According to Finnish calendar today is Emma's nameday, and to celebrate our heroine's day with you, I updated two new chapters. Hope you enjoy. This chapter is more or less dedicated to agent Coulson who happens to be one of my favourite MCU characters right after Loki. The next chapter will be dealing with Emma and Loki again.

… …

After rising from the dead and waking up from an unzipped body-bag like the Nosferatu, one could have considered that his day was done. But not agent Phil Coulson. He grumbled about the mess while stripping off his fake-blood stained suit and his favourite light-blue shirt inside the airborne Quinjet. That had been one of his good suits. The new, clean set of clothing was waiting for him on the bench inside the cabin.

A whistle from the cockpit made him frown while he was scrubbing his chest clean from the dried fake-blood, standing there topless and doing his best to keep his balance.

"Wow, you must be working out, sir!" Natasha remarked, giving him and Maria Hill an amused glance over her shoulder.

Commander Hill sat in the cabin and lifted her eyes from her paperwork at Coulson's half-naked form. "Yeah, for a dead guy you're in not bad shape, agent Coulson."

Coulson had no issues of taking his shirt off in front of the ladies, but he had to keep working with these two wicked 'Charlie's angels' in the distant future. And he didn't feel like the Charlie, they made him feeling more of the Bosley.

"If you're enjoying of this eye-candy so much then why don't you take a picture," Coulson said sarcastically, throwing on a clean shirt.

"I already have!" Natasha grinned, lifting up her mobile phone in triumph. "I can't wait to show this to Clint."

Coulson rolled his eyes. He knew they were trying to cheer him up since he had been – according to the official records – died in the line of duty, and off the record he lost his mind after Loki's brainwash and tried to kill director Fury. Fury had been forced to shoot him down. That's what everybody thought, that's what they had made it looked like. And Coulson hated that. He would have preferred a hero's death. It would have been more rewarding.

To keep him safe and hidden from Hydra, Fury was sending him on a vacation in an unspecific time with a fake identity. He was immediately called back when the danger was over. Only Fury, Romanoff and Commander Hill knew the truth, everyone else believed him to be dead. Coulson had insisted that they would summon him back when Emma Morgan was found because he was pretty sure she wouldn't co-operate with anyone else but him.

Fury had implied that he was trying to recruit Steve Rogers, the one and only Captain America, helping out SHEILD to catch the Asgardians, because it highly seemed that Ironman was out of the picture until his suits were fixed. And Coulson was unhappy because he would have so wanted to meet his old childhood hero. In fact he had an impressive full collection of the original Captain America vintage trading cards and he would have loved to get those signed by the Captain himself.

"So, here are your temporary IDs until I'll get you the passport and driver's license with the new identity," Maria Hill said as she handed him his new IDs she had managed to put together from what she had with her. "And a new pager in case Fury contacts you."

"Thanks," Coulson said, fully dressed in his suit again, checking each item thoroughly before shoving them into his pockets. "What about my stuff? There are things I need from my apartment."

"Sorry, you can't go there anymore. If there something you need, give me the keys and I'll fetch it for you. You're booked into the airport hotel and your flight to Aruba leaves tomorrow morning. I'll make sure you get your IDs before that."

Coulson's forehead was furrowed. "I don't want to go to the Caribbean. I was thinking about visiting Ireland or Scotland."

"Well, from there you're free to go where ever you want. Here's also an untraceable corporate credit card. Use it wisely."

"Oh, I love Aruba. The beaches there are amazing. A little adventure never hurts anyone, Coulson," Natasha joined in the conversation she had been listening while piloting the jet. "I would have taken you there by myself but Fury needs me here. We'll drop you off to the hotel now and take your 'body' back to District."

"Actually, there's still something I have to do first. Is there any chance you could drop me off to Arlington?" agent Coulson asked and sat on the bench.

"Oh? In that case," Maria Hill smirked while turning around and then handing him the last heavy item, "you're probably going to need this."

Coulson looked at the parachute bag she was offering to him and frowned sullenly. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me!"

"Nope. Happy landing, sir!"

… …

Pittsburgh.

"Hey! Excuse me? I know my rights. You can't do this to me again!" Jane Foster protested loudly as two men in black forced her on the backseat of a big black SUV after literally dragging her out from her hotel room late in the evening.

