The beeping of the alarm clock peppered my brain. My head was throbbing painfully. I had never suffered from a hangover, but I was beginning to think it was a lot like this. Could one get drunk with thoughts?
I sat up carefully on the bed, holding my head, pressing down on the region of my temples in a vain attempt to ease the pain. I stretched out my arms feeling the muscles cramped and sighed. An impressive mirror on the wall in front of the bed gave me the image of a haggard woman, disheveled and with a face deteriorated by fatigue. It was as if I had suddenly aged a few years. I winced at the thought and decided that a hot shower would provide the help I needed. I grabbed what I needed from the bag I had thrown at the foot of the bed and headed for the bathroom at the end of the small hallway. A strange sensation crossed the back of my neck when I saw that the bathroom was not only fully equipped, but also that the products were exactly the same as the ones I had brought. I tried not to think about it too much, after all, they were common general brand objects that you could find in any supermarket. The excuses ran out when I saw the newly purchased toothbrush, still in its packaging, the same brand and color as the one I had brought. I shook my head to eliminate that train of thought and the pain of the movement nailed it.
The hot shower served to relieve the burning muscles, but the steam did not help my headache at all. I wrapped myself in a soft white towel and hurried out, dizzy, groping for my painkiller bag. I used the small mouthwash glass next to the sink to take the little pill as I opened the door to let the steam escape and collapsed onto the closed toilet seat, putting my head between my knees.
I stayed in that position for several minutes, appreciating the fresh air that came through the door. I took a deep breath and headed into the room to get dressed. I opted for a gray jean and a loose, dark blue turtleneck sweater.
The pain was subsiding under the pharmacological effects of the pill and I was able to observe the room carefully; The night before I had done nothing more than find the room that had a bed where to fall into.
The room - my room - was simple and pretty. It had a two-seater bed against the north wall, with a delicate white wood backrest and a thick dark blue comforter that for some reason made me feel better. There was a small nightstand on the right side. On the right wall there was a wide window covered by blue curtains, under which was a white desk, matching the back of the bed, adorned with small pots of artificial plants and equipped with a laptop, a notebook and a couple of pencils. The black leather chair in front of it looked very comfortable. The floors were wooden and shiny. A huge white wardrobe with sliding doors was embedded in the opposite wall. In front of the bed was the large mirror that earlier had given me a haggard image. Now that I was looking a little better, I looked down at it with disdain. At the mirror foot was a round small white rug, with little purple butterflies embroidered, which was a bit out of tune with the minimalist attitude of the entire room. Unexpectedly it was a detail that made me feel good, as if someone had tried to decorate this place so I could feel comfortable (and not spied on). I remembered a similar feeling when I entered my room in Forks after so many years without inhabiting it and Charlie had made the same effort. A twist of nostalgia made me frown.
I ignored the clutter of the bag on the floor and left the room. The apartment had a minimalist style, quality furniture in light colors and plants in some corners, neat and impersonal.
It had a small living room furnished with a light pink two-section armchair, a similarly upholstered single armchair on the left, a coffee table between them and the large television hanging on the wall. On the opposite side was a dark wood table with six chairs on a rug in subtle colors. Next to the front door, on the left, was the small kitchen, separated from the dining room and living room by a breakfast bar that ran across the frame of the wall on which it was built.
I walked into the kitchen, still barefoot, suddenly feeling my stomach growl. I was greeted by neat black marble countertops, shiny silver appliances, and tall white cabinets (stocked with the same supplies I used to buy in Forks). I thought of the little purple butterflies carpet to calm me down.
I had the usual milk and cereal, in the least nutritious breakfast in the history of breakfasts, sitting on a comfortable high stool in front of the bar, on the other side of the kitchen, staring at the motifs in the dark marble of the kitchen allowance in front of me.
