Work Text:
The sound of "It Don't Mean a Thing" was filling the kitchen, and the man in front of the sink was tapping his foot in the rhythm of the swing.
Phil Coulson was washing dishes. The kitchen of the Infinity Watch's secret base was dim, there was only one neon on, right above the sink. Phil didn't know why Star didn't include the dishwasher when she made the base, but he didn't mind washing them manually. It was actually peaceful to do such a mundane task. Of course, his mind was still split between the death avatars that were taking care of all the people who were dying at this moment, but his "primary", original body was standing here, in front of the pile of dirty dishes.
"Oh god, what's that music? I feel a decade older just by standing here. Also, why are you doing the dishes?"
He turned around. It was Star. The Reality Stone bearer was leaning on the door frame, watching him do his task. He shrugged and returned to scrubbing the plate with the rough side of the sponge.
"I saw a pile of dirty dishes and I decided to wash them. And it would be kind if you didn't insult my music taste every time I play something, alone, just for myself. I'm not forcing you to be here and listen. Also, it's the golden era."
"Golden era my ass. You know that I could clean the dishes in less than one second, right? I control..."
"...reality, I know. You say that every 20 minutes. But please, let me do my thing. It helps me to feel at least a bit normal in this absurd situation. Let me have that."
Phil put the plate on the drying rack and stuck the sponge into a teacup, rotating it around awkwardly like a dad who decided to help his wife, but he lacks practice in doing so. Some water splashed on the floor.
"Jeez, you are so bad at this," Star snarked, and the dishes disappeared. Phil put down the sponge and frowned.
"Star, you need to learn to respect the wishes of others, if we all want to ever get along," he said and checked the cupboard to see that the dishes went in there, now clean and dry. Even though they looked different. The girl most likely just destroyed the dirty dishes and created a new set. Like a total amateur. Also, his bluetooth speaker disappeared with the dishes, and that was just rude. She was playing with fire. Or in this case, Death.
"Oh really?" she asked, "And since when do you care about team integrity so much? Or do you think you should be leading us now?" Star gave the former agent a piercing stare. He inhaled deeply, and stared back.
"Just as a side note," he said, his voice dangerously calm, "even though I led countless successful operations with my team in S.H.I.E.L.D., including working with individuals like Tony Stark - and I assure you that babysitting an eccentric millionaire is not an easy task - despite that, I have no ambition to lead this band of misfits. I'm here to ensure you guys don't kill each other, and honestly, also because I had nowhere else to go."
Star gave him a disgusted look.
"Oh yes. That's your little fascist organization, right? Men in Black? Last I checked, they kicked you out, yet it seems like you are still more loyal to them than to us."
Phil walked towards the girl, clenching his fists so forcefully that his knuckles went white. She was slightly taller than him, and her entire stance screamed "I'm better than you".
"They didn't kick me out, I left on good terms. That 'little fascist organization', as you call it, saved more lives during its existence than you could ever imagine, Star," he said, "but whatever. It's foolish to hope you would understand. You are too narrow-minded to see the big picture."
Star was offended. Did he just call her narrow-minded? And more importantly, did he just disappear into thin air? Could he even DO that?
"Come back, Coulson!" she yelled, red with rage, but the kitchen was empty.
--
Some time before. One of the many selves of Phil Coulson materialized on the stony, barren side of a mountain. He looked at a young girl, wearing a thick red winter jacket and puffy pants, with ropes and safety hooks around her waist. She could be maybe 20 years old. She looked back at him, and she seemed very calm for someone who's looking at a Grim Reaper, holding a file with a black cover in his skeletal hand.
"So it happened," she said and put down her oxygen mask, looking at it, "I suppose I won't need this anymore. Is this what I think it is? Did I die?"
"Yes," the skeleton said, and looked in the file, flipping a few pages, "High-altitude plumanory edema, as a part of altitude sickness. It's not always lethal. You were just unlucky."
The girl stepped out of her body and took Phil's hand.
"You don't sound like I would imagine a skeleton would sound like. You sound... smooth," she said. She looked like a nice young lady, surprisingly content with her fate. It was refreshing, after having to deal with many crying, screaming, begging, bargaining people, who thought that they could revert their fate by refusing it. He was just a ferryman, after all. He didn't decide who lived and who died.
