Chapter 3: Erudition


You're in control

Is there anything you wanna know?

The future's for discovering

The space in which we're travelling

From the top of the first page

To the end of the last day

From the start in your own way

You just want somebody listening to what you say

Square One by Coldplay


The office of Nick Fury was sleek and modern. The high-tech feel to it put me slightly on edge. I seemed to be in a sort of short hallway that opened up into a larger room. I assumed the desk was around the corner somewhere.

I reached up to run a hand through my messy blonde hair and ended up lifting water from a fish bowl resting on a table to the left into the air. My eyes widened and I froze in place. I slowly brought down my hand to my side which somehow gently placed the water back into the fishbowl. It seems the bug-eyed goldfish hadn't even noticed.

"Hope you didn't disturb Fish Stick too much, Miss Peters," said a voice around the corner.

I jumped slightly into the air, dropping my pea coat and sweater onto the spotless white carpet. I hurriedly picked them both off the ground and turned the corner to see who I assumed to be Nick Fury standing behind a large, modern desk, his back turned to me.

Glass was the foundation of these office's walls. The entire thing was one large window, almost like a human fish tank. Outside was the sprawling city of Washington DC. The building seemed to be on a hill overlooking the capital.

Then the realization of the name of the fish hit me. Without thinking, I blurted out, "did you really name your goldfish Fish Stick?"

Director Fury turned, revealing a black eyepatch over his left eye. He smiled slightly and put his hands on the back of his desk chair.

"Coulson's suggestion was Squiggles, so I went with the first thing that popped into my head. Might as well give the little guy a name that he might someday live up to. He's getting so fat that I actually could turn him into one."

Usually, I would have laughed, but given the situation, I wasn't exactly in a playful mood.

"Take a seat," suggested the director.

I hung my damp coat on the back of the comfy chair and sat, placing my bag by my feet.

"Miss Peters, you are one of the strangest cases I have ever dealt with," said Fury loudly. "And trust me, I've seen some mighty strange things in my day. I've been with S.H.I.E.L.D. since I was a teenager, which was probably before your parents even thought of having you. But you…you're plain weird, Miss Peters. What happened to you is unexplainable, even from our point of view. And things just don't get unexplainable here at S.H.I.E.L.D."

"How the heck did you guys even learn about my abilities?" I questioned. "I mean, I kept myself pretty hidden away."

"Think about it for a second. You're smart; I've seen your IQ test results. You've got some pretty big brains up there in that cranium, so think, just think. You're the only survivor of one of the most horrific airplane crashes in the history of the United States. You never gave any interviews, not to a newspaper, news channel, new website, or even a Facebook status. Usually people who live through something like this are bound to show up in social media somewhere, but you just disappeared. You refused the cameras and begged for your name not to be given out to the newspapers. There was obviously something wrong."

"I could just be a very private person," I pointed out. "So why did you pursue information about me?"

"We checked into records the hospital you stayed at took on you," Fury explained. "We're associated with the government and because it was a government run hospital, I was able to kiss a few asses and pull some strings. And let me just tell you that a couple of the nurses who tended to you were very concerned."

I frowned at the statement. "Concerned?"

"You would show small signs of your powers while you slept, Miss Peters," said Fury. He grabbed a file off his desk and threw it open. "Says here, 'December 6, 2010, patient exhibited signs of fluctuating temperatures spanning from 107 degrees Fahrenheit to 98 degrees Fahrenheit.' 'December 7, 2010, patient exhibits more signs of fluctuating temperatures spanning from 98 degrees Fahrenheit to 140 degrees Fahrenheit.' Your body was flaming up even if you didn't mean to. Your abilities were settling into your body as you recovered from the crash."

"So you got all of your information from my medical records? How did you find out about the records?"

"We received a call from an undercover agent at the hospital. Told us something bizarre was going on, so we checked it out. Just so happens it was you, the one we already had questions about. Unfortunately for us, the answer to our questions just led us to even more questions."

"That's why I'm here," I replied. "Natasha told me I have a chance at finding out some answers."

"Good. That means we can get started sooner than we hoped," Fury nodded, almost relieved, as he sat down at his desk. He reached over and sprayed a bit of water on a small, spiny flowering cactus by his computer. "Paul McCartney."

I scrunched my eyebrows together. "Excuse me?"

The director gestured to the plant. "Paul McCartney. That's its name. John Lennon died a few weeks ago. I think I overwatered him."

