Author's Note: Well, I've been planning this story for a while, but I haven't had a chance to get it up before now. But with Bohemia finished and Idiosyncrasy started, I thought it would be a good idea to get Potential up at the same time. If this is the first time you've been reading one of my stories, this is a prequel to my other story Bohemia that follows the misadventures of Strike Team Delta – Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff, and recruit Mack Donahue. It is OC based, but there's a lot of Clint and Natasha in this.

Potential's going to be a bit different in format than Bohemia and Idiosyncrasy, in that the chapters are going to be a bit weird. This is going to focus on Mack's immediate recruitment, and then will go into her training after this. I have a tentative plan for what I'm going to do with Potential, but don't expect this to get updated as much as Idiosyncrasy is.

There's going to be a lot of SHIELD stuff in Potential. There's going to be a lot of Clintasha in this, since we're going to get a lot of Natasha and Clint POV in this story, along with some Coulson stuff. We're also going to get a lot of Emil Moreau, Tori Roberts, Connor Hale, and Cecelia Evanston. This is going to be a lot of the SHIELD crew, which will be fun.

I don't own anything connected to the Marvel Cinematic Universe. I only own my original characters and my takes on certain situations in here. Thank you for reading, and please leave a review on the way out! Please thank HeartNimbus for the beautiful cover as well! :D

Potential
Before she was Agent Donahue of Strike Team Delta, Mack was a college graduate with potential when Clint dragged into a life she wasn't ready for.

Chapter 1 – Recruit

April 18, 2008

Gabe Jones loved being a professor.

He had been through a lot in his years of life. Fighting as a Howling Commando in World War II, his work as a spymaster and handler for SHIELD, his activity in the Civil Rights movement, starting a family of his own, and of course, his now thirty years of teaching at Culver University in Virginia. He loved teaching, but there were so parts of his experience as a spy that had never quite gone away. One of those was his tendency to notice small details in students and realize just who might have the opportunity to flourish in the spy world.

Right now, he was meeting with one student in particular. For once, it had nothing to do with the work she contributed to his class. Instead, it had everything to do with what she was planning for her future.

The knock at the door came a few moments later, and Gabe glanced at the clock on the wall. She was right on time. "You wanted to see me, Professor?" a light voice asked.

Gabe turned in his chair, nodding over at the young woman standing in the doorway, a red leather jacket on her and a black backpack slung over one shoulder. "Miss Donahue, come in," he said warmly, smiling over at her.

The brunette's smile was cordial in return, closing the door behind her. She took a seat on the small couch on the side of his office. Mackenzie Donahue was one of Gabe's seniors, and he was the advisor for her in regards to her French minor. While she was much closer to her major advisors, Gabe had seen her a lot over the last four years.

"I thought I was going to be late," Mackenzie admitted, running a hand through her hair as she took a sip of her coffee. "Things are absolutely insane right now."

"Graduation is a big deal," Gabe reminded her, nodding over to his coffee machine as he stood up, grabbing his cane from the other side of the wall. "More coffee?"

"Please," Mackenzie said, standing up and going over to the machine herself. Gabe chuckled, moving to sit down in the chair across from the couch. "I'm pretty much living on it right now. I have my sociology final presentation this afternoon, and I'm just trying to get ready for it."

"Professor Jordan's presentation correct?" asked Gabe, raising an eyebrow at her.

"That's right. She's my sociology advisor, and I had her for a history class this semester."

"You never had a chance to take my history course," Gabe pointed out, leaning back in his chair as he watched her carefully. He was sure that she didn't notice the way that he was studying her at the moment.

Mackenzie scowled lightly, taking a sip from her coffee cup. "I'm disappointed about that, actually," she admitted, leaning back against the couch, relaxing a bit. "I was going to take it my second semester junior year, but then I got into the French abroad program and…"

"You have a French minor, you couldn't turn it down. I recommended you for that program, I was just relieved you were willing to take it," Gabe replied, chuckling and holding his hands up. "I understand completely, Mackenzie."

Mackenzie gaze traveled to the black and white photo on the wall, up by Gabe's desk. "Is that them, Professor?" she asked, hesitating before standing and taking a look at the photo. "The Howling Commandos."

