2013-01-22 Beware the Fury of a Patient Man

Oh, that my power to saving were confined! Why am I forced, like heaven, against my mind To make examples of another kind? Must I at length the sword of justice draw? Oh, cursed effects of necessary law! How ill my fear they by my mercy scan: Beware the fury of a patient man."                              John Dryden 

It has been an 'interesting' past week. The Wrecking Crew with Titania and The Absorbing Man doing a simultanious robbery of six banks and one ATM, with Thunderball and the power couple sadly getting away. Punks kidnapping mutants. A human wall of thirty guys who looked the same. The Punisher. Crazed extradimensional Greeks hunting businessmen for being evil. Deadpool, well, being Deadpool. Caitlin getting struck by Thor's lightning. Somehow staggering from the uptown districts to Soho. Shopping with Jubilee and Thor. Not to mention getting into a brawl with Thor's stammering... whatever Eddie is to Thor (Poor guy really needs to talk to more women). It was no wonder Caitlin decided to just crash on the couch for one night and mull over her life.

She's spent the entire night and then all day just looking out the window, pondering how she'd got here, where he life was... or wasn't... going, and trying to figure out what she could do to fix it. It had been a few months back when she'd run from this very apartment when Thor had mentioned the Avengers, and more importantly SHIELD, because she was terrified of what that could mean, but before and since she has met several agents of and others who work directly and indirectly for or with SHIELD, and all that has lead her to her decision.

She waits until Thor has returned from his usual routine, and slowly approaches, steeling her self for whatever answer he may give, "Pardon, Thor? You have been so generous the past two days, and I really appreciate it, but I was hoping to ask one more favor." gulping she licks her lips, her mouth dry with nervousness, "A few months back, you mentioned talking with SHIELD about me, and... well... I was hoping there was someone you could contact that perhaps could help me clear up some serious matters. I'd be willing to be taken into custody, even incarcerated or do some probationary service, just so long as I won't be experimented on or have my mind messed with. I want to take back control of my life instead of running, and maybe get my identity back, or at least a new one for the new me?"

The Asgardian Embassy has connections with the U.N., of course, and Thor himself, being an Avenger, has connections with SHIELD -- and Fury specifically. It doesn't take much more than a quick phone call to arrange a meeting. It's not so much about calling in a marker as it is about the guanxi of the heroic world: someone like Thor doesn't so much ask for someone to do something specific as he does say that he needs for something to happen, and he watches as the network of connections conspires to make it occur.

In this case, it occurs by the rumbling of a car pulling up to the street outside. A black 1966 Dodge Charger with a massive 440 engine and a four-barreled carb, actually, to be specific, with a front grill as aggressive as an old-school Norelco razor and about twelve miles to the gallon. Engines like that don't so much make noise as they cause everything nearby to rattle and start making noise. It's a very distinctive thing.

It's Fury's thing, in fact.

The salt-and-pepper-haired Eternal Colonel steps out of the car and practice-scowls at a random passer-by on the sidewalk. (His scowls are legendary, but even legends have to keep in practice.) He zips his WW2-era flight coat against the wind, then enters the apartment building and comes up the stairs to Thor and Sif's place.

When the knock comes it's absolutely no surprise -- he was easily visible from the window, after all. "Thor of the Asgardians and son of Odin, it's Nicholas of the Americans and son of John," he calls out in a growly, grouchy tone. "Word came out you needed to talk to somebody in SHIELD. I'm here. Hurry up and lemme in. I came straight over, didn't even stop to get beer."

While she had little preparation for who or what to expect, Caitlin is not totally unprepared, she actually has a six-pack of Samual Adams Boston Lager in hand as she heads to opens the door. She takes a moment to take a deep breath, then holding the beers in her left hand she unlatches the door, and opens it, feeling like a little girl about to face the toughest and scariest person she has ever heard of. She pulls back the door, having heard the voice from the other side, but that still doesn't really prepare her for the myth, the legend, on the other side.

She opens the door and steps aside, before speaking, allowing passage into the apartment. A blush comes to her face and she gulps, "Um, Thor is indisposed for a bit, but I'm sort of the reason he called." she tries to remain cool, but she knows military, and pretty much everyone knows of Nick Fury, there is like one, maybe two military men alive today who are more famous, and the definite one is ranked Captain and named for the greatest Country on the planet, and frequently reports to Nick. She offers both her right hand and the beers in her left, "I'm Caitlin of the Americas, sir... um, daughter of Alexander, sir... um, honor to meet you, sir." her right hand trembling, almost as if she is trying to decide if she should salute, or keep it out for the handshake. Her body however is otherwise at full attention, feet together, stomach in, chest out, head back, eyes forward... which means she is staring just over and past the head of the man she is greeting... you can take the Girl out of the Military, but not the military out of the girl... especially a military brat.

