femmejosephine | A few revelations

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phil

A few revelations

It was a risk to go to the gun range. She knew it. One of these days someone was going to recognize her and ask interesting questions about why the restaurant owner was extremely proficient with firearms. On the other hand, not keeping up her skills was stupid, especially considering she was armed nearly every minute of every day. She didn't carry at the gym, obviously, and if she was working the floor at the restaurant she tended not to, but other than that, always.

She tried to reduce the risk at the gun range by always going at different days and times so no pattern could be established, by using different routes to get there, and of course by always renting a gun and choosing different lanes. Not the same gun, either. Just some gun, whatever her eye landed on first. Her shooting glasses were slightly darker than normal, too, although they didn't impede her vision.

She'd done all that today too, and now she was getting ready to leave. She'd had a good day - her targets had been well-clustered, and because the range had been almost empty, she'd let herself be a little better than usual. Normally she didn't work to her full capacity because that would raise questions too, but sometimes it was satisfying to cluster the shots so tightly. She was sure that said something about her psychology since she'd given up that life and yet maintained her skills, but Madeline wasn't here to ask her about it.

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"Benefits of specialized training. I can see you've had some of the same." Motioning towards the door, he didn't change his expression, "Care for a post-showdown drink?" He had a few questions and he was certain she knew it. The only uncertainty was if she would indulge him or not. He knew he had the simple card she'd offered him, but he also knew she'd resent him less if he didn't use it. Forced answers always left a bad feeling in the speaker's mouth and that was the last thing he wanted.

Her diner had some of the best pie in town, he'd hate to have to stop going in for a slice.

"Was there a showdown?" she asked, partially because his wording amused her and partially because she wasn't going to just agree to go with him and spill her guts in whatever fashion he was going to ask of her.

"Dangerous world out there, Phil. A girl's gotta be able to defend herself."

Her skills went far beyond just defending herself and he could clearly see that, but she'd always played them down for various reasons and didn't see any reason to stop now.

"Well, you didn't give the other guy change to shoot back, but then aim like that, I don't think it would matter if he had." Looking back down the gallery, he almost chuckled. Any other person probably wouldn't catch it. But he rather liked not being any other person.

"There's being able to defend yourself and then there's picking up a rental gun you've never used before, maybe the sights are off, maybe they're not, but you adjusted either way and emptied a full clip, center-mass, with the recoil barely affecting you. I know some government-types that can't manage that, especially with lovely wrists like yours. And you talk about self defense, but most casual self-defense shooters can't group that tight, even the ones that regularly shoot. Most don't want to, they're aiming to stop an attacker long enough to get away. Even a target is a potential human and a lot of people instinctually hold back, even if they don't know they're doing it." He didn't move, he didn't change the conversational tone and most of all, he didn't look at her until the end. "But you know. Maybe the better cover story for you is you used to compete and you're always looking to beat your last high score. That I might buy."

She was glad that no one was around to hear that assessment of her skills because he'd pretty much got it bang on, no pun intended. She really needed to introduce him to Madeline, if the woman ever arrived. She'd thought it before and she'd probably think it again.

"Remind me to introduce you to one of my former bosses, if she ever arrives here," she said instead, and went into the office area. She needed to settle her bill and she thought Phil would know better than to try to talk to her about what he'd clearly learned with others in earshot.

When that was done and they were outside in the relatively fresh air, she looked at him shrewdly.

"So now you think you know something about me. What do you want?"

It wasn't a hostile question, but it was weary. What was going to be the price of his silence, or at least his discretion?

He waited for her to cash out, running through some response scenarios in his head. He was certain they were past the coy denial stage, but he was also certain that she might just dig in further on him. And then there was the whole, was she a good spy or a bad spy? It was a coin toss, he knew, but things were starting to move forward at work and he would need allies.

When she came out, he had his hands in his pockets, standing as casually as he could. He wished May were here, he'd like her take on things, but he'd do what he could and bear the slightly withering look he was receiving. Honestly he'd expected no less. "I'd like to know more. I'm a knowledge guy. I like to know things. Your boss sounds interesting, you could start there. Or there's that pesky pseudo-death thing we almost talked about before."

She was fairly certain Phil could stand casually with his hands in his pockets while a building fell down around him. He was very good at the blankly amiable expression, too.

"And if I choose to share something you find interesting, what's the price of your discretion? I have to work for you at the electric company or you'll go to GCPD? Maybe give the information to one of the crime families?"

No one in any of her worlds had ever just kept knowledge, especially knowledge about other people. There was always a price to it.

