Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with Marvel. I just have fun with their characters.

A/N

Welcome to the next instalment in our journey with Clint!

Before I go on a shout of thanks goes to my two reviews for last week's chapter, Batghost and Armand!

Armand: Thankyou for your comment regarding May! She was great fun to write and plays a very big part in this story a little later on. It's a shame that Fanfiction wouldn't let me list her as a character. She must come under the Agents of SHIELD fandom tag, not the Avengers tag.

As always, this story would not be what it is without the tireless input of jaguarspot. Any mistakes that are picked up are mine.

Enjoy!


Never go backward. Attempt, and do it with all your might. Determination is power. Charles Simmons


Chapter 3: Training, Trouble and Debts

Clint arrived at the appointed training room at two minutes to eight the next morning to find a crowd of agents had already gathered there. He didn't recognise any of them except May, the woman he'd met yesterday in the cafeteria, she was talking with two other agents and Clint found himself staring at those shapely black yoga pant clad thighs for a few seconds before he realised what he was doing and quickly averted his gaze before anyone noticed. Instead of talking to anyone he stood slightly apart from the group as his eyes mapped out the gym. He's seen it when Coulson had shown it to him on his first day here but hadn't had an opportunity to have a really good look at it since then.

The first thing he noticed was the colour scheme. Like most of the SHIELD base seemed to be the gym was black and grey with the eagle motif painted on the back wall. It was huge, bigger than the weapons range had been, and was divided into several sections. One contained sparing mats and benches, another held at least two dozen punching bags, and yet another area contained push-up benches. The wall at the far end sported a huge rock climbing wall, bigger than any Clint had ever seen, either inside a building or outside. A room located just off the main gym area had ropes, ladders and other paraphernalia hanging from the roof to practice climbing on, a huge industrial size net swung above the floor to satisfy safety protocols.

At eight on the dot a huge man entered the gym and came over to the group, many of whom greeted him warmly.

"Hallo Sunny."

Okay, so Goliaths real name was Sunny, seriously what sort of a name was that? Clint observed the man while trying not to be too obvious as he took in his appearance.

Sunny was easily over six foot tall, probably closer to seven, and as far as Clint could tell his bulk was all muscle, the guy looked like a champion wrestler or boxer. His hair was gingery and his eyes were a clear green. In spite of how intimidating his appearance was Clint noticed there was a gentleness about him that seemed out of place with someone who looked like they could defeat an army single-handed without breaking a sweat.

Sunny looked around at the dozen or so agents who had gathered before he started talking in a voice that was incredibly low and soft for such a giant of a man, Clint would have expected him to have a booming voice that carried all over the base, like the circus strongman. You had often been able to hear his voice on the other side of the camp he was so loud and his laugh could almost be heard the next town over. The soft tone from Sunny was a surprise and actually made Clint blink a couple of times before he put his mind back on the job at hand.

"Morning everyone. As most of you know Shelley won't be back at base until tomorrow at the earliest so I will continue to supervise your training until then. That being the case we won't be doing sparing today, I'll leave that to Shelley as it's her speciality. However, we do have a full morning planned starting with the punching bags. Make it snappy people, we don't have all day."


Clint collapsed on a bench and breaking the seal on a bottle of water thankfully drunk the cool liquid in greedy gulps. He hadn't realised how unfit he was, he knew the muscles in his upper body were strong but he felt like he'd been through the ringer already and they'd only been at this for an hour and a half.

After the punching bag workout, which had been brutal enough in its own right, Sunny had made them all work on the push-up benches until all Clint's muscles felt like they were on fire. Sunny had proved to be a hard taskmaster, if he saw anyone not trying hard enough or slacking off he'd chewed them out and threaten to add more time to their routines if they didn't improve. Clint had had some trouble keeping up due to his muscles not being used to it all, Sunny hadn't been as brutal with him and hadn't pushed him at the same pace as he had the others but made it clear that didn't mean Clint could slack off.

As Clint wiped the sweat off his forehead with a towel he felt someone sit down next to him and automatically stiffened as he lowered the towel slowly, ready to leap into defence mode if he had to as he took a good look at the person sitting next to him.

Agent Melinda May finished her bottle of water and looked over at Clint.

"How are you holding up Barton? I noticed you were struggling at the pace Sunny set; you're obviously not used to this sort of exercise?"

