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

A/N

I'm back! Sorry I didn't update before now but the last few days have not been easy and I also haven't had much time. After this chapter there will also be a bit of a delay in posting the next one, apologies to all those who are eagerly waiting for more! Fury was being obstinately silent in regards to the edits that were needed in chapter 8 but over the weekend he suddenly decided to start talking to me again and has not shut up since. I'm hoping to have the chapter ready by next weekend so there won't be to long a gap but it might be a little bit closer to a week's time before we get to chapter 8. Fortunately this chapter is a pretty good stand alone one so it shouldn't disrupt the flow of the story too much.

Thanks to my reviews of chapter 6: amy. d. fuller. 9, CrazedFangirl13 and Armand.

I've been getting some really insightful reviews from lots of different people which has been great. Keep them coming please! It was the reviews that helped be get past the writers block with chapter 8.

As usual thanks goes to jaguarspot for the beta.

Enjoy this chapter. I think we all need a break and time to catch our breath before we go on.


Learning to trust is one of life's most difficult tasks. Isaac Watts


Chapter 7: The calm before the storm

After they'd finished speaking Coulson decided that Clint could do some studying since he was here and Coulson's responsibility until Fury came back. Clint honestly didn't mind the work but the uncertainty over what was going to happen to him was making it hard to concentrate on reading his history book.

Clint was working his way through one of the practice tests in the GED books when there was a knock on Coulson's door. The Agent looked up from where he was correcting another test as it opened to reveal the Director. Clint's grip on his pencil immediately tightened and he had to force himself to relax his grip and breathe normally as Fury entered. He didn't want to make the man madder than he likely already was.

Fury, however, didn't look the least bit mad. Menacing, secretive and deadly definitely, but that seemed to simply be his natural state. He glanced between Clint and Coulson for a moment without saying a word before his eye came back to rest on Clint.

For a one-eyed man his gaze was truly terrifying. Clint didn't dare to imagine what it would be like with two eyes and tried to ignore the gaze while focusing on his text books. Needless to say it didn't work; Fury's gaze wasn't something that could easily be ignored.

Fury didn't sit down, instead he remained standing and glanced at Phil who didn't say anything before his eyes came back to rest on Clint who felt his heart rate speeding up at the predator look he was receiving. It didn't help that Fury was heaps taller than him and five times as intimidating.

"Care to tell me what inspired you to make a spectacular and unexpected entrance into one of my Agents offices making a huge mess and thoroughly pissing him off in the process Barton?"

Coulson had said that Fury would want to know Clint's side of things, Clint hadn't believed it at the time as virtually no one in his lifehad ever asked for his side of the story when he'd gotten into trouble, they'd always been ready to listen to what the other person had to say but rarely to him. Even in the army he wasn't often listened to, it hadn't helped that he wasn't very good at explaining things in a way that people understood and had had years of people not listening to him to back up the claim that what he had to say didn't matter and no one cared about his opinions.

Except that Fury and Coulson apparently did. When he'd initially agreed to go with them Clint had been sceptical that SHIELD would prove to be different to the army or any other bureaucratic organisation but apparently it was. The proof it was willing to listen to him was standing right in front of him making him very nervous.

Fury was still looking at him, patiently waiting for an answer. Coulson had put the test aside and picked up another one, however Clint could tell he was listening to what was happening because he wasn't actually doing anything but staring at the piece of paper.

Clint decided that he might as well tell Fury what he'd told Coulson. The other man more than likely would tell his boss what Clint had said earlier anyway. At least this way what happened wouldn't have any embellishments added, Clint really hated relaying information second hand. In his experience it inevitably led to trouble which he was usually on the receiving end of.

Providing what he had to say was listened to in the first place that is.

Clint met Fury's gaze with a defiant look as he told him pretty much the same as he'd told Coulson. They'd probably compare notes later anyway.

"I didn't plan on doing any of that. I was simply crawling around in there when the vent I was in suddenly gave out and deposited me on the floor. I couldn't see for the dust and the coughing fit didn't help, before I knew what was happening I was being told to put my hands up and come out slowly if I didn't want to end up full of more holes than the targets on the shooting range after someone has had a bad day. So I did what he asked and he then marched me to you yelling and brandishing his gun at me the whole way. He didn't give me a chance to say or do anything to explain but I wasn't spying on him. I'd never even met him before today."

