Ghost
Fourteen years ago
Phil rubbed his hand across his forehead trying to forestall the headache that was looming. Fury really needed to start hiring more people. As much as Phil enjoyed the comfort and relaxation of paperwork, forms and order, there were only so many reports one person could look through in one day.
A soft knock at the door pulled Phil's attention from his pile. "Come."
Jennifer struggled with the door knob, but managed to enter without dropping a single file from the large pile balanced precariously in her arms. "Mr. Fury wanted you to take a look at these ones as well." The secretary had a somewhat apologetic look on her face, but dumped the pile on his desk nonetheless.
"Thank you, Jennifer." It looked like his long day was going to turn into a longer night. Jennifer smiled and left Coulson to his work. He reached over and pulled the first file from the top. He skimmed the first page. 'Justin Fletcher: age 35, suspected mastermind of twelve bank robberies. Recent intel suggests that he had been tapped to help a Hydra cell plan a break in at the SHIELD facility in Iowa.' Coulson made a note to assign Agents Filner and Jackson to track down Mr. Fletcher before he put any plans together.
Phil grabbed the next file from the pile. 'Clinton Barton: age 20.' Was it just Phil or were the bad guys getting younger and younger? 'Suspected to be involved in ten assassinations while working as a hit man for hire. Has proven useful with fire arms, as well as his weapon of choice: bow and arrows.' Coulson decided to add an armed and dangerous note to file and assign Agents Kowalski and Mortelous. Without a second thought, he dropped the file into his outbox and moved on to the next. He was keeping the world safe by ordering threats removed, one at a time.
Phil was distracted from his pile awhile later when Dan walked in and dropped into the chair opposite Phil. Placing his feet on the desk forced Coulson to stop and push them off. "What can I do for you, Dan?"
"All filing and no play makes Phil a very dull partner. Now I know you missed those little things called meal breaks, so what do you say you take a break from signing people's death warrants and come with me to grab some late dinner. Kelly's at a friend's having a sleep over and you know how I hate to eat alone," argued Dan.
The slight rumble of Coulson's stomach at the mention of dinner betrayed him and he had no choice but to capitulate with his partner's request. Dan just smiled as he got his way and dragged Phil out of the office for a bite to eat.
"Any word on Jäger yet?" asked Phil as he cut into his parmesan chicken. Things had been so hectic lately that Coulson and Pierce found themselves working by themselves more than together on missions.
"No, we lost him in Madrid. He's making his way here, I can feel it. A snake like that is never up to any good, and the sooner we axe him, the better I'll sleep at night," replied Dan around a mouthful of food..
The man known as 'the hunter' had launched three successful attacks against SHIELD in as many weeks and was the current focus of most of the agency. Jäger had been linked with Hydra, but all reports indicated he was still independent from them. He also had ties to local mid level criminals across the United States and mob affiliations in Eastern Europe. An operation in Romania had put Dan firmly on the man's hit list. Phil had a feeling it was going to be a very long and trying year. Jäger had proven himself a worthy adversary.
Six months later
Clint adjusted the sight on his scope. He had been waiting on the rooftop for over three hours for his target to show up. A rifle wasn't his first choice to get the job done, but what the customer paid for, they got and he desperately needed this pay check. The man across the street walked into his crosshairs and Barton pulled the trigger. The target crumpled to the ground dead before he knew what hit him. It was quick, clean and one hundred percent professional. Clint quickly dismantled his gun and cleared the rooftop before the onlookers on the street got it together enough to call 911.
Barton swung his bag over his shoulder and disappeared into the crowd; he had a paycheck to collect. Most people would feel bad about spraying someone's brains all over the sidewalk, and once upon a time, Clint had felt bad about it. Sleeping in back alleys and going without meals helped curve any feelings of remorse the young archer had. The reality that quickly became Barton's world was that scumbags usually paid to have other scumbags offed. Killing wasn't glamorous, and it certainly wasn't glorious, but it was a skill Clint seemed to excel at, and in some weird twisted way, every mob guy and drug dealer he was paid to kill kind of made the world a better place. It was the lie he told himself to sooth some of the guilt that slowly ate away at him.
It was hard being an assassin with principals, but it was even harder to have morals while starving to death. Clint didn't take any jobs that required him to kill innocent people, which meant that many nights he went hungry or without a roof over his head. All that was forgotten for today, because he had completed a job and wasn't going to have to scrounge for dinner out of a dumpster tonight.
He made his way to the Hornet's Nest Club to meet his employer. It was early afternoon, but the bar was crowded with the usual ruffians that didn't have anywhere else to be at one pm, except at the bottom of a bottle. Clint gripped the strap on his bag tighter as he slipped past Wilson's boys and made it to the back room.
"Get the job done?" demanded Wilson, who was more focused on the stripper in his lap than the young sniper that just entered his office.
"Yep."
A roll of hundreds was tossed across Wilson's desk. As far as the going rate for murder went, Barton was extremely under paid, but a young kid with morals about who he killed didn't exactly have a lot of room for negotiation, and when said kid was broke and starving, you took what you could get. Clint grabbed the money and pocketed it before anyone could change their mind.
"Stick around, would ya. I have another job coming down the pipes and I need you to do it. One of my boys will be in touch. Besides, I know how much you kids like Jäger's jobs; bigger paychecks and what not. Seems he has use for the whole Robin Hood shtick"
Barton nodded and pretended it was a friendly offer of work, and not the implied threat that it was. That was the other down side of working with the wrong side of society; there was no doubt in anyone's mind that you do what you're told or the next target to come up would probably be you.
