only hoped Logan didn't try to put him back in the system. He shuddered and burrowed deeper into the blankets at the thought of the orphanage he and Barney had run away from. No way was he going back to someplace like that. The streets would be better.

The door opened again. Clint peeked out of the blankets to see Logan watching him from the door with a bemused expression on his face. Clint blinked but didn't retreat back into his nest, yet.

"Mornin'" Logan said. "You plannin' on comin' on out sometime today?"

"No," Clint said, spitefully and burrowed back into the blankets. He wasn't ready to deal with the day, despite his decision to stick with Logan.

"Fine, but if you want a shower before breakfast, you better hurry. I want to make it in time for the early bird special at a diner down the road," the old geezer said, seemingly unbothered by Clint's attitude.

"You go first," Clint mumbled.

Logan made an amused snorting sound. "Why?"

As usual, Clint's mouth ran away with him before he had a chance to sensor himself. "'Cause I can smell you from here, old man," he snarked. Then he flinched. He hadn't really meant to be rude, but at least now he'd see if his new guardian could take a joke. Better to find out sooner rather than later. He could still run if he needed to.

Luckily, Logan laughed softly. "Fine, bub, but only if you promise to wash off the stink of teenage angst before we leave."

Clint wasn't sure what teenage angst smelled like, but he did want to take a hot shower. It would be a luxury that he rarely enjoyed. "Whatever you say, old man," he replied. "Just leave me some hot water."

"If you're lucky, kid," Logan said as he closed the door and moved toward the bathroom.

"I'm not a kid," Clint insisted. He sat up with the blankets wrapped around him and up over his head.

Logan rolled his eyes. "You are to me, kiddo."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Means I'm older than dirt, and you look like a baby to me," Logan said as he disappeared into the bathroom. After a minute the shower turned on.

Clint sighed. Mornings sucked but he was really hungry and they didn't have any leftover pizza from the night before. He should have saved some. So he forced himself out of the nice warm bedding to pull his bag, the one he had finished going through onto the bed so he could pull out some relatively clean clothes. There had been some at the bottom of the bag. Apparently Missy and her ma had emptied his drawer into the bag first then started shoving whatever they could find in on top. As he pulled out a clean shirt, purple, and a pair of jeans, he noticed the envelope that Missy gave him. He pulled it out and held it in his hands for a long moment. It was pretty thick, thicker than he expected. It was probably singles, from the tip jar. That's why it was so thick. He'd be lucky to get fifty bucks. Bracing himself, he peeled it open. Inside was the wad of bills he expected and a folded piece of notebook paper. He pulled it out and choked back a sob. On the paper, written in a dozen handwritings, were good luck messages and good byes. Most of them had a phone number or address too. It was more than Clint had expected or hoped for. As he read each "good luck" or "knock 'em dead" he felt a little lighter. The circus folk hadn't thrown him away or abandoned him. They wanted to keep in touch, wanted to know he would be okay. He was still on his own with a crazy old man with connections and a reputation with a weird shadow agency, but there were people in the world who cared enough about Clint to say "don't you dare just end up in a ditch somewhere, you punk." Harsh, but encouraging. Clint could feel himself beaming, and he didn't care.

He carefully put the paper down, intending to stash it in the hidden pocket in his quiver, where he kept his important mementos. Then he returned to the envelope and flipped through the money. It took his breath away. He had expected singles with a couple fivers, maybe, but instead they were almost all $10's and $20's. This was more money than he'd ever had for himself in his life. There was probably more than $500.00 in there.

Clint jerked back to his surrounding when he heard the shower turn off. With his heart in his throat, he took out half the money and shoved it into a hidden pocket in the duffle bag. Then he grabbed his bowcase and jerked it open. He ignored his bow for now and hid a couple twenties in the lining of the case and another handful of bills with the note in the pocket of his quiver. That left him with about $150.00 in tens. With a glance at the bathroom door, he quickly stuffed a couple bills in the socks he was going to change into and the rest in his pockets. He closed the case and slid it back in the corner just as Logan came out of the shower.

His heart pounding, Clint tried to look unconcerned. "I thought it was a trick of the light, last night, but your hair really does stick up like that. Do you put product in it to do that?" he said, trying to sound natural.

