Chapter Nine: Bobbi
"It's good to be home," George stated, driving his bike up to the Triskellion. He was very surprised to see Agent Hill, waiting for him.
"Morning," she said as he climbed off his bike.
"What did I do?" George asked, concerned.
"Nothing. I brought you a coffee," Hill said, handing it to him. George took it, growing more confused. "And homework," Hill continued, shoving three files into his spare arm. George gasped winded as he tried to cradle them.
"Thanks," he mumbled, changing his grip.
"Come on," she said, already walking off.
"Why don't we try something like: 'Hey Sam, how was the Academ…'" George quickly shut-up when he saw her glare. "I thought you said you wouldn't do that anymore."
"Would you prefer I yell at you in the middle of a corridor?" Hill asked, before they entered the elevator. They stood in silence whilst other people walked in.
"The flight was nice by the way," George stated; that pushed the line.
Coulson was walking past the lift when he saw three agents quickly exit it and heard shouting coming from inside.
"Agent Hill," Coulson greeted as she walked past him.
"You deal with him!" she stated, taking the stairs and throwing a coffee into the bin.
"Hey Coulson," George said, walking out of the lift.
"One day… you're back one day…"
"A morning actually," George corrected and Coulson sighed.
"Follow me," he said, leading the kid down the hallway, second floor from the top.
"Coulson, your office is that way," George pointed out, as they went in the opposite direction.
"We're not going to my office," Coulson said, before stopping by a room with George's name on it.
"No way," he stated, opening the door and revealing his own office.
"Level 5 analysts get offices. Here you go."
"I was level 5 before I went to the Academy," George pointed out, admiring the view.
"We pay our decorators badly," Coulson explained. "Too many Quinjets." "This is so cool," George said, turning back to Coulson.
"Well don't get too comfy, Fury hasn't decided where to properly assign you yet."
"I thought you said you had a few cases you wanted me to look at?"
"I do and you still have the lists to make for Fury, but after that you may be needed elsewhere." "Ok," George mumbled, not really listening as he looked around.
"I'll leave you to get acquainted with the furniture," Coulson teased, before leaving. George mumbled ok again, but was really admiring his new surroundings some more. He had a glass far wall, a desk, two guest chairs and a sofa with a coffee table. This was awesome he thought, collapsing into his own chair.
A little while later there was a knock on his door. George spun round and saw Clint stood in the doorway.
"Permission to enter?" Barton teased, before he just walked in and looked out the window himself. "Nice view." "Jealous?" George replied, spinning in his chair which made Clint smile.
"I don't need a desk," Clint stated.
"Neither do I," George replied, "but I have one."
"Shut-up," Barton said, before sitting on the kid's couch. "How was the Academy?"
"Very weird. It's like a teenage spy school."
"It is a teenage spy school," Clint pointed out, resting his feet on the table.
"They all know about Hawkeye and Black Widow," George said. "Well, they think they do. Most of them believe Fury raised you both, I even had one guy tell me you two were married." Clint couldn't help but laugh at that.
"You would think that they would have more sense. Tasha's more likely to shoot me than marry me."
"Don't get cocky Barton," George said smiling, "you're not worth a bullet." "You're asking for a fight kid," Clint stated, grinning.
"You've been away gramps; Coulson was whipping me into shape before my brief education." "Best of three?"
"Deal," George agreed, as they both went to the training room. He'd already emailed Fury the list after Coulson had shown him his office. He had finished it overnight.
George was sat at his desk, going over a case when he heard a knock.
"Go away Barton," he yelled, not bothering to look up.
"Did he damage your eyesight in that last fight?" a female voice called. George jumped and looked up to see agent Morse stood there. He got to his feet quickly.
"Do all field agents knock the same?" he asked, motioning to a chair.
"Only the best ones," she replied before sitting down.
"So, what can I help you with Agent Morse?"
"Bobbi, please," she said and George got slightly lost in her eyes.
"Sam then," George replied, only Coulson used his first name.
"Sam," Bobbi began smiling, "I was wondering if you had the time to look over some candidates for me." "Candidates?"
"Fury's granted me permission to have my own team," Bobbi explained.
"Congratulations, I'm sure it will be a huge success."
"Well?" she pressed and George tried to focus again. He might have gotten slightly distracted by her smile. "Uh…I'm busy till the end of the week. After that I might be able to look into it. What sort of people do you need?" George asked, making a note in his schedule. Coulson always seemed to fill it up with lectures lately.
"It will be a small team. I need a mechanic, a biologist and at least two more field agents."
"No-one from the analyst branch?" George asked confused.
"All field agents have enough knowledge to get by."
