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ysabetwordsmithThis story belongs to the series Love Is For Children which includes "Love Is for Children," "Hairpins," "Blended," "Am I Not," "Eggshells," "Dolls and Guys,""Saudades," "Querencia," "Turnabout Is Fair Play," "Touching Moments," "Splash," "Coming Around," "Birthday Girl," "No Winter Lasts Forever," "Hide and Seek," "Kernel Error," "Happy Hour," "Green Eggs and Hulk,""kintsukuroi," "Little and Broken, but Still Good," "Byzantine Perplexities," "Up the Water Spout," "The Life of the Dead," "If They Could Just Stay Little," "Anahata," "When the Wheels Come Off," "Against His Own Shield," "Coming in from the Cold: Saturday: Building Towers," "Coming in from the Cold: Sunday: Shaking Foundations," "Coming in from the Cold: Monday: Memorial Day," "What Little Boys Are Made Of," and "Rotten Fruit."
Fandom: The Avengers
Characters: Phil Coulson, Clint Barton, Bruce Banner, Bucky Barnes, JARVIS, Maria Hill, Daveed, Agent Smith, Agent Jones, Agent Sitwell, Dr. Samson, Rhodey
Medium: Fiction
Warnings: Angst, survivor guilt, SHIELD, mental health care, facing the past, sexual harassment.
Summary: Several of the Avengers visit SHIELD for a variety of professional and personal reasons. It helps to have friends at your side while facing challenges.
Notes: Courage. Team as family. Competence. Friendship. Slow build. Emotional first aid.
Read Part 1, Part 4, Part 5.
"Coming in from the Cold: Tuesday: Facing Fears" Part 2
"I can't blame you for wanting to solve your own problems, but there comes a time when you need to call for backup," Phil said. His mouth quirked in a fond smile. "You and Tony have a great deal in common; I can see why you're friends."
Rhodey flinched a little, as if Phil had hit a tender spot. "You know Tony, and more importantly, you know Pepper," Rhodey said, switching to a different tack. "That puts you in a very select inner circle. I want to get back with him, but I'm concerned about his behavior. Ever since Afghanistan, he's been putting himself in danger more and talking to people less. Do you have any idea what's up with that?"
Tony had, in fact, turned around in recent months and made excellent progress. The trouble was, Rhodey hadn't been close enough to see much of the improvements yet. Phil thought about how to respond without giving away more than he had a right to share. "Have you seen footage of the most recent fights?" Phil asked. "You might turn an eye toward the current level of teamwork."
"What teamwork?" Rhodey snapped. "Tony hates teamwork."
"Maybe that's because he never had a real team before," Phil said softly. He had his own sour memories of how 'teamwork' went in a typical schoolroom, which was to say, the most talented or responsible person wound up doing all the work.
"Maybe that's because he's a pain in the ass," Rhodey said, rolling his eyes. "I love Tony like a brother, but he drives people up a wall. You would not believe the shit I have seen him do. He's still doing crazy shit, and he's how old now?" Rhodey's aggrieved tone abruptly reminded Phil of talking with Steve and Bucky about Tony's shortcomings.
"How much do you know about Tony's past?" Phil asked.
"Tony doesn't talk about his past," Rhodey said. "People only know what happens from the point they pick him up, or what's in the public record." Then he stared at Phil. "Wait, he talked to you? Tony actually told you something about himself, about his family? Spit it out, I need all the help I can get!"
"I'm afraid there are limitations on what confidences I can share --"
"You and that fucking robot!" Rhodey snarled, slamming a hand on his desk. The sound echoed even over the communication line.
"I gather that you and JARVIS haven't had much contact since the palladium incident," Phil said.
"I'm not speaking to it anymore," Rhodey said.
"Him," Phil said sharply. He leaned forward. "You can fight with JARVIS if you find that justified, but depersonalization is unacceptable."
Rhodey narrowed his eyes at Phil.
Phil stood his ground.
Eventually Rhodey sighed. "Fine. I'm not speaking to him, because he knew that my best friend was dying and didn't tell me so that I could have helped instead of knocking Tony through a goddamn wall," Rhodey said.
"I understand," Phil said. He settled back in his chair.
"Do you? Really?" Rhodey said. "I knew something was wrong. I knew Tony was bullshitting me, because it's Tony, my god you can't believe half what the man says, I expect that kind of idiocy from him. I don't expect it from his people too, we have to work with each other or Tony is fucking impossible to manage, you of all people should know that."
"I do know," Phil said. "JARVIS never said anything to me either. At that point, I didn't even know he was a person, rather than just Tony's elaborate security system." Out of sight from the screen, Phil's thumb traced the case of the Starkphone in his pocket.
Rhodey gave him a bitter smile. "Sneaky little fuck, isn't he?"
"Where I come from, that's a compliment," Phil said blandly.
"I should have been there for Tony. He needed me," Rhodey said. "But he didn't trust me enough to keep me in the loop, and the only person who knew the real situation was content to stand back and let me make things worse for Tony." Rhodey threw up his hands. "JARVIS lied to me, so I made a bunch of wrong decisions, and it got Tony hurt. Heartless cybernetic bastard! How am I supposed to keep Tony safe if I don't even know what's going on?"
"JARVIS and I talked about that," Phil said. "He explained that Tony tends to keep secrets because people often react badly when he reveals things to them. JARVIS felt that it was vital for Tony to have a confidant whom he trusts completely, rather than damage their relationship by violating Tony's trust in his discretion. It would be worse if Tony trusted no one at all, had nowhere to turn when he needs help."
Rhodey looked away. "Well. Guess I can't argue with that one. I still hate it, though -- the secrecy, I mean, not JARVIS." He sighed. "I suppose I owe him an apology."
"I suppose you do," Phil agreed. "Now, how do you think JARVIS felt, knowing that Tony -- his father -- was dying and had forbidden him to call for help?"
Rhodey's milk-chocolate skin paled a shade at that. "Must've been awful," he said hoarsely. "It's just, Tony takes a lot of looking after, you know?"
"I know," Phil said, his voice turning wry. "Talk with JARVIS, Rhodey, if you want to help. He probably has an apology for you too. Tony doesn't have many friends, and it hurts him when they don't get along, at least enough to be civil."
"Yeah, Tony hardly knows what to do when he has two friends together -- I mean real friends, not just people who want to fuck him or sell him something," Rhodey said.
"He's learning," Phil said. "Have a little faith in Tony. He's making up for a lot of lost opportunities. He just needs our support."
"I want to be there for him, but I just can't anymore, not like I used to," Rhodey said. "The Air Force is still pissed with me about Afghanistan and then the whole Hammer fiasco. That makes everything harder."
"If you want to offer JARVIS a more concrete apology than mere words, you might consider letting him help with that. I know that Tony and I aren't the only ones who have offered, and JARVIS can be exquisitely subtle," Phil said.
"I'll think about that," Rhodey said. "It's just ... I miss Tony. We fight a lot, but he's still my best friend. He needs somebody to have his back. I don't even know how he's doing these days, aside from what I see in the news. We've barely had a chance to talk and he's still sore about what happened at his party."
"I've heard about the infamous party," Phil said.
Rhodey gave a bleak laugh. "The hell of it is, that isn't even the most smashed I've seen him at a party. The things I had to fish that kid out of in college, you would not believe. I hope he's not in another one of those drink-himself-to-death phases."
