I wanted some angst.

Phil is 16.

Phillip attempted to quietly inch through the kitchen to the fridge. The left side of his face throbbed as he looked through a slightly swelling eye for the frozen peas. He didn't know why they had any, it's not like Amelia or Clint was eating them. Phil found the bag and gently placed it over his eye as he made his way back to the couch and pulled the hood up on his sweatshirt.

Phillip laid back on the cushions, trying to ease the pounding in his head. The red head shoved his hand in his pocket, feeling the crumpled paper bills from tonight. Almost eight hundred fifty bucks. A small smile graced his lips when he thought of the guy who bet him five hundred that he couldn't last ten minutes in the ring with him. It was a stretch, the other guy was at least a foot and a half taller than Phil, with maybe a hundred pounds on him and landed a few good hits on the teen, but Phillip lasted. Got in a few punches and kicks himself, and had five hundred dollars in cash in his hand ten minutes later.

Yes, underground fighting and gambling was usually frowned upon, but damn did it pay good if you could do it. And could Phil do it. It was hard to find someone who would even put him in the ring at first. A five foot six teenager in a warehouse with little to no money and absolutely no experience in this game made Phillip vastly underestimated. He had to admit it was quite hilarious when the first guy they put him in the ring with only took Phillip seconds to pin him and have the schmuck tap out.

'Tiny cracker came outta no where and just beat the fuck outta my main matches.' That's what Marvi said when he first saw Phil fight the first night. Marvi was like a ringmaster, he organized the matches, held the bets, pick fight nights, made sure the cops weren't on anyone's tail, he ran the whole show. And he liked Phillip, kid only lost about five matches in the seven months he'd been doing this whole thing, made Marvi a lot of money.

Phillip started a few weeks after they Mark got back from Ross. Only wanted a little cash to get him something to cheer him up. Boy was the human embodiment of depression, stuck in a bed all day, Phil just wanted something to entertain the kid. He got cocky, lost a match, owed almost 3K, had to keep fighting for money to get out of it. After that he just didn't really stop.

So now the teen was sitting alone in the living room at four in the morning with a bag if frozen peas over his days and with eight hundred bucks in his pocket. He knew Clint would kill him if he ever found out. But that doesn't necessarily mean Phil would stop going to that warehouse every time Clint was out of the house.

~One Week Later~

"C'mon lil fucker!" Marvi shouted from the side of the ring as Phillip landed another hit. He smirked at the man rooting for him, for no purpose except that he had a bet on him, and gave a little eye roll. The other guy in the ring was a no body, he was big, but obviously he had never been here before, bet Phil two hundred he couldn't pin him. The ware house was not the only place in the city for matches, this was the one farthest away from the Tower, not too many people here but still big enough to form a large crowd, chants on who they thought would win were deafening. The makeshift bell rang at the side of the ring. The ring was once a professional boxing ring, the ropes now gone, replaced by wooden bars. it wasn't even lifted off the ground, just a dirt floor stained with blood.

Phil danced around the man, a smirk still on his face as they circled around each other. The challenger started towards Phillip, swinging his right fist at his head. Phil quickly ducked and spun around to face the man's back. The teen planted a boot to the back of his knee, he gave out and Phil only had to place his elbows to the guy's temple before it was lights out for a few seconds. The man reeled and tried to stand up again, only to stumble and have Phil grab his hair, land a hit on the side of his face and he was down again.

The teenager leaned back on the wooden rails, an amused grin on his face as he watched the other man get to his feet again. He could've put him down right then and there, get this whole match over with, but these people who come here. To bet, to fight, to recruit. They want a show, a five second fight own going to cut it, if they get bored, they don't bet, they don't bet, there's no business and no show.

