Shattered Faith

Chapter 4

Thanks to everyone who read, reviewed, favorited and followed. Your kind words and encouragement were very much appreciated.

Disclaimer-in addition to the things I didn't own in chapter 1, I also don't own The Good, the Bad and the Ugly, King Arthur or Winnie the Pooh.

Thanks to a glass of Scotch and some soothing cello music Phil was more relaxed that he had been in over 4 days. He'd gotten his thoughts in some semblance of order and he was ready to talk to May. He hoped at 3 AM she was still awake. He should have known better. She was knocking on the door to his office a mere minute and a half after he'd called her on the intercom.

"Found the bottle, I see," she teased as she entered the room a little more nervous than she had anticipated. Like Phil she had spent the previous couple of hours getting her own thoughts together.

"Want some?" he offered as he reached for the second glass he'd put on the desk a minute earlier. May just nodded and curled up in the corner of the couch. Phil poured her a glass and refilled his before curling up on the opposite end of the couch. He reached to turn off the lamp on the end table, leaving the room lit only by the desk lamp.

They sat quietly for a few minutes, listening to the haunting sounds of the cello music Phil still had planning in the background.

"Is this Liz playing?" May eventually asked.

"Yes," Phil answered quietly and simply. By his one word answer he made it clear he was not quite ready to talk about Liz. He was having a hard time dealing with what Raina had told him about Liz and her reaction to his "death".

"What did you know?" Phil asked as he swirled the Scotch in the glass before taking a sip.

"I knew lots of things Phil. What in particular do you want to know? Ask me anything, you certainly have that right. I owe you that much," May said quietly.

"It's not about owing me anything, Mel," Phil whispered back using his long-standing nickname for her.

"You haven't called me that in a very long time."

"I know. Did you know what they did to me, to keep me alive or in that place between life and death for so long? When I met with Dr. Streiten he told me they'd done seven surgeries. Do you know what kind of surgeries they were exactly?"

"I knew there were multiple surgeries but I didn't know how many. There were at least three to repair the damage caused by Loki. But as you can imagine there were complications stemming from the sheer magnitude of the wound. Blood loss, shock, neurological issues all came in to play. But not being a medical professional I really can't speak to specifics. Maybe Jemma can help you with that."

"Did you see me at all?"

"I saw you a few days later, after you'd had about 3 surgeries, mainly to repair the damage from the stabbing. You were being kept alive by machines. I remember just sitting with you and holding your hand. You were so cold and you were so pale, like there wasn't enough blood in your body."

"I don't remember it," Phil said.

"You wouldn't, you were so heavily medicated at the time."

"I guess when they were able to stabilize me enough that they were sure I would live they started to worry about the long term effects on my mental well-being. Did you know that they operated on my brain to change my memories, that Tahiti was just a memory implanted in me? That I've never been to Tahiti in my life."

"Yes," May choked out. "I know you begged them to let you die. You begged me to let you die but it wasn't my decision," she whispered.

That admission did shock Phil but he understood. There was a code that every SHIELD agent lived by. You didn't question your superiors and when something was kept from you, it was for a reason.

"Why, why wouldn't Fury just let me go? Why save me? I apparently WANTED TO DIE! Why go to such lengths to save me and then erase my horrific memories just to replace them with pleasant ones?" Phil cried out.

"Because you're Agent Phillip J. Coulson and your life was more than worth the effort. You are more valuable to SHIELD than you will ever know," May explained. "Thanks to the machine you were able to get some of those memories back, even the horrible ones. Are you better off knowing what they tried to hide from you? I don't know. That's something only you can answer. I imagine that since you've started to recover some memories that over time you will remember more, even without the machine."

"I don't know if I want to. Part of me wishes I hadn't relaxed and let the machine work. I was blissfully unaware and maybe that was better for me. I don't know. I don't know what to believe. There's a real blurry line between reality and not right now."

May reached to take Phil's glass from him and motioned for him to scoot over. He was reluctant to move over, knowing the second he let his guard down and let himself be comforted his brave, stoic exterior would just crumble away. But he wasn't ready to do that. There will still questions lingering. So instead of moving over he took the glass back from May and stood up to pour himself some more Scotch.