Without any further explanations a door of the car was slammed close in front of her eyes, she staring out through the side window at Eric Selvig and Darcy who stared back at her equally dumbfound and worried.

The agents sat on the front seats and the car was in motion before she had said another word.

Jane kept watching through the darkened rear window as her friends and the Hilton hotel was distancing behind her and she slumped back on the seat, seeing it wiser to put on a seatbelt.

"If this is about my research, that other agents… ah… Coulson said it's OK back in New Mexico. He said I can carry on with my work. Call him and check it up form him," she tried again to reason with her reticent capturers who were sitting behind a bullet-proof glass fortified with metal mesh.

They had said they were from SHIELD and that she needed to come along with them, nothing more. And she was getting more and more worried, recalling Eric telling her that some of his old colleague had been working on with something suspicious once and one day people had came for him and after that he had just disappeared.

"I have a right to know where you are taking me!" Jane said, already getting tired of her monolog. "This is a kidnap, you know!"

"Calm down, Ms. Foster. This is for your own safety," the other agent said calmly through a speaker, giving her a blank glance.

"I don't feel safe!" she retorted.

As the car stopped for a moment in the red-lights, she took note that the doors on the back were lacking handles. She would have run out if she could have gotten the door open. "I demand to speak with your boss!" Jane cried out.

"You will. Once we'll take you to Washington D.C."

"Washington?" she gasped and glanced outside again, the city lights flashing behind the windows. It would take four to five hours to get there, she thought, troubled.

The agents didn't speak to her, neither listened to her. In fact they had turned off the speakers so that they didn't hear her anymore. Jane watched at them every now and then as they talked to each other and occasionally seemed to report through a communicator.

Uncertainty building up in her, she kept gazing out, into the dark changing scenery, the city already left far behind. She wished Thor would have been there now. He had promised her to return and she was beginning to fear that something bad had happened to him when he went after his brother Loki.

A few drops of rain fell on the glass of the side window, her head resting against it. High on the black cloudy sky thunderstorm was developing unexpectedly. When more drops of rain were pattering against the glass she lifted her gaze up, seeing the dark clouds above glowing with faint flashes of lightings.

"Thor?" Jane whispered hopefully, watching at the storm building up and blazes of lightings reaching all the way to the ground very far ahead. The weather forecast hadn't mentioned a thing about a storm.

The rain started to pour down just like they would have driven into a heart of the raging thunderstorm, the downpour so heavy that the agents couldn't see the road and they had to slow down the speed.

Jane felt the car loosing contact with the road and sliding on the water towards the roadside. The driver did all he could to take control of the situation, easing his foot on the gas pedal, sifting down on gears, but the car kept floating over the water like it would have been carried on the side of the road where tiers finally bit on the ground. And they stopped for a moment.

"Hey! I want to get out of this car!" Jane shouted, knocking on the safety glass between her and the agents. But the hard rain hammered on the roof so fiercely that they didn't hear her knocking.

The dark eastern sky, the direction they were heading, was illuminated by another strike of a massive lighting bolt and a loud rumble of thunder followed in three seconds.

Jane swallowed. "OK, maybe I stay…" she murmured, feeling like the thunder god was very angry for some reason.

The agents glanced at each other. "Do you think it's him?" the driver asked a bit worried.

"Don't know. I'll contact Fury," the other one said and called for the big boss. He waited a moment and then checked up his phone. "Damn it! Here's no signal," he grunted.

"Then we'll just keep going."

Jane could tell by the agents' expressions that something was going on and she kept knocking on the glass and wanting them to tell her what was it all about. All she got back from was a strong encouragement for trying to rest.

They kept driving. And just as suddenly the rainstorm and thunder had begun, it was also over, leaving Jane disappointed.

Only after a few more miles, flashing blue lights ahead made the driver slowing down the speed again as it seemed that they were advancing towards a police roadblock; two police vehicles blocking the whole road.

Jane saw her opportunity to make a scene as they stopped in front of the police cars, the lights of the flashing blue lights illuminating the interior of the SUV. To her surprise, she noticed only one man coming towards them with a flashlight and he didn't look like your traditional officer of a highway patrol. No, he wore all black and on top of it he was wearing a long black leather coat.

"What is director Fury doing here?" the driver asked, puzzled, seeing the big boss approaching them.

