Laura B. - January 1991 (cont.)
As she realized that having bulldozed his way through two different psychiatrists wasn't going to stop him, Laura had to find out who to direct him to. Dr. Montgomery put her off slightly – he was one of those types where you could just see that he was... well. Creepy, to put it mildly.
He specialized in forensic psychiatry. It meant that he would be able to take care of Clint within the legal system, and would allow him to delve deeper into Clint's past criminal life and social life. Part of why Laura disliked him was that Dr. Montgomery had worked in one of SHIELD's Alaska bases and had specialized in the treatment of Prisoners of War (they weren't called like that, not really, but they were that all the same).
Handing Clint over to him felt strange. However, on the 1st of December 1990, that is exactly what happened.
Nick Fury had greenlit the switch in therapists – as he had been recommended by Alexander Pierce himself – and thus, she saw Clint walk into the good doctor's office, on one of the sub levels. It wasn't as far down as the holding cells, but it was still below ground.
She remembered how Clint had liked the view in Hampton's office, and realized that he was going to miss the sunlight. Clint was a creature who liked nature, who liked the sun and loved the moon.
When the door closed to that first session, Laura felt a pang of anxiety in her gut. Unfortunately, it took her too long to notice that the gut feeling turned out to be true.
Clint sat down on the folding chair in front of him, as Montgomery had requested an interrogation room to be the location of their sessions. He said it was a 'sober environment' where Clint wouldn't have external stimuli and where Montgomery could control the entire session.
Laura thought it reminded of a prison cell, but didn't say. Nick had said that if Pierce got involved, it was best not to say anything.
“So, Clinton Francis Barton. You're 19 years old.” Pause. Clint looked at the doctor, whose face was absolutely unreadable. It was like a blank page, and on the security footage, Laura noticed that it threw Clint off. There was something off about both their behavior, and she noticed it made Clint uneasy.
“Is it alright if we start with some simple word association?” Montgomery asked, and Clint replied by nodding his head. He put his hands out flat on the table, as if trying to impress the doctor by his physique, but the doctor didn't seem phased by it. Instead of acknowleding the movement, he looked down at his pad and started the word association.
“Wolf?”
Clint blinked before leaning back into the metallic chair. “Pack,” was the one word reply he gave the doctor.
“Hawk?”
“Trust.”
Montgomery scribbled some things down, and Laura realized he was going through the previous psychiatrists' sessions' key words.
“Emotion?”
“Anger.”
There was no waiting time now between when Montgomery replied and Clint did.
“Night?”
“Day.”
“Heart?”
“Vulnerable. No wait, target.”
Montgomery's mouth formed the 'o' shape as he feigned surprise, and scribbled down the two words.
“Love?”
“Solitude.”
“Hate?”
“Traitors.”
Laura frowned at this, and she realized that Clint probably meant Barney. It was Barney's fault that he was here, and he probably resented him for it.
“Dark?”
“Light.”
“Family?”
“Unexistent.” Clint moved slightly to the side at this, his eyes lowering to the table and refusing to acknowledge Montgomery's gaze.
“Therapy?”
“Useless.”
“Pain?”
“Necessary.”
“Good, Clint. Very good.” The doctor put down the pad and crossed his fingers as he looked at his patient thoughtfully. Clint shrunk at the gaze, and Laura realized, as she watched the security footage, that Clint was behaving in a way that was very different from what she was used to seeing – something about Montgomery made him uncomfortable and Clint was visibly tense and anxious in there.
“I've been hearing that you have an explosive side, which make you go into a fit of rage?”
A nod was the reply, and Clint shifted his gaze to look anywhere but at the doctor.
“You hit Agent Hill repeatedly and was only pulled out of that fit of rage by Agent May breaking your arm. Is that correct?”
Another nod.
“Care to tell me why that happened?”
Shrugging, Clint bit his lower lip before he replied. “I dunno. Sometimes it just happens. I snap and then everything goes red. It's like I can't control myself. Jess says it's probably something that'll go away as I get more training. That's why I'm seeing you guys, right?”
“Right you are, boy.”
Clint's head ticked to the side at the word boy, and Montgomery nodded to himself as consequence.
“Did you feel any sort of remorse or displeasure upon realizing you had sent Agent Hill to the medical bay?”
The reply came as fast as the word association replies. “Yes, I did. I didn't mean to, it just happened. I don't mean these things to happen, they just do. It's like something breaks inside my head and I start screaming and beating and nothing in hell can make me stop.”
He grew quiet after his answer, and Montgomery scribbled something down before handing the note to Clint.
