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ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴏɴᴇ: ɴᴇᴡ ᴘᴇʀsᴘᴇᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ

❝ (ʏ/ɴ), ᴛʜɪs ɪs ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙᴏᴅʏɢᴜᴀʀᴅ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴇxᴛ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ, ᴀɢᴇɴᴛ ʙʀᴇɴᴅᴏɴ ᴜʀɪᴇ. ❞

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                    ON THE SURFACE, HAVING A SPY FOR A FATHER MIGHT SEEM LIKE THE COOLEST THING IN THE WORLD. And sure – at certain times, it could be. But there was so much more to it that no one would ever think about.

As a little girl, your parents chose to keep your father's real occupation concealed from you, if just for the time being, in order to give you a somewhat normal life; they had no desire for you to get caught up in the cruelty of the hidden world.

They were wonderful parents, always going above and beyond to ensure that you were happy, and to give you as much of a typical upbringing as possible. Yet, the fleeing from town to town and city to city at seemingly random occasions in the dark of the night did nothing to aid their cause, and you grew up less normally than they would've liked.

It was hard for you to understand at the time – why you couldn't have sleepovers or play dates every weekend like other children your age – but you never questioned them about it and soon enough, you had gotten used to not getting too attached to people. Or to places, for that matter.

It was only once you had hit sixteen that your father had enlightened you about everything. Your family had been living in a small, secluded town about an hour and a half outside Washington D.C. and everything in your lives seemed to be stable – the need to flee hadn't arisen in over three years, you had made a wonderful group of friends, and your life was as close to normal as you were able to get.

The night you found out about your father's real occupation was one you would never forget.

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Chestertown, Maryland. Five years earlier.

It was just after dinner and the three of you were doing the dishes, the usual weekday routine. There wasn't much conversation, just a bit of small talk, but as you packed away the last plate and hung up the dishcloth, your father said something that made your stomach do cartwheels.

"(Y/N), could you meet me in my office in five? There's... something I'd like to talk to you about."

His request caught you completely off guard, and you involuntarily let out a tiny gasp. You had never been in the office before. It was off limits to everyone except your father, so the fact that he was requesting your presence in that room was daunting, to say the least.

"Your-your office?" you spoke, checking to see if you heard properly.

"Mhm," he nodded, drying his hands with a paper towel, "that okay?"

"Uh... yeah. Yeah, of course, dad."

You must've looked and sounded absolutely terrified, because your father let out a laugh as he reached over to rub your shoulder and place a kiss on your forehead as reassurance.

"Don't look so concerned, you're not in trouble. I just... well, you'll see. Five minutes," he reminded as he backtracked out of the kitchen and made his way to his office.

~

After throwing on some pyjamas, you turned on your heel and headed out of your bedroom and down the glass staircase that was situated in the middle of the house, turning left into the west wing of the house when you reached the bottom.

Trudging slowly along the mostly unlit hallway, you stopped in front of the door to your father's office. Your fingers slowly grasped the icy cold brass doorknob and you bit your lip nervously, hesitating slightly before turning it.

Upon entering the secluded room, your nostrils were immediately met with the smell of pine and the crisp sensation of air conditioning. The room was foreign territory, since you'd never been inside the office before, and your eyes scanned the spacious room intricately, taking in every inch of the place. You weren't sure if you'd ever have the opportunity to be welcomed back, and you wanted to make sure you memorised every detail of its inside.

"Thought you might like it in here," your father's voice drew your attention away from the room and you gave him a sheepish smile, "I modelled it after one of your designs, actually," he added, scanning over the room himself.

You furrowed your brows at him; you'd never designed anything in your life, let alone the interior of a room. Noticing your confusion, he cocked his head in the direction of the left wall where a framed portrait was hanging.

Interest piqued, you took rushed steps towards the picture, a big grin forming once you got a good look at it.

"Wow. I was such a terrific artist," you remarked sarcastically as your eyes landed on the inscription heading the page.

My Future House. (Y/N) (Y/L/N)

"You actually did quite a commendable job," your father argued, standing up from his desk and moving to join you, "I mean, look at how it turned out in real life," he gestured around the room, which now that you had seen the picture, you realised was a mirror image of your 'design'.

"Mm. It's pretty."

"Have a seat," he instructed, shooing you to the dark brown leather sofa in the middle of the room and taking a seat in the armchair opposite you.

"I know you said that I'm not in trouble," you started, lifting up your legs and tucking it underneath you, to the side, "but this scenario seems an awful lot like that time I got a talking to for cussing at that lady in the supermarket when I was six."

