Chapter Seven: recovery
"Agent Morse, how long are you planning on sitting there?" Maria Hill asked from behind one of her desks outside Fury's office.
"Till he agrees to see me," Bobbi replied, shuffling in the waiting chair.
"You know you're only annoying me right now," Hill replied, she had been Fury's second in command for about four weeks which meant she was the second most important person in SHIELD, yet she still had to deal with this shit. Not that she didn't like Bobbi, but she was not in the mood.
"Well, I'll sit here until you're sufficiently annoyed to make Fury see me." At that point Fury came out of his office, handing Hill a file and giving her instructions. Hill left straight away, glad to be out of there. Hill handled most of the business in the Triskellion and thus was walking around the building a lot. Whereas Fury remained in his office, managing the SHIELD network. Fury made to go back to his office but saw Bobbi out of the corner of his eye.
"You're still here," Fury stated.
"Yes Sir," Bobbi replied. Fury then looked at his watch and sighed.
"Five minutes agent Morse, no more," Fury said, walking back into his office and Bobbi followed him. Fury went and sat behind his desk, waving his arm to let Bobbi speak.
"Sir, it's been six weeks since Agent Morton was arrested and found guilty of being a mole of SHIELD. That's six weeks since I have been on a mission."
"Agent Morse, a suitable replacement for Agent Morton is being found, currently there are no spare level 6 agents free to take up the position. Yourself and the rest of the agents in your division will have to wait"
"Sir, I don't want a replacement."
"Then what do you want Agent Morse, because right now I'm too concerned about getting rid of a group of traitors in my midst to worry about what's on your Christmas list."
"I want my own team," Bobbi stated, Fury just looked at her. "Sir, for the last five years I have had a 96% success rate on all of my missions. I am devoted to my work and SHIELD. I think I have earned the opportunity to have my own team."
"Agent Morse, you want your own analysts and tech crew?"
"Yes Sir."
"What about all the other agents that have been waiting for this opportunity longer than you?" Fury asked.
"I'm better than them Sir," Bobbi stated. Fury pressed a button on his phone.
"Hill, get Coulson up here." "Yes Sir," came the reply.
"Tell me agent Morse, did you suspect Morton at all?"
"Honestly? No sir. I was just as shocked by him as I was by Blakeman. Do we know if there's any more of them?"
"No, not yet. That's why security is still so tight."
"We all understand sir," Bobbi stated. Fury nodded, though he knew many agents were not happy about all their work being scrutinised severely. There was a knock on the door and Hill opened it to let Coulson in.
"Sir. Agent Morse," Coulson greeted. Bobbi nodded in return.
"Coulson, Agent Morse here is extremely eager to have her own team," Fury began. "And I'm willing to grant her that wish."
"She won't let you down Sir," Coulson replied and Bobbi smiled at him, Coulson had always been a support. "The problem is agent Morse, the person I think who is perfect for the job of team leader is currently unavailable," Fury said. "For how long?" Bobbi asked.
"That is unknown," Fury answered cryptically. "Coulson, please take Agent Morse here down to see Agent Samuels."
"Sir?" Coulson asked, confused.
"Surely you agree he is worthy of the job?" Fury questioned.
"Sir, of course, but…"
"I'm sure agent Morse will understand the reason for the delay when you introduce them. And tell Barton I'll be there at five minutes late for my shift at least."
"Sir," Coulson finished, leading Bobbi out.
…
"Coulson, who is Agent Samuels, I've never heard of him," Bobbi asked in the elevator. Coulson let out a small sigh and Bobbi noticed how tired the guy looked.
"Agent Samuels joined SHIELD roughly a year and a half ago and has spent all that time stationed here, that's why you haven't met him."
"He must of have good credentials to have a spot at the Triskellion straight away," Bobbi pointed out.
"Somewhat. He provided significant intel that led to the take down of the Hamlet organisation." "Jesus, you'd been working on that since before I left for Mexico. How'd he come by that intel?" "He was one of them," Coulson replied.
"You found a whistle-blower?"
"He found us."
"Did you ever found out why it was called Hamlet? Did they have some fetish for Shakespeare?"
"The Lion King, I believe," Coulson said causing Bobbi to smile. She loved how Coulson's expression would barely change when he said the most ridiculous things.
