When the away group returned, the first ones to reach the living room were the dogs. A pair of long, lean greyhounds came bounding in, jumped all over Kit, then jumped all over Phil who petted them good-naturedly, then the dogs sniffed at Clint curiously, decided he was good, and jumped all over him too before finally curling up into a pile of brindled fur next to the Lay-Z-Boy.

The dogs and the excitement they brought with them had kept Clint and the already assembled members of the Coulson clan distracted from the group coalescing in the doorway. At the front of the group was a girl—young woman really—of twenty, with dark hair pulled back in a pony tail, and bright gray eyes, wide with shock, that were starting to tear. "Uncle Phil?"

"Hey, Elissa." Phil held an arm open to her.

She stepped forward and hugged him hard. Five more niblings ranging from nine to sixteen followed suit, effectively mobbing Phil and greatly reducing his range of movement—and ability to breathe. This left two men standing in the doorway looking confused, one who was probably Latino but possibly Filipino, and one who could use some goatee keeping advice from Tony who also had a sleeping four year old draped over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Shannon took the child from her husband.

"I thought your brother was dead," the other man, who had to be Maddie's husband, said quietly.

"Yeah, he sorta was, now he's not. Long story, apparently classified, That's why the family meeting. Oh, and he brought his boyfriend." Shannon gestured at Clint.

Maddie's husband held a hand up toward Clint. "God help you."

Clint laughed nervously. "Thanks?"

His phone buzzed in his pocket, he checked it to find the exact same sentiment—Thanks?—offered to him by Steve.

Maddie stood. "Clint, this is my husband, Hector. Hector, Clint." The two men nodded at each other.

"And this"—Shannon gestured—"is my husband Shawn."

Shawn, who had the goatee, held out his hand. Clint shook it.

"We should introduce the grand kids," Mrs. Coulson said.

"Fall in!" Mr. Coulson said in a command voice. He sounded eerily like Phil giving orders.

The Coulson grandchildren lined up from oldest to youngest, except for the sleeping one. The greyhounds obeyed the order too, standing at attention beside the youngest grandson in line.

"The five oldest are Maddie's children," Mrs. Coulson said. Then she ran through names, beginning at one end of the line-up and proceeding down it, "Elissa, Savanna, Gabby, Cass, and Zach are siblings. As you can see Gabby, Cass, and Zach are triplets. Dakota is Shannon's son. And the dogs are Kit's children, Aladdin and Cleopatra."

"And my little sister Cadie," Dakota added, gesturing toward the sleeping little girl in Shannon's arms.

"Yes, and Cadence," Mrs. Coulson amended. "Everyone, this is Clint."

Clint raised a hand in greeting. "Yo."

Cass—Clint was pretty sure it was Cass standing next to his sister, Gabby, the boys were identical—eyed him suspiciously. "Who are you?"

"Your uncle's boyfriend."

"Boyfriend?" Savanna's eyebrows made for her hairline.

"How old are you?" Clint crossed his arms.

"Sixteen."

"Yeah, I'm not going to dignify that with an explanation." He rolled his eyes. "You're in high school and you have Google."

She tossed her hair. "Fair point."

"So," Shawn turned to Phil, "you are a sight for sore eyes."

Phil crossed his arms. "Thanks."

"So, you're sure you actually died?" Hector asked.

"Yeah." Phil sighed.

"Uncle Phil's a zombie," chirped one of the two triplet boys.

The other one grinned. "Sweet."

They high-fived each other. Clint gestured at the boys. "See, they agree with me."

"They are twelve years old."

"According to at least half our coworkers, so am I."

"You should fit right in then," Kit said.

Phil shot her a look. She shrugged. Her gesture was so Phil-like it sent shivers down Clint's spine.

"How'd you become one of the walking dead?" Hector persisted. The two boys stood beside their father and looked expectantly at their uncle,

Phil sighed. "Battle."

Hector looked him over. "You don't look like you're missing limbs or something."

"Friend of ours who's a veteran," Clint said, "has a prosthetic arm. Phil's wounds were different, deadlier actually."

Clint signed one word to Phil, who shook his head. "No." He switched to sign language. "Especially not with the kids here."

