Author's Note: I can leave this as a one shot, or if there is enough interest, I can roll this out into a multi-chapter CapsiCoul pairing. Place your votes in the reviews. I've rated this M for now because that's where I'd go with it if people want a pairing. Lemme know what you think!
Finders Keepers
Steve had no idea how long he'd been standing there; standing and staring. There were few things he hated in the world more than Hydra and their evil plans, and lies were one of them. Steve Rogers, the First Avenger, Captain America hated, HATED being lied to. Nothing shook him harder than finding out those people he placed his trust in where not worthy of that trust.
Few knew, but one of the only reasons Steve had agreed to the whole Avengers Initiative fiasco was the man who was to be at the head of that particular super-ship and it sure as hell wasn't Nick Fury. Hate erupted in Steve's veins once more at the mere mention of that man's name. Stark had called it. Fury was the Spy, his secrets had secrets and there, in that very room was a secret that Steve couldn't make peace with. This was worse than "Plan B" and Hydra weapons powered by the Tesseract.
This was worse than the fake room he woke up in with that stupid baseball game broadcast; a baseball game that he'd been to before he hit the ice. Of all the lies told, Steve was unsure which was worse: obvious lies or lies that no one ever knew were there. To live in ignorance of someone else's manipulation or to live with the constant grating of knowing the false truth but not the real one?
Steve shifted from foot to foot, staring at this secret of Fury's. What should he do? Tell someone? Steve was sure Fury would fabricate some bullshit reason for this excuse just like he had with Plan B. Defense he said. Or the fake room. We didn't want to startle you he said. LIAR.
Control. It's always about control and if there was one thing Steve always railed against, it was being controlled by men who didn't deserve that power. Right now, Fury was one of those men and Steve was determined to ruin this game…but how to do it? There was nothing to be gained by causing damage to innocent bystanders. Nothing to be gained by cutting legs out from under the Avengers Initiative. They were on shaky ground as it was. So, how to proceed?
Why not, just take the power back?
No scenes, no ranting, no unveiling of the ruse.
Just walk out and take the power back.
Perfect.
Decided, Steve moved forward toward the pale man under pale sheets bathed in pale, florescent light. He really was a beautiful man in his own way. Steve could clearly recall the animated face, flush with awe and embarrassment. It was a crime that the man was brought so low. He didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve to be tucked away in some remote hospital room, hooked to machines that beeped dispassionately in the otherwise silent tomb.
Brain dead. That's what the chart notes amounted to. Severe puncture, laceration to the lung and surrounding tissue. Body responding to healing but the brain continues to show minimal activity. Prognosis: Poor. Patient likelihood of regaining consciousness: negligible. Recommendation: Terminate life support after one more week of failure to make progress.
Disgusting
They would just let him die. After the risk he took, the bravery he showed, the honor. Phil Coulson deserved a warrior's death, not this wasting away. Steve took the last step forward. Pressed against the side of the bed, he stared into Phil's peaceful face and mused at the deception of that peacefulness. Though he'd only known Phil for a few short days, and had no more than minimal interaction, Steve was certain that despite the calm exterior, Coulson must be positively screaming inside. He could not imagine this powerful, dynamic man slipping away to his death.
It would not be so. Steve had read that sometimes coma patients responded well to repeated exposure of familiar things. Well, nothing was more familiar to this man than Captain America. The super soldier took a deep breath and prepared to carry out his decision. It was likely he would meet resistance but he seriously doubted anyone would try to physically stop him from completing his mission. And really, all he needed to do was get to a place where he could contact Stark and everything would go his way from there.
The man may be a giant pain in the ass but he had a surprising commitment to fairness and justice. Stark was going to lose his shit when he found out Coulson hadn't died from the wounds inflicted by Loki. Hell, he'd probably blow something up when he found out the Agent had been kept in a dingy, dark hospital room (cell) in order to keep Fury's secret and "bring the team together."
Steve reached out. No going back now. One by one, he detached the sensors, removed the IV's and switched off the alarm. Were he a less experienced soldier, he would have shied away from removing the catheter. Once Phil was completely disconnected, Steve scooped the smaller man up in his arms and made his way to the door.
As expected, security was there, waiting for him.
"Cap, we can't let you do this."
The unknown agent's voice was low, almost begging him not to continue.
"I will not let him die in some forgotten hole. He saved us…He deserves better."
The agent seemed to crumble under the weight of Steve's words and stepped aside with his head hung low. As Steve made his way past, he heard the man mumble:
"If he would live for anyone, it would be Captain America."
Steve smiled grimly at the statement. He was counting on exactly that. Once to the elevator, Steve selected the correct floor and prepared himself for the confrontation to come. After he passed the "no signal zone," Steve spoke into the empty space.
"JARVIS?"
The answer was immediate. All hail Stark tech.
"How may I be of service, sir?"
Steve could feel the vibration of the AI's posh British voice coming through the cell phone in his pocket. He may have had no idea how to work the endless number of apps or even get the thing do dial but when Stark announced in exacerbation that he could just ask JARIVS, Steve's world had suddenly become simpler, and Tony's blood pressure went down.
The phone in Steve's pocket was his sixth. Numbers 1-5 lay in broken chunks in Stark's lab, retroactively named prototypes. Number six had continuous voice activation, allowing Steve 24/7 access to JARVIS and thus, saving everyone hours of frustration.
"JARVIS, please notify Mr. Stark that I have Agent Coulson and am in need of an extraction from SHEILD Headquarters to a hospital capable of caring for a coma patient."
"Right away, sir. Mr. Stark has been notified and will be personally overseeing your extraction."
