The Mary Sue Virus: Lights, Camera, Avengers!

[ladydeathfaerie]

Title: The Mary Sue Virus: Lights, Camera, Avengers!
Chapter Twenty Six: Healing
Fandom: something like the Marvel Universe, leaning mostly toward the Movie!Avengers branch
Rating: 18 and up
Warnings: lots of sex and violence, language, anything else i can toss in. probably some drinking.
Disclaimer: the recognizable characters and places contained herein are the property of Marvel and whoever the hell else owns them.. i'm merely borrowing for the sake of entertainment. no money is being made from this venture. the Sues are the sole property of their originators, dazzledfirestar, mistress_o_muse, ginevrasm, rylan_m, and ladydeathfaerie. the concept and title of The Mary Sue Virus are used with permission from Dazzledfirestar.

The Mary Sue Virus: Lights, Camera, Avengers! - The Index

Phoebe shifted nervously in the hard leather seat and stared quietly at the man across the desk from her. She wanted to soothe her palms down the length of her thighs, wipe away the thin layer of sweat that had gathered there. Despite the time she'd spent working for the man, there was still something about him that intimidated her on a base level. Maybe it was the cool stare coming from that one eye. Maybe it was the ominous look of his eye patch. Maybe it was the fact that she'd never seen the man ruffled, no matter what he'd been facing.

Maybe it was something primal that recognized he was a big, bad son of a bitch.

Director Fury had called her at Tony's place and requested a meeting with her. An immediate meeting. There'd been a note of something in his voice that had instantly pushed aside the denial she'd been ready to give him. Tony had been good to his word and had kept her in bed for days on end, though his idea of punishment didn't quite mesh with her own. Not that she was complaining. And the respite was actually welcome. Tony was quite insatiable in bed.

"Thank you for coming, Miss Sinclair," Fury finally broke the silence, leaning back in his chair to regard her with that piercing, one eyed stare of his. His elbows rested on the chair's arms, hands steepled before him.

"To be honest, Director Fury, you made it sound as if I had no choice but to meet with you today. I wasn't going to risk being put in jail for telling you I had better things to do," she replied evenly. The man stared at her for a few seconds, then grinned.

"I love your candid answers, Miss Sinclair. Honesty is a rare trait to find in anyone. Its a trait I value." He fell silent and went back to watching her. Phoebe primly folded her hands and set them in her lap, doing her best to give the appearance of being at ease and relaxed. She was pretty sure he saw through the ruse. "I imagine you're wondering why I asked you to come see me today."

"The thought had crossed my mind, yes."

"Then let me get to the point, Miss Sinclair." Director Fury sat forward so that he could rest his forearms on the desk before him, hands clasped together loosely. "I am quite impressed with your abilities. Both those I originally hired you for and those that you displayed in the midst of chaos."

"But I really didn't do anything, Director Fury. I was unable to find information to prevent HYDRA's attacks. And your agents were much more effective at dealing with the assaults than I was."

He gave her a look, one that suggested he didn't buy a word she was saying. Then he tugged a manila file out from under the bottom of a stack on his right. Somehow, he was able to do so without toppling the miniature tower of files. Perhaps he was so feared that even normal sheets of paper refused to upset the man. The idea was so ludicrous that she fought a grin and a fit of the giggles.

Fury missed her amusement, his hands busy turning pages in the file while his eye scanned what was on each piece of paper. Finally, he stopped and tapped at the sheet with one finger. "After the accident that killed your parents, upon your release from the hospital, you took up Tai Chi. You used it as a form of therapy, strengthening weakened muscles after the accident. You also used it to learn self defense. Swords and other bladed weapons." The gaze her turned her way was intense. Phoebe was surprised, even though she shouldn't have been. "How am I doing so far?"

"It sounds like you've done a great deal of research into me, Director Fury."

"I like to know the people who are working for me. Even if it is against their will," he told her, not a hint of remorse in his voice. She nodded her head at that, glad that he was capable of admitting that he had coerced her into doing what he wanted.

"You didn't leave me any viable options. I chose the least imprisoning one."

Fury smiled at that and once again leaned back in his chair. This time his hands were left to rest against his stomach, fingers twined together."You're a breath of fresh air here, Sinclair. I'd like to keep it that way."

She blinked at him, unwilling to believe she'd just heard what she thought she'd heard. "I'm sorry. Perhaps I heard you incorrectly because it just sounded to me like you're suggesting I come to work for you. Permanently."

"That's exactly what I'm suggesting. You're a smart woman," he inclined his head. "You have considerably amazing skills on the computer and you can take care of yourself. Most of my agents are recruited fresh out of college or the military. More often than not, they have one skill and not the other. It is something of a rare occasion when I come across someone who is capable in both areas."

"I don't know that I'm exactly the governmental type, Director Fury. I rather enjoy my privacy and the peace I find selling books to random strangers and the few regulars the shop has. I'd much rather spend my time there than here."

"I see," he replied. "Very well, then. Allow me to lay a few things out. When I had Stark bring you to me, I also had men stationed at your book shop. One person ran the business for you while you were gone. And they kept an eye on your dogs. You know all that."

Phoebe nodded her head in return.

"What you don't know is that I've had junior agents running the store for you since you came here. The cover was you were on vacation and would return after some time spent relaxing and resting up. What you don't know is I sent a team in to explore your living quarters. Those men picked through every last photo and letter you've ever received. They took your computer equipment into custody. They looked into and dug through every single aspect of your life. I know more about you than you do, Sinclair."

"I hate to disappoint you, Director Fury, but I was sure you would do something like that."

"And just what kind of information do you suppose we found on your computer's hard drive? If I was to have every single key stroke printed out on paper, I could have you behind bars for the next one hundred years." He lifted one hand and motioned toward her. "Just how do you think you'd survive in prison, Sinclair?"

"Are you threatening me again, Director?" Phoebe asked, wondering how it was the man could make asking her to work for him sound like a threat.

"I think you misunderstand me, Sinclair. I'm trying to make a point. These are things I could do. I can't leave you to run amok amongst the general populace. You pose a threat to the nation's security. If I didn't arrest you, I'd be lax in my job. And someone else would do it for me."