Clint glared at the Director with a defiant expression, daring him to challenge what he'd said like the majority of people in his life had. Fury however, being the master spy and the exception to everything and everyone Clint had ever met in his life, simply nodded.

"I see."

Clint scowled, he knew it made him look more like a sulky teenager than an international assassin but he couldn't help it. All the emotions he tried to keep suppressed were fighting to take over and he didn't like it one bit. He'd actually scared himself earlier with the strength of his reaction to Coulson's questions, it wasn't the feeling but the fact in that moment he knew he could have killed Coulson if he'd felt threatened enough. Clint was grateful that the Agent had been able to talk him down without things getting physical. He did not need 'murder of a SHIELD agent' on his rap sheet.

"That's all you're going to say? I SEE?"

Fury didn't as much as twitch. Coulson had stopped pretending to read and was now openly looking at them, his expression blank as he watched the scene unfold between Clint and the Director.

"No, I have more to say Barton and if I was you I'd show some respect for the person who could make the rest of your life short and incredibly miserable if you piss me off enough."

Clint glared.

Fury, predictably, ignored it.

That only made Clint glare harder.

It still had no effect.

With the way Fury was looking at him Clint was beginning to sympathise with a goldfish; cornered in a glass tank with nowhere to go and strange eyes staring at you all the time.

Yeh, he could kind of relate to that right at this moment. The only difference was Fury's look was more intimidating than a dozen strangers could ever hope to be.

Fury was speaking again and in spite of himself Clint listened.

"Barton, since you appear to be completely indifferent to what you did here is what I'm going to do. You will pay to replace Conway's suit that was ruined and anything else of his that needs replacing due to this incident. The cost will come out of your pay checks, I don't care that you haven't gotten one yet; when you do it will be used for that. Do you understand?"

Clint nodded shortly, not daring not to agree.

"Yes."

"You will also apologise to Conway and help him set up in his temporary office. You made this mess so it's only fair that you help with the cleaning up of it."

"Do you understand everything I've just told you Barton?"

Clint understood loud and clear and was rather taken back with how minor the punishment was. Fury was still watching him with that same glare that freaked Clint out so he quickly nodded again.

"I understand."

"Good, then I think that we are finished here. You will stay with Coulson for the rest of the afternoon Barton, and you will not leave his sight or do anything without his permission. You can apologise to Conway tomorrow after everyone's calmed down. Coulson, you are relieved from all your current duties and are in charge of overseeing Barton, effective immediately. I'll send someone to pick up the relevant paperwork from you shortly."

Coulson frowned but nodded reluctantly.

"Okay sir, whatever you think is best. You are the boss."

"I am. I want you both to remember that."

Fury turned around and with a billow of black leather was gone; the door clicked shut behind him. Coulson frowned at it for a second and glanced at his watch before turning to look at Clint.

"Well, it looks like we have lessons this afternoon after all. How are you going with that history test?"


Almost a week passed without any more incidents. Clint apologised to Conway and helped him set up his temporary office; basically he moved furniture all over the place and ended up with more sore muscles than he'd had since starting training. Still, overall Clint counted it as a small price to pay for being allowed to stay at SHIELD without any more consequences.

May woke up from the induced coma and gave her report on what had happened in Mexico City. Clint didn't know the details but the result was May receiving a note of recommendation in her file and a promotion to full-time field team leader. Clint didn't see her around the base much after she was discharged; he actually asked Coulson about it and was told that she was taking enforced medical leave and wouldn't be back on active duty until her wrist healed. Or at least until medical declared her fit for work again.

Clint continued to work steadily at his studies as the date for his exams drew nearer. After learning that Clint knew at least parts of almost a dozen different languages Coulson had said that once the exams were over their language classes at the Academy would help Clint with learning to read and write at least some of the languages he spoke. Clint was actually looking forward to that, more than once he'd wished he could understand what was written on a sign, poster or billboard and knowing the written language, not just the spoken words, would certainly make his job much easier when he had to infiltrate somewhere.