The man got to his feet again, tried to get Phil with a right cross, he grabbed the incoming arm and twisted, the guy letting out a small cry. His left fist came up, Phil ducked and let go of the other arm. Before he could spin out if the way, the man quickly grabbed his hair and planted a fist to Phillip's face. A chorus of 'ohs' came from the crowd. Two more hits had the kid reeling, but he stretched out his leg to kick the guy off his feet. The teen grabbed the arm holding his hair, twisted again and shoved its owner to the ground after flipping him on his back. Phil placed his knees and the man's shoulder blades, the audience cheered. He spit out a glob of blood before speaking arrogantly in the loser's ear. "Pinned."

The boy collected his money and sat on the fence. His phone buzzed in his pocket. 'New Text Message' blinked across the screen.

From Clint.

Get home. Now.

"Shit." He let out under his breath. He pulled on his hoodie and tried to squeeze through the crowd. Only to get caught by Marvi when he placed a dark skinned hand on his shoulder.

"Where you think you're goin?" He asked over the roaring crowd, two other guys were already in the ring.

"I'm done for the night." Phillip shouted back.

"Listen listen, I got two other fights lined up but after that the place is open for free for alls. C'mon, I'll let you pick anyone you want, whatever dude you see in this crowd, five hundred a match. Half for me, half for you."

Phil had to roll his eyes. Money money money. That was all Marvi. "I'm done for the night." His tone was harsher as he shoved off Marvi's hand from his shoulder. The man placed his hands up in surrender.

"Alright, okay, don't get all violent."

With one more glare, Phillip pulled up his hood and stalked out of the warehouse. He eventually got himself to the subway and reached the Tower.

He attempted to pull his hood over more to cover his fading bruised eye from last week and the formed bruises from tonight. He kept his sore hands in his pockets, knowing they would be dark already from tonight. Phillip tried to slip through the dim kitchen, the only light from the digital clock on the microwave.

"So," Clint's voice sounded from the kitchen table. Phil stopped where he was, the red head didn't even have to look at his father, he heard the disapproval lying under the calmness in his voice. "You're out late."

"Uh, yeah." Phil tried to act normally. Like as if he wasn't on the verge of panicking.

"Where've you been?"

The boy tried to change the subject. "Thought you wouldn't be back till Sunday?"

"Where have you been, Phillip." It wasn't a question anymore.

"Just, out. You know? Been driving around."

"You didn't take your car."

"I've been walking." He rephrased the lie. While it might have worked on anyone else's parent, Clint was almost always able to see right through the teen's excuses.

"Fine." This time he decided to wait it out, his tone lost the hardness. "Just go to bed soon, it's late. School starts again next week."

"Mm hmm." He started to shuffle out of the kitchen to his room before calling out a 'Night.'

A single thought raced through the father's head as Phil exited the room.

Now what do I do with you?

~Three Weeks Later~

Marvi lightly slapped his fighter's face. The kid was totally out. Took up a fight with one the big guys. Some dude calling himself The Red Hood or something. Marvi's seen him before when he was dealing in some other big city a few years ago. Guy was good, Phil thought he would last the bet for ten minutes in the ring with Red. The kid didn't even last five before he was totally unconscious, lost a bet for ten thousand. For as good as Phillip was, he never earned that sort of money, nor could he pay it off now. Marvi knows that.

"C'mon, you little fucker. Dude's pissed at you." Marvi grabbed a bottle of water, splashed the whole bottle at Phil. The teen blinked blearily and his face scrunched up in pain when the after affects of the beating came to him. "Yeah, yeah. I bet you already sore."

"Who won?"

"Not you. You're lucky I got that dude in for another round with some other idiot. Told him you'd pay him when you woke up. Now get outta here man, before he kills you." He pulled Phillip up to standing position, holding out his hoodie that he always wore to the warehouse.

The kid took that as a silent 'I got your back for now' and quickly made his way out. The whole way home he was almost shaking, throwing glades over his shoulder, trying to keep his bruised face covered. He refused to make eye contact with anyone on the subway car.

Ten grand.