Clint hadn't noticed May watching him, he'd been too busy trying to keep up and not pant too much. That she'd seen him and correctly interpreted his actions was impressive. Clint would normally have said something to deflect the question but he was too tired to think too much at this point so instead he nodded.

"Yeh, haven't had a work out this intensive since the army."

Clint suddenly realised what he'd said and clammed up, shutting May out and making sure all his defences were firmly back in place. May didn't seem to notice the change in attitude, instead nodding thoughtfully as she looked across the room at Sunny.

"I understand, Sunny sets a punishing pace but boy do you get fit. After working out with Sunny no matter what physical obstacles a mission throws at me I can deal with it, nine times out of ten it's less punishing than Sunny is. He usually works at the Academy beating new recruits into shape; I'm not sure why he's on base at the moment. You heard anything about it; you've been here a couple of days haven't you?"

Clint only shrugged.

"I wasn't even aware that SHIELD existed three weeks ago and only found out they had an Academy three days ago. I have no idea what it does."

"I see. Well it's for agent training; there are actually three separate Academies. I went to the Academy of Operations for a while after Coulson brought me into SHIELD. It trains field agents and specialists, the other two are for science geeks and communications specialists. It was really hard work but good fun; you wouldn't believe some of the things they train you for until you actually are doing them. I came out of there knowing a lot more than I did when I went in."

Clint listened with interest as he finished his bottle of water. May looked up just then and saw Sunny heading towards them.

"Looks like our break is just about up, I believe running is up next which means we'll probably be going outside. See you around Barton."

May was the first person to actually go out of their way to talk to Clint, and against his will he kind of liked her for that. In spite of his lone wolf front he'd used to enjoy other people's company, he just never seemed to fit into a regular group. So instead of ignoring May like he was inclined to do to other people he nodded once.

"See you around."


Clint hissed in pain as he stretched his cramped muscles. He'd been sitting here with Coulson for over two hours, working through what he would need to know to pass the GED exams. Sitting still for that long when he wasn't used to it, combined with the intense physical exercise session that he'd survived this morning, plus the two hours spent at the range afterwards working with guns and pistols, had resulted in a bad case of muscle cramp, the worst he'd had in years. Clint was hesitant about revealing how cramped his muscles were in front of Coulson but the older man didn't seem to notice Clint's stretching, too engrossed in the report or whatever it was he was reading to look over.

Thankfully they were finished studying for today. They weren't studying for the full time allocated on Clint's schedule as Coulson had informed him when he showed up at one-thirty on the dot (it didn't hurt to be on time sometimes) that he'd scheduled a hearing exam for him with one of their specialists so they would do that before moving onto studying. Clint was actually quite proud that he had managed not to kill the hearing doctor in spite of her looking closely at his ears, touching them and asking him endless questions about his hearing in general. He'd put up with it only because they were trying to help him and he would love to be able to hear properly again. Allowing SHIELD to design new hearing aids was probably the closest he was ever going to get to proper hearing.

Clint didn't complain about the huge amount of work he had to do to get ready for the GED, complaining never got him anywhere, and besides the studying wasn't too bad. Clint enjoyed learning new things and despite what he'd missed with book work during his years in the orphanages and at the circus he found it fairly easy to keep up with Coulson. That surprised him somewhat as he'd never thought of himself as being very intelligent, school as he remembered it had always been boring and he'd never fitted in with the other kids. Working with Coulson for the GED exams hadn't been boring yet.

With this thought Clint looked across the table at his tutor. A separate desk had been moved into Coulson's office so no one would disturb them while Clint studied and so Coulson could continue to do his own work at the same time. Coulson wasn't stretching; if fact he didn't seem to be at all uncomfortable considering the length of time they'd been sitting here. Was the guy even human? Coulson must have felt his gaze just then because he looked up and smiled over at Clint.

"All done?"

Clint nodded as he stacked the books he'd used into piles.

"Yes, I did everything you wanted."

"Good, I'll check it all in a minute. You have free time now to do what you like within reason, don't do anything stupid."

