Clint
As soon as I stepped foot into the briefing room, I took noticed of how hardly anyone talked. It was clear that everyone had the same confusion about why the meeting was held on short notice. Everyone was accounted for besides Tony which didn't surprise me much. I slid a chair out from the table and took a seat, right beside Nat. If anyone knew about this meeting it'll be her.
"What's going on?" I asked lowly while scanning the room seeing nothing out of the ordinary.
"Tony ran some test on the arrow for fingerprints, he found a possible match on the print and blood. He's on his way now." She informed me. I nodded in understanding. Tony walks in on cue as if he knew his name was being said. I didn't miss the side glance that he shot my way, nor the deep exhale as if he was making some hard debate. I raised an eyebrow at the unusual behavior before shifting so I could get comfortable in the chair. Something told me that this was going to be a long meeting.
"Friday did the test and there was a positive fingerprint on it. I ran over every record, and one came up a ninety-eight percent match. It came up every time I retested it." Tony announced standing at the end of the table. He placed his hands on the table and leaned on them.
"Why would you retest it if it was a ninety-eight percent?" Nat questioned him. I glanced at her then back at Tony. The same question on my mind.
"Cause it didn't seem right, why else?" Tony spoke with a tone full of sass. "Anyway, Bruce did a blood test on the blood that was smeared on the arrow, it came back as the same person."
"So, who are we dealing with?" Asked Steve. Tony stood upright and rubbed his face due to either stress or frustration.
"That's where things get complicated." Tony sighs heavily. He drops his hands down to his sides. "The person who fired the shot is dead or supposed to be dead." I looked down placing my chin on my knuckles in thought.
"So, we're dealing with a ghost?" Tony clicked his tongue at my question.
"Basically." He responded and I nodded taking note of it.
"So, who is the shooter?" Wanda asked the million-dollar question. Tony hit a button on the remote. I turned my head towards the TV that now held a 3d image on it. My heart sank at the sight and a ball of anger erupted in my chest.
"Clint's daughter, CJ Barton." Tony reveals. I shot up to my feet. Anger, hurt, sadness, they all were swirling in my chest like some loose tornado.
"It's not possible." I denied it. It wasn't, there had to be a mistake. My daughter is dead.
"Why would you say that?" Wanda asked curious. I looked at her feeling my eyes water over some.
"Because she's dead, Wanda. She's been dead for 12 years." I admitted feeling my heart clenched with pain. It was hard for me to talk about her. She was my first daughter, the daughter I told I'd always protect her, but I failed. She died and I wasn't there to protect her or her mother.
"Is she, Clint?" Steve questions. My eyes narrow into a glare. "It's possible she could still be- "
"No. It's not, Steve." I told him cutting him off. I didn't want to hear it.
"How would you know?" Steve argued "Her fingerprint and blood were on the arrow. It was a hundred percent match."
"They both were found dead. I saw the bodies. It was-" I paused almost in tears. "It was them. It has to be a mistake." It pained me to say those words. I haven't talked about my daughter or her mother for years now. The pain was too much for me to even think around. Nat put a hand on my shoulder.
"I had Friday ran through some camera data from the base and found this girl." Tony changed the subject. "She was good at hiding her face, but Friday managed to get a clear shot of the girl who fired the arrow." A 3D image of a girl popped up on the TV. She had light brown hair and was about 5'6 maybe 5'5.
"Who is she?" Nat asked and this time Friday answered.
"CJ Barton, born February 14th, 1998, deceased at age 4 do to stab wounds to the stomach and head trauma." I ran my hand over my mouth trying to keep my anger in check.
"Rescan." I ordered slightly raising my voice.
"CJ Barton, born February 14th, 1998, deceased at age 4 do to stab wounds to the stomach and head trauma."
I heard enough.
I got up and walked out of the room slamming the door behind me. I had enough of it, I knew that it wasn't my daughter. I saw the bodies of her and Jade. I headed straight towards my spare room. I walked in and closed the door behind me. I sat on my bed and let the tears go. My heart clenched at the thought of my eldest daughter. The daughter I've tried so hard to move on from. The daughter that I'll always remember even when I try not to.
I closed my eyes and tried to calm down, but my mind kept drifting off. I sighed through my nose and reopened my eyes and looked over at the nightstand. I opened the drawer and took out the small but not to small rectangle wooden box. I pushed the lock open and pushed open the lid. I smiled when I saw the picture of my daughter on her first birthday.
She was my little girl, always will be. I picked the picture up and placed it on the bed. I picked up a note that had her messy handwriting on it saying the words 'I love you, Daddy'. I put it with the picture. Next was the Bracelet, the last thing she made for me. The last reminder of her. I felt my gut clench painfully and the tears come back.
Why would someone take my little girl from me? Why would anyone want to do that to a child? She was innocent, she didn't deserve to be taken away from the world in such a harsh way. Why did it have to be her? I cried as I thought more of her. I didn't hear my door open, or Nat walk in until she sat beside me. She pulled me into a hug, and I cried.
"We're going to find whoever this person is and take them down, Clint." Nat spoke softly. She knew of CJ. I told her about her when I was at one of my most vulnerable times, the date they died. Every year around that damn date, I fall into a depression. Hell, my own wife didn't even know about CJ, my younger two kids didn't even know about their older sister.
I sniffed getting ahold of my emotions. I felt anger and hate raging inside me.
"I'm going to hurt them." I promised staring down at my balled-up fists.
"Clint- "
"Badly." They should've left her be. Now they're going to pay for using my daughter's identity.
YOU ARE READING
Crossfire
Fanfiction"We was unlucky the day we was born." "You can't be any more right." In which a young Assassin is sent to kill Natasha Romanoff but makes a drawl back in her mission. Or In which Clint Barton has to accept the bigger truth. ****** Disclaimer: I do n...