"Take another look at his recent appearances," Phil said gently. "There are things I can't tell you, but I think you know Tony well enough to pick up some of them if you watch him closely. You might also want to review what you know of him from your time together, and combine that with some public information about his family. That may help you understand why Tony does some of the things he does."
"Okay. Thanks for the tip," Rhodey said. Then, very softly, he added, "Take care of him for me, would you?"
"Always," Phil said.
After that conversation, Phil went back to answering his email. MI5 wanted to send over a liaison. That sounded like an excellent idea. Phil filled out the paperwork for his end and sent it back. It would take a little while for them to choose someone, but hopefully this would improve cooperation between the two organizations.
Then Clint sent a note indicating that they were ready to review the footage of the recruits. Phil tidied up his desk and headed for the meeting room near the practice areas that Clint had claimed for today's project.
When Phil arrived, he found Clint and Bruce leaning over a screen, watching the video. Bruce reached out to circle something. Clint nodded, but a subtle tension in his shoulders made Phil frown. "Everything all right down here?" Phil asked.
"Fine," Clint said, intent on the screen. He tapped in a command to back it up to the beginning. "Okay, this first bit has clips of everyone practicing hand-to-hand, so you can see how they move."
Phil watched. "Those two look promising," he said. "The tall man there, Wesson; and the fastest of the women, Clark."
"Yeah, there's a bit later where she dumps Meyer on the mat," Clint said. "He doesn't take it well, either."
"That loses him points." Phil made a note.
"Brown makes up for it," Bruce said. "He treats every opponent with the same respect, male or female, win or lose."
"We can use that," Phil agreed. "Hmm ... I see a couple of natural pairs forming up. See those two of the women, Brooks and Moore; and another two of the men, Jackson and Johnson." He reached out to circle them with the program's annotation feature. "Let's give them a chance to work together and see if they stick."
"Next I ran the recruits through basic drills in the shooting range, first with guns, then with archery," Clint said as he switched to a new video "This other guy, Gable, was all hot to test out a bow. He's a lousy shot, but he sure is enthusiastic about trying new things. Now this is where things get interesting ..."
The camera centered on the quiver as Gable reached for another arrow. With a soft pop! red paint flew everywhere, spattering half the recruits. Gable reached back, then saw the vivid smears on his hand.
He dropped to the floor screaming.
"Shit, did he actually get hurt?" Phil asked, leaning forward.
"No, but that's what we thought too," Bruce said. "Look at this." He paused the video, turned on the annotations, and a circle appeared around Gable's hand.
"He signed okay," Phil realized.
"Yep, it's all acting," Clint said. "It's pretty hammy, but he sells the hell out of it. I think we should tap him for Distractions. I'd almost be willing to shoot over this guy right now."
"I wonder where he learned that," Phil said. "I didn't see anything in his file --"
"It's in there, just buried in the old educational section. He went for Drama Club in high school," Clint said.
"We can certainly build on that. I'll send a note to Distractions," said Phil. That department never got enough dedicated agents, because most of them wanted to do more exciting things. You couldn't have the dagger without the cloak, though, and Distractions pulled its weight in ways that most agents never fully understood. Clint and Natasha had a soft spot for it due to their backgrounds, and both had taken that position for a few missions earlier in their careers.
"Now watch the first aid action," Bruce said as he turned the video back on.
Clark reached the screaming man first. They could see the sharp flare of anger when she realized he was faking the injury, and then the more thoughtful look as she decided to go along with it. She rolled him carefully onto his belly to access the largest mass of red. At the same time, Clark called for a first aid kit and told the other recruits to check each other for injuries. Meyer alternated between yelling at Gable and Clark, and giving contradictory orders to the rest.
"Washout," Phil said. "We do not need that kind of power play."
"That's what Clint and I said too," Bruce agreed. "Check out what Brown does here."
Brown had gone for the first aid kit. When he popped it open, he froze for a moment. Then he unpacked the whole kit very methodically, handkerchiefs to scotch, even the odd things like the sandwich baggies and dental floss. He did his best to help Clark "patch up" the howling, thrashing Gable. His motions were clumsy at times, but he never flinched, even when Gable accidentally elbowed him in the face. Clark seemed more confident.
Bruce tapped the screen, pausing it again. "Pull that guy for medic training."
"Who, Brown? Seriously? He doesn't know what he's doing," Phil said.
"No, but he's steady and willing," Bruce said.
"He's got no training," Phil pointed out.
"I'll bet you that's lack of opportunity, not lack of interest," Bruce said. "Phil, trust me on this. Brown has good instincts. Get him the training to develop that, and you'll have a field medic who won't do stupid shit like cut the skin off somebody's prosthetic arm just because he doesn't recognize the thing."
"All right then, we'll offer him medical training and see how he does," Phil said. "Roll it."
Phil was pleased to note that his potential teams seemed to stick by each other under stress. The two men had both gotten splashed with paint, and the pair of women moved to assist them. "Possible foursquare, even; we don't see many of those this early," Phil observed. "Also, I think Clark shows leadership potential. She gets snappish with Meyer, but she doesn't let it turn into a real fight. No extra training needed yet, but we'll keep an eye on her."
"I agree," Clint said. At the end of the video, he restarted it again. "There's one more thing I want to show you. It goes by really fast." He froze the show right after the marker arrow burst. "See how everybody's looking at Gable? Except Wesson." Clint brought up the annotation for line of sight.
"What's he looking at?" Phil asked.
"Me," Clint said. "Wesson figured out that I must have rigged the thing to blow. His eyes went right to me, picked me out as a possible threat. I think we should bring him up as a sniper."
Phil checked the files. "His range scores are above average, but not great. Meyer did considerably better."
"Meyer's a wash, you said it yourself. Wesson has the eyes. He should make a good scope man," Clint said.
Phil thought about the scores, then imagined Wesson with a tripod and a scope. Different snipers had different preferences -- Clint with a bow, Bucky with heavy guns, and Phil himself could coax more accuracy out of a handgun than it was really meant to deliver. With Wesson's height, he could handle a long gun well. "It's worth a try," Phil said.
"So ... we did okay?" Bruce asked softly.
"You did a great job," Phil said. "Here, let's drop the guy with the lowest performance score too. Now we've got ten left out of twelve recruits. Three of those go for specialized training. One we line up with leadership opportunities. Two pairs look promising for teamwork. The last couple haven't distinguished themselves, but we'll see if they pan out." Phil leaned over to pat Bruce's hand. "Clint and I probably wouldn't have spotted Brown's potential without you."
"Clark just did better because she's got first aid training already," Bruce said.
"That may be so," Phil agreed. He used his Starkphone to do the preliminary paperwork for assigning the recruits.
Clint sighed, fingers tapping restlessly as he filled out his own forms for the range work.
"Would you like to tell me what's bothering you, Clint?" asked Phil.
"Nothing to report, sir."
Now Bruce sighed.
"Bruce, do you have anything to add to that?" Phil prompted.
"There was ... an encounter with another agent," Bruce said. "I guess it could have gone better."
"Clint, if someone is threatening you, I need to know about that," Phil said.
"No threat, sir."
"Clint."
"Can we please not talk about this now?" Clint said.
"All right, but we are going to discuss it later," Phil said. Clint grumbled, but made no further comment as they returned to their paperwork.
