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09 Recruitment
🕑 Added 2024-07-23 06:15:01 +0000 UTCHarry’s cosy apartment in London was bustling with excitement and energy. The usually quiet space was now filled with the sounds of laughter, chatter, and the clinking of pots and pans. In the kitchen, Harry and Dorea were busy preparing a feast, their movements synchronized like a well-practised dance. The aroma of roasting meats, fresh herbs, and baking bread filled the air, making the apartment feel warm and inviting.
Clint, however, was proving to be a persistent distraction. Hovering around the kitchen like an insistent fly, he kept trying to sneak bites of food. Harry swatted him away multiple times, his annoyance growing with each attempt. But Dorea, ever the gracious hostess, simply laughed and allowed Clint to stay. She enjoyed the fawning and praise he showered on her cooking, his playful compliments bringing a smile to her face. Harry grumbled under his breath but couldn't help but soften slightly at the sight of Dorea’s happiness.
Meanwhile, Natasha and Charlus were making their rounds, double-checking every room to ensure that all of Harry’s and Natasha’s personal belongings were packed and ready for the move. The living room was neatly lined with boxes, each labelled meticulously. Suitcases stood at the ready by the door, packed for their imminent journey to the United States. Natasha’s keen eye for detail and Charlus’s methodical nature made them a perfect team for the task, ensuring that nothing was forgotten.
The apartment, though in a state of organized chaos, radiated a sense of impending adventure. The mix of bustling activity and the impending farewell gave the night a bittersweet undertone, as everyone prepared for the new chapter that awaited Harry and Natasha across the Atlantic.
The doorbell rang, momentarily pausing the lively atmosphere in the apartment. Clint, always eager to be helpful and, of course, the first to grab the opportunity to sneak another snack, leapt up to answer it. Opening the door, he was greeted by a familiar face.
“Coulson!” Clint exclaimed with joy, his face lighting up. “Glad you could make it.” Coulson stood there, a bottle of fine wine in his hand, a small but genuine smile on his usually stoic face.
“Good to see you, Barton,” Coulson replied, stepping into the apartment. He handed the wine to Clint, who eagerly accepted it. The two exchanged a quick, friendly handshake, reflecting their camaraderie.
Natasha joined them by the door, her eyes brightening at the sight of Coulson. “Phil, you made it. We were just getting started.”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Coulson responded warmly. “But, as always, business before pleasure.”
Natasha and Clint led Coulson to a quieter corner of the living room, away from the bustling kitchen and the packed boxes. Coulson’s demeanour shifted to a more serious tone as he began to brief them on the progress S.H.I.E.L.D. had made concerning the dismantling of the Red Room.
“Is it done?” Clint asked, his voice carrying a mix of hope and concern.
“Yes,” Coulson replied, his tone steady and reassuring. “Due to the secretive nature of the Red Room's operation, there weren’t many resources dedicated to it. We were able to capture and neutralize the Red Room’s key facilities and resources, like the one in Belarus that Natasha gave a lead to. The program, as we know it, has been dismantled.”
Natasha let out a small sigh of relief, though her eyes remained vigilant. “And the agents?”
“We’ve managed to apprehend several key operatives,” Coulson continued. “Some were taken into custody, while others... well, let’s just say they won’t be posing a threat anymore. It’s a significant blow to their operations, but we’ll need to stay vigilant. There might be remnants or rogue elements still out there.”
Clint nodded, absorbing the information. “Good to know we’re making headway. But this isn’t over, is it?”
“Far from it,” Coulson agreed. “This is just the beginning. We’ll need to keep our eyes and ears open. But for now, we’ve dealt them a significant blow.”
Natasha’s expression softened slightly as she looked at Coulson. “Thank you, Phil. This means a lot.”
Coulson gave her a reassuring nod. “Just doing my job.”
“Good,” Natasha added, a hint of relief in her voice. “At least we won’t have to worry about the Black Widows anymore.” She hesitated for a moment; her eyes briefly clouded with concern before she continued. “Also, did you find anything on Yelena?”
