Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel. If I did, than Clintasha would totally be canon. And they would be in every movie and have their own tv series.

A/N

Hallo everyone, I'm finally back with the long awaited sequel to Secrets and Spies!

This sequel gave me more grief than the last three stories did combined. It went from two stories to one story and back again a few times, before I decided I didn't like what I'd written and chucked 40k of words into my reject folder and started again. Fortunately, things went much better the second time around. And now you can all enjoy the result!

Also, for those of you who haven't read The Classified Files one-shot, I've made a few minor changes to earlier stories. Nothing major, and they are covered in the A/N of that story. I would recommend going to check it out, if you haven't already read it. Freeranger, BrieChesse16 and Armand, thankyou for reviewing that story. Reviews are always exciting.

The chapter titles this time around are lyrics from a song that could very well be written for Clint. It perfectly describes everything about him at this point in time in my universe, and I did actually write the theme of the story to echo the song. I'll give you a few chapters to guess what it is before I reveal it.

Before we go any further, I want to give a shout out to my sister, Freeranger, without whom this story would not have been written! She is my 'consultant', ideas sounding board, master critic, first proof-reader, and even co-author at times. No joke, she knows my universe better than I do, and I am delighted to have her on board!

Thanks also goes to jaguarspot, who beta-ed this for me and as usual did a fantastic job. Honestly, this story would not be what it is without the input of those two.

I will be updating every three-to-four days, depending on how busy I am at University. There are ten chapters in total. This story will also be cross-posted on AO3.

I hope that you enjoy!

Trust is very hard if you don't know what you're trusting. Marianne Williamson

Chapter 1: I can't feel my senses

End of November.

Phil looked at Fury with concern.

"Barton wasn't one of the ones who was hurt, was he?"

Phil was more relieved than he'd care to admit when his boss shook his head.

"No. Barton was understandably shaken up, but uninjured. The main dorm building at the Academy, however, is another matter entirely."

"Over half the building is too burnt to do anything with; while the other half needs some serious repairs so this sort of thing won't happen again. It's looking like we'll have to close the dorms down for a few months so the entire thing can be replaced. Those buildings are getting too old and have far too much flammable material used in their construction. We didn't realise just how bad it was."

Phil frowned.

"What's going to happen to the students? It's practically December, Nick. Christmas isn't that far away when they would get holidays anyway. What is to be done with them?"

Nick suspected that he knew the real reason Phil had asked that question.

"That is currently being decided. The fire only happened last night, so the ball hadn't even started rolling yet with the higher-ups. However, I have made my decision about what I am doing with Barton."

Phil tried not to look too keen and failed miserably.

"Yes?"

"I am bringing him back to base. And putting him under your supervision."

Phil blinked.

"Again? It seems like he only just left."

"Again. And this time it is long-term. I don't know how long it will be before the Academy is functional again, and he hasn't got anywhere else to go."

That was very true. As the archer had been working as a hit-man before Phil had found him and offered him a job, he didn't have anything to go back to. SHIELD was all he had right now if he wanted to stay legit and out of prison.

Fury kept talking.

"However, I don't see why Barton should have to stop his training just because he is back at base. For that reason, I will get you copies of the training manuals they use. That way, you can continue to train him on SHIELD protocols."

"If all goes well, we might not even have to send him back to the Academy. If you can teach him everything he needs to know to be a SHIELD agent on base, then sending him back might turn out to be a waste of time."

Phil groaned.

"Seriously Nick? I am still an invalid, technically."

If Phil was hoping that would sway Fury, he was disappointed. Fury was entirely unsympathetic.

"I didn't say you had to do anything physically taxing, like sparring with him, just yet. He can join the training groups on base for that. Like he did during his first month here. At least until you are totally fit again, then you can start his advanced training."

"As for the rest of his physical education... I'm sure that Wilkinson will be delighted to have him back on the shooting range. Due to the nature of the work that we want him to do for us, Barton was always going to need more training after he graduated. He isn't just going to be another run-of-the-mill agent; he is going to be a specialist and long-distance operative. The fire has pushed up our schedule somewhat, but I'm sure that you will make it work. You studied well enough together that he was able to easily achieve his GED in five weeks, which is a very good effort."

Phil sighed as he rubbed his forehead.

"That was different."

