laniew1: (SHIELD - Avengers)
[personal profile] laniew1
Summary: Stiles goes to college and accidentally gets hired by SHIELD.

TITLE: Stiles Stilinski: Agent of SHIELD
RATING: PG-13 (for now)
PAIRING: Stiles/Clint
AUTHOR: Melanie
Summary: Stiles goes to college and accidentally gets hired by SHIELD.
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing Marvel, MTV, etc own everything but the idea to mesh them..

Stiles Stilinski, Agent of Shield 29/30

“So I found something…” Crawford’s face twitches. “Weird.”

Stiles snorts but doesn’t say anything, just makes a hand motion that he hopes signifies ‘hit me with it’ and leaves it at that.

The books open across his desk don’t make any sense, he wishes it was because they were in some foreign language that he didn’t speak, but they’re all in English so he’s fairly sure that’s not the case.

Crawford lays the book he was holding to his chest down across his desk and his face twitches again. It’s oddly distracting.

“Is there something wrong with your…” Stiles makes a motion towards his face and Crawford frowns. “You’re twitching dude?”

“No I’m not,” Crawford says, he shakes his head and makes to leave the office and escape whatever insanity has taken hold of Stiles, of course that’s when Stiles looks down at the book.

“What is this?” Stiles asks, there’s a flicker of dread, he’s cold all of a sudden. Feel cold and lonely and…

“Symbols of A’kresh,” Crawford says simply, his face doesn’t change expression, he could be talking about the weather. “But see the thing is…”

“Spit it out Crawford,” Stiles says, he arches an eyebrow at him.

“The thing is we’ve seen these symbols before,” Darla says, she appears behind Crawford in the doorway, holding a small digital camera in her hand.

“What are you talking about?” Stiles bites his lip and Darla hands over the camera.

The camera is already showing one symbol, he flips through and finds three more identical to it but very obviously in different locations.

“Four locations on the Helicarrier,” Darla says.


“North, west, south, east; four pillars,” Crawford says. “All centered around one particular area.”

Stiles looks down at the book at the symbol there, at the symbols on the camera.

“This symbol is to contain something,” Stiles says slowly, he pushes himself to his feet.

“A witch, specifically,” Darla says quietly.

“How long?”

“We don’t know.”


The protection sigil is something he remembers in only the vaguest sense from when he was a kid. He would call his father but, unsurprisingly, his phone is not able to make calls. He gets a message, every single time, no matter who he tries to call: all circuits are busy, please try your call again later. Goodbye.

All his e-mails are bounced, returned as undeliverable.

He buries the panic underneath the need to try and protect himself, protect Darla and Crawford along with himself.

“So what is this supposed to do?” Crawford asks. His voice has taken on that far away sound that has become the norm.

“Protect you, us, whatever, until we figure out how to get off the helicarrier without arousing suspicion,” Stiles says. He’s carefully inking the sigil onto Crawford’s arm using a black sharpie.

“And a sharpie is going to do that how?” Darla asks, she’s daintily blowing on it.

“It’s not the sharpie, it’s the sigil, and once I,” Stiles waves the hand not holding the sharpie to encompass his magical whateverness. “You’ll be protected.”

He studies the sigil on Crawford’s arm, glances back at his notes to make sure it’s all good and then drops the sharpie on his desk and beckons Darla forward.

“Okay,” he says, he lays his palm over each of their sigils, he’ll have to do Clint next, the rest of the Avengers. But they’re off on some mission or another, it’ll wait until they return.

“This might sting,” he says and he closes his eyes, tries to infuse the power of his beliefs into the sigil’s under his hands.

And nothing happens.

Nothing… he opens his eyes looks between Crawford and Darla and blinks, hands dropping to his side.

“Stiles?” Crawford asks his voice sounds far away, distant and he’s looking decidedly…

“Are you a ghost?” Stiles swallows, he would back up but his desk is digging into his back and there’s nowhere to go.

“What?” Darla looks confused, her non-corporeal form fading in and out. “Was something supposed to happen?”

“I…” Stiles starts and the world lurches and he goes flying forward, Crawford and Darla don’t move, just stand there staring at the spot he was in not moving, not helping him.

The world goes dark, blank, everything there and then not, like a TV screen shutting off, a movie projector stuttering to a stop, little dots of light but no picture to see.


He hates these missions. The ones where they walk into rooms and find dead kids strapped down to beds and no one left to blame or hit.

“I’ve got no survivors here,” he says.

“Copy Cap,” Sharon’s voice sounds normal, there’s just a twinge of something else there, something like grief but buried deep under duty.

