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Chapter 2
Operation L.A.N.C.E. H.U.N.T.E.R.
"It's Always Been a Rollercoaster" Part I
He. Would. Not. Shut. Up.
A day and a half. She'd been stuck in that tiny, dark basement with him for a day and a half, and when he wasn't sleeping she didn't think he'd stopped talking once. Politics, history, his "mates" back in London, his favorite bar of all time in Georgia, every single mission he'd ever been on... She was pretty sure there had been some veiled insults to her country in there too, along with the many addressed to her. When the S.H.I.E.L.D. extraction team had arrived, she'd pulled a huge favor from Coulson and had the plane drop him off in England just to be rid of him instead of having to sit with him through processing. It was more a mercy to her than a courtesy to him, that was for sure. Even on the landing platform of the Atrium base of operations in Washington, D.C., her ears were still ringing—and they had parted ways twelve hours ago.
"Agent Morse, good to have you back," Victoria Hand greeted her as she passed, pausing in her conversation with Jasper Sitwell.
"Good to be back," she replied with a smile. She continued forward through the hallway, which was filled with a mixture of well-dressed agents in suits, scientists in crisp white lab coats, and specialists in body armor carrying large rifles. The Atrium was small as far as bases went and was probably the tidiest, most aesthetically pleasing of them all, with a large skylight above the entranceway and golden seal on the walls. It was the base that all the government officials and ambassadors from other countries visited, and as such ran as a finely-tuned machine. Everyone here was utterly professional and the best of the best. She'd even heard whisper of blueprints to expand the Atrium and transform it into a Triskelion-style building should S.H.I.E.L.D. ever become public knowledge, but she didn't see that happening any time soon. In fact, she didn't think anything short of an alien invasion would cause that to happen. S.H.I.E.L.D.'s foundation, floor, walls, and roof were all secrets, and the top brass sometimes seemed more interested in making sure the house didn't fall down than anything else.
"Want to get a drink?" Melinda May offered, turning to look at Bobbi and Coulson.
"Sure. Maybe some good hard alcohol will get his annoying, nasally voice out of my head," Bobbi replied.
Coulson agreed as well, saying, "It'll be good to decompress. When Mel and I heard that it was you who hadn't checked in, I practically had to restrain her so we could get cleared to fly and everything. She just wanted to take a plane and go."
May rolled her eyes. "I think he's got our roles reversed. I seem to remember him barging into Fury's office during a top-secret meeting with Alexander Pierce to ask for that plane. Fury wanted to send Barton, but he's still benched, so Phil insisted it be us."
Bobbi grinned. "Thanks, guys. You made good time from D.C., which is probably a good thing or I might've been facing an investigation on the mysterious death of Lieutenant Lance Hunter of the Special Air Service."
"Excuse me for a moment," May said, holding up her phone and stepping off to the side to answer it. "Maria will meet us at my place in ten." They had reached the double doors separating the base from the outside world. "I'll drive."
"Shotgun!" Bobbi and Coulson said at the same time. She narrowed her eyes at him but turned to May. "Your car, your apartment, your call."
"Phil," May didn't hesitate.
"Hey!"
"I like my backseat drivers in the back seat," May replied.
"Fair enough."
The Asian specialist directed them to her car and got into the driver's seat, waiting for them all to be seatbelted before starting the car. It wasn't a long ride to May's place; she had the closest apartment of the three of them to S.H.I.E.L.D. and the largest. Bobbi had always liked smaller places to live in—less cleaning required—and she enjoyed the longer drive to work through the back roads. She didn't often get to drive on her missions; often there was someone with a less specific skill set to do that for her if need be. Driving. She always expected some changes in her life as she transitioned from a civilian one to an agent one—people trying to kill her, irregular and shifting working hours, keeping a dozen different languages straight in her head—but missing the feeling of the steering wheel wasn't one of them.
They arrived at May's apartment a short time later, and the senior agents cracked open the alcohol while Bobbi made herself at home on the small sofa. Coulson and May were by no means a thing at this point, but Bobbi had often thought that they could and should be. Then she thought about what they'd do to her if she ever told them that and decided she rather liked the use of her limbs. But still, as far as she knew, Coulson was the only one with keys to May's apartment in case of emergencies.
Hill arrived a few minutes later, complaining about a day full of meetings with high-level agents from around the world. "And Marcus," she continued, "would not stop arguing with the president and I half expected him to just walk out on S.H.I.E.L.D. altogether! Then Daniels got in a huff and was making all these snarky remarks to Sara. Honestly, some of these diplomats are like toddlers."
"Still happy to be on the shortlist for becoming Fury's second?" May deadpanned, lips curving into a smile. "This is the kind of thing you'll be dealing with."
"I'll let Fury deal with the diplomats; I'll take care of our people. Marcus pulls anything like that while I'm commander, he's looking at a reassignment. Maybe to the Fridge, severe cold and general isolation would serve him right."
"Speaking of annoying people with snarky comments, you'll never believe the guy who crashed my op," Bobbi said, rolling her eyes. She recounted the story of her latest mission for Hill's benefit.
