May 29th, 2011
New York City, New York

Quinn awoke with a start when her phone started ringing. She rolled over, cursing herself for forgetting to turn the volume back down before she went to sleep, and blinked rapidly a few times until her vision was clear enough to see her alarm clock: 11:56pm. She groaned and grabbed her phone, closing her eyes against the sudden flare of light as she slid her thumb across the screen, answering the call; she didn't need to see the caller ID to know who was on the other end of the line, as there was exactly one person who would call her five hours before she was supposed to be at the office.

"I'm sure it's important Coulson, but it had better be really important," she said, pulling the covers over her head. "I have to be up in four hours."

"You have to be up now, kid. Fury's requested us in Malibu."

Quinn pushed the blankets back down, her brow furrowed. "Fury wants me in the field? To help with Tony Stark? Natasha said they had that under control, and I didn't think I was cleared for the Avengers Initiative."

"The situation got out of control about thirty minutes ago," Coulson replied, his voice grave. "I've e-mailed you the details, but basically it comes down to Mr. Stark not handling his imminent death so well, and Colonel Rhodes flying off with one of the earlier Iron Man suits—"

"What?"

Coulson ignored her interruption, continuing like she hadn't spoken. "Natasha confirmed that Mr. Stark only has about seventy-two hours left to live. Fury's on his way there now from DC, with something the techs say will give Stark a bit more time, but the Director wants you, me, and that case belonging to Howard Stark at Malibu as soon as possible." Coulson sighed, heavy enough to let Quinn known he wasn't exactly happy about the situation either, either because of the time, or because he was going to have to deal with Tony Stark again; it hadn't exactly gone well the last time. "And Fury requested you specifically from my team. Your work has been exemplary since Turkey, so he's ready to trust you with more than recon, though it may be a while yet before you're leading your own missions again."

"That makes sense."

"And he cleared you for the Avengers Initiative this afternoon, though how involved you'll be is questionable at this point in time."

She was silent for a few seconds, trying to get her half-awake mind around all that information. A small, albeit sleepy, smile broke over her features.

On a mission in Turkey ten months previous, Quinn had made a rash decision that had almost led to her and two other agents getting blown up in pursuit of their goal. They'd completed the mission, but only just. Since Fury had assigned her to the mission to test her ability to run field operations, he—and Agent Coulson—had been less than impressed. He'd denied Quinn's promotion to field officer, and stuck her with nothing except reconnaissance and data-gathering missions for whichever team requested assistance. It was usually boring work, even when she was working for her friends, and she'd been itching to get back to something more involved for a long time.

Babysitting a billionaire in the throes of a self-destructive rampage wasn't exactly what she would have expected, but it was something different. And things were never boring when Tony Stark was involved, least of all because Tony Stark meant the Avengers Initiative, which was why Fury was so keen on keeping him alive and well. The Avengers Initiative was Fury's pet project. All Quinn knew about it was Fury wanted to form a team of powerful people to help protect the world. Coulson hadn't been cleared to tell her anything else.

"I'll be on a plane as soon as possible," she said. With a small grunt of effort, Quinn swung her legs over the side of the bed and got to her feet, adjusting the t-shirt she wore as pyjamas as she headed for the kitchen; her ankles and feet popped loudly.

"I've already called ahead and told them to prepare. The jet will be gassed and ready in forty minutes."

"I am up and I am moving." Quinn yawned. "But it might take me longer than that to get the case out of storage and get to the airport."

"I know—just get here as soon as you can." Coulson was silent for a few seconds, long enough for some people to hang up, but Quinn knew there was more, and she knew what that more was. Business was done, it was time for the fatherly portion of their conversation. "Quinn, if you're not—"

"I'm fine, Coulson. Tripp and I ended it because we were better friends than anything else. There are no hard feelings and we're still friends. I'm not broken up about it. I didn't lose anything." Quinn passed through the kitchen and into the bathroom, where she flicked on the light and the fan. Her reflection greeted her, hair dishevelled and eyes bleary. She grimaced. "Besides, Boss, I am more than capable of compartmentalizing and focusing on my job. You trained me, remember? And I am more than ready for this."

He gave a small chuckle. "Of course. I'll see you soon, then."

"See you."

Quinn ended the call and popped her phone into the player on the shelf beside the shower. She turned on some music and started the shower before stripping down and hopping in, the hot water doing absolutely nothing to wake her up any faster.

It was going to be a long trip.

May 30th, 2011
Malibu, California

"How was your flight?"

Quinn narrowed her eyes at Coulson as she adjusted her bag on her shoulder; it was just a small duffel, but tired as she was, it felt extraordinarily heavy. She ran one hand back through her dark brown hair, pushing stray strands back into place. "It was long, and I couldn't sleep." She pulled her sunglasses from where they hung from her button-down shirt and slid them over her eyes. "And it is bright here. Like, really bright."