Gabe smiled sadly, leaning back. "The Howling Commandos," he repeated simply, nodding once. "We were a good group. They were by far the best men I ever met in my life. If you ask me though… the best of us were the two who didn't survive the war."

"Captain Steven Rogers and Sergeant James Barnes," Mackenzie murmured, remembering back to her high school history classes. Those had been years ago, but the Howling Commandos had been up and away the most interesting part of that class.

"It's hard to believe how long it's been," Gabe admitted, glancing around the office for a few moments. He had lived a long life, and sometimes, he wondered what Steve and Bucky would have done with their own lives. It would have been interesting to find out. "Now, time for me to stop beating around the bush. I'm curious to know what your plans are for after graduation."

Mackenzie gave a sheepish smile, shaking her head. "Honestly, I'm not too sure yet," she admitted. She sighed, glancing back over at him. "Everyone keeps asking me what I want to do, and I don't know. So for now, I'm going to Empire State to get my graduate degree in psychology."

He had already known that, from talking to other faculty members at Culver. Gabe wanted to go in deeper, figure out exactly what Mackenzie wanted to do. He couldn't see her sitting around in a psychologist's office for the rest of her life. She had the potential for more than that.

"If you could do anything, what would you do?" Gabe asked bluntly, raising a hand when she made a move to answer. The brunette seemed surprise at least. "And I mean anything, Mackenzie. Ignoring all logic and realism. What do you want to do with your life?"

Mackenzie bit her lip, falling silent for a few moments. "Make a difference," she said, looking back up at him, giving an embarrassed sigh. "I know. It's idealistic, but… I don't know. I guess I need a bit of idealism while I'm dealing with this stuff. Like tuition debt."

"A good friend once told me that the world needs idealism." Gabe smiled at her, his decision made as Mack gave a weak smile in return. He stood up, walking back over to his desk. "Now, I won't keep you any longer. If you need anything, a job recommendation, anything, just let me know."

"I will, Professor Jones." Mackenzie hesitated for a few moments before standing and moving over, pulling him into a tight hug. "Thank you for everything over the last four years."

Gabe smiled, squeezing her shoulder. "You're going to go far, Mackenzie," he said. She walked out of the office a few moments later, and Gabe closed the door behind her. He knew what he was going to do next. He went over to his desk, opening the top drawer and pulling out a black cell phone. He dialed a number quickly, holding the phone to his ear.

Gabe moved to the far side of the office, watching out of the window. Mackenzie was walking down the sidewalk, glancing down at her phone as she sipped her cup of coffee. The professor waited patiently for the phone to ring, tapping wizened fingers against the wood of his desk as he waited for an answer.

The call was picked up a few seconds later. "Fury."

Gabe smiled. "Nick? It's Gabe Jones," the professor said, glancing back at the photograph before glancing back down at the girl walking away outside. "I have a potential recruit that you might want to look at."

May 5, 2008

It had been a long two weeks for Clint Barton.

Two weeks ago, after arriving back at the New York SHIELD facility from an already stressful and dangerous mission in Bolivia, Clint had received a call from the SHIELD base in Tel Aviv, warning him that his partner of five years had been shot and nearly killed in the line of duty. It had been a mess getting to Tel Aviv, and the genuine fear on Natasha's face when she had woken up had been terrifying for Clint.

He had never seen Natasha look like that. Clint had never seen her truly afraid like that, but when she confided in him who she knew had shot her, he couldn't blame her for it.

Natasha was now confined to the medical wing of the New York SHIELD base until Doctor Moreau was sure that she was completely recovered. It was only through the concentrated efforts of Clint and Moreau's partner Doctor Tori Roberts that the redheaded assassin was still in medical. She would be there for several weeks, until they were sure that she wasn't going to hurt herself further by resuming physical activity.

And now, with his partner in the medical wing and him not getting any sleep in the past four days, the last thing Clint wanted to do was look over the file of a potential recruit with his handler.

"You can't get someone else to do this?" Clint asked, rubbing his eyes as he slid down into the seat across from his handler. "Woo or Morse or Johnson or I don't even give a fuck who, just someone other than me."

"It's going to be you, Barton," Phil Coulson replied, shooting him a serious look. Coulson looked just as exhausted as Clint did. Considering that the handler was running around trying to make sure that Natasha didn't break out of medical, Clint couldn't blame him. "You owe me for the stunt you pulled in Kiev."

