Back From the Dead Chapter 2: You're My Shadow, an agents of s.h.i.e.l.d. fanfic

Back From the Dead

Disclaimer:
I own nothing!

Rating:
T

Genre:
Romance/Hurt/Comfort

Pairing:
Coulsye

Lyrics Used:
Jessie J "My Shadow"
The Band Perry "If I Die Young" (in the style of the Glee Cast...sort of...you'll see...hopefully)

You're My Shadow

You'll never leave me | You'll never leave me | You'll never leave me | You'll never leave me

Weapon in hand, Phil Coulson carefully pushed his way through the door he'd found slightly ajar. Scanning the room, his heart stopped as he took in the sight of Skye laying propped up against the wall in a pool of blood. "Oh God..." He muttered to himself as he tucked his gun away and fell to his knees at her side. "Oh, no...Oh, God..." He muttered, again, before coming to his senses. "SIMMONS! GET DOWN HERE!" He screamed more frantically than he would have liked. Stroking Skye's hair from her face, the senior agent cradled her close to his chest. "Hold on...Just hold on, okay?..." He begged, quietly, while waiting for the rest of the team to find them.

As the rest of the team filed into the room, Phil looked up. "She's been shot." He explained, while Jemma began checking her injuries.

"Keep her upright!" Jemma ordered.

"I got no pulse!" Phil declared, a note of terror in his voice he would never admit to.

"Eeehhh..." Jemma squealed, panicked, as she frantically searched the room for anything she could use to help the young hacker. "She's lost too much blood. I don't know-" Spotting the hyperbaric chamber across the room, she barked out another order. "Put her in there!"

"Do you even know what this thing is?!" Ward barked.

"It's a hyperbaric chamber and I said put her in there! Now!" Jemma barked, unwilling to back down.

"All right. Let's go!" Ward barked as the rest of the team helped lift Skye and carry her to the chamber. Once she had been placed on the built-in gurney, they hurriedly shoved the gurney inside, slamming the door closed.

"I need to get her temperature down, Fitz!" Jemma ordered before joining Leo's side as he adjusted the settings on the chamber.

"Got it. I got it." Leo replied, off-handedly as he watched the settings take effect. After what felt like hours, he added "Temperature's dropping."

"Pressure's stabilizing." Jemma added, as they all stared inside the chamber, anxiously searching for any sign that their efforts were working.

"Is it working?" Melinda asked, an uncharacteristically anxious tone to her voice.

"IS IT WORKING?!" Phil demanded, terrified.

Sitting bolt upright in bed, Phil Coulson fought to catch his breath after his nightmare. As he regained his bearings, reality set in as he realized it wasn't just a nightmare. Turning over to his nightstand, he checked the clock as he shut off the alarm that had been rendered moot by his sudden awakening.

Today was the day. He never thought this day would come. But, today was the day of Skye's funeral. Fury had offered to handle the matter, privately, but Phil knew his team needed this. They needed the chance to say goodbye. They would never be able to make their peace with it without the closure only a funeral could provide.

Rising from the bed, he took in the sight of the mess that had piled up since Skye's death. Emotionally bankrupt, he just blindly cleared a path as he picked up whatever clothes lay on the floor in his path and dumped them all in the hamper in his closet. Looking up at the clothes hung up before him, he grabbed a black shirt and a black suit and tie. Laying it all out on the bed, he stepped into his en suite bathroom and started up his shower. Stepping in inside, he let the warm water cascade down his body while his mind lingered on the meaning of today. The one and only woman he had ever loved and connected with on virtually every level was gone. Here, in the privacy of his own shower-with the water as camouflage, he allowed himself another chance to cry. As the tears mingled with the shower-water, he blindly went about business as usual.

Shutting off the water, Phil grabbed the towel from the adjacent hook and dried himself off before returning to his bunk to dress. Pulling on his clothes, the senior agent resorted to his only remaining defense mechanism. Numbness. It was easier to shut down and feel nothing at all than to allow himself to feel pain. Once dressed, he ventured out of his bunk in search of coffee.