Coulson's expression turned sympathetic, understanding the weight behind her question. “I’m sorry, Natasha. We couldn’t find anything about her. The personnel files we recovered were very barebones. It seems only Dreykov had a complete list and status of the Black Widow agents.”
Natasha's face tightened, but she kept her emotions in check. “So, there's no way to know if she’s really...”
“Not at the moment,” Coulson replied gently. “We’ll keep looking, though. If there’s any information out there, we’ll find it. But right now, her file is as empty as the others.”
Clint, sensing the heaviness of the conversation, placed a comforting hand on Natasha’s shoulder. “We’ll find out what happened, Nat. One way or another.”
Natasha gave a small, appreciative nod but didn't say more. Inside, a storm of emotions churned. Yelena was more than just a fellow agent; she was family, the closest thing Natasha had to a sister. The last she’d heard; Yelena had been killed trying to escape the program. But doubt always lingered—had she really died, or was that just another lie from the Red Room?
Coulson, understanding the unspoken feelings, gave Natasha a reassuring look. “We’re not giving up, Natasha. If there’s any trace of Yelena, we’ll find it.”
“Thank you, Phil,” Natasha said quietly, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside. She appreciated his dedication and the fact that he didn’t press for details. Some wounds were too deep to expose openly, even among friends.
Their discussion was interrupted by Charlus, who appeared in the doorway with a cheerful smile. “What are the three of you conspiring about over here? It’s almost time for dinner. Natalie, if you could please help me set the plates.”
Natasha gave Coulson and Clint a quick nod before following Charlus to the dining area. The small apartment was filled with the rich aromas of the feast that Harry and Dorea had been preparing. The scent of roasted vegetables, Savory meats, and freshly baked bread wafted through the air, creating a warm, inviting atmosphere.
In no time, the dinner was served. The five of them gathered around Harry’s cosy dining table, which was now laden with an array of delicious dishes. The table was a snug fit, but the closeness only added to the feeling of family and camaraderie. Harry took his seat at the head of the table, with Natasha by his side. Charlus and Dorea sat opposite, while Coulson and Clint found places next to them.
The room buzzed with a mixture of excitement and nostalgia. The clinking of plates and the soft hum of conversation filled the air. Dorea, ever the gracious hostess, began serving generous portions to everyone. “I hope you all enjoy this meal. It’s a special occasion, after all,” she said with a warm smile.
Clint, unable to resist, reached for a slice of bread, earning a playful swat from Dorea. “Wait your turn, Clint,” she chided, though her eyes twinkled with amusement. Clint grinned sheepishly, pulling his hand back.
Natasha, setting the last plate, took her seat beside Harry, her hand finding him under the table. She squeezed it gently, grounding both of them in the moment. “Let’s dig in,” she said, her voice filled with warmth. As they began to eat, the conversation flowed naturally, ranging from light-hearted banter to reflections on the past and hopes for the future.
Dorea’s eyes glistened with unshed tears as she looked at Natasha and Harry. “Why do the two of you have to leave and live so far away? You could stay here, you know. There’s no need to go all the way to the United States.”
Charlus, always the voice of reason, placed a comforting hand on Dorea’s shoulder. “Dorea, they’re adults now,” he said gently. “Natalie has a wonderful opportunity to work at the Smithsonian Museum. We shouldn’t stand in the way of her dreams. And Harry’s decision to follow her to America shows his commitment to their relationship. We should support them wholeheartedly.”
“I understand, but I’m just not ready to say goodbye so soon,” Dorea lamented, her voice tinged with sadness. “Anyway, Natalie dear, what exactly will you be doing there?”
Natasha smiled warmly at Dorea’s concern. “I’ll be working on interpreting and translating Latin texts to preserve our history,” she explained. “It’s a challenging role, but I’m excited about the opportunity to contribute to such an important institution.”
Harry squeezed Natasha’s hand under the table, silently conveying his pride and support. “She’ll be amazing, Dorea,” he added with a reassuring smile. “And we’ll come back to visit often. London will always be home.”
