Hey all! This is a very short filler chapter, as promised. I'm not entirely satisfied with how it turned out and may end up changing some bits later to expand, but the main points of character development were achieved (read: point; I'll elaborate at the end to prevent spoilers) and we'll get to meet Tony next chapter! Lots of love, Auna.
The next morning, I wake up rested and much less grumpy than I was yesterday, although I only just realized I was grumpy. I must have been tired. I climb out of bed and pull some clothes from my dresser, deciding on a pair of jeans and a T-Shirt that's just a little too big that reads "I think my guardian angel drinks." It's black with glitter sparkles stuck to it, and I look down at it hoping the glitter sparkles protect me from Agent 6.
In the common area, Agent 6 is sitting on the couch pouting at the television remote in his right hand, which has a splint on his thumb. Miss Natalia must have dislocated it last night to get him out of the handcuffs and now he can't turn the telly on with his right hand. I'm a little confused as to why he doesn't just use his left hand, but nobody ever said teenagers were smart. Miss Natalia is glaring at him over her coffee cup from where she's leaning against the counter.
I close my door and walk over to her. "What's going on?"
"He won't go take a shower." She says grumpily into her cup. I blink and then open the cabinet to get out the toaster.
"Oh. Well, why don't you just threaten him?" I ask as I push the toaster onto the counter. I make a movement to grab a chair so I can reach better, but Miss Natalia plugs it into the wall for me and then puts in two pieces of bread. "Thanks." I say.
"You're welcome. Now, tell me about this threatening idea you had?" She turns to me with interest, already looking much happier about the day, and I see her T-Shirt for the morning says "I don't make threats, I make promises." It's also black, but hers doesn't have any sparkles.
"Point out to him that he can just use his other hand to turn on the telly and switch between channels, and then threaten to dislocate his other thumb if he doesn't go take a shower. I bet he'll do it really quick." I say as I stretch to get a glass out of the cabinet. Miss Natalia is frozen, blinking, and the glass I manage to tip over with just my fingertips falls on the counter. She jumps and takes some very rapid breaths, staring at it. "Sorry." I whisper after closing the cabinet and standing the glass back up. She takes a few more deep breaths before shaking her head, eyes closed.
"It's okay." She swallows and opens her eyes again, putting on a grin. "You really think that would work?" She's teasing to cover up whatever just happened, but I'm not mean so I reach next to her and turn on the sink to get some water and smirk back at her.
"I guarantee it."
She wiggles her eyebrows just a little and sets her coffee mug down next to the sink. "Let's find out."
It turns out Agent 6 is very responsive to threats, especially about his independence regarding the television. While Miss Natalia was threatening him, I ate my buttered toast and drank a glass of water. By the time a scared and jumpy Agent 6 is in the shower, I'm done. Mr. Clint isn't awake yet. I put my plate in the sink and stretch to turn on the faucet. Once it's washed and clean I go back to sit in my chair and finish my water.
"So, what exactly is a British orphan like yourself doing in a S.H.I.E.L.D. base, aside from helping wake up Captain America?" Miss Natalia asks as she swings into a chair. I slide my empty water glass over as she pours herself some orange juice. "We never really did get to talk about it." While I talk, Miss Natalia pours me a glass of orange juice.
"I'm not sure, to be honest. The Nurse, when she picked me out of everyone else in the orphanage, mentioned something about the statistical niceness of British accents. Apparently it makes people underestimate me, and since I'm already a little girl, it just adds to the perceived innocence." I shrug and take a sip from my glass.
"That is definitely helpful." Miss Natalia mimics me and takes a sip too. I chew on my lip for a moment before I decide to ask my question.
"Were you really a Russian assassin?" I tilt my head. She inhales sharply, and then starts coughing on her juice.
I jump out of my seat and rush around the table. "Sorry, sorry!"
She coughs for another few seconds, waving me off, and I reluctantly move back to my seat. After a few moments she turns back to me, eyes red and voice scratchy.
"Who told you that?"
"Mr. Clint." I say meekly. She coughs a few more times.
