tarotgal

In which everything becomes just a little clearer...

Title: Assess & Acquire
Author: tarotgal
Fandom: Marvel CMU (Avengers & Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.)
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Pre-Clint/Coulson
Spoilers: For the first Avengers movie and the first episode of Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.
Warning: Character death. A lot of character death.
Summary: When Clint Barton shows up unannounced on Phil Coulson’s doorstep, Coulson is forced to change his vacation plans. So when a simple mission to assess and acquire an object of unknown origin comes up, he figures there’s no reason he should turn that down. Naturally, things are never as simple as they seem.
Author’s Notes: Written for NaNoWriMo 2014 all in one month (a first for me!). This story is finished but will be posted in pieces. Total word count: 73,274.



Chapter 12

Coulson woke to the all-too familiar sound of the buzzer, but he didn’t open his eyes right away. For a moment, he could still feel Clint in his arms, pressed warm against his side. He knew how easy that kiss had been, and the hugs that had followed it. He remembered what Clint had said about them all changing after the Battle of New York, and he wondered if this were just Clint trying something new for a change or whether it was something true and genuine that had been building between them for a lot longer.

Then he remembered Clint was downstairs, cold and probably shivering, waiting outside by the intercom for Coulson to buzz him into the building. So Coulson rose from bed, grabbed his phone, threw on his bathrobe, stepped into his slippers, grabbed the tissue box, and made it to the intercom by his front door before Clint could buzz impatiently a second time. “Come on up, Agent Barton.”

He had to keep in mind that this was the same Clint who had kissed him, but a Clint that had no memory of kissing him. He rubbed his forehead where the headache from yesterday was starting already—not a good sign. He hadn’t been lying when he had told Clint this was too much to keep track of. No one should have to remember so many details of different versions of a single day. No one was capable of coming up with the cause and effect for every possible decision. He would start to go crazy if he had to think of that every time around. Instead, he should try to make the best decisions he could in the moment, try to be the best version of himself he could be, try to uncover as much about the mystery at hand as he could, and see where that got him in the end. With so many factors at play, so many little details floating around him, he needed a fresh start and needed a baseline he could use from now on to compare everything to. There would be time when he had solved this and broken free from the time loop in order to figure out where he stood with Clint Barton.

He heard the ding of the elevator in the hallway, faint through his closed door, and moved to unlock his door. He pulled one then two tissues out of the box and held them in his hand. Then he opened his front door to see Clint already winding up for a sneeze that would soon become two. “Hahh-Ktshhhhh!” Clint took a breath, only to snap forward again. “Huh huh-KIHtchhh!” As he rubbed his nose into the tissues Coulson held for him, he opened his eyes, looking puzzled. “How sniff, sniff how did you know?”

“Because I’m stuck in a time loop, living this day over and over again, and the only thing I’ve actually managed to master after more than a week of this is to keep you from sneezing on me first thing in the morning.”

Clint narrowed his eyes and took charge of the tissues in Coulson’s grasp so he could rub and blow his nose on his own.

“Pretty soon, Agent Hill is going to call me away from my vacation and ask me to go to a science museum to pick up an 0-8-4. She doesn’t know that the object is called a Shandari bullet and has somehow attached itself to me—and to you. Every day, I try to find out as much as I can about it, but every day I end up dying one way or another and I still don’t have enough information to end these loops. I don’t even know if this is what the object is meant to do or if it was an unintended side effect of its actual purpose. I don’t know how dangerous it is, but I do know that doing nothing about it causes the entire city of New York to explode, and I really don’t want to see that happen again.” He took a deep breath. “The reason I’m telling you all this is because I know you came to me because you feel sick and need me to look after you. I promise I’ll do that as best I can, but I need your help on this one, too, and I know you’re going to believe me about this because you believe me every damn time I have told you about it in the past.”

Clint followed Coulson inside to the bedroom and sat down on the bed with the tissue box on his lap. “Just tell me how I can help you, Sir. I may have a cold, but I’ll do whatever you need me to.”

Relieved all over again, Coulson gave him a smile. “Thank you, Clint. Here’s what’s going to happen: Agent Hill is going to call me in a few—”

His phone buzzed. Damn it. It was incredible to be on day eleven of a time loop and still feel helpless against time. He thought he had another few minutes at least before he was thrown back into things again. He took his phone out and, without even bothering to check the caller ID, handed it to Clint to answer as icing on the cake that proved his whole story about the time loop was true. “Tell Agent Hill I just stepped out of the room for a second and ask her why she’s calling.”

As Clint answered with a “This is Agent Phil Coulson’s phone, Agent Barton speaking. Go ahead,” Coulson headed to the bathroom and made a bee line for the medicine cabinet. He didn’t have any cold medicine in the apartment; he knew that already. But he was actually after the Ibuprofen to take the edge off this headache before it got any worse. He downed an extra strength pill with a few handfuls of water from the sink faucet and stuck his head back out to see where Clint was in the conversation. “I’m sure he’s available, yes. He’s just looking after me this morning. I’m not feeling so hot. Sniff!”

