Bridging The Gap

Clint knows he hasn’t lived a conventional life.

From the gruesome death of his parents when he was six, leaving him with severe hearing loss. To being thrown into eight foster homes with his older brother Barney in a span of four years. To then running away from their final foster home when Clint was 10 and Barney was 16, and living on the streets for two years doing what CPS still has yet to learn. Clint’s sure if Barney hadn’t gotten arrested for beating up some guy outside of a bar the two of them would have never gotten caught– or well Clint wouldn’t have because Barney was already out of the system at that point.

Yet, unfortunately Barney’s arrest got Clint’s name brought back up at CPS and soon his photo was once again in the hands of all local precincts, bodegas, and even featured on the nightly news. Which is how the boy found himself being manhandles into the back of a cop car just two and a half weeks after his brother’s arrest.

Barney would laugh at his younger brother’s inability to remain uncaught.

So now, Clint sat behind someone’s desk at one of the local precincts. Right hand handcuffed to the desk after trying to make a run for it three times. And having been threatened to have his left hand cuffed as well if he didn’t stop launching pencils and pens at anyone who got near him. The boy decided he may as well listen now because Barney always told him if he got caught that playing up his innocence is his biggest playing card. So the boy sat slouched in the swivel chair, gently kicking his legs back and forth, with– what he would never call– a pout on his face.

“Yeah, I mean, he’s been fine. Put up a fight ___ the car, and then tried ___couple times once we got him ___ hasn’t hurt anyone,” Clint can partially hear one of the officers who had brought him in say over the staticness of his old hearing aids to an unseen figure.

“Is he hurt?” he makes out is the response coming from a much deeper and rougher voice.

More people walk into the precinct as the officer replies so Clint can’t catch what the voices are saying, but it didn’t seem to matter because soon enough the officer is stood in front of him with a tall, serious looking man who Clint hopes– but know– isn’t his new social worker.

“Mr. Clinton Barton. Born June 18, 2007 in Waverly, Iowa to Edith and Harold Barton,” the man says in a gruff voice that has Clint cowering if only slightly.

“Yeah, maybe,” he replies while rubbing the wrist that is currently cuffed up.

“Maybe, huh? Well, if you were Clinton Barton I could get this officer to uncuff you. Maybe get you something to eat and drink,” the man levels as he pulls a chair up so that he can now be more at level with the boy.

Clint thinks about the offer. He knows eventually they’ll confirm he is Clint. Whether through fingerprints or facial analysis. It’s just a matter of doing this the long way or the fast way. The grumble in his stomach seems to make the decision for him though as he whispers out that yes, I’m Clint Barton .

True to the man’s words, Clint is uncuffed– only after a brief warning that he would be restrained again if he tries to run or hurt anyone– and led to a conference room where a sandwich, bag of chips, and water bottle was waiting for him. The tall man allowed the boy to get a couple bites of his sandwich in before he decided to start talking.

“So, Clint, you’re a hard man to find,” the man begins. “A lot of people have been trying to find you for a long time now. All the way from Iowa to New York and everywhere in between.”

“Thank you,” the boy says with just a small smirk before continuing to devour his sandwich– his first full meal since Barney had been caught.

“My name’s Nick Fury, I’m a social worker for child protective services here in New York. More specifically I am your social worker now,” the man now known as Nick says. “Your name has been on my wall for just about two years now, so believe me when I say it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Don’t know if the pleasure is given back,” Clint mumbles now done with his sandwich. “So what happens now? Get sent back to Iowa? Juvie?”

“Group home,” Nick says with what Clint would deem as smugness if his hearing aids didn’t keep spiking randomly.

“Thought group homes didn’t take kids who ran away?”

“Most can’t, but some do. Ones run by counselors who are able to keep a closer eye on the kids. And luckily for you I’ve got one already lined up for you to get settled into.”

“Yippee,” Clint says only looking scared for a brief moment before going back to his neutral face.

