Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with Marvel. I just have fun with their characters.

A/N

I'm back!

I've have a crazy few months but somehow managed to find the time to finish Shades of Red and Black's sequel and so here it is. If you haven't already I would recommend reading that story first so things in this one will make more sense. Plus, who doesn't love Clint origin stories?

I can't express enough thanks to my beta, jaguarspot, for helping to make this story plausible and for telling me when something didn't make sense. And for encouraging me when I doubted what I'd written was good. Thank you jaguarspot! Any mistakes that remain are 100% mine.

As usual this story is complete, there are ten full chapters and a short epilogue that will be posted separately at the end. I plan on updating once per week like last time as one of the later chapters is still giving me some grief and I want to give myself time to sort it out. Once that's done I'll hopefully be able to update twice per week.

Also, for anyone who's interested, I'm cross posted on AO3 under the same username. The first story is up there already and this one will be going up there with the same updating schedule as it has here.

Also, this universe now has big AU elements but isn't exactly an AU. Thank you for that Age of Ultron.

Enjoy chapter one of Secrets and Spies!

Yesterday is not ours to recover, but tomorrow is ours to win or lose. Lyndon B. Johnston

Chapter 1: A New Life

It had been just over a day since Clint Barton, aka the deadly mercenary and world class assassin known as Hawkeye, had been brought into the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division, otherwise known as SHIELD.

Almost twenty-six hours had passed since he'd arrived back at the organisations main base in New York State along with Director Nick Fury and Agent Phil Coulson.

The first thing they'd done was assign Barton a room and issue him some clothes as he hadn't possessed any other than what he'd been wearing when he'd been arrested by cops in Spain. That done he'd been sent to bed as it was getting late and told they'd sort out the paperwork side of things in the morning.

Barton hadn't had many personal possessions with him when he'd been arrested; when they'd signed him out the prison had given Fury three wicked looking knives, two fake ID's (neither of which was in Barton's real name nor showed his real age) some French and Spanish euro's and a pair of dark purple sunglasses. Hawkeye's trademark bow and quiver were absent and Fury had no idea where they were as the kid wasn't talking. Fury was secretly glad they were absent as it had meant that no one at the prison had guessed who Barton really was. The fact that Hawkeye was such an enigma had frustrated Coulson no end when they were trying to find him but Fury was extremely grateful for that fact now.

Fury was waiting in his office for Barton to arrive; they were finally going to make a start on the paperwork surrounding his recruitment. Fury didn't handle new recruits if they came through the usual channels; he left that to the recruitment officers and trainers, it was what they were paid for after all and Fury had bigger problems to worry about than a bunch of idiotic kids who thought they had something to prove to the world.

However, Fury did try to make a point of handling the 'strays' that many of his officers had an unfortunate tendency to pick up. You didn't always know what you were getting with them and Fury liked to have a chance to assess them before they went into training, especially as most of them already possessed remarkable skill sets and were destined for specific positions within the organisation. Despite the fact that the council generally didn't like the strays in Fury's experience they often made the best agents and were the most loyal given the right motivation. Also, there was something about Barton that intrigued Fury beyond mere interest in his progress. He just had a gut feeling he should keep an eye on the kid and Fury hadn't ignored his gut feelings in years. The last time he'd ignored his gut feelings it had almost ended with him dead.

Fury was aware of Coulson and Barton outside his door before the knock came thanks to the one way glass. Fury barked his usual 'enter' but did look up as Barton closed the door without exposing his back to the room. Coulson had gone for now, he knew how Fury liked to do these things.

Barton was looking better, the bruises on his face were already fading and the cut on the side of his head no longer looked infected. The kid had been to medical last night and had had a quick check-up, he'd initially fought against been given antibiotics for the mild infection that was present but eventually medical had its way with them. It was abundantly clear that Phil's new 'stray' hated doctors and nurses and everyone else in that department with a vengeance. In the end Phil had stayed there with him to make sure he didn't bolt before they were finished checking him out, Nick was still somewhat surprised that had actually worked.

Standard recruitment procedure stated that all potential assets must be fully cleared by medical before they could officially enter training. This morning Barton had gone through the standard medical exam and in spite of his current injures had passed with flying colours, though he wasn't allowed to spar until his slight concussion was gone.