The side of your father's eyes crinkled and his lips twitched upwards into a half-smile as he leaned forward, elbows rested on his knees and fingers steepled just under his chin.

"I promise you it's not a repeat of that incident. Unless you've been cursing at people while grocery shopping?"

"Not in the last month, no," you replied, a hint of a smile on your face; you shared a chuckle. "So why did you call me here, dad?"

"Do you know what my job is?"

You pursed your lips while you contemplated your answer. "I know what you do for a living," you answered, and his brows arched ever so slightly, "You're a software developer; that's how you make your money. As for what your job is – what you do as a profession – I have no idea."

You earned a full smile from him this time. "Sometimes I forget how incredibly smart you are," he muttered, more to himself than to you, "You're right, snowflake. I make my money from developing software, but it's not the career path I'm entirely skilled in. Which, obviously, you've noticed. You wanna hazard a guess as to what it is that I do?"

"Well, from what I can gather from everything that's happened in our lives – the constant relocating, the secrecy, the lack of relationships with other people – my best guess is that you're James Bond."

A short chuckle escaped your lips and you expected the same reaction from your father but when it didn't come, and he simply stared at you with a serious face, your face fell.

"Seriously?" you gaped, nearly falling off the couch out of shock.

He cocked his head to the side. "In a sense, yes."

"What the fuck?" you exclaimed, widening your eyes and clamping a hand over your mouth as you realised your slip. "Uh... I mean, what the fudge?"

He chuckled and waved a dismissive hand. "Don't worry, your mother had the same reaction. Although," he looked up to the ceiling as if replaying a memory in his head; another chuckle came through his lips, "she kinda repeated it over and over and over and over."

You giggled, resting your elbow on the couch's armrest and placing your head in your hand. "Yup. Sounds like mom," you agreed. "So wait... you're..." you trailed off, not being able to find the correct words.

"I'm a spy, (Y/N)."

"Like James Bond?"

"No," he shook his head before smirking at you, "I'm better."

You laughed loudly, whether out of amusement or disbelief, you didn't know.

"Let me explain..."

And then he told you everything. More specifically, that he was a spy that worked for Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division – or as they were more commonly known as, S.H.I.E.L.D.

You'd also learned that he was among the top ranking S.H.I.E.L.D agents, and the leader of any and all missions connected to battling Hydra, a Nazi-descendant terrorist organisation, and S.H.I.E.L.D's biggest adversary.

It was clear to you when he spoke that your father was tremendously passionate about his work, and that behind you and your mother, it was what mattered most to him.

You had to admit that his loyalty and dedication was admirable. It couldn't have been easy to live a double life for nearly four decades, trying to give your wife and daughter the normal life they deserved while simultaneously protecting them and the rest of the world.

A part of you felt as if you should be angry with him for not letting you have the stereotypically ordinary life, but you knew that he did the best that he could. You were like your dad in essentially every way; you were practically his carbon copy. You had his mannerisms, his values, and most importantly, you had his mind-set. You knew that what your father was doing was for the greater good, and you knew that if you were in his shoes, you would've done the exact same thing.

"W-wow," you exhaled heavily once he had finished explaining, "Dad, that's... intense."

"You don't know the half of it, snowflake," he murmured, sighing as he ran a hand through his thick head of hair.

He noticed that you were still furrowing your brows as you looked at him, and he smiled at you to try and ease your mind. Your dad had excellent genetics; he was pushing forty, yet he didn't look a day over twenty-five. But when he smiled at you, he looked even younger – like a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders and rejuvenated him.

"I have something else for you," he announced as he stood up and recovered a tiny blue box from the drawer of his desk.

You perked up as he drew nearer, eager to see what was inside. He carefully removed the lid and reached two fingers inside the box to lift out a beautiful necklace, one with a snowflake charm.

"I know that this doesn't even remotely make up for what I've hidden from your for all these years but..." your dad lifted the necklace to place around your neck; you gathered your hair in your hand to give him better access, "take it as a promise. I promise that there will never be any secrets between us ever again. I love you, snowflake."

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Chestertown, Maryland. Present day.

Noticing the black SUV with tinted windows standing in the driveway where your father's car would normally be, a wave of dread washed over you and your heart felt like it was sitting in your throat. You recognized the vehicle as one of S.H.I.E.L.D's; the fact that one of them was currently parked in your parents' driveway almost guaranteed that something awful had happened.

