*Allusions of past abuse. The topic is just skirted around and not explicitly described.

September 12, 2009

Phil felt his cell phone buzz in his breast pocket. He pulled it out; the word Romanoff flashing on the screen.

"Coulson," he answered.

Natasha didn't bother with pleasantries. "You need to come home."

He immediately set about logging off his computer and gathering his things. "What happened?"

"We ran into Laura's ex-husband at the restaurant."

Phil cursed under his breath. "The one with the restraining order?" he asked, not really needing the clarification. He could almost hear the assassin tap her foot, unamused. Laura only had the one ex-husband. He was out the door and it locked shut behind him. "Did he try anything?"

"He walked past our table. When he saw her, he stopped and showed off his wife and photos of their children. He took too much pleasure in just standing there to see what she would do." She began to mutter in Russian.

Before he could interject about not needing to hear about how this man was the scum of the earth, Natasha continued in English, "She did not have the restaurant call the police."

"She didn't want to cause a scene," Phil speculated.

"Yes," Natasha confirmed. "She requested we stay and finish our meal. She wanted to show him that his presence did not bother her. But she was visibly disturbed when we left the restaurant. I believe she's having an emergency phone session with her therapist. I stepped outside to give her privacy."

Phil cursed again. "I should be there in about half an hour. Traffic won't be bad yet."

He knew Laura's general history with this guy. They met at a networking function, where she was a guest of her college friend's and he had already made a name for himself on K Street. Phil had trouble imagining her with a lobbyist (especially considering her politics and how he was apparently now working at The Heritage Foundation). He never asked why she married him. All she shared with him was that the marriage turned sour after her second miscarriage when her gynecologist strongly suggested that she was unlikely able to carry a child to term and if she did, delivery would be exceedingly dangerous.

Dave, the ex-husband, was not shy about how he felt at that news and how he blamed Laura. She had a support system and was able to leave him when it got physical.

Laura told him that part of her medical history when things started to get serious between them. Phil was understanding. He had never given any serious thought to having children because of the demanding nature of his job. It wasn't often he was in a place long enough to settle down, but he had the seniority now to request long-term postings to the Triskelion and along the East Coast. And being a handler offered him a modicum of stability and safety not had by operatives in the field.

He was relieved to be able to ease her anxiety about that conversation by having no urgent desire for children. But thinking about the possibilities of what her ex might have done to inspire that fear in her made his blood boil. He had managed so far to respect her privacy and not abuse his authority by hacking into the detailed reports of her protective orders.

He wasn't feeling particularly ethical at the moment.

Phil pulled into the driveway and threw the car in park. He swiftly made his way up the front steps and through the door.

He found Laura and Natasha in the den. Laura was leaning against the assassin, blanket draped over her shoulders, and her hands loosely clutched a steaming mug. He approached slowly. "Are you okay?" he asked.

Laura looked up and her lip quivered as she shook her head.

He quickly sat down next to her and she all but threw the mug at the table before diving into his embrace. His arms wrapped around her as she shuddered and heaved sobs into his chest.

"Shh," he soothed. "It's going to be okay. I'm here. You're okay. Nothing's going to happen."

He stroked her hair and whispered to her until she exhausted herself to sleep.

Phil looked to Natasha. "Get Barton. And find him," he growled.

The redhead smirked and then rose.

"Natasha," Phil waited for her to pause, "I want him alive."

Her smirk turned downright feral. And then she was gone.

Phil then carefully stood, still holding Laura. She clutched tighter to him, apparently not as asleep as he thought. He carried her up the stairs and lay her gently on their bed. Then, he toed off his shoes and climbed in next to her.

Laura snuggled in close to him, still shaking.

"I'm sorry for making you leave work," she whispered, sniffling a little.

Phil kissed her forehead and wrapped his arms securely around her. "You're more important than work."

"I love you, Phil."

He stroked her back to soothe her to sleep, letting her know that he would stay with her. "I know. I love you, too. So very much."

As her breathing evened out, he found himself plotting very painful ways to deal with the man who caused Laura so much distress.

Maybe he'd have Natasha help.