Meddle, Part 3

July 27, 2014:

Paul and Clint get visitors once they're patched up.

The Triskelion's Medbay


NPCs: None.


Mood Music: None.

Fade In…

A few hours after everyone escaped from the rapidly falling aerosubmersible, Paul and Clint find themselves stitched up, bandaged and in adjacent beds in the medbay. And Paul is not happy. "Seriously?" he's saying, not necessarily to Hawkeye but the world at large. "This is what they feed wounded in SHIELD? How do they expect anyone to heal on this and make new blood. I want a steak. A large, rare steak. With potatoes. And cheese cake. Or at least a pepperoni pizza. Where's my phone? I'll order in."

"Keep your panties on," Sara announces as she comes into the medical bay, carrying bags full of take out boxes that smell like…fries. And cooked meat. "You think I'd let you get shot and not make sure you got enough to refill the tanks? Oh ye of little faith. Demons, sure, Sara'll take care of that. Hospital food? No faith." She grins, taking a look down the hall for appropriately intimidating orderlies. "You may have to eat fast, though. Brought you a visitor," she nods behind herself. "Ran into him in the lobby."

Barton's got ye olde IV drip going as no one is EVER hydrated enough for doctors. And, of course, the crap they serve in Medbay is pretty typical country wide. Made for content and not taste. If wallpaper paste had the nutritive value, they'd serve it.

Sitting up on his bed now, the archer swings his feet over to the side before he hisses a breath. Shoulder muscle. Back muscle. Damn… okay, not the best of ideas… and he shifts in order to lay back down. "I would go for pizza." He doesn't sound up for pizza, however. They putting sleeping meds in the IVs now? He's scraped up with a hundred little cuts, nicks and bruises, but it's that one that seems to be keeping him down. Left shoulder, which, for him, means that he -has- to let it heal.

"That.. bring enough for two?" Three? Four?

"So -this- is what you called me over for, Pezzini? Making sure Manning wasn't terrorizing the nurses?" Roy rejoins, as he follows Sara in. "Or do you just need a lookout to warn you when the nurses are coming while these guys get to stuff their faces? Hoi, Barton. So what stunts landed you here this time?"

"You are the best partner ever." Paul says fervently and reaches for a bag. He even means it. What are you doing here, Harper? She called you?" He glances at his partner curiously then begins to grin. "Say Sara, do you know what travels faster than light? Gossip."

Apparently gossip DOES travel faster than light. Because not three minutes after Sara arrives with contraband for the injured men, May stalks past the nurse's station at the end of the hall on a beeline for the room that is now becoming the convergence point for the day. She's wearing her 'civilian disguise', which is really just jeans and a dark blue long sleeve shirt, with a day pack slung over one shoulder. She slips into the room while Paul is gushing over the greasy offerings, and offers Barton a nod, knowing that unless he's been doped to the gills he'd notice her arrival.

"I heard we had two injured, I brought enough for four," Sara smirks at Barton's question, starting to dole out boxes to him and Manning. Inside? Foot-long, double-loaded cheesesteaks, and piles of fries. And another box holds a giant pile of onion rings. One more? Donuts. "I wanted to show you he was alive, see?" she answers Roy, nodding toward Paul. "For now. Until we stumble into our next adventure. Probably. I can take this food away, you know," she adds with a smirk at her partner's next words, flushing slightly despite herself.

"Yeah, figured… you and your crazy resurrection plots. That you actually got one that worked… I have no idea how, and that's a story for next time, Pezzini. Manning, next time don't die. I'd never hear the end of it from Pez."

The arrival of Melinda May has Roy grinning. "Miss May. Here to provide your usual cheer? Hey Barton, you're lucky, Little Miss Sunshine is here to brighten your day."

"Classified, Harper," Clint rejoins good-naturedly. Unless, of course, he was one of.. hundreds, maybe thousands, or perhaps millions that watched it on television, live and as it was happening. Kinda hard to miss a giant submersible that suddenly took flight. And that it was almost involved in a dogfight with a SHIELD helicarrier.

Clint looks across at Paul and Sara before a tired smile creases his face. "Oh yeah. Gossip. More famous, the more gossip."