Entering through the front door, you could hear muffled voices coming from the living room. You shrugged off your coat and hung it up on one of the hooks in the entryway before following the sound of the voices.

Upon your entering the room, all three agents' heads snapped towards you, the two who were sitting noticeably uneasy on the edge of the white leather sofa standing up.

"What's going on? Where are my parents?" you questioned, your voice involuntarily coming out urgent and panicked.

"(Y/N), maybe you should sit down," Agent Coulson spoke gently. Advancing towards you in an attempt to guide you to the sofa.

"No, I don't want to sit," you took a step back, voice becoming more and more unsteady, "Answer my question. Where are my parents?"

The next few minutes went by in a blur. As soon as Coulson started speaking, your head began to spin as your vision became blurry and you could feel your legs starting to give in, prompting you to lean against the doorframe for support. You felt sick to your stomach.

Letting out a gut-wrenching sob, you sunk to your knees as your heart shattered into a million pieces.

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S.H.I.E.L.D HQ, Washington D.C.

S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters was infinitely bigger than you'd ever imagined. You felt irrelevant and tiny, curled up in Coulson's glass-walled office. After receiving the news of your parents' deaths the previous night, S.H.I.E.L.D thought it best if you were brought in so that they could monitor you while simultaneously provide you with protection.

Staring through the transparent material at everything yet nothing at all, your fingers toyed with the necklace you wore around your neck. You could hear your father's voice in your head.

"I've had many great achievements in my life, (Y/N). But you are by far the best one."

You hadn't even noticed the stream of tears cascading down your cheeks until a rough, calloused hand held out a box of tissues.

"Now would be a good time to fill you in on everything. If you're feeling up to it, that is."

You sighed and stood up. "Might as well get it over with, no?"

~

"As Agent Coulson has already told you, your parents were murdered by a Hydra operative. His real name is unknown, but he's known as 'The Asset'," The Director spoke with determination, though apprehensively.

You rearranged yourself in your chair; a wave of nausea washed over you upon hearing the words "parents" and "murdered". The thought screwed with your mind completely.

"We know that your father was onto something big. So big, that there was a possibility that it could take down Hydra once and for all. Everyone knew that your father didn't trust easily – in fact, there were few people who he trusted at all – so unsurprisingly, he didn't share his intel with anyone."

The Director stood up from his chair and walked around his desk to stand in front of you.

"Okay, well, you at least have a lead on this Asset guy, right?" you choked out, swallowing a lump that started to form in your throat.

"No, unfortunately not. He's as evasive as ever."

You nodded slowly, disappointment coursing through your body.

"Although, we do have an idea about who his next target might be."

"Who?"

"You."

"Me?" you questioned in disbelief. "Why would he want to kill me?"

"Because, (Y/N), you were one of the very few people your father trusted completely. It's not unlikely that he'd have shared some information with you, whether you were aware of it or not."

"My father wouldn't have done that. Not if it put me in danger."

"While it's true that he would've done anything to ensure your safety, if he knew that Hydra would come after him, he would've taken precautions. He would've hidden his information somewhere safe. Somewhere no one would know to look unless they knew him as well as you did."

Stunned into silence, you gripped your hair in disbelief. The Director kneeled so that he was eye-level with you and placed a protective, reassuring hand on both of your shoulders.

"No one will hurt you, (Y/N). My priority from now on is ensuring your safety. But I need you to think. Think long and hard. Think about everything your father has ever said to you and try and see if you can get any idea about what he was working on."

"I'm sorry, Uncle Nick, but I can't."

He studied your face intently for a few seconds before nodding lightly.

"I understand, (Y/N). But if you happen to think of anything..."

"You'll be the first person I come to."

He smiled at you before standing up and striding towards his office door.

"Well then, there's only one more thing before you go."

The Director opened the door, and a man, presumably an agent, walked in. He entered the office and stood with his feet shoulder width apart, hands clamped firmly behind his back, like a Marine. You took in his appearance, and decided that it was highly probable that he'd had some form of military training. He certainly had the stature and aura for it.

He had dark hair, styled upwards in a quiff-like fashion. His jaw was taught and sharp, giving his face perfect structure. His cherry-red, plump lips were set tightly in a thick line, brown eyes gazing into yours in a soulful, almost intimidating way.

"(Y/N), this is your bodyguard for the next little while, Agent Brendon Urie."

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Thank you for reading x

Note: I hope you guys appreciate me, 'cause I have a math test today and I spent my weekend getting this fic ready for you instead of studying. You're welcome.