His One Good Eye

It was pretty much a sleepless night. I would love to blame the mattress and the quality of care I was receiving, but it really boiled down to the fact that my brain was refusing to shut up. Even with not much in it, it just kept going in this endless loop of trying to figure out whatever the hell was going on. So I just eventually gave up, counting the number of tiles on the ceiling as I pondered my being part of a secret government organization. Which was awesome, but somehow I got the inkling there was no way I was that cool. I didn't feel like a spy at least. Then again, what does being a spy really feel like if you're always trying to bury the fact you are one? Something to ask a proper spy once I meet them I suppose.

I sat up instantly the moment I heard the door open, trying to smooth out the rat's nest on my head that was my hair. I needed to at least attempt to appear presentable, especially if I wanted to get sprung from this place. "It looks like you haven't been getting much sleep," the man who walked in quipped. He was tall and dressed all in black- including a very awesome black coat that billowed out just right when he walked. I had to get me one of those. He also had an eyepatch that only served to make him look more awesome and intimidating; everything about him honestly just screamed how cool he was and gave me an instant respect for him. Maybe it was something that was already there.

"The fact that there are one hundred and forty-two ceiling tiles in this room should answer that question," I fired back. Then I felt compelled to add, "Sir."

He raised an eyebrow with a hint of a smirk. "I'd like to say that if you were an Agent you wouldn't run your mouth like that at the Director, but then I'd be forgetting Barton." Oh boy. This was him… this was Director Fury. This was THE Director Fury. Something in my brain went off like a shot at the realization. I was instantly on my feet, standing as straight as I could.

"I'm sorry… sir. I didn't realize who you were."

He looked me over, but I tried to keep from staring at him. "No. It just appears you have a habit of showing up in my office without my knowledge." He nodded towards my arm and I instantly extended it towards him. I wasn't sure why I was being so compliant, but I was choosing to see it as having a good relationship with the man who was my boss. Though he didn't seem to recognize me at all… this was worrying. "It also appears you have the quite the flare for the dramatic."

"You're telling me," I responded with a small smile. "I just hope Past Me knew what she was doing, because as of right now I am stuck with this with absolutely no idea what it means. I apparently really wanted you attention sir."

He gestured for me to sit on the bed and I did so, rolling my sleeve back down. "Well you have it," he told me as he sat on the small metal chair that was also in the room. "You also have my curiosity, Ms. Crawford. You are nowhere to be found- even in our 'off the book' records." So the one thing I remembered about myself was a lie? Fantastic. "But I cannot take away the fact that for some reason you believe you are. And that you of all people made your way into my office without sounding any alarm with that message. So we're going to run some… tests."

Well, this sounded like it was going to suck. "Tests?" I asked, trying to hide my fear but being severely unsuccessful.

"Don't worry. They don't involve strapping you down to a table and sticking you with a needle, Ms. Crawford. We simply plan to put you through the training various types of Agents here would have. The hope is to find where and if you fit in." He rose. "Then we can figure out what to do with you from there- where we're comfortable placing you."

Somehow I could see right through his mystery. "You know what it means," I deduced, nodding towards the arm. "You know who Coulson is and who his team is. And you want to see what exactly I can do that can contribute to saving 'him'. What I'm meant to do." He just stared at me, but I knew I was right. I needed to be sized up and the sooner the better. Apparently this Coulson meant a lot to people from how serious everyone was taking it.

"I know who his team is going to be." Wait, what? Going to be? Like future tense? "Which is exactly why you raise some red flags." He started for the door, but not before one last look at me over his shoulder. "Someone will be in shortly to get you started. Best of luck to you."

"Thank you, Director. I'll try not to let you down."

"Seeing as I have no expectations, I don't see how you can." And with that he was gone.

I turned to where I knew one of the cameras had to be and just sighed in exasperation. "Now that was just rude, right?" Of course there was no response, but I nodded. "Thank you!" I answered the silence before falling back on the bed, prepared to wait it out for whoever was sent to fetch me.

Maybe there was nothing to any of this I questioned as I glanced at the camera I had just had a conversation with. Maybe I was just certifiably insane.

XXX

My next two weeks were hell to say the least. First of all, they kept me in the same wardrobe I had arrived in- even after I was allowed a customary shower daily. I kind of wanted to set the flannel on fire at this point. I had to wake up at the crack of dawn, or at least I thought it was since I never saw a window, and go bed only after a full day of being pushed to my limits. Then I would do it again. I also had to keep my hair down, despite the fact that it would be so much more convenient if I was allowed a rubber band at the very least. I promised up and down I wouldn't use it as a weapon to pick a lock or rig and escape device like MacGyver, but Hill would merely glare at me. These were the important things about those couple weeks, because it sucked trying to do the things they were putting me through with blonde locks flying about the place, and I was starting to get the feeling she wasn't letting me have one on purpose. It was pure sabotage.

