Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with Marvel. I just have fun with their characters.
A/N
Thankyou to all who have reviewed, followed or favourited this week! Special thanks especially to niamhm100, two guests and Armand for their reviews of chapter 1! This is just the beginning; there's plenty more to come and it's going to be a wild ride so enjoy!
As usual, a big shout out of thanks goes to my beta, jaguarspot! Without her help this story wouldn't be half as good as it is.
Also, in case anyone was wondering why the story image kept changing all last week I was having a disagreement with Fanfiction that ended with my re-uploading the image which seemed to fix the problem. Hopefully the right image will stay up this time.
Also, my knowledge of the GED comes from a Google search. Apologies if I've gotten any details wrong.
Enjoy chapter 2.
Hope is being able to see that there is light in spite of all the darkness. Desmond Tutu
Chapter 2: Reflections, Discussions and Introductions
Later that afternoon Clint had an appointment with the psych department, another standard procedure for new recruits. He hadn't been going to go to it until Coulson had practically chased him there and glared at him with a look that could probably have burned through metal if he had really wanted it to until Clint went in. That didn't mean he said anything; he just glared at the shrink for the full hour with a look that would have killed an army if looks could kill. In spite of that the man didn't seem to be too bothered, he took lots of notes in perfect handwriting as he asked lots of questions, even though Clint didn't say a word to him in reply.
It was unsettling and did nothing to help Clint's mood.
Dr Kalman was still busy looking at Clint, ignoring his glare, talking to him and writing notes when their time was up. The female secretary escorted Clint out, Coulson was waiting for him.
"How'd it go?"
He received a glare that almost rivalled Fury's for his trouble.
That told Phil all he needed to know about how it had gone.
Now was probably a good time to diffuse the situation, or at least try to, before it got too far out of hand.
"It's getting late and unless you want to get caught in a traffic jam in the mess hall might I suggest you get food now? Dinner is served from five 'till nine for on base agents, its quarter past six now and from six-thirty to eight-thirty is the busiest time."
Clint gave Coulson another of his famous glares and stalked off without a word. He would jolly well get his meal when he felt like it; right now he didn't feel like dealing with anyone, at least not without punching them. And Clint was pretty sure that wouldn't go down well with the shrink. He knew his head space was seriously messed up, but why couldn't these people leave him alone for Pete's sake? Talking to a complete stranger about his problems wouldn't fix them; in fact it would only make them worse.
"How'd he go?"
Coulson was talking to Dr. Kalman about Barton's evaluation.
"He didn't say a word to me for the whole hour and if I hadn't worked with severely traumatised and very deadly agents in the past his glare would probably have killed me. He's one very messed up individual Phil."
Coulson sighed, slumping down in his chair.
"I know that already, believe me. What's the official verdict at this stage?"
Kalman smiled kindly. He was always like this, understanding and empathetic but still cheerful and able to deal with significant trauma without breaking down. Phil often wondered how the man did it and still stayed sane.
"He needs time, and to be shown that he can trust people and that we aren't going to hurt him, abandon him or use him for our own gain with no thought of his safety or well-being."
Phil sighed again as the doctor referred to his notes.
"He was very antsy when I asked him questions about his past; you recruited him out of prison didn't you?" At Phil's nod the shrink continued "The file Fury supplied me with told me the basics of his life beforehand, namely that he was discharged from the army and spent eighteen months in the wind as a mercenary before coming into SHIELD. I don't know the circumstances that led to what happened but given his age at the time I can only image what that must do to someone."
"Official verdict? His headspace is totally messed up; I don't even know where to start to be honest as he isn't talking to me and is unlikely to for a long time if today's session was any indication. I was able to deduce a lot from watching his body language, he's good at hiding his emotions but not as good as I am at spotting them and no matter how hard you try to hide them the body does have its tells when you know what to look for."
"Personally if I was you I'd forget about making him see me for now as I think it's probably going to be a colossal waste of time and instead just concentrate on his physical training. Obviously he'll need to be cleared by me before qualifying as an agent but that is a few months away at least. Give him space, he there for him and don't push him unnecessarily. I'll have all my people looking out for him and if you can report anything that seems to be going on with him that's causing a problem that will be great. That is probably the best advice I can give you at this time. He isn't going to be an easy case."
Phil sat up and looked somewhat desperate at the shrinks' words.
"Time? That's the best advice you can give me?"
"I'm not a miracle worker Phil. I can't help someone if they won't talk to me and don't want to be helped. When does he enter training?"