"How?"

Phil didn't answer that question. After a moment Fury nodded, looking smug.

"My point exactly."

Phil's shoulders slumped in defeat as he resigned himself to the facts.

"When will he arrive? Will he be put back in the same room that he had before? What do the higher-ups think of this?"

"He will arrive as soon as it can be arranged and yes, he will be back where he was before. I'll keep you informed as things progress."

Two days later.

Phil was waiting in the hangar area of the SHIELD base for the jet that Barton would be on to arrive. The last couple of days had been a whirlwind of politics and meetings that Phil had, for the most part, happily been able to avoid.

Fury hadn't been so lucky, but that was the price to pay for being the Director of SHIELD. He'd been in and out of meetings constantly for the last two days; trying to sort out all the problems the fire at the Academy had generated.

The ultimate outcome was that Phil was officially Barton's handler for the foreseeable future. He was also responsible for training him to be an agent.

Phil had mixed feelings about that.

On the one hand, he'd been the one to offer the kid a second chance with SHIELD in the first place, and intended to see it through. But, on the other hand, the last time he'd been a personal handler hadn't ended well. Phil thought of Claire Bergeron and his throat tightened for a second. He knew that her death wasn't his fault. She would have done what she had to do to complete the mission, regardless of whether he was there or not. Even though Phil knew that nothing short of stopping her going on that mission to begin with would have saved her life, he still felt that there had to have been something he could have done to prevent her death.

No use dwelling on the past now Phil, you have to concentrate on the present, which is training Barton to be an agent and getting him to trust you to have his back. Phil internally groaned at that thought. This was not going to be an easy assignment. But Phil knew he was up to the challenge, and he didn't intend to fail. Barton had been let down by far too many people in his short life already. The kid deserved more than what he'd gotten so far, and Phil didn't intend for his name to be put on the list of people who'd failed Barton.

Just then, the jet he'd been waiting for appeared on the horizon, heading towards the base. Phil waited until it had landed and the ramp lowered before he walked towards it. A few agents started to trickle out, so Phil stood nearby and waited for Barton to appear.

The archer was the last one to get off.

He was wearing dark sunglasses, SHIELD-issued clothes, and was carrying his bow case along with a SHIELD-issued rucksack. Phil frowned at all the SHIELD-issued things, and made up his mind to see about getting the young man some things that were not SHIELD-issued.

No one should be at the tender mercies of SHIELD-issued things for too long.

That was cruelty to agents. Besides, seeing that Phil was now officially Barton's handler, it was up to him to ensure that the archer had everything he needed.

Barton looked around with an uncertain expression on his face after he disembarked the jet. Phil stepped out of the shadows of the building he'd been (unintentionally, of course) standing in.

"Barton."

The archer looked around for a moment before he saw Phil.

"Coulson."

Phil could feel that intense gaze of Barton's; even through the dark glasses the kid was wearing. Phil smiled, trying to make his expression warm and welcoming as Barton stood there and watched him. Phil didn't know what the archer had been told about this arrangement, and so decided to plunge right in.

"I presume that you've been told why you've been transferred back here and what you will be doing?"

The kid nodded slowly.

"Yes. I'm going to continue my training under a handler here at base while the Academy is being repaired."

The expression on the kids face said louder than words ever would that he didn't like the idea of having a handler. Phil ignored it.

"Yes, that is correct. I have actually been appointed to be your personal handler, so you'll be training under my supervision."

"What makes you think that I can be trained? I'm not a dog."

The sarcasm was unexpected enough that for a moment it threw Phil off his game. Phil had been prepared for Barton to be moodily silent or uncooperative upon hearing about this arrangement.

He had not been prepared for sarcasm and snark.

This was sounding more like the Barton whom he'd cornered and tased in Paris than the one he'd spent five weeks working with to achieve his GED certificate.

"I never thought that you were. A dog generally does what it is told to do if you give them a treat at the end. Your history of insubordination and disobeying orders is almost legendary."

The archer actually looked proud at that, as if having legendary insubordination was something to be proud off. In his books it might very well be.

"Perhaps, if they'd given me a treat at the end, I might have listened to them."

"I somehow doubt that."