Not that I needed to be sabotaged, because I sucked. At everything. I'm not even kidding- literally every area an Agent could specialize in I had no clue what I was doing. You'd think whatever the hell I did to my memories was so I could at least keep that information because, you know, it would be useful. Either that or the crazy lady who just randomly tattooed herself theory was starting to gain more traction.

The first few days they made the mistake of handing me a gun. I learned very quickly I had not been versed in firearms, and it got to the point they made sure the room was cleared before sending me in there. I apparently hit a plaque of records on one of the walls that was going to get two people very pissed at me- the firearms records were all under Romanoff and the other weaponry Barton. I got better as anyone did with practice, but it was clear I did not have the muscle memory when it came to hitting dead center. But if you needed someone to potentially shoot a guy in the foot one should look no further. Any other weapon, not so much. Knives were beyond me in every sense and I don't know the loser who uses a bow and arrow anymore but I wasn't one.

The next week was pretty much spent learning that I sucked at fighting. They even sent in some new recruits in that had been late to training who spent the time letting me hit them in an attempt to do damage. I could throw an alright punch when the target was completely still- and even that was after some coaxing. But once they were moving not so much. I was pretty physically fit and could keep up in terms of sprints and push-ups, but I was too tiny to be much of a threat in combat. Hill always lectured me about how size didn't matter, but it so did. There was no way someone 5'7'' could take down a 6'2'' bulky gentleman. Absolutely no way I'm telling you. She's just a big fat liar who wanted to get me killed. I'd tell her that and she'd merely roll her eyes and say I'd see one day. In the meanwhile, I learned I was obviously not saving this person by fighting off his assassin.

Then they had the brilliant idea to put me in a lab. I saw a body and almost threw up on the spot. I was too afraid to even attempt mixing some chemicals because I was pretty positive I was going to end up killing myself. They gave me some blueprints and told me to build it, but I merely managed in setting the place on fire. I'd like to think that whoever I was had been a smart person, but clearly it was not in this respect. At this point I doubted I could properly work a toaster.

I also knew nothing about S.H.I.E.L.D. They put me through endless classes about levels and tactics, but nothing came close to ringing any sort of bell. They lectured me on history and some big battle in New York that had managed to change everything. They were left at beyond a loss when I couldn't even recall who Tony Stark was, let alone his persona of Iron Man. I even managed to fall asleep during some of the videos, which only earned me more laps.

So I was useless as a spy. Literally useless. I had no instincts for anything S.H.I.E.L.D. related. I would lie in bed, exhausted, and ponder why I ever thought I was an Agent. Clearly I had received no training. Clearly the last thing I had left in my brain was a lie. I don't know why Past Me had felt it was necessary to keep, unless she just had a really dark sense of humor. Well the joke was on you Past Me, because you were currently sporting the same bruises as Present Me. It also in a lot of ways really ground down my self-esteem and confidence. Here I thought I had deleted everything for this purpose, this thing I was meant to do. But it was starting to seem like that wasn't the case. It was a lie. And if my purpose was a lie, then what was I supposed to do?

I always kept the sleeve down whenever I was out of the room, but every night I would glance at it and run my fingers over the words. I was really sorry for whoever this guy was. They were clearly going to die. They, whoever they were if there was one, had clearly sent the wrong person for the job.

XXX

So two weeks later I was waiting for Hill to literally laugh in my face the next time I was in that interrogation room I swore was on the sun from the bright light. I was completely defeated and worn down in every respect- mentally and physically. At least I wasn't handcuffed this time- probably because they realized I wasn't even a threat to a rabbit. And that I basically telegraphed every lie with my eyes so the detector wasn't even necessary. They'd learned that one pretty easily and put that in the column for why I totally wasn't a spy.

She had the tablet once again when she entered. She went to speak, but I made sure to get in there first. "Please, spare me the details. Just tell me you found out where I live so I can go home and stop wasting your time." She just stared at me, so I decided to just admit it. Maybe that was all she had been looking for this whole time. "I'm not Agent Crawford, okay? I'm just some girl who's obviously very screwed up in her brain." She just kept staring, and I just wanted to crawl under the table. "There. I said it. Now get me out of this prison."

"Agent Coulson is assembling his team this week and we want to put you in it," she responded calmly. I nearly fell over in my chair and I swear it made her almost smile.

"You're joking, right? I know you're not usually one for the jokes, but I always thought there was a comedian trapped away- you're serious?"