Barton was wearing SHIELD issued black cargo pants and a black t-shirt with a high collar that covering enough of his neck so that the nasty scar Fury knew he had there was hidden. His eyes were still darting everywhere suspiciously and he was really jumpy, Fury wished the kid would calm down but realistically he knew it wasn't going to happen for a while, if ever. Hyper-awareness was a fairly common sniper trait, one that even Phil still exhibited sometimes, amplified in Barton's case by his time spent as an assassin. Barton hadn't been in Fury's office before now, but the way he looked long and hard around the room left Fury in no doubts that he had the layout memorised within the first minute of been inside. Those eyes gave the impression of missing nothing.

Fury was the first to break the silence and nodded at the seat across from him.

"Recruit Barton, please take a seat."

Clint froze. His back would be to the door if he did that, anyone could sneak up on him and he wouldn't be able to see them. Because of his hearing aids Clint didn't always hear things that happened behind him and so preferred to rely on his eyes whenever he could, he liked to keep his distance for a very good reason. He hadn't sat with his back to a door by choice in years and didn't plan to start now.

Fury looked up at him again after a moment of silence and spoke in a slightly softer tone. He'd had plenty of experience with 'strays' before (best that you don't ask) and the last thing you did was make them feel threatened at such an early stage in their training, not if you didn't want it to end badly. And especially not if you wanted to gain their trust and make them want to stay and do their best for you. In Fury's experience trust was the key to working with any agent but he maintained that it often had to be earned; it was not something that was simply given. And Barton didn't have a single good reason to trust anyone as far as he could throw (or shoot) them at this point.

"Relax Barton; no one is going to come through that door without knocking first, and if they have any sense of self-preservation they'll wait for me to give permission before they do. That's providing someone has the courage to actually want to come in here and disturb me in the first place."

Barton actually looked slightly amused at that, and somewhat encouraged Nick continued.

"I know your paranoia has saved your life, enabled you to live this long even, but you can relax now, you're safe here, I know that you don't believe me but I won't let anything happen to you while you are in my office at least. Now sit down so we can get started on all this paperwork."

Fury gestured to the second largest pile on his desk, and Barton's face fell at the sight of it. Fury then went back to reading the document he was holding as he waited for the kid to make up his mind about where to sit, never let it be said that Fury wasn't a patient man when he wanted to be.

Clint still dithered for a few moments, before slowly sitting down in the chair, angling it slightly so he could see the door in his peripheral vision. He then stared unblinkingly at Fury, waiting for what came next.

The younger man's gaze was really intense, but Nick ignored it as he handed him a stack of paper and a pen.

"This is just the introduction to certify you know what you are getting into, what will be expected of you, and the like. By coming here with Coulson and myself you've already basically agreed to it but we need a signature to make it all official and legally binding, verbal agreement isn't enough. Feel free to read it if you want to, it's not that long and will answer some of the questions I'm sure you have about all this."

Clint lowered his head and started reading without a word. He knew how to read, he'd learnt the basics when he still went to school and then during his circus days Elena the acrobat had taken a real shine to him and taught him how to read properly alongside her daughter, Molly. Clint had enjoyed that, the books Elena had were way more interesting than anything he'd ever been allowed to read in all the schools he'd been to.

As he read what would be expected of him here at SHIELD Clint's heart sunk. Despite being able to read fairly well his other academic skills were virtually non-existent. He did know where most European and Asian countries were located and the capitals of the majority of them from his time as an assassin. He was also vaguely aware of world politics as knowing who was pissed off with whom let him know where the best place to look for work was and helped to ensure he would get paid. He also spoke a number of European and Asian languages with varying levels of fluency. Clint actually loved to learn but his opportunities up until now to learn academically had been severely limited.

A rational part of Clint's brain said he should tell Fury that right now but the part that insisted he never show weakness in any form to anyone was even more insistent he keep this to himself. So Clint dithered, unsure what to do, as he tried to make up his mind what to tell the Director.

Fury continued working but after a while he looked up at the younger man with a narrowed eye. He was staring at one piece of paper and his lips were silently moving but his eyes weren't. He'd been staring at that same sheet of paper for a while now and Fury suddenly felt a stab of suspicion. It shouldn't take anyone that long to read a few pages.

"Barton, can you actually read what's written on that page?"

The kid looked up with a start at the question.

"I can read, I'm not that stupid. I know what it says."

"Why is it taking you so long to read it then?"

In spite of his instincts screaming at him not to show any weakness that could be exploited Clint figured he might as well give Fury the option to fire him now; otherwise the man would probably figure out the problem on his own and fire Clint later.

