The five year old girl is not the first peculiar package to arrive at the Avengers Tower. She comes by the hand of a SHIELD Agent with a white envelope pinned to the top button of her coat, the name Clint Barton scrawled across the paper. JARVIS is the one who opens the door and invites them inside, directing him to a meeting room on the 49th floor.

Clint Barton wanders in some moments later, freezing at the sight of the man in black and the young girl, who is staring at her shoes. Her feet don't touch the ground. Tony Stark runs into him, opening the door more as to see what the fuss is about. "Oh, dear- we are in trouble," Tony whispers in Clint's ear before introducing himself to the agent. Ever the nosey man, he begins to discuss the situation with the agent, attempting to get the just of the predicament. JARVIS had said nothing more than that the situation was urgent, and so naturally, he had needed to come. Clint walks instead straight to the child, kneeling next to her and carefully unpinning the envelope from its button, trying to hide his shaking hands. He is unfolding the letter inside when the girl speaks.

"Grandma died," she whispers, looking up from the ground. Clint is startled at how much of himself he sees in her grey eyes. "Grandma died and Momma sent me here because she doesn't want me."

Clint nods, still dazed, and glances down at the letter. As he suspected, he is able to recognize the handwriting as Bobbi's before even reading her name signed at the bottom of the paper. The girls name is Charlotte, he reads. Charlotte Barton, his daughter.

"Momma left me with Grandma," she says. Her gaze falls back to the floor. "Are you going to leave me too?"

He can hear each unshed tear in her voice and it about breaks his heart. The Bobbi Morse he knew wasn't a commitment person, but he never would have expected her to be the kind to abandon her own child, a fact he is still attempting to work into his mind as he stares at his daughter. Charlotte. His hand shakes as he reaches out and runs his fingers over her soft cheek, lifting up her chin and turning her face to look at him.

"No," he says, shaking his head quickly. "I'm not going to leave you." A small smile twitches on the girls lips.

Ignoring the possible jibes from Tony later about how he's gone soft, he pulls Charlotte from the hard plastic chair and folds her into his arms.

An hour later, Clint sits across from Charlotte at the kitchen table of the Avengers Tower, watching as she shovels pancakes into her mouth. Tony had seemed overjoyed at the prospect of having another person to buy more stuff for, and was currently on his way to who knows where to do just that.

"What do you want me to call you?" She says, looking at him over her glass of milk.

"I dunno... Dad, I suppose. Or Daddy if you want," he says. His mind is wandering to Bobbi, trying to figure out why now, why she wouldn't have told him sooner. Five years, he's been out of his daughter's life because he didn't even know she existed. "What do you want me to call you? Pick anything you want. We're all about nicknames here." He rests his chin on the table, staring right at her. She copies his position.

"What's yours?"

"Hawkeye," he says. "That's what I'm called for work. And here I'm Clint, which is technically a nickname, or Barton. And to you I'm Dad."

"Anything I want?" She asks, raising her eyebrow in a way that reminds him of himself. He nods and she smiles. "Charlie," she says after a moment. "You can call me Charlie."

"Well Charlie Barton," Clint says, reaching across the table and shaking her hand. "It's my genuine pleasure to meet you."

"Daddy," she says, smiling because she likes the way it sounds.

He shows her around the Tower, pointing at the closed doors of the rooms of all his still sleeping teammates on various floors of the building. The labs are locked but she peers in the windows, mouth opened in awe at the huge instrument littering every available surface, small blue lights blinking very now and then. In the training rooms, she runs her hands on the shiny weapons, eyes wide. He's sure Tony has a plan for a bedroom for her and, not wanting to disturb the surprise, he brings her back to the main floor, and they sit on the couch and talk. He learns that she never saw Bobbi but maybe twice a year. She knows about SHIELD from stories told by her grandma, and that's how she learned about him, the masked hero with the arrows. She likes to read, her favorite color is navy blue, and she's the strongest kid in her class. She lost two teeth and has a stuffed elephant named Perry. Her favorite movie is The Incredibles. She's allergic to soy and doesn't eat asparagus. Her best friends name is Evan and he lives in an apartment and he always loses in arm wrestling. She's never seen Star Wars.

After a while she points to Tony's huge flat screen TV and asks if he can turn it on because Power Rangers is starting, and he does, returning after to the kitchen to wash the breakfast dishes.

He's sitting at the table, staring at the back of his daughter blonde head over the couch, when Natasha walks in, yawning.

"Which one of our teammates got turned into a five year old today?" She asks, pouring herself a cup of coffee and leaning against the counter. Clint shivers, remembering the mission in Canada where that actually did happen to her. One of the funnier days, listening to a little girl shout Russian curse words, until the announcement came that SHIELD wasn't sure if they could turn her back. They did in the end, but that was a frightening few hours.

"No one," he replies. "As far as I'm aware, you're the only one besides Tony and me who has actually decided to wake up."

"Then who is that?" Natasha says, motioning in the general direction of the couch.

"Charlie. Her name is Charlie." He turns slowly to Natasha, his heart pounding as he realizes he now has to tell her who Charlie is, and its all he can do but hope that Natasha won't kill her. "She's...she's my daughter."

Her eyes grow wide and he falls silent, turning back to the living room and letting the information sink in. "You're daughter?" She asks, and Clint nods.

"She was living with Bobbi's mom, who passed away I guess. Bobbi, well...obviously Bobbi doesn't care." Natasha says nothing. Clint drops his head into his hands. "God, Tash. What am I going to do with a kid? I don't know how to be a parent. I just eat food and kill people all day."

Her arm is comforting as she drapes it over his shoulders. He jumps at her touch, a calm Natasha being more than he'd hoped for. "Everything's going to be alright, Clint. I promise. We'll get through it together."

He looks up into her green eyes, surprise written all over his face. "We? You really want to commit yourself to helping me raise a five year old?"

"We're partners. Even if the sky falls in, remember?" He returns her smile with a small one of his own. "And if she ends up being a drug addict or a criminal, well, we tried."

"That's not funny," he says even though he laughs.

"It's a little funny," she says, standing up. "Besides, if that happens, I'll let you blame me."
He feels better as he watches her walk over to the couch and kneel in front of his daughter.

"Hi Charlie," he hears her say. "I'm Natasha."

Charlie's head turns a little. "My momma told me you were evil."

He sees a flash of anger pass through Natasha's eyes and he remembers how much they hated each other. For a second he thinks there's a chance Natasha might kill his daughter, but she laughs instead.

"I'm the evilest person there is, if you're a bad guy."

For a moment the only noise in the room is TV. "My momma...my momma is a bad guy," Charlie decides. "She...she didn't want me," she whispers and he knows she's crying, a thought that scares him. What do you do when a kid cries?

He never thought of Natasha as a mother type of person, and with everything he's seen her do it's hard for him to think she could be, but she sits on the couch and pulls Charlie into her arms without even slight hesitation. "I know, honey," she whispers. "I know. But it's all right now."

Clint smiles as he watches his best friend kiss his daughter on her forehead, and he begins to believe that there's a chance everything is going to be okay.