That Certain-Something Spring by (the brilliant) Orenda Fink is today's inspiration. Another difficult chapter to write, but so satisfactory. Enjoy!

The highway traffic was thinning out as Tony settled further into his seat. After he'd stopped briefly to remove the Iron suit, they'd continued due west, eventually crossing over the New York Pennsylvania state line. Coulson had been adamant about them getting as far as they could driving at night and then holing up somewhere at day break. He'd also been wide awake, like some kind of electrically shocked, cat-nip crazed creature, swiveling his head from side to side every time they passed a car…which was almost every second.

Finally, as time drug on, Coulson had slipped into unconsciousness and Tony could finally breathe easy. He'd checked over the agent's wounds when they'd stopped, noting that the cut on his hand was shallow. The stitches were another problem. He'd have to take care of those himself and with the agent telling him he couldn't go anywhere public, Stark was starting to realize he'd have to improvise.

Hell, I had to improvise in order to survive the Ten Rings.

The memory made him simultaneously grip the wheel harder and shake his head. No. You are not going to get dragged back there. What happened there made you who you are. You wouldn't trade it for anything in the world…despite the unpleasant memories.

He glanced over at Coulson, the agent's face shifting in his sleep. He winced, his eyes squeezed shut.

Unpleasant memories all around, I see.

Coulson mumbled. "No…"

Stark nudged the agent lightly with his hand. "Hey, Coulson, wake up."

A large truck released its airbrakes in front of them as they started down a steep hill, startling him. Coulson stirred but didn't awaken, his moaning only growing louder. "No, stop. Let me go!"

Stark stomped on the gas, and raced passed the truck. Nestled back in the darkness and silence of that night's road, he reached over and put a hand on Coulson's shoulder. "Phil, wake up."

Coulson started, whipping his head toward him. "What happened? What's the matter?"

"Nothing, except you're starting to freak the hell out of me. You were talking in your sleep."

The agent straightened in the seat, his eyes guarded. "How much did you hear?"

For a moment, Stark was tempted to ask Coulson what he'd dreamed. Instead, he shrugged and said, "Something about Captain America pajamas…"

Coulson rolled his eyes.

"They're a collector's item. I get it. I'm just saying there are other perfectly healthy ways of being a supportive fan. I've heard fan fiction can be really cathartic…"

"I wasn't talking about my pajamas, Stark," Coulson said, his tone dropping into depression.

"Hey, I was only kidding. I didn't think you actually owned a pair."

"I don't."

"Good. I was a little worried…"

"I was back in that room again," Coulson supplied, putting a hand to his head and massaging his temples. "Seems like I can never leave it behind. It just gets clearer and clearer every time I think about it."

Stark pursed his lips. "Then don't think about it."

"Easier said than done."

"Here, this ought to take your mind off of it for a while." Stark reached inside his coat and produced a small pack.

The moment Coulson saw the label, his eyes practically bugged. "Captain America trading cards. Mint. Still in the plastic." He leaned forward, trying to breathe. "These must have cost you a fortune."

"Took a while to track them down. No easy task by the way. Tracking the location of a rogue terrorist group to a middle of no-where location in the deserts of Afghanistan was easier than trying to find one of those packs."

Coulson turned the pack over in his fingers, unable to take his eyes off it. "What happened to my other cards?"

"So these aren't good enough, is that it?"

"These are amazing, in every sense of the word. But the others were…they had personal value, emotional value…"

Tony swallowed. "They were covered in your blood."

Coulson scoffed. "Took 'em out of my locker. That son of a bitch," he said under his breath.

"What?"

"Oh…nothing." He leaned back in the seat. "My father bought me the first couple when I was just a kid. It was just before he died. They're really the only thing I had left of him."

Stark thought briefly about his own father. A multi-million dollar company had been left to him, a name, a legacy. But nothing personal. He wasn't sure why but he was envious of the agent. The thought suddenly evaporated when he remembered what had happened to the cards. "They buried the other cards with you…well…in your, I guess, empty coffin. The Cap even signed them. Figured the most valuable ones should be with the most dedicated fan."

Coulson's mouth formed a straight line and Tony looked away, allowing him a moment to reign in his feelings.

"So, what exactly is the plan, Phil? Besides butchering my sleep schedule once again?"

"I forgot about the insomnia." Coulson glanced at him. "Sorry."

"I'll also mention that I haven't been on a road trip since one of my college girlfriends wanted to see Black Sabbath in concert. Seriously one of the longest road trips ever; it was only to Philadelphia but it felt like forever. We couldn't actually listen to any Black Sabbath, or The Who, or Led Zeppelin on the way there, we had to 'save ourselves up' for them. So, instead, it was Gordon Lightfoot for two straight days."

"Sounds like hell," Coulson sympathized.

"There's only so many times one can listen to "Sundown" without a small part of them dying inside."

"Any idea where she is now?"

Stark wracked his memory. He couldn't even pull up her name. Jamie? Janie? Jan? Jen? He shrugged. "No clue."

Coulson seemed unsatisfied with his answer and stared out his window.

"How's the arm holding up?"

"Hurts like a bitch," Coulson remarked off the cuff.

