The first thing Phil noticed was the astringent smell of the helicarrier's sickbay. The second was that he was alive to notice anything. Surviving a tied match with a homicidal deity was not a bad line item for his résumé.
He opened his eyes. Fury was there, familiar 'angry teddy bear' face in place, but Phil found himself far more interested in his own chest: bare, monitors attached.
Completely healed.
"What happened?"
Fury had company. The man with him (another hero? another god?) stepped closer.
"Mr. Coulson, my name is Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod. We need to talk."