GHOST Chapter 1: Life Is A Gift You Have No Lease For, an agents of s.h.i.e.l.d. fanfic

We'll Be Ghosts

Disclaimer:
As always … I own nothing.

Rating:
T

Genre:
Romance/tragedy (with a just a dash of hurt/comfort for a nice balance)

Pairings:
Coulsye
Skyward

Lyrics Used:
Sonata Arctica "Blood"

Life Is A Gift You Have No Lease For Anymore

Blood is a bodily fluid in animals that delivers necessary substances such as nutrients and oxygen to the cells and transports metabolic waste products away from those same cells

It had been one of their hardest-fought battles. And, just when they thought they'd had the last of the enemy soldiers flushed out, Coulson felt a sharp sting in his chest. Watching as the man next to her – the man she loved more than life, itself – fell to the ground, at her feet, Skye turned up to see a man dressed in black, from head-to-toe – including a black ski mask – which blocked her ability to identify him, Raising her own weapon, she emptied the clip in the direction of Coulson's mystery shooter. However, this man must have been highly trained to dodge every shot so skillfully. However, Skye knew she had bigger fish to fry as she watched the shooter disappear. Throwing herself to her knees at Coulson's side, she cradled the dying man in her arms.

"Phil." The young woman whispered, shakily, as she cradled the man she loved against her chest – much as he had done with her after she'd been shot. "Just hold on. Okay? Just hold on." She whispered, frantically, recalling his own words to her – words that had given her the will to keep fighting when all odds were stacked against her. Judging by the looks of things, the odds weren't exactly in Phil's favor, now, either.

"No can do." Phil replied, breathlessly, as he coughed up a mouthful of blood. "I'm cloudin' out, here, honey." He whispered, weakly. Deep down, he knew he had to fight. He couldn't leave Skye. Not here. Not like this. Not on a bloodied battleground littered with corpses, for Christ's sake. He just didn't have anything left to fight with.

"Not an option." Skye replied, her voice thick and watery with the tears she refused to allow to fall. If she cried, that meant that this was all real. She couldn't allow that.

Just as Coulson attempted to respond, Skye watched as he fell limp in her arms. Meanwhile – completely oblivious to what had just happened – Phil noticed a brilliantly bright white spotlight shining down, seemingly out of nowhere. Upon closer inspection, he noticed tiny little white orbs glistening in the light. The whole sight was utterly breathtaking. Though, I suppose that could also just be a collapsed lung. Phil thought to himself as he rose to his feet to inspect the light behind Skye. As he moved past her, however, he froze to the spot when he noticed his own lifeless body cradled in Skye's arms as the hacker rocked back and forth as she sobbed, quietly, while repeating "No." and screaming "SOMEBODY! ANYBODY! HELP US!"

Finally, Phil watched – helpless – as the rest of their team and a med team surrounded himself and Skye. Watching as they unceremoniously wrenched him from her grasp, Phil moved to shove the med team out of the way only to freeze when he watched his hand move right though them. Turning back to the light, Phil watched as the orbs surrounded his body – seeming to guide him to the light. Staring at Skye, the whole time, he just couldn't leave her. It was as if some other unknown force was pulling him back to her. That force was stronger. "I can't leave her." He admitted, brokenly, surprised that it didn't seem to bother him that nobody else heard him, as the orbs seem to accept that and moved back to the light – without him – as the light then faded away to nothing.

Staring at the dark alleyway where the light had disappeared from, Phil wrenched his gaze away to stare at Skye. Running back to her, he joined the group as the med team loaded his body into an ambulance. Just as Skye had refused to leave him – and climbed inside – just before the doors slammed shut, Coulson mustered up the last of his courage and threw himself through the doors and into the ambulance.

Attempting to comfort the owner of his heart, Phil tried to wrap her up in his arms – to whisper to her that everything would be okay – Phil felt his heart shatter all over again as his arms passed right though her. Devastated, Phil could only watch helplessly as she cried her eyes out, watching them attempt to resuscitate his still form.

The color of life and arrow of fear made flow | Auburn rivers in the snow dance the death | Of fading peace of mind

"Skye." The surgeon called, gently, entering the waiting room where her patient's team awaited news of their friend's condition. This was the one part of her job she truly loathed. Delivering her patients' friends and family bad news.

"Yes!" Skye replied, breathlessly, whipping her head around to face the surgeon as she immediately halted her millionth lap of pacing the waiting room floor. "How is he?! Is he gonna be okay?!" She asked, hurriedly.

Sighing heavily, the nurse replied. "The bullet fragmented inside his chest. The majority of the bullet went through his heart while the smaller fragments pierced his left lung and even his intestines."

"But, you can fix it, right?!" Skye argued, hopefully.

"We resected what we could." The surgeon admitted. "But, I'm afraid there was just too much damage."

"So, you're saying there's just … nothing you can do?!" The young hacker asked, disbelieving. Doctors had brought Coulson back from the dead. Surely, if they could do that they could keep him from joining the dead, in the first place … right?

"I'm saying that we can make him comfortable." The surgeon replied, patiently. "But … You should call his family. Get them here as soon as possible."