"Not many people told me that, but again, I'm kinda new to this job. Also, I'm not always a skeleton," he admitted, "when I'm not doing this, I'm just an ordinary guy. At least I used to be... an ordinary guy."
The skeleton looked into the distance.
"Can I see? Do we have time for that? I don't want to delay the inevitable, I'm just curious," she added, as if she wanted to apologize for being a burden, for dying and adding him more work."
"We have time. I'm in plenty of other places right now, but this version of me, the one that's with you, came here to ensure your transition goes as smoothly as possible. You can have all the time you need."
Phil, still holding her hand, slowly turned into his human form, covering his bare bones with flesh and skin. The girl smiled.
"You look handsome. A bit too... mature to be my type, but yes. I think you shouldn't be hiding behind the skeleton."
It was a very polite way to hint that he looked old. Phil couldn't help himself but smile.
"Most of the people I encounter seem to be expecting the traditional representation of Death," he objected.
"Then show them they don't have to expect that, let them know that you are human... I'm sure it's more comforting, well, it's more comforting for me," she said and looked into his kind, brown eyes. Then something crossed her mind.
"You said you used to be an ordinary guy. Do you have a name? Other than just Death, I mean."
"Phil Coulson."
"Phil..." she was thinking, trying to figure out how to formulate her question, and then she continued, "what happened to you, Phil? You said you were new to this. How..."
"Well, it's a complicated story, and I have no idea why I was chosen... but it all started when I died."
"Oh."
The girl, who was still holding his hand, pressed her fingers stronger against his palm after hearing that, just for a moment, and then relaxed.
"I guess we have more in common than I thought," she smiled.
"Well, I was murdered. I used to be a secret agent, and I died while trying to save my country. I was 51 years old when a man shot me in the chest and left me there to bleed out."
"A man" in question was Deadpool, misguided by an impostor posing as Captain America, but Phil didn't feel the need to fill in the details. They were redundant in this situation.
"That's so cool! Maybe that's why you were chosen. You must be quite a responsible person. I think. Not like me. I never did anything worth mentioning, either," she shook her head and looked down.
"Maybe if you didn't try to climb this mountain..." Phil started, but she shook her head again.
"I was dying, Phil, long before this. I was ill. Had maybe a year left. Please..." she looked at him, and her expression spoke to him more that words, "if... when... you meet Mark... and I hope it will be many, many years after this... Please, don't tell him. I never wanted him to feel my pain. I kept it for myself because I love him..."
She looked at Phil and smiled, her eyes reflecting the sadness of her short life like two little mirrors. He could see himself in there. He was the one who cut the thread. For many people, death was unfair. She was one of those people.
"I think I'm ready. I have been ready for years," she said.
The girl began to fade, slowly, losing her shape.
"Goodbye, Molly, and thank you... you made my day better by just taking some time to talk to me. Not everyone is so thoughtful, not everyone realizes that I have feelings, too," Phil said, and as her fading form gave him a surprised look, he added:"Oh yes, I have your name here, in the... file."
She wasn't there to hear the last word, and the file faded from his hands as well.
Now he knew why she seemed so okay with her death. It left a bittersweet taste in his mouth. She seemed so wise for a girl her age, and it was a pity she had to go. But that was the cycle of life. His task was done, and he was ready to disappear into his primary body at any moment.
Except he didn't.
He stood there, and suddenly, as if someone pushed a button, he felt the wind whipping his body, and the cold stung his unprotected hands and face. His perception of his primary body got cut, not because he'd lost contact with it, but because he simply wasn't standing in the kitchen anymore. He was here.
And even though he was the incarnation of Death, he was human enough to be harmed by the extreme cold of this place.
"Oh crap."
--
"Where the hell did you go, Coulson?!"
--
He had his phone on him, but he realized that he didn't actually get the numbers of any members of the Infinity Watch yet. He didn't think he'd need that, since it was his first day on the base and everyone was staying together. What a rookie mistake!
He pulled the phone out of his pocket. It seemed to have good reception of signal, even though his fingers were so cold that the touchscreen barely responded to his frantic taps. He gave up his S.H.I.E.L.D. phone when he left the agency, and the only contact on his personal phone that could help him right now was Nick Fury. Nick should be at least able to contact Quantum, who could teleport him back to the base.