Looking at herself in the mirror, Jemma still couldn't believe all this was happening. Never, in her life, did she ever think she would have to attend a memorial service. She was a science officer, for Christ's sake. Her friends and colleagues were not supposed to die in the line of duty. But, here, staring at herself dressed in a knee-length black dress with an applique-covered mesh over her chest, shoulders and arms, and black pumps, she couldn't pretend anymore. The funeral service was really happening. And, Skye was really dead.

Sighing heavily, she proceeded to cross over to her bunk and sat down as she pulled her guitar out from underneath the bed. It was a little known fact, but, the bio-chemist liked to use music as a means of therapy whenever she was stressed out or upset about something. Strumming the strings, she began rehearsing the song she had prepared for service. A special request only she'd ever known about.

Passing Jemma's bunk on his way to the galley, he paused when he overheard the soft sound of music along with Jemma's voice. Before Phil could say or do anything else, the bio-chemist paused as she met his eye. "Oh...I'm so sorry..." She muttered, slightly embarrassed. "Did I wake you?"

"No." Phil replied, simply, trying to fake a warm smile as he stepped into the doorway to Jemma's bunk. Clearing his throat, slightly, he asked "What was that?"

"It's um..." Jemma began, nervously. "It's just...It's just the song that I was planning to sing at the funeral." She explained, as she looked down at her hands. None of them liked talking about what today represented.

Nodding his understanding, Phil hated seeing how guilty Jemma looked for bringing up the subject of the funeral. Intellectually, he knew that not talking about it wouldn't make it any less real. And, it certainly wouldn't bring Skye back. As he slowly entered the bunk, the senior agent lowered himself onto the bed next to her. "It sounded very nice...Just from the small portion that I heard, just now..."

"Thank you..." Jemma replied, quietly, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

"Would you mind playing a little more for me?" Phil asked, trying to be supportive.

"A-actually, Agent Coulson...I'd really rather not..." Jemma replied, nervously. "It's just that...It's a rather difficult song for me, right now-given everything that's happened...I'd really rather wait until the service..." Seeing the pain written in her friend and mentor's eyes, she tried to lighten the mood. "Besides...I just finished my make-up..."

The senior agent knew what the young woman was trying to do, and appreciated it. Chuckling quietly, Phil wrapped an arm around Jemma. "Fair enough." He replied, managing the ghost of a small smile. "I was just about to fix myself some coffee. Care to join me?"

Deciding that she could, in deed, use the break, Jemma smiled slightly as she replied "Sure."

Clad in a black dress shirt, black necktie, black pants, socks, and shoes, Leo Fitz found himself standing before the mirror in his bunk as he slipped his jacket on. He'd always heard about memorial services for fallen agents. He just never thought he'd ever have to actually attend one. Certainly not one for someone he was as close to as he'd been with Skye. She was always like the sister he never knew he wanted. Finally satisfied with the way he looked, he ventured out of his bunk where he found Jemma and Coulson gathered in the galley.

"Morning, Leo." Phil greeted, gently. None of them were foolish enough to call it a 'good' morning. "Coffee?" He offered, politely.

"No, thank you, Agent Coulson." Leo replied, graciously. "Just orange juice for me, thanks." He added, opening the fridge to pour himself a glass.

Staring at herself in the mirror, clad in a strapless knee-length black dress covered with a sheer lace overlay and black pumps, Melinda May hated days like these. She'd been to more than her fair share of memorials and they never got any easier. This one, however, had to be the hardest of them all. She couldn't be sure where Phil and Jemma stood, but, she knew that Grant blamed her for Skye's death. Intellectually, she knew that honor was all Ian Quinn's. But, on some level, she couldn't help wondering if the specialist was right to blame her. Putting all the finishing touches on her hair and make-up, she took a deep breath as she ventured out of her bunk.

Spotting Fitz, Phil, and Simmons together in the galley, she silently made her way toward them. Passing Fitzsimmons, she reached for the coffee pot. "Morning, Melinda." Phil offered, as warmly as he could muster. It was no fault of Melinda's. He was just too spent to muster his usual tone of voice.

"Morning, Phil." Melinda offered, quietly, before moving to the lounge area to drink her coffee.

