Chapter 2: Room & Board

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go check out the story on

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11493775/1/Heroes-and-Ghosts

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Clint:

Percy insisted on sleeping with the baby crib next to him, and gave us his backpack as leverage saying he wouldn't leave anytime without it. Laura trusted him, but Clint was less optimistic. He locked the backpack up, put the crib in the living room, and gestured to the couch.

"The crib won't fit anywhere else." Clint explain quietly, so as not to wake his kids. "You know where the blankets are," Clint said accusingly, strictly to intimidate. The boy had the decency to look ashamed, if only for a moment before setting himself up on the couch.

Clint gave the boy another intimidating glare, but found that the kid, Percy, didn't so much as cringe. Instead, he tilted his head to the side in curiosity, then switched his attention to the crib where his baby sister slept soundly. Clint took it as his cue to leave.

As he made his way up the stairs, he heard a muted and distorted word follow up the stairs with him. He couldn't be sure, but thought the boy had said 'thank you.'

Clint sat beside Laura in bed for a few moments before he spoke. "We don't know him." It was a simple, easy thing to say, but spoke volumes to his wife. She's been an agent as well. She understood the risk they were taking. To comfort her husband she placed her hand over his.

"He'll spend the night. We'll ask him questions in the morning, see if we can find a file from Fury on him." She reasoned. "And you know that the fact he had the baby changes everything. He's been taking care of her." She said. Clint filed away the fact his wife spoke with a certain amount of respect.

With a cringe he realized why. Clint wasn't always around as a father for his kids. He didn't enjoy using 'I was saving the world' card as an excuse, even if his wife would've accepted it. She had to step up while he'd been gone. Now, he was forty five, retired, and understood that being a parent was more important to him than being an agent ever was.

The kid, Percy, was taking on a responsibility a lot like his. It wasn't safe to assume anything in Clint's line of work, but he could use facts. The kid fought well. He had a baby with him, and he appeared to be running if his clothes gave any indication. From social services? Abusive parents? The police? Anything could've been possible at this point.

"Get some rest. We'll figure it out in the morning." Laura coaxed. He relented after a few seconds, because he couldn't really deny his wife anything. He curled up into his blankets and drifted into sleep.

...

The transition from agent to farmer had been rough. Along with trust issues, over protectiveness, and a whole lot of PTSD to work around, he had to learn to drive a tractor. One of the easier things to do was waking up early. He rose with the sun, and it was up earlier now with spring coming on.

He used the same stealth he applied the night before, making his way down the stairs. Mornings in Homestead meant coffee and some toast. It was bland, and it was routine. Something that itched at Clint's skin after years of improvisation, no matter how good the routine might be.

But today, the routine had changed. Something was off as he looked into the living room. The crib was there, but empty. The blankets folded neatly on the edge of the sofa. That wasn't all. Clint could smell breakfast. Clint could hear breakfast cooking.

And when he entered the kitchen, he wasn't disappointed. Confused, yes, but not disappointed. The table was set for four, and a nice table cloth set out with it. There was a pitcher of orange juice, and a gallon of milk. Butter, salt, pepper, etc.

The stove was on, and two skillets sat on it. One had crispy, red bacon. The other, a platter of scrambled eggs. The raw materials were scattered haphazardly around the kitchen, along with a few strange items.

But mostly, it was the cook that kept Barton's attention. Percy had turned their regular, bland kitchen into a place that felt rather homey. Lights that weren't usually on were brightly shining. Percy himself stood at the counter, a plate in his hand and a spatula in the other.

He didn't notice Clint, nor did he make any attempt to slow at his cooking. Every once in a while he looked back at the living room, where Clint could now see the baby playing with her own feet and warbling happily.

Clint stood there for several moments, switching between looking at the cook, then at the food. Finally, Percy noticed Clint, and immediately looked embarrassed. His face turned a light shade of pink, and he gripped the spatula tighter. "Uhhhh." He said intelligently.

After a moment Clint broke the silence. "You cook all this?" He asked. Percy might not of heard him, or maybe just didn't want to respond. Instead, he got the food off the pans, set them on the table, and hurried over to his sister. She eagerly reached for him, and a ghost of a smile touched his face as he picked her up.

"Is ther a bahthrum anyhwer?" He asked, trying in vain to sound normal. Clint pointed it out and the kid quickly went in there with his little sister. As the door closed, Clint snapped out of his trance and looked closely at the food. He sniffed it experimentally, then took a bite. No poison.

Clint set out a plate of food for him, then his wife and kids. He debated about questioning the kid now, but his kids needed to get up and get ready for school. "Breakfast!" He called up the stairs. After a few minutes his wife, then son and daughter, came down.