Clint had heard nothing from Fury since the man had overseen him apologising to Conway, directly after it was done he'd disappeared and Clint hadn't heard from him since. That wasn't surprising as he was the master spy and the head of the whole organisation; though Clint would like extra confirmation that their conversation on the roof just over a week ago hadn't been a dream realistically he knew it had been real and that Fury didn't want anyone to know about it so of course he wouldn't say anything. He had to keep his secrets after all.

Clint kept his eyes and ears open for a traitor as per Fury's request but didn't find anything remotely suspicious. It didn't help that he wasn't sure what he was supposed to look for, Fury had said anything that seemed off but with him still being so new to the whole SHIELD thing Clint didn't know what qualified as normal and what didn't. Still, he kept an eye open as he'd given Fury his word and wasn't going to let him down even if it killed him.

After falling into Conway's office Clint was careful where he went in the vent system as he didn't want a repeat performance. He tried to stay away from personal offices and areas where the higher level agents worked, he didn't want to be accused of spying if he was caught and the incident with the ceiling had managed to really shake him up. For someone like him who liked to see and not be seen dropping almost on top of someone who wasn't aware you were even there to begin with wasn't fun and was something that Clint had no wish to repeat.

Overall life at SHIELD proceeded in pretty much the same way that it had before Fury had dropped the bombshell about a traitor on Clint. Clint trained in the mornings in the gym with the other agents before spending a couple of hours under Wilkinson's supervision on the shooting range. He was still at his best when he used the bow but his skills with guns of all descriptions were improving enormously; Wilkinson was trying to think of ways to make weapons training more challenging for Clint but had had to admit defeat, explaining that any upgrades would be expensive if they were even approved to begin with due to the extensive facilities at the Academy being available to any SHIELD agent who wished to use them. Clint was starting to look forward to going there; Wilkinson explained the training they gave was way more challenging than anything on any other base and even their shooting ranges were more impressive, but what interested Clint most was that there was a part of the Academy where they specifically trained snipers for SHIELD. Many of the applicants already had sniper training like Clint did but the course aimed to mimic what they might find out in the field, SHIELD being SHIELD it was vastly different to anything the military or even the CIA taught its snipers.

The afternoon of each day was spent studying with Coulson in his office. Clint, wanting to pass his exams to prove to himself and everyone else in his life that he was more than a stupid uneducated carnie, began working hard on studying in the evenings in the privacy of his bedroom. Clint had always had a good memory and knew the extra hours studying were paying off when he remembered everything he'd learnt and easily passed the mock tests Coulson set for him to do to give him practice for the real ones.

The exams were only three days away when Coulson took Clint off base (at this point he still wasn't allowed off base without a higher level agent as an escort which Clint was pretty sure was code for 'Coulson, you babysit him') for some de-stressing time. At least that's what he said it was for. It probably actually had something to do with it being meatloaf night, Coulson hadn't been kidding when he'd said the stuff was pure evil. After tasting it Clint had understood perfectly what Coulson meant, it still amazed him that some of the agents actually liked it.


Phil led the way into the small diner with Clint trailing behind looking at everything happening around him with incredible intensity. It was only the second time he'd been off base since he'd been brought in, having been too busy before now to even think about it, and hadn't ever been to this diner. Phil had, it was fairly close to base and saw a lot of activity from SHIELD agents when they got tired of the mess hall food. Tonight thankfully there wasn't a great deal of people there and Phil was able to get them a table in a corner where Clint could have his back to a wall, Phil got a good enough view of the establishment from his seat so he was also happy.

A waitress gave them menus and asked if they would like anything to drink. Phil ordered a sparkling mineral water and Clint took a lifesavers. Phil raised his right eyebrow at the amount of colour and sugar in Clint's choice.

"You do realise that those things are essentially liquid candy don't you Barton? It'll rot your teeth and hype you out."

Barton just rolled his eyes.

"It tastes good. If I need to I'll get false teeth."

Phil just shook his head as the girl came back with their drinks. Once she'd put them down on the table the girl, whose name tag read Emily, waited with a notebook to take their orders. Phil had known since walking into the place what he wanted.