But first, he opened the GPS navigation.
"Oh god," he uttered as the data loaded, and the map showed his position. Of course. If something breaks, it breaks in the worst possible way. And what was the best place to get unexpectedly stuck on without preparation or equipment? Of course, the Holy Grail of all mountaineers... freaking Mount Everest.
Also, Fury wasn't responding to the call. Phil really needed to make more friends. His contact list was a literal void. That's what happens when you die, the ties you had simply disappear. He wasn't even sure how long he had been dead before the Death Stone revived him. He should ask Fury when they meet again.
"Come on, think," Phil murmured, hugging his torso with his arms to slow down the cooling of his body. He was having flashbacks to a mission in Siberia, but back then, he had the necessary gear and he wasn't alone.
Maybe he could create some clothes for himself? Phil knew how to change his appearance back and forth between himself and the Grim Reaper, but the clothes he ended up having in his human form were always the same. It wasn't the lack of imagination on his side, it was simply his "default" look that he chose when his powers first manifested. Yeah, he wasn't a true shapeshifter, and he couldn't pull things out of thin air either. Unless it was his scythe. But he really didn't need a scythe right now.
He was feeling oddly light-headed. He realized that moving from a sea-level tropical island to the highest mountain in the world in a split-second could kill him the same way it killed Molly. Hypoxia and altitude sickness. His body was running low on oxygen. The mountaineers were preparing to reach this altitude for days, moving up slowly and taking breaks, and he just... zapped here.
He realized that he wasn't actually sure if he could die. The Death Stone was preventing him from dying from absolute sleep deprivation, giving him the power he needed to go on. Could it save him from death by other causes too? He wasn't sure, but even if it could, there were other things that he wouldn't want to happen to him. Like... fingers and toes getting so frozen that they would need to be amputated. And of course, brain damage. Another thing that wasn't fatal, yet he liked his brain the way it was, thank you very much. It wasn't perfect, he knew he wasn't a super genius, but he had some skills and a lot of knowledge that he'd really like to keep intact.
Why couldn't he transport into some NORMAL place instead of this freaking mountain? Was it because he grew to like Molly? Wait... The girl...
He looked at her, lying on the ground in complete peace. Young Molly said she didn't need her oxygen mask anymore. Well, she didn't need her gear either. Phil leaned over her, and closed her eyes in a single motion. He usually wasn't around to do that, he would disappear the moment the soul moved on in the afterlife. This death was becoming very personal. And it was about to get worse.
Phil grabbed her oxygen mask, put it over his mouth and took a deep breath.
"Thank you, Molly," he whispered as he took her gear and opened her puffy red winter jacket's zipper.
He felt terrible, dressed in her jacket, with her cap on his head and her gloves on his hands, but at least he wasn't freezing anymore, even though his legs were still cold. He couldn't force himself to take her pants too, not to mention he wouldn't fit in them, so he had to go with his suit's trousers instead, and her warm boots were too small for him to wear. Even the jacket was too narrow for him to close the zipper, so he was keeping it closed with his hands.
It was time to begin to descend.
--
Mark heard steps above his tent. Someone was heading down, and with each of their steps, more of the small rocks fell down the mountainside. He opened the tent and peeked out.
"Molly? Are you alright? I was starting to be worried..."
The figure had her jacket, but as it approached, it became clear that it wasn't Molly. Uneasy feeling gripped his insides. He stepped out of the tent and closed it to keep at least some of the warmth inside.
"Hey you!" he shouted at the person, "why the hell do you have her stuff?"
They stopped on the spot.
"Where's she? Where's Molly?"
Silence.
Then the person raised both of their hands, as if they wanted to show that they pose no danger. Their voice was shaken as they said: "Molly didn't make it."
It was a man. Mark had never heard his voice before, and he didn't see or hear anyone going around his tent in Molly's direction either.
"What do you mean?!" Mark asked, simultaneously angry and worried.
"Molly is dead," the man sighed.
"What? How...?" Mark paused, staring at the stranger, "wait.. did you kill her to take her stuff?"
The man gave him a startled look.
"I would never..." he shook his head in disbelief.
"Please, just believe me...I just took her things not to meet the same fate up there. High-altitude plumanory edema killed her."
"Are you a doctor or something?"
