#agent taser

1.

Their first not-actually-a-date was right after the invasion of New Mexico. Thor had left to fight his brother, and no one knew if he was dead or if he was alive. The only sure thing was that he was gone, and that Jane was currently devastated.

Coulson had hoped that the return of her lab equipment would please the young scientist, but she had simply nodded and said a quiet 'thank you.'

Now he sat in one of only a few buildings that hadn't been destroyed by the machine; the bar. When he had sat on the bar stool and ordered a coffee, the bartender had given him a look that said 'you do know this is a bar, right?' Phil had simply given the man a look of his own, and soon he had had a glass of what was more sludge than coffee in front of him.

"Hey, Joe!" A familiar voice called, causing both Phil and the bartender to look up. "I'll have a cup of what he's having," Darcy continued, nodding to the agent as she sat down next to him at the bar.

"Coffee?" The bartender asked, sounding incredulous.

Darcy's eyes flicked to the cup that Phil was holding between his hands. "God, no. Get me a scotch. I was expecting him to be drinking something a little harder."

"I am still on the clock, Ms. Lewis," Phil said.

"Yeah, well... My clock is probably permanently off. Jane is... Well, Jane's a ghost."

"I'm aware," Phil responded, hoping to wrap up this 'meeting' quickly.

"That reminds me; while the return of Jane's equipment is highly commendable, both you and all of your Men in Black forgot one thing."

Phil narrowed his eyes, slightly confused.

"I still don't have my iPod back."

Coulson had to clamp down quickly on the smirk that threatened to peek through his facade. "Of course, Ms. Lewis. If you will follow me, we'll get this whole misunderstanding taken care of," he said as he threw down a few bills to cover both of their drinks. Pushing himself away from the bar, Phil quickly moving towards the door and into the evening sun of New Mexico.

"Hey, wait up!" Darcy called, scrambling off her bar stool and out of the bar. "Jeez, slow down. Just because you can break the sound barrier doesn't mean the rest of us have had the pleasure!" Darcy stopped, causing Coulson to slow down and look behind at her. "You can't actually break the sound barrier, can you?"

"Not yet, Ms. Lewis," Coulson replied, giving her a lukewarm smile.

"Right. Not yet." Darcy gave a small smile and a shake of her head before falling into step with the agent. "So... what exactly was that thing?" Darcy asked after a moment of silence.

"That's classified."

"Is it actually classified? Or do you guys just have no fucking clue what it was?" She asked, looking Phil in the eyes as they walked.

"That's… Need to know," Phil responded after several moments of silence.

"Had a feeling," Darcy said, looking back down at the path they were taking. "You seemed just as confused as we were."

Phil's head snapped to the profile of the young grad student. She was smart. Coulson had, of course, read her file; Originally from New York state. Average student, her only 'A' being in history. Active in her schools theater and on their speech and debate team. Played trumpet in the band. Had worked at her towns diner from the age of 15, becoming a waitress as soon as she hit 16. Slight problems with authority. She had been a weekly visitor to her her high school vice principal: it wasn't that she was a rebel - she had filed well over a dozen sexual harassment forms during each of her four years in high school, accumulating nearly one hundred citations against both her peers and teachers. Only the ones against the students had been acted on, if you could truly call a slap on the wrist a result. She had been popular. Secretary of her senior class and voted Homecoming Queen. After high school, she had decided to go to college in Boston, where she had truly shined, earning A's almost immediately. After three years there, she had accepted an unpaid internship with Dr. Foster in a bid to get her final credit. Dr. Foster had obviously seen promise in the young woman, and had hired her as quickly as possible. And that was how the young Ms. Lewis had arrived in New Mexico, and how she had come to be trailing after Coulson, hoping to get her iPod back.

"No comment," Phil replied, turning his focus back to the topic at hand and looking down at the brunette as they arrived at his car. Opening the door, he reached in and grabbed the iPod from the glovebox without looking away. "And here you are, Ms. Lewis," he said, handing the Apple product to her.

"Right. Thanks," she said, nodding seriously, holding her iPod tightly. "I missed old Ship."

Phil raised his eyebrow slightly, an expression that most people would have missed.

"I named it 'Ship'," Darcy said, noticing the agents change in expression. "That way when I put new songs on, it says 'The Ship is syncing'. I actually almost went with 'frigate' just because of how much fun it is to say frigate. It's really a shitty joke now that I think about it."

Phil gave a nod, his neutral expression back in place. While his facial expression revealed nothing, he couldn't help but appreciate the young woman's wit.

"Well. Right," Darcy said, looking at a loss for words. "I guess this is probably goodbye?"

"Yes it is, Ms. Lewis."

"Look, it's not that I didn't enjoy your sunny disposition these past few days, but I really hope we don't cross paths again. I'd really rather not deal with another alien invasion, and I feel like where you go, they will follow."

Coulson only smirked.

Turning around, Darcy started walking back towards the converted gas station that was Jane's lab.

"Ms. Lewis?" Coulson called, hardly thinking about it.

"Yeah," she said, spinning on her heels to look at the man.

"You really shouldn't be so trusting. For all you know, I could have been planning on neurolizing you."

The young woman was silent for a moment, then burst out laughing. And not just any kind of laugh, but a bent at the waist guffaw.

"Don't worry about me, Agent. I've survived an alien invasion, met super secret super spies, and tasered a god. Ain't nobody fucking with me."

Phil was surprised when he realized that that fact actually made him feel quite a bit better.

2.

"Ms. Lewis?" A male voice asked, causing Darcy to nearly fall over in surprise.

"Jesus Christ!" She exclaimed, turning and giving the agent a glare.

"You must be talking about my brother. We're frequently confused," Coulson said with a slight twitch of his lips.

Darcy was currently setting up her parents huge backyard in preparation for her college graduation party. She really didn't want one, but her parents had insisted. So, she had gotten in her car and gone back to her hometown of Pleasant Valley, New York.

Darcy had a slight moment of panic when she remembered how she looked. Her hair was up in a messy bun, with a pencil holding it together. Her cutoff jean shorts were minuscule, and her shirt was the one given to all the kids in her senior class. Of high school. Darcy hadn't been expecting the shirt to fit, but had been amazed to find it still did, even if it was a little snug. Darcy had decided to go barefoot, and completed the outfit with a pair of horn rimmed glasses that the brunette had started wearing in tenth grade and was only wearing because she didn't feel like using her contacts.