The team shared a look among themselves before Skye spoke a in a voice none of them recognized as her own. "We're his family."

Sighing sympathetically, the surgeon was all too familiar with this situation. It was entirely too common among S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. They all focused more on their careers – field agents were particularly guilty. "Then, in that case … I'm very sorry."

Skye couldn't believe what she'd just heard. She was going to lose the first person in her life to ever truly give a damn about her – to see her potential … her value. The young hacker hadn't even realized her knees giving way, underneath her, until she felt her supervising officer – Agent Grant Ward's – arms wrapping around her to catch her before she collapsed to the floor. Grateful for the much-needed support, Skye finally allowed herself a chance to break down – to cry her way through everything she was going through … Everything she would go through.

Watching the scene unfold before him, Phil Coulson didn't know what to feel. The pain of knowing what Skye would go through without him would have killed him were he not just pronounced dead. Dead. For someone who'd been here, before, he still couldn't wrap his mind around that word describing him.

"You're dead." A disturbingly familiar voice called out to him from the bench against the wall opposite of him. Slowly turning his head to the sound of the voice, Phil couldn't believe what he was seeing. "Lucky bastard." The voice continued on, as if they were simply two neighbors, discussing the weather. "Coulda been the other ones." He added, gesturing to the same glistening orbs from before as they ensconced another man's body– his physical body, that was – on the operating table. Watching them pulling his body up and through the blinding white light from before he finally understood what was going on. Well … Guess I should be glad I made it into Heaven, too, then … Whatever that entails … He thought to himself as he gave up – entirely – on trying to figure out just what the hell was going on, here.

"Dad?" Phil asked, confused, as he turned to his late father sitting on the bench, next to him. "What … I don't … What are you doing here?" He wondered, desperately searching for the answer that would make all of this … make sense for him.

"You're dead." The senior Coulson repeated, simply, with a casual wave of the hand. "Well … again … I should say." He added cryptically. Watching his son's jaw metaphorically, bouncing off the floor, William Coulson could only chuckle at his son's confusion. "Oh, yes. I was there the first time you were killed."

"I thought that was just a hallucination." Phil breathed, unable to wrap his mind around the situation.

"What?" William asked, feigning indignation. "You really think I'm gonna let my son die a hero and not be there to see it? Do you know how proud I was of you for what you'd done?! How proud I still am?!"

"You're … proud of me?" Phil breathed, utterly awestruck. He always remembered his father as being incredibly difficult to impress. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd heard his father use the word 'proud' in reference to him. He had to admit. It felt damn good. Or at least it would have … under better circumstances.

"Of course I am." William Coulson replied, more sincerely. "I was always proud of you." Sighing heavily, he leaned back on the bench as he closed his hands together in his lap before speaking, again. "My only regret in life was always my inability to express my emotions to others … You … your mom … That's why she left, you know. She would always tell me how much she loved me … All I ever gave her in return was just 'Ditto'."

"'Ditto'?" Phil questioned, curiously.

"In my opinion … 'I love you' was too overly-used." The senior Coulson replied. "I always felt that too many people said those words without truly meaning them – your mother excluded, of course …" He clarified. "So, I decided to come up with my own – unique – way of saying it." A brief pause lingered in the air before William continued speaking. "Your mom, though … She just never understood that. So … she left."

"But, why were you there when I died?" Phil asked, curiously. "And, why are you here, now?"

"Well …" The senior Coulson replied, tone lightening up. "The first time – in New York – like I said. I was proud that my son had grown up into such a fine hero. I wanted to be there – to see it for myself. I knew what Fury had in store for you – it wasn't your time to join us, yet, Phil." He elaborated, cryptically. "That's why I never made any contact with you. You still had work to do."

Nodding slightly, Phil realized that explanation made just about as much sense as any other would. Except for one thing … "So, then … Why are you here, now?"

Shrugging, casually, William replied "It's simple. … Your time has come, son. I thought it might be just a tad easier if you had someone you knew and trusted to walk you through those gates. Ya know, since you missed your ride."

Staring back through the OR door at the lab table where they'd covered up the dead body, Phil turned back to his father as he finally realized where this conversation was headed. "If it's my time … Why do I still feel like there's something I have to do, first?"

Sighing warmly, William clasped a hand around his son's shoulder as he spoke. "You think it might have something to do with Skye?" He asked, knowingly. "Oh, don't give me that look." He chastised as Phil stared at him with an awestruck stare. "I've known all about her from the moment the two of you met. I have been watching over my son and his new lease on life, ya know."

Suddenly, something clicked within Phil's mind. He did have something to accomplish. He needed answers. He needed to know who'd killed him. And if Skye would be safe, now, without him. Rising to his feet, he replied. "You're absolutely right, dad." He began turning toward the exit. "I know exactly what I have to do …"

Author's Note:
So, this is pretty much gonna follow the exact storyline from Ghost. So, if you haven't seen that movie – that's good for both of us! If you have – I sincerely hope this story is just as great as the movie. Either way, please read and review!

~Skye Coulson