See, I haven't given up on this yet. I have so many future sections written in my head already and there were still a couple of people interested in the last chapter, so I'll keep plugging away. Hopefully, there are still readers following it. As always (sigh), my apologies for the long wait. I've been working long hours and, since a lot of what I do is on the computer, my eyes tend to protest against more computer time when I get home.
Also, my apologies if you notice more spelling errors than normal. My spell check has gone a bit wonky (it's all red!), and I've been to lazy to try to figure out what it's problem is.
Thanks so much to those who have followed, favorited, and especially, reviewed. Much love to all. Story time!
Complications 14
Several days had passed and I started to wonder if Phil had been overly optimistic about Director Fury finding a place in SHIELD for Romanoff. I had heard nothing from him about it and Natasha hadn't said anything either. Clint and I continued our training sessions and the red head had taken to joining us. Both seemed to take great delight in telling me what to do.
I didn't particularly mind, though. I could feel my strength and endurance increasing. My movements were becoming more fluid and reflexive and requiring less thought.
When I reached my limit, I would take a seat and watch the two of them spar. While most other matches were punctuated by grunts and yells, these two faced off in eerie silence. The only sounds came from contact with one another or with the floor, and even those seemed subdued. From time to time, they would pause, discuss something quietly, then resume.
I offered the occasional comment from the sideline, calling their attention to moves I thought could be improved on. They would stop for a moment, repeat the action, then look for my nod of approval.
It was one of these quiet nights, just the three of us in the gym, when the door opened. A grinning Phil entered, followed by Fury and Zablowski. The three sat down next to me, focusing on the duo in the center of the room.
After several minutes, the Director stood, shedding his jacket.
"Think I'll get a close up look," he stated. "Care to join me?"
Zablowski laughed and shook his head.
"I'm good here," Phil told him.
He looked at me, eyebrow raised.
I shrugged. "Why the hell not?" I put my water bottle down and rose to join him. Together, we crossed to the combatants.
He leaned down towards me. "Weaknesses?"
"Few," I responded. "She tends to be a little slower on her left side, but it's negligible. Barton is more 'upper body' oriented. Using arms, and fists and watching for them, less so for the legs."
"That's all you got?"
I shrugged again. "They're both good."
He shook his head with a sigh. Folding his arms, he stood watching for several more minutes I stood next to him and felt him tense up a fraction of a second before he moved, grabbing Clint's leg and swinging him into his partner.
As she ducked to aviod him, I spun behind her, catching her off balance with a shove from behind Of course, she recovered quickly, turning it into a roll and popping up to his left.
"Down!" I yelled.
Without hesitating, he dropped, rolling to get her back in his field of vision. As she resituated,Clint smoothly regained his feet. I moved to sweep at his ankles. Fury interpreted my movement and took my wrists, bending low to swing me. While our target managed to leap over my swinging body, the Directors follow up kick caught his foot,dumping him on his backside.
Unfotumately, our momentary focus on Clint allowed Natasha to make her move. Once we no longer had the element of surprise on our side, the other two soon asserted their superiority. I like to think that Fury and I put up a decent fight, but that probably wasn't the case.
Fury finally called for a halt, stepping back as he held up his hands in surrender. I had to admit to being a little impressed. In spite of years spent behind a desk, he had maintained his combat skills.
Phil tossed us all towels as we rejoined him on the sidelines. He glanced at Zablowski.
"Well, that was..."
"Embarassing?" I supplied. "Humilitating even?"
"I don't know that I'd go that far," Phil countered kindly.
"I would," Zablowski disagreed.
Fury shrugged. "About what I expected. I just wanted to get an up close and personal look at their combat styles. Besides, I rather doubt that either of them will be bragging about taking down a half blind old man and a still recovering brain injury survivor."
"Acutally, you two weren't half bad," Clint commented.
"Meaning the other half was still bad,"I tosssed out.