Logan stopped drying his hair to give him a quirked eyebrow. Clint had never been able to do that trick and he wondered if the guy would be willing to teach him. He focused on that rather than his panic that Logan somehow knew what he had done. "It's always been like this," Logan said, sounding very unimpressed. "Go take your shower, short stuff."

Clint grabbed the clothes he had pulled out. "Like you're one to talk," he said just as he was closing the door so Logan couldn't retort. But he closed the door too fast and the pants he was carrying got caught. "Aw, door, no," he lamented as he opened the door to a grinning Logan. Being the mature 14 that he was, Clint stuck out his tongue and closed the door again, this time without catching anything.

After Clint's shower, they rode down to the diner on Logan's motorcycle. It wasn't Clint's first time on a motorcycle but Logan had only one helmet and it was pretty big on the teen, not to mention uncomfortable. Logan wouldn't let him ride without, though so he had to deal with it. He was more than ready to take it off by the time Logan pulled into a parking space.

"Aw, ears," Clint whined as he pulled the helmet off.

Logan huffed in amusement as Clint rubbed his sore ears. "If you're going to stick with me, we'll have to get you your own helmet, or we find another option."

Clint blinked, unsure how he felt about that comment and all the implications in it. He really wasn't sure what to say, so he held his tongue until they are seated in a booth inside a stereotypical roadside diner, complete with sassy older waitress in a pink uniform. "So, um," Clint began but he completely lost what he was going to say. He didn't want to jinx himself somehow.

Logan raised an eyebrow at him, but when Clint couldn't get any words out, he turned his attention to the waitress. He ordered coffee and the breakfast special for himself and waved at Clint to get what he wanted.

"Coffee, please," Clint said quickly, so Logan wouldn't have a chance to take back his permission. "And a chocolate milk?"

"Sure, hun',"agreed the waitress, an older lady with blue grey hair and twinkling blue eyes, "and to eat?"

"Pancakes with hash browns and bacon," Clint decided quickly, because that was written on the board over the counter. He hadn't had good pancakes in a very long time.

"Sure, hun'," she said, writing their orders down. "It won't be but a minute."

Logan shot her a grin that made the woman blush like a schoolgirl. He must have had an ulterior motive, because she was really quick about coming back with their coffees and Clint's milk.

As Clint doctored his coffee how he liked it, Logan watched him closely. Clint felt his attention, and while uncomfortable, he didn't feel threatened. He tried to ignore the other man and just focused on his coffee. He added sugar and cream until his coffee was the same color as his chocolate milk. He took a sip and sighed in bliss. Logan laughed and turned to watch out the window, leaving Clint to bask in his caffeine sugarbomb.

Neither of them had broken the silence when their food came. After the waitress, her name tag proudly declared her name as Mary, left them with the promise to call her if they needed anything, Clint cleared his throat.

"We'll talk after we eat," Logan interrupted, already cutting into the huge slice of ham that came with his meal. "You'll feel better with a full stomach and then maybe your mind'll be calmer to."

Clint shrugged and dug into his pancakes with a will. They were delicious, light and fluffy and dripping with syrup and butter. He kind of lost track of everything as he focused on his food, but soon enough his plate was empty, his glass was empty and he was out of excuses. Logan had finished before him, and sat watching, while he nursed his coffee. Mary had refilled their cups once already, but Clint wasn't sure more caffeine would be a good idea. He already felt jumpy.

"I'll start," Logan said, finally. "Our first order of business is get out of here before SHIELD comes back lookin' for you. Since they bothered to ask me for help, I don't figure on them giving up on you so easy. So we need to get moving and lay low until I can call my contacts. Then you have some decisions to make."

"Me?" Clint squeaked.

Logan's expression softened. "Yeah, you, kiddo. I'm not dragging you across the country against your will. We need to discuss your options and you will decide what you want to do from there. Whatever your decision, I'll help as best I can."

Clint stared into his coffee and took a sip to ground himself. He was not used to people asking his opinion about his future. Usually people just decided for him and he made the best of whatever situation he ended up in. "What if I don't know my options?" he asked carefully.

"That's why we'll talk about them. But first we move. Finish your coffee and we'll go into town to get what you need," Logan said. He considered Clint's clothes. "We need a helmet for you that won't hurt and better pants and a jacket. Anything else we'll pick up later."