Clint, ever the joker, chimed in with a grin. “Yeah, and you can come visit us in the States. We’ll show you around, Dorea.”
“See, I told you it was a fantastic opportunity,” Charles reiterated, his tone proud and supportive as he glanced between Harry and Natasha. Dorea nodded in agreement, though her expression remained somewhat apprehensive. “And you,” she said pointedly to Harry, her concern palpable. “What about you? What are your plans there?”
Harry shrugged nonchalantly. “I’ll figure something out,” he replied casually. “Don’t worry about me.”
“It’s not just about you, Harry,” Dorea countered firmly. “Natalie will be starting a new job in a new place. I don’t want you to become a burden to her. Do you understand?” Harry nodded in agreement, understanding the weight of Dorea’s words. “I don’t want you leeching off Natalie. You need to find a job soon and take responsibility for household chores. I won’t have her risking this opportunity because of you.”
Clint, chiming in with his usual straightforwardness, nodded along with Dorea’s sentiments. “Yeah, Harry,” he interjected, adding his support. “You can’t just coast along. Nat’s got big things ahead, and you’ve got to step up.”
Harry rolled his eyes good-naturedly at Clint’s comment. “Alright, alright,” he said, giving Natasha a reassuring smile. “I’ll make sure to pull my weight and support Nat in every way I can. You can count on that.”
Natasha squeezed Harry’s hand under the table, silently thanking him for his commitment. “We’ll make it work, Dorea,” she reassured Dorea, her voice soft but determined. “Harry’s got this.”
Dorea nodded, her expression softening as she looked at her son and his partner. “I know you will,” she said, her voice tinged with maternal pride. “Just promise me you’ll take care of each other. And Harry,” she added with a gentle yet firm tone, “no slacking off.”
Harry grinned sheepishly. “Got it, Dorea,” he replied, a hint of mischief in his eyes. “I won’t let you down.”
“Maybe you could knock some sense into him, Mrs. Richards. The job offer in my organisation for Harry is still open,” Coulson suggested with a smile, his tone light but earnest. “Perhaps if you could convince him to join my organisation, he wouldn’t be a burden to Natalie.”
Harry raised an eyebrow sceptically. “Nice try, Coulson,” he replied, shaking his head with a smirk. “But no using my family to manipulate me into joining your organization.”
Dorea chuckled, shaking her head in mock disapproval at Coulson’s attempt. “Sorry, Phil,” she said with a playful glint in her eyes. “But I won't force him to do things that he doesn't want to do.”
“Worth a shot,” Coulson admitted with a shrug, his expression good-natured despite the playful rejection. His comment elicited laughter from everyone around the table.
“Are you sure you don’t want to sell this place off, Harry?” Charles asked, a thoughtful expression on his face. “It’s a prime location, and you could use the money in Washington.”
Harry considered for a moment, glancing around the cosy apartment that held so many memories. “It’s okay,” he replied with a reassuring smile. “This place can be an easy source of passive income for you and Dorea. We can rent it out; it’ll cover its own expenses and maybe a bit more.”
Dorea nodded in agreement. “It’s a sensible idea,” she chimed in. “And with the rental income, you won’t have to worry about the place. Plus, it keeps a piece of you here with us.”
“But, Harry, you could really do with the cash in Washington,” Charles persisted, concern evident in his voice.
Natasha, who had been listening quietly, spoke up. “Harry’s right,” she interjected, her tone confident. “My job at the Smithsonian pays well to take care of the both of us and Harry is such a low-maintenance person, even if he doesn't work at all I am sure that I will be able to take care of him.”
“You hear that, Barton? If I never work again in my life, Nat’s got me covered.”
“Just so you know, I take care of my family too,” Clint jibed back with a playful grin.
“Will believe it when I see it. Bet you spent all your savings building an archery range at your home.”
“What’s wrong with having an archery range at home?”
“Nothing, Robin Hood.”
