Every city was much like another one.

Tony sped through the streets, trying to remain calm as he headed towards the county jail, where Clint was most likely being kept.

He really didn't want to come back here.

"Oh God… here we go." He muttered.

It was a small town… filled with the richest of the rich, and nosiest people in America who spread gossip as quickly as diesease.

He saw all the rich boys parading around, hanging their new cars that their daddies had probably bought them for going to school a full month in a row.

Nothing changed.

The county jail was as dark and dingy as he remembered.

"Tony Stark, here to see Clint Barton." He stated to the guard on duty, who looked completely stunned to see him.

Everyone knew the Stark name in this town.

"R-Right!" The guard eventually stammered, leaning in to press the speaker button, "Can I have a guard on duty come to the front desk. There's a Mister…. Stark, here to see Clint Barton."

There was a crackle over the speaker, followed by silence.

"Can you… can you repeat that?"

The guard did, as the other man confirmed that he would be down shortly.

And so, Tony waited patiently, trying not to appear like he was impatient as he did so. It looked rude and never helped with their relationship with law enforcement.

It didn't take long for the guard to arrive, gesturing for Tony to follow him through the dark corridors. Eventually, they entered a largish room, that was split in two by glass, desk and phones on either side.

"Take a seat there." The guard pointed at the end desk

"Thank you."

In the other half of the room, the door opened as a familiar face was brought into the room.

Clint didn't look overly different. He definitely had more muscle than when they were younger…. He was still just as handsome though.

Clint looked shocked to see him, as though he hadn't been the one to call Tony asking him to come.

Maybe he believed Tony wouldn't come and help him.

Clint left him… now that he thought about it, what reason did he have to be here?

And then Clint smiled, and Tony remembered why.

He waited until Clint took a seat, picking up the phone so that they could talk.

"Hey Tony." He whispered, "How- How have you been?"

"… Good." Tony forced out, "I've been… good."

Enter awkward silence.

"Why have you called me Clint." Tony eventually sighed, "What happened?"

"Some bullshit." Clint sighed, "I had a good job as a mechanic, and then some cops come and tell me I'm under arrest for theft of a motor vehicle and manslaughter, possible murder!"

Tony blinked in surprise.

Manslaughter which might possibly be upgraded to murder…. That was very serious.

"And did you- "

"- I didn't steal a thing!" Clint hissed, "Hell, I didn't know anything about it until the cops came knocking on my front door!"

"Why you?"

Clint shrugged, "Easy target?"

No… there was something else going on here.

"Tony?"

"Hmmm?"

"I'm really glad you're here."

"Who accused him?" Tony asked the guard, who winced.

"Ummm… Mister Stark."

"Yeah?"

"No, I mean…" The guard sighed, "… Howard Stark accused him. It was his car in the accident."

That… put a damper on things.

Tony hated this house.

He didn't realise just how much he hated it until he pulled up outside of it.

He could still remember the day he left, running so far when his Father tried to have him married off to the daughter of one of his friends (who was already pregnant!)

"You know boy…"

Tony winced at the familiar voice from the porch.

"… Backing into the driveway would make getting out easier. How are you meant to see oncoming like that?"

Tony rolled his eyes, "You live out in the middle of nowhere. There's no oncoming traffic, nothing I need to worry about."

There was a cold look in his Father's eyes.

It reminded Tony about how his Father stopped hugging him after he turned ten, telling him that handshakes were more suitable for a growing boy.

His family was like a Picasso painting.

As his Father stormed into the garden, not giving Tony the chance to speak, the young man rolled his eyes, storming into the home, automatically heading towards his room.

Opening the door, he cursed in Italian as he peered inside.

Junk… just junk.

"Honey?"

Turning to the right, he saw his mother cautiously moving closer, a soft look on her face, only to be replaced when she saw the state of his room.

"Your… Father decided to keep his important ideas and prototypes in here." She whispered.

"Despite living in a literal mansion, and having plenty of empty rooms for shit like this?"

"Tony, I- " She sighed, "- We have a guest room available."

"I'm not a guest, I'm your son!" Tony slammed the door shut, pulling out his mobile, "I'll book a room in a hotel."

"Tony, you can- "

"- This is a power play from HIM!" Tony ignored his mother, storming down the hallway, "And I'm not dealing with that bullshit!"

Never again.

…..

When he reached the hotel, collapsing onto the bed, he couldn't help but think back to another one of his Father's power plays.

Every time his Father and Mother would 'forget' to invite him somewhere, meaning that he was late to every event, every meal, which of course, gave Howard Stark the perfect excuse to scold his son for being irresponsible.

Clint was the one who helped him.

Clint was the one who rolled his eyes and told Tony that he didn't have to show up to these events at all if his Father was going to be like that.

That was probably the beginning of the end really.

Rolling over, he buried his face into his pillow and screamed.

He really needed a drink right about now.

….

Deciding that the inevitable conversation with his Father would have to wait until he was in a calmer mood, Tony went to the police compound in order to examine the car that had been involved in the accident.

Thankfully, the police were all too ready to show him the vehicle, believing that it was a simple enough case.

It was definitely his Father's car…. The Cadillac.

This in itself was suspicious. The Cadillac was kept in the garage that had some of the best security measures in place.

If someone wanted to steal a car, they would be better off going for the Porsche… or the Ferrari. The ones that were just out in the open!

Clint was smart, even if he didn't believe it himself.

Examining the car a little closer, he noticed that the right front headlight and fender were ruined, a clear indication that something was hit.

There were also small traces of something that looked like blood on the fender.

"Excuse me!" He called out to the officer on duty, "I assume this has all been forensically examined."

The man shrugged, "They took a sample of the blood and checked the steering wheel for fingerprints."

"… And?"

"It was wiped clean, and the blood hasn't come back from the lab yet."

Wiped clean… definitely suspicious, but not indicative that Clint had anything to do with it.

"Do Cl- Mister Barton's fingerprints appear anywhere else?"

The officer shrugged, "They only checked the blood and the steering wheel."

"Well, I want the rest of it checked for fingerprints and other evidence." Tony ordered, "As it stands, there's no proof Mister Barton was driving this car. Only that it was involved in a hit and run."

The other man clearly wasn't happy, but nodded anyway and headed back into the main building.

Tony took notes on his phone, taking his own pictures before heading out.

He needed to talk to his Father.