"No price. I'm just curious. Honest." He shrugged, a bit of realization coming to him. Spies could be very quid pro quo, he should know. Especially if she was a kid of freelancer. It wasn't too hard to remember Romanov when she first joined SHIELD. "But if that makes you nervous, I'm sure I could think of something. I just want to get to know you, Nikita. I want to know if you're someone I can trust. That's been a problem in the past and I don't like repeating mistakes."

He wouldn't risk another Ward situation, not here. And he wouldn't expose Fitz and Simmons to it either. "Here, I'll go first," he stuck out his hand, "Phil Coulson, I'm the director of SHIELD, an organization that protects the people from threats they're not capable of understanding. We're spies. The good ones. At least I like to think so." It was basic information. There wasn't a SHIELD here, or a Hydra, despite his initial fears. And regardless, the reasons for staying in the shadows back home didn't apply here. If it became public knowledge, it might make his superiors suspicious, but he didn't think it would entirely derail his plans. Heck, he was pretty sure he could spin it as a positive if he had to. "Now you have one of my secrets."

She stared at him for a moment. She wasn't quite sure she believed that there was no price and that he just wanted to know if he could trust her, but she was willing to go along with it for now. Phil had never seemed like the type to try to snow her, although the people who were best at snowing didn't seem like it. And at least the impression she'd always had that he was more than someone who worked at the electric company had proven to be right. She'd never heard of SHIELD, but the best spy agencies weren't ones that anyone heard of.

"Well, Director Coulson, nice to meet you," she finally said, but didn't shake his hand. "There's a pub at the end of the block that tends to be a bit casual about what its customers are doing. We can probably sit there and chat without anyone bothering us."

It was the middle of the day, so they'd likely be one of the few people in the place, too, which would allow them even more relative privacy.

"I think I can make that work. I don't have anywhere to be this afternoon." Not that he anticipated doing any heavy drinking. Not over something like this.

In some ways it was a bit of a relief having his suspicions confirmed. Maybe not outright, but no one without something to hide was this cagey about things. He was actually a bit surprised she hadn't had a better story prepared. Or maybe she just wasn't expecting someone like him to come along. Phil knew he could have that effect on people.

"If it will make you feel better, you can even buy the first round."

"Oh, goody," Nikita replied sarcastically. Phil probably knew her well enough by now to know that sarcasm was her default state, and he probably was also well aware that it was a defense mechanism. She'd even admit it if asked, since it wasn't exactly an uncommon defense mechanism.

She walked with him to the pub, which was predictably mostly empty with a bartender that looked like she was at least half asleep. Nikita had been here enough to know that it almost certainly wasn't just an affectation for the bartender to look like that.

"Might find a problem getting a table," she noted. She knew which of the empty tables she'd choose. It was the one in the corner with the best view of he windows, the bar, and the exit door.

"I dunno, we might have to make reservations next time." He headed to the table in the back, knowing she probably wouldn't object. She'd probably have chosen the same one. It had a great view of the room and the exits. Some habits never changed for her or for him he wagered.

He paused along the way to order a drink for himself, "What would you like?" He'd been joking about making her pay, this was, after all, his show today. Not that he expected her to drink too much. She'd probably end up looking at it more than drinking it.

"Vodka seven, please," Nikita ordered. It was her standard order, and she requested it with varying amounts of vodka and seven depending on the situation. This time, she suspected the bartender would make it with more seven and less vodka to save money, and that would be fine.

She settled in with her drink at the table she would have chosen, and she might have smiled that he'd chosen the same one. There was a professional suspicion that didn't really end.

Once they both had their drinks, she sipped hers (weak, as she thought), and looked at him calmly.

"Alright. Where are we starting this interrogation?"

"It's not an interrogation, it's a conversation. Friends have conversations and I hope whatever else, we're still friends." Suddenly, he realized he didn't want to lose her friendship. He didn't have many here and he did cherish the few he did. But the bridge was crossed, he just had to make sure he didn't burn it.

"I'm just curious about you. You remind me a lot of some of the people I work with and I know how... isolating that can be." He took a sip of the whiskey he'd ordered, not really planning on finishing it until they were done with... whatever this was going to be.

He wasn't wrong about it being isolating, and he probably wasn't wrong about her being like some of the people he used to work with. She was fighting against every instinct Section had drilled into her about not ever telling anyone what she did or why, and just hoping Phil was telling the truth about not wanting to use it against her.

She took a deep breath and reminded herself that if it went badly, if he turned out to want to use something against her, she was still armed twice over and even without it, she practically was a weapon.

"I'm going to be very bad at this," she warned him. "It's been conditioned into me - painfully, and I mean that literally - that I should not talk about any of this."

Phil found himself frowning a bit. It didn't exactly bode well that she'd been conditioned. But then, so had Romanov and he trusted her implicitly. Perhaps Nikita was the same. "Just start talking. The rest will work itself out."