Clint suppressed an eye-roll, why did everyone feel they had to say that to him? Keeping his expression carefully blank he simply nodded. There wasn't much chance of him getting into trouble at the moment. All he currently wanted to do was fall into bed and sleep for years, he was totally exhausted. His brain felt like it was made of cotton wool and he ached all over. He didn't say any of this to Coulson; instead once he'd finished packing away the pencils and other stationary supplies he'd used he said bye to Coulson, who nodded absently and didn't look up from his notebook. Clint headed back to his room to at least rest for a while before he had to go to dinner.


"He's smart then?"

"He is very smart director, so smart I have to hurry to keep up with him on his train of thought sometimes or he'll leave me behind. His memory for facts is astounding, he read a page a few times and could remember everything on it and dictate it back to me almost word perfect. I want an IQ test as soon as it is possible; he has to be above average."

Fury nodded thoughtfully.

"It wouldn't surprise me, that kid isn't stupid by any means. How did his hearing test go? I'm surprised he actually let you talk him into it, he was very defensive about his hearing when we spoke about it in the prison."

"I think common sense won over there, I have a feeling that his don't-care attitude is all a front to mask his real emotions and feelings. From observing him during that conversation I think he really hates them and will try anything to be able to hear without them. He even admitted to the right one often malfunctioning and to the fact they're inclined to hurt his ears. He didn't actually say anything but I have a feeling he's landed in more than one sticky situation because of glitches in his hearing aids."

Fury nodded thoughtfully.

"That would certainly make sense, especially giving the fact he was caught by average cops in Spain when they weren't even looking out for him after he'd successfully avoided our searches for months. What did the doctor say about the chances of fixing his hearing permanently at this point? Is that a viable possibility so he wouldn't have to use aides?"

Coulson sighed wearily as he run a hand through his hair. Fury patiently waited for his agent to speak, it was obvious that sorting out Barton and his problems was wearing his best agent out.

"Operations or implants might be an option for him in the future, heck they might even be an option now depending on the level of damage there is, but I'm not even going to breach the subject with him at this point. There is no way anything could be done without an operation, and that isn't going to happen any time soon. He doesn't trust people when they're all the way across the room where he can watch them, there's no way he's going to let us knock him out and operate with him at our complete mercy. I kind of want to remain alive and mobile for as long as possible so I wouldn't dare to even suggest it to him just yet and maybe not for a long time."

Fury smirked.

"I can see how that could be...problematic, to put it mildly. How did the general training session go this morning? Sunny say anything to you about him?"

"Yes, I went and saw him afterwards. He told me in spite of struggling to keep up with the other agents at certain points Barton persevered without once breaking stride or thinking about giving up, his general fitness level isn't that great yet but Sunny said a few weeks of steady training, especially given his obvious determination, will make all the difference."

Fury simply nodded at that.

"I see. Medical cleared Barton yet?"

"He has another examination scheduled for tomorrow; I think he will be allowed to spar after that. I'm really looking forward to finding out what he knows in that department, he has a foundation from the military and I'll be surprised if he hasn't picked up a few things over the last two years given the nature of his profession."

"That certainly would make sense. How's the bow coming along?"

Phil grinned widely at that.

"Really good apparently, it should be here tomorrow or the day after at the latest. Wilkinson told me he managed to find an industrial grade bow, it's not a toy, it's a real weapon. I think he's developed a bit of a soft spot for Barton; he was amazed with his shooting prowess when we tested him on guns. Have you seen him shoot Nick? He's amazing."

Fury had in fact secretly watched footage of Barton on the shooting range and to say he was impressed was a bit of an understatement. The shooting scores in his military file hadn't accurately described his skills, they were totally unreal. Fury was looking forward to seeing him with a bow since it was his preferred weapon and the one he was best known for.

"Any ideas where his own bow went? Has he said anything about it to you?"

Coulson shook his head as he made an exasperated face.

"No, I have asked him about it but he clams up and ignores me and the question or gives a snarky non-answer. He's very close-mouthed regarding anything to do with his past. I don't think I've ever seen so many one word answers on intake paperwork. He manages to answer the question and tell you nothing personal at the same time, I don't know how that is even possible but he does it. With training he'll likely be a great spy, he is remarkably good at deflecting answers away from the true question being asked and has a natural talent for being able to blend into a situation. Most spies have to be taught to be inconspicuous but it seems to be a natural skill of his. It's actually kind of sad that he is so good at being invisible, he's obviously had lots of practice and it shows."