"I don't know. Weren't we supposed to meet him at Triskelion?" the other one said and checked his phone again. It still hadn't a signal.

Director Fury walked slowly next to the SUV and hunched down a bit to take a glance inside with his flashlight.

"Sir? We weren't expecting to meet you here," the driver said as the side window was coming down.

Jane peered through the meshed glass at the dark-skinned man with an eye-patch. His gaze met with hers and a satisfied smile-alike appeared on his face only briefly, sending cold chills along her spine and making her feel like she was a piece of merchandise. Then he gave a clear gesture to the agents to getting out of the car for a talk. Without another question asked, the agents exchanged glances and stepped out.

Cautiously Jane knocked on the side window. "Hey! Are you the boss? I need to speak with you!" she exclaimed at him and he cast another look at her, a long one, making her feel even more uneasy. "Oh god, they're going to kill me," she murmured to herself, trying to find a way to open the door again.

She couldn't quite understand what happened next when both of the agents were pushed against the side of the car with a thud. Their backs were blocking her view but when they moved a bit, Jane took note they were handcuffed to each other from their wrists, the cuffs going between the front door's handle, trapping them outside the car. They were talking or more like shouting something at the third guy.

Alarmed Jane followed the dark man with her gaze as he circled the car, keeping his eyes on her, going for the rear door to get to her. He waved his hand and grin at her like some mad man. After seeing her horrid expression, he glanced down at himself, took a few steps backwards and lifted his flashlight like the Statue of Liberty.

"OK?" Jane murmured, troubled.

But then the illusions came down with a spark of lighting; the flashlight turning into a big hammer and the dark man's appearance changed with a sparkling light, revealing the god of thunder in his majestic Asgardian outlooks.

"Thor?" Jane whispered, amazed this time as the door opened and he peeked in, the interior lights illuminating his face and his big smile. "Thor!"

"Hello Jane," Thor said in a happy but apologising tone, offering his hand to her. "I am sorry…"

"You came back!" Jane exclaimed, overly delighted, moving to him and capturing his face between her hands, kissing him the way she had been dreaming of kissing him for days.

Thor closed her in his arms and slowly lifted out from the car, his mouth never leaving hers. It was a welcome kiss to die for and he had no hurry to end it.

The agents stared at the lovers, cuffed, unarmed, and tied up, but then a golden flash in the corner of their eyes forced them to turn around and facing another unexpected visitor as Loki's projection appeared in front to them.

"What the…?"

Loki lifted his finger at them, telling them to be quiet. Then he noticed his brother being a bit engaged and rolled his eyes. "Ah, I assume you won't be joining us this evening, brother?" he asked and got Thor attention, his brother only glancing at his direction, his mouth being occupied. While holding Jane, Thor waved his hand asking Loki to go away.

Loki snorted, offended. Of course Thor wouldn't bother to introduce him to his woman!

"Fine! Don't come bothering us until tomorrow morning then! I just..." Loki murmured and waved his hand towards the police cars which vanished with their flashing blue lights, being only illusions cast by him earlier to help his brother. Then he was gone, concentrating on matters that mattered.

… …

Nothing opened tired eyes better than a parachute dive into a city in the night. It was madness but at least it made Coulson focus with the living. After ditching his parachute into a tree in Lyon Village Park he climbed over the fence and stripped off his jumpsuit like the real James Bond. From there he walked a few blocks to the all-night café where he was supposed to meet with Aileen Lange.

He was late, he realized, checking the time from his wristwatch as he entered the cosy cafeteria. The heavenly scent of freshly brewed coffee greeting him once he stepped in and he was craving for a cup.

But first he gave a look over the place, searching for Emma Morgan's mother with the description he had put together. The place was half-full and with a quick check there were only two ladies sitting at their tables alone. The other was an old lady. But the other one could have been her, looking young-ish, wearing a tight pink shirt that revealed more than it hid. Her blond hair was on a high ponytail and she had put on a serious war paint. That couldn't be her! Or by the unfavourable descriptions Emma had given about her mother, it could have very well been her. She looked like she was waiting for someone and that was his cue.

Of course there were other women in the cafeteria but they all had company and they were fully immersed in conversations with their partners. Coulson made yet another check while moving to the counter and eyed at the long list of different fancy coffees, annoyed. Why the heck there had to be so many choices? It was still coffee! There was one choice that captured his eyes and made him smile inwardly with curiosity, so he made an order. Then he went to the blond pink-shirt woman while waiting for his cup.