To the inexpert eye Fury might seem to scowl reflexively at people, but that's not true at all. It's just that he's made a career out of accurately sizing people up and giving them the scowl they're about to earn a millisecond before they actually earn it. For Fairchild he juggles a few different options in his mind before settling on Scowl With A Side Of Annoyance, perhaps so that he can appear slightly mollified as he takes the Sam Adams. He keeps a bottle-opener on his keychain (along with a cigar punch, naturally) and has the cap off before he's taken another three steps.

"If Odinsson ain't around ain't no reason to talk all Asgardian," he says as he walks over towards an overstuffed chair. He doesn't look over towards Fairchild as he moves, which means that his scowl has to enter his words rather than just be etched on his face. Her outstretched hand is, of course, completely ignored.

He settles into the chair, now facing back towards Fairchild, and takes a swig off his bottle. A moment later the scowl relents, as if he was reminding himself he was speaking to a teenager who needed to be cut a quantum of slack as opposed to someone older who warrants none at all. (This is, of course, part of his leadership routine: come off as a reasonable authority figure -- someone who is cutting a bit of slack although he isn't obligated to.)

"Have a seat," he suggests/commands, gesturing to one of the nearby pieces of furniture. "Listen, I don't know what your story is, but let me tell you what mine is. I got no time for useless people, and the best way to tell me you're useless is to treat me like you don't know whether to salute or run away. So here's my suggestion. Take a deep breath. Decide what you want to do. Then do it. Even if you make a mistake, I'm gonna respect that mistake more than I'll respect someone who can't decide what to do. Okay?"

Running away stopped being the right option long ago, and despite having known that then, Caitlin had been still trying it, hoping she could make it the right option somehow. Shutting and securing the door, she nods, takes a deep breath, losing a bit of the military stiffness... enough that she neither Half-steps nor quick marches over, but instead just strides with purpose over before taking a moment to give a proper salute, after all, he is Colonel, before sitting down. She takes a deep breath again, slightly sighing, perhaps having hoped that this would be easier... since all the myths say Nick Fury knows which style, what color, and how clean the President's underwear will be every day, even before the President wakes up to put it on, and just about everything else it is possible to know, and if he doesn't know it, he has someone find it out and report it to him three days before he needs to know it. But he just admitted he doesn't know her story, which puts the burden squarely back on her shoulders.

She licks her lips and clears her throat, just enough to help her not squeek when she speaks, "Sir. My name is Caitlin Fairchild. Seven years ago I was a 5'3" mousy brown haired, whisp of a sixteen year old being accepted to Princeton early. A year later during my sophomore year, I was offered what I was told was a prestigious government internship with Project: Genesis, to help develop the best and brightest. I'm not sure how much you know about it, but I became skeptical pretty quickly about the brightest and best part, due to a few of my fellow 'interns'." she pauses, as if nervous that speaking about the Project will bring armored troopers, with special equipment to recapture her, down on her head this instant. She takes a deep breath, and continues, "The truth is, they were feeding us a myriad of chemicals and drugs to affect our genetics, triggering metagenes, latent mutancy, or who knows what other manner of superhuman abilities. When I transformed into..." gesturing at herself, "this, it took only a matter maybe a few minutes to go from tiny and weak to effectively Amazonian both in size and physical might, though it felt like an eternity. Myself and a handful of others were rescued by... Agent Top-Kick... who in addition to helping us escape and find refuge, gave us some training, and helped us learn to handle out abilities somewhat."

There is a pause as she glances down the hall, perhaps hearing Thor finish whatever he was having to deal with, but she decides to try and finish this last bit while she has the emotional strength. She may not technically be a teenager anymore, since she's been a legal adult for a whole year, and hasn't been a teen for three, but then again, she's been on the run since she was seventeen, so she really hasn't had a proper completion, and that is probably why she comes off as one to Nick. Steadying herself she pushes back tears as she realizes where her summary is about to go, "We were okay for about two years, but then Project: Genesis found us, blew up our home, injurying most of us. I was one of the luckiest. Agent Top-Kick felt it was best if we seperated, make it harder to capture us if we split up, so they'd have to divide their focus, instead of finding us all in one place again. I headed this way, while most of the others were evacuated to various medical places to get treatment under aliases. I've been on the run ever since, ending up burning new identities every few months whenever Genesis catches up with me, and since my DNA was altered so much, I can't even verify I am the person my student ID says I am, not that I look like the mousy little girl on it anyway." As she finishes, she seems to slump a bit, the weight off her shoulders some, but still there in so many other ways.