"So, he gives us the intel, you take down Hamlet, then we hire him." Coulson nodded. "Then how after a year and a half does Fury have him on a high horse? A whistle-blower is a mole for our enemies, not someone I would of thought Fury would trust." Coulson then turned into the med-bay which confused Bobbi, but she stayed silent.
"Because in the year and a half he worked here, Samuels got three times the amount of work done than the other level 4 analysts. He completed nearly all our dead-in-the-water cases and 2 months ago he exposed Blakeman as a mole within SHIELD and provided us with knowledge of the existence of further traitors." Bobbi stopped walking, this guy was the real deal.
"Is that why he can't take the role straight away, because he's still searching for the other moles?" Coulson suddenly looked bleak.
"I wish that were the case. This way," Coulson guided as they walked into the 'long stay' area of the med-bay. Bobbi noticed how the area seemed to be under a form of lock-down, with only one patient and only the essential staff. "Meet Agent Samuels," Coulson said as they stopped by the glass of one of the rooms. Barton was sat in the chair beside the medical bed, cleaning his bow meticulously. Bobbi could have sworn he looked like he had ages five years since she last saw him. He had a few bags under his eyes like Coulson and seemed to have taken residence in the chair for a while. Beside him was a medical bed with a number of instruments surrounding it, all beeping and giving off different data. On the bed itself, laid a still figure, dressed in a medical gown, with a blanket up to his waist. He had at least three lines in his arm and there was an incubator in his mouth. The figure itself was a boy, about 20 years old. Was this supposed to be Agent Samuels?
"Samuels discovered there was a mole within SHIELD and took the information to his superior officer;
Blakeman," Coulson began. "Blakeman set it up, made it look like Samuels was our target. He cornered the kid and exposed himself unknowingly on camera. Barton entered the room to take Samuels in, only to have the kid jump in front of the bullet from Blakeman. He's been in a coma for 2 months. Nearly a year and a half ago he saved my life. If you want someone to trust with your missions Bobbi, it's this kid. If you're willing, he's worth the wait," Coulson said before he entered the room, taking his place in the chair next to Clint, leaving Bobbi to stare at the young agent.
…
It was another three weeks of splitting the watch between Clint, Nat, Fury and Coulson before George showed signs of waking up. They had all had to stand guard to ensure that any moles remaining within SHIELD wouldn't retaliate or try to save their own skin, for fear of George tracking them down when he woke up. The kid found evidence that was so hidden, everyone else had missed it.
"You guys want a coffee?" Nat asked, peering her head round the door.
"No thank-you," Coulson replied and Clint shook his head. Nat sighed and placed her hand on Clint's arm, before running another through his short hair.
"You haven't showered in two days," she stated bluntly, Clint smiled a little.
"Is it so obvious?" Clint asked.
"Yes," she stated bluntly again.
"Well I was busy."
"Doing what, sitting here? It wasn't your shift. And it wasn't yours either Coulson. You two need to stop worrying," she said, crossing her arms. "Nothing is going to happen to him. He's waking up and no-one can reach him here; we're protecting him." Coulson just rubbed a hand over his eyes.
"Coulson's not worried about him, he's worried about himself. The kid's going to start beating his ass in the training room again," Clint joked but it was half-hearted. Nat sighed in hopelessness at their stubbornness. "I'm going to go get some things for him. Clothes and stuff. That's the first thing he's going to complain about; the medical gown."
"Make sure you bring a shirt," Coulson said quietly. "He likes shirts." Nat didn't comment on it and walked out.
As soon as she did there was a slight shift in the hand beside Clint and the archer jumped to his feet, causing
Coulson to mimic him. "What is it?"
"'Sam'? Can you hear me kid?" Clint asked, holding the hand and leaning over him. Coulson walked over to the door and called for a doctor.
"What's the problem?" Dr. Stack asked.
"His hand moved," Clint said. Dr. Stack then went over and checked the data.
"The readings are holding steady, are you sure?" Stack asked, but at the same moment George's eyes fluttered. "I need a nurse in here, we need to get the incubator out." Coulson went back to the door and called one, who came quickly. George's eyes started opening and his brow furrowed as he felt something down his throat. "Ok, he's panicking, hold him down whilst we take it out," the Dr. stated and Clint and Phil pinned George's legs and arms. The nurse held George's head still as his eyes fully opened and he stared terrified at the tube exiting his mouth. When it was finally out George gasped for breath and Coulson took over the nurse's position. "George, hey, calm down. Easy, it's me; Coulson. You're safe kid," Phil said, as Clint continued to stop his struggling.
