A/N: So, here's the first chapter of my new story, and it's the first Avengers story I have written, so forgive me if it's not very good. Let me know what you guys think :D

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Normal.

What exactly is normal? It could be many things, but I suppose the definition would vary depending on the person asked to describe it. But I know that whatever it was, whatever definition you lived by, I was never a part of it. I didn't really grow up in a 'normal' environment, what with my childhood having been spent in a SHIELD facility, and my brother being, well, my brother. The Agents around me tell me that I should be grateful to have Clint as a brother, but honestly? There's something pretty damn wrong with their heads.

That's right; my older brother was Clint Barton, the great and mighty 'Hawkeye'. And I was Samantha Barton, useless younger sister. Believe it or not, we had actually been close as kids. Then SHIELD got a hold of him. Now, he had been a good brother and made sure they gave me a spot with them as well, but my job was nowhere near as glamorous as his own. He went on missions all over the world to take out national threats, and I was stuck here getting the important people their morning coffee.

Now, don't get me wrong, I am grateful for them taking us in, because we had nowhere else to go at the time. They had given us an option we hadn't thought possible, but that didn't mean that I have to like the position they gave me. And I suppose there was more to be grateful for.

I may have only been a coffee girl, but my combat skills had been honed by my many years of working for SHIELD, as well as being trained privately by Clint.

Clint did his best as an older brother during that time. He taught me all that he knew about archery, but I was never as good as him. Sure, I was probably a whole heck of a lot better than your average person, but I came nowhere near the skill that Clint possessed with his bow.

Martial arts, however, was another matter entirely.

After a few years of constant training and sparring, he didn't have any more time to teach me, so he left it to one of his best friends: Natasha Romanoff, otherwise known as the Black Widow. Now at first I was absolutely terrified of her, and just the mere sight of her made me shake. But after a few lessons with her (and after I had my ass handed to me more times than I cared to admit), I learned to live with her intimidating atmosphere.

It kind of grows on you. After a while, that is. I pride myself on being a quick learner, and I got the hang of the moves she taught me fairly quickly; there were a few times when I was almost able to beat her in our sparring lessons. Well, maybe a little less than almost. But just a little.

Now, Natasha and I didn't like each other, exactly, but we had grown to respect each other for the skill and dedication that we each possessed. In some ways, (though I would never admit this to her) she had grown to be my role model. The calm and collected fierceness she exhibited, the way that she knew exactly who she was and what she needed to do... it all appealed to me. Then again, I didn't really have anyone else to look up to.

A fellow SHIELD member once told me that I was becoming a mini 'Widow', and I had to resist the very prominent urge to punch them in the face. I looked up to Natasha, sure, but I was nothing like her.

I was young and stupid and unprepared for life in general, whereas she was knew how to take the world by the balls and get stuff done. I hated to be even a small part of SHIELD, while Natasha was their top Agent and knew it. She dedicated everything she had to her work. Even the little things were different. I had brown hair and blue eyes; she had red hair and hazel eyes with looks that could kill just as well as her guns. Clint looked up to her, all while he glared down at me. Her life meant something, and mine was about as important as the last Fox News' shitty opinion piece.

Natasha was absolutely brilliant, and I was nothing like her.

Of course, to accompany all of her amazing traits; she was also a morning person, and she always scheduled our sparring lessons early. It forced me to get up at an ungodly hour every couple of weeks to meet her, though it wasn't really that bad, since we didn't do this very often. She was always off on her missions around the world, but she somehow managed to make time for me every couple of weeks.

I let out a small sigh, and continued my trek down the SHIELD building's hallway. The lights were dimmed, as it was still dark outside, and I only passed a few people as I walked forward. I managed to make it to the gym without being late; 4:30 on the dot.

Natasha was standing on the other side of the gym with her hands held behind her back, studying the ground below her. She turned when she heard my footsteps, and nodded briskly at me.

"I have to be half way across the world in less than five hours, so let's try to make this quick," She spoke.

I gave her a slightly drowsy smile, and stretched out my arms gently, trying to get them ready for combat. If I was still stiff when we started sparring, she would take me down in no time at all. After a few minutes of some basic stretches, I jumped up and positioned myself into an offensive stance. I was usually the one who was on the defensive side, waiting for my opponent to make a mistake; to give me an opening that would give me the upper hand. It was a fine tactic, but I had to include more offensive moves if I wanted to make a real impact on the person I was fighting against.