“I'm going to ask you to take these daily, they will help you get a grip of your anger and try to focus on other things. I want you to take them morning and night, and not skip them. I will know if you do.”
Clint took the paper sheepishly, as he tried to read what was written on it, but Montgomery's writing was too hard for him to decipher. He trusted the nurses in SHIELD to know what was supposed to be written on here.
Some pills. Couldn't be that bad, right?
That is, however, how hell began.
After three weeks, Laura noticed a shift in Clint's behavior. In physical training, his speed had considerably sunk, and he no longer felt alive when he got his bow back in his hand. He would stay in his room for longer periods of time, and she thought it was because Jessica was training outside, that she was being tested other ways.
Jessica had powers, after all. They had to figure out what she could do, right?
Three weeks in, after four total sessions, and reading copies of what they'd said to each other, she noticed that Clint's behavior had changed. Drastically.
Walking up to Fury's office, she pointed this out to him. He took the files, but a recent crisis in Saint Petersburg involving a hospital fire had all his attention. She knew he wouldn't look at the files just now.
There was just something off. And it felt terrible, because Montgomery stated it was perfectly normal.
The day after New Year's, the first day of 1991, Laura asked to oversee the session. They were taking place in an interrogation room, so there was a two way mirror and a microphone in there, so she would be able to follow it as it transpired. She would carry everything regarding Clint – his file, the transcripts of previous sessions, the receipts of his medication, everything.
And what she saw that day made her angry in her bones. (In a way, she realizes, still makes her angry).
“So, Clint, tell me. How are you feeling today?”
Barely looking up from his hands, his head dangling low, Clint shrugged. “'kay, I guess,” was the reply that came.
“How's training? Feeling better now that your emotions are in check?”
The doctor watched Clint with predatory eyes, and Laura felt the hairs on her arms rise. There was something terribly off here.
“Dunno. I don't really feel anything,” he replied.
Laura opened the file and looked at the words scribbled on the receipt that Montgomery had given her.
One word made her frown. It was the word Zola. That was- wait what? She sat up and walked out of the room, down to Bobbi Morse's desk area. She knew the Agent was still on site at the Triskelion.
Dangling the receipt in front of her eyes, Laura frowned as she spoke.
“Is that Zola as in Zola from HYDRA?” she questioned, and the other agent took the paper.
“Is Barton on SSRIs?” Bobbi asked as she looked at the paper. “Those things aren't good, not for this. How long has he been on them?”
Laura pulled the file out. “Five weeks.”
“He needs to get off them, now.”
Bobbi stood up and ripped the paper out of Laura's hand, before marching down to Fury's office, Laura following close behind.
As she moved into the office, not caring for knocking or even saying sorry, she shoved the piece of paper down onto the desk. Agents Rumlow and May were in the room, in what appeared to be a debrief, but she didn't care. Laura stood behind her, knowing that her place here wasn't important, but she felt the need to back up Bobbi should Fury ask any sort of questions.
“Get Clint out of Montgomery's treatment, now.”
“Agent Morse, I don't believe you have the right qualifications to demand such a-”
“Shut up, Fury. This kid, this 19 year old kid is on a treatment of pills that Montgomery gave him to inhibit his emotions and his anger. Remember he had anger issues? Those things aren't treated by giving him emotion inhibitors – even less when it's the sort that Arnim Zola was working on to recreate the serum used on Rogers!”
Laura say Nick's eye twitch and noticed that Brock Rumlow had grown very quiet. May took a step forward and picked up the paper.
“This particular drug was abandonned because it caused dizziness, agitation and anxiety in patients, sir,” May replied and Laura suddenly saw the director realize the meaning.
“How's he been acting lately? Bishop, talk to me.”
Laura's head popped up and Bobbi moved to the side. “He's been acting weird, sir. Not reacting to many stimuli, training has caused him to get slower and he doesn't seem to react to either me or his friends here – Morse and Drew.” She took a deep breath, before Bobbi spoke again.
“Sir, this is the sort of drugs they put people on to control them. Barton's got anger issues, sure, but he needs to figure them out the hard way by hitting stuff, not by getting it drugged out of his system.” Bobbi's words were sharp, and Laura realized that she was glad Bobbi was with her on this.
“You sure this is the one Zola was working on? He died in 1972, that's twenty years ago,” but before he got the reply May handed him the receipt and he read it before taking a deep breath.
“Good. Get him out. Get him off them. Bishop, you look after him while he sobers up, Bobbi you escort Montgomery back to his office, I'll talk to Pierce about this.”
Brock Rumlow cleared his throat, as if to remind them of his presence there.
“Yes, Rumlow?”
