Sharon Carter's lucky number is 13 (luckythirteen) wrote in rooms, @ 2014-09-02 23:16:00 |
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Entry tags: | !marvel comics, *narrative, sharon carter |
Who: Sharon Carter- narrative
What: A very trying day.
Where: A taxi and then her apartment
When: 3 September, 02:45 EDT.
Warnings: None
Sharon had been officially on SHIELD's radar since she was 13 years old, but she was fairly certain she'd been on SHIELD's radar long before that thanks to her famous aunt, and her politician father. The fact that she'd turned out to be smart, athletic, driven, and fearless were perks. She didn't get officially-unofficially recruited until a few years later when she graduated high school at 16. She attended college and SHIELD training, she excelled in the mental and physical rigors of the programs, and when she was 21 Agent 13 of SHIELD Special Services, went on her first official solo mission after a mercenary named Georges Batroc. And that is when she met Captain America.
For the next decade Sharon worked hard for SHIELD, she worked hard for her country, for the world they all lived in. She gave up a normal life for SHIELD, and she would have done it time and time again. It took a decade and Sharon had been made an executive director. She didn't always see eye to eye of those higher up, she joined the Secret Avengers, which was considered treason at the time. She had a way of grinding gears and rattling cages when she needed to. Parts of the organization had hurt her, other parts had betrayed her, and she wasn't letting it happen again.
But not here. This place was different, and as much things changed the more things stayed the same she found. Familiar faces, but not quite the same. Some looked so familiar they had to be the same - and others were strangers sitting in desks she knew belonged to others. It was a bizarre situation to be in walking through the DC offices a the Triskellion.
She worked exclusively in New York's HQ now. She was settled comfortably into the Special Regional Director position, which was still a bit high for her blood, but it afforded her certain freedoms that she needed.
She didn't know how bad the situation was inside of SHIELD, she'd heard what Steve and Natasha had been through - she called that her worst case scenario and worked backwards from that. Of course it was still a risk, she could have been seriously underestimating, but the best she could do was keep her nose clean in New York, and work under the radar and off the books. She wasn't worried about that part of it - she wasn't worried about getting caught, because the only thing those that would catch her were at risk of exposing were themselves. And as soon as Project Insight fell through their hands - they were walking a thin line. Not scared, not running, in fact it was business as usual. But if she was going to find the information she needed, she'd play by their rules.
There was absolutely no love lost between Sharon and Hydra - not after all they'd done in her world. And then to be put here in this place, with this SHIELD. An organization that had been a home (albeit a dysfunctional one every now and again) for her entire life. She wouldn't let them take everything she loved. Even if she had to dismantle them brick by brick from the inside. One painful step at a time, she would do it. Creating a cell within a cell within an agency full of people not in the know - it wasn't easy and she was working slowly on purpose.
Today had not been a day for rattling cages. Today was a day for being told not to take the train but they'd be sending a plane (never good), and today had been the day of a 7 AM arrival and a midnight departure. Today had been a day for telling them what they wanted to hear, while not telling them what they were expecting to hear. If she lied outright they'd know, if she said all the right buzzwords they'd know. So she threw a few curve balls in here and there. There were debriefs after debriefs, first with the underlings, then the next level, and the level after that.
The psych evaluations (plural), the reflex testing and marksmanship re-tests. Endurance tests, and stupid flashcard tests. There were overly complete physical exams, and intrusive questions. There were leading questions, and what started with coffee and donuts had ended with Sharon in a cold room, in a hospital gown, "waiting for medical clearance" while a psychiatrist thought of a few "last minute questions" for her.
Those last hours had been hellish. Her imagination running wild, held captive by what was probably Hydra once again, stuck in a cold room, on a cold chair, the only thing stopping teeth from chattering is the clenching and unclenching of her jaw. She'd been there before. She wondered if somehow they knew, and were trying to break it out of her. She thought for a few brief moments they were close to succeeding but she'd always pulled herself back. And it had paid off.
She'd known what to expect, had prepared her words, her lines, her facial expressions, every movement she had planned, and those plans had back up plans. Admit to the anxiety, smile through the hallucination recollections, mention past missions from the file - mention nothing about the Avengers. Captain America was not off limits, he had removed a sick SHIELD agent from a quarantine center without permission.
She'd given permission to test her blood, you see. It was pre-arranged but there was no time to explain.
Everything had just been so crazy.
Yes, I am a bit uncomfortable.
No, I don't think I'll require anything further after I return to work.
I'm in good health.
Etc.
Etc.
Etc.
Over and over again, not one toe out of line, unless the situation called for a fuzzy recollection. Seventeen hours, she hadn't closed her eyes since she'd opened them the previous morning and they were heavy. Even now she was on high alert, the taxi driver seemed random enough but she wasn't about to let her guard down now. Her apartment was safe - she'd seen to it. She wanted to be home, she wanted to forget the day.
It had been seventeen hours, but clutched in her lap was all of the paperwork, and files, and clearance she needed to get things running her direction back in New York. Everything she needed to get back work. Requisitions and signed forms. Oh she was definitely on the radar now. After seventeen humiliating hours they'd offered her sincere appreciation, they'd suggested she get right back to work, apologized for the "formalities." And even as she smiled at them all, assured them she was more than ready she knew they'd be watching her more than ever. It was all very exciting.
The taxi pulled up outside of her building, she paid him, walked up the stairs, one foot in front of the other. Body straight and achey from perfectly planned posture all day long, head held high and confident even until she unlocked the door and stepped inside. It was then her shoulders slumped, she took the first real breath she felt she'd taken all day.
Her shoes kicked off, files put on the credenza, she leaned against the door for a long moment before locking it behind her. She'd managed it after all. It was probably only going to get worse from here on out, but that wasn't quite on her mind as she headed toward the shower dropping suit jacket, starched shirt, and skirt haphazardly along the way. It was near three in the morning. She did not care about messes. She was home and her bug detectors weren't going off. No one had been here re-decorating while she'd been out.
As she stepped under the almost scalding hot spray of her shower she sighed closing her eyes for the first time and she thought she could sleep standing upright in the shower for hours on end because she was feeling closer to human in her own familiar surroundings already. It had felt like a lifetime. But it had only been seventeen hours. Sharon could do anything for seventeen hours.