Clint rolled his eyes and turned to Maddie's triplets. "You know a little ASL, right?" he signed slowly and clearly.

They brightened and signed enthusiastic yesses.

"Please, take them," he indicated Shannon's kids, "and go away?"

Gabby flashed him an "OK" then she and her brothers herded their younger cousins out of the room. Clint sat back and crossed his arms. "There, I got rid of the small ones. Scars, Philip."

Phil's lips formed a grim line and he was pale as he stared Clint down.

"Oh, for heaven's sake," Maddie said. "The kids will stay away only so long. Just go ahead and take your shirt off."

Phil's shoulders slumped in resignation. Clint fought off a triumphant grin. Phil slowly peeled off his soft yellow polo shirt.

Mrs. Coulson gasped when she saw the scars on Phil's chest. She collapsed heavily into her wing chair when he turned around and she saw the matching, but even more brutal looking, set of scars on her son's back.

"No one could have survived that." Maddie's voice was reedy.

"He didn't," Clint said.

Mr. Coulson went over to Phil and traced the scars on his back.

"I am impressed, sir," Clint said. "It took me a few weeks to work up the nerve to deliberately touch Phil's scars."

Mr. Coulson smiled an acknowledgment. "Seems to get easier to be tough as I get older, maybe because I've seen so much." He turned to Phil. "Something went right through you." It wasn't a question.

Phil turned around and nodded. "Something like an especially horrible spear."

"All the way through?" Kit asked thinly.

"Looks that way," Shawn said. "The scars tell the tale."

"Guess you really did die," Hector said.

"I really did." With an air of relief, Phil put his shirt back on. "Mercifully, I don't remember much about that moment or for quite a while afterward."

Elissa went over and put her arms around Phil. "What you must have gone through. Oh my God." Silent tears tracked down her face.

Savanna stood to the side in open-mouthed shock.

Maddie, Shannon, and Kit went over and turned Elissa's gesture into a group hug. Maddie reached out and grabbed Clint's arm. She dragged him into the group hug. They didn't break apart until the younger children came seeking permission to return.

Elissa was the last person to let go of Phil. She leaned toward him and spoke softly. "Last time I was at your grave, I left Captain America, in case you needed help sometime."

Phil raised his eyebrows. "You mean the toy."

She nodded. He grinned. "Thank you! I found that yesterday. I left him, along with another action figure, to guard everything."

Elissa smiled. "Thought you'd like it."

"I love it"

Julie Coulson nudged her son-in-law. "Where are the sandwich platters, Shawn?"

"Pretty sure Hector brought them to the kitchen," Shawn said.

"Sandwiches?" Dakota's inquiry was hopeful and enthusiastic.

With a chuckle, Robert Coulson shooed the children into the kitchen. He followed them and the adults followed him.

"Kids eat on the back porch," Maddie said as she stepped into the kitchen. "That means anyone under eighteen."

Savanna skidded to a halt and, mouth hanging open, stared at her mother. Maddie's eyebrow ticked up slightly. "Earlier, you demonstrated your inability to deal with even a low level, straightforward grown-up conversation."

"So I'm banished to built-in babysitter duty?" Savanna objected.

"Not at all," Hector said. "Aunt Shannon's littlest one will stay in here and the rest can look out for themselves. Feel free to sit by yourself and have lunch."

"Cadie gets to stay here?" Savanna all but shrieked.

"Savanna Josephine." Maddie didn't raise her voice but her tone was sharp.

Savanna's shoulders slumped. "Yes, ma'am." She sighed.

Clint grinned when he caught Maddie's eye. She shrugged. "Mother of five learns to give orders."

"You were born to it, honey," Hector said. "Course I'm never sure if you get it from your Mom or your Dad."

"Her Mom," Mr. Coulson said with a chuckle. "No question." He put his hand on Phil's elbow and Clint's shoulder and steered them toward the big wooden table in the spacious country kitchen. He sat next to his son and passed paper plates and napkins to Phil and Clint. Mrs. Coulson and Maddie passed glasses of lemonade out to everyone at the table. Hector and Shawn got the kids settled with food and drink out on the porch.

