To Love Is To Destroy

Chapter 6

Stefan stepped off the plane, not so much fatigued as he was nervous. The Calais-Dunquerqe airport had a tarmac for private planes, notably military, and SHIELD had been kind enough to offer him a lift. He could have paid for a ticket, but something in him had decided that if he was going to owe SHIELD a favor, he might as well go big.

He rubbed his face and shouldered his duffel, declining the private car the agent offered. He hadn't seen Jasper, but he'd heard from Ramirez he'd returned from New Mexico a couple days ago.

Rumor had it, something big had struck in New Mexico.

Stefan hadn't seen much of it in the news, but then again, he hadn't seen much worthwhile in the news recently. He'd tried every major news outlet, but it all seemed like they were trying to drive viewership. He found more information in shows like The Daily Show and Al-Jazeera than he did on 'real' networks like CNN or Fox. It bothered him, this rampant focus on minor issues. Still, he kept his finger to the pulse of what was going on, gleaning his news from actual sources and checking his facts.

Now, however, he was riding the train to Charing Cross, swaying with the movement of the car. His heart thrummed in his chest, steady and strong. He knew he'd never be prepared to see the passage of years on Patricia's face, but it was no excuse to avoid seeing her.

France was greener than he remembered, the fog of war replaced with verdant fields and fat, dozy sheep on the hillsides. Little villages passed by, a riot of color that caught his interest. He resolved to practice with his colored pencils when he got a chance and to sketch the little cottages.

He must have fallen asleep; when he looked out the window later, the fields were replaced with the outskirts of London. He rubbed at his eyes, not so much drowsy as overwarm and muzzed in the head. It was better than fretting over his current course of action, that was for sure. The conductor was happy enough to tell him they would be at the station shortly.

Half an hour seemed like forever when waiting for something, but eventually Stefan's train pulled into the station, slowing with the creak of steel that brought memories back. It coated his tongue like oil -- he could track the smoke across the sky before his USO unit was deployed just behind the front line.

His whole body tensed, caught in the memory, and he didn't remember disembarking the train, or gathering his duffle, but he stood on the platform in Charing Cross and watched the steam rise from below the carriages.

He came back to himself, an almost full-body shudder like a dog shaking cold water from its fur. Stefan blinked, his hand wrapped around the strap of his duffel as he looked around.

Surrey was a big county, but he'd gleaned the rest of the information he'd needed from her files. His mind spun with questions, most of them remaining unanswered even though he'd talked to her almost every week since Jasper had left for New Mexico.

He worked his way through the station, past buskers and people shunting through to make their trips or to go home. Foot traffic was heavy this time of day and he almost wanted to walk it. If he got lost in the crowd here, started running and never stopped...

It occurred to him that SHIELD might have anticipated this. Still, the thought was an interesting one. One he didn't dwell on too much. He was cut loose, bereft of a duty to his country in a war that had ended seventy years ago.

It wasn't his fault no one had deigned to tell him.

The cell phone Jasper had gotten him showed him the address for Patricia's flat, and the GPS led him there. It was a simple enough thing when the agent had showed him, and Stefan learned faster than normal men.

He knew he was risking a lot, coming to see her unannounced, but...

Some bonds weren't written in fate. He'd wanted to see her. He still did. He looped the strap of his duffle over his head and set off down the sidewalk.

A long walk, it turned out. London was a lot bigger than he remembered, though he'd only seen bits and pieces, and most of it had been at night. Crowds, the buzz of engines and the chatter of thousands of voices; it washed over Stefan like a soothing wave, and he buried himself in it, in anonymity.

It was almost like before the serum.

His phone told him that her flat was close, and he stopped, looking around. He found what he was looking for in a florist's on the corner, and he picked up a bouquet.

Her flat was on a quiet side street, the cars parked there despite the signage not to -- he remembered reading about the overpopulation. Still, the bright green door was very like her, vibrant and full of life.

He hesitated, standing in an unfamiliar city, his fist raised to knock, and he considered. He could walk away, do any number of things but chase the past.

Sarah Roosevelt hadn't raised a quitter.

He knocked.