"Ha. Ha. Ha." Darcy moved away from the stack of chairs she'd been spreading out, and put her hands on her hips. "What exactly are you doing here, Mister iPod Napper?"

"I heard about your recent acquisition of a political science degree and decided that it would be... prudent to offer you a job."

"Prudent? Really? That's the word you're going with?"

"Yes."

"Huh. Well. I certainly didn't wake up this morning expecting that. Actually, I woke up this morning expecting the day to lead to a massive migraine."

"Do you have an answer for me?"

"Dude, I'm still trying to understand what you asked. I might need a while!"

Suddenly, Darcy collapsed into the chair next to her. "Secret Agent Man wants to hire me. Me. Darcy Lewis, youngest of four and the only girl. I'd have to go up against spies... and aliens... and paperwork! I'd have to carry a gun! I've never even held a handgun, let alone used one! There's a reason I carry a taser. I don't like killing things. I could be killed! I had a hard enough time facing my own mortality when I jumped off my garage roof when I was five!" Darcy's eyes quickly snapped to Coulson's. "I'd have to train, wouldn't I?"

"Well, the hope is that you won't have to deal with much, if any, violence. I need an assistant."

"Oh. So instead of learning to kick ass and take names, you want me to fetch coffee?"

"Training in both firearms and hand to hand combat is required of all S.H.I.E.L.D. employees."

"Even the janitors?"

"Even the janitors."

"Why?"

"As such an important government group…”

"No, I mean why are you asking me to be your assistant? You've seen me like, three times, and only one of those times did we manage anything that could be classified as a civil conversation. And, I'm not exactly the kind of person I imagine S.H.I.E.L.D. tends to hire; I haven't been killing people since my third birthday, or been trained in the ancient art of understatement for example. For god sakes, I'm a poli-sci major!"

"You have a skill set and personality that makes you ideal for this line of work."

"A personality that makes me ideal? Usually when people describe my personality it's with words such as 'unreserved' or 'boisterous'. Hell, even the odd 'obnoxious as fuck' has been thrown in there."

"You have a talent for answering questions without truly answering them."

"Right..." Darcy murmured, unsure of whether that was a compliment or not.

Darcy sat silently for several minutes, contemplating what the agent had just offered. She had never imagined that her tendency to ramble could be a benefit. In the past, it had always gotten her into trouble. She could still recall her mother telling her to 'get to the point', or teachers writing 'problems staying on task during discussions' on report cards. Either way, she couldn't imagine that made it a skill. They could have just as easily have said 'her brain to mouth filter has more holes in it than the average punk.'

"Yeah," Darcy finally said, breaking herself out of her silent revery. "Sure. I need a job, and my dad kept telling me a poli-sci degree would be worthless. So, I'll be your secretary."

"Assistant."

"Same thing. The only difference is which one get's banged," Darcy replied, a flirtatious smile on her lips.

"I can promise you, there will be no banging."

"Well, that's a damn shame... When do I start?"

"Be at this address in New York City in a week," Phil said, handing her a simple business card. On one side, the S.H.I.E.L.D. logo was embossed in black. On the back was a handwritten address.

"Right," Darcy murmured, flipping the card over repeatedly.

"Good." Phil gave his new assistant a small smile, before turning to go back to his car.

"Hey, Agent?" Darcy called right as Phil had put his hand on the gate door.

"Yes, Ms. Lewis?" He asked, turning to her once more.

"My firearms training better not be on the noisy cricket."

Phil gave the girl another smile and a wink as his answer.

3.

"Hey, Agent P," Darcy said, setting the large coffee she held on his desk.

"Thank you, Ms. Lewis," Coulson replied, quickly grabbing the coffee and taking a sip. According to Terence, the night guard, it had been a very long night for Coulson. Around midnight, Strike Team Delta had fallen off the grid, and Phil had spent the entire evening on the phone with the ambassador of Venezuela, the U.S. consulate there, and the U.N..

"How are they?"

"Alright. Barton was the worst off, and he only had a sprained wrist. Romanov was mostly just pissed off."

"I imagine. She hates being rescued."

Phil gave a weak grin, his eyes never leaving the computer screen.

Darcy narrowed her eyes. It was obvious that the agent hadn't had a decent meal in a long time. Darcy had had to leave work early the previous evening, so she had no idea if the man had even eaten dinner.

Moving to the outlet, Darcy got on her knees and grabbed the one with the 'screen' label in her familiar handwriting. Giving it a yank, she only waited a second before the office went completely silent.

Looking over her shoulder, Darcy was greeted by a rather annoyed look from her boss. Standing quickly, Darcy gave Coulson a cheeky grin. "Come on; we're getting breakfast."

Coulson looked like he was contemplating the decision for all of a moment before giving the young brunette a look. " Why?"

"Come on. It's the most important meal of the day and shit!"

Phil gave a slight nod. "Alright. Do you know what the mess is serving?"

"Are you kidding? They serve that stuff to conmen, rapists, and murderers. Also, high schoolers. Trust me, I know. You made me do the order for it last month." Darcy shook her head, and then grabbed Coulson’s hand. "Nope, you and I are going to go to a proper restaurant, where they don't serve food that contains the word 'surprise' in the title."

It took the two agents all of ten minutes to get to a restaurant that fit Darcy's desires. It was a small hole-in-the-wall diner called Speedy's with two waitresses on duty. One was an older woman who looked like she had been there since the place had opened, which the menu proudly proclaimed was 1953. The other was Darcy's age, and had the air of someone who had seen things that people their age shouldn't.

"What can I get you?" The older woman asked as Darcy and Phil slid into a booth.

"He'll have a coffee, no milk, two sugars. I'll have a Diet Coke."

The waitress nodded tiredly, pulling two rolled napkins out from her apron and menus for them both.

Reaching for his menu, Phil realized that Darcy wasn't reading hers, but instead had pulled out her StarkPad.

"I take it you come here frequently?" Coulson asked, turning the menu to the pancakes.