“Hey, look at me,” Nick says, only waiting for Clint to lock eyes with him before continuing. “I don’t know you and you don’t know me, but I’ve seen your file. I can tell the foster system wasn’t fair to you even if it’s not explicitly stated, but this is better than being on your own in the streets. You’ll get food. Have a bed. A shower. It’s better than the streets.”

“Whatever you say.”

Clint remains quiet the entire drive to the group home. He does pay attention to where they’re headed the entire way though. Even though he’s lived in New York for two years, him and Barney tended to stay in the same area the entire time, so he never really learned the streets and boroughs. So now he needs to make sure he knows where he’s going to be just in case this home turns out like all the others and he needs to come up with his own escape plan.

Soon enough, the car comes to a halt in a residential neighborhood right outside what looks to be a normal house. There’s not gates on the windows, or even a gate surrounding the house. The paint and wood porch doesn’t look ready to rot away. Overall, it looks like a house you would find a family of four living in. Well except for the sign out front that says Bridging the Gap Group Home . 

“Come on, Barton. It’s getting late and we need to tell you the rules and expectations,” Nick says from the porch of the house.

Clint looks at the man with an incredulous look. There’s about 15 yards between the two, and Clint’s a fast runner. He knows he could easily book it down the road, outrun the car for a bit by running through backyards, but for some reason he chooses to walk towards the man rather than away.
“Good choice,” Nick states without looking at the boy before knocking on the door.

There’s talking behind the door, Clint can tell, but he can’t actually put together what’s being said. There’s too many voices and they’re all loud, and his old hearing aids just aren’t equipped to pick up what each of them is saying. He can’t really tell what’s going on until he feels a hand clap on his shoulder followed by a loud voice.
“Phil, meet the infamous Clint Barton,” Nick says as he lightly guides the boy into the house, where the noise only intensifies.

“Hi Clint, it’s nice to finally meet you. My name’s Phil Coulson,” the man says with a smile, expecting the boy to at the very least acknowledge him, however, all he’s met with is the boy twisting his head into his shoulder as he rubs at his ear.

Phil gives the boy as well as Nick a curious look before noticing the hearing aids preset behind the boy’s ears. Quick to realize the boy can’t determine all the noises in the room he signals for Nick to bring him into his office. Once the three were away from the noise, both men notice the look of relief on Clint’s face before starting the interaction again.

“Hello Clint, my name’s Phil Coulson, and I’m one of the heads of the group home,” Phil says while signaling for the boy to sit.

“M’Clint,” the boy states, looking uninterested.

“I’m a counselor as well as social worker as is Maria Hill, who’s my second in command. We have other staffers who are counselors or in school for social work, and you’ll meet them over time.”

“Cool,” the boy says uninterested once again before reaching forward to grab a pen off the man’s desk, hesitating just a second to see if he’s going to be stopped.

“Clint,” Nick is the one that speaks up this time while giving the boy a raised brow. “I don’t think you realize we’re giving you an opportunity here.”

The boy gives a raised brow back with an unimpressed look.

“Let me help Nick out here, yeah?” Phil speaks up again. “While we are a group home, we’re not the group home that I think you heard horror stories about in your other foster homes. We’re like the halfway home between fostering and group homes.”

At the explanation Clint looked up at the two with a confused expression.

“You do get freedoms here, Clint. Maybe not right now because there is a level of trust that needs to be built, but eventually you do get freedom. You will go to a real school eventually, and can go out on weekends, and do everything normal kids do,” Phil explains. “Because you ran away from your last home the state isn’t able to put you back in another home, but we also don’t think that means you need to be living under 24/7 superveillance.

“The point here is that we get to monitor as well as help you through turmoils you may find yourself in. Past, present, or future. You’ll get to have all the freedoms in the world, there’s just a precautionary level in case one day you have a bad day,” Phil finishes up his little spiel, and while Clint does give him credit for his attempt at genuineness, the boy doesn’t fully buy it.