If an AI was capable of anger, Steve heard it in that sentence. Good. They should be man. They should be furious. This was un-fucking-acceptable.
The elevator dinged and the doors swung open. Steve was met by a bevy of agents of all ranks…just staring at him. Scuttlebutt flies fast on a ship. First among them were Natasha and Clint, their expressions a combination of horror and elation. Steve could only imagine what it must be like for the two Special Agents to find out their handler had been treated with such disregard.
"Stark is on his way. We're getting him out of here."
Both nodded there silent agreement before turning to escort Steve to the door from which Iron Man would make his entrance.
"I'll get the Quinjet. Stark can make sure no one gets in our way on the way to the Tower."
Natasha's voice was quite but clear and she seemed to radiate anger. Clint was silent beside her. How many months had that man carried the guilt of so many deaths? The death of his handler? Steve was once again filled with the rage of this injustice. Coulson's "death" may have brought them together in the moment but it had been tearing the team apart for months.
Clint's guilt was consuming him. Natasha, unable to reach her partner, had withdrawn from everyone, unable to trust them with so little experience from which to draw. Stark had thrown himself into his work, PTSD ravaging his nights while Pepper futily attempted to patch him up during his days. Banner had retreated into himself, unable to find a common ground with the heartbroken team. Not trusting himself not to make it worse. And then there was Steve, too far out of his own time to lead a team that he couldn't even begin to understand.
Coulson was essential to them. He was the glue that would hold this team together. Sure, Steve could lead them in battle but who would hold them all together in peace? Steve's screaming nightmares of ice and fire, the ones that forced him to decline Stark's repeated invitation to move into the newly renovated tower, told him he wasn't in much better shape than anyone else. Coulson was the only way any of them were going to make it.
Stark arrived, all style and swagger. The only indication of his rage was his neglect in removing the Iron Man mask. Eyes of pure light burned, taking in the scene of Steve holding their precious bundle. His head snapped to Natasha, who nodded to the Quinjet.
"I'll plow the road. Let's get the fuck out of here."
Iron Man's tiny voice was music to Steve's ears. And with that, the four Avengers loaded up. Steve wondered at the fact that Fury didn't even try to stop them. He briefly considered the idea that this is what Fury had wanted all along. The notion was too painful to process and so Steve tucked it away for a day when he was feeling stronger, more substantial.
The flight to the Tower was relatively quiet. Only a few times did Stark need to clear their flight with various Air Traffic Controllers. Steve spared a moment to appreciate that, upon hearing who they were and where they were going; none of the ATC's gave them any trouble. One man had even signed off with "Safe Flight Avengers." The well-wish warmed Steve's chilled heart and gave him hope for the future of their team and its purpose.
"I need to sign his cards."
Steve had no idea why he announced that out loud. In his head, it seemed necessary, vital even, but out lout he wondered at his own statement. Stark saved him.
Who'd of thought?
"Damn, right you will Cap. I've got a full set all ready for you. First editions, still in the case."
I'll be…and Steve smiled for the first time since the Battle for Manhattan.
"Thank you, Tony. That's very…heroic of you."
Steve was sure that Tony did not miss the sentiment, as evidenced by his lack of response, an unusual state for the genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist…Avenger. Secretly, Steve was convinced that Avenger was the only title that mattered to Tony. In all honesty, it was the only title that mattered to Steve and he had a sneaking suspicion that it held similar value to Natasha, Clint and Bruce. They were a part of something, broken as it was at the moment. And, now that they had their glue back, they could start to heal.
It wasn't until they landed on the roof of the Tower that Steve realized how tightly he had been holding Coulson. The man was cradled in his arms like a child, face pressed to Steve's neck, arms tucked haphazardly to his torso.
Beautiful, Steve thought to himself.
The man was unconscious, deep in his own world and Steve only felt a little bit guilty at ogling. Though he'd dropped weight because of his status, Steve could clearly recall the cut lines of the agent's body, smooth muscle and sinew. As an artist, he could appreciate the fine specimen of manhood that was Phil Coulson and as a man, even one out of his time; he could appreciate the sheer enchantment of the man's soul.
"I've had a room set up for him. Not a hospital room, a regular room. Bruce is more than qualified to care for Agent until he wakes up. Let's get him tucked in."
Steve followed the two agents out of the Quinjet and onto the roof. He was just in time to watch Stark step into the apparatus that removed his Iron Man suit. Tony, for all his boasting and bluster, was truly an incredible inventor. A man ahead of his time as much as Steve was behind. In a strange way the shared a distaste for time; its limitation, judgments and punishing pace.
"We're home" he whispered to Phil, once they were all inside and headed to the agent's assigned room. Tony opened the door to reveal Bruce setting up equipment and arranging medications. The timid man smiled wanly at Steve and nodded his head.
"Well caught, Cap. Well caught."
Steve took the compliment for what it was.
Never leave a man behind.
Each of his fellow Avengers nodded at Banner's words and Steve realized that he had earned a substantial measure of trust with his teammates. He had proved that day that he would willfully disregard Fury's orders in order to protect his team. He'd shown each of them that the team was more important than any scheme, any ruse, any secret. That he would chose them, every time...and it was true.
Nothing was more important to Steve than the Avengers.
Phil Coulson was an Avenger, which made him one of the most important people in Steve's world. And, later when he was sitting with Phil and everyone else had gone to bed (or to the lab – Stark), if Steve gently pressed a kiss to Phil's brow he would say it was because Phil is an Avenger. That the intense emotion that stole his breath away when he looked at Phil was the love a man had for his family. That the memory of the man's body was from an artist's perspective.
Or maybe…it was more.