SETTING: Picks up immediately after 1x22 ("Beginning of the End"). General spoilers for season 1.
CHAPTER SUMMARY: The team gets settled at the Playground, and Skye decides the new Director needs some help with going "off the clock".
"So, where would you like to start?"
Billy's question, obvious and meant to be innocuous, found Phil Coulson internally paralyzed. Still reeling from Fury's response to his own similar question not long ago - "That's up to you" - Coulson suddenly wanted to begin by finding a private place and having a good long cry. This was totally out of character for him, but in his defense, fairly recently everything HAD gone to hell.
"I think everyone could use a trip to the med bay so I can check you out," Jemma suggested.
"That's a good idea," Coulson affirmed, glad to find his voice even. "Agent Koenig, why don't you and I meet while Simmons takes care of that?"
"I'll want to see you too, sir," Jemma said firmly.
Coulson gave a little nod. And then he made a decision that helped him breathe just a little easier, creating some space for himself. "I want everyone to take the next" - he checked his watch - "37 hours off. Find a bunk, get settled, take some R&R."
"But sir -" May began.
"Non-negotiable. We have a lot of work to do going forward, and this may be the last 'stay-cation' I offer for awhile. Take it. We'll assemble at 08:00 two days from now for a briefing. Do whatever you need to do, outside of work, to be ready." He turned to Koenig. "Agent? Lead the way."
And as he followed Billy to his new office, he could feel the urgency like bile rising in his throat. 37 hours wasn't a long time to figure out how to protect the planet, especially when his brain was still fighting to process all that had changed in the hours (not to mention days, weeks and months) previous - much only slightly outdone at least on his personal scale by Fury's passing of the torch.
The others accompanied Simmons to the med bay as requested, Skye walking arm-and-arm with the young scientist who seemed to drink in the comforting contact. Her voice was controlled as she explained Fitz' comatose condition and outlined the potential prognoses, but her eyes were wet and bright and a tear or two would occasionally spill over and run down her cheek.
Fitz was stable now, and had been entrusted to Jemma's capable hands at her insistence - no other medical personnel had been cleared to join them at this new secret base, and she couldn't bear the thought of being separated from him - though there was little she could do for him in this state other than monitor and keep him comfortable. And hope, pray, that when and if he woke up he would still be someone recognizable as Fitz.
Oddly, it was her brain that held out hope, which was why her words were steady and sure. But her heart was what kept the tears in her eyes.
She wasn't the only one wearing her heart on her sleeve. Skye openly wept as they came to stand around Fitz' bed. Trip looked stricken. May looked angry.
Jemma was just glad in that moment that she had work to do that would actually HELP after feeling so futile these last few days, and prepared to get her friends fixed up.
When Billy bustled into the med bay not long after, he immediately brought up a hand to shield his eyes, and then turned his back to what he had unexpectedly witnessed: three agents shirtless and sitting in a row on an exam table as Jemma tended to them. Yes, the women were wearing sports bras, but he'd been alone at this base for awhile and even before that it had been some time since he'd seen so much female flesh in person.
"Sorry to interrupt, but I thought I'd let you know that I'm cooking up something special for dinner to welcome you all here. Should be ready in 30 minutes or so, if that will give you enough time to get patched up and cleaned up." He peeked over his shoulder at Jemma, who nodded in the affirmative. "Agent Simmons, will you show your colleagues the bunks and showers?"
"I'd be happy to."
And even May smiled a bit when he walked purposefully back out of the room without another look.
"So are we going to talk about how crazy this whole Billy-Eric deja vu thing is or not?" Skye asked finally, causing them all to chuckle.
"I don't know," Trip commented. "Considering what we've been through the last few weeks, that may actually be pretty low on the crazy-scale."
He meant it to be lighthearted, but it caused even him to fall into silence as they let Jemma debride, stitch, bandage, and medicate.
A half hour later, cleaned up as best they could without undoing Simmons' medical handiwork but at least in fresh clothes, the four of them were assembled in the dining area and accepting heaping plates of food from Billy, which they lit into with gusto; three of them hadn't had much opportunity to eat in awhile and were famished, while Jemma simply hadn't had much appetite since she'd arrived but was apparently inspired by her friends' enthusiasm and the the quality of the cuisine, and even went back for seconds. Billy used the time to offer a brief orientation, continuing as they assisted with clean-up.
Then it was time for 'the chair', and no one objected. They'd all been through this lie detection system before and just wanted to get it out of the way. As Skye, Trip and May waited outside while Billy set up the equipment, it was Skye who couldn't help but comment, "I get why we have to do this, but it's not as if did a lot of good with Ward."
Normally, they would have launched into theories and explanations of how he must have beaten the machine. But Coulson's order of "stay-cation", while not being consciously observed, was apparently more needed than they realized. Because in that moment none of them had it in them to think about Ward too much at all.
