Hello everyone. I hope that you enjoy chapter 3 of my story. Please let me know what you think. I LOVE comments! (Even if they are constructive critisism) thank you for reading my story :)
Clint followed Coulson through the metallic hallways of the SHIELD headquarters, half ignoring everything the other man said. He had, of course, accepted the offer. It had taken some time to decide, but everyone who had a good heart wanted to be one of the good guys, to be a part of something bigger than oneself, everyone wanted to have backup, if need be, even Clint Barton.
"- this here is the training gym. You shouldn't be going there yet, since you are still slightly injured."
"I'm fine"
"Of course you are"
The man's sarcasm and one sided smiles had become something that he expected, yet continued to feel both amused and annoyed by.
"And this is the room that you will be sharing with three other strike agents."
"Strike?"
"They are part of a strike team. Work on secondary missions, following the lead of another agent."
"I thought you wanted me for my skills. To be an actual agent, not one of your... trained dogs that jumps to a targets throat when you tell them to."
"That's right. I want you to be a more specialized sort of agent. Collect intel, handle major missions, take down targets from our hit list, not just people who are on the way. I want you to reach that point, but you are not there yet."
"Not there yet?" Clint rose a brow.
"All agents of SHIELD, before they actually join SHIELD, are required to go to the academy, and, after they are done there, they take a test. That test determines whether or not they will be taken in as specialized agents, strike team agents, or simply not taken in at all." Coulson took in a deep breath.
"You, of course, will not be going to the academy, but you will have to take the test."
"A test?" Clint sneered suspiciously at Coulson.
"It is based on the skills necessary to be an agent of SHIELD. Hand to hand, distance shooting, chemistry, language, and espionage."
"Why chemistry and language?"
"Reading, writing, and speaking in, at least, three languages is necessary to be a specialized agent; at least one to be a strike team agent. Traveling and communication comes with the job. Chemistry is necessary in order to identify and, use or avoid, certain substances, which is also a big part of the job."
"Okay."
"I've read your file as Clint Barton, now that we have your name. There are no records of you attending school since you were in the 1st grade. Did you ever learn to read and write fluently?"
Clint sighed "I speak and understand four languages: Ukrainian, English, German, and French, I understand but cannot speak two more: Spanish and Italian."
"You are deflecting."
"I am listing my skills"
"Can you read and write any of them?"
Barton the looked away, with a tinge of shame in his eyes.
"No"
"Thats alright. You have six months before the test. What about Chemistry?"
"Not important for a sniper"
"Yet crucial for a SHIELD agent. Your tutor will meet you in room 8967, at 7:00 tomorrow morning, don't be late!"
"Tutor?"
Coulson smirked and shut the door.
Indeed, when Clint found his way into the conference in the morning- at nearly 8:30- there she was. A tutor.
"Good morning Mr. Barton, thank you for coming early, I always appreciate dedicated students. Shall we begin?"
"Early?"
"Oh!- Uh- yes, well. Agent Coulson instructed me to tutor you beginning at 9 in the morning." Said the 'tutor' checking her watch. And Clint smirked. Coulson had tricked him. He was slowly, but surely, developing a certain... respect/ admiration/ likability for the man... anyway, he enjoyed Coulson's way of surprising him, even in situations like the present one.
"Very Well, lets begin with English. Could you, to the best of your ability, read the passage in front of you?"
Clint began, and failed. The subject of his education was a delicate one. He did not like it to be known that he could hardly read, so having to humiliate himself in front of the 'tutor' was... well, humiliating.
He had gone through life without anyone noticing his lack of education, so having to prove himself now, equally embarrassed and angered him. And he covered up in the best way he knows how.
...
The class lasted about 2 hours, and, in that time, Clint made more jokes and sarcastic comments than even he thought possible. He then got his lunch at the cafeteria, and sat on the table on the corner. It was mind baffling.
The smells that filled the room, and the constant chatter of the other agents. The sound of plates clanking against each other and the constant movement that brought this place to life. An organization full of people ready to do good, and he was a part of it. Well, sort of. He had to go to the tutor every morning, and pass the stupid test, but, maybe someday he could actually feel as if he were a part of something.