"Oh, yeah. All the time," Darcy said, squinting at the device in her hands. "Their pancakes are heavenly, and this is the only pie I've ever had that was as good as my great-grandma's."

Phil smiled slightly, hiding it behind his menu. After deciding oh his order, he added his menu to the pile.

"Alright," Darcy started a moment later, after taping a few last keys. "You have a meeting with the WSC at 0900 hours, a lunch meeting with Hill about Stark's continued hacking into classified S.H.I.E.L.D. files at 1200 hours, a meeting with the delegation from Wakanda at 1330 hours, a Skype meeting with Professor Xavier at 1500 hours, and a meeting between just you, Fury, and Hill at 2000 hours. Also, Reed Richards called this morning, said he had 'urgent information on structural anomalies in Cygnus X-3.’” Coulson gave her a look of confusion. "It's a black hole. Apparently while Jane has been almost violently searching her soul for a solution to the wormhole, Richard's been staring into nothing. Like, literal nothingness. The absence of everything." Realizing she was rambling, Darcy shook her head. "Anyway, I told him that I would try to set up a meeting with you. Let's face it though, I highly doubt you want to meet with Richards."

Phil smiled slightly at his assistants antics, but quickly trained his face back to his usual neutral expression as the waitress returned.

"Are you ready to order?" The waitress asked as she set their drinks down.

"I would like the chocolate chip pancakes, with a cup of fruit on the side, please," Darcy said, smiling brightly at the waitress.

Coulson gave her a look that Darcy knew was his look of surprise. "I'll have the same," he said, after a beat of silence.

The waitress nodded, and left again.

"I didn't know you liked chocolate," Darcy said, giving Phil an appraising look. "I thought chocolate would have had the same effect on you as it has on, say... dogs and birds."

"No," Phil replied, smiling at her again. "Quite the opposite, actually. My grandfather and I used to buy a container of chocolate turtles whenever we went shopping together. When he went into the nursing home, I would bring him a box every time I visited."

Darcy smiled. This was the first shred of personal knowledge Darcy had learned about her boss.

"What was your grandfather like?" Darcy asked, grabbing her drink and taking a sip through the straw.

"My grandfather... He was amazing. He fought in World War II. He actually claimed to have met Captain America, but I don't know if it's true or not. Never bothered to check his records, either. Part of me doesn't want to know the truth... He's the reason I'm a fan of the Captain, actually. He used to buy the cards for me whenever they came out with a new one. I still collect them."

Darcy barely managed to stop her jaw from dropping. She had just learned more about Phillip Chester Coulson in the past five minutes then she had in the month she had spent as his assistant. Everything she had known about him before was basic secretary stuff; how he took his coffee, favorite pastry, and dry cleaners to name a few. But these facts - Darcy had a feeling this information was just known by his family.

"And you? Were you close to your grandparents?" Coulson asked, seemingly unaware of Darcy's inner conflict.

"Uhh... Uh, yeah. Well, not so much my grandmother as my great-grandmother. We used to meet every Sunday afternoon for tea. She always made the best molasses cookies, too. She's also why I'm a fan of chocolate chip pancakes. Anyway, after we had our tea and cookies, she would teach me some of the things she believed were essential skills for young ladies; knitting, crocheting, embroidery, cross stitching. I still knit and cross stitch occasionally. I actually make my hats," she finished, pointing to the signature beanie she was currently wearing.

Phil nodded. He had realized rather quickly after meeting Darcy that he wanted to know more about her than what her file shared. He had taken to asking her inane questions in the hopes of learning more about her. While he hadn't learned as much as he would have liked, he did know various small facts about her, such as her first pet having been a small finch she had named Scarlett in honor of the birds brilliant beak. He also knew that Scarlett had met an unfortunate end at the hands of her second pet, a big grey tomcat named Comrade.

Phil was about to ask her another question, but was interrupted by the arrival of their food. Darcy once again thanked the waitress, before digging in.

4.

Phil frowned as he read the temporary reassignment request that had just been handed to him by a quivering intern. Apparently, someone was needed to act as a 1940's nurse, and someone else - Fury - had decided that Phil’s assistant was the best woman for the job.

While Phil was in agreement that Darcy - and when had she become 'Darcy' instead of ‘Ms. Lewis’ in his mind? - was more than capable of pulling of such a feat of subterfuge, he disagreed with the belief that she had had enough self-defense training. She was an assistant, not an agent.

On the other hand, he also had to admit that he felt slightly jealous. He didn't understand why a woman who had been working for S.H.I.E.L.D. less than half a year got to meet Captain America, while a level seven agent who had dedicated his life to the agency did not.

Mostly, he was nervous about what would happen if Darcy took more of an 'agent' role. She was an incredibly headstrong woman, and would probably start feeling a desire to be an actual agent instead of his assistant.

Sighing, Phil picked up his pen again and signed off on it. He had to do what was in Darcy's best interest, and continuing to get him coffee was most certainly not.

Putting the request into his 'send' box, he managed to put it out of his mind until after lunch.

What brought the request back to his attention was a rather irate assistant.

"What is this?" Darcy asked loudly, her voice taking on an edge Phil had never heard before. "What the fuck is this?" She asked again, throwing the request onto his desk and placing her hands on her hips.

"It's a temporary reassignment form," Phil replied, briefly glancing at the young woman. He was surprised by the anger Darcy was showing. In all the time he had known her, he had never seen her angry. She was usually far too bubbly to be upset.

"I know that! I mean why is it signed? It should have a big, fat 'REQUEST DENIED' stamped in glaring red ink!"

"This is a good assignment," Phil said, tapping the file with his index finger. "It will set you up well if you decide you want to advance your career in S.H.I.E.L.D.."

"The only kind of career advancement I want here is 'Personal Assistant to Director Phillip Coulson'! I don't want to get shot at! I thought I had made that fact abundantly clear when you offered me the job! I don't do death!"

Coulson gave a small nod, a look of shock on his face.

Darcy shifted slightly, crossing her arms across her chest. "Why did you think I'd want that?" Darcy asked, not meeting his eyes, just staring at the file.

