The Old Guard

Jackson Hunt drew a long sigh as he stumbled into the safe house. He closed the door behind him and locked it automatically as he leaned against the frame and passed a hand over his face.

"I know you're there." He said aloud, hand still over his eyes. "But I've had a long day and I'd rather not kill someone else. Any chance you could come back tomorrow?"

"I need to be in Dublin tomorrow." The voice made Hunt start and look up. "So, no. But I could check back in a week, if that'd be better."

"Phil!" Hunt chuckled, stepping into the main area of the apartment. There, sitting in the recliner next to the armory, was his old friend Phil Coulson. "Should've known you wouldn't let a thing like death keep you down!"

A curious look of pain flashed over Phil's face. "I'm a bit surprised by it myself, honestly." He said, rising and clasping Jackson's hand. He nodded toward the door, a quizzical expression on his face. "You always announce yourself to any potential burglars?"

Hunt chuckled and shook Coulson's hand. "Only ones amateurish enough to leave the door unlocked." He answered. "Means they either wanted me to know they were in, or they're so sloppy they're hardly any threat anyway."

Coulson smiled. "Didn't want you charging in here guns blazing." He answered. "One death is enough."

"I can imagine." Letting Coulson's hand go, Hunt crossed to the fridge. "Can I get you something to drink? There's not much, but..."

"I brought a couple bottles of Tapster's." Coulson interjected. "They're in the fridge, just save me one."

Hunt gave little chuckle of delight as he opened the fridge. "They really give you the king's treatment in that SHIELD of yours, don't they?"

"Did, anyway." Phil shrugged. "There was a bar on the plane where I was stationed when things... fell apart."

"Right. That." Hunt, coming back from the kitchen, shook his head. He handed Coulson a bottle. "Heard about that. Sorry, Phil."

Coulson just gave him a bemused look. "You don't have to play dumb, Jack. I know they've got you hunting SHIELD agents."

Hunt gave a disgruntled snort. "They don't know what they've got me doing." He answered, dropping into another chair. "If I'm not chasing down SHIELD cells, I'm chasing down the threats that they were handling before we shut them down." He passed a hand over his face. "It's all a mess, Phil. CIA's scrambling for hundreds of spies at the same time as we've got thousands of them tied up in Congress delegations."

"Shouldn't you be arresting me?" Coulson was still grinning.

"Right, because you're such a danger to national security." Hunt threw his friend an equally amused look.

Coulson shrugged. "I could be a Hydra agent."

Hunt just snorted. "If you're Hydra, than I'm Adolf Hitler." He answered. "Seriously, Phil. SHIELD and I had our differences, but no one who knew you..." He shook his head. "You're less an extreme-measures kind of guy than I am. And if you've been lying to me this whole time, I might as well give up the spy game right now."

Coulson smiled but did not offer a rebuttal. "Been a while, Jack." He observed, sipping his beer. "What was it, Heidelberg?"

Jack gave it some thought and then nodded. "Right. Weapons deal with an Iranian businessman. SHIELD suddenly dropped in and took over the CIA op and wouldn't tell us why."

"Thought there might be some Tesseract technology involved." Coulson nodded. His eyes grew distant. "Those were the days. Spy vs. Spy."

"As opposed to now, when they've got us handling—I don't even know what we're handling anymore," grunted Hunt in annoyance. "Seriously, the ops I've had to pick up from you boys? Alien threats? Norse gods? Arcane spiritualists?"

Coulson just grinned. "SHIELD does—did—tend to deal with fringe cases." He agreed.

"You can keep 'em." Hunt waved. "I'm too old for this shit. Give me a problem I can solve with a sniper rifle and a cyanide pill."

"Or 17 pounds of C4." Coulson noted drily. Hunt chuckled and raised his bottle. "Heard about your son," Coulson continued, looking earnestly at his friend. "Sounded nasty. One of your old business partners?"

"Not so far as I can find out." Hunt sighed, his face gaining several years of age. "It's more likely someone from his police work. Why, have you heard differently?"

Coulson shook his head. "No word in the international community on either you or your son."

"But plenty about me having a son." Hunt shook his head at Coulson's silence. "Damnit Phil. I was hoping to keep it quiet about him. Wanted my son and granddaughter to have a safe life, a normal life."

"From everything I've heard about him, that's the last thing he wants," answered Phil. He took Hunt's chuckle as approval. "Do you think he..."

"I've seen the report." Hunt shook his head. "He didn't die in that crash. They probably spirited him away somewhere. Like I said, it had all the earmarks of a criminal job, not a professional one."

"What are you going to do about it?" Coulson asked.

Hunt gave an angry shrug. "What can I do? I'm half a world away chasing down some... Greek demi-god that your friends were convinced was going to show."

"Hercules?" At Hunt's nod, Coulson shook his head. "Didn't know that program was still running. After Thor showed up, we figured we might as well check into it..."

"Well, the agents I rounded up seemed pretty convinced he was coming." Hunt answered. "And the higher-ups don't want to take the chance. So I'm stuck following that trail while my son's squirreled away in some warehouse—or worse."

