Chapter 11 - Stevie

January 10, 2014, 5:30 a.m.

Fury's office couldn't have been more different from the last time Stevie had seen it, less than twenty-four hours ago. The drawers were all thrown open, papers piled on the desk. Pierce stood at the windows, looking out. In the pre-dawn darkness, the river reflected the city lights like a black mirror. An aide closed the door behind Stevie, and Pierce turned at the sound, frown turning into a weary smile. He crossed the room to shake her hand.

"Ah, Captain. Good to see you again. How's your daughter?"

"She's downstairs. Sleeping, thank God."

Stevie had dropped Maggie off at daycare. The girl had been so exhausted that she didn't do more than sigh and turn over when Stevie put her down in one of the cribs. SHIELD employees worked around the clock, and as Stevie was leaving some parents she knew were already coming in with their own children. She managed to smile at their greetings, to reply with distracted pleasantries. She had time to put on her uniform, re-braid her hair, and splash some water on her face. And then it was time to talk to Alexander Pierce, Undersecretary of the World Security Council, Nick Fury's boss.

He ushered her to the couch at the side of room.

"Please, take a seat," he said. "I took the liberty of ordering coffee for you. Black okay?"

"As long as it's strong."

Stevie unholstered her shield and propped it against the sofa. She took a cautious sip and put the cup down. Pierce took his jacket off and threw it over the back of an armchair before sitting himself. Except for the expensive suit, he looked like the sheriff from a Western film. Weathered face, square-jawed and honest. Sandy hair going gray at the temples. Straight-backed and lean.

"How old is she now...Maggie is it?"

"That's right," Stevie said. "About eighteen months."

She took another sip, wetting her lips but not swallowing. Pierce chuckled.

"At that age, my oldest fell off the back of a rocking chair. Cut her tongue open. As soon as we got back from the doctor's she was running around like nothing had happened."

Stevie looked at him blankly.

"What I'm saying, Captain, is that she'll be fine."

"Thank you, sir."

He sat back in the armchair. "Did I ever tell you my father served in the 101st?"

"No, sir."

The first, last and only time they'd met was at Maggie's first birthday, which had been arranged by Tony Stark. At least fifty people had attended. They'd barely said hello.

"Consider this a belated 'thank you' on his behalf."

"You're welcome, sir." When will he get to the point?

Pierce handed her a photograph. Stevie expected a grainy shot of the mysterious shooter on the roof, but it was a glossy print of a young dark-skinned man, obviously Fury despite the lack of eyepatch. He faced an equally young Alexander Pierce, right hand raised. Pierce began to speak, standing and pacing as he did so.

"That photo was taken five years after Nick and I met, when I was at the State Department in Bogota. ELN rebels took the embassy. Security got me out, but the rebels took hostages."

He spoke with the cadence of a storyteller, laying out the events, building suspense.

"Nick was deputy chief of the SHIELD station there. He comes to me with a plan. Wants to storm the building through the sewers. I said no. We negotiate. Turns out the ELN doesn't negotiate so they pull out a kill order. They storm the basement and what do they find?"

He smiled.

"They find it empty. Nick had ignored my direct order and carried out an unauthorized military operation. He saved the lives of a dozen military officers, including my daughter."

"So you gave him a promotion." Stevie put the photo back on the table.

"I've never had any cause to regret it."

Pierce stopped. Leaned against Fury's desk. His demeanor changed subtly but completely. No smile this time.

"Captain. Why was Nick in your apartment last night?"

The same question Natasha had asked. Hopefully, I've become a better liar with practice. Stevie looked away.

"I don't know," she said. It wasn't technically a lie. Why had Fury come to her with the dive - when he had as good as threatened her the previous day?

"Did you know your apartment was bugged?"

Stevie remembered the message on Fury's phone - EARS EVERYWHERE.

"Fury told me."

"Did he tell you he was the one who bugged it?"

Stevie did her best to keep her face expressionless. She had that feeling again, that she had when she looked down at the Insight carrier. Walking out onto rotten ice. Never knowing when it would give way.

