Darcy was sitting in the church, on the front row, and the seventh seat in, next to her Aunt Maria. Her Aunt held a strong arm around her. She hugged the little girl close to her warm body, letting her silently know everything is going to be all right, but Darcy knew it wouldn't be. She rested her head on the older women shoulder, as if to tell her thank-you, and looked at the microphone on the left side of the front stage. Then she looked at the centre of the stage; the pastor was walking toward the podium from his seat. He leaned over and spoke briefly, telling us who the next speaker would be.

"Next we have a poem from Maria Hill." then he was back to his seat in the front row.
Maria let go of Darcy and walked up to the microphone on the left. She pulled out a folded -piece of paper, and opened it. She began to read with confidence in her voice, and determination in her heart. Wow, was all Darcy could thinking, it was really good. She hoped she can get a copy of it.

As Maria went on, the room was silent. There were over a hundred people there and the calmness of her voice kept them all quiet, as if she were singing a lullaby. After a few minutes, her breathing became irregular, and everyone could hear her voice start to crack. She was going to start crying. A tall man, dressed in black put a sympathetic hand on her shoulder. Darcy could hear a deep breath in the microphone that echoed in the tall building. She heard her whisper "Okay" and then she went on. Her words came out clear and smooth as if nothing would stop her.

Then she finished. No one moved. She made her way back to her seat, but the tall man dressed in black with his eye-patch didn't move. No one made a sound. Then someone in the audience clapped. Followed by another, then another. Soon, everyone was applauding for the brave, poet who read with such precision, and emotion, it left grown men in tears, confused at how beautiful she could make this horrible, awful "thing" sound. It must have been so hard for her, Darcy thought, as Maria hugged her again. But Darcy's eye's remained on the casket in the front.

Her Mother.

Kate Lewis.

Wiping her tears from her eyes Maria squeezed Darcy's small shoulder before standing up and making her way to the back of the room. Glancing around she noticed the place was almost empty, people had started to leave. Maria was in the back, stood around a group of tall men, dressed in back. But they weren't wearing normal black suits, they were filled with weaponry. She'd seen pictures of her Aunt and Mother like this in the scrap book her mother kept under her bed.

Standing up from her seat Darcy pushed her chocolate curls behind her ears and walked towards the casket. It was an open casket, but only just. Her Mother was layed in a beautiful white dress, her own jet black curls layed over her shoulders. She was so pale, yet so looked so peaceful. Even though she had a black eye, they'd tried to cover it with make up but it didn't work. And her face covered it cuts.

"Why do you have to leave me?" Darcy was only thirteen but her Mother called her a miracle. She was smarter than most girls her age. She was already advanced enough for High School. Reaching into the casket she fiddled around with the little gifts people had placed in there. There was a small teddy bear, a set of roses and a gun. Jerking her hand back Darcy frowned, who would place a gun in there?

"Miss Lewis?"

Turning around she raised her eyebrow at the man stood before her. He was tall and in a normal work suit. But he was wearing sunglasses inside "What's with the glasses? This is a funeral." Clenching her fists she forced herself not to cry, she needed to be strong. A small smirk tugged at the mans lips and the pulled the glasses off and placed them in his suit pocket.

"My apologizes, Miss." folding his arms over his stomach he stepped closer to the casket, he leaned in and brushed some of her Mother's hair back. He whispered something, something Darcy couldn't quiet make out. But at the same time she was to tired and emotionally wrecked to care. "You know she didn't tell me she had a daughter, after all them years together she just left after one crazy night. Maria was the only one she ever stayed in contact with."

"Who are you?" Darcy stepped back, staring at the man. She recognised his face. But she couldn't picture it from where.

"I'm Kate's brother. Or if you like, your Uncle Phil." extending his arm Darcy just looked at it but didn't move to shake it.

"Phil Lewis?" raising her eyebrow she wrinkled her nose at the sound of his name. It didn't seem to go.

Chuckling he shook his head "Phil Coulson. She too our mothers name, I took our fathers. Speaking of Fathers-" looking around Phil sighed "-Where's yours?"

Shrugging Darcy rubbed her forearm "Mama said he just left when he found out she was pregnant." she noticed the way his eyes darkened, but he still chuckled softly. It wasn't a dark dangerous chuckle, it was warm and inviting. Just like her mothers...

"Ah, she always was one to just tell the painful truth." looking around Darcy looked down, she would do anything to hear her Mothers laugh. "Miss Lewis, I need you to come with me and answer a few questions." his voice was serious, a business mans voice. Biting her lip Darcy looked at her Mother's casket.

"Do I have a choice?" she watched him shake his head and her gut twisted, if he was her Mother's brother then she should be able to trust him. "Just give me a minute... Please." turning away from him she walked back to her Mother's casket to share some final words.