Chapter Text
The work tended to be never ending.
The clock kept ticking as she continued to scroll. Words piled onto words. After hours of work, they had all begun to mean absolutely nothing to her. Nothing but meaningless complaints, incorrect filing, and reports that stretched all of the way back to December of the prior year.
She had no idea how she had fallen that far behind on reviewing reports.
The worst part was the number she had completed today. Her eyes dropped to the clock on her desk, the time telling her 2300. Over 183 reports had been reviewed and put into filing in one day. Whilst she also worked on clearing complaints and flagging the actual ones that mattered (that she would be coming back to… eventually). She had corrected the filing system 8 times already today, and from what she was looking at now, she had an hour to make it nine.
She clicked on a misfile, opening it and staring at the words that did not align with the section of the system it had been entered in. She let out a frustrated sigh and pulled off her glasses, dropping them onto the desk. She tiredly rubbed her hands over her face.
She was so tired, she flinched at the sound of a knock on her door. With quick movements, she swung open one of the drawers of her desk and swatted her glasses into them.
The knock came again and she was quick to correct her posture and straighten herself out. “Enter,” she called out. She quickly backed out of all of the open screens and documents and logged out. She trusted no one.
Unless their name happened to be Nicholas J. Fury.
She relaxed slightly when Coulson walked in. She watched as he eyed her, his thoughts visible within his eyes and expression. She could read him like a book.
“Yes,” she stated, deciding to cut off his lectures that always left her feeling like a child, “I am aware of the time. Yes, I know I am long past working hours. And yes, I know I look exhausted. I am the one that is feeling it.”
The man simply smiled and was clearly holding back an eye roll and chuckle. “Well, good. So, why are you here if you know all of that?”
She gestured for him to take one of the empty chairs in front of her desk. She watched carefully as he sunk into the chair, the air around them changing dynamics. This was no longer going to be about her working past hours.
Thank God.
“Oh, you know,” she offered a smile to him, “I happen to be behind on reviewing over 1,364 reports. I think I am currently back…” She stopped and pretended the documents were still up in front of her. She knew where she was. She didn’t have to go back and look for it. “...in January of 2005.”
He frowned, “You weren’t even Deputy Director then.”
“Doesn’t mean it wasn’t my work prior to the promotion, either,” she scoffed. “But enough about this, what’s going on? Do you need something?”
The man seemed to become slightly uneasy. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as his hands rubbed… no, practically scrubbed at his face. There was a taste of distress in the air that pushed her toward uneasiness.
“Well,” he finally spoke up, looking up and locking eyes with her, “I need to request personal leave.”
Great. Another file to type up and somehow lose in the system and find again years later. She made a mental note to try and find a better system for the work, but it was not a priority at the second.
She nodded, her mind running a million miles with all of the problems this would awaken. But all she did was nod. “Done. How long and when does it go into effect?” She pulled out a notepad from the same drawer she had discarded her glasses into.
“Month long and I’m leaving tomorrow at 0800,” he responded, his eyes glued to the floor. She quickly grabbed a pen from her utensil mug. It was one of the only pieces in the office that was put in there by her (unwillingly).
It was a dark blue mug that said, “Best Dad Ever!”, except the “Dad” was crossed out and in silver sharpie was corrected to “D.D.” She was told it stood for Deputy Director. She was also told it better be on her desk and be used.
It was never specified how it should be used.
She quickly wrote down everything on the note. She added two names with question marks underneath the necessary information.
Barton?
Romanoff???
“Alright,” she set the pen down on her desk, “You’re good to go. I expect a weekly check in. I will discuss with Fury on what to do with your agents. In the meantime, you’re good to go.”
The man gave her a smile and rose from his seat. “Thank you, Hill,” he responded, emotions flickering in his eyes for a brief moment, “I appreciate it. You’ll hear from me every Sunday.”
“Copy.”
She watched him walk out of her office. The door clicked softly shut behind him.
Great.
She slumped back down and tugged at the loose strands of her bangs. More work. Just exactly what she needed.
But she would shut up and get it done. For Coulson.
Probably the only person on the Helicarrier to ever see her outside of work. Ever.
___
Her coffee wasn’t hot enough. It lacked the scorching sting that burned the tip of her tongue. The lack of a burned tongue would only make her day harder. The way she kept herself on point was the constant bite down onto the burns.
The caffeine hardly touched her. But those burns kept her awake and alert.
She tapped her fingers against her thermos, eyes sharp as she passed through the halls. Her chin was held high and she avoided eye contact with every agent she passed. Although, she was aware none of them dared to do something to gain her making eye contact with them, anyways.
There was a constant mumbling occurring in her ear, a reminder to tune in every few seconds. She was exhausted. She could feel it in her bones, and without that sting, it was gnawing at the sake of her sanity.
She stopped at his door, taking in a deep breath before she tapped her knuckles against the door five times. She counted to ten before she grabbed the handle and opened the door. She stepped in and shut the door behind her, letting herself deflate as she was now out of the eyes of every person on the Helicarrier.
“Hill,” Fury greeted, the tiniest smile gracing his features. Anyone else would have missed it, but she saw it. “I would say it’s a pleasure, but you know I would be lying. What do you need?”
She took one of the chairs in front of his desk and sunk down. She let her posture give out and slumped back against the seat. She felt his eye studying her, but she knew no judgment was behind it. If one person were to never judge her, it would shockingly be Fury.
“Coulson requested a month’s leave,” she murmured, taking another sip of her warm coffee. “That leaves me eight agents to move around.”
Fury sat back in his chair, eyeing her. “I suppose you already have them placed but…?”
“Romanoff,” she leaned forward and set her thermos onto his desk, behind his monitors. “No one is comfortable taking her. I have three agents going to Wriley, three with Gress, and then I placed Barton with May.”
“May won’t take Romanoff?” he asked, frowning lightly. She shook her head and sighed. “That leaves one other person, and it seems you can’t avoid it.”
She grabbed her thermos and slammed her back against the chair, “Stop speaking in riddles, I am too exhausted to decipher it.”
He laughed. It sounded harsh with a hint of malice. Her least favorite laugh to hear from him.
“The answer to your problem is you,” he answered, “Congrats, Deputy Director. You can now add Handler onto your many achievements within this agency.”
She almost dropped her thermos. She kind of wished she had, the coffee wasn’t worth anything. Those were not the words she had expected from him. He, of everyone else, would know of her constant work that pushed her past her limits everyday.
She sat up and bit at her tongue. “You are placing me as her Handler?” she asked, her eyes narrowing as the words settled in her mind. “You were the one that ordered constant supervision with her- I can’t just-”
He held his hand up to stop her, “Would I give it to you if I thought you wouldn’t figure it out?”
“No,” she huffed. She pushed herself to stand, smoothing her suit down in an attempt to console herself. She wanted to say more. She wanted to say everything that was popping into her head. She wanted to address her exhaustion, the amount of work continuing to pile up, and the lack of time and focus she has to distribute.
But she kept her mouth shut.
“You are dismissed,” Fury waved her out, a wicked smile on his face. “I expect to see you in Control’s.”
She scowled, “That you will.” She made sure to shut the door a little harder than usual behind her. Now she needed to find Romanoff and break the news to her, if Barton hadn’t already spilled about being transferred to May.
This was going to be a long and painful month.