"As soon as medical clears him to spar. He was suffering a slight concussion when we brought him in so has orders to keep quiet until it's gone. He should be in training by the end of the week."
Kalman nodded.
"I'll have a chat to Shelley about him when she gets back to base and have her keep an eye on him and report back to me so I can work up a bit of a profile on him. Often the best way to tell something about someone's personality in this sort of situation is to watch how they fight and handle themselves. Especially someone like Barton as we aren't going to go anywhere fast if he won't talk to me."
"Let him fight? That is seriously what you are telling me to do here?"
"And keep an eye on him to report back to me. Yes Phil; that is what I recommend in this instance. If he wants to talk I'm here. Otherwise let him do what he enjoys doing and keep a close watch on him."
Phil chewed this over before looking straight at the shrink.
"Can I ask your official opinion on something? I know you might not be able to answer it yet but I would like your input."
Kalman nodded immediately.
"Fire away Phil; I'll do my best to answer."
"I'm debating whether sending him to the Academy is a good idea, what do you think? He'll be with people closer to his own age which might serve to draw him out of his shell. He would certainly benefit from taking some of the classes there."
Kalman pursed his lips as he considered the question carefully.
"I'm not sure that is a great idea at this point, he doesn't seem to want to interact with other people which would make his time at the Academy very hard. Also, he might only be nineteen in age but his maturity level is much higher, he's hardly a kid Phil. I'd leave it a for a month or two if I were you, give him time to settle in and calm down before sending him into that madhouse."
"It's not that bad."
"Have you stayed there for any length of time? It is a madhouse, too many damn egos flying around for my taste. There is a reason I'm stationed on the main base."
Kalman suddenly looked over at Phil with sharp eyes.
"You care about this kid don't you Phil? You've bought in people before and haven't thought much about it, what's so special about this one?"
Phil quickly got up.
"I think I'll be going. Thank you for your time and your help Dr Kalman."
The shrink only chuckled softly.
"No worries, good luck Phil. I can tell you right now you are going to need it. Just remember I am always here if either of you need me."
That night Clint couldn't sleep.
The traumatic experiences and emotional stress of everything that had happened over the last few weeks was finally catching up with him. First the events in Tokyo, then Budapest (which was supposed to be a holiday damn it, it hadn't quite worked out that way), then meeting Coulson back in Paris before managing to get arrested in Spain and all that had happened in relation to that, in short Clint found it impossible to switch his brain off.
The room he'd been installed in wasn't bad. It was furnished comfortably enough with a single bed, an office chair, built-in wardrobe and a desk. He shared a bathroom down the hall with half-a-dozen others who were staying in this wing of the complex. The room even had a window which though it was small could open to let fresh air in so he didn't feel like he was trapped in a cell which Clint appreciated.
Clint knew by now new agents normally shared bunkrooms or a suite and it was due to Coulson that he had a room to himself in a quieter part of the building. That didn't mean there wasn't a lot of traffic along this route, there was, but it still afforded him more privacy and space than he would otherwise have which he was grateful for. He hadn't really had privacy in years; probably the closest thing he'd ever had was when he was working contracts and staying in single motel rooms, and sometimes even those hadn't been very private.
Clint eventually gave up on sleep, instead deciding to go find somewhere high up to think. He had already scouted every part of the building complex he had clearance to be in as well as several he didn't and as a result knew a way to get onto the roof. It required a fair level of agility and sneakiness but Clint didn't find that hard.
Almost fifteen minutes later he was settled comfortably on the roof, taking in the almost full moon and the stars twinkling overhead. After his time spent in prison he felt that he couldn't get enough fresh air. He hated being contained against his will; though he wasn't claustrophobic and quite liked small spaces on his terms (like air ducts, his secret to getting onto the roof without using the door) he sometimes needed bigger spaces to think. Clint breathed in the cold night air for a while before staring out at nothing, trying to sort out everything that had happened to him in the last week and put his thoughts into some semblance of order.
First, what he knew for sure. Director Fury and Agent Coulson had saved him from prison and possibly death row because they wanted him in their organisation. Despite all he'd done and who he was they'd given him a chance to change and were helping him. Or at least that's what they said they were doing. Clint still didn't believe them but that wasn't important right now.
They were going to train him, educate him, and groom him as an agent for SHIELD. Okay, that part was pretty clear. They wanted him to talk to them more and to trust them, wasn't going to happen in the near future. Clint had already tried to work out again and again what they really wanted from him in return for all this, he couldn't figure out anything apart from his skills. They had those, so why go to all the trouble still? Clint didn't understand, people didn't just do nice things without an ulterior motive, so what was SHIELD's?
