Phil Coulson remembered the first time he'd seen Captain America. It was in the hours he'd spent in the SHIELD archives, watching the old movie reels. Cap and his the Howling Commandos. Proudly wearing his colors. The camaraderie! The Commandos were from all different nations. All different colors in their skins.
That's what he loved about this place. That's what Captain America had symbolized to him from that day on. The underdog and the unity that washed away any thoughts of color separating brother from brother.
It was why he had let go of Hala, for this. Yes, backwards in so many ways, Earth. And in many others, so not.
Sometimes, someone would come down to the archives, often very late, randomly. He noted their faces, but would hardly be bothered to break away from the vintage reels.
"Coulson."
Phil sat wide-eyed, his mouth slightly open, watching a tape of Captain America in the back of a transport, a picture of Peggy Carter displayed in his compass.
"There's his girl," smiled Phil to himself. He'd had a girl. Once.
"Coulson."
The movie shut off. Coulson spun around.
Nick Fury was standing there, a more unpleasant expression on his face. Than usual.
"Director Fury," Coulson said, standing up straight. That's how you would treat a commanding officer. At least where he was from. But, no salutes here or anything like that. Nothing too HYDRA.
"You spend too much time down here," Fury started, "and not enough time up there, and you're going to stick out like a real sore thumb."
"Yeah, about that," answered Coulson. "I need a set of wheels. Howard Stark's old model, the '62 Corvette?" he added hopefully.
"Do you mean a *car*, Agent Coulson?" replied Fury with annoyance.
"Lola. I mean, Lola."
Fury rolled his one good eye. "We can talk about that after we get you to review the specs for the Triskelion. Our engineers have a few things they want to run by you related to the anti-gravity propulsion."
"Sure, no problem," shrugged Coulson, heading towards the hallway to return to the surface.
Kind of strange, passing for a human. I mean, some of SHIELD knew who he was, obviously, but as far as your average everyday earthling, he was one of them.
It was kind of fun, the idea of having a normal life. He didn't have to adhere any longer to the orders of the Supreme Intelligence, push his nagging conscience to the back of his mind and just blindly follow orders.
Here, he could make a difference. He was going to defend the Earth. When the Kree came for Earth, and they would, Earth would be ready.
He would make sure of that.
****
"The Avengers Initiative," Coulson said to Fury, between mouthfuls. He was eating pancakes with Fury staring across the way in a Kansas diner.
He was excited. They had just found Captain America. Tony Stark was running around as Iron Man. There was a Hulk afoot.
"These people are not controllable," said Fury. "Some are not containable." He leaned over for emphasis.
"We have the Cube," Coulson said, plainly. "It's going to draw attention."
Fury knew what he meant by attention. He meant from "up there".
"And what do you propose I do? Invite Tony Stark to dinner? Ask him to go steady?"
"Well, if you sent Romanoff, your chances would probably increase by 1000%?" Coulson mock-asked. "You're not very pretty."
Fury sighed and rested his arms on the table. "Is it going to require this? I will have to get the World Security Council's approval. They do not like ideas that are too big, Coulson. You know that."
"Then don't tell them," Coulson said. "You didn't tell them about me. But don't wait, either. Because we'll need this ready."
"Is this just so you can stand in the presence of your man crush, Coulson?" Fury said, annoyed. "Because if that's the case, I can arrange that without having to assemble a human powderkeg."
"Cap is a pretty natural leader. Look at the Howling Commandos," Coulson said, chewing a slice of bacon. "They were from all different nations, all different backgrounds."
"They were also soldiers, Coulson, and you know what that is."
"Offer to hire Stark as a consultant," said Coulson, motioning to the waitress. "He loves flattery."
Fury smirked.
When the man was right, he was right.
****
"May," Coulson said, looking over at the other agent. "I need to get your opinion on this."
Melinda May looked over at Coulson and tried not to smile as he held up two different ties in variations of gray stripes on gray stripes. Was he being serious?
"Let me guess," she said, "That Cellist?"
"Yeah," said Coulson cheerfully.
"Phil," she said, walking over and yanking one of the ties out of his hand, "I suppose this is as good as any, but do you want to tell me why you're dating a woman whose stalker you sent to the Fridge?"
