It's been a few years, for which the author apologizes. In those years, she was working hard to keep a marriage together, went through a divorce, moved twice in two years, and had some pretty upsetting health issues on top of all that. But! She is now in a place where she can feel secure and actually think about finishing this story and others (as well as healing up from the past few years). This chapter, and most of the ones to follow, have been written for over three years now. They just needed tweaking. Which also means that, obviously, they haven't kept up with the MCU and the developments therein. (In the works: another Clint origin story featuring the one and only Laura Barton.) Much love and thanks to Kylen, my forever cheerleader and beta.

Clint loosely gripped the steering wheel and stared at the house. He didn't know the rules about showing up someplace without an invitation, but he hoped that even if he was breaking them that June wouldn't mind too much. But the safehouse hadn't seemed so nice with the shouting he had heard through the walls, and so he decided his only option was to bang on June's door and hope for the best. "Okay Barton," he muttered to himself. "You can do this. You were in the area and the hotel lost your reservation or was all booked. Simple as that. Use that KISS principle that Sitwell was muttering about." Clint slid out of the car and made his way to the front door.

It took what felt like an eternity before the door opened and Clint blinked at Dave's appearance. "Clint. Hi. Didn't know you were coming. Do you know anything about baking?"

"I was in the neighborhood." Clint shrugged sheepishly. "And I couldn't get a hotel room. Could I sleep on your couch for a couple ni-" he cut off and grabbed at a cat as it tried to run past.

"I told June," Dave muttered. "Sure. June's out with the kids. Maybe between the two of us we can get things here fixed. And thanks for catching that cat. We're petsitting and that damn thing goes for the door all the time. But mi casa es su casa, as the unit's nurse manager would say. Especially since I can put you to work."

Clint shifted his grip on the cat as he stepped through the door. "Never have done anything like that. I don't cook. Never learned."

"No?" Dave firmly shut the door. "Don't mind the mess. So it was microwave dinners or hot dogs?"

Clint took a minute to look around and gather his thoughts. He finally decided to take the plunge. He trusted this family, and the realization was firmly shoved to the side to be worried over later. "I was homeless," he softly said. "From when I ran away from the orphanage to until I was hired by Coulson's boss. So I never had the chance to learn."

He could see Dave's reevaluation and braced himself. "Oh. Okay. I guess that explains a couple things that Delores said." Clint reminded himself that he shouldn't have been surprised by Dave's reaction. "Still, you can help me out. If only by distracting that damn cat. Come on. I said that I'd try baking cookies for the twins' class' bake sale since June refused to let me take them out. Said that I'd just end up at the toy store and the ice cream place again, and she didn't want to deal with kids that were all hopped up on sugar and new things."

"Oh." Clint dropped the cat gently to the floor and grinned. "What type of cookies?"

"I…don't know?" Dave looked confused. "Cookies?" He shook his head. "I was told chocolate chip cookies and the recipe is on the bag of chocolate chips. June left everything out, I just need to follow the instructions."

Clint nodded, curious.

"But…I ripped the bag right across it." Dave grimaced.

"How bad?" Clint glanced towards the back of the house. "Maybe I can help figure it out?"

"Well, this is a surprise." Clint heard Dave quietly chuckle as a pair of bodies ran into his legs.

"Heya, June. Julia. Tommy."

"Clint." Clint briefly dropped his head against June's shoulder when she hugged him. "Do I have you to thank for my house still being here?"

Dave inhaled sharply under his breath. "Not…exactly?" He winced at June's sharp glance. "I'll let Clint tell you."

Clint snorted. "Thanks," he said dryly. "I can't cook. We tried following the directions, but…" he trailed off and shrugged helplessly. "I distracted the cat?"

"And that's all that he was allowed to do," Dave announced. "The first attempt-"

"Salt isn't sugar," Clint dutifully said. "Egg doesn't include the shell. Two cups means using a measuring cup, not a drinking cup." June covered up a smile with her hand as Clint rolled his eyes. "I kept sh- stuff clean, though."

