The earth has music for those who listen.
William Shakespeare
She paced, her feet wearing down the spotless carpet. She raised a hand to her mouth, gnawing on the nails, and stared anxiously at the computer that the hooded man had left her. She didn't want to do this anymore, didn't want to be a part of this, but did she have a choice?
She snorted to herself, her hand falling to her side limply. She had no choice, not when her life was on the line. She sighed and dropped to the couch, staring at the computer in trepidation. If she opened it, then she accepted the next mission. If she didn't…
She stretched out a hand, intending to open the lid, but withdrew it just as quickly. What if she had to kill another person? The last one, quite clearly, had deserved to die, but what if the next one was an innocent? A mother, a father, an elderly woman? Her hands clenched into fists. She refused to be that type of killer, that type of murderer, and she would rather shoot herself than point the barrel of a gun at a helpless child.
She got to her feet again and resumed her anxious pacing, keeping an eye on the clock that was ticking its countdown on the wall. The choice should be easy, she thought to herself. Especially when the choice direct involved her life. So why hadn't she opened the laptop yet?
The answer came to her sooner than she would have liked.
Reluctance. She was reluctant to carry out the orders that she knew she would have to carry out should she open the laptop. She was reluctant to be a part of any organisation that forced her to kill people as an entrance. She was reluctant to become what they wanted her to be.
But she didn't want to die. She had come too far, worked too hard, suffered too much, to be killed for something as simple as not opening a laptop. With a final groan, she plopped back onto the stone hard sofa and glared at it, her hand opening the lid before she could once again change her mind.
An array of text showed on the screen, before five separate documents opened up. There was no turning back now, she thought to herself wryly, as she placed the laptop on her knees and flicked through each of the individual documents, trying to find the one that explicitly stated her mission.
But it wasn't there.
Frantically clicking through the other files, she breathed out in relief when she realised that she had simply clicked over it. She scanned its contents, tension building in her chest with every line.
It wasn't an assassination, like she had presumed it would be, but in her opinion, it was something much, much worse. A capture. She swallowed hard and tugged at a few strands of hair, ignoring the trembling of her fingers. She didn't even want to imagine what this group of people would do to a pretty girl like the one in the picture, but it was either this girl or her own life. So, she forced herself to look at the photo, to take in every detail, every small blemish of the face of the girl that was being displayed in front of her, despite the bile that rose in her throat. This one was very different from the last one, she mused. This one had healthy hair, glowing skin, and a small, curious smile tugging at the edges of her mouth. The picture was taken recently, she noted, examining the dates etched into the bottom.
She wondered what she had done to get on their hit list, before deciding that it was probably above her pay grade to know the answer to that question.
Getting to her feet, she closed the lid of the laptop and put her coat back on. At least this girl wasn't going to be too far away and, with any luck, she would be easy enough to grab.
The plane was obnoxiously loud and Ginny shut her eyes in frustration, doing her best to drown out the noise. The agent sitting across from her smirked and Ginny scowled in response, slumping deeper into the hard seat that she was sitting on. She shifted, wishing that she could have just apparated to where she needed to go. It would have been easier and much more comfortable than what she was currently suffering through. But Fury had been very clear on his orders – he didn't want anyone to have an inkling of suspicion and Ginny supposed that she could reluctantly agree with his methodology. After all, this was only supposed to be a standard meeting, not a magical confrontation.
"Have you ever met them?" the agent across from her shouted. "Coulson and his team, I mean?"
She shook her head in response, not bothering to call back, and closed her eyes. The agent had been giving her suggestive looks almost the entire trip now, and she hoped that her obvious disinterest would deter him. Oh well, she shrugged. Even if it didn't, she could still break his arm without even touching him. She grinned in dark amusement.
"Coulson's a great agent," he yelled again over the noise. "His team's good."
Thank you very much for that astounding piece of information, Ginny thought to herself sarcastically. The fact that Fury trusted and believed in Coulson was enough to say that Coulson's team was a good one, maybe even a great one, and she felt annoyance rush through her at the agent's obvious statement. Self important bastard.
