Part 1

Stanford University

December 2013

The graduate students barely looked up from their notes when the lecture hall doors opened and an imposing figure stepped through. It was the last lecture before the final exam and everyone wanted to be prepared for the review. The course was Psychology 296, Behavior Patterns of Military Espionage.

The man watched the last few minutes of the lecture, a course he passed at the S.H.I.E.L.D. academy years before it's introduction in state courses. The lecture ended and the students stood up to leave. As they marched out the back doors, several did a double-take at the man in the eyepatch they walked past.

The man stepped down the stairs leading to the professor's podium where she was packing up. "So this is what you left us for, huh?" the director asked. "A room full of brown-nosing twenty-somethings vying for a little extra credit."

Dr. Nadia Hammel smiled at Nick's jabs. "And the tenured position and $130,000 salary."

"Ah, that must be the reason," said Nick, leaning against the podium.

"It's good to see you," said Nadia embracing him and kissing his cheek. He smiled and chuckled a little bit. "So how have you been since the Battle of New York?"

"You know me," said Nick. "I hate change. Now all the sudden, S.H.I.E.L.D.'s on everyone and their grandma's radar. Everyone is out for my head, from terrorists roughing it in the deserts of Afghanistan to the greasy old men on Capitol Hill."

Nadia gave a faux-pitying look. "I'm sure you're worried. That's obviously why you're here with so much security."

"And how do you know-"

Nadia cleared her throat. "S.H.I.E.L.D. regulation states that a five-man security detail accompanies the director to all high-profile target areas such as state and federal government buildings, universities, and any building used by more than 12,000 individuals a week.

"My guess is since the Battle of New York, you've upped it to a six or seven man security detail. Two will be just outside the doors, one will be covering the back exit. Two more parked in a vehicle on Palm Drive and one trying desperately to look 19 years old standing awkwardly next to a bike outside the northeast exit."

Nick glared. "He's on a skateboard."

Nadia laughed out loud. "So I take it this isn't a social visit?"

"Sorry. I'm just not that sentimental," Nick admitted. "I want you back, Nadia."

"Sorry, Nick," said Nadia. Her bag packed and slung over her shoulder, she stepped out.

"Nadia, you were one of our best profilers," said Nick, following her. The agent posted at the door followed. "Not even Romanov can hold a torch to you."

"But she is a better marksman," said Nadia, barely looking over her shoulder. "Also better at following orders."

"After New York we're stretched too thin," said Nick, catching up with her. "Sure, we've got Romanov and Rumlow, but they're taking up all their time with Cap."

"Ooh, the beefcake," said Nadia. "Bet Rumlow's excited."

"Nadia, please," said Nick, grabbing her arm to a halt. "We lost Coulson."

Nadia had heard and had attended the memorial. Suddenly, looking at Nick's face, she was sure it wasn't true. His pupil had dilated but the pulse she felt from his hand on her arm stayed perfectly steady. Nadia recognized the signs of a spy getting excited for a lie.

So Coulson was alive. Interesting.

"I know, I heard," she admitted. Nadia was an excellent liar. Her eyes darted left up slightly. She knew Nick would be reading her expressions and she just gave him a perfect "recall" move with just a pinch of "discomfort."

"I'm getting tenure next semester," she said, her mind racing. She managed to hang on to Nick's promise of better pay and benefits while she thought long and hard about what this meant. It wasn't at all odd that Fury was keeping secrets from agents. The secret keeper wasn't the odd one out here. No, what was odd was that it was Coulson. He was well-liked by the staff at S.H.I.E.L.D. and it was common knowledge that he had a man-crush on every candidate for the Avengers Initiative. The answer suddenly came to her- Coulson was himself an Avenger. An ultimate weapon of S.H.I.E.L.D., one that was only assigned high-level missions. But for some reason, being kept a secret. But for what?

"Alright," she said. "I'll come back. Do I at least have until the end of the semester?"

"No, we need you now," said Fury. He reached into his back pocket and passed over her badge and gun. "Welcome back, Agent Hammel."

Part 2

Washington DC

VA Medical Center

Dr. Clint Jamos sat leaning forward in his chair. His client was a former Navy Seal with a bad case of depression accompanied with alcohol abuse.

"The alcohol makes me feel... something," the Seal said.

"I understand," said Clint. "After what you've been through, coming back and not being able to feel is different. You spend so much of your time over there working so hard to suppress any doubt or fear that you have, when you come home you're just used to it. But clearly the alcohol isn't helping. All it's done is landed you here in this office."

The Seal grumbled something inaudible.

"I don't want you here either," said Clint. "I want what you want. You, out of here, living a happy, normal life. But unless you can come up with a healthier alternative to drinking to give you some sense of feeling, we won't make any progress. So before you were over there, what did you do?"

The Seal shrugged. "I joined right out of high school. Think I should enroll in college?"

"No, I think you should be realistic," said Clint. "I know it sounds harsh, but what happens if you sign up for classes and your depression gets worse? Come on, think. What is something that you can do today, this afternoon, instead of drinking."

"I don't know... Read a book."

"Yeah, that's a good start," said Clint. "Did you use to read in high school?"

The Seal nodded. "The chem teacher always chewed me out for reading Da Vinci Code in class." The two men shared a laugh.

"You know," said Clint, "I hear Dan Brown's published some more books since you joined up."

The therapy session ended with Clint's patient promising to check out The Lost Symbol and Inferno. As he left, Clint's colleague, Sam, stuck his head in the door.

"Hey, man, there's some chick out here looking for you."

Seated comfortable among residency vets in their sock feet was an old friend.

"Look who it is, kids," said Clint walking up. "Your Aunt Maria."

"Hi Clint," said Maria Hill, beaming. "How's psychiatrist life treating you?"

"It really sucks," said Clint, gesturing at the man sitting next to Maria. "This guy is Staff Sergeant Mike Ramirez. He always complains about the stupidest crap. I mean I get I'm supposed to be his therapist but Jeez Louise!"

"I Love you, Dr. Jamos," said Staff Sergeant Mike affectionately.

"Love you too, man," said Clint. "Now go take your meds."

"Dammit," said the vet. He stood up and left.

"What's up?" asked Clint.

"Fury wants you back on Index Asset Evaluation and Intake," said

"Ooh," said Clint. "That was always fun. Remember when that kid in Mississippi tried to eat me?"

Maria rolled her eyes. "You're making that up."

"So that's a no."

"Look, you know I'd come back in a heartbeat if you could guarantee me a good partner."

"Fury texted me. Hammel's already on board."

"Oh, she's amazing!" said Clint.

Maria smiled.

"But, you know, these vets need me," said Clint.

Sam walked up behind him with his arms crossed. "Yeah, I bet they'll really miss the smell of tobacco."

"Actually, I would," said Staff Sergeant Mike, returning from the nurse's station.

"Thanks, Mike!" said Clint.

"Dude, don't lie," said Sam. "You've missed being out in the field since you got here."

"You complain about D.C.'s gun laws daily," said Mike.

"I did that before I got here," snapped Clint.

"If you're seriously gonna pass on this based on childish stubborness..." said Maria.

"No, I want out!" said Clint. He pointed at Mike. "Final therapy session: Stop getting angry," he said.

"Yes, sir," said Mike.

Clint shrugged. "Easy peasy. I'm gonna resign real quick. Gimme ten minutes and we're out of here."