Jemma was back with Fitz, recording his stats, checking his catheter and switching out the drainage bag (oh, wouldn't he be embarrassed by all of this!), and then just sitting. Watching him breathe. Willing him to awaken. Coulson entered silently and watched, too. Watched Fitz, but also Simmons. "Jemma," he began quietly.
"Oh, sir!" And she was up out of her chair in an instant, swiping at stray tears and putting on her bravest face. "Are you ready for me to examine you?"
He waved off the suggestion, crossing to Fitz. He paused, then took the young man's hand, needing the reassurance of warmth. "Are you up to giving me a report on his condition?"
"Of course, sir." Ever the good soldier, her voice was pleasant, detached, professional. But her eyes wouldn't stop leaking tears, and when Coulson left Fitz' side and touched her arm, it took everything in her to keep from completely falling apart.
Trip joined them then, and with one glance at Jemma he accurately gauged the situation. "Director Coulson, why don't you let me take a look at you? Leave Simmons to tend to Fitz, and if we discover anything that needs some extra doctoring we can call her in."
Simmons eyes were almost pleading for assent when Coulson looked to her for guidance, so he nodded and left her with a final sympathetic expression and a final squeeze of her shoulder.
Trip's medical training was nowhere near as extensive as Simmons', but he had solid field-level skills and was able to tend to Coulson without assistance; in this case, it was just making sure nothing was broken - he'd already done First Aid on the bus, but he'd been rushed and was glad to have more time to make sure - and sending some supplies Coulson could apply or reapply himself after he got cleaned up. He also had the good sense to leave Coulson to his thoughts and work with minimal chatter. After all, the Director had mandated R&R, and nothing he could think of to talk about, nothing he WANTED to talk about, wasn't directly related to their work. Following orders.
As Coulson dressed, he watched Trip re-enter Fitz' room, heard the argument of sorts that ensued as Trip offered, then demanded, to stay with Fitz for awhile so that Jemma could have a break, promising that he would alert her if anything changed. Finally she relented and disappeared without another word to Coulson.
Trip stuck his head back in the room as Coulson was preparing to leave. "We left a plate for you in the kitchen, wrapped up in the fridge. Koenig tell you where it was?"
Coulson held up a tablet. "He gave me a map. Thanks." He felt strangely touched that they had thought of him, then realized it was silly to feel that way. Of COURSE they had thought of him. It was Billy's job to make sure he had everything he needed. And between May, Skye and Simmons, his mother hen quota was more than met.
Which May went on to prove when he ran into her not long after he'd eaten. "I put your stuff in the C.O.'s bunk. Let me show you where it is so you can get settled."
He followed her obediently, surveying the space and deeming it clean and comfortable-looking, despite the maze of boxes he wasn't looking forward to unpacking. "Are all the rooms this big?" he asked, sticking his head inside the en suite, a perk he hadn't previously enjoyed in base housing.
"Nope. But you're the Director now. That entitles you to a little extra space. And a bathtub, apparently." She gave him a hard look. "Which I'm sure you'll be willing to lend out from time to time."
"Yes, ma'am."
The corner of her mouth twitched ever so slightly. "I'll leave you to it, then."
But as she was turning to depart, he stopped her. "May."
She waited, raised an eyebrow, waited some more. But when he didn't speak again, her expression softened. "I know, Phil." A pause. "Get cleaned up and get some rest. We'll talk about it in... well, in 34 hours, I guess."
"Give or take." And then he smiled, all the way to his eyes. "Enjoy your stay-cation," he called as she shut the door behind her.
He was stiff, sore, and dirty. He stripped off his clothes and allowed himself a few minutes to luxuriate in the hot shower, his mind so overwhelmed that it grew blissfully numb for awhile. As he applied ointments and bandages, then dressed in dark sweat pants and an old S.H.I.E.L.D. training tee-shirt, he considered simply trying to give in to his exhaustion and start fresh in the morning. But he hadn't yet finished the rounds; there was one member of his team left to connect with, and he disliked leaving things undone.
Skye was easier to find than he expected, as boxes labelled with her name were piled outside one of the bunks. He could see a light under the door, so he knocked quietly and entered at her whispered invitation.
She greeted him with a finger to her lips. Jemma was fast asleep, her head in Skye's lap, the evidence of her recent break-down clear on her tear-stained face. Skye, looking impossibly young with her hair tied in two braids, her face free of makeup, and her pajama pants printed with cartoon ducks, was humming and raking gentle fingers through her friend's hair.
Coulson smiled in spite of himself, considering with sadness the horrors that the young woman had endured - that BOTH of them had endured - but also touched by this act of comfort and camaraderie.