“Okay I get it. Am I supposed to get rules now or something?” Clint says with a sigh and roll of the eyes.

“In fact you are,” Phil says, stature not changing a bit. “First off, tomorrow we’ll be getting a physical done to examine any previous injuries, your nutrition levels, fixing your hearing aids, as well as a general exam. Based on that there will be varying rules. You also won’t be going to school for a bit until we feel like it’ll be an environment you’ll be able to thrive in. You will be having lessons here, though, so don’t think you’ll be doing nothing. 

“You’ll be sharing a room, and we do trust you to have doors here, however, all employees have the right to randomly search your room. Mealtimes are a mandatory check in period, and there’s a bulletin by the stairs that gives the time for meals as well as what we’ll be having. As you gain our trust you earn more freedoms, but for now you will be confined to the house for more time than I think you would like. Everyone here has a personal counselor that they do one on ones with outside of the group sessions, and you’ve been assigned under me. So based on that, though, we can work out ways that we can potentially leave the house if I think it’s something that’ll benefit your progress.”

“Anything else, Officer Coulson?” Clint says with a roll of his eyes.

“Clint, trust me when I say this is much better than any other group home you could be put in let alone juvie. I’m hoping you put in an effort to make this work,” Nick says with a raised brow to which he’s given a glare back in return.

Clint can see Phil and Nick having a quiet conversation between the two of them, and normally he’d get mad at people using his hearing against him but he really couldn’t care less at this moment. All he knows is that he’s back in the system after two years, and the last time he was in a house like this...well, let’s just say his memories of the streets are more positive.

“Clint did you hear me?” The boy is shook out of his thoughts by Nick’s hand being placed on his shoulder– to which he only flinches minimally. “I said I’m leaving, Clint. I’ll be back next Sunday to check in on you and get a progress report from Phil and the other counselors. Behave.”

And with that Clint is left in Phil’s office alongside the man who’s giving him a small smile before being guided out of the quiet room and back into the noise where eight people were currently sat around a TV or at a table working on what he can only assume is homework.

“Everyone, I’d like you to meet Clint, the newest member of our house,” Phil says after getting everyone to quiet down.

The boy is met by mainly blank stares of uninterest along with one or two waves.

“Like I said to you all in group earlier today, we’ll have a bit of a longer group session tomorrow since we need to do an introduction as well as explain the living-learning rules and expectations that you all have come up with. For now, please make him feel welcomed,” Phil says with a clap of his hands. “Alright, Natasha, Tony, and Pepper, your lights out call is coming up, so Tash and Pep finish up your homework and Tony you go shower. Clint, your light’s out call would have been signalled by now, so let’s go show you where the showers are and then you’ll be going to bed.”

Clint sees three people roll their eyes as they begin to shuffle around, so he assumes those must be the three names he called. He can’t help but send a glare up towards Phil though for basically putting a “pick on me” target on his back with the whole your lights out call already signaled clearly showing the house he’s the youngest. The man either doesn’t notice the glare or doesn’t care as he guides Clint up the stairs. They approach a hall closet that Phil is quick to unlock where he hands Clint a shower caddy. As the boy holds it, Phil places in a bottle of shampoo, conditioner, wash cloth, and a bar of soap. Alongside that, a toothbrush is given to him with a tube of toothpaste and a cartridge of floss. He’s then finally given a towel before being guided down the hall and into a room where he can hear water running as well as feel the moisture in the air already.

“Occupado!” Clint hears a voice shout from behind one of the three shower curtains in the room.

“Funny, Tony,” Phil says back as he guides Clint further into the bathroom. “So we have two communal bathrooms here– one for the girls and one for the boys– as well as a private one in the hall that acts more as priviledge or reward. Typically the younger boys shower at night where the older ones shower in the morning. This isn’t a set in stone rule, but we try to abide by it seeing as there are only three showers and mornings can be hectic. You can leave your caddy here after you shower. I’ll leave some pajamas on the bed in your room which is going to be the third door on the right.”