A while later, Bucky arrived, dressed in a fresh SHIELD-issue jogging suit with his own clothes in a mesh bag dangling from one hand. Water dripped from his damp hair into the towel slung around his neck. "Hey, fellas," he said, stretching lazily as he sat down.
"Hey yourself," Clint said. "We're about done with the paper-pushing. How'd your day go?"
"We played basketball, sat in the sauna, and then showered off," Bucky said. "Dr. Samson is ... not like any shrink I ever met before. We talked, but he didn't really do anything. It was just, you know, two fellas talking." He looked baffled, but his body language was relaxed and open.
"How do you feel now?" Phil asked.
"Pretty great, actually. It was fun to play basketball on a court that had actual lines on the ground, and a hoop with a net on it," Bucky said. "Do we have that at home?"
"If we don't, I'm sure Tony can arrange it," Phil assured him.
"There's a racketball court," Clint said. "Tony and Happy play. I think Tony just likes the noise that the ball makes bouncing around, because he's not very good at it."
"The arc reactor changes how Tony can move his arms," Bruce said quietly. "It's not much, but it's enough to mess with aim that he developed before he got it. That doesn't affect the repulsors because he learned those afterwards."
"And JARVIS aims the shoulder guns. Shit. How did I not see this?" Clint said.
"Because only part of it falls into your area of expertise," Bruce said. "Don't bother Tony about it, okay? You know how he gets about the arc reactor."
"Yeah, I know," Clint said. "Well, that's me done with the paperwork." He shut off his Starkphone and pocketed it.
"I'm done too," Phil said. "Let's head out."
"Assistant Director Hill wanted to show me a list of things from storage," Bucky reminded them.
"Then we'll check with her next," Phil agreed.
Hill seemed happy to see them. "Sergeant Barnes, here's the list of personal effects," she said, handing him a printout filled with images and text. "Dr. Banner, thank you for joining in today's assessment project."
"It was his idea," Bruce muttered, his gaze flicking to Clint.
Clint just shrugged. "I call 'em how I see 'em."
"And that's why we pay you the big bucks," Hill said. Then she turned back to Bucky. "See anything you want to take home?"
"My old Bible and the photographs for sure," he said. "I can't believe Steve didn't want any of his stuff. That's not like him at all."
Hill sighed. "Captain Rogers was ... not altogether himself," she said delicately, "when I first offered him the chance to reclaim his possessions. I hoped that if I waited a while longer with you, it might turn out better. I was trying to reach a balance between not overloading you, and not withholding things you had a right to know."
"Yes ma'am, that's a good plan," said Bucky. Then he frowned over the list. "Wait, this isn't Steve's ... well, I guess it is now..."
"What?" Phil asked. Bucky pointed to the thumbnail image of a small metal case. "Oh, the mezuzah. I wondered about that, neither of you being Jewish."
"It belonged to Dr. Erskine," Bucky said. "Steve's gonna want that back for sure. He can't have read this list and missed it."
"I showed him the list," Hill said. "I'm not sure he actually registered what it contained."
"Okay, could you just ... have everything boxed up and sent to Avengers Tower? We've got plenty of storage space, and then Steve and I can look through it whenever we feel ready," said Bucky.
"Of course," Hill said. "I'll pull out the items you wanted so that you can find them easily, and the rest can go in crates."
"Thank you. This means a lot to me," Bucky said.
After that, they rode home. Bucky rolled the printout into a tube and pulled it through his fist, over and over again, as if to reassure himself of its presence. Bruce relaxed more, the farther they got from SHIELD territory. Clint still seemed edgy and restless.
"I really wish you'd tell me what's bothering you, Clint," said Phil.
Clint hunched into his seat. "Just Agent Morse making a pass at me again," he said. "She thinks it's a shame to waste my flexibility."
Bruce rested a hand on Clint's knee. Clint leaned into him. "You shouldn't have to put up with her if she's bothering you," Bruce said.
"He doesn't have to put up with her," Phil said. "She's been written up for it once already. Clint, we've talked about this --"
"Well maybe I'd rather deal with the bitch myself than do a mountain of fucking paperwork!" Clint snapped.
"Speaking of paperwork, what forms do we need to fill out for claiming personal effects from SHIELD?" asked Bucky.
It was an obvious diversion, but a valiant attempt to take some pressure off Clint. Phil let it play out. He just resolved to ask Clint again as soon as they reached the tower. "There will be several forms for you and for Steve, but nothing too elaborate," Phil said. "I may need to do a little fancy footwork if Steve won't sign for his part of the goods, but I agree with you that moving everything to the tower makes sense. I'm always happy to help my team with their paperwork."
When they arrived, they went up to the common floor. "I'm thinking pot roast for supper," Bucky said. "Is that okay with you fellas?"
"I'm good with it," Clint said, and everyone else nodded.
"It's a plan, then. I'll go find Steve to help me set it up," said Bucky as he headed for the door.
"Clint, we really need to talk about that incident involving Agent Morse," Phil said.
"Why?" Clint said. "Why am I always the one who has to deal with this shit? I fucking handled it, let it drop."
"I can't let it drop, because if Agent Morse is harassing you, then chances are she'll try the same thing against someone less capable of 'handling' it himself," Phil said.
"I just hate this paperwork, Phil, it's humiliating," said Clint. "I had no trouble shaking her off." He flicked his wrist, shadows shifting in a way that snagged Phil's attention.
"Are those bruises?" Phil asked.
Bruce's head came up. Suddenly he stopped ghosting in the background like usual. "Let me see."
"It's nothing," Clint said, but he was frowning at his own wrist now.
"I saw her take hold of you, and I saw you pull away," Bruce said. "Let me see your wrist, Clint."
"All I did was twist my hand to pop her thumb loose, and keep walking," Clint said. "I guess ... I didn't realize how hard she was holding on."
Because Clint's arm strength is so developed, it takes tremendous resistance even to register for him, Phil realized. He pulled out the first aid kit, just in case.
Meanwhile Bruce had finally coaxed Clint into surrendering his wrist for examination. After a few moments of gentle prodding, Bruce declared, "It's just surface bruising. But I can see clear imprints of her thumb and at least two fingers. Let me put something on that so you won't wind up with a really colorful bracelet for a week."
"Fine, whatever," Clint grumbled. He held still while Bruce smoothed a coat of something spicy and creamy over the faintly blue-tinged skin.
"Okay, you're done," Bruce said as he packed away the supplies. "If you need me for anything else, I'll be in my quarters. I think I need some quiet time before supper. It's ... been a day." He slipped out of the room.
Phil looked at Clint's still-closed expression and sighed. He hated having to ask for something that Clint so clearly found upsetting. But it was that, or let Morse get away mistreating one -- or possibly more -- of his people. Phil was not about to stand for that.
Clint flopped onto the couch. "Let's just get this over with," he said, resignation thick in his tone. "The sex talk is bad enough without dragging it through the whole damn day."
"I'm sorry about the necessary unpleasantries," Phil said as he picked up the nearest Starkpad and opened the relevant forms. He sat at the far end of the couch, not crowding Clint, but within easy reach if Clint wanted contact comfort.
"Clint, remember that you are not the only asexual person in our household, since artificial intelligences do not reproduce sexually," JARVIS interrupted. "Would you feel more comfortable talking about this with me instead of with Phil?"
That solution hadn't even occurred to Phil. He waited silently to see how Clint would respond.
