Mary enjoyed her time at SHIELD. Despite her being on probation and a newbie being scrutinized by Fury and Coulson, (Coulson often referred to her as the hot-headed tiny demon, due to her fiery personality and lack of height,) she had fun hanging out with Clint and testing Richard's patience. Everyone was a lot more welcoming than back in Russia, so she was revelling in the simple joys of life. And food. The food was always amazing.

"Hey, Richie," she began one afternoon, poking a toothpick in and out of a Bunsen burner, "shouldn't you be in school?"

He casually switched the burner off, smirking slightly at her offended expression. "I graduated."

"Then shouldn't you be in college, smart-pants?" She retaliated by throwing the toothpick at the back of his head. 

"Graduated that too. Left High school at 15, did college as fast as possible and got myself here."

"Smarty-pants indeed." She had somehow gotten her hands on another toothpick and was sticking that in the flame again. Richard rolled his eyes, having given up. If she burnt her fingers, she burnt her fingers. Her problem, not his.

Mary didn't. Despite being a bit reckless, to say the least, she was still careful with the fire. She didn't stop until Richard began to put all his equipment away. "Wait where are you going?"

"My dad wants my brother and I to go out with him for dinner." He switched off the lights, grabbing the door handle. "Which means you need to come out. You're not allowed in here unsupervised."

"Ha, imagine having a family." Mary hopped off her usual seat on the benchtop and walked past Richard, laughing inwardly at his concerned face.

"You need to see a therapist," he said, locking the door behind them.

"Oh I know."

"SHIELD has some pretty good ones. I could take you."

Mary looked up from her nails sharply. "Oh no, just because I know I need one doesn't mean I'm going." She marched off to find Clint, leaving Richard there torn between bemused and humoured. "Hey Barton," she said casually as she walked into the gym. He gave her a wave from where he was on a treadmill.

"Where've you been?" He asked, slowing down the speed.

"Casually poking a toothpick in fire, much to Richard's annoyance. It was fun." She hoisted herself up on the chin-up bar and perched there, one leg on top of the other in an oddly elegant way. "How many miles so far?"

"4 and a half. Nearly there."

They talked for a long while, Clint eventually joining her on the bar next to her and hanging upside down like a bat. Clint was fun to talk to. He got her in a way that a lot of the agents didn't and she understood him. He often found himself belittled by the others, especially Johnson (ugh) and his friends for being a beanpole of a teenager and for being... well... a kid. Even though "the beanpole kid" had better aim and a belly-aching sense of humour that Johnson poopface could only dream of. Mary hated Johnson, to say the least. There was a whole rivalry between them, after Fury got mad at him for not considering that Mary getting into SHIELD had been her plan and for basically being a sucky agent. She had smirked at that, earning a would-be vicious scowl, if Johnson could actually appear threatening.

"Let's get food," Mary said suddenly, swinging off the bar gracefully. Clint followed, stopping when she walked away from the door.

"Where are you going?" He asked, watching as she unscrewed the vent.

"I am going to teach you how to successfully sneak around without getting caught. I call it 'Food Sneaking 101: by Mary Fitzpatrick.'"  She gave a playful smirk and slipped into the vent, beckoning for Clint to join her.

"What's the benefit of vents anyway? Ow." He rubbed his sandy head as he bumped it against the metal shaft.

Mary huffed, helping the teen up the tunnel. "One, no one can see you. 2, you don't run into anyone you don't like or have to end up socializing to anyone. 3, really awesome vantage points and 4, they help you escape a secret organization training young girls to be assassins."

Clint nodded. "Fair point."

They scrambled through the vents, giggling as they bumped knees and shushed each other. "Hey, come here." Mary pulled Clint next to her, pointing through the grate in front of them. "Look at Coulson."

The mentioned agent was sound asleep, slumped in his chair with his mouth wide open. A ginormous, almost inhumane snore emitted from him, earning a bark of laughter from Clint. Mary slapped a hand over his mouth, trying to stifle her own giggled as Phil woke up with a jolt. He looked around, reached inside his suit jacket to check his Captain America Vintage Trading Cards were safe and sound, then fell back asleep. Mary dragged Clint along, both of them holding their breaths until they were a safe distance away. Then they both broke down laughing, Clint clutching his side while Mary had tears streaming down her cheeks.

"I haven't laughed like this in ages!" Mary gasped, wiping at her face. "I'm saving that image in my mind and using it for blackmail later."

"Same," Clint laughed, trying to remember how to breathe. "Okay, I'm starved and I want food. Lead the way, oh great teacher!"

"Aye aye, Birdy!"

