Updated 11/30/23
I've decided to add in some reports between Fury and the others to get their point of view on the situation and also to change up the narrative a bit. Originally I was going to do limited narration and have everything happen from Jasmine's point of view because I want to see what it's like working through an unreliable narrator, but I have succumbed because honestly this just fleshes out the story better.
TW FOR VERY VAGUE MENTIONS OF CHILD ABUSE. The Dursleys weren't the nicest people, but Jasmine wasn't abused like Harry sometimes is in other stories. She has anxiety around large men that resemble her Uncle and doesn't like being handled roughly, but that's the basic extent. I hope you enjoy, and please send me a PM if you want a version of the chapter without the trigger allusion in it, I'll be happy to send it to you so you can enjoy. It's not central to the story whatsoever, so it shouldn't impede you enjoyment. As always, lots of love! ~Auna
By the time we meander back to the building we started in, the sun has almost set and Mr. Steve has told me to call him "just Steve" sixty two times. We bought hot dogs from a stand for dinner and he carried me around on his shoulders while we walked about and pointed things out. Nick and some random agent stand just inside the door to the airplane hanger that is missing all its airplanes; Nick has his arms crossed and a big grumpy glare painted across his face.
"Took you long enough." He grouches. I'm beginning to get the idea that Mr. Nick Fury has one mode: grump. I grin cheekily at him as Mr. Steve sets me down gently before I pull the remaining four dollars and ten cents from his pocket and had it over.
"We took a tour. Thank you for graciously sacrificing a small part of your income and providing us both with lunch and dinner."
Fury snatches the money from me and sticks it in his pocket without looking. I take Mr. Steve's had and h gives my fingers a warning squeeze that I choose to ignore.
"This," Fury gestures sharply to the agent at his left, who looks a little wimpy but probably strong enough to pick me up in an emergency, "is Agent Mark. He's your bodyguard, Sophie, and you will stay with him."
I eye Agent Mark, skeptic and pouting. "And if I don't?" I raise an eyebrow but don't look at Fury. He makes a grumpy huffing noise in response but doesn't say anything. A soft snort comes from the Captain and he squeezes my hand gently again.
"Behave, Jazz," Mr. Steve says in a firm but kind tone.
I whip my head around and stare at him with wide eyes. A nickname? For me? I smile brilliantly.
"Of course!" I jump at him and Mr. Steve catches me, lifting me up easily with one arm. I kiss his cheek and my smile turns sweet and innocent. Fury can see it but Agent Mark can't. I pat Mr. Steve's cheek where I kissed it. "Don't I always?"
I hop down and turn, grabbing Agent Mark's belt loop and pulling him along, through the room to a doorway on the other side. Just before it slips shut I turn and wave at Mr. Steve and Fury.
Agent Mark, whom I have decided doesn't deserve his name yet, thereby becoming Agent 1, walks me down the hallway with a large hand on my shoulder. The pressure is careful and heavy, but I don't let it get to me. He doesn't answer any of my questions, so I go on ignoring him after three minutes or so.
Instead I try to skip down the hall. He pushes on my shoulder to get me to stop, so I have to hum a song instead. I pick the first tune I can think of and hum it as loud as possible, holding on to the happy feeling from Mr. Steve giving me a nickname.
The other agents that we pass through the hall either stare or ignore us completely. I smile and wave innocently at both types.
The hallway leads to another hallway, and then another, and then we go down a flight of stairs, and then another, and then we walk down a long, very dark hallway, and then up three flights of stairs before we traverse our first empty hallway. Halfway down the hall on who knows what floor, Agent 1 stops in front of a plain white door and knocks once. Before he can knock a second time, the door swings open.
The man who stands in the doorway is shorter than Agent 1, but still much taller than me, and he's dressed in all black just like all the other agents, except his outfit is different. Rather than the bulky utility style of the other agents outfits, which are showy and seem more for dress up or show, his outfit is more militaristic, made for movement and stealth instead of impression.
He also has short hair, shorter on the sides than the front, with the top long and ruffled into a fluffy sort of triangle above his forehead. I briefly think it looks almost like a crown. His eyes, which I can see from how close we're standing to the door, are grey and sharp, and they dart around too quickly for me to follow before they land in me.
He gives a single, jerky nod, and I blink at him a few times, lips pursed.
"Agent," he greets Agent 1. "Who is this?"
I have the feeling that if he was looking at Agent 1 he would have tilted his head at me instead of flicking his eyes or some other way of gesturing to me. He seems to like keeping his eyes on one target at a time, using his head in jerky motions to signal.