Cooper, who sometimes only had two settings (sleep, eat) opened his eyes wide at the assortment of food in front of him. Lila jumped at it before anyone told her not to. "How did you make all this, dad?" Cooper asked in awe. Clint just shrugged.

"I thought you might like it." He lied smoothly. After his kids had set down and began to eat, Clint saw that suspicious expression reach his wife's face. When she raised an eyebrow to ask, Clint nodded. When she mouthed: Where is he? Clint pointed to the bathroom.

Breakfast was a much less formal affair, and the kids left the house an hour later, happy and still full from breakfast. Percy had stayed in the bathroom the whole time. After the dishes had been cleaned and put away, Laura and Clint agreed: talk to him now.

Laura went to the bathroom while Clint sat on the couch. He noted the way that the blankets had been folded. The strange hint of ocean on it. Could the kid actually come that far? Homestead was far inland. Farther than a week of driving. Eventually, Clint shook off the thought. It was probably cologne.

Laura sat beside him as Percy appeared with his little sister in his arms. He would glance at the windows, and at the back door. Not in a cautionary lookout to see someone, but to find a possible escape. His sister fussed a bit at how tight she was being held. He slacked it immediately.

For a few seconds, the four of them just sat across from one another, not speaking. It was, of course, Laura who broke the silence. Percy turned his big green eyes to look at her as she spoke. "Thank you, this morning for breakfast. We don't usually have time for anything like that in the mornings." Translation: they need coffee and an hour to wake up.

Percy just shrugged, then began to bounce his little sister on his knee. She laughed in delight, and with a pang Clint realized he couldn't actually hear it. "My pleashure." He said. "I couldn't shleep hanyway." He said, drawing it out and sighing when he realized his words still might be garbled. Another awkward moment passed.

Clint took the reins this time around. "Laura and I, we can't say we know exactly what you're going through. And we aren't going to pry." Clint assured him. Although, they were getting his SHIELD file as they spoke. Fury had promised it quickly. "But at the very least, we need to know where you're going. If you have anywhere to stay when you get there." He said.

Once again, the baby girl laughed, and this time the boy noticed. He gave her a sad smile, then shifted the girl to his other leg. Clint realized he'd been staring, and got back on track. "Who you're staying with, so we can contact them." He explained. Percy suddenly looked a lot less open, and hugged his sister closer. Clint saw how little of a resemblance the two had.

He had dark hair, tousled. She had curly brown hair. His eyes were that strange color of green that vaguely reminded Clint of the beaches in Carolina or the Bahamas. Hers were a warm, inviting brown that seemed to already have smile lines etched in. The facial structure was too young to define, but on a hunch Clint guessed that the faces would be nothing alike.

But, at the same time, Clint guessed that they would share a smile. Percy, who'd ducked his head down to look at his sister, spoke slowly. "Wes. We er goingg wes." He said simply. He look back up at us to see what we had to say. He glared at Clint in challenge.

Laura spoke up. "But why are you walking? Don't you have a car, or maybe you could use the bus? And I'd bet you aren't older than seventeen. Where are your parents?" She asked. Clint saw how Percy cringed at the mention of a car, and again when his parents were brought up.

Clint tried again. "Where are you going west?" He tried, using a tone that although couldn't be heard, could be felt. Percy hunched his shoulders in defeat, and let his head drop. It might've been a depressing sight, but the baby laughed and began to pull none too gently on Percy's hair.

"I don't know whuere were goingg." He said miserably. The baby didn't seem affected, but Laura and Clint both shared a look. "Our parnts're ded. Car accident in New York." He went on. "We don't hafv any familee lefvt. I've met fouhster kids bevore. Seen what happens." He said. He gave his little sister a kiss on the forehead. "Hope isn't goingg there."

Both Clint and Laura heard the underlying meaning in his words, whether he meant it or not. Percy was saying, really, we aren't being separated. She's all I have left. You can't take her from me. Clint chose to speak for the couple. "Percy," he started, "I get that you want to keep your sister with you. Family is a very important thing.

"But what you're doing, how you're doing it, it's hurting you. It's hurting your sister." Clint explained. "You've gotten this far on luck, I'd guess. Winter wasn't that bad this year, and spring is just around the corner. I'm guessing your sister is barely seven months." He guessed. "And maybe you reach the west coast, and maybe social services doesn't find you. But then what?

"Your sister can't grow up on the streets. You couldn't raise her there by yourself. You had to break in here for food." Clint said. He saw the look of defeat evident in Percy's eyes, like he knew where this was headed. Laura saw her husband struggling to say it (so was she), but it had to be said.