"My other academic skills aren't that strong, sir."

Realisation dawned at those words and Fury felt like hitting something or someone, preferably a member of the World Security Council or that asshole Tony Stark. He kept his face impassive however; Fury knew that showing anger in front of Barton wouldn't end well for either of them.

"Barton, when was the last time you went to school? Really went to school to learn, not just attended or pretended to?"

The boy hesitated, chewing his lower lip frantically. Finally he replied hesitantly, not looking Nick in the eye.

"When I was about eight or nine I think. But I can read; that's not the problem."

"What is then?"

Clint realised he had no choice but to tell Fury the truth now; if they were going to kick him out or send him back to prison putting off telling anyone the truth wouldn't stop them. It would only make them madder; Clint had learnt that lesson a long time ago.

"I'm not exactly a scholar, I haven't gone to school since I was ten and even then I didn't pay much attention to maths and stuff, it was always really boring."

Fury sighed, for real, as realisation finally dawned. He really shouldn't be that surprised by this, or by the fact that Barton had tried to hide he didn't have many academic skills. Fury knew better than most that in his profession showing weakness in any form was a bad idea and could get you killed. What Barton didn't know was that he wasn't the first case that had needed higher qualifications upon joining SHIELD and unfortunately was unlikely to be the last. At least he could read which was more than several people he could name had been able to do at intake. His lack of education in other areas wasn't a big deal; it just meant more paperwork.

"How did you manage to get into the army? I presume there was some sort of academic or literacy test?"

"They were short on numbers, and no one asked any difficult questions or looked too closely at the paperwork I gave them. They were just glad to have someone willing to sign on."

That didn't surprise Fury in the least; he'd experienced enough of the grey side of military tactics during his own army career to know that many recruitment officers skirted both the black and the white of the law to satisfy their superiors when it came to recruitment. Fury sat there for a moment or two staring in contemplative silence at the ex-sniper and not so ex-assassin, who stared right back with a clear challenge in his blue eyes.

Fury hadn't dealt with people for years for nothing however; he was a spy for Pete's sake and knew how to read someone when they were putting on a mask. In spite of his bravado act the kid was genuinely scared now that Fury knew about his prime weakness; an almost complete lack of any formal education. Fury looked away after a long moment and started typing on his computer, explaining to Barton what he was doing.

"You are going to have to take the GED test. A lot of our agents have a college degree, I don't expect that from you at this point but you have to have some form of higher education. It's a requirement to work with us. I'll have a tutor assigned to you; they will help you learn what you need for the exams. It's no big deal, nothing that can't be fixed, but I'm afraid you won't have active agent status with us or be allowed to officially enter our training program until you've completed your GED and passed the exams."

Barton said nothing as his eyes flickered between Fury and the desktop, he was still very apprehensive and his body was as tense as a bowstring, pun intended.

Fury finished typing and leant back in his chair as he looked across his desk at the archer, ignoring his threatening body language. Fury idly wondered if at some point in the kids' life someone had taken advantage of his lack of education and hurt him, physically or otherwise. There had to be some reason he was in total defence mode. Most people didn't react with this level of hostility to something as small as this. Still, Fury mused, most people weren't world-renowned lethal assassins.

"So we can both get through this as fast as possible because believe me, I hate paperwork more than anyone else on this base, if you'll like we can go through this paperwork together. Until we sort your education out the only part of this paperwork we can really fill in is the personal details and preferences, along with a few other things, previous employment, reasons for joining, stuff like that. Don't worry," Fury added as he saw Barton start at the last bit, "it only has to be general information at this point, nothing in depth will go into your file that you don't want there. I will have an in depth file on you of course, I do one on everyone, but that will be hard copy only and locked away where only I can access it. It's for your own protection; nothing that could potentially compromise you will be put in your accessible file. I do that for all special assets and those working deep undercover."

Barton looked confused.

"Special assets?"

"Those people who already have remarkable skills when they join us. They are often hand-picked from their disciplines and jobs for the specific skill sets they possess, much like you were, and often have huge gaps in their learning that we have to fill in to turn them into more effective operatives."

Barton relaxed slightly at that, and after hesitating a moment slowly nodded as he lost some of his threatening demeanour.

"Okay, that makes sense I suppose. Where do we start then?"

That was a very good question. Fury quickly glanced through the files in front of him.