"I am. The Director has reviewed everything and made the call himself." She softened just the slightest as she continued. "You see, Agent Coulson means a lot to him… to all of us. He has been through a rough recovery and we want to protect him in every way we can. Director Fury would do almost anything to ensure that. That includes in allowing you to fulfill whatever you believe your purpose to be. You apparently believed in it so much you made it permanent."

My sleeve was down, but I pulled it down ever further. "So you want me to protect him when I will merely succeed in probably getting us both killed?" I felt a need to reiterate. "Because we've seen there's nothing-"

"Director Fury is deciding to trust you and your situation," she interrupted, apparently not in the mood for attending my pity party. "That is huge and you should see the value in that. He's choosing to see your lack of training as a plus."

I couldn't help but smirk. "How so?"

"Obviously if you do turn out to be false, there's no way you have the capability to hurt any of them. Except by maybe blowing up the coffee machine by accident one morning." Oh, she loved this. I could tell. She turned her attention to her tablet. "You in a way were self-fulfilling though." She spun the tablet around so I could look at it.

It was a picture of my self- a very unflattering one that had to have been taken with a security camera- along with details and a serial number. "I'm an Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D." I smiled. "Level Six too. Not bad."

"We had to fix it up a bit, so you would appear desirable. You've been on a few missions and have a skill set that involves seeing the things that others miss in people and situations. That's why he'll want you and it should keep you out of some… intense situations." I nodded, honestly getting excited at the idea of having a secret identity- a badass alter ego who was a spy after all. A good-looking spy.

She abruptly pulled the tablet away, causing me to look back up at her. "There are a few things that need to be made clear. You are not to tell anyone your unique situation. No one sees that tattoo. No one knows about your memory. We have a backstory for you to review. There will be one member of the team in the loop, but they will make themselves known to you and not the other way around." I nodded seriously, honestly not wanting to be the group freak. I could do this. I could keep a secret. I could play it cool. "You are to report to them with anything out of the ordinary- memories, inklings, anything that may be important. They will report them to Director Fury. You don't tell anyone else. Are we clear?" I so far hadn't experienced the return of any memories, but it wasn't being counted out as a possibility just yet.

"Crystal," I vowed, hand up dramatically. I was suddenly back in this, committed and ready to go on a big adventure. I could just sense it was what I was meant to do- that my proposed purpose wasn't steering my wrong. "Not a single one of them is going to know I'm an amnesiac sent to save one of the gentlefolk's lives with absolutely no clue how to do so. I will prove to the Director he made the right call on all accounts."

I swear Hill had a hint of a smile as she rose and dismissed me back to my cell for the last night. Maybe she didn't hate me after all. She was entrusting me with someone who was clearly very important to her and the Director. She was taking the chance on me for him. Maybe part of her was actually going to miss me after all.

Then when I was stuck once again with the same clothes and no ponytail I realized how ridiculous that notion truly was.

XXX

The next morning, I said a goodbye to my cell. Tears were shed and memories were reflected upon. I was now waiting in the chair of another room, though this one seemed much more dim and calm like an office. There was an empty chair next to me and another across a long table that I figured was for Hill. She had dropped me off here and vowed to return in less than an hour with a person of interest. She wanted Coulson to speak to the both of us together and save some time. He had apparently loved my fake alibi when Hill talked me up and insisted we meet.

I had finally been allowed a change of clothes. They had offered me one of the suits like Hill always wore, but I opted to be more casual. If my skill was fitting in to decipher things, then I needed to look the part. I had opted for a green and silver striped button-up sweater (long-sleeved to cover you know what) with a brown cami underneath, a darker pair of jeans, and sneakers. I somehow felt more like myself, whoever that was, and it was giving more confidence for this whole thing. I could pull this off. Clearly Past Me thought I could. I even managed to convince them to let me tie my hair back- been provided a real ponytail holder and everything.

I was started to get bored when the door opened and an Agent ushered a man inside. He was exactly what I pictured when the word "Agent" came to mind- a tall, clean cut man with dark hair in an impeccable suit without a crease. He even has the striped tie that tried to make him less intimidating, but failed miserably. He could honestly give James Bond a run for his money easily.

He took the seat next to me, not even sparing me a glance. He just looked forward intensely, like a guard dog just waiting for the order to attack. It was intense and sort of creepy. Being an Agent must mean you don't have any sense of decorum of manners and I wasn't quite sure I was a fan. I never wanted to end up this uptight at all.

Maybe he was just shy. I turned to face him, hand extended. "I'm Agent Ashley Crawford," I tried politely, but I barely even received a nod. Fine. Screw you too, buddy. I'll just study the map in front of us.