“Alright, enough!” Dorea interrupted; her voice tinged with amusement but firm. “Today is the last day I’ll be seeing you guys for a while, so the two of you will behave. Look at Phil, the perfect gentleman—he speaks only when necessary and compliments my cooking. Unlike you two, who’ve been verbally sparring like 7-year-old kids.”
“He started it!” Harry and Clint retorted simultaneously, glancing at each other and then bursting into laughter.
Dorea rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “I swear, you two never change. Just promise me you’ll behave when you’re off causing trouble together.”
“We promise,” Harry said with a mock-serious expression, earning an exaggerated nod from Clint.
Phil Coulson chuckled from his place at the table. “Don’t worry, Dorea. They keep things lively.”
The banter continued through the evening, filled with laughter, shared memories, and the warmth of family bonds, making the impending parting a little easier to bear.
A couple of days and a long flight to Washington DC later, Clint, Natasha, and Harry found themselves seated in the Director's office at The Triskelion, the imposing headquarters of S.H.I.E.L.D. in Washington, DC. Across from them sat a bald man with a well-groomed goatee and a black eyepatch over his left eye. He wore a black trench coat that accentuated his lean, muscular build, perfectly matching his reputation as a seasoned soldier and strategist. Director Fury maintained his typical stern, serious expression, befitting his role as the no-nonsense leader of S.H.I.E.L.D.
The office itself was modern yet spartan, filled with numerous monitors displaying real-time data—an environment designed for functionality and efficiency, fitting Fury’s line of work.
Natasha and Harry couldn’t help but feel a mixture of nervousness and intimidation in the presence of this formidable figure. It was akin to naughty students facing the principal after a mischievous escapade.
“So, what do we have here? A Black Widow and a rebellious SAS officer,” Fury’s deep, authoritative voice echoed through the room. His demeanour exuded confidence, leadership, and a certain aura of secrecy. “I’m glad you could finally make it here. And Potter, why the hell have you not joined S.H.I.E.L.D. yet?” Fury’s tone brooked no nonsense. ““I don't want to hear any bullshit on how big of a pussy you are. Join S.H.I.E.L.D. and put your skills to good use. It’s a waste for someone of your calibre to be a glorified housewife while the world needs saving. And Romanoff, how am I supposed to be convinced of your capabilities if you can't even get your boy toy over here to join the organisation that you have just recently joined and trying to make a good impression of?”
Barton struggled to stifle a laugh, knowing all too well Fury’s penchant for blunt monologues.
“Is this some good cop, bad cop routine?” Harry answered; his tone laced with a hint of sarcasm. “First you send Coulson with the carrot, and now you’re coming in with the stick.”
“If this is how you plan to treat us, Director, then maybe it’s best for both of us to reconsider our association with S.H.I.E.L.D.,” Natasha countered, her voice steady and unwavering. “I joined S.H.I.E.L.D. because I believe in its mission and want to contribute positively. Harry has already served his time and deserves to choose his own path now. If you try to force him into S.H.I.E.L.D., neither of us will cooperate.”
“You think you have room to negotiate, Romanoff?” Fury’s tone was sharp, his one eye piercing.
“Yes, I do,” Natasha affirmed without hesitation. “I appreciate your assistance in dismantling the Red Room, but I didn’t leave one organization only to become a pawn in another. I could have gotten out of there myself without your help and I know my worth. I can survive on my own terms.”
Harry nodded in agreement. “And let me be clear, Director. Trust me when I say that I could make the two of us disappear without a trace. No tracker or surveillance system could trace us. There wouldn’t be a paper trail or digital footprint left behind.”
Fury smirked, observing their angry expressions. "That's why I like the two of you. Refreshing," he remarked, his tone now more relaxed yet still authoritative.
Natasha smirked at Fury’s change in personality. "So, you were testing us?"
"In a way," Fury admitted, his expression serious once more. "I needed to see if you were willing to stand your ground, to make your own choices. And you've proven that."