"One steak please, medium rare with a side of garden salad and mashed potato."

Emily looked at Clint after she'd written down Phil's order.

"And what would you like sir?"

"Hamburger with a side of fries please. And ketchup."

The girl, Emily, nodded and after writing down their order left, telling them their food shouldn't take too long.

After they'd finished ordering Phil sat back and sighed as he closed his eyes. It had been a busy few weeks. He opened them after a moment to find Barton looking at him intensely. He smiled at the boy but only received a stony glare in response so raised an eyebrow in question.

"What's the glare for?"

The kids eyes dropped and he licked his lips nervously. Phil waited patiently for Barton to speak. Finally the kid looked up.

"Why are you doing this?"

Phil recognised the suspicious look of mistrust in the boys' eyes and mentally added more things that he would like to do to all those people in his past who had convinced Barton he wasn't worth doing anything for. Phil begged to differ, he saw a lot in Barton but the reason he took him out tonight was very simple.

"I wanted to get away from base and I thought that seeing you aren't allowed to leave without an escort I would see if you wanted to come with me. It will give us both an opportunity to de-stress before your exams start on Monday. Plus, the food here is much nicer than at base. There is only so much stuff you can eat from the mess hall before you need food with real taste."

Now it was Clint's turn to raise an eyebrow in question.

"The meatloaf?"

Coulson actually grimaced, Clint's smirk widened.

"I don't even know why they are still allowed to serve that stuff. One of these days it's going to poison someone, I'm surprised it hasn't already. The food here is much better."

Barton just shrugged as his eyes scanned the diner, analysing for threats. To the casual observer what he was doing wouldn't have even been noticeable, but Phil was an ex-sniper himself and a trained SHIELD Agent to boot; he knew how to look for these things. That Barton was so unassuming about the way he did it was damn impressive and the fact that he didn't have any formal spy training just made it more impressive. Despite what Fury had said to him Phil knew Barton would make a great spy with the right kind of training; he already possessed most of the raw skills that were needed. Given how non-committal Fury had been regarding it when it was suggested Phil decided he would have to convince his boss to train Barton for spy work. After all, having more than one talent was never a bad thing in their line of work.

Barton didn't say much to Phil until their food had arrived and they were busy eating. Phil was about halfway through a steak that actually tasted like it had come from a real cow and wasn't paying a great deal of attention to his companion so the suddenness of Barton's question was just as much of a surprise as the question itself was.

"I heard that you like Captain America. Is that true?"

Phil blinked at the boy, unable to say anything with his mouth full of steak; the boy had already finished his hamburger and had started on the fries. After he'd swallowed Phil took a sip of his drink before frowning at the question.

"Yes, I do like Captain America. Why do you want to know?"

"No real reason."

But Phil wasn't letting it sit at that. Not given the suddenness of the question and the way it was asked. Besides he was genuinely curious as to why the kid would ask him that question, it was common knowledge around SHIELD that he was a mega Captain America fan boy.

"Yes there is a reason you wanted to know Barton. It's common knowledge around SHIELD that I like Captain America and I can't imagine that you haven't heard it spoken about, especially hanging around with May. We both know there is a deeper reason to your question and you are going to tell me that reason or I won't buy you any dessert."

The boy blinked.

"You're buying me dessert?"

"If you tell me what made you say what you did just now then yes, I will buy you dessert. I give you my word."

Phil had planned on buying dessert anyway and felt slightly mean saying this but given the way the kid would constantly stonewall when he was asked questions in this instance giving him a bit of incentive wouldn't go astray. Barton didn't say anything for a moment and Phil went back to eating. He'd taken another two mouthfuls before the boy spoke again.

"Does that mean you believe in superheroes? Captain America was a superhero."

Phil looked across the table at the young assassin whose intense look managed to give away none of what he was thinking. However the simple question carried an implication that the subject was one that went bone deep for the young man so rather than rushing into the subject without thinking Phil chose his next words very carefully.