Agent 1 goes to respond, but I stamp on his foot and answer for myself, ready to tackle introducing myself to this new and much more interesting person.
"Jasmine Potter, sir. It's a pleasure to meet you." I stick out my hand to the new man. Agent 1's fingers tighten in my shoulder, but they don't hurt anything like Uncle Vernon's could have, so I ignore him. "Please disregard anything else they tell you to call me: the orphanage had a mix up and everyone in this facility listens to Fury, so they call me by my legal name instead of the one I got at birth." The new man shakes my hand firmly with another jerky nod, and then his eyes narrow on Agent 1's hand.
"Agent Clint Barton. Hawkeye. Come on in." He reaches the hand I shook between my neck and shoulder where Agent 1's fingers tighten even further. "You can go, Agent." He says, voice just a little gruff. I step forward slightly. Agent 1, however, is not having it. His hand tightens painfully on my shoulder and I wince, dropping my shoulder to try and remove the pressure.
"Not so fast, Barton. The welp stays with me. Fury's orders."
I freeze, narrowing my eyes, and whip my head up to look at Agent 1. All the pain in my shoulder vanishes in the face of my annoyance.
"What did you just call me?" I ask sharply. Mr. Barton narrows his eyes too, watching me carefully and clearly prepared to step in if necessary. His tangible care and concern helps me calm down inside some. Agent 1's ugly sneer brings back my focus.
"I called you what you are, little girl. A welp."
Quick as a flash, my fingernails are in his hand, causing him to release my shoulder.
By the time he's cried out, I've spun around with my back pressed to Mr. Barton, who very gently rests both his hands on my upper arms. I don't come up past his waist, and he's shorter than Mr. Steve.
I clench my jaw so hard that I know it will ache tomorrow, and take a deep breath to calm down so I can speak. "You are dismissed, Agent Mark. Please tell Fury that you've been let go." My lip tries to wobble but I press them together firmly.
"No!" He snarls, leaning hard into my space. "I won't lose my job because some insolent little child couldn't listen to instructions for five minutes or take some simple discipline. You can't dismiss me!" Agent 1 doesn't exactly lunge for me, but Mr. Barton steps back and tugs me into him, one arm crossing in front of me protectively. It's blatant he would be more comfortable holding my shoulder, but there's a bruise there that can be seen through my dress already. Damn me for bruising so easily. I clasp my hand over his, hoping to distract him from it.
Agent 1 is still yelling some obscene thing, at both me and Mr. Barton, but I can't quite hear him. And, I'm determined to get him fired, which is guaranteed if Mr. Steve and Fury finds out what's going on.
The safety button is in my boot, and I can't get to it easily without being obvious. So I'll have to sound the alarm the old fashioned way.
Carefully keeping up the act, I grab a tight hold of Mr. Barton's fingers and lean back into him like I'm scared. I let my lip quiver now and let the pain from my shoulder make tears in my eyes.
"No!" I choke out, ripping Mr. Barton's hand away and pushing past Agent 1. I run down the hallways and staircases, back the way we came and fling open the door. Fury and Mr. Steve are still standing there, but then Mr. Steve now has a couple of duffel bags full of stuff he's holding, one on his shoulder and two in his hand. They both look up as I burst through the door, and Fury has a gun in his hand and half pointed at me by the time I'm three fourths of the way across the floor.
Mr. Steve drops his bags and catches me as I jump at him, crying heavily now from the pain in my shoulder and the rush of anger coursing through me. I hug him tightly and hide my face in his shirt.
"Jazz." He tries to push me back, but I'm holding on too tightly, so he just pushes some of my hair around off my face. I force myself to sob, to be weak. The performance has to be perfect. I trust Fury to care about what his agents are doing, but not enough to do anything about it if I don't pull on some strings. Mr. Steve resigns himself to patting my back, turning around slightly. "Jasmine, what happened? You were gone for ten minutes."
"I behaved. Like I said I would. It wasn't my fault. Please believe me. I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" I squeeze my arms around his neck and feel momentarily bad about the snot and tears that are getting on his shirt, but he shushes me gently.
Despite the fact that I'm mostly acting, some long aching part of me is soothed. Mr. Steve cares that I was hurt. I think he may be a real friend.
I feel bad for tricking him.
Mr. Barton bursts through the door, eyes faster even than they were earlier as they assess the situation, and when he sees me he relaxes slightly. I give Mr. Barton a sappy, wet wink and his eyes narrow playfully, though he stays silent.
"Sophie?" Fury asks, tone stern. "What happened?" I lean back in Mr. Steve's arms but keep my gaze down at my lap, sniffling and fidgeting with my fingers.
