Elle Jones (agent_elle) wrote in aafterthebattle, @ 2012-08-17 11:38:00 |
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Entry tags: | backstory, elle jones, phil coulson |
Who: Agent Elle Jones and Agent Phil Coulson
When: 4 months after the events of The Avengers
Where: London, England
What: Agent Jones is the new Supernanny.
The monotony of the hospital was almost too much for her to bear. Day in, day out, the drip of the IV, the beeps when someone, somewhere, coded. The sound of the door opening and closing as nurses and doctors came and went, explaining that there wasn’t an update in his status and offering apologies to her about her husband.
Only the man lying in the bed next to her wasn’t her husband. They were never supposed to know that, though. As far as everyone in this hospital was concerned, she was Mrs Jennifer Clark, wife of ten years to Mr Greg Clark, who had been in a medically induced coma for 3 months now as he went through surgery after surgery to repair his broken body.
“That’s how it works...” The scene replayed among other scenes that washed through the comatose mind of Phil Coulson. Three months was an awful long time to be left alone with your thoughts, and that was really all he had to keep him company. On occasion he heard the voices of people who visited and chose to speak to him, but overall he was swept up in the visual splendor of memories mixed with his imaginative mind. Faces appeared from old reports long since filed of other agents and assisting operatives, and they swirled with the sounds of voices both real and imagined. Those drugs were doing a number on his mind, but there wasn’t anything he could do apart from lay there and let them.
Elle (as that was her real name) settled in once again for a long day of sitting beside the now famous Agent Coulson, pulling out a new book she’d purchased in the few hours she’d spent away from the hospital.
Hurrah for another dull day, she thought, sighing a bit as she glanced at Coulson. Can’t you just wake up? Even if he did, she wouldn’t be finished with her assignment. She was to keep him away from everyone who thought him to be dead, update Director Fury on his condition only if/when something changed, and make sure no gods or ‘space aliens’ attempted to finish their work. All of that meant, really, that she got to play wife for however long the physical therapy (because oh yes, the optimistic doctors would at least say he had a long road ahead with that, too) took.
So, she settled into the book. She was only a page into it, however, when little alarms started going off. In their room. She jumped up and looked at Coulson in shock, barely managing to say, “C-Greg??” before two of the nurses rushed into the room.
“He’s waking up, looks like!” said the first nurse. Elle was rather surprised at the full feeling of relief that washed over her -- and not due to the assignment.
Dreams. That what they all felt like -- fuzzy dreams. As he saw what looked like Tony Stark toasting his death with Director Fury, they both dissolved into a thick, dense fog that became rather blurred by his eyelashes. His eyes felt like a hundred pounds each, but he managed to open them a crack, a tiny groan barely escaping his throat. They had taken care of him, but his mouth and throat were still dry and besides that, he hadn’t used them in months. By the time he finally became capable of opening his eyes more than a slant, the fuzzy images around him took a bit to clear up, and even then they were still not entirely focused. His body refused to allow him movement more than a mere twitching of muscles here and there, and he winced as pain enveloped his torso. Many surgeries had taken their toll and some of the drugs were wearing off.
The second nurse at least noticed the pain and went to administer assistance into his IV while they checked his vitals. Pain aside, he was looking good and nowhere near as horrible as he felt.
“Will he be able to speak?” Elle asked curiously, watching his eyes closely as they fluttered and opened. That was a good sign. But then she knew Agent Coulson; she knew he was a fighter. Really, she hadn’t believed a word of Fury’s explanation to her until she saw Coulson herself, and even then, she wasn’t surprised he hadn’t died.
“Well, his throat is dry and he’s rather drugged, so probably not for a while,” the first nurse said. “I’ll get some ice chips for you, and you can help him with those.” The nurse left the room, coming back after just a moment with a small cup full of the ice, and handed it to Elle. “There you are, Mrs. Clark.”
Elle smiled gratefully, then patiently waited for the nurses to leave after doing all their checking and clucking over her “husband.” Once they had, she carefully sat on the edge of the bed, and placed an ice chip on his lips.
“Suck on it... It will help your throat.” She gently pushed it into his mouth, then shook her head while watching him, voice changing a bit from the gentle ‘Mrs. Clark’ to a tired, slightly frustrated Agent Jones. “Bravery is the kindest word for stupidity by far, don’t you think?”
If his eyes felt like a hundred pounds each, his arms felt a hundred times worse. He wasn’t sure he had heard them correctly. Mrs. Clark? He struggled to focus more, though he heard the familiar voice that he thought he wouldn’t hear again -- though after everything, he was surprised he would hear voices again to begin with, so he shouldn’t be surprised at anything now. Sucking on the ice chip was the best pleasure he could manage to enjoy right then, and he closed his eyes a moment before struggling to look at her once more. Her face cleared and fit with his memory. Agent Jones. He knew her well from more than her profile and the few cases they assisted on together. They had spoken when the time was on their side for communication, but he was confused now at her presence and felt determined to allow the dissolving ice to do its job of refreshing his throat. He desperately wanted to retort.