Thor has indeed finished with what had taken him away earlier. He did, however, have the time to tap his SHIELD comlink to request someone stop by. He'd gotten a pull from Iceland a moment later and so didn't stick around. Silly volcanoes. The Norse God alights himself upon his balcony with the scent of volcanic sulfur, overheated metal, leather, sweat, and rain. With face smudged with dirt and grime, the Thunderer steps in just as Caitlin's shoulders slump. His worried half frown turns into a warm smile as he spots Fury. The Director will take care of everything.

"Fair Child, Director Fury, greetings," is all Thor says as he moves over to sit in... durr Fury took his chair... on the floor opposite Caitlin. Oh look... obsidian on his boots. Stupid lava! Thor pries the glass free and tosses it to the coffee table before folding his legs behind himself.

"The salute is a privilege reserved for warriors sworn to the protection of the realm and voluntarily placing themselves under the orders of an officer," Fury tells Fairchild flatly. "Until you're that, don't salute. It's disrespectful."

He settles back in the chair, watching Fairchild with his good eye. He pulls a leather cigar case from his inside jacket pocket and opens it to reveal some luxurious smoke, but he doesn't light it up: it would be disrespectful to Thor, after all. Instead he waves it beneath his nose, inhaling deeply of the complex aroma profile as he listens.

He doesn't interrupt her, no. Of course not. That would be ... rude. He's many things, of course, but needlessly rude isn't one of them.

"I'm familiar with Project: Genesis, yeah," he offers once she's finished. "They're a bunch of $&(!#$! morons. And that, incidentally, is a professional judgment. Very smart $#&(!$$( morons, very technically skilled $#&*(! morons. But morons. You know we invented the cure for cancer in the 1940s? Twice? Captain America's old and he's never come down with it. I'm pushing a century and I've never come down with it. We don't get cancer. Now, Erskine's Super-Soldier Serum, after Erskine got capped, I guess I understand why they lost it -- Erskine was the only one to know it. But mine? Failed experiment. The Infinity Formula was a failed Super-Soldier project. Didn't kill me. Just made me immortal and cured cancer. But since it was a failed project, all the project notes got thrown in the incinerator. How #$&(! dumb does an egghead have to be to cure cancer and then throw away the formula? That's how dumb eggheads can be. An' Project: Genesis is exactly that kind of dumb. Very smart dumb. But very, very, dumb."

He cuts off his history lesson with a shake of his head. "Never mind any o' that. You didn't ask the Son of Odin here to get in touch with SHIELD because you wanted a history lesson, or a professional evaluation of Project: Genesis. You asked the Son of Odin to get in touch with SHIELD because you need something. I'm speculating here, so feel free to correct me, that you're running scared and looking for some place that'll protect you. Do I got that about right?"

Looking up as the Thunderer sits down, Caitlin smiles weakly at him, perhaps feeling a bit reassured by his presence. One more person she can trust if Genesis shows up... no, two, Fury didn't outright say he's against Genesis, but he seems to disapprove of their actions and methods, so there is hope yet. History is not her subject of expertise, so it doesn't hurt to learn some, and some really cool history at that... sort of lousy history, seeing as it means so many people have died because of narrow minded people, but still cool to know about such wonders.