"You're not selling this job opportunity to me, Director,"

He sighed and leaned forward again. He laid his hands flat against the surface of the desk and pinned her with that all knowing gaze he had. "The point I'm trying to make, Miss Sinclair, is that I don't want to put you in jail. I don't want to see anyone else put you in jail. I want you to do what you do best for me. You will make an excellent addition to S.H.I.E.L.D. And by working for me, you'll be protected from being put in jail."

"I really fail to see how the options you're giving me are any different this time than they were the first time we met here," Phoebe told him.

"The difference this time, Miss Sinclair, is that I'm not going to threaten to put you in jail if you don't work for me. I'll happily let you go on your way. Just don't come crying to me when someone from one of the less... understanding governmental agencies knocks on your door and tells you they're taking you in. I won't even know you exist."

"How is this not blackmail, Director Fury?" she asked him lightly.

"I'm not forcing you to do what I want you to do. In fact, I'm not going to attempt to force you to do anything you don't want to do," he told her, his tone level. He studied her for a few long seconds before continuing on. "I'm giving you the option here. You can do whatever you like. I'm just telling you where we stand if you pick one option over the other. You may not be aware of this, but I do have the power to protect you from anyone who decides to nose around and dig into your past. But that's only if you're working for me. You turn me down and walk out that door, you're on your own and I've never heard your name before."

"Neither of those are really very pleasant options, Director Fury."

"Working for me is that unpleasant a proposition?" he asked, one brow going up.

"It isn't that I find it unpleasant. Its more that I find what I was doing before you had your men barging into my life much more enjoyable."

"Very well. Maybe we can reach a compromise." He was studying her again. She could tell simply by how he watched her. It was her turn to lift a brow.

"What kind of compromise, Director Fury?" Phoebe had to admit, she was a little intrigued. Despite her initial misgivings when he'd approached her the first time, he'd turned out to be a rather amiable employer. Mostly because he'd never stood there and looked over her shoulder.

"You can keep your book store. And continue working it."

"As a front, you mean."

"That's exactly what I mean. You could run your store and still work for me. No one would expect one of my people to be a mousy looking woman in a book store." He smiled at her, the flash of teeth a brilliant white against the darkness of his face.

"And just how would that work?"

"I'd see to it that you have the most up to date and sophisticated computer system on the market installed in your house. You would make enough money working for me that you could afford to hire some extra help. I might even send some of my junior agents to you. You could do all of the work I need from you from home. You wouldn't have to come here at all unless I asked you to," he finished with a smile.

"The newest equipment?" She had to admit, the notion of the most up to date equipment was very appealing.

"Of course. With updates when the tech advances. Imagine the things you could do. The agencies you could hack into." He smiled again and this time, it was positively wicked. There was a part of Phoebe that liked the idea of nosing around some government databases. Fury had more or less just admitted that he knew she'd love to do that. Tempting. Very tempting. He gave her a few minutes to think on that, then put his grin away. "Not that I'm suggesting you do such a thing. Or condoning it, of course. I know one of my employees would never stoop to cyber espionage."

"Of course not," she shook her head in reply. But she couldn't stop the slight hint of a sly smile that slid across her face. She let him stew a for a while, turning the pros and cons of his offer over in her head. She didn't like the idea of jail. She'd just found happiness, had just made a life for herself with Tony. The prospect of having those things taken from her was unpleasant. She didn't like it one bit. And then there were the boys. What would happen to them if she was incarcerated? She'd had them almost since birth. They'd wither away and die without her. Phoebe gave him a look that told him everything. "Sir."

"You're saying yes?" Phoebe nodded in answer to his question. His smile was instantaneous and broad. "Good choice. My assistant has the paperwork drawn up and ready. All you need to do is fill it out and bring it back in. After that, everything's legal."

Fury rose to his feet, prompting Phoebe to do the same. It looked like their meeting was over. Leaning on one hand, he reached toward her over the desk with the other. An offer to shake. She looked at his palm for just a second, then put her hand in his and shook. "Thank you, sir. You'll let me know when my things are returned to my home?"

"Of course, Miss Sinclair. Welcome to S.H.I.E.L.D."

Phoebe crossed to the door, aware of his eyes on her back as she went. Tony was waiting for her outside, one butt cheek resting on the assistant's desk. Based on the frustrated look he was giving the woman, he'd tried and failed to get information from her. His eyes flicked up to her face when she pulled the door closed behind her and the smile was just there. She returned it, then stepped up to the desk. "I believe you have some forms for me."

"Of course, Miss Sinclair." The assistant handed her a legal sized envelope that was as thick as two fingers. "Congratulations."

"Thank you." Phoebe took the envelope from the woman and tucked it under her arm. Tony gave her a puzzled look before slipping his arm around her shoulders and leading her away from the woman's desk. He remained silent until they made it out into the hallway.

"Okay. What's going on? What did Fury want to see you about?" he asked. She heard a touch of displeasure in his voice. He absolutely hated not being in the loop.

"I've got a new job," she replied evenly. Her words stopped Tony in his tracks. He turned her so that they were looking at one another. It didn't take him more than a second to put everything together. His gaze flicked back toward the offices they'd just left before settling on her again.

"You're working for Fury now?"

"Yes. I am. Do you have a problem with it?" she enquired, genuinely curious.

Tony gave her question some consideration before shaking his head in the negative. "No. If that's what you want to do, I'm all for it." He turned them to once more face the exit, his arm sliding around her shoulders to urge her into motion. She wound her arm around his waist. "I was just thinking. News like this calls for a celebration."

"There's no need, Tony. This really isn't a big deal."

"Of course it is. I was thinking we could swing by the house and pick up Tex and Denver, then we'd go find a dog friendly park and enjoy some kind of picnic lunch. And by picnic, I mean stopping to pick up something from a drive through. Happy can entertain the boys while we eat."

She shook her head at him. "I like the idea of taking the dogs to the park. But that's mean to do to Happy. He's been looking after them so much lately." She glanced up at him to find him grinning. "I'll agree to the picnic. But on one condition."

"Name it."

"Happy gets lunch, too. And I get to find out later if you've got an ticklish spots."

