Standard Disclaimer applies- I own nothing from Marvel or ABC. Julia is all mine.
Set after Season 1, episode 9, "Repairs"
While this is a stand-alone story, you can read the first two stories in the series as backstory - "Vlad the Impaler" and "Coulson's Christmas Gift".
Ch. 1
Ben Franklin once said that beer was proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy. He was wrong. It was coffee.
This rich dark liquid, this gift from God, was the only thing saving me in my current situation. I was sandwiched in a middle seat between a hulking linebacker of a man in the window seat and a young mother with a crying baby in the aisle. Airline coffee is rarely known for its gourmet taste, however, at 35,000 feet, you take bliss where you can find it.
Since S.H.I.E.L.D. would rather do anything but spend money on their agents, I was flying coach from New York to Moscow. The first leg of the journey from LAX hadn't been so bad, since I had an aisle seat and the middle seat was vacant. But this last flight was killing me. Getting tickets at the last minute for urgent assignments meant that I almost always rode in the middle seat. I actually didn't mind the crying baby so much. The poor mother was doing the best she could to soothe the infant, whose ears were probably killing him. However, the giant of a man to my right took over the armrest as well as the majority of my seat. He projected a mixture of misery and discomfort and I thought he might actually pass out from it during the flight. He spent the entire flight wordlessly grumbling and shooting menacing glares at the tiny screaming infant.
I had been called in to work once again with Coulson's team. They had hit a speed bump with one of my old informants and I was assigned to fly out and assist. I haven't been to Moscow since I stopped working with my ex-partner, Vlad, as my knowledge of Russian consisted of three words, "Dah, Nyet and Dosvedanya". I was looking forward to seeing everyone on the team as I had Christmas gifts to pass out. I didn't plan on getting everyone a gift, but I found the perfect gift for Coulson, so I had to get something for everyone else.
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Finally, after over 15 hours of total flight time, not to mention my layover in New York, we landed. Passport control and customs were a breeze, especially since there was an undercover S.H.I.E.L.D. operative in place to help agents out at the airport.
When I stepped out of airport, a wall of icy air hit me. It was about 20 degrees Fahrenheit. I came from 65 degrees at LAX. Even bundled in a thick jacket, I was shivering. I looked for Ward, who was supposed to meet me at the airport and take me to the "Bus", their mobile command jet, at a nearby airfield.
I saw him after a minute of looking. He was wearing a charcoal grey peacoat over his usual black jeans as he leaned against the passenger door of the black S.H.I.E.L.D. SUV, hands stuffed in his pockets, looking like he was getting ready to shoot a fashion spread. He looked like he belonged on a runway, modeling for Armani, not working undercover.
"So, how's my favorite fake boyfriend?" I asked when I neared, referring to our cover during our last mission together. To catch my ex-partner from S.H.I.E.L.D. we posed as a couple.
He visibly winced. I loved giving Ward a hard time.
"Just get in the car, Demarco," he snapped.
I was dealing with 12 hour time change and hours on the plane and was not in the mood to give in to his pissiness. However, I was too tired to think of anything clever to say.
"So, I read over the transcripts for Vlad's interrogation," he said, once he started driving.
Crap. I knew where this was going. My jealous ex-partner, during his interrogation under truth serum, had admitted to meddling with our working relationship.
"And what I don't understand is, if he deliberately manipulated us to put us at each other's throats during our first mission in Nicaragua since he thought we were attracted to each other, why didn't he buy our cover story as boyfriend and girlfriend?" he asked.
Yep, that was the question I'd been avoiding. I had hoped that he wouldn't have read over the transcripts, but, of course, he would. He's Ward, the perfect agent.
"I guess, he thought that if we ever got together, it would be very short-lived."
"Hmmm," he huffed.
"C'mon. He had a point."
"Did he?" He asked, eyes straight ahead, focusing on the road.
Wow. This was dangerous territory and not something I was ready to get into while jetlagged.
"I mean about the short-lived part, not the . . . the attraction," I stammered.
"Really?" he asked, fingers gripping the steering wheel tightly.