Phil checked the text as he pulled onto Interstate 40. He about wrecked his car.

[He's here.]

[Does SHIELD know?]

[They dropped him off.]

His heart thrummed in his chest, aching for the both of them. He didn't know how anyone could do it. He hesitated, and then thumbed out a text.

[You should be spending time with him, not apprising me of the situation, Director.]

[Don't tell me what to do, boy. I'm letting you know where he is because I know for a fact Fury's going to need him soon, if the scuttlebutt I'm hearing is correct.]

[Aye, ma'am. If he overstays his welcome, I'll come and rough him up. Make sure he has you home by ten.]

[Phillip.]

[What?]

[You should focus on your drive.]

"How does she do that?" he murmured, tossing his phone onto the seat beside him. It was still a little strange, reconciling the man he'd read about and the man currently sitting in Patricia Carhold's flat. He stared out into the darkness of the road, his Audi cutting a bright swath with its LED headlights.

Sometimes he felt like he'd been driving half his life. The depressing part was that it was probably true.

His mind wandered back to Stefan. Maybe Patricia had been his girl; he'd never had the stones to ask. The only thing he knew for certain was that they hadn't Bonded. Tiny threads of guilt laced through him for the foolish wishes of his youth.

Stefan Roosevelt had people. Phil wasn't one of those people. He swallowed, letting the desert night eat at his thoughts. He turned up the music, letting the sound wash over him and through him.

Sometimes, Phil found, his life was very Zen. Watching the highway stretch before him, unbroken in the dead of the night with the gentle instrumentals playing in the background, it was one of those times.

He breathed out, then breathed in, going about the business of living. He had work to do.

It was time for boyhood dreams to die.

"You know, I hear I have you to thank for SHIELD and its involvement in my life," Stefan said, his voice soft as he regarded Patricia over a cup of tea.

"You do," she said. "Howard asked me to fill a need, so I stepped up. We never stopped looking for you."

Stefan couldn't get over the luster to her. Patricia carried herself like a woman of forty-five, and she looked it. Steel had woven its way into her temples, but that just reinforced the hard set to her eyes she got when determined. He toyed with the handle of his cup.

She was lovely, and his heart thrummed in his chest just the same as it had in 1943.

"I know. I hear tell there was an agent who took over after you." He set the mug down and leaned back, just drinking her in. She smiled.

"Indeed there was. I picked him by hand. I needed someone to take over an old woman's work."

"You're hardly old," he said, smiling.

"Stefan, we're both pushing ninety-five and don't look it, don't tell me you don't see the irony in that."

"You know, you never did tell me how that worked out," he said softly.

"I know," she said, and pursed her lips. Stefan had the feeling that she wasn't going to tell him, either. "My work isn't finished yet."

"So you just refused to age until it is?" Somehow, if she confirmed it, he would believe it. It was just so like Patricia, stubborn to the last.

"I have so many things to oversee. The world has moved on," she said, soft as she touched her locket around her neck.

Stefan remembered the piece, her soul mate's picture rested inside, like hers had in his compass. She'd kept it all these years, even though she'd undoubtedly outlived the woman, whoever she'd been.

"It's okay to not finish everything," he murmured, reaching for her hand. "We all thought we'd never live forever, especially with the war going on, so we crammed as much life as we could into three years."

She smiled.

"I remember." She turned her hand and laced their fingers together. "You remember that night in Toulouse?"

"I have near perfect recall, but I know what you mean," he said. "We found that stash of rationed bourbon the krauts were hiding from the populace, citing it was bad for morale. We busted it open and Dugan woke up on the roof wearing only a sock."

She laughed, a full, rich sound, and something in Stefan sealed, coalescing into a scar. Not quite knit all the way through, but getting closer. He smiled at her, and she at him, and all was right with the world.

At least for a little while.

"Coulson," Phil said, answering his phone. He had a feeling he knew who it was. The mess in Mexico had been wrapped up with a minimum of fuss, Thor gone back to his home world and Doctor Foster shipping off to Norway within the week. Darcy had even gotten her iPod back, although Phil had filled it with swing and jazz in a fit of pique.

"Coulson, you done cataloguing Destroyer parts?" Nick asked. Phil smiled.