Tony eyed her for a few seconds, then nodded his head with a knowing grin on his face. "Beautiful, you have got yourself a deal."

~*~*~*~*~

Fury was sitting behind his desk when Alex pushed the door closed behind her. The man's head was down as his hand moved across a small stack of papers before him. Alex wondered briefly if he did it because of the missing eye, but she shoved the thought aside and made sure she had her serious look screwed on tight. And she stood waiting by the door. Fury would let her know when he was ready to speak to her.

"Have a seat, Agent Quinn," he said, lifting the hand not holding a pen long enough to motion to the hard chairs positioned on this side of his desk. He didn't look up to see if she obeyed, just kept writing without glancing up. She considered standing by the door for their entire meeting, but decided that would be petty and she'd been petty enough lately. She crossed to the chairs and took a seat, hands absently smoothing her skirt down as she sat so that it didn't ride up and risk exposing anything she didn't want the man to see.

It had taken a couple of days to work up the courage to come here and talk to Fury. Hell, it had taken Clint a lot of convincing to get her here. He was waiting for her outside, having told her before she'd stepped into the office that he was going to stand there and send her silent support through the door. After managing almost passable scrambled eggs and only slightly charred toast this morning, which Clint had choked down with a smile and a lie while telling her how good they were, she'd showered and slipped into something more presentable than her robe or Clint's t-shirt. It felt both strange and so right to have one of her work suits on. it felt right.

Several more seconds of silence passed, only the faint sound of the ball point scrolling across the paper to fill the gap between them. Alex clasped her hands in her lap. It was either that or she started clawing at the leather like a mad woman.

"Your hands look like they've taken some serious abuse, Agent Quinn." Those were the words Fury used to open the conversation. They drew Alex's attention from a picture of Fury surrounded by some obviously important people. She found that he was studying her intently.

"The hazards of working on vehicles, sir," she replied steadily. If he wanted to lead the conversation, she'd let him. He knew what she was here for. He'd get to it in his own time.

Fury nodded his head at that. The pen laid across the stack of papers at an angle, set aside but not forgotten. The man had folded his hands together and they rested on the edge of his desk. There was a considering stare in his one eye as he watched her. "I trust your leave was relaxing?"

"Not really, sir. It wasn't anything close to being relaxing or helpful."

"And why do you think that is, Agent Quinn?"

"Because I've been trying for weeks now to figure out why I never knew my uncle worked for you. I hadn't even known he was an agent until Agent Romanova mentioned it to me." She wasn't about to explain to him the situation in which Natasha had dropped that news on her. Of course, given that this was Nick Fury, director of S.H.I.E.L.D., he probably already knew just what had been going on when Tasha had told her.

"Your uncle's employment with this agency was never mentioned to you because it had no bearing on your employment with this agency," he explained. It was an evasive answer. Alex knew it was. She frowned at him before glancing down at her hands. There was silence for a few seconds. "You don't believe me, Agent Quinn?"

"I have my doubts, sir," she replied quietly.

"Just what did Agent Romanova tell you about your uncle?"

Alex lifted a shoulder. Glanced up at him. "Not much, sir. Just that you and he worked together a long time ago."

He made a noise in the back of his throat, crossing his arms over his chest. The look he shot her way was filled with displeasure. "Why am I sensing that there was more to this conversation than just that? What else did Agent Romanova tell you, Agent Quinn?"

It pained her every time he called her that, somewhere deep inside. Because despite anything anyone had said to her, despite Clint's assurances that she was more than qualified to be an agent, she still had her doubts. Alex really didn't want to get into that discussion with him. She knew it was a silly mentality to have, but she couldn't really help it. And she'd tried to push those thoughts away. She really had.

"Agent Quinn? Don't make me ask you again." There was warning in Fury's voice. She sighed and glanced down at her hands for a second.

"Natasha told me that the only reason I went through training is because you liked my uncle."

"I see," he said. His chair squeaked ever so slightly as he leaned back in it, shifting his weight while his eye considered her at length. Fury was silent for a long time, leaving Alex feeling slightly uncomfortable under his unblinking stare. After several minutes of scrutiny, he shifted his weight forward. The chair made a squeak as it rocked back into normal position. His hands reached for a thick file laying on top of a stack.

Alex watched as he set the file before him, then flipped the front flap open. His eyes dipped to the exposed top page, studying it for some time. With a look at her, he closed it again and handed it over the desk. She looked at it and frowned. It was obviously someone's personnel file. "Sir?"

"I think you should take a look at this, Agent Quinn," he told her. She stared at him, wondering what he was doing. But she took the file anyway and barely had a chance to note the name before she saw his hands go for a second file on the stack. As with the first file, he opened it and glanced at the first page, then closed it and held it out to her. "In fact, I think you should take a look a this file, as well."

She took hold of the second file and laid it on top of the first. Fury watched her closely for a few moments. When she didn't move right away, he motioned to the files with one hand. "Go ahead and read over those. I'll wait. Then we'll discuss both your employment and your uncle's employment with this agency."

The tone of his voice suggested that he wouldn't take no for an answer. Holding back a sigh, Alex reached a hand down toward the front flap of the top file. She hesitated just a moment when she spied the name there. Alexander M. Quinn. Uncle Alex's file. She wasn't sure she wanted to read it, but Fury wouldn't have given her the file if he hadn't wanted her to see what was in it. Her fingers took hold of the flap and opened it.

The top of the file was a picture of her uncle. In it, he was smiling and young. The way she remembered him. She couldn't help the faint smile that came to her lips as memories of Christmases and birthdays spent with him came to mind. She gave herself a few seconds to stare at his image, then found the strength to turn the page. The next few pages were sheets containing personal information. Where he'd gone to school, his family, other things like that. She skimmed over those pages because she knew there was nothing in them that she didn't know or that she didn't need to know.

Each successive page contained mission information and reports. Yearly psych evals. Various and numerous pieces of paper that made the file thick. Each one represented a man's life and his years of service to his chosen career. She let her gaze slide over each of them, skimming the words to read the most important parts. Each one told her a little more about her uncle, proved to her that there was a thick well of integrity within him that one rarely found in most people. Proved to her that he was the man she remembered him to be.