Fury didn't disagree with that last statement but didn't say anything; he just filed the information away in his brain to think over later. Focusing on the first part of the sentence Fury gave Coulson a bland look.

"We don't need him to be a spy; we need him to be a sniper. That's what we brought him in for Coulson, long-distance assassination work; we already have plenty of spies. When he's trained there won't be any time for him to play spy games even if he wanted to, he'll be too busy working as a long distance operative for that."

Phil just shrugged.

"We'll just have to see what happens, but I do think we should keep an open mind on this. I believe we've got a rough diamond here that needs careful care before it can properly shine."

That was a rather good way to describe Barton, Fury thought. A little while later after Phil had left Fury stared at the door for a long time, lost in his own thoughts as he mused over what Phil had said.

Finally Fury nodded to himself and spoke softly in spite of there being no one around to hear him.

"So I'm not the only one who thinks Barton has more potential and skills than he lets on or possibly even realises himself."

Fury wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing, only time would give him the answer to that particular question.


The next morning Clint was allowed to leave physical training half-an-hour early to attend a medical appointment. The doctors were delighted with how well he was healing and finally cleared him to spar. Clint didn't feel as tired today after training as he had yesterday for which he was very grateful, this morning's workout hadn't seemed to be as hard. May had been there again and had spoken to him briefly like she had yesterday; everyone else had pretty much ignored him which suited him just fine.

Clint walked onto the range to see Coulson was there talking with Wilkinson who looked very excited. As soon as he saw Clint Wilkinson waved him over, a big grin on his face.

"Ah, just the person I wanted to see. Come over here Barton, something arrived this morning that I think you'll find very interesting."

Wilkinson gestured to a large, open black box that was sitting on the table. Coulson was watching with a stoic expression but a gleam in his eye, whether it was amusement from Wilkinson's enthusiasm or something else that had put it there Clint didn't know but he humoured the agents and came close enough to peer into the box. What he saw there made him freeze and his breathe caught in his throat.

Sitting inside, nestled in a generous amount of padding, was a bow. Not just any old bow, this one was possibly the sleekest and most stunning looking bow Clint had ever seen, it left his own bow miles behind and was light years away from the one he'd used back when he was in the circus. Clint just stood there staring for what seemed like forever, he was almost afraid to touch it, afraid that this beautiful bow couldn't possibly be meant for him despite there being no other reason for it to be here. He wasn't paying much attention to the other people in the room until Wilkinson cleared his throat to get his attention. Reluctantly Clint managed to tear his eyes away from the bow and look up.

"Well, are you going to try it out or what? You said you wanted a bow so I got you a bow; no one else around here is going to use it so go ahead and try it, it's all yours. Let's see what you can do with it."

Clint reverently picked the bow up, running his hands all over it, noticing its strength and the way is sat in his hand. It wasn't custom made like his own bow was and because of his left-handed archery the grip felt funny but it was still heaps more comfortable than his circus bows had been. Clint slowly pulled back on the string, testing it. It was about the same draw weight as his own bow but it felt more powerful, though that might have something to do with him not having used a bow for over a week. His muscles were a bit out of practice as a result but thankfully he hadn't lost much of the strength he'd previously built up.

Clint slowly and carefully released the string, being careful not to dry fire it, and took the quiver of arrows Coulson held out. The quiver was black like the bow but as far as Clint could see there wasn't anything particularly special about it. The arrows were fairly generic hunting ones, long, straight shafts with small narrow heads so as to cause the lease amount of damage to the animal's hide as possible.

Wilkinson had watched him handle the bow with a sharp gaze and now asked eagerly.

"Do you like it?"

In answer Clint carefully selected an arrow, notched it and suddenly turned around on his heel, aimed for the target that was the furthest away from the door and let go of the string. The arrow flew straight were Clint had intended it to and landed in the middle of the bullseye of the target located a good forty-five metres away from where they were standing. Coulson and Wilkinson both stood there in stunned silence as Clint turned back to them and nodded.

"Yeh, I like it."

Wilkinson blinked.

"Do that again?"


