Chapter 1
As jobs go, you knew that this one was good. The paycheck was hefty enough to afford a two bedroom apartment in Lower Manhattan and pay for bills, groceries, and whatever else you could want to buy, while still leaving you with more than enough to last until the next payday. It had a substantial 401K (to the point where even if you kept this same position and retired at 60, your retirement would be a lavish one indeed), a very generous amount of paid vacation time, and, the holy grail, health insurance. Although you had enjoyed all of your previous jobs, this one was far and above your favourite. Which was why you were panicking so much at the thought at having a meeting with Director Fury.
The Director had been an elusive figure, a man you’d only heard about and never laid eyes on. There were times when, back when Sitwell was still working at S.H.I.E.L.D., you would transfer the Director to Sitwell over the phone, but that was the extent of your communication with him. Even after Sitwell had been outed as HYDRA mole, you hadn’t seen the Director, just given a letter telling you that you would be a secretary for the Head of Human Resources effective immediately. This meeting was not communicated to you via letter. Instead your supervisor told you herself, with a concerned look on her face which did little to ease your fears.
You knocked on his office door, heart thumping so hard you could feel it in your ears.
“Who is it?”
“Name Surname.” You replied instantly, trying to keep the shakiness of your voice to an absolute minimum.
“Come in Miss Surname.”
Of course you obeyed, delicately closing the door behind you. In that moment it suddenly occurred to you that, in your head, the Director had no corporeal form. He was just a voice over a phone line to you, with no physical characteristics. This made seeing him all the more shocking.
Even from the distance between the two of you, it was obvious that he towered above you (admittedly not a hard thing achieve when you’re five foot two but still), and his all black ensemble and eyepatch only intimidated you further. At the back of your mind you wondered if he could sense your fear.
“Have a seat.” He gestured to the two leather armchairs in front of his desk, and you followed his instructions. “I appreciate you seeing me on such short notice.”
“Of course sir.” You said, perhaps a tad too quickly.
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the large, dark wood desk, interlacing his fingers. “I hear you’ve been doing well in your new placement.”
This surprised you, and you were only able to nod.
“You know, Sitwell always spoke highly of you.” He said nonchalantly. “Said you were very efficient, and pleasant.”
In an instant your heart stopped beating and your blood turned to ice. “I’m not HYDRA.” You blurted before you could stop yourself. “And I had no idea about Sitwell’s true allegiances, I swear.”
The Director raised a brow, but aside from that his face remained impassive. “I know.” He said. “This isn’t about that, or Sitwell. It’s about you.” He paused, perhaps to see if your mouth would once again run faster than your brain, but when you remained silent he carried on. “You have a very impressive resume.” He said, surprising you with his sincerity. “Double majoring in classical studies and accounting, and double minoring in women’s studies and Appalachian studies. Must’ve been hard to convince UVA to let you do that.”
There was a brief pause, and you realized the Director was waiting for a reply. “My high school teachers all vouched for me.” You explained. “They wrote letters and spoke to various faculty members.”
If this in any way pleased him, he made no indication of it. “Your old professors still think very highly of you, did you know that?”
Dumbfounded, you shook your head.
“They all said basically the same thing Sitwell said; you were a fast learner, a good student, and a credit to your schooling.” He leaned back in his chair, still regarding you closely with his one good eye. “It was the same with your old employers. One even said you had a knack for easing tensions and resolving conflicts in the workplace. I understand before you came here, a head chef was grooming you to take over from him.”
“Yes sir.” You said. That had been a very good job. By that point you were no stranger to the hospitality industry, having worked both the front and back of house at various diners, cafes, and restaurants. The chef in question was notoriously hard to please, and the fact that he had taken such a shine to you had honored you. But when a new job opportunity, the one that lead you to SHIELD, popped up, you couldn’t turn it down. It had genuinely hurt to leave, but you had never been one to let sentimentality stand away of your pragmatism, and to his credit, the chef had understood. The two of you still catch up whenever you can over drinks, and after one too many you could rely on him to try and persuade you to ‘come back into the fold’. “I learned a lot from him.”
Silence settled between the two of you, and your fear had been fully replaced by curiosity. What was the Director getting at?
“It seems to me,” he said finally, sitting back up and leaning forward again, “that your talents could be better utilized elsewhere.”