Natasha was on me in an instant, and I only barely had time to block her strike.

That was something that I would never get used to no matter how many times I sparred against her, the fact that the Widow was so fast. She let out a flurry of movements as easily as if she were dancing, and I tried my best to block all of them, but a kick managed to hit my unprotected side, and it successfully knocked the air out of me.

It only took a moment before the sleepy feeling completely left my body, and my training fully kicked in. I stopped myself from thinking too much, and instead reacted, using my natural instincts to get ahead. I feigned an attack to her left, and nearly struck her, before turning and landing a kick to her stomach, causing her to stumble backwards.

I tried to take advantage of her momentary weakness, and punched outwards. It would have hit her had I been a split second faster, but as it was, she grabbed my hand and twisted it to the breaking point. Wincing, I knelt down and swerved my body around so that I could use my momentum to break her hold. I pulled away, and went to throw a kick at her legs, but she moved away from me, and countered with her own kick that successfully managed to knock me down onto the padded floor.

I jumped back up, but she sent another punch my way, one that I was only barely able to block in time. She threw another one, and it forced me onto my knees. I held my hands up to protect my face, trying to fend off all of her attacks. She kept striking me, and it seemed like the fight was lost.

She knew that all I could do now was block her attacks, but she didn't stop. She never stopped without me saying something to her, which wasn't something I was about to do. My pride may end up being my downfall, but I'd be damned if I admitted defeat to her. I wouldn't. I could not. Somehow, throughout the process of me getting my ass handed to me, my thoughts wandered over to Clint, and I came to a sudden realization.

My brother could hold his own in a fight with Natasha, so why couldn't I?

I began to get angry, completely unreasonable I know, but just knowing that my brother could do something that I couldn't, made me mad. My cheeks heated with my fury, and I darted up from my kneeling position, swiftly thrusting my leg out and hitting Natasha in the stomach once again.

She stumbled back much like the time before, but this time she nearly fell down trying to regain her balance. I wasted no time, and launched myself at her the second her attacks faltered. I knocked her legs out from under her, and when she stood back up, I grabbed her shoulder and used my hold to launch myself over her.

Before she had a chance to face me, I used the opening she gave me and elbowed the back of her head. The force of the blow sent her to the ground, and I knew I had won. I was still slightly angry for some reason, and my jaw was clenched uncomfortably, but I had the sense to calm down. I took a deep breath, and held out a hand to the red head.

Natasha took my hand, and pulled herself up. She put a hand to the back of her head, as if she couldn't believe what I had done. For a few seconds she simply stared at me, before a small smile finally tugged at the corner of her lips.

"You actually took me down,"

She looked me up and down, and wait, where her eyes sparkling?

"Do that more often." She commanded, before sauntering out of the room and out to the quinjet that was most likely waiting for her just outside the building.

After she was gone, let out a laugh, and held a hand up in a mock salute.

"Yes ma'am..." I muttered, before rubbing the tender skin of my left cheek.

Natasha had hit me pretty hard, and I knew that if I looked in the mirror I would probably see a bruise forming. Ignoring the pain that had spread throughout my already sore body, I left the gym, thinking silently to myself.

I had no real friends in SHIELD, which wasn't surprising, as they didn't exactly have other twenty something year olds running about. And if they did, they would always have something better to do than sit and talk with some amateur agent who's never been on a mission before. It sucked, and to add to that I was rarely ever allowed to leave the base, not even to go shopping for normal clothes.

Well, okay. I was actually fully capable of leaving, but I would have to have another SHIELD Agent with me when I did. It was a method of protecting their Agents, and since I was constantly around 'sensitive' informative, it was also a method of keeping an eye on me.

So of course that went over well.

For the first year they successfully got me to wear their stupid little uniform, but after a while (once I had become fed up with the itchy costume) and I (being the rebellious thirteen year old I used to be) snuck out of the facility, rules be damned.

Now, even though the base I lived on wasn't too top secret (I think), and we didn't have anyone too important working here (I'm pretty sure), it is not in any way easy to sneak out of. They had a surprising amount of security for just a bunch of unimportant tests and experiments, but it only took a few attempts before I was able to sneak past most of the guards. All of the techniques Clint and Natasha had taught me had definitely come in handy back then.