When stopping there next to her table he couldn't ignore her exposed cleavage. "Mrs. Lange?" he asked uncomfortably and cautiously, and lifted his focus onto her brown eyes. Brown eyes! It hit him. This wasn't her!

The woman smiled, the glitter eye-shadow glimmering on her eyelids. "Mr. Coulson? Did you come alone?"

Coulson knew there was something wrong. This couldn't be her. She didn't sound the same as on the phone. He smelled a cheap set up here. "Er… Yes. It's just me," he answered while his perceptive gaze was searching for possible Hydra minions among the customers.

Slowly she stood up and tilted her head. "Well, honey, in a right price, I can be anyone you want," she whispered with a suggestive smile and picked up her jacket and a purse as if she was leaving.

"I'm sorry. I mistook you for someone else," Coulson returned her offering hastily.

"Mr. Coulson?" A more familiar voice called for him from behind.

He turned to see an attractive blond-haired lady in a perfectly fitting plum trouser-suit staring back at him questioningly. A pair of bright-blue eyes was sizing him up as she took one cautious step closer. There was no doubt about it. She was Emma's mother. They had the same blue eyes and the slender features, both appearing younger than their age. Of course they weren't identical but so much alike that this could have almost been Emma Morgan twenty years older with more feminine style. Her skin was lightly tanned under the Florida's sun. And she looked far from that unfitting mother-type what Emma had let him to believe.

"Mrs. Lange?" Coulson aimed his question again. She nodded, squeezing tight of the strap her shoulder-bag.

"Thank you, Mindy," she said friendly, handing to the other blond a folded napkin discreetly.

Mindy checked it up and was notably pleased with the reward of her services, giving them a suggestive smirk. "Have good dates, you two. By the way, if you're looking for some threesome later, I'm available tonight."

"We're fine, thank you. But please, consider what I told you. You would do much better in another profession," Mrs. Lange said, not at all awkward, sounding like a professional employment agent.

Mindy bid them goodnights and left, leaving them standing there for a moment in an uncertain atmosphere.

Aileen Lange turned her gaze back at the agent, holding onto her shoulder-bag like that would have been her lift-raft. She looked calm and yet uncertain. "I'm sorry about that, but I have developed some major trust issues concerning the government's people. I had to make sure you came alone."

"Trust me, I fully understand," Coulson said, speaking from experience, and offered them to take a seat at the table and they sat down.

He couldn't help but to think (and admire) that both women of this family seemed to be as much resourceful in troubling situations. She had hired a prostitute to pay herself a chance to bail out from a possible set up. If they couldn't find Emma Morgan, maybe they should hire her mother!

"And I'm sorry too. I wish I could have brought you some better news about your daughter. I'm afraid we haven't reached her yet." He touched the side of his hip to make sure he hadn't lost his new pager in case Fury should contact him. It was still there in his pocket.

"You said she is with her father. What I don't understand is that how did you find Logan? I never even knew his full name. I tried five years tracking him down and had not luck with that. Please, tell me he has no criminal record."

"Er… no. It is just that we have our… own records."

She remained calm and cautious. "He's a mutant, isn't he?"

"Yes. But let me assure you we have nothing against mutants."

She heaved a sigh, an upset and relieved sigh at the same time, closing her eyes. "I knew it." She paused for a few seconds, uneasily, keeping herself under control. "How is she? You said you have spoken with Emily. How is she like? Is she happy?" she asked then with a mother's concern, a spark of hope lighting her blue eyes.

"The last time I heard from her she sounded very happy," Coulson said and when he came to think of that it was true. "Her last eight years haven't been the easiest ones but she has managed surprisingly well considering…" He stopped and saw it wiser keep quiet about Hydra. He went for his jacket's inner pocket and picked up a folded paper; a printed picture of Emma Morgan he had printed with him in the Quinjet. "This picture was taken last week. "

He laid it open on the table for Mrs. Lange to see and she pulled it gently towards her, staring down at the only image of her grown-up daughter, a longingly sigh passing her lips.

He took note she wasn't wearing a wedding ring, and the even tan on her ring finger told him that she hadn't wore it in a long time. The deep-dark purple nail-polish on her slender fingers matched elegantly the colour of her suit and gave an attractively classic impression.

