Author's Note: I am so pumped by how many of your guys are enjoying this story! It means a lot to have you guys following along and it's definitely my motivation for working so hard on this story! Now we've probably got about two more weeks before I catch up with what I had pre-written (though I have a lot of the later, exciting scenes written, we still have to build up to those!) so I'll make you a deal… I'll keep writing and you keep reading!

As always, special shout outs to my favorites! TheRedScreech; XYZArtemis; Hatter5151; ELOSHAZZY; theflyingpenguin; forsakenfoxshadow; LisaG16; Jokerdino10! I very much enjoy reading your thoughts on the story so far! You guys are the best!

Chapter Four

Phil knocked on the door to Fury's office and then settled himself to wait. If he knew anything about the Director, he knew that he had royally pissed off the man by ignoring orders and complicating what he viewed to be an uncomplicated situation.

And that meant that he was going to make Phil wait.

It was a tactic that was used to put a person on edge and establish who was really in charge. It was a power play that Fury rarely pulled on Phil Coulson. But there was no surprise this was an exception. And if Phil hadn't been absolutely sure that he was doing the right thing, it might have rattled him. But as it stood, it simply gave him more time to plan out his strategy.

He had decided on the walk up here that he was going to take this one step at a time. He knew that Fury wouldn't even begin to humor his request to recruit Clint Barton until he could prove that he had not committed three murders of innocent civilians in Chicago. He wouldn't even breech the topic of recruitment today if he could help it. His one goal in this particular meeting was to get Fury to allow Barton to remain here while Phil looked into the case and proved his innocence.

In the meantime, Phil could also build his case for Barton's recruitment. If all went well, after he presented his evidence to Barton's innocence, he'd also be able to present his pitch to recruit the kid.

There were still a few bumps to work through – like how he was going get Fury to allow the seventeen-year-old kid to stay here until he was eighteen and could legally be recruited – but overall he felt like this could work.

Finally, he heard Fury's voice from within.

"Come in."

Phil opened the door and strode into the office, his head held high and an easy look on his features. Fury was standing with his back to the door, gazing out the window. Phil stopped several paces from him, centered his weight over his feet as he folded his arms comfortably behind him and waited to be acknowledged.

"I watched your approach through the surveillance," Fury said without turning around. Phil was surprised, this was not where he had expected this conversation to start. But he waited quietly for Fury to make his point. "It's funny, maybe we should have our equipment checked. Because it looked remarkably like you had a dangerous hostile sitting up in the copilot's seat with his hands cuffed in front of him."

"Well… it sounds like the surveillance is working exceptionally well actually," Phil commented, more than a little impressed that Fury had been able to tell where Barton's hands had been cuffed.

"What the hell were you thinking, Phil?" Fury demanded, finally turning to face him.

"Barton isn't some hardened criminal," Phil said patiently. "He's just a kid who's made some well-intentioned but misguided choices. He's no threat to us."

"Did you forget about the three highly trained SHIELD agents he put in the infirmary with essentially his bare hands," Fury countered. "Not to mention, he's a suspect in the murder of three people at seventeen years old. That sounds pretty damn threatening to me."

"He didn't commit those murders," Phil said simply.

"And how do you know that?" Fury asked.

"He told me."

Fury seemed honestly taken aback for a moment by the simplicity of the explanation.

"And you believe him?" he asked skeptically.

"I do," Phil said firmly.

Fury sighed heavily, waving a hand vaguely at Phil. "Well then, state your case."

Phil took a small but steadying breath.

"First of all, I believe the very fact that this kid saved two of our agents at great risk to himself should gain him some semblance of the benefit of the doubt," he said evenly. As Fury opened his mouth to counter, Phil quickly went on, already knowing what he was going to say. "I know what happened with the three SHEILD agents who tried to arrest him in Columbus… but that was on us. I watched the footage from the vest cams before they went out in the fight. The agents made no attempt to identify themselves and immediately tried to take Barton by force. We went on the offensive and he reacted. We really can't fault him for that, the kid obviously doesn't know who he can trust. Fighting back was a natural instinct and you can't deny that you or I would have reacted the same way in that kind of situation. Not to mention, after the agents were incapacitated, he didn't finish the job. He took off. That point alone points to self-preservation, not aggression."