"Percy, we can get you in touch with social services. Your sister could have a decent life somewhere, and in a year or two, when you've gotten onto your feet, you can get her back." She assured him. She reached out to put a comforting hand on his knee, but he moved it away. Clint saw how Percy was getting a strange glint in his eyes.

"How about I call the sheriff right now? We can get it all sorted out, maybe get you and your sister into the same foster home." Clint said, reaching for the landline. If they could contact Fury, he could make the arrangements happen. No questions asked, no risks.

But as he grabbed onto the phone, Percy stood up suddenly. That glint in his eyes was back, reminding Clint of a cornered animal. His sister suddenly went very quiet in her brother's arms. At first, Clint wasn't sure if he was going to attack with his sister or not, but then he did something much, much worse.

He pointed an accusing finger in Clint's direction, studied his face with a look of regret on his own, and said three simple, life compromising words. "I know you."

It was like the world had suddenly stopped. Clint was hyper aware and completely dumbstruck all at the same time. He focused on the little details that didn't matter right then: his wife's wedding ring. The flannel shirt he was wearing. The faded logo on the boy's shirt. The Avengers logo.

Percy took a shaky breath. "I know who you ar. I've sheen hue on the newsh." He gulp, and when he spoke, it was clearest it'd ever been. "I've seen you on the news. I know that you've done a lot of things for a lot of people. I get that after a while, you make enemies.

"This is your real house, and your family. And you're hiding them here to keep them safe." He said. Clint was still frozen, staring at the boy as he seemed to struggle with his next words. "But if you tell anyone about my sister and I... I'll tell people. Not if you send the police, or social services, or... I don't know." He finished, his voice faltering slightly. "You just... You can't tell anyone about me."

Percy still stood, and his sister was beginning to fuss and whine, but she didn't cry. With strange revelation, Clint realized that he'd never heard the baby cry. Not even this morning, when she'd woken up. Clint would've heard that. Clint wondered briefly why that was, and he was hit by an overwhelming sense of curiosity.

"Your parents didn't die in an accident, did they?" He asked, drawing Percy's attention. The baby (Hope, as Percy called her) shushed even further, maybe sensing how tense and nerve wracked Percy had suddenly gotten.

"Why hwoud you ashk that?" He said in a somewhat angry voice. Laura picked up on what Clint was saying, and she gasped. If what Clint was saying was true (and Percy practically proved it) then...

"Percy, how long have you been running?" She asked. Percy switched his gaze, then jolted slightly when his sister's tiny foot kicked his stomach lightly. He immediately went into big brother mode, loosening his grip and propping her head on his shoulder while he whispered into her ear. Clint and Laura digested the twist in the situation.

Percy calmed his sister down, then set her on the couch. She instantly began to play calmly with the throw pillow. The three of them watched her for a moment before Percy spoke again. "Thaths not the pont. We- we can't be caugth. A-and you can't be figureth out." He said, turning back to his threat.

"I- I want you to get my backpach. Then we're leafing." He said, pointing to Laura. Laura stiffened, and Clint reached out to grab her hand. She looked surprised by the movement, and Percy's attention began to wander towards the door.

Laura gave Clint the 'you're my husband but I'm not sure if I should trust you right now' look, but Clint gave her the 'it's for the best the teenager doesn't leave' look (which he thought he wouldn't need to use until Cooper hit his teens). Laura still looked less than happy about it, which Clint decided he deserved it. He took in a deep breath before saying it out loud.

"No."

The effect was instantaneous, and yet totally expected. Percy reached out for his little sister, who didn't seem finished playing with the throw pillow, and then made a mad dash for the door. Clint, whom had people run from him all the time, knew how to handle the situation.

He stood and tackled Percy. It was a clean hit, and probably would've been really good back when Clint did football in middle school, but Percy was almost back on his feet while Clint was still on the ground. Hope had started crying, and it was loud. Percy didn't seem to notice.

He reached the door, turned the handle... And noticed something Clint hadn't noticed before. Hope was bleeding. Sure, not gushing or anything, but it was a cut on his baby sister's head. And if anything could be said about Percy, it was that he was an overprotective brother. He immediately ran in the opposite direction of the door, towards the kitchen.

Laura and Clint both followed behind, about to protest, but Percy sent them a glare so fierce it caused Clint to give a sharp breath. Those green eyes, calm before, were now a storm over the ocean. A warning so loud without words, Clint might've thought Natasha had taught him that.

Percy cradled Hope's head in his hand, but desperately searched through the medicine cabinets. Finally, out of frustration and anxiety, Percy slammed it shut and turned to the two of them. "I need muy backpach. Now." He stressed.