There’s four dead kids in this room, the oldest can’t be more the seventeen by his estimation.

“They’ve all got these helmets on,” he says, “Do we have any idea what they’re being used for?”

“They’re some sort of VR tech, fairly advanced, I didn’t think anything like these had even hit the market yet,” Tony’s voice cuts in, he’s sound angry.

Steve can’t really blame him.

He surveys the room again, there’s nothing for them to do here but make way for medical to come in with their black body bags so they can determine if these were just kids or if this was another facility being used to perform black market tests on mutant kids.

He hears the tapping when he gets back out in the hallway, faint and faraway and he thinks for a second that maybe it’s one of the others, Clint most likely, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

But Clint had stormed out to take a perch outside one of the most used entrances after they found the second room of dead kids.

“I’ve got noise,” he says quietly into his comm.

“Standby Cap,” Sharon says, he waits for a second and the tapping continues so he starts down the hallway, peering in one room after another.

They’ve only gone through half the rooms on this level, some of them are locked, secured with keycards and retinal scanners and he doesn’t even want to think about the horrors that are waiting behind those doors.

The tapping leads him to one though and he feels the slight air displacement that means that Iron Man is coming up behind him.

The door to the room with the tapping noise has a keypad and a retinal scanner. Tony makes a huffing noise behind him and kind of shoves him out of the way.

At least he’s not shooting the door, instead shooting a hole into the wall next to the door.

“It could have been lined with explosives or been…”

“But it wasn’t,” Tony says and he just knows that under the helmet that hides Tony’s face the other man is rolling his eyes.

He holds his shield in front of him, climbing carefully through the makeshift entranceway, Tony a step behind him.

The room is dark and there’s only one bed in the room, the young man strapped to it is struggling weakly, the tapping noise has been the bed hitting a metal stand bolted into the floor as he jerked.

His arms and legs are restrained and his head and face is covered, like all the other kids they’d found, with that damned metal helmet.

“I’ve got a boy here,” he says quietly, he moves across the room, slinging his shield over one shoulder as he goes.

“Alive or…?” Sharon starts.

“He’s alive,” he says. He touches the boys’ shoulder and tries not to think about the fact that he can feel the bones shifting under his hand as the boy keeps struggling, “Easy there son, just give us a few minutes and we’ll get you of those restraints.”

The boy stills.

“What do you make of these?” Iron Man says, his hand is hovering over the helmet and there’s a symbol that Steve has never seen before etched into the metal. He glances down and sees that the same symbol is etched into both wrist restraints, and further down on piece of metal that joins the ankle restraints together.

It’s certainly not something that was on any of the other restraints or helmets that they’d seen in the facility, not that he’d got close enough except to verify that the kids were dead.

“Um,” he starts, and he backs up a step. The boy must sense their withdrawal because he makes a panicked noise and after a second he can hear the boy is mumbling a muffled ‘help’ as he resumes his struggles.

He looks over at Iron Man and when he reaches for the helmet he doesn’t stop him so Steve starts looking for the catch on the helmet.

The clasp is on the side and his fingers feel overly large as he fumbles with the release before he manages to get the thing loosened enough that he can open it and push it away.

The boy is probably a young man; gaunt face and terrified eyes that seem to spark with recognition for half a second before it vanishes.


“The boy is catatonic,” the doctor is saying when Steve arrives. He’s in street clothes, t-shirt and jeans though he’s still wearing the boots from his uniform. There’d been no shoes in his locker and he doesn’t remember taking them home.

“He was conscious when we found him,” Steve says, he hasn’t been gone that long.

“And he was conscious for a few minutes when he came in, but now he’s lapsed into some kind of catatonic shock.”

“Eyes are open, no one’s home, helmet they had on all of them, some kind of VR, virtual reality tech, never seen the design before,” Tony says, he’s tapping at something on his phone looking annoyed, Steve glares at him just because.

“You shouldn’t even have been in his room,” the doctor snaps, “that boy is a minor and…”

“And that boy is a victim and we need to talk to him,” Tony says he looks up, raises an eyebrow. “He’s the only survivor and we need to find out both who took him and how he survived.”

“Minor?” Steve asks, he should have stayed in his uniform and followed the ambulance in, but there’d been 23 dead kids in that warehouse, he’d needed to shower away the smell and feeling of being around that much death in one place.

Sharon hands him a folder, SHIELD emblem embossed on the front, when he flips it open there’s a missing persons report from the previous year.