"Yes," Natasha confirmed. Though she spoke with a serious, straight face, I saw a glint of amusement in her eyes.
"So, Romanoff," Nick said. She turned her attention to him. "What am I supposed to do with you?"
She cocked her head. "Are you looking for suggestions?"
He laughed harshly. "No. I've had plenty. Almost too many, in fact."
"Any favorites?" she asked.
"A couple that I'm leaning towards," he told her. "Maybe I should let you decide."
"Okay."
"We can turn you loose. Set you up with a new identity. Disappear in the hustle of some big city."
"Or?" she asked.
"Put you to work. After a complete evaluation and training program, of course."
She studied him a moment, her face a blank mask. "How long do I have to decide?"
He glanced at his watch. "About 30 seconds."
"You've got yourself a new trainee," she told him, holding out her hand.
"Good choice," he commented, reaching out to take it.
"Doubt I'd be very good at the disappearing thing," she shrugged. "When do I start?"
Fury looked at me. "Can you get her set up for a training program, Agent Hill?"
I nodded, already tapping away on my mobile. "You'll need to report to the medical center at 6 am for a preliminary physical."
"So I can sleep late."
Ignoring her, I continue. "After they're done with you, you'll need to head to the psych department for a session with one of those doctors."
I sensed a mental eye roll and looked up at her.
"Is that going to be a problem?"
"No, ma'am," she responded.
"After that, we'll have the PT team start their assessment. I'll get you a firmer schedule in the morning," I told her.
"Thank you," she told me, then turned to the Director. "And thank you, sir. I won't disappoint you."
"I know."
XXXXXXXXX
Time passed. I continued taking on more and more responsibilites and thoroughly enjoying every moment of it. I received regular reports regular on Natasha's assessments. As expected, her physical abilities allowed her to to 'test out' of most of the training.
She performed equally well on intellectual tests, displaying knowledge in a wide range of subjects. While all the reports were glowing about her abilities, I could always sense the reservations of those who submitted them.
'Her skill level is not surprising, considered where she was trained.'
"A testement to her trainers.'
'Her reputation is well deserved.'
Like me, she didn't seem to be bothered by the number of people who went out of their way to avoid her. In fact, it seemd to be a source of pride for her.
We were sitting together in the dining hall one evening, talking quitely. The tables closest to us remained empty, so I had a pretty good idea who it was when I heard footsteps approaching. Sure enough, moments later, Phil and Clint pulled up chairs to join us.
"What are you two up to?" Phil asked, studying the items on his plate.
"Just talking," Natasha told him, then turned to me and shot off a question.
I considered for a moment.
Farsi.
And replied, then asked her a question.
In Hindi.
Phil looked back and forth between the two of us.
"Your linguistics guy said that she speaks quite a few different languages," Natasha explained.
Phil grinned. "Yeah. She has a gift for language. Always seemed to pick them up pretty quickly. I think he's still a little pissed that she didn't join his department."
"She's trying to help me figure out how many."
He leaned back, looking up towards the ceiling. "Let me think. English, of coures. Some level of fluency in French. Spanish. Russian. German. A couple of different dialects of Chinese. Japanese. Korean. Vietnamese. Hindi. Farsi." He looked at me and grinne. "Klingon."
Nat's brow raised and Clint laughed.
"You're a Trekkie?" he asked.
I thought for a moment, but realized I wasn't sure how to answer. I looked back at Phil.
"We had a contact who was going to drop us some information. He set up the drop at a sci-fi convention. We spent several hours waiting for him and we were right next to a booth where this guy was selling tapes on learning Klingon and he had it running the whole time we were there. By the time we got out intel, she was able converse with the guy."
A memory teased at the edge of my mind and I relaxed, trying to let it come. I finally grabbed it.
"And you bought me the set."
