Melinda May did not have a good feeling about this meeting. That was fairly normal, she supposed. Probably most desk employees would feel uneasy about being called to the office of not just their boss, but their boss's boss's boss. Especially if they hadn't done anything particularly noteworthy for the past two or three years.
And, of course, if their boss's boss's boss happened to be an international spymaster in charge of the free world's security. May felt privately sure no one ever looked forward to meetings with Fury. The fact that the meeting was in a hospital meant nothing one way or the other, Fury was too much a spy to allow for much consistency or reason to his covert meetings.
The orderlies in the hospital directed her by pre-arranged passwords to a surgery observation booth. When she came in the door, Director Fury stood with his back to her, staring down through the tinted windows at the delicate procedure taking place below, as if his attention was utterly fixed on it. It was the sort of basic tactical error that May would chew a recruit out for, but she knew better with Fury. She could see his single eye tracking her in the glasses reflection. "Agent May." He nodded.
"No." May stood firmly at attention.
Fury turned slowly around. "Excuse me?"
"No, sir." She repeated.
"Perhaps you should explain what you're refusing, Agent May." He leveled an even glare in her direction.
It was odd, May reflected, how even after years of experienced spy work, a single look from Fury could make her shake in her bootss for no damn reason at all. "There's only one possible reason you'd want to personally meet with me, sir. I'm not returning to active duty."
"Really." Fury seemed unimpressed.
"Sir, you know my reasons." May insisted.
"Hell with your reasons, Agent May," snorted Fury. "I know you don't get out much from behind that desk of yours, but maybe you heard about a little toss-up we had in New York recently. Gods on earth? Aliens invading? Nukes above an American city?" He looked at her. "A little past cultists, aren't we?"
"Sir, there's always some disaster threatening the world. Aliens, business moguls, giant green-skinned berzerkers, it's always something." May's voice was level and even. "I did my part for world peace."
"So." Fury raised his eyebrows in mock understanding. "Thirty-seven SHIELD agents KIA, two hundred and sixty three wounded or missing, five billion dollars in associated damages, and a hundred million souls nearly baked in glowing blue ashes, but you think you deserve the right to stay at that cushy desk job of yours."
"Last I checked, your lack of manpower is the personnel department's problem, not mine." May answered.
Fury grunted and turned to face the window again.
"I won't return to active duty." May insisted. "You can't make me."
"I damn well can." Fury snorted.
"I'll blow any mission you send me on. I'll leak details to the press. I'll…"
"Come over here a moment, would you, agent May?" Still not even looking at her, Fury crooked a finger, an imperious gesture that could not be denied.
Burning with anger and frustration, May stepped forward, beside the director, to look down at the surgery taking place below. A small crowd of doctors in scrubs were clustered around a sheeted body.
"You were never much of a medic, were you, agent May?" Fury asked, continuing to study the procedure.
"My skill set largely consisted of breaking people apart, not putting them back together." May answered snidely. She realized Fury was getting around to something, but damned if she was going to play along. "I received basic medical training, that's it."
Still not turning, Fury simply gave a placid nod. "Just enough to keep on breaking things." He mused. "That's what a soldier does, what a weapon does, what nature does. SHIELD's supposed to be all about defense, about preserving things, but that requires just as often tearing them down." A shrug. "The world wants a new kind of army, but it keeps fighting the old wars. Breaking things apart is what we're good at. It's easy. Natural. Putting them back together… that's a bit harder."
"Fascinating, sir." May did not bother to hide her sarcasm.
Fury turned to look at her. "We defended New York, May, but we almost didn't, and Loki's goon squad broke SHIELD apart but good. We lost a lot of people, good people, who we can't readily replace."
"I. Know."
May had turned her head to glare at him. The pompous bastard had the nerve to stand there and just calmly note that 'good people' had died, as if he didn't know she'd already heard about Phil, as if he didn't remember her entire case history with the man or what her psyche evals probably said about him. The manipulating son-of-a-bitch was using Phil's death to try to force her back into SHIELD, and he didn't have the decency to even acknowledge it.
"Putting our forces back together is going to be a real challenge, Agent May." Fury glanced again with studied nonchalance at the surgery. "We're going to need every man on deck."
May, uncomprehending, glanced down at the surgery also.