Every time I tried to think about what I was doing I would start to hyperventilate, so I decided to ignore it and go back to my old plan of action: I started doing all the tasks that I could distract myself with. I washed the utensils I used and made the bed, doing the first tasks on the list wonderfully. But the distraction didn't last long.
I took my clothes out of the bag so I could put them neatly in the big closet, but when I opened it I found clothes of my style (and my size) neatly folded in drawers and hanging on hangers, perfumed and with their labels still on. I gave one more sigh to another inanimate object in the house. There were several pairs of black converse and walking boots, a detail that puzzled me a bit, but, surprisingly, I liked them.
Reluctantly, I finished my to-do list. I couldn't delay it any longer.
The sound of a phone ringing let me know that maybe I could.
The tone came from the drawer of the nightstand, I answered with a frown.
"Yes?" I answered unsure.
"Good morning Miss Swan, this is Agent Coulson. Would you be so kind as to head out of the complex? I am here to take you to see the facilities"
"Sure," I answered breathlessly.
I took a jacket, the new phone, the key that I had been given the night before and left the apartment.
The front door led to a common complex, like an internal courtyard with a clear roof and green grass in the center, surrounded by several similar apartments and corridors that I did not know where they ended. Towards the front of the complex, facing the street, stood a building like any other, which had to be crossed in order to get out. I used the magnetic key that was on the key ring and the doorman greeted me kindly as I passed.
The vastness of the city caught me off guard and I didn't know what to look at first.
A horn dragged me back and I could see Agent Coulson, apparently the only balm I could count on, standing there with the car door open for me. He was wearing a dark gray suit, a black tie, and his usual kind expression.
"Agent Coulson" I greeted him shyly.
"Miss Swan," he smiled warmly.
I got in the car, still looking around, but the dark tint from the windows made it too difficult. Coulson sat next to me in the back seat and motioned for the driver to drive.
"First time in New York?" Coulson wanted to know. I snorted wryly.
"First time being a spy?" I bit him and he smiled enigmatically. Since they knew even the brand of tampons I normally used, I assumed he just wanted to strike up a conversation.
"I've never been to a vertical city. It's wonderful. And a bit overwhelming"
"I don't think it's the buildings that overwhelm you" he said suspiciously.
I looked away from the street to look at him.
"No, they are not"
He gave me a sympathetic look before adding quietly:
"Good to know"
Luckily, the overwhelm was due to my emotional instability and not to the imposing New York buildings, because the Triskelion would have taken my breath away in a second. A structure, as architecturally similar to a triskelion as possible, with the three spirals joined in the center. It had several outbuildings, although none were as tall as the main one. Thousands of meters of an airstrip stretched out over the water. Coulson said that this was the small one, he said that the Big Triskelion, the central base, was in DC and I couldn't imagine it.
To access the island we had to drive for about ten minutes over an exclusive bridge and pass several security boxes, all without problems, apparently due to Coulson's presence.
When I entered the building they gave me an identification card and Coulson escorted me to an elevator with a view of the city. As the elevator went up, the fascination diminished a little more, appeased by panic. I began to breathe hard, trying to hide it. And failing miserably.
"Miss Swan?" Coulson half asked. "Would it help you to know exactly what is going to happen when the elevator doors open?"
I made an effort to control my voice.
"Yes, it would also help if you just call me Bella"
"Understood. The only fair thing is that you call me Phil"
I smiled at the familiarity of the name.
"Bella, when the doors open, the director of SHIELD, Agent Nicholas Fury and some other agents will be waiting for you. Don't worry, they are cool"
I smiled a little, leaning my back against the cold glass.
"They'll show you the place around and give you the documents I mentioned yesterday, remember? Then you have the day off. All you have to do is sign them if you agree. No big deal" he ended with a smile.
"No big deal" I repeated.
I nodded as I reordered my thoughts.
Well, it wasn't anything Coulson hadn't told me the day before. I began to breathe easier, calmer, knowing that many of my questions will probably be answered in a few minutes.
"I'm sorry. I function better when I have all the information" I whispered.
