1963-07-11 - Babysitting Assignments
Summary: Peggy gives Sadie and Clint their debriefs about their news babysitting mission.
Related: http://marvel1963mush.wikidot.com/log:1963-06-20-protesting-paperclip
Theme Song: None
clint sadie peggy 


Monday morning at SHIELD. Just another regular day, right? It's still quite early, so the office isn't quite as busy and bustling as it might otherwise be. Clint and Sadie both have come in today to notes on their desks that the director would like to see them in her office. Peggy's been in since dawn, it seems, as there is already a half drank mug of tea on her desk and a barely touched bagel from the deli down the street. The director is looking tired these days, more tired than usual, but god forbid anyone tell her that. The door to her office is open, a quite invitation to anyone who has matters to bring up, or the pair she has summoned.

*

To be that much more annoying, Clint Barton looks positively perky. Nice suit, bright-eyed and bushy tailed. He's just finishing a cup of coffee of his own as he answers the summons.

*

Sadie does not look that perky but she kind of has a natural frown on her face. She slouches inwards, though her clothing is impeccable. Her arms are folded which is often the case. She gives Clint a sideways look, and is not, herself, having coffee on arrival.

She will try to slide in ahead of Clint if permitted (or if Clint isn't quick about it). "ma'am," she says to Peggy, straightening up as she gets within direct eyeshot.

*

Since Sadie is the secon one in, if by seconds, Peggy calls to her with a gentle half smile, "Shut the door behind you. Right now… this is for your ears only." She mentions to both of them. Oh no, the director is smiling. Something is wrong — clearly, awfully wrong. She stands up from her desk and nods to both of them. "Agent Barton. Agent Mitsuwa. I trust you both have met at least once or twice around the office. Would you like anything before we get started?" The clip of her smooth, British accent is purely professional and awake, even if her face doesn't look it. She gestures to the chairs across her desk from her, an invitation to both of them.

*

Clint lets Sadie in before him, before closing the door gently behind them both. Then he claims a chair and sits down, expression utterly expectant. "No, ma'am," he replies, cheerfully. A nod to Sadie. "I believe so?" His tone is tentative, as if he's not a hundred percent certain.

*

Sadie looks up at Clint. There's a second's pause, and then she says with a ghost of a quirked smile, "I think we've been near the water cooler at the same time. Agent Barton," she says with a proffered hand, inclined slightly up, since Clint does have like 'six inches of height' on her, probably more.

After that, she sits. Her arms loosen. "No thank you, ma'am," she answers the offer from Peggy, before settling back in the seat.

*

"Well, you are going to be working together… or at least on the same objective, for the next little while. Please, sit. Relax." Peggy coaches them gently, preferring to do business across a desk. She herself settles back down into her high backed chair. She grabs two identical files from in front of her and turns them around, sliding them in front of the pair. "I do not know how much either of you have heard about Operation Paperclip — the reason I went to Geneva for the past two weeks. But… it is going forward." She waits, quiet a moment, to see how much they know. The office rumor mill can be notorious sometimes.

*

A firm shake of the hand for Sadie, and then Clint's nodding. "I've heard some," he says, a little drily. "It seems….well, not to be our bailiwick at first glance, but…" A shrug. "I assume it's why I was brought back from Europe."

*

Sadie leans forwards to collect the folder and then settles back. She flips it open and looks down for several seconds, before her eyes come upwards. "It's about bringing over scientists from Europe or something like that, isn't it?"

*

A soft sigh escapes Peggy's lips and, for those good at reading people, it's probably suddenly clear that it's THIS which is exhausting her beyond anything. She looks down to the folders they have. "Not just scientists. War criminals. Scientists who were working for enemies — generally Nazi scientists — during the war. It seems certain higher ups think almost twenty years is serving their time, so they have made a deal. They get their freedom, if they come agree to work for us. We're getting two next week, and then at least another two the week after. You are going to be on part of the detail surrounding Mr. Werhner von Braun." And that is the file in both of their hands. Exactly everything about the man that SHIELD knows.

*

Clint's voice has gone low, rough, as he glances up from the folder's to meet Peggy's gaze, again. "Are we talking any HYDRA, ma'am?" he wonders. No such thing as 'ex Hydra' in Agent Barton's book, it seems.

*

"Oh, rockets," Sadie says, looking through the papers.

Her lips curve down into a bit more of a frown as she gets to the Doktor's history. She doesn't ask direct amplifications of Clint's question.