She slowly gave him another ice chip, then sighed softly, looking around very carefully to make sure the nurses had shut the door and that they were truly alone. She looked back at Coulson and said, “blink once for yes, twice for no until you get your voice back. Understand?”
He blinked and swallowed some of the melted ice before sighing softly. Even in his drugged state, he knew the questions from agents while in the hospital and waited for the worst. Did he know where he was? Not really, but he knew it was a hospital by the IV in his arm and what had happened, but how could he say that? He waited and watched her, looking almost like a scolded puppy.
“Is your real name Phillip Coulson?” Not that she wanted to ask that. She wanted to ask if he was the stupidest bastard that ever breathed, but she had to refrain from doing so. It was funny, in a small way, that he already looked unhappy. But then again, she wouldn’t be too pleased if she woke up in the same situation. So she started with a simple question, hoping that amnesia wasn’t also part of his coma.
He paused a moment, processing the question. The name sounded familiar, and before he could really question it, he blinked once and swallowed the rest of the ice. It felt amazing, and somehow he was able to lick his lips. Whatever that nurse had put into the IV was certainly kicking in to get rid of the pain.
“I really hope you’re not just say--well, blinking to that because it’s the first thing you’ve heard,” she said, her lips almost quirking a bit. “Do you need another ice chip?”
He wanted to blink twice to say he wasn’t just saying it, but that wasn’t a question, so he blinked once for ice. Oh how he wanted more ice. Water would be even better, but he didn’t want to push it yet. He wanted to ask for that.
Elle nodded and gave him a slightly larger ice chip than she had been, then said, “All right, Agent Coulson. For the purposes of survival, you are under your old name Greg Clark, and I’m your wife of ten years, Jennifer. Obviously this is just a cover, but we had to do something. Fury called me in from MI6 to take care of you, and I’m going to be with you until you’re able to walk into his office without assistance. Until that time, you’re under my care, and we’re hiding in the best place possible -- plain sight. You’re in London, England, and you’re going to be here unless we need to move you to Germany. Some of their hospitals are better than ours.”
It was a huge information dump on the poor guy, but she spoke slowly and clearly, giving him time after each sentence to fully comprehend what she was saying. She didn’t need him forgetting to refer to himself as Greg or they’d almost literally have to burn the hospital down and move on.
Coulson took the ice gratefully, adding thank you to the list of things he wanted to say as he attempted a stretch of his vocal chords. He listened to everything, taking it all in and completely understanding the objective. She hadn’t asked a question, but he knew she wanted a response to that, so he blinked once to show that to her.
Her lips quirked again. “I didn’t ask anything.” She said it lightly, as this was the first time she was able to communicate with him in some small way, and she found herself missing his sense of humour.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve been shaving your stubble off. I know you prefer to be clean-shaven, and I didn’t trust the nurses to go near you with a razor. Which is silly, I suppose. You’ve been under the knife four times now. You even coded a few times... But it’s good to see you awake.” Elle smiled gently, the first real emotion she’d been able to show. Although really, it had been a bit of a relief to play the role of his wife because if she appeared overly-concerned, it could be played off as performing her job quite well. No one needed to know that she truly did care about Agent Coulson’s well-being. Or that she still felt he was a fool for his actions.
His lips quirked a little at her assistance as much as her words. Another stretch of his vocal chords and he swallowed the ice, letting out a very raspy, “thank you.” He swallowed again and turned his head, trying to look around and hoping there was water near the ice chips. It wasn’t any wonder that they had asked her for assistance. She was one of the best agents in MI6 as far as he was concerned, so if she had to play his wife, she clearly would show that to anyone who needed convincing. If he was going to say anything more, however, he knew he needed that water.
She nodded to him, then noticed his search. “I’ll be right back.” She left the room to get a cup of water for him, returning as quickly as she could, then sat carefully beside him once more and helped tilt his head up. “Here we go.”
He thanked her silently by assisting her, lifting his head a little and doing his best to drink a little before sighing and smiling, one hand moving to take the cup enough to set it aside. After another swallow, he nodded, his voice a bit better and not as grunting. “Thank you...” He wasn’t even sure if there were bugs, but if there were then why would she inform him everything she already had? Still, he wasn’t clear headed and didn’t know what he could say either. “You’re...too kind.”
“You say that now, but you’ve only just come out of a coma.” Her voice was a bit sarcastic, but she was amused nonetheless.