Phil waits for a brief nod before he’s leaving the bathroom, and Clint’s quick to make his way into a stall. The boy hesitates removing his clothes and starting the water for a moment because he can hear Tony still in the shower, and he knows he needs to take his aids out if he wants to get his hair wet which leaves him vulnerable. It seems the boy only contemplates it all for a couple more seconds before he’s removing his aids and his world goes silent.

As he stands under the warm water, working quick to clean himself up, he can’t help but try to remember the last time he got to have a nice shower was. Honestly, it was probably before he even ran away. Pushing the thoughts away, he tries to clean himself as quick as possible realizes the grime on his skin is much thicker than he’d thought. Regardless, though, the boy makes himself finish his shower in five minutes– grime still somewhat present on his body– before he’s shoving his aids back in.

Luckily, Tony’s water is still running.

The boy dries off, brushes his teeth, and then leaves the caddy where he sees the other one’s lined up before making his way out of the bathroom and towards the room Phil had said would be his. As he enters, he notices three beds, desks, and storage dressers in the room. Two are decorated and filled with random books, posters, and photos. One is bare of decoration, though, he can’t help but smile at the blanket, pillow, and even the clothes that were set on what he’s assuming is his bed.

He’s quick to walk over and begin to put on the provided pajamas– some boxers, sweatpants, and a plain white tee-shirt. As he’s pulling the boxers up his legs, the boy he assumes is Tony walks in with a towel around his waist, giving a nod towards Clint in acknowledgment. Clint can’t help but turn away and attempt to get all his clothes on even faster and staying turned away till he’s sure Tony would be fully clothed.

“So I figured me and Bruce would get our third roommate eventually. I’m Tony by the way,” the boy now confirmed to be Tony says as he extends a hand for Clint to shake which he does so with only a brief moment of hesitation.

He remembers how foster homes work. You gotta show a front from the very beginning because any sign of weakness only acts as a reason for people to make you their punching bag.

“Clint,” the boy says with an uninterested look.

“How old are you? Like 10?” Tony asks as he turns back towards his side and sets up at the chair in front of his desk.

“I’m 12,” Clint says defensively.

“Yeah, same thing.”
Before Clint can reply, though, Phil is walking into the room to make sure Clint had found the room as well as to get him to go lights out.

“So you’ve met roommate and housemate number one, I see,” Phil says giving Tony’s hair a quick tossle before continuing onto Clint’s side. “You have one other roommate, Bruce, and he’ll be in soon. He’s a bit older than Tony so he’s got a somewhat later bed call. Typically your lights out is gonna be 9:30, but today’s an exception, obviously. Light’s out now though, cause tomorrow’s gonna be a long day. Do you need another blanket or anything?”

Clint gives the man a weird look, but shrugs it off because he guesses that people tend to be nice the first couple nights you’re in a new home. He then shakes his head when he notices he didn’t answer Phil’s question.

“Alright, well, my room’s straight down at the end of the hall if you need anything just come in and let me know. If I’m not there I’m probably downstairs in my office. We have another staffer who takes a night shift, so they’ll be downstairs as well. Come on, now, under the covers.”

Phil pulls up the blanket from the bed and allows Clint to crawl into it before wishing the boy a goodnight and turning off his desk lamp. He hears the man tell Tony 15 minute warning before lights out and then the room goes quiet. It’s quiet until he hears the door creak open again followed by what he thinks is someone sitting down on one of the beds– probably Bruce.

“You talk to him?” Clint hears coming from an unknown voice.

“Yeah, pretty quiet. Seems like a tough kid,” Tony says in reply. “Gonna be funny to watch Phil deal with him.”

“Tony,” the voice says in what sounds like a disappointed tone. “Heard he was a runaway. Two years on the streets.”

“Shit really? Told me he’s 12. Might give Bucky a run for his money with being Phil’s hardest case.”

