Age: 8
Clint kind of faded out as everyone set about getting ready to transfer him from the Helicarrier to Stark Tower. He still thought that Tony was doing too much and that he'd regret this whole thing later. S.H.I.E.L.D medical was fine. No need to make too much hassle. Especially not for him. But as he was carefully moved to a wheelchair, Clint let his mind wander to a darker time in his life. A time that he prayed no one ever found out about.
It was a month and a half after his 8th birthday that Clint found his favorite hiding spot. Tucked up in the rafters of an old barn that Winters claimed was on his property, Clint created a small 'nest.' He hid all of most prized possessions up there. A photo of his family, his favorite book from Winter's library, a couple of comfy blankets, two pillows that he had stolen from some empty beds, and some old Captain America comic books. Barney had bought those before coming to the orphanage and gave them to Clint when he got sick of reading them. Thankfully, Clint had seen Barney reading them enough that he had the words memorized.
"Get in there!" Old Man Winters roared, barging into the barn so loudly that it startled Clint. He almost dropped one of the comic books in his surprise. Looking down, Clint saw Old Man Winters pushing a shorter frame around. Leaning further over the extra thick beam he was on, Clint focused on the other person. It was a boy, about seven or eight with dark chocolate brown hair. But the real feature that set him apart in Clint's mind will always be the old healed up scar of a knife wound going from the boy's blind right eye down to the left cheek bone.
"Toby!" Clint whispered in shock. Toby was new to the orphanage. He had actually arrived dead on Clint's birthday. When the boy found out, Toby said that as a present they could be friends. Clint agreed and they had gotten real close until Clint caught Toby stealing some of the other kids things. The boy claimed that they gave it to him, till Clint noticed one of his shirts in Toby's collected pile. Clint never told Old Man Winters about it, or any of the other boys involved. But it seemed everyone had noticed their 'falling apart'.
"Gonna teach you a lesson, boy," Old Man Winters loudly snarled, pushing the boy deeper into the barn. Toby stumbled a few steps before turning in time to catch Winters's open palm against his right cheek. Clint frowned, thinking it might be a good idea to leave, but figured Winters was in a worse mood than normal and the old man didn't know he was here. No good losing his best hiding spot over something like this. So, Clint just watched. Toby dropped to the ground when he caught a second hit. This time a backhand against his deadened left cheek.
"Please, sir! I promise not to do it again!" Toby cried, sounding more horrified than ever before. Clint rolled his eyes, knowing that Toby had promised such things before. But then again, Clint had never seen Old Man Winters punish Toby for stealing. Winters laughed at the boy before backhanding him again. Toby fell to the side and Winters promptly kicked the in his chest. "No! Stop!"
"No! You damn brat! I ain't gonna look stupid again! You're done!" Winters grunted, kicking Toby again, this time in the boy's stomach. Toby let out a 'woof' of air and barely caught his breath before Winter's kicked again, catching his arms this time. Clint watched on in horror as Toby tried his best to defend himself against the old man. But one good kick hit his forehead. Clint stared as Toby's head snapped back with a loud crack and then he stopped moving. Winters didn't notice. He kept kicking until he ran out of breath a few minutes later. Clint silently stared, holding back his sobs of horror as he noticed that Toby's body had twisted to look up at his hiding place. With his good eyesight, Clint could clearly see Toby's lifeless brown eyes focusing on him. The mouth was slightly open, as if Toby had been in the middle of crying out.
"Ah!" Clint let out when he spotted a final muscle twitch from Toby's foot. Winters looked up at that point and looked down at Toby. He was used to seeing boys twisted up in pain, trying to cover as much of their bodies as possible. Not just laying there like a useless pile of trash.
"Toby?" Winters muttered after he caught his breath. It took him a while to realize that Toby wasn't breathing. Slowly, Winters looked the boy over. Clint knew there was nothing that Old Man Winters could do. But still, he watched as Winters tried to revive Toby. Time passed as Winters began to realize what he had done. Clint watched when he finally understood that he was screwed. Old Man Winters sat back, staring down at the body. "Shit."
They sat like that for a while. Above the graphic scene, Clint watched, wondering what the old man would do next. An hour passed before Winters suddenly smiled. He stood, grabbed the body by its left ankle and dragged it out of the barn. Clint waited another minute before letting out a sobbing sigh. It was that moment that Clint finally understood what he had watched. Tears formed as he realized that Toby was dead and never coming back. Curling into a ball, Clint sobbed and cried for the boy he had known.
A shocking jolt made Clint jerk back into awareness. Pain flared from one of his still healing injuries. Gasping, he glanced around. Everyone was in a seat, strapped in. He was strapped to a medical table in the jet, rather than the wheelchair he last remembered being in. Bruce looked over as Clint looked toward the doc.
"Hurricane," the doc mentioned with the archer prompting. "How you doing?"
"Pain," Clint grunted as the jet twisted again. He groaned. Bruce frowned but nodded as if he had expected as much.
"You were due up for some meds just before we took off, but I was afraid you'd fall asleep on the flight," Bruce told him. Clint nodded. He normally either flew the jet himself or slept in the back. As much as everyone claimed he loved to fly, he actually hated being a passenger. The jet suddenly dropped and then regain the altitude. Clint hissed, narrowly missing Bruce's sympathetic grimace. "Sorry."
"No, it's fine," Clint moaned. Natasha, who had positioned herself sitting above his head, shifted to face him. Slowly she began running her fingers through his hair. Clint hummed in contentment. Natasha continued until he closed his eyes. Then she stopped. Whining, he opened his eyes and looked at her. She softly smiled.
"Don't want you sleeping," she murmured in Russian. He pouted but she shook her head. "You had us worried," she continued, still in Russian. Clint raised his eyebrow in surprise. "You were lost in thought. What were you thinking about?"