“I think that Montgomery's just trying to do good things to Barton, sir. Getting him off the medication now might render useless the progress that's been made the past-”
“Did I fucking as you for your opinion on this, Rumlow?” Fury snapped back and Laura, Bobbi and May exited the room as the Director gave Rumlow a verbal asswhooping.
“I always disliked Zola's methods, way too cruel.”
Peggy leant back into her seat as she sighed, as Laura finished her tale. She remembered Zola – she hated him til he died. She had never trusted him, and probably never would. The fact that Howard had worked with him for so many years always irked her.
“Clint's been off the pills for three weeks, and he's gotten back to normal. Well, almost. He's more weary of people now that he experienced the pills and the treason. He doesn't speak much, but he's still himself,” Laura added as she put the file containing Dr. Beckett's notes down in front of Peggy.
“Doctor Beckett's been taking good care of him though.” A faint smile appeared on her lips, and she realized that perhaps Beckett should have been the obvious choice since the beginning.
“She specializes in young adults and children, she's both worked as a psychiatrist, a psychologist and she has background as a psychoanalyst. I think she's good for him, she earned his trust a week ago.”
As Peggy opened the file, she realized it was empty, except for Laura's notes.
“No session transcripts?” Peggy asked, and Laura shook her head.
“Nope. There's a tape recording of them, and I am the only one allowed to listen to them.”
Laura pointed to her report. “Clint asked me to only tell people I trusted about what he's been saying.” She paused. “Clint's opened up about his childhood, his traumas. He's admitted that he thinks he is so familiar with violence and goes to it as a first response because it's what he was raised into. He's talked about how being alone allows him to make sure nobody gets hurt – he's afraid to end up like his father.”
She sighed deeply, as she looked down at her watch. She'd been talking with Peggy for over two hours now, and she knew she had to go home soon.
“He says if he's alone, he doesn't put anyone at risk. His anger is his protection. Doctor Beckett allows him to work on both his past and his present, giving him food for thought in questions of morality, and working with his mind. Reflexes, focus, and different tricks she knows of, when she studied in Yale University.”
Peggy smiled at her. “Beckett will be good for him, I think. Keep me updated as often as you can,” she said, and stood up. Laura knew then that Peggy had seen her look at her watch and felt the blood rush to her cheeks.
“I'm not in a hurry, ma'am,” she tried, but Peggy shook her head.
“You are, your little sister's waiting for you. Tell little Katherine that Peggy says hello,” she answered, and Laura got up.
As she walked out of the door, Laura let out a deep breath. She liked Peggy Carter very much, and respected her. She had debriefed in a similar fashion to Nick Fury, because she respected him. Debriefing to Peggy was almost like talking to a motherly figure. She knew it was just because her own mother, Eleanor, had died not too long ago.
Katherine – Katie – was only 4 years old now, but she needed a mom. So did Laura. Maybe, she should beware of taking Peggy as a replacement mother. No good would come out of that.
“So, how's progress going with Clint?”
Laura tapped her foot quietly against the floor, sitting on the chair that Clint usually sat in during his sessions with Dr. Beckett. The other woman – Claire – had been so kind as to take some time off her lunch break to discuss Clint with her.
“He's doing great. He's needed some time to readjust after what he went through, but he's on steady ground,” she replied, not bothering to open Clint's file. Laura trusted her word for it and knew she was doing the best for Clint.
“I think you're a good thing for him. You, and Agent Morse, Miss Drew, Agent May. Even Agent Coulson seems to be a good way to ground him within SHIELD. He's taken a liking to Director Fury as well, and he's very keen to get into it when either of you is involved,” she went on, and Laura nodded. She could feel Clint's confidence grow with SHIELD as each day passed, but hearing it from his therapist's own mouth felt better.
“Fury stated that he won't send him out until he turns 21 years old,” Laura stated, matter of factly.
“Yes, he's still underage and the Director doesn't want to risk imbalancing him or giving him any opportunity to bail. We've talked to his brother Barney several times during the last months, even though it's been kept from both you and him.” There was something she was hiding there.
Laura couldn't help the question that came. “What have you been talking about?”
“His older brother finally managed to get paperwork through, and he's acquired the rights to their old family home again. When we contacted him about Clint's condition two months ago, he was first very hostile to us, but then opened up.”
Nodding to herself, Laura couldn't help but imagine the home Clint had grown up in – a dark place, surrounded by monsters in the shape of a drunken father. It must have been hell.
“Barney's put Clint on his will should he ever be killed or die before his time,” Beckett replied as she pushed her glasses back up onto her nose. Laura twitched slightly at the mention.
“Clint is set to inherit the house?”
That felt wrong.
