Chapter Text
May 15, 1991, S.H.I.E.L.D. Safehouse, Bordeaux, France
Phil Coulson was a professional. With a capital P. Nine years doesn’t seem like a long time, but when it’s spent being the right-hand man to S.H.I.E.L.D. director Nick Fury, it might as well count for a life-time. That being said, not a lot could surprise him; he had seen a lot in his 27 years of life.
Though, he had never accounted for the kid. Said teen was sat on the couch, dozing as he half paid attention to the TV in front of him. Phil could hear the soft noises coming from the box, and briefly wondered if the kid could hear any of it at all, or if it just existed as background noise. It did for him, at least.
The phone beside him buzzed, making a weird vibrating sound against the wooden coffee table, and Phil quickly grabbed it, putting it to his ear without checking the caller ID.
“Coulson.”
The boy didn’t turn from where he was watching TV, but Phil noticed his eyes dart over to where he sat in the kitchen.
“How’re you liking the apartment?” Fury’s monotone voice droned, and Phil had to repress a smile. It had been a while since he had last heard from his friend. It was good to know that he was still doing alright, despite all that’s happened.
“It’s nice. A bit small, but cozy. Needs a fish tank, though.”
“There’s plenty enough fish where you’re going. How soon can you and your ward get your asses packed and outside?”
“Fifteen minutes, tops. Why, has our Songbird been compromised?” At this, the boy in the living room shifted so he was in an upright position, his eyes still pinned on Phil.
“Not yet, but it’d be in all of our best interests to keep it that way. I need you and Barton to evacuate, prompto. An agent will be outside the apartment in fifteen minutes waiting for you.”
Phil got up and started stuffing things into his field backpack, the only thing he had managed to grab before the S.H.I.E.L.D. base blew up. Well, that and the kid’s bow and quiver. “Where are we headed, Nick? Somewhere warm, I hope.”
“Somewhere much nicer than Bordeaux, France. You ever heard of Tahiti?”
Phil smiled slightly as he hefted his backpack over his shoulder and moved into the bathroom. The kid had started collecting his stuff, too, which was good. “I hear it’s a magical place.”
“Twelve minutes, Phil. I’ll be in touch.” With that, Fury hung up the phone. He never was one for goodbyes.
Phil left the bathroom and headed toward his bedroom, although he hadn’t used it much in the month they had been there. His nights were either spent at the kitchen table or at the kid’s bedside.
“Where are we going?” A soft voice behind him made him stop. Clint Barton stood with his bow and quiver slung over one shoulder, his backpack over the other. A blond eyebrow was quirked up and his gray eyes were narrowed in suspicion.
“We’re gonna need to get you a swimsuit, kid. You’re going to love French Polynesia.”
Six Months Earlier
November 8, 1990, S.H.I.E.L.D. Base, LOCATION CLASSIFIED
“So, let me get this straight, two of our top two agents, who have gone on countless of missions and never once failed or were compromised, were shot and killed by a vigilante running around in pajamas with a boy and arrow?”
Phil smiled humorously. He had been dreading this conversation. “Yes, that is correct. Agents Smulder and Gregg are dead. I’ve already written condolence letters to their families.”
Maria Hill rubbed the bridge of her nose and sighed. “I couldn’t give a rat’s tail about condolence letters right now, Phil. We need to find the guy that did this. Do you realize how vulnerable we now look to our enemies? Knowing we lost two Level 9 agents to a Robin Hood cosplayer?”
“I think our culprit shoots a little better than Robin Hood,” Phil said grimly, though his smile was still planted on his face. “Though, his moral code is definitely lacking.”
Phil turned the photo on the desk around and pushed it a little closer to the woman sitting across from him. The photo showed a hooded figure in gray sweatpants and a purple hoodie fleeing the scene where, even though not explicitly shown in the photograph, Phil knew two of his agents had been shot through the head. The killer had a bow clutched in his right hand and a quiver full of arrows strapped across his back. “This is our guy, Maria. 5’6”, 140 pounds, in his early to mid twenties. There are five guys matching this description locked in a detention center in Elkton, Virginia. 100 miles from where the incident took place and only one of them was carrying a bow and arrow. Our archer fled the scene, hopped on a bus, and was looking for a way out of Virginia when he was picked up by local police for matching the description. I can be there within the hour and I’ll make sure this guy is brought to justice. Just give me the go ahead.”
Hill sighed and shook her head, briefly looking up at the ceiling before focusing on Phil again. “You need to stop interfering with tech’s investigations. That information should’ve been sent to me as soon as it was finished, not to you.”
“I’ll stop when you quit sending them over to me to be trained. I want this case, Maria. Clark Gregg was my first friend when I was a recruit. He was a good guy, and his murderer needs to be punished.”
“If you’re going to get personal, there’s no way I’m assigning this to you.”
“It’s not personal at all, ma’am. S.H.I.E.L.D. won’t be able to go on the same without him. We’ve lost an essential man, and I want to make sure we won’t continue to lose them.”
“You think this archer’s going to strike again if he gets the chance?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll have a better answer for you if you let me go speak to him, find out what his motive was.”
Hill sighed again, closed her eyes, shook her head, and Phil knew he had won. Hill slid the photo back toward him, and then pulled out a file from a desk drawer that was also handed over to the man. “You couldn’t stand Gregg. Always thought he was too uptight and had an attitude problem. I’m giving this case to you, Phil, because I know you can crack it, but I would like to know the real reason you’re so interested in this guy.”
Phil nodded, not surprised. Maria didn’t get this far into her career by being inattentive. “It was dark, pouring rain, and the archer was at least 80 meters from our agents. The fact that he had not only managed to catch them offguard, but also hit each of them straight through the eye with a simple bow and arrow is more than a little impressive. It’s astounding. We could use an agent with that kind of skillset.”
Hill cocked an eyebrow at this. “I should’ve known you would look at this catastrophe and see opportunity. You have your case, but be reasonable. This guy might’ve known Gregg and Smulder were S.H.I.E.L.D. agents and that’s why he killed them. He probably wouldn’t be interested in joining our little boy band then.”
Phil stood up from his chair and made for the door, pausing just before exiting. “I suspect he’s a contract killer and had no care in who he took down. But, will do. I’ll be leaving in an hour, right after I stop in with tech.”
As he made his way down the hallway, curiously flipping through the file, he could hear Maria’s indignant yell for him to leave the damn techs alone.