If they wanted him dead, why go to all the trouble to train him? Was it possible they could actually be telling the truth? So many questions, Clint struggled as he tried to put things into some logical order.
He really did want to use his marksmanship talents for good, he'd tried to time and time again in the past and things had always gone sideways on him, no matter how hard he tried to go straight it seemed he'd always managed to end up back on the crooked path. In the end he'd all but given up and had been in danger of completely losing himself to the dark side; and then Coulson's offer had come out of the blue and offered a brief glimmer of light and hope in a world full of darkness and despair.
In spite of that Clint still wasn't sure he wanted to be here, but he certainly didn't want to die or rot in prison. They were pretty much his only alternatives to SHIELD as this point and Clint didn't find either one overly appealing. Still, he was suspicious as hell as all this seemed too good and easy to be true, in his experience things were never this easy and there was always a catch. Clint felt very pessimistic with the whole situation he'd found himself in as he stared moodily out into the dark night.
Suddenly his thoughts went to one of the questions the shrink had asked him during his session this afternoon and without meaning to he winced. The gist of the question was did he want to give SHIELD a fair try and turn his life around? Did he really want to be at SHIELD? Damn the shrink, damn SHIELD; that was a question Clint didn't have an answer for right now.
To be truthful he hadn't really thought about it too much up to this point, he had just gone along with whatever had happened as it was certainly a better alternative then staying in prison. Even though he'd told Coulson he'd planned to ring and take him up on his offer he wasn't sure if he would have actually gone through with it if he'd stopped to think too hard.
Well, due to unfortunate circumstances that decision had been taken out of his hands and he was here now, whether he liked it or not. Clint didn't have much of a choice but to go along with them. He knew he wasn't safe out there on his own now, even though he could probably run if he wanted to SHIELD would likely catch up with him before he could make it out of the country. They wouldn't be so nice next time either, having agreed to the terms of what would happen if he went rogue made him sure of that. Disavowed followed by elimination, or termination of threat, as the paperwork had put it. Clint snorted, why couldn't they just say death?
He didn't know how much time passed as he just sat there, trying not to think. It was probably hours before his thoughts calmed down and Clint finally felt tired. So much had happened, and the exhaustion from being alert and wary all the time was starting to catch up to him. He hoped that meant he might actually be able to sleep for what remained of the night.
Clint was in the middle of eating his breakfast the next day when Coulson came striding into the room, the sea of agents milling around the room magically parting before him to create a path. The Agent was honest-to-goodness humming as he moved along the food lines far quicker than what was the normal speed.
Clint watched him get his breakfast with a narrowed eye. He was sitting alone at the table located in the corner of the mess hall which he'd pretty much marked as his own due to it having excellent sight lines and easy access to the exits. A hard glare was all it took to ensure no one else sat down at his table, that and the fact that when another male agent had tried to Clint had fingered his plastic knife in a way that made the agent back off very fast. Clint knew he'd spent too much time around Natasha as that was the sort of intimidation technique she would use but Clint couldn't help but be pleased with the results of her tutoring.
Coulson was going to be harder to move. Clint quickly discovered that Coulson was actually impossible to move when he decided he was sitting somewhere. As soon as he got his food the agent strode towards Clint and, ignoring his glare and the plastic knife, sat down at the table opposite him and started eating. Clint continued to glare but Coulson seemed oblivious to the assassins attempt to burn a hole through him. It wasn't until he had eaten about half the food on the tray that he finally looked up.
"Why are you glaring at me?"
Clint glared harder.
"You're sitting at my table uninvited."
"Didn't see your name on it. The tables in here are communal."
His glare having no effect whatsoever on Coulson unsettled Clint, the only other person he'd ever met (apart from Fury) who his glare had had minimal effect on was Natasha. He was largely immune to her glare just like she was pretty much immune to his, it made for a nice change as they couldn't out-glare each other. Yes, they had tried, in the end they'd had to declare it a tie.
Whereas here Coulson was immune to his glare but he wasn't immune to Coulson's which Clint didn't like at all. Coulson simply continued to eat his breakfast, taking his time. It wasn't until he was almost finished that he finally looked at Clint again.
"I want you in my office at nine sharp. Don't be late. You know where it is?"
