Erikson Sterling

As they walked down the hallway, Kie hummed at his last sentence. I don't think anyone needs to witness that mess. "You see, that's the thing---"

Sterling scratched the side of his nose with his thumbnail.

"I am unsure who that is but I can use context clues." He smiled softly. "When you spend your life being known for being pristine and formal, seeing me in skates becomes quite a spectacle. Which is why no one I work with knows about my double life as a roller derby referee." He brought a finger to his lips in a silent gesture that it was just their little secret. "I'm all quads. I had blades growing up but they were cheaper and had no grip. I never really gave them a shot again after that, though I know I should."

It was... strange talking about this so openly with someone who wasn't in his immediate family. His younger sister was a Blocker for the Brooklyn Blips and he often NSO'd or refereed their bouts but other than he he never really spoke about his ability to skate or his job in a skating rink as a teen.

Everything before SHIELD was buried alive within him.

"Would you fight me if it was? Should I have brought backup?"

He was being intentionally vague but she brought up an interesting 'what if' game he wanted to explore for fun first.

Marco slowly nodded at Sterling's words, but his eyes weren't entirely focused.

Lies. You're here because you can't beat it. Erebus countered in his mind.

No. Sterling is right. I can. And I have friends this time to help.

Marco gripped the back of the chair tightly, ducking his head with a pained expression as he struggled internally. He almost missed what Sterling said as he fought the conditioning.

Block? They knew how to block it now?

It's a lie. Don't trust them. Kill the agents.

He released the chair and straightened up, taking a step towards Sterling before stopping, hands clenching and unclenching. He wanted to rush over to Sterling and demand help so he could rest. But he couldn't just charge over there. Sterling, or more likely, the guards outside, would react. And then there was that darker part of himself he was struggling against...

Marco's breathing was heavy as he stepped back, watching Sterling warily as if he was the one presenting a risk to others.

Sterling watched the battle rage on behind Marco's eyes and he swallowed from the familiarity of it. Marco's fight was far more sinister, much more difficult to break, and more ingrained than Sterling could ever imagine for himself, but he saw him and he saw the fight left in him.

Marco wouldn't lose. He would be sure of that.

"It's ok." He said softly as Marco took a step further away from Sterling. He could tell he wanted to go to him, though he wasn't sure why. If it was for physical comfort he would welcome it but Marco didn't seem to trust himself. "It's ok. We're all safe here. I trust you."

'How?'

"Chemically induced dreamless sleep. Basically block off adrenaline in your brain to reduce the effects of PTSD while you sleep as well as some of the areas where memories are stored. It helps block the effects of many types of brainwashing from taking control but we can only do it during sleep. It's temporary. No major side effects that we've found. I don't pretend to know the science behind it, but I've seen it work in a few trials. If it can get you even close to rest for a few hours..." Sterling sighed and puts his hands in his pockets. "Works far better than mixing alcohol and sleeping pills to block it."

Spoken from experience.

None of this would work if they couldn't trust others to step in and call each other out when needed, himself included.

Still, it bothered him how often Sterling was right. They both needed to see each other, even if he was hesitant about it. What was the harm though, if someone was helping keep a lookout for signs Weimaer might be making decisions that risked the safety of the rest of SHIELD, or the public?

When Sterling's attitude suddenly shifted, Fury realised he'd brought up the topic in a very poor manner. He raised his hands in a calming gesture.

Sterling's eyes widened at Fury's further explanation. He had to admit he was a little embarrassed at how quickly he had jumped to conclusions, essentially accusing Fury of doing something unsavory to Marco to 'deal with it'.

"Ah. Apologies." He breathed out the words in a sigh. He'd never see Kristi angry or had ever been on the opposite end of an issue with Kristi, but it was rather curious how she could be making demands that Fury was cooperating with.

Then again, he himself had gotten upset and essentially hijacked care of Marco from the director himself. Perhaps it was a similar issue, Kristi seeing Marco's state and assuming a protective role, but Sterling was his handler now and he was making sure he was cared for. Would Kristi keep him at bay as well?

That could be a problem.

"I'll talk to her too before I leave the base. I'd like to see him." He wasn't sure what his plan was if Kristi refused.

It seemed he had a whole list of missions today and not one of them seemed like an easy task. Sterling let out a huff of a sigh and nodded, determination and focus in his eyes.

"Got my work cut out for me. I'll update you as often as possible with each stop I make. Should make for an interesting day."

Marco took a long, slow breath. Focus. Fight.

