Chapter Text
Clint woke up.
He knew without opening his eyes that he had to be in a hospital. After the beating he had gotten there really wasn’t any other place he could be. Especially not when wasn’t in excruciating pain or freezing from lying in some side alley in New York.
He tried to hear if anyone else was in the room. Maybe a cop or two. His left ear was still busted, but it wasn’t like he couldn’t hear anything with it, just not every small sound.
After a short time he gave up. He couldn’t hear any voices or strange movement. Even if there were cops in his room, pretending to sleep wasn’t going to help him get rid of them. Slowly he opened his eyes.
Yep, he was in hospital all right. But luckily no one else was in the room. It was small, and there was a second bed not too far away from his, but no one was in it.
It seemed to be occupied though, the sheets were only loosely put back in place over the bed, and there were flowers on the bedside table.
The walls were painted in an ugly green that could only be described as the colour of vomit. Odd choice for a hospital, Clint thought. There was a window, but from what he could see from his bed he was too far up in the building to jump to the ground. Probably 5th or 6th floor. The room had two doors, one that seemed to lead to the hallway and a second smaller one that probably lead to a small bathroom.
All right, he’d better get a move on. If he was lucky nobody had figured out who he was and they’d classified him as just another John Doe. Best leave while he still could.
He looked down on himself and tried to figure out how bad his injuries were, from the level of pain he was in, not to bad. But he suspected that was because they had given him the so-called “good stuff” which would wear off soon enough.
He had to know if he could make it on his own. He couldn’t take the chance to stay here.
None of his limbs were in casts, and that was a relieve, the hassle of trying to get out of town with a broken leg would have been terrible.
On his right hand his middle and ring finger where bandaged together with a splint. He hoped it was only a sprain or hairline fracture. Both his arms were littered with dark bruises, blue and green. He lifted the blanket covering him slowly, and moved the hospital gown up to his breast, he was bandaged around his torso. Tight, even bandages, so probably a cracked rib or two. The pain would kick in soon enough, he knew from experience.
His inspection moved on to his legs, nothing too bad there, again mostly bruising, and a bandage on his right calf. He tried to remember what kind of injury he might have there, but it was all too hazy in his mind.
Having taken in his injuries Clint decided that the faster he got out of that hospital the better. Glad that he wasn’t attached to any machinery. There was an IV-line in his left hand that was connected to some sort of liquid dangling from a metal stand. He guessed it was full of meds that were supposed to keep him hydrated or something like that. Slowly and carefully he removed the needle from the top of his hand. He sat up straight, which caused a jolt of pain to shoot through his ribs, even though the painkillers were still in full effect.
At the far wall of the room, were two closets, hopefully his roommate had some spare clothes in there. Clint was in luck, as he painfully opened the closet door he was greeted with the sight of several pairs of jeans and quite a lot of sweaters. His roommate apparently had planned a longer stay.
The jeans he put on were too long and loose around his hips, but that wasn’t a surprise. Clint was short for his age and scrawny, if they had put him in an adult wing (which by the looks of the undecorated ugly ass walls, was the case) then the likelihood of the previous owner of these clothes being bigger than him, was pretty much 100 %.
After he had put on one of the shirts and taken another two, as backup for colder days, he closed the closet door. He wanted to move back to the bed, to get going. But as soon as he closed the door he froze. Behind it stood another person.
Looking at Clint, not saying a word. Clint blamed his messed up ear and the pain meds for not hearing this guy creep up. He frowned. If this was the owner of the clothes he’d be pissed.
The guy didn’t look all that sick though. Dark hair, with specs of grey in it, big, but not huge nose. He was of pretty much average height, so about head taller than Clint, and wore a ridiculous looking knitted sweater.
“Ah, Clinton, I’m glad you woke up. Already feeling better I see. “ His voice was deep and calm, Clint hated it right away. Smug bastard. How the hell did that guy know his name?? He didn’t look all that much like a doctor, but what did Clint know. The last time he had seen one outside of TV was when his mum was still around.
“Oh, hey… yeah… I don know who y’ are, but you got it wrong, man. Name’s not Clinton. Don’t know any Clintons… so “
The stranger didn’t seem to buy it. “I’m sorry, “ he said, smiling a little and looking Clint in the eyes. “My name’s Tom Lydon, I’m with Child Protective Services here in New York. And I’m very sure that you are Clinton Francis Barton. 16 year old run-away extraordinaire. “
“No- no I’m not.” Clint felt panicked; he had to get out of here. How did fucking CPS know he was here? He was in an adult room, why did they know he was only a kid. He had to get away as fast as he could
“I’m called J-James, Moriarty, actu’lly. So yeah, I’m not this Clint Barton guy, and I’m no fucking run away either. I’m 19, so there is nothing to run away from… I’m just leavin’, so could you get outta my way?”