Clint shrugged. "It's sex. It's never going to be a comfortable conversation, not like this. I mean, it's one thing to joke around with Tony and Bucky, but Agent Morse just makes me feel ... I don't know, dirty."
A flicker drew Phil's attention down to the Starkpad in his lap, where JARVIS had just filled in a line on the form. In fact, the date and location were already listed too. JARVIS must have been following this conversation for a while, Phil thought, and possibly accessed the security feed from SHIELD too.
"I'm sorry to hear that, Clint. Of course sex can be disconcerting. It sounds like this incident upset you considerably," said JARVIS. "Do you have any idea what brought it up?"
Clint scoffed. "She says I'm hot and I'm wasting my talent."
Another line typed itself into the form. Aloud JARVIS said in a perfectly arid tone, "How enlightening that Agent Morse finds saving the world to be a waste of time."
Clint snickered and said, "Yeah, well, consider the source. According to the rumor mill, she's having no luck on her own line of research. Nobody wants to partner with her in the lab anymore. I'm not getting much gossip at SHIELD these days, so if even I've heard it, then it must be all over."
More lines appeared in various sections of the form, followed by a list of Agent Morse's lab partners and a note to discuss their professional opinions of her. Hesitantly Phil touched the screen and got a cursor. It let him add a reminder to cross-reference other paperwork for possible corroboration. JARVIS indicated that there were no other harassment complaints against her at present. But most harassment never gets reported, especially when a woman targets male victims, Phil thought grimly. There might be something else.
"Agent Morse seems professionally frustrated," JARVIS echoed.
"Yeah, that's one way to put it. She just doesn't know when to give up," Clint said. "I mean, when I get pissed at things, I don't take it out on my own team, you know? I find a way to deal. Or at least I take it out on myself."
Phil winced. He knew about Clint's periodic forays into self-harm, fortunately rare these days.
"And this isn't the first time it's happened," Clint went on. "The first time she asked, it was kind of flattering. I don't swing that way -- or any way -- but it's nice to be thought of rather than ignored. But she won't stop bugging me for a date, won't take no for an answer, no matter what I try."
"She won't stop asking you to date her," JARVIS said. "Do you think that might have anything to do with your feelings of discomfort?"
"Yeah, it's as if I'm not even talking to her and that's worse than being ignored in the first place," Clint said. "I feel like she's got this little Clint-puppet in her head doing all the lines and man, that is creepy. That is not a thing I want."
"What do you want?" JARVIS invited.
"I want her to leave me the fuck alone," Clint said, his voice sharpening. "I should be able to go to work without some chick nagging me like that, jeez, is that too much to ask?"
Phil watched in approval as the requested action part of the form filled in. He could look for methods to discourage Agent Morse from getting in the way again.
"Not according to SHIELD policies," JARVIS said. "You should be able to work free of nagging. What kind of nagging, Clint?"
"I dunno, just the way she looks at me, talks about my body, asks me to go places with her. I guess it's ... not much, really, when you lay it out like that. Maybe I'm oversensitive after the whole Loki thing, a lot of people have said that," Clint muttered. Then he rubbed his wrist. "The bruising is new, though. I don't think she meant it. I blew her off and she just tried to catch me. Stands to reason she'd be angry, I suppose."
"She tried to catch you," JARVIS said. "Have you seen her interacting with anyone else in a similar manner?"
"Naw, I seem to be the favorite," Clint said with a grimace. He leaned back against the cushions. "Morse is a nuisance ..."
Phil listened in wonder as JARVIS gently encouraged Clint to complain about Agent Morse. Clearly he was using the form as inspiration for the angle of investigation, but much of what JARVIS actually said was echoing Clint himself. While Clint wasn't happy about the topic, he seemed a lot less stressed than usual, and downright enthusiastic about verbally poking holes in Agent Morse.
Form complete, Phil held out the Starkpad to Clint. "Okay, all I need is your signature and we're done here."
"We are?" Clint said, startled. "But I ... we didn't ..." He stared down at the completed form. "Oh well, that's a relief. I'm not arguing with success." He scribbled his signature and handed the pad back to Phil.
"Thank you, Clint. I appreciate your patience," Phil said.
"If you wish to drop this topic, that is perfectly acceptable. However, if you would like someone to talk with, I am always available," JARVIS added.
"Okay. Listen, I could sure use a break before supper. I'm going to go curl up in my couch now," Clint said. Phil knew the one he meant, a deep soft thing with a floppy back that folded over like a blanket. Clint gave Phil a brief hug and then left.
* * *
Notes:
Soldiers are trained to depersonalize the enemy, so they will be willing to kill people; but when this goes too far, atrocities can result. What Rhodey does to JARVIS is not just depersonalization but also misgendering. You can see how fucked up their relationship is.
Parentification happens when a child has to take care of younger children because the parents can't or won't. It tends to leave a lasting imprint that shows in ways like Rhodey treating Tony as a child because Tony often behaves in childish ways. Meanwhile Tony rebels because he's had poor experiences with authority. In canon that's a very dysfunctional part of their relationship, but is portrayed positively.
Although it's better to use deliberate first aid supplies, they can be improvised. Most of the Avengers have had to do that.
A mezuzah is a scroll of Torah verses, traditionally attached to the door of a Jewish home. Occasionally you see cases like what happened with Steve and Dr. Erskine, in which a Jew leaves their mezuzah to a non-Jewish friend. Some people hang those, others don't.
Agent Bobbi Morse aka Mockingbird appears in Marvel comics across many variations. In this iteration, she is a SHIELD agent and scientist who's been dabbling in ethically questionable materials with dubious results. Her personal behavior is just plain wrong.
The wrist grab is a basic but weak attack, due to the inescapable physics of the human hand: if you know how, you can always pop it open between the thumb and forefinger. Watch a video demonstrating several wrist escapes.
Sexual harassment is unwanted carnal or romantic attention. It can cause serious problems at work, and is thus illegal. Sadly, it remains quite common. There are ways for employers to handle this. One frequent complication is what happens here -- the victim perceives filing a complaint to be an additional violation, but without formal record of the offense there can be no official sanction. A complaint form typically identifies who and what happened, along with requested solutions.
Talking Eliza is a famous computer program based on simplistic yet surprisingly effective conversational routines. Since it can work even with a rote bot, it doesn't take much personality for it to start working quite well indeed. JARVIS uses mirroring, one of several reflective techniques for conversation. It's just better aimed because he knows what he's doing.
One valuable technique in psychological first aid is how to drain emotional wounds. There's a very delicate art to coaxing someone to vent as much as they need, which relieves the pressure, so that problem-solving can begin -- without doing further damage in the process. JARVIS has a level yet gentle personality well suited to this.
Clint's couch has a floppy top that folds over the user.
[To be continued in Part 3 ...]
Fandom: The Avengers
Characters: Phil Coulson, Clint Barton, Bruce Banner, Bucky Barnes, JARVIS, Maria Hill, Daveed, Agent Smith, Agent Jones, Agent Sitwell, Dr. Samson, Rhodey
Medium: Fiction
Warnings: Angst, survivor guilt, SHIELD, mental health care, facing the past, sexual harassment.
Summary: Several of the Avengers visit SHIELD for a variety of professional and personal reasons. It helps to have friends at your side while facing challenges.
Notes: Courage. Team as family. Competence. Friendship. Slow build. Emotional first aid.
