Work Text:
This was a good day.
This was an excellent day.
This was, quite possibly, the best day of Phil Coulson's life.
Phil fiddled with the plastic-wrapped card in his hand and stared at the sleeping man on the other side of the observation window. The doctors were concerned, the scientists were puzzled, and Fury was considering his options.
"I need to make a phone call," Phil told the tech monitoring the man's vitals. "Let me know if there's any change."
"Yes, sir."
Phil stepped into the hallway, walked briskly and purposefully to the patio off the break room, where he paused to take a deep breath of gritty city air and contemplate the towering walls of glass and brick around him. After a moment to steady himself, he pulled out his phone and considered his own options. There weren't many really. Barton was in New Mexico, Romanov was in Russia, and May was visiting family (he'd learned the hard way not to interrupt family gatherings, and he was still on her mother's bad side after the whole incident in Macau).
There was another option, another person he could call. If the Director found out, it wouldn't be pretty -- after all, Phil still held that one particular secret close. He was nothing if not a man of is word.
But, it was his best day ever and not even the potential reality of Fury's ire could put a damper on Phil's elation.
Resolved, he selected the number and brought the phone up to his ear.
"Coulson, congratulate me! I have turned in my final papers, I have signed my final forms, I have checked, double checked, triple checked my credits. I am done!"
Phil felt a smile pull at his lips. "Congratulations, Miss Lewis," he said, perfectly sincere. "That's an accomplishment to be very proud of."
"Why, thank you."
"Have you given any more thought to --"
"No, no, Coulson. No recruitment pitches today. I am free!"
Phil nodded, amused. He did enjoy their battle of wills, and he admired her resilience and determination, even as they made his recruitment attempts particularly challenging. But, she had tremendous potential, and Phil Coulson didn't give up easily, either.
"How about short-term plans?" he countered. "Ms. Potts mentioned you were considering traveling? Anywhere in particular? I've traveled quite a bit, I'd be happy to give you some tips or ideas."
She hummed softly on the other end of the line, as though she was deciding whether this was a trap or an honest offer. He waited her out. If he was going to win their battle, he had to let her make her own decisions about his motives.
"I was going to do Asia, but I think Imma hitch a ride with a couple of friends to Europe. Live the backpacking, hostel-hopping cliche." She snorted softly to herself.
Darcy Lewis was such a curious mix of her father's bravado and shaky self-confidence. Phil mentally listed all the ways a career at SHIELD would challenge her intellectually and help her find her own path, but he held his tongue and said only, "I'm sure that will be a wonderful experience for you. I'm particularly fond of Prague."
"No set itinerary yet."
"Well, if you find yourself that way, let me know."
"Sure. Will do."
It would be an interesting test to see if she would call, if they'd come as far along in their relationship as he thought they had. It was hard to tell with her. Just another of her admirable skills -- for all she could and would talk, it could be very difficult to discover how she truly felt about something. She could dissemble with ease. It was his professional assessment that hiding such a large part of herself from those around her for so long had contributed greatly to the development of that ability.
"So, what's up, Phil?"
Licking his lips, Phil pulled his mind out of his recruit evaluation and into the consideration on whether or not this was a conversation he really wanted to start with a civilian. However, despite the rumors, he was only human, and it was his best day ever.
"May I ask you a question?"
"Does it have to do with my future employment plans?" She asked warily.
"No."
"Then shoot. Figuratively."
And he liked the lightness of her spirit. Despite all she'd been through with her father and in New Mexico, she still held on to that. If he had any concerns he was making a mistake recruiting her, it was only that SHIELD might dim that brightness.
"What do you know about Captain America?"
She was silent long enough that Phil almost thought he'd lost the connection. "Stark family sticky subject number five," she said at last.
"You're aware of your grandfather's work?" Phil asked carefully. It was one thing to tell her his news, it was another to spill intel that had been classified for over seventy-years.
"Yeah. Dad would talk sometimes. Super soldiers, Project ... um, Rebirth? I think?"
Phil felt a swell of both irritation and relief. Leave it to Stark to tell his daughter government secrets; however, it was family business of a sort. He supposed in that, at least, he couldn't entirely fault the man. "That's correct."
"We rebuilt his motorcycle when I was twelve."
Caught flat-footed by the comment, he blinked. "Whose? Captain America's?"
"Yeah, that's when dad talked most about him. Like I said, sticky subject, otherwise."
Phil was still back at Captain America's motorcycle and muttered, "Harley-Davidson 42WLA, also known as the Liberator."
Darcy laughed. "That's the one."