"Maybe we could start with your date-of-birth, your real date of birth, as in light of previous experiences I don't feel that I can trust much of what your army file says anymore."

Clint smirked at that, this Fury guy was smart and apparently possessed a sense of humour, which was a nice change from his previous superior officers.

"I was born on October 16th, 1978."

Fury gave him a raised eyebrow and a sceptical look. He hadn't said anything, and after glaring at the man for a while, Clint crumbled.

"What? It's the truth. That is when I was born. At least, that is what I was always told was my birth date."

Fury made a note in the file and nodded.

"Okay."

Sitting back comfortably in the chair, Clint answered the rest of Fury's questions without too much hesitation. They were fairly easy, and Fury knew heaps about him already. It was disconcerting to say the least. He didn't know everything however, and Clint wasn't about to tell him about the important bits he'd missed. He'd only just gotten out of prison thank you very much, and was in no hurry to go back anytime soon.

Fury wrote down Barton's answers to the questions he asked without making him expand on them, he knew a 'yes' or 'no' was likely the only answer he'd be given to a lot of the questions at this point and was secretly glad the kid was willing to give him that much. He also noticed that though he seemed to be answering Fury's questions willingly enough the archer didn't relax or let his guard down once the whole time he was in Fury's office, he was on constant alert. Oh yes, Barton was going to be fun; Phil didn't have a clue what was about to come his way.

"You want me to be Barton's tutor? Why me?"

"Because Phil, you wanted to bring the kid in, I don't expect you to now leave all the hard work to me, I had enough of that with you and besides, I'm too busy. Barton already opened up slightly to you when we were in the prison and stayed in medical last night purely because you were there so rather than appoint somebody else to be his tutor and complicate matters further it would be easier if you were to do this. You knew he would be a lot of work when you insisted in bringing him on board Phil, as I recall you said as much to me yourself at the time."

Phil sat slumped in the chair in his office, digesting what Fury had just told him. Yes, he had known what he was doing when he'd insisted on bringing Barton in instead of taking him out in Tokyo the first time but he hadn't known the kid didn't have any formal education, nothing he'd read in the army file had even hinted at that. But then Phil was starting to find out that not everything in Barton's file could be trusted, it seemed to be made up of opinions and half-truths.

"So to re-cap, just so I understand this right. The kid isn't even twenty years old yet, formal education ended in like the third grade, he didn't stop being defensive the whole time he was in your office, and we don't know how much of his military file is a lie. Not to mention the whole issue with him being deaf which we found out about at the prison and means more complications on top of complications. What did I let myself in for?"

Fury smirked; there was a dangerous gleam in his eye that Phil failed to see, not that it would have changed anything if he had seen it.

"If you'd known all this up front would you have still insisted on saving him?"

Phil's answer was immediate and punctuated with definite anger.

"He's still got the skills to be an amazing asset for SHIELD; it wouldn't have changed anything."

Fury smiled his I-know-all-the-information-you're-not-telling-me smile. It was unnerving, that smile, even more unnerving than Fury's scowl. At least a scowl meant Fury was mad, a smile could literally mean anything.

"So, you'll do it?"

"Yes, I still stand by my decision and I'll face the fall-out. Barton has too much potential for us not to do all we can for him. Where is he now by the way?"

"Last check I think he was heading towards the mess hall, I told him they had snacks there. You might want to show him around the base, he would probably like to see the shooting ranges and the gyms. You might want to introduce him to Wilkinson as well; Shelley won't be back on base for another few days which should give his concussion time to go before he starts sparring. As soon as he's completely cleared by medical he'll enter regular recruit training here for a month or so until his initial evaluation period is over and he's got his GED certificate. Until then we can evaluate his shooting skills, see if he really is as good as his reputation and the shooting scores in his military file say he is."

"We don't have any bows on base and I haven't had time to order one in. He didn't have his with him and so far hasn't said anything about it. We could use guns I suppose; he's had basic training in firearms from the army and is a crack shot with a sniper rifle."

"I'll leave it with you then Phil, good luck. By the way, May performed brilliantly leading that mission in Istanbul, they should be back at base early tomorrow morning but I thought I'd tell you that now."

Phil practically beamed.

"Thanks boss, I knew the first time I saw her in action that she was wasted working for the CIA. She has the potential to do so much more."

"Just because you were right with her doesn't mean this one will work out as well Phil. Barton and May come from very different backgrounds and are very different people. Keep that in mind soldier."