"I believe in heroes Barton, superheroes are in a different category. What most people don't know is that Captain America wasn't always Captain America; he was originally a skinny kid called Steven Rodgers who came from Brooklyn and wanted to help people and do the right thing. He didn't have the strength or skills to make that happen but regardless of that still managed to join the military where he participated in experiments that turned him into Captain America. After that he formed the Howling Commandos and alongside his faithful sidekick Bucky Barnes went on to defeat the Red Skull and end the Second World War with America being the victor."

"He was a hero Barton; he served his country, saved people and always did the right thing by those involved. I'm not sure if he counts as a superhero but he was most definitely a hero."


Clint listened to all this with a slight frown. Captain America hadn't always been Captain America? But then how...

Clint rested his chin on his hands and fastened his gaze on Coulson, who predictably didn't flinch under the intense scrutiny he was currently receiving.

"How did Captain America come about then if he wasn't born that way?"

Coulson frowned.

"You didn't read the Agent handbook that I gave you? You seriously don't know about Captain America's origins?"

"I did read it. It didn't say anything about Captain America though."

"It says he was created by the SSR who were the precursor to SHIELD."

"What's that suppose to mean? I though it meant they created the idea of this superhero."

Phil was appalled at that vast misconception.

"No no, they actually created the hero. Well, to be more correct they created the man who became the well known hero; I think that Steve Rodgers was a hero way before he became a national icon. The SSR just helped by giving him the physical strength to become a greater hero."

Clint snorted before he could help himself. Coulson gave him a look that was mildly disproving.

"What's so funny?"

Clint ignored the question and ploughed on.

"How did they do it?"

"They created a secret formula that transformed a skinny 90 pound asthmatic weakling into Captain America. It was called the super-soldiers serum."

"The super-soldier serum! You're kidding me right?"

Phil blinked a couple of times at the reaction. Obviously it wasn't the first time Barton had heard that part of the story. Or maybe it was and that was the problem?

"Why do you say that? What do you know about the serum?"

"I know that pretty much every government and organisation, both good and bad, in the world have been trying to replicate it for years with little to no success. I haven't been living in a cave all my life Coulson, you learn a lot if you keep your eyes and ears open and observe. I didn't know they were all trying to make their own Captain America's though. I also don't understand how an injection made Captain America a hero."

"Simple answer, it didn't."

Clint blinked at that answer and in spite of himself lent forward in genuine interest.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I believe that he had the potential to be a hero from the start; he just lacked the physical attributes to make that possible. The serum gave him those attributes and with nothing to stop him he was able to become the hero he was born to be."

"So you think that heroes are born not made?"

Coulson shrugged as he took another bite of his steak.

"It depends; I think everyone has the potential to be a hero if they work hard enough at it. Heroes are just ordinary people who do extraordinary things, many of your everyday people could be classed as heroes yet they themselves probably aren't even aware of the fact. Captain America was a superhero but the man behind the mask was simply a hero."

"So you believe in heroes?"

Coulson nodded firmly as he finished eating.

"Yes Barton, I do believe in heroes. After almost a decade with SHIELD I still hold to the notion that people need heroes. Maybe it's an old fashioned idea but I think it's one that holds true for everyone today, whether they realise it or not. The world needs heroes, whether they are ordinary people like medics or soldiers doing what they can to keep people safe or someone like Steve Rodgers who never gave up on what he wanted to do and was willing to do whatever it took to realise that dream. Captain America believed in freedom and was willing to die to save his country. Do you believe in heroes Barton?"

Clint didn't. He may have once, a long time ago, but life had taught him that there was no such thing as heroes, they were just myths people thought up to encourage themselves to keep going and give kids something to look up to. The later had worked, as a kid he'd dreamed of one day becoming a hero like Captain America was in the comics and punching Hitler in the face just like Cap had; three weeks into military boot camp and that dream was all but gone as reality had hit him with the speed and force of an express train. Clint had learnt that dreams were just ideas and hopes that were unattainable for the ordinary person yet still nice to think about. Clint wasn't sure how to say any of this without offending Coulson so decided on the simplest option.

"No, I don't. I've seen too much and been through too much to believe in heroes anymore."

Coulson just sighed and looked sad but not surprised.