Phil was fairly sure that if Barton thought something wasn't worth listening to, then no amount of treats would change his mind on the matter. Barton just stood there, smirking at him. Phil suspected Barton knew what he was thinking, but he ignored the smirk to focus on the job at hand.

"Come on, we'll drop your things off in your room. Then I'll fill you in on what is going to happen over lunch. Is that all you've got?"

Barton nodded but otherwise didn't say a word. He just stood there looking at Coulson with that sharp, assessing gaze of his.

Phil didn't let it affect him.

"Great. Let's get going then."

Barton silently fell into step behind him as they left the hangar area. Not for the first time, Phil seriously wondered what he'd let himself in for by agreeing to do this.

"So, now that you're officially my handler," the way Clint said the word made it sound like a handler was something particularly nasty (Coulson, predictably, ignored it) "what does that mean?"

Clint studied his new handler with his head to one side and a challenge in his eyes. His handler ignored it, typical. In spite of his best efforts during the first month he was here, he hadn't been able to break the stoic agent who had initially recruited him. Now that said agent was his handler, Clint was going to do everything in his power to try and break that unflappable calm exterior that Coulson projected to the world.

Starting now.

"Short version, I am officially responsible for you."

"Lucky you."

"I know. I am lucky to have someone with the potential that you show under my supervision."

Clint blinked. He had not been expecting that answer.

His new handler (Clint wasn't going to stop thinking about him like that any time soon) continued eating like nothing was wrong. Clint picked at his own food, but he suddenly wasn't hungry. It was only a few moments later that Coulson spoke again.

"But basically, being your handler means that I will be there on missions when you start taking them, and you'll follow my lead. Don't you roll your eyes like that Barton; I know you're not good at following orders. Until you learn more you'll follow mine however, as I do know what I'm doing."

"You've got potential Barton, and I don't want you to end up dead ahead of time. That would be a waste."

Clint didn't have anything to say to that. He knew that the Agent had to have seen something worthwhile in him to offer him a job in the first place, but still.

Clint wasn't used to people giving him compliments of any sort, and he didn't have a clue how to respond. Physical blows, verbal abuse and shouting he could take; compliments were a whole new ball game. So he just shrugged at the Agent's words as he took a bite of his food. He wasn't really hungry, but if his mouth was full than he wouldn't have to talk.

After a long moment of silence, the older agent started talking again.

"I will also be taking responsibility for your education on SHIELD protocols and theory training. Basically, everything that you need to know in order to be a SHIELD agent, I will be teaching you. The heads of SHIELD have decided that you're my responsibility for the foreseeable future and so, like it or not, I will be training you."

"What about physical training?"

"You'll join in the classes held here on base every morning like you did before. The classes are compulsory for you as you are still a trainee. I am currently not cleared for hard physical exercise, but as soon as I am I will also take on your advanced combat training. However, that won't be until after the New Year."

"As for your shooting; Wilkinson is delighted that he is going to have you back on the range. I believe that he's making plans to have the range extended, and would probably appreciate input on how to make it better."

"By the way, how did you like the Academy?"

Clint shrugged and averted his eyes as he hunched his shoulders slightly.

"It was okay I guess."

Phil frowned.

"What do you mean by that? Okay as in 'good' or okay as in 'okay-ish'?"

"They wouldn't let me use my bow."

Phil blinked; momentarily a taken back.

"Why not? Every agent has the right to decide on and use whatever weapon they feel comfortable with, so long as it meets SHIELD's standards."

"Yeh, well somebody forgot to give them the memo. They took it away from me and only let me have it under strict supervision. 'Weapons aren't allowed outside of training' I was told by one of them. 'Your weapon of choice is unusual so we want to watch you carefully' another said. It's all a load of crap. I've been doing archery since I was thirteen so seriously, what is their problem?"

Phil filed that little nugget of information about Barton's early life away for further analyses later. Right now, he was more focussed on the other things that Barton had said.

"They wouldn't let you use your bow?"

"Only occasionally under strict supervision. 'We want to make sure you know what you're doing'." Barton air quoted before he smirked darkly. "They are lucky I left when I did. I don't know how much more of their shit I could take before I started shooting those idiotic assholes in their idiotic asses."

Phil's response was automatic.

"You shouldn't call them names. The trainers are all highly qualified agents and regarded as experts in their chosen fields. SHIELD only hires the best after all."