Phil nodded, realising that Fury was trying to help him in his own unique way.

"Thanks, I will Nick."

Clint was sipping a chocolate milkshake as he sat at a table in a back corner of the mess hall; he'd positioned his chair in such a way that let his back lean against the wall where he could observe everything that happened in the room without worrying about what went on behind him. His eyes had already noted all the entrances and exits there were available by habit, and he'd made sure where he sat didn't compromise his ability to get out fast if he had to. Clint's sharp eyes took in everything that happened and assessed for threats (not that many people were here at this time of day and those who were largely ignored him) even as his mind was focused on other things.

He was still trying to make sense of everything that had happened to him over the last few days. He'd felt very apprehensive this morning when Fury had discovered he didn't have much formal education, he was worried that would mean he would be kicked out, and, ignoring the fact that he didn't like it here, his only other option was prison and given the choice SHIELD certainly seemed like the lesser of two evils. At least here he wasn't locked up in what amounted to a concrete cage like he had been for the last few days.

Fury, however, hadn't done any of the things Clint had been expecting, including taking advantage of Clint's lack of education by calling him stupid or uneducated. He'd simply informed Clint that he'd have to take a GED exam and said he'd appoint someone to tutor him for it. Still, if they really were serious about wanting him to work for them it made sense they'd want him educated so Clint didn't read into it too much.

He apparently wouldn't be able to officially enter training to become an agent of SHIELD until that was done, but Fury had treated the matter like it was no big deal and could be fixed fairly easily. These guys were certainly something else. But Clint still didn't trust them, they wanted him to but any time in the past he'd trusted someone or opened up his heart to them he'd been let down, betrayed or left for dead. Once it had even been all three. Clint wasn't about to let anything like that happen again if he could help it.

Clint's thoughts were rudely interrupted by the sight of Agent Phil Coulson striding into the mess hall and making a bee line for Clint's table without appearing to even look for him. Clint watched him with narrowed eyes, ready to retreat if necessary; realistically he knew the action was futile and Coulson was unlikely to be here to do him harm but habits that were almost as old as he was still held and he had his escape route mapped out before Coulson was halfway across the room. Coulson's body language wasn't threatening however and as soon as he got closer Clint saw he was wearing a genuine looking smile. Not that that was very reassuring, plenty of people had smiled pleasantly just before they did something really nasty to Clint. He'd learnt when he was still a small kid that smiles couldn't be trusted.

Phil stopped a couple of feet away from the table that Barton was sitting at so he didn't feel cornered and smiled kindly at him.

"You almost finished here?"

Clint nodded, immediately suspicious.

"Yes. Why?"

"Because I would like to do your firearms evaluation now so we know where you're up to with it when medical fully clears you to enter regular training."

Clint scowled.

"I'm fine now."

Coulson grinned as Clint tensed up and glared at him.

"Rule one Barton; around here you don't question what the doctors say. They are famous for being harder core than even our most infamous field agents and as they always know best the safest course of action is to do whatever they say regarding injuries if you don't want to wake up drugged in medical."

There was a challenging look in the kid's eye at that.

"I don't follow orders."

If his military file was to be believed that was very true. Mind you, having had his share of military experiences in the past Phil was sure at least some of the orders Barton had received were indeed better off being ignored. SHIELD wasn't like that; they expected their agents to say so if they didn't like something in the order they were given and everything they said was listened to; but Phil decided the safest course of action in this scenario was to change the subject as he didn't want to start an argument with Barton about all this right now. Time alone would show Barton that SHIELD was different to his past experiences.

"We can talk about that later, right now the range is waiting. You ready to go shoot something?"

Barton nodded immediately, an almost unholy gleam in his eye; and like that the subject of medical was dropped. For now at least, Phil knew full well this discussion was far from over but it could wait for another day. Barton got up and threw his cup at the nearest bin without even bothering to look where he was aiming, it landed squarely right in the middle of the bin and after looking to see where it had landed the kid smirked. Phil just rolled his eyes, not showing Barton just how impressed he was.

"Come on, I want to see if your aim is that good on a proper range with proper weaponry. Anyone can throw a cup into a bin when they're sitting less than five metres away from it."