Dammit, how stupid did he have to be to take that bet? The Red Hood wasn't the biggest he'd ever seen, Phillip though the money was a bluff, some sorta poker face deal. The red head never expected this guy to be a fucking Bruce Lee/Chuck Norris/Batman love child. It took him minutes to catch the teen, then it was no mercy. Hit and after hit after hit, kick after kick, Red wouldn't give him a moment to breathe. There was no show in this guy. Now Phillip owed this ass money he could never get on his own.

He was totally and utterly screwed.

And this Red Hood did not seem like a person who would wait for Phil to earn the money.

He almost made it home.

Phil could see the lit up A from the Tower (Tony decided to just leave it like that after the New York battle), only about ten blocks away. There was no real discreet route from there on, he just prayed that no one followed him from the warehouse.

Apparently no one up there was listening.

He just rounded the corner into an ally when he stopped suddenly. The Red Hood guy was standing casually at the mouth, twirling a metal pipe in his hand. Damn Marvi must have squealed, man's got a big mouth but there's no way in hell he'd ever beat anybody in a fight. To his credit, Phillip did run faster than anyone else. Usually. This time he only made it three blocks before Red caught up to him. He was trying to climb a fire escape, Red caught his leg at the last second and yanked him to his hands and knees.

"Where's the cash kid?" Trepidation rose rapidly through Phil's rather small frame. Red just stood over him, rough deep voice doubling the fear that was already in the teenager because dammit he didn't have his pistol.

He coughed a few times, blood already dripping down his face again from before. "I'll get it to you." He pretended not to be surprised when he heard his shot his voice sounded.

"Not the right answer." The man's voice held no pity. He picked up Phil by the neck and pinned him against the wall of the ally. He shoes scraped the brick but didn't touch the ground.

"I'll pay you back." He chocked out. The man threw him to the ground, eyes still cold.

The teen didn't see one ounce of sorry in his expression as he lifted the pipe.

Phillip limped into the apartment hours after. His whole body throbbed with pain. All of his ribs hurt, maybe even broken one. His left eye was swelled up again like last month, and already he felt the bruises get darker. The teen already vomited in the ally, along with some blood. He still spit out a glob every few minutes, once with chips of tooth mixed in. If he was lucky his nose might not be broken, definitely his hip was cracked, the kid felt it when he walked.

He eventually got to the main bathroom. The light even on the dimmest setting still had his concussed head throbbing. There were angry bruises ringing his neck, almost his whole face, complete with blood dripping down. He didn't even want to look at his abdomen or back or chest or anything else. Frozen peas weren't gonna do much this time.

He spit up another spray of blood into the sink. Phil was surprised Red didn't just kill him right in that alleyway. He was so thankful that the fighter didn't know where he lived. The red head stumbled back to the kitchen, found some actual ice, and plopped down on the living room couch. It wasn't long before he passed out again.

~Four Days Later~

By some miracle Amelia didn't wake up to see Phillip knocked out on the couch looking like he was dead. There was the problem of school going on again, Phil was way too sore to actually drive there anymore, so the bus was now the way. It had only taken days for the rumor about his homosexuality to spread, and man, were kids cruel. It had taken mere hours for Bobby to drop him ("Listen, I really like you, but I can't really have anyone else knowing about...all this."), apparently the jock had no connection to Phil at all, according to his story.

He stopped blaming Abby, she had never meant to make his life a real Hell on Earth. Today was exactly the same, no one aware of his sore body as they slammed him against the walls 'on accident'. They didn't know, nor care what Phillip was able to do, he hadn't snapped at anyone yet. He hadn't really eaten anything in days, the things he had forced down his tired throat just came up again a few hours later.

The affects of that finally kicking in while Phillip tried to make his way down the hallway. Of course he'd been starving all day, but now his head was swimming. The teen faintly felt his body lean against the lockers, everything spinning, he tried to take few more steps. The books falling out of his hands went unnoticed, along with the small crowd watching him. Phillip didn't hear the mean whispers of "what the hell is wrong with him now?" or "Damn faggot, he's a fucking weirdo.", he only felt himself collapse to the floor before everything going to black.