As he picked up the bottle he looked towards May, wondering how much she was going to let him have. She tended to cut him off after 2-3 drinks.

"Phil, you have every right to get completely plastered right now. I'm not going to stop you, nor am I going to join you," she added with a laugh. "One of us has to be in charge of the team. It's enough that I let Ward fly the plane, he's not taking over our team completely. And I'll even hold your head when you're hanging over the toilet moaning tomorrow."

At her mention of his head Phil stopped mid-sip and put the glass down. His hands went to his hair trying to feel for a scar from the brain surgery.

"Plastic surgery, I doubt you'll be able to feel anything," May said, answering his unanswered question.

"Of course, the finest SHIELD surgeons operated on me," Phil snorted.

"Only the best for you," May said with a smile.

"How about the beautiful physical therapist with the less than stellar command of the English language? Phil asked, smiling at the memory.

"Well, I thought the physical therapist was beautiful, he was built a little like Thor," May teased as she got up and crossed the room to grab a bottle of water out of the fridge behind the desk. Phil just groaned. He wandered around the room as May sat down in his desk chair, propping her feet up on the dark walnut surface.

"Mel, please, the boots," Phil whined. She dropped her feet down, pulled off her boots and put her feet back up. "Thank you," he muttered.

As Phil continued his pacing the music stopped, sending the room into complete silence, except for his footsteps and a few seconds later, his heavy breathing. May had a good feeling what his next question would be about.

"Who told Liz?" he asked carefully avoiding looking at May.

"I did. We…Fury and I, thought it would be better if someone she knew told her. I did it in person. As you know she had been in New York for a concert the week everything happened. It wasn't hard to track her down. I told her before the news of your death became public knowledge. She asked to view your body but at that point you were in surgery and that wasn't possible. I don't remember what excuse we gave but she didn't press the issue. Fury sent her a note, handwritten, by the way, expressing the condolences of SHIELD. We kept an eye on her for a few weeks, low key surveillance, just to make sure she was okay. She missed a few concerts and then rejoined the symphony about two weeks later when they returned to Portland."

"Raina knew things about Liz and I, or rather I suppose it's the clairvoyant who knew those things. She told me Liz cried for days. More than anything I wish she could know the truth. It wasn't fair to her," he said with a small sob. May held her hand out to him but he ignored the gesture again, still not ready to completely and utterly break down. Phil clumsily swiped at his eyes, the effects of too much Scotch, too little food and too little sleep were starting to catch up with him. "Why? Why can't people know I'm alive? What's the point, I don't get it," Phil all but yelled.

The tone of his voice and the fact that he was basically questioning the actions of SHIELD got May out of the chair and over to him in a flash. While she was sure he questioned things in his own mind, Phillip Coulson did not question the decisions of SHIELD out loud, ever.

She grabbed his hands. Phil put up a bit of a half hearted fight but gave in rather quickly. May sat down on the edge of his desk, pulling him close, not letting his hands go. He stood in between her knees, looking down at their clasped hands.

"I deserve answers," Phil whispered, barely loud enough to be heard. "I had faith in the way things were supposed to work, faith in the "system". I had my beliefs. And now everything is different. I don't know what I believe, where to put my faith."

"Phil you have more faith than any man I know," May whispered. Phil just shook his head in disagreement. "What is faith?" she asked him, trying to keep him talking, trying to keep him from completely shutting down.

"The substance of things hoped for and the evidence of things not seen," he said quickly. "Nana Margaret taught me that," he said with a small choking sound.

"Come here," May whispered as she pulled him into a hug before he could protest. He started to shake and she wondered how long he would remain upright. The tears he'd been holding in for hours let loose. After a few minutes, when he showed no sign of calming down, May led him back to the couch and just held him. There were no words she could say that would make things better, she didn't even try.

"Phil you're going to make yourself sick. Try to calm down a little," May suggested about ten minutes later when she was seconds away from calling Jemma for back up. He took a few halting breaths and was finally able to start to calm himself.

"I deserve to know it all, the good, the bad and the ugly."

May just chuckled a little at his statement.

"What could possibly be funny right now?" he asked curiously.

"When you get drunk you start quoting movies."

"I do not and that was a movie title, not a quote," he protested weakly.