"I-I was j-j-just walking and I'm short, you know?" Apparently the crying got to me more than I thought. The stutter isn't even fake. "My legs aren't so long, which m-m-means I h-h-h-h-" I take a deep breath, or try to, because my wailing really isn't helping, "I h-have to take more steps when I walk, and he wasn't- he wasn't slowing down and he got mad that I wasn't walking fast enough so he grabbed my shoulder and started pulling me along and it hurt, so I scratched his hand until he let go and then I ran away."
Mr. Steve frowns as I sniffle and duck my head lower so it's almost resting on him.
"Where does it hurt, Jazz?" He tries to lean back to look at me but I'm too close.
My voice is muffled and echoey and snotty when I say, "My right shoulder."
One of his hands gently comes up and pushes back my hair, revealing the hand print bruise on my shoulder that is just beginning to show through the flimsy white fabric. I'd be embarrassed about how quickly it showed up if it wasn't extremely helpful.
"Who did this?!" Mr. Steve's voice is dangerous, and his gaze is on Fury when I let my eyes flick up. I
purse my lips momentarily and then inhale to tell them when Agent 1 bursts through the door, soot covering his face from some sort of explosion.
"Whatever she said…" he leans down to put his hands on his knees, breathing quite heavily. "It's a lie." He wimpily points one of his fingers at me before falling to the ground, still conscious and huffing.
"I highly doubt that, Agent Mark, seeing as there is a bruise on her shoulder and tears on her face." Fury's voice is hard, angry and disappointed. "You're dismissed, Agent. Head over to Terminal 3 for reprocessing."
"What?!" He is up on his feet within moments, still puffing. "You-you're dismissing me?! Over the word of a little girl!" Agent Fury's voice is somehow even harder when he speaks again.
"That little girl, as you say, has done more today than you have ever done or, at this point, could ever hope to do in your career. Take yourself down to Terminal 3 for reprocessing or you will be taken there." Fury cocks his head to the side slightly in what I'm beginning to think is his Threatening Head Tilt™. It almost makes it look like he's preparing to chew on someone and then spit them out.
"You!" Agent 1 points his finger at me, a crazed look in his eyes. "You little welp!" I purse my lips and draw my eyebrows, angry as I push out of Mr. Steve's hold. "You're going to pay for this!"
I march over to him and then jump with both feet onto his foot. He goes down screaming in pain, clutching at it.
"I dare say you are going to pay for it, significantly, even. After your undoubted relegation, you will have a lower pay and the cost to heal the tiny fractured in your foot will have a larger impact on your bank account than it might have. Did you know it only takes four and a half pounds of pressure to break the foot? Don't call me a welp, Agent 1, and I shan't break your foot."
I turn and walk back to Mr. Steve, safe in the knowledge that Mr. Barton, Mr. Steve and Fury are all watching my back. He picks me up again when I reached him, and I hug him tightly, burying my face in his neck and sniffling again.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. It was mean," I whisper. He hears me, and I know Fury can too. Mr. Barton evidently also hears because he snorts and then coughs into his gloved hand.
"It was bada-" Mr. Steve coughs and interrupts Mr. Barton, who then changes what he was saying. "It was awesome. Really awesome, umm, Jasmine." I shake my head into Mr. Steve's neck, trying not to cry.
"No it wasn't." I can't help but think that it's something that Dudley would do. I feel, briefly, like I can't breath at all.
"It's alright, Sophie. Andrew deserved it." Fury says harshly, walking over to the door and saying something to one of the agents outside it. Andrew is, I guess, Mark's first name. A moment later, two of agents come in and pick him up, simultaneously administering a sedative that puts him to sleep. I eye the vials with interest. I should get my hands on one of those some time. Fury turns around to the three of us when Agent 1 is out of the room and I school my face, wiping off the tears. "Sophie will be staying in your apartment with you and Romanoff, Agent Barton, when she gets back, as well as an Agent to sit her. The Captain could do it, but we want to give him space to adjust, and keeping her on her own isn't going to work. You can take her up now and I'll go find an Agent to watch her, send them up in a few minutes."
Mr. Barton nods as Fury walks out of the room quickly, jacket swishing. "Captain."
"Agent Barton." They both watch Fury disappear and I copy them. The moment the door swings shut, I hop down and take Mr. Steve's hand, pretending that I'm not still shaken up from the day's activities.
"Let's go, Mr. Steve, Mr. Barton."
Mr. Steve starts to walk with me, and Mr. Barton comes up behind me to walk next to him.
"So, is Barton your first name or is she still being overly formal with you?"
