Note: This is canon-divergent in that the Avengers find Phil before he discovers the meaning of his carvings.

"Let It Go"

"That asshole is still alive!" Tony said, angrily pushing away the screen.

"Who's still alive?" Clint asked, polishing his bow.

"Coulson."

There was a pause, and then a wall of noise as the rest of the Avengers leapt up and started shouting. Sam lowered his head into his hands, praying for strength, as well as protection from furious superheroes.

"Fury lied to us about that?" Steve said. "Y'know, I thought he'd gone about as far as he could go, but I was wrong."

"Fucking spies," Tony said, letting the others sift through the multitude of records he'd brought up. "A lot of it's hidden or deleted. But JARVIS can find him."

"Facial recognition software is bringing up security camera matches from all over the world, sir," JARVIS said. "There is no specific pattern." He showed them images, undeniably Phil Coulson. Sam stood beside Steve, wishing Rhodey or Pepper or Jane or anyone else could be here to support him as the only sane man.

"Do you know where he is now?" Natasha asked.

"Pinpointing his current location."

"Let's get flying," Tony said. "Without Thor here, we're gonna have to make do with your puppy-dog eyes, Capsicle."

Following JARVIS's directions, Clint flew them in the cloaked jet to an area which looked uninhabited. But appearances could be deceptive, and as soon as they touched down there was an incoming transmission.

"State your business," a hard female voice said.

"Is that the cavalry?" Clint said.

"I thought we were the cavalry," Bruce said, raising an eyebrow.

"No, Melinda May. Cavalry with a capital 'C'."

"Don't call me that, Barton," she said in reply. "State your business."

"We want a word with Agent Coulson," Tony said.

"There is no Agent Coulson here."

"We know Phil Coulson is here!"

"Ah. Director Coulson is here. Can I take a message?"

"Yeah," Tony said, standing up. "Tell him we're coming in."

"Fine. Leave the plane where it is."

They got inside, and an Asian woman stopped them. As soon as she spoke, he recognised the voice.

"Wait here, and I'll see if he's available," she said.

"He isn't," a girl said, poking her head around a corner. "He's busy. You know, May. Busy." She made some kind of swirling motion with her hand, and May pursed her lips before turning back to them.

"You'll have to come back another day," she said. "Or not."

"We're not giving him the opportunity to hide from us," Steve said firmly. "Take us to him."

"You don't have authority over me, nor over the director of SHIELD."

"There is no SHIELD," Clint said.

"There's a new one, and Coulson is in charge. Come back another day."

"Hey, sweetheart," Tony called to the girl, who was staring at them, open-mouthed. "Just take us to see the Wizard of Oz, or Bruce will get angry."

"You won't like me angry," Bruce said. May rolled her eyes.

"Don't talk to him," she said. "Just watch. He can't be interrupted when he's busy."

They followed her through what must have been the new SHIELD base. Or an old one, judging by the state of the walls. They crowded outside a room, where a man was feverishly carving lines and circles into a wall. Clint went to speak, but May clapped a hand over his mouth, and one over his arm.

"Don't," she whispered. "Just let him get it out of his system first."

"What the hell happened?" Natasha murmured.

"The procedure to bring him back to life involved using alien blood. He hasn't been the same since the operation, and it seems that this," she nodded towards the carving, "is related to whatever went into his body."

"How long was he dead?" Sam asked. May's expression faltered.

"Five days," she said. Bruce inhaled sharply.

"How?" he said. "That's impossible."

"I can ask Simmons to bring you the records, if we have anything left. I don't know whether the Other Guy would like it, though."

"Probably not," Bruce admitted. "It sounds inhuman."

"It took a toll on him. He wasn't allowed to tell you he was alive. The directorship… was given to him after SHIELD fell, when Fury asked Phil to build it up again. He hasn't had time to breathe. We don't have enough resources at our disposal, and then… this started. I was brought in to make sure he didn't lose his mind, and to put him down if he eventually went off the rails."

"At least he hasn't yet," Clint said. His arms were crossed, and his eyes never left Coulson.

"He's getting close," she said. "I can't take him down. It's… Phil." She closed her eyes, and for such a strong-looking woman to seem at the end of her tether, it must have been a hell of a strain. Sam risked touching her shoulder.

"Is there anything I can do?" he said. "I work with PTSD sufferers."

"You've got your work cut out for you with them," May said, half-smiling as she indicated the Avengers. Sam chuckled.

"Done," Coulson said. It was loud in the small, quiet room. He dropped the knife he'd been using, and staggered back a couple of steps. Despite May's advice, Sam moved past her into the room and approached the director. Before he got there, Coulson's knees trembled, and he would've crumpled to the floor if Sam hadn't caught him, keeping him upright.

"Hey, it's alright, man, you can let it go now," he said. "We're here to help."

Coulson shivered for a couple of seconds, and then settled.

"Thanks, but I'm thinking it's a bit late for that," he said weakly, and he smiled bitterly up at Sam. "Hello."

Thrown by this unexpected turn of events, Sam swallowed.

"I'm Sam Wilson," he said. "You're Coulson?"

"Call me Phil," he said, waving a hand dismissively. "It's done for now. Then tomorrow… it'll happen all over again." A tear slid down his cheek, but he didn't seem to notice it. Sam itched to wipe it away. Or maybe it was sweat? Coulson – okay, Phil – was pale and shaky, and his grip kept tightening and loosening on Sam's arm. He didn't look away from his carvings. "I don't know what it means."

"Do you wanna talk about it? I'm a great listener."

"I'm sure you're a great everything, and I've got no idea what I did to deserve you. But that doesn't matter right now." He gestured to the wall. "This. This matters. It holds the secrets, but I don't know what they are, or what the key is."

"We'll figure it out together, okay?"

Phil nodded, and finally turned towards Sam. "I'm tired."

"When did you last sleep?"

"What day is it?"

"You've been awake for forty-seven hours," May said. Phil blinked.

"Oh," he said.

"That does it, you're going to bed," Sam said firmly. He turned Phil towards the door. Phil froze when he saw the Avengers.

"Shit," he muttered. Tony, who still looked angry, although Sam wondered whether his anger had redirected itself towards the former director, opened his mouth. Phil held up a finger. "No. I am not dealing with you right now. All of you, go home and leave me the fuck alone, okay? I do not need you bringing your problems to me. I have an organisation to run—"

"Sleep first," Sam reminded him.

"And none of you take precedence over that. Get out, and don't come back until you have clearance."

"Can I stay, at least?"

"You're my soulmate, Sam. Of course you can stay."

If he wasn't so concerned about Phil's reaction to the Avengers, he would've felt sorry for them when they looked kind of hurt. But Sam's soulmate was clearly in a bad way, and needed his help and some sleep. He'd call the others in the morning, but it was getting late, and if the temporary madness was out of Phil's system, hopefully he'd sleep until morning.

"See you later," he told Steve, shepherding Phil away from them. "I'll talk to you in the morning."

Steve nodded dumbly, and Sam kept supporting Phil as they walked down the corridor together.

And with the Avengers' help, maybe Trip won't be dusted! Yay!

Please review, folks! Came up with this idea and it just wouldn't let me go. Oops.

Extra points to whoever picked up the line from a Rodgers and Hammerstein musical. Hint: part of something a superhero said. Answer will be revealed in a future chapter.