A/N Thanks for your reviews and support.

white collar black wolf: Thanks for your review my friend.

Clint's POV

The walk to Coulson's office was made in silence. This was it. Coulson was was going to tell him to beat it. Or he was going to be killed.

Upon entering the office Couslon waved for him to sit in the chair. Clint watched him warily but didn't argue. There was no point to arguing with the man anymore. He blew his last chance with SHIELD.

Coulson said leaning on his desk, "Agent Hand came to see me. She said that she was your last chance here at SHIELD. What happened Barton?"

Of course she did. Hand didn't even give him a mission to prove himself in. Instead she told Couslon she wasn't going to take him.

Anger filled him but he pushed it down as he mumbled, "No one trusts me."

Couslon snapped his patience fading, "I didn't get that. What happened, Barton?"

Clint snarled back, "They don't want me here. All of them have heard about my time as Hawkeye. They only see me as a killer. As a ticking time bomb."

In a way he could understand their wariness. Clint had been apart of Medusa. He still had trouble sleeping at night with the things he had done. Most nights were spent in the air vents rather than the bed he was given. When he wasn't in the vents he was on the roof. They were his safe heaven.

It hurt how much the other agents hated him. All he wanted was to be accepted. Something that wasn't happening here.

Couslon said quietly, "They don't know you, Barton. They haven't seen the light in your eyes. If you leave or get kicked out it will only prove them right."

Clint asked in a quiet voice that showed his age, "What am I to do then, Couslon? Even Hand doesn't want me."

Victoria Hand was the last hope for operatives like him. If she couldn't take you there was no hope for you in the agency. When he was assigned to her he made a vow to be on his best behavior. So that he could stay with SHIELD.

Coulson said breaking him from his thoughts, "Hand won't take you but I will."

Clint's grey blue eyes shot up to meet Couslon's brown ones. He was going to take Clint in? Why?

Couslon finally sat in the chair behind his desk. Opening the file that he recognized as his own SHIELD file. It had everything from his time as an assassin to his first unofficial mission. It had the handful of surveillance missions he had been on as well.

He asked after a moment, "Why are you taking me in? I thought you didn't take in new operatives."

"Technically you are not new. If you were like some of the other level one agents I would let them throw you out. However you are not. You are a valuable asset and I owe you my life."

As Couslon owed him, he owed Couslon his own. If Couslon had not brought him to SHIELD he would have died. Then Gordon would have died in Venezuela.

Clint said not meeting the man's eyes, "I owe you far more than you owe me, Coulson. Without you I would have never known Gordon was in trouble. Nor would I have met Doctor Panov. If you had not saved me I would have been dead before the end of the year."

Couslon shifted his attention from the file back to Clint. For a long moment he was silent. It almost felt like the man was assessing him.

Then the older man said, "Then let's just say we are even for the moment. How are your sessions with the good doctor going?"

A small smile crossed his face as he replied, "They are going fairly well. I can sleep longer now than when I first arrived. I'm not having identity issues either."

When he first came back from the rescue mission he had extreme identity issues. He would bounce from being Delta to Clint and back again. It took many sessions with the doctor to push Delta into the back of his mind. He was cleared for missions as long as he came to see Panov afterwards.

Something he learned that he wasn't happy about was that no matter the mission you had to see medical after. Whether it was a day long surveillance mission or an assassination mission. He hated medical more than any other part of the agency.

Couslon said after a moment, "Good. I've already sent the forms out that I needed to have you transferred into my care. Go pack a bag with clothes for three days. Don't forget to tell Panov you will be gone for a few days."

"A mission?"

Couslon said grabbing a new file from his desk, "Surveillance again. Pack a sniper rifle. We may or may not be given the green light for this one."

Clint could read between the lines. Fury gave the authorisation for this operation. It also meant that when Hand came to see Coulson he was trying to put a team together. Clint would do his best to prove himself to the man.

On his way back to his room he noted that several agents gave him a wide berth. There were poorly hidden looks of disdain as he passed them. He would show them. This was a chance to prove himself to both agents and to himself.

Once in his room he grabbed his mission bag. It held SHIELD issued clothes and his id. Clint choose to change into a black undershirt with a SHIELD jacket over it. The jacket was long sleeved. In his bag was a short sleeved version.

His next stop was the armory. As Couslon requested he choose a standard fifty caliber sniper rifle. It was one he had trained with on the range. Its scope had an optional thermal sensor if he decided he needed it.

For his side arm he chose a standard 45 caliber glock. It was another weapon he taught himself to use since coming to SHIELD. He didn't hesitate to grab the case with his bow and quiver in it. There was no telling if he would need it. Better to be prepared just in case.

He was almost to the hanger when he remembered that he had to see Panov. Making a face he turned on his heel and made for the elevators. Three minutes later he was in front of the doctor's door. For a brief moment he hesitated.

Panov told him when he first returned to come talk to him if he needed something. If he needed anything at all. There were many times he considered going to the man's door. Many times where he waited for several moments outside it before changing his mind. There were times when the doctor was gone that he hesitated on calling the man. Then would just close the phone withlu ever making the call. This wasn't allowed to be one of those times.

Taking a deep breath he knocked on the door. He could hear movmenrts inside before the door opened. Panov stood in the doorway. He was wearing a blue button down shirt with black dress slacks. His hazel eyes carefully examined the young agent in front of him.

A small smile graced the older man's face as he greeted, "Good morning, Clint. Come in."

Panov stepped back to allow Clint inside. That was something he liked about the doctor. He called him by his name. The way it came around wasn't the best though.