Fury paused for a moment, considering that before he grudgingly nodded for Phil to continue.

"So, I went into that meeting with him with an open mind. I listened to what he had to say, and it all added up to a person who is trying to do some good in this world. He seemed to have a complex against bullies, and he all but admitted that he travels around and tries to help people out wherever he happens to be." He paused as he met Fury's gaze. "I've dealt with a lot of villains in my time here. And while I sat there, listening to what Barton had to say, I didn't see a villain. I truly and honestly saw a kid who is just lost and looking for something to give him purpose in life."

Fury was quiet for a long moment.

"So, what exactly are you looking for here, Phil?" he asked, his tone decidedly less hard, though he sounded vaguely suspicious. "Why were you so intent on bringing him here?"

"If nothing else, don't you think we owe him one?" Phil said, a hint of pleading in his voice. "No matter how you look at it, if not for him Johnson and Geller would probably be dead and Bates would be in the wind."

There was a heavy pause as Fury considered this.

"So, this is just about repaying a debt?" Fury asked, sounding unconvinced.

"In a way," Phil hedged, knowing that wasn't the whole truth. If it had only been about that, he would have left him in prison while he worked out what really happened in Chicago. This was about something more and he could tell that Fury knew that as well. He decided to try to redirect the conversation. "Aren't you at least a little intrigued about this kid though? You said so yourself that you wanted to have a conversation with him."

"I did," Fury allowed, undeterred. "But that was before I knew about the murder charges, which you so conveniently left out of your initial overview about the kid. You know that we don't interfere with local law enforcement if we don't have to." He paused, looking Phil up and down. "Phil… what is it about this kid?"

"I… I can't put it into words," Phil admitted, frowning. And that was the truth. He had made the decision to bring him in before he had all the facts needed to make the decision about recruitment. There was just something about this kid…

"That's not like you," Fury said, sounding puzzled.

"I know," Phil sighed, feeling frustrated. He ran a hand through his hair before he took a deep breath and then continued. "But that's irrelevant for the moment. The fact of the matter is that the kid is here now and I'm officially invested. Just give me a couple days to work out what really happened in Chicago. I can get this kid off my conscience and we can go from there."

Fury paused, contemplating carefully for a minute.

"I will give you three days to sort out this kid's shit and get him the hell off of my base," Fury finally allowed. "This is not a daycare and I don't have the time or resources for babysitting minors here."

"Understood, sir," Phil acknowledged, knowing full well it was best to take this as a win for now. Once he cleared the kid's name, then they could have the next conversation.

"Seventy-two hours, Phil," Fury reiterated. He tapped his watch for emphasis. "Starting now. You're on the clock."

"Shouldn't be a problem, sir," Phil assured.

"Well then… get going," Fury said, as if that fact should have been obvious.

Phil nodded before he turned and strode out of the room.

He felt that had gone as well as he could have hoped for. He headed right for the tech lab after that, getting Bradbury on the task of identifying the murder victims in the case that Barton was implicated in. pulling any surveillance he could find from the area around the crime scene, and also getting him a meeting at the morgue in Chicago with the team that had done the autopsies. After that, he stopped for some lunch of his own before he headed back to the detention wing. It had been several hours since he had left Barton there, and he hoped that the kid had gotten some sleep. Despite the nap on the Quinjet, the kid had still looked exhausted.

As he was buzzed into the cell, he immediately spotted Barton sitting on the floor in the corner of the cell. That seemed odd to him, considering there was a perfectly good cot in the room. He quickly decided not to dwell on it though.