*

"…Arnim Zola will be joining us in two weeks." Peggy states flatly at Clint's question. Emotionless. Cold. Something quite dead in her, actually, in response to that. Considering she helped put the man away, it's got to turn her stomach that she's now helping get him out. So, better to shut down and shut off. Or maybe she's just screamed herself dry. She exhales slowly through her nose, containing whatever last bits of emotion still threaten to rise up, as she looks back towards Sadie. "…Yes… everyone wants to… well, win the war to space, so to speak. Though there is interest, again, in super soldier serums as well. Hence Zola."

*

It's like watching ice seal over a winter pond, in time-lapse. Clint's open, almost doggish expression vanishes, and he also goes still. He cocks his head at Peggy, aiming his somewhat better ear at her - that unthinking gesture that means he's really sure his bad hearing just played a trick on his perception. It should be comical - His Master's Voice - but she knows it of old, ever since German artillery almost completed what Barton the Elder began in his childhood. He does not, however, ask her if she's kidding. "And we're to ride herd on these…guys…indefinitely?"

*

"Ma'am, do you have a cigarette?" Sadie asks, flipping through the pages with a frown. She's probably seeing her own future of steering around Nazis until they die, possibly from being shot in the throat with an arrow.

"Is this Zola fella tough? I mean, mentally," she asks. "Or von Braun."

*

"…I do not, but if Clint does, you are welcome to partake…" THere is an empty ash tray on Peggy's desk, because it's only polite and it does help some people to work better. She leans over and slides it across to rest in front of Sadie, but it seems the director isn't much of one for such a past time. She shakes her head slightly at Clint's turning his head that way. He did not hear her inaccurately. Zola was going to be joining them soon. She sighs quietly…"Zola… yes. Immensely so. He was HYDRA's second in command, essentially, and the Red Skull's favoured… Pet scientist." Peggy practically spits those words. "von Braun is more of an unknown, but he's a genius… Just like Zola. I do not know if that would make them mentally… difficult to crack or not. But I want you on the job, Sadie. I want to know what they DREAM about at night. What their favourite food is. And why the HELL they decided to make this deal. How can you best do that?" Then her eyes turn towards Clint, expression growing a bit more fierce. "And I want you to be their shadow. If you are willing to change assignments, that is. Never seen. Always there."

*

His expression is still flatter than a Kansas highway. "Yes, ma'am," he says, squaring his shoulders and setting his jaw. A wave at Sadie. "I don't mind." HE's been known to indulge in the occasional Lucky Strike, himself. "I'm honestly amazed they didn't hang him at Nuremberg," he says, on a sigh. "I remember hearing about some of the stuff he'd done to POWs. I know some a' the guys they took out of the stalags didn't come back….and some of those that did were…" He searches for a word, and settles on, "…altered."

*

Sadie goes for the death stick as she considers what to say next. She's nodding along slightly with Peggy's requirements; as she lights up and takes a drag, she exhales into the air as she settles back in her seat, crossing her legs at the calves as she says, "I don't think I could core all of that out of them. But if I put on some glasses and giggle a lot, they'll probably think I'm an idiot."

Her voice changes as she asks Clint brightly, "Oh, please mein Herr, go on about your disgusting war crimes!"

Back to Peggy in her usual tone. "What if they try to pull something?" Her jaw tightens as Clint shares that grisly mental image.

*

A slow nod come from Peggy at Clint's commentary about the people who came back. "Greed. Greed for knowledge and power. Without Eirskine, Zola was one of the few who had any working Super Solider Serum understanding. Even if it was… not all that functional. He was one of the closest. They didn't want to kill that possibility… If I was paranoid, I'd say they were planning this from before the trials." Peggy states between slightly gritted teeth.

As Sadie lights a cigarette, she leans back in her chair a bit more, keeping mostly clear of the scent which seems to vaguely turn her stomach, but she makes no comment on it. She just grabs her tea and lets that hover near her lips and nose, the clean scent of it helping. She looks back to Sadie, "Then perhaps you will be assigned as their… Secretary. Do as you will with your cover, as you need. And if they try to pull something, well… That's why they have a shadow. If they have an… Unfortunate accident in our care, well… These things happen." Peggy does not even seem to regret talking so blaise about killing someone

*

"Well, we've got Captain Rogers as a living example of what can be done with it," Clint sounds faintly mournful. Peggy's only thinly veiled hints that Clint might haveto be executioner as well as jailer doesn't seem to dismay him. The prospect of literally having Zola in his sights….well, it's worth the chance that he'll likely be the scapegoat if things do go pearshaped and some prized Nazi brain trust ends up sprouting feathers from his throat.

*

Sadie's next drag gets blown out of the corner of her mouth and away from everyone. She has no desire to aggravate Peggy further, it seems. She looks at Clint again, more directly. "Do you think that could be true?" she asks, without that cutey-poo voice. "I mean if they were making plans… like, you mean during the war, they'd plan this far ahead?"