Fifteen minutes later Phil and Wilkinson were leaning against the wall in the shooting range; both watching in slack jawed awe as Barton fired ten arrows faster than the average human in the establishment could fire ten bullets, and hit his mark every single time. His boasts about his aim and the reports on his shooting scores now began to look even more woefully inaccurate in light of the evidence in front of them; the kid's accuracy really was off every single chart that existed. Phil had wondered about the never miss part and even after seeing his accuracy with guns had still had doubts he could be better than that; he now had no doubts on the matter. Barton was simply that good a shot.

Watching him empty his quiver for the fifth time, Phil decided he'd have to see about getting him more arrows, he'd have to put in a special order this once and see that it was added to the regular order so there would always be plenty of arrows on base. Normally an agent's primary handler would see to that but as of yet Barton didn't have one and as he was currently Phil's responsibility and not in the general pool of agents it was up to him to see Barton had everything he needed.

Phil watched Barton closely as he collected his arrows and started again. The kid was left handed when it came to archery which was interesting as he'd written with his right. Phil filed that information away in his brain for now, intending to ask Barton about it later. Glancing at Wilkinson, Phil was amused to see the still glassy eyes and open mouth, the range master was absolutely speechless. Phil wasn't as surprised, he'd read the army files even if he'd never seen the boy do archery, his accuracy with guns was amazing enough, but this was something else entirely. It was almost like dancing, the graceful way Barton did archery. For the first time since Phil had met the kid he seemed truly happy and relaxed as he fired arrow after arrow, hitting his mark every time.

Just then the door to the shooting range opened quietly and Boyd slipped in. Phil bet he knew why he was here; the rumours about Hawkeye had gone around the base like wildfire, even if the true story remained somewhat hazy. As he'd been part of the team that had originally been sent to eliminate the archer in Tokyo it wasn't that surprising Boyd would now want to know what had happened to change that order.

Boyd had been off on another assignment since then and judging by his rumpled appearance had just gotten back to base and hadn't even been to his room yet, wanting to see the subject of most of the current rumours for himself. Spying Phil and the still awe struck Wilkinson standing there Boyd smiled and started walked over to him before he spied Clint, stopped, and simply stared. He just stood there staring for a few minutes before his legs carried him over to where Coulson was standing and he finally found his voice after a few more minutes of open-mouthed silence.

"Who's that?"

Phil just grinned.

"We've acquired an archer. That there is Clint Barton."

Boyd opened and shut his mouth a few times before words finally came out.

"I can see that much Phil, how did it happen? Last I knew you were supposed to kill him, heck I was part of the team that tried to."

Wilkinson blinked at that and tore his gaze away from Barton for the first time since he'd started shooting to look at the other two men, specifically at Phil.

"Did you really try to kill him? I didn't know that but I'm glad you didn't. Kill him I mean. The kid is already off the charts with conventional firearms and he's even better with a bow. I have never seen marksmanship like his; it is a rare and beautiful thing."

Phil answered them both.

"After seeing him in action I decided killing him would be a waste. As you can both see and Wilkinson pointed out he's got incredible skills. Fury agreed with me and so we brought him in instead of killing him."

Boyd just shook his head in wonder as the archer made a star pattern on the target with arrows, his accuracy never wavering.

"I can see why now. If that sort of accuracy showed up in any recruits training for the FBI, CIA or pretty much any other alphabet agency SHIELD would do everything in their power to convince that person to join them. What did you say his name was again?"

"Clint Barton."

"Clint Barton, right, thanks. So Coulson, how exactly did you convince Barton to join us? I hope you didn't shoot him again."

Wilkinson blinked again, horror clearly visible on his face.

"You shot him?"

Phil was starting to feel uncomfortable with Wilkinson's reaction which was most unusual for him; his reputation of being unflappable was legendary. As he'd said to Fury yesterday, Wilkinson had really taken a shine to Barton.

"Yes I did, thought in my own defence it was before we decided to bring him on board as an asset. You are supposed to shoot your target when it's a kill mission so I wasn't doing anything wrong at the time."

Just then the subject of their conversation turned towards them, stiffening when he saw Boyd. Boyd just waved lazily at him as Phil beckoned Clint over. The boy looked questioningly at the arrows still in the targets, so Phil called to him.

"It'll be fine for a few minutes Barton. I would like you to come over and meet a good friend of mine."