"As I said, it's an excellent opportunity. It would set you up nicely if you changed your mind about the guns. You have quite a lot of options Ms. Lewis, and being my assistant isn't going to fulfill those options."

"Yeah, but I enjoy being your assistant. Also, lot less risk. I don't need to worry about getting shot at my desk. The worst I can get as your secretary is a paper cut. Maybe a massive headache due to constantly reading through your report revisions..." She stopped quickly, realizing that she was, once again, rambling.

"Ms. Lewis?" Phil said, causing Darcy to look at him. "Do you want the assignment?"

Darcy shook her head slightly.

“Then, please give me the file.”

The brunette silently handed Coulson the form. The agent couldn’t help but notice that her hand was shaking slightly; she had hidden it well – the only reason Coulson noticed was because she had raised her hand.

Pulling out his center desk drawer, Phil grabbed the stamp and ink he seemed to use less and less. Covering the stamp in the red ink, he offered the stamp to his assistant. “Would you do the honors?”

Darcy nodded, still not smiling. She grabbed the handle of the stamp and slammed it onto the form, finally smiling as two words, ’REQUEST DENIED’, were unveiled in its blood red ink.

“Much better,” Darcy said, smiling as she closed the file.

5.

It wasn't very often that Darcy got to the gym. There was something about the place that made her hate herself, and Darcy had decided rather young that she would avoid doing things that made her hate herself. It was hard enough being female; she didn't need the added stress of hating herself. Yet, here she was. Standing in front of a punching bag, releasing all of her anger into the bag.

The main point of frustration for her currently was a series of comments she had heard that morning from some of the newer agents. Most of them had heard about Darcy and her mysterious joining of the S.H.I.E.L.D. workforce after meeting Agent Coulson in New Mexico. The two theories she had heard from the agents were that she had either blackmailed Phil, or that she had slept with him. If Darcy was completely honest, she didn't know which rumor hurt more.

With a particularly savage punch, Darcy found herself cursing loudly and shaking her hand. "Fuck!"

"Is everything alright, Ms. Lewis?" A familiar female voice asked. Darcy swung around on her heel, coming face to face with Deputy Director Hill. While Darcy had had the pleasure of being in meetings with the woman, and she had frequently been required to hand deliver time sensitive or highly classified files, she had never realized the woman knew her name.

"Uh... Yes, Deputy Director," Darcy said, nodding vigorously as she rubbed her knuckles.

"We've been working together for... what, seven months now?" Hill asked rhetorically, turning her attention to the wrap she held in her hands and starting the process of putting it on. "I don't think I've ever said more than a sentence to you."

Darcy just nodded dumbly.

"I admit, part of that has been due to the average shelf life of Coulson's assistants being a week at least and a month at most. You've certainly surpassed that mark."

"I enjoy working with Coulson," Darcy said quickly, unsure of where their conversation was going.

Hill gave her a small smile. "I know you do. That's why you've lasted so long. People who don't understand Phil have a hard time working with him. Hell, it took me a good two years before I finally understood the man's damn wit..." Maria shook her head slightly. "You get him, and you did right away. The only other people who managed to worm their way into his confidence like you have is Barton and Romanov."

Darcy nodded again.

"Also, if there is one piece of advice I can offer you is to ignore the derogatory remarks. People say things like that because they could never do your work themselves. You're one of the best people we have working here, and not just because you've managed to get Coulson to get his paperwork in on time. The man is a nightmare when it comes to revisions. I swear, his New Mexico report took damn near a week to get because he kept adding to it, and adjusting it, and such."

Darcy nodded again, a small smirk crossing her lips, finally understanding what Hill was getting at.

"Thank you, Deputy Director," Darcy said, giving the woman a bright smile.

"I think we've worked together long enough now that calling me 'Hill' is just as acceptable."

"Thank you," Darcy said quietly, slightly surprised by the woman's candidness.

"Now, go get cleaned up. The last I heard, Phil was onto his fifth rendition of that Paraguay report, and I for one thought the second one was perfectly acceptable."

Darcy nodded one last time, this time chuckling as she did. She quickly moved to the locker room, unwrapping her hands as she went.

6.

Phil had never been a big drinker. His uncle had been a drunk, and Phil could still vividly remember the bruises that had peppered his cousin's arms. His father's brother had been a mean son of a bitch.

No. Alcohol had never been Coulson's go to relaxant. He found that he preferred the shooting range more then anything, though in a pinch, a cup of tea did just as well.

All of that, and yet he was still sitting at a bar in New York City, staring into a glass of cheap whisky on the rocks.

Propping his head up with his fist, he used his other hand to pick up the drink. He swirled the drink that was was now mostly ice, slightly enamored by the way the light danced off the frozen cubes.

"Agent!" A male voice called, the tone all too familiar to Coulson.

"Stark," Coulson said, not looking away from his drink.

"This is certainly not the kind of place I imagined you in. I've always figured you were more of a jazz club kind of guy. Maybe attending the odd coffee shop's beat poetry night."

"Drink deep, drink deep of quietness,/And on the margins of the sea/Remember not thine old distress/Nor all the miseries to be," Phil quoted.

"Yeah, yeah... Robinson Jeffers. I went to a private school, you know. We had to read all that shit. But, I'm sure you are probably well aware of that fact, along with the fact that my grade was a B-, and that one of my essays was on how gorgeous I found the teacher. It's probably all in my file."

Phil gave a noncommittal shrug.

"But, the real question is: what made the well dressed and well pressed secret agent seem so... Depressed?" "

"I don't think that sentence classifies as beat poetry."

"Whatever," Stark replied, smirking and waving his hand. "The question still stands."

"That's classified."

"That's bullshit. I know the difference between drinking over a shitty mission and drinking over a shitty personal life. This goes in the second column. So, who's the unlucky lady?"

Phil sighed, placing his head in his hands. The two sat in silence for a minute, the only movement coming from the other side of the bar as the bartender placed a glass in front of Stark.

"How did you realize the exact nature of your feelings for Ms. Potts?" Phil finally asked.

"Are you kidding! I second guess myself every damn day! It wasn't until I grasped that I wasn't getting rid of Pep that easily that I realized maybe all of the doubts and worries were natural and not another Stark family heirloom."