Inwardly she feels incredibly young for a moment, but it passes.

*

There is a reason Sadie and Clint were called in here before announcement were made to the rest of the office. Clint for the exact reliable, unblinking way he's taken the assignment, and Sadie for her unique talent. Peggy now watches them both with serious, respectful, but slightly apologetic eyes. She knows it's not supposed to go this way, being Nazi babysitters. She knows there is nothing they can do but prepare for it to go this way. "…It's distinctly possible, with someone like Zola, he was. At least I know to prepare for the utter worst with him. This von Braun is… a complete unknown. Maybe he will turn out to actually just be a genius scientist in a bad situation." Peggy's voice drips sarcasm as she says that.

*

Clint gives Sadie a sidelong look. "I don't doubt it could be true," he says, voice still dry. "Not a bit. Weapons tech is always in an arms race. Even if the weapon is human. Captain Rogers is a good man. One of the best. ….but he was never planned to be a one-off. Mass production was always the intention. I like to think we're still the good guys, but that doesn't mean we don't have guys on our side who'd literally kill to be able to stamp out more Captain Americas the way Ford does car parts."

*

Sadie considers this in silence for moments, before saying, perhaps to lighten the mood (and damn, she thinks to herself, isn't that a kick in the head), "If this von Brown guy just wants to build rockets, maybe he'd rat out Zola if Zola's trying to pull something."

*

"The question is, Clint… is it worth it?" Peggy offers into the room. She was, after all, a part of the people who were shooting for mass production from day one. Who argued that super soldiers would save lives. She's supposed to be completely behind this. But that was twenty years and what feels like several life times ago. Still, she lets the question hang in the air.

Sadie's offering of almost amusing lightness does gain a bit of a smile. She arches her brow and gives a slightly tilt of her head, "We can only hope. But… just in case not, well… I do want you keeping any eye on their minds. Or, I guess that is a mind on their minds."

*

"Generally, I'd say that question is far above my paygrade," Clint retorts. "But I don't know. Until you can imbue Cap's moral compass and stubborness into the process, it's dicey. One of the things we fought for over there and are still pushing back against the Soviets about is the ability to be a servant of the state without being its blind slave. Think of a legion of Rogerses, only ….no questioning, no individualism." By the way his brow is furrowing, the idea of shooting Zola pre-emptively - oops, hand slipped, lifetime in Leavenworth, no regrets - is increasingly attractive. They can see the wheels turning.

*

"Sure," Sadie says as she leans over to flick ash into the tray. "If they start getting bad thoughts, should I push 'em or just let it spin out?" Which contextually Peggy probably would know means: 'should I try to beat them into submission if they try anything.' It's slightly optimistic of her, of course.

Back to Clint, she says, with raised eyebrows, "Wouldn't they just drop the bomb if it was that bad?"

*

The older woman has worked with Clint long enough to see what is behind his eyes and she grimaces slightly. "…Barton… twenty years is a long time. Maybe he is reformed. A… chance. We give him one chance." She states flatly, and it kills something in her to say it, but her tone is an order and one she expects to be obeyed.

She then sighs to Saide and considers the wuestion…"If…if they actually make any decision to act on such thoughts… Let it go, and let us know. If we can catch them in the act, we'll put them back behind bars. But we'll need evidence, not just thoughts. So… taht's wen you report back to me."

*

Clint flashes her that grin. Unabashed and almost vulpine. "Yes'm," he says, demurely. On one hand, an onerous and unwelcome responsibility. On the other….he'll have Zola's life in his hands. To Sadie, he shakes his head. "Nah. Bomb's imprecise, it destroys property and assets. A human can go and kill and take and destroy with a precision munitions, even atomic, can't match."

*

"… I guess I'm gonna have to take your word for it," Sadie says, on the geostrategic specifications of Steve Rogers proliferation. After another thoughtful drag, she flips through the papers. "Actually… are they on the same project? If we know that, ma'am. I mean once they get here."

*

"No, von Braun will be working on aerospace projects and Zola will be concentrating on another super serum. But, we've set up a building across the way — so they never actually need to come into SHIELD HQ, and that will be their shared lab space. I want them as easily watched, followed and corraled as possible. We can't keep them in prison here but… we also cannot let them out of our sights. I've got a rotating schedule of others to assist in the tracking and babysitting, but if either of you want specific support on your duties for this, speak up now."

*

Clint mutters something about a leash. A breath, and he says, more seriously, "I'll take as many as we can requisition."

*

Sadie is lost in thought for a few moments, though she laughs, unpleasantly but authentically, at what Clint says.

"I… don't know… are they getting bunked there too? I guess if I'm going to be minding them, ha ha," no humor there, "I guess… I don't know." She scratches her nose with her thumbnail.

