#govthookercoulson

Skye was trying to focus on keeping Fitzsimmons safe. But every few seconds, tears would start to fall, and she had to furiously wipe them away. May was out in the halls somewhere, Skye had lost her as she rampaged over the death of Coulson.

They needed a way out of here and fast. There were only a handful of other agents around, plus Ward. That bastard, that man she thought she could not just trust, but love. She needed to get them all out of here and somewhere safe. That's what Fitzsimmons where doing, trying to find a safe location, that could or would already be well fortified that had what they needed to mount an offensive.

At an explosion down the corridor, Skye knew they had only minutes before they would need to engage with them. But the shouts that had followed soon stopped at the sound of concentrated fire.

"What are you sorry for? I'm not certain I understand."

---------

Davos addresses the well-kempt stranger, average and unobtrusive in every way, with seasoned distrust.  

     “May I help you?” 

A true warrior needn’t parade his power, his finesse and skill, for the world to see; this man called “Coulson” is not to be underestimated. 

     “It’s not often a dead man visits my dojo.” 

Said dojo is a small, clean, monastic stone building in Shigatse prefecture, near the foot of the Gawu La Pass, in Tibet; Davos has missed snowcapped mountains since K’un-Lun vanished, after all, and found inner peace only as a teacher.  

Marilyn took a deep and shaky breath, putting the finishing touches on the duck meal- trying her best to imitate the way that Phil had cooked it in the year prior. He was a phenomenal cook, and she was... subpar at best. She never had the time to cook- she had always worked too much to ever learn. But tonight was important... she wanted to impress Phil and give him the PERFECT evening before... God if she thought about it she would throw up. Best to push it away for now. She had been thinking about how she would do this, all year. 

Marilyn looked in the reflection of the microwave and fixed her hair a bit, moving some strands back where they belonged. She had spent two hours on her makeup to look how she had the night they danced together. She was wearing a tight red dress, similar to the dress he had to cut her out of that night. She had red pumps to match, red lips, and a white half apron for cooking.

She lit the candles that sat on the table before plating the food, checked her watch and knew he would be home any minute. She heard the car pull into her garage, into the empty stall reserved for him. She took another deep breath and poured the wine into their glasses, then patted the small box in her apron pocket and looked up as the door opened. “Surprise! I know I told you I’d be at work- but I wanted to surprise you with something nice... and romantic.” They hadn’t had a real date in weeks- both too busy to breathe. 

Clint had lived in the apartment complex for a few years now and had seen more than a few faces come and go in that time. However there was one face that remained. His name was Phil and was an older man that lived down the hall from his corner apartment.

They smiled and greeted one another when they crossed paths but other then that they seldom interacted.