He leaned back, casually, and waited. While he wanted to know and he had more or less forced the situation, he wasn't going to hover. Now that he had her talking, he was happy to let her do it at her own speed. He wasn't going to judge, not until he had the facts as she saw them.

Every aspect of his body language said interested but patient and she almost smiled at how carefully he was presenting himself. She could recognize it for what it was and still appreciate that he was doing it.

"As far as you're aware, are there any organizations in your world known as Sections?"

That was probably the first question to ask. If he was from a world that had Sections and he was aware of them, she could identify her Section and that might tell him everything he needed to know. If not, she'd start at a different point. It was a risk to mention Section's name, but she could avoid noting the number of Sections, and she wasn't going to mention Center or Oversight unless she had to.

"No." But then he wouldn't necessarily. If there was one thing that Hydra had taught him it was how incomplete their knowledge was back home. Almost terrifyingly incomplete. Knowledge had come too little, too late and a lot of good SHIELD agents had paid the price. It wasn't a mistake he was going to make again. Assume nothing. Anticipate everything. So while he had never heard of anything called Section, he didn't rule it out.

The fact that it was called Section was telling enough. It implied it was part of a greater whole, possibly semi-autonomous in nature. She said it in the plural so there are likely multiple cells over the world. Something like that would have some kind of organizational leadership somewhere. "Is that what you're a part of, then? Or is that who you operate against?"

They both probably knew that it was possible that he wouldn't know about Section even if it was present. One thing she'd learned since becoming a part of that particular shadow world was that there were always more layers and more loyalties. Even if it seemed like everything was clear, it probably wasn't. Especially if it seemed like everything was clear.

She tried to think of how Michael had explained Section to her, that first awful day. Of course, she wouldn't be providing details like Michael had, but what had he said? There was a phrase.

"In my world, and maybe in yours, Section is 'the most covert anti-terrorism organization on the planet'," she recited, then smirked, because she didn't quite believe the hype even after being part of it. "Or at least that's their press. They do things that the CIA, FSB, Mossad, and MI-6 can't or won't do."

To Phil's ears, it sounded a bit like SHIELD. Or, Hydra, depending on the head in place. "I'm familiar with the concept. You don't seem to have bought in, though. Is there a reason for that?" Off-hand he could think of several. But again, he wasn't going to make any assumptions here. Aside from the fact that the source and nature of her skill set was coming into crystal focus. As well as the reason behind her cagey and coy behavior. He'd been right on that regard at least.

"Other than the fact that I have a bad attitude and issues with authority in general?" she asked wryly as she sipped her drink. Actually sipped it, too, instead of just seeming to sip it. She was pausing a lot in this conversation, but it was necessary to decide what she was going to say and how she was going to say it. Phil was probably doing a fair bit of reading into what she wasn't saying, too.

"If there is something else. One of my newest agents could be described in similar terms, but it doesn't mean she doesn't believe in what we do. Most of the time. She's come a long way, actually." He was as proud of Skye as he was of any of the trainees that have served under him over the years, but she had been a handful. She was, however, assuming she was still alive (and he always assumed that until proven otherwise), one of the best agents he'd worked with. He read a bit of that in Nikita and he hoped it wasn't an accident.

"But I think your situation might be a bit more complicated or you'd be more up-front in discussing it."

Did she believe in what Section did? Sometimes. She'd seen what some of their "enemies" had been planning and she'd agree that making passenger jets collide or releasing nerve gas into a building's air system was bad. If Section was the only way to stop them, then maybe it had to exist. She just couldn't agree with their methods, as good at them as she'd turned out to be.

"Section's ends might be just," and there was a pretty big might in there, as far as she was concerned, "but their means are ruthless. I'm not a fan of treating people like they're disposable."

"I think that's a good policy to have. It's certainly how I try to do my work." Although even he wouldn't claim that he'd always been successful. But Phil tried. In the end, keeping his people safe in the situations he sent them into, making sure they came home and that innocents didn't get stuck in the cross-fire, that was the best he could do.

"When you say ruthless...?"

"Try not to work for Section, then. You won't fit in," she advised him dryly. Phil would be a huge acquisition for Section given his skillset. They'd love him. He'd hate it.

The list of ways Section was ruthless was long and painful, and she didn't really want to provide examples unless she had to.

"I mean they are utterly willing to sacrifice anyone and anything at any time. If I didn't do what I was supposed to or I failed at something particularly spectacularly, I knew they'd kill me. Which I don't actually think is the best motivational tool, really."

"Ah. That kind of ruthless." Sounded like Hydra. Lovely, although Nikita clearly didn't approve. Which made him wonder, "What did they have on you? It's pretty clear from what you say, you didn't want to be there."

It wasn't beyond Hydra to blackmail or threaten compliance.

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