At the end of the file were the pages she was dreading. A formal mission in writing. A trip to Russia, where he and his partner were supposed to have met with a source about a possible nuclear threat. Or perhaps even something worse. There was no clear indication listed in the report as to what that threat might have been. Just that there was a threat and that Uncle Alex and his partner had been dispatched to deal with it.

Another report, this one a situation report, told of the events that had happened that day as others knew them. S.H.I.E.L.D. intel had let his superiors know that it was a trap, but they'd been unable to contact her uncle and his partner before it was too late. So both men had walked into a trap that had seen them gunned down in cold blood. The report was followed by vivid color pictures that had been snapped at the scene.

For a second or two, she found herself lost in images of that motel room in California. But she blinked those away to give her full attention to the pictures before her. There were similarities between the two scenes. So much blood. Such pale skin. Sightless eyes staring at the ceiling as if to ask God why. Instead of blue, these eyes were green. Unlike Mitch, who had died with a gun in his hand, her uncle's weapon was still caught up in its holster. He and his partner had been taken by surprise.

She forced herself to close the file, to shut away the painful last images of her uncle's death. It had been hard enough to go through his funeral thinking that some random punk had shot him in a botched robbery. She really didn't think she wanted to dwell on this new information very long. Not right now, sitting in front of Fury. Later, when she was alone, she'd let herself think about it all. Instead, she shifted her uncle's file to the bottom and focused her energies on the second one.

Alexis E. Quinn.

She opened the file and took a look at the picture on top. She remembered the day it had been taken, shortly after Fury had approached her about working in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s motor pool. Standard procedure, he'd told her. She hadn't questioned it at the time, but it all made sense now. The man had been grooming her for agent status since day one. The question was why?

She flipped the photo over, looked at the pages that followed. They detailed her life and her family, went into her schooling starting from the day she'd entered kindergarten to the day she'd graduated from college with a major in history with special emphasis on the military and a minor in foreign language. Each of the four languages she'd mastered, German, Japanese, French and Mandarin, were listed, along with the three others, Italian, Russian and Gaelic, she was still in the process of learning.

She found reports on all of her fights from the day she'd knocked Kenny Jefferson on his ass for calling her a girl to the wrench incident in the motor pool and beyond. Mission reports. Standard psych evals. Weapons proficiencies. Training results. Every last little thing that she'd done in her life was there to be read in black and white before her.

Unlike her uncle's file, which she'd only skimmed, she took her time reading this file. Not the mission reports or anything like that, but the other bits that one expected to find in a personnel file. Various notes made by her superiors and things of that nature. Those were the things she wanted to look at because those told a story the reports wouldn't.

She carefully avoided anything tied to Mitch's death. Despite the things Clint had said to her, she wasn't quite ready to face it all just yet. But she did allow herself to focus on a couple of unofficial reports that had been tucked into her file just after that event. The one she found most interesting was from Fury, written in his own hand. It basically suggested the same things Clint had told her, that Mitch had sent her away to protect her from whoever had shot him. There was little else to glean from his personal notes, but based on a few comments made regarding her reactions, she thought he had to have known that they'd been an item.

There were several of those unofficial notes in there from Miri. Sure, Miri was her friend. But Alex knew well enough to know that Miri would never risk lives by sugar coating the truth. The two of them had worked enough missions over the years. They both knew how one another functioned. One note, dated for just a few days after a particularly heinous mission in South America, praised Alex's ability to keep a level head in the face of overwhelming odds and stated that the two of them might have suffered serious injury if not for her quick thinking. Alex remembered that mission well, knew that she and Miri had barely made it out alive. She hadn't thought she'd done anything spectacular. But it appeared the other woman had read the situation differently.

The ones that really intrigued her were from Coulson. She knew his neat, precise handwriting well enough that she didn't need to see his signature on the personal reports. In his notes, she found many compliments directed toward her professionalism and capabilities. Suggestions that she wasn't being utilized to her full potential. Recommendations that she be advanced.

When she was done, she lifted her gaze to find that Fury was watching her closely. She carefully settled the files in her lap, hands folded together on top of them. He pointed a finger at the manila folders. "Did you find anything in there to suggest that you got your position here because your uncle and I were friends?"

"No, sir," she shook her head.

"Your uncle was a damned good agent, Quinn. He was an asset to this agency. His death was mourned by all of S.H.I.E.L.D." He watched her absorb his words, giving her just a couple of seconds to make sense of them before he spoke again. "Agent Romanova was correct in saying that your uncle was a friend of mine. And he was proud of you. When your brothers settled on being mechanics, he was very pleased with the fact that you wanted more out of life. Many of the agents he worked with at the time knew all about the niece that had been named after him and how she took after him. He told us all about you."

"So you recruited me based on what he'd told you," she said quietly.

"I recruited you based on many reasons. None of them had anything to do with what your uncle told me about you personally. I recruited you based on your intelligence and your tenacity. I saw in you the same qualities that I saw in your uncle. Instinct told me you'd be a damned good agent, just like your uncle. It also told me that you'd be a pain in my ass, just like your uncle."

Alex nodded at that, recalling just how mischievous her uncle could be. He always drove her mother batty with his antics. Some of the weight that had been resting on her shoulders lifted away. She looked him in the eye so she could see the truth of his words when she asked him her next, really her last and only, question. "So Uncle Alex has nothing to do with my becoming an agent?"

"Agent Quinn, your uncle's employment with S.H.I.E.L.D. has absolutely nothing to do with your employment with S.H.I.E.L.D. You're here because you deserve it. You worked hard and earned your position. It wasn't handed to you."

She nodded. Fury was many things, but he wasn't known to be much of a liar. He always told it like it was. Rising from the chair, Alex put the files down on his desk and gave him a smile. "Thank you, sir. I'll see myself out now."

He made a noise in the back of his throat but said nothing else. Alex turned for the door, had reached it and put her hand on the knob when his voice caught her. "I expect to see you here bright and early on Monday morning, Agent Quinn."

Alex didn't look back, allowed herself a small smile. "Yes, sir."