My cheeks began to burn. I was having trouble navigating the conversation. Then, I looked over at him and saw that he was trying not to laugh. I would have slugged him if he hadn't have been driving. "You had me going for a minute there. You were just going to let me twist in the wind on that one, weren't you?" I asked angrily.
He chuckled. "I wanted to see how long you'd go."
"Not funny," I grouched.
"I found it hilarious," he replied smugly.
Thirty minutes later, we arrived at the airfield. I had dozed off in the car, trying to make sense of the time change. It was late in the day here, nearing 5 o'clock, but I hadn't slept on the plane much and I could barely keep my eyes open. Luckily, we weren't scheduled to meet with the informant until tomorrow morning, so I hoped a good night's sleep would put me to rights. I always thought it was hilarious when spy movies had operatives crisscross the globe and then immediately plunge into a new assignment. Jet lag is murder, both mentally and physically, and no C.O. would ever jeopardize a mission by putting agents in the field right after they crossed several time zones.
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Once we drove into the open bay of the airplane and parked, I went straight to Coulson's office to check in and drop off my first Christmas present.
I knocked on the closed door to his office. "Come in," he said.
I opened the door and went to shake his hand. Our working relationship had improved dramatically because of our last mission together and I was happy to be back.
"Sorry to call you in so close to the holidays, but we should have you back home in time for Christmas," he said.
"You better, or my mother will personally track you down."
He grinned, "You know, I recommended you for the Asgardian transfer to Portland. I thought it was a good fit, especially with your background in history."
"Well, it started off great. He was a wealth of knowledge. I loved talking to him. He's lived for centuries and seen so much. Unfortunately . . . ," I trailed off.
"Unfortunately . . . what?" Coulson asked, clearly not looking forward to the answer.
"Well, let's just say he misread my interest in history as an interest in him."
"Oh, no," Coulson groaned.
"He got a bit handsy. So, I just gave him a friendly warning and he backed off," I said casually.
"So, you're the agent that threatened to disembowel him," he said tensely.
"A vague disclaimer is nobody's friend," I said, quoting my favorite T.V. show.
Coulson was not amused. "You nearly started an interstellar incident."
"Hardly; once I reassigned him an all male security detail, he was much better behaved. Now, don't be mad; look, I got you a Christmas present," I said as I took a wrapped gift out of my overnight bag and handed it to him.
He opened it self-consciously, but beamed when he saw what was inside. "How did you get these?" he asked.
"The trading cards are from Ebay. I had a mission with Agent Rogers and I had him sign them for me."
"You didn't tell him I was . . ." Coulson began.
"No," I said, interrupting him. "I told him that they were for my nephew. But he already knew about you."
"He knows?"
"Yeah, you should talk to him," I said.
"So, you got to have a mission with Captain America," Coulson said wistfully.
"Well, you did too, Agent Coulson."
"Yeah, but I got killed halfway through it. Kind of put a kibosh on the fun of it."
"I can see that," I said, trying not to giggle. Coulson mentioned the fact he got skewered every single time I saw him.
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Next, I bounded into the lab, ready to spread some more Christmas cheer.
"How's my favorite tech team?" I asked, surprising Fitz and Simmons as they were typing furiously on their respective laptops.
"Agent Demarco, it's nice to see you again," said Fitz.
"You changed your hair," Simmons observed, head cocked to the side.
I ran a hand through my brown curls, which were a tangled mess after an international flight.
"Yeah, well, after finding out there was a creepy doppelganger of me in the world, I decided to change my look a bit." On my last mission with them, I found out that my ex-partner had found a woman and paid to have her mimic me. It was beyond disturbing.
"So, any good missions while I was gone?" I asked.
"We met an Asgardian. That was . . . unusual," Fitz answered.
"Yeah, I helped with his relocation to Oregon. Randy little guy, isn't he?" I said.
"He called me the most beautiful thing he had seen in a thousand years," Simmons said quietly, looking down.
"Ahh, that's so sweet. Well, I've told Ward more than once that you guys are the most attractive team I've ever worked with. They should really do a photo shoot of you all and use it on the recruitment brochures," I said with a smile.
Fitz nervously adjusted his tie. "Have you had any interesting assignments whilst you've been away?"
"Oh, I did. I averted the zombie apocalypse," I said with a grin.
