Disclaimer: I own nothing :(

Author's Note: Well I'm still alive lol I just want to apologise to all you readers who have been waiting patiently for this story. As it usually does, life had gotten in the way of my ability to write, between health issues, family problems and finding out I would be out of a job a few weeks before Christmas has made it very hard to concentrate on anything lately. So I hope you all forgive me ;)

Summary: After a nasty run in with a new recruit, Clint is given the opportunity to show why he is given free rein of the SHIELD base by competing on the new parkour course.

Massive thanks to my beta DevinBourdain; as always!

This story was suggested by kimbee and will be 5 chapters long.

Enjoy!

"Forgiveness has nothing to do with absolving a criminal of his crime. It has everything to do with relieving oneself of the burden of being a victim-letting go of the pain and transforming oneself from victim to survivor."
― C.R. Strahan

"Clint, can you please stop doing that?" Molly stated with a hint of exasperation as the teen continued tossing scraps of paper into the trash can on the opposite side of the small briefing room. If she wasn't so worried about the sixteen year olds unfocused and restless attitude over the past few days, she might have been impressed at how he'd managed to get every piece of paper to drop out of sight and into the small can from the angle he was sitting.

"Sorry Molly." Leaning back in his chair, Clint stretched his arms behind his head and twisted his neck from side to side, trying to work out the kinks from sitting in one position for so long.

The tutor put down the file she was reading over and studied the blond in front of her. He was careful to avoid eye contact but she was sure she'd noticed his lips quirk upward before it was carefully hidden. She almost thought she'd imagined it. Molly's eyes drifted down to the test paper in front of the teen. "What's wrong? Do you need a hand with one of the questions?"

Clint shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "Nope. Finished it ages ago."

Molly gaped at him. "Why didn't you say so? I could've started marking it up already."

"Didn't want you giving me more work to do." Barton laughed at the older woman's glare, pushing the finished test paper toward her waiting hands.

"Go then smart ass. Get out of here before I do give you something else to do."

Clint was out of the chair, bag slung over his shoulder and standing at the door in a flash. He shot a grin over his shoulder. "Bye Molly." He chuckled as a scrunched up bit of paper was hurled towards his head, though it missed spectacularly. The teen could hear the muffled grumble from his tutor, about wishing she had the perfect aim, as the door clicked shut. He sighed in relief that he was finally finished for the weekend. No more tests, no more homework, just him and his dad celebrating Clint's seventeenth birthday. He'd never admit to Molly how much he still enjoyed learning everything she taught him; his thirst for knowledge was just as strong as it had been in the beginning. Yet he did like having some time to himself, especially with his birthday falling on a weekend. He hoped they were going to go look at cars, the old banger he was currently using was on its last legs. It did the job of getting him from A to B, and while Clint had been over the moon to get any type of car, he was feeling much more confident in his abilities as a driver and hoped he could get something slightly newer this year.

Clint checked the time, wondering how much longer his dad was going to be. The agent had been loaded down with paperwork lately, more so than usual and knowing that the older man had chosen to give up being a field agent, for now, made the teen feel a little guilty about the headaches his dad had been complaining about recently. He decided he'd head up to his dad's office a little earlier to help him out if he could, or at the very least keep him company and forego his usual hour spent in the training gym. Then they could go home and relax, maybe order take out and settle in front of the television with a movie.

He was almost half way to his dad's office when he felt his phone vibrate. Fishing the cell phone out of his pocket, he swiped his finger across the screen. It was a message from Tommy asking if he was willing to drive over to see him once he got his new car. From the many conversations he and the younger boy shared, Tommy was aware that Clint's current car wouldn't be able to make the journey. Barton text back that he'd let him know as soon as he bought his new car, with Phil's help of course.

It took almost ten minutes to walk from the briefing room where he was tutored by Molly, to Phil's office on the other side of the base. With a soft tap, tap on the door, he waited for his dad to answer before entering. Clint had learned that particular lesson a few months back when he walked in without knocking and Phil had been in the middle of giving two recruits a thorough dressing down. Clint had backed out quickly with a mumbled apology.

"Come in."

Clint pushed the door open and headed towards the sofa in the corner of the large office, giving his dad a mock salute as he passed him by. He dropped his bag on to the floor beside the chair and flopped down on to the soft cushions with a sigh.

"You alright?" Phil asked, breaking the moment of silence.