Coulson chuckled. "There is coffee and donuts in the car, and you'll adjust to the sun. Promise."

She rolled her eyes, the gesture visible even around her sunglasses, and huffed; a small smile pulled at the corner of her mouth. "If you say so, Boss."

Two porters came up beside them then and placed a large grey and red case on the ground, stamped across the top as "Property of Howard Stark." Quinn signed the log accepting responsibility of the crate—the agents who worked in the records and storage departments were sticklers for paperwork and protocol and would have her head if the logs were out of order—and then took hold of one handle as Coulson took the other. The duo started through the parking lot of the private hanger towards Coulson's black sedan, the mysterious case swinging slightly between them.

"Did you read the full report I sent?" Coulson asked as they reached the car.

They loaded the case into the backseat and Quinn tossed her bag in after it before climbing into the passenger seat and buckling herself in. "Yeah. Read it on the plane. How long has Fury been suspicious that Stark was ill?"

"For a few months, anyway. Stark started acting odd: selling his collections, donating large sums to various charities, looking into the legal aspects of signing over his company…" Coulson answered, starting the car as he spoke.

"So basically, just throwing up red flags?"

Coulson nodded as Quinn started in on the waiting cup of coffee. "Yeah. And now this party."

Quinn sighed, and took a long drink from her coffee. "Hopefully Stark can get whatever Fury thinks he can out of this case, and it'll help him, you know, not die." She shifted in her seat a bit, ran her hand back through her hair again. "So what? We're just keeping an eye on him right? Keeping him confined so he can, er, study?"

"That's the plan. Fury assigned me because I have first-hand experience with Tony Stark and his people, and you because—"

Something in his tone brought Quinn's hackles up, made fall back to old insecurities, as often happened when she was tired; maybe she'd imagined the change in tone, or maybe she was taking it to mean something it didn't, but she was still fighting the urge to glare. "You said Fury picked me. Did he do it because you asked him to? Did you vouch for me again, Coulson?"

"No. As I said, your work has been exemplary since Turkey," Coulson replied, fixing her with one of his more fatherly looks. His voice came out more forceful than it usually was. "Fury did pick you. He requested you because he knows you want that promotion and that, if you were back in Turkey, you would make a different call." Coulson gave her another look, one that was reminiscent of the glare Quinn had held back a moment before. "You've earned this chance on your own merits, Quinn. It's been eight years since the Academy—stop thinking so little of yourself. You are a great agent."

Quinn met Coulson's next look with a straight-faced one of her own. Her cheeks were a little warm with the praise from Coulson, and the reinforced knowledge that Fury was on her side as well. She offered Coulson a small, apologetic smile, and cleared her throat. "He's giving me another chance by letting me help babysit a billionaire?" she asked, voice cracking slightly.

The older agent raised one eyebrow—a silent acceptance of her silent apology—and coughed a laugh. "We're monitoring a situation in New Mexico. If it should turn into anything, than you and I will be heading to the Land of Enchantment."

"That makes a great deal more sense than just babysitting Stark."

"Keeping an eye on Stark isn't exactly small potatoes."

"True, but it's not Agent Coulson calibre, either." She raised her eyebrows and grinned, before retrieving a donut from the box on the centre console, one with sprinkles, and taking a bite. The tension of a moment previous was still lurking, so Quinn decided to change the subject. "Did you get your hands on that Captain America trading card you were bidding on?"

Coulson pulled out of the parking lot and turned towards downtown Malibu. "I did," he said, positively beaming. "It's in absolutely perfect condition too—the 1943 Captain America tour card, with him standing in front of the dancers."

"Oh, I like that one. How many more do you need to complete the collection?"

"Just one. I haven't found one for sale that's in mint condition yet though."

"Damn. I'll keep an eye open while looking for the rest of the comic run I'm working on."

"How many more do you need?"

"Six, I think," Quinn replied, her brow furrowing in thought. Quinn had read most of the Captain America comics from the

40s when she was younger, but after meeting Coulson and seeing his collection of Captain America merchandise after getting accepted to SHIELD, she'd decided to start her own collection. "The last six."

They drove for a while idly chatting about their shared hobby, the sun rising higher over the Malibu skyline and the world coming to life around them. Quinn finished her coffee and donut while observing the scenery, but almost as soon as she was finished, Coulson's phone rang, vibrating loudly where it sat in one of the other cup-holders. Without hesitation, Quinn picked up the phone and brought it to her ear.

"Agent Coulson's phone—Agent Scott speaking."

"Hey Quinn," said Natasha Romanoff. She and Quinn were around the same age, and though they had come from vastly different backgrounds, and held different opinions on a great many things, they had an easy rapport with one another that went back nearly to their first meeting. "We've retrieved Mr. Stark and are getting set up at the mansion. Fury wants your ETA."