Stark's eyebrows went up. "Figured as much." If Coulson was swearing openly, it had to be painful. He'd wrapped it with a strip from Coulson's suit shirt and he'd seen the agent's eyes haze over in agony as he'd applied the pressure. "I'm going to need a suture and a needle in order to fix that up."

"Never took you for much of a nursemaid," Coulson said.

"I'm not. I just really like to sew," Tony remarked.

They sat in silence for a couple more minutes. Stark could tell Coulson was thinking about the room again. He didn't blame him. All he'd done after New York was obsess on it, the idea that death had come so close to snatching him away and that he'd been so ready for it. It had made him feel hollow, much like he was sure Coulson was feeling right now.

"So, Portland," he brought up, hoping the distraction would yank Coulson thoroughly from the memories at least for a little bit.

The agent looked at him and sighed. "Yeah."

"The cellist?"

Coulson's face pinched a little. "Audrey."

"She thinks you're dead, too, doesn't she?"

"They had to tell her I was to keep her safe."

Stark frowned. "Safe from what?"

"From anyone that might try to get to me through someone I—" He stopped himself. "The assignment of my team and the Bus had stipulations. I couldn't ever see her again, nor she see me."

"But she could at least know that you were alive."

"Too risky. And I wouldn't be able to give her a reason for why I couldn't see her, not one she'd believe anyway."

Stark read Coulson's face, the desperation tugging at the corners of his mouth and the loneliness in his far-off gaze. "Things were serious then?"

"She left me. Had to. She had a job in Portland. S.H.I.E.L.D. pulled me in the opposite direction. Finding time to spend with her was becoming harder and harder. I couldn't promise to always be there for her." He shook his head.

"But she must have understood the importance of your job?"

"I told her I was FBI. Not S.H.I.E.L.D. though. I couldn't tell her that. I had to lie."

"I suppose it would have been a little strange coming into dinner late and saying "Sorry, honey. I had to deal with Norse Gods of legend today. Tomorrow, I'll be digging a body out of some ice that we found at the bottom of the ocean."

"Mostly, I'd just say it was a late night at the office."

"Probably the better thing to go with."

"Cello, though." Tony nodded. "That's a tough instrument."

"She never made it seem that way," Coulson said, smiling a little. It was the first time Stark had seen him genuinely happy about something the entire night. "First time I heard her play, I think I forgot to breathe."

"That good, huh?"

"Well, that and she was really pretty." Stark thought for a moment he saw the agent's cheeks color a little.

"How'd you work up the nerve to ask her out?"

"I didn't. Eventually, she started noticing how I'd always show up to her concerts, and would always flash me a smile before she got off the stage. I even went back stage once, thinking I was finally ready to do it. Instead, I wrote a note to her telling her how much I enjoyed her performance and went to slip it under the door. She opened it before I could. Slammed me in the head, knocked me out cold."

Tony chuckled. "Graceful."

"She went in the ambulance with me to the emergency room. When I woke up she just said, "We'll go somewhere more fun on our next date." And that was that."

"So you basically stalked her and made yourself look like an idiot in order to secure a date with her?"

Coulson shrugged. "It worked, didn't it?"

"I've got to hand it to you, Phil, it's certainly one of the strangest methods I've ever heard of."

His smile faded after a few moments and he stared down at his hands solemnly. "She didn't deserve it."

"Deserve what?"

"Being alone so much. I should have been there for her more than I was."

"You tried your hardest."

Coulson shook his head. "No, I didn't. I was scared to leave the job behind. It had always been there like some kind of crutch. It sustained me. I wasn't ready to loosen my grip on it, even just a little bit."

Stark sighed.

"So she left. Said we needed some time to cool off. I agreed. But we still called one another at the end of each week. I never got to talk to her that week."

Tony didn't need to ask; he knew which week Coulson was referring to.

"The next phone call she got was them telling her I'd been killed in the line of duty, instead of me telling her I got to save the day with my favorite heroes." He leaned his head on the window and closed his eyes.

"But we're going to set things straight; we're going to tell her the truth."

"Yeah," Coulson muttered. "Because I'm selfish."

"What?"

"Telling Audrey will break S.H.I.E.L.D.'s protocol. I'll be telling a civilian, someone I used to know that I'm still alive. It's my only chance to stop S.H.I.E.L.D. from taking me back. They can make me forget…but they can't make her."

Stark nodded. "Seems like a solid plan. Why do I get the feeling you're not 100 percent committed to it?"

"Because I'm going to break her heart," Coulson cleared his throat. When he opened his eyes, Stark recognized the shimmer of tears in the corners. "Again."

"Phil, I just found out you were alive and the most I did was save your life and then…punch you. Knowing you were alive made any anger I felt toward you minimal at best."

"She's probably moved on, Stark. It's only healthy for her to have wanted to rebuild her life after us; after me. And if she has, I'll be taking a wrecking ball to it."

"She'll know you're alive," Tony emphasized, making eye contact with him for a split second. "That'll make it all worthwhile. She'll be relieved. You'll see."

Coulson exhaled. "I hope." It was the thing either one of them said over the next few hours of driving.

Realized that I wouldn't be able to post this chapter Friday evening because I have a commitment to go see Captain America 2! So here it is early. Enjoy guys! Chapter 14 will probably follow Saturday evening.