"I'm going to have a talk with him. But yes." She stands up and pours the rest of her orange juice in the sink. "I have to get ready for work, don't do anything too irresponsible until Agent 6 or Clint wake up and can take responsibility."
Her door closes soundly behind her and I sulk into my cup of orange juice waiting for one of them to wake up.
The rest of today and all of tomorrow are so boring I'm going to forget they happened at all by next week. Each morning, Miss Natalia wakes up early, dresses in some version of a fancy business dress, puts on makeup to make her big eyes look bigger and more innocent, and then leaves before Mr. Clint is even awake.
Mr. Clint wakes up sometime after I've eaten breakfast, and then I'll go hide in my room while he babysits the sleeping body of my babysitter. In the early afternoon, Agent 6 will wake up and Mr. Clint will leave to go do some training. Agent 6 will escort me down to the cafeteria for lunch since he's too lazy to make anything (not that I would eat any of it since it wouldn't be sanitary) and I'm not allowed to cook without Miss Natalia or Mr. Clint there. I don't really mind eating in the cafeteria though, because the food isn't half bad and none of the other Agents like Agent 6, so sometimes they come and talk to me to annoy him.
After lunch we'll go back upstairs and I'll hide in my room until Mr. Clint returns from his training session and Miss Natalia returns for dinner. Then we'll eat something, usually Mr. Clint will start making it, and I'll fix it, and then go to bed. I think we would watch some television before bed and after dinner if Agent 6 hadn't made the couch into a perfect imprint of his body. The only time he leaves the couch is to go to the bathroom or to take me downstairs for lunch.
On the second day, we get to video call Mr. Steve. Somebody talked with Fury, apparently, and he talked to Mr. Steve, and I'm handed an ipad and sat at the kitchen table. Mr. Clint goes off to do something that I'm not allowed to ask questions about, and Miss Natalia sips a coffee she got from somewhere.
"Hey, Jasmine!" I flick my eyes down to the screen to see Mr. Steve, looking tired, and smile.
"Mr. Steve! How are you?! Have they been helping you get adjusted to the new century?"
He laughs softly, but nods. "Yeah. Lots of reading and researching, but I'm learning a lot. They make sure I don't spend too much time learning, though, so I have time to absorb everything, and it leaves me with hours of time to think about things, which isn't very fun."
I wrinkle my nose. I can't imagine that being put into a situation like his and then left with tons of time to think would be very fun either. "I can't imagine so."
"Yeah." Mr. Steve looks off-screen, but I get the feeling he isn't really seeing whatever silly art was put on the walls of his apartment. "Leaves me with lots of hard thoughts. About how I shouldn't really be here." He looks angry for a moment.
"I was just thinking, you know? My best friend died by falling out of a train when I couldn't grab him in time. He'd saved my life moments before, and that's what had put his life in danger. But, if I could survive being frozen in ice for seventy years, I probably could have survived jumping after him to save him. And that's just… A hard thing for me to swallow."
I don't say anything at first, because I don't know what to say.
"Mr. Steve-"
"Just call me Steve, Jasmine." He says with a tired sigh. I ignore his platitudes and plough on.
"-I lived with my Aunt and Uncle from the time I was one and some months, up to a few months ago when they finally got tired of me and stuck me in an orphanage. The entire time I was with them, all they could do was tell me how horrible my parents were, and how horrible I was for not managing to die with them. My parents were drunks, Mr. Steve, and my mother was a whore, my father a substance abuser." He is silent, staring at me through the screen with a face so pale his hair has a reddish tint to it. "But I know that they loved me. And sometimes, growing up with my Aunt and Uncle saying the things they did, I wondered why I didn't make everyone's lives easier by just dying with them. I must have survived for a reason." I shrug. "Maybe that reason was to tell you this right now."
He's silent and pale for a few tense moments before his choked voice comes through the speakers. "Jasmine, your purpose is much, much greater than reassuring me, right now. I promise."
He looks stricken about it, but I don't believe him. My purpose must be to help him; after all, that is what Fury and the Nurse brought me here for. Out of all the orphans they could have chosen in the world, they picked me. I don't let on that I don't believe him, though, because Mr. Steve doesn't need to deal with my problems.