The nurse, Jennifer Kenish, who was currently on duty in Sebastian's High School had seen her fair share of bruises, bumps, cuts, sniffles, fights, you name it. She's treated it. Called home, the whole deal. But this kid, Phillip Barton, it seemed like he was a regular. Almost every month he'd come in, sick with something, god knows what each time. Kenish would call home, the single father would never answer, so she settled with one the uncles this kid had. She liked Phillip, bit of a trouble maker with other teachers, but at least he was polite to her.

But this time, when she got a buzz from the main office that he was coming in, she didn't expect two other boys dragging the unconscious redhead in. Jen sighed and gestured to the couch. "Just put him there, I'll look over him." The boys looked at each other, shrugged and threw Phil down unceremoniously into the couch. "Gently, would be nice." Jennifer scolded and stood from her desk.

"So," She started out, making the boys stop from where they were trying to exit. "What happened with this?"

"I don't know," One of the boys started. "He just, fell or something."

"Did he fall, or did he faint?" Jen asked seriously, quickly checking Phil's pulse.

"Uh, he fell." The same boy stated.

The other boy hit his arm. "No, idiot, he fainted." He turned to the nurse. "He like, dropped all of his stuff, then just fell. Like didn't even try to stop himself."

"Okay, thank you. Leave now." Jen shooed them out. She moved her hand up to the redhead's neck, pausing when she felt the slippery feeling of cover-up. She frowned and tried to wipe the makeup off with an alcohol pad.

"Oh my god." Jennifer exclaimed.

All around the kid's neck there were angry bruises. She started cleaning the rest of his face. The sight could be considered horrifying, for her to see it on someone so young. Phillip's whole back seemed swollen from the deep purple and black covering it. Some places the skin was split open, along with the futile effort to stitch oneself up. The same went for his abdomen and his legs.

The nurse sat back and sighed heavily. "Oh, Phillip, who has been doing this to you?" She asked herself. Technically she wasn't legally aloud to do anything to this kid, unless it was a 'qualified state of real emergency'. Jen recalled nothing about consulting Mr. Bates about any cases of abuse in a child, though.

Phillip woke up in the nurse's office, September rain tapping on the window. The nurse was already on the phone with his Dad in the other room.

"Mr. Barton he just passed out in hallway...Dehydration maybe...Apparently he seemed disoriented all day...Have you been home lately with your son? I saw bruises all over him...Okay, don't shout at me..."

Phillip didn't hear the rest of the conversation on the account of that he was climbing out the window. He grabbed the bottle of water and little bag of pretzels with him, steadily chewing them as he walked back home.

Clint found him on the roof of an old abandoned apartment complex.

The archer wasn't an idiot. At least, not as big as one his son obviously thought him to be. He noticed the cover up (he regretted the day when he taught his children how to cover recognizable marks) hiding the bruises, the scraped hands. It didn't take the marksman long to find a shoebox filled with cash behind Phillip's dresser. No, Clint didn't know why he would do it, the kid knows it's not a good thing to get in to. Especially if you screw up. And damn did this kid screw up by the looks of it.

"Do you wanna tell me why I get a call as soon as I get back that my son has passed out in the middle of the hallway because of starvation or dehydration?" The father asked, not as calmly as he thought he was. Phil was lying on the edge of the roof, arms over his eyes and legs crossed, not minding the pouring down rain at all.

"No."

"No? Well, hate to break it to you, but we're having this conversation anyway. I have held off on this for too damn long Phil, now what is going on with you?"

"Nothing is going on." He struggled to keep his voice even.

"Obviously something is going on, or I wouldn't be up here talking with you while faculty members have it in their heads that I'm hurting you!"

"I'm sorry then." A crack.