Your heart stopped and your breath hitched, as the cogs in your brain went into overdrive, trying to decipher if the Director was saying what you thought he was saying.
“A position has recently opened up that I think you would be good for.”
“And what position would that be sir?” You asked, trying to keep your voice steady.
“Very recently, the Avengers team has grown to be much bigger than initially imagined.” This was hardly news to you. In recent months it appeared that there would be a new headline about a recent addition to the team that has been dubbed ‘Earth’s Mightiest Heroes’. You couldn’t help but wonder where all of these people were coming from. “And due to that, I believe it would be helpful if they had someone to help coordinate their public appearances and keep everything else in order. Based on Sitwell’s review of you, along with your current supervisor and past superiors and professors, you appear to be the best candidate at hand.”
You swallowed thickly, unable to find any words.
The Director leaned forward, almost casting a shadow over you. “I’m sure I don’t need to tell you the kind of discretion this role requires.” He said firmly. “This won’t be your regular secretarial or personal assistant job, this is a lot more vital, in many ways. Do you understand?”
You nodded vigorously.
“Good.” The Director sat back in his seat and looked down as he pulled a drawer open. “I don’t expect an answer right away, so here.” He reached across his desk and handed you a business card (which you took with very shakey hands). “You may finish the rest of your day as per usual and let me know whether or not you would like to have this new position.”
“Do I have a deadline sir?” You asked, voice slightly raspy due to the dryness of your mouth.
“By the end of the week. You’re dismissed.”
Despite being absolutely stunned you managed to thank the Director for his time and the offer, promising to think it over, and leave the office without your legs or voice giving out on you.
As you rode the elevator back to the floor you work on, you stared at the card.
This really was going to require a lot of thought.
The rest of your day passed smoothly. Your supervisor didn’t ask about the meeting, and if any of your co-workers knew about it, no one was talking. At least no one that you could hear. But your mind was buzzing, trying to figure out what step you should take from here.
On the one hand you could reject the offer, stay where you were, and continue to live your life as per normal. It wouldn’t be any more exciting, but it would be predictable which was always helpful.
But, on the other hand…
The Director had made no mention of payment or benefits, and you had been so flabbergasted that you hadn’t thought to ask. But you were fairly confident that, considering the importance of your role, the salary would be a thing to behold, along with the benefits. You imagined that there would be an element of chaos to it, considering who you would be working for, but if the salary and benefits were as good as you imagined them to be…
Clearly, this decision wasn’t going to be made very easily.
When you got home, you saw your mom getting ingredients together for dinner.
“Let me help with that mama.” You said, quickly getting to her side.
“I’m fine sweetheart.” She said, dismissively waving a hand. Ever since you were hunger she had always brushed off any attempts you made to make her life easier, more than likely out of a sense of parental pride. Trying to convince her to move in with you so you could keep an eye of her had been a particularly Herculean task, but you were nothing if not tenacious. “How was work?”
“I uh, I got offered a promotion.”
Your mom dropped the bag of chicken drumstick she had taken out of the fridge, and you were able to grab them just before they landed on the ground.
“Oh honey! That’s so great!” She wrapped her arms around you and the chicken without hesitation, squeezing you tight.
“Calm down mama.” You said, although you couldn’t help smiling. “I don’t even know if I’ll take it.”
“Why wouldn’t you?” Your mom asked incredulously. “What’s the promotion?”
You explained everything to her; the meeting, the job, and your concerns while helping her assemble everything for dinner and peel potatoes.
“I just don’t know.” You said finally. “I mean it’s a great opportunity, no doubt about that, but with so much up in the air…” You trailed off, biting your bottom lip.
Your mom put a hand on your shoulder. “Have you asked Hestia for advice?” You shook your head. “Go and do that, I’ll get dinner ready.”
You hesitated, but after a few moments you nodded, leaving to go to your room.
Although you had been raised Catholic, you developed an interest in Greek mythology when you were still a child and stumbled upon a children’s picture book about some of the old myths. They had been enough to ignite a love for it in you, and as you were a rather studious and book loving child, you found and devoured as many books on the subject as you could. During this binge, you discovered Hestia.