Coulson headed to his closet to change, wondering if that sniffle had really been necessary again at that moment or if he had just used it to illustrate his point to Agent Hill. Slipping into his usual time loop suit brought a comforting familiarity to his morning routine; it was definitely something he had no intention of changing. By the time he had dressed and stepped out of the closet, Clint was looking back at him, “You’re in luck. He just walked in. Here you are, Agent Hill.” And he handed the phone over to Coulson.

“Good morning, Agent Hill.”

“Good morning, Agent Coulson. There’s an 0-8-4 at a museum close to you that needs retrieving. It should be pretty quick. Are you available?”

Available was such a strange word to use. Was he too busy lounging around in bed, making Clint Barton tea and handing him tissues to stop the destruction of New York City? No, he supposed he could rearrange his schedule and find some time to be available for that. “I’m available to cut my vacation short and go on a mission for S.H.I.E.L.D. on two conditions.”

She paused and then said, “Go ahead.”

“First, you take Agent Barton off active duty; he will be assisting me on this mission.”

“Done. And the second provision?”

“I’m going to have the head researcher at the museum send his research to you. I need it sent immediately to my team and to Tony Stark.”

“To Stark? Coulson, I know he’s an Avenger, but he’s not going to like working for S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“He’ll like this. Tell him it’s from Hawkeye if you need to. This is big, and I need all eyes on it, every available man. I believe in your power to convince him. Once he sees it, he’ll be as thrilled as a fanboy at Comic Con. Trust me on this.”

She took a minute to think this over before answering, “Done. Thank you, Agent Coulson.”

“Thank you, Agent Hill.” He hung up the phone as if this were the most normal phone conversation, the most normal mission, the most normal day. He faced Clint, who now gazed at him curiously. “Tony Stark? Really?”

“I need everyone on this. I’d ask Bruce, Hank, and Reed, too, if I could be certain about how they would react and that they wouldn’t pump it full of gamma radiation; that didn’t turn out well the last time we tried that.” He sat down on the bed. “And now is the time I reveal the rest of my plan for the day.”

Clint laughed. “You sound like an evil villain.”

“I was trying not to sound like a desperate man.”

Clint reached out and took his hand, squeezing. “Like I said, I’m here for whatever you need.” But as quickly as it had been given, the hand was taken back. He cupped it to his face and snapped forward, bouncing a little on the bed. “Hehh… huh-Ihshhhhhh! Huh… h’KETChhhhhhh! Uh… Whatever you need, as long as what you need doesn’t involve breathing clearly for five minutes. God, my nose won’t quit!” He rubbed it hard, back and forth again.

Coulson couldn’t help but smile. “I promise you’ll be able to do this, sneezy nose and all.” He took a deep breath and then began. “I need you here this morning, resting, safe, so I don’t have to worry about you. At some point around noon, my building may or may not go down in flames for a reason I have yet to determine, so I plan for us to be gone by then. We’ll be on board my plane, with my team. I’ve never introduced you to them before, but I think you’ll like them. I guess we’ll see, assuming we don’t get kidnapped, tortured, and killed on the way there again.”

Clint’s eyes were wide. “All right…”

“Here are the things that must not happen.” He held his fist up and enumerated, finger by finger. “One, you will not get too close to the Shandari bullet unless it is in its case. Two, we will not show anyone in public that we have the object. Three, we will not go to your apartment, because there is a mobster in a cheap red tracksuit waiting there with a gun to kill you. Four, we will not skip getting tissues and cold medicine, because you’re going to start sneezing your head off this afternoon and feel completely miserable. Five, we will not go to Stark Tower or Avengers Tower or whatever it’s called right now, because Tony’s apparently got a thing about germs—”

“I knew that much already.”

“Six…” Coulson tried to think of a sixth. He was out of fingers on his one hand, and the only sixth he could think of involved telling Clint he could kiss Coulson any time he damn well pleased, contagious cold or no. The thought made him smile, but he shook it from his head. “Never mind about a number six. Just be ready to go when I get back.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Before he left, he made a quick cup of tea for Clint and set the trashcan from the bathroom by the side of the bed. “Try to get some sleep while I’m gone.”

Clint nodded. “Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”

Coulson gave a nod back. “Thank you for believing me.” He made it to the door of his bedroom before he thought of a proper six. “Six, look both ways before crossing the street in case of speeding cars, trucks, moving vans, or elephants.”

Clint, who was nuzzling his face into Coulson’s pillow, furrowed his brow again. “Elephants?”

“Believe me when I say that this has been a strange day, Agent Barton.”

On his way out of the apartment, Coulson got his phone out. It rang twice before May picked up. “Agent Coulson, you’re supposed to be on vacation.”

“I know, but since when has that worked out for me?”

“Well, you did recently visit Tahiti.”

“It’s a magical place.”

“Right. Is there a reason you’re calling, Sir?”