"I don't want to remember it again," Clint silently answered in Russian. Natasha raised her own eyebrow, staring at him in confusion. He shook his head. Her eyes softened and she began rubbing his head again. Slowly, Clint relaxed into the feeling.
"What's up?" Clint heard Steve whisper to Natasha as he closed his eyes once again. The jet jerked and he hissed in pain over her answer. "Oh."
"Barney! Barney!" Clint cried, running into his older brother's room. No one else was in the room. Not that Clint cared, the more people that heard, the better. Barney glanced up in surprise. Neither brother had really spoken to each other in the past couple of months. He had no clue why Clint would suddenly come looking for him now. "BARNEY!"
"What? What? What?" Barney replied. Clint would normally have smirked and laughed at the older boy's response but he was too frightened too. It was only six hours prior that he had witnessed Old Man Winters kill Toby. He had no idea what Barney had already heard from the lying old man.
"Toby! He's... He's dead!" Clint loudly called. Barney frowned, having heard different news. But Winters had mentioned that younger kids tended to see the world differently from older kids. So he shouldn't be surprised.
"Old Man Winters just called the cops. Said he run away," Barney told the younger boy. Clint desperately shook his head.
"No! I just saw it! Winters killed Toby!" Clint screeched. Barney rolled his eyes, beginning to think that Clint was just too upset that his newest friend had left. Trying to be a good older brother, Barney pulled Clint into a hug. Both boys froze at the strange contact. Neither was used to the feeling. Barney unfroze first and began awkwardly patting Clint on the back.
"It's okay," Barney tried to soothe. Clint frowned as Barney continued to awkwardly try to help. This wasn't what he wanted. Backing away, Clint glared at his brother. "The cops are looking for Toby. He'll come back."
"He's dead. Winters snapped his neck," Clint sobbed, still angry at his brother. Barney frowned and went again to calm Clint down but the younger boy shook his head. "Toby is dead! Why won't you believe me?"
"Clint," a soft voice murmured in his ear. Surprised, Clint opened his eyes. Natasha was leaning over his head with a worried look but once he opened his eyes, she smiled. "We're at the tower."
Clint nodded as Bruce began unbuckling the restraints they had used to transport him. Once free, Bruce and Natasha shifted Clint into a sitting position. He wavered there, blinking as his world spun. Steve pushed a wheelchair over at Bruce's nod and slowly the group worked him into it. Once he was seated, they worked their way to Tony's new medical facility, somewhere in the tower.
"You okay?" Bruce asked when they got into the elevator. Clint shook his head yes as he shifted to get his ribs comfortable in the damned chair. Bruce smirked at the archer. "Need any meds?"
"Please?" Clint nearly begged when the elevator jerked into motion. Bruce frowned and turned to Natasha. She shook her head no.
"Can you wait until we get to the medical area?" Bruce questioned. Clint groaned but agreed to it.
"What were you thinking about on the flight?" Steve muttered when the elevator went silent. Tony and Thor had gone on before them to make sure everything was ready. Clint shrugged, really not wanting to talk about it. In fact, he was basically done with talking about his past. Natasha frowned and poked Clint's arm. He shook his head no.
"Clint," Natasha whispered, almost sounding desperate.
"I don't want to talk about it," Clint nearly snapped. Natasha jerked back in shock. Bruce, Steve and Natasha traded looks with frowns on their faces. The elevator slowly stopped. Clint hissed at the sudden loss of motion. Slowly, Steve took the handles and began gently pushing Clint into the hallway that would lead them to the medical wing. Tony and Thor were waiting outside a door.
"Got it all ready for ya!" Tony happily called down the hall. Clint nodded, looking away from the billionaire with a depressed sigh. Tony frowned and glanced at Natasha. She shook her head but said nothing as they all entered the room. Silently, Steve and Bruce worked to get Clint into the bed and comfortable. Turning around, Bruce began to get a needle ready with some pain medication.
"Am I okay to rest now?" Clint grumpily asked. Bruce stiffened, pulling a little too much meds into the needle. With a deep sigh, Bruce readjusted the meds and turned to look at Clint.
"It hasn't been 24 hours yet," Natasha pointed out. Bruce frowned, injecting the meds into Clint's arm. The archer jumped at the pinch from the needle but relaxed as the meds flowed into his blood stream. Clint groaned and relaxed into the bed. His eyes drifted closed.
"I glanced over his chart on the flight over. You've had concussions before?" Bruce mentioned, sounding more like a question than a statement. Clint nodded, keeping his eyes closed. "I... I think you should be fine."
"Good. Get out," Clint grumped, rolling over to his side in an effort to get comfortable. The others stiffened at his tone but figured it had more to do with the amount of pain he was in than anything. Slowly, they all began to leave. Natasha was the last one.
"I wish you'd tell us everything," she muttered. Clint huffed.
"Not much more I can tell that you already can't guess. Became Hawkeye, was put as main act at the circus, went through a shit ton of handlers in less than a year before Coulson became my last chance. Still on my last chance," Clint groaned to her. Natasha frowned, wishing that he could be as detailed with all that as he had been before. He sighed deeply. "Look, I just don't want to talk about it anymore."
"I get that. Just... Know that we're here for you," Natasha said. Clint nodded. She drifted deeper into the hall. "I'll check on you later."
Clint waved to her, letting her know that he had heard her. With a frown, Natasha closed the door. Clint glanced over to the door and could see the others' shadows from the opaque glass door. They seemed to converse at the door before slowly drifting away. Clint sighed deeply and relaxed back into the bed as the medication began to kick in. He closed his eyes as a tear formed.
"I'm sorry."