"You sound just like Fury, he doesn't believe in heroes either. He believes in giving second chances and helping people but heroes? No. He always said he's too old for that kind of thing. How can you ever be too old for Captain America?"

According to Barney Clint had been too old at eight to even read comics about Captain America. Clint had still read them regardless of Barney reckoning that only babies read them, he'd just done it in secret so he wouldn't be picked on. But it turns out Barney had been wrong. Very wrong.

Coulson was way older than Clint was and still enjoyed Captain America. He also believed in real heroes, not just the ones that existed in comic books but those that are alive today. Ordinary heroes, people you meet every day that work to make a difference in the world. Clint had never thought of heroes in that light, he'd thought real heroes were those who punched Hitler in a comic book. Superheroes to him had always been the stuff of legends.

Except Coulson, a grown man and long time SHIELD Agent, believed heroes were real. He believed in Captain America who was a superhero for pete's sake! Clint had never met anyone who liked Cap, most people he'd been around hadn't even heard of him.

Clint's eyes swept the diner for threats again without him even being fully aware that he was doing it. Old habits die hard, especially when being paranoid had saved your life more than once. Coulson was openly watching him and Clint felt like squirming under the Agents gaze. Instead once he'd satisfied himself that they were safe he frowned at Coulson.

"Why are you watching me? I don't like being watched."

Coulson didn't remove his gaze or pretend that he hadn't been watching. Clint appreciated that but wanted an honest answer as he seriously didn't like being watched. Coulson smiled a wry smile.

"Just admiring how observant you are and how you know everything that goes on around you without appearing to take special notice of anything. People watching is a valuable skill for both a sniper and a spy. You are remarkably good at it which will be a very useful skill once you're an agent."

Clint's eye's darkened.

"How come you noticed?"

Coulson took a sip from his glass before looking at Clint with a calm unflustered expression.

"I know a sniper's traits Barton and have worked with assassins and spies on an almost daily basis for going on ten years now. I know what to look for; I am a trained SHIELD Agent after all."

That was very true and Clint allowed the anger he'd felt to recede slightly. Of course a spy would pick up on those things, after all that's what they were trained to do. The ability to identify trouble before it happened may very well mean the difference between life and death. Clint knew that feeling all too well.

The waitress appeared just then to take away their empty plates and ask if they wanted dessert. Coulson thanked her for the meal and she smiled in a slightly flirtatious way before ducking off to get them dessert menus. As soon as she was gone Clint stared at Coulson.

"You really were serious about buying me dessert if I answered your question."

Coulson nodded as he brushed an almost invisible piece of lint off the sleeve of his suit.

"Yes Barton, I gave you my word and I intend to keep it. You answered my question, I said if you did I would buy dessert, you did and so I am buying dessert. I don't say anything I don't mean when I give my word Barton, I can lie so well that I almost believe what I say is the truth but when I give my honest word about something I honour it. Here the menus are now."


Phil ignored the incredulous look on Barton's face as he looked through the dessert menu. It was as plain as day that Barton had had promises made to him that were then broken without a second thought; Phil managed with difficulty to keep the white hot anger he felt at such dishonesty and cowardice to himself. Instead he pushed the second menu across the table before picking up his own and looking at the choices. After a moment Barton mimicked him and they sat in silence until a little while later when the girl came back.

"Have you decided what you want sirs?"

Phil looked at Barton.

"You go first."

Barton nodded and looked at the girl, Emily her name was he remembered.

"I'll have the blueberry ice cream thanks Emily."

Emily smiled at him as she wrote that down and then asked Phil what he wanted.

"A slice of lemon meringue pie please."

Emily bustled off to get their orders. Clint was started to slowly shred his napkin and actually started when Phil spoke.

"That napkin has done nothing to you so why are you shredding it?"

Barton shrugged as he tore another piece off and let it flutter down onto the tabletop.

"I'm bored. There's nothing to do here but wait."

Phil gave him a look that clearly said he wasn't buying that explanation for a moment.

"Snipers often have to wait for hours in far less comfort than what we have here. What's the difference?"

"If I've got a job to do I do it, I hate having nothing to do."

Well, that was fair enough. But...