"And that's better than Dave usually does. But I do smell cookies, so I'm guessing that you were successful." June nodded decisively.

"Third try!" Dave grinned. "But…I need to go do some work now. Cookies are all on the counter, kitten is corralled in the laundry room, and you have Clint to help you out."

June nodded. "Excellent. Julia, take Clint and show him the fish. Don't let her try to pet them, please. Or give them treats. Boys, go get the things from the car. Dave, dinner will be in a couple hours and I'd appreciate it if you were here for that." She glanced around. "Ready? Break!"

Clint grinned as Julia grabbed his hand. "C'mon Unca Clint! Fishies!"

"Yeah, Julia. How many are there?"

June watched as her youngest dragged the young man away. "Dave?"

"He said that he couldn't get a hotel room." Dave shrugged. "I know that he's always been fun to have around, and if we have any questions, we can always try calling your mother. But he was being truthful about his cooking abilities."

"Or lack thereof?" June smile wryly. "Let me guess. He never learned how, never saw anybody cooking, until he met my mother? Just like men."

"He…was homeless." Dave slowly said. "At least, that's what he said. And I can believe him on that front. It explains a lot of things."

June nodded. "And he had neglectful parents and was on his own for a while. At least I think that's what he told me a while ago." She shrugged. "But, he's good with the kids, polite, helpful, and yes, fun to have around. Especially when we get to introduce him to something new." She leaned forward and grabbed Dave's face. She pulled him in for a kiss and nodded. "Now go do whatever you have to do; I'm going to get things put away and straightened up."

"Color, Unca Cint!" Julia tugged Clint into the family room.

Clint glanced up at the sound of a crash followed by pounding footsteps and a slamming door. "I'll be right back, Julia," he said as he stood up. He froze and slowly sank back down when he heard the yell.

"Tommy!" Dave yelled. "Get your butt down here, right now! If we've told you once, we've told you a thousand times to not use that in the house! Tommy! Don't make me come up there!"

"Unca?" Clint only blinked when he felt Julia climb into his lap and lightly pat his cheek. "Unca Cint? Color?"

Angry voices combined with a crying child filtered down from the second floor and Clint just wanted to find someplace to hide. "Not…" Clint trailed off. Taking a deep breath he slid back until his back was against the wall. "Not now, Julia."

"Clint?" Clint hunched over slightly. "Julia, why don't you give Clint a hug?" Clint felt small arms wrap around his neck and a face press against his check as June sat down next to him. "What's wrong, Clint?"

"Nothing." Clint moved Julia off his lap and stood up. "I'm just…I'm gonna go outside."

"June?" Dave's voice had Clint clenching his jaw. "Your youngest son broke my mother's vase. He's in time-out right now and I've confiscated the baseball bat. I'm thinking of tossing it, since nobody has shown that they can use it responsibly." He spun around as Clint slipped by him. "He okay?"

"I don't know," June slowly said as she picked up Julia. "But let's go get that vase cleaned up. He'll tell us if he wants to, and if he doesn't then he doesn't."

Dave's lips thinned. "I'm going to call your mother about this. I need answers."

"No," June stared levelly at her husband. "You need reassurance that Clint's not going to snap and kill us all in our sleep. That he's not broken past repair. Go and see if you can get her on the phone, then."

"You don't gotta do that." Clint's voice had the two of them turning around and Julia reaching out with a happy squeal. "Find Julia something to do and I'll talk." He lifted his chin slightly. "'M tired of running away, and you two need to know everything."