And then the proverbial shoe drops, Fury has asked the question of the hour, and his speculation is fairly close, not dead on, but seriously, not every at bat needs to be a homerun, a ground rule double or an automatic double is still a ball that got out of the park and still bring in runs from 2 of the 3 bases. She shifts her weight and takes a deep breath before replying, "No so much that I'm looking for a place to protect me, since I can... no... I have taken tank fire to the chest and been struck by Thor's lightning, and walked away relatively unhurt save for some aches and pains, and a serious need for new clothes. But, I have been running, I am fed up with having to constantly be looking over my shoulder, I'm tired of living from hand to mouth, I would like to live someplace for more then a few weeks without having to resort to hiding behind deities and Amazons, and I am scared that civilians... good, decent, law abiding, non-powered, effectively defenseless people, basically ignorant of the real evils of the world like Genesis... will get caught in the cross-fire. This past week has shown me how those people have enough woes with some of the evils of the world coming down on them just to come down on them, and I don't want to bring it down on them anymore, when Genesis comes for me. Likewise, I don't want Genesis to take me and find a way to brainwash me and make me part of their evil." she pauses, to take a slow breath, to keep from hyperventilating or from passing out... if she can even become oxygen deprived from talking, "I've encountered a few SHIELD Agents and worked with Thor and a few others who cooperate with SHIELD and may even be part of SHIELD and I didn't know it, so I figure SHIELD was probably the best bet to help me clear up the warrents Genesis put out for me, making me a fugitive from the law as well as them, help me put my abilities and skills to good use, and to make Genesis think more then twice about coming after me... or at least think more then twice about coming after me in a civilian populated area, for fear of the major retaliation in all its myriad forms, buearucratic, legal, financial, and tactical, plus probably some other manners I can't think of or even would be cleared to conceive of."

With a warm smile at Caitlin, Thor listens in silence. This was what he wanted to offer the girl the first time they met. He sould feel the fear, even if he didn't know the why of it. He wanted to help, but.. she had run. It's happened before, mortals running from him. He's learned not to chase too fast, pursue too hard, and cling too tightly. Mortals are exotically beautiful for quickness of the fire in their hearts and the ferocity with which they cling to their Free Wills. Yes, even elder Mortals like Fury and Cap are beautifully young and short lived. His eyes drift to the beer. Yes, Thor knows beer bottles. Thor also know bar fights, but that's another story. He lifts that gaze to Fury, waiting for the Mortal's reply to her request. As for himself, he knows what action Mjolnir would beg of him, and he is not even remotely sore about it.

"Sure, SHIELD can," Fury answers matter-of-factly. "But we won't." Now, there's a punch to the gut for you, and he delivers it with the casual cruelty of someone who's spent a lifetime delivering bad news to people. After a while you lose some of your compassion for other human beings and view it as just an unpleasant task to be performed.

"Ms. Fairchild, I understand where you're coming from. Truly, I do. But you being scared, that ain't much reason for me to stick SHIELD's neck out givin' you cover. You see, there's only so much cover I can give to people, and I gotta prioritize. You say you're not scared, but Ms. Fairchild, I been on battlefields for a hundred years, including some as bloody as anything in Asgardian history. I know fear, Ms. Fairchild. I know mortal fear. I've felt it a few hundred times. And what you're feeling, Ms. Fairchild, goes beyond mortal fear. It's /existential/ fear. You're not afraid of dyin', not the same way that most sensible people are. Most sensible people, they don't wanna run off and join the Invisible Choir, at least not until they're old and gray and have a tube snaked up their nose and they're thinkin' that this mortal coil is vastly overrated. The demise of the body, that's a fear people can surmount so long as they have faith in their soul being intact. But the demise of the /soul/... once your soul's gone, what is there to do but hope your body joins it soon? You're terrified, Ms. Fairchild. Terrified of Project: Genesis makin' you into something you don't want to be. Takin' away your free will. Shapin' you into something that you don't even know, 'cept that it lurks in the corners of your nightmares and you never quite remember what it is when you wake up. An' you're terrified Project: Genesis will do this... an' you're terrified that after they do this, /you won't die/. Because you can shrug off tank shells and Thor's lightning. You'll be made into that thing and there won't be nothin' the world can do to kill you. Your soul will be dead, but your body unkillable. That's a hell of a terror, Ms. Fairchild. An' if you tell me that's not the lurking horror in the back of your head, well then, you're just lyin' to yourself because confronting it, saying it openly, is too damn scary. Can't fault you for it."

He returns the cigar to its leather tube, returns the carrier to his inner pocket. Having delivered all this monologue, he restores his voice by taking a gulp of the Sam Adams. He doesn't use it as a stalling technique, though. He already knows what to say. She's not the first scared person who's come to him, after all.

"I'm a scary judge of character, Ms. Fairchild. It's kind of what I do. An' now, let me tell you why SHIELD ain't gonna shield you, pardon the pun. It's because you're scared. It's because if the only reason why you're with SHIELD is because you're scared of Project: Genesis, then that ain't good enough. You've found something you're terrified of -- but if you want to be a SHIELD agent, you need to find something, some principle, some ethos, something bigger than you are, something you can believe in, something that gives you the courage to stand up to your fears. Ms. Fairchild, your fear's a very reasonable one and I ain't diminishin' it. But if all you're bringin' to the table is fear, then I got no use for you an' I won't put SHIELD's neck out against Genesis to protect you. Show me something you bring to the table. Show me what gives you courage. Show me something big enough, good enough, something that gives you enough sack to stand up to fear. Do that and maybe you'll have enough heart to be worth the gamble."

