Chapter Text
Manhattan, New York – November 14th, 2007
Clint Barton knew that his job would take him places that he’d rather not be and put him in the company of the world’s most vile people. He knew, once Cooper was born, that his job would strike a certain type of fear into him. He would see the worst the world had to offer and he would be plagued with nightmares, terrified for his children.
The worst part was when he had to go undercover. Getting inside the minds of these people, learning their thought processes, and joking about the horrors they inflict upon the world, it made Clint sick to his stomach. But he was good at it, so what else was he supposed to do but try to take as many of these fuckers out and hope to god that he could make the world a little bit better before his kids were grown.
Presently, Clint hated everyone around him. That wasn’t necessarily new but it was making it more difficult to pretend that he was a drunken human trafficker trying to find a good buy that night.
For this job, he was in Manhattan, trying to break up the child-trafficking ring that he was currently sitting in the midst of. He was leading a team of four, himself included. His partner, Barbara Morse was sitting across the room with Phil Coulson and a handful of traffickers playing cards. Melinda May was sitting at the bar chatting with a man approximately ten years her senior.
Clint was sitting next to a dirtbag that smelled like he hadn’t seen a shower in a week and a toothbrush longer than that. Clint had his eyes trained on the door, keeping to the pretense that he was hoping to leave with a new possession that night, while only half listening as the man detailed his last trafficking success.
“Now, here’s where it gets good.” The trafficker said giddily, making Clint’s stomach turn. How anyone could find joy in selling a child to be raped was beyond him. It was taking every ounce of his self-control not to pull his Glock out and put a bullet between the bastard’s eyes. “So, the guy forked over twenty thousand and I handed the girl over, and she started screaming,”
The door banged open and a severe-looking couple barged in, dragging a young boy behind them by the collar of his jacket. The kid looked terrified and no older than fourteen. His eyes were red and puffy, his cheeks showed evidence that he’d been crying, and the left side of his face was swollen.
The man, his father most likely judging by their appearances, roughly pulled the boy to his side and growled something under his breath. The kid flinched slightly and cowered.
“Please, no,” he begged. “I’ll be good, I promise.” He turned to the woman. “Mom, please. Don’t do this.”
Clint stood up and waved an apology to the man he’d been ignoring. The boy’s mother perked up as he approached while the child started to cower more. Clint could feel his team’s eyes on him, but the rest of the patrons looked down once they saw that the boy was spoken for.
Clint casually leaned against the bar and put a predatory smile on his face. “What do we have here?” he reached out and tapped the underside of the boy’s chin.
The boy looked up at him, fear prevalent in his eyes as they watered. The father in Clint wanted to crouch down and tell him that everything would be okay, that he wouldn’t hurt him, and that he would ensure his safety, but that would blow his cover and only put the child at risk.
“His name is Alexander.” The boy’s father spoke up. “Thirteen years old, and yours if you want him.”
“He’s homosexual.” The mother sneered. “Our positions at work are already precarious, we cannot allow for this . . . behavior.”
Disgust pooled low in Clint’s stomach. These people were monsters. They were selling their son because he’s gay and they were embarrassed.
Clint took the boy’s chin gently in one hand and tilted his head to the side. “You marked him up. I’ll have to knock a little off the payment for that.”
“I don’t care about the money,” the mother scoffed. “I just want him gone.”
Clint crouched in front of the boy and looked into his eyes. They were big and hazel and full of fear. He was a cute kid. He also had tattoos. Clint took the collar of his jacket and pulled it down slightly, making the kid shake in fear. They weren’t tattoos. They were runes. This kid was a Shadowhunter and suddenly what his parents had said made sense.
The Shadowhunters were a secret race of half-angel half-human warriors that fought demons. They protected humans and were supposed to protect the Downworlders as well, that being the Warlocks, Vampires, Werewolves, and Seelies. All of which were a secret from the human world, and all of which S.H.I.E.L.D. knew about.
The Shadowhunters had very rigid rules handed down by their government The Clave. They were a straight-laced society that seemed to not have progressed past the 1800s. They were strictly heterosexual, married into honorable families, and aimed to produce male heirs.
It didn’t make it right, but Clint had a better understanding of where these people were coming from now. Alexander must have been their first-born son, otherwise, they would not be so worried about getting rid of him. A second-born son being homosexual wouldn’t have been such a big deal in their society. It still would have been shameful, but it would not have ruined them completely.
Clint simply smirked and stood up. “It’s illegal to tattoo a kid under sixteen, you know.”
The mother rolled her eyes. “You can have him for free for all I care.”
Clint pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and produced a couple of hundred-dollar bills. He handed them to the man and placed a hand on Alexander’s shoulder.
“Pleasure doing business with you.” He said and then looked down at the teenager. “Anything you want to say to them before they leave?”
Alec whimpered. “I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry.” He whispered. “Please, I’ll do better. I swear.”