Good news for Barton is that yes, he has been doped to the gills, or very close to it just to keep him in place. As a result, he'll either be extremely amusing, extremely annoying… or boring. Who knows? "May.. ohgod.." is muttered and he's pulling on sheets. Damned hospital gowns (part 2 of trying to keep him in place for overnight!)

Paul drags one of those hospital tables on wheels over and starts opening boxes, eating a couple fries as soon as he finds them. "Agent May. You missed an interesting fight." He uses the remote to raise the head of the bed and get him into a better sitting position. "I'm not planning on it, Harper. Course, I didn't plan on it the first time either." And what brought him back is hanging around his neck and quite visible since he refused to take it off. It's even more noticable since it sits just above the bandages wrapping around his middle.

Sometimes it takes quite a while to get from one part of the Triskelion to the other. Out of quarters, lock quarters. Stop in hallway. Think about changing. Come back to quarters. Instead wash face. Leave quarters. Elevators. Hallways, so many, many hallways like wow, what. Eventually, Evelyn makes her way to the after-care and resting room that everyone seems to have congregated at. Stopping in the hallway, she takes a hold of the door frame and lightly knocks on the open door. "Hey."

A good enough greeting. One could assume Eve's just come from yoga, given her yoga pants which are just a fancy name for leggings that flare by the ankles. Black with neon pink stripe, with an over-sized black shirt that had a depiction of the reaper offering a small pixie the cord and connector for a pair of headphones. She's a bit mussy, but you know, exercise.

Melinda May narrows her eyes at Roy only briefly, then studies Barton and Paul in turn, as well as the cheesesteaks that Sara smuggled in. "No, I didn't," she replies to Paul, letting the small pack over her shoulder slide to settle gently to the floor just inside the doorway. "I spent all day ferrying everyone all over because of your stunts." She aims that last at Barton. She's still not forgiven him for his horrific driving.

"Wow. So he's medicated," Sara observes with a brief look toward Barton, trying not to look too amused. "Extremely medicated." She looks up when May comes in, considering for a moment. Whatever mental calculus she goes through, it comes out with numbers that mean she isn't making any attempt to hide the contraband food. "Hey, we did not put a sub-ship in the river," she points out to May. "I mean, not initially. I may have been involved it putting it back in the ocean."

"Uh huh," Roy replies with a smirk, shaking his head at Clint's 'classified' statement. As if.

Reaching out to nab a donut, having a hankering for something sweet, Roy winks at Melinda. "Oh give him a break, he's stuck in the hospital," he adds good-naturedly. "You can keep him in here longer if you're so concerned." And then nudging Sara, Roy adds, "Ixnay, save that for the official reports."

The smell of cheesesteaks, though. It's… a siren song. It is. But, feeling like moving through molasses does little to aid in motor control. So, sadly, it's not to be. And, he's even a little slow on the uptake when Evelyn comes in to visit- and it's Ev!

"Oh hey…" Barton's voice sounds a little… singsongy. "Ev.. Ev.." His head drops back onto the pillow, his gaze moving up to the ceiling. His right arm rises, but he misses the one spot he's aiming for- his head so he can dig fingers into his eyes. Miss! And, he looks… yeah. Definately drugged. He couldn't throw a pillow and have it be half accurate.

"May.. you shoulda seen it.." Barton begins again. "Took Hill up…" or rather, she flew, but! But! "It was goin' great." Until… and he blinks, looking like he's completely lost his train of thought. And he did.


A grin is given to Harper, and now, the man feels absolutely no pain and is able to shrug in a 'I tried' gesture.

"It's not our stunts." Paul points out to Sara. "It was their security that let someone infiltrate their computers." Not to mention the building itself. "We just helped but things to rights." Grabbing a few napkins in anticipation, he takes a big bite of his cheesesteaka nd sighs happily as he chews. Once he's done, he looks over at Evelyn as she shows up. "Hey." he returns. "Who're you?" He glances over at Clint and shakes his head, looking amused. "Sara, if I'm ever unconscious, make sure they don't drug me stupid."

"Oh." Evelyn shrinks a bit in place while stepping into the room and looking at Paul. "Evelyn. Hello." It's pretty crowded in here. That's a little uncomfortable, and it shows a bit. Ev isn't really big on crowds, but you know, gotta do what you gotta do if you don't want to go back walking through the entire Triskelion in sandals again. While she doesn't quite pull toward Barton's bed immediately, she does enter the room enough to join the scene, as it may be. "Clint, on a scale of how high you look from 1 to 10, you look Bob Marley."