"Did you get some food?" Phil asked. Barton merely silently motioned to the empty plate that sat on a tray just off to his left. Phil nodded, satisfied. "Okay. Come on then."

Barton just looked at him blankly for a moment.

"What?" he finally asked.

"Come on," Phil repeated, motioning for Barton to follow him. "I want to get you checked out in the infirmary. That was a nasty bump you took to the head on the jet, not to mention the injuries you had before that. I just want to make sure everything's still where it's supposed to be."

For a moment, Barton looked like he was about to argue, but then he seemed to think better of it. He probably figured any reason to get out of the cell was probably a good one.

He heavily pushed himself to his feet, and in the weary way that he held himself, Phil honestly had to wonder if the kid had gotten any sleep in the past couple hours. Barton took a couple steps forward but as he approached, Phil put out a hand to stop him. Barton paused, sending him a confused look.

"Sorry," Phil said as he took the handcuffs from his pockets. "Protocol."

Barton sighed heavily and Phil could have sworn he heard some particularly foul language muttered under his breath as he turned and put his hands behind him. Phil carefully tightened the handcuff, trying his best to find a middle ground between proper tightness and obvious looseness. The kid's wrists were looking awfully abused, but he knew he'd get called out taking him through the base if he wasn't properly restrained.

The two were silent as Phil signed Barton out of the detention wing and led him back through the base. The kid's gaze was sharp as they made their way through the halls, and Phil could almost see him mentally mapping their route.

As they entered the infirmary, Phil found that there was a flurry of activity. A team must have just come back from a mission. Phil wasn't fazed as this was fairly normal for the infirmary, but as he entered the main area it took him a moment longer than it should have to realize that Barton was no longer next to him. He glanced back to find that Barton had paused in the doorway, his gaze darting around to all the activity in the room.

"Look alive, Barton, or you're going to get in the way," Phil said as he fell back and took Barton's arm to lead him into the ward.

He led the kid to the back of the infirmary where there were private rooms, which Phil knew would be their best bet of avoiding prying eyes and getting him reported for bringing a "hostile" into the infirmary. It didn't take long to find an empty room as most of the activity was happening out in the main room.

"Wait here," Phil instructed firmly as he waved Barton into the room.

Barton simply rolled his eyes as he silently stalked into the room and Phil took that as close to consent as was going to get as he turned and pulled the door closed. He paused just outside the door, suddenly wishing he could lock it. But he was too far into this to turn back now. What was done was done and all he could do was hope this kid didn't make him regret it.

Phil took a steadying breath as he headed back to the intake desk he had bypassed on the way in, smiling at the nurse as he approached.

"Which doctors are on duty today?" he asked politely.

The nurse shuffled through some papers on her desk. "On the floor today we've got Dr. Grant, Dr. Reavis and Dr. Wylds."

Phil frowned, glancing around and spotting each man working as she named them off.

"Is that it?" he pressed.

The nurse raised her eyebrows, obviously unsure why Phil was being picky. Usually when people turned up in the infirmary they simply took whoever was available. She glanced behind her as if to catalogue who else was around.

"Dr. Hendricks is here, but she's still pretty new and is mostly just shadowing the other doctors right now," she said.

"She?" Phil asked, cocking a surprised eyebrow. It was the first time he had heard of a female doctor working in this particular infirmary.

The nurse nodded. "Just hired a few weeks ago."

Phil nodded his thanks as he turned from the desk to survey the ward again. He didn't have to ask the nurse to point out the newcomer as he quickly spotted the only female in the room to be sporting a lab coat. He made a beeline for the woman.

"Dr. Hendricks?" Phil asked as he approached.

The woman straightened from placing an IV on a patient. She was about Phil's height, which wasn't terribly tall, with dirty blonde hair that was pulled back into a tight ponytail. She was on the younger side for a doctor, probably late twenties, and couldn't have been out of medical school for more than a couple years. Despite her height and obvious younger age for this type of work, she had a sharp look to her brown eyes, one that said that she was already getting tired of being tossed all the grunt work on the wing.