Flashback

SHIELD agents were beginning to get on his nerves. Many of them called each other by their given names. Or when they used last names they at least put agent in front of it. Despite being an agent for a month and a half everyone still treated him like a trainee. Or worse like he was going to go on a rampage and kill everyone. It was starting to wear on his last nerve.

As he walked down the hallway to Panov's office he saw the stares they were giving him. Some of these agents had been assigned to be his handler. They didn't even given him a chance before passing him on to someone else.

Reaching the doctor's office he knocked a little harder than was necessary in his anger. The next moment the door opened. Hazel met his grey eyes.

The older man said with a gentle look, "Good morning, Agent Barton. Come in."

He frowned at the address but didn't argue against it. It was better than just Barton. He hated it when others wouldn't use his title or his given name. At least the doctor was showing him some respect.

Entering the office he found it the same as it had been since he arrived. The lighting was lower than normal but as usual there was nothing that set off alarms in his mind. Nothing that would set Delta off.

At second glance he realized there was something different. In the far corner there was a couch long enough for someone to lay on. Clint was both physically and mentally exhausted. Far too exhausted to be dealing with this man today. There was no doubt in his mind that the older man wanted him to open up. To tell Panov what was bothering him. There just wasn't any trust between them.

Clint chose his usual chair and sat it in the corner of the room. It was positioned so that even with Panov in front of him he could still see both doors. As he had in their other sessions Panov sat in a chair a few feet in front of him.

Panov once again didn't have any paper to take note on. Instead he watched Clint intently. This dance was part of their routine. Something that had taken some getting used to for the younger man.

Clint asked carefully, "Panov, why don't you take notes during our sessions?"

For a moment the doctor only blinked stupidly. Then he responded in a thoughtful tone, "There are a couple of reason. I find that many of the agents I work with don't want me to write down what they are saying. If anything of importance is said I will write it down later. If you want I can get my notebook for you out."

Clint asked curious, "You have a notebook for me?"

Panov stood then and walked across the room to his desk. He opened the third drawer in his desk. After a moment he brought out a black notebook. Across the front of it said: Agent Clint Barton. To his surprise the man held it out to him.

Clint took the notebook and began to flip through it. One of the first things that he saw was that the doctor noted his preference to the corner. Another thing that was noted was that he didn't like being called just by his last name.

He closed it and asked, "How could you tell I don't like being called by my last name?"

Panov placed his elbows on his knees and interlaced his fingers together. Laying his chin on the fingers he considered the younger man. Clint felt like the man was staring straight into his soul. At least what was left of his soul.

After a long moment he said, "My first clue was when I called you Barton. You flinched like I had struck you. So the next day if you remember I followed you around. I have seen how the other agents treat you. The way your eyes go cold when you are called Barton. The way life enters them when you are called agent."

Clint remembered the day where the doctor had followed him around. It took escaping into the air vents to get the man to leave him be. Now he realized that the doctor was simply trying to see his reactions to different things. Not that it made being followed any easier.

Clint said running a hand through his hair, "I hate being called by my last name. It reminds me too much of my past. It's better than my callsign I guess but it still brings up terrible memories."

Panov asked quietly, "What would you like me to call you?"

He said in an equally soft voice, "Clint. Please call me, Clint."

End of flashback

That was the start of Clint trusting Panov more. It wasn't a lot more. Just enough that it wasn't a struggle for him to go to their sessions.

On instinct he was already pulling his chair to his corner. The older man had pulled out two notebooks from his desk. Then he followed suit. Soon they were both sitting in their regular spots.

Panov said holding out the second notebook, "Here the last time I was in town I bought this for you. I would like you to keep a journal. No you don't have to show me unless you want to. When you need a new one be sure to let me know."

As a new operative and agent he wouldn't be allowed out of the base except on missions for his first year. Then he could rent an apartment near whatever base he was assigned to. He could also stay on base should he choose to. Any time he wasn't on mission he would be allowed to come and go as he pleased.

He said with a smile, "Thanks, Doctor."

Panov leaned for trying to catch his eyes. In the past month Clint's eyes were slowly returning to their more natural blue. It had been years since his eyes were this blue. Not since before Irene's death. His heart twinged at the memory.

Suddenly he could feel heat licking up his face. Almost like he was to close to a fire. In the background of his mind he could hear the shouting of his men. Where was Echo? Where was Charlie and the others?

A cry startled him out of his thoughts. When he came back to himself he found himself standing. Thankfully he had not drawn the glock in his fear. It was a small mercy.

Panov asked standing, "Are you back with me, Clint?"

Shakily he answered, "Yeah I'm back."

Slowly Panov reached out for him. When the younger man didn't pull away a gentle hand closed around his shoulder. While he had seen it coming he still started slightly as he felt the touch. Being touched without pain was still a new concept to him.

Panov slowly pushed him into the chair then took his own seat. They were quiet for a moment before Panov asked, "Why did you come to see me today, Clint? Our session isn't until Friday."

Clint said his shoulders slumping slightly, "Hand went to Coulson today. She didn't even give me a chance to show her I can be a good operative."

Panov sighed pinching the bridge of his nose. It had been the man's advice that he worked on his relationship with other agents. So far all he received was cold and angry looks. The only ones who treated him like a person were Sitwell and Coulson.

Panov said, "I'll see about talking to Fury. They can't kick you out because of other agents prejudice. You have done nothing to warrant their anger."

"Coulson decided to take me in. That's why I'm here. We are going on a survillence mission. I probably won't be back in time for our session."

The doctor's eyes widened before a gentle smile twitched at his lips. He said, "Then I will see you when you get back. Don't forget you have to go to medical before you come see me."

Clint smiled as he said, "Of course, doc. I'll see you when I get back."