We'll both have to find our purposes together, then." I say instead. A companionable search for the reasons to our survival. Mr. Steve's answering smile is a little shaky, but I don't say anything about it.
"Thirty seconds remaining." Flashes across the screen in red, a hollow electronic voice announcing that the call is about to be terminated. I pout, because nobody told me that our time was limited.
"I'll have to talk to Fury about getting that fixed." Mr. Steve says after a moment of tense silence. I don't get the opportunity to tell him it probably isn't on my end, but his, with them limiting his electronic usage, because the video call and then the ipad promptly shut off. I drop the ipad flat on the table top with a hollow thud and pout a little more.
Miss Natalia takes a loud slurp from her mug which has something that is definitely not coffee in it. I take a deep breath, allowing my sour mood to dissipate, and take the last drink of my glass of chocolate milk. "Did you just have a conversation with a twenty six year old boomer popsicle suffering from C-PTSD about survivor's guilt that he receptively understood?" She asks smoothly.
I shrug and slide out of my chair and walk over to the sink. "I don't know what survivor's guilt or PSCD is–"
"C-PTSD."
"-but if you say so." I stand on the stool and rinse my chocolate milk cup out in the sink. "I'm going to go find an Agent to annoy. I promise I won't get into any trouble. I'll be in Office C."
"Okay, malen'kaya ocharovashka. See if you can prank Agent Ward for me." She calls as I skip out the door.
Agent 6 finds me twenty minutes later, before I find whoever Agent Ward is but after I've managed to scare a few scientists in the hallway. I follow him back to the apartment glumly. Twenty minutes wasn't very much time.
When we get back, Agent 6 falls asleep on the couch in his usual place, Miss Natalia dresses up and leaves for "work" (In the evening for some reason, but I don't ask questions) and Mr. Clint pulls out some funny cardboard box which he sets on the table.
The word on the side is some long one in block letters I can't read as I slide into one of the chairs.
"Mono…" I sound out. I know mono means one, so I move on to the second part of the word. "Poly… like politics? One politic?" I ask rhetorically. Mr. Clint chuckles as he opens the box.
"Not quite, kiddo, but close. A monopoly is where one business, or person, is the only one selling/marking/distributing a product. Because they're the sole supplier of said product, then the supply and demand market has no influence over their prices, and neither does competition, so they can make the price as high as they want no problem and make big bang for their buck."
Mr. Clint is setting a bunch of funny little metal figurines on the table, and I remember how Aunt Petunia didn't like me touching her things. Since Mr. Clint is watching me, I tuck my hands between my legs and wrinkle my nose at his use of 'bang for their buck.' Who even says that? Maybe it's an American thing?
There's a big board, and then Mr. Clint passes me a bunch of tiny green plastic houses in two different sizes, and then there comes a back of small papers. Upon closer inspection, I determine them to be fake money.
At the sight of the prints of money, and the board, I suddenly remember once watching through a hole in my cupboard a documentary on this game on the tele once. The documentary gave a bunch of tips for winning the game.
I carefully eye Mr. Clint through my lashes as he happily stacks the money, by color, in the lid of the box and decide not to let on that I have a strategy playbook basically memorized.
Mr. Clint rubs his hands together as he explains the game and the rules.
I make sure to spend my first few moves asking him stupid questions and making not so wise decisions.
"Finally, a chance to win for once." He says to himself on his third turn.
I tuck my chin to my chest so he can't see my grin.
Three hours later, we've played four rounds of the game. I've managed to beat him soundly every single time.
Our play time ended with him flipping the table in a move loud enough that Agent 6 actually stirred from his food coma.
"Damnit! Are you sure you've never played before!" He demands for the fourth time, more angry than I feel is warranted.
I nod, making my eyes wide. He would be a kind of awful interrogator. I've never played before, but there are a thousand other ways to become good at games aside from playing them. Sure, it helps, but I have options.
A bald Agent with funny glasses and a too smooth smile pops the door open and leans in.
"Everything alright in here?" He asks, glancing around curiously.
"Yes, Sitwell, everything is fine." Mr. Clint grinds out through his teeth. I sit back further in my chair.