While Hestia didn’t have as big of a role in the myths as some of the other Olympians, you soon grew devoted to the goddess of the hearth and home. This was largely due to the fact that your own home was chaotic and violent because of your father. Your mom had told you that he had been charming once, kind, and he must’ve been for your mom to marry him and have a child with him, but you had never known him to be anything other than vile. Every night you would pray for a better father, a happier home. And every day you would wake up to find those prayers unanswered.
When you were fourteen your father got into his chevy and drove off into the night, never to be seen again. That was when you began to work, doing whatever jobs the locals were willing to give you (pity could be very beneficial if one knew how to use it). And on the night before you turned fifteen, you were visited by Hestia herself.
She appeared in your room clad in robes the colour of a burning fireplace, and the gradient danced and moved with Her.
“Don’t be afraid.” She had said. “I have been watching you for many years. And I am here now.”
From that day on, Hestia had become a constant in your life, offering you comfort and advice when you sought it. But that wasn’t all. She had bestowed gifts unto you, not the material kind, but they were no less useful. She gave you a honeyed tongue that would be able to sweeten even the most bitter of atmospheres. A touch that could warm anyone to you and encourage peace. And She even granted you control over flames. Admittedly you used the first two far more often than the third, but you were no less grateful to Her, and you remained a devoted worshipper.
You closed your door and windows, drew the curtains, and set up your candles and incense. With the wave of a hand they were lit and the room was quickly filled with the scents of cotton, apples, cinnamon, and clove. You sat on the floor, closed your eyes and steadied your breathing, feeling yourself fall into a trance like state.
Hestia’s fire was always warm and welcoming, never too hot to approach. She sat beside it, watching you with eyes that changed colour with the dancing flames.
“Hello child.” She said kindly, gesturing to a white marble bench across from the one She was sitting on.
You sat on the bench and bowed your head in respect. “Hestia...I need advice.” You explained everything to Her, and tried to read Her expressions, but She kept Her face impassive as She listened, occasionally nodding. “What should I do?” You asked finally.
There was a minute of silence, during which you waited patiently. You knew better than to rush an answer from Her.
“I think,” She said finally, “that this is exactly the kind of role you would be perfect for.” She smiled, and it felt like being embraced by the greatest warmth you have ever known. “Even before I came to you, you were a skilled speaker and peace maker. And you have taken good care of your own hearth and home, I see no reason why you would fail here.”
“But what if I do?” You asked quietly. “It’s such a huge responsibility, I’m bound to mess up somehow. And when I do, the consequences would be way bigger than they would be in any other job.”
“Your lack of self belief is as surprising as it is disheartening.” She reached across and patted your arm. “No job that requires prioritizing co-operation is easy.” She admitted. “Especially among a...group as mismatched as these Avengers. But you are more than well equipped for this. I know it.” She withdrew Her hand. “And I will be there, the home is my domain after all, and it sounds like you would be working with them in their home.”
That had never occurred to you, but now that you thought about it, you realized that would more than likely be the case. After all, when the Avengers aren’t saving the world or making public appearances, they must be spending their time in the tower, where you would be. If you took the offer.
“I have said my piece.” Hestia said. “This decision is yours, but do not let it be clouded by self doubt. You’re very capable, and I believe in you.”
You smiled. “Thank you.”
She smiled back. “You’re welcome. Now, go back home. Your mother has finished cooking.”
When you opened your eyes you saw that most of your incense sticks were halfway burned out, and some of your candles had decreased in size. It always amazed you how vastly different the passage of time was on Olympus compared to Earth.
With another wave of your hand the flames all went out and you reopened your curtains and windows, to let fresh air back into your room.
You looked down at the street below you, at all the passersby, and contemplated Hestia’s advice. It was always comforting to know that even when you didn’t believe in yourself, She did. It made even the biggest of tasks seem manageable, more than manageable even, and reinvigorated you. You took a deep breath before leaving your room.
The small dining table in the center of the kitchen had been set, and your mom was dishing up the potato salad and fried chicken when you entered, and she looked up at you expectantly.
“Well?”
You took a deep breath.
The next day at work, as soon as you clocked in, you called the Director from your desk.
“This is Fury.”
“Director, it’s Name Surname.” You exhaled slightly, keeping your voice steady.
“Miss Surname.” He sounded surprised and you felt somewhat proud to get a reaction out of the almighty Director. “Have you come to a decision?”
“Yes sir.” You closed your eyes, and thought of Hestia’s words from the night before. “When do you want me to start?”