There, on the table the surgeons had just been clustered around, sat Phil Coulson. He was buttoning up his shirt as if there was nothing wrong, and was joking and laughing with the dark skinned doctor.
May's eyes widened, her feet took an involuntary step forward, her fingers reached out toward the scene and brushed against the glass.
Fury stepped back and passed behind her. "Burn these after you're done with them," he noted, dropping a thick sheaf of files on a nearby table.
May barely even noticed him leave.
Melinda May strode down the hallways of the Triskelion, her eyes narrowed and her mouth thinned to a hard line. Fists clenched at her sides, she walked in tight, clipped steps, straight through Fury's waiting room and into his office.
"You son of a bitch." She hissed.
Fury blinked placidly up at her. "And a good afternoon to you too, Agent May." He answered. Turning to his guest, he noted: "Mr. Secretary, I'm afraid we'll have to finish this later…"
"No apology necessary, Nick." Alexander Pierce, Secretary of the Global Security Council, answered, raising his hands as he stood. "Not sure what you did to deserve it, but I know better than to come between an angry woman and her prey. Agent May." He nodded at her pleasantly. "You're looking well."
"Sir." May managed, eyes still burning into Fury.
Pierce looked from her, to Fury, and back to her again. "I'll… see myself out, then." He shrugged.
"You absolute bastard." May said again, as the door closed behind Secretary Pierce.
Fury did not even blink. "You destroyed the files?"
"I'd have made you eat them, if I could." May snarled.
"You destroyed the files?"
"Yes, I destroyed them. Dumped them into an incinerator and sprinkled the ashes in the Triskelion fountain." May rolled her eyes. "Your dirty little secret is still safe, you sick maniac."
Fury leaned back in his chair and studied her. "I'm starting to think you don't like me, Agent May."
"How could you do that to him?" The words came bubbling, boiling, exploding out of her. "All he's done for you, for this organization, and you turn him into some sort of… of sick guinea pig?" May's hands clenched and unclenched. "Some dry run for your own immortality project, Fury? What, you're not satisfied with killing off your own men, so you want to bring them back so you can kill them all over again? What you did to him…"
"Is done, Agent May." Fury's voice cut like a knife. "I don't recall asking for your approval; regardless of whether you like how I brought back Agent Coulson, the fact remains that I did, and my reasons for doing so are my own." Leaning forward, he folded his hands on his desk and looked at her. "What I'm asking of you is how best to keep him that way."
May stared at him incredulously. "How best to…"
"Did you actually understand what was in that file, or were you just taking notes on what you could yell at me for?" Fury asked. "Coulson's back, fine. His heart's pumping, his lungs are breathing, the synapses in his brain are all firing accordingly. He's alive."
"Against his own protest, yes." May snarled.
"So you did read them." Fury nodded. "That's what you're here for. I want you to silence that protest."
"You want me to…"
"We need Coulson to want to live." Fury explained, standing to his feet. "There's no point in bringing back a man if he just throws himself off a building." He walked around toward the back window and looked out at the ground miles below.
"We have a plan in place." He continued, glancing at her. "Coulson is to be given an assignment—an important assignment."
"What?" May didn't think she'd been struck speechless so many times. "Are you absolutely insane, sir? That man is on a knife's edge, no thanks to you and your…"
"The assignment doesn't actually have to be important." Fury indicated. "Coulson just has to think it is."
"Oh." May quieted. Then her eyes widened. "You're going to try and trick him?"
"We're going to give him a reason to live, and hopefully a distraction from dying," answered Fury. "But Coulson's been a spy, he knows the tricks, so it'd be best if it actually were an important assignment…"
"…but not important enough so he'd actually cause havoc if he broke down." May finished, starting to understand.
A nod. "So." Fury turned to face her. "What would that look like?"
It took May a minute to get what he was asking. "I refuse to be a part of this!" She hissed, practically recoiling.
Shrugging, Fury turned away. "Fine, I'll ask someone else."
May glared. "You utter, absolute, moth-"
"You don't like me. I got it," answered Fury, still looking away from her. "But unless you want someone else determining the convalescing conditions for your resurrected friend, I suggest you get with the program."
May closed her eyes and breathed deeply. "A team and a plane." she said finally. "Put Coulson in charge of a team based out of some sort of plane—preferably one that headquarters can control in case of trouble. That puts him in a controlled environment where any sort of collapse can be dealt with internally."