Clint nodded shortly, still pissed off with Coulson sitting at his table and refusing to leave. That nod seemed to be all that Coulson was waiting for as once Clint had nodded he got up and disappeared into the maze of agents still milling around in the hall, leaving Clint blinking and trying to figure out how Coulson could manage to melt into the sea of Agents when they all parted for him to go through. Finally giving it up Clint quickly finished his own food before depositing his tray on top of the rubbish bin and heading towards his room. He had half an hour before he had to see Coulson, Clint figured it would take him maybe fifteen minutes to get there.
Coulson frowned heavily at the pile of paper sitting innocently on his desk as he waited for Barton to arrive. Since he'd been appointed to tutor the kid and get his academic skills up to scratch Fury had had all the GED work forwarded to him, and there was a lot of it. Coulson had spent most of the previous day working out a timetable for Barton so that he would cover all the areas SHIELD required, both physically and academically. The majority of the work wouldn't be here until tomorrow or the next day but in the meantime they had to work out how to fit everything into the study periods Phil had allocated on the timetable.
That, Phil was not looking forward to discussing with Barton.
A noise from the door, which Phil had left slightly ajar, drew his attention away from the paperwork for a moment as Barton entered the room. Phil checked his watch, nine on the dot. At least that was a good start to this conversation; Phil didn't even dare to hope the rest of it would be this easy.
Barton hesitated in the doorway as he looked at Phil, waiting for instructions on what to do next. Phil nodded to him.
"Barton, please close the door behind you and sit down. We have some important things to discuss. You are not in trouble so don't look at me like that."
Barton lost some of the defensive look before he slowly closed the door and sat down, angling his chair so the door was located in his peripheral vision. Phil looked at the paperwork lying on his desk and then at the closed-off body language of their newest recruit and mentally sighed. This was not going to be easy, curse Fury and his love of punishments.
"I suppose you are wondering why I want to see you."
Barton just shrugged, averting his gaze.
"Not really."
"I find that hard to believe." Phil deadpanned as he moved a few papers out of the way to get to what was underneath, the first of the issues he had to address with Barton. "Normally being called to my office means you're in trouble for something, obviously you haven't spoken to the other agents and recruits."
Barton didn't answer that but Phil was pretty sure he hadn't been interacting much with anyone since he'd been brought in. Phil was hoping he just needed more time to adjust and wasn't completely anti-social.
"We would have gone through this yesterday but for a few complications which are now thankfully fixed. First up we need to talk about your hearing aids."
The blonde instantly grew defensive.
"Why do we? You've already said they won't make any difference for what you want me for."
"They won't." Phil was calm and collected, he'd known ahead of time that this would be a difficult conversation and had planned accordingly, just stay calm Phil. "But we need to know everything regarding the injury so we can look at all the options. You said those aids are custom made, care to tell me where you got them?"
No answer, Phil wasn't surprised. He knew the boy wasn't going to open up about his past after only a couple of days; he knew better than to even try to find out how it had happened at this point. Instead of pushing Barton he changed tactics.
"Are they comfortable? SHIELD has access to the most advanced technology on the planet and I'm sure R&D would be delighted to design hearing aids that would probably fit like a second skin. Having no experience with aids I can't really judge but some people have told me conventional aids are bulky."
"What part of custom-made did you not get? These aids are fine."
Phil was suddenly fed up with Barton's attitude. He wasn't getting anywhere treating him as he currently was so Phil tried a completely different tactic, hoping with all his might that it wouldn't spectacularly backfire on him.
"Barton, listen closely to me as I am not repeating this. You seem to have the wrong ideas. We aren't doing these things out of pity; we want to make you a more effective operative and you aren't going to be any use to us if you can't hear or are having an issue with a badly fitted or malfunctioning hearing aid. SHIELD wants you to work for them and be loyal, in return we will make sure you have everything you need and anything else you ask for within reason. Asking for new hearing aids so you can do your job better is definitely within reason. We want to help you so you will perform better, and we can't do that unless you tell us how, SHIELD doesn't like guessing. So I'll ask again, are the aids really comfortable or do you want to try something smaller and possibly much better?"
Clint felt a bit ashamed after Coulson's speech but wasn't going to let on that he was. Instead he glared at Coulson as he tried to sort out his jumbled thoughts about his hearing. These aids, despite being custom-made and very expensive, often made his ears sore and had lost signal more than once, sometimes leading to major complications. Clint suspected that was part of the reason he'd been arrested in Spain, he didn't remember much of the accident but he knew he hadn't heard the car coming up on his right side before it had side-swiped him.