"Let me explain," Fury continued, leaning back in his chair. "You see, I deal with a lot of operatives who follow orders to the letter, never questioning. It gets old fast. But you two, you've got backbone. You think for yourselves. Natasha, you're not just another operative; you're someone who takes initiative and gets things done. And Harry," Fury paused, locking eyes with the former SAS captain, "I've read plenty of reports about your... independent streak. It wouldn't have suited you or me if you'd just fallen in line with SHIELD. Colonel Thompson was right; you're not the type to easily take orders."
Harry raised an eyebrow, processing the revelation. "You tried to recruit me in Afghanistan?"
"Yeah, you were the one who made the most headway in tracking down the Ten Rings operation in Afghanistan," Fury began, his tone laced with a mix of respect and frustration. "When my men took over, their objective was to dismantle the entire network. But they did a piss-poor job. They couldn't even find the base of operations, let alone identify the leader."
Fury leaned forward, his gaze fixed on Harry. "You, on the other hand, were the only one who managed to pinpoint their base and identify their leader. Your work was leagues ahead of anything my team accomplished. That level of incompetence on our part was unacceptable, and it made me realize just how valuable you could be to SHIELD. I wanted to recruit you or at least propose a joint operation. Unfortunately, my request was turned down because the British Army needed you and your squadron in Helmand Province."
Fury's expression softened slightly. "Seeing the job you did there, I can understand why they wanted to keep you. Your skills and strategic thinking were unmatched. It's no wonder you achieved what you did."
Harry felt a surge of pride at Fury's words, mixed with a tinge of regret. "Thank you," he replied, his voice sincere.
Fury nodded. "I know S.H.I.E.L.D. might not be the right fit for you, and Coulson has already explained why you don't want to join us. I respect your decision. But there's something else I'm hoping you'll consider. Something that aligns more with your independent spirit and exceptional skills."
Natasha and Harry exchanged curious glances. "What do you have in mind?" Natasha asked, her interest piqued.
Fury leaned in, his expression serious, as if he were about to reveal an earth-shattering secret. "Do you believe in aliens?" he asked, his voice low and conspiratorial.
The three of them stumbled, taken aback by the unexpected question. Clint was the first to break the silence. "What have you been smoking up here, Director?" he quipped, trying to lighten the mood.
Fury's stern gaze didn't waver. "This is not a joke, Barton," he reaffirmed, his tone unwavering. "Do you or do you not believe in aliens?" He repeated the question, his eyes scanning their faces.
Clint shrugged, still looking sceptical. "I’ll have to see it to believe it," he replied.
Natasha, on the other hand, took a more contemplative approach. "I haven't thought much about it," she admitted honestly.
Harry, however, was strangely quiet, lost in thought. "I believe that aliens do exist," he finally said. "This universe is too vast, and we haven't even explored beyond the moon, let alone the solar system. I'm sure there's some form of life out there."
Fury nodded at Harry’s response. "That's the correct answer," he said, pointing to Harry. "What I say next is only for the four of us. Got it?" The three of them nodded back affirmatively. "I can confirm that aliens already exist and that we have already made first contact with them."
The revelation hit each of them differently. Clint's jaw dropped his expression a mix of disbelief and awe. "You're serious?" he asked, struggling to process the information.
Natasha's eyes widened slightly; her interest piqued. "That's... intriguing," she murmured, already thinking about the implications.
Harry, however, remained calm and collected, as if Fury had just told him the weather forecast for tomorrow. "I had already guessed that," he said thoughtfully.
Clint couldn't help but interject with a hint of humour to break the tension. "So, what's next? Do we start prepping for an alien invasion or something?"
Fury allowed a rare smile to break his stern facade. "You got that right Barton. It's good to know you’re thinking ahead."
“Now, let me ask you this,” Fury continued, his gaze sharp and piercing. “Do you think all aliens that come to Earth will be friendly?”
Natasha was the first to respond. “No. History tells us how humans themselves have not been kind to each other just because of ethnic differences. If there's a whole different species, it’s likely they might see us as a resource or a threat. They could invade us for what we have.”