Melinda May looks over toward Wolstenholm and offers her a nod, having not seen the agent since she returned from an extended mission off-base. The Bob Marley comment is honestly amusing, but it'll take more than a clever quip to get her to actually show it. You know, like getting butt-dialed by a cyborg that connects to the internet with his BRAIN. And then spends several minutes ranting about how much he dislikes Hill. She glances from Evelyn to the cheesesteaks then tilts her head toward Barton. Go on, help Bob Marley out. He'll appreciate it.

"No way," Sara grins at Paul. "I am absolutely in favor of seeing you like that. Hey, Eve," she waves as she notices the other woman's arrival. "Long time no see." At Roy's warning, she shrugs lightly. "It's not like we weren't accompanied by responsible SHIELD adults." A glance toward Barton. "Adult," she corrects herself. Hill counts, right? And if Barton isn't going to eat, she's not going to feel bad about stealing some of the onion rings, either, holding the box out toward Roy.

Nabbing an onion ring, Roy shakes his head. "What, May was along for the ride? Yeah, then she totally counts. Nobody's more adult than the mother hen." he replies, munching away, pausing to beam at Melinda, before nodding at Evelyn.

Barton's eyes widen as Paul recounts the beginning of the story… that part he'd forgotten about, and when it does come out, he looks concerned, if not on the edge of paranoid for a moment. Drugs.. he's got.. oh god…

"Evelyn," Clint comes with a decided note in his voice. "One of my partners. She's mi—" Oh. Wait. Drugs. In the next moment, he's looking all the world as if he's simply not going to say another word. Nope. Can't get it out of him.

Evelyn's quip, however, gains a tentative smile, and to look at those blue eyes? Pupils are huge. "If she's amazing, she won't be easy. If she's easy, she won't be amazing." Someone mention Bob Marley? "Um.. if.. um.." Dammit.

"Almost the best partner." Paul corrects, giving Sara a mock frown. But he's too happy about the food to berate her further. "No, it was Hill and Steve." he tells Roy. "Has anything been discovered as to the point of this all, Agent May?"

Melinda May might have been remembering Trent being a doofus, but she goes instantly alert at Clint's attempt at stopping himself from saying something she needs to know. She puts a hand up to tell Paul to wait as she steps past everyone and right up into Barton's face. "Who is missing, Barton? Is it Romanoff?"

"Hey, May." A rhyme! "Sara." A smile, it's been a while since they've hung out relative to everyone else in the room. A nod towards Roy, as well. She's only been gone a few weeks, but it's nice to see some friendly faces again after such a long time away. Even if it's a large group. This much brings a small smile to her face. Following the tilt of May's head, she looks at the cheesesteak, then at Barton. Ah! Got it. Moving over, she scoops up the container of fries and delicious cheesesteaky goodness then moves on over to Clint's bed.

Not wanting the food to spill, she holds on to the container and watches Barton for his reply. She noted that, too. She doesn't need to do anything but watch Clint. Come on man, spill it. Then there will be delicious cheesesteaks.

"Not May, Hill," Sara clarifies for Roy, taking a bite of the onion ring. "And Steve, yeah," she nods toward Paul. "Beats the hell out of sitting at home getting bored, though," she admits with a shrug, sitting at the foot of Paul's bed to steal bits and pieces of the food she brought in for the injured.

Nabbing another onion ring, Roy leaves Barton to roast at May's tender mercies, after a helpless shrug in return. Not messing with -that- chain of command. "True, Pezzini. On the other hand, you do need a vacation."

Tash… Tash? Missing? She's.. and Clint shakes his head. Nope.. no. Drawing one arm across his chest, he brings the less mobile one to cross over in pharmaceutically-enhanced stubbornness. Though.. food. There's food. Not wallpaper paste, but real—

"Classified." There. Even there, he's saying too much. Acknowledging there is something rather than denying everything? Oh god..

Still, food! If there's beer, he's a dead man.