"So, do I get to know why you're heading off to see them?"
She glared in answer and the agent huffed childishly. Ginny refrained from rolling her eyes.
"I get it, I get it. Classified information and all of that."
Speaking of classified, Ginny mused, how the hell did this guy even know of Coulson's existence? She had thought that that information had been tightly guarded. Or maybe, she reasoned, it had only been tightly guarded and kept secret for the sake of the Avengers. She shook her head in disbelief at the thought. The lengths that Fury had gone to just to keep things hidden from the Avengers themselves were ridiculous and she wondered what else he was hiding for the sake of 'security'.
"Five minutes out," the voice of the pilot crackled in her ear and she nodded to herself, glad that she would soon be able to escape this noisy, ugly contraption. She had been on a plane before, but she still didn't know why they were a favoured method of transport for Muggles. They were cramped and smelly and the military plane that she was sitting in was unbearably loud and cold as well. And while they could travel long distances at a reasonable pace, they would never compare to the freedom of flying on a broomstick or the tightness of travelling by apparition.
Slowly, she started stretching her arms and neck, as the plane began to rapidly descend. Her ears popped and she grimaced, the pain lancing through her head. Merlin, she hated planes.
They landed sooner than she had originally thought that she would and she relished the late afternoon sun on her face, as she exited the plane. She was surprised to note that they had landed in an abandoned car park of some sort and not in a field like she had suspected, but then again, with the cloaking technology that S.H.I.E.L.D. possessed, she figured that they could pretty much go wherever the hell they pleased.
"Not one for planes?" the agent commented to her, as he followed her out.
Ginny arched an eyebrow at him in response and turned away silently, already beginning to focus on the task at hand. She had been told to meet a member of Coulson's team in a small café down the street – a generic Starbucks – and that she would know who they were when she saw them.
"Not very talkative, are you?" the agent muttered grumpily behind her and Ginny whipped around to snap at him, finally fed up with his useless comments and replies.
"And did you ever think that there would be a reason for that?" She pushed up the sleeves of her combat jacket and the agent eyed her warily. "Now, as I'm sure you already know, I have work to do. I'll call when I'm ready." And with that, she turned back around, stomping away from the plane in irritation.
She didn't recognise the town, as she wove through the tiny streets and broken houses, following the directions that Maria had given her before she had left. Not for the first time, she wondered whether this small town had been deserted, as she took in the lonely cars, the scurrying steps of the few people she encountered, and the broken glass that still littered the streets.
Maybe the destruction had been the result of an all out gang war? Or maybe, she mused, maybe it had been something much worse.
Cautiously, one hand resting on her wand hidden at her waist, she walked into the little café that was their meeting point. It was cosy inside, with worn, squishy sofas and walls that were covered with peeling, red wallpaper. A lump built in her throat and she swallowed hard as she was reminded of Gryffindor Tower. It had used to feel just like this: safe, warm, and welcoming. But she forced her thoughts of comfort and Hogwarts away – she was here to work, not to reminisce about childhood memories.
She cleared her throat harshly and stepped further into the café, eyes flicking over the empty, scratched tables. Pietro would probably like this place, she found herself thinking, and she scolded herself a second later. She was supposed to be on a mission, not thinking about Pietro bloody Maximoff. Merlin, she was so distracted. With a sigh, she carefully sat down, sinking into the couch with a relieved grin – this was so much better than those disgusting seats that they had on the plane.
"Hello? Can I get you something?"
Ginny almost jumped in her seat at the sudden appearance of the slender, kind faced woman who was now standing in front of her, but Natasha's training prevented any outward reaction. The woman's hair was black, her skin tanned, and her clothes were worn and dusty, but she looked happy enough to have a customer – they were probably rare around here.
"A cup of coffee would be nice," Ginny said at last, glancing at her with veiled suspicion.
