I don't mean to be insulting when I refer stereotypes. I hope that neither of you feels offended. Also, there will be translations at the end note, be sure to check them.

And I forgot to tell you about Agent Victoria Hand. She's on this chapter as well. Enjoy this chapter because this one wasn't even supposed to be real if it wasn't for certain people asking for Simmons or Fitzsimmons.

Skye is 7-years-old

Befriend people

"It's been three centuries since I've been here." Skye grumbled, spinning around in the chair she was sitting on.

Skye and routine exams didn't go well together, especially as she was growing older and her patience seemed to wear thinner. May had to understand Skye's hassle: two hours of being examined and then having to be confined to the administration office wasn't exactly the idea of fun for a lively seven-year-old.

"Want to help me?"

"I'm not stapling more papers!" Skye said, kissing the top of her index finger wrapped in a Band-Aid.

"I wasn't thinking of suggesting that again," May admitted. Not only did Skye somehow staple her finger, but she couldn't exactly staple papers together either. In any case, she wasted a bunch of them trying to succeed.

"Can I put a paper on Gustav's back and have people kick him?" Skye asked, referring to one of May's coworkers that worked on a cubicle next to hers.

"No. You can't play pranks on Gustav anymore."

Skye breathed a long sigh to draw May's attention, "What can I do then?"

May went through her drawer and gave Skye her access card, "Be back here by seven."

The girl was obviously excited to be given May's card; she could enter pretty much everywhere with it. Looking at her wristwatch, she tried to calculate the time she had on her own to walk around SHIELD's facility. May helped her figure out the time and then she left the office as quick as a bullet.

Skye was pondering the places to sneak into when she saw Clint Barton. "Hey, what up Mr. Knockout?" Skye greeted with a mocking grin, running to meet Clint who was standing at the door of the seminar room with dozens of lanyards hanging on his neck. She presented her fist so he'd fist bump her.

Clint closed his hand into a fist too, but instead of greeting Skye as she wanted, he laced his arm around her neck, pulled her close against his chest and gave her a noogie, although he was careful not to hurt her. "It was Nat who told you about the knockout, wasn't it?"

Skye threw kicks in the air and spoke between giggles, "Yeah, it was her. Let me go, hawk."

"As you wish, Freakzilla."

"She punched you so hard you-"

Clint didn't even let her finish, "Do you want another noogie?"

Skye gave a nervous but hysterical laugh as she stepped back, "No, no, thanks." Pointing at his neck, she asked, "What's with all those?"

"It's for SHIELD's seminar to attract potential students for the academy. They're pretty much offering scholarships to brainy kids."

The girl gave a nod and looked around at people that were gathering at the hall. There were only seven kids that were the same age as Skye, all the others – about twenty – were teenagers, and with them were their parents.

"To which Academy are they going?"

"What do you think, bright mind? Science and Tech, of course. Communications is the easiest to enter and taking a look at these I wouldn't say that they'd get in Operations. Besides, recruitment for Operations is far more severe. They'd pee their pants at first approach."

Skye giggled at his remark. Clint was a nice guy, always funny and playful. "Why are you here with all these smart people?"

"Because I was assigned," he replied with a discontented grunt. "Disciplinary action for having punched a superior officer in the face."

"Why did you do that?" Clint only sighed deeper and walked inside the room to grab a clipboard with all the names of participants in the seminar. "Was it because of Natasha?"

"That guy had no right to do what he did. He deserved the punch, and quite honestly, he should have seen it coming."

Skye tugged on Clint's sleeve and asked with a giggle, "Do you live in a barn?" Clint frowned and the girl explained, "There's a bunch of crumbs on your shirt."

"Yeah, what did you expect? I barely had time to grab something to eat before having to come and escort all these kids," Clint said, shaking off the crumbs from his plaid shirt. "Look at them," he grumbled in a low voice, "thinking they're Stephen Hawking's or something."

"Stupido uomo, sono più intelligente di lui," a small kid, the youngest of all of them, grumbled.

"Stupido, huh? Io sono più vecchio di te. Un poco di rispetto sarebbe buono. Mamma e papà non ti insegnano buone maniere?" Clint spoke, scaring the little boy, "Sì, è giusto, non sei l'unico che può parlare due lingue!"

The kid ran away from them and hid behind his mother's legs.