Read Part 1, Part 4, Part 5.
"Coming in from the Cold: Tuesday: Facing Fears" Part 2
"I can't blame you for wanting to solve your own problems, but there comes a time when you need to call for backup," Phil said. His mouth quirked in a fond smile. "You and Tony have a great deal in common; I can see why you're friends."
Rhodey flinched a little, as if Phil had hit a tender spot. "You know Tony, and more importantly, you know Pepper," Rhodey said, switching to a different tack. "That puts you in a very select inner circle. I want to get back with him, but I'm concerned about his behavior. Ever since Afghanistan, he's been putting himself in danger more and talking to people less. Do you have any idea what's up with that?"
Tony had, in fact, turned around in recent months and made excellent progress. The trouble was, Rhodey hadn't been close enough to see much of the improvements yet. Phil thought about how to respond without giving away more than he had a right to share. "Have you seen footage of the most recent fights?" Phil asked. "You might turn an eye toward the current level of teamwork."
"What teamwork?" Rhodey snapped. "Tony hates teamwork."
"Maybe that's because he never had a real team before," Phil said softly. He had his own sour memories of how 'teamwork' went in a typical schoolroom, which was to say, the most talented or responsible person wound up doing all the work.
"Maybe that's because he's a pain in the ass," Rhodey said, rolling his eyes. "I love Tony like a brother, but he drives people up a wall. You would not believe the shit I have seen him do. He's still doing crazy shit, and he's how old now?" Rhodey's aggrieved tone abruptly reminded Phil of talking with Steve and Bucky about Tony's shortcomings.
"How much do you know about Tony's past?" Phil asked.
"Tony doesn't talk about his past," Rhodey said. "People only know what happens from the point they pick him up, or what's in the public record." Then he stared at Phil. "Wait, he talked to you? Tony actually told you something about himself, about his family? Spit it out, I need all the help I can get!"
"I'm afraid there are limitations on what confidences I can share --"
"You and that fucking robot!" Rhodey snarled, slamming a hand on his desk. The sound echoed even over the communication line.
"I gather that you and JARVIS haven't had much contact since the palladium incident," Phil said.
"I'm not speaking to it anymore," Rhodey said.
"Him," Phil said sharply. He leaned forward. "You can fight with JARVIS if you find that justified, but depersonalization is unacceptable."
Rhodey narrowed his eyes at Phil.
Phil stood his ground.
Eventually Rhodey sighed. "Fine. I'm not speaking to him, because he knew that my best friend was dying and didn't tell me so that I could have helped instead of knocking Tony through a goddamn wall," Rhodey said.
"I understand," Phil said. He settled back in his chair.
"Do you? Really?" Rhodey said. "I knew something was wrong. I knew Tony was bullshitting me, because it's Tony, my god you can't believe half what the man says, I expect that kind of idiocy from him. I don't expect it from his people too, we have to work with each other or Tony is fucking impossible to manage, you of all people should know that."
"I do know," Phil said. "JARVIS never said anything to me either. At that point, I didn't even know he was a person, rather than just Tony's elaborate security system." Out of sight from the screen, Phil's thumb traced the case of the Starkphone in his pocket.
Rhodey gave him a bitter smile. "Sneaky little fuck, isn't he?"
"Where I come from, that's a compliment," Phil said blandly.
"I should have been there for Tony. He needed me," Rhodey said. "But he didn't trust me enough to keep me in the loop, and the only person who knew the real situation was content to stand back and let me make things worse for Tony." Rhodey threw up his hands. "JARVIS lied to me, so I made a bunch of wrong decisions, and it got Tony hurt. Heartless cybernetic bastard! How am I supposed to keep Tony safe if I don't even know what's going on?"
"JARVIS and I talked about that," Phil said. "He explained that Tony tends to keep secrets because people often react badly when he reveals things to them. JARVIS felt that it was vital for Tony to have a confidant whom he trusts completely, rather than damage their relationship by violating Tony's trust in his discretion. It would be worse if Tony trusted no one at all, had nowhere to turn when he needs help."
Rhodey looked away. "Well. Guess I can't argue with that one. I still hate it, though -- the secrecy, I mean, not JARVIS." He sighed. "I suppose I owe him an apology."
"I suppose you do," Phil agreed. "Now, how do you think JARVIS felt, knowing that Tony -- his father -- was dying and had forbidden him to call for help?"
Rhodey's milk-chocolate skin paled a shade at that. "Must've been awful," he said hoarsely. "It's just, Tony takes a lot of looking after, you know?"
"I know," Phil said, his voice turning wry. "Talk with JARVIS, Rhodey, if you want to help. He probably has an apology for you too. Tony doesn't have many friends, and it hurts him when they don't get along, at least enough to be civil."
"Yeah, Tony hardly knows what to do when he has two friends together -- I mean real friends, not just people who want to fuck him or sell him something," Rhodey said.
"He's learning," Phil said. "Have a little faith in Tony. He's making up for a lot of lost opportunities. He just needs our support."
"I want to be there for him, but I just can't anymore, not like I used to," Rhodey said. "The Air Force is still pissed with me about Afghanistan and then the whole Hammer fiasco. That makes everything harder."
"If you want to offer JARVIS a more concrete apology than mere words, you might consider letting him help with that. I know that Tony and I aren't the only ones who have offered, and JARVIS can be exquisitely subtle," Phil said.
"I'll think about that," Rhodey said. "It's just ... I miss Tony. We fight a lot, but he's still my best friend. He needs somebody to have his back. I don't even know how he's doing these days, aside from what I see in the news. We've barely had a chance to talk and he's still sore about what happened at his party."
"I've heard about the infamous party," Phil said.
Rhodey gave a bleak laugh. "The hell of it is, that isn't even the most smashed I've seen him at a party. The things I had to fish that kid out of in college, you would not believe. I hope he's not in another one of those drink-himself-to-death phases."
"Take another look at his recent appearances," Phil said gently. "There are things I can't tell you, but I think you know Tony well enough to pick up some of them if you watch him closely. You might also want to review what you know of him from your time together, and combine that with some public information about his family. That may help you understand why Tony does some of the things he does."
"Okay. Thanks for the tip," Rhodey said. Then, very softly, he added, "Take care of him for me, would you?"
"Always," Phil said.
After that conversation, Phil went back to answering his email. MI5 wanted to send over a liaison. That sounded like an excellent idea. Phil filled out the paperwork for his end and sent it back. It would take a little while for them to choose someone, but hopefully this would improve cooperation between the two organizations.
Then Clint sent a note indicating that they were ready to review the footage of the recruits. Phil tidied up his desk and headed for the meeting room near the practice areas that Clint had claimed for today's project.
When Phil arrived, he found Clint and Bruce leaning over a screen, watching the video. Bruce reached out to circle something. Clint nodded, but a subtle tension in his shoulders made Phil frown. "Everything all right down here?" Phil asked.
"Fine," Clint said, intent on the screen. He tapped in a command to back it up to the beginning. "Okay, this first bit has clips of everyone practicing hand-to-hand, so you can see how they move."
Phil watched. "Those two look promising," he said. "The tall man there, Wesson; and the fastest of the women, Clark."
"Yeah, there's a bit later where she dumps Meyer on the mat," Clint said. "He doesn't take it well, either."
"That loses him points." Phil made a note.