"I did," he nodded. "And it actually came in handy a few years later. She had transmitted the intel, but needed to give us the encryption codes and passwords. We had reason to believe that the enemy had our key, meaning that anything passed on using it could be compromisd. I happened to remember one of the guys in IT was a really big Trek fan and when I asked him, he admitted to having learned some Klingon himself. She passed the codes to him, he gave them to us, and we were able to act on the info before the other side could."
"And today's lesson," Clint intoned, "You never know what bit of useless knowledge might end up saving the day."
It was nice to sit calmly with people I was comfortable with and just talk. Natasha, of course, had been busy with her training and assessments. Clint had, as usual, been traveling extensively.
And Phil had been spending more and more of his free time with Sarah.
I was fine with that. Really. I was really busy with my work. And my physical therapy.
And Phil was happy. That was what was important. And I was happy for him.
XXXXXXXXXX
It was several months later when I got called to Zablowski's office. Phil was sitting nearby, looking somewhat less than pleased. The Deputy Director nodded towards the operation plan that he had told me to bring.
"Do the latest revisions meet with your approval?" he asked.
I nodded, taking a seat. "I think it will meet your specified goals," I told him. I looked to the other man in the room. "I take it this is your job?"
He nodded briefly.
"Who's your team?"
He looked at Zablowski.
"We're using this one as a final exam of sorts for Romanoff," he told me. "While she's done very well in most areas, she has shown some reluctance to working with others. She's done well with Barton, but it would be best if she could work with others as well."
I nodded agreement.
"We've been putting together a team for this. We've got Ronamoff and Barton. Kranski. Silvers. Murtowski. Reynolds."
He paused. "You've got one more slot to fill," I reminded him.
"Yes, we do. And you have just the skillset we need."
I considered for a moment. "Yes, I do. Or did."
"I still think we should take O'Brien," Phil contributed.
Hopefully, I managed to hide the sting his comment left. While I didn't feel that I was necessarily ready to go back into the field, it hurt to hear my best friend and biggest supporter say it.
"I haven't been in the field in a long time," I reminded the older man. "My response times are not what they need to be. Physically or mentally."
He waved dismissively. "I've followed your rehab, Hill. Read the scores, watched the videos. While it's true that you're not at the level you were before the shooting, you still have some amazing skills. I'd still rank you up with our elite."
"I don't know."
"I do. You have the abilities, the knowledge, and the trust of the other team members."
After more discussion, I finally agreed.
When Phil and I got out to the corridor, I turned to him.
"Thanks so much for your support," I told him from between gritted teeth. "
Before he could reply, I moved in front of him, looking up at him.
"Do you really think I'm not up to this?" I asked.
"What?" He sounded genuinely surprised by my question. "No, Maria."
He looked around, then quickly guided me to his office. He settled me on a chair and pulled another up to face me. Reaching out, he grasped both of my hands in his.
"I have complete confidence in your abilities, Maria. I probably have more faith in you than you have in yourself," he told me earnestly.
"Then why did you tell Zablowski that you didn't want me on this?"
"It had nothing to do with your abilitiess," he assured me. He glanced away, then back. "It was more about the situation, I suppose."
"The situation?"
"It's basically a high stakes poker game, Maria. After what you told me about...before...about what happened...I didn't want to put you in a situation like that without discussing it with you first."
I sighed.
He held up his hand to forestall what I was going to say. "I know. You're perfectly capable of taking care of yourself and you don't need me interfering. I can't seem to help it where you're involved. I've always had this soft spot for you and then when you got shot..."
He swallowed hard and glanced down at our intertwined hands. Clearing his throat, he made eye contact again. "I thought I was going to lose you. Every time I left that hospital room, I wondered if you'd still be there when I came back. Every time the phone rang, I was afraid they were calling with bad news." He gave me a half smile and a shrug. "After everything you've been through, I just want to make things better for you in any way I can."
I should be mad at him. I wanted to be mad at him. But I couldn't be. Until Phil had come into my life, no one had ever cared whether I lived or died.