"Yeah?" she said with an air of impatience.

"I'm Agent Phil Coulson, I don't believe we've met yet," he said with a smile, hoping to put her at ease. He reached out a hand.

Dr. Hendricks looked a little surprised, but didn't hesitate to reach out and firmly shake his hand.

"Dr. Jacqueline Hendricks," she said. "Nice to meet you, Agent Coulson."

"Likewise," Phil said.

"Now, considering I've been here for three weeks and not one agent has made a point to come down here to meet me just for kicks, I'm going to guess that you need something from me," she said, getting straight to the point as she shoved her hands into the pockets of her lab coat.

"Ah, yes I do," Phil admitted, sounding a little guilty. "I've got a patient I was hoping you could take a look at."

Hendricks raised an eyebrow at that. "You run that by any of my superiors?" she asked suspiciously. "Because they seem to be under the impression I'm not up to handling my own patients yet." There was just a hint of sharp bitterness in her tone.

"This actually isn't an official patient," Phil told her. He paused, debating how best to describe the situation. "He's not an agent. Actually, he's currently being housed in the detention wing while I sort out a complicated situation. Strictly speaking, I'm not actually supposed to have him up here. But he was in a fight recently and also got a pretty good bump on his head, so I was hoping you could do me the quick favor of just looking him over and making sure he's alright."

"Ah," Hendricks said. "And if I might ask… why me?"

"No one is recruited here without a reason," Phil said reasonably. "You can't have been out of medical school for long. That means you've made quite an impression in a very short amount of time. And I would think that having you place IVs all day is probably boring you out of your mind. I thought I might help you while you help me."

It was half the truth anyway. He didn't feel inclined to mention the other half of it just yet.

"Well… okay then," she finally said, and her tone told him that she knew he wasn't telling her everything, but she was too intrigued to worry about it for the moment. "Lead the way, Agent Coulson."

"Thank you," Phil said.

He turned and led her to the room where he had left Barton. He decided that it was a small miracle to find that the kid was still standing in the room, leaning up against the far wall and watching the door with a sour look on his face. Not only that, but he still had the handcuffs on. Phil couldn't help but feel relieved as Barton had clearly decided to play ball… at least for now.

"Clint Barton, this is Dr. Jacqueline Hendricks," Phil introduced. "She'll be your doctor today."

Barton's only response was to deepen his frown as he looked over the newcomer.

"This is the patient you want me to look over?" Hendricks asked skeptically. "What is he, sixteen?"

"Seventeen," Barton snapped.

Hendricks looked to Phil, clearly looking for an explanation.

"It's complicated," was all Phil said.

"I would imagine," Hendricks agreed. To her credit though, she took the vague response in stride. "So, are you just looking for an injury check?"

"Actually, I was thinking a basic physical while he's here, if you've got the time," Phil said.

"Oh, I've got the time," Hendricks assured with a hint of relief. Clearly, she was glad to have something a little more challenging for a change. She glanced at him. "You'll need to take those handcuffs off though."

"I am morally obligated to tell you that he's officially considered a hostile force," Phil said reluctantly. He didn't miss the way that Barton rolled his eyes at that.

Hendrick's looked over at Barton, sizing him up for a moment before turning back to Phil.

"I'm going to go ahead and assume that if you actually believed he was a hostile force, you wouldn't have been stupid enough to bring him up here," she stated. "And if you are stupid enough to bring a dangerous criminal up here, I'm already an accomplice just standing in here with both of you. So, we might as well just go ahead and do this, don't you think?"

Phil couldn't help but smile at that. "Sounds like a plan," he agreed as he reached behind him and pulled the door to the room firmly shut.

