WARNING! Scenes of rape and death mentioned in this chapter!

Anyways... Baby Clint is currently sleeping still in his bedroom. So glad for that. He's been really cranky these past couple of weekends. Not much has changed since my last post. Just getting mad at myself for missing my set update schedule. But anyways, next chapter. Please pay attention to the warning above!

Age: 13

"You mentioned that Old Man Winters never raped you. Did someone?" Natasha asked, changing the subject after the depressing silence that filled the room moments before. Clint almost laughed at what she deemed to be a good subject change. Yeah, he had once told her that he had been raped in his past but he never told her the story. She had told him her story and for some reason, she never cared about his. Until now. But then again, Clint realized a good while back that everyone was using this chance to find out as much about him as possible. He could only guess that this was the repercussion of being so secretive.

"Yeah," he said, knowing that Natasha already knew that and judging by her glare, she had only asked for the others sake. He smirked at her, knowing that he was getting her riled up. After a moment, she rolled her eyes. A sign that meant she knew what he was doing. For a moment, Natasha feared that Clint was already starting to close back up. He had gone through so many years of his life. So many stories. For one a private as him, it was a huge step to take. She was just waiting for when it would end.

"Who?" Bruce called when it seemed like Clint wasn't going to continue. Clint looked over to the doctor surprised. Out of everyone, he never expected him to be curious about that incident. Somehow, Clint had assumed that Bruce would actually ignore the whole subject. He believed Steve may have asked, just so he could find the person and punish them. Tony would have asked out of curiosity. Thor might had asked out of confusion and Natasha would just pressure him to open up more. Bruce looked sheepish at Clint's surprised glance. "I mean... When was it?"

"I was at Carson's. My act with Trickshot was beginning to get really popular. Carson was starting to hear from the crowds that they only came to see me. He was thinking of turning me into a single act. One of the tightrope walkers, Angela, happened to have a huge fascination in anyone who seemed popular. She cornered me one night after a show..."

"Hawkeye! Wait!" a woman's voice called from behind him. Not used to being called out, Clint wondered what he should do. Should he turn around and see who was calling him? Or should he just ignore it? Curiosity won out and Clint stopped to turn back and see who it was. It ended up being Angela, an older girl with brunette hair and deep brown eyes. She was the leader of the tightrope walking group. And the rumor was that she'd fuck a frog if he had enough attention drawn on him. "Oh good! I've been wanting to talk to you for a couple a days but could never catch you."

"What about?" Clint muttered as she laughed lightly about not being able to catch him. She smiled at him, tilting her head to hide her face slightly behind her eyes. It was a little creepy smile that set Clint's senses on fire. He almost stepped back.

"Well, I was thinking... We could talk in private?" she suggested. Clint frowned, not wanting to be with her alone. Many of the other folk had warned him about getting popular. And most of the women warned him about Angela. Supposedly, they believed she had sex with every man in the carnival. And knowing that he was still a virgin, many women wanted to keep him that way.

"I don't know... I mean, Trickshot demanded that I rest for tomorrow. We got three shows," Clint mentioned as if she didn't know that her group lost one of their spots to the archery duo. She nodded before inching closer to the new teen. The archer at least figured that she wasn't upset about losing the attention herself. But something about this seeming achingly wrong. Clint tensed, feeling uncomfortable with close to Angela.

"Well, we could rest together, I have some really tough shows coming on tomorrow," she claimed. Clint nodded, not really believing her. In fact, he was beginning to think that she had a different meaning for 'resting' then he did. Angela placed a hand on his arm and slowly rubbed it. In his two years since becoming Trickshot's apprentice, Clint had really grown a ton of muscle. It helped that Trickshot wanted to make Clint better and so he would change the draw strength on his bows every couple of weeks. Once Clint got too used to one strength, Trickshot would arrive with a new bow the next day. But every show was done with a draw strength lower than what he was training with so as to not have any miss shots. And trust me, a missed shot during a show proved very hazardous.

"Uh, I think we should just rest in our own tents," Clint told her, edging away from her. Angela pouted before gripping his arm and pulled it close to her. Clint tried not to tense as he felt the urge to rip his arm away from her. She didn't even notice his internal battle to fight being polite or to just run away from her.

"Oh, don't be a sour puss. Please! I rest better with someone lying next to me," she whined. Clint frowned, wishing that she didn't deem him worthy enough for that position. Slowly he shook his head.