The elder Mr. Coulson and Phil both put mixed coldcut sandwiches on their plates. Clint grabbed a turkey club sandwich. Julie Coulson sat next to her husband then selected a roast beef sandwich.

Robert Coulson's and Phil's movements seemed synchronized as they talked shop and ate their sandwiches.

"You look remarkably fit for someone sporting scars like that," Mr. Coulson said. "You still doing field work?"

"He looks remarkably alive for someone sporting scars like that," Mrs. Coulson muttered darkly.

Phil and his dad leaned forward in tandem and aimed a matching set of wry grins at Mrs. Coulson. She raised her eyebrows.

"I still do fieldwork at times," Phil said. "But I wind up doing way too much paperwork."

"All this computerization and mobile devices must have changed all that."

"Some." Phil chuckled. "But not as much as you'd think. I still wrangle an astonishing number of paper files."

"Mmm," Mr. Coulson said. "I well understand that. Going out in the field can be a relief sometimes."

"Harrowing." Phil sighed. "When I go out in the field, it's usually harrowing."

Mr. Coulson and Clint each raised an eyebrow.

Julie Coulson leaned toward Clint. "So you're the one that planted that miniature rosebush last year?"

"Yes ma'am," he said. "I suspect you planted the miniature white roses."

"I did," Mrs. Coulson said. "I noticed signs of someone visiting Phil's grave regularly. I was a little surprised because Phil never mentioned anyone but it was clear to me that someone loved him."

Clint felt his cheeks get hot. "Yes ma'am."

"Julie and I were very touched," Mr. Coulson said. "We were glad someone loved him."

Clint's face burned more. "Thank you sir."

"I used to wish I could talk to you, at least once," Mrs. Coulson said softly. "I notice that you left homemade baked goods."

"Yes, ma'am, I did."

"I'm glad to finally meet you." She glanced at her husband, "We both are." Robert nodded.

"I'm glad to meet you too," Clint said warmly.

"I can hardly believe"—Robert Coulson was breathless as he spoke—"that you brought him with you." He took a breath. "That Phil is alive."

"I hardly believe it myself," Clint said.

"I, um"—Phil was red-faced as he spoke—"I think I brought him with me."

"Dear," Julie Coulson said, "I really have the impression he brought you with him."

Phil thought about that. "Well, in some ways," he conceded.

Clint leaned toward Phil. "I was just supportive."

Phil shook his head. "You dialed Shannon's number and thrust the phone in my hand when I was too paralyzed to do it. And, uh, you got the travel plans finalized."

Shannon smirked. "Thanks, Clint. I should've realized."

Clint ducked his head and mumbled. "You're welcome."

Maddie quirked an eyebrow. "So you're one of those blonds that tend to be bashful. You're old enough and polished enough that it isn't immediately obvious but it shows up under stress."

Clint was baffled. "What's blond got to do with it?"

"There's a genetic component," Maddie said. "It's associated with blonds with light eyes. You look like you'd have the genetics even though you're a gray-eyed blond rather than a blue-eyed blond."

"Gray?" Clint and Phil said in unison.

Maddie chuckled. "Sure. You've got gray eyes that look different at different times, mostly green, gray, and blue from what I see."

"Mom, any gray eyes are gonna look those colors." Elissa said. "In a sense, gray eyes are blue eyes with a little bit of yellow in them, and green eyes are blue eyes with enough yellow in them to look green but not enough yellow to be amber eyes."

"So," Clint said, "you might say gray eyes are green-ish?"

Elissa laughed. "Sort of."

"Because I'm never sure how to describe my eyes and I usually say greenish."

"They're definitely gray," Maddie said.

"But they are hard to describe," Elissa said, "because you have a bit of heterochromia where you have an amber ring in the center of your eyes."

"What are you studying in college?" Phil asked before eating the last bite of his sandwich.

Elissa grinned. "Biology."

"Planning to become a doctor?" Phil said.

She shook her head. "I think about it sometimes but then I always decide I'm not willing to go through what they make you do to become an MD. Seems like a horrible kind of hazing."

Julie Coulson got up and filled the glass carafe from her Mr. Coffee with filtered water. She set about making a full pot of decaf.