Hill arrived a few moments later, impeccable as always, and took the seat across from us. I knew it was time to switch into spy mode for real now. I had to be serious and play this part- this jerk being the first one I had to convince. She looked the both of us over. "I wanted to thank you both on your respective mission work. You've done this organization quite the service." He nodded and I shrugged. I would be the type who let praise roll of them. It wasn't why I did this. "You've recently grabbed our attention, hence why we called you here." Her focus then turned to me. "What does S.H.I.E.L.D. stand for, Agent Crawford?"

Here we go. At least it was a softball. "Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division," I rattled off, respectful but bored with the question. She nodded and turned her attention to the gentleman.

"And what does that mean to you, Agent Ward?"

"It means someone really wanted our initials to spell S.H.I.E.L.D." he offered with just a hint of a smirk. I nearly snorted but held myself together. So he did have a sense of humor after all. Maybe I couldn't write him off as a complete robot yet. "It means we're the line," he continued, when Hill refused to see the obvious humor in the comment, "between the world and the much weirder world."

"Some people aren't ready to hear about things we know," I added, trying to support him. "So we try to keep the news from them… protect them. Then we keep them safe if we can't." He turned to look at me as if noticing me for the first time, quickly sizing me up with his brown eyes. I don't think I weighed very highly as he instantly turned back.

He reached into his jacket. "Something turns up… like this Chitauri neural link," he produced a weird metal thing and held it up, "we get to it before someone bad does." He slid it across the table to Hill, before turning his head towards me as she grabbed it and walked over to an Agent with a box. "Next time, let me handle my question, okay?" Wow. So much for solidarity here.

"I'll see if I can keep my mouth shut," I whispered back angrily and I meant it. He felt like he didn't need my help? Fine. I wouldn't offer it.

"Any idea who Vanchat was planning to sell it to?" Hill asked as she placed it in the box and the Agent headed out with it.

"I'm more interested in how this Rising Tide group found out about it," Ward countered. Ah, that was one of the names that had been thrown around in my lectures. I tried to remember, but leave it to him to perfectly and annoyingly answer the unasked question. "I thought they were just hackers. What changed?"

Hill made her way over to us, hands on her hips. "Everything's changing," she answered as she paced around us, hands on her hips. "A little while ago, most people went to bed thinking the craziest thing in the world was a billionaire in a flying metal suit." Iron Man! I understood the reference and silently patted myself on the back for it. "The aliens invaded New York and were beaten back by, among others, a giant green monster, a costumed hero from the '40s, and a god."

"I don't think Thor's technically a god," Ward disagreed.

I elbowed him harshly. "Well, I don't think you've been near his arm like Hill has then." I then realized my mistake in addressing her so casually, but she seemed to go along with my comment rather than finding it disrespectful and chewing me out- though I'm sure Ward would have loved that from the glare he shot me.

"This, now, is the new world," Hill continued. "People are different. They have access to tech, to formulas, secrets they're not ready for."

"Why was I pulled out of Paris?" Ward questioned, sick of Hill waxing poetic. I was too though honestly, so I was glad one of us said something to get the ball rolling. Maybe Ward had his redeeming features deep underneath. I hoped I found more of them, because right now I wasn't too enthusiastic if he ended up being the one I had to save. I'm not saying I'd leave him to it… I just might think about it for a bit first.

"Yes," I added, trying to appear clueless. "Why was I pulled out of…Budapest?" I went with the first thing that came to mind.

"That, you'll have to ask Agent Coulson." Finally!

Ward almost snorted next to me, giving Hill a condescending smile that I kind of wanted to knock right off him. "Uh, yeah. I'm clearance level six. I know that Agent Coulson was killed in action before the Battle of New York. Got the full report." I was tempted to correct him, but quickly remembered I needed to be in the same boat he was. So I settled for nodding at Ward, giving Hill a questioning look.

"Welcome to Level Seven," a new voice said as it rounded the hallway. A man in a suit emerged from the shadows with a faint smile on his face. Ward was instantly on his feet in bafflement and confusion, the dummy, but I couldn't help but just stare at him. I instantly knew who he was and I didn't know how to explain it but I definitely had to know him. We had to have some sort of relationship. There was no way else I was put so at ease and comfortable with someone these days. Maria Hill I had recognized, this man I knew somewhere in my brain I knew. I just didn't quite know how yet.

He looked us both over, but my thoughts were thrown into question when he showed no sign of recognizing me. Maybe I was wrong and we didn't know each other. But I just felt like we had to. There were a lot of weird emotions pulsing through me in those few moments, the moment I had been waiting for since I woke up, and I almost missed what he said next, self-deprecating smile on his face. "Sorry. That corner was really dark, and I couldn't help myself. I think there's a bulb out."

Know him or not, in that one quip I knew instantly I was going to like Agent Coulson a lot. I was ready to be part of whatever team he wanted me for. Just tell where did I have to sign up?