Clint was waiting in one of the hard plastic chairs for her when she pulled the door shut behind her. He was in jeans and a long sleeved t-shirt and, based on the way he shifted in his seat, he was still looking for a comfortable position. The smile he gave her when he saw her was filled with relief. She watched as he levered himself into a standing position, one hand holding tight to the head of a cane that he'd been given. He hated the damned thing, but didn't think it would be prudent to show up at headquarters without it.

Alex flashed Fury's personal assistant a smile before she moved over to stand next to Clint. "Hungry?" she asked, knowing full well her breakfast had been met with no small amount of well hidden displeasure.

"Starving. I was thinking of this great little pizza place I know."

"I was thinking of something more filling," she replied with a grin. "Maybe some steak."

He caught her meaning easily enough, tossing her a grin that said she was in trouble when they got back to her place. "You're on."

~*~*~*~*~

"What harm is there in handing me my phone?" he asked, hands meticulously shifting a few sheets of paper on the pile until they were all uniformly neat. All of the paperwork he'd been able to convince Sitwell to bring him was done, every report filled in full detail. And in triplicate. Between the hours spent working on putting the few tattered remnants of his memory back together, choking down horrible hospital food, and the unexpected naps, he'd managed to finish off every last bit of it. There was nothing left to do and he was growing anxious.

"You're on medical leave," Miri said without looking up from the tablet she was tapping her fingers against. He could only imagine what kind of work she'd had to do after the attacks had taken place. Not that he actually remembered the attacks. There were fuzzy images of right before everything had gone to hell, but nothing solid. He only knew what had happened because he'd forced her to tell him. "The phone is not going to help speed up your recovery. I'm already going to take that mess out of Sitwell's ass as it is. Don't make his beating worse."

"You're working," he pointed out softly. Miri sighed and, with an effort, set the tablet aside. She then turned her attention his way and gave him a soft smile.

"I didn't nearly die in the helicarrier crash," she replied just as softly. He saw the clouds darken her beautiful eyes for just a moment or two. They were gone after she blinked them away, nothing left of the memories she'd so far refused to share with him. "There will be plenty of time to do paperwork when your doctor gives you the all clear. For now, can't you just be content to lie back and rest? Regain your strength. None of this crap is going to go away while you're down, Phil."

"I feel useless laying here, Miri," he told her. It was Miri now. He couldn't remember why he'd insisted in calling her Miriam. Maybe it was because it sounded more adult and grown up. More womanly. But all of her friends called her Miri. As far as he knew, he was the only one who hadn't. He was finding he kind of liked the shortened version of her name. It made him feel closer to her.

"You're anything but useless, Phil," she insisted. He might have argued that point, but she leveled a look on him. It was the one he'd learned meant that there was no way he was winning the argument. "When I... When I... " She broke off to collect herself. He'd noticed that when she talked about the attacks, she always needed a moment before she could fully articulate what she wanted to say. It made him wonder just how terrible everything had been for her. She gave him a look, her beautiful eyes dark and clouded over briefly, once more hinting at the memories she refused to share with him, then took a deep breath and pressed on.

"When I found you, you were on the bridge. You were the one who sent the mayday to base. You made it your responsibility to try and put the helicarrier down someplace where there wouldn't be a large concentration of people." She paused again, daring him to argue with her on this one. He wasn't going to, though. Not with that look of fear and pride burning in her eyes. "If not for you, the helicarrier would have crashed into buildings and a lot more people would have died. Maybe hundreds. Maybe thousands. You saved lives. You're a god damned hero, Phil. You're entitled to take a few days or weeks off."

"I'm not used to being idle, Miri. At least if I'm doing reports, I feel like I'm contributing something. I despise just lying here." He didn't feel like a hero. It didn't matter that he couldn't remember doing the things she said he'd done. He was sure he had. Miri wouldn't like about that. It was just that he didn't see himself as the hero type. That was a title that fit Stark. Or even Rogers. Not Agent Phil Coulson, the man behind the scenes.

"You aren't idle, Phil. You're resting up after surviving a horrific crash. That's the only job you should be worried about doing right now." There was an edge to her voice and she nearly snapped the words at him. This was apparently something she felt very strongly about. And he supposed he understood her point of view. If their positions were reversed, he'd likely be saying the same things to her. But that didn't make being idle any easier to deal with. That just wasn't who he was.

He was ready to tell her that, too, when a brisk knock sounded on his door. Before he had a chance to bid his visitors enter, the panel swung open to allow Barton in. The man was limping ever so slightly, prompting Phil to wonder how badly he'd been hurt. Agent Quinn came behind him, one hand caught tellingly in his. Phil noted that Barton was grinning while Quinn looked a little hesitant. "We thought we'd stop by and see how you're doing, sir," Barton announced unnecessarily.

"Agent Coulson. You're looking better than the last time I saw you." Quinn nodded her head in his direction. Phil saw, out of the corner of this eye, the look Miri shot the other woman. Almost as if she was surprised to see Quinn there. Come to think of it, Miri hadn't made mention of her friend in the entire time that Phil had been awake. Which was curious, because it was very unlike her. That made him wonder just what the hell had been going on while he'd been unconscious. Barton nudged her with an elbow, which earned him a dirty look. But Quinn stepped out from behind him and approached the bed with a small plant in her hands. "A get well gift from both of us. I wanted to get something else, but Clint nixed the idea."

"That's because it was a bad idea. The plant is a much better get well gift than anything else you came up with," Barton told her. Phil could hear the gentle note of teasing in the other man's voice, a move made to soften the blow. "And, assuming he doesn't use it to kill a junior agent when he's back behind his desk, it'll last longer than anything else you wanted to give him."

"Sure. Be rational about it." Quinn reached out and punched him lightly on the arm. But she was smiling when she did so. Phil watched the two of them for a little while, taking note of the easy companionship that existed between them. It hadn't been there over a month ago. He'd apparently missed quite a few things since he'd been laid up in the hospital. "You know, I think this is the first time I've ever seen you without a suit on, sir. I don't think the hospital gown is quite you. Does your ass hang out of the back of it?"