Putting the finishing touches on his all-black tux, Grant Ward drew a steadying breath. This wasn't his first memorial service. But, this one was different. He was Skye's SO. As easy as it was for him to blame Melinda for what happened, he knew it wasn't her fault. He couldn't escape some of the blame. She was his responsibility. And, he'd failed her. Sighing in defeat, Grant took one final look at himself in the mirror before venturing out to the galley in search of caffeine.

Upon arrival, he found the rest of the team-except for Melinda, still sat in the lounge area-gathered in the galley. "Morning..." He mumbled, gruffly.

"Morning, Agent Ward." Jemma replied, sympathetically.

"Morning..." Leo added, quietly.

"Morning, Grant." Phil offered, sliding a cup of coffee across the counter toward the specialist who merely nodded his thanks before carefully entering the lounge area.

"Morning..." He offered, lowering himself down onto the loveseat adjacent to the chair Melinda had taken.

Holding her coffee in her hands, the stoic pilot lowered gaze to stare into the warm brown liquid, avoiding the hateful gaze of the specialist.

Sighing lightly, Grant softened his voice as he spoke again. "Look...Could we just talk, for a minute?" He asked, desperately. Losing Skye was hard enough. He couldn't handle fighting with Melinda on top of it. "Privately..." He added, with a quick glance to the galley.

Venturing a careful glance up at the specialist, Melinda noted that his eyes had softened considerably and nodded tentatively as she rose from her seat, leading him back to her bunk.

"Where d'you think they're going?" Jemma wondered, curiously.

Knowing the history between the two operatives, Phil half-glared at the door to Melinda's bunk as he replied, cryptically. "I think it's best we don't know..."

Sliding the door to the bunk closed, Grant drew a steadying breath as he broke the ice. "Look, I just wanted to...to apologize..." He began, searching for the right words. "I don't blame you for what happened to Skye..." He elaborated. "It was just easier to blame you than to deal with the reality of the situation. Bottom line, we all know Ian Quinn's the only one to blame here."

Melinda couldn't believe what she was hearing. She was relieved to know that Grant had forgiven her-that he didn't blame her for Skye's death. Though, it still didn't stop her from questioning her own actions, that day. Crossing the room, she slowly wrapped her arms around him, relieved when he didn't push her away. "For what it's worth...We all lost her..." She offered, supportively.

Understanding the pilot's point, Grant replied "I know...I know we did..." Holding the woman in his arms for a moment longer, the specialist pulled away for a moment as he stared into her eyes. "I'm sorry I was such an ass, before. You were only trying to help..."

"Yeah, well..." Melinda began, averting her gaze. "I suppose, on some level, I can't help wondering if you weren't right to blame me..."

"Hey..." Grant replied, warmly, taking her chin in his thumb and forefinger as he gently guided her to look at him. "Don't think that...The shit hit the fan and not one of us had any control over anything..." He added, sincerely. "I'm just glad you made it out, okay..."

An Hour Later

Pulling up outside of the cemetery just off the S.H.I.E.L.D. base, Phil noticed all the people gathered for Skye's memorial. Guess she touched more lives than she realized. He thought to himself as he put the SUV in park. As they all exited the vehicle and approached the grave site, they all had to fight back the tears stinging their eyes.

Arriving at the site of Skye's grave, Phil and the team ran into Director Nick Fury. "Phil." The Director greeted, stoic as ever.

"Sir." Phil replied, accepting the hand that Fury extended toward him.

"I'm terribly sorry for your loss." Nick Fury offered, sincerely. "Regardless of what I may have said about Skye in the beginning, I know how much she meant to you..."

"Thank you, sir." Phil replied, steadfastly keeping his voice professionally detached. "She meant a lot to all of us..."

Nodding his understanding, Fury wordlessly walked away to speak with other guests as Phil and his team settled into their places. "What's with the guitar, Jemma?" Leo asked, curiously, noting the guitar case the bio-chemist chemist had been toting.

"Well..." Jemma began, anxiously. "A few months ago, Skye walked in on me playing and I told her that it's sort of...therapeutic for me..." She elaborated, smiling sadly at the memory. "She also confided in me that..." Drawing a shaky breath, Jemma continued on. "That...If anything were to ever...happen to her...She said she'd be honored if I would sing at her funeral..." She finished, hanging her head to hide her fresh tears from the rest of the group.