I let out a small chuckle. "That's kind of – "

"Ironic, I know," interrupted Director Fury.

Suddenly, a buzzing sound plays out of a phone machine. Fury groaned and snatched the phone. "What is it now, Harris?"

I took the time to check my phone and was taken aback by how many missed calls I had.

I scrolled through to see that they were all from my family. They had probably seen something about my thrashing of that street on the news. At the time, it was already late in Maryland, and they'd all be worried sick that I hadn't gotten back to them.

I sent a quick text to each one of them, saying that I had been asleep for a long time and didn't see their calls until now. I knew that I would need to relay what my situation was like to them sometime. Over text message probably wasn't going to be the best way to do so.

"I'm just about to do that, so get your butt in gear and set up for tomorrow," finished Director Fury, slamming the phone back onto its holder. He rubbed his hand down his face and sighed. "Those stupid white coats…anyways, I'm going to brief you on how things are going to run with you here, Miss Peters. You're no lab rat. From what your file says, I knew you'd probably already accused Coulson of making you into one. Take it from the director himself – you're not some sacrificial golden monkey here. You'll be doing simple demonstrations of your powers for a few teams of researchers. Now, keep in mind that we will be taking blood and tissue samples merely for solving this genetic puzzle that you seem to be. However, we do have a room set up for you on one of the top floors. It's usually reserved for visiting government officials, so be grateful. Coulson will take you to the cafeteria to get some food in you, then you're hitting the hay. Be up by seven tomorrow. Eat some breakfast and head down to the labs by eight. Any agent will be happy to take you there. Any questions?"

"I'm assuming there's a bathroom connected to my room?" I asked.

"Yes, equipped with a toilet and a shower."

"And clothes? I don't have any but what I'm wearing."

"I had a few agents stop by and collect a few items from your apartment. They should be delivered up to your room by the time you arrive."

"Also, what is being done about the powers fiasco that I set off in Seattle? What is it being masked as?"

"You ask too many questions, Miss Peters. Now I suggest that you leave and go with Agent Coulson to the cafeteria for dinner. Just try not to set Paul on fire or disturb Fish Stick on your way out."


The next morning, I woke up disoriented. I hadn't slept well that night and being in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room didn't help.

My phone sang with beeps and ditty's, annoying me to death and startling me out of the only good sleep I seemed to get.

I threw the pillow beside me onto my face, squishing my nose, and moaned. I didn't want to get up. I wanted to sleep for another seven hours of sleep, but I knew that I couldn't. I was to find the answers to questions that had been seared into my brain since the day I caused a mini hurricane to sweep through the hospital I was stuck in after the crash.

I was honestly surprised I hadn't destroyed anything in the room yet. I had barged into the room last night and cried for about fifteen minutes straight, but nothing had happened. I felt a slight pressure in my chest, but it wasn't anything major. I figured it was from all the sobbing I had done the night before.

I got up, quickly got dressed in a white t-shirt, a black zip up hoodie, gray sweats, socks, and Birkenstocks and pulled my blonde hair up into a quick ponytail. I had a feeling I would be poked and prodded that day and wanted to be comfortable.

My dark blue eyes searched my reflection in the crystal-clear mirror in the bathroom. I was determined to find out about my abilities. I would get the solution to this problem. I might find a way to rid myself of this poison that I couldn't control. And S.H.I.E.L.D. could help me.

I retraced the steps Coulson and I took from the cafeteria to my room. I got lost once, but managed to discover that I simply turned down the wrong corridor.

I grabbed an unusually large breakfast of biscuits and gravy, fruit, sausage, pancakes, and a chai tea. The tea wasn't as good as the coffee shops I used to regular, but I could live with it.

I scouted out the room for Natasha or even Coulson, but I saw neither, so I sat alone.

I was nervous enough for the lab work and such to start that halfway through breakfast, I bent through two forks. I had to go back twice to get a new one. The second time, one lady behind the counter muttered, "Freaking mutants…"

While I honestly felt slightly offended, I also couldn't help but find it amusing. I wondered how many 'mutants' she had served over the years here at S.H.I.E.L.D.

As I was polishing off my fruit, I felt a hand on my shoulder.

"Friggin' – !" I started. I accidentally caused my water to raise up into the air. Sighing, I slowly lowered my hand, just as I done to the fish bowl that last night.

"Hold on there, kid, it's just me," said Natasha. She sat down across from me and grinned. "Ooh, see you've been roped into the infamous biscuits and gravy club here at the Pit."