"We have some decommissioned mobile command centers that should work." Fury nodded, turning around. "Why the team?"
"The team is an automatic safety net." May answered. "Whether they know anything or not, they'll be there to deal with any fallout. A medic, of the best sort you can find, obviously, but probably also someone capable of controlling that... brainwash-bot you used. In case you need to mind-wipe him again." May struggled for a moment. "There should also be a specialist on board." She met Fury's gaze directly. "In case of extreme action."
"I could have figured that out on my own." Fury answered, a spark of irritation in his eye. "I brought you in on this because you know Coulson. Any more specifications?"
May fought to keep herself under control. "It should be a... young team."
There was faint surprise, but also notable approval, on Fury's face. "A Coulson's Angels team? Definitely makes the assignment more enjoyable for him."
"Not... that." May shook her head. "Just young. No senior agents. Coulson's a... paternal man. Having younger agents under his command will make him feel responsible, needed." She hated herself, talking like this.
"That's the kind of insight I'm looking for." Fury's mouth curved, and May hated herself a little more. "But." He raised a finger. "There's gonna be at least one pretty face on that plane."
"Very good, sir."
"Also, I'm thinking this mission needs two specialists, not one."
May frowned. "Sir?" Coulson was good, but he was no specialist. One should be plenty.
"Coulson's going to want you in on this, May." May felt a warm glow rising. "He's been trying to add you to ops for years. Ten bucks says if you're not on the team docket, he'll add you to it. And if he doesn't, I will."
The warm glow vanished. "I won't be a mole."
"Sure you will." Fury shrugged off her refusal. "You can't risk me assigning anyone else."
She hated Fury. Hated, hated, hated, hated, hated...
Fury noted her burning eyes. "You're in too deep to back out now, Agent May. I don't intend to bring in more agents on this than I absolutely have to."
"Given what was in those files, I can understand that."
"You'll be attached to the project... pilot, specialist, janitor, I don't much care." Fury shrugged. "But you'll be responsible with giving me regular and detailed updates on Coulson's status and doings."
There was a short silence.
Fury raised an eyebrow. "Agent May?"
"Yes. Sir."
Satisfied, he continued. "Keep track of his emotional state, his mental faculties, and any unusual symptoms that manifest themselves." He seemed to think, then nodded. "You'll need a private encrypted line... whatever quarters you have would be the best place. You miss an update, HQ will assume control of the plane and fly you to the nearest SHIELD facility."
"Sir." May didn't think she could say much more, but then a question occurred to her. "Why the other specialist?"
"Let's say this matter is too critical to be left up to one agent." Fury answered. "Particularly one with your history. Now." He said, continuing past her furious expression. "Any last points to offer?"
May just simmered in anger for a few moments, then took a step forward. "Let's be clear here, sir, I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing this for Coulson."
"You can do it for the damn fate of humanity for all I care." Fury shrugged. "Just do it. Anything more?"
"This isn't a snow job. You don't send him on fake missions, whatever 'assignment' you're giving him is actually going to be worthwhile." She demanded. "Coulson's smart, if you try feeding him missions and assignments just to boost his ego, he'll see though it."
"Good thing we're not going through a slow season." Fury answered cooly. "There's rarely any need to fabricate global crises, Agent May, I think I can promise the threats will be legitimate. Is that all?"
Something occured to May. Something Phil had mentioned once. It was silly, crazy, a childish little obsession, but that was the point of this, wasn't it?
"Lola."
For the first time since she'd met him, May saw Fury's face droop in dismay. "Not Stark's old car?!"
"It's a favorite of his." May answered calmly, dancing inside with dark glee. "You know how nostalgic it is. He had pictures of it all over his apartment. He used to say how he'd love to drive it around."
"But Lola... she's... she's..." Fury sighed heavily. "Fine. Lola too, then."
May gave a small, triumphant nod. "Thank you, sir."
Dropping into his chair, Fury gave another sigh. "Lola." He mused, then looked up. "All right. Dismissed. Come up with more specific parameters, forward them to me on secure line 9. I'll pass them on to Coulson."
"Sir." May turned, but the tiny victory had emboldened her, and she hesitated. "Sir..." She said, half-turning back. "Why... did you do this? Why Coulson?"
Fury was eyeing a glass of scotch on his desk. "Honestly, Agent May?" He said. His eye lifted. "It's none of your damn business."