He moved over to where Barton stood, who was already turning so that he could unlock the cuffs. As he pocketed the handcuffs, he waited until Barton turned back around to face him, meeting his gaze with a serious expression.

"Don't make me regret this," he warned in a low voice.

Barton put both his hands up in a placating gesture. Phil took that for what it was: as close as he was going to get to a promise to behave. He then retreated to the door, turning and standing in front of it, both to keep anyone else from coming in and also to block the only exit just in case Barton did decide to try and pull an escape.

For a minute, the room was silent as Barton and Hendricks eyed each other, seeming to be sizing the other up. Finally, Hendricks broke the silence.

"You want to sit down," she said, motioning toward the padded exam table on one side of the room. She said it offhandedly, obviously said more out of habit than anything else.

"I'd rather not," Barton said flatly.

Hendricks cocked an eyebrow at him, seeming to have to pause and process what he was saying. Phil guessed that the simple request had never been denied to her before.

"Kind of difficult to do a checkup if you don't sit," she said mildly as she quickly collected herself. When Barton didn't say anything, she went on. "Okay, so then how do you usually handle your doctor visits?"

"Haven't had one in a while," Barton said shortly.

Hendricks looked honestly taken aback for a moment. "How long is a while?" she asked, sounding a bit suspicious.

There was a long pause as Barton's eyes rolled toward the ceiling, as if he were calculating something complex in his head.

"I dunno," he said with a shrug as he focused back on Hendricks. "I had one maybe nine, ten years ago."

Phil couldn't say he was surprised since had hadn't found any medical records in the information they had found on Barton, but for the first time Hendricks looked a bit rattled.

"Um… one?" Hendricks stuttered. Barton gave one curt nod. "Oookkkaayyy," she said, stretching out the word as she seemed to compose her features. "Well, here's a tip: it's easier to do this if you sit on the table."

Barton tensed at that, and Phil stiffened, weary of the reaction. But instead of moving, he went strangely still, almost unnaturally so. It was almost as if he were waiting for something, but what that was, Phil had no idea. There was a heavy silence in the room, and to her credit Hendricks didn't push the situation, instead she merely crossed her arms over her chest and waited for Barton to make a move.

Abruptly, Barton's expression shifted. The hard look melted into one of confusion. Like something he had expected to happen hadn't. His eyes flashed from Hendricks to the exam table and then back, almost as if he were calculating something.

Finally, he moved. He crossed the room and hopped up on the table, though he stayed near the edge. Phil let out a quiet but relieved sigh.

"Okay, just a couple standard questions to start," Hendricks said getting down to business. "I'm going to go ahead and assume you're not up to date on vaccinations?" Barton simply shrugged impassively. Hendricks nodded. "Alright then. Do you smoke?"

"No," Barton said flatly.

"Drink alcohol?" Hendricks asked.

"No," Barton said.

"Barton," Phil spoke up, causing both Barton and Hendricks to look over at him in surprise. "You're not going to get in trouble here. You need to be honest."

Barton glared at him. "I was being honest."

"C'mon, kid," Phil implored. "When I first met you, you were in jail because of a bar fight, remember? And that wasn't the only bar fight on your record."

Barton's gaze darkened at that. "Turns out, it's not a requirement to drink alcohol in order to get into a bar fight," he snapped

"Agent Coulson," Hendricks said patiently. "Why don't you let me worry about the doctor stuff?"

Phil nodded, though he still wasn't convinced the kid was being completely truthful. "Sure, sorry," he said.

As Hendricks continued with the standard questions for a physical, with Barton answering flatly, Phil remained a silent observer.

"Okay," Hendricks said as she finished with her questions and briskly started forward. Phil noticed the way that Barton shrank back a little as she approached quickly. Hendricks hesitated slightly, looking at Barton critically before sending a glance over at Phil. Then she was back to business, turning and opening a nearby drawer. "We'll start the physical with blood pressure."