He tilted his head curiously as he watched Sterling casually fix his mess as if he righted flipped tables regularly. No big deal.

"The problem is that it's necessary in the first place," Marco muttered, turning away from Sterling.

He reached a hand out towards an overturned chair, rolled his eyes and then closed his hand again, letting it drop to his side. So used to the action, he'd gone to use his shadows to right the overturned chair.

Oh well, the physical action of walking over to do it himself helped distract his mind.

"I've already been through this," he continued as he stood the chair by the table, hands gripping the top of the backrest tightly. He hated that all those weeks spent back then still apparently hadn't cleared everything. Hated that it made him a risk to people he cared about. Hated that he struggled to keep it under control.

Food?

He glanced down at the tray blankly, too tired to have even registered that it was food that Sterling had brought in. And yet-

Truth was, righting overturned tables sort of was something he did on the regular. His love language for a grieving or angry friend was to show up at their apartment with food they wouldn't eat, send them off to take a shower, and while they were standing there letting the water wash over them he would be busy cleaning up the alcohol bottles and fixing furniture. He would be making grocery orders when he saw how empty their fridges were. He would calmly take the insults thrown at him when they came back out and noticed he had cleaned.

This wasn't new for him. The reason for it was, but the actual act of service wasn't.

"I know." Sterling nodded quietly, sympathy in his eyes but his tone remained overall neutral. "A relapse like this is... devastating. No one should have to go through this even once, and you're doing it again. The fact that you did it the first time though means you can. Yeah, they missed something the first time, but you know they can't beat you. Doing it again means you're experienced this time. You can kick its ass. And with Hartell's skill and power assisting? Hydra won't know what the fuck hit them." His eyes were determined now and his voice backed it up. He was serious. Sterling was not going to let them take another one of his friends.

"You think if you sleep you'll be more susceptible? Your guard will be lowered and that voice will win?" It was reasonable. You spend so long fighting to keep that door in your brain closed you think if you slip, if you show weakness even once, they'll force it open and it will all flood in. "I've studied this conditioning. We know how to block it. We know how to let you rest without risk."

He wasn't saying that was currently happening, but it was always a concern that had to be taken into consideration when agents were in relationships, or even close friendships.

He nodded at Sterling's plan, quickly scribbling himself a note on one of his own papers he had in front of him.

"That's why we have each other." Sterling quietly. "To stop our friends when we see they are making a mistake. See it through outside, unbiased, logical eyes and know when to step in." It was often just as hard being the logical one. Sterling found himself giving Fury a sympathetic look when he said it, knowing they often had to full that role. Sterling hard stepped between friends and their mistakes and he'd been called all manner of awful things, he'd had his nose broken twice, he'd lost friends, but not once did he regret his choice to stop them from regretting theirs. "Ellis needs the comfort and to see what he's fighting to return to. She needs to see he's ok and what he's dealing with. They're both agents. They know how this works. They'll be ok."

Sterling had tucked the file under his arm when Fury's words really sunk in. He froze and his jaw tightened.

"Dealt with? I'm gonna need more than that, sir." Part of him felt like Fury had been softening him up, talking about bias vs sensible right before dropping some bomb on him. He waited, demeanor shifting to a hard stare, as he waited for Fury to elaborate.

Sterling's eyes moved from the man's face to his fingerspelling to make sure he saw every letter he could. He finger spelled much faster than he could normally read it fully, though he could always catch enough to figure it out, but Clint was a bit slower tonight. They both were a lot slower at signing with injured. It was one of the only times Sterling opted not to sign to Clint, but he wasn't that far gone tonight. Not from a little bar fight. They'd survived worse.

"I'd hate to see that. You already live in the dumpsters. How much lower can you fall?" He smirked playfully.

"No, that's alright." Logan tries to mend, feeling poorly for almost admonishing him. "No harm done." He hadn't devolved into a fit or episode, which was good. Further hearing the man speak softer, as if to lessen his significance, the weight the conversation holds nevertheless hits Logan straight where it matters. This man, a near stranger, wishing him well. It means so much. Much more than he knows how to reciprocate at the present moment. Other than feeling like an asshole for not recalling him in the first place, even if it seemed shaken off with little negative consequence.

"Thank you." He knows it's hollow, but maybe the true smile forming on his face makes up for it. But when he hands the cup over, hearing the name he provides as if it may help, it clicks into place in the confines of memory. Had he not relinquished the cup, he may have dropped it. Logan stares, lips barely parting and he slowly comes back to rights.