"Ah. You beat him at monopoly, didn't you?" He asks, apparently to me. I give him a wide-eyed stare, unsure how to respond, but Mr. Clint saves me from having to do that when he jumps up and starts stomping in circles like a toddler throwing a temper tantrum.
"How did you know?!" He asks Agent Sitwell. Agent Sitwell is very calm in the face of a screaming man, even if Mr. Clint is on the shorter side. "Did you teach her this!?"
"No, Agent Barton, I did not. Perhaps it was Agent Coulson or Agent Romanoff? However, have you fed her? I heard children become more difficult to deal with when they are hungry." He flicks his eyes to me and I can't read any expression on his face. I'm not sure whether I should be insulted that he considers me an animal to be taken care of through an instruction manual or thankful for the distraction on the part of Mr. Clint.
"Yeah, she had dinner less than-" Mr. Clint turns over his shoulder to look at the clock on the oven and realizes that we ate dinner nearly five hours ago. "It's bed time for you, kiddo. I am not dealing with a cranky kid tomorrow." He drags me out of my chair, throws me onto my bed, turns out the light and closes the door.
I hear the lock click in the silence and blink to myself.
Mr. Clint gets rid of Agent Sitwell, and then goes to bed himself. I lay in the dark, unable to fall asleep, for what must be a very long time, but I'm not sure.
The next morning, I wake up late and dress in a red dress with sparkly golden swirls on it that was left over on clearance from the holiday season, nearly six months ago. Mr. Clint thought it was hilarious.
Out in the kitchen/living room area, Miss Natalia and Fury stand arguing. I put a piece of toast in the toaster and ignore them as Mr. Clint comes out, rubbing a towel on his hair.
"She could just go with me." Miss Natalia says, sounding reasonable.
"Sophie." Fury deadpans. I wish I could see his expression. "And Stark. You want them in the same building?"
"Well, she isn't doing well here with Clint and agent 6. I can keep a better eye on her and threaten him."
"Fine." Fury concedes. Mr. Clint and I share a glance. He looks just as stunned as I feel.
Fury leaves before anyone can say anything. A glance at Miss Natalia shows that she didn't expect Fury to concede any more than the both of us.
My toast pops, and Mr. Clint shrugs and kicks Agent 6 awake. "Oi, get up off the couch. Jasmine has somewhere she needs to be." Agent 6 rolls over a little and then glares at Mr. Clint. I focus very hard on buttering my toast.
"Why should I go where the needy little brat wants to go? And who do you think you are anyway, telling me what to do?"
"Out." Mr. Clint is very, very mad. I look over my shoulder, holding the knife of butter over my toast.
"Huh?" Agent 6 screws his face up in a funny way and finally sits up a little off the couch.
"You heard me."
And thus I had agent 7.
"The council has decided," Fury says, and I wonder not for the first time who this blasted council is, "That you shall accompany Agent Romanoff to help deal with Mr. Stark. He's becoming more volatile, and with his Stark Expo and birthday parting coming up, he'll be even more in the limelight. We need the public under control, and he is likely to stir up trouble with them. Your job is to reduce his impact internally while we have a public relations team work with the news crews and social media platforms."
Agent 7, a nervous young man who thankfully seems to practice good hygiene, fidgets behind Fury. Miss Natalia is writing something on a clipboard, looking very serious in her business woman outfit. I nod to Fury, making my eyes wide and innocent.
He seems suspicious, but moves aside so I can board the plane. Fury turns to Miss Natalia as I climb the steps.
"A new Agent will be waiting for you on the ground. This Agent is meant only to supervise Sophie for the duration of the flight so you can work."
"Of course," She says easily, giving him a smile.
Five minutes later, the doors close, and we start take off.
So, like I said, not entirely happy with the way the pacing turned out, but I'm anxious to get to the next chapter, so here this is. The only truly important part of this chapter is her conversation with Steve on the video call, which has absolutely terrible pacing aside from the very important section that develops her character and motivations more, as well as Steve's. I can't wait for you all to see what we have in store for next chapter! Lots of love, thanks for reading, ~Auna.