"He needs to have this on," the Dr. stated, handing Coulson a breathing mask.
"Ok, nice and calm kid. This will help you breathe," Coulson continued, placing the mask over the kid's mouth and nose, he would deal with the strap when he was sure Clint wasn't going to get kneed in the head. Able to get oxygen George calmed down slightly and recognised Coulson, but he didn't see anyone else and he started remembering what had happened. The grip on George's arm lessened and he pulled it loose to knock the mask away.
"Barton…," George gasped, worry in his eyes. Coulson suddenly stepped back, but Clint took his place. Clint picked up the mask and placed it back on the kid's mouth and nose.
"I'm here kid," Clint said and George closed his eyes in relief, Clint was alive. Then there was a hand squeezing his shoulder and George opened his eyes again. "Hey, no sleeping. You've done enough of that." George just looked at him confused before he noticed how tired the two of them looked. George reached for the mask again, but Clint stopped him. "That needs to stay on," Clint said, placing the strap over his head.
"We need to ask you some questions," Coulson stated and the kid reached for the mask. It was Coulson this time that placed it back. "They're going to be yes or no questions."
"So, blink once for yes, twice for no," Clint said, before he set the bed to a more sat up position. He made sure to do it slowly, George's chest was still going to be sore. "Wouldn't it be easier the other way around?" Coulson asked.
"Well I always did it this way."
"What do you mean 'always did it this way', when was the last time you had to…," Coulson replied only to be interrupted by a hit in the chest. The two of them looked back to George who was looking somewhere between pissed off and amused.
"Sorry," they both mumbled at the same time.
"Ok, do you know where you are?" Coulson asked. George blinked twice.
"Medical," Clint replied and George rolled his eyes, that bit was obvious. "Triskellion."
"Do you remember what happened?" George blinked twice, his memory was a bit sketchy. "Do you remember anything?" George blinked once. "Well that's a relief," Clint said, running a hand through his hair. Coulson gave him a glare. "What? You never know, we could have a John Doe…ish person here."
"Yeah a John Doe is when we don't know who he is."
"Hence the ish," Clint justified, this time George hit Clint. "Sorry kid, it's been a weird couple of months." Shit…Clint shouldn't have said that; George's eyes grew wide in terror.
"What?" George asked through his mask, so it came out all fuzzy.
"You took a bullet to an already bleeding chest, your lung collapsed and well… George you've been in a coma for two months," Coulson said. George blinked a few times, not in answer but as he tried to work out what Coulson had just told him. George reached for his mask but again they stopped him, so George made a pen motion. Clint grabbed a pad and a pen and handed it to him. It was quite messy as George couldn't see what he was writing but Clint could read it. "What happened to Blakeman?" Clint read.
"Clint dealt with him," Coulson stated and by the look on his face George didn't need any more explanation. He started writing again.
"His associ…associates?" Clint read again.
"Fury organised an investigation within half an hour," Coulson answered. "We've found three other moles here in D.C and they've been put into custody. We are unsure if there are anymore, so we've had a small team watch over you just in case. That means you're not being left alone till you're fit enough to fight back."
'Who?' George wrote.
"Myself, Clint, Romanoff and Fury. We didn't know who we could trust," Coulson replied. George didn't know how to react to that. Those four people had sat by his bedside for two months whilst he just laid there. 'Fury doesn't trust me' George wrote. Coulson took the paper and crossed out the word 'doesn't' and replaced it. "'Didn't' trust you kid. 'Didn't'."
"You should get some sleep, we can talk more later," Clint said after George's eyes started to droop. Coulson said goodbye and Clint returned to his chair. "Don't even think about it," Clint said as the kid started to move his hand upwards to the mask. George smiled and just moved the mask slightly before he had to close his eyes and went back to sleep.
…
George woke up and found a nurse changing his I.V. He reached up and moved his mask.
"Morning," he whispered.
"Afternoon," she corrected before sitting his bed up, at that point George saw Fury sat in the chair in the corner, reading a file.
"So how long am I gonna be here?" George asked the nurse.
"For as long as you're told to be," the nurse replied before leaving the room.