Phil nodded, unsurprised by Stark's ability to remain candid.

"If you're asking what made me realize that my feelings for Pep were more than the usual employer-employee's, it was when she still put up with me even after the bullshit I put her through while I was dying."

Phil nodded, all of the pieces falling into place. Standing up from his barstool, Phil slung a couple of bills onto the bar to pay for his drinks.

"One other question, Stark," Coulson said, placing his wallet back in his suit pocket. "What are you doing in New York?"

"Stark Tower. It will be the greatest building in New York."

"Right," Phil replied, nodding slightly. "Tony?"

"Yeah?" the billionaire said, surprised by the agent's use of his first name.

"Thanks."

7.

Darcy couldn't help the small sigh that escaped her lips as she glanced around the ballroom.

The room was filled with well dressed agents. Almost all of the women around were in either a black or white dress, and Darcy stuck out like a sore thumb in her bright red ball gown. Even though she was leaning against the wall of a small alcove, she still couldn't help the feeling that everyone was watching her.

In truth, Darcy was still unsure as to why S.H.I.E.L.D. was hosting a New Years Eve Ball. If Darcy was to believe the water cooler chats, it was either a part of Fury's desperate attempt to woo someone named McTaggert, or it was Hill's last ditch effort to get into Clint Barton's pants. Frankly, Darcy thought both theories were hilariously bad.

"Ms. Lewis..." Phil's voice said quietly, breaking Darcy from her thoughts and causing her to jump slightly.

"You really need to stop doing that," Darcy muttered, not looking at her boss.

"You look quite lovely this evening," Phil said, ignoring his assistants statement. He leaned against the same wall Darcy was propped against.

"Oh, please... I feel like it's prom all over again, and I'm an outcast because I broke up with Dirk Shultz when he picked me up."

"I'm sure you had a very valid reason for breaking up with Mr. Shultz," Phil said seriously.

"Hell yeah I did. He said my dress made my butt look big."

Phil frowned, slightly surprised by such a sentiment. He couldn't help but take another glance at the dress his assistant was wearing. It was a simple red dress, with a path of silver beads criss-crossing the bodice. The skirt of the dress was light and airy, reminding Phil of the lacy drapes his grandfather had had in his library.

"Well, if this dress is even slightly similar to your prom dress, I find that he was rather incorrect. You look far too much like a goddess for thoughts of your hips to even grace the mind," Phil finally said, not looking at the young woman standing by him.

A light pressure on his arm caused Phil to glance at his assistant. "Thank you," she said once she had caught his eyes, her voice quiet.

"It's simply the truth."

"Yeah, well... Sometimes the truth is the hardest thing to find."

"'Truth is powerful and it prevails.'"

Darcy couldn't stop the slight snort that she gave.

The two stood in silence for several more minutes, simply enjoying the atmosphere that surrounded them.

"I'm surprised Stark isn't here; I was imagining that all of the consultants would be invited."

"Mr. Stark's invitation might have mysteriously disappeared in the post."

Darcy laughed again, this time far more loudly. "Right... And why do I feel like you never even sent him one?"

"Because you know me disgustingly well," Phil said, giving the smallest of shrugs.

Another silence fell over the pair.

"Do you want to dance?" Darcy finally asked, causing Phil's eyes to snap to the woman again. If Phil was completely honest, he was rather surprised by the request. He had a hard time imagining anyone who would want to dance with a man of his age.

After a few seconds of silence, he finally gave a nod.

8.

"Hello?" Coulson asked, finally picking up the phone that had already rung several times. He was surprised that Darcy had failed to answer it already; it was already 0824, and Darcy always arrived at 0600 hours.

If Phil was completely honest, he had passed the surprised mark and now was at extremely worried.

"Coulson?" whispered the familiar voice of his assistant.

"Oh, Ms. Lewis. I was beginning to suspect that a call to the SWAT team might be in order," Phil responded, leaning back in his chair.

"Coulson..."

"I was rather surprised when 0700 rolled around and you still had yet to arrive," the agent continued, interrupting Darcy. "You've been incredibly prompt during your year as my assistant..."

"Phillip!" Darcy interrupted, her whisper becoming harsh. "Shut up!"

Phil quickly planted his feet back on the ground, finally grasping the serious nature of the young woman's call.

"I'm at my bank, and five men just came in wearing balaclavas and waving around guns. I ducked down as soon as I saw them, but I know they're going to find me soon. You need to get here, Coulson. You need to get here now!"

"Alright," Phil replied, hoping his tone of voice was calmer than the emotions he felt. As soon as Darcy had mentioned the balaclavas, the agent had stood and wrenched his gun from where it sat on the corner of his desk. "I'll be there. Eta 0830," he continued already out the door.

"Thank god..." Darcy whispered, her own voice far calmer than Phil was expecting. "No one has been hurt yet, but-"

"Get that woman's phone!," another voice shouted, cutting off the young assistant.

The sound of a loud scuffle was soon all Phil heard, before the sound of gunshot silenced everything. The only noise that greeted Coulson's ears was the sound of whimpers.

"Who is this?" A new voice asked. The man had a deep voice, and his dialect sounded like he had lived in Minnesota.

"This is Agent Phillip Coulson of the Strategic Homeland Intervention! Enforcement and Logistics Division. May I inquire as to who you are?"

"Why not... It's Isaac. Isaac Wickcomb."

9.

"Coul... Coulson...?" Darcy asked slowly, fighting to wake from her drug induced slumber.

"Darcy..." was the relieved reply from her boss.

"I feel like... Like I was hit by a truck..." Darcy slowly said, starting to lift her arm to protect her eyes from the blinding white of the hospital room she was in.

"Darcy," Phil said sharply, wrapping his hand around her own and pulling it gently back to the bed. "I wouldn't move too much; they've got you hooked up to several machines," he continued, moving his hand from her wrist to grip her own hand.

Darcy tried to give the man a smile, but she had a feeling it came out more as a grimace. The two stayed like that for a minute, neither wanting to break the spell.

"Ugh... Is more morphine a possibility?" Darcy asked finally, the pain becoming too much.

"Right! Of course!" Phil exclaimed, releasing her hand like it was on fire. He fumbled around for a minute before finally finding the 'call' button.