Clint looked at the holes in the knees of his jeans. A long ride would be miserable in frayed jeans and a t-shirt, but he only had so much money and no way to make more. "I'll be okay," he tried, "I don't need anything right now."

Logan scowled and drained the last of his coffee. He pulled out his wallet and threw a couple bills on the table. "Not up for discussion. I'll pay for it. Let's go."

He didn't wait for Clint's acknowledgement, just turned and walked to the door, leaving Clint to scramble to catch up. Outside, Logan tossed him the helmet and watched him put it on.

"I don't like wearing it either but I keep if for two reasons," Logan explained before he mounted the bike. "First, it is law in some parts and I don't want a ticket. Second, it hides my face if I need to keep a low profile. I will be wearing it when we leave town. That is why I'm buying you, your own. Understand?"

Clint sighed, but he could see the logic in that. "Okay," he grumbled, "but only if I can get a purple one."

Logan laughed and shook his head as he got on his bike and let Clint climb on behind him. "Sure, kid," he agreed. "We'll find you a purple one."

\\\/\\\/

Finding a purple bike helmet was easier than Logan had expected. Apparently a lot of women who rode, either solo or with their beaus, wanted their own personalized helmet. It was entertaining watching the kid decide between a deep jewel tone purple and a light sparkly purple. He decided on the jewel tone mostly for the better fit rather than the less obnoxious color, but Logan breathed a sigh of relief anyway. The road appropriate pants and jacket were easy to, since they bought them at the same place.

The bigger problem was packing the kid's meager belongings on the bike. Together with Logan's gear, Clint's two bags and bowcase were too much to fit on the bike without risking a road hazard. Logan wasn't really attached to anything he had with him since he had stashed his more valuable belongings at the school, but he did need to keep at least a couple changes of clothes with him. He pared down his stuff to about only about two thirds since he had already been traveling light. He left a bag with the hotel clerk to donate to charity. Clint was less willing to part with his possessions.

"Look kid, we can buy you new clothes later," Logan sighed, resisting the urge to run a hand through his hair. "Most of this stuff is threadbare anyway and it smells like dung."

Clint glared at him before sniffing the shirt he was holding. "It does not," he shot back, throwing the shirt in the "keep" pile. He had gotten rid of a lot, since there had been a large percentage of his mentor's belongings, but it was still more than would fit on the bike. "And I don't want to waste money on stuff that I already have." He added a set of throwing knives to the pile.

"I said I'd cover it," Logan growled, having already had this argument, twice. "And before you say anything, it's not charity. It's me paying you back for making you dump your stuff. Be smart, kid, and let me help." Logan really did understand. He didn't have many possessions that he really cared about, but they were precious and he's fought tooth and nail to keep them through the years. Clint didn't have much and Logan was asking him to throw much of it away. He knew it was hurting the kid and he was trying his best to make allowances, but time was of the essence here. They needed to get out before SHIELD set up surveillance, if they hadn't already. "Look, I'm not askin' ya to toss your bow and arrows or any of your keepsakes. Just leave the bulkier clothes."

Clint sighed, his whole body curling in on itself. "I know, it's just hard, ya know?" he said softly. "It's like if I get rid of this stuff I'm getting rid of the me who wore them."

Logan shook his head and went over to put a hand on the boy's shoulder. Clint flinched but didn't shrug it off. "I know what you mean," Logan said gently. "I've had to do that before, walking away from who I was as I left everything behind. It's not easy and it doesn't get easier." He shrugged when Clint looked over with wide eyes. "Look, don't think of it as throwing away a part of you, think of it as growin'. Like you told the gal last night, this is a chance for you. Take it and reinvent yourself, become better."

Clint sighed again but threw his shoulders back. "You're right, I should make the most of this." He gave Logan a lopsided grin with just the right amount of mischievous. "You're buying?" Logan nodded, wondering where he was going with this. "Then I should take advantage." In no time at all, his pile was much smaller with most of his handed-down, worn-out clothes in the "leave" pile.

Logan shook his head and waded in for the first time. He pulled out a couple shirts and a pair of jeans that were sturdy despite the paint stains and put them back in the "keep" pile. "Keep some grubby clothes," he said and helped Clint pack what was left into one duffle with room to spare. "We'll get you replacements when we've got some distance behind us."