"I didn't say that they weren't experts. I said that they are assholes. There's a difference."

Phil decided his best avenue was to ignore that comment completely. He was starting to get the sinking feeling that Fury was correct, and Barton would not be going back to the Academy. It seemed likely that the trainee agent would do better if he finished his training here, on base.

Which meant that Phil was responsible for practically everything to do with the archer indefinitely.

Phil couldn't find it in him to feel despair at that, however. Rather, he felt determination stirring. He had been given a golden opportunity here to help change this young man's life and give him a future worth living for. That wasn't something that happened every day.

And Phil intended to make the most of that opportunity. Words like 'quitting' and 'giving up' weren't in his genetics.

When Clint had received the orders to report in to Fury, the first thing he did was go over what he'd done since coming to base. The answer was nothing much. He hadn't had time to do anything as he'd only arrived back yesterday.

Realistically, he knew Fury probably wanted an update on how things had gone at the Academy. The Director probably wanted to see if he'd found out anything. Well, the answer to that was a big fat no. He might have been at the Academy for almost five weeks, but nothing had happened that seemed remotely suspicious to him during that time.

Fury only nodded when Clint told him that. He did not look surprised.

"Okay, that isn't unexpected. I knew that it was a long shot asking you to dig around for information in the first place. On a different note, how did you like it there?"

Clint scowled as he stood ramrod straight in front of Fury's desk in a parody of parade rest. Fury had glared at him briefly at first, and then proceeded to ignore it completely. Clint's reluctant respect for the Director grew.

But that wasn't enough to stop him from pushing the boundaries in a way that he wouldn't have dared before.

His time at the Academy had frustrated him to such a degree that the only thing that had made it bearable was riling up his superiors. And now that he'd started this behaviour, Clint had no intentions of stopping.

It was too much fun, and gave Clint a feeling of control in a situation where it was lacking.

"The instructors are assholes."

Fury raised an eyebrow.

"What makes you say that?"

"They only let me have my bow under supervision to make sure that I knew what I was doing." Barton made air quotes. "Seriously, I've been shooting for years. I know my way around a bow. Assholes."

Fury nodded seriously.

"I should hope that you do. After all, it was largely due to your unique skill set with the bow that we recruited you."

Clint smirked.

"I thought that you recruited me because I can hit a target from a kilometre and a half away perfectly every time."

"That was certainly part of it. However, I was also impressed by the fact that people regard bows as outdated weapons, and yet you use one more effectively than most people use conventional firearms. It is impressive, and different. I like different."

Clint just shrugged, already bored of the conversation.

"Whatever. Are we finished here? Sir."

Fury glared at him, Clint just glared right back as he waited. His time at the Academy had taught him one useful thing, how to most effectively annoy higher level SHIELD agents.

It actually wasn't that hard.

Straight up insubordination generally wasn't quite enough, but couple it with disrespect (or a parody of respect; which was even better) and they'd glare daggers at you. It had worked every time.

He should have known that Fury wouldn't be affected. The staring match didn't last long. Clint was starting to get uncomfortable and had to fight not to shuffle his feet several times before Fury finally spoke. His tone made it clear that they were finished when he said so.

"That is all. You are dismissed Barton."

Not willing to push his luck any further with Fury, Clint left without saying another word. However, he did give a half-hearted salute as he went out the door. Fury appeared to ignore it and Clint left.

Fury sighed only after the archer had left his office and he was once again alone. Barton's insubordination and disregard for authority was worse than it had been before the Academy. Fury was starting to seriously wonder if he'd made a mistake sending the future specialist there. He wasn't often wrong, but Fury feared that this time he might have been.

He'd really thought that it was the right thing to do at the time. SHIELD was not properly equipped to deal with training agents on the job, so to speak. There was no one available to act as a handler and supervise Barton's training for however many months it took.

It would require extra resources, time and effort to train Barton completely from scratch. Barton would have more opportunities for learning by going to the Academy as well. However, that wasn't the main reason that Fury had made the choice to send him there. No, he had bigger things to worry about, and it wasn't just because of their traitor issue.

The council were, after all, very controlling with what they considered to be 'a waste of resources'. Fury had to tread carefully where they were concerned if he wanted to keep his position in SHIELD. Unfortunately, their word was generally seen as law seeing that they (technically) controlled what happened at SHIELD.