"Whatever you say. Now that you've calmed down a little, I will be right back. I need caffeine," May announced as she smoothed his hair down and stood up.

"Get me some too."

"No way am I getting you caffeine. You are wired enough right now. Walk around a little. And yes, you do deserve to know everything, the good, bad and ugly."

While May was gone Phil took her suggestion and wandered around his office and bedroom. He took another large mouthful of Scotch and splashed some water on his face.

"Substance of things hoped for and the evidence of things not seen," he repeated to himself. "The King James bible, not a movie quote." he snorted. "Faith…beliefs…what are two things I don't understand anymore," Phil muttered as he nearly stumbled into the dresser. "Without faith, without belief in something, what are we?" Phil mumbled under his breath. "Damn it, that's from King Arthur."

Apparently May was right.

Another lap around the bedroom followed by a quick glance at the news on his laptop and the only thing Phil managed to do was to add to his headache by reading without his glasses. Of course downing the last of the Scotch didn't help the situation. As he stood up he realized he was at least a drink or two past sober.

He turned the music back on and turned off the desk lamp plunging the room into almost complete darkness, except for the thin beam of light from the bathroom. He curled up on the couch, hugging the throw pillow to his chest. To his surprise he had no more tears. He just felt empty and hollow.

May came back in a few minutes later with a can of Coke for herself and a can of ginger ale for Phil. In the dark of the room she wasn't quite sure if he was awake or not. She knelt next to the couch and tentatively reached to rub his back. Phil smiled at the gesture. He was quiet for a minute and she knew him well enough to know he was getting his thoughts in order, trying to decide where to take the conversation next.

"I don't know what to believe," he whispered.

"You think SHIELD is lying to you, that I'm lying to you?" May asked, picking her words carefully.

"No, no. I guess I don't know what to believe in. The "system" which seems to have failed me completely, the code of SHIELD, or something else."

"Off the top of your head what do you believe in?" May pressed.

"Well, I believe in the soul. The small of a woman's back, the hanging curve ball, high fiber, good scotch, that the novels of Susan Sontag are self-indulgent, overrated crap. I believe Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone. I believe there ought to be a constitutional amendment outlawing AstroTurf and the designated hitter. I believe in the sweet spot, opening your presents Christmas morning rather than Christmas Eve and I believe in long, slow, deep, soft, wet kisses that last three days," Phil blurted out with a big laugh.

"Seriously, you're drunk, you can barely keep your eyes open right now and yet you can quote Crash Davis' I Believe speech from Bull Durham?" May teased.

"What can I say, I'm special."

"That you are, Phillip Coulson," May agreed as she gently cupped his cheek. "By the way, you left out a little bit of that speech."

"Yeah, but Nana Margaret taught me to watch my language around women."

"Seriously, what do you believe in?"

"I honestly don't know how to answer that. I wish I did. I'm not trying to be a smart ass but I'm just still confused. I believe in myself, in our team, but beyond that, right now, I don't know. I wish it did."

"I know you do. In the days to come I think things are going to stay pretty confusing. You're going to be searching for answers and I don't know how easy it is going to be to find them. I don't know if you'll find what you're long for."

"I'm afraid I won't find the answers,' Phil admitted with a yawn. "What time is it?"

"Almost 5:00. Think you can get some sleep?"

"Yeah. Help me up," he asked as he sat up carefully as the room started to spin just a little. May helped him up and they slowly made their way back to his bedroom. He sat down on the edge and kicked off his slippers.

"Drink a little of this," May suggested as she handed him the can of ginger ale. She pressed her hand to his forehead to check his temperature. "I'll get some Tylenol, you're still pretty warm."

Five minutes later Phil had taken some Tylenol, had some ginger ale and was curled up in bed.

"I'm going to go back to my room, okay?" May asked as she pulled the covers up a bit, essentially tucking him in.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. Thanks Mel, for everything."

"You're welcome. And here's a quote for you… You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think."

"Christopher Robin?"

"Yes," May answered. She brushed back his hair and kissed his forehead before turning to leave.

"Hey Mel?" Phil called. May stopped at the doorway and turned around. "You know I love you, right?"

"I do know that. Love you too, Phillip."