Code Of Conduct
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Avengers. All recognisable characters, content or locations belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended.
Part One: Living With Ghosts
"Life is about choices. Some we regret, some we're proud of. Some will haunt us forever." - Graham Brown.
Chapter Six: Valentine
14th February, 2005
In the following four weeks, time flew. Gwen spent most of her time in the training academy, or passed out from exhaustion, or gorging herself on an exorbitant amount of calories to make up for those that she'd burned off.
In contrast, Clint and Natasha spent their time on back to back missions that, although not particularly strenuous, were time-consuming, and far away besides. Gwen had therefore not seen much of them, but Clint had made it a habit to send her a string of text messages and emails, full of song lyrics, mindless babble, and the occasional in-depth, insightful rebuttal for a thread of debates Gwen had quickly grown weary of. He'd become a friend though, and without many of those in the US, she'd come to appreciate him more than she probably should have.
Brought from her thoughts as Agent May entered the mess hall, Gwen uncapped her water bottle, sipped it slowly, and watched as her fellow trainees collected themselves. May herself observed them through shrewd, perceptive eyes, and once the woman was satisfied with what she saw, she began to speak. Her voice carried across the hall, the cadets themselves were silent, and Gwen listened, attention solely on her primary instructor.
Next week, you will each endure a week of psychological and physical evaluations. They are designed to test your mental, emotional, and physical endurance, and they will be some of the hardest tests you will ever experience. In SHIELD, there is no room for failure. If you do not succeed, we here at SHIELD expect you to try again, and again, and again until you do. If you feel this is not a place for you, you'd best let me know now."
There was a moment of expectant silence, a crowd of resolute faces, and Agent May, expression neutral, but undeniably pleased all the same. She continued her speech.
"The evaluations will span the course of a week, and you'll each be provided a time and place to meet an assigned senior agent. They will be tasked with evaluating your progress, and to determine if you have passed or failed.
"For some of you, this will mean another course in SHIELD's training academy. For others, it will be probationary field duty. Whatever the case, I hope each of you go away from this program having learned something, and I wish you all the best in the future. You are dismissed."
Gwen gathered up her things, and approached Agent May as the trainees retreated from the hall. The oriental woman acknowledged Gwen with a tilt of her head, and the 19 year old gave May an irreverent grin.
"How was that last spar, Agent May?"
The woman pursed her lips, and Gwen was uncertain if she'd just tried to smother a smile, or a frown. Whatever the case, the woman nodded her concession. She'd more or less challenged Gwen to get faster in regards to sparring and hand to hand combat in general, and Gwen had succeeded. In fact, she was fairly certain she'd surpassed herself, but there was no real way of testing that, and she had no real desire to, anyway.
"You impressed me," May relented, her tone begrudging, "Now get out of here, enjoy your weekend, and I'll see you next week."
"You will?"
May nodded. "The psychological component of the evaluations will be performed by professional psychologists, of course, but I'll be your evaluator for everything else."
"No pressure," Gwen quipped, "But I guess I'll see you next week, then."
She left the mess hall, and approached the resident's wing with a weary sigh. It had been a long day, and an even longer six weeks, but with the end in sight, time had never seemed slower. She was looking forward to another weekend off, watching re-runs of Dawson's Creek and the OC before the surely hellish week ahead, but as she approached her assigned room, Gwen knew, beyond reasonable doubt, that she'd have to postpone her weekend plans for another night.
"Barton, what's your deal with breaking and entering?" Gwen groused. The archer, once again, was sprawled out across her bed, dressed once more in a pair of low slung jeans and a sleeveless muscle shirt. He wore a pair of combat boots on his feet and a leather cuff on his wrist, and upon sight of her, he smiled lazily, unfazed.
"It's part of the job description, didn't you know?"
"You're incorrigible," she sighed, retrieved a change of clothes, and approached the shower. "Where are you taking me tonight, and where is Romanov?"
"Out to dinner, and she's got a solo assignment in Vienna."
Gwen shuffled into her attached bathroom, and prepared for her night out. As she did, she reflected upon the friendship she'd formed with Barton and Romanov, a small smile on her face. She no longer felt so alone in the United States, and although she couldn't fully trust them as she'd trusted Hermione, Ginny, and Luna, Gwen knew from experience that such bonds would only come with time and trial by fire.
It hadn't been easy, properly befriending the unlikely duo. They were each jaded and scarred, traumatised by their respective pasts and guarded to the teeth, but time, exposure, and Barton's shear determination had won out, and as she dried her hair, Gwen conceded to herself that it was entirely worth it.
It was wonderful not to feel so alone.