"She quit." Coulson sat down at his table with a serious expression.
"Garcia- the tutor- she asked to be transferred to another student. She said, and I quote "Never have I felt that two hours were so wasted"
Clint smirked.
"What did you do?"
"Nothing"
Coulson raised a brow.
"Just some harmless joking. I honestly didn't see a point to that story she made me read."
"Did you actually read it?"
At that, Clint's smirk dropped and Coulson sighed.
"I am going on a mission, I'll get another tutor to come and teach you. You will do well Barton. The records show that you are quite intelligent." And he left.
...
It had been a long four days. Coulson abandoned the jet with his duffel in his hand. The mission had been a success, in fact, it was extremely easy, too easy, boring... some might say. But the boredom would not last long. He still had one foot in the jet when Maria Hill came walking towards him, at a fast pace. Barton.
"Your protege managed to annoy his second tutor, to the point where she quit. After two days!"
"Well, the first one only lasted one day, I'd say it's an improvement."
Agent Hill glared at him.
" no other tutor is willing to come and help him, and you know that he needs help in order to pass that test, so you need to figure out a way to feed him the information he needs, or there is no way he is becoming a field agent."
Coulson sighed
"Okay. Alright, I'll see what I can do"
"He is at the medical facility. For his check up"
"Okay."
...
"Uh- yes- um- this wounds seem to be healing quite nicely- yes."
Doctor Nieva poked and peaked around his body, quite cautiously. And looked about ready to run, in case the archer decided that he did not want to be cooperative.
Clint only stared, in silence; he was not in the mood for conversation. The medical facility was not his favorite place to be at. The only reason he had agreed to go, was because he actually wanted to be a part of SHIELD, and he figured that he had already broken enough rules by getting rid of two tutors in less than a week.
The white walls and metallic instruments, which shined ominously as they reflected the light, all made him feel exposed. It's as if he were waiting for his captor to begin the torture , while only sitting there and waiting. It was not Clint's nature to allow another human being to help him heal. He could do it himself.
"Ah yes. You should be ready to begin physical training in about two more week-"
"Morning Doc."
"Ah- Agent Coulson. How did your mission go? Do you need any assistance?"
"No I'm alright Doc. Thank you. Clint can I talk you outside."
Clint followed him outside the infirmary, and Coulson breathed deeply, as if buying time to think.
"I need to find a way for you to learn all you need to know before the test, and apparently the tutors aren't convincing enough, so..."
Thats it. That is the point of the sentence where he would be shunned away. Clint never gave himself a chance to trust anyone, precisely because he knew that good-natured help could never last. It was his own fault really, the Hawkeye's fault. He was a murderer who did not make it easy for any to help him, and why should he? It was only logical that he who is willing to help a bad man does it only out of trickery.
"So I have decided to take some time off being a field agent. I am your new unofficial handler."
What? Clint thought, yet he did not speak. Should he continue to trust this man? What reason has he to help? But Coulson did not give him a chance to refuse. He walked away.
"Tomorrow at 7:00."
...
For the first time since arriving at SHIELD (about one week prior) Clint honored his companion by being on time. At 7:00 he arrived at the conference room, mostly because, if he gave himself time to think, he would not go at all, and he did want this.
When he walked in, Coulson greeted him with one of his half smiles and invited him to sit down.
"Alright. Let's start with the periodic table..."
Coulson then set forth to explain the properties and atomic mass and number for each element. He taught Clint how to read the periodic table, and each detail that he could learn about the elements by just looking at their box. He also showed some of them to Clint in vials, and taught him the signs he could use to identify them.
Chemistry is a complicated subject on its own, but Coulson made a point of trying to make it entertaining to the archer, trying to relate it to the things he already knew. And Clint found himself, if only slightly, enjoying the class. He had always loved to learn, when he was younger, but, at this point in his life, he found it physically taxing to actually listen to someone he did not have any respect for, as were his two previous tutors. Coulson, on the other hand, and despite his distrust, had saved his life, and he was willing to show the man at least some level of respect.
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