being a kid must be great

"Mom? Is this our new sister?"

Barton Homestead - January 5th, 2016

Metal on metal, wood on wood, element binding with element until it would create something new. Something fantastic. Something fun.

Tongue sticking out between teeth, small, soft hands pieced together the scrap pieces of metal with a unique intelligence that had rarely graced the earth. The lid of an old jam jar glued to the past inner workings of a clock, a piece of tin foil to top the LEGOs bound to an old, bent key. All connected to create the same thing.

Christa stared proudly at her work. She held it up so that the sun glinted off of it. Her soft, intelligent brown eyes gazed calculatingly at the large circle in her hands. Then she set it down and ran to grab a marker before carefully tracing the symbol that would complete her creation.

The hand-made Captain America shield proudly reflected Christa's small face. Even at six, her baby fat was still quite prominent. Her smile showed three missing teeth in three separate places.

The familiar, lovely face of a dark-haired woman came up in the reflection behind Christa. She turned around to the smiling lady, and a grin exploded across her face.

"Mom! Mom! Look what I made!" she exclaimed, holding up the shield towards her mother's face.

"Wow, this is incredible," the woman said to the child, taking the shield from her. She inspected the arm-hold and noticed the screws that were pieced together to reveal a latch that opened the shield the size of a laptop up into a small compartment. In it were clogs and nuts and bolts that wound together to show a small, albeit makeshift, functioning clock.

Her brown eyes, a shade that matched her daughter's, went wide. Christa wondered what was going on inside her head. She decided that her mother was very pleased and very proud. Nothing like this must have been created before.

She must be a very special girl.

After several moments inspecting the piece and giving strong, genuine compliments on it (for Christa knew that most adults just gave compliments to little kids to make them feel better, no matter how correct the compliments were), the woman handed the shield back to her daughter. She looked down at her with what appeared to be both pride and slight sadness.

"You're just like your father," she said softly.

Christa tilted her head. "You've told me that before, Mom. Who is he?"

Her mother's pink lips turned up in a sad smile. "He's a wonderful man, Christa."

Christa pressed, wanting to know more. She always had to press.

But it was never enough.

Never enough....

Bright blue skies. An old, warm-smelling car. And silence.

Always, now, it seemed, silence.

Christa's eyes opened onto the sight of the inside of a car and the outside of a large, white, green-roofed, two-story house. For a moment, she didn't fully register what she was seeing, still groggy after her sleep.

Because that had been a dream.

An excellent, wonderful, happy, happy dream. From so long ago. In a time that was wonderful and happy and kind.

Not a time where everything kind of completely sucked.

Christa blinked. She registered the fact that the car was no longer moving, and as she realized that she looked around to see a hand gently nudging her right knee. She looked closer to see that Clint Barton was on her right side, the door beside her open and him in the doorway. He seemed to be saying something to someone over his shoulder.

"Clint?" she said hesitantly. She blinked her eyes opened and rubbed them slightly, the sensation of both vision and hearing lost on her for a brief moment. Then she stretched, eyes opening back up, and then started standing up.

Clint backed up as she began to climb out of the car, smiling as he saw that she was awake. "You fell asleep for a few minutes," he seemed to be saying--if she was reading his lips right.

"Oh, I thought I was awake. Thanks for clarifying," she quipped slightly grumpily; grogginess was still a thing.

"My bad. Sorry," he appeared to be saying, but it wasn't seriously.

She just gave him a slight glare.

After a moment, sighing ever so slightly, Clint started walking in the direction of the house, beckoning for Christa to follow him. So she did.

They followed a tiny dirt path from where the car was parked to the building. It was so big, and... so simply, utterly nice. It sat in the middle of practically nowhere, green grassy fields surrounding it where green trees did not. Green lined the horizon on which the brightest of blue skies lay. The house itself held a porch Clint led Christa to. Laura appeared to already be inside, as she was nowhere to be seen.

As they neared the front door, stepping into the shade of the porch, Christa was surprised to note that a wave of nervousness was starting to come over her. It was strange; she didn't normally feel nervous. She was too sure of herself to ever even consider the emotion. But standing there, in the place where she was now officially going to be living... she was starting to feel it. She was going to be living with Hawkeye, for gosh sake. The Avenger. And she barely knew him. What if he and Laura were secretly serial killers trying to lure teenage girls into their house in the middle of nowhere? What if they were cannibals? Just waiting to take an unsuspecting girl right in the middle of their--

"Mom? Is this our new sister?"

Or at least that's what she thought the little girl said, at least. Clint had opened the front door to the house to reveal several things: a friendly, almost movie-happy inside filled with toys and other evidence of little children, Laura, and three varyingly small children.

The words had come from a small girl--maybe seven or eight years old--standing beside Laura, in whose arms was the most adorable little baby boy. He seemed to be about a year old. Next to those three stood a boy taller than the girl, who was obviously his sister. Maybe twelve? Thirteen? Whatever the age was, all four of them shared similar shades of dark brown hair.

Clint standing by Christa, she looked at him for a brief moment, standing quite close to the rest.

What a perfect family.

She felt a strong, warm hand on her shoulder and froze a little as Clint stepped closer to his family. He wrote something down on a pad of paper, and she figured he was probably introducing the family. What else might he be doing?

She was right. It read:

Older boy--Cooper, thirteen. Girl--Lila, seven. Baby--Nathaniel, six months.

Christa looked a him, slightly dumbfounded.

"You have kids?"

Clint let out a small chuckle before writing down and showing her:

Yeah, I know. S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, Avenger, not really the type to settle down, aye? Yeah, this is why I retired.

"They're so...." Christa just stared at them. How? A family for Hawkeye. With small children. And a baby.

Suddenly (to Christa, at least), the little girl named Lila slid gently from her mother's side and stepped towards her before sliding her hand in Christa's.

"Hello!" she seemed to say, a bright smile on her face as she stared up at the fifteen-year-old girl.

Christa's eyes went wide. "Hello?" she said, not quite sure of herself now. She'd never been this close to such a small child before.

Laura stepped over to the girl and placed a hand on her shoulder and, unheard by Christa, she said, "Hey, sweetie, remember, she can't hear you."

"Oh, right," the girl said. She looked back up at Christa before wrapping her in a warm, surprisingly strong hug at the waist where she could reach. She whispered into the hug, "I don't mind that you can't hear me, just as long as you're here."

Laura and Clint, hearing the words, exchanged looks and smiles with each other.

"Why don't you show her to her room?" Clint said to the girl. As Lila nodded and separated from Christa, he handed the teenager a note that said what would be happening. She read it and nodded silently before suddenly being pulled along by the little girl, stumbling slightly as she went.

She was pulled through the house and up the stairs to the second floor. The wooden steps were sturdy beneath her, and as she stepped on them she felt what might have been a sense of calm go through her.

It was okay. It was gonna be okay. She had a family to stay with, and they were a very nice family with adorable little children and though the little girl was very enthusiastic about having a new "sister," it was okay.

Lila pulled Christa into the bedroom, and as the door swung open and they stepped through the doorway, she couldn't help but let out a small gasp. It was so... perfect. Small (though she was used to that), but perfect. Simple, beautiful white walls, a short queen-sized bed on which lay very comfortable-looking blue, checkered bedcovers, a wooden bedside cabinet with a pleasant white lamp, a window with pretty white and  blue drapes that showed the rolling hills and part of a large, wooden shed beyond the house.

Lila grinned up at Christa. She scribbled down words on a notebook that had a pink butterfly on its cover and showed them to Christa.

Do you like it?

Christa looked down at her, and, for what felt like the first time in a while, her lips turned up in a smile.

"It's perfect."