ᴀɢᴇɴᴛ 13.

“Maybe nothing.” It stings. More than a year and God, it still stings.

             Damn it.  Okay, she deserved that.  But she wasn’t about to let it show.

                     She’s standing behind her desk, fingertips poised atop the spread of paperwork there. “Short version, we found one of them among our ranks.” Clipped and to the point. Hill knows that Carter will appreciate that. She moves, then, around the piece of furniture until she can lean against its front, her posture stretched out casually, one lithe line from head to toe. She crosses one boot over the other, folds her arms over her chest.

                     “Long version?” Her breath pushes past her lips. “You can sit if you want.” Maria dips her chin, massaging the knuckles of one hand against her forehead. “Long version is– I can’t trust a damn soul.” Not much has changed. She shrugs that off. “You could be one, for all I know. Which, if you are, I’m armed, so, choose your moment wisely. Stark’s networks are down as well as all of ours by default. There have been security issues at the Raft that I’m still waiting to hear reports on. Hopefully there weren’t any breaches. Because wouldn’t that just be icing on the cake?” She looks up, then, staring hard at the agent in front of her. “I need to put a team together. People I can trust. Would you be willing to submit to a test once our detection device is made available?”

                                     “Yes.  I have one condition, though.”  The agent doesn’t wait for an answer; she already knows Hill’s not going to like it.  “After the test—I can’t say I care which comes first.  ... I know that by even saying this to you, you’re going to suspect me, but I figured, what the hell, you already do.

                        The worst thing you can do is contain me, and when you figure out I’m not one, I can punch you in the face and we can call it square.  Or you can kill me... but I’m going to take a wild leap of faith and say things won’t get that ugly just yet.  But you do know what I care about, Hill.  Who I care about.  And he’s not here right now so I can stop pretending that I don’t.  I never asked, you know.  I was pissed at you... but I never once questioned why I was exempt from seeing that thing.  ... Because I know why you spared me that.  But if all hell is going to break loose, I have to see it.  I have to see the goddamn son of a bitch who took Steve away.”   The blonde swallows, shoving every raw emotion down her throat.  “I’m not asking you.  This isn’t a demand and I’m not about to beg.  You don’t owe me anything.  Not a goddamn thing.  ... But I need to see it.”

“Wouldn’t you know it, I’ve already been to see Hill. Found a piece of her equipment in my apartment. Damned if she couldn’t tell me how long it had been there, or what sort of information it was sending back. Don’t suppose–”

He catches himself before he says anything unfair. What sort of a hypocrite would he be to hold Sharon responsible for something she doesn’t remember?

           If looks could kill, Sharon’s very well could have.  It’s a short motion, a brisk tilt of her head, annoyed and incredulous.  She doesn’t even need to speak because she knows Steve will more than get the hint.

                               And even if she did know something about it, she couldn’t admit to it now.  She played the amnesia card for a while now, and she isn’t ready for the inevitable ear full.

     It’s, uh… it’s not so bad being pampered. But I wouldn’t want it all the time, no.     Ugh, dammit, now I want pancakes.

         [Darcy shrugs, still smiling though it’s tinged with a bit of bitterness]

    I’m not really sure yet? I mean, my degree’s in PoliSci, but… I don’t wanna be a politician.                                                    I just wanna help people.

           [Her aunt. Darcy wonders who that is: if she should already know or if she’ll even be able to find out if she turns out to be important. She sounds important though - if to no one else then definitely to Sharon.]

         Oops.  Sorry.  [She eyes what the shop might have to offer to no avail,tilting her head sympathetically.]  I guess bagels and scones aren’t great alternatives, too, huh?

                                [Of course, just talking about this might make Sharon want breakfast for dinner later.]

                     That’s a great job if you ask me.  Politics get a little murky.                                     ... But I think that goes for life sometimes.

                                              [She can’t say S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn’t make close calls.  And there are times when they have to make the tough ones, the ones where they are no winners.  But jobs need to get done.  Hands need to get dirty.]

          She’s slumped back into her chair by the time Carter gets there and a series of intercom correspondences buzzes her through the building’s inner security ( even though her badge should work just fine– Hill has tightened interpersonal clearances and her office is off-limits to anyone uninvited ). 

          “Thanks for coming on such short notice, Sharon.” Her fingers are back kneading the spot between her brows. "This one’s a real headache.” 

                                    It isn’t long until she reaches Triskelion.  The increased security tips off that something must have gone down.  Not enough that the lower levels would catch on things, but the higher she goes up and through doors to reache to Hill’s office, the more the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent’s suspicions are confirmed.  She enters the office expectantly.

                     “It’s not like I had a choice,” Sharon replies as she approaches her desk.  A hundred questions are on her mind, but she can wait until Hill has her say.  “Might as well rip off the band-aid, Director.  I think I can handle it.”

        I dunno… I’m sure they exist even though I’ve never had one. Bed and breakfasts are a lie - there’s not actually breakfast while you’re in bed. You have to get outta bed and get breakfast.

                        Where the hell’s the fun in that?

       [She almost snorts coffee into her nose at the question.]

                          Hell no. I am not about that life.

      [Darcy laughs at Sharon’s compliment, swirling the last of her coffee around in her cup.]

         That is definitely false advertising.  I’m not exactly a fan of the pampered lifestyle myself, but treating yourself every once in a while isn’t so bad.  Especially if fluffy pancakes and scrambled eggs are involved.

                             [But she gave up that life the moment she joined S.H.I.E.L.D.

                 And she hasn’t looked back since.]

                                       Really?  Then what life are you all about?

                 [Damn.  But the life of a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent isn’t for everyone.  Once in a blue moon even Sharon catches herself wondering if this is the life for her too.  But one thought of her aunt and it hits home.]

          Thirteen was trustworthy. Scratch that. NO ONE was trustworthy, not at the moment, but Hill could risk reaching out to her closest allies in a time like this. Plus– at the end of the day, whomever didn’t complete the assignments she handed out could be marked down as possible bogies. Win-win.

                  “I’ll brief you when you get here. How long do you need? Two hours?”

                                  And Sharon had a feeling something was up.  She couldn’t quite place it, though she hadn’t heard from Steve—  But maybe Hill would give her some answers.  Getting into her hovercraft convertible, Sharon turned on the ignition.  Whatever this was... she really hoped she wouldn’t have to punch anyone.

                  “That won’t be necessary.  I’ll get there in one—”  Back to business.