"Something you need, boss?" Skye asked in a low voice, giving him a genuine smile.
She never ceased to amaze him. Where he had always been able to muster a smile through being a master at compartmentalization, Skye was just plain resilient. There was no doubt in his mind that she was just as devastated as the rest at all that had transpired, but she had a way of being in the moment that made him envious.
And in that moment, she was fed, she was clean, she had a new space all her own, and she had spent the last hour with a friend in her arms, trusted to provide solace and safety. So why shouldn't she smile?
"No, nothing. Just wanted to make sure you were settling in."
Very carefully she shifted Jemma off of her lap, tucking a pillow under her head instead, standing, pausing a moment to smooth back her friend's hair. Then she switched off the light and motioned for Coulson to follow her from the room, sliding the door shut so they could speak freely. "I'm going to go talk to Trip, see if he wants me to stay with Fitz. Simmons intended to go back for the night, but I imagine if I don't disturb her she should sleep for a few hours at least." She looked at him hopefully. "Walk with me?"
"Of course."
Both of them were barefoot as they wordlessly padded their way to the med bay. Skye seemed to sense that he wasn't in a talking mood, and while usually she was a bit of a conversational bull in a china shop, tonight she was happy enough to respect his wishes.
They found Trip fast asleep on the cot Jemma had been using since she'd arrived at the Playground. Fitz seemed to be resting peacefully, his condition unchanged. Skye left a note for Trip, encouraging him to text her when he was ready to be relieved, then took a moment to observe Fitz before pressing her lips to his smooth forehead.
"You think he'll wake up?"
"I do," he told her honestly.
"You think he'll still be Fitz?"
When he didn't immediately answer, she looked over her shoulder at him and he shrugged helplessly.
She understood, nodded, kissed Fitz again and then left the room, Coulson trailing after her.
"Where are you going to sleep?" he asked her as they headed back.
"I'll find Simmons' room and sleep in there, I guess. Though I'm kind of wired."
"Me too." Coulson was telling the truth. Somewhere along the way he'd gotten a second wind. He doubted it would last long, HOPED it wouldn't last long, because he felt his mind starting to reach for problems and solutions. And he knew in his current state he'd only go in circles and drive himself crazy.
"Netflix binge?"
It was a tempting offer. But tomorrow he would need to wake up early and figure out how to save the world. Or something. "Thanks, but I'd better pass. Wired or not, I need to rest or I'll be useless in the morning."
"We're on 'stay-cation', A.C. Sorry, *D*.C.," she emphasized. "It'd probably do you some good to be useless in the morning."
"I'm afraid that little alphabetic upgrade is the reason I don't get to be useless," he told her with more than a hint of self-pity in his voice. "There's that rather important matter I've been tasked with of rebuilding S.H.I.E.L.D. I don't think free time is included in the benefits package."
"Fantastic," she said sarcastically. "You've been in charge for less than a day and you've already set yourself up to crash and burn."
"Skye..." he began in warning.
"Not that I'm talking about work; I'm under orders to get R&R, after all." She smiled prettily at him. "But I'd like to think I've gotten to know you pretty well. And it seems to me that you generally have your best ideas when you've given your brain a break."
"That may be so," he agreed, "but there was a lot less to do and a lot less at stake when I was just a small cog in a big wheel."
"Coulson" she began incredulously, "I'm betting it's been a long time since you were a small anything. You've been larger than life for as long as I've known you, and that kind of presence doesn't just come out of nowhere. No, you've been building that ego for a long time."
"Ego!" he repeated accusingly. He found the idea distasteful and a little hurtful. He halted their forward motion and touched her arm lightly so she turned to face him. "Is that really how you see me?"
The look on her face had diffused his emotional response before she even spoke, though her words would certainly have done the trick on their own. "There's nothing wrong with knowing you're something special when you ARE something special...sir."
He didn't know how to respond to that, but apparently the change of his expression was enough. She curled her hand around his elbow briefly and they resumed their journey back to the living area.
"I know you're right. About giving my brain a break," he admitted eventually. "I'm just not sure how that's going to work. There's SO much to do. And I don't know how I'd ever be able to justify wasting time, let alone actually be able to disengage enough to STOP." He sighed. "Even right now I can feel myself wanting to get started. Like it's hanging over me."
"That sounds an awful lot like 'dread'," she told him, and that seemed to make her sad. "Phil, I know it must seem like a burden now, and it always will be in some ways. But you really ARE something special. And you have the potential to build something amazing and help so many people and fix this big mess that's been made. Fresh start, clean slate. Doesn't that at ALL excite you?"
There it was again, that sense of amazement he felt. After all she'd been through, how could she still hold on to optimism, and be so quietly contagious about it?
So when he stopped this time, he smiled down at her with a real, genuine smile. "You're something special too, you know."
