Coulson POV
I pushed down the twinge of sympathy at the lost look on the kid's face at the end of his psych test. I unlocked the handcuff and held out the crutches for him to take. Hawkeye sat there for a long moment, still lost in thought and staring off into face. I sighed and nudged his foot with the crutches. His whole body jerked and the blue eyes snapped up to me.
"Get up," I ordered, holding the crutches out again.
He stood, almost without realizing it, and accepted the crutches without so much as a glance. He followed me down the hall quietly and snorted at the flight of stairs.
"Since you aren't a level one agent yet, you aren't allowed on certain levels. Your range access is nonexistent-"
"What! You can't-" he interrupted.
"Until you've been cleared from physical therapy. Your bow is in my office; no one will touch it, not even me," I continued.
"That's bullshit!"
"Language," I scolded mildly.
The kid snorted and rolled his eyes.
"Physical therapy lasts for at least an hour each day. I'll have to go get your schedule made out in a minute. For now, you'll be staying here with other potential recruits. Try to make friends, Barton."
I waved a hand towards the open door. The kid leaned around me slightly and paled. I frowned and glanced inside. None of the recruits looked particularly mean and there were several free beds.
"I'm not staying here," he replied tightly, "I've got-"
"It doesn't matter if you have your own housing. All recruits live on base until they've passed all the tests and reached level one clearance. Find a bed. I'll be back in the morning," I told him.
He glared at me for a long moment, eyes filled somewhere between anger and fear, until I gave him a push towards the door. As soon as his back was to me, I grabbed one of the recruits near the door and pulled them outside.
"Sir?"
"Name."
"Grant Ward, sir."
"The kid with the crutches, make sure he doesn't leave this room."
"Yes sir."
I nodded and walked back up the stairs. Sitwell was waiting at the top of the stairs with a file in his hands.
"What's this?" I asked, accepting the file when he held it out towards me.
"Hawkeye's psych results. The kid barely passed, Phil. He's a walking -"
"He passed," I interrupted shortly.
"I suppose. Are you going to get his schedule?"
I nodded and held the file back out to Sitwell.
"Do me a favor?" I asked.
"Sure. What do you need?"
"Tomorrow I've got a meeting with Hill and Fury about him. Will you escort the kid to physical therapy?"
"Sure thing."
"Thanks."
Sitwell walked off and started down the hall reserved for the agents that worked in communications.
"Agent Harris," I greeted as I knocked once on her cubicle wall.
"Agent Coulson, what can I do for you?" She asked, closing up whatever she was working on.
"You do schedules for the new recruits, right?"
"Yes sir."
"We brought in a new recruit about six hours ago. Clint Barton. Could you make a class schedule for him, all basics and advanced shooting? Physical therapy before any classes."
"Two weeks for PT? And are you sure about the advanced shooting?"
"Two weeks, and I'm very sure. We may end up having to make the course harder for that kid. I'll need that schedule on my desk by the end of the day."
"Yes sir."
I left the communications wing and started up the stairs that led towards operations. I wasn't surprised to find Fury waiting in my office with his usual scowl in place.
"Seventeen? Hill tells me that Hawkeye is seventeen. And that he admitted to killing 150 people?"
"So it seems, sir. If I hadn't seen him in action myself, I wouldn't believe this was Hawkeye."
"Did you change the contract since he's not a legal adult?"
"We did sir."
"You okay with being his handler?"
"Of course. Better me than Agent Garrett considering he was the one that got shot."
"You were the one that shot Hawkeye. He's going to be a handful for you. Tomorrow we'll discuss this further and I want a full background on that kid, Coulson."
I nodded and swept out of my office. I sat down behind my desk and pulled up the file Sitwell emailed me on Hawkeye.