"Who has time for a vacation?" Paul says with a snort in between bites. "In case she didn't tell you, the whole demon business is not over. In fact, it's even bigger than we first knew. We just don't know who or why. Well, beyond releasing some so-called elder gods who'll destroy the world." He peers over at Clint then gives May a glance. "Someone is missing but it's classified? Should you all go looking for whoever it is?

".. I can accept that." Evelyn says at classified. She's not really one to disobey in -every- scenario every time, sometimes it's just worth not questioning. That's what she's done for the past few weeks. Thankfully, also why she probably hasn't been assigned another assignment immediately. Hurray free time to do things. Setting the container down, she sits on the side of the bed, removing a cut half of the cheesesteak and pulling that half into fourths before scooting the container over to Barton. The smaller portions should prevent any mess being had from eating just whole halves. Smart android is smart.

"Some day. Some day I'm taking a vacation to somewhere with a beach, cabana boys, and pina coladas," Sara sighs at the talk of vacations. "Which will promptly turn into some supernatural war zone." True story.

Melinda May actually glares at Barton. "You /will/ tell me, if I have to chase the others out and knock Manning unconscious again." She's honestly rather not, especially if Barton's concealing that someone important is missing, possibly in danger. She doesn't have that silent conversation thing that she's seen the archer and Romanoff use in the past, but if he can convey even a confirmation of something past the loopiness, that would be a start.

Demons. Elder gods that'll destroy the world? Okay, now as the conversation gets a little more strange, Barton looks to the Agent he'd brought in.. that he'd vouched for. Stood up for. Out of everyone in this room, she's the one that he looks to first. Yes, yes… May has a track record, but at this moment? He's looking for friendly face in the maelstrom that is his drugged, sluggish mind. It's not a feeling he's enjoying, not in the least. While not a 'bad trip', he probably could have done without such a dosage.

Probably. Mostly.

Evelyn's help in the sandwich does bring a hand sliding down from where it laid across his chest, and it's the left. And it's not functioning quite the way it should be right now.

Looking up at May, Barton blinks before he frowns, trying to recall exactly what it was. Was it? Shaking his head, he looks like he's trying to get that fog, the webs out of his head. When he does, his gaze flickers on the tubes coming out of his arm. In the next second, his right hand comes around quickly and tears them out, blood welling from the holes left behind.

"No. I said I wasn't watching her." And he's not. It's what he'd told Hill. Not watching Tash, not reporting back. Period.

"Excuses, excuses. What are the odds of that?" Roy replies, shaking his head. "Go to Antarctica. I'm pretty sure you won't find anything more dangerous than penguins."

"Some day." Paul tells Sara, looking a bit wistful at the idea himself. Just not soon. "Well, according to Lovecraft, Antarctica is where they hang out beneath the ice." He's done some research since talking to Constantine. "But that's just fiction." Hopefully.

"Come on, May. Stress is really bad right now," There Evelyn goes, defending Clint. Hell, she's been in a hospital bed enough times in her life to know when to press and when not to press. It looks like she quite possibly is about ready to help Hawkeye eat the sub given his incapacitated arm when finally things finally reach a kind of crescendo that only results in medical tubes and wires being torn from his arm. "Hey!" Don't do that! She reaches over to take his arm, pressing a thumb over the small bleeding holes, applying pressure. More so he doesn't try to rip out anything else, either. "Come on, Clint. Relax."

"I'm pretty sure it was intel they took and not a person," Sara notes for May. "At least that's what the tapes show." She pauses, taking a bite of a fry. "You know, we should probably go through whatever you guys need for some sort of formal…something or other. Not that you don't have all the necessary information by now, I'm sure. See, Roy," she nods toward Paul. "Tropics. As far from the ancient, evil gods as I can get. Barton, this is why they keep you drugged, you know," she notes when he pulls out the IV. "You have to wait until you can walk straight before you make a break for it. Trust me, voice of experience."

Hawkeye looks as if he's going to struggle when Evelyn moves to put pressure on the spot where he's pulled up his IVs. He doesn't, however… there's something in the back of his head; and he just tries to explain, but can't. It comes in starts and stops… and each time, his eyes get heavier and his voice slurs just a little more. Before long, Clint's given up fighting against the effects and closes his eyes. He'll be released tomorrow, no doubt, with sling and warnings. Until then? Safe and sound in SHIELD HQ.

