This idea popped into my head the other day and just would not leave me alone. I kind of wanted to explore Phil's background and write a little something while I'm still giddy over the announcement of Clark Gregg reprising his role as Agent Coulson in the S.H.I.E.L.D. series. I've imagined a number of ways in which Phil might have survived, and this one is a particular favorite of mine, so I hope you'll enjoy it as much as I do.

As far as pairings in this fic go, there's going to be some Pepperony (Tony/Pepper) and pre-Capsicoul (Steve/Phil). I think that's all I have to say for the moment!

DISCLAIMER: I do not own The Avengers or any related MCU characters, places, etc. I'm just kicking around in the sandbox.

Steve likes to think of himself as a professional, someone who can keep a level head in situations where everything seems like it's gone to hell. In this situation he finds himself unable to achieve that level of professionalism.

"What the hell is going on?" he demands, surging up and out of his seat.

There are similar shouts of protest and disbelief from around him, but his gaze remains focused on Fury, waiting for an explanation. For his part, the Director stands calmly, apparently waiting for them to tire themselves out before he deigns to favor them with a response of any kind. When it doesn't seem like they're about to, he holds up a hand to silence them. It doesn't get him far. So Steve intervenes.

"All right, all right, enough!" he shouts, with enough of an edge to his tone to get them all quiet. Mostly—Tony Stark is never truly quiet. He turns his angry gaze back on Fury. "You owe us an explanation. Now."

"Like I said, Coulson's alive," Fury repeated.

"Yeah, great, thanks, we got that. I think the questions here are a) How? And b) Why the fuck didn't you tell us sooner?" Tony snarls.

"There's a very good answer for both of those. And you'll get them in due time," Fury tells them calmly. "The story's not really mine to tell."

"Has he regained consciousness?" Natasha thinks to ask.

"He started fighting the ventilator four days ago. Woke up briefly the day after that. He's been in and out of it since, but Sitwell's with him, says he seems fairly stable now," Fury answers.

"Then I assume you're taking us to him," Bruce says.

Fury is silent for a heartbeat before turning to walk out of the room. "Follow me."

And they do.

Pepper Potts is a model of self-control. She is sure and calm in very nearly any situation, the perfect counter to Tony's passion and unpredictability. Which is why she makes certain that she does not fall apart at the seams when Tony calls and tells her that Phil's alive and they're taking her with them to see him.

"It's been a month," Pepper says as they sit in the comfort of one of Stark Enterprise's private jets—Tony refused to take any transport provided by S.H.I.E.L.D. "A month, Nick."

"…why is he Nick?" Tony asks, sounding horrified.

Pepper pointedly ignores him, her attention fixed on the man seated opposite her.

"We had a funeral. There's a grave, a headstone with his name on it. We've been mourning him all this time," she says, her tone terse. Tony can tell she wants to scream. If he were her, he'd be screaming. But he's not, thank goodness, because one of them has to be the calm to the storm. "I'm hoping you have a very, very good reason as to why you've let us continue doing so."

"Several good reasons, Miss Potts. There are some I can't tell you just now, but the one I can is that when I made the call, he was dead, to my knowledge," Fury says, spreading his hands palm up on the table. "It wasn't until after the battle that I discovered that they'd revived him—and lost him and revived him again quite a few times. Up until he woke up, we weren't sure he was going to make it. I didn't see the point in letting anyone know until we were sure."

"Has anyone notified his family?" Steve asks, leaning forward in his seat.

The smile Pepper offers him is sad and grateful and something else all at once. "The closest thing to family he has is either here on this jet or sitting at his bedside."

"Oh," Steve says heavily.

"Are there any long-term side effects?" Clint asks.

No one answers him.

"From when he was stabbed. By that scepter. Did the Tesseract do anything to him?" Clint clarifies.

Fury appears to be debating answering that and, at length, simply says, "In a manner of speaking."

