To Love Is To Destroy

Chapter 8

“Jasper,” Fury said, and Jasper looked up, standing as the Director swept into the room. “Clean?”

“Yes, sir.” Jasper held up the last of the planted bugs, dismantled and non-functional, and only the size of his thumbnail. “EMPs took most of them out, I just swept again and found another sub-sonic model. Looks like AIM tech. They’re trying to be smarter.”

“God help us,” Nick said, indicating a chair. Jasper sat with a snort. “I have a mission for you.”

“Sir?” he said.

“You’ve been a long-standing company man, you toe the line, and you’re good at what you do,” Nick said.

“Don’t butter the bread before you toss it to the ducks, sir. What am I doing?”

“You get that from Phil,” Nick said, and Jasper wasn’t sure if the look he was getting was fond or annoyed. “Always wants me to cut to the chase. Anyway. You’ve heard of HYDRA. Everybody and their mother has heard of HYDRA.”

Jasper nodded. “Defunct, but still worth noting. We stumble across caches of old war tech buried deep in AIM and Ten Rings safe houses every blue moon or so.”

“What if I told you it’s not all old war tech?” Fury asked.

“I’d call you a liar, but I know better, sir,” Jasper said. He tilted his head, squinting over the top of his glasses at the Director. “What are you getting at?”

“I’m thinking, and this line of thinking doesn’t leave this room,” Nick said, his voice soft. “HYDRA may not be as dead as we thought, and that’s something I don’t like thinking.”

“What’s my role?” Jasper asked.

“I need a mole. Phil’s been impressed with your patsy for a long while now. I’m boosting you from Level Five to Level Six. Potentially higher as need arises. Periodically, you’ll get encrypted communiques from me. I want you to infiltrate any known HYDRA cells.”

“Where?” he asked.

“Within SHIELD.” Jasper gaped at the Director, who fixed him with a stare from his solitary eye. “I know you think I’m paranoid, but I’ve got good reason to be. I need a man on the inside. There are some things I just can’t do myself. You’re the man on the inside I need.”

Jasper looked down. “What’s my cover?”

“Upset at being passed over for promotion by Phil Coulson,” Nick said, and Jasper looked up. “I never said this wasn’t gonna be hard. And it might potentially drive a wedge between the two of you. But I need this info, and you need to be ready and willing to do whatever it takes. This is important.”

Jasper swallowed.

“I know it’s a lot to ask.” Nick straightened, and Jasper got the feeling he was about to leave.

“When do I start?”

[England, August 9th, 2013]

Stefan woke to the sound of the television playing softly in the kitchen. He stretched, reaching for Patricia, but she wasn’t next to him and he frowned. Sitting up, he glanced at the clock and noticed it was nearing three a.m.

“Clean up efforts in New York continue under the watchful gaze of Stark Industries, whose CEO Pepper Potts has assured the American people that she and the Stark Industries family of companies place high value on relief efforts,” the TV continued, as Stefan shuffled down the hall to the bathroom, scratching his stomach. “While the Manhattan attack is still fresh in everyone’s mind, post 9/11 America has seen and rebounded from much worse. Many lives were saved by following new safety procedures put into place after the terrorist attack on that fateful day. Now, many people are living to tell the tale, thanks to six costumed heroes who stepped in to face the brunt of the attack, including Manhattan’s own Iron Man. But the heroes don’t stop at the Avengers.”

Stefan listened to the clink of dishware in the kitchen, his hearing fine tuned to the sounds of Patricia bustling about and making tea. She was…hesitant, moving slowly, as though she was still tired. He didn’t want to sneak up on her, so he started the water in the bathroom and brushed his teeth, hoping she’d hear him.

“Many of the police, firefighters, and emergency personnel who escorted citizens to safety and drilled in their spare time for just such an occasion are being lauded today in a ceremony held by New York mayor Michael Bloomberg. Six firefighters were injured during the rescue of several citizens through fires and explosions, but miraculously, not many were hurt, thanks to the evacuation and protection from Avengers Captain America and Black Widow. Rescues were also aided by the Hulk, which surprised a group of police who had a run-in with the Avenger in Harlem in 2008.Tbe heroes distracted the invaders, officially labeled ‘Chitauri’ by the global security branch SHIELD, and allowed rescue efforts to proceed relatively unimpeded.”

