Battlegrounds by LittleApril

A safe army is better than a safe border. ~ BR Ambedkar

Zhari District, Afghanistan, April 17th, 2014

Slipping through the frayed folds of the worn armed-forces tent, inclining her head in greeting to the officers stationed by the entrance, Corporal Amelia Jones strode forward. With a quick raise of her brows, she extended her hand to the sergeant parked by the west-facing wall, accepting her M9 with a curt nod. "What've we got?" murmured Jones, holstering her weapon. Her eyes flitted around the tent before landing back on her commanding officer.

"Enemy combats disguised as our soldiers," answered Staff Sergeant Perkins, jabbing his finger at the military bases identified on the dirtied map. "Afghanis surrounded the base. Thirteen casualties our side. It's a mess." Perkins wiped his brow. "We're transporting the injured to a secure base just outside of-"

"Corporal?"

Jones twisted her body, straightening her posture as she stared up at the Second Lieutenant, eyeing his Air Force commandments with scrutiny. "Sir?" she greeted, feeling the dirt grind beneath her boots as she moved forward, following the man's instruction, subconsciously feeling for her gig line.

Lieutenant Christopher Andrews removed his cap, running wrinkled hands through his peppered grey hair. "You've got a visitor, Jones," he answered, leading the way out of the main tent, across the dirtied and gravelled Afghanistan earth, past the M24-carrying commanding officers and M88 Hercules recovery vehicles. They reached a second tent in less than ten seconds, their strides forthright and hurried. "Through there," instructed Andrews. "Mind the step."

With a furtive glance, Jones nodded, acutely aware of the lieutenant backing away from the tent and of the eight armed-officers guarding the covered plot. Raising a brow, the female stepped inside the second shelter. Moving inside, tasting the stale air and feeling the heat of the Afghan sun on her hands despite the cool air blasting from the portable machines, Jones blinked back surprise as her eyes roamed over the new figure. She stood to attention, eyes focusing on the man's crisp black suit.

"Hello, Amelia," greeted the sandy-haired male, smiling now, stepping forward with a magnolia-coloured file.

Amelia frowned, accepting the folder but not opening it. "Coulson?" She paused, fighting to find the right words. "I didn't think SHIELD made house calls."

Folding his hands in front of him, the former Agent gestured to the papers held in the blonde's hands. "There is no SHIELD. A lot has happened in the last few days," he elaborated, gauging her reaction. "It's good to see you," he murmured, smile softening, "but it's time for you to come home."

"Where is home?" Amelia's voice was quiet now as she opened the file, scanning the papers as words jumped out at her. Winter Soldier. HYDRA. Pierce. INSIGHT. MISSING. Mortality.

"With your family."

Amelia bowed her head as she closed the file shut with a quiet sigh. "You think HYDRA has merged with the military?" She watched Coulson's reaction and swore. "When do we leave?"

"As soon as you have your things."

The Corporal shook her head, loosing her blonde curls from her ponytail. "Let's go." She led the two of them away from the tent, idly aware of the protective detail following them across the wasteland. Not bothering to face him, she sighed and murmured, "And Dad? It's good to see you, too."

Coulson merely smiled.

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