Stepping toward Jemma, Leo just wrapped her up in his arms as she cried, quietly, for a moment. "I'm sure...wherever she is...she's happy to see you honoring her wishes..." He offered, consolingly.

Everyone soon quieted down as the reverend stepped forward, commanding all their attention. "I'd just like to welcome you all, this morning. We are all gathered here, today, to say goodbye to Skye. Tragic though it may be, the Heavenly Father always calls his children home. We may never understand the reasons. We can only take comfort in knowing that our loved ones are safe and happy...and very patiently waiting for us to join them, when our time comes. Now, I know that Agents Coulson and Simmons have a few words they'd like to say..." He paused to turn his attention to Phil. "Agent Coulson..." He offered, motioning Phil up to the podium.

"Thank you, Reverend Allen." Phil replied, stepping up to the podium. Turning his attention the rest of the guests, he began the speech he'd prepared. "Skye was a member of my team. When I first recruited her, she was...a little rough around the edges." Phil admitted, recalling his first encounter with the hacker. "But, she was smart...and driven...She had a lot of potential." He added, with a sad smile. "She may not have been a part of our lives for very long...But, in the time that we were fortunate enough with her, she found her way into each of our hearts." He added. That was the truth. Each and every member of their team loved Skye in their own ways. "Skye was...brilliant...and kind...and, so...so resilient. In her short time on this Earth, she had endured far more than anyone should ever have to...And, yet somehow...She always managed to find the ray of light in even...the darkest storm. I'm sorry..." Phil paused, there, to wipe his eyes and clear his throat. Watching the whole scene unfold before them, there wasn't a single dry eye in the house. "Skye was stolen from us far too soon." He declared, finally. "But, her spirit will always remain within each and every one of us." He added. He knew that the effect that Skye'd had on each of their lives would not just go away simply because she was no longer there, in person. "Skye was one of those people that...Once you knew her...You knew you'd never forget her." As the tears continued stealing from his eyes, Phil knew he wouldn't be able to continue any further without completely breaking down. "And, uh...With that said...I'd like to turn the floor over to the lovely Miss Jemma Simmons."

Trading places with Phil at the podium, Jemma stopped to give her friend and mentor a brief, supportive, hug. As they separated, Jemma opened her guitar case to sling the instrument over her shoulder. Stepping up to the mic, she greeted the guests. "Hello, everyone..." Drawing a steadying breath, she recounted the story she'd told her team moments before. "A few months ago, Skye stumbled upon the one secret I'd hidden from the rest of our team. You see...whenever I'm stressed out or upset about something, I like to unwind with music...That night...Skye asked me if...God forbid...anything should ever happen to her...if I would sing for her at her funeral. Well, now that time has sadly come and I mean to honor the commitment I made to her." As she tuned her guitar she added. "This song happens to be a favorite of mine and I felt that it was...tragically appropriate for this occasion..." Clearing her throat, Jemma then began to sing.

Clearing her throat, Jemma began to play her guitar as she continued singing, fighting against the tears that threatened to fall.

As the song progressed, Phil realized just how perfect it was for the young hacker. Granted, her blood family was all smiling and celebrating their long-overdue reunion with Skye. However, he knew the team all felt a connection to the song as they had all become a unique-albeit dysfunctional-family unit. And, it wasn't fair the way Skye had been stolen from them like this.

Listening to the song, Melinda knew how appropriate the last verse was for Skye and Phil. Although he may have never actually said anything about or acted upon it, he was hopelessly in love with the young hacker. She had seen the way they looked at each other. There was no denying it. Glancing over at Grant, she knew that it was the same for the two of them. Sure, what they had started out as purely sex. But, they both knew it was more than that. Reaching out, she tentatively entwined their fingers, relieved when he returned the contact, glancing over at her with a softer look on his face.

"So put on your best boys and I'll wear my pearls | What-em-ever did is done

Watching Jemma singing her song for Skye, Leo had to wipe a tear from his eye. He knew, all too well, that somehow people never really took anyone seriously until they were just...gone. It's like the old saying goes...You never really do know what you have until it's gone.