It was only a matter of seconds before a nurse appeared. During the day Darcy had been unconscious, the entire staff had come to realize what a force of nature Phillip Coulson was.

"Ah, Ms. Lewis!" The nurse exclaimed, smiling brightly at the patient in the bed. "It's nice to finally see you awake. How are you feeling?"

"Like I got shot in the shoulder..."

The nurse chuckled lightly, moving to the machine that dispensed the morphine. "Well," the nurse said after fixing the machine, "that will help with some of the pain. The doctor should be here in a few minutes." The nurse gave one last smile before moving back out of the room.

Darcy's eyes moved back to Phil; the usually unflappable agent was bent over with his head in his hands. Careful of the many wires, Darcy moved her hand to the top of Phil's head, gently rubbing the hair at his temple.

After a minute of comfortable silence, Darcy finally broke it. "Is it just me or is your hair even thinner than before?"

Phil let out a broken chuckle, sitting up again. He grabbed Darcy's hand, moving it back to the bed, but not letting go.

Darcy was surprised by the look on the agent in front of her. It wasn't very often that she remembered they were, in fact, a decade or two apart in age. The reminder usually came in the form of the laugh lines around his eyes. This time, it was a weariness that no one under forty had.

"I punched the hostage negotiator," Phil finally said. Darcy felt her eyes widen. "He kept feeding us some bull about 'not negotiating', and I finally just got sick and tired of it. So, I punched him."

Darcy was silent for a few moments. "I think that... I think that might be the most romantic thing anybody has ever said to me."

Coulson chuckled again, sounding less broken this time. "And they say chivalry is dead," Phil murmured, shaking his head in exasperation.

"Well, considering most of the time it was either walls or my friends that my boyfriends were punching, I consider this an improvement. Perhaps that says more about me than you..."

Phil's fist clenched at the thought of someone threatening Darcy like that.

"Don't worry," Darcy said, her voice starting to fade. "Whenever they get like that I kick their ass to the curb."

"Ms. Lewis," an older woman said as she entered the room. "You certainly have an attentive boss here; Agent Coulson hasn't left your side. I drew the line at having Agent Barton bring him the paperwork on his desk."

Phil quietly pulled away from Darcy, standing from his chair and moving to stand by the window.

"Let's see how you're doing, shall we?" The woman continued, smiling warmly at both the agent and the assistant.

It took nearly ten minutes, but the doctor finally finished all of her tests. As the older woman left the room, Darcy found herself fighting to stay awake.

"Coulson..." Darcy murmured, trying to get the older man to come sit by her again.

"I'm so very sorry, Ms. Lewis," the agent finally replied, not looking away from the window.

"Wait... For what?" Darcy asked, highly confused.

"You've made your distaste of guns well known in the time you've worked for S.H.I.E.L.D.. Despite this fact, you still are laid up in a hospital with a bullet wound in your shoulder."

"Woah..." Darcy said, a new found strength entering her voice. "The only blame you can take is being the reason why no civilians were shot. I knew the risk when I offered to go with the dude. Look at me," she said, her voice breaking. "Phil, none of this is your fault."

Phil nodded slightly, a pained look on his face. He noted that this was only the second time she had ever called him just 'Phil'. Darcy had called him hundreds of names, but never just Phil.

Phil moved back to the chair, sitting lightly in the seat. "Rest, Ms. Lewis."

Darcy nodded weakly, finally giving up the fight.

10.

A loud slam caused Darcy to snap her head up from the file she was typing at.

"I wasn't sleeping!" She exclaimed, swinging her chair around to look at the furious form in the doorway.

"Where are those files I asked for?" Phil asked, looking at his assistant.

"Do you mean the files you asked me for," she paused, glancing down at her watch, "about fifteen minutes ago?"

Phil gave Darcy a tight lipped expression and a sharp nod.

"Well, considering you have hardly allowed me to take a bathroom break, it shouldn't be a surprise that I haven't managed to get down to the file room!"

Phil pulled his head back slightly, surprised by Darcy's reaction.

"Sorry, Sir," Darcy muttered, turning back to the file pulled up on her screen. "Just... I haven't been getting much sleep lately."

Phil moved to the chair opposite Darcy's desk, leveraging himself into the seat. "Ms. Lewis... Have you been talking to your S.H.I.E.L.D. mandated councilor?"

"Of course," she replied quickly, avoiding eye contact with the senior agent.

Phil cleared his throat.

"Alright, so I might have missed a few appointments. But that's because I was in meetings with you at the time! I feel like that's an acceptable reason!"

Sighing, Phil put his hand on Darcy's. "Ms. Lewis... Darcy... I think you should take more time off."

"What? No!" Darcy exclaimed, finally looking at her boss. "Are you kidding! I was hardly even gone for two weeks; first day back, Fury calls me into his office to tell me that you haven't made it to a single meeting in that time, and that you haven't turned in a single report! If I was gone for anymore time, the man would have found a replacement for me!"

"Ms. Lewis, you don't need to worry about being replaced. I can't imagine anyone who would be able to do the job you do. Hill told you that I've had trouble with assistants... And, if Fury fired you, I would quit."

Darcy jumped up, looking at Phil. "Don't say that! Do not say that!" Darcy snapped her mouth shut, starting to pace. "You can't quit, Phil. Nothing would get done if you quit! Imagine what would happen if you quit. I can. I’m imagining the world imploding in on itself!"

"I don't know," Phil said, leaning back in the chair. "I'd quite like to have a chance to retire. Buy a nice house in the country, get married, settle down... Maybe I'd even buy a dog."

Darcy frowned, dropping back into her chair.

"Come on dude, you’re like thirty. You’ve got a lot of years ahead of you.”

“Darcy, you do know that I’m fifty-three, correct?”

“Well, considering the way Medicare works, you’re still a couple decades away from retirement.”

Phil chuckled at Darcy’s joke. He pushed himself up from the chair, and gave his assistant a small smile. “Go get those files, then go see the councilor. I can’t have you running at half steam. When you run at slow speeds, I run at non-existent speeds.” Phil gave the girl one last nod before walking to his office.

“You make me sound like a fucking robot,” Darcy muttered, standing from her own desk.