“Exactly.” Fury pointed a finger at Natasha. “And we are not prepared for such a moment when we are invaded by an alien force.”
“What’s your contingency plan?” Harry asked, his tone serious.
“We're preparing an arsenal to fight such threats, but progress is slow,” Fury admitted. “If we don’t know what we’re fighting against, how will we know which weapons work best?”
“But you have a backup plan, don’t you? You always do,” Barton interjected with a knowing smirk.
“Yes, it’s called the Avengers Initiative.” Fury leaned back slightly; his expression intense but hopeful. “A response team comprised of the most remarkable individuals humankind has to offer. The Avenger's Initiative is designed to defend Earth from imminent global threats beyond the fighting capability of conventional military forces.”
He paused, letting the gravity of his words sink in. “Humanity is not prepared to deal with intergalactic threats. And unless our arsenal of weapons increases, we will never be. But I believe that if the best of the best of humanity come together, we might stand a chance.”
Fury looked at Barton. “Barton, you’re the best marksman I have ever met.” Then he turned to Natasha. “Romanoff, you’ve been trained to kill with precision and without mercy, regardless of the size or strength of your opponent. Your skills are invaluable to this program.”
“And what about me?” Harry asked, his curiosity piqued.
“What about you?” Fury echoed, raising an eyebrow.
“Why did you want to recruit me too?” Harry's voice held a hint of hesitation. A myriad of thoughts raced through his mind—did Fury know about his secret? Did he somehow discover Harry's ability to do magic? Harry was on the verge of revealing everything when Fury’s response cut through his contemplation.
“The Avengers Initiative needs a leader,” Fury began, his tone serious. “A leader who understands what’s at stake. My hands are already tied up with S.H.I.E.L.D., and my prime candidate for the leadership position is still lost in the Arctic. I’m trying to find him, but in case something happens before he’s found, I need someone in place to take that leadership position.”
“You want Harry to lead the Avengers Initiative until Steve Rogers, aka Captain America, is found,” Natasha concluded, her eyes narrowing in thought.
“Yes,” Fury confirmed, nodding. “Potter knows what it takes to fight a war, and he has always prioritized the safety of his comrades above everything else. To be honest with you three, I’m lucky to have found people with military backgrounds. You understand the cost of sacrifice and the harsh realities of war. But the men and women we might recruit won’t always have that experience. They might be civilians, thrust into the role of heroes, who don’t understand what it means to be on the frontlines. With Potter at the helm, he can guide these civilians, these potential heroes, and lead them as required.”
“You think too highly of me, Director. I’m just Harry,” Harry said, shaking his head.
Fury leaned forward, his gaze intense. “You might say that, but there’s a 100K word document detailing all your heroics. You like to say you’re a protector, not a soldier. Well, this initiative needs a protector, not a soldier.”
Harry was taken aback. He had never seen himself in such a light, but Fury’s words resonated with a truth he couldn’t deny. He looked at Natasha and Clint, both of whom nodded in silent support. This was bigger than any one of them, and they knew it.
“You should take the offer,” Barton encouraged, leaning back in his chair.
“To tell you the truth, I might just be overreacting,” Fury admitted, a rare moment of humility. “There are no imminent threats right now. You won't have to join S.H.I.E.L.D. officially either. For now, you and I will be working on identifying potential candidates for the Avengers Initiative. You’ll only be called to duty if a threat arises that we cannot handle. So technically, you’ll be the temporary head of the reserve response team.”
Harry glanced at Natasha, who smiled reassuringly. “I think this suits you, babe,” she agreed. “You should take it. Plus, it’s temporary. Once Fury finds Captain America, you can leave the post. And as Fury said, I’m already part of this team. I’d like it if you had my back if something big like this happens. I would rather we fight together than die apart against an unknown overwhelming force.”
Harry nodded the weight of the decision settling in. “Give me a bit of time to consider it and talk with Natasha before I make my decision.”
Fury nodded. “Take all the time you need. Just remember, the world is changing. We need people like you, people who can lead and protect. Think about it, Potter.”