Clint searched on the paper sheet attached to the clipboard and realized that there was only one Italian kid, and that he was four years old, certainly the youngest of the group. "Rodrigo Nicolò Caro Bartolomei," he read.

"Bartolomei," Skye repeated. "It sounds like your name."

"It's natural. I have some Italian ancestries. Anyway, I'll keep this one under close watch. He thinks he's a smarty-pants but I'll show him what's right. Now, help me give out these cards?"

Clint would speak a name out loud and Skye would give them a card that said 'visitor' in big blue writing. The kids and teenagers started entering one of the seminar rooms while their parents waited outside. They were going to a different session being conducted by recently-graduated Maria Hill. Clint and Skye entered the room once all thirty visitors were inside waiting for the lecture speakers.

Skye covered her mouth with her hand and muffled her laugh as soon as she got a look at Clint's face. Victoria Hand walked into the seminar room in a brusque and prompt way, as was characteristic of her, and Barton was so taken aback that he flinched and then froze, becoming a breathing statue. Along with Hand, two other people walked in: Director Weaver and Professor Vaughn. The two stood beside Hand, who had taken her place at the lectern.

"Good afternoon cadets, or at least I hope that one day you get to be called SHIELD's cadets. My name is Victoria Hand and with me I have Anne Weaver, director of SHIELD Academy of Science and Technology, and Professor Vaughn, one of the best teachers from the Academy. I'll give them their time to talk, but first I'd like to have a brief word with you."

Hand chewed on her lip and breathed in deeply. She had a memorized text to recite, written by an agent from Communications, and that speech was everything the kids would like to hear, only, Hand didn't believe it at all. She ruled herself by a different code; if not, she would have never got to be assigned to The Hub. Hand believed that no agent was solely important. Sure she believed that everybody mattered, but she also believed that no one person had a bigger role to play than the others; they were all agents working for the same goals.

"This year SHIELD is pleased to announce that our list of possible recruits has expanded. Last year, there were five candidates below ten years of age, this year we've got seven. Last year, there were seventeen candidates that were about the age of thirteen, this year the number went up to twenty-three. You may say that sixteen more candidates are irrelevant, but SHIELD couldn't disagree more. Each one of you is important. Each one of you will make a difference in our agency, in our country, and we are hoping that you choose our agency to study and to graduate as agents capable of protecting the world, whether that concept is applied to a more centered world or a much broader definition of the word." Hand cleared her throat and finished, "I'll now leave you with Director Weaver and Professor Vaughn."

Director Anne Weaver delivered a few words and described what the Academy was about and then let Professor Vaughn speak. He insisted that SHIELD was like a family and that everyone should get to know each other. So, he stepped down from the lectern and walked to the youngsters to ask each about their names, ages and where they were from. Vaughn's attention immediately turned to the curly-haired boy with his elbow resting on the desk and his head propped in his hand. He seemed bored and almost sleeping.

"What is your name, young man?"

"Leopold Fitz," the boy answered between yawns, making it almost impossible to understand him.

"And how old are you?" the Professor asked.

"I'm eight years, seven months and three weeks old."

"Broad clarification," Vaughn smiled, simply marveled by the boy. "I quite like it. And from where are you?"

"A'm hungert," the boy mumbled and then laid his head on his arms.

"I'm sorry, I did not understand what you just said."

The girl sitting next to him, being English, recognized the accent and said with a honeyed voice, "I believe he said he's from Scotland."

His thick head of blondish-brown curls rose and his blue eyes focused on the girl. "Ah said a'm hungert. Wash yer lugs, sassenach bonnie lassie."

"There was no need to talk so bluntly, Scottish laddie."

Vaughn's eyes widened and he let out a troubled sigh. A few teenagers sitting on the back row of the seminar room started to quietly laugh and then exchanged some nasty glares between them. It immediately clicked in the Professor's head that the teens were English and Scottish. He knew that there were some discrepancies in the relations between Brits and Scots and he didn't want to fuel the conflict by saying an unfortunate word. Looking around the room, the man remembered that there were Americans, Canadians, Russians, French, English, Scottish and Chinese people in there; saying one wrong word could make the teenagers and kids start a useless scuffle.