Nothing else was said as Logan strapped everything to his bike and they were cruising down the highway. He hadn't told the kid where they were going and Clint didn't ask. It was just as well, since Logan was making it up as went along. He considered going up into Canada, but if SHIELD was an issue, he didn't want to cause an international incident. Besides, the kid didn't have a passport. So they headed west, into the Rockies where it would be easy to spot a tail on the high mountain passes. From there they'd work their way south. He didn't have a particular destination in mind so hopefully no one would be able to predict their route.

They stopped for lunch after only a few hours, so Logan could see how Clint was holding up. The kid was subdued, but didn't seem worn-out so after they ate, they kept moving. Logan figured they'd hit the edge of Yellowstone by dark. They'd skirt the park, too many people, and continue South until Colorado. Then they'd head East. He had more contacts on the East Coast and he had a feeling he'd need them.

"How do you feel about sleeping rough?" Logan asked when they stopped to stretch their legs after a few more hours on the road. It was time to start thinking about where to stop.

Clint shrugged. "Done it before," he admitted. "Don't like it much, but then sometimes you don't have a choice, right?"

Logan nodded as he stared down the road considering their options. "It's cheaper and more discrete if we find a spot out of the way to crash for the night. It'd probably throw off anyone tracking us."

Clint nodded, though he huddled in his jacket, despite the warmth of the afternoon. "Let's do that then," he agreed.

"Good, I'll start lookin' for a place, you just keep hanging on. You're doing well, kid," Logan said and reached over to ruffle Clint's hair. The boy leaned into the touch and grinned at the praise.

They stopped at a general store and picked up some food for dinner tonight and breakfast in the morning. Then Logan started watching for a place to pull off. They hit paydirt after another hour or so when he saw a dirt track that led off into a clump of trees. Pulling in, it looked like an old camp ground that had been abandoned. It was easy enough to start a fire and layout some bedrolls before true darkness set in.

Clint had withdrawn even more when they stopped, and it wasn't just being tired after riding all day. He did everything Logan told him with no complaint but he didn't offer his own opinion either. Finally, Logan couldn't take it anymore. He handed the kid a warmed up can of soup and broke the silence. "Where's your head at, bub?" he asked. "You've been moping since lunch."

Clint flinched. "I'm just wondering what you're going to do with me."

Logan snorted and grabbed his own can. "I'm not doing anything," he started but when Clint flinched again, Logan sighed and continued in a gentler tone. "I told you that we'd talk about your options and you can choose. You're in charge, kiddo." Clint's eyes widened in disbelief, but he didn't say anything so Logan kept going. "You tell me what you want and I'd do my damnest to make it happen. So what do you want?"

Clint stared into his soup and slowly took a bite before he answered, but Logan didn't press. They had all night. Finally Clint said, "I don't have as many options as you seem to think."

Logan shook his head. The poor kid seemed more lost than he'd been the other night and he wondered what Clint had been thinking about this whole time. It couldn't be good. "Well, let's list 'em then. I bet you have more than you think." He put down his can and pulled out the little notebook he kept in his pocket. He mostly used it to keep track of his mileage but it had other uses. "Slim'd laugh his ass off if he saw me makin' a list, but it'll be easiest this way. Okay, first question, do you have any family to go to? Anyone who'd take you in?"

Clint scoffed. "If I did, you'd think I'd be in the circus at 14?"

"I don't judge," Logan replied. "Fine, so your first option is to stick it out with me. We'd be traveling a lot and there'll be some legal issues we'd have to work out, but I'd help you deal with whatever SHIELD is up to and watch your back."

"That doesn't sound so bad," Clint said quietly. He was hunched over his soup, like he was trying to appear smaller. He seemed to do that a lot.

"Don't make up your mind till we discuss everything," Logan warned. It wasn't that he didn't want to help the kid, but he really wasn't the best guardian for a teenager and he felt Clint deserved better. But if, once Clint had all the facts and gave it some serious thought, that was what he wanted; like Logan said, he'd make it happen. "We could put you back in the system, and I know people who'll make sure you end up somewhere nice. I'd still watch your back, too."

Clint shook his head violently at that suggestion. "No way, there was a reason Barney and I ran from the group home. I'm not going back to that, ever. I'd rather sleep on the streets."