"Just told R&D to put a trigger on it," he said, the doors to the lab swishing shut behind him. "Got something else for me?"

"Yeah. Take a Quin to London and collect Stefan Roosevelt from Patricia's apartment," Nick said. "The helicarrier is en route from Nova Scotia, and you can rendezvous with us there."

"Me?" Phil asked. "You sure you don't want to send Jasper?"

"Jasper's coordinating some things for the Tesserract project for me," Nick said. "I want to get things going on getting the Captain up to date, and you're free now. I assume that Hawkeye is keeping watch?"

"He's roosting," Phil confirmed. "You want me to stay until you've arrived?"

"Might as well. Things are moving right along, and we'll be able to study this thing at our leisure, barring anyone knowing we've got it."

Phil knocked on wood. "Don't jank us, sir, we've still got a lot of things we don't know about this cube."

"Don't I know it, Phil. I'm en route. I'll be there in about four hours. In the meantime, debrief Natasha on your movements. When she's done with Stark, she'll join us here."

"Roger that, sir. I'll pack a bag. Should I..."

"I swear to god, Phil, get the damn cards signed so you stop talking about them."

"Nice to know you do listen."

"Yeah, yeah." Phil could hear the s**t eating grin in Nick's voice. "Get packing. And let Nan know you're coming."

"Always do."

[I'm heading your way in a Quin, Director. Marcus has asked me to fetch the Captain.]

[I'll let him know you're coming.]

[So, are there wedding bells in the future?]

[Quite a bit of cheek from a young man who happens to have his shield on the inside of your forearm.]

[I should never have shown you that.]

[Too late now.]

[It is. Should I bring you anything?]

[No. Let me know when you've touched down and I'll put the kettle on. It'll be nice to see you.]

[Will do.]

"Who are you talking to?" Stefan asked.

"The young man I've told you about."

"Agent Coulson?"

"The same."

"He texts you regularly?"

"He and Director Fury do, yes. They're both my protégés, of sorts. Phil took after me more, I think. Marcus has his own reasons for going about things the way he does. You need to remember that. He has a reason for everything he does."

Stefan pursed his lips. "I don't like him. He's too secretive."

"You'd have hated me."

"I could never do that."

"You only say that through a lens of nostalgia. I was a hard-nosed b***h and I know it. But it was a role I needed to play."

Stefan snorted. "So, what did Agent Coulson want?"

"He's coming to pick you up. It seems SHIELD has finally found a role for you to fill." She smiled, standing and moving into the kitchen. "Just promise me one thing. Never let it swallow you whole. There's too much good to be done in the world, and you worked better as a free agent anyway."

"Is this Agent Coulson a company man?"

She raised a brow, filling the kettle with water and putting it on to boil before she answered.

"Phillip...is Phillip. He toes the company line, but he doesn't hesitate to speak out when things don't ring true for him. You'd like him. He thinks like you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means he believes, Stefan. Even when things are at their worst, he believes in what he's doing to be the right thing. He has heart, and he won't hesitate to jump on that grenade. Erskine would have loved him. There's just enough of a cynic there to temper that boundless enthusiasm."

Stefan chuckled, and she smiled, turning back to the stove.

"He'll be here in about an hour. You might want to get packed."

"You don't even know if I'll agree to go."

"I know you. You'll go."

Phil rapped on the door, and Patricia opened it.

"You're late."

"Caught in traffic. The streets are murder this time of day." He stepped in and pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek, her arms going around him in a hug. "Is that chamomile I smell?"

"Yes. I had a feeling you might want to stay for a moment, get your feet under you before you head back to New York."

"Marcus says 'Hi, Nan.'"

"I'll dance on his grave."

"You probably will, ma'am."

Stefan listened to the exchange from the comfortable living room Patricia kept. He stood from the squashy armchair he'd occupied as Phil entered. The agent's eyes locked on his as soon as he entered the room, and Stefan had a feeling he was being assessed as a threat. To whom remained to be seen, but then Phil smiled.

