The Man Makes the Uniform

Summary: Drews' thoughts and feelings the first time he puts on his SHIELD uniform

December 12, 1989

Drew is nineteen years old the first time he puts on his SCUs (SHIELD Combat Uniform). He's stood in front of the full-length mirror on the inside of his foot locker. Now, he's not a vain person. He's not looking at himself just to look at himself; no that's not who he is. He sees his father standing behind him in the mirror, a firm hand on his right shoulder. His father's hair has gone a nice salt and pepper color; the same dark green eyes are looking back at him. Drew can't help but reach out with his left hand and touch his right shoulder.
No one's there of course. It's just Drew's imagination: what he wants to see. 'God, I miss you so much Dad,' Drew thinks to himself. His shirt is primly pressed and sharp looking, and his pants creased just so - black combat boot vigorously shined. He looks every bit the Trooper he's trained to be.

His battalion patch, Battalion VII, is stuck right under the SHIELD logo patch on his left shoulder.

Battalion VII: it's his lucky number, it's the date he was born and it's the number of kids his parents had.

Drew is still in the same position in front of the mirror when his squad's main TI walks into the barracks and stands a few feet away. "Agent Michaelson." Drew snaps off a salute and turns to face the older Trooper.

"At ease Trooper," Michaelson's facial expression softens slightly. "You look good kid; your old man would've been proud."

"I know. It's like he's here. I can feel him."

"He is, right here," Michaelson puts a finger to his heart. "He'll always be with you."

Drew laughs lightly. "You know that's just what my Pops said."

"A good man, McBride, an even better friend. He and Chrissy raised you and your sister right."

Drew thinks of his sister momentarily, still at the Operations Academy in upstate New York. She was gunning to be a Specialist: an interrogation Specialist to be exact. Drew didn't like that, but it's what his sister wanted. She'd be a least twenty-five before she saw any real serious action anyway. That gave him some comfort.

"They did, didn't they." Drew says and brushes a piece of imaginary lint off his black collared shirt.

"I've actually got something for you Agent." Michaelson pulls out a coin probably two inches in diameter. It's silver in color with a black outline. He hands it over to the young Trooper. "It was your father's. He got it after he completed his Commando training."

Drew turned the coin over in his hand. On one side the SHIELD logo, which was an eagle with its wings spread wide. The other side had a skull and crosshairs on it. The symbol of a hyper lethal sniper. Etched into the eagle side was one letter: an 'A'.

Others would say the coin was ruined, but not Drew. He knew what the 'A' stood for. His lips curl into a small smile. "Thank you sir, I really appreciate it." Drew puts the coin in the right pocket of his own pants, and looks up at Michaelson.

"No worries kid, pleasures all mine. Your old man would've wanted you to have it." Drew smiles at the last memory he has of his dad. A simple silver and black coin. It's more than a coin though.

It's a part of him - a part of his uniform now. He straightens up and walks out of the barracks his head held high.