As Clint finished firing the last of the arrows in his quiver he felt calmer and more focussed than he had in weeks. Gosh how he'd missed archery; it was his lifeline and safety net, he didn't have to think while he was doing it. Turning around to see what Coulson and Wilkinson were doing Clint saw the third man standing with them and all his survival instincts immediately kicked in, the calm from the archery practice disappeared and was immediately replaced with wariness as he sized the third man up.

He was of average height and weight with fair hair and tanned skin, suggesting he spent a lot of time in sunny places. When he saw Clint looking at him he waved at him as Coulson beckoned him over.

Clint glanced at the arrows; he always packed them up straight away after a practice, a habit drilled into him by the circus. At Coulson's reassurance Clint walked slowly towards the three men, watching the newcomer warily, even though nothing bad had happened here so far Clint wasn't about to take any chances as this still seemed to good to be true.

Coulson simply grinned at him before introducing the third man.

"Agent Thomas Boyd, one of our best field technicians and absolute technological wizard. Boyd, this is Clint Barton, professional archer, sniper and now Probationary Agent with SHIELD."

Clint couldn't help but feel slightly proud at hearing that. Probationary Agent, it sounded grand, even though the probationary bit was sitting in front. Looking Boyd up and down he finally spoke.

"Hallo."

Boyd looked at the arrows sticking out of the targets and then back at him with an expression of pure wonder on his face.

"Recruit Barton, you are a shot the likes of which I have never seen before in my life. Even the best snipers in the army couldn't have made those shots you just did with a rifle and you made them with a bow. A bow! It was truly incredible; I wish I could shoot like that."

It took a lot of will power not to flinch as soon as he heard the man's voice. He'd been one of the agents that he'd encountered in Tokyo when Coulson had initially shot him. Of that Clint was sure, he remembered those three voices he'd heard while hidden in the rubbish bin all too well. You tended to remember those who tried to kill you and though Coulson and his friends hadn't actually succeeded in doing that it had been a close thing. It wasn't quite the closest Clint had ever been to death, he'd been in more dire situations than that one. But his life had undoubtedly been in immediate danger if they'd discovered him.

In spite of all that Clint looked at the twinkle in the man's brown eyes and the warm, genuine looking smile on his face and felt himself warming slightly towards him, there was an openness about this man that he hadn't found in any other agent he'd met so far. Then he clamped that thought down, opening up to anyone was dangerous, doubly so in this instance, so instead he just nodded again.

"Thanks."

"I'm not just saying it to be nice Barton, it's the truth. What I saw of your shooting just now was incredible; we are truly privileged to have you with us. Where did you learn to shoot like that?"

Clint shrugged, not saying anything as he looked away. Boyd wisely didn't push the issue, instead turning to Coulson again.

"I'd best be going to get some rest Phil, keeping track of a bunch of agents and trying to stop them from getting killed or killing each other is exhausting work."

At that Wilkinson gave a short bark of laughter, and Phil grinned.

"I thought that was the handler's job?"

"Poor Intel." Boyd sighed. "There was a back-up alarm we weren't aware of, we managed to complete the mission in the end and none of us died but it certainly wasn't the easiest mission I've ever done."

"Okay, I'll see you around later then Boyd. Go and get some rest now, you look like you could use some shut eye."

"Believe me I feel the same way. See you later Wilkinson, Barton."

Boyd left, and Clint started collecting his arrows with Coulson's help, Clint told him to always pull them out with a hand as close to the arrowhead as possible to prevent bending and breaking the shafts. As they pulled arrows out of the targets Coulson spoke in a conversational tone.

"You learnt to shoot like that in the circus right? It's my understanding you even had your own act 'The Amazing Hawkeye'. What happened to cause you to leave them?"

Clint's stomach turned to lead at the question; he didn't need a reminder of why he'd left the circus and what had happened before that. Not answering Coulson would more than likely make the man more determined to find out the truth and Clint didn't want that part of his life dug up if the Agent went looking, there was too much he didn't want known.

Especially when that information could land him back in prison on death row if it ever became public knowledge. Clint intended to carry those secrets to the grave with him.

"Shooting straight was a matter of survival and I learnt my lessons well. I grew fed up with the circus eventually and wanted a change so I decided to try the military."

Clint watched in satisfaction as Coulson's expression changed for a second before morphing back into a bland mask. So, the famous Phil Coulson could be ruffled despite the rumours he was a robot and therefore that was why he didn't show emotions. Clint could definitely use that bit of information.

