11982/When inaction needs action

When inaction needs action
Date of Scene:	11 August 2020
Location:	Recovery Room 01, The Triskelion
Synopsis:	Clint and Peggy get a chance to chat about work and where it fits.. and why.
Cast of Characters:	Peggy Carter, Hawkeye (Barton)

---

Peggy Carter has posed:
While she wasn't one of the women feeling a lot of different things over Clint, he was one of the team and it might be nice for him to wake up to someone who didn't both want to kiss and throttle him. Besides, she's possibly, simply bored. The older agent has taken her shift in the corner of his room, a datapad open in her lap as she continues her studies of the modern world. It's a lot to process, but she's been through more dense mission briefings before. She's in off-duty clothing, a pair of high waisted, wide legged gray plaid slacks and a matching double breasted suit with wide lapels. Once more, it's not clear if she's specifically gotten recreation clothing to mirror the 40s or she's just indulged in the styles that are popular nowadays that mirror those cuts, but they suit her hour glass frame no matter what.

A cup of strong tea with just a dash of milk rests on the side table next to her. On his side of the table, there's a small tray of biscuits, sweets, and a few indulgent pieces of fudge that certainly aren't from the cafeteria here, but brought in probably as a get well gift. Every little while, her dark eyes turn up from her notes to his sleeping face before going back to work.

Hawkeye (Barton) has posed:
It's only been, what, a couple of days since Special Field Agent Clint Barton has returned, and the news is actually spreading, though like a spy agency, no one will cop to knowing where they got their information. While he's not necessarily on lock down, it is somewhat expected that he'll be in the medbay until such time as he can be screened, cleared, and the process can continue.

Like everything else in Clint's life, this isn't going to go as expected. Not when he's got his mind set to it. There aren't many places that can hold the spy, and the medbay is, in his mind, child's play.

As he lies in the bed, the plans of escape, the contacts he's got for the few necessities he's going to need- clothes, socks, boots.. all are in order.

It's when he wants to set that in motion, however? A blue eye opens, closes.. and opens again. It's a basic level thing; see what the room looks like, and beyond... and it's..

Damn.

A long exhale exits the man on the bed as his eyes open again, and his good left arm tugs at the monitor wires. He's known to be non-compliant, and as he's not in any danger of a heart attack? The beeps don't send people running. Once done, he sits up in the bed and rather than 'hi', Clint opens with, "What time is it?" How long has he been out?

Peggy Carter has posed:
"...So, just exactly how long were you laying there figuring out how you were going to get out of here? By my best guess and your breathing, I'd say you've been awake for at least ten minutes, but I was somewhat distracted." Peggy's clipped, warm accent comes, the tone behind her voice one of amusement more than disappointment or anything. She watches him pull those wires off and swipes closed her data pad so she can sit forward and kill the monitor's power before the beeping drives both of them batty.

"It's a little before five in the evening. I brought you dessert." Dinner can come whenever. She nods towards the array of biscuits and fudge, definitely some sort of decadent indulgence from a bakery somewhere in the area. Probably fresh made today. "They go best with tea, but I know your American penchant for coffee. We can have either dropped off." No, she doesn't plan on letting him escape, from the no-nonsense tone of her voice, but she'll at least make the stay a bit easier.

Hawkeye (Barton) has posed:
Clint watches her speak and looks to process the information before he lays back with a softly exhaled groan, good hand going to ribs. "'Bout that, yeah," he nods against the pillow. There's a couple of heartbeats that pass before he works to sit up again, shifting his splinted arm, but not moving it overmuch. It hurts!

He tries a game smile, and nods again in the information. "'Little before five', is repeated. It's not hard to imagine what's going through his head. Change of shift, assuming it happens.. then it's anyone's guess as to who comes in to sit. Sitters are probably a smart thing, but for them if they're below his rank and/or ability? Probably not a smart choice on Fury's part.

The offerings are looked at, and blue eyes lift to the once Director. "I'm.. I'm sorry, ma'am.. it's just gonna take me a moment." He clears his throat; the fluids have helped, before, "Coffee would be absolutely amazing 'round about now."

Peggy Carter has posed:
One of the nice things about the modern pieces of tech -- ordering a coffee was far easier than the annoying buzzers and intercoms. Peggy seems to have adapted fairly well, swiping fingertips neatly across the datapad and pressing send on a prefilled request. She's the sort that simply prepares for all inevitabilities when she can, even if it's a laid up person's drink order. Once done, her dark eyes raise to him again.

They might have put someone less competent on him earlier, but she's certainly not here now. Even if the woman should be an octogenarian by now. Or older. "Coffee will be by shortly. I imagine they'll make you drink some water as well, considering the state you came back in. Something I will never understand about SHIELD agents - do you enjoy breaking down your bodies to it's absolute limits? Is it fun? A show of strength? Or are you just falling into classic tradition of getting into situations a little too deep to get out?" She asks with a slight hint of a smile at just one edge of her lips.

"...though, considering your reputation around these parts, clinging to the side of a mountain with half a dozen goats until you collapsed of dehydration or starvation...*May* have been probable."

Hawkeye (Barton) has posed:
Pushing at the cushion with his good left arm, Clint pushes the control button in the side of the bed to have the head lift up a little more with a *wrrrrrrr* of hydrolics. Some of the bruises are fading, others are just coming into their glory in their comparitive newness, and cuts are healing. He's also breathing a little easier.