"I don't think she likes me very much," George said. Fury closed the file, placing it on the side-table before finally looking at him.
"Oh, she's a real Nurse Ratched," Fury stated. "But she's trustworthy."
"I… I hope that… that I've gained some trust," George stated. Fury stood and walked over to the bed.
"The last time I trusted someone completely I lost an eye. It makes it difficult for me to listen to those who I still do trust. You saved Coulson's life, you saved Barton's and you took down a threat to SHIELD. I think I'll give you some slack kid."
"Thank-you sir," George replied, he didn't think he would ever hear those words.
…
"How do you do that?" George whined when Clint threw his dart into the back of George's.
"Practice," Clint replied, smirking.
"But… I practice…"
"You can hit the bulls-eye every-time, what's your problem?" Clint asked, flicking through the channels on the TV.
"Well that looks cooler," George replied making Clint laugh. George then slowly stood up, walking over and pulling out the darts. He looked a lot better, he was allowed to get out of bed and he was wearing trackies and a shirt instead of a med-gown. Clint reached out to take his three but George pulled his hand away. "You can have your darts if you let me out of this room."
"Two more days' kid, Dr.'s orders," Clint stated.
"The Dr.'s a dick," George said, putting the darts down. "He isn't even here, he wouldn't know."
"Yes, he would, they always find out."
"Well I don't care," George stated, walking to the door. Clint stood and got there before he could, George was still slow.
"You'll wear yourself out before you get to the elevator kid," Clint said.
"Then I'll take breaks," George responded trying to get past. Clint noticed how the kid didn't deny his claim. He stood there assessing George's state before finally sighing.
"Well you aren't going anywhere dressed like that," Clint stated and George instantly perked up.
"You serious?"
"Yes," Clint said, walking over to the drawer and bringing out some real trousers, socks and boots from the cupboard. "Put those on, I'm going to tell Nat where we're going before Fury sends out a search party." "Hey Clint," George called before he left the room. "Thanks."
…
George stood in the elevator, trying to look energetic anytime Barton looked him over. After a couple of floors, the door opened and a very tall female agent entered.
"Clint," she greeted, smiling.
"Bobbi," he replied, George noticed how there was a little bit of tension between them. They so had had a fling.
"Have you met…"
"Agent Samuels," she finished, "nice to meet you," she said, holding out her arm. George shook it a little confused. "I've been following your work. I've actually been the field agent assigned to some of your cases in the past."
"I just deal with the paperwork," George replied a little awkwardly, neither of the other two occupants of the elevator missed how his face had paled a little. Clint was beginning to consider heading back, the kid was about to faint.
"Well, this is my floor. I'll see you two later," Bobbi said, as she left she gave Clint a concerned look. As soon as the door closed, Clint had to catch the kid as he swayed a little.
"This is the last time you talk me into anything," Clint said, leaning the kid against the wall.
"I'm good," George argued, trying to stand properly.
"Let's just get outside," Clint said as they got to the ground floor. Clint didn't care about George's reputation and pulled his arm over his shoulder. He had to support him quite a lot before they made it outside and Clint lowered the kid down onto the wall next to the water. Clint then crouched in front of him as George rested his head against his chest. "You alright?" George made a thumbs up. "I would prefer words."
"I just need a minute," George replied, lifting his head up. As soon as he felt the sun on his face he cheered up.
"I've missed that." Clint put a hand on the kid's shoulder as he sat down.
"I'm sorry kid."
"For what?" George asked.
"You got shot because of me."
"What? Clint I… How is any of this your fault? Blakeman was the one who shot me. And… and I was the idiot who didn't tell Coulson about the evidence I found. I could have stopped this. As if I believed I could have found the mole by myself…" Clint squeezed his shoulder before letting go.
"When Coulson recruited me, he became my handler. I used to be an assassin and SHIELD decided to take those skills and used them for a better purpose."
"Clint, you don't have to…"
"It was my first mission," Barton continued, ignoring him. "My cover was blown and Coulson told me to abort.
I told him to shut the fuck up and carried on." George smirked.
"You haven't changed."
"No," Clint said before looking more serious. "I got taken and Coulson got me out. He risked his life for me and got hit. I still carry the guilt. You just have to remember that you make mistakes. It's better to have good intentions then have good successes." George nodded, he'd heard that before.
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