Title: Protection Detail
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Warner Bros, Bloomsbury. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Warnings: language, implied slash
Chapter 10
It was only when Harry noticed that almost half his pasta had moved to Clint's plate that he realised he had fallen back into his childhood eating habits again. He had spent a lot of time, especially after Hogwarts, re-learning how to eat at a table where he wasn't required to allow Dudley to take all the food he wanted off Harry's plate. The behaviour had been, unfortunately, re-enforced in his first years of Hogwarts because he sat next to Ron, who was used to sharing his meals with his siblings, who had a winner-takes-all attitude to food. It had been, surprisingly, Viktor Krum, who sat with them in the weeks after the Yule Ball, who pointed out that Harry only ever ate, at most, half of his, usually meagre, meal. By this point, both Hermione and Ron had developed the habit of taking things off Harry's plate if they saw something they wanted, but Harry had never developed the proper response, that is, taking some food back.
Harry had, by the time he was twenty-five, managed to teach himself how to stop others from taking his food, and get used to being able to eat everything that he wanted to eat, but was clearly falling back on old habits in this new environment.
While he was glad that he was, as it meant he was properly acting like a teenaged version of himself, it also meant that the superspies and geniuses he was associating with would be able to very accurately gather an image of what his childhood was like, if they paid any attention to what he was doing.
Although, Harry was able to see learn things about them as well. Bruce was the most obvious. He ate everything that was on his plate, even if he didn't like it, showing that he had lived with a shortage of food for a long period of time, although Bruce's vegetarianism indicated that he had never been truly desperate, had never been in a situation where any form of nutrients was welcome.
By contrast, Clint was very similar to Harry, in that he ate in swift, economical movements, and happily took food of other's plates, especially Harry's now that he knew Harry wouldn't stop him. He had clearly lived in a situation similar to Ron's, where food wasn't exactly short, but you had to fight to get enough, and others didn't really respect (boundaries) when it came to an individual's plates. Of course, Harry knew that Clint would have been trained out of any tells, so to take any body language indicators as absolute truth would be a mistake.
However, considering Clint's current food theft, Harry forcibly moved to sit properly, and blocked Clint's fork when it next came towards his plate.
He managed to get a few bites in before he noticed Natasha staring at him with narrowed eyes. Rather than make her ask a question, he just said, "Muscle memory is hard to get rid of in a body that doesn't change."
Natasha just shrugged, and hummed noncommittally, but before she had a chance to say anything, Tony interrupted.
"See that's what I don't understand. You look seventeen. You say you don't change. And you clearly don't because you eat enough for your body to not be so skinny. But you are. And JARVIS tells me you have early indicators of osteoporosis, but that it hasn't advanced at all in the last 10 years which is impossible. So that adds credence to what you say. So you don't age, and existing wounds don't heal but new ones do, but you somehow manage to learn. How does that work?"
"Pardon?" Harry asked. "How do I… learn? By reading a book, just like everyone else."
"No. That doesn't work. The brain doesn't work like that. You shouldn't be able to have reactions like you do. If you stay the same, then you should never be able to have any kind of flight or flight adrenaline reactions, or be able to pick up how to use a smart phone that you had never used before, and ingrain it in your 'muscle memory'. You act like you're thirty, but don't have a prefrontal cortex. It just doesn't work!" Tony flung his hands up in exasperation.
Harry honestly only had a vague idea about what Tony was talking about and so had no way of answering him, but Bruce took the chance to enter the conversation. "Tony is trying to apply science to your situation. He's managed to do so, so far, with the books you gave us. Mostly. We had to develop new physics, and re-adjust certain fundamental principles of the world, but really, all the magic we've come across so far has made sense. Except you. And Tony doesn't like things that are impossible. He takes them as a challenge. What he's trying to ask is how you maintain the body of a seventeen year old, as well as your teenage mind and actions, but still manage to assimilate new knowledge and be the thirty-five year old you are."
"Well my soul is still aging, of course." Harry replied, he figured that would be obvious, but considering Tony's spluttering and Bruce's wide eyed look that wasn't exactly true.
"'Of course' he says. 'Of course' like he's not ignoring centuries of philosophical debates. Christ." Harry stared at Tony as he spoke and then looked around at the other Avengers to see they were all staring at him with fascination, except for Thor, who continued to eat placidly.
"What… Why are you all looking so shocked? Of course my soul is still aging. What else would it be doing?"
Natasha reached over to knock on the table in front of him to draw his attention before asking. "You have soul? You know this?"
"Yes?" Harry replied in confusion. "I don't look soulless do I?"
"Then do I 'look soulless" She asked.
"No… Do muggles not know how to remove souls? Is this why you don't know?"
It was Thor who interrupted the silence that fell this time. "Harry, the Midgardians have not yet found proof that the soul exists. Many believe that it doesn't."
"JARVIS you got this?" Tony asked faintly.
"Yes, sir" The AI replied.
"Save it in a folder, and put together the latest research and philosophy on souls. Remind me to look at it later."