“Tony it’s not something to joke about. Bucky would beat the shit out of you if he heard you.”
“Means I would get out of school again.”
“You’re an idiot.”

There’s a bit more quiet chatter before all the lights in the room are out and it goes silent. And no matter how tired Clint is, he can’t fall asleep. Or not fully at least. Last time he fell asleep in a foster home he made a promise to himself and to Barney that he’d never do that again.

Clint’s at the breakfast table with all the other seven faces he had seen look at him the night before. There’s a plate of food in front of him, but he knows this game. You eat the food before someone says you can, you get punished. There’s some adults walking in and out of the eating area who keep giving him small looks but he makes sure they never see him stare at them. Soon enough Phil is walking out of his office, clapping his hands, as he shouts out names that need to go to school.

Or at least that’s what he thinks is happening because it’s all really loud and his hearing aids are practically screaming static frequency.

Six of the people around him are quick to grab backpacks as they make their way out the front door; Phil handing each a bag of lunch on their way out. When the last one walks out the door, Clint can’t help but sigh as he can finally hear again only to then notice one remaining figure at the table now staring at him.

“Eat your food,” he says before going back to his own meal.

Clint looks at him weirdly before ever so slowly picking up his fork and taking a bite of the eggs. As he swallows he looks around to see if anyone was going to do anything, but it seems as none of them noticed.

So he takes another bite.

And then he eats a strawberry.

And a grape.

And then he pushes his plate away because that’s enough to last him for the day and no one can tell he’d taken anything, so he can’t get punished.

He continues to sit at the table though until he hears a chair being pulled out next to him and Phil is placing himself down next to the boy.

“Bucky, you’re gonna work with Maria today, alright? I gotta take Clint to some appointments throughout the day. We can do some one on one later tonight, though, before lights out if you need?” Phil offers to which he only receives a nod in understanding. “As for you Mr. Clint, we’ve got a long day ahead, so you should eat up.”

“I’m fine,” Clint is quick to reply which causes Phil to give him a weird glance.

“Not hungry?”
“I’m fine,” he repeats, more confidently.

“Alright, well, let’s go upstairs to get you some clothes for the day and then we’ve got to get you down to the doctor’s office. We’ll set you up with a wardrobe later tonight, sound good?”

And with that Clint nods again as he’s led upstairs to another closet where he’s given a pair of jeans, a shirt, sneakers and socks, and even a hoodie. The boy is quick to get ready before he meets Phil back downstairs where the man is patiently waiting while typing out something on his phone.

As he finishes the message he notices Clint waiting for him, so he gives the boy a small smile before guiding him out of the house and towards an older looking Ford SUV. As they get closer and closer to the car Clint feels his anxiety peak a bit about if he should sit in the front or back, but luckily for him he didn’t have to come to a conclusion because Phil opened the front door for him to climb up into.

Clint isn’t exactly sure where they’re going first because all Phil had said was that he had a lot of appointments to attend today. He was tempted to ask the man, but he wasn’t sure how the speaking rules worked yet. Logistically, he knows Phil is his counselor so the man probably would love for him to speak, but he wasn’t about to do that without verifying he won’t get hit one way or another.

Soon enough, Clint notices the car pulling into the parking lot of a brick building with the sign Suffolk’s Pediatric’s Hospital outside the front door. He must have been analyzing where he was longer than he thought cause next thing he knows Phil is once again opening the door for him with a soft smile as he extends a hand out for the boy to offer assistance in getting out of the car.

“M’not a little kid,” Clint mumbles as he jumps down and begins to make his way to the door.

Phil doesn’t reply only catches up the boy without much effort and continued to lead the way into the office. Once inside, Phil tells Clint to go take a seat as he begins to fill out what looks to be an extremely extensive pack of papers. As Phil works on that, Clint once again begins to analyze his surroundings. He notes that he is the only one in this waiting room and can’t help but wonder if there were really no other kid with a doctors appointment at this time or if the office had just been made aware of his history beforehand. He scoffs at the idea of being put in isolation, but he can’t help but think that that’s the reason.