The agent, as composed as ever, smiled, tilting his head.
Of course. Have all the information in the main spy organization in the country if not the world? Good look with that.
"Something tells me I should start carrying a wooden bag to breathe into it" I joked, making Coulson laugh out loud.
The elevator doors clicked open.
"Thanks Phil" I said amused.
"Anytime Bella" he replied happily, clasping his hands over his abdomen.
We got out of the elevator and I stared at the threesome in front of us. In the center was a man in his forties, tall, with a dark complexion and hard features, almost as much as the black leather overcoat that wore him or the patch of the same material that covered his left eye. As we approached them, standing in the middle of a corridor almost empty with a lot of natural light, I could observe the severity of his face, the slightly frowned brow, the marks around the patch, similar to streaks or scratches, and the pursed lips.
To his right was a younger woman, tall, dressed in a kind of suit of what looked like neoprene, but a little thicker, dark gray, one piece, with a zipper at the neckline and a belt at the hip . Her pale face contrasted with her black hair, carefully collected, adorned by short bangs. Her icy blue eyes met mine and made me look away, to the left of the very particular man, at the relaxed figure of a young woman, significantly shorter in stature, dressed in a simple jean, a sweater and a leather jacket, making me feel in tune. Her hair hung a little above her shoulders, bright red with little waves. Her eyes were framed in perfect lashes, she had high cheekbones and full lips. Her beauty didn't make me feel in tune, but it kind of reminded me of home.
"Agent Coulson, Miss Swan" greeted the man in the center in a deep voice that had a perfect correlation with his appearance.
"Sir" Coulson greeted calmly "Bella, I introduce you to the director of SHIELD, Nicholas Fury, to the agent María Hill, subdirector- he continued, pointing to the black-haired woman- and to the agent Natasha Romanoff- he finished extending his arm towards the redheaded woman.
As he named them, they extended their hands, which I squeezed nervously.
"It's a pleasure to meet you," I said in a shaky voice. The red automatically covered my cheeks. I saw Agent Romanoff tilt her head to the left, suddenly amused by something. I avoided her gaze by using my hair as a curtain.
"Shall we start the tour?" she asked, looking at the rest. Director Fury nodded and extended an arm, motioning for me to start walking.
"I want to thank you for cooperating with us. It is very noble that you have attended on such short notice miss Swan" said the head of SHIELD as we walked.
I wanted to answer that I really hadn't had much of a choice, and I knew from Coulson's disapproving look that he expected that answer too. I sighed and instead said:
"Well, Agent Coulson was very clear and he asked nicely" I said with a half smile, "anyway, I'm happy to help, Director Fury."
"You can call me Fury. Everybody does" he said sympathetically.
The first door was opened by Agent Hill with her fingerprint, receiving in response a voice command that recognized her. We followed her inside. The room in question was huge, with a lower level, surrounded upwards and on the sides by platforms. Everywhere there were computers and people doing different operations on them. There were several stalls with machines that I couldn't recognize, cables everywhere, and people with different tools working around them.
"We'll start the investigation here. Familiarize yourself with it, Miss Swan, because you'll have this view several hours a day".
I gulped and Coulson sighed softly.
We went back into the hall and walked towards the new destination, which was apparently in the basement.
"Some tests will require certain preparations, so in the documents that Agent Romanoff will give you, you should pay special attention to that"
"Preparations? Like what?" I asked quickly.
Agent Hill answered without looking at me.
"For example, rigorous training every day"
A wave of despair washed over me.
"Every day?" I couldn't help but exclaim in horror.
Coulson and Romanoff laughed a little.
"A strong body is a strong mind" said the deputy director, resolute, leaving very little room for replicas. No room at all actually.
Not content with having left me speechless, she continued as the procession advanced toward a door that this time required Fury's fingerprint.
"I also know Agent Coulson told you that no procedure was invasive. There are no needles or surgery, I'll give you that. But don't think for a moment that it won't be invasive".