"Sorry doesn't cut it anymore." He sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair. "Phil...they would take you away from me, in a heartbeat. If the CPS thinks of half a reason, you and Amy would be gone! I can't lose you too."

"I know! Okay?" He uncrossed his arms and sat up to face Clint, eyes burning. "I know, but sorry is all I can really give you right now. I'm sorry I'm such an idiot and now owe some guy, who I don't even know his real name, ten grand! I'm sorry that that I kept betting. I'm sorry you have to have, this dumb ass faggot for a son who barely read! I'm sorry I'm ruining your life! I'm sorry I let Amy get hurt and I'M SORRY I KILLED MOM!"

Silence hung for a few moments between the two.

"I was the one who begged for takeout." He continued quietly. "She kept telling me no, but I kept pushing her. She went out to get me some but...It's so stupid" He sniffed and wiped his eyes, not looking at Clint. "And I heard Amelia crying that night. With Ribner. I just fell back asleep and let him hurt her."

Clint didn't say anything for a minute. He simply sat down on the ledge next to him, and rather unexpectedly wrapped his arms tightly around his son. "Don't." He sighed quietly. "Don't ever think that way Phil. None of that, will ever be your fault."

"I could have-"

"You were eight years old. It was inevitable." More than you know. "You had nothing to do with whatever happened." He let go of Phil, pulling back to face him, tone lighter, less serious. "You hear me? Nothing's on you."

Phillip sighed, nodding. He knows the guilt will never entirely go away, but it helps to hear that. "I still owe that guy."

"I got it covered." The teenager shot him a surprised look. "What? You think I'm doing all this shit for Fury for free? It's just this time, and you're not going back into that ring though."

"I don't know who he is."

"I'll find him." Clint told him confidently. "Don't worry about it. Just, eat something. Alright? I can take you out of school for a few days. Let things, die down"

Phil leaned back, looking out to the city. It was still raining, lightly now, but the two men almost didn't notice it anymore. "Fine. And, I'll get it down. Somehow."

"Good." Clint gave him a small smile and clapped his back before standing. "Don't put so much pressure in yourself Phil. And tell someone when you need help you're not a bother or whatever. But When you get home, You'll get your punishment too." The blonde smirked.

Phillip double backed. "What?" He exclaimed. "Shouldn't almost getting killed he punishment enough?"

"Oh c'mon," Clint shrugged. "You disobeyed me, illegally putting yourself in danger, and everyone else. So, you're in so much trouble." The archer let out a laugh like a child at Phillip's expression of complete shock and confusion at the thought of ever getting a punishment from Clint that wasn't training. "Get home, you got an hour."

Phil scoffed and ran a hand down his face. "Fine." He huffed.

Phil yelped when Clint started cleaning another gash in his side.

"Yeah, that is the feeling of infected stitches." Clint didn't try to hide his smirk and scrubbed slightly harder at the wound. "You are terrible at this."

"Couldn't I have Bruce do this?" The redhead gritted his teeth together.

"No." Clint answered simply. "Bruce is too gentle with you."

"Can I report this as abuse then?"

"No, to that either." Clint sighed. "We'll probably get enough of that later."

"The school never does anything for 'home problems'." Phil scoffed. "It's bad for it's image, or something."

"Doesn't matter," Clint rolled his eyes and stood up, tossing Phil a bandage roll. "You know Fury'll kill me if your name gets down in a public record."

"Yeah, yeah. Secrets of secrets of secrets."

"Exactly, you do not exist in the world of paper work and traceable records." Clint ruffled a hand through Phil's hair. "Now, keep the stitches clean. Eat something."

"I know," Phillip grumbled

"And take a bath, you stink."

So, I can never do good endings, so this happened. And I just wanted to add the smidge at the end.

*Heap of unfinished Tumor part 2 staring angrily at me* I'll finish it. Eventually. This chapter was necessary, it'll build character.

And yes, I did screw the comics over and had The Red Hood come in. It's probably out of character anyway..

I Love reviews!