It was actually amusing to watch them at first, as they were baffled at how I had managed to get my hands on skinny jeans and t-shirts, but soon enough they checked the security tapes carefully and found out what I had been doing.

They gave me a severe scolding and a warning to 'never go out again without an approved supervising Agent' (it was a 'high level' security risk), as I was 'far too young to be roaming about' and that there were 'too many enemies of SHIELD for you to safely be out by yourself'.

And of course, it only took about two days before I got out of the base yet again. They caught me, of course (they had insane security, I'm telling you), but after I kept slipping through their fingers... they just stopped caring.

They must have come to the conclusion that I could handle myself perfectly fine, or maybe that if something happened to me, it'd be less of a burden on them. And that's all that really mattered to those power hungry assholes.

My steps echoed loudly through the halls as I made my way to the nearby vending machines, as I had an annoying craving for junk food. The other food offered here was too ... healthy.

I despised healthy things.

I grinned to myself as I walked, and looked down at my new phone. After several years of begging and pleading with them, SHIELD finally gave in, and gave me a cell phone. However, I soon found out that it was completely useless, as I had no one to talk to.

Since I didn't have any 'friends' here, and there wasn't exactly anyone outside the base to talk to; there was no one.

Well, there was one person.

Phil Coulson was about the only other person on the base I knew well enough to even want their number, but he was... well, Phil.

He was an awesome guy, and was one of the few agents to actually talk to me (and though I never told him, he was the only person I called a friend). I had met him for the first time when I was around fourteen or fifteen, and he had been the one to open up to me.

He had told me that I was important, that SHIELD knew that, and that's why I had a spot here. He had told me that it was a place to call 'home' for those who believed in helping people and doing the right thing; for people who believe in the greater good.

And I really wish I could think that way.

Even after everything, Phil still stood by my side. He knew how angry I was at SHIELD, and yet he was still there for me. Of course he wasn't always stationed at the same building I was, but he made it a habit to stop by every now and then to check up on me.

However, as amazing as Phil was, he wasn't someone I could text with every day, so my phone was rendered almost obsolete.

It was sort of depressing, but at least I had my apps to mess around with. I just so happened to be playing Angry Birds on the said phone, not paying any attention to what was in front of me, when I ran smack into someone else.

My years of training automatically sent me into a defensive stance, causing me to drop my phone and lift my hands to block any incoming attacks. But when my eyes focused on the person I had run into, my stance immediately fell.

My jaw involuntarily clenched, and I held back a groan.

It was Clint.

Oh, what a joy. My blue eyes narrowed at the sight of my brother's form, and I allowed myself to let out a little scoff. I quickly bent over to pick up my phone, only to see that the screen had shattered. I exhaled sharply in annoyance, and roughly brushed past my brother, continuing onwards to the vending machines.

My brother and I had our issues.

Like I said before, we used to be pretty close. 'Used to' being the key word in that phrase.

In fact, we used to be perfectly normal in every aspect. We had a normal loving family, a normal school, a normal life.

And then our parents died in a car crash when we were just kids, leaving the two of us alone in a children's home. One of our foster parents had an interest in archery, which was how Clint had developed his skills. It was also how SHIELD found us. He had somehow gained their interest through his 'sense of justice' and 'developing skills with a bow', and they soon asked our foster family to give us up to them for a large amount of money.

My brother was almost an adult then, so SHIELD was originally going to take Clint and leave me with the foster family, but my brother managed to convince them to take us both. He actually threatened to refuse their offer altogether if they didn't take me. The idiot.

And so our life at SHIELD began.

At first Clint spent all of his available time with me, but after a couple of years of training and working various missions, Clint didn't have the time to take care of me anymore. He left me behind. And I know that I shouldn't be so harsh on him, since it wasn't really his fault, but it still managed to get to me. The little girl in me felt abandoned; felt like Clint chose his job over his own sister. Over me.

After that, I tried moving on from SHIELD, but I found that I couldn't. It actually took a heart to heart with Coulson to make me realize that I had to stay. I had to. Otherwise I would be proving exactly what I was trying not to. I could handle myself, and I was strong enough to make my own decisions.