Coulson had confirmed what he'd suspected all along; SHIELD was only interested in his skills and all this was purely to make him a better operative. Clint wasn't sure why that news upset him so much. Pretty much his whole life he'd been treated like a tool that others hadn't hesitated in using for their own means. He'd been made to do things he'd despised countless times and people often hadn't treated him half as nice as SHIELD had so far. Clint suspected it was the exhaustion and stress speaking, that and the fact he'd always been an idiot where other people had been concerned, blindly trusting Barney and ignoring the acrobats' advice hadn't been the smartest thing he'd done. Hey, no one had ever accused him of being bright.
It was when he'd proven to be so blatantly wrong in his choices that he'd lost his last bit of faith in people, if you couldn't trust family to look out for you who could you trust? And Clint had discovered he couldn't trust family, they were just as ready to use you for their own ends as anyone else, just as ready to stab you in the back and walk away without a backward glance. Sometimes literally.
Clint dropped his eyes and swallowed as he pulled himself together enough to answer Coulson honestly, after all he'd done for Clint the man deserved that much.
"My ears often do hurt, and the sound in the right one recently started dropping out. Smaller ones would be nice but these ones are smaller than standard ones, do you really have people who can make them even smaller?"
"Barton, we have people who could probably shrink this base down to pocket size if given enough leeway. I knew R&D will have a field day designing new hearing aids. So you do want them?"
Clint nodded once, shortly.
"Yeh, I'll give them a go. Anything to hear."
Coulson just nodded.
"Okay then, I'll fill out the necessary forms and start the paperwork today. I do want your ears properly checked out by someone who knows what they're doing before we order them however, and I want that done ASAP. That way we'll be able to design aides to specifically suit your ears and hearing range. We want the best for all our operatives so they can effectively do whatever job we set for them to do."
Clint still felt slightly ashamed on how he had acted earlier so he didn't reply to that. Coulson looked at him for a long moment before handing over a folder which when opened turned out to be a timetable. Clint hadn't even finished reading the first column before he looked up at Coulson with dismay.
"I have to do schoolwork every afternoon for almost four hours, seven days a week? I don't even get a weekend off?"
Coulson didn't seem the least concerned by Clint's dismay.
"No, not until you've passed your exams and have your GED. Keep reading, I think you'll like most of what you find on the schedule."
Clint glared but gave in and read the whole folder. If he was honest with himself it wasn't really that bad. In the morning from eight until eleven he would be in general training with other agents, from eleven until one he would be in the shooting range under Wilkinson's supervision, at least until he was more comfortable with handling guns as he was out of practice and it showed. One-thirty he was to be with Coulson to study for his GED until five when he would be released. He also had medical examinations rostered into the few spare hours not covered by training every few days. Overall it wasn't that bad but Clint wasn't going to just accept the timetable; that would be too easy and since when had he made things easy on himself?
Instead he glared at Coulson. He was still mad at the agent and if the man really wanted Clint in SHIELD he'd show him just how big a pain he could be given half a chance.
"I seriously don't get any spare time?"
"You do." Coulson was unruffled. "You'll have a couple of hours to yourself most nights. This timetable is only until you have your GED, hopefully by then you'll know enough to move into more intensive training but for now that is what you are going to do. I think you're man enough to handle it."
Clint scowled. There wasn't anything he could say to that that wouldn't make him sound like an impertinent child, which was the last thing he wanted to do. He'd spent years crafting the don't-listen-to-orders-pain-in-the-ass attitude that he used to rile up all his superiors, but Coulson seemed immune to it which Clint didn't like at all. Moreover, this man knew exactly how to metaphorically back Clint into a corner where smart come-backs were concerned, Clint didn't know if it was his natural state or if Coulson was just much more perceptive than Clint gave him credit for.
Either way, it meant Clint had to come up with new ways to be annoying. If he couldn't do it with words he'd just have to find another way, acting insubordinate and not obeying orders would be a good place to start, see how far he could push the agent before he snapped. In Clint's experience everyone had a breaking point. There was no way he was going easy on Coulson even though the man had quite literally saved his life, it wasn't in his nature. They wanted him, they had him, pain-in-the-ass attitude and all. They'd better get used to it.
Coulson shifted some paper around on his desk before looking at Clint.
"If you've finished reading the timetable I think it's time we sort out some of this GED work. Your schedule won't start until tomorrow, and even then you will skip the sparring part of general training until medical says your concussion is completely gone."
"It's fine now."
The look Coulson gave him was longsuffering.
