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Agent P. Coulson ran through the halls of the helicarrier, breath short and shoes making clicking noises on the metal floor. In the background was the red alert alarm going off. He would pass corridors of men rushing and shouting orders, trying to repair the ship. On one end was The Hulk, who had been provoked enough to wake up; and one the other end was a norse god who had made the mistake of ruining Coulson’s ship.
Sure, it wasn’t owned by him, but the man thought of this place as his second home. His first: Classified. He knew every hall and secret passage in this place. He knew every name (including the rookies, he did their paperwork after all) and every face, the layout was as easy to him as if he designed the entire ship himself. Agent Coulson was even dedicated enough to learn some engineering, just in case. He wasn’t as good as the actual engineers and workers on here, but if something needed tinkering he would have a higher chance of being able to fix it in a situation of dire need.
Agent Phil Coulson was loyal in this way.
He didn’t blame Doctor Banner for the current predicament they were in, the man was as calm and immovable as a religious statue at times. Coulson had kept an eye on him at times, although they were supposed to stay on the ‘down low’. Undercover was one of Phil’s specialties, even Miss Romanova herself was impressed. Back in the day, his section called him the ‘man of 1000 faces’. The nickname had changed from then, since being given a desk job instead of one in the field; however the man had not lost his touch after years.
After being briefed about The Avengers Initiative, Agent Coulson had changed. He devoted his time to making sure it would be successful, keeping a trained eye on all considered members. He might have even stepped in and prevented some of them from being contacted (no offence to them, but he knew what he was doing).
You didn’t hear that from him though. After all, he wasn’t supposed to be sticking his nose into this.
To Coulson, the project had never been scrapped in the first place. Behind the scenes, he made sure that everything would go according to plan. Rather by camera, satellite, or his own eyes, the agent watched all the participants.
One in particular he watched frequently.
Captain America had been asleep in the S.H.I.E.L.D. base for exactly 2 months, 3 weeks, 5 days, 18 hours, and two minutes before finally waking up. If the time he was frozen in the location was included it would add 1 week, 1 day, 5 hours, and 45 minutes to the stop watch. Thawing him out took extreme care, and Agent Coulson made damn sure that care was given. Phil had written Steve Roger’s name on the list of Avengers before he had finished melting.
More than anyone of the Avengers, the agent believe in Captain America the most. He remembered watching his propaganda movies as a child which his father had collected. Before the man had passed away, him and Phil had watched all of the videos and footage of the icon. They laughed together and shared comic books and cards, his mother had more than once stated that her husband was ‘more of a child than my child!’.
Then later, when his father had passed on, Phil had rewatched all of the movies. He was older and could see how the man was uncomfortable in acting. The corniness of the script together with the honesty of the actor made him crack a smile. It was a good thing to have amid the tears for his lost idol.
Captain America became more than a man for him that day, he became human. He was an actual person and not a fictional character, the perfect man and the best icon to look up to. Phil Coulson kept Steve Rogers in a place close to his heart, his suit breast pocket to be exact. Always located there was a collector’s card, the one with Captain America sitting down on a chair like a regular person and putting on his boots, beaming at the camera. The card was sewn into the fabric so it would never fall out during field missions.
In time, Agent Coulson was assigned a desk job and he no longer had to worry about the card being lost. He always meant to take it out and put it with the rest of his collection, but seemed to forget.
Which is funny, because Agent Coulson never forgets anything that must be done.
Now he is here, sharply turning a corner in the metal helicarrier. He has long since past the panicking employees and agents and now is in a more abandoned area of the ship, though he could still hear the siren on the other end. Something to his left broke and make an unnerving crack, along with some buzzing or exposed wire. He would have to get repairmen in this part of the facility later.
For now he had a God to deal with.
In Agent Coulson’s arms was cradled a large gun. It was still a prototype (or so said the engineers in the weapons room who were yelling after him as he grabbed it and ran away), and he had no clue what it did. After a brief glance at the pattern on it, along with a quick scan of his memory for filed paperwork, he determined that it was based off of that machine sent here by Loki. The irony of what was soon to come made Coulson crack a bit of a smile. It disappeared when he entered the room.
Thor was in the room meant for The Hulk, and Loki was at the control board. How unfortunate, Phil was hoping to resolve this peacefully. He never like using guns when he didn’t need to.
“Please step away.” he mildly commanded, calm and assertive.
Things were said, mistakes were made.
Agent Phil COulson now finds himself slumped against the cold, metal wall of the helicarrier. Thor cries out, but the noise is dulled by the pounding of his own blood in his ears.
Yes. How unfortunate.
The cage falls away, and Coulson feels a tug at his heartstrings. He was in no shape to walk back to the observation room and configure the satellites to follow Thor again. How was he supposed to keep an eye on all of his- these children if they kept on running off on their own? Everyone was off doing their own thing and he could feel his grip on his ever constant information faltering. It was going to take forever to get all the footage of this, not including all of the paperwork from this entire event. Paperwork, Coulson’s closest friend and worst enemy.