Coulson took a deep breath. “This is an emergency mission. Top priority. I’m on my way to a museum to pick up an 0-8-4. Through my… investigations, we’ll call them… I’ve found out that it’s an alien weapon called a Shandari bullet. Hawkeye and I will be bringing it on board in about an hour for Fitz-Simmons to analyze.”

“So you need us to come back for you?”

“You’re quick, May. That’s what I love about you. Well, that and your ability to take out a team of ninjas single-handedly without breaking a sweat.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, but a case will get me to turn this bus around and pick you up.”

“Thanks. We’ll be in Lola. I’ll call from the car when we’re in the air.”

“Yes, Sir. Hope you had a good vacation until now.”

Coulson thought about his morning and the days he had been through so far. “Sure. Let’s call it good.”

Gunshots, fire, explosions, car crash, trampling, torture… and kisses. Kisses from Clint Barton. All things being equal, it actually could be worse. And at least he had the chance to make it better each time around.

“Oh, and May?”

“Yes, Sir?”

“We’ve got the basics on board, right? Orange juice, tissues, thermometers, cold medicine?”

“Are you ill?” She suddenly sounded concerned, which was sweet, considering it was May.

“No, but Clint is. It’s just a head cold, but I don’t have the time to stop by the grocery store today for supplies.” He’d been at the grocery store the day before when the fire started; he had to get back to his apartment before then today.

“We’re well-stocked.”

“Glad to hear it. I’ll be in touch.”

The phone conversation had taken nearly the entire walk to the museum, which seemed to have been a good use of his time. He went through security at the museum, apologized when he was run into by the little girl, and went through the second level of security without batting an eyelash. He had this part of things down. Nothing bad ever happened to him at the museum. He walked with the other researchers toward the lab, a suit and tie in a sea of white coats. But this time he didn’t waste time looking at the faces of other researches. In and out, simple as possible, if he wanted to create a baseline for the day that he could then modify as needed in future loops. No unnecessary deviations.

“I’m looking for the researcher in charge,” Coulson said, taking out his badge. “Agent Coulson of S.H.I.E.L.D. here.”

Dr. Daniels walked over to him, hand outstretched. “I’m Dr. Daniels. Welcome.” He turned an gestured toward the Shandari bullet. “We don’t know what it is exactly, and we were caught off guard when, after months, it started doing this this morning. We are completely at a loss. We have never seen anything like it before.”

“Then you did precisely the right thing in contacting us this morning. My colleagues would like a chance to study the object up close, so I’ll be taking it into custody. Would you be so kind as to send S.H.I.E.L.D. all of your research notes?”

“Oh…” The doctor actually looked a bit sad to not have the chance to study it any longer. “Of course. But I’m not sure it will be safe to move.”

“I’m sure it will be fine.” Confidently, Coulson strode over, picked it up, and placed it in the protective case.

“How did you do that?” Dr. Daniels asked, staring after it.

“I have a way with unknown objects of this nature. Like I said, you did the right thing to call us this morning. Thank you, Doctor.” After shaking his head a second time in the span of five minutes, Coulson was on his way.

He made his way back across the crowded entrance hall, just like usual, but this time ran into a group of Japanese tourists bent on having a group photo taken. He nearly walked right through the group as they gathered for the photo in front of the fountain in the center of the entrance hall. As he started to go around the group, one of them thrust a cell phone into his hand. “Photo?” the young woman asked, her eyes big, pleading. Reluctantly, he agreed. He backed up far enough to get them all in the shot; they had clumped together almost routinely, but there were still so many of them. And people kept walking into the photo or bumping into him from behind. Someone bumped his elbow just as he tried to take the photo the first time and two people ran right into him just after he took the second one. A man trying to take a photo of something else backed right up into him only a second later. Coulson quickly snapped a third photo with the camera phone that turned out perfect. He handed it back to someone in the group as half the group members were bowing in thank you to him. He escaped as quickly as possible, looking both ways each time he crossed the street or even walked in front of an alley between stores.

When he got back to his building, there was no sign of fire. He checked his watch; it was only a quarter past eleven o’clock. Perfect. He headed up the elevator and into his apartment.

Despite being fast asleep under the blankets in Coulson’s bed still, Clint came awake quickly when Coulson shook him by the shoulder. “Hehh… huhhh… huh-IH-HEHShhhhhH!” Clint sneezed into Coulson’s pillow, and Coulson resisted the urge to move his hand up from shoulder to head and stroke the man’s hair comfortingly. Clint sniffled and blinked up at him. “Time to go?”

“Time to go,” Coulson confirmed with a nod. “Are you ready?”

Clint grabbed the black and white chevron tissue box, that had been severely depleted during the morning, and nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

Coulson locked up after them and followed Clint into the elevator, which came almost at once; Coulson took that to be a good sign. They stood against opposite walls of the elevator, which made Coulson smile and half expect Clint to leap across and kiss him again, but of course he knew that wasn’t in the cards this time around. Clint snuffled hard a few times and smiled, rubbing his nose. “I sneezed in the elevator on the way up to your place, and your neighbor asked me if I happened to be allergic to cats,” he told Coulson, who had been so caught up in setting a perfect, efficient, baseline day that he had almost forgot what elevator small talk was like. “We started talking about cats—she just got two new kittens.”