"Brilliant," the woman smiled. "One cup of coffee coming right up."
She bustled over to the counter, grabbing a delicately decorated mug from the shelf.
"So, what brings you out here today?" she asked conversationally.
"Friends," Ginny lied. "I'm meeting them here in about," she glanced at her watch, "five minutes if they're on time."
The woman nodded in understanding, as she turned the coffee machine on. "Do your friends already live here or are they just passing through?"
"Just passing through," Ginny said with a shrug. "We found out that we were heading in the same direction, so we decided to meet up."
"Oh, okay. You haven't met up in a while then?"
"No," Ginny shook her head. "It's been a while. We live on opposite ends of the country."
The woman nodded. "Are you excited to see them again, then? I know that I would be. I haven't seen some of my friends in…" her expression became wistful, "a couple of years now. I've tried to go and see them, but they're living quite far away from here and it costs so much to go anywhere these days."
"I completely understand," Ginny sighed back. "Prices have really risen."
"They have, haven't they?" she said, walking back over to Ginny with a mug in her hands. "Here's you coffee," the woman smiled and she plonked the mug in front of Ginny, some of its contents spilling out over the sides. "Give me a shout if you need anything."
"Absolutely," Ginny smiled, and she watched as the woman exited into one of the back rooms.
It was more than ten minutes later that the door tinkled open and a brown haired woman stepped inside. She looked haggard and exhaustion lined her body, but a relieved expression crossed her face when her eyes landed on Ginny.
"Ginny Prewett, right?" the girl said breathlessly. "Hi, I'm Daisy. Daisy Johnson."
Malfoy strolled through the corridor, his minimal tasks for the day long completed. He hadn't seen any of the others since earlier that morning, but he wasn't bothered by it; Luna, Neville, Ginny, and Hermione often went off and did their own thing either here on the compound or somewhere else.
Himself, though… He snorted in derision. He hadn't actually left the compound since arriving here and a part of him thought that that fact was disgustingly sad. But it wasn't as though he had a reason to leave. He hadn't left anyone or anything in England and he didn't have anything to come back to, should he decide to return. Or rather, he thought wryly, he would have nothing to come back to except the stares and the scowls that he attracted whenever he went somewhere.
Hermione had told him a few days ago that he should get out more, which he had thought was rather hilarious given Granger's own history and experience with travelling and social events. He had thought about going to one of Stark's parties once or twice, but had always turned them down in the end. After all, what would he do there? Drink and meet pretty women?
He scoffed. There wasn't much point to going to a frivolous party, not when everything was already so exciting here already.
The thought was only mildly sarcastic.
Because, in a way, everything was more exciting here. In England, the remnants of the war still devoured parts of the social and political system and, even at the best of times, it was cloying and stifling to be around. But here, everything was new and different – Muggles had a different way of doing things, and he found himself strangely glad to be walking and living amongst them.
It was funny, he mused, the way that Muggles had adapted everything for lives without magic – the science labs were his favourite place to be, even though he had no idea what the scientists themselves were ever on about. Some days, he would walk in there and they would be discussing biology and medicine, and other days, it was engineering and chemistry. Most of it went over his head, but there was still something calming about the way that all of the chaos fit together. It was, the way the scientists put it, where the magic happened, and Malfoy found the idea of that rather amusing.
"Down here again?" one of the scientists grinned at him and Malfoy started slightly, not realising that he had made his way down into the depths of the compound. "You're down here quite regularly," she continued, brushing dark hair over one of her shoulders. "Do you have any questions or anything?"
"I… No," Malfoy muttered, looking around at the bright corridors. "In fact, to be quite honest, I have no idea how I ended up here."
"That's all right," she shrugged and she gave him a soft smile. "If you have any questions or anything, though, then please feel free to ask, because, you know, that's why I went out and got my degree, and, I'm so sorry, I seem to be babbling again. My colleagues always tell me that I talk way too much and that I should shut up from time to time." She blushed. "Sorry, I'm doing it again."