Clint watched the parents’ faces and saw nothing. They had no reaction to their child begging for them to keep him, wanting to change who he was to better fit their opinion of who he should be. They didn’t react to the tears in his eyes or the quiver in his voice or the visible fear that encompassed every inch of him.
His mother just shook her head and turned to leave. The father gave Alexander one last look of disdain and followed his wife. Alexander made to follow his parents, but Clint kept a firm hand on his shoulder, keeping him by his side. He waited for a moment and looked around. No one was looking at them save for Clint’s team. Once he figured that Alexander’s parents would be out of sight, he turned to his new companion.
“Let’s go.” He said in a low voice to the distraught teenager. “Come on.”
He tugged Alexander out of the run-down building and around the corner toward the SUV he was using while he was on assignment. He had driven there with Bobbi, but she could ride back with Coulson and May instead. Alexander was more important right now.
Clint had to admit that he was impressed. Alexander was going with him more or less willingly. It was likely because he had nowhere else to go, but the boy was still shaking with fear. He wouldn’t have been surprised if the kid had taken off running as soon as they cleared the doorway.
They made it to the SUV and Clint pulled the passenger-side door open. “Get in,” he said gently, gesturing for Alexander to climb in. The boy hesitated, looking at Clint warily, but he did as he was told.
Clint looked over his shoulder, people were walking by occasionally, but it was late and it was cold, and they were in a rough part of town, so it wasn’t often that anyone came close enough to be within earshot.
He turned back to the child and reached over, buckling him in. “Listen, I know you’re really scared right now, and what just happened was horrible. I understand that, okay?” Alexander nodded. “Your name is Alexander?”
He nodded again. “Alec.”
Clint gave him a small smile. “Alec. Okay, Alec. My name is Clint Barton. I’m an agent.” Clint pulled out his wallet and extracted his badge, holding it up to show the boy. “You ever heard of S.H.I.E.L.D.?”
Alec shook his head.
“It’s pretty secret, kind of like the Shadowhunters, huh?” Alec’s eyes widened. “I’m a mundane, but the agency I work for knows all sorts of stuff. I saw your rune.” He gestured to the side of his neck. “what’s that one mean?”
“Deflect,” Alec whispered.
“It’s cool,” Clint told him. “You don’t have to be afraid, now, Alec. I’m going to make sure that you’re okay. I’m very sorry about your parents. I know that the Clave is very strict, but here in the mundane world, it’s okay if you’re gay.”
Alec didn’t say anything.
“My team is still in there, so I’m going to use this,” he pulled the comm out of his ear and showed it to the boy. "to talk to them and tell them what’s going on. After that, we’ll go to Headquarters and get this straightened out, okay?”
Alec nodded.
Clint stayed in the open door next to Alec and pressed his finger to the comm. He didn’t want Alec to think he was hiding anything from him.
“Hey, I’m going to take the kid back to HQ. Morse, ride back with Coulson and May and wait for further instructions.”
“Copy that,” Morse replied.
“Alright,” Clint sighed. “Let’s get going.”
***
Turns out, walking into Headquarters with a thirteen-year-old in tow garnered attention. Fury knew about it before Clint even made it up to his office.
“And what do you suppose we ought to do about this?” Fury leaned back in his chair, spreading his hands out wide and fixing Clint with a withering stare.
Clint glanced over his shoulder at the teenager sitting in a more comfortable chair than the one he was given, reading a book, and drinking hot cocoa. He looked more relaxed than he had in the trafficking ring, but he still glanced up at Clint every few minutes.
When they’d entered HQ, he had grabbed the man’s sleeve and hadn’t let go until Clint had put him in the chair and hadn’t taken the book until Clint had taken it from Fury and handed it to him instead.
“We could have Sitwell drop him at Social Services.” Fury suggested when Clint hadn’t said anything.
“No,” it was like a reflex.
Clint had hated his time in foster care. After his mother had handed him that gun and told him to shoot the police had taken him and gave him to a social worker. Eventually, Clint ran away to join the circus, which is where Coulson had found him years later.
Looking at the boy who was now looking back at him, eyes wide, uncertain, and fearful, Clint couldn’t imagine just sending him away and wondering weeks from now what had happened to him.
“Let me take him.” Clint turned back to Fury. “Get me temporary guardianship and I’ll talk to Laura. I’ll take him back to the house in the morning and I’ll sort everything out.”
Fury considered him for a long moment. “Alright, you found him, he’s your responsibility. Write your report, make sure you put how much you gave them for him, and it’ll be included in your next check. Hill will get you some clothes for him, for tonight and in the morning, he’ll stay in your room with you. She’ll bring the papers for you to sign as well, send them back to me with her and it will be official by morning.”
“Thank you, sir.” Clint stood up. “Alec let’s head to bed. Okay?”
Alec stood up and went to hand Fury the book back. Fury gave the boy a rare smile. “It’s yours. Keep it.”
Alec smiled hesitantly. “Thank you, sir.”
Clint laid a hand on Alec’s shoulder and led him to the door.
“Barton?” Fury spoke up. Clint turned around in question. “I think you’re doing the right thing.”