“Yes, I saw the cat carriers I the elevator with her during previous time loops.”

“Right. We talked so much that she missed her floor and had to ride the elevator back down again. Heh… oh… huhhh-EHShhhhhh! Sniff! Sniff! So, sniff! I was telling her about some kittens I knew who were real trouble-makers and got into everything. I told her she should kitten-proof her apartment right away or they could get hurt or do some serious damage.”

Coulson nodded along during this, not really caring about small talk let alone small talk about someone else’s small talk. But something Clint had said suddenly flipped a switch inside his brain. “Hold on a minute. Damage? Clint, think carefully about this. Can you remember exactly what you said at the very end of your conversation?”

Clint shrugged. “Sure. I told her to be sure to watch them around curtains and put away anything hazardous that cats could knock over.”

Coulson’s eyes were wide. “Like candles?”

“I didn’t say candles but, yeah, I guess that would count. I don’t… hehh-hehh… uhhh-IHTChuhhhhh! Snifff! Sniff! I don’t think kittens and open flames go together too well.”

They didn’t. Playful, rambunctious kittens plus open flames equaled apartment fires that spread to the curtains and then the rest of the apartment building. Clint had been the reason the building hadn’t burned down every day and they hadn’t even known it. And in yesterday’s version of today, Coulson had been so happy to see Clint alive he had practically pulled him out of the elevator the second the doors opened in order to hug him. That hug had felt so damn good, so reassuring. But it had meant that last little piece of advice had gone undelivered, and the building had gone up in flames because of it.

“Sir, you’re shaking.”

Coulson cleared his throat and rubbed his hand over his forehead. The headache was back. “I’m okay,” he said, collecting himself. “Just putting some missing pieces into the puzzle. Better late than never, right?”

Clint nodded. “Does time even matter any more when you’re in a time loop?”

“Actually, time seems to matter even more.”

The elevator got to the ground level and opened. They headed straight for Lola, and Coulson checked his mirrors and even looked over his shoulder twice to make sure the street was clear before he pulled out of his parking spot. As soon as it was safe to do so, he turned on the car’s boosters and flew it off the streets. He dialed May’s number. “We’re on our way.” Within five minutes, the bus was in sight, ramp open so he could drive right into the cargo bay and park. It all went without a hitch. No freak plane or missile coming from out of nowhere and striking them down. No one on the streets below spotting them and screaming in terror to see a flying car. He was safe on board with a team he trusted and an experienced, albeit sick and sniffly, S.H.I.E.L.D. agent who already believed him backing him up. The object was safe in hand. The research was probably already in their system. And whatever his team couldn’t figure out, maybe the researchers or Tony Stark would figure out. Everything was going exactly as planned. Now he just needed to get Clint some medicine and maybe take a double dose of painkillers for his headache and the day would be perfect.

Skye and Ward were there to meet him, so Coulson made introductions as the four of them walked to Fitz-Simmons’ laboratory. “Agent Barton, this is Agent Grant Ward. And this is Skye, our… hacker consultant?” Skye looked amused by the title. “Ward, Skye, this is Agent Barton, also known as Hawkeye.” Clint held a hand up in a sort of wave, then covered his mouth as he coughed.

“Excuse me. I’m fighting something at the moment.”

The first thing Coulson did when he got to Fitz-Simmons lab was ask Simmons about cold medicine. But she’d already got a bag ready, filled with nasal spray and decongestants and tissues. He could have kissed her for it, but there were many reasons that wouldn’t be a good idea. Coulson handed the bag to Clint, who popped two pills into his mouth immediately and washed it down with a third of a bottle of water also in the bag; Coulson loved how thorough his team was. “This is Leo Fitz and Jemma Simmons, our resident scientists. Jemma’s a bio-chemist and Fitz is an engineer. If anyone can figure out what this Shandari bullet is and how to stop it, it’s them.” Coulson said by way of introductions. “Fitz-Simmons, this is Agent Clint Barton, also known as Hawkeye.” Coulson was glad to see both scientists look impressed to be meeting an Avenger; so often they were off in their own world together.

Clint coughed into his fist and rubbed at his nose. “Nice to meet you two. So, do you think you’ll be able to stop these time loops Agent Coulson is stuck in?”

Damn it. One thing at a time, Clint. Quickly, Coulson put the case on the lab table. “I went to pick this device up from the museum. There was visible energy emanating from it. You should have gotten the research notes from Dr. Daniels by now?”

“Sent over about half an hour ago, Sir.” Simmons sounded quite proper, but Coulson could tell she didn’t believe what Clint had just said; he could hear the skepticism in her voice.

“When I got neat the object, some of the energy struck me in my chest. After that, every time I get near it, its energy readings drop and every time Clint gets near it, they go up again.”