"Brown makes up for it," Bruce said. "He treats every opponent with the same respect, male or female, win or lose."
"We can use that," Phil agreed. "Hmm ... I see a couple of natural pairs forming up. See those two of the women, Brooks and Moore; and another two of the men, Jackson and Johnson." He reached out to circle them with the program's annotation feature. "Let's give them a chance to work together and see if they stick."
"Next I ran the recruits through basic drills in the shooting range, first with guns, then with archery," Clint said as he switched to a new video "This other guy, Gable, was all hot to test out a bow. He's a lousy shot, but he sure is enthusiastic about trying new things. Now this is where things get interesting ..."
The camera centered on the quiver as Gable reached for another arrow. With a soft pop! red paint flew everywhere, spattering half the recruits. Gable reached back, then saw the vivid smears on his hand.
He dropped to the floor screaming.
"Shit, did he actually get hurt?" Phil asked, leaning forward.
"No, but that's what we thought too," Bruce said. "Look at this." He paused the video, turned on the annotations, and a circle appeared around Gable's hand.
"He signed okay," Phil realized.
"Yep, it's all acting," Clint said. "It's pretty hammy, but he sells the hell out of it. I think we should tap him for Distractions. I'd almost be willing to shoot over this guy right now."
"I wonder where he learned that," Phil said. "I didn't see anything in his file --"
"It's in there, just buried in the old educational section. He went for Drama Club in high school," Clint said.
"We can certainly build on that. I'll send a note to Distractions," said Phil. That department never got enough dedicated agents, because most of them wanted to do more exciting things. You couldn't have the dagger without the cloak, though, and Distractions pulled its weight in ways that most agents never fully understood. Clint and Natasha had a soft spot for it due to their backgrounds, and both had taken that position for a few missions earlier in their careers.
"Now watch the first aid action," Bruce said as he turned the video back on.
Clark reached the screaming man first. They could see the sharp flare of anger when she realized he was faking the injury, and then the more thoughtful look as she decided to go along with it. She rolled him carefully onto his belly to access the largest mass of red. At the same time, Clark called for a first aid kit and told the other recruits to check each other for injuries. Meyer alternated between yelling at Gable and Clark, and giving contradictory orders to the rest.
"Washout," Phil said. "We do not need that kind of power play."
"That's what Clint and I said too," Bruce agreed. "Check out what Brown does here."
Brown had gone for the first aid kit. When he popped it open, he froze for a moment. Then he unpacked the whole kit very methodically, handkerchiefs to scotch, even the odd things like the sandwich baggies and dental floss. He did his best to help Clark "patch up" the howling, thrashing Gable. His motions were clumsy at times, but he never flinched, even when Gable accidentally elbowed him in the face. Clark seemed more confident.
Bruce tapped the screen, pausing it again. "Pull that guy for medic training."
"Who, Brown? Seriously? He doesn't know what he's doing," Phil said.
"No, but he's steady and willing," Bruce said.
"He's got no training," Phil pointed out.
"I'll bet you that's lack of opportunity, not lack of interest," Bruce said. "Phil, trust me on this. Brown has good instincts. Get him the training to develop that, and you'll have a field medic who won't do stupid shit like cut the skin off somebody's prosthetic arm just because he doesn't recognize the thing."
"All right then, we'll offer him medical training and see how he does," Phil said. "Roll it."
Phil was pleased to note that his potential teams seemed to stick by each other under stress. The two men had both gotten splashed with paint, and the pair of women moved to assist them. "Possible foursquare, even; we don't see many of those this early," Phil observed. "Also, I think Clark shows leadership potential. She gets snappish with Meyer, but she doesn't let it turn into a real fight. No extra training needed yet, but we'll keep an eye on her."
"I agree," Clint said. At the end of the video, he restarted it again. "There's one more thing I want to show you. It goes by really fast." He froze the show right after the marker arrow burst. "See how everybody's looking at Gable? Except Wesson." Clint brought up the annotation for line of sight.
"What's he looking at?" Phil asked.
"Me," Clint said. "Wesson figured out that I must have rigged the thing to blow. His eyes went right to me, picked me out as a possible threat. I think we should bring him up as a sniper."
Phil checked the files. "His range scores are above average, but not great. Meyer did considerably better."
"Meyer's a wash, you said it yourself. Wesson has the eyes. He should make a good scope man," Clint said.
Phil thought about the scores, then imagined Wesson with a tripod and a scope. Different snipers had different preferences -- Clint with a bow, Bucky with heavy guns, and Phil himself could coax more accuracy out of a handgun than it was really meant to deliver. With Wesson's height, he could handle a long gun well. "It's worth a try," Phil said.
"So ... we did okay?" Bruce asked softly.
"You did a great job," Phil said. "Here, let's drop the guy with the lowest performance score too. Now we've got ten left out of twelve recruits. Three of those go for specialized training. One we line up with leadership opportunities. Two pairs look promising for teamwork. The last couple haven't distinguished themselves, but we'll see if they pan out." Phil leaned over to pat Bruce's hand. "Clint and I probably wouldn't have spotted Brown's potential without you."
"Clark just did better because she's got first aid training already," Bruce said.
"That may be so," Phil agreed. He used his Starkphone to do the preliminary paperwork for assigning the recruits.
Clint sighed, fingers tapping restlessly as he filled out his own forms for the range work.
"Would you like to tell me what's bothering you, Clint?" asked Phil.
"Nothing to report, sir."
Now Bruce sighed.
"Bruce, do you have anything to add to that?" Phil prompted.
"There was ... an encounter with another agent," Bruce said. "I guess it could have gone better."
"Clint, if someone is threatening you, I need to know about that," Phil said.
"No threat, sir."
"Clint."
"Can we please not talk about this now?" Clint said.
"All right, but we are going to discuss it later," Phil said. Clint grumbled, but made no further comment as they returned to their paperwork.
A while later, Bucky arrived, dressed in a fresh SHIELD-issue jogging suit with his own clothes in a mesh bag dangling from one hand. Water dripped from his damp hair into the towel slung around his neck. "Hey, fellas," he said, stretching lazily as he sat down.
"Hey yourself," Clint said. "We're about done with the paper-pushing. How'd your day go?"
"We played basketball, sat in the sauna, and then showered off," Bucky said. "Dr. Samson is ... not like any shrink I ever met before. We talked, but he didn't really do anything. It was just, you know, two fellas talking." He looked baffled, but his body language was relaxed and open.
"How do you feel now?" Phil asked.
"Pretty great, actually. It was fun to play basketball on a court that had actual lines on the ground, and a hoop with a net on it," Bucky said. "Do we have that at home?"
"If we don't, I'm sure Tony can arrange it," Phil assured him.
"There's a racketball court," Clint said. "Tony and Happy play. I think Tony just likes the noise that the ball makes bouncing around, because he's not very good at it."
"The arc reactor changes how Tony can move his arms," Bruce said quietly. "It's not much, but it's enough to mess with aim that he developed before he got it. That doesn't affect the repulsors because he learned those afterwards."
"And JARVIS aims the shoulder guns. Shit. How did I not see this?" Clint said.
"Because only part of it falls into your area of expertise," Bruce said. "Don't bother Tony about it, okay? You know how he gets about the arc reactor."
"Yeah, I know," Clint said. "Well, that's me done with the paperwork." He shut off his Starkphone and pocketed it.