Melinda May looks at Evelyn and relents, letting the younger-looking woman deal with the pulled IVs and stepping back when it's clear that Barton is down for the count again even before his eyes actually close. Wolstenholm is correct. She'll ask him again once he's had a proper amount of time to rest.

"Leave him alone. I wouldn't want to have all those drugs in me either." Paul states. "In fact, I'll be leaving with you, Sara." He's not as badly hurt as Barton and isn't inclined to spend the night no matter what the doctor says. Being unnecessarily super cautious is part of their training. "I don't suppose someone could go steal some of Barton's clothes for me again? We're a similar size. At this rate, I should leave a change of clothes." But for now, food and he reaches over to snag some onion rings.

Evelyn makes a concerned face, making a note to press the 'Call' button near the bed. When a nurse comes, she just gently explains that Clint's removed his IV and then lets the nurse go to it, sparing a glance back at him before making a way to the door. She doesn't directly address May until now. "Hey, I'm going to my room." Then she slips out.

"Oh you will?" Sara arches a brow at Paul, dry. "Yeah, we'll see about that." Since Clint isn't going to eat his cheesesteak, she steals one of those quarters Evelyn broke off, waving with her mouth full after the android. "Bye, Eve!" she mumbles through the food, adding another for Roy when he departs.

Melinda May nods after Evelyn, then moves at a very leisurely pace to pick her pack up off of the floor as the nurse fixes Barton's IV. It's almost like she's stalling and waiting for the woman to leave again. As soon as she's gone, though, she carries the pack over to the foot of Paul's bed. "You keep owing me more, Manning," she says as she opens the pack to pull out a rather nondescript pair of grey sweatpants and a plain grey t-shirt. "Pezzini, have you started researching the data I gave you?"

"Would you prefer I take a cab?" Paul asks Sara. He's not going to argue, he's just going to do what he wants. And then May proves that she thinks ahead and he gives her a huge smile. "Thank you, you're wonderful. Would you drive me home too? Though for this you should collect from Hill. I already paid in blood."

Sara sighs at Paul. "How do you think I got here?" she points out. "New Yorker, I don't even own a car. I've been thinking about a motorcycle, though. They seem like fun." She steals another fry, shaking her head to May. "Not much, no. I got some feelers out before I went back to sleep, then came over here to check on Paul's physical and ended up chasing down…Any word on what was going on there, by the way?"

Melinda May shakes her head no at Sara, shouldering her pack again and stepping over to carefully pull one of those hanging fabric screens to give Paul some semblance of modesty. "Keep me posted, and tell me if you hit any dead ends." She turns to look at the now sleeping Barton and can't help but shake her head. Things are getting more and more out of hand in this damned city.

"Oh." Now Paul thinks of it, it's always been the department's car they used. "Well, you can keep me from falling over if May can't drive us." Not that he's likely to do that. When May brings the screen over, he takes a moment to /carefully/ remove his IV before standing and pulling on the pants. "What are you looking into?"

"Will do," Sara nods to May, shaking her head slightly at Paul's question. 'Later,' it says. When May isn't listening to hear Paul start to go on about his pet project of the moment. "If I get nabbed for breaking you out of SHIELD medical, I'm telling them it was under duress."

Melinda May speaks up from the other side of the 'privacy' screen. It clearly wasn't designed to block sound. "If you want me to sign a car out of the motor pool for you, hurry up."

Sara Pezzini starts packing up the food, quirking a brow at May. "You sure?" she asks. "It's kind of been…one of those days, I don't want to get anyone else in any deeper. Although," she adds with a look to Paul as she passes him the bag, "I didn't drive the van into the river. That should count for something, right?"

"You'll need to return it tomorrow, all right?" May looks between the two of them, then quickly helps clean up the last of the food Sara brought then hits the switch so the room is only dimly lit. She makes a mental note to tell Romanoff that Barton's back in Medical, though she likely already knows. "Let's go." She lets Paul set the pace for their 'escape', which gives her enough time to send a message through the SHIELD computer system that she'll be free to go talk with her soon.

Sara gave Paul the food so she could go get his shoes. Totally. Either way, she does go and get them, before stepping over to her partner's side to offer a shoulder if he needs to catch his balance. "Thanks, May," she echoes with a nod. "We'll get it right back."

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