Stefan wanted to be put at ease, and Phil Coulson managed to do it within moments. He shook Stefan's hand, murmured that he was a fan, and Stefan took note of the lapel pin he wore. The kite shield, something from his past. These two people were in his corner more than most, he had a feeling.

"Patricia tells me you were the one to pull me from the ice," he said. "I suppose I owe you a thank-you."

"Not at all," Phil said, accepting the mug of tea from Patricia and wiggling his fingers before he chose a biscuit. He sat back, and Stefan did too, regarding this man who looked nothing more than like a middle-aged accountant.

"Phil has been my man on the inside for years," Patricia said, and Phil pinked.

"Not like that, really. Makes me sound like a double agent."

"You tattle on Marcus all the time."

"Because it's funny."

Stefan smiled, watching the back and forth. He nibbled on a biscuit, his metabolism getting the best of him.

"Really, though. He's a good man to have on the inside." She sipped at her tea and looked at Stefan. "He tells me when Marcus steals his donuts."

"My god, that was one time."

"You were in the process of filling his locker with gelatin."

"It was appropriate escalation. Those were the last of my stash of powdered sugar ones."

Stefan smiled. He was human, at least. He regarded Agent Coulson, memorizing expressions and facial tics. He had the perfect face to blend into the crowd, but he was hardly unforgettable, with an easy sense of humor and laughing blue-grey eyes that made Stefan itch for his pencils.

Phil wouldn't look him in the eye for long, though, and he wondered if that was nervousness because of who he was, or if it was something infinitely shadier. Time would tell.

"So, Nick Fury has work for me?" Stefan asked.

"More like he wants to debrief you. Some things have come to light that we think you can explain a little better. From what I understand, things have been relatively quiet since you've woken."

"That won't last long," Stefan mused.

"We're kind of hoping it does, thanks." Phil finished the last of his biscuit and drank his tea, humming as he closed his eyes in pleasure. Patricia shook her head at him, and he rose when she did.

"So, I'll expect to see this wayward soldier back on my doorstep soon?" she asked.

"Fury willing, within the month. Unless you don't want him crashing on your couch any longer?"

"Who said anything about the couch?" she said, fixing him with a look. Phil went bright red and shut his eyes.

"Please don't do that, Nan."

"I will hurt you, Phillip James Coulson, no matter if you're Ray's baby boy or not."

"Wait...Ray Coulson. Baby Face Ray?" Stefan asked. Phil perked.

"You did know my dad?" he asked.

"Pulled him out from under a tank," Stefan said. "He built me five motorcycles in three years. I swear, you could give that man a tin can and he could build a carburetor out of it."

An expression of glee crossed Phil's face, and Patricia laughed.

"Oh, now you've got him started, Stefan. You'd best hop on, though. You know how cranky Marcus gets when his schedule isn't followed."

"I'll call you when we hit New York."

"See that you do," she said, taking his mug and Stefan's. Stefan leaned down, and pressed a kiss to her cheek. She turned, and caught his lips, and he hummed in surprise. "You don't make any more trouble than you have to. I spent a lot of time on that agency, so don't go haring around and tearing it apart."

"Sure," he said, straightening and turning. Phil had turned away, his ears distinctly pink. His aviators were on, hiding a lot of his expression. Stefan had a feeling that the Agent was far more professional outside these walls.

He grabbed his duffel.

"Shall we?"

"Sounds like a plan, Captain."

Phil couldn't quite hide his excitement when Stefan sat down on the Quin. He paged through the packet Phil had given him while Phil fingered the cards in his pocket. Patricia had kind of thrown him for a loop, but he'd expected them to be...

Well, he didn't really want to think about it, if he was honest. He was happy for her. She'd gotten a little piece of herself back.

Phil, on the other hand...

"So, it's a real honor to have you aboard, you know."

Stefan cracked a bit of a smile.

"I gotta say, it's an honor to meet you, officially. I sort of met you, I mean, I watched you while you were sleeping. I mean, I was... I was present while you were unconscious from the ice. You know, it's really, it's just a... just a huge honor to have you on board."

Stefan nodded, his eyes looking a little wild. Phil kicked himself, biting his tongue hard. You i***t. Look what you've gone and done now.