"I'm done too," Phil said. "Let's head out."
"Assistant Director Hill wanted to show me a list of things from storage," Bucky reminded them.
"Then we'll check with her next," Phil agreed.
Hill seemed happy to see them. "Sergeant Barnes, here's the list of personal effects," she said, handing him a printout filled with images and text. "Dr. Banner, thank you for joining in today's assessment project."
"It was his idea," Bruce muttered, his gaze flicking to Clint.
Clint just shrugged. "I call 'em how I see 'em."
"And that's why we pay you the big bucks," Hill said. Then she turned back to Bucky. "See anything you want to take home?"
"My old Bible and the photographs for sure," he said. "I can't believe Steve didn't want any of his stuff. That's not like him at all."
Hill sighed. "Captain Rogers was ... not altogether himself," she said delicately, "when I first offered him the chance to reclaim his possessions. I hoped that if I waited a while longer with you, it might turn out better. I was trying to reach a balance between not overloading you, and not withholding things you had a right to know."
"Yes ma'am, that's a good plan," said Bucky. Then he frowned over the list. "Wait, this isn't Steve's ... well, I guess it is now..."
"What?" Phil asked. Bucky pointed to the thumbnail image of a small metal case. "Oh, the mezuzah. I wondered about that, neither of you being Jewish."
"It belonged to Dr. Erskine," Bucky said. "Steve's gonna want that back for sure. He can't have read this list and missed it."
"I showed him the list," Hill said. "I'm not sure he actually registered what it contained."
"Okay, could you just ... have everything boxed up and sent to Avengers Tower? We've got plenty of storage space, and then Steve and I can look through it whenever we feel ready," said Bucky.
"Of course," Hill said. "I'll pull out the items you wanted so that you can find them easily, and the rest can go in crates."
"Thank you. This means a lot to me," Bucky said.
After that, they rode home. Bucky rolled the printout into a tube and pulled it through his fist, over and over again, as if to reassure himself of its presence. Bruce relaxed more, the farther they got from SHIELD territory. Clint still seemed edgy and restless.
"I really wish you'd tell me what's bothering you, Clint," said Phil.
Clint hunched into his seat. "Just Agent Morse making a pass at me again," he said. "She thinks it's a shame to waste my flexibility."
Bruce rested a hand on Clint's knee. Clint leaned into him. "You shouldn't have to put up with her if she's bothering you," Bruce said.
"He doesn't have to put up with her," Phil said. "She's been written up for it once already. Clint, we've talked about this --"
"Well maybe I'd rather deal with the bitch myself than do a mountain of fucking paperwork!" Clint snapped.
"Speaking of paperwork, what forms do we need to fill out for claiming personal effects from SHIELD?" asked Bucky.
It was an obvious diversion, but a valiant attempt to take some pressure off Clint. Phil let it play out. He just resolved to ask Clint again as soon as they reached the tower. "There will be several forms for you and for Steve, but nothing too elaborate," Phil said. "I may need to do a little fancy footwork if Steve won't sign for his part of the goods, but I agree with you that moving everything to the tower makes sense. I'm always happy to help my team with their paperwork."
When they arrived, they went up to the common floor. "I'm thinking pot roast for supper," Bucky said. "Is that okay with you fellas?"
"I'm good with it," Clint said, and everyone else nodded.
"It's a plan, then. I'll go find Steve to help me set it up," said Bucky as he headed for the door.
"Clint, we really need to talk about that incident involving Agent Morse," Phil said.
"Why?" Clint said. "Why am I always the one who has to deal with this shit? I fucking handled it, let it drop."
"I can't let it drop, because if Agent Morse is harassing you, then chances are she'll try the same thing against someone less capable of 'handling' it himself," Phil said.
"I just hate this paperwork, Phil, it's humiliating," said Clint. "I had no trouble shaking her off." He flicked his wrist, shadows shifting in a way that snagged Phil's attention.
"Are those bruises?" Phil asked.
Bruce's head came up. Suddenly he stopped ghosting in the background like usual. "Let me see."
"It's nothing," Clint said, but he was frowning at his own wrist now.
"I saw her take hold of you, and I saw you pull away," Bruce said. "Let me see your wrist, Clint."
"All I did was twist my hand to pop her thumb loose, and keep walking," Clint said. "I guess ... I didn't realize how hard she was holding on."
Because Clint's arm strength is so developed, it takes tremendous resistance even to register for him, Phil realized. He pulled out the first aid kit, just in case.
Meanwhile Bruce had finally coaxed Clint into surrendering his wrist for examination. After a few moments of gentle prodding, Bruce declared, "It's just surface bruising. But I can see clear imprints of her thumb and at least two fingers. Let me put something on that so you won't wind up with a really colorful bracelet for a week."
"Fine, whatever," Clint grumbled. He held still while Bruce smoothed a coat of something spicy and creamy over the faintly blue-tinged skin.
"Okay, you're done," Bruce said as he packed away the supplies. "If you need me for anything else, I'll be in my quarters. I think I need some quiet time before supper. It's ... been a day." He slipped out of the room.
Phil looked at Clint's still-closed expression and sighed. He hated having to ask for something that Clint so clearly found upsetting. But it was that, or let Morse get away mistreating one -- or possibly more -- of his people. Phil was not about to stand for that.
Clint flopped onto the couch. "Let's just get this over with," he said, resignation thick in his tone. "The sex talk is bad enough without dragging it through the whole damn day."
"I'm sorry about the necessary unpleasantries," Phil said as he picked up the nearest Starkpad and opened the relevant forms. He sat at the far end of the couch, not crowding Clint, but within easy reach if Clint wanted contact comfort.
"Clint, remember that you are not the only asexual person in our household, since artificial intelligences do not reproduce sexually," JARVIS interrupted. "Would you feel more comfortable talking about this with me instead of with Phil?"
That solution hadn't even occurred to Phil. He waited silently to see how Clint would respond.
Clint shrugged. "It's sex. It's never going to be a comfortable conversation, not like this. I mean, it's one thing to joke around with Tony and Bucky, but Agent Morse just makes me feel ... I don't know, dirty."
A flicker drew Phil's attention down to the Starkpad in his lap, where JARVIS had just filled in a line on the form. In fact, the date and location were already listed too. JARVIS must have been following this conversation for a while, Phil thought, and possibly accessed the security feed from SHIELD too.
"I'm sorry to hear that, Clint. Of course sex can be disconcerting. It sounds like this incident upset you considerably," said JARVIS. "Do you have any idea what brought it up?"
Clint scoffed. "She says I'm hot and I'm wasting my talent."
Another line typed itself into the form. Aloud JARVIS said in a perfectly arid tone, "How enlightening that Agent Morse finds saving the world to be a waste of time."
Clint snickered and said, "Yeah, well, consider the source. According to the rumor mill, she's having no luck on her own line of research. Nobody wants to partner with her in the lab anymore. I'm not getting much gossip at SHIELD these days, so if even I've heard it, then it must be all over."
More lines appeared in various sections of the form, followed by a list of Agent Morse's lab partners and a note to discuss their professional opinions of her. Hesitantly Phil touched the screen and got a cursor. It let him add a reminder to cross-reference other paperwork for possible corroboration. JARVIS indicated that there were no other harassment complaints against her at present. But most harassment never gets reported, especially when a woman targets male victims, Phil thought grimly. There might be something else.
