Disclaimer: I don't own anything except Amy.
A/N: This is a side-fic to The Avengers Amalgamation. A bit of a teaser, I guess! Hope you enjoy it. Drop me a line on your way out!
This whole 'not working' thing was difficult for a man like Coulson who loved his job despite its stresses and hazards. Yes, it left him with sleepless nights bent over case files and field reports. Yes, he had been exposed to strange situations and people he could never unsee. And yes, okay, it had almost killed him. Almost. But he had survived getting a cosmic scepter wielded by a deranged 'god' shoved through his back without any permanent damage except for a slight twinge if he overextended himself. He was pretty damn lucky.
Despite playing dead, and months of recuperation in a SHIELD-secure hospital, and Fury royally screwing up his collection of vintage Captain America cards, Coulson was anxious to get back into the field. Being laid up in a hospital bed with the constant news coverage of The Avengers all over the TV made the separation worse; he wanted nothing more than to call a meeting, congratulate the team, and hey, a bottle of champagne didn't sound too bad, either. He had nearly succeeded in weaseling his way out of the hospital undetected (he wasn't a top-level agent for nothing) until the one of the orderlies who met the business end of his afternoon meal tray alerted Fury. The man didn't even have the sympathy to give him a report to keep him preoccupied while he was trapped in that white-washed room with the stiff bed sheets.
He was thankful, at least, for the Supernanny reruns.
When Coulson thought he was in the clear and ready to don his black suit again, Fury had other ideas. Vacation until further notice was on the top of the list. They had some technicalities to wrap up about Coulson's status at work, so Fury met him at the hospital, pushed a plane ticket into his hand, and told him to get cozy. Cozy meant no field reports, no black suit, no case files, no champagne-filled parties with the team he wanted to shake hands with and thank until he was blue in the face. Cozy was Fury's code for a tiny island in Cape Verde—beautiful white sand beaches, crystalline waters, sunshine, and all the free time in the world. It looked like something he'd only seen in a desktop background back at HQ.
The island was a secluded resort bought out by SHIELD and used for agents when they needed down time, a place to hide, or refuge for family. Or, apparently, when top-level agents had to play dead. Coulson, who hadn't exactly spent too many consecutive days in one place (especially not alone), had a private villa and beach. And, lo and behold, a closet full of tropical attire. No black suits. No shirts and ties. Just light button-downs and cargo shorts and barely any shoes until further notice.
Vacation was a foreign concept to him. But, well, he tried. Honestly, he did—very hard, in fact. It didn't feel right at all; it was a ten on the wrongness scale, but damn it, he made an attempt to relax.
Coulson felt vulnerable without the suit and a comm unit but at least he had his trademark shades. Sitting poolside with an alcoholic beverage was a nice perk. On one occasion, he'd uncharacteristically drank a bit too much and woke up the following morning in the middle of the back patio covered in sand with his shirt missing. Walks along the shore, especially when the sun began to set, was calming enough. And hell, the place had some fantastic cuisine. The WiFi connectivity was great, and although Fury had barred him from everything work related, Coulson spent afternoons browsing eBay to replace the aforementioned ruined vintage Captain America trading cards.
But the routine could only last for so long.
Even in the midst of a tropical paradise, Coulson wanted the familiar sights and sounds of SHIELD back. It was hard to believe, but he missed the crappy coffee, the pesky interns, and the occupational dangers. More than that, he missed his colleagues and doing work that made him feel useful. And it was kind of unfair that he was vacationing while everyone else was left under the impression that he had not survived. So, when Fury called him out of the blue to say he was sending along a rather unusual file, Coulson practically drooled at the prospect. It didn't mean hightailing it off the island to the nearest SHIELD base, but it was something.
"Unusual?" he asked. "No offense, sir, but unusual isn't a very effective term as of late."
"Yeah, well, you'll want to take a look at it," Fury said. "It might redefine unusual for you."
"Is the world at stake here?"
"Stark and Dr. Banner don't seem to think so, but I have my doubts. I'll let you decide for yourself. It's…unlike anything we've dealt with in the past. It's important that we monitor the situation as best we can. I trust you to oversee the case from here on out."
"Thank you, sir," Coulson said. "I'll get right on it."
The file, in hard-copy paper form, appeared on the doorstep of his villa the next morning. It was a file in the loosest of terms possible—an already thick stack of paperwork the size of a manuscript crammed into two manila folders. Another envelope was attached and marked as photographic documentation. He scooped all of it up (ignoring that damned twinge in his back) and carried it to the table near the pool where he had just finished breakfast.
Under the shade of the umbrella with the waves crashing against the shore, Coulson first learned about Project Amalgamation.
And, all right, it was strange.
Really, really strange.
But, in a twisted way, it was actually kind of…amazing? Sure, the idea of creating a human life with not-so-human qualities was a liability for SHIELD, but on paper, her progress was incredible. She had a projected genius IQ and her potential strengths and abilities were off the charts. All of the power of the world's newest super team packed into one individual? If The Avengers raised her right and SHIELD gave her the necessary tools and additional training (if she wanted it), she could do a lot of good for the world.
Anything—or, well, anyone—that came from the combined efforts of The Avengers was okay in Coulson's book.
He was under the assumption that the team had made more an impression on him than he did with them, which was all right. Coulson had a large amount of respect and admiration for what they had done. He wasn't the type to seek out recognition for his work. It was his job, he did it, and he went on his way.
But then Coulson saw her full name printed in the file. And he didn't know what to think. There was a ridiculous amount of last names, because it seemed that they couldn't (or wouldn't) make a definitive answer and also because she shared the entire team's DNA. The business of choosing her last name was as complex as her genetic coding. Her middle name, however, was what made him pause. He read it several times, let his eyes wander over the letters, take it all in, just to make sure what was on the page was correct.
AMELIA 'AMY' COULSON
He felt his jaw drop a little. His mind raced and the piece of paper went a bit blurry for a moment. Coulson cleared his throat and averted his eyes to the waves against the sand before he let them rove across the paper again.
AMELIA 'AMY' COULSON
COULSON
They had given her his name. Why? Sure, he'd helped in the team's assembly, but he hadn't done it solely on his own. Why honor him, of all people? It was, well…he didn't know what to make of it. They had created this wonderful, unbelievable little girl and then let her have his name as hers. Coulson was a workaholic SHIELD agent with all thoughts of having a family distant from his mind. It wasn't possible nor safe or even a good idea at this point.
And suddenly, he had a namesake.
Someone in this crazy, unusual, vast world shared his name. She wasn't just any someone, either, she was…she was the daughter of heroes, of greatness, of…everything he knew they could be if they joined forces. She would be (someday) an Avenger. Coulson wasn't an Avenger, but for some reason, the people he admired unconditionally had considered him important enough to name the child they loved most after him.
He pushed the paper aside and reached for the envelope of photographs. The ones at the top of the stack were more recent—full of smiles and grumpy faces and dark curly hair and shining blue eyes. There was a picture of her asleep, curled against Agent Barton's chest, which was something Coulson never thought he'd see. She was so damn cute it was difficult to remember she was going to grow up to be a powerhouse of human and non-human ability. He found himself wondering about her personality, her likes and dislikes, the sound of her voice making nonsense words. If anything, he wanted to see the team taking on parenthood, which was another thing he thought would never happen so soon.
Coulson knew he would meet her. Someday.
If his job was to watch over and protect this little girl, he would do it, wholeheartedly. Without question.
Amelia was so much more to him than his job, another case, another day in his life of being an agent.
She was family.