* * * * *

A week passed and Mary was starting to grow a bit bored. Well, a bit was an understatement. She was very bored. Richard hadn't let her into the lab the past few days because he was working on something 'top-secret' and 'no one was to know', so there went her big form of entertainment. Clint had started training with the other junior agents, so he was out for a lot of the day too. Mary just wandered around the library for ages on end, reading every book she could until the librarian shooed her out.

So she did what she did best. She grabbed the little CD player and CD with classical music and walked into the sparring room, put on the music, and walked to the centre of the mat. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and let the music flow through her. She didn't remember exactly what she did: all she knew was that she was dancing and that she felt far away. This was Mary's escapism. Moving across the floor, from attitude to arabesque, pose pirouettes across the room, her arms extending as she waltzed. This had always been her escape, for as long as she could remember. Leg extending in develope. This was her comfort. Pas de bourree pique, then into a chasse. Letting the music and the movement take her far away from the world into a world of her own. Tombe into a lame duck, then rond the leg around into crossie derriere. This was her peace.

"So this is what they taught you in little assassin school."

Mary jerked out of her zen and whirled to face Johnson, his putrid face twisted into a pathetic smirk. "Well it proved to be helpful," she snarked, turning off Chopin's Nocturne. "What do you want?"

It was then that Clint peeked out from behind him, his blue eyes concerned. "He challenged me to a spar."

"Oh, heck no are you doing that, he's going to smash you."

Clint gave her a hurt look. "Wow, thanks for your vote of confidence."

Mary sighed, rubbing her head. "I didn't mean it like that. You are a good fighter, but hand-to-hand isn't your strong suit. Like how archery isn't mine. And he's also an entire foot taller than you and stronger." She paused, side-eyeing the grown man. "If it makes you feel better, he's only asking you because he'd never defeat anyone else."

Johnson scoffed. "I could take you down any day."

"Prove it. Right here, right now. No weapons, just us." If there was anything she could do to stop Clint from being smashed to a pulp by this jerk, she would do it in a heartbeat. They stepped onto the mat, Mary standing calmly with her bare feet planted firmly on the floor. She looked at Johnson, with his white shirt several sizes to small in an attempt to make himself more intimidating and heavy cargo pants to her loose black shirt and shorts. "White goes first."

He swung at her, stumbling forwards as she stepped back. He went again but she dodged, giving him a small smirk. The third time he punched, she grabbed his outstretched arm and used that to help swing her legs up and around his neck. Her momentum brought them both crashing down, but she flipped off smoothly, pinning his arm in a painful position behind his back.

"Ow ow ow let go of me!" 

"Not until you tap the floor three times, pal."

After a short beat of pointless struggling, he finally slapped the floor, his face beet red. Mary let go and stepped back, earning a small fist bump from Clint. "If you ever face a graduated Widow out on the field," she said, folding her arms, "you can say your last goodbyes, 'cause you'd be dead in a heartbeat."

"They're just a bunch of sooky girls-"

"And one just took you down. That's my point, Johnson." She went to walk out the door, taking a sip of her drink bottle when Coulson appeared, his face dark.

"Boss wants a word with you and Johnson, in his office, now."

Mary stopped, keeping her face blank. Was she in trouble? Was Fury mad? What had she done to upset him? Was he going to kick her out? Or would he do worse, like back in the Red Room? Those thoughts spiralled through her mind and she, Coulson and Johnson marched to Fury's office. Richard was inside, tapping his fingers rapidly against his knee as he stared off blankly. Fury looked peeved about something and Richard looked like he was on the verge of an anxiety attack. The director looked up.

"Good. You're here." He placed his hands on his desk in steeple fingers, a stern glare in his eye. "Dr. Parker has some important research papers that have gone missing. Do either of you two know what happened to them?"

"What's the paper about?" Mary asked, having no clue what they were talking about.

"Top Secret," Fury and Richard replied.

"Ohhh, this must be the top secret thing you told me about. Got it,"

Fury whirled on Richard. "You told her about this !?"

Richard froze, stuttering. "No-I-I told her I-I-I had- I had something I was- I was working on- and- and she couldn't go in-"

"He didn't tell me anything, don't worry. He just told me I wasn't allowed in the lab." Mary watched out of the corner of her eye as Richard held his breath, almost waiting for Fury to serve the blow. To her surprise, he took it very calmly, nodding as he thought about the situation.

"I see. Johnson."

The agent snapped to attention.

"Do you know anything about this?"

He shook his head. "No, sir."

"Wait, so what's so bad about this going missing?" Mary asked, trying to grapple the situation.

