shield | b. barnes

2 | a call from the past

"Even after all these years, I still have trouble saying no."

///

7 months later

Believe me when I say I've been in situations where I was sure I would spontaneously combust from the sheer palpable awkwardness in the air, but none of those situations compare to the one I'm in now.

Twenty-two pairs of eyes stare at me, a heavy blanket of silence falling upon the classroom as my question lingers in the air. Now, having attentive students is nothing to complain about. It's every teacher's dream to have a class filled with students who are genuinely interested in what they're learning instead of caring only for the sake of their grades, but what I'm experiencing today is not that.

Sliding a hand down the side of my face with a loud sigh, I wave my other hand in the air.

"Alright, you guys are dismissed. Don't forget that—" chairs squeaking against the linoleum floor drown out my words and I have to cup my hands around my mouth to get their attention again. "Don't forget your programming project is due by 11:59 tonight! I will not accept late submissions; I've been telling all of you about this project for the past month!"

Some of my students acknowledge my words with a simple nod while others mutter an "ok," but most of them are busy squeezing their way out of the doorway instead. When the last of my AP Computer Science class is out of the room, I turn around to clear the chalkboard free of my hideous diagram of the Binary Search algorithm.

"Agent Chen."

I stop erasing, my arm hovering in the air as I stare at the dark green board. I know that voice. In fact, I know that voice so well that I think for a second that I'm imagining it because there's no reason for them to be here at Midtown High, but I turn to face the owner of the voice.

Agent Coulson stands at the entrance of the classroom, both hands tucked in the pockets of his pants. It's been over 6 months since I've seen Agent Coulson. The last time I'd seen him was a month after the masked psychopath launched a grenade at me. Okay, not at me because I'm clearly alive, but that masked man had every intention of killing me with his bazooka.

Agent Coulson clears his throat, breaking me out of my thoughts.

"You can all me Corinna. I'm not an agent anymore, remember?" I reply, turning my attention back to the last of the chalk marks on the board.

"Well, Corinna, how have you been?"

I turn to look at Agent Coulson – who is leaning against a desk, arms crossed over his chest – and quirk a brow at his question. We share a long look before I turn my attention back to the board. Truth be told, it doesn't take me this long to clear the chalkboard, but I don't like where this conversation is heading, and keeping my back to Coulson seems like the best way to deal with my dread.

"I take it the whole teaching scene is treating you well."

Placing the eraser back, I brush the chalk dust off my palms before turning to face him.

He doesn't wait for a reply before continuing, "I need to talk to you about something."

"I'm listening," I reply.

"Agent Romanoff came to me a few days ago along with Mr. Rogers and a friend of theirs."

A small frown sits on my face as I process Coulson's words.

"They asked me to help them in locating the Winter Soldier. They wanted me to put together a group of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents that I trusted to find him."