He should have expected the question from her. It was totally within Quinn's nature to ask such an outrageous thing of her superior. And yet, he hadn't been expecting it. So it took him by surprise. Just as it took him by surprise to hear the bubble of laughter Miri gave off. It was a laugh of relief, prompting him to wonder again just what he'd missed while being laid up and unconscious. He glanced toward her, making note of the expression on her face. He would have to remember to ask her about it after Quinn and Barton left. "I wouldn't know, Agent Quinn. I haven't had an opportunity to see what I look like from the back."

"Of course, sir. I understand," she nodded and gave him a smile. "I'll be sure to ask Miri later, when you aren't present."

"Don't think I won't give you extra paperwork, Alex," Miri replied easily, as if there wasn't an odd kind of tension between the two of them. Phil felt it. Based on the look Barton was giving Alex, he knew it was there, too.

"Do that and I'll let Seamus know that you're interested in dating him," Alex replied without a hint of remorse in her voice. "And with Coulson laid up, Seamus won't have any competition."

"That's low, Alex. Even for you." Miri shook her head, as if she couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"It makes me good at what I do," the other woman replied shamelessly. She shot a tentative smile at Miri, then turned her attention back to Phil. "I'm glad to see that you're feeling better, sir. We were really worried about you for a while."

"Thank you, Agent Quinn." Phil smiled at her obvious concern, earning a few blinks of surprise from the other woman. But the look went away and she inclined her head toward him. Then she took hold of Barton's arm and tugged him toward the door. "Forgive us for dropping in and then running again right away, but Clint is going to teach me some basic archery."

Miri lifted a brow at that. "I didn't know you were interested in archery, Alex."

"I'm expanding my weapons knowledge. Clint is getting some practice in on the range to keep himself in shape. He's still on light duty for the time being." The other woman shrugged, as if it wasn't a big deal. "Its something to occupy my time."

"Don't forget that later I'm going to work on teaching you how to cook," Barton reminded her. Miri goggled at the announcement. Alex's eyes darkened and she frowned.

"I'd have thought you would have given that up by now. You saw how well my last two attempts at macaroni and cheese came out," she replied, crossing her arms over her chest. Phil had seen that look on her face before. Alex Quinn was about to put her stubborn on. Clint took it in stride, only stepped into her and smiled.

"Just imagine the look on Mary Magdelaine's face when she finds out that you learned how to cook."

"That's bribery, Clint," she shot at him, though there was little snap to her voice. Phil exchanged a look with Miri, smirking slightly at her expression of amazement.

"I know," he replied, utterly unrepentant. Alex stared at him for a few seconds, her gaze considering. Then she went up on tip toe so she could whisper something in his ear. Barton's eyes darkened while a knowing grin curved his lips up at the corners. There was nothing on Quinn's face when she pulled back and the two of them stared at one another for several seconds. He nodded. "Deal."

"As if you would have said anything else. You're easy." She turned to face his bed, made sure her look encompassed Miri. "Forgive us for the visit and run. But we really did want to come see how you were doing, sir. I'm glad that you're almost completely back to your normal self. Speedy recovery, sir. Miri. I'll see you at work."

"Get well soon, Coulson," Clint added cheerfully, then allowed Quinn to tug him from the room. When he was sure they were gone, he let go a soft chuckle that brought Miri's attention his way.

"Is there a reason you sound so pleased with yourself?" she asked him.

"It took those two long enough to finally get together," Phil replied. She seemed startled by his statement, the look on her face suggesting that she didn't think he knew anything about her friend's personal life. Shaking his head, he smirked at her. "Miri, who do you think Alex went home with that night of the Christmas party?"

"She went home with Barton that night?" Miri asked, obviously in a mild state of shock.

"How could you have missed it? All of that tension between them. Where did you think it came from?" he questioned, then leveled a look on her. Speaking of tension... "Now. Would you care to tell me why you and she just acted like you were only passing acquaintances and not the best of friends you've been almost since the day you were paired up as partners?"

Miri shook her head and frowned at the question. "Sometimes I forget just how observant you are, Phil."

"My powers of observation are just one of the many skills that earned me my current position. Why don't you tell me what happened between you and Alex?" He made it sound like a suggestion, even though they both knew it clearly wasn't.

"Looking back on it, the whole episode was stupid. At the time, though," she paused and shrugged at him. Instinct told him that this had something to do with the accident. Why they should have a falling out about that was beyond him. But it had apparently happened. The tension between the two of them when Quinn had been in the room had been thick enough to cut with a dull butter knife. "We'd just gotten done combing the wreckage of the helicarrier. Just as I'd found you, Alex had found Clint. We were both strung tight with worry and fear and anger and a whole slew of bad emotions."

"I think, given the circumstances, that was understandable." Phil made sure there was nothing in his voice. Just an observation. She nodded.

"It was. But Alex was... I found her in the remains of the gym, going at the heavy bag like it had personally offended her. I just asked her how she was and it was suddenly all about her. Like she didn't know that there were other people who had been hurt in the attacks. She went off so I went off and then we were at each other's throats. I called her selfish and emotionally stunted. I told her she was a coward." Miri stopped and turned a pained look his way. It was obvious she was remembering what had happened. "I pulled my gun on her, Phil."

He didn't know what to say about that. It was surprising because Miri and Alex had been almost inseparable since the day Fury had made Quinn Miri's partner. Even more surprising was that the two of them would come to blows over something that sounded to him to be trivial. He might have asked her about it, but it appeared she wasn't done yet. She went on without giving him a chance to speak.

"At the time, I thought Alex was being selfish. I didn't realize that her reactions were colored by her past. It wasn't until after you woke up that I really understood what she'd told me." Miri stopped and shook her head. "We still haven't patched things up."

Phil wanted to ask her what it was in Alex's past that had colored her reaction to the attacks, but it really wasn't any of his business. Not unless it played into Alex's ability to do her job. So he turned his attention away from Miri's friend and brought it back to Miri. "Today seems like an olive branch," he commented.

"Its a start. She wouldn't have come here if she wasn't willing to make an effort. We still have a long way to go before we're back on an even keel. But I've already made a good start at repairing the rift. I just need to work at it a little more."

Phil smiled at her. "Maybe that would happen if you didn't spend every waking moment here with me, Miri."