"Yeah," the teen responded, as he reached for his bag and pulled out his game console. Turning back to his dad, he asked. "How long are you gonna be?"

"Not long," Phil promised, his attention turning to his phone when it started ringing.

Barton tuned out his dad's conversation and turned on his Nintendo DS. He was determined to get past the last level he'd been having difficulty with while he waited for Phil to finish his work.

Clint stretched back into the soft cushions of the sofa, chewing his bottom lip in concentration as he attempted to complete the task at hand. He pressed the buttons hard, probably harder than was strictly necessary for Mario to jump over the gaping hole and then bounce on top of the mushroom to finally finish the current level. A wave of satisfaction rushed over him as he waited for the next level to begin loading. A stifled snort had him looking away from the screen and raise an eyebrow at Phil, who was watching him with an amused expression.

"Having fun?" he asked with a knowing smile, while sorting the piles of paperwork into some semblance of order on his desk.

"Yeah, finally got past that level. You know how important it is for me to complete a challenge." Clint decided to save the game, seeing that his dad was putting everything into order and that meant they'd be leaving soon. He couldn't wait for this weekend; Phil still wouldn't tell him what he had planned for his seventeenth birthday, but if it was anything like his previous birthdays' with the agent, he knew he'd love it. Even after last year's fiasco, being knocked down and laid up for weeks before he was able to start physio and attempt to get himself back to his previous fitness, the teen had still had an amazing birthday and having his grandparents come to stay was had been the icing on the cake.

"Uh huh and what challenge would that be?"

"Tommy bet me I couldn't get past level ten by this weekend and guess what, it's just been completed," Clint bragged, blue eyes sparkling in delight. He couldn't wait to tell his younger cousin.

Chuckling, Phil pushed back his chair and stood, stretching his aching muscles and wincing as something cracked audibly. He saw Barton glance sharply towards him, worry clouding his features until he realised the older man was fine, just a little creaky.

Phil rubbed the sore spot near the bottom of his spine and sighed, he was getting too old. Everything seemed to be creaking lately, he was certain it never did that when he was out running missions and dodging bullets, or maybe this was the after effect of all those times, putting himself in danger and running for his life. It really was hazardous to one's health.

"I just have to check something with Nick before we go." Moving toward the door, the agent shot Clint an informed look, silently telling him not to snoop. He'd already caught the teen red handed a few weeks ago, flicking through some of the files Phil had left on his desk. The young archer had argued after Phil scolded him for the breach of privacy that he would know soon enough anyway and wanted to know what it was Phil had to do to organise a team to track down these individuals. The agent had tried not to let his varying emotions about the teen's future show on his features. He loved his boy more than anything, wanted him to be safe and happy, but at the same time, he knew when Clint joined SHIELD and became an agent, because that was a certainty, his responsibility as a father and of keeping the boy safe would become that much harder. The more the teen prodded the agent about his future within the agency, the clearer it became that Phil would have to resign himself to the fact that his son would become an agent of SHIELD. God help anyone that caused his son, harm because there would be nothing on this earth that would stop Coulson from unleashing his wrath on those responsible. It could be considered quite funny that someone usually so calm and collected could also have one of the worst tempers when provoked. You just had to know what buttons to push.

"Yeah, Yeah." Pulling his phone out of his pocket, Clint pretended to play around with it. Once Phil left the office, the door clicking shut in his wake, Barton slid his cell back into his pocket and wandered towards his dad's desk. He knew he shouldn't be doing this, he'd already gotten into trouble for snooping around some of the classified files, yet the way he saw it, he was going to find out about all of SHIELD's dirty little secrets eventually. He dropped on to the leather chair and started flicking through the files nearest the top. He counted ten files, all different thickness's, obviously some had more information than others, and each of them had a small profile picture clipped to the front. When Clint reached the forth file his eyes widened in surprise at the slightly blurred picture of what he thought looked like a teenage girl with bright red hair disappearing inside a large building. It seemed obvious that whoever had taken the picture hadn't much time before the girl had vanished from sight. The blond's eyes narrowed as he continued reading what SHIELD had on the girl. She was Russian, known as the Black Widow and had, according to their sources, almost twenty kills to her name already and hadn't reached fifteen yet. Swallowing down the sudden rise of nausea, the teen chewed anxiously on his lower lip as he continued reading. He was so engrossed in the file that he hadn't heard the door open or notice that his dad was right next to him until the file was pulled from his hands and slammed shut.