Her sentence was emphasized with the sight of the laboratory. Several Gessel chambers with gurneys and machines similar to those in hospitals, but with a million more cables and buttons.
"Many of these machines were designed to get inside your mind and stimulate it in ways that it had never been before, in order to get a response that is useful to us"
I could only stare in awe at the science fiction scene developing in front of me. My mouth was open but no words seemed to want to come out.
"Well, I think that's enough for today," Fury said looking at Agent Hill, who did not take it for granted. "Agent Romanoff, please."
"This way," she told me.
I looked at Coulson uncertainly, and I didn't take a step forward until he subtly nodded.
"I look forward to work with you, Miss Swan. Today you have the day off, tomorrow will be another day" Fury said as a goodbye. I smiled as warmly as I could and deigned to follow Agent Romanoff -Natasha- down the lighted corridors.
"How are you doing ?" she asked casually, her voice was low and seductive.
"Not much better than it looks"
She barely laughed.
"They told me you were good with weird" she said as a young man handed her a considerable pile of papers. I looked at her puzzled. "Easy, half of this are copies for us".
"This goes beyond 'weird'" I said looking at the facilities that became visible as we advanced.
"So, vampires yes, spies no?"
I immediately tensed.
"Where are we going?" I asked sharply, stealing a huge smile from her, making her white teeth flash with amusement.
"That depends. Do you want a lawyer to advise you with all this?
"No" I said without hesitation. She raised a perfect brow. "I just want to get this over with. Or start. Whatever it is"
"You don't go around. I like you Swan"
"So tell me Bella," I asked. She turned to see me with a disgusted expression.
"Ugh, no," she exclaimed, but I could see she was joking. I think. I laughed out loud for the first time in a while.
I didn't even took the documents to the department, I read them in an office to which Romanoff led me and signed without thinking twice. After Agent Hill's little speech I figured the terms and conditions were going to be painful, but they only talked about diet and exercise. I didn't want to think about that too much either.
At the entrance of the building Natasha told me to keep my pass and when she escorted me outside Coulson was already waiting for me.
As he got into the car I could hear Natasha hand him something.
"The file the soldier asked for. Maybe you can take advantage of the trip"
Coulson said nothing and got into the car, holding a brown folder. Romanoff greeted me with a wink before Phil closed the door.
I was surprised when he pulled out a Starbucks bag from the front seat.
"You can't be in New York and not have a cup of coffee in Central Park"
I smiled tenderly.
The driver parked next to where the park started, but we did not get off. Well, it was the closest I have ever got, so I guess it counted.
I uncapped my glass nervously as Coulson sat against his door so he could face me without making it awkward.
He sighed with resignation.
"Shoot".
The frankness in his voice moved me. I looked at my cappuccino with cream, running my fingers over the Bella written on the cup.
"Well, there are many things that I don't know, and I don't understand. So I'll start with the ones I know"
Phil nodded.
"You guys, SHIELD, which by the way means Strategic Homeland Intelligence, Espionage, Logistics and Defense" I said, reciting the words that I had memorized all day long, making Phil smile satisfied "you want to study my head to copy whatever that is that makes it work in another wave"
Coulson smiled and nodded, encouraging me to continue.
"How did you find me?" I rolled my eyes. "I mean, how did you find out what was going on with my mind?"
He took a long drink of coffee before answering me. I did the same with my cappuccino to calm the anxiety.
"I find your loyalty emotional, Bella, but in order to talk about that particular thing, we are going to have to admit some others" he looked at me, narrowing his eyes.
I tensed again and almost tipped over the contents of my cup.
"We have known about the Volturi almost since the foundation of SHIELD. We know their secrets and they know that we know. If they wished to silence us, they would have to finish off SHIELD, and that would raise suspicions around the world, demanding explanations that they wouldn't have. So we live in ... peace?" it sounded like a question "we have several agents who, for different reasons, have been ... compromised. But they have kept their commitment to SHIELD. The rumor of a human being able to beat the abilities of the great Aro Vulturi spreaded and, as you may have seen, we don't like wasting time"
My eyes almost pop out of their sockets as I assimilate his previous expression.