"I've got some resources." Coulson pointed out. "You want me to...?"

But Jackson shook his head. "Rick's a big boy." He answered. "And his partner's good. Good enough for the big leagues, except she likes hunting crooks too much. He'll be fine." Hunt stared at the bottle for a minute. "He'll be fine." He repeated. "Though of course, now that the international community knows all about his connection to me, can't imagine that'll last."

"Mm." Coulson seemed to be thinking about something, but pushed it away. "I'll admit, I was surprised to hear about it when I looked you up."

"Why did you look me up, anyway?" Hunt asked narrowly, glancing at his friend. "I doubt it was to catch up on old times or ask after my kid."

A smile. "Sharp as ever. First of all, I don't suppose I could entice you away from the Company?"

Hunt chuckled. "C'mon, Phil. You couldn't get me to join SHIELD when it was the top of the spy business, what makes you think you can get me on board when it's on the bottom of the barrel?"

"The challenge? Honestly, I didn't have much hope with that, I just thought I'd ask and see." Coulson shrugged. "We could really use someone with your experience to build SHIELD back up."

"You're building it back?" Hunt looked up, troubled. "I might have known. Never was it easy for you to let go. Are you sure it's a good idea, Phil? You know why I never joined in the first place."

"Sure."

"I mean, this..." Hunt proffered the bottle. "Where did you say you got this from?"

"The bar on the plane." Coulson answered.

"The bar. On the plane." Hunt shook his head. "Seriously. That's the sort of treatment you reserve for millionaires, not spies. It's like all you SHIELD types think you're James Bond. Bourbon, fast cars, flashy women, ridiculous gadgets..." He sent Coulson a rueful look. "Honestly? I hate to say it, Phil, but honestly it's not a surprise SHIELD turned out to be full of ivory-tower magnates who thought they should control everything."

Phil's mouth tightened, but he gave a reluctant nod. "I've... had to learn some... harsh lessons about SHIELD." He admitted. "It's not the perfect division I thought it was." He blinked. "Even apart from the whole Nazi-infestation thing." Shaking his head, he looked back up at Hunt. "But that's the point of building it back up. Doing it right. No more ivory towers. Just protection. Protecting people from the weird world they're not equipped to handle."

"Like Greek demi-gods." Hunt grunted. Coulson grinned. "Well, I wish you luck Phil, but I'm still not joining up."

Phil nodded, seemingly unsurprised. "And if you run across our operations?"

"Hey, if I'm ordered to take you down, there's not much I can do about it." Hunt answered, fixing his friend with an earnest stare. "But so long as your operations don't directly conflict with mine..." He shrugged. "I'd rather have you out in the field, handling these weird-ass missions than sitting behind a witness' stand in Washington."

"That makes two of us." Coulson grinned.

"And who knows?" Hunt continued. "Sure, I'll still need to take down the SHIELD cells they send me after, but I can get sloppy in my old age... I might lose a few here and there."

"I can't ask you to do that, Jack." Coulson looked troubled. "They'd get suspicious."

"Honestly, with as many SHIELD agents as we're running down, I doubt anyone will notice." Hunt waved off the other's objections. "The CIA is going after them because the politicians demand it, but 90% of the agents they're pulling in are poor schmucks who have no idea about what's going on, and they're just burning through our manpower. The Agency's not going to sweat losing them."

"Well... I appreciate it, Jack." Coulson still looked troubled, but he subsided. "I didn't want to ask, but it'll definitely help to bring back in agents who know the drill. But there is one other thing I want to ask."

"Oh?" Hunt looked up, interested.

"A deep-cover CIA op." Coulson answered, pulling a paper from his coat. "I want you to see what you can pull the file on the agent involved."

"I guess I should be glad I'm your only source in the CIA so far." Hunt chuckled as he took the paper from Coulson.

Coulson looked evasive. "So far. Sure."

"Michael Westen?" He cocked an eyebrow at Coulson. "He's dead, last I heard. What's he got to do with SHIELD?"

Coulson just smiled. "Nothing. Yet." Getting up, he downed the last of his bottle and moved toward the door. "I'll stay in touch."

"Right." Hunt nodded, looking at the paper. "Hey," he glanced up, "If you don't mind... and you have the time... would you mind stopping by New York to check up on my kid's case?"

Coulson nodded as he passed out of the room. "I'll see what I can do."

A/N: This is odd placement, and technically not a recruitment, but I wanted to do it... two spies who are old hands at the game, meeting and talking in the aftermath of their respective seasons. And it feeds into a couple other installments, most obviously Burn Notice and the later chapters here. I didn't want to do the next Covert Affairs chapter until the season begins, but I wanted to get to the BN one, but I couldn't do that without doing some CIA stuff... well. Suffice to say this needed to go where it is.

On the note of the Castle series-I believe it's been stated by the studio that Castle's strange disappearance in the finale had nothing to do with his father's work, which leads me to suspect a link with 3XK. I have other theories about where the series will end as a whole-but I'll address those in the next chapter.