"You did what?" Simmons asked, eyes wide.
"Well, not really, but it was just too cool not to say. There was a facility in the Northeastern United States where they were working on the reanimation of corpses."
"Did it work?" Simmons asked suspiciously.
"Somewhat. For a limited period of time. They weren't able to get over the decay issue. We shut them down pretty early in their research process. The problem is you never get credit for the pandemics you avert," I said with a sigh.
"Still, it's a fascinating type of experiment," Simmons said eagerly.
"I knew you'd be interested in it. I wanted to get you some biological samples as your Christmas gift," I said.
I could see her break out in a huge grin.
"But, they ultimately destroyed them all," I said.
Her face fell.
I handed her a small wrapped gift.
"What's this?" she asked.
"A thumbdrive with all of the biotechnical mission report information, declassified to level 5," I replied with a wink.
Her eyes widened with delight. "Oh, thank you so much," she said, giving me a huge hug.
"Now," I turned to Fitz, "it's your turn. Here you go." And I handed him a small present with a big red bow.
When he opened it, he inspected the small circular glowing object. "How did you get this through customs?" he asked in a solemn whisper.
"We have a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent who helps us out. Do you like it?" I asked.
"My own arc reactor? Of course, I bloody well love it. Where did you get it?" he asked excitedly.
"Well, first off, I should warn you that it's only got about 10% of the power of the original one and as to where I got it, let's just say a friend of a friend. Now, don't blow up the Bus when you start tinkering with it," I warned with a grin.
"No, no, no. I'll be careful. I promise. Thank you," Fitz said as he gave me an awkward but heartfelt hug.
"But, but, we haven't gotten you anything for Christmas, Agent Demarco," Simmons protested.
"No worries. Next time I work with you, you can drown me in presents," I said. "Now, where's Skye?"
"I'm here, Julia," Skye said as she walked in the lab.
"There you are," I said as I gave her a big hug. We'd been emailing and texting regularly since the last time I worked with them. "I got you a Christmas gift."
She frowned. "I didn't get you anything; sorry," she said.
"That's what we said," Simmons piped in.
"It's fine, really. Now, open it up," I said as I handed her an envelope.
She opened the envelope and smiled as she read the Christmas card. Her face lit up when she saw the little white piece of paper inside.
"Is that what I think it is?" she asked, hands trembling.
"Yep, all his contact info," I replied.
"How did you get this information?" she asked.
"We're S.H.I.E.L.D. We keep tabs on everyone. Especially the granddaddy of all hackers."
"You are like, the best friend ever," she said as she tackled me with a hug.
"Uff," I said, the wind nearly knocked out of me. "I'm glad you like it."
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Next, I went up to the cabin. Even though we were on the ground, May was there, looking over some controls, probably enjoying the solitude.
"Hi, Agent May," I said as I entered.
"Hello, Agent Demarco," she said, turning to look at me.
"This is for you. Merry Christmas," I said, handing her the tiny package and sitting in the co-pilot's seat next to her.
She carefully unwrapped the red paper and opened the polished wooden box inside. She took out the gold hair clip, face fixed with a detached polite smile.
"Thank you, Agent Demarco; it's lovely."
"Do you recognize it?" I asked.
She peered at it more carefully and then she smiled in recognition.
"My grandmother's hair clip. She had to sell it when she came to America. I've seen it in family photographs. How did you find it?"
"I have a couple of local contacts that helped me out," I said.
"Thank you. Thank you so very much."
With that, she leaned over and gave me a brief hug. I was so surprised, I nearly fell out of my seat.
After a beat, I said good-bye and went to go find Ward.
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I can't tell you how long I went back and forth on a gift for Ward. Of all the agents on the plane, I should have known him the best, since I had already been on two missions with him, yet I racked my brain trying to figure out something to get him. Then, I found out something about him and the perfect gift came to mind.
I found him in his mini-room, looking over some information on his laptop. I knocked on his partially open door.
"Come in," he said absentmindedly.
I came in, sliding the door closed behind me. I wanted some privacy.
"Hi, Ward. I gave out all my gifts, except for yours," I said with a small half-smile.