"The Pit? Is that what you guys call the cafeteria?" I chuckled, taking a bite of the sausages. "Why the Pit?"

"You know like, the Pit," Natasha said, gesturing and straining the world. "You know sometimes people call Hell the Pit. Yeah, that's what the food is like."

"This isn't that bad," I replied. "I can barely make scrambled eggs on toast without screwing it up."

"I didn't take you for a bad cook," chuckled Natasha.

I merely raised my eyebrows and said, "You should have seen me in my high school cooking class. So if you don't like the Pit, why are you here?"

"Fury himself ordered me to bring you to the lab; said you might do better with a familiar face this early in the morning."

"I guess," I replied, finishing off my meal. "So let's get this whole shebang over with, shall we? I'd like to go back to Seattle."

"Good luck with that," joked Natasha as I stood and started to clear up my spot at the cafeteria table.

"Why?"

"Once you learn to control these powers, do you really think S.H.I.E.L.D. is going to let you out of their sight?"

I smiled. "Yeah, I do, especially if we can figure out a way to get them out of my system."

"Wait, you want them gone?" Natasha wondered in surprise. "If I had your powers, I would be itching to test these babies out, get them going and really understand them. But you want to rip these things out of you? What if it's not possible?"

"Then I live with being a forever single, abnormal freak for the rest of my life," I concluded as I slid my tray onto a rotating conveyer belt.

"Just like the rest of us here at S.H.I.E.L.D.," Natasha quipped.

Natasha and I were quiet as she led me down to the laboratories. Turns out, they were all in the basement. That didn't make me feel much better about being there. I accidently sent a tremor through the headquarters' foundations as I stepped off the elevator.

"Sorry," I said meekly to a group of people in white lab coats. They glared at me when what seemed to be a high-powered telescope wobbled on its shiny silver cart. Their stares continued to penetrate to my very soul as the elevator doors closed.

"Try not to wreck any of their toys or they'll get angry," said Natasha.

"I can see that," I said unenthusiastically.

We trudged down a long hallway, rooms filled with insane looking instruments and machinery. A few held what looked like dentist chairs underneath large needles or rays of sorts.

I shivered at the thought of being strapped into one of those chairs and stuck with that ginormous needle.

A beaker of what I concluded to be water froze solid as I passed by. My eyes widened. I had never done something like that before! Can I freeze water and control it? What on earth am I?

"Fitz, Simmons!" called Natasha.

A woman who looked a couple years younger than me swiveled quickly on her heel as a younger man popped his head around the corner of the wall. Both wore protective goggles, gloves, and the ever standard lab coat.

"Agent Romanoff," greeted the woman in a cheerful English accent. "And you must be Miss Peters."

"Just here to deliver the subject," Natasha said. "See you later, Lauren."

And with that, she left me alone with the two scientists.

"Nice to meet you, Miss Peters," said the woman. "I'm Agent Simmons. You can just call me Jemma."

"You can call me Lauren," I replied, stuffing my hands in my hoodie pockets.

"I'm Fitz," said the man in a Scottish accent. "Pleasure."

"Hi," I said.

"Why don't you come on in? This is just our office. You can have a seat just there, in front of mine," Jemma told me kindly, gesturing into the room.

"Thank you," I smiled. I did as she said to.

"Sorry about the clutter," Fitz apologized. "We've just finished a department wide research project in the field. Haven't exactly had time to clean up."

"No, no, you're fine," I said.

I waited as they took off their gloves, goggles, and white coats.

Jemma sat down behind her desk, computer ready to go. Fitz rolled his chair up next to hers behind the desk and folded his hands in front of him.

"Fitz and I will be the ones helping you out while you're here in the labs," Jemma told me. "We're going to be running some tests and scans once you demonstrate exactly what you're able to do. For now, we'll be in here. Fitz and I need to ask some, unfortunately, quite personal questions about your abilities, such as how they've developed and how they've affected your body."

I nodded and gulped. This would turn out to be a very interesting few weeks…possibly months.


I am honestly so surprised! You guys seemed really interested in this story and in Lauren. I'm so glad you're all enjoying it so far. Now, I'm not going be updating as regularly as I want to, as I am busy and have other fanfics going. So I'm very sorry if it's a few months between posts.

Thanks so far to all who've reviewed! It makes my day so much better reading all of your wonderful comments. Don't forget to review, favorite, and follow. Thanks so much for reading. :)