He'd assumed the bike would have been returned to the motorpool and eventually scrapped. He never dreamed. "It runs?"
"Hells yeah. Total rebuild, front to back. Original parts when we could find them, a few fabricated when we couldn't. Runs sweet. Dad taught me how to ride on that baby."
"You have it?" He asked, trying to throttle back his own eagerness. This truly was his best day ever.
"Not on me. It's in storage in California." She paused and laughed again. "Are you a Cap fanboy, Phil?"
"I'm an admirer," he told her. "By all accounts he was a brave and honorable man."
"Fanboy. Got it."
"We found him," he blurted then frowned at himself in consternation. Phil Coulson did not blurt.
"Who?"
"Captain America."
"No f'in way," her voice was low, strangled by the shock. He knew the feeling. "Grandpa Howard looked for him for decades."
"He was in the sea ice off Greenland."
"Wow." She breathed out a long breath. "That's ... wow."
"He's ..." Phil couldn't quite get the words out.
"He's coming home," Darcy said gently. "That's really great, Phil."
"He's alive."
"I ..., what? What do you mean he's alive? It's been like seventy years."
"Our scientists believe the combination of freezing water and the serum put him in a sort of suspended animation."
"For seventy years?" She sounded deeply skeptical and he couldn't blame her. "Not to be gruesome or anything, but wouldn't the ice have, you know, kinda chewed him up?"
"He was found in the wreckage of a Hydra bomber."
"Holy ... geez, Phil. Is he awake?"
"No, we're still warming him up. It's a slow process, we don't want to injure him."
Falling silent again, Phil could almost see the situation turning over in her head. "How's he look? Uh ... still not trying to be gruesome."
"As far as we can tell, he doesn't appear to have aged."
"Wow, that's just ..." She let out a long breath and then laughed. "Way to go, grandpa."
"I probably shouldn't have shared this with you."
"Probably not, but who am I going to tell? Dad? Yeah, no. Don't sweat it, secret agent man, I'm pretty good at keeping secrets, too."
"I'm well aware. In fact, I really do admire your skill at deflection and I can think of --"
"No," she said flatly.
Smiling to himself, Phil let the subject drop again, but as long as she kept answering her phone when he called, her 'no' wasn't nearly as firm as she thought it was. While he had her on the line, he had a chance, something to build on every time they talked.
Of course, part of the recruitment process was building trust, and if he wanted her to trust him, he had to give her something in return.
"He's the reason I joined the military," he told her.
"Cap?"
"Yes. My father had a stack of Captain America comic books when he was a child. I found them in my grandmother's basement one day. I was seven."
"That's ... sweet," she replied uncertainly.
"He was everything I wanted to be. Brave, noble, loyal, true to his beliefs."
She cleared her throat on the other end of the line. "Okay. Cool."
"I went as Captain America every Halloween."
"I'm a little disturbed at how clearly I can picture mini-you in red, white, and blue."
She sounded uncomfortable, but he pressed on. He really didn't have too many people who were interested in this, and the two who'd listen to him, and actually care, were out of radio contact. And trust-building aside, it was still his best day ever.
"I have a complete collection of the trading cards. It took me years."
"I ... yeah, sure."
"Good condition. Near mint, most of them." He took the card out of his pocket and flicked his finger along the edge of the cardstock and considered the brightly-colored soldier clocking a Nazi with his shield.
"That's great, Phil."
"Yeah."
"So, uh, I hope he de-thaws okay, then. And, you know, that you get to meet him and whatever."
"Me, too." Phil tucked the card safely away and straightened his shoulders. "We're hopeful; his vital signs are good."
"Awesome."
"We're designing him a new uniform. They started with basic black, but ..."
"He's Captain America," she finished for him.
"Exactly. I've offered my input."
She stifled a laugh. "I'm sure you have."
"People need to know who he is," he said, feeling his jaw tighten stubbornly. It was an on-going debate with Maria Hill, and neither of them were close to winning, though Phil had a feeling the Director was on his side.
Shadowy black-ops agents weren't going to give people something to hold on to, something to hope for, when the big threats hit. If you have somebody to connect to, to look towards, it's easier to hold together.
It's part of what made Iron Man so popular. Well, that and Stark's ability to play to an audience.
"I think most people are going to assume it's just some dude in a Captain America outfit," Darcy pointed out.
"At first," Phil agreed, before continuing on, serene in his confidence, "That's okay. He'll still be him."
She hummed, doubtful. "I hope you're right. I hope he's that guy."
"I have faith."