"Medical..."
Clint huffed.
"I know, will drug me up to the gills and tie my ass to the bed, you've already said that. I've lived through worse."
Much worse, Coulson really had no idea and Clint wasn't about to enlighten him.
Coulson still looked disapproving.
"Either way, you're not sparring until they clear you. That's not negotiable."
Clint huffed again and glared at Coulson who looked like he was prepared to wait all day. Clint sighed and slumped down in his chair.
"Fine, whatever, sir. Can we get this over with now or what?"
"Got an appointment you're late for Barton?"
"Yeah, with your mother."
Something like sadness passed over the older man's eyes.
"She's dead."
Oh.
A pause.
"I'm sorry."
Coulson just shrugged as he handed Clint a workbook.
"It was years ago, my dad is also dead and I was an only child so no siblings. Now can we sort all this paperwork out so I'll have room on my desk again?"
Clint stretched his neck, wincing as his muscles un-kinked themselves. He'd been sitting here with Coulson for almost three hours, going through the GED work and figuring out how they would proceed with it. Coulson hadn't set a date for the testing yet, he wanted to see how well they went before giving them a timeline to work towards. Clint was okay with that for now, glancing through the paperwork as they'd sorted it out had told him he had a lot to learn. His whole life he'd had to work on a short timeline and not having any time limit to get this job done, at least for now, was somewhat of a novelty.
Coulson smiled at him.
"I think we've got all this organised enough for you to start working on what is here tomorrow afternoon. What do you think?"
Clint just shrugged, he didn't really care.
"Whatever."
Coulson seemed to take that as agreement to starting tomorrow and started gathering up the loose bits of paper, stacking them neatly into piles until there was literally not a paper out of place.
Clint just sat slumped back in his chair, mentally exhausted from reading so much in a short period of time, he seriously felt like he'd done more reading in the last three hours than he'd done in the last three years which he probably had.
Despite his exhaustion he felt wound up and restless, the sort of restlessness that was hard to get rid of, a few hours with his bow would normally do it but Clint hadn't had it with him when he was arrested and SHIELD didn't have any on hand, it was a rather unusual weapon to say the least. The range master had said he would order one but that it would take a few days to come in, in the meantime Clint would have to make do with guns which were boring compared to his bow. He'd always felt like a gun was a cheats weapon, he'd often wished during his time with the army that they'd let him use a bow. He was way more comfortable with a bow than he was with a gun.
Coulson stood up and stretched a bit before addressing Clint.
"Good work this morning; you have the rest of the afternoon off so you are free to do whatever you like. The range is available if that interests you, then there's the running track and gyms if you want more physical exercise. But first you must want something to eat, I know that I do."
Clint was feeling hungry; breakfast had been a long time ago. When he'd been in the army mealtimes had been fairly regular, while working as an assassin he tended to eat when he was hungry. He'd known from an early age the best types of food to eat that filled you up and lasted a long time, knowledge that had come in very useful over time. Years of having very little and often going hungry had also taught him never to turn down free food, which was essentially what SHIELD was giving him. So he nodded in answer to Coulson's question.
"I am a little bit hungry."
"Glad I'm not the only one." Coulson exited his office with Clint trailing behind him. "SHIELD food isn't that bad, though I would advise against eating the meatloaf they make as a special on Friday's. I'm not sure what they put in it but I don't think it's actually meat, that stuff is evil."
Clint didn't know if Coulson was joking or being serious so he kept his mouth shut and didn't comment. He'd eaten some pretty bad food in his life, from what he'd experienced of SHIELD food so far it wasn't as bad as Coulson made it out to be.
They entered the mess hall at the tail end of the lunch rush so it wasn't too long before they were able to get their food, find a table and start eating. Coulson sat at the same table as Clint who let it go as he knew from prior experience any attempt to move Coulson was doomed to fail. He decided that sitting at the same table didn't mean he had to talk to him though and so he ignored Coulson completely, instead focusing on the activity in the cafeteria.
That fact was the reason he saw the small Asian woman walk into the room like she owned the place before Coulson did. Her body language immediately set off alarm bells in Clint's brain, she moved with the deadly grace of someone who was highly trained and not afraid to show it. She largely reminded him of the way Natasha tended to move when she wasn't hiding the fact she could kill you with a paperclip (she'd even told him just how it was done), she was all lethal grace as well.
The woman collected some food before looking around the crowded room and heading straight towards their table. Clint tensed, ready to fight or run if needed, he already had his escape route planned. Coulson didn't even twitch in his seat, instead nodding to the women as she sat down next to him at their table.