There was a spark of amusement in his eyes, and Clint knew that he was enjoying getting to use Kiev as an excuse even now. Clint, on the other hand, was getting rather tired of him using that excuse every chance he got.

"Fuck's sake, Phil," Clint groaned, glaring over at him. "It was five years ago, and you cannot keep using that every time you want me to do something! Besides, it worked out better! Or did you miss the part where Natasha's still here and is the best damned agent SHIELD has?" Clint didn't stand up to leave though, instead groaning and offering his hand to take the file.

The handler only gave that serene, amused smile that Clint hated with every fiber of his being. "I appreciate your help, Clint." He handed him the file a moment later.

"Shut up." The archer shook his head as he read the title on it. "Mackenzie Donahue," Clint said, frowning down at the file as he opened it up, starting to read over it carefully. "Senior at Culver University in Willowdale, Virginia." Clint's frown deepened as he looked up. "That's not too far from DC, why isn't the Triskelion handling this?"

"Because Director Fury asked me to handle this recruitment." Coulson leaned back in his office chair, watching the archer carefully as he kept reading through the file. "She's graduating in May with a double major in psychology and sociology, and a minor in French. Her French advisor is Professor Gabriel Jones."

Clint's eyebrow cocked as he read through the file. "Professor Gabriel Jones as in the SHIELD Gabe Jones?" he asked, glancing up at Coulson. He had met several members of the Howling Commandos a few times, and Jones had been one of them, mostly due to the fact that Coulson honestly knew everyone in SHIELD.

"One and the same. Jones left SHIELD in the seventies to take a professor position at Culver University. He teaches several French courses, and one course per semester on World War II, focusing on the Howling Commandos. It's apparently considered one of the best classes on campus." Coulson calmly sipped at his coffee.

Clint knew to tread lightly or risk triggering a lecture about the Howling Commandos and Captain America. "And he found a recruit at the campus."

Coulson handed a photo over to him. Clint glanced down at the photo of Mackenzie – brunette, maybe five feet five inches, slender, and green eyed. Her eyes were much lighter than Natasha's, closer to hazel than emerald. "She's pretty. Twenty two years old?"

"She turned twenty-two on March 25th." Phil glanced down at his own file, raising an eyebrow. "As the file says, her name is Mackenzie Donahue. She's planning on attending Empire State University in New York City in the fall to pursue a master's degree in psychology. Jones himself flagged her as a potential."

"That explains why Fury wants us to handle this," Clint noted, frowning as he read over all the records they had on this girl. "But why did Jones flag her?"

Coulson sighed, glancing down at the files they had of that dark haired girl. "High level of intelligence. She can think on her feet, has a high level of physical activity… Jones thinks she could do a lot of good, with the proper training."

"And that's why I'm being sent in to watch her?" Clint asked dubiously, raising an eyebrow as he watched his handler carefully.

"Natasha is still recovering from her shooting several weeks ago," Coulson replied, shaking his head. Clint's hands tightened into fists at the mention of the attack on Natasha. She needed a serious break to be able to recover from what happened. "And we both know bad things happen when you're just sitting around idle."

He tried to smirk, but the gravity of Phil's words kept it down. "Tasha's not going to be on active duty for a while, is she?" Clint asked, raising an eyebrow.

Coulson sighed, putting the file down and taking a drink from the bottle of water on the table. "Not until she's fully recovered. Moreau's ordered her to get physical therapy as well. It may take a while, but Moreau's confident that Natasha will be able to make her return to the field eventually."

The archer snorted in amusement. "She's gonna love that." Clint sighed, glancing back down at the papers. "So when do I leave?"

May 6, 2008

"So, you're leaving?"

Clint sighed as he sat down at the chair next to her bedside, handing the woman in the bed a milkshake in a plastic cup, smuggled in from the place down the diner a few blocks down from the SHIELD base. "Coulson has me observing a potential recruit for a few weeks," he explained, running a hand through his hair. "It'll be a few days at the most."

"A potential, huh?" Natasha shot him a grateful look as she sipped at the milkshake. He hated seeing how weak his partner was at the moment when he knew how indomitable she was normally. "What do you think?"

