December 12, 2007
Laura's POV
Laura opened her front door to a red-headed woman standing on her porch. "Can I help you?" she asked.
When the woman spoke, it was in a rich, smooth tones. "Are you Laura Schulz?"
She cocked her head. "Who's asking?" Having at least a vague idea of what Phil actually did for work had given her a healthy caution of strangers. Always verify identity. She could hear his voice in her head.
The woman pursed her lips. "You don't know me, but my name is Natasha Romanoff. I work with Phil Coulson."
Laura's breath caught. There were no good scenarios involving Phil's work contacting her about him. The absolute worst case was that this was a death notification. But they'd send a chaplain, wouldn't they? She pushed all those thoughts aside for a moment and folded her arms. "Prove it," she insisted.
The woman, Natasha's, expression didn't really change. Her mouth might have quirked, but it was gone in a flash. "Anything I could tell you is classified. But I think you already knew that. I'm sure the two of you have worked out a safe word, but there's been an incident and he's been injured."
"Injured?" Laura asked, alarmed. "What happened?"
Natasha was firm. "I can't tell you. But," she fished out her phone. "I can prove that he was injured." After pressing a few buttons, she handed it to Laura.
Laura held the phone in limp hands. The photo was a close-up of Phil's face, badly bruised. He was intubated and clearly unconscious. "Which hospital?" She asked weakly.
Romanoff's eyes softened slightly. "Inova Fairfax in Falls Church. I can drive you if you'd like."
In that moment, Laura didn't care if Natasha Romanoff might not be who she claimed. All she wanted was to get to Phil. "Yes, please."
When they arrived at the Phil's hospital room door, the men guarding shifted when they saw Laura. One look from Natasha and they looked the other way. Laura made a note to herself that if she ever saw the woman again she would ask who she really was. The redhead nodded at her and stepped back to let her enter the room on her own.
Phil lay motionless on the bed, attached to all sorts of wires, tubes, and beeping machines. Underneath all the purple bruising and swelling, he was pale—frighteningly pale.
Suddenly, she couldn't breathe. It was if all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room. It felt like an elephant was sitting on her chest. Blood pounded in her ears and her fingers started to feel tingly.
"I…I can't…" she shook her head. "I can't do this." She rushed out of the room and down the nearest stairwell to the lobby floor. When she burst outside, she collapsed on the curb with a sob. Tears ran down her face as she struggled to breathe. She heaved, her breaths coming out as nothing more than choked sobs.
"Ma'am? Are you okay?"
"Does it fucking look like I'm okay?" She shouted back. "Leave me alone!"
"Laura?"
"I said l-leave me a-alone!"
A slim body sat next to her. It was Natasha. "I'm sorry. I know that was hard to walk into."
"What happened?" Laura whispered.
"I can't—"
"—tell me," Laura finished. She looked at her knees. "I don't think I can do this. I love him, but I can't deal with the secrecy." She drew a shaky breath. "I knew going into this that I wouldn't know where he goes or what he does. But I can't watch him die. I can't stand the knowledge that he might die in some godforsaken hole in some backassward part of the globe and I won't know it."
Natasha looked at her. "I'm not going to tell you what to do. Look at me." Laura did. "Phil is… a friend. So what I am going to ask is that you wait until he wakes up to make that decision. Because if you take off and make me tell him you're gone when he wakes up, there is no corner of this planet you can hide where I won't find you. They won't be able to prove you even existed."
The woman picked herself up and walked away.
Sometime later, when Laura finally collected herself, she made her way back to the ICU.
From where she was sitting, Natasha nodded at her.