The Academy fire didn't change that; they still weren't amendable to training Barton by alternative means. However, Coulson was currently not cleared for missions, meaning that he did not having much to do besides paperwork. That being the case, Fury hadn't seen why he shouldn't undertake being Barton's handler.

At least temporarily, until the Academy was habitable again.

After a couple of sessions of masterful manipulation on Fury's part, the WSC had eventually agreed that Barton's training could continue on base under Coulson's supervision. They'd even agreed that Phil could have access to the extra resources he would need to train the specialist. It made sense, given the circumstances, to do things this way. In spite of clearly still not liking the idea, the Council had signed off on it.

Fury just hoped that it would all work out.

One week later.

Phil had to fight back a groan as he gave his young charge a deadpan look. He'd worn that look a lot over the past week.

"No Barton, you can't do that. If you said and did that then you would likely start an international incident, something that we go out of our way to avoid."

"If you get into trouble when you are undercover, and authorities get involved, you don't use them for target practice. You follow the protocols that are in place for those kinds of situations. The protocols that I am trying to teach you and that you are determined not to learn."

Clint was unbothered.

"Protocol is boring. You brought me in to shoot things right? Why do I have to learn all this stuff if that's the case?"

"Because not everything you do with SHIELD will involve shooting. You are an operative and agent; therefore, we need to educate you in a variety of skills. You aren't just a sniper anymore Barton, you will be doing much more than just shooting things for SHIELD. But you do have to follow protocol."

The kid shrugged as he slouched back in his chair.

"Whatever. It doesn't change the fact that protocol is still boring."

"But a necessary part of your mission education nonetheless."

Barton sighed dramatically.

"Fine. Where were we?"

"We are up to scenario three, Barton, as you would know if you had been paying attention and not arguing with me. Focus Barton. You are undercover to assassinate a higher ranking government official, who is secretly selling secrets to Hydra. The country's government has invited us in, but doesn't want to be implicated in any way in his death. Something happens, the authorities get involved, and you are trapped with nowhere to go. You know that you need to complete your job, but can't very well tell anyone who you really are or what your real job is. If you are caught doing the deed you will be disavowed by SHIELD. What do you do?"

Barton sighed dramatically as he answered in a bored voice.

"Lay low, and look for a chance to complete my mission without getting caught. If I am caught I can't implicate SHIELD in any way blah, blah, blah. Whatever. What if my target escapes or the police detain me for whatever reason?"

"If you lose your target, get in touch with your handler then go to your evacuation point. If the authorities become too deeply involved, then you proceed to Section C of the training manual. 'Dealing with Official Imprisonment or Detainment in Foreign Countries'."

"You've really got protocols for dealing with everything, don't you?"

"We do have plenty of experience, and generally try to be prepared for whatever happens."

"No shit."

Phil felt a headache forming behind his eyes, and had to resist the urge to rub his forehead. They were in one of the empty briefing rooms at SHIELD HQ going over mission protocol. They'd been there for about an hour now, and had only gotten through two of the protocols. Barton, in spite of having the answer booklet in front of him, had argued about why these things had to be done in a certain way for every single word Phil had read.

Phil knew that the kid was testing him by his behaviour, like he had been for the past week. He also knew that this was yet another test he had to pass if things with Barton were to have a remote chance of work out in the long run. Phil already knew that the kid didn't respect authority of any description. Phil couldn't really blame him for that; from what Phil knew of the archer's history he'd never been given a good reason to.

Hell, he didn't even fully respect Fury. That was really saying something about his attitude to authority figures.

The Director of SHIELD practically radiated an expectation to be respected, or else. Barton tended to ignore that completely and was always pushing the boundaries. However, the kid was smart and he didn't push them quite far enough to be a big problem. If he still did what he was told to do on missions, and followed correct protocols, SHIELD could work around his attitude and sass.

The problem was the protocols that he would have to follow were the same ones that he was currently arguing against following.

Phil didn't intend to let Barton's attitude worry him however, and so continued reading out loud from the handbook. It was actually interesting, he thought. SHIELD had some interesting procedures that hadn't been there last time he'd read through it.

It was a huge shame that Barton didn't feel the same way about rules as Phil did.