"Welcome back Agent May, Fury told me you would be back today. I haven't seen much of you for the last two months, how are you doing?"
Agent May took a bite of her food, chewed and swallowed before nodding at Coulson.
"I'm good. I've heard rumours you have also been busy these last few months recruiting instead of killing. I don't suppose you'll tell me anything?"
"Sorry May, It's above your clearance level."
The woman nodded, gave Coulson a wink than looked straight at Clint.
"Hallo, I don't believe we've met. I'm Agent Melinda May, tactical leader and level six SHIELD operative. And you are?"
"Clint Barton."
Melinda blinked at that, momentarily surprised by the name. The last time she'd heard that name had been from Coulson's lips as he'd told her he'd found out the identity of the elusive assassin Hawkeye and was being sent to eliminate him. Seems he'd failed the job. Melinda quickly pulled herself together and looked straight at the assassin.
"Well Barton, what have you been bought into SHIELD for?"
"To work as a long distance operative."
"Sniper-assassin." Melinda nodded to herself; that made sense given his skills, he was good. She knew that from spending the last few months putting up with Coulson's whining about not being able to find out anything concrete on Hawkeye. "Coulson bring you in?"
The assassin nodded.
"Yes."
Melinda took another bite of food as she gave the boy a good look over, mentally cataloguing what she saw. His blue eyes had a hunted look to them and it hadn't escaped her notice how jumpy he was. He was wearing SHIELD-issued tactical pants and a black t-shirt that showed off arms that sported muscles that spoke of hard work, and not all of it in the gym. They were in fact very attractive arms.
Melinda knew she was intimidating and people were often scared of her but noticed her presence didn't seem to bother him much. Interesting, he either wasn't worried about her or was good at hiding it. He wasn't very tall and had dark blonde hair; SHIELD obviously hadn't gotten around to making him cut his hair yet as it was long enough that it hung down covering his ears and flopping across his eyes. He had an air of quiet menace about him that left no doubt he was deadly at what he did.
He was young though. Honestly he couldn't have been older than twenty-five and that was being generous; Melinda suspected he was probably closer to twenty or even younger. He was just a kid, a kid who had obviously been through a lot in his life, but a kid just the same. Melinda wondered when they'd started recruiting children to SHIELD and resolved to ask Coulson exactly what had happened at a later date. Last she'd known he'd been falling head-over-heels to kill this kid.
Melinda finished her lunch and spoke to Phil.
"I've got debriefs all afternoon but would you be interested in catching up tonight? I should be finished by seven. My quarters?"
"Do you have...?"
"Yes." Melinda grinned to herself, she knew Coulson loved the scotch she kept locked in a biometric safe in her room. No one touched her scotch without her permission if they valued their life.
"In that case I'll see you than Agent May."
"Will do sir, looking forward to it."
Yes, Melinda was looking very forward to finding out what had happened. A pity she had hours of debriefs to sit through first, she was definitely going to need that alcohol later.
Phil knocked on the door to May's living quarters. She had moved out of standard issue rooms a few months back when she'd made a level six and into a three bedroom suite which she shared with two other girls. Shelley Hardison, who was still out and wouldn't be in for a few days, and Paris Macmillan, another level six operative who was out on a mission at the moment, The latter tended to work a lot undercover and wasn't often at base. Phil was happy about that; it meant they could talk in peace without fear of being overheard. They could have gone to his quarters if it came to that but May's room had the scotch.
May opened the door almost immediately and smiled at Phil.
"Come on in, I've already opened the scotch. I needed it after all those debriefings."
They didn't talk much until they were both settled on the couch with glasses of scotch. It was then that Melinda turned on Phil.
"What the heck happened? Last I hear you wanted to kill Clint Barton, how come he's now in SHIELD? I presume he is the infamous assassin Hawkeye? Do you know what they say on the streets about him?"
The conversation had barely started and already Phil was wishing for something stronger than the scotch. Vodka maybe.
"Yes, he is the assassin Hawkeye and yes, I have heard what people have to say about him. This is technically above your clearance level but I know you won't tell anyone so I'll give you a basic rundown. I know Fury won't mind."
"You know how I was sent to Tokyo to eliminate him?"
Melinda sipped her drink and nodded.
"Yes, I didn't know it was Tokyo but I know Hawkeye was near the top of our most wanted list and you were really keen to take him out. So you went to eliminate him on Director Fury's orders."
"Correct."