“You’re lucky to be breathing at all, you know,” she said softly, setting the cup of water aside and giving him another ice chip instead. Her voice became hushed, almost upset as she continued, “what were you thinking, Phil? Going up against a god by yourself. You must have lost any shred of common sense you had.”
“The world isn’t destroyed...” He glanced around again, almost to be sure he was correct with his speaking. “Someone had to...do something. We were all in danger.” With that, he looked down at his torso sadly. “What did happen? Who did we lose?”
“Several agents... Michaels, Jeffries, Barnes... the list goes on. The Avengers saved the day, though. After your ‘death’ they rallied. Barton was returned to himself, and they all went after Loki in New York City. The Chitauri army invaded, and a nuke was sent in to destroy Manhattan, but Stark flew it into the hole that Loki had opened up, and with that the army just... died. Now everyone’s still cleaning up and trying to put their lives back together. Did I mention it’s been four months? You were in a coma for a month, and when you came out of it you were in so much pain that they put you in one purposely.” Elle looked down at his chest. “You’ll have a nice battle scar to go along with your story. S.H.I.E.L.D. is already touting you as the best agent they’ve ever had, and there was an influx of recruits who want to be just like Agent Phil Coulson.”
He blinked a little and reached for the button to lift the bed so he could sit up properly. “They can’t glamourize me. I only did my job.” He paused, pursing his lips a bit. “Did we lose any Avengers? I know he doesn’t work well with others and probably fights being a team tooth and nail...but Stark is important, too...”
Elle shook her head. “No. No Avengers died. Loki was captured, and he and Thor went back to Asgard with the cube. Stark’s been at the forefront of the rebuilding project, but the Avengers themselves have all gone their separate ways. And yes, you only did your job, sacrificing yourself to save the world... That’s why the recruits have stars in their eyes when they’re told about you.”
“Then I did what needed to be done.” He wasn’t pleased that people were trying to be recruited for suicide missions. That wasn’t what he intended, even though he knew deep down from the day he was brought on that he might have to die for his country one day. He wasn’t ever sure about dying for the planet as well, but that was just a bonus. The added bonus was being brought back, even though the pain was considerably stronger than he was used to in the past. He felt a little drowsy, but not tired. After all, he had just been dealing with visions and hauntings while in his coma, and that was a long time to sleep. Agent Coulson simply didn’t know what else to say, and he had a feeling that his pretend wife wasn’t through considering him foolish for what he had done.
She sighed a bit at his response. He was a stubborn man, and she knew it. Patriotic, too. It was something she admired about him, but she still felt he was ridiculous for doing what he did. “I suppose so,” she paused for a moment before adding, “you’ve had heart surgery... surgery on your lungs... Nearly every major organ, really. Your kidneys failed at one point and they had to do a transplant... You’ll be in recovery and physical therapy for quite a while.”
He shook his head. Of course he had major surgery. He was lucky to be alive. “I suppose Director Fury didn’t accept my resignation after all.” He smirked, but even that hurt until the IV drip kicked in and he reached for the water to take a drink. “He’ll expect me fully recovered,” he took another drink, “and back to work as soon as possible.” Yes, the man was an agent through and through, and four times as stubborn.
Elle’s voice grew a bit sharp, “as far as Director Fury is concerned, you don’t exist anymore. Until you’re fully recovered, you aren’t to return to S.H.I.E.L.D., or make public appearances in New York City. That’s why you’re in England. Sorry, but I’m your sitter for the next... well, the doctors are saying year, but I know you better than that.”
Phil’s eyebrow quirked a bit. “Director Fury doesn’t know I’m alive? I find that hard to believe...” He shook his head. “But I’ll recover fully before allowing myself to think about that.” His eyelids drooped a little as another dose of the pain medication coursed through his veins. It made him feel good and relaxed, not to mention a little bit awkward as it made him somewhat high. “Mm...”
“Oh, he knows you’re alive, but that’s it. I’m to send him a message when you wake up, which I will, but that’s all. He doesn’t want to see you or hear from you until you’re fully recovered.” Her face softened as she watched him. “I know you’ve been in a coma, but rest. It’s your first day back to the world, Agent Coulson.” She rested a hand very gently on his hand. “I’ll be here if you need anything.”
He nodded, leaning against the bed more and pressing the button so he could not have to sit up properly any longer. A moment later, he glanced at her hand on his and smiled softly. “Thank you, Agent Jones...or should I call you something more endearing?” His mind became fuzzy slowly and he took a deep breath, leaning his head back and fluttering eyes closed.
She paused at his comment, eyebrow quirking slightly. She knew he was hopped up on morphine and decided to brush off the comment. “Just remember I’m Jennifer, and you’re Greg.” She continued to watch him as he fell asleep, then moved to her chair. She looked at it a moment, then pulled it closer to the bed before sitting back down and pulling out her phone to text Director Fury. It was a simple message.
“He’s back.”