Chapter Two: Midnight Sketches
Coulson wasn't sure how he felt about being Director of SHIELD. He'd been at the Playground for three days now and Billy had shown him a brand new, top-floor office all for him if he chose. Old Coulson would've swooned at the chance to explore an old SSR base. He would've fainted at the thought of being Director.
New Coulson wanted his old life back.
In the early dawn light, Coulson woke up in his pajamas in his office – not his bedroom. And, mysteriously, his hands were a mess. Skin was pinched and torn and scratched everywhere. His brow furrowed. What happened?
He glanced out the window. Based on the sky, it was still early enough for him to be the only one awake, besides May and her tai chi. He rolled up to his desk and booted up the laptop. Being Director did have its perks, such as unrestricted access to security cameras. He brought up the feed from his office and replayed last night's footage.
Nothing happened until a pixilated Coulson came trudging into the office around 3:46 am, settled into his chair, and fell asleep.
Coulson brought up the feed from al the cameras and watched them on fast forward, setting the time from the point he went to bed to 3:46.
For the first two hours, nothing happened in the corridor outside his room. Nothing happened anywhere, really. Except around midnight, a disheveled, pajama-clad Simmons walked out of her room and down the hall to the labs where Fitz permanently slept.
Coulson leaned back in his chair and sighed. Fitz had been in a coma for five days with no signs of waking, and Simmons was nearly always at his side. When she wasn't, Skye informed him that she was sleeping, or trying to. His brain didn't miss the irony – one agent who couldn't sleep, another who wouldn't wake.
Old Coulson would've sympathized and been down there with her at least part of the time. New Coulson, as much as he hated himself for it, only saw or heard about the two scientists through other people or security footage. He was so busy lately – the last time he had a full conversation with Simmons, he was debriefing her and telling her what had happened at Cybertek.
His attention flickered to a lonely camera in the corner of the screen. There he was, walking through a storage basement, and...
Coulson's face tightened.
Pixilated-Coulson had a knife and he was carving on the wall.
Coulson glanced down at his hands, now seeing the various cuts as woodcuts and splinters. His heart thudded in his chest. He'd seen Garrett's carvings; he knew the reason.
He swallowed back a nervous lump in his throat. This would not end well.
Coulson brought up current video feed from the basement, and sure enough, there was a wall with the GH-325 writing on it. He had to get down there and hide it before everyone else woke up, but how do you hide a whole wall?
"Coulson?"
His hand jerked to the escape key and closed out the security camera window, then retreated to beneath his desk. He looked up and greeted May with a smile. "Good morning."
"You're up early," she noticed. She was still in her workout clothes.
Coulson reclined in his chair. "Couldn't sleep," he lied, though he was obviously in his pajamas. Which were covered with scratches and tears from the early morning carving session.
May gave an unconvinced "huh" and sat down across from him. "Any word from Commander Gonzales yet?"
"Radio silence," he replied. "Can't find him anywhere." For the past few days, he'd been tracking down various agents and attempting to recruit them to his new SHIELD. So far, his efforts were gaining few results.
When he looked up, May was staring at him.
He pushed his guilty hands further beneath the desk.
Her eyes narrowed. "Is something wrong, Coulson?"
He debated all he could tell her – anything he could come up with. His mouth opened slightly, but no words would come.
"Coulson?"
He brought his hands up and laid them on the desk, displaying his ruined skin for her to see.
Any trace of emotion left her face as she leaned closer to inspect them. "What did you do?" she said, voice flat.
Coulson shakily pulled up the security footage from the storage basement on the laptop screen and spun it around for May to see. "That happened last night. This morning. Look familiar?"
"Garrett." She zoomed the camera in closer to the carved wall. "You did this?"
He switched the feed back to the early morning hours when Pixilated-Coulson was still carving. "That was this morning," he said.
May didn't say anything for a moment, just staring at the screen.
"Show me."
Actually being down in the basement, freshly clothed, and staring up at the massive expanse of GH-325 writing made Coulson's fingers twitch. He had done all this?
May crossed her arms over her chest. "Garrett started writing this stuff–"
"After the GH-325 injection," Coulson finished. "I know."
"But you've had it in you for nearly a year."
"I had my memories erased," he reminded her. "Garrett didn't."
Neither of them took their eyes off the wall.
"That doesn't explain why you start now, for no reason."
"When I saw his carvings, it... triggered something. In me." He took a step forward and ran his hands across the foreign writing.
"Well, what is it?"
He turned back to her. "That's just it – I have no idea. The last thing I remember before waking up in my office is going to sleep in my room." He slammed his fist against the wall. "It's like someone just took my memories of it."
"Do you have any idea what it is?"
"Only that the formula came from the blue creature at the Guest House."
May was looking at him with a stern face, as always, but Coulson saw a vague tightness in her features. He'd known her long enough to pick up on those things, and when he saw this face, it was never something good.
"You need to be monitored," she said finally.
His head bobbed in agreement. "But this is between you and me. No one else knows."
She nodded curtly and walked away, disappearing in the multitude of shelves and boxes.
"Wait, where are you going?"
She came back with two sanders and two sets of goggles. "You have your cell?"
He fished it out of his pocket and tossed it to her. May snapped a picture of the wall, pausing only briefly to focus it, and then handed it back to him with a sander and pair of goggles. "Let's go," she ordered.
Coulson put his phone back in his pocket. "Do what?"
She yanked the sander to life and pulled the goggles down over her eyes. "Can't have someone walking down here and seeing this, can we?"
He put the goggles on. "I guess not."
Together, they worked their way across the wall, scattering woodchips and sawdust, but erasing all evidence of Coulson's midnight carving escapade. Nobody would know about it – nobody would notice.
By the time they were done, the Playground was just beginning to show signs of morning life among its few inhabitants. Coulson and May were already assuming their normal routines. If anyone asked, it was a normal morning. But as Coulson worked his way through breakfast, he failed to notice the patterns he drew with jelly on his toast.
Hi, friends! Thanks so much for reading this... the 64 viewers and two followers (thank you, Raonaild2 and aj turner .9216) that actually did. I'm curious to see what all you other viewers think – and I'm always open to suggestions! Give me a comment about something you are wondering about and I'll try and write it. Otherwise, I'm going to write all my lovely FitzSimmons scenes I have planned and give other chapters (like this one) to the other characters out of guilt. XD
But seriously, reviews and suggestions and constructive criticism would be awesome! :)
Speaking of criticism, I'm looking for a beta reader. I've never been a part of that process before, so if you're interested, message me and we'll figure it out!
Agents of SHIELD is not mine. Clearly.
Next time: May and Skye start training!
Have a terrific day!