He knew what she was asking. Clint had read through the files SHIELD had on Mackenzie Donahue, and he had his own suspicions about whether she would be worth it. The question was whether his suspicions would be proven true. "I think she's worth a look at."

Natasha only nodded at that, wincing in pain slightly. Clint glanced down at Natasha's bandaged stomach before he could stop himself. Neither had thought too much of it when they had been assigned to separate missions for a bit. It had happened before.

No one had expected Natasha's mission of escorting a scientist to end up with a car flying over a cliff, the scientist dead, and Natasha apparently shot by the deadliest assassin of the Cold War.

Clint hesitated before looking up at her, staring directly into bright green eyes that long since gained the ability to hold him spellbound. "Do you really think the Winter Soldier was the one to shoot you?"

"I know he was," Natasha murmured, looking down at her bandaged abdomen a second later. "I of all people would recognize him, Clint."

"I know," Clint said, raising his hands as he looked her over. Gray eyes trailed to her stomach for a few more seconds. "I should have been there."

"Don't start," Natasha warned, shooting him a dark look. She was half loopy from the pain medication and completely exhausted, but Clint knew that she would strangle him with her IV if he showed an ounce of pity towards her. "Seriously, no martyr shit right now, Barton."

Clint smiled weakly, looking her over again. "There's a place down in DC that makes the best chocolate covered strawberries I've ever had. I'll bring you some," he promised, looking over at her, genuine relief in his eyes.

Natasha closed her eyes, leaning back in the bed. "Best partner ever," she deadpanned.

Clint only chuckled and thanked whatever god was out there that he wasn't burying his partner.

May 13, 2008

He had been observing an off-season field hockey practice when the phone in his pocket vibrated. Clint leaned against the tree, gray eyes watching Mackenzie running on the green field, field hockey stick in hand. He pulled his phone to his ear, not bothering to give a greeting. He knew who was calling.

"So?" Coulson prompted. He never wasted time with frivolities, especially not right now. Clint was sure that SHIELD had another mission for him already.

"I agree," Clint replied simply, biting his lip. "Offer her a position in SHIELD."

He had learned a lot from observing Mackenzie Donahue over the last few weeks. She was bright and cheerful and energetic. There was an easygoing edge to her being, but he had seen the sparks of something deeper and darker than her outward personality would suggest.

To be completely honest, Clint was surprised when he realized that there was something in Mackenzie Donahue that reminded him of Natasha. He could see potential in her, a potential similar to Natasha. Clint knew that Coulson was going to kill him when he found out what his idea was, but there was no way Clint could just drop that idea.

"We'll send her a formal invitation to the operations academy then," Coulson said, sounding pleased.

"About that," Clint interrupted, keeping the phone to his ear. He had seen that potential. In some ways, Mackenzie Donahue reminded him of Natasha, if she had been able to live a happier and fuller life. "I have a different idea."

The groan that came over the phone made the archer grin. "Let's hear it, Barton.

"I want to be her supervising officer," Clint said bluntly, not bothering to hide what his intentions were at the moment.

"You can take that position after she graduates the Academy," Coulson agreed, sounding suspicious still. Coulson knew him better than anyone, and he knew that Clint had a different idea that was far more complicated than it seemed.

The archer rolled his eyes, rubbing his temple with his free hand. "No, I mean I want to take her as her supervising officer right away."

There was silence on the line for almost a full minute, and Clint smirked as he practically heard a migraine form in Coulson's head. His handler's tone when he did speak was just as irritated and exhausted as he expected it would be. "Barton, what the hell are you thinking?"

"I mean I supervise every aspect of her training. Coulson, the Academy's great at cloning mindless drones. Donahue? She has major potential, Coulson, and the Academy will ignore that in favor of regulations. Give me some time, and I can turn this kid into one of the best agents SHIELD has."

He had thought over his argument for the last few weeks. Clint had recognized something in Mack, something that he had seen in Natasha all the way back in Kiev five years ago. If she was trained and encouraged in the right way, Mackenzie had the potential to become one of the best agents SHIELD had.

Clint hadn't gone to the operations academy, and he had turned out alright. Well, maybe not alright, but he was still alive and working for SHIELD just over ten years after Coulson had recruited him. At the very least, this would be an experiment, a way to get out of his comfort zone. The archer sighed as he just continued to watch Mackenzie, waiting for any response from Coulson in regards to his crazy idea.