Richard spoke up. "It's an incomplete idea, but the papers have important equations and formulae that if in the wrong hands could be used for destructive purposes. No one except Fury, Coulson and I know what it is."

Mary nodded. That made sense as to why they were panicking, the question was who had taken it? Her eyes scanned everyone in the room. Richard was still panicking and she could almost hear his thoughts, Coulson's eyes were narrowed as he thought about the list of suspects and Fury was scanning the room too. Their eyes met and he stared at her, almost as though he was seeing her soul. She looked away, looking at Johnson instead. He was the only unnatural one. He was oddly calm and collected, as though this was a daily occurrence. 

Fury sighed. "Until we get any more leads, Richard is our top subject." Richard's eyes widened with horror. "You will stay here until we solve this case."

"What about my family? They'll think something suspicious is up and they might put two-and-two together! I mean, my brother knows, but my dad doesn't-" Richard cut himself off, taking in a deep breath. "I- I'll figure something out."

Johnson cleared his throat, grabbing everyone's attention. "There is... another subject," he said, nodding in Mary's direction. She rolled her her eyes, shaking her head slightly. 

Richard cut in. "No, it wouldn't have been her. She hasn't been in for the past several days."

"She could easily have entered when you weren't there. She has been trained to be an assassin, after all."

Everyone went silent at that. Mary spoke first. "... he has a good point. Not that I did steal them," she added hurriedly when everyone gave her a sharp look.

Fury stood up. "Coulson, take Richard to his room. You're on guard duty for now. Meeting dismissed."

Mary watched as everyone turned to leave, rage burning up inside her as Coulson led Richard out. It wasn't fair that he was getting punished for something her hadn't done. "Wait! Fury, you can't be serious. Why would he steal his own papers?"

Fury looked up from where he had been writing. "Miss Fitzpatrick, I do not like it when people question my judgement-"

"Well your judgement is questionable! I mean, you saw how nervous he was the whole time 'cause this clearly means a lot to him, I know you did because I saw you surveying everyone, and yet you're still labelling him as a suspect!? That's just low-"

Fury stood up abruptly, cutting Mary off sharply. "You are pushing my patience, Fitzpatrick! LEAVE!"

Something switched in Mary, like a light going out. She went rigid, her hands firmly behind her back and her face blank. It was oddly petrifying, to see someone who was usually so energetic and passionate, expressing their opinions left right and centre transform into someone so regimented and devoid of life in the blink of an eye. Fury froze, realising what he'd done. His face softened and he opened his mouth to speak, but he didn't know what to say. He had forgotten just how much of a scarred and scared child Mary was.

"Yes sir." Her voice was sharper than a blade and she marched out, her face as emotionless as stone as she marched past Richard, past her room and into the yoga room where the windows were filling the room with warm sunlight. She just stood there, clenching her fists so they wouldn't shake.

The sun was warm. Like a hug. A hug of someone who had gone long before, but had come back to stroke her cheeks again with its warm touch. Its gentle breath on her face, long, delicate fingers creeping under her skin. The sun felt like home, like the wisps of long-forgotten memories of a mother's soothing touch, of the warmth that fills the soul when you laugh so hard you belly aches, of the peaceful spirit that fills the room as you lie at night, balanced on the sword's edge of sleep and awake. It was the music coursing through her as she danced, the way her heart soared when Clint gave her a fleeting hug like the little brother he was, the light in Richard's eyes as he he worked happily in his lab, the soft flavours of ice cream, the exhilarating feeling of tumbling and flipping through the air, the guide through new worlds in books. The sun was her friend. The sun was happiness.

They didn't have the sun in Russia. The windows were cold. Grey. Dark. Not warm and welcoming like here. Mary sighed, letting herself relax against the window. She was safe. She was okay.

"Mary?"

She opened her eyes slowly, watching as Clint stood timidly in the doorway. "Are you... okay?" he asked, not sure what to do.

"The sun is nice."

He nodded, understanding. He sat down next to her, resting his blonde head on her shoulder and took her hand. "I heard it all," he whispered. "I did what you taught me and watched from the vents." Mary gave a soft chuckle, relaxing as he ran his finger around in a circle on her palm. "Fury feels bad."

She turned to look at him. "Really?"

Clint nodded. "He didn't mean to scare you." They sat there, in the silence and protection of the sun. "He wouldn't hurt us."

"How do you know?"

"'Cause he isn't like my dad."

Mary nodded, playing his fingers gently. She had always wanted a little brother. For a second her mind flicked to little Natasha, with her curly red hair and wide emerald eyes. She missed her. She would be nearly Clint's age now. "I'm glad he found us," she whispered.

"Me too."