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Near Mint	By : OmniaVanitus Category: Marvel Verse Movies > Avengers, The Views: 2735 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own The Avengers or any of the characters thereof, but I do claim the creative liberties to this story. No money is being made from this story.

Chapter List
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It was in the early morning hours when Agent Phil Coulson woke with a strangled cry, flinging himself bolt upright. He was gasping for breath as his wide blue eyes scanned the darkened bedroom wildly, searching for the hidden danger and finding nothing.
Clenching his eyes shut, he flopped back down, ignoring the way his sweat soaked sheets felt against his skin.
It took several minutes, longer than he'd really care to admit, for him to calm his rapid heartbeat, forcing himself to take deep breaths while he ran his fingertips over the ugly scar on his chest soothingly and trying to block out the memory of how he attained his little souvenir from the crazed, psychopathic Asgardian, Loki.
He'd been having dreams lately, ever since the invasion, of Him and dying and electric shocks so powerful they ripped him from the afterlife only to force him back into his decaying body...though he supposed any of these would be enough to give anyone nightmares.
Coulson ran a hand over his tired face and through his thinning brown hair, wiping away the sweat that still lingered on his forehead. It was barely even dawn, too early for him to be getting up just yet, but he knew he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep. Not after that.
Disentangling the sheets from his legs, he levered himself out of bed with a soft groan, the tender skin along his scar pulling uncomfortably as he sat up again. He stood stiffly, his joints popping and creaking in protest and making him feel entirely too old.
He winced as he shuffled through his quiet apartment, swiping up the small brown bottle of pain meds from the top of his dresser as he passed. By the time he reached the kitchen and set his coffee pot to brew he had already popped a couple into his mouth, swallowing them down dry. He only had a few more doses left, but that was alright. He rarely even needed them anymore.
As the coffee brewed, Coulson quickly settled on a small package of Little Debbie donuts for his breakfast. Not the most healthy thing, he knew, but he just couldn't resist their sugary goodness.
Steaming mug in one hand and chocolate frosted donuts in the other, he wondered into the living room and settled down onto an overstuffed couch, his eyes landing on the vintage trading cards spread out carefully on the coffee table before him.
His Captain America cards were near mint. Or had been before Fury decided to smear his blood all over them. At least the Captain himself had signed them as a farewell token to the "deceased" agent.
Coulson idly wondered which would affect their value more: Captain America's signature or his type B- blood now staining them.
"Near mint," he sighed. "Damned one-eyed bastard." Coulson let out a snort of laughter at that. "Oh wait, that's Stark's line."
The agent let out another soft sigh as he leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. Vicodin is one hell of a drug.
He'd be returning to work soon, in a matter of days really, and while he was both eager and relieved to be resuming his SHIELD duties, he couldn't help but be wary. It wasn't the physical aspects of the job that worried him, paperwork isn't exactly laborious, but psychologically speaking...he wasn't so sure.
Coulson frowned at the images floating in his head, from his most recent nightmare and from misplaced memories that just didn't make sense to him.
Pain lancing through his chest as Loki's spear impaled him. Fury's angry growl. All consuming darkness followed by excruciating light forcing life back into his synapses. Paradise transforming into the grass shacks of Tahiti. Such a magical place. And agony so overwhelming he welcomed death, begged for it...and on one occasion even attempted it.
He shook his head in exasperation, berating himself for even contemplating taking more time off.
He reached his hand up to rub along the scar again as he eyed the trading cards. No, he needed to go back to work. If only to preserve his own sanity.
Secrets didn't matter.

His keys jangled in the door lock, turning the tumblers and admitting him entrance into his apartment. But once through and the door shut firmly behind him, Coulson simply slumped against it rubbing a hand over his tired eyes and temples.
His first day back at SHIELD had been a long one with many hours spent being retrained, recertified and reclassified with a higher level of clearance. His marksmanship, he was pleased to find, hadn't deteriorated during his time off and though the doctors had given him a clean bill of health, he had spent much of his training getting tossed around like a ragdoll while he wheezed and panted on the padded floor. His strength and stamina was effectively in the crapper.
He was also, to his surprise, given a new assignment and team.
He had known, realistically, that he wouldn't have any further part in the Avengers Initiative, considering the group still believed him to be dead and all, but he couldn't stop a small, small part of him from hoping.
And another from feeling that this new team of his was some sort of consolation prize.
Maybe he really shouldn't have returned to work so soon.
Feeling utterly exhausted, Coulson pushed off from the door, making his way into the kitchen for a bottle of water before wondering out into the living room. But before he could settle down onto one of the couches, the sound of rustling off to his side drew his attention. And with reflexes that would make any agent proud, his gun was drawn and aimed at a spot between familiar green eyes.
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Near Mint