"No, I'd rather sleep alone," he said. She whined and gripped his arm tighter and pulled him toward her tent. It was starting to seem like he wouldn't get a choice in this matter. Looking around, Clint was surprised to see that none of the other folk were around. Almost like Angela had been waiting for the precise moment when Clint would be alone.

"Please. I promise not to do anything," she lied. Clint groaned, not wanting to follow her but already she was beginning to drag him toward her tent. Trickshot walked out from the main tent and spotted the duo. Clint gave him a horrified look, knowing his master had demanded he go practice some of the shots that he almost missed on this latest show. Angela pouted over at the older gentleman. "He won't rest with me."

"Oh," Trickshot called, not surprised that Clint didn't understand what Angela wanted. He had fucked the girl when she was only seventeen. But that was years before. Now she stood there, a beautiful twenty year old girl who was addicted to sex as if it was a drug. Her last victim had been Trickshot's other apprentice. She had thought he was going to go all the way, like Trickshot had thought. But Clint surprised a lot of people.

"Tell him it's okay," she pouted. Trickshot looked to Clint's petrified face. Already the older man could tell that the teen was frightened for the morning training. Normally if Clint defied an order, Trickshot would 'punish' him. But tonight, Trickshot wasn't in the mood. The show had gone poorly in his mind because he had nearly missed ten of his own shots and Clint had only nearly missed two. It was getting harder and harder to go out with a boy that was better than him.

"I could care less," Trickshot waved it off and walked off. He knew that if Clint didn't do good in the shows the following day, he'd punish the teen with such ferocity, Clint would never be interested in sex again. Angela squealed in delight as she pulled Clint closer and closer to her tent. Clint wished he was brave enough to fight back, but instead he allowed himself to be dragged away.

"Oh, I can't wait!" Angela cried in delight. Clint winced as a few other members of the troupe noticed the duo heading to the girl's tent. A few shook their heads in disgust at her while others gave him a disappointed look, as if this was his choice. The worst was the fortune teller lady, Ms. Rosa. She sighed deeply at the duo as they passed but her eyes shown with resentment. And when their eyes meet, they turned guilty and Clint could tell that this wasn't going to be a restful night.

"We're just gonna sleep," Clint tried to confirm. Angela chuckled at his naivety. He was really wishing that he had better courage to just tell her to leave him alone. But he didn't and it wasn't long before she dragged him into her tent.

Angela had been with Carson's Carnival long enough to have saved up some money. Money that she frequently spent on items for her tent. A tent that she bought first so that she had a private area to have fun with the many men she meets. Inside Clint was pleased to see a nice padded down area on the ground that was covered in a rather large rug and multiple sets of pillows and blankets. All of it combined to looking like a beautiful bed. The rest of the place was covered in clothes of all sets, clothes that Clint knew to be her outfit. Far in the back was a mirror with a box set up below it that was covered in different colored powders and such.

"Wow," Clint muttered at the sight. Angela giggled before letting go of Clint and walking toward the back of the tent.

"I know, impressive, right?" she said as she began to strip off her costume from the show. Clint blushed and looked down at his own dingy costume. The purple suit had turned a little darker since before the show. He had done a lot of work and produced a lot of sweat. It might need to be cleaned before his next show. But for now, all he had was this.

"I think I'm gonna go get a change of clothes from my tent," Clint told Angela as he tried to sneak out. Angela spun to face him, giving him a full frontal of her rather medium sized breasts. Clint's blush deepened as he tried his damnedest to focus on her face. She placed her hands on her free hips and glared at him.

"Don't you dare. For what I have planned tonight, we won't need clothes," she snapped. Clint raised an eyebrow as his gaze drifted down. It took another minute to realize what she meant.

"Uh! No! I'm good," Clint cried, holding his hands up and backing away. Angela rushed back over to him and pulled him into her. Clint lost his balance and his face fell into her ample breasts. She laughed heartily before gripping the back of Clint's head and held him there. Clint fought against her, twisting his head back and forth in his attempt to get away. She continued to laugh as he basically tickled her chest with his movements. Just as he was about to pass out from lack of oxygen, Angela tossed him down onto her bed. There he laid as he tried to catch his breath. It gave her just enough time to strip the rest of her costume and climb on top. "Angela, I need to leave."

"You're fine, sweetheart," Angela cooed as she reached down to take of Clint's own dirty costume. He fidgeted before her but it just seemed to help her strip off his clothes. In only a few quick minutes, Angela had completely stripped him. She then paused to stare down at Clint's broad chest. It was covered in light scars but she was more fascinated with the muscle that rippled with each squirm he attempted to use to get away.

