A sobbing Clint lay on the kitchen floor after being violently shoved into the cabinets. He was slumped over and had tears glistening in his stormy blue eyes. His head was rubbing against the cabinet in an awkward position, but it didn't seem to faze him one bit.

Unfortunately, Barney wasn't there. He had gone over to a friend's house and hadn't returned yet. That was definitely the worst part about this; not the pain from being pushed, but instead the lack of his brother.

The Avengers (minus Thor because he had to go to Asgard to do something) had watched in utter horror and shock when the scene changed from earlier to this.

Clint's father had been obviously drinking; it seemed like he always had a drink in hand. He was either on his fifth or sixth beer by now. It also appeared like his favorite thing to do after digesting all that alcohol was embrace his anger. Clint was still awfully young, maybe around the age of five, approaching six.

Clint's mother was scared of what her husband could do. She had seen it first hand along with her boys. She couldn't stand by and watch as her husband beat up the young boy, so she had fought back. Now he dragged her by his large, beefy hands up to what the team assumed was a bedroom.

Clint was worried for her. What if hurt his mother really badly? He wished he had Barney to say words of comfort and rub circles into his back like he always did. Barney... That was the nickname a little Clint Barton had given his elder sibling, instead of his real name, Charles.

Clint and his future friends counted as minutes went by. Even though his nobody else was in the kitchen with him, he still didn't dare to move into the safety of his and Barney's bedroom. The team didn't know what to say.

"Well... You learn something new everyday, I suppose," Tony had thought his past was bad, filled with neglect from his dad. He still had had Jarvis, of course, but he had always clung to the small strand of hope. Hope that Howard Stark would say four, simple, little words: I love you, Anthony.

Steve didn't know what to say about any of this. He only remembered that Clint steered the conversation in another direction when talking about family. This must be a prime example of why. But then again, everyone had it bad, so why talk about it? It's like how the Captain avoided mentions of the second world war because it was too painful to talk about. Especially Bucky.

Red Room training was pretty rough for Natasha- or as she was known then, Natalia. But at least she'd had four years of love and sanity with her parents, unlike Clint and Barney. She did know one thing about her best friends past other than circus acts, so it was shocking to see his brother being so kind when he would betray him years later.

Suddenly, a bloodcurdling scream purged through the air. The birds stopped chirping. The clocks stopped ticking and counting away each second. If the team didn't know any better, they would've thought that time had completely froze. Time stops for no one.

More yelling followed, but it was only one voice- Clint's father. Then, it stopped, but time didn't unfreeze.

The front door opened at the same time Clint's parents bedroom was opened so violently, that it nearly fell off its hinges. Barney immediately spotted his younger bro on the floor, but didn't say a word in fear of the figure looming over them.

"Boys! Get your backpacks and pack some clothes!" Their father was disheveled and had a look of slight panic in his eyes. His sons didn't move, obviously perplexed and wondering what had happened. "Actually, fuck it. To the car, now!"

Natasha gasped and Tony looked at her expectantly; she knew what was about to go down. "Oh my god..."

"Er, oh my god, what exactly?" Steve asked, a little unsure of whether or not he wanted to hear an answer.

Nobody moved at his slurred speech. "NOW!"

Anger sparked on his facial features, startling both boys. Barney offered a hand to Clint who gratefully took it. They then ran after their father into the front yard.

The Avengers hadn't yet seen it, but it was pretty evident that nobody took care of it. Lots of weeds spread across the grass, at least what was alive. Most of it was a murky yellow brown color, meaning it was long dead. Apparently, his sons hadn't been walking fast enough, as he grabbed them by their arms like he had done to his wife earlier and dragged them to a car.

He opened the door and pushed them in ever so 'gently'. Then he shut the door hard and muttered something that sounded like, "Gotta take care of something..."

"Where's mom?" A frightened Barney said while failing to be calm for his brother. Clint didn't try to cover up the fact that he was scared.

"I don't know! But I think she screamed earlier and-"

"Y- you don't think that... Dad did this?"

Before they could continue, the man of the hour unlocked the back trunk and deposited a small bag. The Avengers and Barney knew what was in the bag, confirming their worst nightmare; that Harold Barton just murdered his own wife, Edith. Now he planned to skip town and hide the only piece of evidence.

Both boys were silent in horror. Clint was too young to fully understand. He didn't realize that the bag in the trunk contains their mother's lifeless body. He didn't understand that their father was nothing better than a killer who drank and abused his kids. He was too innocent, but not anymore.

Barney knew he had to do something. They were in a car with the person that had once made Edith Barton so happy, so joyful in the journey known as life. But now, her corpse was rotting in result to that man's actions. He wanted to protect his younger brother; it was all he could do at this point.

Tony broke the silence, "He killed his own wife?"

"Clint told me once that his father was the reason his family was so messed up." The archer had confided those details to Natasha after a mission gone wrong. They had been waiting for a dealer to show up, but he never did. The only people that made an appearance had been men doing his dirty work. False intel from SHIELD leads to disastrous mission outcomes; like the bullets that grazed Natasha, or maybe the broken rib with her best friend.

Steve didn't offer any contribution to the conversation, already fixated on Harold's driving. He glanced at the speed they were going, then sunk his foot down further into the gas pedal. The engine revved even harder, the sound blending with the incoming droplets of rain. It even started hailing; the balls of ice grew from pennies to softballs to watermelons. (A/N: I don't have any idea what I'm talking about.)

The noises, even though they were far from being the same, still went together somehow. It was nice with a low amount of sounds; easy to keep track of and observe. That's what made it hard when everyone could hear the engine, a raging storm, soft whimpers from Clint and Barney (which were covered by the louder ones), and then...

The squeal of tires making contact with a rather large puddle. The car skidding out of control and connecting with the bridge's low brick wall above the river. The screams of the three people inside the falling vehicle as it plunged into the icy waters far below. Finally, more screams from Tony, Natasha, and Steve as they watched hopelessly, knowing they can't do anything.

**Hehe cliffhanger! I'll edit this later after I watch AoS, bye.

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