Those eyes don't leave Peggy, though.. and he chuckles as he catches what she's saying. "I think it's a 'If I don't do it, who will?' sort of thing. That, and there's the feeling that you're a bigger bad a--" For some reason, he's curbing his language? and he restarts, "You're better than they are." Which, he firmly believes he is.

There's a side smile, however; an affable, almost self-deprecating expression, "It's my job."

Like a kid, though, he's going to fixate on the fact that there's coffee on its way. "Black coffee, nothing. Hot and bitter." There's that pause again, before, "Thank you."

Peggy Carter has posed:
"Hmm." Peggy responds quietly, to the job commentary. It's an agreement, if a thoughtful one. "Yes, that was rather the plan when this all started. If we didn't do it, who would." She murmurs those words a bit more quietly, perhaps actually considering back to how that means she's sat at dozens of bedsides over the years, just like this one. They didn't always wake up. She shakes off the thoughts, though, and turns a bit more of a smile at him.

"I have heard language before, Agent Barton. I may have even uttered a curse or two in my life, you know." That wry tone is back at her words, the momentary nostalgia having well passed. "The coffee should be here shortly, you can ignore the milk on the side. More for my tea." Her head dips gently at the thanks, a few soft curls crossing her shoulder. "It's no matter. You must be something special to have more than one fully capable, highly trained woman quiet uncertain if she wishes to strangle you or kiss you. I can't help you out of that mess. I can help you by gently bullying a few nurses into giving you actual coffee."

Hawkeye (Barton) has posed:
"Yeah, well.. I still believe in it," Clint says quietly. "I'll walk away when I don't." He seems pretty sure he will walk away, or retire, or something. There had been rumors of his retirement, but like any spy worth his weight?

Rumors work. Means he's still able to do his job effectively and convincingly.

He offers another smile, and it's quick, appreciative, and .. short lived when his particular, self-made plight is brought up. His left hand comes up to tentatively run through blond hair to get strands out of his eyes, and then drops again with a mental note to get a haircut. "Yeah," he drawls slowly. "Thought I could take a go at a normal life," is said softly, and he shakes his head.

"Not in the cards." Clint buoys himself up quickly, though, and a shrug comes, more one sided, "We're all dealt somethin'.. and me? To knock my head against a wall until I figure out that it hurts, and I stop." A smile comes back, lopsided but genuine, "There's lots of walls." SHIELD. Avengers...

Peggy Carter has posed:
His comment about a normal life draws her eyes down for just a moment. Peggy still hasn't taken off her wedding rings, small, mundane things heavily weighted on her left hand. Her expression is momentarily bitter sweet as she looks over the diamond settings, thumb playing against it a moment, before she looks back up to him. "Normal life... I am not certain it quite exists, truth be told. It's hard to juggle both, loyalty to shield, work in the field, people at home. It is worth it, though. Even if it seems impossible." Her voice is soft with that advice, years of something behind the words without more clarification.

Fortunately, the weight of the conversation is distracted by the nurse who's coming in with the tray of water AND black coffee. Peggy gives her a look before the woman can even open her mouth about not recommending it. "You can leave it on the side table. Thank you." Oh, that's her 'Director is not taking objections now' voice. The other woman gives a slight nod, the coffee settled near Clint before she disappears back out. Probably to complain about Peggy bossing her around about patients.

"I suspect you'd be a touch more useful not plastering yourself against walls. Maybe we'll take a few months off of doing that? I'm sure SHIELD can keep you busy in other areas." She gives him a sideways grin with that, before hiding it behind a sip of her tea.

Hawkeye (Barton) has posed:
Clint shakes his head quickly, blue eyes never truly leaving her. "I haven't figured it out." Though, in that moment, the rings, and history lessons he'd had? "Sorry, Dire- Ms Carter." To him? She's a Director. Particularly when she takes charge of even the little things. It's pretty much that moment when he comes to that realization that he'd plaster himself against a wall for her.

His gaze barely flickers when the nurse comes in, leaves the coffee, and departs again. Threat assessment, no threat. He doesn't make any assumptions; not with his life. Even here.

Bringing a Midwestern, boyish smile to bear, there's the shrug before, "No promises, ma'am." Reaching out for his cup, he's more than happy to content himself with the hot, black, life bringing liquid. There's the first, tentative sip, then another, larger swallow of caffeine. "Oh god..," is breathed, "haven't had a cup in months. I.. think I'll just enjoy this.."

Peggy Carter has posed:
"Peggy is fine." Peggy offers a bit quieter as he struggles with her old title, and then the distant show of respect. She doesn't need the title to still be a director, to carry herself with that calm authority. To command when she needs, but to simply be Peggy when that's best too. Probably why she was so respected, back in the day.

She nestles her tea between her hands, studying him him openly as he savors the coffee. She doesn't interrupt his enjoyment, the smile that it brings to her is rather more earnest than any one that has come previous. No joking, no teases. Just enjoying the tiny bit of joy she could bring another agent.

"I won't ruin this incredibly special moment of an American and his coffee, but...one of these days, Clint, we are going to talk about why you were on the side of that mountain in the first place. And I don't suspect it's actually about any of the women at all." She knows something is off. She's not going to push him, but she knows. From the tone of her voice, she might even have a good guess. But instead of calling him on it, she just opens the door. Maybe he'll walk through it without her pushing sometime.