Malfoy snickered. "Doesn't matter."
"You know," she said, pushing her large glasses up the bridge of her small nose, "even though you've come down here so often, I have no idea what your name is?"
Malfoy, personally, didn't actually recognise the girl standing in front of him at all, but he decided to oblige her. "Malfoy," he introduced grudgingly. "Draco Malfoy."
She beamed. "Clara Price." She stuck out a hand. "It's nice to formally meet you."
"And you," Malfoy replied in bemusement, shaking her hand cautiously. It was warm and surprisingly sturdy in his grip. "So, what is it that you do down here?"
"I'm a biologist," she said, a regretful note in her voice, as she pointed to one of the labs at the far end of the corridor. "Not very exciting, I know, but new things happen down here every day, so I guess that it can be exciting sometimes."
Malfoy eyed her sceptically. "Well, you don't sound very excited."
She shrugged. "My job's all right, I suppose. It can just be a little… monotonous. I design an experiment, I grow my bacteria, and then I write a report on it. Sometimes, I get to work on one of the projects with one of the senior scientists, and when that happens, it's exciting, but when I don't… Yeah, there's not too much to say actually. And, uh," Clara fidgeted, pushing her frames up her nose once again, "what about you? What do you do?"
"I'm a…" Malfoy searched for the right word, "a consultant."
"A consultant?" she repeated, her blue eyes growing wider. Malfoy almost chuckled at her obvious admiration. "That sounds interesting. Whom do you consult for?"
"The Avengers mostly-"
"No. Way," she deadpanned, taking a step back. "You can't be serious."
Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "I'm being perfectly serious."
She stared at him obstinately. "Well, I don't believe you."
"Well, I'm telling you the truth." He smirked at her, daring her to say otherwise.
She was silent for a moment, examining him critically. "You swear?"
"I swear," Malfoy replied, rolling his eyes. Honestly, how long would it take for this woman to believe him? It's not like he had any reason to lie. Or rather, he didn't have any good reason to lie yet.
Finally, she nodded in response, incredulity still lining her face. "You know," she said, shaking her head, "even though I work here, I haven't even seen them once. Not even a glimpse. The seniors often do, but us juniors?" She snorted. "We never get the same privileges. It's very unfair."
"Totally."
Clara glared at him. "You're mocking me," she accused playfully, humour filling her eyes.
Malfoy opened his mouth to retort, but a loud dinging sound replaced his voice and he stared at Clara curiously, as she rummaged around in one of the huge pockets of her lab coat. It seemed to dwarf her, he noticed absently. Clara was by no means a small, slight woman - in fact, she was rather tall and stocky, but the coat still seemed too large for her.
"That'll be my bacteria," she groaned, turning off the alarm and already making her way down the corridor. "Today, it's the Pseudomonas syringae."
He hesitated. "The… the what?"
She laughed, the warm sound filling the space between them and Malfoy couldn't help but step closer. "The Pseudomonas syringae. They're really rather fascinating. Do you want to come with me and watch?"
Her enthusiasm was infectious and that, Malfoy told himself later, was the only reason why he had agreed to go along with her and see her precious bacteria.
Hey everyone! This week's been horrendously busy and I've only just managed to put this chapter together this very afternoon. It was, the least to say, a stressful experience. The addition of Malfoy's POV was very unexpected, actually, so I hope that you all liked it!
Anyway, I would just like to thank you all for being so incredibly patient with me. This chapter was a bit on the slow side this week, I know, but next week, things are really going to step up a notch, starting with the introduction of the AoS cast. I'm already so excited to put them in.
So, in that case, I give a huge thanks to all of my readers, followers, reviewers and favouriters. Special shout out to my lovely guest reviewers: Becca, Anon, and my three Guests.
If you want to read about my uni adventures, then you can go over to my profile and take a look at my blog, which is now being officially updated, but if not, then that's perfectly cool as well :-)
I hope that you all have a great week!
HC