NOTES: I felt the need this week to find a visual analog for Anna. A google image search for lady cellists with long brunette hair, which led me to actual cellist Natalie Clein. She has since become my mental image for Anna.

It's four in the morning, and Anna is contemplating breaking open the bottle of wine Pepper gave her for to celebrate her new Stark Industries position. Maybe if she has a few glasses, she can at least get her mind to calm down enough to nap for a couple hours. Felix, who seems to be more content in New York than he ever was in Portland, sleeps soundly at the foot of the bed. Anna finds herself irrationally jealous of her cat.

She turns onto her side and punches the pillow with her cast-free hand. With a sigh, she once again closes her eyes and hopes for nightmare-free sleep. Instead, her new StarkPhone begins to ring. The number on the screen reads Private. Hesitantly, Anna swipes her thumb across the screen to accept the call. "Hello?"

"It's me," Phil answers.

"Hi," she breathes. "You okay?"

"Is it safe for us to talk?"

Anna looks around her bedroom. Tony had promised her complete privacy when he gave her the access code for the apartment within his tower, and Maria had sworn that also meant privacy from Tony. "I think so," Anna says.

"Doesn't sound like I woke you up."

She sighs. "Sleep and I haven't been the best of friends in the last couple of weeks."

"Sorry," Phil apologizes.

"Not entirely your fault."

"All new nightmares, or still some of the old stuff?"

Anna's mind flips through the repertoire of nightmares: a peaceful life with a mother who hadn't died when Anna was five, David dying all over again or having a secret family tucked away, a crying baby, and such warm and loving conversations with her father that when she wakes up and remembers he's gone, it completely guts her. Then, there are the new hits from the last couple of years: losing Phil, having to move every two weeks and living constantly out of boxes, Grant coming after her, and Garrett breaking more than just fingers.

"A little bit of both," she tells him.

"I'm sorry," he apologizes again.

Anna shrugs. "How are you? Maria told me you got Skye back."

"Yeah, she's safe," Phil responds, and Anna smiles at the soft notes of pride and relief in his voice. She starts to ask where he is, but then she thinks of what's happened because she knew too much. Despite that, Phil seems to read her mind. "We're holed up in this dinky motel. Trip's off getting supplies, and the rest of us couldn't sleep. Skye talked us into watching this awful movie. She and FitzSimmons are in a giant knot on my bed. May's asleep in hers. They all crashed after the movie turned into an infomercial. Do you know how many times in three minutes I had to tell Fitz that we weren't going to buy him gloves with built-in flashlights?"

"He's probably just going to build himself a pair, now."

"Probably." He tells her to wait a moment, and Anna listens to a muffled conversation, then there's scratching sound as Phil's phone is passed off.

"Hey," a woman's voice says.

"Skye," Anna sighs. "Are you alright?"

"Fine, just… Go away, Coulson—girl chat time." The line goes quiet for a minute before Skye admits, "I don't know."

Anna nods her head in sympathy, even though Skye can't see her. "I know exactly what you mean."

"I feel dumb. I just— How did we not see it? And then he told me that even though he was lying the whole time, his feelings for me…"

Anna's stomach twists for the younger woman. "Oh, sweetheart."

"I'm so angry," she professes. "I feel like an idiot, and then anytime any of us brings up what he did, Fitz makes up a never ending list of excuses for his actions, and it's wrong. Ward isn't playing a game; he's evil."

"Don't get too mad at Leo," Anna tells her. "He'll live in the land of denial until his brain can make sense of things. I'm incredibly familiar with that mindset."

Skye snorts in frustration. "Any way to make the game go faster?"

"No, so don't push him. It'll just blow up in everyone's faces, trust me." There's a moment of quiet before Anna asks about Phil.

"He's pissed," Skye tells her.

"I can tell that much even from this far away."

"He just needs to get this put away, then he can think about something—anything—else. We'll all be able to."

Anna draws abstract shapes on the ridiculously plush bedspread with her good hand. "Any idea what you guys we'll do after?"

"No," Skye answers softly. "We can't think that far ahead. You, uh, wanna talk to Coulson again?"

"Sure. And Skye, don't beat yourself up over this."

"Too late," she mutters before passing the phone back to Phil.

"Think she'll be okay?" Anna asks.

Phil sighs. "It'll take time for all of us. So, what's your new place like?"

Anna looks around her new living space which is sleek, simple, and has a recurring accent color of a familiar shade of blue, one that has a habit of showing up in most of Phil's ties. There are built-in shelves in each room, space that could easily hold little trinkets or vintage spy devices. "Honestly?" Anna says. "I think this is supposed to be your place."

Phil huffs a quick laugh. "I was dead before Stark started to retool the tower. Why would it be for me?"

"I don't know, just a feeling. Pretty sure Tony doesn't believe you're dead. He also assumed I was Maria's sister and then made fun of your taste in women, claiming you were just trying to date Hill without dipping your toes in the company pool."

"You two don't look that much alike," Phil argues.

"Close enough."

"Please don't make me think too much about that."

Anna smiles and then bites her tongue to keep words that shouldn't be said right now from spilling out, words about how he should come to New York, how they should just say screw it and run away, how badly she misses him. This is the life she knew she was signing up for, one where she acts like there's not a chance in hell that this won't be the last time she speaks to him even though it absolutely could be.

"I've got to get up and get ready to teach in a few hours, so I'm going to try and fall back asleep."

"I could talk to you for a while," he says quietly.

The offer makes her heart seize. It wouldn't be the first time he's stayed on the phone talking about anything and everything until he's sure she's asleep. "That's okay. You've got enough on your plate."

"Okay. I don't know when we'll get to talk again."

"I know."

"I love you," he says.

Anna commits the sound of his voice to memory and prays to anyone who might listen that it's not the last time he says those words to her. "Love you, too."