"Can you give me access to that too, JARVIS?"
"Certainly, Mr Banner."
Harry looked at the Avengers curiously. "You really don't know that souls exist? Honestly?"
"No! It breaks all the principles of physicalism, and there is no proof that is exists. And there's no space. Where is it?"
"Ah… I don't know, really. In you somewhere. I'm could find-"
"Your people are not yet ready for the knowledge. Humans cannot know of the soul yet." Thor interrupted.
"Excuse me" Harry replied indignantly. "My people are human too."
"Yes. And can you say they did not pervert all that the soul is as soon as they could? Did they not find it in the most horrific way possible"
Harry thought of Voldemort and his Horcruxes, the little he knew of the history of dementors and the necromancer who made them, of inferi, and the way the Resurrection Stone, created by Cadmus Peverell, hurt the souls it brought back into the world. He thought of the Killing Curse and everything that muggles didn't yet need to face, and nodded. Human nature was cruel, and cruellest when it was looking to save itself by learning more.
"Don't bother with your research, Tony. Even we don't know much about it. Only that it exists, and what it gives us."
"Yes, but from what you said it relates to the mind somehow, and I can work with that. Just tell me what a soulless person looks like."
Harry thought about the horrific sight that had been Barty Crouch Jnr at the end of his fourth year, eyes vacant, body unnaturally. "I can't. Thor said you are not meant to know, and I believe him."
Natasha pushed back from the table, and walked out of the room without a word, face blank.
"Don't mind her." Clint spoke up for the first time since Harry had entered the kitchen, currently leaning back on one chair leg, somehow still maintaining his balance. "Just some things she needs to think through."
"Lady Natasha should not concern herself with this. You are not going to discover anything for many centuries. Not until the new Age. It is a matter for Harry and I to worry over, not you mortals. It is a matter too abstruse for you to yet consider."
"Yeah, honestly. Don't worry about it. I mean, obviously I can't stop you from looking into it if you want" Here Harry looked at Tony and Bruce, "but you honestly won't find anything. If it is not fated, it will not be, and you have so much more to offer the world than futile research.
"Tell me about the science of magic. I'll see if I can find anything to help you."
"Steve! Steve!" Harry called after the tall blond man, who was walking down the road away from the tower, heading the same way as Harry's bike. Harry ran to catch up with the man and fell into step next to him.
"Harry. Hello. How are you?"
"Fine. You missed lunch. How are you?"
"Good. I was in the gym. Had some things I needed to work out. Punching a bag over and over again seems to help me."
Harry laughed. "I get that. Sometimes the only thing that helps is sparring, or running till you faint. Not that your body seems to have an upward end of abilities."
"Yeah. At least, I haven't found any." Steve sighed. "Did you need something?"
"Oh. Yes. I actually came to the tower today to find you. You know all the research I've been doing on your team mates?"
"Yes. You have something on me?"
"Yeah. It's... something else. I mean. It's incredible, but I don't know how to tell you... I mean-. Just. Read this." Harry pulled out a folder, which detailed all that he had found about Steve. "Talk to Thor. He'll be good to talk to. Let me know if you want me to... fix it. I could, I think. I have all the time in the world for research." Harry laughed hollowly. "And, read it somewhere you can break down. Er, just in case."
Harry patted Steve on the back and walked away, leaving the massive man to stare after him in confusion. Harry knew it was cowardly, but he had no idea how to tell the man that his healing ability was so advanced he'd never age, and likely would only ever die if some one cut his head off, and kept it detached for over an hour. Harry remembered the breakdown he'd had when he first realised he wasn't aging, and couldn't be wounded properly. He'd lived in a state of denial for a week and it had taken the realisation of the good he could do, that is, the Protegat spell. Although, it was the prospect of the spell being able to kill him that drew him to try it.
From what he could see, Steve would never drop to the low necessary to killing himself, and would have team willing to help him, and a near-immortal being who would explain the benefits of his new situation. He would write to Thor now and inform him of what he would be facing in the next couple of days.
Harry was back in the S.H.I.E.L.D training room with his team, Christian and Damien, having been told by Adrian that they were expected to learn to work as a team. In the last couple of weeks they had only run into each other occasionally, passing each other in the halls with stacks of paper, or in the Junior Agent locker room in the morning or afternoon, so Harry really had no idea about either their personalities or fighting styles.
At the moment they were all standing off to the side of the sparring mats slightly awkwardly, as they tried to work out how to act around each other.
"Look. We need to work something out so Adrian doesn't put us back on like, file delivery, so how about we just talk about our ability. Like how well we all fight, or like preferred weapon or something." Harry spoke up, his actual age, and natural leadership tendencies coming to the forefront. Neither of his teammates spoke, so Harry continued. "I'm really good with knives, and generally fight with them, but I always hit stuff I when I throw them."
"I was a sniper. A fucking good one too. But, you know, Army, so I'm fine with guns and some hand to hand, and can make a bomb out of just about anything." Damien spoke up.