He sat down on the couch and crossed his arms over his chest. Clint waited until June and Dave had shut the door and sat down. "June knows a little, Dave knows a little. Me 'n my brother were born to a couple parents that didn't really want us, didn't know what to do with us. Dad was a drunk. Mom too. They died when I was little, and Barney and I were sent to an orphanage. Bounced in and out of a few foster homes, but ended up running away when I was 11. Joined the circus." He smiled faintly. "Kinda classic, yeah? But we were with this circus for a few years, I ended up becoming one of the main acts. Ended up also being part of the criminal side of the group." Clint slouched back. "Jacques – my mentor – and I were in a house robbing it when we were caught. I was 16, so ended up in Juvie. Kicked out of that at 18, and landed on the streets. Some petty crime, but I made my way back to circuses. I was 20 when I was recruited and ended up working with Coulson. My brother had somehow managed to be hired by the FBI and was killed in an undercover sting when I was 17. We hadn't talked in years." He finally looked at the other adults and lifted his chin defiantly.

"I like kids. They're simple, innocent, and deserve to be protected. Same with most adults. But I gotta think about protecting myself, because for 20 years I was told that I was worthless, a piece of shit, stupid, or shouldn't be alive. And there are still people out there that tell me that, more than tell me that I'm actually worth something. Coulson, Delores, you guys…you're better than what I think family should be. 'N I'm scared of fucking things up." He took a breath.

"Clint," Dave's voice was somber. "Thank you for trusting us with all that." He leaned forward. "Making mistakes is human. The only time that we," he gesture to himself and June, "will ask you to leave is if we are leaving for more than a few hours. And that isn't because we don't trust you, it's that we would be poor hosts to be swanning off on vacation and leaving a house guest here, alone." He frowned slightly. "But-"

"But," June interrupted, "it's time for bed. Dave, go tell Tommy he can come out of time out, then get him and the twins moving. Clint, you go get washed up."

Clint nodded uneasily. "Yes'm."

"No." June suddenly shook her head. "Go with Dave to deal with Tommy." She grinned wryly. "Let me channel Phil and my mother for a minute. 'It's a learning experience.'" She laughed as Clint made a face.

"Coulson'd say 'Good training, Barton' and try not to roll his eyes. I've been working with him for years and he's still on with that!" Clint complained.

"Ah, inside jokes," Dave mused as he headed for the door. "Better than a Hallmark card for saying that somebody cares. About what, that depends on the people. Why, with the nurse manager of the cardiac ICU, all she has to do is say 'Doctor?' and the director of the heart program is apologizing." He chuckled. "Come on, Clint. Let me show you the face of a truly repentant child who will forget the lesson learned by this time next week."

Clint trailed behind Dave as they went to the stairs. "Now, Tommy, what have you learned?"

"No, no, no baseball inside," Tommy sniffed.

"Right. Why were you in time-out?"

"'Cause Gamma's vase broke."

Dave nodded as he knelt down. "Right. Now come give me a hug and say sorry to Uncle Clint for scaring him. Then give him a hug."

Clint rocked back on his heels as Tommy grabbed around his waist and squeezed hard. "'M sorry, Uncle Clint."

"And while he can't promise to not do it again, he can promise that he's going to go to bed without arguing tonight." Dave gently rubbed the back of Tommy's head. "Now go upstairs and get your pajamas on and brush your teeth, son, and maybe Uncle Clint will agree to read a bedtime story to you and your sister."

"Hop on Pop!" Tommy squealed as he spun around and started to run up the stairs. At Dave's sharp "walk!" he slowed down.

"Yeah," Clint breathed out as he thought hard about what he'd learned that night.

"I can't help you with that, Clint," Meg said quietly as she lifted Clint's chin with a finger. "You know that. And you know who can help you with it."

Clint swallowed heavily. "It's...it's just hard, yanno? There I was, playing with Julia and-"

"And you weren't expecting Tommy to break that vase after doing something that he knew he wasn't supposed to do." Meg nodded. "Talk to Doctor Beeks, Clint. He knows, but I don't think he really knows. Which means that you have to tell him, and the two of you have to figure out the best way to help you through this."

"And-"

"And spanking and time-outs are perfectly normal punishments. As long as it isn't taken to extremes. Di-" Meg narrowed her eyes.

"I don't wanna talk about it," Clint interrupted.

