So... yeah. I've decided to start writing again. Maybe not the best time to get over the mountain of writer's block (woo exams!) but there we go. I tried to make the sciencey bits as convincing as possible. I hope you enjoy :)
Matt headed down the stairs deeper into the ship. He decided to push his encounter with Fury into the back of his mind, a place somewhat over-populated of late, along with the slightly disturbing thought that... perhaps Fury hadn't been so bad after all. He needed his wits about him if he was to get used to working with what seemed from the profiles to be at best dysfunctional, at worst a bunch of complete nutcases.
"Hey," came a voice from a doorway to his right. Matt looked around – he'd wandered into an unfamiliar part of the ship while absorbed in his thoughts.
Poking his head out of the door to a high tech, bells-and-whistles laboratory was Bruce Banner, still in the wrinkled clothes Matt had seen him in before.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Doc," Matt said, extending his hand.
"Lynch, is it?" he said, shaking his hand firmly.
Matt nodded. "I would say I was a huge fan of your work if I hadn't spent the last few years in a slum."
Bruce smiled. "You're saying papers on particle physics weren't all over the place?"
"Only as kindling, I'm afraid," Matt said, slightly apologetically. "Can I come in?"
"Sure, sure," said Banner, ducking back into the lab. Matt followed him, letting out a low whistle as he entered the room, filled to bursting with complex – looking equipment and touchscreens, with panoramic windows overlooking the flight deck.
"To be fair, I didn't think it would be worth much more than kindling when I wrote the thing," he said, shrugging.
"Come on, now you're just being modest," said Matt, poking at one of the touchscreens experimentally. The machine blinked an error message and let out a few irritated beeps. Matt hastily turned the screen off and sidled to the other end of the room.
"Seriously, what's the use of knowing the behaviour of positrons? I mean, who's that gonna cure?" Bruce leant back on a work surface, his face suddenly serious.
"That's why you set up the clinic?" guessed Matt.
"Partly, yeah. But now..." he trailed off.
"Now you're one of the only people who knows enough about radiation to track down this cube," finished off Matt. There was a short silence. "This is where they're gonna bring it, I guess?" he asked, eyes sweeping over the complex machinery.
"Seems that way," replied Banner, a guarded look on his face like he'd said too much.
"Because when dealing with alien technology you don't understand, the only place to be when it malfunctions that's better than miles below ground is miles above it," said Matt wryly. Bruce grinned, relieved at the change of topic.
"Let it blow," he shrugged. "I haven't had a lethal burst of radiation recently. I'm kinda missing it." Matt laughed.
"So what are all these things?" he asked, gesturing around the room. "Give me the tour."
"Sure," said Bruce, his eyes lighting up. "Well, this here is your basic hyperpure germanium semiconductor detector," he said, gesturing towards a large metal tube, tangled up in tubes which gave off a quiet, ominous hiss. "The liquid nitrogen's a pain cause it takes a while to get going, but if you need to check for gamma radiation immediately there's always the ion chamber," he said, waving dismissively at smallish yellow box sitting lopsidedly on a shelf, riddled with holes like a Swiss cheese. "Of course, this doesn't detect Cherenkov radiation," he continued enthusiastically, leading Matt around to another oddly shaped metal implement nearly the size of him. "That's why we have the Ring Imaging Cherenkov calorimeter..." he said, launching into a complex explanation that seemed to involve various subatomic particles behaving in various illogical ways.
Matt nodded like he knew what Bruce was talking about while trying to rearrange his features from their natural gormless confusion to a knowing, scientific expression. This soon made his face hurt.
The door slid open with a quiet hiss, admitting a sharply dressed man with a receding hairline and an earpiece. He quickly took stock, then strode over to Matt, extending his hand.
"I've been looking for you. Agent Coulson," he introduced himself.
"I guess you know who I am," said Matt ruefully. Coulson nodded.