Darryl Wilkinson, the Range Master of SHIELD's New York Base, had heard about the new sniper that had joined them, pretty much everyone on base had by this point, but no one he'd spoken to had actually met him yet. The lab specialists were just finishing up their weekly firearms lesson when he got a text from Coulson asking if the range was free. One of the requirements of SHIELD was that all its members attain a fair level of proficiency with at least one weapon of their choice. That extended to secretaries, lab workers, doctors and everyone else on base, no exceptions were given; though they were allowed to choose the weapon they wanted to use most went with standard issue hand guns. There were group lessons on handling firearms two to three times a week, and it was expected that every person would attend at least one lesson per week. The active field agents tended to use one of the many smaller ranges that were scattered around the base to practice shooting undisturbed when they wanted to as the main range that Wilkinson was in charge of saw a fair bit of traffic. Coulson's message stated he wanted the range empty, and five minutes later Wilkinson had made sure it was.

Clint followed Coulson onto the range. The place was designed to be impressive, with the targets lined up along one wall varying in distance and spacing with the rest of the range being given up to tables and weapon racks. It was all very professional, even more professional than the army's ranges had been. Often all you got there was an open desert and a bit of board. Even in training the facilities he was given to work with hadn't been this fancy.

A short athletic looking man with dark hair that was starting to thin on top was standing by a table holding several different types of hand guns; as soon as they entered he straightened up and greeted Coulson cheerfully. Coulson returned the greeting, clasping his hand in greeting, before turning to Clint.

"Barton, this is Agent Wilkinson. He's the range master of this base, nothing happens here without his say so. Wilkinson, this is Clint Barton. He's here to train as a long distance operative."

Wilkinson nodded in greeting and extended a hand which was ignored. Wilkinson, who wasn't easily offended, took the hint and withdrew his hand.

"Hallo Barton. Long distance operative hah? I don't believe we've had one of them since I joined SHIELD going on what must be twenty years ago now. We have snipers, sure, lots of snipers and they have always done what's needed. But to have someone whose specialty is for long range, that's certainly a first for me. Are you much of a shot?"

Barton glared at him. If looks could kill Wilkinson would have dropped dead at their feet.

"The best there is. I don't miss."

Wilkinson chuckled in spite of the glare, the kid had fire in him and Wilkinson could appreciate that. It made a nice change to the newbie's who were often too scared to even pick up a gun. How they'd managed to get in often baffled Wilkinson, though since the Academy was in operation the number of idiots he had to deal with directly had thankfully dropped significantly. There was still the odd one who slipped through but overall the hopeless ones were weeded out by the time he had to deal with them.

"Show me then, don't bite my head off, prove it kid."

"I'm not a kid."

Wilkinson nodded.

"Okay than, I won't call you that again if you don't like it but I can't say the same for anyone else. You'll likely have a lot of people questioning you and your talents and calling you a kid because you seriously don't look old enough to vote yet, let alone be an agent. The best thing you can do is prove your words are right by your actions and they'll leave you alone. What type of gun would you like? You can use any on the table. What types have you used before?"

Clint ignored Wilkinson as he examined the assembled collection of guns so Wilkinson looked at Phil in a silent question.

"He's a trained sniper. Was with the army and underwent basic training in other firearms."

Wilkinson nodded.

"Okay, that's good to know; obviously sniper rifles aren't going to be a problem then. What about hand guns? Have you ever used those?"

This question was addressed directly to Clint who nodded slowly as he examined the weapons spread out on the table in front of him, running his figure carefully over each one.

"Did some training with them in the army and I do know how to use pistols."

"I'm sure you do."

Clint glared at Wilkinson, who held his hands out as a sign of peace.

"Hey, if you talk to people with that tone of voice you are likely to get a negative reaction from them, I'm pretty tolerant and hard to offend but not many are around here and most won't take kindly to that attitude."

Barton's glare was starting to make Wilkinson feel uncomfortable, which was saying something seeing as he regularly dealt with snipers and was famous around SHIELD for treating all the weapons under his care like his children. This reputation may or may not be due to rumours of an incident that happened over ten years ago that may or may not have involved a gun smuggler and his blatant abuse of the weapons in his possession. Wilkinson never said anything about it to anyone and everyone knew it was best not to ask for details. After all, the man was the weapons master on one of the main SHIELD bases for one reason; he was very good with guns and wasn't afraid to use them.

Seeing Barton didn't appear to be going to do anything anytime soon but look at the weapons Wilkinson gestured to the table which held the hand guns the specialists had finished with.

"Want to show me just how good you are at shooting then Barton?"