Fitz looked confused. “Was he hit by the energy too, then?”

Coulson shook his head. “No, he wasn’t even at the museum at the time.” Clint had been back at Coulson’s apartment on the couch, calling every ten minutes to request Coulson buy one more thing at the grocery store for him. Amazing how they could have gone from that to this all in one day, and all Coulson had to do was to tell Clint about his repeated deaths. Piece of cake. It was going to take more for his team to believe him, though, and he knew it. “Ever since the device’s energy struck me, one thing or another has made me die. And every time I wake up again in bed and it’s this morning. During one loop, you exposed the object to gamma radiation and the bus exploded, so I really want you to avoid doing that this time.”

Simmons nodded thoughtfully. “No gamma radiation test. That won’t be hard to avoid.”

“Another time around, I was kidnapped by someone who wanted to know how I… how did he put it… how to activate the Shandari bullet.”

“Shandari?” Fitz said, trying the word out with his Scottish accent. “Sounds… alien.”

“I think it must be. It was found in the rubble of a building destroyed during the Battle of New York. I’ve had S.H.I.E.L.D. reach out to Tony Stark, and maybe someone will be able to get a hold of Thor. I’ve never heard of the Shandari, but I’ve got to say I don’t care much for their weapons. I don’t know what this is supposed to do, but what it’s doing is making me live this day over and over again, and it’s starting to get to me. Simmons, you don’t have anything strong for a headache around here, do you?”

She got him something. He borrowed Clint’s water bottle to wash it down and hoped that it would kick in fast. What had started as a dull ache this morning was now a stabbing pain in his temple.

“I need you to find out everything you can about this Shandari bullet,” Coulson said, opening up the case and setting the object on the lab table, on display. “But I especially need you to figure out how to shut it down safely so that tomorrow doesn’t end up being today all over again.”

Simmons nodded at him. “Of course, Sir. We’ll do what we can.”

“Thank you. I knew I could count on you two. Call me as soon as you have anything or if you need me.” He escorted Clint, who clutched the bag of supplies to his chest, out of the lab to give them some room to work. As they left, he heard the two scientists talking to each other in hushed tones.

“Do you think he’s actually in a time loop?”

“Seems unlikely. But if this energy device is somehow tuned to his brain waves, it could be making him think he’s in a time loop.”

“Let’s start with seeing what its energy readings are right now.”

“Good idea.”

Coulson sighed to himself as they headed down the hall and out of earshot. He still had every confidence in them, he just hoped coming clean with them didn’t backfire. He didn’t want to die today in an insane asylum during an electroshock therapy treatment.

They ran into May, Ward, and Skye waiting for them, and it was May with her hands on her hips and head bent so she was looking up at him, “Time loops? Really?” Of course they had been listening in on what had happened in the lab. Coulson expected nothing less.

And so he suggested the poker game. Again. Clint couldn’t play, because dealing another person in would throw the hands off too much. And, besides, he was already starting to enter the afternoon of feeling worse that seemed to come every time, medicine or not. Coulson just hoped it wouldn’t be too bad for him this time around.

“Ihhh hehh-HSchxxmphhh!” He sneezed, stifled and smothered in several thick tissues. It wasn’t silent, but it was probably as close as Clint Barton’s sneezes could get. He sat in a chair just off to the side of the desk around which the four chairs had been placed and upon which a deck of cards sat, shuffled by Ward, May, and Skye in that order, just like last time. Coulson hoped this would be enough to convince them.

Pulling each hand back up from memory almost hurt as much as the headache. Ward dealt the first hand and, as soon as everyone had their cards, Coulson called it. “Skye’s going to win this one with three aces.”

Skye pressed her cards to her chest and looked down at the backs. “What, can you see through them or something?”

Coulson shook his head, which hurt, so he stopped doing that immediately. Coulson hoped his own headache would back off sooner rather than later. Just looking at the cards in his hand was making his head pound so much his stomach was churning. “No,” he said. “I told you: we played this exact game before in a previous time loop. I know who’s going to win each hand. First it was Skye with three Aces—sorry you wasted your luck with such a great hand on such a pointless game, by the way. Then Ward gets a pair of kings. Next Skye with a royal flush. And then May with three…” he suddenly couldn’t remember. His head pounded so hard everything around him was going white. He tried to visualize the cards. Three… three… what had it been? It came to him then. “Three eights.” He pushed his hand into the middle. “Go ahead and deal. You’ll see.”

They saw. There went Ward’s Kings, the king of spades and the king of hearts—both fitting, Coulson thought. Then, just like he had said, Skye beat them all with a royal flush. Finally, thank goodness, it was indeed three eights that May had that won the fourth round.

Skye clapped to show she was impressed, and Clint joined her, all smiles and maybe looking a little proud as well? Ward nodded, but his eyes were narrowed, as if he were trying hard to think of a way Coulson could have performed that trick. But Coulson hadn’t touched the deck, which had been fresh out of the package and hadn’t even dealt any of the hands. May sighed and gave a decisive nod. “All right. Say you have been through this day before. What happens next? Do you know what I’m about to say?”