“Clint Barton?” A nurse calls from the doorway, immediately locking eyes with the boy and Phil, who’s quick to smile and grab ahold of Clint’s hand to bring him towards the door. “Quiet day in the office, huh? Lucky you guys, though, no wait time.”

“Can only hope the rest of the day will be just as easy,” Phil says with a chuckle as he hands the clipboard of paperwork over to the nurse.

Now, Clint hadn’t been to a doctor in awhile, but he still remembers the basics of which they have him do which is why he doesn’t feel totally clueless when they have him take off his shoes or hand him a small plastic cup. The beginning portions of the visit are fine because no one’s asking questions, or at least he hopes they’re not because there’s a lot of beeping going around so his aids aren’t acting the clearest. Eventually though he’s led into a private room that has painting of Buzz and Woody on the wall and told to sit up on the examination table and that the doctor would be in soon.

Sure enough to the nurse’s words, there’s a knock on the door not even two minutes later followed by a young doctor entering the space.

“Hello, hello, good to see you again Phil, and it’s nice to meet you Clint. I’m Dr. Cho,” the woman says with a smile as she extends a hand for the boy to which he hesitantly shakes.

“Good to see you, too, Helen. Thanks for squeezing us in so last minute,” Phil says once the woman looks back at him.

“It’s not a problem at all. Plus as if I would let any of the other doctors here take away my favorite patients,” the woman jokes back before turning back to Clint. “Alright, so, Clint. I have your file, but it’s a bit scarce for my liking. So why don’t you tell me a bit about yourself.”

“I’m Clint Barton, and I’m 12,” the boy says quick and brief.

“Alright, well, I’m looking for a bit more. What do you like to do? How are you feeling?”

“I feel fine.”

Clint’s face remains stoic as Dr. Cho and Phil look about each other. Clint can see the two’s lips moving, but he can’t pick up what they’re saying except he does think he can read the lips of Dr. Cho say Bucky .

“Alright, so you’re not much of a chatter, that’s okay. That’s actually fair. You don’t really know me, and you barely know Phil, so I understand. How about we start with this physical then, huh?” Dr. Cho says as she pulls out her stethoscope and the tool that shines a line in your eyes and ears.

When Clint doesn’t give a reply, the doctor takes it as though she can start. Clint can’t help but note how gentle every move she makes is, though he still flinches when he feels the stethoscope get pressed to his back. The doctor gives a soft smile as she continues the exam, only giving a quick warning when she had to look into his ears, hence removing the aids for a moment.

Eventually, Clint’s told to undress which he does so after only a moment of hesitation. He waits to remove his shirt last, but once he does he’s quick to hear both figures in the room gasp before attempting to cover it up. If possible, Clint notices Dr. Cho’s touches get even softer before finally he’s handed a hospital gown.

“Alright Clint, we have to get some scans done to see if there’s any past injuries we need to worry about, so before we do that, do you have any questions for me? Or any concerns?”

“No,” Clint quickly replies.

“Alright, well I have a couple questions for you actually. How are your potty habits? Does it hurt when you pee or poop? Are you regular?”

“My bathroom habits are fine,” the boy squeaks out, face tinted red.

“Do you have problems sleeping ever? Getting to sleep or staying asleep?”
“No.”

“Alright, and prior to you moving in with Phil, how many meals a day do you think you had on average?”

At this question Clint remains silent while also sending a small glare towards the woman.

“Just a guess, huh? Or how about what you mainly ate before moving in with Phil.”
“I don’t know,” Clint finally manages to whisper.

“How about where did you get most of your food?”

There’s a beat of silence before both Dr. Cho and Phil hear the boy whisper out an answer.

“The dumpsters,” Clint says with a hint of embarrassment, refusing to look upward so he didn’t have to see the disgusted looks.

“Alright, thank you for answering, kiddo. Now let’s go get your scans done.”