The channel changed as Stefan brushed his teeth, smacking the taste of sleep from his tongue as he listened idly. He spat, rinsing his mouth with cold water.

“The US supreme court today issued a ruling overturning the restrictions non-soul mate matrimony. For years, since the early 1900s, there was been a ban on non-mated civil unions. When the ban was lifted in 1983, there were hefty restrictions and even some outright refusal to recognize non-mated pairings as a legal union, such as the infamous Prop 238 in Oregon, Prop 95 in California, and the Civil Union amendment in Texas. Now, however, all restrictions have been overturned, and it has been deemed unconstitutional to deny non-mated couples the same benefits that mated couples have enjoyed for years. Restrictions and provisions on healthcare have been lifted, and legislation has begun moving forward to protect the rights of these citizens.”

“They still haven’t gotten that through their heads after seventy years?” he asked softly, and Patricia turned, the kettle in hand.

“No,” she said. “Not yet. Technically, up until the early eighties, what we’re doing could have gotten us tossed in jail.”

“Good lord,” Stefan said, his frown deepening. “What about all those people who married and had children?”

“Most lied,” she said. “It’s easy enough to forge a Bonding certificate if you know the right kind of people, and before it became legal, the right kind of people were everywhere. It’s easy to fake it, if you really love someone.”

“What about people like Gabe, whose soul mate was his sister? Or did they never account for that?” he asked.

“Gabe married a lovely French woman after the war,” Patricia said. “Margot Triplett was a peach, and he even took her last name, he was so smitten with her. Lovely woman.”

He chuckled a little at the idea.

“You did what you had to back then. His grandson’s a legacy. He just earned specialist status.”

Stefan padded over to the stove where Patricia was waiting for her kettle to boil. He draped himself around her, big and warm and she leaned back against his chest, fitting like she had so long ago.

“Phil…never bonded with anyone,” she said. “He was a lot like you.”

She’d done her mourning in private, even from him, and had emerged from her sewing room with red-rimmed eyes and tucked straight into Stefan’s chest.

“I got to know him, a little bit,” he said. “Never did get to sign those cards.”

“He’d have loved that,” she said. “You were all he talked about some days.”

“Oh?” Stefan asked, tucking his chin over her shoulder as he listened.

“Sometimes, he said it was what kept him going,” she said. She took one of his large hands in her smaller ones, and laced their fingers. “Got him through Basic, and SHIELD training, and tough ops. He wanted to make you proud of him.”

“Wish I could tell him that,” he said softly.

“I wish you could too,” she said. “He loved you.”

Stefan paused, listening to her breathe for a moment. “Are you going to be okay?”

“Of course I am,” she said. “What else is there but to pick up and carry on? I’d do a disservice to his memory if I lay down and let it end me. He was a brave and good man, and he went to his end knowing he served a better cause. Like someone else I know.”

Stefan squeezed her around the middle and digested that piece of information. The news droned on in the background, and life went on around him.

Maybe it was meant to be that way. He didn’t have that answer, so he simply buried his nose in Patricia’s hair until the kettle whistled.

 [Location: Undisclosed SHIELD Hospital, California]

The blonde doctor opened the door, brown eyes casting about for her 12:00. She saw him, and moved forward, low, sensible shoes moving without sound even on the tiles. Clint supposed that was because she was a SHIELD agent, and old habits die hard for the field trained ones. He still had to consciously make noise in order to not startle civilians.

“Clint Barton?” she asked, and he looked up, his eyes dark and circled. The blue hadn’t come back, and he wasn’t about to let it, his hands shaking until they held a bow again. He had to be useful.

“My name is Anna Marks, do you remember me?”

“Yeah,” he said, and his throat felt like sandpaper. “You were Coulson’s…you trained under him.”

“That’s right,” she said, smiling. “I’m here to help you out. You want to come in and talk with me for a little bit?”

“I guess,” he said, shrugging. “Don’t know what good it’ll do.”

“That’s the point of therapy,” she said, offering him a seat on the couch. “You thirsty?”

“Not really. Did the whole ‘drink a liquor store’ thing last month. Didn’t work out so well.”

“I heard. They found you in the gutter and got you to medical.”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“All right, what do you want to talk about?” she asked.

“Anything but that.”

“All right,” she said. “Tell me about the new apartment you leased.”