"'In a manner of speaking'?" Clint says, his voice sounding like the rumble that precedes a roar. "Yes or no, sir. Was he or was he not fucking affected?"

"I'm telling you what I can at present, Agent Barton," Fury replies in a remarkably patient manner, given the circumstances. It doesn't stop him from focusing his lone eye on the archer in a look that would cause lesser men to spontaneously combust. "Don't you think there's a reason why there's so much red tape around Coulson's file?"

"Not to burst your bubble here, my furious friend, but I've seen Phil's file. You really need to up your security," Tony announces.

Steve watches as Fury grins, of all things. Natasha rolls her eyes and looks to Tony.

"You saw the file he wanted you to see," she explains.

"You put up a fake file as a front?" Tony asks, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Fine. Whatever. I'm assuming you've seen his actual file then, Agent Romanoff?"

Natasha shakes her head.

"And what does all this have to do with our current situation?" Bruce asks. His brow had creased with concern when the discussion had shifted to whether or not Phil had been affected by the Tesseract and he leans forward in his seat as he speaks.

"We're going to see the man now. I feel you're owed the whole story, and giving you the whole story means starting from the beginning," Fury answers. "I'd tell you the whole of it right now if not for the fact that I owe him at least the chance to decide if he wants to tell it himself."

"What is it with you people and giving straight answers?" Tony asks with a flat stare.

"It's against company policy," Natasha answers with a shrug.

Steve sits back, listening to the exchange. He's feeling too many things at once. Elation at the knowledge that Phil is still alive, anger at having been lied to by Fury, worry over what condition the agent might be in when they get to see him, guilt for the fact that this fate had befallen the man in the first place, shame for not having been the man he should have been, and an odd sense of joy for the fact that the trading cards in his jacket pocket could be returned to their owner. Signed.

He follows along with the conversation until, annoyed by Fury's lack of response, Tony sets in on him with as many inappropriate nicknames as his mind can conjure and the others settle for watching (or glaring at, in Clint's case) the Director with a gleam of distrust in their eye.

The jet can't fly fast enough for any of them.

"Jesus Christ, how many floors down are you hiding him?" Tony remarks as the elevator plummets. They can all see he's getting antsy. Pepper lays a hand on his arm which seems to still him for a moment, at least.

"As many as I feel like," Fury retorts.

From the elevator, they walk down a long corridor, past three security checks and through several doors until at last Fury stops them outside an unmarked door. The Director knocks once before the door opens. Jasper Sitwell is wearing a look of tired relief as he ushers them in, where they crowd awkwardly near the entrance.

Phil is asleep. He looks small, Steve thinks, lying there in the hospital bed, propped up on pillows and hooked up with IVs and heart monitors and oxygen lines. The agent is frighteningly pale and thinner than Steve remembers, but according to Fury he's been comatose for nearly a month so perhaps that shouldn't be surprising.

"Well, are you all just gonna fucking stand there?" Fury asks, looking to them expectantly.

Pepper is the first to move forward, sitting in the seat beside the bed that Jasper must have only just vacated. Steve follows with the rest of them as they hover over the bed. He watches as Pepper slips her hand beneath Phil's and squeezes gently. That seems to prompt him towards waking because he begins to stir and, after a few failed attempts, he opens his eyes. It takes him a minute to focus, but eventually his weary gaze finds Pepper's. Standing beside the chair, Steve can see the way her eyes take on a shine as she smiles down at the agent. He's no fool; he'd seen her at the funeral, he knows she's putting forth a monstrous effort not to fall apart right then and there.

"Hey. You stood me up," she tells the agent. "We were supposed to get lunch."

"Sorry," Phil says, a small smile forming on his face despite the exhaustion in his voice. "Overslept."

"Yeah," Pepper responds with a teary laugh, patting his hand. "You sure did."