"You didn't really have to . . ." he said as he accepted the large wrapped box that I handed to him.
He opened the present quickly, tearing the paper and drew his head back when he saw the contents.
"Scotch . . . uh, thanks?" he said quizzically.
"I heard you liked that brand," I said, pointing to the white label with red numbers on it.
"I haven't had this in weeks . . ." he started and then, all of a sudden, his eyes narrowed and his head snapped up. He advanced on me, cornering me in the tiny room.
"How did you find out about me and May?" he hissed quietly.
"Can you keep a secret?"
"Yes," he said impatiently.
"So can I," I grinned, trying to keep the mood light as he was shaking with anger.
"You're impossible," he snapped, turning away and setting the bottle down. I breathed a sigh of relief. For a moment there, I thought he was going to bash my head in with it.
"Most people find me charming," I replied, crossing my arms and trying to lean casually against the wall. "Look, the important thing to know is that if I found out, other people will, too. You know it's against regulations to fraternize with someone on the same mission."
"Says the woman who hooked up with her C.O.," he snarled back.
"You want to go there? Really? I'm trying to help you out, Ward, give you a friendly warning."
"Face it; you're a hypocrite, Demarco," he accused bitterly.
"Fine, you want the truth. First off, we did not 'hook up'. I went out to lunch with him after the mission was completed. We had precisely one kiss, again after our mission together was finished."
"And now?" he pressed.
"Okay, fine; we've been emailing back and forth and seen each other on Skype. But there's a big difference between you and me."
"And what's that?" he asked, eyes narrowed, his whole body tense.
"Agent Rogers and I are not on the same mission together, so any feelings we may or may not have for each other aren't jeopardizing anyone on our team. Also, I don't have a member of my team pining over me."
"So, are you upset that I hooked up with May or that I didn't hook up with Skye?" he bit out.
"That girl texts me constantly and every other one begins with Ward this or Ward that. She's head over heels for you and when this thing between you and May gets out, and, believe me it will, it's going to blow up in your face."
"What makes you think it's going to get out?" he asked.
"Ward, if I know about it, others do, too. For a semi-secret organization, there isn't any agent in S.H.I.E.L.D. that doesn't live and breathe gossip. So this is going to get out. Maybe in two weeks, maybe in two months, but it will."
"Are you going to tell Skye?" he asked, almost plaintively.
"No, and that makes me a crappy friend. I'll leave that to you. You are her S.O. and all."
He flinched at that. "Thanks," he said and I knew it cost him a lot to say it.
"Look, Ward, I know I give you a hard time, but I do like you. I just don't want anyone else to get hurt. You and May are grown adults. If you want to be together, fine. But you know what you're doing is wrong or you wouldn't be sneaking around like this."
"It's complicated," he said quietly.
"Yeah, well, trying dating someone who's missing seventy years of history," I said lightly, trying to smooth things over.
He chuckled a bit and I could see him relax somewhat.
"Well, as fun as this emotional roller coaster has been, I have the worst jet lag and I'm going to be of no use to you tomorrow if I don't get some shut-eye. What time do we need to leave to meet Ivan?" I asked, changing the subject.
He took a deep breath, transitioning back to work mode.
"We have to meet him at 10:30 a.m. It's not far away, but we should leave here at 10 at the latest," he replied.
"Okay, sounds good. I know it's only a little past six, but I have to go to sleep. Same room as last time?" I asked.
"Yeah, see you in the morning," Ward said neutrally.
"Hey, Ward, before I go, I wanted to let you know the Asgardian talked to me about the staff. He told me what you're going through, trying to suppress the anger and rage. I'm . . . I'm sorry." Although, I probably should have thought to say that before I provoked him.
"It's alright. I'm coping," he said.
"See, that's what makes you such a good agent," I said, trying to appease him.
"I'll see you tomorrow," he said, this time with a real smile.
I went straight to the room I used last time, flinging my overnight bag on the ground and dove into bed, not bothering to do anything other than kick off my shoes.
I slept for 13 hours straight.
Author's notes-
Hope this little story helps to get you through the four week break between episodes. The mid-season break can be rough!
S.O. - Supervising Officer
C.O. - Commanding Officer