Sadness, rage, confusion, pure shock... all swirl in Caitlin's eyes. There is the self-righteous indignation of (where does he come off insulting her priciniples, she's been fighting for other people for over half a decade, with little regards for her own well-being), the sorrow and dispair of (I just wanted hope, to be given a iota of my real life back...), the bewilderment of (but this is supposed to be the people who undo the evils of people like Genesis, not kick someone when they're down), and the WTFness of (Ummmm, what do I say now? I can't just jump down his throat, he didn't have to come here and talk to me, it isn't like I'm actually his responsibility... or can I? Is he testing me? Seeing if I'll snap? Or is he trying to see if I have the conviction to stand up to him? Maybe he just wants to see I have passion. Is that what he means by showing him what gives me courage?). Military Training, years of schooling, super powers, it all really doesn't matter, when it comes down to it, it is what is in your heart, and she has to make a decision. Sure, when you're mind thinks a bajillion things at once, and you can react fast enough to catch sniper bullets in flight, it can seem like mulling things over forever, but truthfully, sometimes that forever is actually only a few seconds.

Her teeth grit for a moment, her lips pressing together, and her eyes turning downward. She sniffs a bit, fighting back crying ever so slightly, and then in a moment she is on her feet and reaching into her sweatpants at high speed, pulling out a little ID Holder. She holds it out and flips it so the student ID is towards her, and a little picture of herself with four other teenagers: An exotic Native American girl, an serious looking blond caucasion male, and bulky but jovial looking asian male with tattoos, and a sweet looking punk girl who seems a bit younger then the rest... Caitlin practically thrusting it in Nick's face, "You want to know what gives me courage? They do? My half-sister, and my friends, each in hiding, each safe because I'm the one keeping the target on my back, but while I'm doing them a bit of good by being a distraction, all it takes is me to be hide too long behind someone else for Genesis to decide finding one of them might be easier. I want to not just get myself saved from becoming a mindless nigh indestructible weapon... and yes, I am scared of that, but more scared that if they catch me, these will be the first four people that weapon is aimed at... but also save them from becoming weapons or cut open to find out what makes them tick. I also want to do something to make sure that it never happens again, that there is no Generation 14, Generation 15, etc. That teens aren't ever again tricked with promises of bright future with GI Bills for just doing a brief intership or simple research study, when they're really getting shot up with crazy cocktails of who knows what to trigger powers, but just as easily might kill them. That is what drives me, that is what gives me courage, because I'm one of the lucky ones, I'm the one who can get shot by a tank or rip one open like a soda can, and if I ignore that, then I'm doing something almost as bad as what Project: Genesis might do with it, I'm squandoring the gifts that could help others not have to have their lives destroyed like mine was." huffing a bit as she finishes, still holding the picture there.

"Honey--" He's not being demeaning, nor is he condescending: it's a word of compassion, a sign that he truly understands. Unfortunately, understanding is not the same thing as agreement. "Honey, all you're sayin' here is that you're scared. What gives you the strength to stand up to existential fear is the fear of losin' your friends, your family. The fear of Project: Genesis going on unchecked. Fear of a future you don't want to see come to pass and you're terrified that if you don't act it will. I understand the idea of using one fear to stand up to another, I really do. But so far all you're showing me is what you're scared of. You're not showing me what gives you /hope/. Hope, Ms. Fairchild, is a weapon. It's a crummy and unreliable weapon because sometimes no matter how much you hope it just don't come to pass -- but there are some things in the world, Ms. Fairchild, that can't be killed by anything else but that. Hope's important and hope dies last."

He looks over towards Thor as Thor moves out to the balcony to take a phone call -- apparently, even when you're an Asgardian there's always someone who needs just a few minutes of your time. Then his attention goes back to Fairchild. "You're twenty-three. Means you were born in 1990. I remember that year. Pat Benatar had an album come out that year, _Wide Awake in Dreamland_. Benatar was a big name in the Eighties, and this album that came out the year you were born was her last real hurrah, I think. Wasn't a huge fan of it. But there's one song that stuck with me, 'Too Long a Soldier'. She sings about how she's 'seen so much worth dyin' for, an' so little worth killin' over.'"