11.

"Ms. Lewis," Coulson said. "Come with me."

Darcy's eyes snapped from the file she was formatting to Coulson. Seeing the look on her bosses face, she scrambled to fall into step with the man.

"Yeah, Coulson?" She asked, her heels loudly clicking on the tile floor of the S.H.I.E.L.D. building.

"There's a flight leaving in an hour for Geneva. You will be on it, you will stay there until you get the all clear, and you will not argue with me. Understood?"

"Yeah, sure... Do I have time to pack?"

"You'll buy your clothes there."

"Alright... But why?"

"Because it's an order."

"May I inquire as to why it's an order?" Darcy asked, adapting Coulson's usual word choice.

Phil stopped short, spinning on his heel to look at her. "Because it's for your safety."

Darcy felt her breath catch. "What's happening? What's going on?"

Phil sighed lightly. "It's classified."

"Don't give me that 'it's classified bullshit. I've been your secretary for over a year; I know what can and can't be shared."

"Drop it, Ms. Lewis."

Darcy felt her gut clench. As inane as it had sounded, Darcy had used secretary for a reason. Phil always corrected her, and the fact that he hadn't worried her even more than his refusal to tell her what was going on.

"Alright," Darcy replied. Phil gave a sharp nod, turning again and starting to walk. Darcy fell into line with him once more. "Are you coming?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because my orders are different than yours."

"Are you going to be in danger?" Darcy asked, stopping again. Phil stopped, but didn't turn to look at Darcy. He let out a small sigh, before scrubbing his face with his hands.

Darcy grabbed the man's arm, turning him so that they were face to face. "Phil, are you going to be in danger?"

Phil looked up at the woman he had come to know so well in the past year. This woman had come to mean so much to him - much more than he ever should have allowed. He hadn't ever expected to be won over by such a strong personality, the kind that didn't take shit from anyone. He wouldn't have believed that the woman who hated guns would take a bullet for him. He had never thought that a few well placed pop culture references was all it would take to turn an assistant into a friend and confidant. He looked at her, and he lied.

"I'll be safe."

12.

Darcy had switched her hotel's television to the news as soon as she had arrived, and hadn't changed it or turned it off since.

As soon as the reports from Stuttgart were broadcasted, Darcy knew that Loki was the reason Coulson had forced her out of the city so quickly.

She had sat in shock for the first minute of the news report from New York City, before quickly grabbing her phone.

Darcy's original plan had been to be on the first available flight back to New York. It had taken her all of ten minutes to realize why that wouldn't work. Every company she called said there would be no flights in or out of New York City for the next week.

But Phil hadn't made Darcy his assistant because she was pretty.

Her next call had been to one Charles Xavier. As soon as Darcy had explained the situation, the Professor had sent one of his X-Men with their Blackbird to meet her at the Geneva airport.

Darcy didn't even give the pilot of the craft a second look. She had heard enough stories from Coulson, Barton, and Romanov to know that the man flying the craft was Wolverine.

Less than six hours after the initial reports from New York, Darcy was back in the city. She gave her thanks to the man with the cigar before quickly rushing to find a possible ride.

She was unsurprised to find that almost all of the streets were closed. Her response had been to 'borrow' a guys bike. She hadn't been able to find Director Fury or Deputy Director Hill in the mess that was the first wave of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s cleanup operations. All she had found were lackey's desperately trying to stop civilians from getting their hands on the aliens or the tech.

She did find the Avengers, in a schwarma joint. She had met most of them at least once; the only one she didn't know was Bruce Banner, but even then she had read the files on him. She had met Thor in New Mexico, Barton and Romanov during hundreds of debriefings, and Stark during one of his many meetings with Agent Coulson. The most noteworthy meeting had been with the Captain; she had chased him through the hallways of S.H.I.E.L.D. after one of his appointments with Fury, desperately calling after Steve that she needed him to sign a birthday present for her boss.

She had never gotten the chance to give Phil the present; a small picture of the Captain and an older man. The back of the picture proclaimed that it was of one Steven Rogers and a Colonel Chester Phillips.

All of the team knew who the curvy brunette was, and who she worked for. As such, Darcy was greeted by six individual looks of heart break.

"No..." she murmured, looking at each member of the team. "No..." she said again, collapsing into a chair.

13.

It didn't quite hit Phil as to how much he missed his assistant until he found himself watching her walk to work on the S.H.I.E.L.D. satellite.

If he was honest, he found it a bit ironic. It was so similar to that scene in the first Men in Black film, that Phil knew if Darcy was there, she would have called him out on it.

But, she wasn't.

Instead, she had been forced to step into his old role; she was the one wrangling super soldiers, scientists, assassins, demi-gods, and billionaires.

And she was good at it.

In fact, the young woman was almost better than Phil had been. Admittedly, the two used different techniques; Phil had found that threats worked best, while Darcy seemed to cajole the team into doing her bidding.But as Coulson watched her on the camera, he realized how much she had changed.Gone was the girl with the easy smile and bubbly personality. Instead, there was a woman whose eyes seemed haunted. Instead of her carefree walk, she now moved around in a way that reminded Phil of a kicked puppy.

Mostly, though, he saw the simmering anger.

Her anger seemed obvious to Phil - it was so noticeable that he was amazed Fury had given her the assignment. Agents with that much rage tended to make poor decisions, and tended to get killed. Fury usually had agents that angry talk to one of the many therapists S.H.I.E.L.D. had on call. The Director didn't usually give them posts that were of such importance.

Perhaps Fury thought that working with a team that mourned Phil themselves would help. Maybe the Director thought work would take her mind off of the loss. Hell, maybe Nick thought that working with six superheroes would mean she was too busy to break down.

More than likely? Fury hadn't even noticed.

14.

Darcy sat silently in the corner of the living room of Stark Tower, tapping away at her StarkPad as the team watched WALL-E.

She had spent every evening searching through S.H.I.E.L.D. files; she was desperately trying to find any file there was on Phil.

Something didn't feel right to her in regards to the agents death.

Darcy couldn't remember anything that happened at the mans memorial service. She remembered sitting next to Thor, and crying into the god's shoulder. She could vaguely recall that Phil had been cremated, and that the urn sat next to a large picture of the man.