*

"I wish. I tried to get them on a… House arrest type sitation, but that was not a part of the bargin, it seems. They are not our prisoners. Outside of working hours, they are supposed to go about as they please. Of course, I will have them tailed… by a completely obvious person and someone in the shadows. But… bloody hell, this is going to stretch all of us so damn thin." Peggy cannot hide her exhaustion for a few moments. It's been nothing but a fight since this happened. "But… Agent Sousa had a good idea about it all — we cannot let them see us sweat. We are Americans. We are strong. We are not scared or worried. We have total control of them and that's what we need to project. Everything is fine. We are the best of the best. Because we are."

*

Clint's lip curls in open dismay. "Where are we keeping them? It's one thing if we're housing them somewhere like upstate New York, somewhere rural and isolated. But not…not here in the city, surely?" Even as he's all but pleading with the Director, he knows the answer.

*

"Ought to put them in a camp, see how they like it," Sadie editorializes.

She takes a final drag and leans forwards to ash the cigarette out, saying as she does, "I guess we'd need places near wherever they live. I can rotate in, and I guess we'd want to monitor anyone visiting anyway, given…"

HYDRA, and all that.

*

A levelled look is given to Clint, as if to say does he really need her to answer this. "…Upstate, then I need to keep sending agents up there constantly. No. The orders are that they work…with… SHIELD…" Yes, she feels sick saying it. "So, we make certain they are safe here. I've arranged a few nice condos just down the block. It… It will be what it is. I feel a lot more comfortable knowing we have Sadie, here, keeping a monitor of their thoughts as often as possible. I'm also going to get Howard to work on some tiny bugs we can put on them and keep monitored. We will manage this. We always do."

*

Until there's a slip-up, and Clint Barton the janitor has to clean things up. But he simply inclines his head in acquiescence. If Peggy looks like that, then all avenues have surely been exhausted. He sighs, almost inaudibly.

*

"Don't look like that, I'm the one who's got to read what they're thinking," Sadie tells Clint, in tones of 'buck up, ol' chum.' She glances at Peggy after this, because that, too, is an atypical circumstance.

*

"… Indeed. I… commend both of your services. Promotions after this…or, at least, raises." Peggy gives them both a half apologetic, half wry smile as she says that. She then tilts her head forward and sets her tea down, "If you have no more questions, you are dismissed. Feel free to take and study the files. They are yours and anyone else you co-opt on your teams."

*

"Better get some waders for those sewers," Clint advises Sadie, but there is sympathy in his voice. He looks as if he'd snark som more, but thinks the better of it, tucking the file under his arm as he rises.

*

Sadie collects the folder with both hands and raises herself upwards easily. The material is held to her chest. "Thank you, ma'am," she tells Peggy. And then she files on out.

"You really think they're gonna be with HYDRA?" she asks Clint, once they're out the door but not yet among others.

*

His face is utterly grim, an expression that sits oddly on mobile, usually humorous features. "I don't doubt it for a minute. Reformed and re-educated, my left butt cheek," he says, bluntly. "I'll bet you a hundred bucks I have to end up shooting Zola. He's a slimy little rat."

*

Peggy is quiet in her office now, left to her thoughts and work as the agents begin discussing the fall out of that little meeting.

*

"To death or just, like, shoot," Sadie asks, for clarification.

"It's too bad this is going to be our first operation together, but I guess it doesn't get any nastier," Sadie then muses, tempting fate.

*

"Probably to death," Clint says, sounding unperturbed at the thought. "And it gets a lot nastier, believe me. But then, I'm not the guy who has to see what they think."

*

"Usually it's boring stuff, like where they itch and if they have a toothache," Sadie says, with a half-shrug. "It kind of makes it worse when they think of the other stuff, though; you know? If it was all about their crimes…"

She trails off; it /is/ hard to explain.

*

He keeps pace with her, at his usual almost bouncing stride. Like mere walking feels odd. "Because you both can't pretend they aren't human….and you can feel how a human mind can take the vilest thing and normalize it. No one's a villain in their own head. They're just misunderstood."

*

Sadie rubs her temples with one hand. "I guess maybe you know a little better than I thought. It was really that bad, huh." It being, maybe Nuremburg? The war?

*

"I wasn't with the first guys into Dachau," Clint says, simply. "But I saw it before they had a chance to….do anything like clean up." Ah, euphemism. His face looks old, tired, for a moment. "I bet you that's why the Director's got me on this detail. She knows I won't hesitate."

*

Sadie doesn't answer for a couple of long seconds.

Then, with a youthful awkwardness, "— Thanks. So, you want to get lunch? I think I need lunch after that." Even if it's probably barely 11.

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