Coulson didn't reply for a few seconds. Clint held the phone to his hand, patient as he waited for Coulson to respond to him. He was just as stubborn as Coulson was; his handler had learned that long ago.

"I'll ask a personal favor from Fury," Coulson gave in.

Clint smirked. "Thank you, Phil."

"Don't thank me yet, Barton. She's your responsibility," Coulson warned, his tone deadly serious. Clint could practically hear the clogs turning in his handler's head as he tried to figure out what he needed to do. "Offer her an invitation into SHIELD."

Clint hung up the phone, smiling to himself before walking away from the field. He had work to do.

May 15, 2008

Clint spent a few hours at the bar where Mackenzie worked, watching her from a distance. He snuck out when he realized that his target and her coworker had realized that he was there, instead making his way back to her apartment. When Mackenzie returned to her apartment after her shift, she had found Clint on the floor, trying to coax out the German Shepherd puppy who had somehow decided that he hated Clint.

It was then that he noticed that Mackenzie had in fact arrived back at the apartment. Clint winced at the fact that he was unprepared, trying to make it seem like he wasn't a threat. "I'm not here to hurt you-"

Clint's eyes widened as the brunette in front of him swung the field hockey stick in her hands. It was only years of honing his instincts sharper than a knife that allowed him to dodge the blow. He rolled out of the way, dimly aware of the puppy yelping and bolting away, heading back to the bedroom where Clint had broken in to.

She was quick. And clearly had an attitude of swing first, ask questions later. Good.

Clint got to his feet, holding his hands up in surrender, taking a step back. He couldn't stop the amusement on his face if he tried, impressed despite himself.

Her voice was high pitched and clearly panicked, but Mackenzie was on her fight and clearly more pissed than scared that he was in there. "Okay, what the fuck is going on!? You stalk me at my job for three weeks, break into my apartment – who the fuck are you!?"

She swung her field hockey stick at him again a moment later. This time, Clint didn't move to dodge it. Instead, he grabbed the stick in midair, stopping it before it hit him. He raised an eyebrow at her, hiding his amusement that he was trying to hit her with a field hockey stick. The look of shock on her face was by far one of the most amusing reactions he had seen in a long time.

Clint had a feeling that he could come to like this girl.

"Look, my name is Clint Barton." Clint dropped the stick, keeping his distance as Mackenzie continued to glare at him. "I can explain this."

"Explain why you broke into my apartment after you've been spying on me for three weeks?!" she snapped, glaring across at him. Mackenzie's grip on the field hockey stick tightened enough that her knuckles went white.

His first impression of her as observant was proven correct with that one statement, and Clint managed to hold back a victorious grin as he nodded at her. "I thought you noticed me. You're even more observant than we thought you might be. That's good."

Mackenzie tightened her grasp on her field hockey stick, keeping it between him and her. Clint sighed, gesturing towards the kitchen table at the Chinese food cooling on it. "Can I explain at least?"

Clint had noticed that she went to that place at least once a week. He couldn't blame her for that; it was the best Chinese food he had ever gotten outside Chinatown or China itself. "That's the peace offering for breaking into your apartment," he mentioned.

The growl from her stomach a few moments later confirmed that she was in fact hungry. Considering how much she had been running around at the p

Mackenzie lowered her field hockey stick, scowling at him. "Make it quick."

"How was it?"

Clint chuckled as he flopped down onto the bed in his hotel room, running a hand through his damp hair. "She tried to hit me with a field hockey stick."

There was a pause over the line for a few seconds, followed by a bell-like laugh. "I think I could like this girl."

Clint smirked slightly, thinking over whether it would be a good idea to tell Natasha now about his plan to take Mackenzie as her supervising officer immediately upon her recruitment. He didn't want to distract her while she was recovering from her gunshot wound, especially since she wouldn't be allowed to train, let alone go out on missions, for a few months at least.

No one wanted to take a risk with Natasha, not after the near fatal injury she had received at the hands of what was supposed to be a ghost story used to terrify newbies.

"She's got a lot of potential, Tasha," Clint admitted, sitting up on the bed as he glanced at the knife he was keeping on his bedside table. Some habits died hard. Others didn't die at all. "I think she could be a good agent."