"Last name, so I would guess the latter," He replies. Then Mr. Barton addresses me. "You can call me Clint, kiddo."
I shake my head as I walk just ahead of them. "Nope. You're a married man, Mr. Barton. You've earned the title, so I'm going to use it."
He stops, and Mr. Steve and I walk two more steps before we stop too. I turn around to find his face pale and stricken.
"How did you know that?" His voice is hoarse, and I'm confused.
"You aren't wearing your ring right now, so I didn't know right away, but you have the tiniest worn indent on your ring finger on your left hand from wearing a ring for a fair few years consistently. I felt it when I pushed your hand off of me earlier. I would hazard a guess that you also have a child or two, one probably close to my age, based on how you held me." I shrug as I speak softly. "Why, is it a secret?" I study him closely, head cocked and eyebrows drawn. The corners of his mouth lift slightly in a poor imitation of a smile.
"One of the best kept secrets in the whole facility, kiddo. You scared me there."
He's still pale.
My lip wobbles and I swallow harshly against the worry knotting in my throat. "Oh. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. I thought you were just one of those people that didn't like to wear your ring to work." I walk forward and give him a hug, wrapping my arms around his waist. He presses his arms around me tightly for a few moments, lifting my feet off the ground.
"It's okay. Don't worry about it." Mr. Barton sets me down and ruffles my hair. "Just don't go telling anyone else, alright."
I nod solemnly. "Yes, Mr. Clint, sir." He grins, just a little sharply, and pats a hand on my good shoulder.
"That's my girl. Now," He announces, turning to face Mr. Steve, "Shall we?" Mr. Clint dramatically sweeps an arm down the hallway in the direction of his apartment, and the three of us start walking again.
"So, why did Agent Mark have soot all over his face?" Mr. Steve asks slyly, glancing to the side at Mr. Clint. Mr. Clint smirks for a moment before returning to what seems to be his perpetually serious expression. He shrugs as I look up at him.
"He ran into an arrow. It exploded," Mr. Clint says. I glance at Mr. Steve, who takes my hand absentmindedly when I reach out to him. Mr. Steve raises an eyebrow at Mr. Clint.
"And did you have anything to do with the placement or detonation of said arrow?"
Mr. Clint grins in response as he allows me to take his hand. "What do you mean, Captain? I was running after Sophie here the entire time."
I giggle in response, liking the sarcastic way he says my fake name. Mr. Steve rolls his eyes and shakes his head, smiling. We talk casually until we get back to the room Mr. Clint was in and find a red headed woman standing outside it arguing with another nondescript agent like Agent 1.
"Nat," Mr. Clint says, a little gruffly. He lifts the hand not holding mine towards her in greeting, and I notice that their outfits are nearly the same with the only exception that hers is more feminine. The woman looks over sharply and her shoulders and lips relax, although her eyebrows come down a little bit. I dismiss whatever the meaning could be behind her apprehension and smile as wide as I can.
"Hello, Miss Nat. My name is Jasmine Potter, but Mr. Fury will tell you that it's Sophie Evans because my Aunt lied to the orphanage when she dropped me off." I drop both Mr. Steve and Mr. Clints' hands and step forwards to her, hand out in greeting. "She didn't want anything associating me with her after she was finally free of me."
The red headed woman, Miss Nat, frowns at me contemplatively before stepping forward smartly. We shake hands as she introduces herself. "Natalia Romanova, sometimes Natasha Romanoff, or some variation." She tilts her head to the side slightly, when she says 'some variation.' I make note of the movement and add it to my mental list of stuff to think about later.
"She's a spy," Mr. Clint says helpfully from over my shoulder. I can hear the grin on his face, but mine mimic's Miss Natalia's; stern and wary, slightly puzzled.
"I'm Agent Delson." Interrupts the Agent that Miss Natalia was arguing with. "I'm your new babysitter, Sophie." The man is skinnier than Agent 1, and much taller, but his bright happy smile is disgusting and creepy. He crouches down in front of me and puts out a hand for me to shake, but I lean away from him into Mr. Steve's leg. I poke his with a finger apprehensively while Miss Natalia turns to Mr. Clint.
"This "man" says he's going to be staying in our room, Barton." Miss Natalia crosses her arms and sits back in her hip while I blink at Agent 2. He has pulled a stuffed blue bunny rabbit from somewhere on his person and is dancing it back and forth on his knees and singing 'happy happy baby, who's a happy baby' in a breathy, high pitched voice.
"Mmm, no. I don't think so." I purse my lips and shake my head, stepping back between Mr. Clint and Mr. Steve. "He's under the impression that I am a little baby."