"Something like that."
"Something like that..." Mark repeated like an echo, but his tone was much more hostile as he said it. The man was avoiding direct answers, and that made him suspicious.
"I just... appeared on the mountainside. I wasn't prepared to stay here. My clothes are far from being appropriate for this."
"Am I supposed to believe that you just 'appeared' here? Because I don't. So either tell me why and how did you actually get here, or I'll knock you out and leave you here to freeze."
--
Phil knew that the man couldn't actually fulfill his threat, but he also saw that he was desperate, scared, and refusing to believe that Molly was dead. He genuinely cared about the girl.
Coulson hated to wave his status of the Death personified around the living people like a freaking flag, but he knew that he'd have much easier time if him and the mountaineer worked together.
He was good at nudging people to do what he needed them to do. In using bits of information to get under people's skin and making them give their best to the cause. It used to be his job as the field director. He didn't know much about this man, but one had to work with what he got in his hands... Phil could be manipulative at times, but he never used his persuasive skills in a way he'd consider immoral. That's why it hurt him so much to hear that there was an entire alternate universe in which he turned evil.
As the first step, he decided to give the man a not-so-subtle hint, and see if he could gain his sympathy.
"Is your name Mark, by any chance?" he asked.
The man stopped in his tracks as he was approaching Phil.
"How did you know that?" he asked.
"Molly talked about you after she died. She loved you so much... so I made a little assumption, since you were here, knew her, and you obviously care."
Phil nodded slowly, and then added: "She was so wise for a girl of her age..."
Hostility in Mark's face became a bit less pronounced after he realized that the stranger cared about his girl too.It was the body language and his voice that gave it away. Mark was young, around Molly's age, and he (unlike Phil himself, who had been betrayed enough times not to trust even the ones closest to him) still held that silly belief that people were good in their core. Then he noticed the odd statement Phil made before.
"I think you meant... she talked about me 'before' she died, right?"
"No." That was the only thing Phil said, looking at the mountaineer with a tired expression. It wasn't hard to look tired when he actually felt exhausted every day - and with no sleep to divide the days from one another, they had become one, with no rest in sight.
And with that one word, the man started to grasp what was going on there.
"Open the jacket," he ordered Phil, and he obeyed without a word. Mark looked at the business suit with white shirt, black tie, and the small skull pin on the suit jacket's lapel, and then let the trembling man pull the jacket back to warm up.
"You really did... just appear here, didn't you? There's no way you could climb all the way up in that."
Phil looked down at his hands trying to keep the jacket tight in the cold wind.
"Who... What are you?" Mark asked.
"I'm Phil Coulson. But it had been less than two months since I had to take over the duties of Death. I came here to guide your girl into the afterlife. I didn't choose her to die, that's not what I do. And I didn't want to get stuck here either, I'm just... still unsure how to control some of my aspects, like my omnipresence. I don't know how to go back."
Phil looked to the side and his eyes filled with black void, looking like empty sockets for a moment before returning back to their usual warm brown color.
"It will be fine, Phil. We'll figure this out," Mark said and grabbed his shoulder.
He won.
He didn't act that much, really. He was really feeling cold, and he really was desperate. But in his mind, he already saw through Mark. The man needed someone he could take care of, especially after the death of his girlfriend, and Phil simply gave him what he needed. By mentioning the fact that he was new to his job, by letting himself tremble in the cold, even though his training allowed him to mask it... and by ensuring that Mark didn't have doubts about him being who he was while still remaining relatable and human.
Usually, Phil didn't care about what tactic he used if it ensured victory. But today, he felt especially gross. Maybe he was changing... becoming soft?
--
The two men were sitting inside the tent which was shaking in the wind.
"So, why did you stay down here?" Phil asked. Mark sighed and rubbed his leg.
"I hurt myself trying to cross a crevasse, and Molly told me that she'd just go check how it looked up there and come back. I didn't want to hinder her... We agreed that we'd descend very slowly after she'd returned... And then you arrived instead. I should never let her go up there..."
Phil looked at the man.
"It's not your fault," he said. Mark sighed.
"I just... I don't want her to stay there, lying in the snow... I want to bring her home. To her family."
"I wouldn't want it any other way. I have an... acquaintance who can teleport people."
"Of course you do," Mark let out an unhappy laugh.