"Clint, you have to. Because you're getting upset all over again, in a safe place, over something minor." Clint shrank back slightly at Meg's annoyed tone. "It's just like ripping off a bandage. It'll hurt while you're doing it, but once it's done you'll feel so much better."

"Fine," Clint snapped. "Dad hit Mom. But the orphanage didn't give two shits about the bullies and then at the circus the kids stayed out of the way or else. And the 'or else' usually was a slap across the ear if they were busy. Barney never touched me, usually backed me up and took a few smacks that I should've gotten." He paused, breathing heavily.

Meg reached out and grabbed Clint's hand. "And?" She asked quietly.

"And Jacques…" Clint trailed off with a shudder before violently shaking his head and pulling back. "I don't talk about him. Ever."

"And that's why I can't help you with this," Meg said. "And you know that. I know that you know that."

"And Beeks can," Clint muttered sullenly. "Still don't like talking to him." He made a face as the nurse ruffled his hair. "Meg!"

"It is well known that consciously, you don't like talking to him, but subconsciously you know that he is the best person out there for you in times like this." Meg sighed. "And you know that, too. Especially since these hurts are buried so deeply and you're so protective of yourself." Clint watched as a sad smile played across her face. "You hoard your hurts like a dragon hoards gold."

"It keeps me safe," Clint whispered, suddenly feeling shy. "And it hurts less." He paused as he thought over what he said. "Right?"

Meg nodded. "But those hurts, Clint, are like a cancer. They'll keep spreading and tainting everything until they're all that's left. And the treatment for that, just like cancer, can hurt even more." She shifted around and pulled Clint against her side. Gently rubbing his shoulder, she continued, "I don't want to watch you sad, sweetie. I want to see the fighter that I know you are. Even if it means yelling at Doctor Beeks."

Beeks narrowed his eyes. "What do you want my help with? Speak up, Clint."

"I…I kinda had a bad reaction?" Clint rubbed the back of his neck.

"To?"

"I was at June's and I was playing with Julia and Tommy broke a vase and Dave got upset and spanked Tommy and yelled at him and Tommy got upset and-"

"And hold." Beeks held up one hand. "I see. So what about that made you upset?" He frowned and leaned forward at Clint's mumble. "What was that?"

"Circus." Clint pulled one foot up onto the seat. When no reaction came from Beeks, he pulled the other foot up and dropped his forehead to his knees. "'N Jacques. But I talked about it with Coulson and Meg and I thought that everything was cool?"

"Obviously not," Beeks murmured as he picked up a pad of paper before standing, removing a book from a filing cabinet, and moving to a chair closer to Clint. "Feet down. So, let's start at the beginning. And Clint, I'm going to try something that Marlene suggested." He held out the book. "You're also going to write things down. Up to you if we talk about what you write, but I'd suggest that we do. Okay?"

Clint took the book and loosely turned it around in his hands. "A diary? Really?"

"It has a lock. Okay?"

"Okay." Clint closed his eyes. "So what do you want to know?"

"Let's start at the beginning. What happened when your brother decided to leave the orphanage?"

Clint took a deep breath, squeezed the diary tightly, and slowly exhaled. A second deep breath, then a third, and he opened his mouth. "Barney had scoped it all out. I knew that midnight was the best time for us to leave because I'd tried it before and everybody was asleep. Only that first time I was alone and got scared. And-" he cut off and felt his fingers twitch. He nodded decisively when he reached out and plucked Beeks' pen from the psychiatrist's hand and opened the diary. "Gimme ten."

Beeks sat back and watched as Clint started scribbling. Hearing the archer start to mumble under his breath, he reached into his pocket for another pen and started jotting down notes of his own. "Ten minutes, Clint."

Clint let out a heavy breath. "Yeah." He snapped the diary shut. "Um, that isn't, um, the beginning."

"No?" Beeks tilted his head. "I thought that your parents ignored you."