Another half hour, and less than one more scenario discussed later, Phil quit that section of the book. He'd had enough, and didn't feel like they were getting anywhere by this method. Phil decided that it was time for a break.

"Let's take a short break. Go and get something to eat and drink, but be back here in twenty minutes. When you come back we will be going to Political History."

Phil knew from experience (and the look on Barton's face) that the kid was planning his escape upon hearing that. Not one to be deterred, Phil played his trump card.

"If you aren't back within that time frame, I will revoke your privilege to extra range time with your bow in the afternoons. It wasn't easy to get you that privilege to begin with, and caused a lot of paperwork. If you can't take your lessons with me seriously, then why should I bother with doing things like that for you?"

Barton's shoulders tensed minutely at Phil's words, and he didn't reply.

Phil sighed.

"Go and have a break, Barton. If all goes well when you come back, I might even let you off early today. We'll have to see about that one."

Phil waited until Barton had left the room before he went back to his office for some aspirin. After he'd taken it, Phil sunk gratefully into his own office chair and allowed himself a moment to just relax. He'd had precious little time to relax since taking responsibility for Barton.

As he waited for the painkillers to kick in, Phil thought back over the events of the past week. Needless to say, as Clint Barton was involved there was a lot to think about.

It had certainly been a trying week.

When he'd greeted Barton coming off the jet and told the archer that he was to be his handler, Phil wasn't sure what he'd expected. Moody silence probably, that had seemed to be the archer's favourite response to anything that was said to him before he'd left base the first time.

'Had' been the key word here.

Phil had not expected to be greeted with sarcasm. His previous experience with Barton had not prepared him for this at all. It soon became clear that Barton's time at the Academy had brought him out of his shell, and not in a good way. Phil wondered what the hell they had done to cause the archer to start behaving the way he had been this past week. Phil was beginning to sympathise with many of the people who had written all those complaints in Barton's army file regarding his attitude issues.

Because Barton was inclined to be an impossible pain in the ass.

And that was putting it nicely.

However, Phil soldiered on because he had noticed one thing about Barton's insubordination that hadn't been mentioned in any file. And that thing was big.

For all his back talking, sarcasm, and disdain for authority; Barton didn't outright disobey direct orders very often. If Phil told him to do something he would complain no end and push you to the end of your patience. But, eventually, he would generally do what he had originally been told to do.

Sure he was annoying, but the archer had so much potential that Phil had decided that he could handle the backtalk and sarcasm. So long as Barton generally did what he was told to do, and did it well, Phil would let his behaviour slide for now. They didn't know each other well enough yet, nor have enough trust in place, for Phil to try and adjust that attitude. Maybe one day Barton would stop making Phil's life a living hell, but Phil knew there was a lot of work ahead of him to get that far.

His headache had mercifully ceased to a dull ache by this point. Phil opened his eyes and glanced at his watch only to curse.

He had been gone for almost twenty-three minutes.

Barton would probably be back in the briefing room waiting for him, and Phil just knew he would make quips about Phil not sticking to his own time limit. Oh well, if the archer behaved himself long enough for them to get through the next chapter of the training booklet, Phil was going to let him off early.

After all, Phil didn't want to constantly demand attention and work from Barton without offering something in return. Supernanny had been very firm on the powers of positive reinforcement.

Phil hadn't told anyone, but he's started watching Supernanny while he'd been recovering from the accident. He hadn't been able to sleep much at night, and it was the only thing on television that he found remotely interesting. It was a tossup between Supernanny and re-runs of bad soaps or even worse movies. Phil had decided Supernanny was the lesser of those evils. As it stood, he was actually enjoying it, and was getting ideas on how to handle Clint from it.

Wrangling an assassin wasn't actually that different from wrangling a child, Phil had thought after watching a few episodes. Both required lots of time and effort. The main difference, Phil had felt, was that Barton required more time and effort than a child ever would.

End of Chapter 1.

And so it begins. And so begins Phil's life-long obsession with Supernanny. Also, I know that the show didn't start until about five years after this story (according to Wikipedia), but in this universe it was totally around in late 1998. The joys of artistic licence.

Don't forget to let me know if you are enjoying this. If enough people want more, it will help me feel motivated to post more often than what I'm planning to. I will reply to all who are signed in to comment.