Coulson met her inquiring gaze again. "She is using her grandmother's name; Emma Morgan. She is smart and strong and decisive. Recently she's been working for the NASA, in the space research; radio astronomy I believe. And she's done very well. Actually, we are hoping to recruit her in the future. Mrs. Lange, you have every reason to be proud of her."

Her cool demeanour was cracking with those praising words, her fingers caressing the face in the image. "I have always been. She's grown up… My little baby girl is so beautiful." She lifted her gaze at the agent. "All this time I knew she was alive. She's always been the stronger of the two of us, just like her grandmother. They used to be inseparable. When my mother died, Emily was twelve and there was just the two of us left, and I didn't know how to go on. I remember; she sat on my lap and gave me a squeezing hug and said that we'll be all right. And so we did. We managed."

A waiter came to bring Coulson his cup of warm drink he'd ordered and after seeing that, Aileen Lange kept staring down at the mug of hot chocolate before him, the sweet scent of the hot beverage sending her deeper down the memory lane.

Bemused Coulson gazed down at his order that was everything but manly and caffeine-rich, with a mighty wisp of whipped cream on top.

He grimaced. "I'm trying to reduce my caffeine intake…" he answered awkwardly before she had made any remark of his drink of choice.

Her blue eyes were getting wet. "Emily used to love hot chocolate back then." A first smile manifested on her face. "She used to love chocolate, in any form. She could eat tons of it and it never showed on her."

"Yeah, she still does enjoy it. In fact she recommended me to give this a try," Coulson explained and fought against the whipped cream that was getting the upper hand. "So, I'm taking the risk and live dangerously," he said then and took a sip from his cup. It was hot and burning his tongue. "Damn! This is hot!" he grunted, wiping the cream off from his upper lip. "Sorry."

That seemed to break the ice and Aileen felt a bit easier to trust him. A man drinking hot chocolate couldn't be too bad.

"I know I wasn't always the best mother but I loved her. I still do. Not a day goes by that I don't think of her or pray for her. A mutant or not, I could have never abandoned her. My children mean everything to me."

"Of course. I'm not questioning that."

She went for her bag, keeping her purple mini stun-gun hidden from him (she never left the house without it), and pulled a small photo album on the table. She picked up a newspaper clip between the pages and showed it to him. It was a death notice of Emily Morrison, dated eight years back.

"Mr. Coulson, my daughter was stolen from me. This notice was published in our local newspaper two weeks after Emily was taken. I had no idea. They arranged everything; making it look like she'd died so that no one would come asking questions."

She was quiet, arranging her thoughts before continuing and Coulson waited, studying the death notice.

"A few days after Emily's mutation was discovered, those people came in to our house and told that she had an unknown mutation, and that it could be dangerous for her. They said they had a cure and they only needed to run some tests on her to see if it was right for her state. I hesitated to send her anywhere… but we were both still shocked about it. She was soon turning seventeen and I wanted her to have a normal life so I accepted it. They convinced us by telling that without the treatment she might die. I should have realized that there was something wrong about them when they didn't let me come along with her. But we had a blind faith to the government because my father had made a long career in the army." She paused again and cleared her throat.

"The tests were supposed to take only a couple of days. They gave me an address and a number where to contact her. When I call to her mobile phone a few hours late, it was turned off. The number they had given me was invalid. And the address was fake. When I drove across the country to that hospital to find her I only found out that the whole place didn't exist. And I realized it too late. They had her and I never knew what they did to her or why they had taken her. Why did they take her, Mr. Coulson? Why her?"

Coulson kept staring down at the death notice in front of him, unable to even imagine the mother's struggles or worries. Things were totally different that Emma had believed. He returned her demanding gaze. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Lange. I'm afraid I don't know. But your daughter has a unique gift. Perhaps they wanted to study that. Genetic research, I believe," he said compassionately, unwilling to reveal all the unpleasant details. "She wasn't the only mutant they studied."

"Did they hurt her?" That question was harder to ask and her it nearly got stuck in her throat. Coulson didn't have to say a word; she already read the answer from his face. "Oh god…" she sighed painfully, tears escaping her brimming eyes.