She returned the smile with one of her own. "But there really isn't any other place that I'd rather be, Phil. I want to be here with you and Alex knows it. That's why she came to see you. And that's why she brought Clint. To let me know that we're okay. And to thank me."

"Thank you? What was she thanking you for?"

The smile she gave him was filled with satisfaction and smugness. "Who do you think got Alex and Clint to finally sit down and admit they have feelings for one another? Because in case you missed it, Mr. Observant, they had a terrific falling out right after they got back from California. I just played matchmaker for them. Alex deserves to have some happiness."

He had missed that. How had he missed that? He rarely missed anything to do with those who worked for and under him. "She's lucky to have a friend like you, Miri."

"We're both lucky, Phil. And sweet talking me won't get you your phone. So just lay there and relax." At that, she rose from her seat and began scooping up the paperwork that cluttered the small rolling table the hospital kept in each room to use for meals and the like. He sighed as she carefully tucked them away in the briefcase Sitwell had brought them in and wondered if he could make a grab for his phone while her back was turned. "Do it, Phil, and you won't like the consequences," she warned, never once looking at him.

Phil sighed and, in a move not typical to him, reached out to fiddle aimlessly with the pen. "You're a cruel woman, Miri."

"You have no clue just how cruel I can be, Phil. And pray that you never have to find out." She straightened and turned, gifting him with a beautiful smile. It lit up her eyes and lightened them to the color of lilacs blossoming at the height of summer. "For now, let's forget about paperwork and Alex. Let's think about you and I and what we're going to do to celebrate when you finally get that cast off your leg." She made sure to wiggle her eyebrows at him.

"Did you have something specific in mind?" he asked. His gaze followed her as she crossed back to the chair and retook her seat. She reached out and took hold of one of his hands with her own, her thumb stroking lightly against his skin. It was a move he was supposed to make, not the other way around. But it felt right to have her touching him so freely. Even though it was new and he was still trying to get used to the idea that it was okay for them to do this when not hidden behind closed doors, it still felt so damn right.

"Well, I've always had this fantasy involving you bending me over your desk."

There was a husky quality to her voice and a knowing looking her eyes. Phil was suddenly glad that she hadn't moved the table away from him because it went a long way toward hiding the evidence that suggested he very much liked what he was hearing.

"Oh, yeah?" He made sure his voice was even and bland. Uninterested. Miri smirked and leaned over so that she could press her lips to his. When she pulled back, he gave her a look. "Why don't you tell me more?"

~*~*~*~*~

Doctor Troy Franks entered the room with a smile on his face. He didn't say anything, simply went over to a computer that idled on the corner of the counter and brought it to life with a simple click of a mouse key. After clicking here and there, an image popped up. It was a digital scan of the x-ray the technician had just taken of her arm. While she wasn't an actual medical doctor, she knew enough about anatomy and reading x-rays to know that he was pleased about the progress she'd made over the past six weeks.

One finger tapped the spot where the break had been. Six weeks ago, it had been an obvious fracture, with a dark spot where the bones had snapped in two. Now, it was little more than a smudge on the film, a brighter spot where new bone had grown and fused the broken pieces together. "Your film looks good, Elsa. We took pictures from several angles, you know, and all of them show that the break has healed up quite well. I don't see any reason why you can't have that cast removed today."

Elsa sighed. "Finally. I was starting to think that I'd be wearing this thing until the end of time." she lifted her arm to indicate the cast. It was the third since the accident. After the red, white, and blue one, she'd gone with a green one. The last one had ended up being black. All through the six weeks of being in a cast, she'd followed the doctor's instructions about exercising her hand and working at broadening her range of motion. Even though the break was further up her arm, she could move her hand so completely that it was as if she'd never broken it in the first place.

"Nonsense, my dear. it just seems like that. Especially when you have other things you'd rather be doing." The twinkle in his eye told her exactly what he meant by other things. It prompted her to blush like a virgin on her wedding night. Which meant that Steve would probably end up doing the same thing. She was still amazed at how limited his knowledge was where sex was concerned. She had to keep reminding herself that he hadn't always looked as he did now. "There will be some exercises to do after the cast comes off. These will help rebuild the hand and arm strength you lost while wearing the cast. As with the range of motion exercises, start out slow and gradually work your way up to the top."

"Of course, Dr. Franks," Elsa nodded. She knew in theory how it all worked. But this was the first time she'd ever broken a bone so she would do her best to follow his instructions.

"This sheet here should explain what you can and can't do," he said, laying a single piece of paper before her. Someone had already gone through and highlighted the exercises she should do to rebuild her strength. "Just follow the instructions and you'll do fine. And unless something comes up, I shouldn't need to see you again. Okay."

"Yes, sir," Elsa nodded. Steve took the instructions and folded them up, carefully stowing them in a pocket for later.

He turned from her and gave his attention back to the computer. His hands clacked away at the keyboard and, after a few keystrokes, a different set of x-rays came up on the monitor. These were of her ribs and, as with her arm, she could spot the places where the ribs had been cracked and had repaired themselves. He pointed to the spots with his finger. "Your ribs look good, too. It appears that they've healed up just as well as your arm. That isn't to say you can go out and run a marathon or anything. They're still going to be a little tender so you're going to have to take it easy for a little while longer. Be careful how you stretch and move. No lifting anything extremely heavy or anything like that."

"Of course not, Dr. Franks," Elsa promised.

"Now. Let me get Tracy in here to remove that cast, then you're free to go. Take it easy for the first few days, Elsa. Don't try to do too much right away. Give your arm time to readjust to life without the cast. Work your way up to what you were doing before the break slowly. Otherwise you could fracture your arm again and you'd be right back in the cast."

"I'll be careful, sir," she promised. He gave her a nod and a smile, then slipped out of the room. Elsa fingered the edges of the cast with a sigh.

"You aren't excited?" Steve asked her. She glanced up at him and smiled.

"It isn't that. Of course I'm excited. But getting the cast off means that you'll be going back to your own place. I'm not going to need you to do for me. That sucks because I've kind of gotten used to having you around. And, to be honest, my place is lonely when its just me. I hadn't realized that before all of this happened."