"I want to show you something," Pierce said.

He pushed a button on a little remote, and a large screen behind the couch came to life. Stevie had to crane her neck to see it, but there on the screen was George Batroc, large as life, handcuffed to a chair in a featureless interrogation room.

This time her surprise must have shown. Pierce spoke.

"Yeah, they picked him up last night in a not-so-safe-house."

"Are you saying he's a suspect? Assassination isn't in Batroc's line."

And the figure she had seen on the roof definitely wasn't Batroc. Even without considering the metal arm. He just...moved differently.

"It's more complicated than that," Pierce said. He half turned to rummage through the files on Fury's desk. "Batroc was hired anonymously to attack the Lemurian Star. He was contacted by email and paid by wire transfer. And then the money was run through..."

He found the file he had been looking for and flipped a few pages.

"Seventeen fictitious accounts. The last going to a holding company that was registered to a Jacob Beech."

He handed the file over to her. Stevie looked down at it, but it might as well have been in another language.

"Am I supposed to know who that is?"

"Not likely. Beech died six years ago. His last address was 1435 Elmhurst Drive. When I first met Nick his mother lived at 1437."

Stevie raised an eyebrow. "Are you saying Fury hired the pirates? Why?"

"The prevailing theory," Pierce said, "is that the hijacking was a cover for the acquisition and sale of classified intelligence."

Stevie remembered Natasha's smirk, lit up by the blue of the computer screen.

"The sale went sour and that led to Nick's death," he continued.

It all added up...except it didn't. Where did Insight fit into this story? Fury had revealed it to her, and been killed within less than a day. Fury was no angel – but Stevie couldn't believe he would sell information. Using Batroc to get something from the Lemurian Star though...something he couldn't go after openly...Pierce was looking at her, face unreadable. She dropped the file onto the table.

"If you really knew Nick Fury," she said. "You'd know that wasn't true."

Pierce smiled.

"Why do you think we're talking?"

He paced back to the windows. A freezing rain had begun, covering them in a layer of fine mist. He put his hands in his impeccably tailored trouser pockets.

"See, I took a seat on the Council, not because I wanted to, but because Nick asked me to. Because we were both realists. We knew that despite all the diplomacy and the hand-shaking and the rhetoric, that to build a really better world sometimes means having to tear the old one down."

Stevie had heard that before. War is the world's only hygiene. A rallying cry for fascism, years before anyone took it seriously enough. Her hands tingled and she balled them into fists. Pierce turned from the window. His face had changed again. Now his expression was grim.

"And that makes enemies. Those people that call you dirty because you've got the guts to stick your hands in the mud to build something better. And the idea that those people could be happy today? Makes me really, really angry."

He walked toward her as he talked, and she stood to meet him. He fixed her eyes with his. When he spoke, his voice was low, entreating.

"Captain, you were the last one to see Nick alive. I don't think that's an accident. And I don't think you do, either. So I'm going to ask again. Why was he there?"

Stevie looked into his eyes, and for a moment, she considered telling him about the drive. Considered letting this all become someone else's problem. But she could feel the tension in the air, like a storm. Nothing about the story added up. Something terrible was about to happen.

"Fury told me not to trust anyone."

Pierce smiled again. How easily he could make his face do what he wanted it to, Stevie thought. What a great actor he would have made.

"I wonder," Pierce said, "if that included him."

"I'm sorry," Stevie said, trying her best to imitate how Natasha had sounded, her voice choked with sorrow. "Those were his last words."

She turned from him, picked up her shield and holstered it behind her.

"If you'll excuse me, my daughter and I have both had a trying night."

When she turned back, she saw Pierce's face. For an instant there was a look of rage. Then the moment passed. He was the kindly sheriff again.

"I understand," he said. "Please call me if anything comes to mind."

As she walked out of the office, her skin crawled as if she was in the sights of a gun.

Here Stevie makes an important decision - not to trust Pierce. Of course, you all know what the repercussions will be! Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy.