Not All Those Who Wander Are Lost
Chapter One: Not All Those Who Wander Are Lost
January 15th, 2014
For 13 years, Clint Barton has hated the 15th of January. To most people, it’s just another day. A few history buffs might think back on the day every now and then; Queen Elizabeth I was crowned in 1559, Martin Luther King Jr. was born in 1929, and Richard Nixon announced the suspension of all U.S. offensive action in North Vietnam in 1973. Those days didn’t matter to Clint; what mattered was the 15th of January, 1998. It was a typical Thursday, the only thing truly significant that happened in the world that day was Bill Clinton giving out Presidential Medals of Freedom. But to Clint Barton, it’d always be the day his daughter was born and, subsequently, the day his daughter died. He’d never planned on having a kid, not until long after he’d met Laura, but it had happened nevertheless.
Not long after joining SHIELD, Clint had left the base for the night. He’d gone out to a bar in the city, desperate to get away from all the judgmental looks he got at headquarters. He wished he could pretend everyone stared at him because they were impressed by his aim, but he knew the truth. It was no secret he’d been an assassin before Coulson convinced him to work for SHIELD. So, after hearing yet another group of trainees whisper to one another as he walked by, he’d gone out. The bar was nothing special, in fact, it was a little run down. The tables were old, scratched wood and the drinks were subpar, but that didn’t matter; it was the girl standing behind the bar pouring the drinks that mattered.
Adaline O’Neill had been 22 years old when he first met her, just two years his junior. The first thing he’d noticed had been the woman’s bright, bright green eyes. Even from halfway across the room, he’d been able to spot them. Her wavy hair reached close to her waist, the dark brown a strong contrast to her light eyes. He’d gotten up and sat at the bar to flirt with the girl for a while. After a few drinks, she told him he had another thing coming if he thought she was going to sleep with him. She was on track to getting her Ph.D in genetics, having skipped several years of school, and was far too smart to go home with a guy she’d met at the bar. Usually, Clint would’ve just cut his losses, but there was something different about her. Something special. So, whenever he had a night off, he found himself heading into town to go to the bar. Adaline, or Della as she told him she liked to be called after a few weeks, worked most nights to try and help pay for school. Finally, almost a month after Clint first walked into the bar, Della agreed to go out with him.
And it had been the best six months of his life. Someone had actually loved him – something he didn’t think was possible – and she’d been the love of his life, so he thought. They eventually moved in together, although it wasn’t like he was home much. She quit her job as a bartender to do research full time, and he went off on assignments with Coulson for weeks on end. It wasn’t the most conventional relationship, but it worked for them, and for the first time in his life, he was truly happy. Then, he came home from a mission one night and she’d told him she was pregnant. He’d never been so excited and yet so terrified in all his life. Excited to have a kid and terrified to become his father. Despite his fears, he promised himself he’d be the best father he could. That his kid would be able to depend on him instead of fearing him the way he had been scared of his father. And then, the best day of his life had come. Della called him three weeks before her due date and told him the baby had been born. A tiny little girl. Quinn Eliza Barton. For a year, being a father had been the greatest joy of his life. He had a family again, people who loved him unconditionally and people he loved back. A kid that he could raise and watch as they grew into their own person. But like everything else in his life, it all came crashing down. He’d been on a mission in Paris on Quinn’s first birthday and was, naturally, absolutely pissed about it. Then, Fury called and gave him the news that completely obliterated his life. Someone had broken into his apartment. They had attacked Della and taken the baby. Coulson had barely been able to calm him down since he was so distraught.
SHIELD had looked everywhere they could, but after weeks of relentless searching and no leads, Fury decided they had to face the facts. No one had any reason to keep a baby around, not unless they were going to ask for ransom. Coulson half-heartedly agreed and Clint soon found himself burying an empty casket. His world was gone and just when he thought it couldn’t get any worse, Della left him not two months later. Della told him that she couldn’t do it anymore, that she couldn’t handle being with him any longer. Being with a secret agent wasn’t for everyone, she’d said, and the thought of what they could’ve had – a family – was too painful. Before he could even try and convince her to stay, she packed up her things and left. The sound of the apartment door slamming shut as she left had never quite left his mind.
She never looked back.
Meanwhile, Clint was left – once again – broken. He’d lost the love of his life and his child all within eight weeks. He threw himself into work, taking on whatever assignments Fury asked him to. Almost six months after Della had left him, Clint got shot on an assignment. Coulson rushed him to the hospital where he met a nurse that made him feel something he hadn’t since Della left. She’d told him her name was Laura and after the third time he ended up in her emergency room, she’d informed him that he owed her dinner for all the times she’d had to patch him up. Eighteen months later, they were married and Cooper was on the way.
Having Cooper had been… hard. It was a constant reminder of what he’d lost. But he’d gotten through it, with the help of Laura. He’d told himself it was better to focus on what he actually had, to spend his time protecting what he had left. Lila’s birth had been somewhat worse. In the beginning, she’d been a constant reminder of her sister, of the child Clint had lost. And as Lila got older, he found himself wondering if the two sisters would have been alike. If Quinn’s hair would have stayed the same light brown it had been when she was a baby. Whether her eyes would've stayed blue or morphed into a shade of green like her mother’s. If she could have inherited her father’s aim or her mother’s depressing lack of hand-eye coordination. He quickly learned that wondering only caused him pain, so like everything else that had to do with Della and the baby, he shoved it into the corner of his mind to forget about. The only time he ever truly allowed himself to think about it was on the 15th of January. Everyone knew to avoid him on that day, whether he was home at the farm or at the compound. He'd only ever told Nat and Coulson about the baby, but he knew Nat had filled in the rest of the team.
And for 13 years, that was how he survived. Remembering all the details was too painful, so he forgot them. If he was asked, he’d say he had two children, with one on the way. The only time he ever discussed Quinn or Della was when Natasha worked up the nerve to say something about them, which usually only happened in January. Laura never asked about them, a lesson she’d learned long ago. And Coulson, well… he was gone. The one person Clint ever truly confided in about what happened, the one person who had been there when Clint’s life had gone to hell, was gone. And just like his daughter and just like Della, he was never coming back.