"Getting right to the point, I see," his eyebrows knotted as he put the other tie away and reached for the tie in May's hand. She yanked it out of his reach.
"It doesn't strike you as, maybe, a conflict of interest?"
"There's just something about her, May. A connection. I can't explain it."
"What did Fury say?" May asked, genuinely curious.
"He just said 'you know the girl's a risk' or something to that effect. I knew that's what he'd say," he added, adjusting his cuff links. "I also know he has a hard time saying no to me," Phil smirked.
May looked over at him very seriously. "For the record: I don't like it."
She handed him the tie.
"Duly noted," Phil said, swinging the tie around his neck and knotting it just so.
May just shook her head. "Does she even know what you are?"
"I haven't told her that yet," he answered. "Should it matter?"
"Well, when you're looking deeply into her eyes, be sure to ask why 'Danny Dark Force' was stalking her to begin with," she said walking away, and tossing over her shoulder. "So I can finish my report?"
Phil just stared at her back.
He would ask her. Eventually.
****
Calm, cool darkness.
Then noises littering a blank canvas.
"He's drifting," a voice said calmly.
The stars. His home. He was almost home.
Void grabbing him back.
Slipping into light.
Light driving itself through his eyes.
Into the back of his head.
Stabbing. Pain.
Intense.
Where was he? Where was he? Where was he?
"This is wrong!" His eyes looked at the face. Dr. Streiten. Mortified.
T.A.H.I.T.I.
Like red letters itching across his mind's eye.
No.
"Can you feel that?" the voice asked again.
Another face. A woman.
"Don't," he ordered.
Acrid smells.
Was that burning flesh?
"Listen to him!" said Streiten.
"Stop!" he ordered again.
His eyes darted back and forth, he felt his chest pounding.
"Who ordered this?" Streiten.
The pain sharpened.
"Director Fury himself," said the woman.
No. Oh, no. This.
Not this.
"This is wrong!" Streiten continued. "Listen to him!"
The mirror above reflected something, his brain...exposed.
They were erasing him.
"Let me die, please." his voice caught in his throat.
"Let me die, please."
He'd told Fury to shut it down.
They were going to take it all away.
Why did they bring him back, just to take it all away?
Everything he was. A tear rolled down the side of his face.
"Please, I'm begging you, let me die."
Please, let me die.
Pleaselet me..die.
Please.
.
****
He'd had a girl once. She was a Cellist. Not like this girl. No. Definitely not like this girl.
It occurred to him that sitting with your protegee in the back seat of a very parked SUV with its very tinted windows didn't exactly give off an air of professionalism. But, he also knew that no one else was in the hanger.
And, she had told him to slide on in.
And, there was just something about her.
A connection.
He couldn't explain it.
He wasn't really sure what they needed to talk about, either.
Just that it had been a long day. Just that he wanted to check in with her. Hear her thoughts and ideas on things.
She thought outside of the box, outside of the system.
That was what he needed right now. Going purely on instinct.
She'd said Amador had deserved a second chance. He was into second chances these days. Maybe she was, too.
"What's wrong with Agent Coulson, or just...Coulson," he asked, after she'd called him A.C. Again. It made him cringe a little, it wasn't professional.
"Nothing, I guess," she said, shaking her head. "A.C.'s just way cooler."
Huh. A.C. didn't sound that bad, really.
"'Cause you are," she said, pausing. "Cool."
She said it smooth and slow. He smirked. Was she flirting with him? Surely not.
"Not many people would've made that call. Give Amador a second chance."
"I got one," he said, staring out the front of the SUV, wanting to tell her more. Tell her everything. "Seemed only fair I extend the same opportunity to others," he said instead, sighing, settling down into the seat. Safe.
It got very quiet. He didn't want her to get the wrong idea. He didn't want to get the wrong idea.
"I can see why you like it in here," he said, breaking the quiet.
"Yeah," she said brightening again, "It's kinda like my *van*."
That other life.
"Without all the bums trying to break in," she continued. "I don't miss that."
He smiled and glanced over at her. She'd turned pensive.
"It's more peaceful here."
That other life. It was behind her.
So was his. Those things he'd held onto.
Another life.
And second chances.