"Angela, stop," Clint begged. Angela ignored him and began to rub her hands across his chest. He tensed, wanting to throw her off of him but he couldn't find the strength. Her hands drifted across his chest and down his arms. When she got to his hips, she shifted down onto his legs and he propped himself up, thinking he could escape.

"Don't," she commanded before her hands shifted to the area above his member. Clint tensed, already feeling the blood rushing downward. Angela smirked as the member began to tense and grow at her gently prodding. Clint groaned at the feeling that he had never felt before. Yeah, he had gotten hard before, but never at someone else's touch. Slowly, his body fell back and began to relax into the feeling of Angela playing with an area he had never really focused on.

"Oh," Clint moaned. Angela smirked and leaned closer, her breath tickling the hairs that covered the area. Clint shuddered, looking down over his chest just in time to see her light pink tongue dart out and lick the tip of his member. He moaned again and his head dropped back. "Angela, please!"

"Oh, just you wait," she promised, not understanding that Clint had actually been asking her to stop and not continue. In a move that shocked Clint into stillness, Angela wrapped her mouth around the throbbing part. When she started to shift up and down, licking and nibbling on the member, Clint began to understand what was going on. He placed his hands on her shoulders to try and push her off. Angela used that to lick the tip again which made his muscle weaken and so she would drop back down. He moaned, this time in agony.

"Angela!" Clint cried, wishing that he didn't sound so desperate. It only made Angela smirk, thinking she was doing her job properly. She had no clue that Clint was wanting this whole thing to end so he could escape. All she knew was that she was causing him pleasure and she was certain that she'd get hers after. She kept plugging away at it, making Clint grow more and more crazier with unbidden feelings. After a few more pushes, Angela nibbled on his tip and he cried out as white fluid shot into her face. She laughed hysterically at that as Clint fell back into the bed in the throes of his first orgasm from someone else's hands.

"Who knew you'd be so quick!" Angela announced in peals of laughter. Clint blushed, unsure if that was a good thing or not. Calming, Angela shifted further up onto Clint. He gasped at the wet slit that landed on his rapidly refilling member.

"Angela-" Clint began in protest. She silenced him with her now sticky lips. When she backed away, Clint almost gagged when he realized that she had kissed him with his juices all over her face.

"Uh uh. My turn now," Angela demanded. Clint frowned, trying to figure out what she meant. His member was back to its full length now and Angela slammed it into her without preparing either of them. Clint screamed in a mix of horror, surprise, revulsion and pleasure. Angela joined in his cried as she went about pleasing herself. Clint couldn't mentally handle it. He took one last look at Angela, as she threw her head back, before blanking out.

"Angela didn't just do it that night. She kept at me for almost half a year. Every night. I couldn't escape her. As a tightrope walker, Angela didn't fear heights. Hell, at times she would end up higher than me," Clint admitted, blocking out all feelings so he could say the whole story. He kept his eyes focused on the wall furthest from him so he wouldn't have to see his friends. Natasha had stopped pacing to stand away from Clint. She focused on a corner of the room. Tears leaked from her eyes. Tony focused on the ground. He had gone through a rape himself. Not many knew that he had been raped. Instead, they assumed he was the rapist. He covered up his feelings about the whole thing by becoming a sex addict and so no one really focused on it.

"Why... Did she stop?" Steve muttered, more to himself than to anyone. Clint focused on him, surprised at the captain daring to ask such a question. Thor twitched away as he remembered Frigga once yelling at him for asking Loki a very similar question during their childhood. Even Bruce looked at the super solider oddly. Steve took an extra second before realizing that everyone was staring at him. Turning up, he realized he had spoken aloud. Embarrassed, Steve turned away from Clint. "Sorry."

"No, it's... Fine... She... She ended up pregnant," Clint answered, praying he wouldn't have to go into the full story of what happened. Hell, he wished he could forget what happened. But anytime he was forced to recall the rape, he remembered what happened to Angela.

"You are a father?" Thor loudly questioned. Clint winced at the sound. It was almost as if the demigod was shouting it to the world. The others turned to Clint stunned at the realization that indeed the god was right. If Angela ended up pregnant and she had been going after Clint nightly, than he would be the father of said child.

"No."