It's only another moment before Pepper is out of the chair and has her arms around him. The surprise etched into his features is enough to make Steve smile. He watches as the agent hesitantly reaches up with his right arm to return the embrace, despite the flicker of pain that flashes across his features. He hears bits of mumbled conversation between them before Pepper seats herself again, wiping hurriedly at her eyes in an attempt to compose herself. Phil takes the time to look at them as a group and Steve can see that the agent is more than pleased to see them together as a group.

"Barton."

Clint stiffens when Phil speaks his name.

"Sir."

"Sitwell said we'd gotten you back. It's good to see you with my own eyes, though."

Steve shifts his gaze to Clint and watches as the archer ducks his head. He can see Clint's hands shaking, just slightly. It's been hard for him, Steve knows. The guilt, the anger, the fear. Clint's been coping as best as he's been able, but you don't just walk off an experience like the one he's had. Having Phil back, though, that will help. It won't make everything better, but it will help.

"Likewise, boss," Clint says, tucking it all away for the moment and masking it with a grin.

"Can we talk about how much of an idiot you are, though? It's the elephant sitting in the room and it needs to be addressed. You're an idiot," Tony blurts. It must have been a record, how long he'd kept silent.

For once, no one tries to correct him. Phil huffs something that might be a laugh. He looks amused, in any case.

"Can't argue there," Phil agrees.

"But you're alive."

"Yes."

"And if I stopped talking, you'd probably go into some speech about how it was all worth it and if you had the chance you'd do it again, right?"

"Do you deny that it was worth it?"

Phil's tone is patient, probing. Just the way Steve knows Tony hates. And has missed. He watches the billionaire's jaw twitch.

"It wasn't worth it."

Steve takes a moment to capture in his mind the look of surprise on Phil's face. He supposes it's unfair—the agent is badly injured, weakened, and still under heavy medication so his defenses are lowered—but the confusion those four words bring to his features is nearly heartbreaking.

"Because of you I didn't sleep for a week. Pepper kept soaking my pillow in tears," Tony says suddenly.

"Tony, do not start with me," Pepper interjects.

"I think I can speak for everyone," Bruce intervenes smoothly, "when I say that while we're obviously very glad that Manhattan is not a smoking crater, the cost of getting us to where we needed to be to make that happen was more than any of us wanted to pay."

Again Steve watches confusion settle on the agent's face. But the man quietly thanks them all the same. And then apologizes.

"You don't have anything to apologize for," Steve assures him, and Phil looks at him for the first time since they'd entered the room.

"We would, however, like to know why we were lied to," Natasha says, piping up at last.

The words are directed at Fury. The Russian agent has been silent since they'd arrived, whether from a general reluctance to do more than crack a smile in front of them or due in part to the fact that she hasn't ceased glaring daggers at Fury since they left the Helicarrier, he's not sure. In any case, the Director takes that as his cue, stepping forward.

"Boss?" Phil murmurs questioningly.

"They've got a right to know, Phil. The whole truth of it. If this team is going to continue to work, they need to know these kinds of things. You said so yourself not so long ago," Fury says. "So I'm giving you a choice here. It's your story, and if you'd like to tell it, keep the things that are irrelevant to the big picture to yourself, then that's fine. Otherwise, I'll be telling them. One way or another, it's coming out."

"Director," Jasper says, now also stepping forward. "With all due respect, is this really the best time?"

"Sitwell. It's all right," Phil says.

Jasper stands down, but doesn't look at all happy about it. It isn't hard to see why. Even a few minutes of conversation seems to have fatigued the injured man terribly. Steve wonders if he has enough strength to explain to them whatever it is Fury's asking of him.

"I would prefer to tell it myself," Phil says at length. "I'm not sure you would do so with the same degree of discretion. Sir."

"All right then. Think you can stay awake long enough to tell the kids a bedtime story?" Fury asks.

"Some of it, anyway," Phil answers.

Fury looks at them. "Well, you'd better sit your asses down. It's a long one."

"From the top, boss?" Phil asks. His eyes are closed.

"From the top," Fury echoes.

Watching the agent take a deep breath, Steve can't help but wonder what they're in for.