Sixteen year old Gavrilovich ‘Stiles’ Stilinski, kidnapped after a lacrosse game. Missing for eleven months, 26 days.

“Has someone notified his family?” he asks, the kid laying catatonic in one of their hospital beds is a faint shadow of the kid in the picture. The kid in the picture has laughing, mischievous eyes.

“I called his dad, mom passed away almost six years ago, he’s on his way.”


SHIELD has a very small department that deals with some of the weird crap that they find during the course of a normal mission.

Specialist Crawford is a known entity; Agent Markoff rarely leaves his office, so Steve is not surprised to see Crawford standing there with two books and handful of papers when he comes out of the boys’ room.

“We found the symbols,” Crawford starts with, he’s always direct and to the point even though he rarely makes eye contact with any of them and the blush that stains his cheeks when talking with Thor could probably heat a small country.

“Okay,” Steve says, because he’s not sure why they care about the symbols but if Crawford made the trip over it must be important.

“You need to put the restraints back on him,” Crawford says, he looks up and manages to make eye contact for about half a second.

“I beg your pardon,” Steve says, because he couldn’t have heard him right.

Crawford flips a book open, there’s a sketch of a human body with restraints, the top of the page says ‘Rituals of A’kresh’. The blow up of the symbols on the body are similar to the ones that were etched into the helmet and manacles that were on the boy.

“Normally they would have been inked onto the skin,” Crawford says. “They’re a binding sigil, the boy must be a witch or a spellcaster, probably white though Agent Markoff thinks they would have worked on any witch regardless of classification. “

“I’m not sure why this means we need to be the restraints back on?”

“Because the sigils need to be broken, not just removed, and the fact that they were removed means that the boy is kind of stuck in between, not in whatever VR reality the helmet was pushing at him, not in the real world, just kind of…”

“In between,” Steve finishes.


Sharon handles the manacles carefully and they have two guards in SHIELD uniforms just in case the boy gets violent.

The doctor is in the corner, glaring mutinously, he’s decidedly against this exercise. Steve can’t say as he blames him.

Between the three of them they fit the manacles back on; the chains have been snipped so it’s just the helmet and the thick metal bands that were encircling his wrists and ankles.

“The tech is inactive,” Tony whispers when Steve winces at the helmet locking into place.

“What the hell is going on in here?!” an angry voice comes from the doorway, Steve glances over, the guards already moving to intercept the man. He recognizes the man from the SHIELD file, this is the boy’s father.

“It’s okay guys,” he waves his hand and Sharon shoots him a look that questions his sanity. Tony’s resting his hand on the helmet.

“Take those off of him, now!”

“We are, trust me we don’t like this anymore then you do,” Steve mutters, Sharon picks up the screwdriver that Tony had brought. Crawford had said to scratch through the sigil on the ankle restraints, then left wrist, right wrist and helmet.

She waits for Steve to nod then presses down hard, drawing a line through the sigil in one swift movement, the boy’s body twitches. She hands it off to Steve to do the right wrist while she flicks open the ankle restraints and lets them fall to the bed. She moves up the bed to the boys left side, waiting.

Steve marks a line through the sigil on the right restraint, the boy twitches again. When Sharon does the left restraint he shudders, body trembling.

Steve keeps one hand on his arm, using the other to pull the restraint off his wrist, watching as Sharon hands the screwdriver over to Tony.

Tony takes a deep breath and drags the screwdriver through the sigil on the helmet, dropping it to the floor as he and Sharon work together to get the helmet off while the boy starts convulsing.

The doctor rushes forward, his father rushes forward and the whole room explodes into shouting and yelling.


The father is a Sheriff; he’s got his badge on his hip and shoots rapid fire questions that no one can answer at them. He also looks really fucking familiar but Tony doesn’t focus on that right at the moment.

“What do we know about the tech?” Maria asks, she has her arms crossed over her chest. It’s just her, him and Steve.

“It’s VR Tech,” Tony says, he flicks through a couple of screens on his tablet and the images populate the screens in the room. “But it’s not like anything that I’ve ever seen before,” just saying that pains him. That there’s someone out there with the smarts to design and build tech like this and they were kidnapping sixteen year old kids to use it on is just sad.

“You said there was a memory chip in it?”

Tony blinks at her, “wow, so you actually read the reports that I send in.”

“The ones that you deign to send that contain actual useful information, yes,” Maria says, she runs her fingers over the screen showing the helmet, the one with the sigil that had locked the boy into the helmet.

“I haven’t been able to access any of the information off it yet, I’m running decryption programs and we’re getting close…”

“Close enough to have a reason to not release the boy?”