"I see. That makes sense but would you please stop shredding paper anyway Barton? You're making a huge mess all over the table and you are almost twenty years old not five."

Barton shrugged indifferently but did as asked. Seeing him going back to analysing everything that was happening around him gave Phil an idea. If he could convince Barton to talk to him that might make him sit still for a moment and stop him rocking the table with each fidget.

"Barton, who taught you to use a bow and arrows? I've never seen archery that looks anything like what you do and I'm somewhat curious as to how you got that good."

At the question Barton's eyes immediately stopped scanning the place and came around to rest on Coulson. The look was intimidating to say the least, Phil realised that he had struck a sore spot but wasn't about to apologise as he really wanted to know. Besides, he'd told Barton what he thought of heroes and it really was only fair that he got an answer to a question that had been bugging him ever since the first time he'd seen Barton on the range with a bow. He knew the boy had been in the circus when he was younger but that could mean any number of things. He wanted more specifics than that if it were possible.

Barton scowled.

"Why should I tell you anything?"

"I asked nicely and earlier on I answered your question so it's really only fair that you answer mine now. Besides, I know that you were in a circus for most of your teenage years so where's the harm in telling me about learning archery?"

Before Barton could reply their desert order arrived. Immediately it was used as a delay tactic to avoid answering Phil's question as Barton started eating his ice cream with a speed that Phil had never seen anyone eat ice cream at before. Phil took a small bite of his pie and frowned at Barton.

"Slow down, at that speed you can't be tasting much of what you're eating. Besides I still want an answer to my question Barton, I am prepared to wait until you're finished."

That slowed Barton down but he was still eating the ice cream at an accelerated rate. Phil took a small bite of his dessert and thought hard. It hadn't escaped his notice over the last few weeks that Barton tended to eat very fast when there were other people around. He was also inclined to protect his food with his body. Given the evidence medical had found during Barton's initial intake exam that pointed towards childhood malnutrition and starvation having been a major factor in Barton's life Phil wasn't that surprised that Barton was protective of his food and ate fast.

In the past if he hadn't eaten fast it was likely that it would have been taken away from him, especially given he'd spent time in orphanages and the fact he wasn't the biggest person around. Phil had never been in foster care but knew many SHIELD agents who had been in the system at one time or another when they were children; they had told him a bit of what it was like. One thing that seemed fairly universal was that the bigger and stronger kids picked on those who were smaller and weaker. Given Barton's current size Phil suspected he'd probably fitted into the latter category.

Barton still had the build of an adolescent largely due to his age. The fact he had quite obviously been malnourished when he was younger meant his body had some catching up to do. Medical had also advised that he put on weight if possible as he was slightly under what was his ideal weight. Having been an eyewitness to the amount of food Barton could put away at one time Phil wondered how that was even possible but had taken medicals advice and made sure that Barton was eating regularly.

Barton had finished his ice cream when Phil was barely half way through his piece of pie. Seeing the kid was finished Phil gave him an unflustered look and repeated his earlier question.

"So Barton, where exactly did you learn to use a bow? My research uncovered the fact you and your brother were with a circus during most of your teenage years. Is that where it happened?"

Barton's head shot up and his eyes grew hard as he clenched his fists and hid them under the table.

"Where did you find that out? What do you know about my brother?"

Phil blinked.

"I know next to nothing about your brother, just that he exists. I found his birth certificate and old school records while I was doing research trying to find out who you were, I couldn't find anything else on him. You had slightly more documentation but it still took me several months of research and a lot of dead ends before I found anything concrete. In the end it was the fact you were in the army that enabled me to formally identify you."

Barton slumped in his chair and tried to make himself appear smaller. Phil had to admit he did a pretty damn good job at it; making it obvious that he'd had plenty of practice.

"I knew I should have used a fake name when I signed up."

Phil gave a short laugh at the mournful tone of voice.

"I'm glad that you didn't. Finding you was hard enough without adding false names to the mix. Plus, I don't think the army would have taken kindly to you using a false name if they'd ever found out."

"They never found out about my age. How did you find that out?"

Phil hadn't actually found that out, Fury had. Phil had later asked his old friend how he'd done it when nothing Phil had found during the course of his extensive research had even hinted at that but all Fury would tell him was that he had his sources.