"Agents affected". Vampire spy agents?
The information made me a bit dizzy. A little bit much.
"Maybe it's not always good to have all the information," he joked when he saw my expression.
"I prefer to be knocked out by the punch rather than by the surprise of not expecting it"
"That could easily be our motto. Welcome, Agent Swan" approved smiling.
It was past noon when we got to the complex, and I already had a clearer picture. I had instructions for the next day and I was eager to get started. Coulson got out of the car to continue with me inside the building. As we walked under the gallery, around the inner courtyard, I was ranting at him a little jokingly and a little seriously, how obvious it was that they had been spying on me.
Coulson seemed to behave towards SHIELD the same way I did with the information about the Cullens. Apparently, playing the fool was the secret keepers's universal language.
"I'm not saying don't do it, I'm saying you could be less obvious, maybe?" I was saying while he smiled, shaking his head. My clumsiness had been too absent for the day, so I wasn't surprised when I stumbled on an absolutely flat surface, falling freely forward.
Falling on my face would have been indisputably better than what happened next. I never touched the ground because at the same time a man was turning through one of the corridors (that I didn't quite understand) and had the bad luck to face my bad luck. I thought I was going to collapse on top of him, causing him to fall too, and probably taking Agent Coulson with us, who had caught my elbow trying to avoid my embarrassing landing. But none of that happened because the balance of the man in question was not affected at all. With surprising speed, he dropped the punching bag he was carrying and held me firmly by the shoulders.
I raised my face heated with shame, meeting a pair of blue eyes that were watching me with a frown. I got up as fast as my clumsy limbs allowed.
"I'm so sorry I should pay more attention" I murmured with my gaze fixed on my feet. I didn't even dare look at Coulson.
"Don't worry ma'am" I heard him say in a deep, soft voice.
I looked up almost automatically, unsure whether it was the appeal in his voice or the fact that he had called me ma'am that made me do it.
He wasn't older than thirty years old, he was very tall, with broad shoulders and strong arms, dressed in sports clothes. His white face was beaded with sweat, but that only added to his attractiveness. His features were iron, his nose straight and his jaw beveled in a stoic expression. His short light brown hair was tousled, perhaps from exercise.
I blinked several times, somehow confused. I wanted to give Coulson an apologetic look, but his expression was just as dreamy as the one that must have graced my face seconds ago.
The young man looked at us without really knowing what to do so he lifted the bag that he had thrown aside to avoid my crashing fall.
Coulson cleared his throat and spoke in a deep voice I have never heard him.
"Captain Rogers, it's a pleasure to finally meet you. I am agent Coulson, I came to deliver what you requested" he said, extending the file that Natasha had given him.
The man in question seemed to understand at once and reached out to take Coulson's hand, which he shook vigorously, perhaps a little longer than usual.
"This is Agent Swan," he said, turning my head. Agent Swan sounded weird. But I had just signed at least five contracts with SHIELD so I guess that made me Agent Swan.
"Ma'am," he said solemnly, looking suddenly unsure. "It's a pleasure," he decided to say as he stretched out my hand. I could tell the delicacy with which he took it, but seeing how small my hand was inside his, I couldn't help but understand.
I smiled at him, too embarrassed to say anything else.
"Thanks for the file, Agent Coulson," he said to Phil, who smiled and made a gesture with his hand, as if it were nothing. "Agent Swan" said goodbye, sending a wave of blush all over my face, and continued on his way.
I suddenly liked the way Agent Swan sounded.
"Who was it?" I wanted to know. Coulson's expression made me feel like a weirdo.
He composed himself immediately, adjusted his jacket and spoke, caressing each word:
"Captain America, of course".