"I know, but surely you want someone who is properly trained in that area," George argued.
"The team leader will be," Bobbi replied, George was now more confused.
"I assumed that you would be…"
"Team leader? No. Fury is choosing that candidate himself," Bobbi explained. "I'll be in charge of the tactical side."
"I see," George said. "How much free range did he give you on the rest of the team?"
"Level 4's and below. I'm a level 5, so if I'm supposed to be in charge, it helps if I have a higher rank. The researchers can be green, but I want experienced operatives." George nodded.
"I'll see what I can do."
"Thank-you," Bobbi said smiling as she stood up, George quickly mirrored her "And Sam, meet me in the training room at 8, I'll teach you how to block Clint's right hook."
"Seriously?" George asked, a little too hopefully.
"Yeah, there's nothing to it," Bobbi replied.
"Tell that to my chest," George whined as he rubbed the sore spot.
"See you later."
"Yeah. See you."
"I've had this room for two weeks and its already been taken over," George stated when he saw Bobbi
sat in his chair.
"You weren't here," she replied matter-of-factly. George frowned before handing her a de-caff. "You have too much caffeine," she said, as he sat on the sofa, drinking his coffee. When he didn't reply Bobbi stood and sat next to him. "You're not sleeping."
"I am," he replied, not sure whether to be happy Bobbi was close to him or not.
"Fine. You're not sleeping enough."
"I've got a lot of work," he explained, putting his empty cup in the bin and sitting in his now unoccupied chair.
"When was the last time you had a break?" she questioned.
"I have the weekends off."
"And you work at home. That pile has grown since Friday," Bobbi stated, pointing to his finished cases stack. George ignored her, spinning his chair to face the window. "I came for an update," Bobbi said, when she knew he wasn't willing to talk about anything personal. To be fair, she had only been spending time with him for two weeks, but it was difficult not to like him.
"I've made a list," George said. "Third file down." Bobbi sighed and picked it up before sitting back on the sofa.
"Johnson and Peters," she read. "They're not exactly elite…"
"They're reliable," George replied, still looking the other way.
"I'm looking for the best."
"Well, you can't have the best," George stated sternly, "because they're above level 4," he continued before turning around.
"Why are you so pissed off with me?" Bobbi said, annoyed by his tone.
"I'm giving you facts. If you want reliability and ability, then you will have to look higher." "Facts… is that what this is. You're not just annoyed by the fact I asked you a personal question?" "And what if I was?" George asked.
"Then I'd say you're being an idiot. Don't expect me not to say something when I can see there's a problem." "Jesus Christ… what is it with this place?"
"What?"
"SHIELD…, all you people do is ask me personal questions. You don't know me… you have no idea what's going on inside my head…"
"Hey!" Bobbi yelled, now really annoyed. "I came to you because I thought you could understand that I want to create something great here. I don't want a typical Academy built team. I want specialists and to get the job done. That's why I'm here. That's why SHIELD's here, and we can't get the job done when we're not at our best. That's why I asked you. That's why we ask you these things, because if you're not doing your job at your best then you're letting us down."
"I'm sorry," George replied quietly. "You're right."
"I am," Bobbi stated. George then opened his drawer and pulled out another file, handing it to Bobbi.
"This is the team I would choose," George said, before he left the room. He needed air and to see Coulson.
"You know, I have an office," Coulson said, walking onto the roof.
"I don't like your office," George replied and Coulson just nodded, he could tell the kid was in an odd mood. He went and sat beside him on the half-wall. "What's up?"
"I need you to lessen my work load," George said, which really did shock Coulson.
"Of course," Coulson replied. "Are you struggling? Because you haven't missed a deadline." "I'm working through the night," George explained and Coulson sighed.
"George, why didn't you say before?"
"Because… because I don't want to sleep and the work keeps me occupied," George said and saw Coulson's expression. "You don't seem surprised."
"I'm not," Phil admitted. "When we first met… properly met that is, you were awake every morning, you drank more coffee than water and you get more work done than humanly possible." George smiled at that last remark. "Clint guessed too."
"So did Bobbi," George replied.
"Is that why you've brought it up."
"Yeah. She said a few things, it hit home a little."
"What did she say?"
"She said if I wasn't at my best, I was failing SHIELD."
"George…"
"She's right. We made a deal. One day at a time I would try and do things right. To do better. If I keep this up, then I'm not doing my best… I'm making things worse."
"You aren't making things worse," Coulson insisted. "I'll lessen your workload and we'll go from there."
George nodded and Coulson wrapped an arm round his shoulder. "One day at a time kid. One day at a time."
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