"I just need to reach a friend of mine, and we'll be out of here."
Phil pulled out his phone and dialed Nick Fury again. This time it fell right into the voice mail. What the hell was he doing for so long?
"Hey Nick! Could you please call me as soon as you can? I have a... situation here and I'd be really grateful if you could give my number to Quantum..."
"I guess we are stuck here for now, right?" Mark said, pointing at the phone in Phil's hand.
"Unless we want to carry her all the way to the mountain base, we are."
"No offense, man, but... if I was alone, or if she was still alive, getting down there wouldn't be a problem even with my injury. But you don't seem to have any experience, and scaling Mount Everest in formal shoes? That's just crazy.."
The mountaineer was right. But Phil appreciated that he decided to stay with the former agent and wait, even though he knew who he was... or maybe, because of who he was. To wait for Phil's backup while having no idea when it will arrive.
"Do you know why you got stuck exactly here?" Mark asked.
"Except for the fact that it's the very worst place to get stranded in? I have no idea. My theory was that I grew to like Molly and didn't want to see her go, but she wasn't the first one like that... And this is the first time it has happened."
Phil wiggled a bit to find a more comfortable position in the tiny tent's interior. Mark looked at him, as something crossed his mind.
"Wait... if you didn't try to move somewhere... what if you were trying to run from your original spot? What if you were in danger? Also... I mean... if you really are omnipresent... you could go anywhere, not only to places where someone had died. Is that a restriction, or something YOU imposed on yourself?"
"I'm not really the type who runs from the..." Phil suddenly stopped as he remembered how he ran from S.H.I.E.L.D. that one time, leaving only a short note for Maria Hill. And then he realized something.
His argument with Star. At the end of it, he really wanted just... to leave. There was nothing to say anymore. And the moment when Molly's soul left to the afterlife aligned perfectly with this moment. Maybe it was because he and Molly talked for so long, but that only increased the probability. The main reason was...
"Mark, you are a genius!" he exclaimed and gave the surprised mountaineer a quick hug, which, in fact, surprised him as well. He retreated immediately and looked away from Mark's face.
"Sorry for that. But it's true. You made two great points after less than an hour of knowing me, and both I missed, despite having this job for over a month. You're good..."
"Well, thank..."
In that moment, Phil turned into a black silhouette, and a second later, he was gone. Molly's clothes fell on the ground.
"Oh fun," Mark sighed.
--
Multitude, Overtime and Star sat around the table shaped like the symbol of infinity. Star just finished her rant about everything that irked her about Coulson.
"You know, he has a point," Multitude noted, "he did ask you to let him wash the dishes, and you didn't accept that."
"So now you are going to side with him?!"
"He's not siding with anyone," Overtime said and put his hand on Multitude's shoulder to calm the synth down, "he's just presenting an opinion... an one I agree with."
Star crossed her hands.
"Great. I come here to show you how rude Coulson acted and you start nitpicking on minor details!"
Suddenly, a black silhouette appeared next to the table, and turned into Phil Coulson himself. He staggered a bit before finding balance, and looked at the three with a wide smile on his face.
"I did it!"
They sat without a word, and then Multitude opened his mouth and raised his finger.
"Did what exactly?" Star asked, still frowning, before the synth could speak a word.
"I uhh... figured out how to utilize my omnipresence and transported here from Mount Everest, even though there was no soul I'd need to visit in this base. At least I hope there isn't. Is everyone in our team alive?"
They looked at each other in disbelief.
"From Mount Everest? How the hell did you get to..." Star asked.
"Long story. Now I need to talk to Quantum, as soon as possible! I left someone on the mountainside and he really needs our help."
--
Blue portal opened near the small tent, and spat out Quantum, the faceless Space Stone bearer. A moment later, Coulson joined him, arriving by his own devices as he materialized from a shadowy silhouette.
"Let's be quick, alright? The high altitude, low oxygen levels and the cold are quite a deadly combination in this place," Coulson noted as the wind pressed against him.
"None of that affects me," Quantum objected, "I can exist in the vacuum of space."
"Oh well, lucky you," the Death Stone bearer said with a hint of irony in his voice.
He shivered as he opened the zipper on the tent, just to find out it was empty. Quantum looked over his shoulder.