Other then that, the rest was a blur of tears and tissues.

Now... Now that she had had time to think about what happened, she regretted not being more lucid during the man's funeral.

Darcy glanced up at the screen, noticing that the film was now over and that the credits were rolling.

Darcy stood, grabbing the remote off of the coffee table and turning the television and DVD player off.

"Alright, everyone! Either go to bed or go work on one of your usual midnight tasks. I am heading back to my apartment."

Darcy had insisted on keeping her own apartment, not taking Tony's offer of charity up. She wanted the chance to survive on her own, and living under Stark's wing would not help.

Giving a wave to the team that she now watched over, she headed towards the closet to grab her purse and then to the elevator.

The best part of New York City was the public transport. Darcy rode on the subway everyday, going from her apartment in Harlem to Stark Tower in the center of Manhattan. She loved that it gave her a chance to either psych herself up for the day ahead, or to calm herself down from the day she had just had.

Tonight, she was simply sitting there, eyes closed and ears waiting for mention of the Harlem station. She had been secretly hoping for a longer subway ride, but it was sadly only ten minutes, sixteen on a bad day.

Hearing the ding and the announcement of her stop, Darcy stood and pushed her way to the cars door.

Darcy's apartment was only a eight minute walk from the subway station, and Darcy always spent the walk with one hand on her purse strap and the other on her taser. She certainly didn't live in the worst part of the neighborhood, but it was still Harlem.

Darcy's place was a seven story walk up, which had only been a major pain when she had moved in. Otherwise, it was just more or less an extension of her fitness regimen.

The incredibly dark looking man standing by her door was not.

"Ms. Lewis?" The man asked, looking at her with a questioning look.

"Who the fuck are you?" Darcy asked harshly, pointing her taser at the mysterious stranger.

"I'm Agent Ward," the man replied, slowly raising his hands to the sky. "I have a message for you."

"From who?"

"Agent Coulson."

15.

"While admittedly not the worst wake-up call I have ever had, having a tall, dark, handsome guy banging on my apartment door at 2 am is far from ideal," Darcy said.

"What was your worst wake-up call?" Phil asked, not looking up from the cup of coffee he was stirring. He had a feeling he already knew the answer.

"The one that said New York had been attacked."

Phil nodded, not looking his former assistant in the eye.

The familiar old waitress walked by, setting a plate of chocolate chip pancakes in front of Darcy.

"Somebody once told me that this place had heavenly pancakes," Phil said, gesturing to the plate in front of the brunette.

Looking at the young woman who had come to mean so much to him, he was surprised by the broken smile that met his gaze.

The two sat in a comfortable silence, eating their pancakes and only occasionally glancing at each other.

Once the two had finished, they sat looking at each other for several minutes. Phil was the first to break it.

"So, I see you have my old job title of Avengers correspondent."

"Yeah. Fury thought that anyone who could put up with you for over a year would be excellent in the position if hero wrangler."

"From the reports I've read, he was correct."

"Yeah, well... The beauty of those reports is that I'm the one who writes them," Darcy replied, causing Phil to chuckle loudly.

Another minute of comfortable silence passed before Darcy broke it.

"They all said you were a hero," Darcy said, turning to look out the diner's window. "You went up against a psycho god with a gun still in development. Apparently that classifies as 'heroic'," Darcy continued, letting out a humorless chuckle. "I think it classifies as damn stupid."

"If it makes you feel any better, I agree with that assessment."

"Why?" Darcy asked, finally looming at Phil again. "Why did you do it? Why did you allow yourself to become a martyr?" She stopped, but Phil knew she had another question. "Why did you make me leave?" She finally murmured.

"Because you are far more important then this crusty old agent."

Darcy looked away again, this time in an attempt to prevent her former employer from seeing her tears.

"Darcy..." Phil said, trying to catch the woman's attention.

"I had to ask Xavier for a plane ride. All incoming and out coming flights were cancelled from New York. So, I get on the X-Men's plane, and I'm completely out of it. Damn near catatonic. I get here, steal a bike, and spend two hours trying to find either Director Fury or Hill. After finding nothing for so long, I finally looked for the Avengers. They were eating shawarma... You were dead, and they were eating shawarma..." Phil could hear the bubble of emotion in the young woman's voice. "So, I find them, and I'm met with six looks, six different looks, of pity." Darcy paused, before turning to look at the older man. Phil felt his heart break at the sight of the tears that were making their way silently down her face. "I hate pity. I hate that six people who have lost far more than they ever should have believed that I was worthy of their pity."

Phil found himself unconsciously reaching for Darcy's hand. He paused briefly, before throwing caution to the wind and grasped her hand.

The two sat silently, both looking at the other.

"Will we still be able to see each other? Just... occasionally, or anything?" Darcy asked once she had finally reigned in her emotions.

"We can try. It might not always be possible, but I certainly have hope that we can continue meeting."

"Right... Good."

Glancing at his watch, Phil realized that he was running out of time. He slowly pulled his hands away from the brunette's, not wanting to break contact.

"Time to go?" Darcy asked, her voice having regained it's strength.

"Unfortunately," Phil murmured, standing up. Coulson took a few steps towards the door, before stopping and turning to look at the woman again. "Agent Lewis?"

"Yes, Agent Coulson?"

"It was nice seeing you again."

Darcy gave him a dazzling grin, and gave the older man a big two thumbs up.

Phil was almost out the door when he heard Darcy call back to him.

"Hey, Son of Coul!" He turned on his heels and looked at the beautiful brunette again. "Two things; first, you know, I'm not your assistant or secretary, I feel like banging is now in the equation. Secondly, I really hope the rest of your team is better than Ms. Britain and Scotty over there at the counter," she said, nodding towards where Fitz and Simmons were sitting sharing a french silk pie. "Because, no offense, but I don't trust them making sure you aren't killed. Again."

Phil gave a smirk, before looking at his two agents. The scientists quickly scrambled down from their stools and over to Coulson.

Out on the street, Phil looked back at the woman on the other side of the window.

Darcy Lewis was sitting in the booth they had shared, looking out the window herself. Her face held an expression that had been missing for far too long; a smile.