However this was not the time to think about that. He would have to deal with his kids’ messes after he deals with the bully. He pressed the button to warm up the large cannon in his lap and beckoned the God of Mischief over.
“You’ll never win.” Agent Coulson rasped. He could feel the blood coating the back of his throat, and he was sure he might have some on his teeth. The more he talked and attempted to breath, the more he realized he might not have a chance to brush his teeth again.
He wouldn’t be able to take his suit to the dry cleaner’s. He wouldn’t be able to collect all of the camera footage. He wouldn’t be able to finish that report sitting on his desk, nor the rest of the paperwork waiting for him in his office. He wouldn’t be able to walk back to Nick Fury, banged up and bruised, and give him his report. He Wouldn’t be able to sit down at the lunch table with Fury and Hill, laughing at bad jokes and memories of the good old days. He wouldn’t be able to scare the discipline into the new kids, and in turn keep Clinton from over-scaring them. He wouldn’t be able to spar with Miss. Romanova in the gym, or set up missions between his two favourite S.H.I.E.L.D. agents anymore.
Agent Coulson wouldn’t be able to watch the Avengers grow up and gather members. He wouldn’t be able to witness them bond and get closer to each other, nor help defuse fights between them. He wouldn’t be able to secretly mother over them anymore.
He couldn’t remember a time when he didn’t.
Time was up, and the gun went off in a loud and alien noise. Loki went through the wall and Coulson smiled only a bit, blood dripping down his mouth.
“So that’s what it does.” he murmurs.
The next few minutes are a blur. The world starts to fade and noises become smaller. Agent Coulson can no longer feel the hole in his chest, but only the warm blood filling up one of his lungs. Was it his left...? He could no longer tell.
He faintly registered Nick Fury over him now. He was talking him down, telling him to stay awake. The gesture was somewhat nice, and it made Phil smile.
“Sorry, sir. M’going to have to clock out here.” he admitted.
Because for all of Coulson’s work, his tireless hours of tugging at strings and making sure the Avengers consisted of the best people, he knew
“It was never going to work. They need some- something to...”
Phil Coulson was tired. He had had a good run, and he wanted to sleep.
- - -
His eyes closed for a moment, just one. Then he woke up. He blinked a couple of times to make sure what he was seeing was real. Then he sighed and looked down. He was no longer in pain, and in fact felt better than he ever had in years. He couldn’t feel any hole in his chest, or any of the blood that had once flooded his left lung and dripped down his lip. He was wearing a new suit and shoes, along with a new jet black tie. This outfit was better than any of the ones he had at home.
Agent Phil Coulson was stone, cold dead.
He looked down at his body and felt a tug in his stomach, it looked beat up and tired. Quite literally. Nick Fury was crouching over him, trying to wake him up. The sight made Phil frown and want to tell the man to pull it together. He had lost other soldiers before, this was no different he liked to think. Phil was only another man, another person come and gone in his friend’s life. Maybe he did more paperwork than the average cohort or partner, but he was not important.
However that apparently wasn’t the case. Nick Fury stopped shaking the shoulders of Coulson’s body and lowered his arms in defeat. He breathed out heavily and sat down from his crouching position. The man watched the corpse, as if it would wake up at any moment. It would come back to life and tell him that it was ‘just a flesh wound’. After a long moment, Phil Coulson’s body did nothing and Nick let go of the air he was holding in.
Calmly, the man adjusted his body so he was sitting beside Phil. He then took out the comm in his jacket and started talking into it. He listened to The Director’s speech and thought almost nothing of it. His death was just something to motivate the team. It would probably last an hour at most, it wasn’t like any of them knew Phil.
But... it couldn’t hurt to stay around just a bit longer. Coulson wanted to see this mission through until the end.
It surprised him when he watched them together. They suddenly seemed more determined in the fights. Their hearts were in it. He couldn’t have done that, could he? They just probably realized that the entire world was in danger. Sometimes things like that took a while to sink in.
Coulson appeared at random times, still unseen to the others. He watched small snippets of the fighting, taking turns in watching all of the members. He might be dead but he still would never show favouritism to any of them, that would be unfair. Not even Captain America got more time under the watchful eye of Phil Coulson.
Yet at one point, he found himself watching a particular scene. One he never thought would happen for a long time.
He smiled when Tony Stark called him by his actual name. What a sap.
The battle was starting to look up. He knew that they had figured out how to turn the machine off, and was about to check up on Hawkeye when instead he appeared in the helicarrier.
Fury was screaming at the people on the screens. Something about a bomb. Phil’s stomach did a perfect backflip and he immediately tried to transport somewhere, anywhere where he could somehow warn the others. He was a ghost, but maybe he could do something! Ghosts could usually move objects sometimes, maybe even use phones. Yeah, he could try to use a phone and-
He turned around and in his face was something dark and empty. He immediately jumped back, going into high alert and reached for the pistol located in his jacket. His hand caught empty space and he scolded himself for forgetting he was dead. In front of him was something inhuman, wearing a long hooded robe of black. Shadows rolled off of the edges of the fabric like smoke and where the face should be was utter darkness. It didn’t say anything, but Phil knew exactly what it wanted.