Coulson knew better than to shake his head this time, because the pains in it had magnified tenfold since the last time he’d made that mistake. “No,” he told her. His voice sounded weak and far away all of a sudden. “This is the first time I’ve ever tested this out… with you.” He hunched over a little in his seat, pressing the base of each hand to his forehead.

“Coulson, are you okay?” Skye asked.

“N-no… I don’t think… so. My head…” Coulson managed to choke out before everything went dark around him and he spun, dizzily, into blackness.

Coulson woke up in bed, but to the sound of beeping not a buzzer. Simmons stood beside the bed, injecting something into an IV line that, Coulson realized, was stuck into his right arm. He tried to sit up, but something cool and heavy rested on his forehead, and he felt so good he couldn’t work up the energy to fight against it. As it was, he didn’t even need to move in order for Simmons to notice he had regained consciousness. “Welcome back, Sir.”

“I didn’t die, did I?”

“No,” she smiled, shaking her head. “But you passed out in your seat at the poker game and Ward carried you here. Your heart rate was all over the place and you’re running a dangerously high fever. I’m giving you drugs now that should bring your temperature down. How do you feel, Sir?”

He took quick stock of himself. His head still hurt, but it wasn’t quite as overwhelming as before. Still, the bright white everything around him made him want to shut his eyes tight and never open them again. He was cold, though that was possibly because of whatever was on his forehead or the IV drip in his arm. His stomach still felt unsettled. And his heart still raced, making his breathing quick and erratic as well. “Terrible,” he said. “And cold,” he added.

Simmons brought him some blankets, laying them over him from feet to chest. She didn’t tuck them around him the way that Coulson remembered tucking blankets tight around Clint in previous time loops. “Clint?” he asked.

“I’m right here, Sir.” Clint had been hanging in the doorway, apparently waiting there this whole time. He walked in and sat on the edge of Coulson’s bed. He had a tissue box crushed under one arm, but he picked up Coulson’s hand in both of his, holding it between them to keep it warm. “This wasn’t part of the plan you told me this morning, Sir.”

“No,” Coulson agreed. “This is new. This has never happened before.”

“Could it be the device breaking you down, affecting you after so much exposure to it? Or could it be something the time loops are doing to you?” Clint speculated.

“It’s neither of those actually,” Simmons said, looking at some slides through her microscope. “Agent Coulson, you’ve been poisoned.”

The words washed over Coulson but didn’t really touch him. It didn’t seem real. Poisoned? How could that have happened? Everything had been going so perfectly this time around. No explosions. No gunshots. No fire. No bizarre, runaway elephant. Coulson hadn’t even had a damn hot dog from a street vendor this time. How could he have been poisoned?

Simmons seemed to be on the same train of thought. “Sir, have you had anything to eat or drink today?”

He thought carefully. “Just swallowed an Ibuprofen this morning with some tap water. And some of Clint’s bottled water with the medicine you gave me when I came on board.”

“I think it’s probably safe to assume the water of New York City hasn’t been poisoned, or we’d have heard about it in the news by now. The poison must have entered your system some other way.” She turned to Clint. “Have you been with him all day?”

“No, he…” Clint pinched his nose and turned away as best he could “hehhh-PFshxtttt! Hekngttttt! Sniff! He, ah, he went to the museum to retrieve the object on his own. Damn it, I knew I should have gone with him!”

“I’ve been to the museum eleven times now,” Coulson explained. “And not once before have I been poisoned there.”

Simmons tried to reason this out. “Yes, but if there had been an airborne delivery any other time, Agent Barton would be suffering as well. And he’s sick, yes, but I gave him a quick exam and he’s not showing any of these symptoms.”

This didn’t make any sense. “But the museum was packed with people. Museum-goers, tourists, researchers, security guards. They would all be infected if something was… in the air.” He squinted at the bright light overhead, then closed his eyes against it. “Could you maybe turn off some of the lights? My head is killing me still.” As soon as he said it, he wished he hadn’t used those particular words to describe how bad he felt. He was in pain and discomfort, yes, but he wasn’t dead yet. And if he didn’t figure this out now, he had no hope of stopping it from happening during the next time loop.

Clint squeezed his hand while Simmons switched off the main overhead light in the lab. Her monitors and the desk lamp by some of her equipment were still on, but the result was a vast improvement. Coulson opened his eyes again, almost all the way. “Thank you.”

“Sir…” Coulson recognized Simmons’s voice as she thought out loud. She and Fitz were always tossing theories back and forth. “Did someone touch you?”

Coulson went cold. Utterly cold. He still felt Clint’s hands around his, but suddenly he didn’t want to. Of course Clint had touched him, but he couldn’t believe this was Clint’s doing. That would mean Clint had been planning this the whole time. The Shandari bullet reacted to him; maybe he had only been pretending this whole time that he was unaware of the time loops. Maybe he’d been repeating along with Coulson and that was why he believed it so easily when Coulson told him about it. It made sense in a horrifying sort of way. But he knew, without a doubt, that he was dead wrong. Another unfortunate turn of phrase.