All three of them frown down at him aggressively. Mr. Clint tries to get his attention, "Agent. Agent!" Agent 2 is too intent on the bunny, so Mr. Clint steps forward and pushes his forehead firmly. He falls over on his butt and blinks up at Mr. Clint.
"What?"
"Are you a professional or not, Agent Delson?!"
"Ye-" he swallows hard, "yes, sir, Agent Barton."
I purse my lips. Coward. Then I start thinking.
If intimidation worked so well for Mr. Clint, maybe I could use that to my advantage with later Agents too. I tap my chin with one finger and lean against Mr. Steve, and miss the rest of the interaction.
When I come back to everyone, we're standing inside of a medium sized flat with a small kitchen and no dining room table. The furniture is all soft greys and dark purples, and the layout is simple: a commons area with a living room and a kitchen on the back wall, two doors on the left, and two doors on the right.
"That one's mine, that one's Nat's," Mr Barton points lazily to the two doors on the left side of the room from his spot lounging on the couch, "That one's the bathroom, and that one," He gestures over his head to the one in the right corner, "Is yours, Jasmine."
I blinked at him, confused, from where I stood on the living room rug. "My own room?"
"It's all yours kiddo," says Miss Natalia from where she's washing out a coffee cup in the kitchen sink. Mr. Steve nudges my shoulder, and I walk around the couch to the soft, grey colored door.
The handle is silver, and cold to the touch of my shaking hands. The door doesn't squeak when I push it open, and I step inside onto soft, light grey carpet. To my left is a dark blue chair with a black, fluffy blanket on it and a small side table with books and a lamp. On the left wall next to the chair is a window with floor to ceiling sparkly silver curtains. The bed, right in the middle of the room, is grey wood with a sparkly blue floral comforter and two pillows along with a decorative fluffy white one. On the right side of the room is a dresser in dark blue, and a big silver framed mirror. It's terribly simplistic, but I fall in love with all of it right away.
With a dash to the window, I throw the curtains open, their metal rings shrieking on the bar, and the orange sunlight spills onto my carpet, revealing the grey to be threaded with silver sparkly strips. I squeal and run out to hug Mr. Clint and Miss Natalia. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"
"We'll go shopping tomorrow and you can get a few more personal items and some casual clothes, so it's not just a guest room." Miss Natalia leans against the counter and looks at me from where my head is buried in Mr. Clint's stomach. My jaw drops.
"Really?"
"Yeah, sure thing. I know it's not much right now, but we weren't really expecting to have a kid come stay with us. We'll get some cool posters and books and some toys and stuff." Mr. Clint ruffles my hair and I look up to see his grin.
I step back and stare at them, thunderstruck. They want to buy me stuff. When they don't have to. What if they want something from me? I cross my arms and eye them suspiciously. "No tricks?"
With barely a blink, they both nod at me. "No tricks."
"I have a few hours before I have to head out, do you guys want to play a board game or something?" Mr. Steve changes the subject.
"What if we watched a movie?" Mr. Clint suggests.
"Yeah!" I jump, excited, and turn to run into the living room. Except, I run into the couch before I get very far, and tip over it, bounce off the cushions, and land in a heap with all the blankets on the floor, missing the coffee table by mere inches. "Whoops!" I sit up through the pile and my hair makes a zapping sound as it gathers static electricity from the blankets. When I glance up, it's floating around my head in a big fluffy ball.
The three of them start laughing at me, and I break out into giggles too. A few minutes later, Miss Natalia has heated the popcorn up and put it into two big bowls, and we settle down on the couch. Mr. Clint wanted to watch a Disney movie, like The Little Mermaid or something, but Miss Natalia and I outvoted him saying we wanted to watch Apollo 13 with Tom Hanks, for Mr. Steve.
The movie is good, but I couldn't have told you how it ended because I fell asleep on Mr. Steve about halfway through.
S.H.I.E.L.D.
Report Request Form
From: Fury, Nicholas J.
Of: Agent Romanoff and Agent Barton
Subject: Sophie Evans
Barton and Romanoff,
The orphanage where we retrieved Sophie Evans had next to no information on her. We will need to collect all possible information. Request for basic character analysis tomorrow evening. Request for Med Bay Visit for Testing, and in depth character analysis, as well as all personal details, end of next week.
- Fury
Well? What do you think?! Let me know your thoughts, theories (These are always so fun to read, and some of them even change the later plotlines) or if something is unclear! Next chapter will be some bonding between the characters and just general shenanigans as Jasmine explores her new home. Until then, lots of love, ~Auna.