"Not…really." Clint started fidgeting with the pen he'd taken from Beeks. "Mom did. Kinda. She made sure that we were fed, but that was about it. Dad…" he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Beeks made a short note about the shakiness of it. "Dad hit Mom. Like, a lot. She'd fight back sometimes, but it was mostly him hitting her. He might've smacked me and Barney around a little, but I don't really remember that." He pulled one knee up to his chest and loosely wrapped his arms around it. "It'd help explain why I'm colorblind the way I am. I do remember a lotta yelling, though." He shrugged. "I thought it was just when he was drunk, but now I'm remembering that it was all the time."

Beeks pretended not to notice the way that Clint's other leg was creeping up towards his chest. "Okay," he calmly said. "So it was more that you were in an abusive environment, then?"

"I…guess?"

"You were. When you are out with that family in Oregon, do they hit each other? What about yelling?" Beeks stayed relaxed with a force of will.

"Outside of this time?" Clint shrugged. "It isn't bad. June'll raise her voice, but that seems like it's because somebody is too far away to hear her speak normally. I've seen her and Dave chase each other around, but they're both laughing."

A low chuckle was the response. "You should see me and Marlene sometime, then. Or my extended family; there were debates that turned into arguments, and at the end of the night everybody was still friends. No, I'm asking if you've seen anything done in anger there outside of what happened this time."

Clint was silent for a minute. "No. I haven't. Not even when Julia drew all over my face with lipstick. June just sounded…exasperated. Like she was kinda expecting that to happen, but didn't know when or where or anything like that. And I, I don't think Dave was really upset about the vase breaking." A note of wonder entered his voice. "It was like, like, like he was upset that Tommy broke a rule about using baseball bats inside the house. Like when Coulson gets upset with me." At Beeks' look, Clint hurried to explain. "He just gives me a look and tells me to go away, or gives me an assignment that he knows that I don't like. Like going to Manhattan to help Delores with the recruits. I get to see her and Marlene and Abby, but at the same time I have to deal with a bunch of stuck-up jerks that think they know better'n me about shooting and stuff like that."

"And that's how discipline is supposed to be. Yes, even what happened this time with the vase." Beeks raised one hand as Clint started to open his mouth. "I'm not done yet. It's part of being a parent, or being responsible for another living thing. You establish rules that can be obeyed, and only when they're broken do you establish and carry out consequences. And people prefer it that way, believe it or not. It's why you went to Juvie – you broke the rules about breaking into things and stealing. The consequences for breaking those rules? Prison. You break my rules," he eyed Clint's legs and grinned when the archer blanched and hurriedly lowered them, "and I do things like keep you out of the range. I'm giving you a pass on your legs for now.

"And that's something else that people can do. If they established rules, then they can also get rid of them. You aren't attached at the hip to Coulson anymore, right?"

"Right," Clint murmured. He glanced down at his watch. "Um, we done? I have a meeting with Intel in 30 minutes and I need to grab my stuff."

"Yes. Come see me at…huh." Beeks reached over to his desk and grabbed his day planner. "Three on Sunday? I'm not done walking you through all this and getting you to tell me the truth about everything. We've just started to touch on what you can remember about your parents."

Clint tilted his head to one side in thought. "How about four. Don't know if I'll be back on board by three; I have a group project at school that we're meeting for." He grinned brightly. "And Joel said that I could even pilot the Quinjet! He'd come along as co-pilot and we'd stop off in Maryland to pick up some supplies, too."

"Wonderful," Beeks voice was dry. "But that also sounds like you're feeling much more secure about being here, too. I'm going to give you some homework, as my wife would say. I want you to think about how you were disciplined in the past, and why it was wrong of people to jump straight to hitting. Because hitting a child for an accident is wrong. Hitting a child to make it stop crying is wrong. And I will continue to tell you that as much as I need to – and I'll get Agent Coulson and Meg to help. Clear? Good. Now, go and be a productive employee of SHIELD, and let me know if you need anything between now and Sunday." He snorted as the door shut behind the archer, tilted his head back, and rubbed his eyes roughly. "Finally."