Q is for Queried

Darcy felt Coulson shadowing her closely all the way from the car to the jet. She had noticed it at the police station, but it was even more glaring here. Even with Hawkeye's presence, Coulson seemed to have gone into a hyper-alert, overprotective mode. The security at the local airport actually flinched back from the force of his gaze. Something in him seemed to wound tighter with every person they passed.

Once on the jet, with Hawkeye at the controls, he finally relaxed. She coaxed him into a seat and repressed her surprise as he pulled her down into the seat next to him. "Hey, what's going on?" she queried in the most soothing voice she could manage.

Fine tremors shook his form as his still drugged gaze skipped around the interior of the vehicle. Those confused eyes landed on her and focused. "Darcy," he said, almost as if reminding himself she was there. His hand remained wrapped around her wrist.

"Still here," she assured him. "Tell me what happened?" She didn't have to look to know that Hawkeye was paying careful attention as well.

"Hydra," he replied, a frown etching itself across his brow. "Traitor at SHIELD…they had too much."

Darcy breath caught and for a moment all she could see were white walls and cold eyes. Then she shook herself free of the memory. The wacky doc was still under careful lock and key, terrified of the apparently graphic warnings he received from Widow and Soldier. She didn't want to know.

"Remove the foundation and the structure collapses," he continued, rambling now in a way she really didn't like as his eyes began wandering once more. His words grew more slurred as he seemed to slowly relax into the seat behind him. "'Turning and turning in the widening gyre; the falcon cannot hear the falconer.' Center…" His voice trailed off.

Her concern growing, she tossed a look towards the front and met a pair of equally anxious blue eyes. 'Hawkeye' slipped to the side, the agent, the Avenger dropping away to let Clint step up. Her lips firmed. "Get us home."

"On it," he nodded and turned back to the controls with an intense fervor.

She felt the jet speed into the air as she focused on the man beside her once more. They needed to get any information they could as soon as possible. Coulson was going to be out of it and Hawkeye would need to get the ball rolling, especially with a traitor in the ranks. "I need you to look at me," she encouraged him. His muddled gaze met hers and she gave him a smile. "What happened?"

"Set up," he answered. She watched as his gaze sharpened just a touch, but enough that he almost seemed fully cognizant. Only the emotion hovering at his lips gave him away to anyone who knew him. "The trail was false…a trap. Just enough to draw a senior agent…wanted me."

Her blood went cold, but she forced herself to stay calm. "Why?"

"The two of us," he muttered, blinking hazily. The drug was really beginning to drag at him. "Either of us," he continued. "They want the team…captured, broken, dead."

"Hello, house arrest and security," she sighed in resignation.

"No shit," came the remark from the front of the jet.

She rolled her eyes as she heard Clint giving the information to JARVIS. If Widow and Soldier didn't meet them at the helicarrier, she be surprised. Her eyes moved back to Coulson, only to find him watching her. "Hey," she smiled.

He just stared at her for a long moment. "We have to keep you safe," he stated calmly, though still fuzzily.

"Yeah, yeah," she shook her head. "I know…and I won't even kick up a fuss." A gleam of disbelief tried to break through the clouds in his eyes and she waved it off. "For a little while anyway."

She could tell he wanted to argue with her, but his body was giving up on staying awake. In a move that stunned her, Coulson shifted sideways and lay across the seats, his head in her lap. He seemed to drop off immediately.

"He trusts you."

She looked up to meet Clint's gaze. There was a thin layer of amused playfulness over a much deeper well of serious affection. She frowned in confusion and he elaborated. "He would never have fallen asleep like that if he didn't trust you."

"He's drugged," she pointed out.

"Doesn't matter," Clint shrugged. "I've seen him hold reasonably steady in a worse state than that. He considers you…" His voice trailed off and she could see him trying to find the right word.

"Not dangerous?" she offered.

"Safe," he corrected. His blue eyes focused on her with startling intensity as his voice moved into the most serious tone she ever heard him use outside of a mission. "You're a safety zone for him now…a safe place. He doesn't have to hide from you." She could feel her mouth drop open slightly in sheer surprise and his lips quirked into a smile. "Why do you think he turned the team so completely over to your care?"

"Because I'm good at herding cats," she managed to get out around her shock.

He chuckled as he turned back to the controls. "That didn't hurt."

Darcy looked back down at the man sleeping so easily in her lap. Her fingertips whispered across his cheek even as she felt something unlock inside of her. A tiny kernel of warmth, repressed and hidden away, began to flicker to life once more.

They landed on the helicarrier, and Hawkeye, agent mask back in place, stepped outside to talk to Fury and to hold up the arriving medics. She began the process of trying to wake Coulson up. It took several attempts, but he finally blinked his eyes opened and stared up at her in bewilderment. She gave him a quick smile. "Hey, sleepyhead, you need to wake up now," she spoke softly. "Hawkeye's delaying the medics, but I don't know how long Fury will let him get away with that."

He sat up, moving with a distinct lack of his usual smooth grace. That had her eyes narrowing again, but she smoothed her expression out as he turned back to her. His eyes scanned her face. She didn't know what he was looking for, but she sat there and let him look his fill. After a long moment, something in the back of his gaze seemed to soften and sharpen all at the same time. He began to stand up, shakily, and she moved to help as he made his way slowly to the rear of the jet. He paused on the threshold and she looked up to once more meet that penetrating gaze.

"Coulson?" she prompted, a thread of worry entering her voice, and his brow knit in consideration.

"Call me Phil."

Before she could reply, he stepped outside and the medics swarmed around him like locusts. She stood in the doorway, still startled by the new pattern she seemed to have tripped into, as they hustled him away. Fury eyed her with for a long moment, his gaze measuring her against some scale in his head, before he gave her a respectful nod and turned to follow the medics. She walked out of the jet and stood on the deck of the helicarrier, watching the group grow smaller as they moved away.

"Told you," Clint said quietly as he stepped up to stand just behind her. One hand came to rest on her shoulder.

"Guess you did," she murmured. Her mind turned over all of the potential ramifications of this new outlook. Memories of previous conversations and meetings took on a new color from this new viewpoint.

"So," he continued, a definite teasing note saturating his voice, "does this mean I can really call you 'Mom' now?"