"Mrs. Lange, your daughter is a fighter. She discharged herself and made her way away from them long before we found them and put an end to their operations. She pulled through it and continued her life as the best she could. I don't know how she got her new identity but she educated herself and found jobs. And recently she's done some valuable things, including saving my life. So, if you ask me, I might even call her a hero."

She cried silently and wiped her eyes with a handkerchief after his words which brought a sad smile on her lips. "A hero?" she whispered, running her hand over the photo album and opening it gently from a certain spread of pages. "She always wanted to be a hero."

A set of old pictures from Emma Morgan's childhood opened in front of him and Aileen touched a couple of them with a loving smile before turning the book around for him to see.

"My father was an old-fashioned man but a loving one. He didn't approve me having a baby on my own. But when Emily was born, he couldn't be more proud. Did you know her birthday is 4 of July? When my father held her the first time in his arms, he said that she was born into this world to do something great one day," she said softly recalling her father's words. "I brought this old album with me so we could have watched these together with her while catching up. And now… It's still all I have from her."

Coulson couldn't help but to smile curiously when he saw a picture of a little, widely smiling girl with long curly blond hair, running on a backyard in a pink princess-dress, the hemline royally smudged with mud, and carrying a shield made apparently from a boiler lid with a painted white star in the middle of red and blue circles. The paint-job made an impression on him. It resembled very much of the Cap's shield.

"This is Emily?" He had to ask just to be sure. Those were her blue eyes, looking straight at the camera and a mighty grin that could have taken over the world.

"Yeah, she was like a force of nature locked up in a tiny bottle. When she was five or six she had this crazy little-girl's crush on Steve Rogers. You now? Captain America. I blame it on my father. That was the lid of my best saucepan. My father painted it for her and I never got it back. She even slept with it."

"We've all been there," Phil Coulson smiled a bit awkwardly and she let out a tiny laugh at that.

He had been planning to gather some helpful information about Emma Morgan from her mother, but suddenly Coulson had a privilege to get to know of her early history. And he learned several interesting facts such as that her grandfather had actually met Captain America while serving his country in Germany during WW2. Corporal Morrison and his team had been captured by the Nazis. But Coulson knew better that their capturers had actually been the very first Hydra contingent that Steve Rogers had taken down back then. And to his surprise it occurred to him that this family had been victimized by Hydra in two different generations, three in fact.

Little baby Emily had been growing up listening her grandfather's tales of Captain Rogers's heroic deeds as bedtime-stories. And it hit him then that he had have a whole wrong approach with her earlier. He should have sent Steve Rogers talking with her. If anyone then her childhood hero could have turned her head to join SHIELD.

And he should have shown her his whole trading card collection!

They sat a long time in the cafeteria and talked about Emily; Aileen Lange finally having a chance to talk about her daughter with someone who knew her, being able to pour out her heart, and Coulson intrigued to learn more. As subtle as he could he told her about the phases of her daughter's life, leaving all the nasty stuff unsaid. She had been delighted to hear that Emily was dating someone but Coulson choose not to tell that she was mingling with a mad alien. She told about her younger daughters too and it came out that she and her husband had been living in separation nearly six months waiting for their divorce to become official. Aileen too had build her lift from scratch again being now a devoted mother of two young daughters, doing a voluntary work in a national organization helping runaway children reunite with their families or finding foster families. And her passion had been teaching self-defence to women and young girls. All that for a selfish need to do something that maybe one day she could come across with her lost daughter.

As his cup of hot chocolate was slowly draining empty, Coulson was starting to find Mrs. Lange's classical, temperate beauty appealing his eye. The agent in him was telling him to stay focus, but he was off duty.

After they finished with the photo album, Aileen continued her story: "I didn't know what else to do so I went to the police. They of course send FBI. I talked with so many people but no one believed me. They implied that maybe I'd been a bad mother and my child had runaway. They promised to search for her but they did nothing. So, I took all our savings and hired a private investigator. That was a mistake."

She was quiet and took a breath. "He found out something. He called me and said he couldn't carry on with the investigations because it was leading him to the government and he didn't want to get himself killed. Only four days later… local fishermen found his body from the lake. Those people wanted me to keep quiet. I had been living in our house without any loan for years and suddenly the bank called and said that I had a mortgage I couldn't afford and other loans I had never in my life taken. I was forced to sell our home, and nearly everything we own, ending up with only a few hundreds bucks," Aileen Lange explained, ashamed and bitter but innocent of all that. She stared down at the family photo album, her fingers caressing the dear memories. "Then one day I had a phone call. A man said that if I wouldn't stop searching for her, they would kill her." She closed her eyes again, covering them with her hands. "When you called me… I… I…" Her voice broke completely.