"You do have a knack for picking out potential SHIELD agents from the oddest places," Natasha pointed out, her voice slurring a bit. Clint could only assume that Tori had upped Natasha's pain medication dose again. "How long until you think you're back?"

"A few days more, I think," Clint replied, sighing as he turned off the light. He was honestly exhausted, and decided that following Mackenzie tomorrow would not be a good idea. He would follow her from a distance tomorrow night, make sure she was okay. "I'm going to give her some time to think it over."

"Come back soon. I miss you."

Clint raised a brow, amusement crossing his gray eyes in the darkness. "How drugged are you on pain medication?"

"Far too much," Natasha muttered, the scowl on her face practically audible over the phone. "I think Tori's doing it on purpose."

"You and Roberts, always getting each other into trouble," Clint chuckled, trying to hold back a yawn.

In all honesty, he was beyond grateful that Natasha had managed to make friends with Tori when the doctor had been recruited into SHIELD about a year ago. Natasha had made leaps and bounds in SHIELD, but she had usually kept her interactions limited to Clint, Coulson, and Fury, Hill on occasion. Her friendship with Tori was a pleasant surprise, and there had been a part of Clint that was beyond proud when Natasha had mentioned going out for drinks with Tori and Hill at one point.

"I'm gonna go, okay?" Clint yawned, letting his eyes slowly slip shut as he grabbed the phone charger plugged into the outlet by the bed. "Just keep resting. I'm gonna need my partner back soon."

"Okay," Natasha agreed, and he smiled at the thought of how drugged up she must be at the moment. "Bye, Clint."

"I'll see you soon, Tasha." He hung up the phone and plugged it into the charging, chuckling softly.

Clint was asleep within minutes, dreaming of red hair and Russian accents and the brightest green eyes he had ever seen.

May 16, 2008

Clint had started packing his bags the next morning, not following Mackenzie on her morning run and other normal activities. He would be reporting to the Triskelion for a few meetings, and then would be going back to New York at long last. He just had to wait for Mackenzie's answer.

Clint did end up going to the bar, just to keep an eye on her. He waited until she had left work before going into the bathroom of the bar, leaving his bulky sweatshirt and Yankees baseball cap in the trash. Clint knew that he had to approach Mackenzie again, give her a chance to ask any questions that she might not have had the night before. He made his way outside the bar, frowning when he heard shouts and screams.

Clint froze for several seconds as his gray eyes adjusted to the darkness of the parking lot. His eyes narrowed when he heard the shouting, recognizing the frantic voice as Mackenzie's instantly. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.

He acted the second after he caught the glint of a gun at Mackenzie's temple.

Clint bolted, crossing the parking lot quickly as he slammed into the man attacking Mackenzie. The gun went off seconds later, shattering the windshield of Mackenzie's car. Clint and the man tumbled to the ground as Mackenzie collapsed against her car.

Clint flipped himself to his feet instantly, sending himself in a sharp kick at the man's ribs. A grim smile crossed his face when he heard and felt the cracks of his ribs. A part of him wanted to yell for Mackenzie to run, but Clint instead focused on fighting the man who had been trying to kill her.

Someone, some enemy of SHIELD, had realized that they were interested in recruiting her, and had tried to kill her to stop that from happening. His protective instincts went into overdrive instantly. She was his recruit, dammit.

Clint dodged a punch from the man first, twisting and sending a kick slamming into his thigh. This agent was about as mediocre as it could get, and whoever had sent him to kill Mackenzie had not expected for Clint to still be around. If they did, they would have sent someone with the half a brain to know not to try and kill her outside of a crowded bar.

He slammed a fist forward, knuckles connecting with the jaw of the assailant. The enemy agent dropped, unconscious, at Clint's feet. He breathed heavily for a few moments, catching his mind as he glanced over at Mackenzie, who was staring at him in a combination of amazement and horror.

"Are you alright?" Clint asked, stepping forward as he tried to put concern in his voice.

The college graduated was clearly entering a major panic attack. "Oh my God," she sobbed, her hands going to her temples. She looked like she was about to fall apart, and he couldn't blame her. This was more than she had probably bargained for.