"He must have gone to the girl. It's up the mountain... Let's just move there, okay? I saved the coordinates of that place as well."
He showed the faceless man his phone screen with the map.
"I still don't get why you felt the need to come back here, honestly," Quantum said, which earned him a stare from Coulson.
"I should really give some of you guys a lecture or ten about what it means to be a superhero, because there are some connections you are missing. Like the sense of loyalty to a person who helped you immensely. We are here to repay the help."
"We aren't superheroes," Quantum said and disappeared. Phil followed him as quickly as he could, but he still reappeared next to the body only a few seconds after Quantum did.
Mark put down the oxygen mask he was using, and gave Coulson a weak smile.
"I thought I wouldn't see you again," he said.
"After all that? I wouldn't just leave you here. I couldn't take you with me, since I'm not some kind of teleporting taxi, but this guy here, he is," Phil pointed at Quantum.
"Did you just call me a taxi?"
"Yes, I did. Now, I think the best thing to do would be to take Mark and his deceased girlfriend home... I mean his home," he added quickly. No, he didn't think it would be best to bring the guy in their secret base. It was secret, after all.
"Can I count on you, Quantum?" he asked, and Quantum nodded. It was difficult to read someone who didn't show his face, but Phil was starting to have serious issues at this altitude, and he wanted to get out as soon as possible.
"Don't forget that she loved you more than anybody else did. She was..." Phil suddenly remembered the promise he gave Molly, not to tell her partner that she was gravely ill. "She was an awesome woman, Mark. And you are a great guy."
Without saying anything more, Phil turned into a black shadow and disappeared.
"So, where will we go?" Quantum asked.
--
Later in the day, Phil visited every member of the Infinity Watch and collected their phone numbers. They still had a lot to work on, but he sensed that he could influence them to become a great team... if he took it slow. So no superhero lectures. For now.
He sat in his room at their secret base and leaned against the leather backrest of his chair. His room resembled the various iterations his S.H.I.E.L.D. office had in various bases during the long years of his service. It was quite calming. He closed his eyes, well aware that he would never sleep again. His new function simply didn't allow it. He didn't even have a bed in his room, which emphasized the general look of "this is the place where work is done". As he sat there, with eyes closed, he realized that there's very little to do in this new "secret base" Star built. No missions, no saving the world, no stealth actions. After he was revived, he couldn't stop working, and after he had to quit S.H.I.E.L.D., he suddenly felt... redundant. Stuck here, the same way he got stuck on the mountain.
His phone rang. He picked it up.
"Hey Phil!"
It was Nick Fury.
"I heard your voice message. Do you still need help?" Nick asked.
"The situation had resolved itself. But thank you for calling back. What were you doing for so long?"
"I was... It was.. It's classified, Cheese."
"Alright!" Coulson laughed. "Then tell your lady that I said hello."
There was a woman laughing at the other end, then silence, and then Fury spoke again.
"Screw you, Phil! I'm about to start believing those claims Avengers had about you being a telepath."
"Well, they said that only to discredit my poker winning streak. But that was pure drill and a lot of knowledge," Phil grinned.
"Anyway... you know how difficult it is to get even one free day while working in this organization," Fury sighed.
"Yes, I know. I had to check the dictionary to figure out what was this 'vacation' people talk about so often."
They both laughed.
"I miss it, Nick. I know this is most likely just silence before the storm, but... the lack of responsibilities in this place is tragic," Phil said.
"I'd swap with you in an instant," Nick joked, "but no, you can't return to S.H.I.E.L.D. At least, not yet. I'll contact my superiors, but last time, they were strictly against it, so my hands are tied here."
"I know."
Phil knew the reasons, but it still hurt.
"And Phil?"
"Yes?"
"Find a hobby. It could help you cope."
With that, Nick ended the call, leaving Phil alone in his leather chair. He looked at the computer, which stood on the desk, and moved the chair next to the machine. Maybe he could just... There were so many secrets surrounding S.H.I.E.L.D., but he could just avoid that now.
He opened an empty document, and started to type, describing the situation in the kitchen that led to the scary adventure on the mountainside of Mount Everest. He felt a little sloppy, revisiting the bits and pieces over and over again, but hours passed... and he didn't feel so useless anymore.
Who knows.
Maybe he'll get used to this.
END