"I understand," Coulson said caringly and waited as long as she had pulled herself together again, offering some words of consolation and napkins.

"Do you have children, Mr. Coulson?"

Coulson was quiet, recalling his conversation about the same matter with Emma. "No, I don't."

"Then how could you possibly even begin to understand…?" She stopped herself when her voice rose too much, getting attention from the other tables. "I'm sorry. This brings back all the frustration and anger…"

"It's all right. I'm not saying that I understand or can even imagine all the struggles you've been through. I'm sure you did more than any mother could have done but you had faceless, organized people up against you, hiding in the machinery of government. There's no chance to face something like that alone. But if it's any consolation to you I still think you pull out as a winner. You're a survivor just like your daughter. If Emma – correction – Emily has gotten her fighting spirit from someone then that'll be you, Mrs. Lange. Never underestimate yourself."

Her eyes turned at the agent who had shown her only great sympathy. "Thank you," she whispered, and that was the most sincere thanks she had ever given.

Coulson encouraged her to continue telling her side of the story and she did:

"It was like one of those nightmares you just to wake up from. I had lost her, I had lost our home, but I never lost my hope on her. I gathered some of her favorite things in a box and left it to our neighbor, in case she would return. They thought I had gone mad because they believed her to be dead. I had no home anymore, no place to go and not much money. I just tried to survive. It had been two months, two weeks and three days; I had a new place to live and I went to see our old neighbors to give them my new contact information… Old Mrs. Norris stared at me like she's had seen a ghost. She said that Emily had come home only a few days earlier and picked up her stuff I had left for her. Mrs. Norris said that she had barely recognized her, she had been all skin and bone but it had been her. I spent next weeks searching for her day and night, rummaging around every place in the town I could imagine but no one else had seen her. She was gone again. She had come home but I wasn't there. Our house was already sold. She loved that place. She must have believed that I had left her…"

All the pain, guilt and bitterness went through Aileen again. She took a long time gathering herself but found the strength to carry on.

"At least I knew she was alive and she had gotten the stuff I had left for her. I know that Emily would hate me for selling her greatest treasures, but I needed to get the money for her. So, I sold those silly trading cards my father had given her before he died; a set of the Captain America cards she treasured above anything else," she said sadly with a trace of sorry smile.

Phil Coulson stared at the woman in front of him dumbfound. "The original vintage cards?"

"Yeah, I sold them through the net. Some poor old fanboy paid 600 dollars for three pieces of old paperboard. And I'm afraid that all of them weren't even in a proper trading condition. Emily had left her own marks in them when she was a little," she confessed sounding a bit sorry for her small desperate cheat back then.

Coulson broke into a genuine smile, realizing something unbelievable that had bothered him for eight years. "Two of the cards had additional initials 'E.M.' with tiny pink drawn hearts on the backside?" he guessed.

The woman stared at him confused. "Yeah… h-how did you know?"

Coulson couldn't stop smiling awkwardly. "Because I was the poor old fanboy who paid 600 dollars for those cards."

Aileen Lange looked slightly worried. "Oh my god! I'm sorry. I... I will pay you back…"

"There's no need," Coulson promised and shook his head amused, unable to fully understand the irony of the whole situation. But in some level it felt like things had nearly come full circle. He needed to find Emma Morgan again to return the cards to her. "In fact… if I would have known then that I'll be getting the initials of our future hero as well, I would have paid you double."

He leaned his arms on the table, crossing his fingers. "Mrs. Lange, you've been bravely fighting a loosing battle alone too long. I had a chance to meet Emily Morrison and Emma Morgan. She is a reasonable young woman, but I've seen that there is a little girl inside of her that still needs her mother. I promise you that no matter how long it will take, I will do all in my powers to find your daughter for you," he swore, seeing that as his obligation for now on.

Aileen Lange watched at him gratefully with teary-eyes and lifted her fingers over her lips to stop herself crying. "Thank you, Mr. Coulson. I don't know what to say," she whispered.

"Please, just call me Phil."

She smiled at him, a new glimmer of hope lighting her eyes. "Aileen."