Clint stepped forward, slipping his hands onto her shoulders to keep her standing. "Hey, look at me." Her hazel green eyes looked at him. "Mackenzie, look at me, look at me, stay awake! Stay with me-"

Mackenzie passed out a few seconds later, collapsing into his arms. "Shit!" he growled, readjusting her in his arms as he pulled her down, pulling his phone out in his other hand as he pressed the first speed dial, careful to support her head and not jostle her any more than needed.

Clint sighed as he glanced back down at her, biting his lip as he finally was put through to the Triskelion, which was barely a twenty minute ride from here. "This is Agent Clint Barton, I need immediate backup and assistance at the following address…"

The reinforcements from the Triskelion arrived in a record amount of time.

Sitwell had lead the reinforcements, explaining to Clint that he had been in a meeting with Alexander Pierce when Clint had sent the call in for reinforcement. There had been shock waves shot through the response team sent when they discovered that the man who had tried to kill Mackenzie Donahue had been a HYDRA agent.

The archer sighed as he looked around, glancing towards the ambulance a bit away from the main action. Mackenzie sat on it, a blanket curled around her shoulders, looking around the scene with wide eyes. Clint made his way over, swallowing when he saw her jump slightly at his approach.

"He's been taking into custody," Clint assured Mackenzie as he sat down next to her, keeping an eye on how she seemed to be handling everything. He knew that the action around them had to be overwhelming to a girl who had been completely normal two days earlier. "You're safe."

"He was going to kill me." Mack's tone was almost one of acceptance, as if it was getting through her head that she had nearly been killed.

"He got close," the archer admitted, noticing that she seemed to be grateful for the honest that he was giving her.

"I got lucky," she whispered.

"Some people don't," Clint admitted, thinking over what he should say at the moment. He didn't want to scare her, but lying to her was the exact wrong choice at the moment. "A lot of people go into this situation, and they don't make it out alive."

"I don't want to be that scared again," she said, her voice shaking like a leaf.

Clint just watched her, gray eyes narrowed in concentration as he watched the girl shake underneath the blanket. He could see the indecision in her eyes, and wondered if it had been the right choice to drag her into this. He had offered her the position barely a day before, and she had already nearly died because of SHIELD.

He knew that if he brought Mackenzie Donahue into SHIELD, he would be destroying who she was now. Clint would be turning her into a SHIELD agent. He would be the one training her, breaking her down and building her back up as an agent of SHIELD.

"If I join you, can you make that happen?" she demanded, turning to look at him almost desperately.

He didn't reply for a few moments. "I can't promise you won't be scared again, even if you join SHIELD," Clint admitted, keeping to his policy of honesty to her. "But I can promise you that you can learn to fight back. I can teach you how to stop these people from doing this to others. You can do something, make a difference."

Clint stood when he noticed Sitwell waving him over. He squeezed Mackenzie's shoulder gently. "I'll check on you tomorrow morning. Okay? Just get some rest tonight. We'll keep a guard on you. You'll be safe."

Clint walked away from her, leaving her alone for now. She needed some space and time to process everything that was going on in her life. At the moment, he had no idea what she was going to do. He wouldn't blame her if she decided she wanted nothing to do with this. HYDRA would leave her alone after that, he hoped.

"Barton."

Clint kept facing away from her, and he didn't need to hear the next two words she said to know what her decision was. She had shown she had a strong personality before this, and he should have realized it wouldn't have taken her long to decide what to do. Clint Barton had made his choice to offer her a chance in SHIELD. Mackenzie Donahue was making the choice to accept his offer.

Clint could only hope that neither of them would regret it.

"I'm in."

Author's Note: This chapter was pretty much the first chapter of Bohemia from Clint's point of view, along with a look at what else went into Mack's recruitment. The next chapter will take a while to get up, since Potential is not a priority when compared to Idiosyncrasy. But beyond that, I hope you guys enjoyed this!

The main point of views in this story are going to be Mack, Clint, and Natasha, so don't worry, you guys are going to get a lot of Clintasha in this. :D I hope you guys will like this, and please check on Idiosyncrasy and Bohemia, since Idiosyncrasy's first chapter was also just posted, and the last chapter of Bohemia was also posted.

Chapter 2 – SHIELD
"Listen to me, Donahue. Everything that you knew? That's gone. This is a brand new world for you, and I promise you, you are not going to get through this training without breaking a bit."