“I shook hands with the lead researcher at the museum, but I’ve done that many times before,” Coulson said.

“It wouldn’t have to be an obvious point of contact,” said Simmons, still brainstorming out loud as she worked through the problem. “With the right delivery tech, it could have just been someone bumping into you or even brushing past you. Sir, may I check you for marks?”

Coulson let her, of course. Clint got up from the bed so she could pull the covers down a little and look him over, but apart from removing his top hand once so Simmons could have a good look there, Clint did not let go of Coulson during the whole inspection. When his nose tickled, nostrils starting to flare, he rubbed his nose into his shoulder and held his breath until, apparently, the urge to sneeze went away.

The inspection, it turned out, did not take long. She checked his arms and the front of his neck. She helped him sit up and checked the back of his neck, her gloved fingers brushing over him softly. She untied the gown he had been put into and pulled it apart in the back so she could inspect him there. And just when Coulson was dreading what came next—obviously an inspection of his chest, where Clint would see the scar Loki’s staff had made—her fingers stopped. “I think…” Her fingers pressed, moved a little, then pressed again. “Yes, this is it. It’s tiny, just a pinprick in size.” Satisfied, she tied the gown up again and carefully eased him back against the pillows. “It’s so small, you probably didn’t feel a thing. And it was probably so quick that the amount of poison was small and took a while to make its way through your system to start doing damage.” She glanced over at the monitor, not smiling, despite this step forward. “I’ll keep analyzing the blood samples I got from you, looking for an an antidote, but I can’t be certain how long that will take.”

“No,” Coulson spoke up at once.

“I’m sorry?”

“No,” he repeated. “I’m too far gone already. I can feel it. Don’t spend your time on me. I need you to focus on the Shandari bullet, on the 0-8-4. When I die, the day will start over again, and I’ll be fine. I’ll watch out when I’m at the museum this time. I won’t let anyone poison me. But if you don’t figure out these time loops, I’ll be living this day over and over forever. And, as it turns out, it’s not the best day of my life.”

“Sir…”

“I know you don’t really believe in the time loop, but I swear it’s happening. And this is an order, Agent. Focus on the 0-8-4. Get in touch with S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters. See if they’ve figured anything out. Talk to Tony Stark if you can. Someone’s got to figure this out. This is an order, Simmons.”

With tears in her eyes, she nodded. “Yes, Sir.” She glanced at Clint, who nodded at her. He settled back on the edge of the bed to watch over Coulson. “Call me if his condition worsens,” she told Clint in a pleading tone, before practically fleeing the room.

“She’s worried about you. Sniff, sniff! We’re all worried about you.”

“I’ll be fine again once the time loop resets.”

“And until then, you have to lie here in agony as poison slowly takes you down from the inside?”

“So dramatic.” Coulson smiled, tried to laugh. “I’m not used to being on this side of things. Usually you’re the one tucked into bed and I’m the one sitting by your bedside, wondering how I can help.

Clint smiled down at him. “How can I help, Sir?”

Coulson thought about it for a moment before putting together a new plan. “First, you can start calling me by my name. Second, can you turn some of these lights off? My head’s pounding.” Clint squeezed his hand before setting it down. He turned off every light and every monitor in the room, including the one that showed Coulson’s vitals. In the darkness, he had to feel around on the bed for a place to sit where he wouldn’t be crushing Coulson’s legs. But once he got settled, he found Coulson’s hand again and squeezed it.

“Better?”

“Much.” He couldn’t see Clint well now, so he closed his eyes and let that last image of him smiling fill his mind. Most of his other deaths had been quick. The pain had been terrible, but fleeting. He wasn’t used to having this much time or for not knowing how long it would take until the poison claimed him entirely. “Talk to me, Clint.”

“Okay, but I… hah… huhhh-HURShuhhhhh! Sorry.”

“I don’t mind you sneezing when you have to,” Coulson told him. “Just don’t let me pass away in silence. I… I… I need this loop to be worth something. I need for this death to matter.”

“Under… hahh… understood, Sir… Phil… huhhh-IHSchuhhhh!” He had to have been holding in his sneezes before when Simmons had been there, because now they were coming at him thick and fast. “Except I don’t know what to talk about.”

“Right… How about… answering a question for me?”

“Anything.”

“Are you still angry with me?”

“Excuse me?”

“I was your handler for years. I know it didn’t make us besties or anything, but after I died, S.H.I.E.L.D. covered up my death and I went along with that. Are you angry… that you thought I was dead all that time?”

Clint gave a strangled laugh. “You realize you’re asking me about your death while you’re dying again?”

“I realize there’s a certain irony to this, yeah. Just answer the question, Agent.”