“It’s good,” he said. “I got a dog.”

[The Triskelion, September 19th, 2013]

“Melinda,” he said, and she looked up. Director Fury leaned on the doorway, his arms folded as he watched her stamp and collate. “I need a favor.”

“Sir?” she asked, regarding Fury carefully. “You’ve never asked for a favor.”

“Come with me,” he said. She rose from her desk, locking her station, and they took a ride to the executive office, where he locked the door and dimmed the lights. “Display Project TAHITI.”

“Operative Melinda May is not cleared to access Project TAHITI under clearance advisory J-9LL.”

“Director Override, authorization, Fury, Nicholas J.”

The screens blanked out, then lit with video, and Melinda started to swear in Mandarin.

“Is that an LMD?”

“No. It’s the real deal. We managed to save his life.”

Melinda stared for a long time at the video of Phil Coulson breathing as he read in the comfort of a hospital bed. Every once in a while, he would turn the page.

“What’s he reading?” she asked.

“Louis L’amour.” Fury stood at parade rest, his hands behind his back. “The Quick and the Dead.”

Melinda watched him turn another page, his eyes flicking across the words as he absorbed the story.

“He looks…good.”

“He’s going to be released for active duty on Tuesday. I’m giving him a team. And I need you to be a part of it.”

“For?” she asked. “You know I don’t…”

“Relax, you’ll just be the pilot.”

“I’ve heard that one before.”

“That’s why this is a personal favor for me. I need you there, Melinda. I need you to keep an eye on things for me. I can’t lose him again.”

“Do I want to know how he was brought back?” she asked.

“That’s a question only you can answer. But the less you know, probably for the better. Something in the wind is changing.” He turned and the windows undimmed, revealing the Potomac River below his office.

“And you want to be three steps ahead.”

“Five, if I can wing it,” he said. “Coulson is one of those steps, always has been. He’ll know what to do.”

“And if he doesn’t?” she asked.

“That’s where you come in. Can I count on you?”

“You always could, sir. When do I start?”

“Wednesday. Make him work for it.”

“Understood.”

[England, September 20th, 2013]

“Director Fury has a mission for you,” Jasper said, his voice almost hushed in Patricia’s presence. He held his mug of steaming tea untouched between his interlaced fingers. “There’s some things going down in DC that he’d like you to be on board for.”

“I suppose this is me earning my keep?” Stefan asked. Jasper nodded. He set the mug down on the coaster provided. “Will you be my CO?”

“No, I’ve got other things to attend to. My days as your handler are over. After…Agent Coulson passed, we’ve all had to pick up a lot of slack.” Jasper swallowed, and his eyes looked hollow, tired. Stefan reached out and squeezed his forearm, and Jasper shot him a grateful look.

“Understandable,” he said. “Now what?”

“Recruitment won’t take the place of experience, as you well know. From now until the foreseeable future, Agent Romanoff will be your partner and SHIELD liaison.”

“Natasha?” he asked. “Well. All right.”

He hadn’t seen her since New York, but he was always pleased to work with someone who might be considered a colleague, if not a friend.

“You’ll need to make a flight to DC by Friday,” Jasper said. “You’ll be contacted within the week with the next phase of your mission.”

“What will I be doing?” he asked.

“That, unfortunately, is above my pay grade,” Jasper said. “You’ll have to take that up with Director Fury.”

“You can be sure I will,” Stefan said. He stood, as did Jasper, smoothing his tie before he turned to Patricia.

“Thank you for your hospitality, ma’am,” Jasper said. She nodded, tight lipped, and didn’t offer to walk him to the door.

[Paris, France, September 21st, 2013]

Grant’s phone rang two chirps that signaled a secure line request. He retinal scanned the camera, and then answered the call.

“Line is secure, Agent Ward speaking.”

“Ward,” came the voice, and Ward straightened unconsciously. “I have an opportunity for you.”

“Sir.” Grant held the phone to his ear with his shoulder as he finished assembling his sniper rifle from its case with practiced, easy movements.

“In three days, you’re going to be pulled out of Paris.”

“But my mission—“

“This mission is better, son, now listen. Maria Hill herself is going to pull you. Make sure she vets you. Make sure you make it onto this new strike team. You’ll see why shortly. I’ll contact you soon with your orders.”