"Oh..."

As she went into the next chorus, and her voice began to crack and fail her, Jemma opened her eyes to see that the rest of the team had joined her at the podium-Phil on her left with Leo on her right and Grant and Melinda directly behind them-and had begun to sing along with her, in perfect harmony.

The rest of the group paused to allow Jemma a brief solo.

"The ballad of a girl | Go with peace and love"

Rubbing Jemma's back comfortingly, Phil and the rest of the group rejoined her song.

"Gather up your tears | Keep 'em in your pocket | Save 'em for a time when you're really gonna need 'em, oh | The sharp knife | Of a short life, well"

Once again, the voices of the rest of the group died away for Jemma's second solo.

"I've had just enough time

So, put on your best boys | And, I'll wear my pearls"

Watching and listening as Jemma hit her high note, despite the situation, Phil couldn't help feeling fatherly sense of pride as the young bio-chemist held her composure together and finished out the song, strong. As the song came to a close, Jemma smiled as the guests all applauded her performance. "Th-thank you..." She responded, awkwardly.

Looking out at the audience, Phil caught sight of his old friend, Nick Fury. Even the stoic, unmovable, Director had to wipe the tears from his eyes as he listened to the song the bio-chemist and her team had just sung.

After they'd returned to their places, and the reverend had continued on with the service, Phil watched as they lowered the casket into the ground. With heavy hearts, they all bent down and picked up handfuls of dirt to throw on the grave. Standing next to Phil, Jemma wiped the dirt from her hands as she gripped his right shoulder in her left hand while the right gently lay top his arm. Once he had acknowledged her with a glance, Jemma knew that nothing needed to be said in that moment as she and the rest of the team followed the rest of the guests out, leaving Phil alone the grave site.

Staring at the tombstone before him, Phil finally let some of the tears fall down as his voice shook and cracked. "Skye..." He began, searching for the right words for his goodbye. "I...I'm so sorry...Quinn was right...I never should have let you go in there, alone...You meant so much to me. You always will." Pausing to release a choking sob, he continued his goodbye speech. "I love you, Skye...God...I've always loved you...I know I never...never said or did anything about it...But, I just...I couldn't say goodbye to you...I couldn't let you go without...without...getting it off my chest." Sighing, Phil reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out Skye's flash drive which contained all of the intel she'd gathered in her search for her parents. "I uh.." He began, pausing to clear his throat. "I thought you might want this..." He began, fighting back the tears. "I grabbed it...From your bunk, this morning..." He began, fidgeting awkwardly. "I thought you might want it to show it to your parents. I know you're up there, with them, now. I'm sure they'd love to see all the effort and all the work you put into finding them. I'm sure they'd be proud of you." The senior agent offered, his voice thick with emotion as he lay the flash drive down at the base of the tombstone. "God knows I am. I'm so proud of you, Skye. And, not just for all the work you put into looking for your family." He added, smiling sadly. "But, I'm proud of the person you became. And, I know your family is, too." Phil choked out. "Well, I...I guess, I better get back." He added, pointing toward the SUV. "Team's waiting...Plus, we-uh...We got a lotta work to do...I promise you, Skye..." He began, his voice firmer and more confident than it had been all day. "I swear on my life that Ian Quinn will pay for what he did to you...For taking you away from us..." Rising to his feet, Phil straightened his jacket and his pants before resting a hand on Skye's tombstone. "Goodbye, Skye."

Author's Note:
Okay, I was gonna extend this chapter a little longer but (A) it's late and I gotta work in the morning and (B) I was in tears as I wrote Phil's private, grave-side goodbye. This is the only story I've ever written where I've actually brought myself to tears while I was writing it. Anyway, I hope you all liked this chapter. Again, no promises as to when the next one will be up. But, I can say that I will have it up just as soon as I possibly can. In the meantime, if you'd like to see the trailer I made for this story, just go to YouTube and search "Coulsye Productions || Back From the Dead || Trailer". If there's more than one result with the same title (which there shouldn't be), look for the one uploaded by the user "Coulsye Productions"...

~Skye Coulson