“Yes,” he replied like a reflex. “Yes, I was angry you were dead. And then I was angry S.H.I.E.L.D. covered up the fact that they revived you. But when I found out you were alive… I wasn’t angry, Sir, I was relieved. And glad. And… and…”

“And… you have to sneeze again?”

“No,” Clint laughed. “No, well, yes. I do. But… huhh… huhh-UHSchhhuhhhh! Sniff! Sniff! Excuse be a secod.” He shuffled around on the bed, leaning over Coulson so he felt the man’s body pressed against his legs through the blankets. Then he heard the sound of tissues being pulled from a box followed by the sound of Clint blowing his nose repeatedly. When he finally finished, he put his hand on Coulson’s leg through the blankets. “Are you still there?”

“I’m not dead yet,” Coulson said softly.

“Good. Because now I’ve got a question for you: in all the time loops you’ve been through so far, have I ever told you the real reason I showed up at your door this morning?”

“Sure. First time around, in fact. You said you were out of cold medicine and your cold was getting worse and you needed someone to look after you.”

Clint was quiet for almost a full minute, as if waiting for Coulson to keep going. “And that’s all I said about it?”

“You said you’d have called Agent Romanov, but she was undercover on a mission in Bulgaria, and you didn’t know how to contact her.”

Clint laughed. “Oh, Tasha. She always takes care of me when I’m sick.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“But you take care of me all the time.”

Coulson didn’t follow.

“You’re my handler. There’s no one I’d rather have taking care of me and looking out for me when I’m at my weakest, like I am now with this damn cold.”

“Because being a trained S.H.E.I.L.D. agent with level 8 clearance qualifies me to hand you tissues?”

“No,” he said softly. “Because you’re you.” He tried to clear his throat but ended up sneezing. “Hah… huhh-Ihhhshhh! And because I fell for you. You, with your paperwork and rules and loyalty and unwavering service and wit and mystery and kindness and self-sacrifice. I fell for you hard.”

Coulson didn’t know how to reply. He had a strong feeling this was the sort of thing Clint could only be saying because the room was dark and he didn’t have to look Coulson in the eye when he said it. But he did squeeze Coulson’s hand and run his thumb against the back of it thoughtfully, comfortingly.

“I can guess from your silence that you don’t feel the same?” His voice… Coulson had heard it break before, just before dying, but this was worse. It was small… disappointed… maybe even ashamed.

“You’d be guessing wrong.”

Clint let out a sharp gasp that had nothing whatsoever to do with his cold.

Pain shot through Coulson, and he knew he didn’t have much time left. So he quickly tugged on Clint’s hand. “Come here. Kiss me before I’m too weak to kiss you back.”

Clint found Coulson in the dark as if by magic. A hand on his cheek, wet lips on his lips, and a strong body pressing and warming him from above. Coulson couldn’t think of a better way to go. This definitely beat getting run through with an Asgardian walking stick, that was for damn sure. He tried to focus on the kiss, tried to ignore the way he could no longer feel his limbs, the way his stomach burned and his head pounded so hard and fast he thought his head was going to explode. Whatever this poison was meant to do, it was doing it now. He tried to enjoy the kiss, tried to make it the only thing real in his world.

But the pain was too much, and he turned his head to the side with slight moan.

“Phil!” Clint said, stroking his hand repeatedly against Coulson’s cheek. “Don’t do this now,” he said, his voice breaking again. Coulson heard him sniffle too much for it to just be from his cold. “I don’t want you to go.”

Coulson couldn’t move his hand, but if he could he would have reached up and squeezed Clint’s hand. “I know. But you have to let me die. It’s the only way.”

Footsteps. Running. Light from the hallway flooded the room, and Coulson couldn’t throw up a hand to protect his eyes from it. It sent searing pain through his head, making it explode almost as spectacularly as the Shandari bullet had made things explode in the past. “Sir,” Fitz said between gasps of breath. He had run the distance from his lab. “It’s all about the energy. Mr. Stark sees it too. Do you understand?”

Coulson didn’t understand. That was just about nothing to go on. He already knew it gave out various amounts of energy. There wasn’t enough information. He needed more. Now. “Fitz… more… faster…”

Fitz could talk faster; he was the right man for that job. He sped through the next sentences with barely a gap between words. “It has to do with you and your energy readings. It’ll take time to figure out the right frequencies, though.”

“Got it… thanks…” Coulson said, and tried to remember those words. Frequencies. Energy readings. He’d have to tell Fitz-Simmons during the next loop. He had to remember or this day would never end. But then the pain intensified to almost impossible amount. It was unbearable, and his face contorted in agony as it overtook him; he tried to be strong, tried to not cry out. But he could feel the pain taking over.

“Phil!” Clint begged. “Please don’t go yet!”

“It will be all right. Please let me die,” Coulson managed, trying to sound reassuring and confident when, in actuality, he probably just sounded like he was in the worst pain of his life. He didn’t want to leave Clint, he didn’t want to start over with him again. But he did want to take all he’d learned and wake up again to the sound of Clint pressing that intercom buzzer.