“Yes, sir,” he said, snapping the silencer on his barrel. The line went dead, and he tossed his phone onto the bed.

[Location: Undisclosed SHIELD Hospital, California]

“Hi,” she said, leaning over and peering at the magazine he was trying to pretend to read. “I know you.”

“Sure you do,” he said, slumping a little in his seat and meeting her gaze. Large chocolate eyes crackled with mischief as she regarded him, pushing a wing of curled dark hair over her shoulder.

“No, everyone in SHIELD knows you. Barton, right?” she asked, and he flinched. “You work with Romanoff.”

“Not anymore,” he said, his voice a little hoarse. “You got somethin’ to say?”

“Not really,” she said, smiling. “Just saying hi. You do good work. I saw Manhattan.”

“You musta not been on the helicarrier.” He could see the faces; still hear the screams at night.

“No…I just got my level three clearance a couple weeks ago. Now for the battery of psyche evals before I get to go into the field.” She leaned back, twirling one of her careful curls around her finger. “You been waiting long?”

“Too long,” he said. “Been doin’ this for six months.”

“Oh.” She frowned. “Listen, I’m gonna go get a candy bar from the vending machine. I’m gonna get you one too. You don’t have to eat it, but I’m gonna get you one.”

He watched her get up and saunter away, jeans and a t-shirt belying the rolling carefulness of her step. She was trained in stealth. She walked like Natasha. That, in and of itself, was a comfort to him. She was not Natasha, not the milky white of her skin, this new woman dusky skinned and beautiful all the same.

She came back with a Zero bar for him and a coke for herself, a packet of crackers balanced on top.

“Here,” she said. “It’ll make you feel better.”

He took it without a word, setting it on the seat next to him.

“So what’s your story, Morning Glory?” she asked, opening the packet of crackers with her teeth and munching on one. “You still going through therapy?”

He nodded. She watched him, still nibbling on her cracker.

“S’not so bad you know,” she said. “Listen, therapy is good for you, or that’s what they tell me. I dunno if I buy into it, but…in this business, if they wanna help you, you take it. Your candy bar’s gonna melt in here.”

He looked down at the crumpled silver packaging, drawing his knees to his chest.

“You remind me a lot of the friends I made when—when I was little,” she said, and he caught the little hitch of her breath as she lied. His head lifted, and he regarded her, his chin on his knees. “Guess that’s not fair to you. We’ve all got our problems.”

“You’re fine,” he said softly, and his voice was hoarse. “Thanks for the candy.”

“Sure,” she said, opening her coke and taking a long swallow, cutting her eyes away. When she glanced back, he was already gone.

But then again, so was the candy bar.

Minor victories, at least.

[The Triskelion, September 24th, 2013]

“May,” he said, and she looked up, her eyes widening as she took in Phil Coulson in the flesh. “I need a favor.”

“No,” she said.

“I just need you to drive the BUS,” he said.

“Why me?”

“It’s a very nice BUS,” he said, wheedling. She hated it when he wheedled, because she knew from experience she’d end up doing it anyway. Still, she did as she was ordered.

“No.”

“What the hell is Jasper Sitwell doing aboard a civilian vessel?” Stefan asked, narrowing his eyes at the screen. The Lemurian Star’s coordinates displayed as they closed distance and a satellite ping showed the ship coasting silently through the water.

“Who knows?” Natasha said. “He’s working something for Fury. We don’t know what.”

“Above your pay grade?” he asked, his lips twisting in a sour expression.

“Do you want these hostages to die, or not?” she fixed him with a look. “Trust Fury. He’s been doing this a long time.”

“So have I,” he replied. Still, he moved off, grabbing his helmet and strapping it on.

“You do anything fun Saturday night?” she asked.

“Well, all the guys in my barbershop quartet are dead. So no, not really.” He tugged his chinstrap tight and made sure his shield was secure.

“You know, if you asked that girl in accounting out, I’m sure she’d say yes,” she said.

“That’s why I don’t ask.” He pounded his fist on the ramp release button, his eyes fixed on the night sky.

“Too shy, or too scared?” she asked, yelling to be heard above the whipping of the wind. “You know, the rules have changed since you were last out there.”

“Too busy,” he replied, his feet already taking him off the ramp and into the dark of the night, the rush of air past his ears and the thunder of his heart focusing him on his mission ahead.