"I see."

Coulson didn't say anymore on the subject and Clint counted that as a win for now. As he came back with all the arrows Wilkinson met them.

"Barton, you can have another fifteen minutes with the bow before we start your firearms training, now that we have it we'll work the bow into your regular schedule. Agent Coulson, are you going to stay or do you have work to do?"

Clint couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed when Coulson shook his head.

"No, I'll be leaving. Make sure you're not late for your lessons Barton, In spite of having a new toy I still want to see you in my office at one-thirty sharp. See you later Wilkinson."

Coulson left and Clint again lost himself in the repetition of archery practice. All too soon Wilkinson stated the fifteen minutes were up and it was time to get down to firearms training. Clint reverently laid the bow back in its box, stroking it in appreciation until Wilkinson's chuckle made him turn and look at the other man with a raised eyebrow.

"She is a beauty isn't she? I must say I'm quite jealous, not that I've ever shot a bow in my life, it is an unusual weapon of choice to say the least. R&D wants to play with it and see about making it more customised to you. I noticed you did archery left-handed, do you always do it that way?"

Clint nodded as he followed Wilkinson to the other table and picked up the sniper rifle he had used the previous day.

"Yes, I always do it left-handed; it's much easier that way. I can use my right as well but my accuracy goes down if I do. When I was learning it was hard as all the bows were made for right-handed people, I had to adjust the bow until I could use it left-handed which wasn't easy."

"I'll make sure your weapons are always tailored to left-handed then. What about guns? I noticed you use the rifle right-handed."

Clint just shrugged as he put the gloves on.

"I'm ambidextrous; I can use any weapon in pretty much either hand. Archery is left-handed but rifles are easier to hold this way. I put that down on my intake form, they seriously had a box that asked you to state what hand you prefer using!"

"That's for practical reasons; we need to know an agent's preferences so weapons and training can be customised for them if necessary. The people I ordered the bow from told me it can be used in either hand but I'm sure the R&D department can improve it so it's solely tailed to your left-hand shooting. Our R&D department does some amazing stuff. Anyway, you ready to beat your scores from yesterday?"

Clint nodded as he put on shooting goggles and picked up the rifle.

"You bet."


When Clint arrived in Coulson's office a couple of hours later the first thing he noticed was that there was another person there. A tall woman with dark hair which had purple streaks in it was sitting on the couch talking to Coulson. As Clint entered Colson looks up with a smile.

"There you are. Barton this is Agent Malarkey, she's here to give you an IQ test, we do it for everyone who joins us. It shouldn't take long and then we'll get on with your studying."

Clint simply nodded and shrugged.

"Whatever, I'm losing track of how many tests you people are putting me through so what's one more?"

Agent Malarkey smiled at that and gracefully stood up.

"Okay then, let's get started. And please call me Linda; it's much easier to say."


Late that night just as Phil was falling asleep there came a quiet knock at his door. Groaning Phil rolled over and gazed blearily at the bed side clock, which told him it was after 11pm. As the soft knocking continued Phil grudgingly got up and wrapped himself in his bathrobe. Walking out of his bedroom in a fashion not dissimilar to a zombie he opened the door to reveal a serious looking Nick Fury in all his black leather glory.

Phil was suddenly wide awake.

"What's happened Nick? What's wrong? It isn't like you to make late night social calls in person."

Fury looked serious.

"Can I come in?"

Phil instantly nodded and gestured to the couch in the main area of his suite, Fury sat down and motioned for Phil to do the same. It wasn't until they were both seated that Fury finally spoke.

"It's about Barton. No Phil, the kid isn't in trouble, at least not with me."

Realisation dawned as Phil took in Fury's body language and grim look.

"The council."

Fury scowled darkly and nodded. Dealing with the council always put him in a black mood.

"They've finally got wind that we've recruited Hawkeye instead of eliminating him and there are a lot of people who aren't happy, both national and international members of the council plus other parts of the government. Pierce met with me this afternoon to ask about the details and after I showed him Barton's shooting prowess and potential he's 100% on my side with this, we've neutralised the threat which is what the primary objective was."

"But it wasn't what the orders were."

"Yes, and that is the problem. Good news is they haven't yet ordered us to eliminate him; bad news is they aren't happy and they have a lot of influence. If things get bad Barton could be locked up in solitary confinement for months while they argue over protocol."