"We just hit downtown, so tell him ten, maybe fifteen minutes?" Quinn looked at Coulson, who nodded his confirmation that her estimate was correct. "Yeah. Ten-fifteen minutes. How is Stark doing?"

"Blindsided, and maybe feeling a little betrayed, but overall, much better than he was before we found him. The lithium oxide has mitigated his symptoms for now. Should give him time to work on whatever is in that case you're bringing."

Quinn supressed a laugh at Natasha's amused tone. "Well I'm sure if Fury says it'll help him, it'll help him. He did know Howard Stark, after all. We'll see you soon." Natasha ended the call without saying anything, as was her habit, and Quinn hung up as well. She returned the phone to its former place and then met Coulson's waiting gaze. "Everything's going according to plan. They have Stark at the mansion and are just waiting on us."

"Guess we'd better not keep them waiting then."

They finished the drive in a comfortable silence, pulling up in front of Tony Stark's once-opulent mansion eleven minutes after Quinn had hung up with Natasha. Coulson parked beside a big, black SUV Quinn knew belonged to Directory Fury. The aforementioned Agent Romanoff was waiting for them at the front door, dressed in a black jumpsuit with the mark of the Black Widow on her belt, her hands on her hips and her red hair shining in the sunlight. Natasha offered up a smile as Quinn and Coulson climbed out the car and retrieved the case from the backseat.

"We're set up in the ruins of the living room," Natasha said as they approached, the amusement still in her voice. "All forms of communications have been disabled, and a perimeter set up at the edge of the property. Your team has been authorized to do whatever it takes to keep Mr. Stark here and working on the contents of that case."

Coulson nodded, and the trio of agents headed through the house with Natasha leading the way. The building was indeed in ruins. It smelled like burnt wood and metal and fabric, and there was a fine layer of soot on almost every surface Quinn saw. It did however look like someone, or a team of someones had started to clean. She exchanged a surprised look with Coulson. Quinn hadn't really known what to expect after reading that Tony had gotten drunk and destroyed most of his house, but it looked almost as if a bomb had gone off; she wished she could have seen the house before it had been ravaged.

She had no more time to marvel at the destruction though, as they arrived at the living room where Director Fury and Tony Stark were seated, currently engaged in what looked like a rather intense discussion, and her attention was otherwise captured.

Quinn and Coulson set the case down at the same moment Fury got to his feet. "I've got a 2:00—you've got this, right?" he asked Stark, gesturing at the case; Quinn hated coming into the middle of conversations.

Tony looked from the case, to Coulson and Quinn, to Fury. "No, I don't even know what I'm supposed to get. What's this? It belonged to my father?"

Fury kept speaking as if Tony hadn't said anything, and nodded at Natasha where she stood. "Natasha will remain a floater at Stark Industries with her cover intact." He placed a hand on Coulson's shoulder. "And you remember Agent Coulson, right?"

"Yeah," Tony said, uncertainly.

"Good. And Tony, remember: I've got my eye on you." Fury tilted his head so he could fix his good eye on Tony Stark before he swept from the room, his trademark black trench coat flapping in the ocean breeze.

Coulson, Quinn, and Natasha all smirked at the Director's dramatic flair, before Natasha said, "All communications have been disabled, Mr. Stark. Good luck." And then she too left the room, following Fury's path back out to the front of the house.

After a stunned moment of quiet, Tony Stark approached Coulson and Quinn, his head rotating as he took in the other SHIELD agents stationed within visible range. When his head turned, Quinn could see faint lines along his neck above the collar of his shirt, and once he was standing close enough, she could see the sort of hollow-eyed look that came to those who were near death. Quinn pressed her lips together in a small frown.

"Okay," Tony said, seeming to reach some sort of decision internally. "First thing, I'm going to need you to send one of your goon squad out for a Starbucks run or something like that. That'd be nice."

"I'm not here for that," Coulson said. Tony raised his eyebrows. "I, and my associate here, Agent Scott, have been authorized by Director Fury to use whatever means necessary to keep you on the premises. If you attempt to leave, or play any games with me or any of my agents, I will tase you and watch Super Nanny while you drool on the floor." Coulson matched Tony's eyebrow raise with one of his own, and Quinn sniggered at the looks on both their faces. "Okay?"

"I think I got it, yeah. One question though: am I supposed to be afraid of Itty Bitty here?" Stark asked, turning his attention to Quinn.

Quinn gave him her sweetest smile and took a step closer, her hands on her hips. "I assure you, Mr. Stark, that I am just as capable at incapacitating you as Agent Coulson, or any other agent here." She batted her eyes a couple of times, letting the hostile edge she was capable of seep into her expression. "Now, did you want help carrying the case somewhere more suitable?"

Tony blinked a few times, and then nodded and gave her a look of approval. "Sure."