NOTES: This is the first of where I just put an insert scene of my choosing into the story. Expect this often over the summer.
And in case you've heard of the casting of Amy Acker for an important role of the show (and even if you haven't), I'm still going to keep true to my idea of Anna. Can't promise that idea won't be influenced by what happens on the show, but here's to hoping the Cellists have a lot in common.
Anna sits down the table with a sigh. "I'm supposed to be meeting Skye for dinner."
"Jemma was supposed to join me," Phil replies.
"I think we've been parent trapped." When he gives her an odd look, she explains. "Parent Trap? Old movie with Haley Mills, surely you're ancient enough to remember it."
"I'm only forty-nine."
"Still ten-and-a-half years older than me."
The restaurant is one they've always talked about dining at, but never having the chance to go to. It's one of those places where you overpay for ridiculously small portions in one of the fancy hotels downtown; that should've been Anna's first sign that something was up, because even though Skye's diet is still limited, she's heard stories about the young woman's ferocious appetite.
They avoid further conversation by burying their noses in the menu. Their waiter comes for drinks and Phil orders a bottle of red that he knows Anna loves before selecting an appetizer. "Are we going to actually talk about this?" he asked softly. "Are we done? I've sent emails and—"
"I know," she interrupts as she sets down her menu. "I just—"
"You don't want this lifestyle again," he supplies for her.
Anna nods. "But I also know how hard it is to move on from you."
His fingers reach out to brush against hers for a second before they signal for the waiter. He orders a meal for each of them and instructs for everything—wine, appetizer, main courses, and a dessert of the waiter's choice—to be sent to his room. Phil takes Anna's hand and leads her out of the restaurant. "Where are we going?" she asks.
"My room."
"I have an apartment."
"Does it have room service?" he questions with a slightly smug smile.
"Fine, you win."
Anna is expecting to walk into a suite swarming with camera feeds and audio from planted listening devices playing, but instead it's just your typical single room with a king-sized bed. Her apparently lonely brain flashes memories of the times they've put a bed that large to use. Phil's hand resting lightly on the small of her back to help steer her into the room doesn't help matters.
Once they're both inside, Phil pulls out what looks like a pen from the inside pocket of his suit jacket. He pulls the cap off of it to reveal a glowing green tip. Sitting the device on the desk, he walks over to make sure the blinds are securely closed over the lone window. "If you want to know the truth," he says as he turns toward her, "I'll tell you."
Her stomach drops and her tongue grows thick. Even though she's been complaining about his secrets, there is so much truth in the phraseignorance is bliss. Anna nods before she realizes she's doing it, and he motions for her to sit on the bed.
Phil points to the not-pen. "It will block anyone from listening in on us."
"Is someone trying to do that?"
"I don't know," he answers after a slight hesitation.
"Am I in danger?" she asks again.
He rolls his lips before responding. "I don't know anymore. The next step we're taking as a team involves going after someone or something known as the Clairvoyant."
"That doesn't sound foreboding at all," she mumbles.
Phil smiles at that. "Whoever it is, they know things. And I know for a fact that they know about you and our relationship. Things that I didn't think anyone outside of this room knew about." That turns her stomach to ice, and she clings to Phil when he reaches out to take her hand in his. "But that's not the secret I want to tell you about. You sure you want to hear about this?"
"Yes," she tells him quietly, because as much as it terrifies her, she needs to know.
"When Skye was shot, we took her to a S.H.I.E.L.D. medical facility where they told us she had hours to live. That was unacceptable to me, so I began digging through the medical file about how I was brought back. Jemma found the name of a drug, and she and Fitz found where it was housed. I led a team to retrieve the medication…" His robotic retelling of the falters, and she squeezes her fingers around his. "I found the drug and got it to Fitz. The people protecting the facility set off a self-destruct sequence. I had little time, but I needed to know where this came from. I followed the tubes to some sort of chamber."
"And?" Anna prods.
Phil shakes his head. "All I know is that it was blue and not human."
Anna's laughter starts out as a giggle before moving into something more. "You're telling me that you were brought back to life by some character out of a James Cameron movie?"
"I'm being serious, Anna."
"So am I. Don't you think whoever—" She pauses to give an ineloquent wave of her hand. "—thought you'd do exactly that? Maybe they set something up like this. Maybe it's a sick joke or a distraction by this Clairvoyant person."
"Two men died in the explosion."
"And we both know men have died for less."
He rises from the bed and begins to pace with a sigh. Before he can say anything else, there's a knock and a voice announces room service. Anna watches Phil go through a series of checks before he waves her out of sight; a moment later, the room smells like culinary heaven. They eat and drink on the bed, the only sound in the room is an episode of Jeopardy. Between bites, one of them might call out an answer, but for the most part it stays quiet.
Once the plates are empty, they find themselves sitting next to each other, backs resting against the headboard. "So, are you part alien now or something?" Anna asks.
"Maybe, I don't know." He sighs and runs a hand over his face. "I'm really sick of only having those three words as an answer."
"You're not, I don't know, growing scales or turning colors or anything."
"No," he says with a soft smile. "Still me, at least physically."
Anna feels a sharp stab to the gut for his words, and her own, on this matter. "Phil, I—"
"If you're done, can we just be done? Because this limbo thing is killing me."
"I don't want to be done," she tells him. "Besides, now that you've brought your wayward spy children into the picture, it would be even more difficult to have a clean break." His face hardens in doubt at her words, and she reaches over to take his hand once more. "If you're willing to let me in, I'm willing to stay. But that's how it has to be."
He nods. "Okay. I'll do my best, but I also want to keep you safe. There may be some things—"
"I understand that, and I appreciate it." She stares at the calluses on the fingertips of her left hand a moment before asking, "You're sure there's not anything weird or whatever with you?"
"Not anymore than usual," he answers with a hint of a dopey grin. Anna rolls her eyes at that. "Why do you ask?"
"Well, as I see it, there are two options for us at the moment. The first, being cheeseburgers because while that dinner was delicious, it didn't put a dent in my hunger."
"And the second?"
She shrugged. "Good luck on your mission sex? Make up sex? Hotel room sex? We haven't slept together since before you died and I miss it and you sex? I mean, Phil, king size bed. Take advantage of the surroundings and the lonely, horny woman throwing herself at you."
"That's a lot of variations of sex." Though his tone is typical of his dry sense of humor, she doesn't miss the way his pupils have blown, making his eyes turn nearly black. "And as you like to remind me, I'm much older than you."
Anna smiles back at him. "So pick one and we'll save the rest for later."
"Cheeseburgers after?"
"Dear god, yes."