"Whoa!" Barton practically yelped, flinching away and coming half off the table as Hendricks was moving toward him with the blood pressure cuff.

At the reaction, Phil tensed and took a half step forward… but quickly realized that Barton was taking a defensive stance, and not an offensive one. He forced himself to step back and allow Hendricks to handle the situation.

Hendricks paused, looking confused and a little startled. "You've never had your blood pressure taken?" she asked. Barton just gave her a blank look. "Okay," she said, seeming to resolve herself. "I get it, this is all new to you. We'll take this slow then, okay?" She held up the blood pressure cuff. "This is a blood pressure cuff. It goes around your bicep and I pump this part," she demonstrated, "and the cuff squeezes your arm and measures your blood flow."

Phil couldn't help but admire how quickly she had adapted to the situation.

Barton blinked. "Why?"

Hendricks seemed honestly surprised by the question. Phil couldn't blame her, he hadn't been expecting that either. She composed herself quickly though.

"It's how we check to make sure your heart and arteries are all healthy," she told him.

It would have been easy for her tone to take on a condescending quality, as if she were explaining this to a child. But, surprisingly, it didn't. She spoke as if this was the most normal conversation in the world for one adult to have with another adult. And for that, Phil felt incredibly grateful. Barton needed to feel like he could trust people within this organization, and without any coaching from him Hendricks was easily slipping into that role.

There was a pause as Barton seemed to consider this explanation carefully. Hendricks simply waited, looking at him expectantly.

"Okay," Barton finally said reluctantly as he carefully slid back onto the table.

She slid the blood pressure cuff over his arm and tightened it. "I need to monitor your pulse while I do this," she told him, indicating his wrist. He simply nodded. She hesitated though, eyeing his bruised wrist. Her gaze darted over to his other wrist, which looked the same. She started inflating the cuff, but had to ask the obvious question. "What happened to your wrists?"

"Handcuffs," Barton told her shortly.

Hendricks sent an accusatory look over her shoulder at Phil.

"Don't look at me," Phil said defensively. "His wrists were like that before I cuffed him."

Hendricks rolled her eyes, clearly not impressed by the explanation, but let the subject drop.

Phil was a quiet spectator as he observed the duration exam. He was impressed by the way the two fell into a rhythm of Hendricks explaining what she was about to do and why, Barton pausing to absorb the information before giving her a nod to proceed. However, even with the explanations, Barton was still obviously tense with her every move. He flinched whenever Hendricks came into contact with him and the look in his eyes was stormy. It was clearly taking a lot of self-control for him to simply sit and endure the exam.

"Well, the good news is that there's no sign of concussion," Hendricks finally announced. "All other injuries are superficial, just bumps and bruises really. Other than being behind on standard vaccinations, I'd say you're very healthy."

Barton simply looked at her blankly.

"Okay," she said awkwardly after a moment and then turned to Phil. "Do you want me to go ahead and update his vaccinations? I should be able to dig up most of them, though I'm honestly not sure if we keep things like the polio vaccine hanging around."

"If you don't mind," Phil said. Hendricks nodded as she headed out of the room. "I'll help you." He shot Barton a look that told him to stay put as he followed Hendricks back out into the ward. He closed the door firmly before he hurried to catch up with Hendricks, catching her by the arm and causing her to pause just a few feet from the room. "Well?" he asked quickly. "What do you think?"

"It's like I told him," Hendricks said, suddenly sounding weary. "He seems very healthy to me. Physically anyway."

"Physically?" Phil prompted, anxious to get the doctor's perspective on this kid.

"Yes, physically," Hendricks confirmed flatly. "I would sign on the dotted line that that kid is physically fit as a horse." She paused before going on carefully. "But mentally and emotionally… Barton's got a lot of serious shit going on, Coulson."

Phil was a little taken back by the sudden frankness, though not at all surprised by the sentiment.