Clint hated staying in one place too long, but the fall he took during his last job had produced a nice big medical bill that had cleaned out his meager savings. Doctors working under the table weren't cheap and neither were the medical supplies and pills Barton had needed. Normally he would have forgone the medication, but the pain had been so bad that he broke down and paid for the overpriced pills from the doctor with the menacing grin. It was a moment of weakness that Clint felt he would be paying for a long time coming. He'd have to perform a few more jobs before he had the capital to relocate and get away from Wilson.
Clint ducked into the corner store on his way back to the shit hole he had been crashing in for the last three months. He grabbed enough groceries to skim by for the week and pretended not to notice the way the clerk's eyes followed him throughout the store. Barton knew he looked scruffy, and if he hadn't gotten a job today, he would absolutely be pocketing the items the clerk was watching him with. But he had dispatched another soul today, and therefore could afford to pay for the simple items he was going to dine on.
After getting his groceries he made his way back to the rundown apartment complex. It was the kind of place that you paid by the week and didn't expect things like running water or heat in exchange for no questions and no one remembering your face.
Clint had just started up the stairs when his muscles tensed up and he felt compelled to pull his knife out. He turned around and stopped short.
"Hey Clint, you need help getting that stuff upstairs?" asked Aiden with a hopeful smile.
"Shouldn't you be in school or something, Aiden?" grumbled Barton as he slide the knife back into its sheath and started up the stairs.
Not deterred by the attitude, the young boy bounded up the stairs behind Barton. "No school today. It's a long weekend."
"Where's your mom?"
"She's out working and I can't go back home in case she brings one of the guys back. Just cause I ain't got school don't mean she ain't gotta work. Not all the guys like to spring for hotel rooms ya know."
Clint did know. The walls around the building were pretty thin. He couldn't judge Aiden's mom, not that he would have anyways; she had helped him out when he first took shelter here and wasn't able to walk very well due to his ankle. She was on her own raising a precocious twelve year old, and you had to do what you had to do to put food on the table.
Clint fumbled with his keys, but managed to get the door to his apartment open. Aiden followed him in undeterred by Clint's attempts to shut the door on him. "Go home Aiden!"
"Can't I just hang out here for a little bit? Please."
Barton put the bag of groceries on the counter and pulled his backpack off his shoulder; the weapon felt heavier with Aiden in the room. The words sounded horribly familiar to ones he used to beg Barney with when they were kids and with one look, Clint knew he couldn't turn the kid away. He remembered what it was like to so desperately want someone, anyone's attention for even just a second.
Clint took his gear to the corner of the apartment that had a mattress and dumped it out. Aiden went about putting the groceries away, but when he thought Clint wasn't paying attention he would pause and watch the man clean and store his weapons.
"You eat anything today?" asked Barton as he put his cleaning supplies back in the drawer.
Aiden paused to ponder the question and the most appropriate answer. "Found some crackers in the cupboard this morning," he confessed.
"Uh-huh." Barton began rummaging through the cupboard for some pots. He filled one with water and set it on the stove. "Grab me a can of tomato sauce out of the cabinet, would you?"
Aiden lit up at being tasked with helping. Clint set to work making spaghetti and sauce while Aiden watched intently between fetching items for Barton. When dinner was ready, Clint washed two plates that had been sitting in the sink and served up the food. He didn't have a TV, so they sat on the dilapidated couch and slurped noodles in companionable silence.
A gentle knock came at the end of dinner. Clint was cautious, but he figured that anyone out to get him wasn't going to knock first, so he didn't stop Aiden as he bounded over to answer the door.
"There you are! Do you know what time it is?" asked Sheila.
Clint glanced at the clock and realized it was later than he thought; he probably should have sent Aiden home over an hour ago. He sauntered to the door while Aiden regaled his mother with lessons in making spaghetti. "He had dinner, so he's good to go."
The relief on her face warmed Barton's heart slightly. Obviously, work didn't go well today if she was worrying about her ability to feed her son tonight. "I hope he wasn't any trouble. Thank Clint for dinner Aiden."
Aiden thanked him as he followed his mom out of the apartment. Clint just about had the door shut when Aiden came running back and wrapped himself around Clint's waist. "You're a good guy, you know that Clint?"
Barton stood there a moment after Aiden released him from his hug; there was something about those innocent words that made him feel dirty. He called after the young boy, "I'm really not!"
Phil watched behind his dark glasses as the agent handed over the folded flag to Kelly. For a thirteen year old girl who had just lost her father, she was holding up remarkably well. Coulson would even say she was doing better than him. He flinched slightly at the shots fired to honor their fallen agent and Phil cursed himself for not being able to save his partner. Jäger had just made the top of his list; he was going to crush anyone affiliated with Jäger along the way.
The crowd that had gathered soon dispersed throughout the cemetery, leaving only Coulson and Kelly. Phil moved to stand behind the girl and placed his hand on her shoulder. She reached up and placed her hand on top of his.
"Remember when you were younger and your dad told you his job was fighting bad guys so the world would be safe? I want you to know he died a hero, and I promise you I'm going to see that the bad men that did this are brought to justice," vowed Phil. Kelly just nodded, unable to speak without breaking down again.