Chapter Text
Skye was still buzzing two days later. Fitz and Simmons polite smiles turned into a glare and an eye roll respectively as she skipped out of the lab, Coulson watching her go bemusedly.
“If she doesn’t cut it out, she’ll be the next dead body in our bloody lab!” Fitz grumbled. “Who cares about stinking Captain America anyway? Prancing around in his tights-”
“Fitz! You can’t say that. The man is a hero, not to mention a scientific masterpiece.” Simmons put one hand on her hip, the other occupied with holding some sort of device. “And oh, what I would do to get my hands on that body...” Simmons sighed dreamily.
Fitz grimaced. “Uh, Jemma, sometimes you need to think things through before you say them, or some people might get the wrong idea.”
“And what wrong idea would that be?” Simmons winked, following Skye out of the lab.
Coulson smiled at Fitz shocked expression.
“Not another one.” Fitz sighed resignedly under his breath.
“They’re not so bad. The man isn’t just a hero. He’s a symbol of hope, and bravery for humanity.” Coulson said, completely aware he sounded like a fanboy, but hey, he managed to freak out his idol, you couldn’t get more embarrassing than that.
“I not saying that’s a bad thing, it’s just, Skye hasn’t shut up about the man in over forty eight hours! Going on about how ‘cute’ he is, and how funny. Oh,” Fitz shook his screw driver in the air, “And she’s so exited about how he said she looked like an old friend of his. Thinks she might be related.” He rolled his eyes.
Coulson’s demeanor didn’t change from pleasant.
“Did Skye mention who this old friend was?” He asked.
Fitz shook his head in the negative. “Nah, something about him dying a long time ago.”
“Thanks, Fitz.” The doors closed behind Coulson.
________________________________________________________________________
“Hey, Sitwell. How's it going?” Coulson said to the man on the screen.
“Terrible. The probationary agents won’t do I thing I say. How the hell did you get them to be so damn scared of you?” Sitwell mopped at his balding head with a handkerchief.
“Lock them in a room for a few hours with Wilson. If they’re still completely sane by the end of it, keep them.” Coulson grinned.
Sitwell hesitated slightly. “Not exactly ethical, is it?”
Coulson raised an eyebrow.
“Fair point.” Sitwell allowed.
“I need you to do something for me. Off the records.” Coulson asked.
Sitwell scowled. “Please don’t tell me you’re doing this for your pet team again. You still owe me one for letting the whole tranq thing slide.”
“What about Barcelona?” Coulson asked.
“Okay, so maybe we’re even after the tranq thing.” Sitwell allowed.
“Agreed. I need you to look up Steve Rogers male friends and associates from WWII. Any who died in the war, or at least before he woke up.”
Sitwell crossed his arms and leaned close to the screen, giving Coulson a mock stern look. “Phil, that’s taking obsessive to a whole new level.”
“Not for me. Look, if I find anything, I’ll tell you. Just send me a picture of them, and any marriage, children and illegitimate children records, as well as anything that might be off the records.”
Sitwell raised his eyebrows, a comical look on the bald man.
“I’m assuming you don’t want Captain Rogers bothered by this?”
“No need to trouble him just yet.” Coulson said calmly.
________________________________________________________________________
A day later, Coulson had holed himself up in his office, and was finishing reading through the files Sitwell has sent him. There was nothing particularly surprising in them, nothing seemingly relevant to Skye.
The computer screen beside him was flickering through the old black and white photos of the men Steve Rogers knew in his old life, examining their facial structures for any similarities to Skye’s. Factoring in genes from the mother, ones dormant in the father, and gender difference, the program was by no means precise, searching for facial structure similarity only.
Then it pinged.
Coulson stared up into the screen. It was definitely a face he had seen before, the boyish charm twinkling in his eyes, even through the faded sepia photographs. There was a definite resemblance to Skye, both having deep brown eyes and defiant expressions.
Coulson grabbed his pad, and flicked through it to find Barnes, James B.
Killed in action, 5th of May 1945.
No living relatives.
Nothing about that surprised Coulson, being one of the few who knew the true story of Bucky Barnes.
Usually, the next course of action would be to do a DNA check, as facial match ups could be wrong. But, of course, there was no way to get DNA from the long dead soldier.
Everything about this was wrong. Even if Barnes was alive, he would be far to old to be Skye’s father. He had no living relatives, and the man’s body was probably still lying frozen in a ravine, unless it had been eaten when the thaw came. It was just a coincidence the two looked so much alike.
Poor Skye. There was no family after all.
________________________________________________________________________
“Coulson!” Sitwell looked more harried then usual as he popped up on Coulson’s screen in the safety of his study in the bus.
“Junior agents still giving you a hard time?” Coulson asked, standing with his palms bracing him above his desk.
“Not anymore, I took your advice, but that’s not what I’m calling about.” Sitwell’s forehead was positively shining with sweat.
“What’s the situation?” Coulson knew something big was up, because for the long time he’d known Jasper, the man had only ever been flustered three times.
Sitwell flapped a tired arm in the air, gesturing to the chair behind Coulson.
“Take a seat for this one, Phil.”
Coulson had been in the business long enough to know that if someone told you to sit down, either it was important, or they were trying to move your body into a sniper’s line of fire.
There weren’t any snipers in the Bus who wanted him dead, so Coulson took Sitwell’s advice and sat down.
“Before you ask, no one involved is hurt, dead, or in need of a shrink.” Sitwell said.
“That just fills me with relief, Jasper, I’ll finally be able to sleep at night. Cut the crap and get to the point.”
“Someone tried to assassinate the Captain this morning.”
Whatever Coulson had been expecting, that wasn’t on the list. Scrambling to collect his thoughts, he asked the first question that came to mind.
“Do we have any info on it?”
“That’s the other news. The Winter Soldier’s back in town.”
Coulson’s scar tingled.
“No one’s heard of any hits by him in years. Everyone thought he’d died, or been decommissioned.” Coulson frowned.
“They aren’t from the same era, are they? The captain and the assassin?” Sitwell asked.
Coulson shook his head.
“The Soldier was active during the Cold War, after the Captain’s time. But from the reports of the appearance of the Winter Soldier, they were probably born around the same time.” Then Coulson stared at Sitwell.
“Jasper, what exactly do I have to do with this?”
Sitwell smirked at him.
“If Rogers is the Soldier’s new mission, he’s not safe anywhere. Not on the ground at least.”
“So he’s sending him up here. To the Bus.” Coulson finished, sighing.
“He’s not going to like that. He’ll feel like he’s running.” Coulson said.
“And there is the whole, ‘But Fury said you died!’ thing. I’m sure that’s going to make the whole reunion go real smooth.” Sitwell gave a satisfied smile.
“You’re enjoying this far too much, Jasper.”
Sitwell snorted.
“Pick up the Captain at Stark Tower in five hours. You’ll get the rest of the briefing and info then.” He looked into Coulson’s stoic face.
“Come on Phil, cheer up. Your sharing a plane with your idol, and helping take down the Winter Soldier. Don’t give me the poker face.”
“How have you worked for SHEILD so long, and still manage to be overly optimistic?” Coulson reached out to cut the connection before Sitwell could answer.