Fury stood in front of the two-way mirror, his hands clasped behind his back, his leather trench coat haphazardly thrown across one of the chairs behind him. Deputy Director Maria Hill stood beside him, holding her ever present Stark Industries table, and looking past the glass window into the medical examination room. There, Agent Clint Barton sat on a cot as a government doctor put him through a barrage of neurological exams.
A week after the Avengers' ill-advised splitting up and departure, Barton had begun suffering mild seizures, severe headaches, nausea, and uncontrollable bouts of rage. Natasha, who had been on vacation with him, immediately brought him back to S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters in New York. For the past three days, Clint had been undergoing many psychological and neurological tests, and had several brain imaging scans conducted.
Upon hearing this, Fury had directed Maria to contact Dr. Erik Selvig. He appeared to be in much better condition, though he did admit to suffering frequent headaches and nausea. Selvig was in the next room over, undergoing the same exams as Clint.
Maria cleared her throat, throwing a sidelong glance at Fury. He gave the barest of nods, not taking his eyes off of Barton, and Maria began her report. "Sir, I have contacted all the neurologists and neurosurgeons on your list. I got a hold of Dr. Klein's employment contract, and he is precluded from any unapproved private consultations elsewhere. As Agent Barton's and Dr. Selvig's current medical conditions must be kept quiet, we did not pursue Dr. Klein and his employers' approval."
Maria continued.
"Your second choice, Dr. Feldman, has also declined, stating he had a full workload and was unable to take on any new patients."
Fury's eyes flashed. She answered Fury's unasked question. "Suggestion that we could work out a generous financial agreement was not well-received."
"Hm. Do you have any good news for me, Agent Hill?" Fury asked, his voice low with anger. He was head of one of the top (and two weeks ago, the most secretive) black-Ops programs in the world, and the only one to have a direct alliance with aliens for christ's sake. How difficult should it have been to book a doctor's appointment!
"We've had a few positive responses. Dr. Lewis Mattock, Dr. Frank Chang, and Dr. Sarah Michaels have all expressed interest in a year long private consultation and treatment employment contract, and all have passed background checks. With your approval, I will proceed to inform them of which government agency they will be working with, and see if they are still interested."
Fury raised an eyebrow, to which Maria responded, "Public sentiment is divided after the invasion two weeks ago. I wouldn't be surprised if a few of these doctors had less than favorable feelings towards S.H.I.E.L.D. and our, how did Channel 9 put it again?"
"Militaristic overkill," Fury muttered. Many news stations seemed to be taking sides, proclaiming themselves "pro-peace" or "pro-Earth". He turned to Maria and crossed his arms over his chest, "Just make sure they all sign NDAs, and won't blab about it to the first newscast team they see downtown."
Maria nodded.
"And then I want you to set an agent to tail them until you're sure we're in the clear.
"Yes, sir. Consider it done."
Colleen Bamer balanced her groceries on her hip as she grabbed her mail and unlocked the door to her Boston apartment. The door gave a horrible screech and caught midway, springing back on her and almost knocking the groceries from her arms. The mail scattered to the floor. Cursing, she scrambled for the mail and shoved it down the side of one of the grocery bags, and put her groceries on the floor. After she squeezed past the door into her apartment, she reached over to the hinge and jiggled out the sandal that had gotten caught in the door. Surgery today was a real bitch, and they were shorthanded since several of their residents (including her) had been sent down New York hospitals to assist in treating the wounded. After getting back, Colleen dove right back into work. Today, she hadn't gotten to shower after her surgery, the hospital being so short staffed that everyone was working overtime. Colleen scratched at some dried blood on her neck and frowned in distaste. The groceries could wait. It was time for a shower.
As she stood under the hot spray of water, listening to the speakers she always blasted after a long day, Colleen let her mind wander away from work. She was glad her family lived on the west coast, ranging from Seattle all the way down to the O.C.. She had watched the news with them on the phone, horror struck at the destruction going on a mere three-hour drive away. Many of her friends and co-workers had opted then to take their vacation time and drive north, flying abroad from New Hampshire or Maine, in case the destruction reached Boston. Her parents demanded that she fly out to Los Angeles, but some twisted sense of companionship with the victims in New York stopped her. She couldn't run. Not when so many were dying and hurt, when she could actually do something about it. So she stayed, and worked, and did her best to help her patients survive.
Aliens showed up, for crying out loud. Aliens! It had been hard enough for her to wrap her mind around the idea of superheroes and anger-induced monsters over the past couple of years. After the New York attack, Colleen figured that nothing could surprise her anymore.
So when, a week later, she was sitting in first class on a private jet to New York, clutching her acceptance letter to the Roosevelt Neurological and Surgical Fellowship to work under Dr. Lewis Mattock of Columbia University, she had to admit that she was wrong, and that yes, life could still surprise her. Especially since when she landed, she was greeted personally by Tony Stark and Dr. Mattock, informing her that this year's fellowship had been withdrawn from her and awarded to some other lucky bastard, and that she would continue to work under Dr. Mattock as part of a neurologic team assisting with members of the Avengers.
Mind. Officially. Blown.
A/N: Will pick up in later chapters, starts a bit slowly.
Quick note. I don't own anything from the Marvel Universe. I also am trying my best to do research on the medical issues I'll be mentioning, but they will probably be a bit inaccurate because I don't really have the time to do all the research. Plus they have to do with the aftereffects of alien possession so…right. Let me know if you find any glaring errors!