As I brushed past him, I heard Clint sigh, and then start to sprint after me.

I tried to quicken my pace, but I knew that if he really wanted to talk to me, he would find a way. So I just frowned, and slowed down enough to let him catch up to me. He shook his head in disdain, and placed a hand on my shoulder to stop me from going any further down the hallway.

I turned to face him, trying to make my face as emotionless as possible.

"Yes, Clint?" I drawled.

Clint narrowed his blue eyes at me, and I could see him grit his teeth in frustration. My lip twitched slightly at the realization that his eyes were the exact same shade as my own, and I tried to stop myself from throwing something at him. I wasn't a child anymore, so I wasn't going to act like one.

"They told me you snuck out again last night," He spoke.

I held in a scoff, realizing that me sneaking out was why he was angry.

"Are you serious, Clint? I didn't sneak out; I walked right out of the front door! The guards were still wide awake," I said.

And honestly, it's not like me sneaking out was anything unusual; everyone knew that I did it almost every other night, and they sure didn't care enough to stop me. Yesterday had been a crappy night, so sneaking out seemed like the only option to keep my sanity intact.

What else was I supposed to do, just sit there and stare at the wall like I did every night? I had been with SHIELD for over ten years, since I was thirteen, and they still haven't trusted me with any assignments yet.

While my brother and Natasha got to go out and save the world, I was stuck getting all of the 'important' people coffee, and making sure that everything looked nice and neat for the people who came and visited the base. I was old enough and trained well enough; I wanted to actually do something. I was exceptionally skilled in hand to hand combat, and more than willing to put that to good use! Why they didn't see that was beyond me. Hell, they didn't even give me a name badge that said I worked there!

But my brother just gave me one of his trademark 'disapproving' stares. He must have practiced that look, because he was scarily good at it.

"I don't care if the guards held the god damn door open for you, Samantha." Clint spoke.

He didn't yell, but he had this way of not exactly shouting, but speaking sternly enough that it made you want to crawl up into a little ball and bawl your eyes out because you were such a big failure. At least that's what it did to me, anyways.

"They told me you came back drunk." He added.

I winced at the memory of last night; of me drinking as much as I could at the nearest bar, which wasn't close at all, as the SHIELD base was in the middle of nowhere. And what could I say? I had a bad night, so I went out. Of course, I had to walk the twenty miles back to the base completely wasted, but it was better than wallowing here in my own self-pity.

I sighed, and shook my head. What was I supposed to say to him? What could I say to him? I closed my eyes, and for a moment I truly felt like I had done something wrong. That he was right. But before I could apologize, my pride flared up inside of me, and I was suddenly angry at him again.

I glared back up at him, hating him for being taller than me. Clint wasn't tall by any means, he was actually fairly short, but he still managed to stand a few inches above me.

"Fine, Clint. Excuse me for trying to be a normal twenty three year old adult, and let me sincerely apologize for having to get away from this fucking base. I mean, I should just have to deal with them being stuck up assholes all of the time, and go back to getting them their coffee." I hissed at him, my eyes narrowing dangerously. "Because apparently it's so damn important,"

Clint just shook his head.

"Samantha, you don't know what you're talking about. Why would you continue to mock SHIELD after all they've done for us? How could you forget that they took us in when we had nowhere else to go? When we had no one else to turn to? Be grateful for that, Samantha, because I will not put up with you when you behave like a child."

I paused, and stared at him for a long while trying to remember where I'd heard that tone of speech before. Then it came back to me, and it sent a violent pang through my chest.

"Look at you, Clint," I bit my lip to keep myself from shouting. "So young, and already you sound like Dad." I held in my glare, and turned on my heels to leave for my room.

I heard a soft choking noise come from Clint, before his hand shot out, grabbing my shoulder roughly.

As an instant reaction to him touching me, I whipped back and twisted his elbow to the breaking point. The was no time at all before my brother's own training kicked in, and he pulled his arm back in, successfully bringing my down onto my knees, his elbow wrapped around my neck. I took a breath, before swinging my legs up and over, maneuvering myself perfectly and landing on his back. He barely held up my weight, but slammed back into a wall, trying to get me off.

