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The bar is warm and dark enough that even if one of his agents were to miraculously turn up at this shitty hole-in-the-wall (Barton or Romanov; Maria and Phil prefer things a little classier and Jasper isn't interested unless they serve food), it would take them long enough to notice he was there for him to slip out the back. Nick has his eye on the door, has abandoned his usual conspicuous trench coat in favour of a shorter leather jacket and jeans and even the eye patch isn't altogether out of place in a bar like this; most of the reason Nick had chosen to settle onto a bar stool here in the first place.
He's clutching a glass tumbler in one hand, the bottle he'd asked for and received with no question after handing over the SHIELD credit card on the bar somewhere to his left. It's a sipping whiskey; he'd sprung for the good stuff after the day he's had.
There's a butterfly bandage keeping the edges of a slash on his cheek closed (Barton wears rings. A lot of rings.) and Nick isn't green enough to think that'll be the end of it. Natasha's retribution will be coming in the next week or so; something subtle that can't quite be traced back to her, but she knows that he will know it was her. He always does.
All in all, The Avengers had taken the news of Phil's Recovery surprisingly well, Nick muses as he takes another sip, relishing in the burn as it slides down his throat.
Rogers had grabbed Barton after the first punch landed (Nick has his suspicions that Rogers could have grabbed him before the first hit, but Nick also knows that they'd needed something; just like they'd needed something to bring them together in the first place). They're all angry. He doesn't blame them; they all believe that he lied to get them together as a team.
It's easier that way.
It protects his reputation.
Nick Fury is an asshole.
The ends justify the means.
Someone has to look at the bigger picture and it might as well be him.
No one wants to know that Nick is just as human as anyone else.
No one wants to know that, sometimes, Nick Fury is just wrong.
Nick Fury's best friend had bled out in his arms that day on the helicarrier. Phil had stopped breathing. The medics had called it. Nick had no reason to believe otherwise. He's no medical expert but he's always figured getting stabbed through the chest is something few people come back from.
He's not proud of capitalizing on Phil's death, but he has a city of eight and a half million to think about; he has to ignore his own anguish until this thing is done and they can all try to pick up the pieces.
But he'd been wrong. Not about using Phil's death to make The Avengers work; they'd needed the push no matter what anyone says. Phil hadn't been dead, though. Or at least, not irreversibly so.
Nick isn't proud of TAHITI either.
He'd needed Phil back. Not just for missions and debriefs and making sure The Avengers stay in line. Mostly for himself. He's always had Phil; even when he had nothing else in the damn world he had Phil. He can't do the things he does on his own.
So he'd brought him back. And he lets The Avengers think he lied to them. It's easier than the truth; that Nick Fury is flawed, and weak, and sometimes just needs his best friend to be okay and damn the consequences.
He lets everyone think he's a cold bastard.
He lets everyone believe that he lied.
And he drinks to forget.