"I didn't. I had no idea you weren't as old as your file said you were until Nick dropped that bombshell when we recruited you. I have no idea how he found that out and he won't tell me. Seriously though, were you really in a circus?"

Barton sighed.

"Yeh, I was. After we left the group home it was just about the only place that would take us in without calling child protection services on us. It's where I learnt to shoot and also learnt most of my ill gotten skills. I also learnt how to get around rigged games; it's easy if you know how."

Phil chuckled.

"I remember going to a circus with my class when I was a kid. We tried out a few of the games but no one won anything so we decided that the rides were a better deal. That was the only circus I've ever been to, I never had another opportunity when I was young and by the time I was older I had lost interest in those kinds of things."

Barton just stared at him.

"How can you lose interest in a circus?"

"It was a fun thing to do and see at the time, nothing more. Besides, I don't really like clowns. They are to jolly for my taste."

Clint though of the clowns that Carson's had had. They'd joined the show the year after Clint and Barney had. There had been two of them, brothers from Hungary who had come to America in search of a better life they said. Clint had never found out if they had any family. They'd both been hilarious in the ring and the crowd had loved them, but when they weren't performing they were just like anyone else, no makeup or fake noses to be seen. They'd do their duties and keep to themselves the rest of the time; even though they both knew English they rarely spoke it except in the ring.

They'd been very jolly when performing but as dull as ditchwater when they weren't in the ring. Clint supposed actually having been a part of the circus world and not just a visitor gave him a unique perspective on things.

Coulson finished his pie and looked across as Clint.

"You never lost interest in the circus? Then why did you leave them and join the army?"

"Pay was better and it gave me more options than the circus did."

The answer was delivered with a suddenness that made Phil blink, Barton had never answered a question that fast before. He suspected there was more to the story than what Barton had said, the answer was delivered to quickly and smoothly, like it had been well practiced. Still, if Barton didn't want to tell him that was his business. Phil had just asked out of curiosity, it wasn't something that was really need to know but the fact that The Amazing Hawkeye had seemed to be very popular around the time he'd disappeared had him curious about why Barton had left. He also wondered what had happened to his older brother but judging from the archer's earlier reaction it was a very sore topic that Phil would probably be wise not to mention again until Barton was ready to tell him the story. The kid had good reasons not to trust anybody but Phil hoped to one day earn enough of his trust that Barton would tell him more about his past. But realistically he knew it wasn't going to happen for a while, if it ever did.

"You thought army pay was better? I hate to think what they were paying you in the circus if that was the case, the army pays peanuts."

Barton just shrugged as he finished his drink.

"They also fed you and housed you in the army. Overall it wasn't a bad deal."

"Surely they did that in the circus?"

Barton just shrugged and refused to meet Phil's eyes.

"I wanted a change."

The waitress Emily came up to their table again to take their dessert plates away and ask if they would like anything else to eat. Phil said no and asked for the bill which she promised to bring in just a minute. Once she left Phil turned back to Barton who was scanning the diner for threats again; somehow that failed to surprise Phil in the slightest.

"You almost ready to go back to the base Barton? Unless there's something you want to do first."

Clint nodded immediately.

"Ready to go whenever you are. There's nothing to do here."

Phil just shook his head.

"For a trained sniper you are very impatient."

"I told you; if I've got a job to do I do it. I like having something to do. Just waiting is bor-ring."

Emily came back with the bill just then and smiled at Phil as he paid it, adding a generous tip in the process. The agent and assassin than left the diner and headed back to the SHIELD compound. Phil escorted Clint to his room on base and told him to stay there before heading to his own private suite. There were advantages, apart from the paperwork, to been a senior Agent and a good friend of Director Fury's.


End of chapter 7.


This is a slow chapter but something that I felt desperately needed to happen. Up until now we haven't seen a lot of Phil and Clint interacting with each other in an environment that isn't SHIELD and I don't know about you but I got the feeling that they both needed to talk. Plus, it was great fun to write.

Next chapter;

Chapter 8: The storm hits

Yes, we get into the real drama of this story next time!

See you then!