Phil was horrified.

"It would kill him, he agreed to come in to have a chance to go straight and do some good in the world, not be locked in a cage for months. We can't lock him up now; I would rather have him out there with a bounty on his head than that. Is there anything you can do Nick?"

Fury sighed.

"Maybe, but it gets worse Phil. Pierce is on my side and we think we can influence two other council members to let Barton stay without too much trouble but remember the General who got Barton kicked out of the army and kick-started this whole mess?"

Phil nodded.

"General Thaddeus Ross, he's an A-grade asshole."

"Agreed, I never liked him. He is also a cousin of one of the council members and for reasons unknown has heavily influenced him concerning the kid. He has Anderson rooted firmly in the belief that the kid is a good-for-nothing loser that needs to be shot. His assassination record doesn't help matters; they are judging him on his past actions and not taking anything else into account."

Phil's head dropped into his hands at that and his voice when he spoke was muffled.

"What the hell have I done? I've made things worse for the kid by bringing him in, they could have him executed."

"Unlikely, but this situation has to be handled with extreme care or he could get a long time behind iron bars. I'll do whatever I have to Phil and Pierce is with me all the way."

Fury noticed the tense lines of his friend's shoulders didn't ease so he continued.

"No one will get their hands near Barton as long as I have a say in the matter. The kid's here because he's got more potential than I've seen in a long time, not because of your moment of weakness. I may have doubted it was the best call to make at the time but now I totally agree that having him on our side is the best thing we can do short of killing him which isn't going to happen. I have the right to recruit whoever I want to recruit within reason, Barton has the potential to be a great asset to SHIELD, and he isn't going anywhere anytime soon if I have a say in it. The government and World Security Council can jolly well like it or I might just go ahead, drop the polite facade and tell them just where they can shove all their bullshit."

Phil looked slightly better at that and nodded gratefully as he finally looked up and met Fury's eye.

"Thanks Nick, you're a good friend. I told the kid if he joined that we would protect him from all his enemies and have his name taken off government kill lists. Any chance of that happening now? I don't want to have lied to him, I didn't realise the Council would react like this."

"It isn't really the council Phil, it's one person on the council who's kicking up all the fuss. Anderson is too young for the position he's in, I thought so at the time but couldn't do much about it. Unfortunately what he says carries a lot of weight with the other members due to his wealthy and influential family. And for some reason he is very close to General Ross."

Phil just sighed.

"Blasted military personnel, there is a reason I never fitted into the army and got into so much trouble, Barton's way too good a marksman and far too creative and free-thinking for them as well. How long is this likely to take Nick?"

"Hopefully not longer than a week, I don't want to drag this on. I think the other council members are slightly pissed that their orders weren't carried out the way they intended them to be but see the sense in what we did. It's Anderson and his blasted cousin that are the problem here."

Phil frowned as a thought occurred to him.

"It's weird that the same general who had Barton discharged from the army also happens to be the close cousin of a WSC member. What are the odds of that happening?"

Fury's look didn't change.

"Believe me I looked into it Phil and everything looks legit. It seems it is just a coincidence, a very strange one but nothing more than that. No skeletons there, and if there were any I'm sure I would have found them."

Fury lent forward and looked intently at his one good eye sitting opposite him.

"We will keep Barton out of their hands Phil; you have my word on it as the Director of SHIELD and as a friend. Besides, I owe you my life and that's one debt I don't treat lightly. Those self-important snobs are going to have to accept that Barton is here, is part of this organisation, and not about to go anywhere without my say-so. And the sooner they do the happier everyone will be as far as I'm concerned. He's here to stay Phil; I'm not letting him go anywhere. He might end up with the ankle bracelet after all but that may be the lesser of two evils if it means they allow him to stay."


End of chapter 3


A bit of a slow chapter sorry, the next one also is quite slow in terms of action and excitement but after that the momentum picks up and then it's practically non-stop to the end. After chapter 5 is posted I'll be moving my updating schedule to twice a week as I'm nice like that and don't want to leave you on cliff-hangers for to long.

Next up,

Chapter 4: I ain't a hero

If you read this story and are enjoying it please review! I would love to know what you think of Clint's early days with SHIELD in this universe.