“I’m not finished.” he tried to explain.
The figure knew what he felt, and had encountered many men who said the exact same thing.
“I need to see this through.” Phil barked and forced himself to appear somewhere else.
Now he was beside Stark as he flew through the sky. It took Phil a moment to regain his bearings on what was happening in the battle. He went over a summary of what he saw and the mental notes he took, and...
And he couldn’t remember all of it. Agent Phil Coulson never forgot anything. Pieces of the action were missing from his mind, along with more personal things. He didn’t remember when the last time him and Nick Fury talked, nor Maria Hill’s middle name. He couldn’t recall his own favourite colour, or his parent’s names. The more he thought about it, the less calm he got. Keep your cool, Coulson. Panicking won’t help anyone.
But staying calm didn’t help either. As he watched Iron Man catch the nuclear bomb, he tried going through more of his mental files. Gone, gone, gone, too much was gone.
Seconds passed, each feeling more like an eternity. Yet now wasn’t the time to think about that. As each scene of his childhood popped out of existence, he forced himself to concentrate more on helping Tony... Tony something. He was heading straight on for a building and all he knew was that he needed to help the man.
Flying under him, he grabbed the metal plating in an embrace and pushed up. Pull up goddammit! Suddenly the suit got working and Iron Man along with the bomb sped upwards into the sky towards the portal. Phil was unaffected by the battering winds as a ghost. It took only a couple of seconds to reach the entrance, yet every moment seemed like a lifetime to the ghost.
Every yard they travelled upwards, Phil forgot something. Pieces of him disappeared rapidly and soon his entire childhood was stolen. He couldn’t remember his mother’s and father’s faces, nor their voices. Times spent watching old Captain America movies were sucked down the drain along with his first years in highschool. Names starting leaving at the same time as his rookie times in S.H.I.E.L.D.
Suddenly the loud sound of air being cut through was gone, and both him and Tony were in space.
And Phil couldn’t remember anything. Whatever he had was left down in the world below. The man he tagged along with let go of the nuclear bomb, and it floated towards its target. He tried digging through his memory for who this man was. Anything at all. Why he was here, and anything else was gone. He watched the weapon go off in awe as another figure appeared in front of him. He vaguely remembered it, but where and when he encountered the thing was blurry. The hooded creature extended a hand to Phil, and thinking nothing of it, he reached back.
In the last moment, he looked to behind him. The man in the metal suit was falling towards the portal.
And the portal was closing rapidly.
Something inside Phil tugged hard, and he felt like he needed to remember something. Something very important. The world beyond the entrance looked warm to him, familiar, he wanted to go there. The figure made a noise and beckoned him once again, but Phil took his hand back and hesitated.
Tony Stark was not going to take it in time.
Phil Coulson’s stomach did a flip as memories and thoughts came rushing back. He didn’t remember everything, but enough to know what was going on and what he needed to do. Without hesitating, he transported himself to Iron Man. He was out cold. His brow furrowed and he grabbed the superhero, flying as fast as he could towards the portal door. The ghost felt his grip loosen once, but concentrated all his might into remaining a solid being just for a couple more seconds. He needed to make this.
And they did make it. Just barely. Phil Coulson let out the breath he was holding and relaxed just a bit. He would have to apply for some vacation time after this, maybe even a raise.
However, he knew it wasn’t over. Tony was still falling and Coulson couldn’t stop it without revealing himself. With the speed of an expert, he went through a list of people in his mind who would be able to catch him. One stood out in particular. The one most people would think of last, and only Phil Coulson would think of first.
He appeared next to The Hulk in a nearby building and whispered something in the creature’s ear.
“Catch him.”
The Hulk, Phil knew, wasn’t dumb. That moment was the only time when he listened to someone’s orders.
- - -
Now, it was over. The whole thing. Iron Man has alive and well, along with all of the other members of The Avengers. Hawkeye was no longer compromised, and Bruce Banner had woken up from his Hulk-induced sleep. Everyone was A-okay.
Well, except for Phil himself. But he didn’t count himself among them. Never really did, he was just one man after all. He was glad that he got to see the entire thing through until the end.
He laughed to himself when he realized that he never stopped working even in death. If only those gossiping rookies knew how right they were in the end. Agents and staff would make stories for years after that. Lucky engineers who had just barely escaped an explosion, guns that went haywire in the firing range wouldn’t hit anyone, and people getting sick less and less. Director Fury locked Phil’s old office for the last time, and no one was allowed in it. Although, every Avenger broke in at least once, spending time sitting at the desk of the old agent. Each one of them locked the door on their way out. Even when Fury was replaced by Hill in the far off future, she made sure that the office was never assigned to anyone.
Phil Coulson let himself take a vacation after that. He closed his eyes, one last time picturing the people he could call friends (Steve Roger’s blue eyes, Thor’s smile, Tony Stark’s laugh, Bruce Banner focusing on his experiment, Natasha Romanova appearing from the shadows, Clint Barton calling his name from the rafters, Nick Fury nagging him to go home and not spend another night in the office).
Letting out a satisfied breath, Phil Coulson clocked out one last time, and went to rest.