"That's an option too," Logan offered and at Clint's startled look he shrugged. "It's not a good option and I don't think I'd really let you choose it, but hey we're just making a list right now. They don't all have to be winners."

"Yeah, I don't really like that idea either," Clint admitted. He finally finished his soup can and put it down. When he pulled up his knees his chest, he looked like he was perched on the log.

"In the spirit of bad choices, we could just give you to SHIELD. I'm thinking they want to recruit you, which is odd but it'd be a structured environment that you'd probably thrive in, given time," Logan threw out, just to see Clint's reaction.

Clint sneered. "Nah, like you said, it smells funny. Why'd they want a scrawny teenager anyway? Probably for nothing good."

"True," Logan agreed. "Are you interested in school though? I got another friend who could probably get you in one of those fancy boarding schools or a military academy. You could get an education."

Clint shrugged. "Too stupid," he said indifferently. "Last time I was in a classroom was maybe five years ago and I wasn't exactly top of the class. I can shoot, that's about all I'm good for."

Logan growled deep in his chest, startling Clint so he fell off his log. "Stow it with that kind of nonsense. You're a bright kid. I can see that after spending two days with you, and whoever told you different was a bastard." He picked his can back up and viciously ate his soup until he calmed down enough to talk again. Clint stared at him with wide eyes, like a terrified rabbit. Logan figured he had some bad experiences with angry men and the thought just made him angrier. Finally, when Logan had relaxed again, he picked the notebook back up and considered it. "I can see where a normal school wouldn't be a good fit," he admitted and Clint perked up.

"Yeah, I'm too cool for school," the kid joked as he uncurled a little.

Logan huffed. "I do know of a school that caters to unusual circumstance, but you're not really the demographic they usually look for. We can try though, if you're interested."

"Not really," Clint admitted. "I do want to learn, sure, but I wouldn't fit. Besides, your shadow agency is still an issue."

"True," Logan nodded. "I think we should wait on making a decision until I find out what's going on." He threw back his head and groaned. "I need to call Fury. Then he'll want to do his covert spy thing with secret meetings and code words."

Clint laughed. "That sounds awesome." He rubbed the back of his neck nervously and looked over at Logan with a sheepish expression. "What would you say if I said that out of all the options we talked about, I kinda would like to stay with you?"

Logan snorted, looking into the fire so Clint couldn't see his face "Then we make it work, but I'm warning you, I've got my own problems. It probably isn't the safest option."

"Yeah, but I like you so far," Clint said with a shrug. "You've been nice and taken care of me and promised to protect me. No one has done that since Barney," he turned away to stare into the fire to, "and even he hadn't done it in a long time."

Logan got up to move next to the boy and lay a hand on his shoulder. Clint flinched, like before, but didn't pull away so Logan left his hand there. "I ain't gonna make promises I can't keep, Clint," Logan said, choosing his words carefully. "But I promise to do my best by you, even if you decided to go with someone else. I don't think you've heard it enough, but you are a good kid and you deserve at least that much."

"Yeah, well, that's not usually what people say I deserve," Clint said in a small voice.

"Then they're idiots, not that I listen to what people say anyway," Logan retorted. He sighed. "That's enough heavy stuff for tonight. I'll give ya' till tomorrow to think about it some more and if you still feel like that, I'll fill you in a bit on my side of the equation. It could change your mind, just warning ya."

Clint shrugged and leaned so he was resting against Logan's shoulder. "I'm always up for an adventure. Not sure if you know this about me, but I grew up in the circus."

With a laugh, Logan gently pushed the kid off and got up to fetch the water to put their fire out. "You're a real riot," he said, with more affection then he intended. "Now go to bed, brat. I want to make an early start."

Clint laughed and quickly curled up in his bedroll. "Good night, Logan," he said softly into the quiet night air.

"Night, kid," Logan answered as he lay down. They had a long way to go, Logan mused as he stared at the stars. He still didn't think he was the best choice for the boy, but he wasn't going to take away the boy's right to choose his own fate. Clint didn't know that Logan was a mutant though, so they needed to have that conversation which would lead to the conversation of Logan's history and his enemies. Sabertooth had been quiet lately, but Logan didn't figure on that lasting very long. Clint needed to be aware of the dangers. Regardless, everything could wait until tomorrow. As he heard Clint's breathing deepen into sleep, Logan closed his eyes and let himself sink into slumber, too.