"Bobbi," May said in a strange voice when she had finished. "Is there something you want to tell us?"
"What do you mean?" she asked blankly.
"Lance Hunter. You haven't shut up about him since we left London."
"Yeah, he's an ass. He—"
"Why don't you just call him already? You obviously like him," May accused.
"I do not! Haven't you been listening? He's an ass!"
May turned to Hill. "She likes him."
"'S totally obvious," Maria agreed. "Look, Bobbi, I have contacts in nearly every government program around the world, including the SAS. I can get his number for you; it's not a problem. In fact, I'd be happy to."
"You're totally hung up on him," May nodded.
"Phil, you see how crazy they are, right?" Bobbi appealed.
"Sorry, Morse." He looked at Maria. "Doesn't she have to wait four days or something first?"
"That's a stupid guy rule, doesn't apply," Maria answered, pulling out her phone. She tapped the screen twice before starting to type, fingers flying across the tiny keyboard.
"Stop—!" Bobbi hissed in frustration. "You can find his number if you want, but I'm not going to call him."
"You're going to call him," her three friends responded in unison.
"Done," Maria said happily, setting her phone down with a self-satisfied smile. "His number's in your phone now, Bobbi. Your move."
"Not going to call him," she repeated obstinately.
"Hey, Maria, couldn't you make it a mission?" Coulson asked, mischief in his eyes.
"Oh, you're right," Hill replied, leaning forward. "I'd have to clear it with Fury, but all this about disregarding the S.H.I.E.L.D.-British Compact really does need to be investigated. You already have a way in, Bobbi—you'd be perfect for the op." May and Coulson nodded in agreement, all of them eyeing her expectantly like a trio of wolves. Hill smiled. "You'll have the assignment in your hands by three o'clock, Bobbi."
She hated him. She really, truly did. He was arrogant, aggravating, and had tried to strangle her with a wire. And yet, she couldn't get him out of her head. The late afternoon silence of her apartment in the absence of her friends and the file folder in her hands containing the official mission details certainly didn't help matters either.
Before she could second-guess herself again, Bobbi quickly pressed the call button. It rang a few times before he picked up. "Yes?"
"Hunter?" she checked.
"Couldn't stop thinking about me, eh?" he asked, and she blinked, confused. "More conclusive proof for my mates that I have a condition. Women spend more than ten minutes in the same room and they're all over me; it's bloody inconvenient sometimes. I think it's my sparkling personality, you know?"
"Never mind, solved my problem," Bobbi said angrily, thumb hovering over the end button. Hill and Fury could find some other way to find out what the SAS was up to, perhaps using more official channels.
"No, wait, Morse," he stalled her. "I've been thinking a lot about our time in that basement too. I'm going to be Stateside in less than a week. Want to...do dinner and a movie?"
"A drink," she countered, momentarily forgetting she was about to hang up.
"Just dinner, with alcohol included," he compromised. "For business purposes only, of course. We can discuss that S.H.I.E.L.D.-British treaty you were going on about."
The mission. "Fine."
"I'll contact you with details," he said. "This number good?"
"Yeah." Why exactly was her heart pumping this fast?
"See you then." The call ended, leaving her standing there with her phone in her hand, wondering what the hell she'd just gotten herself into.
As she thought it would, the intervening five days passed quickly, finding her in equal parts dread and something akin to anticipation. May, Coulson, and Hill teased her mercilessly between ops until finally Bobbi had been forced to tell them the wrong restaurant for her own protection. Only it backfired because Hill was the one organizing the mission in the first place, but at least the candidate of Deputy Director wasn't going to sabotage the mission for the sake of a good laugh. She wasn't sure the same could be said for May and Coulson.
She'd only spoken to Hunter once more over that time period, again on the phone, when he gave her the name of the restaurant and the date and time. "Wear something nice," he'd said as he ended the call. She had half a mind to show up in sweats and a Doctor Who T-shirt. Oh, wait, no, he liked Doctor Who. God, he talked too much.
On the afternoon of, somehow she was wheedled into allowing May help her dress for what they had dubbed "the big date," and she found herself seated on the edge of her bed with May rifling through her closet.
"This one?" May suggested, holding up a pastel blue number but Bobbi shook her head.
"Not short enough."
"Not short enough," May repeated, giving Bobbi a look. "You're not trying to turn Hunter into one of your one night stands, are you?"
"Hell no. But it'll be fun to watch him squirm."
"In that case," May replaced the dress with a scarlet one, "I think it's time to pull this one out of storage."
Bobbi surveyed the dress with a critical eye. "Let me try it on." She took the dress from May and headed into the bathroom, changing quickly. She tugged the swooping neckline down and smiled evilly to herself in the mirror before going out to show May. "This is the one from that Vienna op, right? The amount of wow factor—it's perfect. For the sake of the mission," she amended quickly.
"Just for the mission, right," May rolled her eyes. "How about a necklace to go with it?" She opened the jewelry box.
"No distractions," Bobbi grinned, glancing down at herself. "Just me and him."
Thanks for reading! I would love to hear your thoughts about this chapter!