"The way that anything I wanted to do to him required an explanation of not only what was about to happen but why…" she went on, crossing her arms over her chest, looking troubled. "And even then, he was still jumpy every time it came to any physical contact. That's not normal, Coulson. That's why I cut the physical a little short. I could tell he wasn't handling it well at all, the longer it went on and the more physical contact there was, the more tense he was." She paused for a moment and then looked at him. "Where did you even find this kid? Do you have any idea what he's been through? Because I'm guessing it's nothing good."

Phil sighed. "Well, I found him in prison," he admitted. Hendricks raised her eyebrows at that, but didn't look terribly surprised. "And no, I don't know what he's been through. He won't talk about it."

"Can't say I'm shocked," Hendricks said. "He doesn't seem particularly chatty."

"So, what do you think?" Phil asked carefully. "Abuse?"

"I'd say that's a pretty safe bet," Hendricks confirmed grimly. It was something he had been expecting, but it still didn't make it any easier to hear his suspicions confirmed by the doctor. "Especially given the scars on his back."

"Scars?" Phil said with surprise.

"Pretty good amount that crisscross his back," Hendricks said. "I got a decent look when I lifted his shirt to listen to his lungs. Most of the scars looked pretty old. Educated guess would be that when he was a kid he used to get a good number of lashings from a belt or something similar."

Phil had to pause as he absorbed this. This seventeen-year-old kid had old scars. That really said something about him and what he has been through in his short life.

"That's why you wanted me to do the exam, isn't it?" Hendricks said, seeming to realize it as she said it. "He's shown hostility toward men, hasn't he?"

"There seemed to be that pattern," Phil admitted. "But I wasn't exactly sure it wasn't just hostility toward people in general, I hadn't seen him interact with any women yet. And I figured this would be a good situation to… test the theory." He sent her a guilty look, unsure how she would take this news.

"Well, I'd be offended that you used me as an experiment based solely on my gender, if that wasn't the first real work I've done since I got here," Hendricks said with a small smirk.

"I wouldn't have asked you to if I hadn't also believed you to be a talented doctor," Phil assured her. "I was telling the truth before. I know you can't have been out of medical school more then what, two or three years? That's unheard of in this department. And that's something that shouldn't be taken lightly. The other doctors might be feeling territorial of their precious boy's club, but I'm not one to let that get in the way of letting the best suited for a job get it done."

"Thank you, Agent Coulson," Hendricks said with a more genuine smile.

"You can call me Phil," Phil offered.

"My friends call me Jac," Hendricks said, returning the gesture. She glanced back toward the closed exam room door. "As for Barton, I will say that while he didn't particularly care to have me touching him, he also wasn't particularly hostile toward me. I'd say if you're trying to solve the puzzle, he was probably abused by a male figure at some point in his life. That's also statistically more likely given the aggressive nature of the scars."

"Sadly, that makes sense with what I've seen from him so far," he said with a sigh, running a hand through his hair. He suddenly had a flash of trepidation about this kid. He was clearly far more troubled than Phil had originally anticipated.

Jac opened her mouth as if to say something and then closed it again. Then, seeming to resolve herself, she opened her mouth and tried again.

"Can I ask… what he's doing here?" she asked carefully. "Admittedly, I'm new here, but somehow I don't see SHIELD arresting and detaining seventeen year old kids, unless he's some kind of criminal mastermind that I didn't pick up on."

"No, it's nothing like that," Phil assured her. He paused, struggling to find the right words to describe the situation. "It's a long story, but suffice it to say that he'll be staying here in the detention wing until I can sort out a few things. Mainly, I'm trying to clear some pretty serious charges against him, that would probably land him in prison for the rest of his life if he were convicted."

"Okay," Jac said slowly, clearly knowing that a lot had been left out of that story. But she seemed to decide to overlook that for now. "So, you plan to clear his name… and then what? Just send him on his merry way?"