"This was just the main idea," Vaughn said, quickly changing the topic, "I don't think we need to introduce ourselves. I'm sure that you all will have plenty of time for that because I know you will all choose SHIELD's academy to graduate. Am I right?" He got a long silence as an answer that just made him more embarrassed. "I think it's best if we give the building a quick tour with your parents. I'm sure their lecture has ended as well; if not we'll wait awhile. Agent Barton, take the children and teenagers out to the hallway. Director Weaver and I will meet their parents and join you soon."

"Yes Sir." As soon as Weaver and Vaughn left the room, Clint felt at ease to deal with the thirty youngsters as he wanted. "You heard the man, get out."

"That's a bit irresponsible of-" a blonde girl started.

"Out!" He pointed to the door.

The sleepy and bored boy named Leopold dragged himself to the door at a slow pace. Skye waited for him, intrigued.

"So," Skye began, almost singing the word. "Do you speak English or just that gibberish?"

The boy rolled his eyes and started to walk over to his mother. "Mama, a'm hungert."

All the kids and teenagers dispersed, walking to their parents, and Barton was nowhere to be seen, probably hiding from the superior officer that walked past Skye with a black, swollen eye. Skye was bored again because she had no one to have fun with, but she joined the bright minded kids on the tour anyway.

After the small tour, everyone was lead to the cafeteria where they waited for an agent from Communications to come and hand over a few pamphlets, in hope that the kids would read them and choose SHIELD. Skye obviously wanted one of those brochures as well.

"How's the reading?"

Skye jolted and looked to her side, acknowledging that the tiny voice belonged to an also petite girl, the English one that had grumbled at the hungry and sleepy Scottish boy. "Jeez, you geniuses are fast!"

The girl squinted and said, "I move at the exact same pace as everybody else. In fact, maybe slower because I have tiny legs and people don't wait for me."

"Reminds me of running after Melinda in the morning."

The English girl had a small laugh and asked again, "But how's the reading? It's a bit hard reading upside down."

"This is how I always read!" Skye said flipping the pamphlet. "Can't you read upside down, Dr. Watson?"

"I'm more of Sherlock Holmes myself, you know? And no," the girl admitted defeat, "I can't read upside down. But I have an IQ of 163, so I guess that's higher than yours."

"Wow that was a low blow," Skye commented to herself in a low voice. "You're like Draco Malfoy."

"Oh my, you like Harry Potter?"

Skye's eyes glistened as she turned her head. "How can you not like Harry Potter?"

The two girls had a matching enthusiasm.

"I've read all four books," the prodigy began. "My favorite has to be the Prisoner of Azkaban. What's yours?"

"Well, I can't read very well, but my neighbor Tom has the books because of his nephews and he has read bits of the books to me. My favorite is the Sorcerer's Stone."

"You mean the Philosopher's Stone, right?"

"I guess I do; I forget that you Brits are different."

The two girls didn't introduce themselves, but it didn't matter. They were excitedly bonding over Harry Potter books, a sweet-tooth craving for Nutella, and stories of the joyful adventures of having a pet dog.

Skye arrived at the administration office at seven o'clock sharp, and saw May putting on her jacket, getting ready to leave. She smirked, knowing she had arrived just in time, and May winked and smirked back as a way of acknowledging her effort to keep up with their agreement. The two started walking to the exit. The girl was excitedly telling May about the new nameless friend she had made, acknowledging sadly to herself that she'd probably never see the girl again. Skye's narrative lasted almost until midway home.

"I'm sorry," Skye said, prompting May to look at her through the rear-view mirror, "I've been talking too much, haven't I?"

"A little bit, yes, but it's alright. The way you talked made me realize that maybe I need a friend too. Maybe I should call Tom and see if he still wants to have that cup of coffee. You're okay with that?"

Skye smiled and nodded her head. "Everybody needs a friend. And if he sucks, you still have me."

May laughed and Skye couldn't believe her ears. She had actually laughed and Skye couldn't feel better for having been the reason to make her laugh.

Italian translation:

"Stupid man, I'm smarter than him."

"Stupid, huh? I am older than you. A little respect would be good. Mom and Dad did not teach you manners?"

"Yes, that's right, you're not the only one who can speak two languages!"

Scottish translation:

"I said I'm hungry. Wash your ears, English pretty girl."

So yeah, reviews, I'm all for them! Next chapter you (and Skye) will all get to know why did Coulson leave Skye and why was May who had her guardianship.