Chapter 4
Pips managed to fit in well at least with the teachers. She was willing to always listen and try in class, mostly because she wanted to at least keep someone happy. None of the staff knew much about her yet except for her music teacher who had agreed not to make her show off her skills although had called her unbelievable on about 29 different occasions.
Phil was settling in well with his new asset as well. At least so far there was no picture of his face stapled onto a target (that he knew of). Barton had yet to stop the constant interruptions or the unusual entrances via the air ducts. Although they had yet to actually go on a mission together they had agreed to meet up once a week to go through all of the complaints in Barton's file, looking for ways to improve performance. The number of complaints was eventually dwindling but it was slow going.
The days came and went as usual allowing the Coulsons to relax into a vague routine. The winter holidays came and went again with little celebration or joy. They opted to enjoy traditional thanksgiving sushi and Christmas Thai take out, Sophie had always loved the big turkey roast and the formalities but neither of them was up to celebrating without her. After an awkward exchange of gifts and experiencing the panicky mass of New York on December 31st, Pips and Phil reluctantly returned to work.
The weather had been dull and cold but that had just made Pips homesick for London. By January though the air changed, the rain turned to sleet and the sleet turned to snow. By Sunday evening a phone call had been made advising parents that schools would be closed in the morning and Phil cursed his lack of preparation. He didn't yet have a baby sitter for Pips since he was still working part-time and although he wracked his brain the only thing he could think of was bringing his niece into work with him.
Pips were actually looking forward to her day off school, as would be any child, but also to see what Phil did. She knew that he worked for the government and did things he couldn't tell her but she wanted to know what he actually did at work. She had repacked her school bag with the books she was reading and her iPod in case she got bored. She also had her sketch book so that she could finish her art project, drawing her family. She had gone to bed early the night before and was raring to go and see SHIELD.
Phil was less enthusiastic. He trusted that his niece would be able to keep a secret about what he did and that she would be able to sit quietly and occupy herself whilst he got on with his work, he was more concerned about what might happen if anyone came to talk to him. So far most people had no idea about Pips and that should have been the safest thing but sooner or later he knew this would have happened.
Phil and Pips made it into the SHIELD headquarters in good time and Phil was able to sneak Pips through security and into his office with as few people seeing her as possible. Not that an agent like Phil had to sneak, it was more along the lines of a tactical subtlety to avoid detection. Anyway Phil stowed Pips away in his office and made sure she was ok whilst he went to go and get a cup of 'coffee' for himself and a cup of hot water for Pips who had remembered to bring her with tea bags with her. In Phil's absence Pips sat down on the quite comfortable sofa and pulled out the book she was reading. By the time Phil returned from his scavenge she was lost to the world, buried in tales of dragons and princesses and of sassy, sassy wizards. Phil tried not to disturb his niece, silently sitting down at his desk and making a start on the ever growing pile of files in his inbox. Around 11 o'clock, as Phil tried to work out how many agents were missing due to the bad weather and which departments were most in need of heaters, agent Barton popped in for a visit. Literally.
"Hey, it's a mini Coulson, what's it called?" Pips looked at the strange man but wasn't overly concerned; Phil wouldn't let anything dangerous get that close to her. She didn't actually mind that the mystery man talked about her like a zoo animal as long he wasn't insulting.
"Barton, this is my niece." He turned to her, "this is Clint Barton and he has the social maturity of a 4 year old at best." She nodded and waved but returned to her book, it might have been about Captain America or a dragon maybe both.
"Are you going for lunch? Phil?" Both of them jerked up their heads and Clint laughed. "I could forgive the Captain America book but she's called Phil?"
She scowled, her uncle did to.
"Technically I'm Philippa but I prefer Phil and so does he." She watched the wide eyes, her accent tended to do that there.
"Coulson, Coul-niece? Perhaps maybe Phil 1 and Phil 2?"
He dashed out a minute later with the newfound knowledge that there were two Phil Coulsons and that was fine.
Phil praised his niece for reacting like a Coulson and passed her a treat from his drawer, the one Barton had been searching for since he found out about it the fortnight before. Unfortunately Barton didn't stay gone.
He returned two hours later with a large, hot cheesy pizza and a box from a nearby bakery that Phil knew was Barton's favourite. Phil tried to shoo the pest but he was insistent and relatively harmless and Pips probably should eat lunch. Before Phil could offer to get a chair for his intruder Barton hopped up onto the windowsill and made himself quite at home.
"So then, Phil, and I mean the one who can't drink yet, how do you like New York so far?" Pips looked to Phil to check that she was safe to answer and he sighed but nodded, neatly eating a slice without getting the 3EG-9Q13OJ form covered in grease, Barton was technically cleared to a quite high security level and he seemed to be quite good at keeping secrets.
"Well I can't say much for the weather but I have to say the food is alright." Pips swallowed another bite of pizza; it was different from the pizza she knew but still tasty. Barton made a noise of agreement.
"I promise you'll be missing this snow when the AC unit breaks down in the middle of July and you run out of ice cubes." Phil looked disapprovingly at his operative but his niece just laughed. "Oh wow, she has a sense of humour. Is it from the other side of the family?" Pips choked on her slice and took a moment to compose herself.
"Honestly Phil is a laugh when you get him relaxed, all of us are." Barton was well used to being dismissed and skirted around the topic, changing the subject to her school which Pips had a lot more to discuss."
Phil observed the two and, as reluctant as he was to admit it, he noticed that they got along like a house on fire, or a government organisation being bombed, that sounded about right. Pips and Clint, as she had been instructed to call him, were chatting away and Barton had yet to interrupt her or to use any of his usual colourful language. As Phil was wondering whether it was all children or just Pips, and what affect his years in the orphanage had to do with it, he was brought back to the present by a paper plane landing on his desk. Looking up from the accurate SHIELD fighter jet he saw Pips holding out a blueberry tart on a napkin. Phil thanked her and took it watching Barton from his perch grinning from ear to ear. Pips returned to her seat and mirrored Barton's cross legged stance, already taking cues from the new man's behaviour. Phil supposed that there could be worse role models, maybe. Whatever Phil thought Pips was clearly trusting of Barton and so when she asked him with wide enthusiastic eyes if she could go and watch him shoot some fruit he had to say yes. At least Barton would know that if a single hair on Pips' head was so much as blown out of place his would never even have existed. Ah, the comforts that a shadowy government agency and friends in unbelievably high (and low) places could bring to a guardian in distress.
Despite what Phil may have feared Clint and Pips were remarkably well behaved. After a quick demonstration with Pips throwing up watermelons, oranges and even blueberries into the air to be shot down by Clint from quite some distance they went together to the old range. The range that was no longer used for new recruits or official purposes was a few floors below Phil's office, in the basement and it was the perfect place for Pips to try out her skills with a bit of help from Clint. Contrary to popular belief Pips had handled her fair share of guns, whether on a hunting trip with her grandmother or the few times Phil had visited Sophie and Pips. Her aim wasn't amazing and she couldn't handle a strong recoil without flinging back slightly but she was pretty could for her age and Clint had plenty to work with. By the time Phil was ready to depart Clint had return a happy yet exhausted Pips who was chatting away bonnily in French that was much better that it had been the last time Phil talked to her.
In the car home Pips informed Phil that Barton had offered to coach her with her shooting and her French, thus every Friday afternoon Barton was authorised to go and pick Pips up from school and entertain her until Phil was ready to go home. Phil decided that the best was to deal with the situation was to be thankful that he got a few hours of peace.