"Thanks, Phil. I appreciate your concern."
"But stop it," he laughed.
"Yeah. Honestly? I'm a little apprehensive about being in that situation," I admitted. "Which is exactly why I need to face it head on. I refuse to let my past get in the way of my future."
"That's my girl," he commented, squeezing my hands. "And I'll be there, so if it gets to be too much, let me know and we'll get you out."
"I'll be fine. I think it will help to know you're there."
XXXXXXXXXX
During our prep sessions, I kept reminding myself of that fact. Simply knowing that he had my back and would step in if I put the mission at risk took a lot of the stress off.
A large, illegal gambling operation had set up an offshore operation. A number of high interest targets had been invited. We all studied photos of the targets who might show. Most of of those on our list were simply targeted for tracking purposes. The goal was to tag them with miniature state of the art tracking devices to that we follow their movements. Some would be arrested and brought in for further questioning. There were even a couple of potential termination orders in the file.
There were a lot of deals being made and intel being passed and Fury wanted to be sure that SHIELD got our share of it. We had secured staff positions for the event. Servering. Bartending.
The evening progressed well with everything falling neatly into place. Everyone moved through their assigned areas and a number of our marks were identified.
I froze suddenly, my stomach clenching as I breathed deeply. I had encountered the scent only once before, but it had made a strong impressions. One of the other servers also took a deep breath and sighed deeply.
"There's nothing like the smell of an expensive cigar, is there?"
I bit back the reply on the end of my tongue.
That it smelled quite sickening when mixed with the smell of burning flesh. I swallowed back as I recalled the stench and the pain as the burning end pressed into the bare skin of my thigh.
"Drink, doll," he ordered in a raspy voice, holding out his empty glass. He was older, and the years had not been kind to him, but the heavy jowls, fleshy lips, and small eyes were the same ones that had once haunted my nightmares.
"Certainly, sir," I said, reaching out to take the tumbler. "What do you need?"
He named off an expensive scotch and I headed to the bar for his refill. When the bartender handed it to me, a hand reached in and snagged it. I glanced over to find my redheaded teammate at my side. She handed the drink to another server and pointed the gambler out, then grabbed my arm and dragged me down a hallway and into a small closet.
"Are you okay?" she demanded.
"Fine," I assured her. "Why?"
The door opened again and Phil and Clint slipped in to join us.
"Everything alright?" the older man asked, studying me.
"I'm fine," I insisted again. "What's the problem?"
"You froze," Clint told me.
"No, I didn't."
"You did. It was just a fraction of a second. Only someone who knows you would notice, but you definitely hesitated," he said.
"Did you recognize someone?" he asked. "Other than the marks we're looking for?"
When I didn't answer immediately, he pressed on. "Because I really need to know if it was something that could compromise this operation."
I shook my head. "No. Not really. I mean, I think I may have seen him before, but he wouldn't remember me. He only saw me once and it was probably 20 years ago."
Phil looked at me with narrowed eyes.
"Besides, he didn't really look at my face."
He continued to study me while the others exchanged questioning looks.
"It's okay," I assured them. "I'm okay."
When no one moved, I put my hands on my hips and glared at Phil. "Don't we have a job to do?"
Before he could answer, the handle on the closet door started to turn. Natasha muttered a curse and we all looked around, realizing there was no place for 4 people to hide in the small closet.
I quickly reached for the redhead, pulling her close and pressed my lips to her neck. Understanding, she relaxed against me, sliding a hand up to rest on my breast. Clint stepped close behind me, slipping one hand under my skirt while the other arm wrapped around Nat and I both. His mouth came down on my neck and he groaned slightly as Phil disappeared into the shadow.
The door swung open and we all jumped at the sound of a snort. Another waiter stood there, smirking at us.
"Did you need something or are you just a peeping tom?" Natasha growled at him.
"Just looking for more napkins," he replied, nodding towards the stack on a shelf behind her. "Didn't know I'd be getting a show."