"So what went wrong?"
"He managed to get away from us despite being injured and outnumbered. I saw him doing acrobatics over blooming rooftops May, he was running across those roofs faster than my agents on the street could move! Despite having a concussion and multiple minor injuries at the time he easily outclassed them all."
"When he managed to get away from us I started to have doubts about killing him. Just think of what he could do on our side May! After thinking it over for a few days I approached Fury about turning the elimination order into a recruitment offer, which he agreed to do with a bit of persuasion. So I've spent the last month in Paris tracking him from there, I finally found him and offered him a chance to join us which he later accepted."
Melinda nodded as she stared into her half empty glass.
"Okay, you wanted to use his skills. What else influenced your change of mind? I know you Phil; your reactions to this kid aren't your normal ones, especially given how you were acting before you found out who he was. You've brought heaps of people into SHIELD before, me included. You've also taken out people before without any problems. What's so different about this one? And don't try to deny it Phil; lying doesn't suit you when you're not convinced yourself that what you are saying is the truth."
Phil run his hand through his dark hair and slumped in his chair.
"He was so lost Melinda, one look at the hunted, hopeless look in his eyes and all I wanted to do was protect him and not let anyone hurt him ever again. Maybe I saw something of myself in him and wanted to give him a chance, I'm not really sure. I just didn't feel right with killing him, I felt like I would be committing murder, not eliminating a threat to world security. You said it yourself; you know me May, we've known each other for several years now and you know I don't have a problem with killing when it is deserved. I honestly think Barton deserves more than a bullet to the head. SHIELD can give him something better."
Melinda listened without interrupting and looked thoughtful.
"And is he going to make a good asset?"
"Hard to tell at this stage, this is only his second full day here and though he's already broken every record in SHIELD involving accuracy with shooting we are still evaluating his other skills. He doesn't have much education for a start so he has to get a GED, though he can thankfully read which makes the job a bit easier. There are other problems which we are sorting through, it's taking a bit of effort but we are getting there. Then there are his trust issues, I don't even know how to start addressing them. Fury dumped him on me as punishment for bringing him in so he is my problem for the time being."
Melinda finished her scotch and decided against another glass as she'd already had one before Phil arrived. She wanted to be functional in the morning, the reason she tried not to over-indulge when she drank alcohol, which wasn't always an easy thing to do given her stressful job.
"I noticed in the cafeteria he looked like one wrong move would send him bolting for the nearest exit or have him fighting to the death. It's not like that's to unusual Phil, more than one person I've met since joining SHIELD is like that."
"Not this bad they aren't. He absolutely trusts no one; trust doesn't seem to be in him. I..."
May held up her hand.
"Hang on Phil, how many days did you say the kid has been here?"
That made Phil feel slightly foolish as he actually stopped and considered it.
"Two days and two nights."
May nodded in satisfaction.
"There you go, you are totally over-reacting. Wait until he'd been here two years before you start with those thoughts Phil. Who knows what he'd been through and what people have done to him. He probably just needs time and space."
Phil looked very sheepish.
"That's exactly what Dr Kalman told me."
"You should take his advice, as much as I hate to admit it the man knows what he's talking about."
May suddenly gave an enormous yawn which surprised them both. Glancing at his watch Phil cursed.
"Is that really the time? I didn't realise it was so late. Sorry May, you probably want to sleep after that mission."
"I'm not that tired." May gracefully stood up and deposited her empty glass on the sink of the small kitchenette, standing Coulson's beside it. "I think you could do with some shut-eye though so if you are finished talking might I suggest you go and get some sleep?"
"Yes, I think that would be a good idea. Night May."
"Good night Phil, and don't worry so much. I am sure with time everything will work out with Barton. You just need to apply your legendary patience. If any person in the world can do this Phil, that person is you."
End of chapter 2.
There you have it. May's finally on the scene after only being mentioned a couple of times before. I'll let you know in advance that this version of May is going to be OOC from Agents of SHIELD Melinda May. Coulson states himself in one episode that May used to be very different and laugh a lot more so given this in the late 90's, over a decade before the Agents of SHIELD pilot, I've gone with that idea. That's the only big difference, she's still a kick-ass agent who is very good at what she does, and is also single.
You still don't want to get on her bad side either, it won't end well for you if you do and chances are no one will help you.
Next chapter:
Chapter 3: Training, Trouble and Debts
If you liked this please or have any questions about anything please leave a comment. Like last time, I will reply to all who sign in to comment.
See you next week!
