A.N: Although this story is almost a prequel to Bruises, it could also be a stand alone piece. I'm aiming to update regularly but my life can be a little bit crazy so I make no promises!

As always I'd love to know what you think of this.


In My Sights

"You're sure that you're up to this," Coulson asked, standing in the doorway, "it hasn't been long since the incident in Sarajevo."

From his position on the edge of the balcony, Clint Barton considered his handler's concerns and dismissed them. 'The incident in Sarajevo', as Coulson so blandly referred to it, had left him with a three-inch knife wound to this right thigh, a wound that when he was being completely honest with himself he had to admit wasn't yet entirely healed. "You don't think that I'm up to it?" he asked, raising an amused eyebrow in the other man's direction.

"I don't doubt that you can do it," he replied, "just that the timing might not be right for you to take on an assignment like this."

Barton allowed himself to consider the options. Coulson's confidence in him was much appreciated but that came from many assignments completed side by side, they had long ago learned one another's capabilities. It was true that the timing wasn't right, not if he wanted to be at his best, and he would need to be at his best to complete this particular mission, but if he didn't act now it could be months before the target surfaced again. It would certainly be a string to his bow, so to speak, to bring down someone who had escaped countless other agents. "How many has she eluded now?" he asked.

"Including Ward, fifteen." There was nothing in the older agent's voice that Barton could get a read on, no hint of emotion which could be manipulated or used to guide him, sometimes Barton wondered whether Coulson actually had emotions, but then of course if that were the case he wouldn't have recruited his current charge and saved him from a life of crime. Everything he was, everything he had, he owed to Phil Coulson. That was why he listened to him and followed his advice when he was given assignments. "This isn't the kind of woman you go up against with an injury."

Clint nodded, more to show that he'd heard the warning than to agree with what Phil was saying. "How solid is the intel?" he asked, watching the figures that moved along the streets far below them. He had always been at his most comfortable when he was perched above his surroundings, able to see what was happening without being seen by those he tracked, even as a child. Already he knew that he couldn't let an opportunity like this pass him by, all he had to do was convince his handler to feel the same. He turned his head to look at the handler who had become the only person in the world he trusted and grinned. "We could go and check out the tip right, just to make sure that it's legit?"

Coulson sighed, knowing that he was beaten and that they were heading into yet another mission that he would probably end up having to explain to his superiors. None of their missions passed without some sort of incident, minor though they usually were, it was the price of handling an agent who still looked on the world with a certain youthful exuberance. "Fine, we'll go and check it out," he exclaimed, "now will you please get down from that ledge, just looking at you makes me feel dizzy!"

Barton's grin turned predatory but he nodded and swung down from the balcony ledge, landing with both feet by the doors. It was difficult sometimes not to be amused by how uneasy Coulson was with his penchant for high places but he had learned not to tease him too strongly, that stunt on the rooftop in Prague had landed him in an awful lot of hot water when his handler had almost slipped from the roof. Jumping out unexpectedly from behind gargoyles was now categorically off the list of approved actions. Since then, Clint had toned down his teasing of the agent in front of him and admitted to himself that if one ignored the obvious differences in age, body language and preferred attire, they were actually a pretty good team.

"I'm doing this for you man," he announced as he stalked into the hotel room, taking his bow from his back and throwing it down on the bed. "Imagine the kudos you'll get when you're the senior agent who took her down!"

Coulson sniffed in response and made some sort of pithy remark about duty and how much trouble Clint could possibly cause before they arrived back at base but Barton was no longer listening, he was thinking about the mission ahead. He had heard stories about this particular target and he was keen to get a look at her for himself, it wasn't often that a woman made such waves in his particular line of work but this woman, well, a chance tangling with her might just be worth getting stabbed for.

"This isn't going to be easy Barton!" Coulson exclaimed as his agent flopped down onto the mattress, resting his hands behind his head. It astounded him just how relaxed Clint Barton would be about what could potentially be a life threatening assignment. His self confidence bordered on arrogance sometimes and yet he also knew deep down that there was a side of him that was always striving to prove himself, a side that desperately wanted to be accepted. It was that side of Barton's character that made him bearable.

"Nope," he agreed, grinning, "but it'll be a challenge and those are always fun."