This is just a little thing I wrote ages ago and it's a little OOC on both parts but its Clint and Coulson and a one shot so here we are. I've cleaned up the story a bit from when it was posted before but I'm still not terribly happy with it. Anyway, ta ta for now.

Bullets echoed off the metal building where my legs had been moments before. I dropped from the factory roof, swinging myself in through an already broken window at the last second. I landed funny and felt a sharp pain radiate up my left leg but I couldn't stop to check for damage. Running across the dark room, I headed for a dishevelled stack of barrels on the far side of the room. I threw myself down behind them and gave myself a moment to catch my breath. I didn't hear anything coming from behind me so figured that whoever was following me hadn't seen me go through the window.

I was attempting to formulate a plan when I heard a steady, if slightly out of breath, voice. "Mr Barton." The voice was male, maybe in his forties and the way he addresses me made it sound more like a official business dealing than a back alley chase.

I jumped out of my skin at hearing him speak. I prided myself on being sneaky but this guy was like a bloody ninja. And how on earth did he know my name? Most knew me as Hawkeye, there was no way this guy could have found of my real name. But he had. The only people who knew me as Clint were from the circus or from the foster system. Sorry, the only living people. Could that be where he knew me from? I pushed all thoughts of his origin from my mind and focused on the problem at hand, getting the hell out of here.

"Mr Barton, I know you're back there."

"Mr Barton is my dad." I gruffly replied. If this guy had got me cornered, I may as well find out who he is.

"Clinton then. I'm Agent Phil Coulson" There was a slight rustling and a metallic 'click' that had me tensing up for a second, before I realised it was probably an ID or badge of some sort. A useless gesture really, considering I could not currently see him and did not plan on giving him a clear shot to blow my brains out. "I'm from the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division, better known as SHIELD, for obvious reasons."

Oh god. Mr Snark was here. What had I done to get SHIELD after me? Half the people I killed were on their hit list for God's sake. It wasn't like I was running around killing children. Unlike most mercenaries, I had morals - or you know, as many morals a world-renowned murderer can have.

"What have I done to get SHIELD on my case?" I asked, echoing my thoughts aloud to him.

"Nothing." The mysterious man replied. I think my confused silence asked the questions for me as he continued his explanation without any prompting. "I'm not here to kill you. I'm here to recruit you." He told me, as if it was the simplest thing in the world. I don't know what it was about this man but for some reason I felt like I could trust him. Had anyone else have me cornered like this then all that would be left is a hole ridden corpse, because obviously I'd grab my arrows out of him. No need to waste good arrows. But there was something different about this guy. I'd yet to see his face but I could picture him, clean shaven, honest eyes. The fact that he'd come chasing after me across rooftops in a very expensive looking suit spoke mountains about his character alone. That was going to need some very thorough dry cleaning afterwards.

Realising I'd been silent for longer than was probably polite, – since when did I care what was polite? - I opened my mouth.

"You what?" OK yeah, so it wasn't the most eloquent of responses, but in my defence I was seriously considering the possibility that this guy had hit his head a little too hard.

"You heard me, I'm here to recruit you Clinton."

"No" The sudden response caught him off guard. "Not 'Clinton'. Barton, Hawkeye, Clint, anything but Clinton." He paused for a second.

"Ok, I'm here to recruit you Clint."

"…Why?" My voice came out sounding incredulous.

"Have you seen your skills with a bow? Or a gun? Or just about anything you can throw? I've never seen you miss, and I've never seen anyone anywhere near as good as you. You know this, yet you still ask why we want to recruit you?"

"Wait a minute, what do you mean you've 'never' seen me miss? How long have you been following me?" His guilty silence told me everything I needed to know. I carried on before he had a chance to reply.

"And yes, funnily enough, I have seen my shooting. I'm deaf, not blind." I had no hesitation in telling him that little bit of information. Chances were he already knew, it was hardly a secret what with me being in the system for so long. "But I'm not exactly the SHIELD type, or so I thought. Ex carnie turned mercenary? I thought you were all men in dark suits and sunglasses?" Way to go Clint, why not just tell him your entire life story while you're at it.

"You see, that's where I'd disagree." Yup. This guy was either a raging crackhead or concussed beyond belief. Or both. Spose that's the kind of crazies you'll get in New York. (A/N - I have nothing against New York and don't think New Yorkers are crazy. Even if most of them are.)

"Every kill you've ever done, every contract you've taken, has either been for a quote unquote 'bad person', who is normally on our own wanted list, or someone who has hurt you in the past. You've been doing most of our work for us recently. It makes sense for you to continue doing our work for us, but legally this time. Think about it, a base to come back after every mission, the option to send in backup if you get into a situation, a constant wage, not dependent on how many heads you've blown up that month, better training, better weapons, not having to run from the law, being able to help people, being able to turn down a mission if you don't agree with it. And I mean, our R and D division is really quite spectacular. Think of all the different types of arrowheads you could have." Although his words were nice, and tempting, there was something about his tone that just didn't sit right.

"I've got no choice in this, do I?" I was proud of how I managed to keep my voice steady. Even if I could get out of this room without Suit shooting me down, the room was probably surrounded by now and I was getting low on ammo. The thought terrified me, the reality that I had no escape and was going with this man whether I wanted to or not.

He sighed. "No, not really." At least he was honest "You either come in willingly or we'll drag you in kicking and screaming."

"Well then, lead the way."

I carefully came out from behind the barrels, watching him for any hostile movements, eyes roaming over him for weapons. His eyes were doing the same, silently warning me not to be stupid. I slowly swung my bow over my shoulder before turning to him and flashing him a cocky grin.

"Where to, Boss?"