“I didn't say house,” Beckett smiled and Laura frowned. That wasn't exactly what she was expecting.
“Okay,” Laura replied as she got up.
“Take good care of him, alright? Even Director Carter is very keen to see him do good in the future, and they're eager to see him perform under pressure for the first time too,” was Beckett's last words to her as she exited the room and Laura felt more pride than ever. And a little bit of pressure too, because she knew what Clint meant to them all.
He was going to be a key player, Fury had told her so several times. The way she looked at it, he was just a very intelligent and smart kid with unconventional skills and morals. A key player? That would have to wait until he went out on his first mission. (Jessica Drew was going to be cleared earlier than him as she was almost a year older than him, so she would go out before him. They had already discussed which members of the team would accompany him out to whichever mission they decided for him, and they all agreed that Jessica should be on it.)
(Rumlow seemed very intent on being there too, but that would have to wait until it became relevant).
Two days later, after discussing with Jessica about some training issues – and an introductory meeting with Agent Jasper Sitwell – Laura was bound for Doctor Beckett's office, to collect her report of Clint's session.
She was the only one allowed to read them, as it had been decided between Beckett and Clint. Only Laura could read and make notes to pass onto others. She was looking down at her watch, before pulling out the file to take the papers into as soon as she got her hands on them, that she didn't notice that something was in her way.
And, with a loud bump, she collided with that something.
“Hey!”
Looking up, she recognized Clint, whose chin had just collided with her forehead. Rubbing her forehead, she laughed.
“Oh my god, sorry Clint!”
Why was he there? Beckett's session with him had ended over two hours ago, and he had been supposed to head down to some of his first physical evaluations, now that Jessica was done with hers. (Well. The preliminary evaluations anyway, they still had to figure out if she needed help to stay steady while in flight).
(Jessica could fly. She could fucking fly, and it still blew Laura's mind).
“Yeah, sorry, I know, I just- I was waiting for you,” was the reply that came, and Laura stopped rubbing her head and looked at his face. She liked analyzing him, trying to figure out how he worked, but whenever they spoke together, it was awkward. Probably because she knew so much more about him than he did her.
“Oh, you shouldn't have. You were scheduled for a physical evaluation today?”
“Oh man! That was today?” he whined, and Laura nodded, pretty sure of herself.
She looked at the door to Beckett's office and considered making a run for it, but he had just said that he had been waiting for her. “Why were you waiting for me?” she questioned, as she readjusted the files in her hand, trying to not freak out.
“Well, I was just wondering if uh-” A pause. “If you know- like- uh.”
Well. This was awkward. She looked at him expectantly and saw him blush. It wasn't the sort of teenage crush blush, more like when a person wants to ask for something that embarrasses them.
“I trust you,” he said, in a quiet and strained voice, before he went on, “it's just that you know me way better than I think I do myself.” She nodded, encouraging him to go on. “So, I just thought, that uh- Maybe if you know so much about me, it's only fair that I know something about you?”
He was rocking back and forth on his feet, and she knew that he was very nervous about this. Laura didn't read it as anything else, she had other worries. Protocol said not to share too much with new agents, and her private life was, well, private. However...
“I don't know if I can do that, Clint,” was her first reply, and the look in his eyes almost made her regret saying it. She made a move for the door, but Clint took as step back to follow her own pace.
“Please? I know that Laura's not really your real name,” he replied and she arched an eyebrow. How the hell did he know that?
“And I know that you've got a boyfriend, so don't worry, I'm not after that. I just- I'd like someone around here to feel real?”
That she could understand.
“The only person I know in here is Jessica, and she's off doing experiments blasting energy from her arms and flying. I have nothing to go on in here.” He made a vague motion at the corridor, indicating the integrity of the Triskelion and Laura sighed. She put her hand on the handle into Dr. Beckett's office and looked down at her fingers.
“Alright, but you don't tell anyone.”
She counted to three, as he stood there quietly.
“I've got a little sister, she just turned 4 years old, her name's Katherine but I call her Katie. And my real name's Susan, but I don't like it so I use Laura instead,” she stated, looking up at his face.
It had lit up like a child on Christmas Eve, and before he could say anything more, she moved into the office, leaving him hanging there in the corridor like a fish out of the water.
She honestly did not want to tell him more. Not about the boyfriend, not about her father, or her mom (who was actually ill), or her sister. This was enough. She didn't think that it was unfair that she knew so much about him, and that he didn't. But she did think that it would help him to have something to live off. A personal history could help ground him.
Right?
If they were all just empty names made for the next mission, it wouldn't help him find his place here, would it? She didn't know. She wasn't a field agent. She was just Laura Bishop, and that was it.