The kid hadn't been joking or even bragging when he said he was the best shot there was. Half an hour later and he'd smashed whatever record had previously existed at SHIELD involving accuracy with guns and set a new one that he then proceeded to beat again. Wilkinson and Coulson both watched without a word, Wilkinson with his mouth literally hanging open and Coulson with slightly raised eyebrows, somewhat impressed. Barton really was that good. He had blazed through all the handguns despite saying he didn't like them and was currently making impossible looking shots with a sniper rifle. Phil hadn't been sure about his military shooting scores as they'd seemed too good to be true, he realised now they were, if anything, woefully underrated. Barton was simply the best marksman Phil had ever seen.

Just then the door on Phil's right opened. Glancing at the newcomer Phil saw it was Johnson Hughes. Hughes was an old friend of Phil's from the army and Phil wasn't that surprised he was here now as they hadn't seen each other in well over a month, what with Phil being first in Tokyo, then Paris and then taking off to Louisiana with Fury, the last of which had captured the attention of a lot of people on base, not that anyone knew any details regarding the trip as they were all highly classified.

Spying Phil and the still awe struck Wilkinson standing together Hughes smiled and started walked over to him. Then he spied Barton, stopped dead in his tracks and simply stared, his eyes looking like they might fall out of his head.

Coulson did the same, without the goggling eyes. After a few minutes of staring, Hughes's feet carried him over to Coulson, and he finally found his tongue.

"Who is that?"

Phil grinned in pride.

"We've acquired a new sniper."

Wilkinson found his voice just then.

"Damn right we have. Where'd you find him exactly Coulson? He's unreal."

Hughes continued to stare, opening and shutting his mouth a few times in a fashion not that dissimilar to a goldfish before words finally came out again.

"Yes, where did you pick this one up? The rumour mill has it he's the mercenary know as Hawkeye. Is that true Coulsy?"

Wilkinson rolled his eyes at the nickname while Phil smirked.

"His recruitment is classified above your security clearance. Sorry Hughes."

"Aw, Phil, you wound me." Hughes pouted. "I'm only two levels below you. Come on, were did he come from?"

In spite of Hughes's pestering Phil wouldn't be budged.

"As I said before, for the moment his recruitment details are classified. Directors orders, sorry Hughes."

Wilkinson spoke up again when they'd finished speaking, his eyes still fixed on Barton and his shooting.

"I don't care where he came from. Damn, that kid can shoot."

Clint finished firing the last round of bullets, having long since gotten bored of bullseyes he had been making pictures in the targets instead. He felt another pair of eyes on him besides Coulson's and Wilkinson's, turning towards them he saw they were talking to a fair haired man who wasn't very tall, but was still taller than Clint, but then most people were taller than him so that wasn't anything new. He had apparently been talking with Coulson while Clint shot; Coulson saw Clint turn around and beckoned to him.

Clint replaced the gun and removed the safety gear he'd been wearing before he walked slowly towards the three men, watching the newcomer warily, even though nothing bad had happened here so far, Clint wasn't one for taking chances. The newcomer simply grinned at him; Clint inwardly smirked to see that Wilkinson was apparently in a state of shock over his shooting abilities. And that was with guns, if they thought that was impressive wait until they saw him with a bow.

Approaching the three men Clint was careful to keep Coulson between himself and the newcomer, not that that would do him much good if they decided to do anything to him. Coulson however just grinned at him before introducing the blonde man.

"Agent Johnson Hughes, one of our best field agents and an old mate of mine. Johnson, this is Clint Barton, our newest Agent-in-training."

Clint just nodded at Hughes.

"Hi."

Hughes had finally managed to form his thoughts coherently enough to speak.

"PA Barton, that was an incredible display, I don't think I've ever seen anyone do what you just did. Where did you learn to shoot like that?"

Clint just shrugged, careful not to meet anyone's eyes.

"You pick things up; I was a sniper in the army."

"It's like a circus act or something. All that fancy shooting, I'm not sure that even the best snipers I've met could have made those shots you just did. I think that I speak for everyone when I say this, welcome to SHIELD."

Clint wasn't sure what to make of Hughes, he seemed too jolly which was setting off all sorts of alarm bells in his head, so he just nodded again.

"Thanks."

"No problem."

Hughes was very cheerful as he slapped first Coulson then Wilkinson on the back companionably. He didn't attempt to touch Clint, for which he was very grateful; he'd probably have put Hughes on the floor if that had happened.