With an internal shake of her head, Gwen pulled herself from her reverie, pulled her hair into a haphazard topknot, and retreated from her bathroom. Clint had settled himself at the edge of her bed, but upon sight of her, he raised himself to his feet, and approached the door. His gaze, however, roved her form appreciatively, and Gwen didn't miss it.
"Like what you see, Barton?"
Shamelessly, with that same lazy smile on his face, he replied, "Very much."
Gwen grinned, chuckling to herself, and followed the man out of her room. She locked the door and engaged the electronic pass code, walked alongside him towards the garage, and the pair chatted idly as they went. He told her about his day, elbows deep in paperwork and pestering Agent Coulson, and Gwen explained what May had informed her earlier.
"The Psych Evals are a bitch," Barton commented mildly.
Gwen shrugged. "I don't much care, so long as I pass."
They reached Clint's car, she clambered into the passenger's seat, and shuffled through the man's CD's. She settled on Green Day's Greatest Hits while Barton pulled out of the parking lot, and she hummed along as the archer drove. The silence between them was companionable, and before long, Clint pulled up in front of a restaurant called 'Pearl'.
"This place has the best milkshakes," he said, dropped out of the car, and met Gwen at the curb, "And it's just occurred to me that today's Valentine's Day."
"No hot date?"
"You don't count?"
Gwen chuckled, brushed some hair out of her eyes, and grinned as Clint held the door open for her. "You're a flatterer, Barton."
"I try," he acknowledged, approached the hostess, and Gwen followed closely behind him, her gaze on the restaurant.
It was rather indy-chic, with black and white photography on the walls, an eclectic mishmash of coloured tablecloths, and strangely shaped candle centrepieces at each table. Imogen Heap filtered from the speakers, the wait staff wore shirts with slogans like 'Save the Trees' and 'Save the Whales', and the hostess bragged about vegan options as they approached the pair's table.
It was, perhaps, the last place she'd ever imagined Clint Barton would appreciate. He was firmly a burger and fries kind of fellow, with a controlled fondness for Jack Daniels and classic cars, but apparently, milkshakes overrode all of that.
"What about you?" Clint queried, "No man in your life?"
Gwen shook her head, no, and her thoughts briefly travelled to the past. Her last partner had been before the war had really begun; a whirlwind romance with Draco Malfoy. it had been very much Shakespeareian, obligatory tragic ending and all, but Gwen never really dwelt on those days. It had hurt too much in the beginning, but then life - and the war - had taken it's toll, and Draco Malfoy had simply become another memory, tinged with the ache of loss and the regret for what could have been.
Ever since, her romantic encounters had been the clandestine, fleeting kind, with her comrades and allies, and later random strangers she'd met on her travels. It had been a while since her last roll in the hay, however, but these days, Gwen neither had the time - or the inclination - to change that.
"I don't really date these days," she admitted, "I don't think I can even be bothered to."
"It takes a lot of effort," Clint acknowledged. Their conversation was interrupted by the waiter, Gwen ordered the first chicken dish she found, and when the man was gone, Clint continued. "Sometimes though, I miss that kind of companionship."
Gwen nodded her agreement. "It's a shit line of work."
"If not us though, then whom?"
"Precisely," she replied, a bleak smile on her face.
Beneath the table, Clint nudged her leg with one of his, his own expression understanding. The smile didn't reach his eyes, and the grief Gwen saw there, perhaps for what he'd done, or was yet to do, or what he'd given up, made her ache for him. Blessedly, however, they spoke no further on the subject and instead, Clint kept her occupied with film and television impressions, and Gwen returned the favour with comical anecdotes from her years in school.
Due to her role in the war, she had not returned after her O.W.L exams, but five years had provided a lot of stories, and Gwen looked back on those days fondly. The weeks, months and years that had followed had been devastating in more ways than one, and those early years were like a beacon of lightness in a life veiled by shadows. It still hurt, most days, to remember all that she'd lost, but Gwen had learned a long time ago that no matter what life had to throw at her, no matter what hurdles had to be climbed and what ghosts haunted her, the world would continue turning, and life would go on.
All she would need was time.
"Your friends sound like a riot," Clint told her, chuckling to himself, "Do you miss them?"
"Every day," Gwen replied, wistful, but Clint didn't pursue the matter further. He probably assumed, rightfully, that she'd lost a fair number of them in the war, and those skeletons were hard to forget. She checked the time - it was late - and sighed to herself. It had been a lovely night, grim conversations and all, and it was a pleasant end to another gruelling week.
Gwen didn't want it to end.
Clint gave her a grin full of childish excitement. It was contagious. "Want a milkshake?"
Gwen shrugged, momentarily heedless. She felt like a little girl again, without a care in the world. "Why not?"
Author's Note: This chapter was initially supposed to be focused on the evaluations, but Valentine's Day ran away with me. Hope you enjoyed. Until next time, -t.