“James Moriarty? Like the bad guy in Sherlock Holmes?” The social worker looked at him, still with his little smile on his face. “ I’m sorry Clint. I’m sure this is all a lot to take in, waking up in hospital, me just showing up out of nowhere. I was hoping to get here before you woke up. How about we sit down for a little while and have a chat” He indicated Clint’s bed with his left hand.
What choice did Clint have) run? He wouldn’t get far. Hospital security was probably everywhere. His only chance had been to sneak out, without anybody seeing him. Running through the corridors with an angry dude from CPS after him, wasn’t going to work out.
He sat down on his bed. The social worker got a chair that was standing next to the closet and moved it closer to the bed. “Listen, Tim, or whatever. My parents were big Sherlock Holmes fans, so what? I’m not who you’re looking for, so you can just go. No hard feelings”
“It’s Tom, “ Tom said, he opened the satchel he was wearing and took out an official looking file. He opened the file and showed Clint a photo. Two boys, frowning at the camera, the older of the two, he was maybe 14 had dark red hair, and a very bruised jaw, the younger one, who looked 2 or 3 years younger, had blond hair, sticking up into every direction. His frown seemed less sincere than that of his older brother; more put on for effect for the photo. Clint didn’t remember that picture being taken. It must have been at the first foster home.
“So you are telling me you are not this boy?” Tom said, pointing at Clint on the picture.
“Yeah, no, that’s not me.”
“You sure look like him, and tell you what James, you even have the same finger prints as this kid” Tom’s smile widened. The fucker. He had known all along that there was nothing Clint could say to get out of this. Might as well give up now.
“Listen Clint, you are not in trouble. We just want to help you. When you came to this hospital you were very badly beaten up. You were unconscious for several days. We will prote-”
“so how’d you figure out it was me?” Clint interrupted, “unconscious dude in a New York hospital, why’d they even run my prints? And why can people in this city look at my fucking finger prints, anyway?”
“Well, the hospital called the police, because you had clearly been assaulted, and you seemed under-aged. And your fingerprints are in the federal database for missing children. They have been ever since you and your brother took off from your,” Tom glanced at the file he was still holding “second foster family.”
“so if the hospital thought I was a kid, why am I in this room?”
“Paediatrics ward is undergoing renovations”
“So Tom, “ Clint pronounced the name with as much sarcasm as possible, wouldn’t want the guy to get too chummy with him.
“what do you wanna do with me now? Back to Iowa? Cause I’m not gonna just stay there.”
“Actually, Clint, since I have gotten your case file I have been able to track down one of your relatives. Or rather, they have been able to track me down.”
Clint stared at him, what relatives? He didn’t have any, except for Barney, and yeah... he didn’t want to think about that fucking mess right now.
“what?” was all he could manage to say
“Yes, I’m sure it must come as a pretty big surprise to you. The guy even lives here in New York. I have spoken to him and explained your situation. He seems to be a distant cousin, he was doing a bit of genealogy and found ou-“
“yeah, whatever!” Clint nearly shouted “what does this dude want???”
“he’d be willing to take you in after you have been released from the hospital.” Tom said, smiling at Clint, like he had just told him Christmas had come early.
“and what? You’re just gonna let some random ass dude take a kid home with him? How’d even know he really is related to me, huh?
“Like I was trying to say earlier,” Tom replied, a bit more annoyed than before, “He is a cousin of you mom’s. Didn’t have that much contact with her. But now he wants to help you. Child protective services has vetted him, and we have no objections to him taking care of you for a while”
“Great, “ Clint said. Fucking great. Some weird psycho was going to take him home.
“well, if you don’t like it, Clint, I’m sure we’ll find another solution. But how about you meet your cousin first. I’ll bring him by tomorrow, so the two of you can get to know each other. How does that sound?”
“fucking awful!” Clint hissed and threw himself back on the bed, immediately regretting it. His entire body started to hurt like hell. “fuck!” he couldn’t help but yell.
“All right, calm down, I’ll get a nurse in here to help you. And then you should probably get some more rest. You must be very exhausted, and hungry.”
Tom got up and left the room, a nurse came in a short while later with some food and she reattached the IV line to Clint’s hand. Tom only stopped by again to tell Clint that the nurses would make sure he didn’t go anywhere and that they’d see each other again the next day.