"I'd better be getting off now Coulson, Wilkinson, Barton. Things to do, people to see, places to go, as they say the wicked don't rest so neither should we. See you guys around."

Barton didn't say anything until after Hughes had left. Then he looked at Coulson.

"What now?"

It was Wilkinson who answered him.

"If you are finished shooting all the guns must be cleaned before they're put away. The rule here is that all weaponry must be kept immaculate at all times which means cleaning it thoroughly after every use, you use it you clean it. I've got time free now so I can run through anything you are unsure about, though being ex-military surely you know guns?"

Clint shrugged.

"Haven't been in the military for a while, and even then it was mostly the sniper rifles, haven't done much work with handguns ever."

Wilkinson nodded at that.

"Yeh, the army tends to be like that, specialises in one type of weapon per soldier, especially if you're a sniper. I personally think that's a bit ridiculous. What are you going to be training for again?"

Coulson spoke up when he noticed that Barton appeared to ignore the question.

"Barton's being brought on board to serve as a covert long distance operative, that's the prime objective of his training."

Wilkinson nodded.

"Righto, that's good to know. I don't think I can help much with your aim Barton, if anything I'm the one who needs to take lessons from you. You still need to work with the guns every day and gain more practice with using them, even the best Agents we have train constantly. You especially need more practice with the handguns as you obviously aren't as familiar with those."

"If you ever have any questions about anything you are more than welcome to ask, I get too many idiots through here who think they know it all and don't listen to those who actually have experience with guns and have been in combat until they shoot themselves in the foot, sometimes literally. In fact I might ask for your help sometime to bring the new recruits down a few pegs. Make them realize they are only small fish and the ocean is much bigger than their pond was."

Coulson rolled his eyes at that.

"The new recruits do tend to be a bunch of idiots. At least since Fury set up the new recruitment program we don't have to deal directly with the raw recruits anymore, the Academy does that quite successfully from what I've heard."

Barton was listening with a frown on his face.

"The Academy?"

"A special school for training agents so we don't have to do it on the main bases." Wilkinson explained. "The idea is they qualify there and even work from the Academy if needed. They often don't set foot on a working base until they've passed months of training and assessments. It's working really well."

Clint simply nodded, not interested enough or willing to push for more information at this point.

"Anyway," Wilkinson had mostly recovered from his initial shock over Clint's shooting abilities and was acting more like the trained SHIELD agent he was. "Enough of SHIELD gossip for now, have you finished or do you want to shoot some more? There are no classes scheduled for another half-hour, so no one should bother you of you wanted to practice some more."

Clint shook his head.

"Nah, guns get boring after a while. What I would like is a bow, that's my weapon of choice."

Wilkinson blinked.

"Sorry, I don't think I heard you right, did you say a bow? Like in a bow and arrows?"

"I said a bow."

The kids grin was almost predatory, Coulson noticed. Wilkinson just blinked and slowly nodded.

"Okay then, I've never had anyone express preference for using a bow before so we'll have to see about ordering one in. Any preferences regarding the type? I have to admit I don't know much about them."

"A recurve." Barton shrugged. "I had one but I lost it. I like the draw weight to be about 80 pounds."

Wilkinson blinked again.

"Okay, I'll see what I can do. It'll probably take a few days to order one though."

"I'm not planning on going anywhere."

Phil was very glad to hear those words, he knew he was taking a huge risk bringing Barton in and didn't need the kid to think of running away when he hadn't even been here for two days yet; he'd almost ended up with a tracking anklet as it was and they didn't need that rot. He'd only gotten out of it so far because Fury didn't like using them if they weren't absolutely necessary and the council didn't yet know about Barton. Phil was hoping they wouldn't kick up a stink when they did hear; he didn't need the shit storm of trouble that was likely to cause.

Phil left Barton to clean the guns and put them away under Wilkinson's watchful eye, telling him to meet him at the entrance to the outdoor training area when he was finished so he could finish showing him around the base. Barton had nodded silently at that before going with Wilkinson and Phil had left the range deep in thought.

Barton was good; his accuracy with guns was right off the charts. Phil was really looking forward to seeing him with a bow, if he was right in saying he was better with a bow than he was with the guns then he must really be something to watch.

End of Chapter 1

I can't take credit for the line 'the wicked don't rest so neither should we'. I got it from an episode of White Collar.

So, what do you think of the beginning of the adventure? Review and let me know please, I love reviews!