"Sterling." He repeats, suddenly frozen, the images replaying. All the stress, the conflict and the lone reassurance of a name that suddenly disappeared after one too many reports, never to be seen again on any incoming notes or transmissions. Swallowing, he tries to focus, but he's shaking. "You heard us." He says, hands coming down, back behind the machine for shielding, though he doesn't look away. "You listened. You've no idea how grateful we were, especially Henrik-"

The way in which he breathed out his name alone was more than telling. He remembered now. He probably saw his name written down on documents and reports far more than he saw his face. Hardly anyone remembered his first name was Erikson when the military setting had them mostly using last names. He probably should have lead with Sterling.

The man was shaking. Why was he shaking? Concern settled on Sterling's eyes but he waited and listened to the trembling barista.

You heard us.

Sterling swallowed.

"I did what I could. I'm sorry to say I don't think it was enough but... I hope--" He cut himself off. He was going to say he hoped it all turned out alright, but the way Logan was shaking he had a sinking feeling something wasn't right. "Do you need to sit down?"

He was clinging to something behind the counter for support. Was he about to have a panic attack? Sterling leaned in slightly, abandoning his coffee on the counter, as he placed his hands on the man's shoulders. His voice was a calm secret between them.

"It's ok. You're safe. You're in the coffee shop. What do you feel?"

His eventual answer made her smile.

It didn't feel noble, or perhaps he just didn't know how to take a compliment. Sterling sought praise and attention from those he respected so much but when he received it he often pushed it away. It didn't feel deserved no matter what he had done.

Her words, however, were met with a small, sheepish smile. He let out a little huff, a laugh of relief, as he ran a hand through his hair to comb it back in place. It hadn't been out of place to begin with, it rarely ever actually was, but he raked it back all the same.

"I suppose I have. It's been a long time coming but I feel like I'm doing good again. And... you? Are you doing well? Keeping out of trouble?"

she tried not to watch as he entered the passcode to his office, but looked back when he opened the door for her. she walked inside, surveying the quantity of file boxes and lack of tech and making note of it. alice nodded approvingly of the coffee machine. when she had her own office she'd have a coffee machine, she thought.

Sterling smiled at her reaction to the question. Without another word he slid open the top drawer of his desk and pulled out a sleeve of cookies. He placed them in front of her across the desk.

"Welcome to Cookie Monday." He said, officially initiating her into the unofficial cult he had started when people caught on he had cookies in his desk at the beginning of the week, specifically at 5:00 on Mondays. Agents showed up unannounced, forming lines some days, to see what kind he had and steal themselves a snack.

"If you ever have trouble with or a question about your paperwork and reports, or anything really, my office door is always open to you. Don't hesitate."

And back up?

Fury nodded his approval. He showed no signs of whether or not he picked up on the humour.

"Of course. Not directly myself though. Ellis is... hanging in there," he eventually replied, being careful about how he phrased it. "I know Weimaer has visited him. He seems...calmer when she does."

Sterling nodded. He was vaguely aware of Marco and Kristi's relationship. He wasn't in either of their lives much and he kicked himself for it now. He couldn't be in everyone's business at once, he knew, but the amount of friends he had that quietly suffered, even loudly suffered, but he had been too occupied with other things to notice was... a staggering list. He couldn't save them all, it wasn't his job to save them all either, but it didn't stop the guilt from bubbling in his stomach.

It didn't stop him from wishing he could protect them.

"I can imagine how comforting it is to have access to a loved one during this. I'll get with her later. See if there's anything she does or says I can use to help him. If we can't bring her in on this fully we can at least utilize her where we can."

Sterling sighed, looking down at the file of Ted on his desk. He couldn't imagine what he was going through right now. He wondered how Morgan and MacMurray had felt in the days before they found him. That stuck feeling while they waited for word from other departments. On updates.

"I'll talk to Miller and head straight to Hartell." He said, getting up from his desk and pulling on his jacket. "From there, unless Hartell gives any concrete leads, I'll pick up Collins and swing by his apartment." He scooped up the file again.

He paused, noting the hesitation in Fury's voice.

"What is it, sir?"

Truthfully, he was proud to hear the development, but at the same time concerned. More power meant more of a target and more danger should such a person lose control. And Fury sure as hell didn't want any sort of psychic in his head. He tended to avoid any meetings with Professor Xavier when those came up for that reason.

Give him a chance to fight it.

Fury tensed ever so slightly. It was a risk, but it sounded like one they needed to take. He slowly nodded. "Go ahead."

