iv.

"Hey," a familiar voice called, just from behind as Maria jogged up the desert path.

She ignored him.

"Should you really be out here by yourself?" Agent Barton asked, steadying his pace to match hers stride-for-stride. "Isn't this kind of dangerous? Running alone after dark."

"I'm an agent of SHIELD," Maria shot back at him, not bothering to look his way. "Besides, the sun just set. We've still got some light and I think I can handle myself."

"Sure you can," he laughed.

Maria shook her head and he laughed harder this time. And easily. Maria kind of hated him for that. She was already sweating profusely and breathing hard, about a mile in, and he didn't even sound winded.

"If I'm slowing you down," she said, nodding her head further up the path and hoping he'd just go.

"I'm good."

"Are you..." she started to ask, turning and finally getting a good look at him. And yes, he was in amazing shape. That was easy to see and next to impossible to deny. But that wasn't what stopped her in her tracks. "Why are you wearing sunglasses? Was the rocky path not enough of a challenge or something? You wanted the added thrill of possibly breaking a leg?"

Barton stopped and shook his head with a smile.

"Believe it or not," he answered, taking them off and handing them to her, "these are for safety."

"Safety?" He nodded and motioned for her to give them a try. Warily, she did. To her surprise, once looking through the lens, it was as if sun was back out again. She could see perfectly. "Where'd you get these?"

"R and D."

"Impressive," she said, sweeping her eyes across the desert around them once more. "I thought night vision goggles made everything green? These are crystal clear."

"Yeah, well, don't say anything, but I think that Development lifted that tech from Stark Industries."

"Is that legal?"

"Is anything we do legal?" Barton asked in return as she handed the glasses back.

Maria didn't answer him, just turned and continued her run up the steady slope behind their makeshift station.

"Is this the path you always take?" he asked after a few minutes of silence, having taken up beside her once again.

"Most everyone does."

Again they lapsed into, not an easy silence, but one of necessity. Maria wasn't a runner. She ran because it kept her in shape, but usually she could go a few miles without much of a problem. However, the rough terrain and the incline were proving more difficult than she'd first imagined it would. So, it wasn't so much that she didn't want to talk, which she kind of didn't, but that she couldn't.

He took the hint.

Once they reached the apex, Maria stopped to catch her breath. Barton stopped with her but, and she more than kind of hated him for it, he didn't even seem bothered by the climb.

"Where to next?" he asked after a few minutes.

"I was going to head back but you don't have to come with me. I wouldn't want to interrupt your run."

"You're not."

Maria said nothing, just fixed him with a stare.

"Okay," she said, not believing him. "Is this something else Agent Coulson set up? What's going on here? Does he not think I can handle myself and sent you out like some kind of deranged watchdog?"

"Actually... this one was my idea."

"Really," she said with deadly intent.

"Not because I think you're going to get eaten by a mountain lion or anything like that," he explained.

"Then why exactly are you out here following me?"

Barton dropped his head and rubbed the back of his neck, momentarily stalling for time.

"Well?" Maria pushed, crossing her arms and growing irate.

"How many times a week do you run this path?" he asked.

"What does -"

"Humor me," he interrupted.

Maria screwed up her face in a frown before giving him a crisp nod. "About three times."

"And the gym?"

"When I can," she answered, and it dawned on her where he was headed. "Wait. Do you think I'm out of shape? Because I am in excellent shape. On my physical exam, I scored in the 96th percentile."

"I'm sure it was a very tough exam."

"God, you are such an ass."

"I am," he agreed. "But, despite that, I made it up here, no problem and you..."

"I'm not used to the altitude."

"Okay," he said, his tone dismissive. "I guess that's fair."

"You don't think so?"

"I think that, once you're in the field, no one's going to give you a time out to catch your breath or a few months to adapt to the climate or altitude."

"If I wasn't in good enough shape to be a field agent, do you think they'd have put me out here?"

"Oh, I'm sure on paper you were perfect this job," he answered, and Maria could hear the condescending tone creeping into his voice. "Just like, on paper, you're an excellent marksman."

"So, what? I'm supposed to be as good as you are? Day one? Just like that?"

"Honey, no one is as good as I am."

"Don't do that. Don't call me Honey, or Sweetie, or any of the other, dozens of oh-so-creative nicknames you've got stored in that Neanderthal brain of yours. Just don't."

"Fine, Maria. Is that better?"

"No," she said, shaking her head. "You can call me Agent Hill."

"Fine, Agent Hill," he snapped. "I am trying to help you not come back from your first mission in a body bag. Will you please ignore the fact that you hate me for a few minutes so that you can hear what I'm actually saying?"

"I hear what you're saying," she returned. "You think that I'm not good enough to be your handler."

"No," Barton said, sighing and putting his hands on his hips as he looked up in to the sky. "That is not it. That's not it at all. I am saying you need to work harder. Yes, for an agent, you are in great shape, but that's not good enough in the field. Whatever the standard was before, it's not enough. You can't afford to get tired. You can't afford to miss a single shot. I am trying to help you. I am offering to help."

"Why do you care?"

"What, you think you'll be out there by yourself?" he asked in return. "Trust me, if you were going by yourself, I wouldn't care. Not even a little bit. But you're not going alone, are you? What happens to you, happens to me. The problems you have, are my problems. If we're going to work as a team, that's just how it is."

Maria said nothing, just dropped her head and stared at the ground as she mulled over what he was actually saying. Because, yes, maybe she hadn't heard him, not really. Maybe she had been a little too distracted by his attitude to listen.

"I know you probably thought being a handler would be about sitting in a room, making plans and listening in as other people carried them out," Clint continued after a minute more. "And yeah, mostly it will be. But things go bad. Things change and you have to be capable of changing with them. You have to be able to adapt, defend yourself, and run if needed. I can't make you take my advice. I can't make you take my help. But, you know what? I offered. Now... if something happens, well, I tried."

"What... what are you suggesting?"

"Run with me. Work out with me. Not all the time, I know you can't stand me, but a few times so I can give you some pointers."

"I can do that. What else?"

"The range. I hear you've made some progress and... yeah, I know our first lesson didn't go great. A lot of that is on me. But, if you're willing to give it another try..."

"I am," she answered.

"So am I," he said with a nod. "I'm there every morning. Whenever you want, stop by."

"Okay."

Clint nodded and Maria couldn't help but see that, while he didn't exactly look disappointed, he did look a little upset. Just a little. But, it was dark and she was probably imagining it. It wasn't that she thought he was incapable of emotion, but she hardly expected his feelings to be hurt over something as trivial as this.

"You really want this, don't you," he said, looking her square in the eyes.

"I do."

Clint gave her a tight smile and left the rest alone.