"I see you and Banner are getting on," he said, glancing towards the doctor. He hadn't noticed anything, and was still waxing lyrical about particle detectors. "Are you alright, by the way?" he asked, concerned. Matt realised with a start that he was still attempting to pull the knowledgeable expression, which had turned into a sort of contorted grimace.
"Must have been something I ate," he said quickly, relaxing his face with an inward sigh of relief.
"...you haven't understood a word I've said, have you?" asked Banner, who had finished his long and convoluted explanation. "Oh, hi Phil. When did you get here?"
"I understood the first three words or so," said Matt to Bruce. "Don't worry yourself, that's better than I usually do." Bruce smiled.
Coulson cleared his throat. "I'm sorry to break up what looked like an enthralling conversation, but I've been sent by the Director to show you to your room." He gave a tight-lipped smile. Evidently he didn't appreciate being used as a bellboy.
Matt nodded. "I'll not detain you for longer, then. It's been a pleasure doctor," he said.
"Likewise," answered Bruce, already engrossed in the flashing touchscreen displays as Coulson led Matt out of the lab.
"Levels 9-13 are living quarters," explained Coulson as they headed down several flights of steps. "Leisure areas, Gyms and fitness and the like are all on Level 8." Matt nodded, feeling relieved. He really needed to clean himself up.
"How many of the Avengers are currently on station?" he asked.
"Iron Man and Thor are en route, hopefully. Doctor Banner, Agent Romanoff and the Captain are around here somewhere. Agent Barton is... compromised," Coulson finished.
"Yeah, I heard about that," Matt said, "The brief mentioned it in passing."
"It's good you've met Banner already. He can be a bit cerebral but he's a stand up guy, and there's no-one better in particle physics," commented Coulson.
"And presumably no other particle physicist who transforms into a living green wrecking ball" Matt said.
"There is that," conceded Coulson. "Have you met Captain Rogers yet?" he asked.
"I've only been here a couple of hours."
"Of course." Coulson smiled. "Well, let me just say you're lucky you have a man like that in charge," he enthused. Matt raised his eyebrows and made a polite reply, smiling inwardly. It seemed the good Captain had himself a fanboy.
As they descended further into the ship, the topics of conversation shifted – onto S.H.I.E.L.D, the team, and Coulson himself. Coulson was apparently something like the Mr-Fixit of S.H.I.E.L.D – any mission that Fury regarded as particularly sensitive was often entrusted to the agent. That was probably with good reason – he seemed a reliable sort, and remarkably open for a S.H.I.E.L.D operative. He also seemed to be something of an agony aunt for the Avengers.
In time, he led Matt down a darkened corridor. They stopped outside a wooden door that stood slightly ajar. "Welcome to your humble abode," he said, pushing open the door to reveal a spartan room with a single bed, a bedside table and a couple of bare wardrobes. The only concession to comfort was the small en suite. "Clean yourself up. You'll be woken upon any developments."
"Thanks Coulson," Matt said, distractedly. He could feel his eyelids growing heavier by the minute.
The door closed behind Coulson with a snap, his footsteps receding down the corridor. Matt sat down heavily on the bed, the silence only broken with the faint humming of machinery in the decks below. S.H.I.E.L.D had provided – there was a pile of clothes beside him on the bedside table. Matt picked through it – it was some kind of combat uniform, made of tough black material. No doubt they knew his size perfectly.
After a steaming shower to work out all the kinks of the past two years, Matt looked sadly down at the heap of old clothes on the floor. They were too caked with dirt to really use, and he knew it. He jammed them into the bin with a sigh. He was being given a new chance by S.H.I.E.L.D to help people and at least try to put his demons at rest, so he might as well be thorough about it.
He wilted into the mattress, far too tired to process the thoughts whizzing through his brain and only able to comprehend the proper bed he was finally sleeping in. He closed his eyes with a smile and was asleep in a second.
I hate dialogue. If you have the time, please R/R!