She shrugged, smiling herself to cover her self-consciousness. "I know, I'm kind of incredible." They both chuckled. Then she had a thought. "And that's why I'm going to be your new S.O."
"I beg your pardon?"
"You said you didn't know how you'd ever be able to rest and relax. Seems to me you need someone to help you with that, to supervise your progress. For the good of S.H.I.E.L.D., of course."
"Of course," he repeated, thoroughly amused. "And I suppose you're going to develop a strict regimen for me to follow."
"Absolutely; I'm surprising well versed. And I'm happy to literally write the manual for this one."
"Oh, really?"
"Unless you're not up to the challenge, of course," she smirked. "Or unless you think you'd be too intimidated by me as your S.O."
"Well, you are a bit of a hard ass."
"You're damn right I am," she said seriously, drawing herself to her full height and getting into character. "We'll call this... project "off the clock"."
"Very official," he teased in kind.
"And highly classified. I mean, I had to pull some pretty significant strings to be able to read you in."
"I'm honoured." And getting the feeling that this wasn't just her being silly, and she might actually be expecting to put him through some paces here. Which seemed all well and good in the condition he was currently in, but he might regret it when he was sobered by rest and responsibility. "And if I don't accept the assignment?"
"No longer an option, Director. You know too much."
Lucky for her - and, as it later turned out, for him - he couldn't deny her anything. "In that case, what are my orders?"
She broke from her S.O. persona to favour him with a delighted grin, and checked her watch. "Brush your teeth and do whatever you need to do to be ready for bed. I'll meet you in your bunk in 10 minutes with your first assignment."
"Understood," he told her with jaunty salute. He gave her directions, then did as he was told.
When he stepped into his room after preparing for bed, she was already there. "You're late," said said approvingly. "That's a good start. Drop and do absolutely nothing." She pointed at his bed. "I mean it. Go ahead and tuck in, Director."
"Yes ma'am," he replied, just on the right side of tired not to feel like this was crossing a line. Then again, it wasn't as if they hadn't been somewhat domestic before, being in such close quarters on the bus. And the line had been significantly re-positioned when they'd all shared two rooms at the motel.
He and Skye had even shared a bed for a bit, when May was on assignment and Jemma had food poisoning. Fitz had moved into the girls' room to care for her while Skye, a bit squeamish about those things, had moved into the boys' room for two nights. The first night she'd tried to share a bed with Trip at his kind offer, but Skye, unlike Fitz, wasn't always the deepest sleeper and Trip tended to move around a lot. So at around 3 a.m. Coulson had felt her gently shaking him by the shoulder and found her crouched beside him, sheepishly asking if she could sleep with him instead. He could barely remember grunting assent, but awoke sometime later with her freezing toes seeking warmth against his calves. The next night HE had tried to sleep with Trip to give Skye her own space, but when a dreaming Trip flung an arm across Coulson's torso, Phil hadn't even bothered waking Skye to ask before climbing back into his own bed. And when in the morning it was HER arm curled around him, he'd left it there, considering it the lesser of evils.
In any case, if he'd wanted to keep a professional distance from these people, from Skye, it was too late now. He could always start again tomorrow. And so he got into bed.
"Tonight's assignment is falling asleep with the 'T.V.' on so you don't think about work," she told him as she set up her laptop on a pile of boxes beside the bed so he could comfortably view it when laying on his side. "And lucky for you, Netflix has a billion seasons of 'Bones'."
"I don't know if I CAN fall asleep with the 'T.V.' on," he told her. "It's been awhile since I tried."
"Well, the good news, Director, is that you always have the option of taking your own orders to heart and sleeping in tomorrow." Then she was pressing play and climbing over him to sit cross-legged with her back against the wall. She used the remote on her phone to adjust the volume and settled in. "Have you seen this show before?"
And so they talked for a few minutes about the show, about what they were seeing. Chuckling at the appropriate times, commenting on the actors, the situations. But when Skye fell silent to watch in earnest, Coulson felt his mind begin to wander, and not in a way that heralded sleep.
"Director, I can hear you thinking. You have your orders," she reminded him, her voice strong but sympathetic.
"Sorry. I'll try to do better."
But in the end it was the hand that she placed on his bicep, her thumb tracing designs on his bare skin, that did the trick more than any effort of his own. First the sensation was jarring, but even as he found himself back to wondering about crossing lines he realized at least he wasn't thinking about work, not in the strictest sense. And then jarring gave way to soothing, and the next thing he knew, hours had passed. Skye was gone, the laptop was gone, and though it was still early he felt rested.
But he also felt... something else. And it was that something else that seemed to overtake him, seemed to drive and direct him to the storage room, to the knife, to the wall. And the last thought that was truly his own as he began for the first time to carve was that he wished Skye had stayed the night.