Without another word, Clint ran and grabbed it, then hurried back as fast as possible. Clint got back just in time to see Percy tear of a strip of his shirt to cover the head injury. Hope still wailed, and Laura was now searching through the medical cabinets for anything Percy might've missed.

Percy saw Clint, and speaking in a voice and tone much like Fury sometimes had, he pointed at the backpack. "Laptop. Gauze. Baby Tylenol. Now." He demanded, still looking at his younger sister bawling her eyes out. He had a very heartbroken look, and cradled her gently against himself. Clint himself found all the items with relative ease.

The last two items were no mystery to Clinton Barton. He hadn't been that absent of a father to not know what they were. But the laptop was... Different. Instead of a recognizable brand name, there was a glowing blue triangle. The case seemed to be a shade of gold or bronze.

Percy gently wrapped the gauze around his sister's head, and then gave her the Tylenol (which took some time) and then he opened the laptop. Clint noticed the screensaver, and any doubt of them being in a family vanished.

It looked like a selfie, and four people were in it. Clint knew the location, too. Manhattan. The skyline and positioning... Top of the Empire State Building. Percy and Hope were recognizable, but two more people were there.

A woman and a man. The woman looked close to Laura's age: 40-45 ish. The man, maybe near Clint's? The four were smiling knowingly, like: you wouldn't believe it if we told you. Of what, Clint wasn't sure. Clint saw something soften in his wife's eyes as she saw it.

Percy, on his part, wasted to time. He was on Google, searching something (probably 'baby head injuries') and Clint saw how he typed, let out a frustrated huff, and deleted it, only to type again, and huff again. Finally, he took a deep breath and tried again.

Apparently Percy found what he wanted, because he read through an article while rocking his baby sister. She was crying less, and Clint realized Percy was speaking extremely softly into her ear. Like, almost only mouthing the words. Clint couldn't hear what was being said.

After a few minutes, Percy sighed in relief and relaxed, if only slightly. He spoke louder. "See baby gyrl? Yur finhe. No concussion. I hink one is enouhf, really." He muttered. Hope's crying muted until she was still. Not asleep, but still. Percy took the gauze off and kissed the head injury. It had already stopped bleeding, and as expected, the cut was small.

Percy reached for his backpack and began to go through it with one hand. Finally, he pulled out a first aid kit (that was almost as big as the backpack) and then a band aid from that. It was a blue band aid that again reminded Clint of the ocean. Something like that must be important to him.

As Percy rocked his little sister to sleep, Clint sat in front of the kid. Percy didn't seem to notice, still going into a hyperactive state caused by stress. Laura took a seat between Percy and the door. "Percy." Clint said steadily. "Percy, I need you to listen."

For one reason or another, Percy looked up at Clint with red rimmed eyes. In fact, he had bags under them as well. He looked like he hadn't slept in years. "Percy, we aren't going to tell anyone about you." He said calmly, keeping his words slow enough to read. "We aren't going to separate you and your sister.

"But you threatened me. My wife. My family, Percy. You know who we are, where we live... And I'm afraid that if I start running, I'll never stop." He explained. Something changed in Clint right then. It morphed from what was a cold determination to get this kid out... To giving him a home.

What Clint had said, he was sure Percy knew exactly what it felt like to have to run, and keep running. He'd been doing it with an infant, actually. "So, to explain what I said earlier, Percy, we can't let you go. You have to stay in Homestead." He said with finality.

Percy finally grasped what the retired Avenger was saying. No, Clint and Laura weren't going to kill him, or threaten him, or take his sister. They were going to make him live on a farm. "Uhh, no. I- I promise not to tell anyone, and I keep my promises. I mean, I swear on the river-"

"Percy, as much as your word might mean, I have a family to think about. I've known you for maybe twelve hours. You seem like a good kid, but something might happen. People figuring out you know me... You and Hope would be in danger." He said. Percy cringed at the mention of danger, but then cast a look at his sister.

Clint finally said what tipped Percy over the edge. "And, if you think about it, it's safe here. You're twenty miles from the nearest town. The house doesn't show up on road maps or in address books. I'm a highly trained agent."

"An Avenger." Percy added helpfully, but his voice wavering.

"Exactly. I've got that gig. What could be safer than living with an Avenger?" He said, even though it was safe to say a lot of places are safer than an Avengers house. Percy seemed aware of the dangers.

"Mahybe a preacher?" He said questioningly. Laura rolled her eyes, and Percy took one more look at his sister. Finally, he sighed. Clint guessed that the pros outweighed the cons. His sister needed a home. Maybe it was slightly dysfunctional, but it was better than the streets. "Fine." He said. "We'll stay."