“You think he might be involved?” Steve interjects; it’s the first words he’s said since Hill called them in there.

It takes a moment but Maria shakes her head.


The boy is awake when he Steve gets there; he got the call at 02:30 from one of the SHIELD guards at the boys’ door.

He’s got wet eyes and his father is sitting on the edge of his with his arm over his shoulder when Steve shoulders the door open.

There’s a flash of something in the boys’ eyes that Steve thinks is grief. His father looks angry and doesn’t move.

“Hello there,” he says, for lack of anything better to say. The boys’ lips quirk into something that might have been on the way to a smile.

“I don’t remember anything,” he says.

“Stiles…” his father starts.

“I don’t, the last thing I remember was the lacrosse field, I had,” he laughs a little, it sounds bitter, “I’d been having a good game.”

“Stiles,” his dad says and he tugs Stiles closer to him.

“Anything you can remember, any little thing might help us catch the people who did this to you,” Steve says.

Stiles looks at him, directly at him and he doesn’t blink, doesn’t look away or anything. Just focuses completely on him and then shakes his head.

“I don’t remember anything,” he says and Steve doesn’t know how he’s so sure, but he’s 100% certain that he’s lying.


Tony cracks the encryption on the VR Tech about two hours after the Sheriff and Stiles leave the hospital. Stiles has a bag full of pills that Steve is sure he won’t ever take and he’s made promises that he would seek counseling that Steve is sure won’t ever happen.

“The Sheriff looks like Johnny Cage,” Tony says as he’s pushing data to the screens. It’s just the two of them as Tony had requested.

“I don’t know who that is,” Steve admits.

“Actor that disappeared about twenty years ago,” there’s a flick of the fingers and a picture on the screen, the picture does look like a much younger version of the Sheriff that had just taken his son away.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Not a damn thing; just thought it was interesting bit of information while we waited for this to load.”

The screens populate suddenly, a flash of color and Steve sees himself, Tony, Natasha, Clint, Fury, Crawford of all people.

“The kid was the focus but the environment that they had him in was…”

“SHIELD,” Steve says slowly.

“I haven’t reviewed it all yet, but the kid has a knowledge set that SHIELD would probably find fairly fascinating.”

“And what would that be exactly?”

“Werewolves and Witches and Demon.”

“Oh my…”


His house looks the same, exactly the same and it’s not even been a year so he’s not sure why that surprises him.

Scott has come out of the house and is opening his door before his dad can even make it around the car. The others are crowding in the doorway of his house, shoving each other slightly to have the best vantage point.

“I thought we agreed just a couple of people,” his dad says though his tone says that he knew this was going to happen.

“Hi,” Scott says, he’s crouching down and he has his arm out to help him out, like his dad had told him that Stiles is still kind of shaky on his feet but had refused both the wheelchair and the crutches that hospital had tried to foist on him.

“Why don’t we get him out of the car, honey,” Melissa says and she’s smiling at him, her gentle, you look like complete shit but I’m not going to tell you that, smile.

Stiles uses Scott’s arm to pull himself out of the car and he knows how he looks so he doesn’t look at the crowd in the doorway.

Doesn’t look at Lydia or Allison wiping their eyes to hide tears.

Doesn’t look at the way Derek’s eyes are flashing red and the others are crouched to rush forward and offer assistance if Scott or his father or Melissa falter in helping him.

He just doesn’t look, he lets Scott help him up the walkway to the house; he lets his dad lead the way and he keeps his head down the way he should have been all along.


“Your father says you’re not sleeping,” the therapist opens with.

She’s the other one, not the therapist that he has to see so that he can go to school, but the one that his father had called in about fifteen favors that he hadn’t had so that he could make sure that his son was okay.

He doesn’t have to lie to her, she knows who he is, she knows who his father is.

“I have dreams,” he says after a brief pause.

“About the VR Tech?”

“Just being back in the world that the tech created,” he says.

He doesn’t say that it scares him, the thought that he might have been stuck in that world forever, he thinks that goes without saying.

He also doesn’t say that he misses it, the friends he had, the family he’d made.


“You’re safe here; your father will do everything in his power to protect you.”

Stiles snorts, “He called Rayden and I think he’s been talking with Liu when he thinks I’m sleeping, I’m pretty sure that’s not in any definition of safe, I’m pretty sure that’s the definition of him putting his neck in my place.”

The therapist tilts her head a bit, Stiles doesn’t squirm because he deals with Lydia on a daily basis and this woman has got nothing on her.


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September 2016


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