"Not exactly," Phil hedged, glancing around to see if anyone was close enough to overhear this conversation.

Jac caught the look. "You've got nothing to worry about," she said dryly. "The other doctors have been avoiding me like the plague." Phil shot her a sympathetic look, but she quickly waved it away, unconcerned. "Don't worry, I expected it when I took the job. I'm not here to make friends."

Phil smiled lightly at that. "Seems wise," he said. Then he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I haven't shared this with anyone yet… but I want to recruit him. I can't even breech the subject with Fury though until I clear the kid's name."

Jac nodded, unsurprised. "I would imagine that there's also the small problem of him being underage," she pointed out carefully. "I mean, I don't know a whole lot about the inner workings of this organization yet, but I'm thinking you probably can't recruit a seventeen-year-old kid. And I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that he probably doesn't have a legal guardian that could sign off on a permission slip."

Phil snorted a dull laugh at that, more out of nervous energy than anything else.

"No, not exactly," he confirmed. "I'm kind of making this up as I go along, actually. Barton… he was going down a bad path when I found him. And I know that if we can get him into this program he will thrive here. I can give him a purpose and get him going down the right path before the wrong kind of people get to him."

"Not that that isn't a lovely sentiment," Jac said, "but until he's eighteen, isn't that all just a moot point? I know that it probably isn't ideal, but it seems to me like the only legal option would be to let Child Protective Services handle him until he becomes a legal adult and then approach him about the job."

Phil was shaking his head. "He's had a history with CPS," he explained. "He doesn't trust the system. If we put him back there, he'll be in the wind within twenty-four hours. I need to find a way to keep him here for another four and a half months." He paused, thoughtful. "Maybe emancipation."

But Jac was shaking her head. "Even if you started that process today and managed to fast track it, you're looking at four months at the very least. He would be emancipated for all of two or three weeks before he turned eighteen, not to mention he'll still have to live somewhere while he goes through that process. Which would bring you right back to the state custody issue."

Phil blinked at her in surprise. "How do you know that?" The length of the emancipation process wasn't exactly something most people knew off the top of their heads.

"Let's just say that at one point in my life, it was information that was worth looking up and committing to memory," Jac said vaguely.

"Ah," Phil said, wanting to question it further, but deciding that now wasn't the time for that. Another thought occurred to him, though he knew it probably didn't have much more promise than the emancipation idea. "I don't suppose you know how long it takes to become a foster parent off the top of your head as well?"

"Three to six months," Jac answered immediately. "He'd still need to live somewhere for at least three months. Same problem."

Phil nodded knowingly. He'd have to put more thought into how he was going to keep Barton around after he was able to clear his name.

"You're coming back in with me for this next part," Jac said, abruptly changing the subject back to the task at hand. It wasn't a question or even a suggestion, simply a statement of fact. "All the noninvasive checks were easy to explain, but I'm guessing I'm going to need help convincing him to let me stab him with needles."

"You're probably right," Phil agreed.

"Seriously, I'll be interested to know where this kid's been all his life when you do figure it out," Jac said off handedly as she started to walk away. "Because honestly if you told me he was raised in the wild by a pack of wolves, I wouldn't be the least bit surprised."

Phil nodded to himself as he frowned, glancing back at the closed door behind him.

"You and me both."

Author's Note: Annnddd Phil's on the clock! He's definitely got some hurdles to contend with. I would love to hear your thoughts! Don't forget to leave a review!

Chapter Five Sneak Peak

"I need to talk to you," she said lowly.

Phil was honestly taken aback by the tone of accusation in her voice. As she walked out of the cell, he had to scramble to catch up with her.

"You know this wasn't my fault, right?" Phil said skeptically as the door closed behind them.

Jac whirled on him. "Of course this is your fault," she snapped. "You're the one who brought him here, that makes him your responsibility."

"And what exactly was I supposed to do to prevent this?" Phil demanded, starting to feel angry.