My back hit the wall with a force that knocked the wind out of me, and I released Clint, falling to the ground with a thud. My brother quickly realized what he was doing, and stopped before he did me any further damage. He sighed, and closed his eyes for a moment.

He held out his hand to help me up, but I smacked it aside as I stood on my own. I backed away from him, and couldn't stop the noise of disgust that came from the back of my throat.

"You actually asked me how I could hate SHIELD? Seriously? We had a family, Clint. Sure, they weren't our real mom and dad, but they took us in, were willing to take care of us. And then SHIELD paid for us, like we were merchandise. They taught you and me how to kill, how to sneak into a fortress and torture people for information. And you're asking how I could mock them? Besides, they didn't take me in, Clint, they took you in. You had to bargain with them to get me in here and now I work as an errand girl, running off to get people their coffee. I never got to have a life other than SHIELD," I took a deep breath in, trying to calm the strong emotions coursing through me.

"I have never known anything other than this, when I could have had so much more. Hell, the worst part is that I had a chance to leave, but since I'm already too far gone, I stayed. So I don't really see why it's such a big god damn deal if I go out to the bar and have a few drinks with real people. It's not like I have very many missions to take care of anyways, because you have all of those, don't you Clint?" I spoke, and my voice finally cracked when I spoke his name.

Clint just stared at me with his blue eyes; the eyes that we both inherited from our mother.

If I wasn't imagining things, those eyes actually began to water, and a remorseful look swept over his face. For just a second, he seemed sad. And aged. I froze, thinking that maybe he actually listened to me this time, and I watched as he opened his mouth to speak.

"Sammie, I-"

"Save it."

The use of my old nickname was immediately too painful for me to handle; it reminded me of a time when we were close, when we used to act civil towards each other.

He tried speaking again, but I stopped him with a shake of my head, letting him know that any attempt to apologize would only be in vain. I gave him one look, and turned to head toward the only place in this hellhole that I enjoyed going to.

My room.

When I first came to SHIELD, they offered me my own quarters with everyone else, and I took it. When we moved to a new base a few years later, however, I had wanted to stay in the lower levels; away from the people who worked there. It was sort of childish, but then again, I was only fourteen at the time. It could get lonely at times, seeing as there were only a few research labs down here with me, but I doubted it would make a difference if I was anywhere else.

I quickly made my way to my room, slamming open my door and trudging inside with a heavy heart. The walls of my room were covered with posters of various bands and movie stars, and I had random CDs scattered here and there. I occasionally listened to music when I wasn't off on an errand for whoever wanted something from me. I practically tossed myself onto my bed, taking some comfort from the soft material of the pillow against the side of my face.

I sighed, all of my previous energy drained from my body. I was always exhausted after arguments with Clint, and today was no different. I loved Clint, don't get me wrong, but after all of the drama we had been through over the years, I couldn't help but to get angry at him from time to time. I didn't really have a right to be angry with him, as it was SHIELD's fault that we were even in this mess, but I suppose he was the easiest to take it out on.

But then there was his fame.

Among SHIELD my brother was something of a legend, and every agent knew that he never missed his target, and he never failed a mission. Hawkeye did this, Hawkeye did that... it was quite honestly exhausting.

Do you know how hard it is to be constantly hidden by your brother's shadow? That no matter what you do, you can't ever make a name for yourself because of him? Because of him, I was an errand girl that got people coffee and other useless things, while he was off saving the world.

I had no life with SHIELD, or at least not one where I could be my own person, instead of 'Clint's sister', or, 'Hawkeye's baby sister'. I wanted to be more, no, needed to be more than that - more than just the coffee girl. I just didn't have the faintest idea of how to do that.

Maybe I could leave.

The thought crossed my mind for just a brief second, before I smiled softly. Running away had been a possibility before, and I rejected it. And right now, I'd do the same thing. Running away wasn't me. I may only be an errand girl, but I was stronger than that.

I'd just have to keep moving forward.

I sighed once again, and let my pillow catch my tears.

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A/N: So, I just watched the movie for the seventh time, and I loved it more than the six times before. I fell in love with both Clint and Loki, so that's why I decided to write this story. Please let me know what you think about it so far! And Sam is going to be a little bit childish in the next few chapters, but that's her personality right now. Don't worry; she'll grow up soon enough!