"What happened?" Tony asked when Clint didn't continue. The archer tensed, not wanting to remember but was already mentally reliving the event. At least he was among friends, he thought as tears began to fill his eyes.

"You've been gaining weight," Neal, another tightrope walker, accused of Angela one day after practice. Clint stopped walking to his own practice archery range at the words. He had noticed lately that Angela had been getting heavier on him and had become a bit more aggressive during sex. Having assumed it was his imagination, Clint never mentioned it. Hell, he was afraid that Angela might beat him if he mentioned it to her. "It's been getting harder to hold you during that last stunt."

"Oh, you're just a wuss," Angela cooed, having once used Neal in the same way she currently used Clint. In the back of her mind, she knew this to be true but hated having it pointed out to her. So instead, she turned it around onto Neal. Neal was insecure with his strength. Outside of the 'Strong Man,' and maybe even Clint, Neal was the strongest person in the carnival. He was also insanely jealous of another member of their group, Sean. "Maybe I should get Sean to grab me instead."

"Sean's weaker than me! Besides, he doesn't know the routine!" Neal pleaded, wishing he could take back what he said. Angela scoffed, having known that fact before. All she wanted was to change the subject off her weight. And while this wasn't completely off that topic, making Neal become really jealous of a guy she fucked long before Neal was fun.

"He has a few hours before the show," Angela mentioned off-handed. Neal shook his head as Angela began to walk off.

"It took me weeks to learn the whole routine! Angela!" Neal whined. Angela chuckled to herself, pleased that she knew how to manipulate the men around her. Neal shifted closer to Angela in an effort to stop her from moving. "Please, don't let Sean do the routine!"

"You should learn not to mention a woman's weight. Ever," Angela snapped before storming off, faking a pissed off mood. Neal took off after her, shouting her name. Clint shook his head. He half wondered if Angela would let Sean take Neal's role. It would be highly dangerous. Even when Neal was the catcher, the routine was dangerous. Clint had seen it once before. The safety net would be taken down before Angela and Neal would do an elaborate 'dance' on the many ropes stationed above the main tent floor. Near the end of the 'dance,' Angela would leap across most of the ropes toward Neal. But she would miss the rope she wanted and as she fell, Neal would rush across that particular rope in time to catch her. It was that end that made the show really popular.

"Oh god!" Bruce called, seeing the ending to this. Tony, Steve and Natasha even looked at Clint stunned. Thor was still lost in the story to understand the conclusion that they all drew. Clint took one glance at them before knowing that they all came to the right assumption. Slowly he nodded. "No."

"Yeah. Sean took Neal's place. Neal had apparently insulted Angela before the show for a second time. I watched the show from the ground. Sean ended up on the wrong rope and Angela was too distracted to see," Clint explained. Here he sighed as he remembered watching her fall. A huge smile on her face until she looked up and didn't see Sean there to catch her. Horrified, her screams mixed with the crowds as she plummeted to the ground. "Surprisingly, the town we were in actually cared why she died. They did an investigation. Without being able to prove if Sean or Neal was the culprit, the police ordered an autopsy. Her sex scandals having made them think that was why."

"But she had been fucking you? Did she cheat on you?" Tony interrupted. Clint laughed at that.

"Wouldn't be surprised if she did... But... They found out she was over four months pregnant. That was why she had gotten heavier. There was then a test performed on the... The thing... Knowing she was a sex addict, the police compared it to everyone," Clint replied, feeling more upset by this than he was used to.

"Why?" Tony questioned, feeling indignant to more people knowing that Clint had fathered a now dead child. Clint gave him an odd look. "I mean, who the fuck cared?"

"They needed to know if Sean was in the wrong place intentionally. If the baby was Neal's, Sean would be accused of murder. If the baby was Sean's, then Neal backed down to be her partner knowing that Sean wouldn't do well in the routine. So he'd be accused of murder. Even though the whole carnival knew that Angela was screwing me, no one anticipated the baby to be mine," Clint muttered, remembering the police walking up to him with an apologetic face. He had known that it was his kid the second it was announced that she was pregnant. But having it confirmed, hurt more than finding out.

"You weren't accused?" Bruce wondered after a minute. Clint nodded, having been surprised about that at the time. "I mean... She raped you. That's good motive there."

"Neal and Sean were supposedly honest enough to say that they were the only two involved. And no one fought that," Clint explained. He had actually never known why the police never tried to accuse him. All he knew is that after the autopsy, the case was dropped and Carson packed them all up and moved on without attending Angela's funeral.