Author's Note: This is about what happens when someone who should never have been a superhero becomes just that.
The memo format is from memosfromfury on Tumblr, which is an excellent and hilarious blog.
Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division
Washington, D.C.
Office of the Director
May 29, 1989
From the Desk of Director Nick Fury:
Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division
Washington, D.C.
To Whom it May Concern:
The Weapon Plus Program is currently on hold. No further treatments are to be scheduled.
NICK FURY
Director (S.H.I.E.L.D.)
-o-o-o-o-o-
The feeling of the bag swinging from her punches was exhilarating. Two days ago, she couldn't even move this bag, but now she was stronger. Every punch, every swing widened the grin on her face.
She was so focused on the punching bag that she didn't notice she had company until she heard a slight cough behind her.
She spun, fists up, her body solid and low to the ground, then stood to attention when she saw who it was.
"Director."
"At ease, Agent Ellis. And follow me."
Donna Ellis relaxed as much as she felt she could with Nick Fury's eye on her. She wiped her forehand with the back of her hand, then began undoing her hand wraps as the director led her out of the gym. She followed him down two hallways to a conference room, where he shut the door sharply behind her.
"Sit down, Ellis." She sat. Fury stood across the table from her, hands behind his back. "Do you know why we're here?"
Donna opened then closed her mouth before she thought of something to say. "To check up on me, sir. And I feel fantastic. I really think these treatments are going to work."
Fury's lip quirked up. "Your optimism is refreshing. But if you think that will fool me, you're even dumber than I thought. I'll ask one more time: do you know why we're here?"
"No, sir." Donna felt, for the first time in five months, painfully small. She'd grown three inches since starting the treatments, but when Fury's eye zeroed in on her, she felt two feet tall. She felt for the first time the utter wrongness of the situation, and tried to focus on Fury rather than the sudden tightness in her chest.
"We've been ordered to put a hold on the Weapon Plus program."
"What?"
"The program is temporarily shut down."
"I know what on hold means!" She realized her eyes were stinging, and she also realized that Director Fury had something like pity written all over his face. She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. Please continue."
Fury pursed his lips. "I was more surprised at the reasoning behind the delay than the delay itself. This program has tried to get off the ground more times than I care to remember." He pulled out a chair and sat down. "It's been a long haul getting this far."
"I know, sir." Donna kept her voice even, now that she remembered herself, but she knew the look on her face was anything but neutral. "Everything's going well, though. Isn't it?"
"There's been... a medical complication." Fury steepled his fingers under his chin and gave her that unsettling look again. "You are no longer eligible for this program."
"But I'm fine." Donna spread her hands out on the table, inviting inspection. "I'm better than I've ever been."
"Strictly speaking." Fury stood back up and paced back and forth. "Tell me, Ellis, exactly how drunk did you get that night with Agent Fisher?"
Oh.
Oh.
-o-o-o-o-o-
Fury sent her home with another agent assigned to watch her, and told her to return the next day for a debriefing.
She had always worn S.H.I.E.L.D.-issued jumpsuits and uniforms to work, so when they told her she could come in civvies, she was a little surprised. She tried not to be insulted, but that required some effort. Civvies were for civilians, and even if she wasn't technically in the program anymore, she was still a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent.
Another agent came by her place to pick her up. "Didn't they say you could wear civvies? I'd kill to wear sweatpants to work one day."
"I'm no civilian, Carson."
Agent Carson grinned at her. "Nah, you're right. I can't see you in anything but a uniform."
"There's a reason for that." She adjusted the cuffs of her sleeves. "I can't imagine life without uniforms."
Carson patted her knee, a surprising gesture from someone whose usual greeting was a firm punch on the shoulder. Donna rolled her eyes sideways at him.
"I'm not dying, and I'm not going to let this kill my career. I'm not going anywhere. So stop with the mothering."
"Alright." Carson glanced over, then punched her on the shoulder. "Ha! You really do have more muscle mass lately, Ellis. Don't lose it."
She grinned. "I don't plan on it."
-o-o-o-o-o-
One of the on-site nurses offered her an ultrasound, just for visual confirmation, which she refused. Josiah Bradley, the other test subject, wrapped her in a crushing hug but said nothing. The rest of the people she saw stared at her. She wondered how many of them knew.
If S.H.I.E.L.D. hadn't been full of spies and people who were paid to know things, she might have wondered how something like this could have gotten around. But there was no keeping secrets here. People were talkers, and she used to be able to out-talk anyone.
Lately, though, she'd learned how to keep her mouth shut. She listened instead of gossiped, and maybe she'd lost some friends that way, but she knew the friends she had kept were more worth her time than the ones she'd lost.
She was better off for it.
Well— considering what she'd done that night with Agent Fisher, and why she'd done it, maybe she wasn't better off after all.