Coulson spent the time in his cell mending, in both body and spirit. He'd used the bed as a brace to set his shoulder back in place, and paced the small cell, trying to keep his strength up. He was an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.. He'd lasted longer under worse than this. Men with guns weren't so different from a god with magic...in theory.
He was going to do better. He wouldn't allow himself to cave again.