He lets that sit in the air, and for a moment he looks old. Not physically old, of course -- the Infinity Formula has arrested that -- but emotionally old. "Think about that," he says with a shake of his head. "It's such a beautiful sentiment. An' it's so $&#(*! *wrong*. It ain't about knowing what's worth dyin' for but not what's worth killin' over -- I ain't never met no soldier who's confused on that score. It's about not knowing what's worth *living* for. If all you're bringing to the table is fear, Ms. Fairchild, then there ain't much I can do for you. If you're bringing hope to the table, then maybe you're a star worth hitchin' my wagon to."

He watches her for a few moments, studying her. "It's all right, Ms. Fairchild. I get it. I do, I really do understand. You been scared so long you don't know what to live for anymore. An' I guess it's your lucky day, because I'm an old #$&(*! softie who once took an oath before God that I'd protect those who lived in fear. I ain't gonna put SHIELD on the line to protect you. But I'm gonna tell Project: Genesis that if they come around you I'm gonna bring war to them. They'll do the right thing. I can give you some breathing room. An' someday, when you've had the chance to get some air in your lungs and the nightmares ain't hitting you every night, maybe you'll find something beautiful enough to be worth living for. And when that time comes, Ms. Fairchild, I hope you'll come seek me out again. You might make a hell of an agent then."

Letting out a breath she probably didn't even realize she was holding, Caitlin slowly lowers the ID and picture, nodding a bit solemnly. Hope... a concept that had somewhat abandoned her it seemed, but she has tried to hold onto it. As she slowly sits back down she looks down at the photo idea of herself, the girl she was, the one who was overflowing with hope... hope for the future, hope for relationships, hope for a greatness, hope for love... and the old warhorse's words do sink in. Where had all that hope gone? Did she still have any of it left, somewhere deep down, or had she change so much on every level that even the genetic changes affected her spiritually? She takes a few moments to let her thoughts coalesce.

Slowly looking back up from her former face, she smiles weakly, "Thank you, sir. I... I hope I can prove myself, in time." not even realizing what she sort of actually said, "It will definitely help to be able to evaluate my life, and maybe build a bit of stability." she glances down at her old picture a moment, "I really appreciate you taking the time to talk to me, and even more the assistance. I won't squandor it." she gulps and considers the hurtles she still has to overcome, but those are concerns for another night, "Would you care for something to eat? Maybe a cheeseburger? Or some pecan pie? Thor has been kind enough to allow me to raid his fridge and use his couch for a few days, but I don't want to make the other guys nor Lady Sif feel uncomfortable, so I'll probably leave tomorrow." pulling out a pay as you go cellphone, she considers if trading numbers is even an option.

"Do that," he says as he rises from his seat. "Leave tomorrow, that is. First thing tomorrow morning make some phone calls. Get a copy of your original birth certificate and file for a Social Security card." He reaches for his wallet, opening it up and pulling out a small envelope about the size of a credit card. This, he places down on the coffee table.

"Prepaid debit card. Not much, just a couple of hundred worth. Enough to hop a bus, travel somewhere you want to start over and get into a hotel. When you use it, it'll register a hit on SHIELD's surveillance -- so don't worry about figuring out how to let me know where you are. Somebody will be around in a day or two -- before your card runs out -- to help you with getting an apartment in your own name, getting utilities set up, and all those other routine parts of life that I suspect you've missed out on for the last few years. I'll carry you for a little bit. But you gotta get yourself a job, even if it's just flippin' burgers, and you gotta start building a life. You do that, and you'll find out in quick order what there is worth living for. Build a life... learn what's worth living for."

There is a long pause as Caitlin is stunned... it is more then she could have asked for... well okay, it isn't more then she /could/ have asked for, but it is more then she /would/ have even considered asking for. The help to get an ID was the most she even thought of, and that was even something she thought might be pushing her luck, but actual aid, and a small credit line to help her get a new life started, that is beyond anything she'd even imagined asking for. She blushes and smiles, "Thank you so much sir, I will. I... I think I have a few ideas, but I'll think hard tonight and jot some ideas down, so I have a plan and don't waste this." She moves over by the fridge, and waits to see if the offer of a burger is accepted, or if the head of SHIELD's time has been taken up enough...

"You're being given a chance to make a life," the Eternal Colonel says as he moves towards the door. He opens it, then stops in the doorway for long enough to offer one last word of advice. "Make it a good one." And then he's in the hallway and the door is closing -- and he's gone.