Steve frowned at that, look going all thoughtful for a few moments. "Well, he did say you're going to have to take it easy. And I know you'll push yourself before you're ready. I might have to stick around to ensure you don't do anything that could create more problems for you." He was smiling knowingly when he finished.

Elsa grinned at him. "There is that." She rather liked the idea of having him around. She had gotten really used to having him under foot while the break healed. She really hadn't realized that she was lonely until she'd had him there to talk with.

She didn't have a chance to say anything else to his suggestion because Tracy chose that moment to enter the room. She brought with her a pair of scissors to cut away the cottony material that protected her arm from the material of the cast. "Good afternoon, Elsa. Ready to have that off?"

"Very ready," Elsa said emphatically. Tracy smiled at her and pulled the saw closer.

"Then let's get started," Tracy replied. The saw went on with a whir of sound and, a second later, the blade was cutting through the hardened cast like it was little more than butter. It took the woman all of about thirty seconds to make her cuts. Then she turned the saw off, put it away, and brought out her scissors. The cotton lining was snipped apart. With a couple of gentle tugs, Tracy pulled the cast away and tossed it into a nearby trash can. "There you go, Elsa. Feel free to go home and give it a good wash. You can put your favorite lotion on it so that the dry skin comes off. Just take it easy until the strength comes back. Don't try to over do it."

"I won't, Tracy. Thank you for taking good care of me," Elsa smiled at the woman.

"My pleasure, Elsa. Steve. Good to see you again." The woman nodded at them, then left the room. She didn't pull the door behind her. Elsa gathered up her small purse and headed for the door. Steve was at her back, his hand a gentle pressure against her skin as they walked toward the elevator.

They made the ride down to the main floor in silence. If Steve noticed that Elsa leaned against him, he said nothing. But she caught the smile that hovered on his lips, suggesting he didn't mind the weight of her body against his. When the doors opened on the first floor, they exited together and made for the parking garage. It wasn't until they were in the car and it was idling that Steve turned to look at Elsa. "Let's go get some lunch and talk."

He sounded serious. Elsa nodded, wondering what he could want to talk about. She put the car in gear and pulled from the parking space. When she had them out on the road, she pointed the car in the direction of that little diner where they'd had their very first date. Steve said nothing, the look on his face suggesting he was lost in thought. She didn't dare disturb him, simply drove without comment. When they arrived, she parked in the lot and went to open her door. Steve beat her to it. She smiled at him as he helped her out of the car, then fell into step with him as they made for the diner's entrance.

A young woman was working today and she seated them both with a tired smile. Based on the way she walked and the color of her skin, Elsa was willing to bet the woman was pregnant. She had a look to her that suggested she was overworked and overtired. No matter the service, Elsa knew she'd leave the girl a large tip. Maybe it would help.

They ordered their drinks without looking at the menu and Elsa sent the girl off after them with an admonishment to take as much time as she needed. The girl flashed her tired smile and headed for the back. There were only three other people in the diner and one of them was the second server. When the girl was gone, Steve reached across the table top and took Elsa's hands in his own. "You remember this place?"

"Of course I do. We had our first date here. How could I forget that?" she smiled at him.

"I didn't think you'd want to come back here. It doesn't seem your type of place."

"I loved our meal here. I loved our date here," she assured him. "But that isn't what you wanted to talk to me about. So why don't we get down to that business. After we eat, there are a few small experiments I want to do. Now that I can and all."

Steve shot her a look. "You heard Dr. Franks. You still need to take it easy."

"I will. But there are a few small things I can do that shouldn't mess up my ribs or my arm. I just need to do something until I can get back to the lab at S.H.I.E.L.D. and work on the mystery of the serum."

Steve sighed and gave her hands a gentle squeeze. "That's kind of what I wanted to talk to you about, Elsa. The serum." There was a seriousness in his tone that she didn't think she liked. She blinked at him and wondered what was going on.

"What about it?" she asked, careful to keep any emotion from her voice.

"I think we should halt the research. I don't like the idea of you being anywhere near S.H.I.E.L.D. while HYDRA is so intent on destroying it. You almost got killed because of them."

"That has nothing to do with my research, Steve," she reminded him.

"I know it doesn't, Elsa. And I realize that it was merely chance that saw you getting hurt. But the fact of the matter is, you did get hurt. And it wasn't a happy feeling for me. I was so afraid that you'd been killed or that you'd die before I had a chance to tell you how I felt and... I don't want to have to feel that fear again."

"Like you said. It was chance. That doesn't mean its going to happen again. You can't control things like that any more than I can." She couldn't believe he wanted her to give up her research because he was afraid something would happen to her. She could get hit by a bus when they walked out of here and it wouldn't be his fault. Just like anything that had happened because of HYDRA wasn't his fault. Maybe he wasn't aware of it, but she knew just how much trouble S.H.I.E.L.D. attracted. She'd been fully briefed by Fury and a few others before she'd signed on.

"You remember the discussion we had about Alex and Miri? What they did in that HYDRA nest?" he asked. It seemed to come out of nowhere, but she was sure he had a reason for going there. She gave the question the consideration it deserved, and then some, because she knew she'd been high as a kite when that had happened. It took a bit of thought, but she remembered the conversation he was referring to.

"Yes. You said it was revenge. Not a mission."

"What I didn't tell you that day is there was a part of me, deep inside, that agreed with everything they did. It disgusts me to admit it. But its true. And if something was to happen to you because HYDRA got it in their head to come after S.H.I.E.L.D. again, that's what it would do to me. I don't ever want a reason to turn into that person." There was more to the story. She was sure of it. But she wasn't going to press him about it. And she thought she understood what he was driving at.

Elsa heaved a sigh and shook her head. "We'll have to find a way to convince Director Fury that this is for the best. Which means he's going to have to find something else for me to do. Or fire me."

The smile he gave her was as warm as the sun breaking over the horizon. And she couldn't help but think she'd made the right decision.

Jessie, their waitress, chose that moment to show up with their drinks. She offered them a smile that was still tired, but filled with thanks and sincerity. "What can I get your folks to eat today?"

Elsa shot a grin at Steve before turning to look at Elsa. "I want an order of Buffalo wings. Bring me the messiest ones you have. We're celebrating."