Chapter Four:

August 11, 1953

Day of relocation.

Phil sighed as he left the house he grew up in for the last time. His mother was already in the car, and he followed suit. A government agent named Ginger Hill was driving them. Apparently they would be watched from the moment they stepped out the door. Phil couldn't help but consider what he'd gotten himself into.

The drive to New York took about four and a half hours. They didn't stop anywhere except for gas, which cut back on the travel time. Phil didn't complain. He was used to long car rides. Before she had died, he used to visit his hospitalized grandmother almost every weekend, and she lived at least three hours away. She enjoyed their visits, even if she would forget them the next moment (She had Alzheimer's), and so the Coulson family continued to go.

Coulson was torn away from his thoughts when Ginger slammed on the brakes… in the middle of the street.

"You guys are going to need to get out."

"Why?"

"Someone's trying to kill you." Phil's heart thumped hard inside his chest.

"How… how do you know?"

"We're on an abandoned side street, no one else is going this way, and the scanners just picked up a grenade 100 feet away."

This couldn't be any good: It meant the information had leaked.

"How did someone find out?"

"I don't know. I'm calling in air support."

"Why didn't you just fly us in the first place?"

"Too conspicuous."

The rest of the day was a nightmare. After S.H.I.E.L.D. ferried Phil and Julie off the scene, they attempted to look for evidence and track down the conspirator. Unfortunately, only minutes after Phil had left in a helicopter, someone triggered the bomb, leaving a wreckage far worse than originally thought. Three people died in the blast. What troubled Phil was that some of the agents seemed only to care that Phil wasn't hurt, as if he was far more important than the victims.

While the FBI, CIA, and S.H.I.E.L.D. came rushing to the scene, Phil was hidden away in a safe house somewhere in rural New York.

The house was not where they originally planned to put Phil, but after the events of the last few hours, they couldn't take chances. The plans had changed, the stakes were high, and they couldn't risk letting the public in on Phil's secret. Someone had more information than they should, and they would use it: he was sure.

The 'safe house' turned out to be a summer house for one of the earliest S.H.I.E.L.D. agents to sign on. He was away on an intelligence mission at the moment, so Phil would be there with only his mother and two guards, just in case.

It was a farmhouse, really, but without a farm. It was all there was within miles, surrounded by green. From s distance it could have passed as a farm. But it wasn't really. It was made of whitewashed wood and covered in windows. The interior was nice, for sure. There were six bedrooms, one of which would be Phil's for at least a short while.

It didn't exactly feel like home, but it would have to do.

Phil couldn't sleep, again.

He was concerned with how far out there the information was and how many people knew he was a super-soldier. He listed them off in his head: himself, Howard, Chris, Rachel, Megan, and Peggy for sure, but how many others? He knew it was classified even to high-level agents, but someone out there had found out, and he wasn't nearly as friendly as the others on the list.

He knew when he signed on that it would be a dangerous job. He could have been killed b the serum. At least he had made it this far.

Phil juggled his thoughts as he tossed and turned. Finally, a restless sleep took him.

The next morning, Phil woke to the smell of freshly-brewed coffee and French toast.

Ah, he thought, Mom's cooking.

It was the first comfort of home he had felt in a long time. It was just strange to be experiencing it in someone else's home. But he shoved aside that thought as he entered the kitchen.

"Good morning, Phil."

"Morning."

"I never knew someone who didn't keep flour in their cupboard. Apparently this guy believes in putting everything in the fridge."

Phil couldn't help but smile. His mom appeared to not be troubled by the events of the last month at all. She was back to her good old self, and for a moment Phil could imagine himself as he was before he had enlisted, before he had volunteered his life for an insane science experiment, before someone wanted him dead.

But the moment vanished just as soon as it had come. He piled pancakes on his plate as his mother poured him a cup of coffee. It was nice to imagine things as they were. But he would never be the same as he was before. He was different now, and there was no going back. His momentary happiness was far overwhelmed by other things: fear, dread, hopelessness.

The only comforting thought was that he would be able to do something he never would be able to without the serum: he could fight well for his country, he could save thousands of lives, and he could do what he had dreamed of doing since he was a boy.

A note on S.H.I.E.L.D.: as far as my knowledge goes, we only know that S.H.I.E.L.D. was created after Cap went under and some of its founding members were Peggy Carter and Howard Stark. I have no idea how canonically accurate the development of S.H.I.E.L.D. according to my story would be, or if there is anything to compare it to. I just wrote how I might imagine it to be, not a huge agency yet, but still somewhat powerful.

I would like to thank one follower in particular: Ur fan, who pointed out that a few dates were originally wrong in this story. I now fixed this, thanks to you! A round of applause, please.

This is a reminder that I really do care if you notice a mistake! I can't write this story without all of my readers' support! Please favorite/follow/review!

If you liked this story at all, please follow/favorite if you haven't already!

Everyone please tell me what you think, any ideas, or corrections in the reviews. It only takes a minute of your time and it really helps!

Thanks in advance!