Marco froze when he heard his name. He took a moment to decide how to respond. He took a few steps further away from the door, but not so far that he was backed against the opposite wall, giving himself room to move if needed.

He glanced at the overturned furniture with a guilty frown, then focused on Sterling. He studied the agent warily.

Kill the agent. They can't be trusted.

Marco's hands clenched at his sides. He took half a step back, as if he was expecting Sterling to try something. If he could access his shadows, they would have been lurking around his feet like a dark mist.

"You had them turn down the lights," he said quietly. It was phrased more like he was reminding himself of that fact, rather than asking to confirm it really had been Sterling.

If you could access your powers you could shadow walk right out of here.

Then I could go home. He meant home to his apartment, yet that wasn't what he saw mentally.

"I have zero doubts that, if Hartell wanted to, he could drop us all."

Sterling noticed the slight tensing of Fury's body and he couldn't help but feel a bit flattered. He didn't think the tensing was for concern for his safety, but it was a nice thought to have anyway. Despite how high he had risen in ranks, despite the years of service to SHIELD, despite all he had sacrificed for the organization, he still knew SHIELD could carry on just fine without him. It wouldn't even flinch. It wouldn't spiral. He was a cog in a machine and he knew his death would do little to rattle production. To think it might rattle Fury meant something to him.

As he walked into the room with Marco he thought back to when he had first gone to recruit Dean. He was only a level 3, still pretty new to things. No combat training or any real danger in his veins. Dean had grabbed his throat and threatened him yet he had stared back with a calm that confused him now. It had been foolish, HE had been foolish, but that Sterling was an entirely different person. Confident. Casual. He'd joked with superiors, played pranks, gave nicknames. As he looked upon Marco, noted the way his fists clenched at his sides, he knew the risks of this visit.

He stared with that same calm, that same unflinching confidence he had then but this time he had the experience to back it up.

Marco could fight this. Even if he lunged, grabbed his throat as Dean had done that day, he knew Marco could pull himself back before he managed to kill him. He was stronger than this.

Sterling was willing to bet his life on proving it.

"I did." Sterling said quietly, confirming Marco's statement. His voice was level and calm, almost a whisper, yet still echoed slightly in the small, practically empty room. "Hydra has a lot of different ways they like to torture people. A lot of ways to create sleeper agents. Your brand in particular is a bitch and a half but you're not lost." He moved slowly but casually to one of the overturned pieces of furniture, righted it, and placed the tray of food on top. "They're going to work you pretty hard to break it. In a sense, it's like breaking you all over again. When it's done, however... Well, it's worth it. You're not free, that pain and those memories will always be there, but the hold it has on you won't be. That voice in your head..." Sterling paused, sighing with a weight that spoke volumes, "It won't be so loud anymore. I want you to get some food in you and try to get some rest before they start again. I'll do everything I can to try and make that happen. To make sleep happen. You need it. That voice is deafening when you're tired, I'm sure. We'll quiet it for a bit but you have to trust me to do that."

A skiddish agent with a murderous voice in his head was not going to take a medically induced sleep easily, no matter what form it came in. Sterling had to get him as calm as he could and, if he decided to take their help, possibly administer the pill or injection himself so force at least a couple of hours of sleep. Ray needed the break too, he knew.

"We're going to help you."

The god's casual stance remains for a moment longer, hands settling upon hips as Sterling offers the explanation. An intriguing explanation at that, the sort that has thunderer's mouth purse for a moment in contemplation.

' Not knowing one's weapon is not... common for most warriors.'

And he supposed Sterling was not a warrior in the sense the Asgardian knew them to be, which might prove to be a blessing, or a curse, for the mortal.

A faint nod in agreement follows after a brief moment of silence, and the god's movements are treacherously casual, commencing a languid sort of circling around the human form.

"I'm not a warrior and I'm not a scientist. I'm not going to pretend I know the science behind it for the sake of sounding smart. It's a shield. I'm hoping it holds up. If nothing else, this will help me know it better as well."

Sterling wasn't sure he really liked that Thor circled him before saying he wouldn't hold back. He was far from incapable of holding his own against your average foe, but Thor wasn't that at all. He was extremely formidable for even the toughest fighter out there.

He was starting to realize just how much he was going to regret this.

"As long as you don't kill me, I call it a win!" He called, a nervous laugh following as he held up the shield and stepped into a defensive stance. Just before the sparring began, Sterling seemed to process Thor's words more clearly. Erratic?

Aw shit.