"So this Doctor Banner was trying to replicate the serum that was used on me?" Stefan changed the subject to something safer.

Phil nodded. "A lot of people were. You were the world's first superhero. Banner thought gamma radiation might hold the key to unlocking Erskine's original formula."

Stefan watched footage of the Hulk tearing apart Culver University. He flinched when it tore a jeep in half, roaring.

"Didn't really go his way, did it?"

"Not so much. When he's not that thing though, guy's like a Stephen Hawking."

Stefan looked at him quizzically and Phil corrected himself, explaining.

"He's like a smart person. Really smart. Erskine and Howard Stark combined sometimes. He's one of the leading minds in his field. It's why we called him in to consult."

"And...he came without a fight?"

"We're not trying to contain him. So long as he doesn't try to hurt anyone, we've come to a mutually beneficent agreement."

"So where do I come in on this?" he asked.

"That's above my pay grade," Phil admitted. It chafed a little, but he had to trust the system. "Director Fury will elaborate soon enough."

"Well, I hope I'm the man for the job."

"Oh, you are. Absolutely. Uh... we've made some modifications to the uniform. I had a little design input." He shuffled on his feet, moving away when Stefan stood to look out the window of the Quin as it approached New York.

"The uniform? Aren't the stars and stripes a little... old-fashioned?"

Phil smiled, turning to face him. "With everything that's happening, the things that are about to come to light, people might just need a little old-fashioned. You'll do fine, sir. I know you will."

Stefan smiled, and Phil felt his spine go a little melty. It wasn't the tight, nervous smile that he'd worn before, but something much more genuine. Jesus, he needed to get some air. Stefan Roosevelt was going to be the death of him.

Maybe that's why Marcus had decided on letting Jasper handle him from the beginning. Phil was a bit like a nervous teenager, his palms sweaty and his knees knocking, and he wasn't even this guy's soul mate.

That was Patricia, surely. Even if she wasn't, they were obviously in love. He stamped out his train of thought, reining it in right there. Nothing good came of wandering down that road less traveled.

"What's the plan, then?" he asked.

"I'm en route to Fury's location now. You'll disembark here, drop off your stuff, and we'll rendezvous with you three days from now. Shouldn't take that long, actually. But here." He handed Stefan his card. "This is my personal cell if you need anything. The address listed on that card is for the SHIELD headquarters in New York. Walk in, let them scan the card, they'll take care of whatever you need."

Stefan took it, regarding it for a moment before he pocketed it.

"We'll be landing at JFK shortly, sir," the pilot called.

"Thanks, Clay, we'll get sorted." Phil smiled. "That's you, then."

"Seems like," Stefan said. Phil shook Stefan's hand, his grip firm and strong, and it was only his imagination that his fingers tingled afterward. The good Captain was gone in a moment, hopping out of the back and striding toward the waiting car.

Phil might have lingered watching him go.

Echo Base was a shambles. The roar of falling rock surrounded him, and he hurried the squints along the hallways. Scientists carried half-finished projects clutched to their chests, and it was weighing them down.

"Drop it, forget it, go go go!" Phil called, watching two junior scientists struggling to carry a box between them. "You two, Fitz, Simmons -- we need you alive. You can always restart the project. I don't care what's in the box, I need you both alive. Come on!"

Concrete rumbled and Phil braced himself against the wall.

"All personnel, report to the docking bays for extraction. Drop everything, move. Your projects or your lives. Docking bay C-13, and move it. Quins and choppers are waiting for extraction."

Shit, what the hell just happened?

There was no noise from Fury on the comms, and that by itself was a disturbing thought. Still, he boarded the last chopper out, flying around the base as it crumbled. He caught sight of the trucks leaving, and Fury's voice crackled through the radio.

"Barton's rabbited with Loki. Hill and I were in pursuit, but he's disabled the truck. Coulson, get down here."

"You all right, sir?" he asked.

"Five by five, but he did a number on the vest. I'm just glad Barton's such a s**t shot with a firearm."

"You know he's not. He's fighting whatever that guy did to him," Phil said. He frowned. "What do we do now?"

"What we've been planning to do, Coulson. We get ready. Because like it or not, we're now at war."