Hello, everybody; ModernDayBard here with another Avengers-themed one-shot. There's not really too much to explain about this one, I just decided to try my hand at a 'the Avengers find out that Phil isn't dead' story. Yeah. So, let's get started!
Because it must be said: I don't own the Avengers or Agents of SHIELD. Also, slight use of strong language at the end, so don't read if you don't want to see it.

Coulson had put it off for as long as he could, but, in the weeks following the events in the underground city, Agent May finally managed to wear down his resistance. It helped that he knew she was right—with everything that had happened, that had changed, the fledgling, re-born SHIELD would need all the help it could get. Bringing the Avengers in just made logical sense.

Coulson watched, unseen at first in his office, as the six heroes arrived and were ushered into a conference room by May, Bobbi, and Hunter.

"—briefing in the morning," May was saying.

"Why not now?" Tony asked insolently, popping a blueberry into his mouth. Phil gave a dry chuckle at the sight. *Some things never change.*

"The director wanted to give you time to process before he threw the mission details at you," Bobbi put in.

Natasha gave the other woman an incredulous look. "Fury expects us to be surprised that he rebuilt SHIELD?"

Hunter snorted derisively as the three agents left, none wanting to be present during the coming storm. "Love, she said 'the director'. Nobody said anything about Fury."

Phil rolled his eyes, waiting three heartbeats after the door closed behind his agents before making his entrance, walking in to a deafening chorus of silence. Six pairs of stunned eyes bored into him, and the director managed to squeeze out five words.

"No, I'm not dead...anymore."

Tony pointedly looked away, Steve couldn't seem to pry his gaze from the table top, and Dr. Banner took off his glasses as he asked a single question.

"Anymore?"

Phil sighed. "There was an experimental process...It's a complicated story, and I don't fully understand what they did, even now. Just suffice it to say that Fury refused to let it drop."

Thor was standing, arms crossed, a scowl on his face. Natasha sat, the only relaxed one in the room, her face impassively neutral. Clint never tore his gaze from the director, his expression a mix of horror and betrayal that Coulson couldn't quite understand.

"And you never said anything—to any of us?"

Phil glanced at Tony, who was back to glaring at him again. "Before SHIELD'S collapse, I was under orders not to. And the longer I stayed hidden, the harder I found it to come forward." That was only half-true. The main reason behind his silence was the truth he'd discovered about his resurrection—things he now knew that he couldn't bring himself to share unless or until he had to.

Tony turned away again, not satisfied with that answer. He focused on his anger, because it was the easiest reaction, the one that made the most sense. When Phil had died, all of Loki's machinations had become personal for the billionaire. It was no secret that the loss had helped Stark to focus, but what many didn't know was that the sacrificial nature of his friend's death (that he had so loudly disparaged) had been a major impetus behind his willingness to go through the portal with the nuke. Tot hen find out that the death had been so easily undone made the 'genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist' feel as if he'd been casually manipulated.

Steve still hadn't moved. He'd had maybe two conversations with Phil before the fatal attack on the Helicarrier. For him, the agent's death had served to provide common ground with Tony, reconciling the two opposites, and it had stood as proof that the spirit of sacrifice he remembered so well still existed in this time. As he saw Phil standing there, unharmed, it felt like another letdown of the modern era. Disappointment filled him, coupled with guilt for being disappointed that a good man was still alive.

Thor, despite his scowl, was trying to be optimistic, and the relief he felt was palpable. He'd come to respect the 'son of Coul' during their few brief encounters, and watching helplessly while his own brother killed the man had left him with a heavy weight. He felt partially responsible, but now he felt pardoned. He began to wonder if he should—after all, the death had occurred, even if it had been undone—but was rattled from his thoughts as the previously silent room exploded into chaos.

It started with Tony, though whether he was questioning, lecturing, or complaining was hard to tell. Phil kept trying to get a word in, but never could manage to finish a thought. Steve and Thor leapt in, occasionally backing Phil but mostly (surprisingly) on Tony's side. Natasha didn't raise her voice, trying (unsuccessfully) to quell the argument.

The former assassin had decided to process events rationally rather than emotionally and felt that she was handling thins rather well. At the time of Phil's 'death,' Romanov had been focused on Clint's well-being after he'd been knocked from Loki's mind-control. She'd counted Coulson's loss among the many casualties of the events surrounding the Battle of New York, not focusing on it as a unique event and thus softening the blow. Nor was Natasha completely surprised that SHIELD could have brought someone back, much less that they kept it quiet when they did.

For his part, Dr. Banner stayed out of the argument, not because he feared an outburst, but because most of his mind was occupied by trying to figure out how Phil had been resurrected. It wasn't that he didn't care about the man, but he hadn't known the agent, nor had be present during his death, thus it hadn't hit him as hard, nor did he feel as if there were any reason he should have been told that Coulson was no longer dead.

Eventually, the noise forced the scientist to join with the former assassin in her effort to calm their three louder friends. To Phil's relief, the (reasonably) leveler heads prevailed, and the room bean to clear out. Tony was still muttering darkly, but Coulson has hope that the inventor would eventually come around.

After a moment, Phil noticed that Clint alone remained in the room, and the archer showed no inclination towards leaving. He was still glaring at the director with that same horrified, betrayed, and now furious expression from before.

"Agent Barton?" the older man asked after a tense, silent moment.

Clint met his gaze, all but growling, "You should have told me."

Phil blinked in surprise. "I just told you: I was under orders—"

"Damn your orders!" Clint roared, slamming the table with his fist. "Do you have any idea what it did to me?"

"To you?" Phil couldn't help his incredulous expression—he couldn't make sense of the normally stoic archer's violent reaction.

Barton was on his feet now, his fists clenched and voice a harsh shout. "Yes, Phil: to me! Don't you understand? Damn it, Phil—don't you understand?"

"No, so help me," the balding agent insisted, trying to keep his voice level and calm.

All at once, all defiance drained from 'Hawkeye' and his gaze dropped, suddenly ashamed. "I—I was the brains behind the Helicarrier attack. When Loki had me, I mean. We knew Germany would be too big to get away cleanly. It was my idea for Loki to let himself be captured and work form the inside. It was my idea for us to come in on the Quinjet, cripple the Helicarrier, and bust him out. It was my idea."

Phil could see where this was going, but there was no stopping the archer's words now.

"All the casualties—everyone who died—it's all on me. Nat refuses to let me talk about that, says I shouldn't count them all, but I can't shrug it off like that. I-I counted, when she wasn't looking." Anger was seeping back into his voice, this time aimed at himself rather than the man before him. "I killed them. I killed you. And I've been living with that guilt, and you've been alive this whole damn time?"

Phil hesitated. Now he knew what the other man had meant—what he'd been struggling with. So how was he supposed to respond? His instinct was to echo Natasha, to urge Barton that ne was not to blame for any of the deaths—least of all his own—but it was clear that such tactics apparently had not worked. Nor was his instinct of self-preservation—that irrational voice in the back of his head instructing him to explain or defend his choice yet again—either appropriate or likely to be helpful at the moment. No, there was one thing Clint needed to hear now, one thing that could break through his chorus of self-remonstration.

"Clint, I forgive you."

So, yeah. Just a little play at getting into the heads of the Avengers (and Phil). I hope you liked it and again, apologies on the language, but as wound up as Clint was, I figure d it would come out. Anyways, if you liked it or saw something you think I should fix/improve on for next time, don't hesitate to leave a review and let me know!