It was always quieter when Clint was out of his office, logically productivity rates should increase without being constantly bothered by an overgrown five year old. He closed the file and suppressed a sigh, reaching for the cup of coffee sitting on the corner of his desk that had gone cold hours ago.

He'd just finished writing up a case file on Tahiti and had been reaching to go over the finer details of a current op in Moscow, when his door had swung open bringing with it the aroma of Brazilian coffee then shut before the files neatly stacked to one side of his desk were shoved aside. With a frown, Coulson set down his pen to see that one highly dangerous asset was sitting on the edge of his desk. "Barton."

"Look, Phil. Coffee."

"I can see that."

It followed with a file being handed over. And he had only to take one look at the description and one at Barton's face to know what this was about.

"It's ninety percent chance it's him, Phil."

"You don't know that. It could be anyone."

"It's not just 'anyone'." Barton took the file back, staring down at it while his fingers continually made the edges more dog-eared. "No one else knows. All Fury knows is I'm filing a personal day, it's all I need, Phil. I go in and see it's him…" "

And then what?" Coulson took the file from him and folded his hands over it. His eyes ran over his asset's face that had somehow aged ten years… he could almost name the shadows that lurked in Barton's eyes. "You told me what happened. Are you ready to face him again?" "

It's my brother, Phil."

The brother who left you to make your own, wasn't it?

One incident couldn't erase a lifetime, but he'd still remembered the first time Barton had admitted he had a brother out there somewhere.

Last chance I saw him he wanted to start over. Join the army and make things right, I guess. I should've gone with him—he wanted me to—but I was still hurting from when he left me. Just bleeding out in the dirt while he and Trickshot ran off with their money. He actually looked at me after he pulled the shot, Phil. He looked right at me. And then you know what that bastard did? Turned and left me there like it was all my fault.

After the initial confession, bits and pieces came in through following conversations. Barney was the brave one who stuck through everything. Barney was the only part of his childhood that didn't suck. Barney would offer us half his allowance once a month so Clint could buy his comics—Captain America mostly.

"Still here?" The Director looked at Coulson in exasperation then at the pile of papers on his desk. "Those can wait until morning. Go home."

It was going for eleven thirty. He wasn't sure where the time had gone since he didn't have the work done to show for it.

Barton.

Did he really get more work done while the assassin was hanging around? "This. This has to stop." He meant it more to himself, but the Director interpreted it as a confirmation.

"You're damn right it does. Get up and start walking." It was that tone that implied immediate action. Five minutes at most to wrap things up, if the Director was in a good mood. He waited until Coulson made a show of pulling away the papers before he walked back out.

Pulling open drawers, he searched his desk until he found the device to track Clint. All SHIELD agents were required to have trackers in case of emergency evacs. Back in his first days at SHIELD, Clint had pulled out exactly three fake molar homing beacons until Coulson warned him the next time the tracker would go under his skin. He hated having his location on grid, but Coulson had assured him it was only for his own welfare. He'd known he couldn't tell Barton no.

"So. You're okay with it."

Even if he said no, the assassin would still find a way to go. If he cut off all Clint's resources, he'd still get out. Coulson studied his asset for a few seconds before he stood up and rested a hand on the younger man's shoulder. This might not work out, he wanted to tell him. Even if this doesn't work out, I'll still be here for you, Clint. Instead, he only said "You can take it, Clint."

Clint nodded up at him. "Yeah. I can take it."

He tucked the device in a pocket and strode past the unknowing Director who promptly locked the door behind him.