She straightened her dress and handed him the stack of linen. "Well, the show's over."
"Time to get back to work," I added, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
"Sorry, dude," the other man told Clint as we all stepped back into the hallway.
"That's okay. We'll finish up later," the archer told him with a grin.
"Maybe you could come and watch," Nat said in a sultry voice, reaching out to straighten his tie.
"Or join us," I added in a whisper.
He swallowed hard, then shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. "That would be nice," he managed to squeek out before he turned and dashed back to the kitchen.
"Not nice," Natasha commented, leaning towards me.
"But fun," I countered.
XXXXXXXXXX
The rest of the operation proceeded as planned. The group of agents traded off tagging their targets. People were coming and going the whole time, so no particular concerns were raised when people whe had been there no longer were. Other SHIELD agents moved in and out swiftly, escorting prisoners back to agency facilities.
Maria watched with satisfaction as Natasha worked smoothly with one of the male agents to take care of one of their marks. Clearly, trust was still an issue for her, but she was making the effort.
Finally, the organizer called us all togetherhanded us each an envelope of cash, then put us on boats back to the mainland. Taking different routes, we made our way back to where Fury waited.
We took our seats around the table while he went through the files, then started throwing out questions. Coffee was passed around as we debriefed. Finally, he looked down and nodded.
"I think that's enough for now. I'll expect full reports from everyone within the next 24 hours You'reall dismissed."
As we all started to rise, he looked around.
"Coulson. Hill. Barton. Romanoff. I need a few more minutes with you."
Once the others were gone, he pulled out a photo and dropped it in the middle of the table.
No one said a word.
"I have it from reliable sources that this man was one of the participants in last night's game," he said.
Again, we all just looked at him.
"Thing is, he was found floating in the bay this morning. He was naked, and his hands were ductaped behind his back."
Silence.
"His genitalia had been sliced off and stuffed in his mouth before that was taped over, too. Then he had a cigar shoved up his ass."
"Sounds like he pissed off the wrong people," Clint commented casually.
"But you don't know who those people might be," Fury replied.
"Couldn't say," Barton told him with a shrug.
The Director looked around the table, fixing a glare on each of us. "Name's Damian Carstairs. Did a little research.. No convictions, but he's been looked at very closely by the authorites several times. Sexual assault of a minor. Really nasty stuff. Couple of the cops I talked to said there wasn't really any doubt about his guilt, but they just couldn't make anything stick."
"Powerful friends," Phil snorted.
"And powerful enemines, too," Natasha added.
"Bastard got what he deserved," Fury muttered.
"Sounds like it," I murmurred.
"Anyway, I didn't think any of my people would have anything to say about this, but I had to ask." He slid everything back in the file folder and rose to his feet. "That will be all. Get your reports turned in, get some rest, and get back to work," he told us.
We pushed our chairs back and stood, heading towards the door.
"Romanoff," Fury called. She turned back, brow raised questioningly.
He reached in his pocket and pulled out a slim black wallet. He opened it and tossed it on the table.
"Welcome aboard, Agent Romanoff."
She glanced at him, then down at her own picture and the ID card, a small smile playing on her lips. Casually, she reached out and picked it up.
"About time," she muttered, though the huskiness in her voice revealed how pleased she really was.
"Yeah, it is," Phil told her, reaching over to pat her on the shoulder.
"Thanks," she said softly, her eyes resting on each of us for a moment. She caught my gaze and held it for a little longer. "Really."
"Get ready to work your tail off," I added.
"Wouldn't have it any other way."
And that's a wrap. Thank you for your time and attention. I hope you enjoyed and would love to know what you thought (pretty please?). I'm not sure what I'll be updating next. I have the next chapters of Risks and Stroll both started, and am mentally working the next one of Courtship. I guess I'll just have to see where the muse leads. Again, thanks for reading and please review.