Christian Smith nodded. "I'm kinda the opposite. Like I'm really great hand to hand, up in your face, but can get along fine from a distance. Also, ah, they hired me 'cause I'm very good at interrogation. That and, um 'wet work'"
"So you were what, in the mob or something, and I'm from the army, so then where did you come from kid?" Damien asked Harry harshly.
"Well, England." Harry replied cheekily. "No, I got caught up in some stuff over the pond, and then like MI6 were involved, and I needed some help to get out of the country, kinda witness protection, and my uncle had some connections, who I didn't even know existed, and then he put me in contact with S.H.I.E.L.D. and they tested me, and here we are."
Of course everything Harry just said was not only completely made up, but also lacking any kind of details allowing it to be followed up on. However, Harry knew that any 'facts' his teammates had provided would be the same, mostly made up, except for their weapons talents, and lacking half the details. Either way, it was enough for now, and they all knew the only way they could really learn to work together was to develop trust, which would take time.
Either way, they were stopped from making any further awkward overtures by Adrian walking past them and gesturing for them to follow.
They trailed behind him into one of they many nondescript rooms that lined the halls of S.H.I.E.L.D., that had only a table big enough for six to sit at, and a white board with a big hunk of blue-tak sticking to it.
"Congratulations for managing not to complain too much about your jobs. You've all done better than most, likely because Harry guessed at the start that we were, for want of a better word, hazing you. We were making sure you could all follow orders you didn't like and knew when to complain, which is never." Adrian was standing at the head of the table, and gestured for them to sit down.
"Now, I'm sure you've noticed that I'm only a couple of years older than you. That does not mean I'm not more competent than you, does not mean you do not follow my orders, and does not mean I'm going to go easier on you out of sympathy or something. We all need to exceed, so that we can all advance. Unless something serious changes this will be your team for the next couple of years, before you either get assigned to go solo, or choose to specialise. Right now, because of your talents we are a 'wet work' team. This means assassinations. This means information extraction. You need to learn how to get in, get out, and leave the body behind exactly as we want it. S.H.I.E.L.D. is the best, and you need to live up to expectations."
"Now, as you've all done well, we have a mission. It's simple, and you really can't mess it up. We just need you to prove you can do it."
Adrian turned around and, using a bit of the blue-tak, stuck a picture to the whiteboard, then passed out a file to each of them.
"Daniel Jones. He deals with Hamas, passing on money, and trading information, acting as a go between for them and other organisations. We want him brought in, and we're giving you a chance to find out what he knows. If you open your folders, you'll see we've planned out most of this. We need to get him up to his hotel room and out to his balcony which is your job Harry, where you Damien will be responsible for getting him with a tranq from the building across from it. Harry you'll then tie a rope around him, drop him down to the room below where me and Christian will catch him, then follow him down. We wait for him to wake up, give Damien time to come over to us, then its all in your hands. I'll be there with you to assess you, but won't participate, and will stay out of Jones' sight.
Looking through the folders, showing the hotel blueprints, a couple options for Damien to wait in, and some information on his background, and more legitimate business dealings.
"This all makes sense, except you don't say how you want me to get him up to his balcony." Harry looked up at Adrian who was grinning widely. Harry caught the bag that was thrown at him, and pulled out the clothes that were inside.
Laying out the size-too-small skinny jeans, the thin white tee-shirt, and converse, Harry groaned.
Adrian nodded, as if he had asked a question. "Honeypot."
AN: Right, hi. No excuse. I've got the new one up, lets not dwell on the past. Its been a while, but I hope the continuity is there.
Anyway, just remember that this is Harry's point of view, so I try to keep what Harry could know realistic, thus him not knowing things that we know to be canon, primarily here the more fanon idea of Steve's mental state, which is you know a spoiler, but lets be real you all understand foreshadowing. So he's talking to Steve here about like, reading a file to see that he's immortal which is the dickiest move ever, but Harry is scared, Harry doesn't want to be the bearer of bad news, and Harry is happy to avoid the confrontation entirely, which he is. He doesn't really know the repercussions of this, because he doesn't really know Steve. Anyway, that's plot that will be explored later.
As I'm sure some of you have noticed, I write very meta-based fic, in that I come up with an idea, like at the start of this chapter, that eating habits are different in different people, and I explore it, I write about it, and I have a scene based on it. I've done the same with some of the bigger ideas in this story that you might have picked up on, but that's really how my writing develops. I think, I dunno, 'lets be real, harry is a wizard and therefore not unique, thus would never be called to join the Avengers' (which is not to say I don't love fics like that, because I have read tons) and try to work out a way for him to exist in the Avengers 'verse, which is how this fic was born. So, my writing develops like that, with me having a very overarching idea of plot, and then filling in ideas with things I want to write about.
Anyway. As always, thanks to all the reviews, faves and follows (the latter two having reached over 1k each which, like, holy shit! thanks) I appreciate every one.
Lots of love
Whitsie