P is for Policemen

Darcy sat in the breakfast area reviewing the reports. She wanted to make sure they did not come back from SHIELD because one or more of the Avengers decided to play around. Steve, Natasha, and Bucky could be trusted to be accurate, detailed, and comprehensive, so she put theirs to the side. Thor simply required a quick read-thru to make sure he stuck to the basics and did not start turning the mission into a saga. Bruce's reports could be a bit of an adventure. If he finished them before science took his brain over, they tended to match her three A students, but if he didn't… Well, in those cases, half the report took on the appearance of science notes and she would have to track him down to get that half corrected. The last two Avengers gave her the most headaches. Tony tended to write the same way he thought and talked – stream of consciousness where the points may or may not be related. He would always get the information on there, but it required some editing before being sent off. Clint also wrote a lot like his usual behavior, but it was the exact opposite of Tony. Clint's reports were concise and spare on details. She had to buff his up a bit before marking them complete.

Why was she the report police again?

Oh, right, because Coulson gave her that look.

She sighed and began to pull Tony's report to her when the phone rang. She answered without bothering to check the caller id. "Hello?"

"This is Officer Michael Hannagan," a direct voice replied. "Is this Darcy?"

"Is this a crank call?" Darcy demanded as he just used the one name. She tapped on her tablet, cueing JARVIS to check the number.

"No, ma'am," Officer Hannagan hastened to assure her. "One of our cars brought in a man under the influence. We haven't been able to get his name, but he keeps repeating the name 'Darcy'. After checking his phone, this is the number attached to that name."

A chime on her tablet drew her attention. JARVIS confirmed her current call was indeed legitimate. Darcy frowned. "And you're not sure who he is?" she asked.

"No, ma'am," he replied apologetically. "He has no identification and just keeps repeating your name. We've tried determining his identity from his phone number, but it comes up unlisted." A tone of baffled surprise entered his voice. "There is no record of the number at all."

"What is the number?" Darcy asked and stiffened as he rattled it off. "You said he's under the influence?" she demanded as she swept up her purse and headed for the elevator.

"Yes, ma'am, he was brought in after being found in the local park, weaving and stumbling towards city hall."

"I am on my way," she informed him. "He's been attacked and I will handle things when I get there. For the moment keep him secure but away from anyone else."

"Ma'am, we can't just-"

"Oh, yes, you can," she interrupted as she punched the button for the garage. "First off, that's my husband and I will be bringing some identification. Secondly, you will be receiving a call shortly from his employer with orders to do the same. And yes," she continued, talking over his attempt to break into the conversation, "they have the authority to do that." Darcy hung up the phone and called SHIELD. "This is Darcy Lewis. We have a situation with a police department, enact plan Chameleon, target Alpha-Gamma-Omega." She gave them the information on the department from JARVIS and hung up. "And here I thought that plan was basically a joke," she muttered. Her purse included the proof she needed to pull it off, but really, who ever thought she would need to do it?

After a pickup by SHIELD and one quick quinjet flight, Darcy drove a rented car to the police station and marched into the front desk. "I'm looking for Office Hannagan." Her aggressive, no-nonsense attitude had people jumping to find him, and she could only hide a smile at realizing that what worked for crazed scientists and hyped heroes would work on law enforcement as well.

Maybe she should try it on Fury sometime?

Before she could follow that thought further, an officer walked towards her. She lifted an eyebrow. "Officer Hannagan?"

"Yes, ma'am," he nodded, his gaze shifting as he recognized her voice.

"Excellent," she replied crisply. Holding out a driver's license, she continued, "I'm Darcy Coulson and I'm here for my husband." She focused on the officer. "You have received the call from his office?"

"Yes, ma'am," he agreed. "The FBI called just after you hung up. We've moved him into an office instead of a cell, but he's still… Agent Coulson is not well."

A fissure of alarm ran up her spine. "Take me to him."

Officer Hannagan led her to a small office and opened the door. Coulson stood on the opposite side of the room, his back to the corner. His eyes combed the room over and over again, focusing on the door only as they walked through it. The gray coolly raked the police officer from top to bottom, and Darcy could almost see him pinpointing targets and other weak areas. He was trembling, fine tremors running down his frame, and as he shifted his gaze to her, she could see the dilated pupils.

Oddly, instead of subjecting her to the same careful examination, the gray warmed and she could see the line of his shoulders relax. Good, he recognized her or at least knew she was a friend. Now she needed to get him out of here.

"Darcy."

The confused trust in his voice drew her forward. That particular tone had grown all too familiar since she started working with the Avengers. Tasha, Clint, Bucky – they all had it. She never expected to hear it from Coulson. It was a difficult tone to describe, but it combined this fear and panic with a certainty and trust that could break her heart. It meant they were caught in flashback or a memory and that they knew it, but also that they recognized the person as being outside of the replay. They were asking for help, help to get out of the maze their mind trapped them in.

Conscious of Officer Hannagan's presence, she stepped up close and placed a hand on Coulson's arm. "Hey," she said softly. "Time to go."

"Darcy," he looked at down at her.

"It's me," she agreed, "and I'm going to get you out of here."

His eyes flickered around the room, raking over the police officer once more. When the man stepped closer, Coulson reacted immediately, tucking Darcy into the corner behind him.

"No," Darcy ordered, staring at Officer Hannagan from around Coulson. "You, out."

"Ma'am-"

"Out!" As the officer left reluctantly, Coulson relaxed once more and Darcy slipped around in front of him. His eyes focused on her again and she smiled. "Okay, let's try this again. Barton is with me, and we're here to take you home."

Confusion colored his expression, proving to her just how much the drug was affecting him. "Barton's in Madripoor."

"Okay," Darcy blinked in surprise. Even unofficial SHIELD connections like her knew about Madripoor, and why would Clint ever have been sent there? It was as close to off-limits to SHIELD as any place could get in the known universe. "Not anymore," she said instead. "He's back and he came to help me get you home."

"Cover?" he asked, confirming he was still Coulson despite the drugs.

"Congratulations, sweetie," she smirked lightly as she handed him a wallet. "We're married."

One blink, then a second, and then his face moved into the usual neutral lines he wore for a job. He glanced at the license inside the wallet before putting it in his pocket. She could almost see him sliding effortlessly into the persona as they walked to the door. One of his hands came to rest on the small of her back and he shadowed her closely through the police station. She tried to ignore the warmth running over her skin. Now was so not the time. They collected his few belongings and signed off on the paperwork, Darcy assuring Officer Hannagan she would arrange for a report to be delivered for his files. She led him to the SUV as Hawkeye materialized out of the shadows.

"Sir," Hawkeye nodded.

"Let's go," Coulson ordered.

Darcy shook her head as she slipped into the backseat beside him, with Hawkeye at the wheel. "Just what I needed, another report."