A/N: BIG thank you to all of you who have fav/followed this Aftermath: Manila. This story got the best response, so I'll start with it. All of the comments/reviews seemed to favor Marta, which I find interesting. Marta knowingly experimented on human beings to further her own research. Yes, she had a change of heart when she met Aaron, but I'm not sure I'm ready to let the good doctor off the hook so fast. Not to fear Marta fans, she's got an ace up her sleeve.

Aaaaand here we go…

She looked up at him, shocked at his response. "You believe me?"

Fury took a deep breath and walked closer to her. "I believe you, doctor."

She had no idea why, but he seemed to be sincere. "Ok, what else do you want from me?"

Fury was already back at the door. "Guards! Call the quarter master and ask her to find a bed for a new guest."

The, he turned to Aaron – no, no- Barton, and grabbed his wheelchair. "Come on Barton; get back to your room."

"Sir, can I talk to Dr. Schering alone?"

"Later. You and I need to have a chat first." The glance Fury shot her made Marta squirm a bit. It was a 'this is your fault' kind of look.

Fury and Barton left, but the door opened again a few seconds later. "Dr. Shering?" said the guard. "Please come with me and we'll get you settled in a room."

She followed silently behind. Once out in the hall, she tried not to stare at the modern looking interior of the aircraft carrier. These SHIELD people weren't like any military group she had ever seen. They were like something out of a sci/fi movie. After several twists and turns through the hallway, the guard pointed her to a small room.

"Someone will bring you fresh clothes and supplies shortly. Please stay here until they come for you. It's easy to get lost around here." He said and left.

How could this be happening? After being almost murdered, blow up, chased, almost murdered some more, and now kidnapped by scary Navy type people, Marta didn't know what was real anymore. That Fury man accepted her story without question. It was almost like he was expecting to hear it. Did he know? Had he heard about her grandfather's research? And what now? Clearly, she wasn't being held as prisoner, but what was next? Her old life was gone- her job, her reputation, her house. Most of the people she used to see every day were dead. It was all gone.

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Clint settled back into the bed and lay still as the nurse adjusted his lines.

"I want you to stay in this bed until you're released. Got it Barton?"

"Yes sir." He waited for the nurse to leave. "What did you want to talk to me about sir?"

Fury pulled up a chair and sat down next to him. "Son, there's something you need to know about what they gave you."

Oh shit! "What's that sir?"

"There could be side-effects."

"Um, sir?" Clint hesitated. "How do you know that?"

Fury gave him a wry smile. "Agent Barton, do you know how old I am?"

"No sir." There were only the rumors.

Fury leaned in and looked him in the eye. "I'm ninety years old."

Clint's mind stuck shut a minute, the statement setting in. Fury looked to be about sixty- a healthy, strong sixty. No amount of good living or surgery could make a ninety year old man look sixty. Clint scratched his face, indicating that he was indeed, still alive and waiting for Fury to continue.

"In early 1942, I was a stupid ambitious young man anxious to prove I belonged in the white man's Army. Somehow I found myself stationed in New York. I was sweeping a floor when a general approached me. I was scared shitless, wondering what it was I'd done wrong. All he said was, 'what would you do to become an officer?' Not sure what to say, I just told him whatever it took, sir. He snapped his fingers at me to follow him and that's what I did."

Fury stopped and stood up, pacing the room. "That was the day my life changed forever, Barton."

Clint nodded, not sure what to say, wondering what the hell happened next. Fury looked like he was about to talk again when his phone rang. "Yes? Good. Meet me in briefing room."

He looked at Clint again. "Sorry, Barton. Coulson and Romanoff are here. We'll talk later, but you keep everything I've said to yourself, understand."

"Of course sir."

"Good. Rest Agent Barton. This shit ain't over yet."

And ninety year old Nick Fury left the room.

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p.s. you can find me and my new novel on twitter juliennelloyd