"Agent Morse seems professionally frustrated," JARVIS echoed.
"Yeah, that's one way to put it. She just doesn't know when to give up," Clint said. "I mean, when I get pissed at things, I don't take it out on my own team, you know? I find a way to deal. Or at least I take it out on myself."
Phil winced. He knew about Clint's periodic forays into self-harm, fortunately rare these days.
"And this isn't the first time it's happened," Clint went on. "The first time she asked, it was kind of flattering. I don't swing that way -- or any way -- but it's nice to be thought of rather than ignored. But she won't stop bugging me for a date, won't take no for an answer, no matter what I try."
"She won't stop asking you to date her," JARVIS said. "Do you think that might have anything to do with your feelings of discomfort?"
"Yeah, it's as if I'm not even talking to her and that's worse than being ignored in the first place," Clint said. "I feel like she's got this little Clint-puppet in her head doing all the lines and man, that is creepy. That is not a thing I want."
"What do you want?" JARVIS invited.
"I want her to leave me the fuck alone," Clint said, his voice sharpening. "I should be able to go to work without some chick nagging me like that, jeez, is that too much to ask?"
Phil watched in approval as the requested action part of the form filled in. He could look for methods to discourage Agent Morse from getting in the way again.
"Not according to SHIELD policies," JARVIS said. "You should be able to work free of nagging. What kind of nagging, Clint?"
"I dunno, just the way she looks at me, talks about my body, asks me to go places with her. I guess it's ... not much, really, when you lay it out like that. Maybe I'm oversensitive after the whole Loki thing, a lot of people have said that," Clint muttered. Then he rubbed his wrist. "The bruising is new, though. I don't think she meant it. I blew her off and she just tried to catch me. Stands to reason she'd be angry, I suppose."
"She tried to catch you," JARVIS said. "Have you seen her interacting with anyone else in a similar manner?"
"Naw, I seem to be the favorite," Clint said with a grimace. He leaned back against the cushions. "Morse is a nuisance ..."
Phil listened in wonder as JARVIS gently encouraged Clint to complain about Agent Morse. Clearly he was using the form as inspiration for the angle of investigation, but much of what JARVIS actually said was echoing Clint himself. While Clint wasn't happy about the topic, he seemed a lot less stressed than usual, and downright enthusiastic about verbally poking holes in Agent Morse.
Form complete, Phil held out the Starkpad to Clint. "Okay, all I need is your signature and we're done here."
"We are?" Clint said, startled. "But I ... we didn't ..." He stared down at the completed form. "Oh well, that's a relief. I'm not arguing with success." He scribbled his signature and handed the pad back to Phil.
"Thank you, Clint. I appreciate your patience," Phil said.
"If you wish to drop this topic, that is perfectly acceptable. However, if you would like someone to talk with, I am always available," JARVIS added.
"Okay. Listen, I could sure use a break before supper. I'm going to go curl up in my couch now," Clint said. Phil knew the one he meant, a deep soft thing with a floppy back that folded over like a blanket. Clint gave Phil a brief hug and then left.
* * *
Notes:
Soldiers are trained to depersonalize the enemy, so they will be willing to kill people; but when this goes too far, atrocities can result. What Rhodey does to JARVIS is not just depersonalization but also misgendering. You can see how fucked up their relationship is.
Parentification happens when a child has to take care of younger children because the parents can't or won't. It tends to leave a lasting imprint that shows in ways like Rhodey treating Tony as a child because Tony often behaves in childish ways. Meanwhile Tony rebels because he's had poor experiences with authority. In canon that's a very dysfunctional part of their relationship, but is portrayed positively.
Although it's better to use deliberate first aid supplies, they can be improvised. Most of the Avengers have had to do that.
A mezuzah is a scroll of Torah verses, traditionally attached to the door of a Jewish home. Occasionally you see cases like what happened with Steve and Dr. Erskine, in which a Jew leaves their mezuzah to a non-Jewish friend. Some people hang those, others don't.
Agent Bobbi Morse aka Mockingbird appears in Marvel comics across many variations. In this iteration, she is a SHIELD agent and scientist who's been dabbling in ethically questionable materials with dubious results. Her personal behavior is just plain wrong.
The wrist grab is a basic but weak attack, due to the inescapable physics of the human hand: if you know how, you can always pop it open between the thumb and forefinger. Watch a video demonstrating several wrist escapes.
Sexual harassment is unwanted carnal or romantic attention. It can cause serious problems at work, and is thus illegal. Sadly, it remains quite common. There are ways for employers to handle this. One frequent complication is what happens here -- the victim perceives filing a complaint to be an additional violation, but without formal record of the offense there can be no official sanction. A complaint form typically identifies who and what happened, along with requested solutions.
Talking Eliza is a famous computer program based on simplistic yet surprisingly effective conversational routines. Since it can work even with a rote bot, it doesn't take much personality for it to start working quite well indeed. JARVIS uses mirroring, one of several reflective techniques for conversation. It's just better aimed because he knows what he's doing.
One valuable technique in psychological first aid is how to drain emotional wounds. There's a very delicate art to coaxing someone to vent as much as they need, which relieves the pressure, so that problem-solving can begin -- without doing further damage in the process. JARVIS has a level yet gentle personality well suited to this.
Clint's couch has a floppy top that folds over the user.
[To be continued in Part 3 ...]
Re: Thoughts
Date: 2016-11-06 02:18 am (UTC)>>He may never have had that problem. I had a badly ground set once, and the provider wouldn't replace them.<<
It's more the pervasive pattern of similar behavior than this specific incident that crosses the line from "mistake" to "utter incompetence".
>>The dynamics presented in the movies are pretty dysfunctional, often with disastrous results, but they are the best those people could come up with at the time.<<
I know. It frustrates me that things are often still very poor in this regard in most fics.
>>Rhodey is exasperated, but he's not stupid.<<
Heh.
>>There's a difference between things someone can't do at all and things they do poorly or can only do for a limited time; and between things they can never do well vs. things they might improve.<<
Yeah. I tend to overdo it when I try, which just makes things worse.
>>Clint is probably right in that Agent Morse wasn't deliberately aiming to hurt him<<
I figured.
>>The miss, and it's a serious one, is that neither of those things make it okay to do what she did<<
Yeah.
>>It is assigned by those in power to those with less or none. So the people in power don't have to care if it's upsetting to those below them.<<
It frustrates me that people don't care.
>>However, this does not actually solve the problem; if people hate the paperwork because it's miserable to do and/or poorly designed, then it will routinely be full of errors and omissions, or not get done on time or at all, and that does affect people higher up who rely on those records. That's laid out in some detail in "Byzantine Perplexities."<<
Yeah. I just... why would you want to make things worse. I don't get it. And designing good paperwork is fun. It's a pain because it's hard to figure out what people actually want, but it's like solving a logic puzzle. How can I get all these form fields on one sheet of paper and as large as possible? What's the exact limit of my printer's margins? How can I phrase this question so people will understand what it means? How many pages can I get away with before people stop donating because it's too much of a pain? How many details should really be required for this initial application? I run in to poorly designed paperwork at medical offices a lot. If I didn't hate insurance companies, I'd be emailing them and telling them to hire someone, preferably me, to fix their dire paperwork. I had to call and ask a question last week because the paperwork I had was ambiguous. I told the phone person to tell them to fix it.