Chapter 577

"Well, well. Long time no see, Coulson."

"Yeah... it really has been a while."

Skye sat blindfolded in the back of the transport, able to hear little more than muffled voices through the black hood over her head.

But that first voice...

She knew it.

Before she could place it, the same voice spoke again.

"You know, gentlemen, there are better ways to treat a lady. This seems unnecessarily rough."

The hood was suddenly pulled away.

Skye blinked rapidly as her eyes adjusted to the light.

Then she saw a smiling face.

"Evenson?"

Her brain stalled.

The man standing in front of her was the exact same bastard who had conned a hundred dollars out of her that morning.

"Did they arrest you too?"

Of course!

It had to be.

S.H.I.E.L.D. had probably been watching her for quite some time. She’d spent hours at Evenson’s shop that morning, so naturally they’d noticed him too. And if they’d discovered what he could do...

Skye’s expression softened.

Damn it. Did I get him dragged into this?

While she was busy drowning in guilt, Evenson stared at Coulson and Ward with an increasingly bewildered expression.

"Seriously? You two needed excessive force to arrest one woman?"

He glanced at Skye.

"Flash-bang? Smacked her head against something?"

"Of course not," Coulson said immediately. "The arrest went perfectly. I barely had to use standard procedure, much less excessive force."

"Really?"

Evenson looked back at Skye.

"Then why does she seem to have completely lost her ability to process basic information?"

He gestured between himself and Coulson.

"She just heard us greet each other like old friends. That should have been enough to figure out I wasn’t arrested."

Skye’s eyes widened.

Right.

They’d greeted each other like old friends.

And then Melinda walked over and handed Evenson a thick envelope.

"Your reward. Count it if you want."

"Come on, Melinda. Who do you take me for? I trust you."

Evenson waved dismissively and pulled a money counter out of his shoulder bag.

He fed the bills into it.

Beep.

Two hundred bills.

May’s eyelid twitched.

What kind of person carries a money counter around in his luggage?

Evenson tucked everything away.

"Although, Melinda, next time I’d appreciate it if you picked a better moment to hand me my money."

He pointed at Skye.

"Look at her. She looks like she’s about to bite my head off and chew the whole thing."

Skye finally understood.

Her guilt evaporated.

So did her sanity.

"You bastard!"

She launched herself at him, kicking furiously.

"I’m going to kick your—!"

The rest was lost beneath a conveniently timed electronic censor.

"Ward," Coulson said, "take our guest to the interrogation room."

Ward grabbed Skye before she could throw herself bodily at Evenson.

"And remember the interrogation protocols. You are not to be alone with her."

"Yes, sir."

Ward dragged Skye toward the aircraft.

She continued kicking and swearing the entire way.

"You treacherous bastard! You’ll regret this! S.H.I.E.L.D. is full of ruthless monsters! You’ll regret selling out to them!"

Evenson cheerfully waved.

"Sure thing, beautiful. See you later. Bye!"

Once Skye disappeared inside, he turned toward Coulson and May and shrugged.

"See? S.H.I.E.L.D. has a terrible reputation."

"It’s a powerful secret organization," May said with a shrug. "People are going to talk."

She headed toward the cockpit.

The mission was essentially complete, and the aircraft would be taking off soon.

Coulson, meanwhile, slipped an arm around Evenson’s shoulders and steered him toward the lounge.

On the way, he stopped beside a red convertible parked inside the aircraft.

"This is Lola."

He looked proud.

"Better than your car, right?"

Evenson glanced at Lola, then at the Black Scythe Vanguard secured beside it.

He shook his head.

"Your confidence really has gotten out of hand."

They reached the lounge.

With the others gone, Coulson finally asked the question that had been bothering him.

"So... how many people know?"

"Know what?"

Evenson slipped out from under Coulson’s arm and walked behind the bar as though he’d done it a hundred times.

He reached underneath, produced two stemmed glasses, then turned toward the liquor cabinet.

Without looking, he pulled out a bottle of brandy and poured.

Coulson accepted a glass.

He took a sip.

Then he frowned.

"You seem awfully familiar with this place."

Evenson’s movements had been effortless. Too effortless.

Coulson had spent years as a high-level S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. He noticed details other people missed.

Evenson handled the aircraft’s amenities as though he’d spent considerable time aboard it.

"Hmm."

Evenson swirled the brandy in his glass.

"May gave me a tour while we were waiting for you."

He smiled faintly.

"And don’t underestimate a spellcaster’s memory."

"Anyway," Evenson said, "what were you asking?"

Coulson set his glass down.

"My death."

His voice became quieter.

"How many of the Avengers know I’m alive?"

He paused.

"And why weren’t you surprised to see me?"

"The other Avengers?"

Evenson waved a hand.

"None of them know. So you can relax."

Coulson released a long breath.

That answer mattered more than Evenson probably realized.

As far as the Avengers knew, Phil Coulson had died during the Battle of New York.

His death had been part of Fury’s plan. Coulson’s blood had been used to force the Avengers together, giving them a common cause when they were still barely a team.

It had worked.

But it had also meant deceiving them.

If they discovered the truth, Natasha and Barton would probably understand. They were professional agents.

Captain America, on the other hand...

Coulson could practically imagine Steve charging into the room and punching him for the deception, fan or no fan.

And Tony Stark?

Coulson didn’t even want to think about what would happen if Tony learned the truth.

Hiding aboard the Bus probably wouldn’t be enough.

"As for why I wasn’t surprised..."

Evenson poured himself another drink.

"You were stabbed through the heart by Loki with an alien weapon. Yet somehow, you didn’t die."

He raised his glass slightly.

"Remember the little gift I gave you before the battle?"

"The purple crystal?"

Coulson remembered.

Evenson had once given him a small purple crystal orb and claimed it would bring him good luck.

Coulson had assumed it was nonsense.

Now...

"That was what saved me?"

"Not exactly."

Evenson nodded.

"I saved you."

Coulson stared at him.

"Your soul, specifically."

"My soul?"

Coulson’s brow furrowed.

The concept was still somewhat alien to him.

"You were extremely close to death. Your soul was already beginning to leave your body. If it had gone completely, you really would have died."

Evenson took another sip.

"I managed to hold it in place."

He shrugged.

"What happened to repairing your body afterward? That wasn’t my work."

"I see."

Coulson slowly nodded.

"I did feel like I was very close to dying. I may actually have been dead for about eight seconds."

"Then I suppose I owe you a proper thank-you."

Coulson raised his glass.

"But knowing you, I’m guessing this is where you ask for something in return."

"Mhm."

Evenson lifted the glass to his lips.

"Like I told you before. Give me whatever you think is fair."

"Then I’m not giving you anything."

Evenson sprayed brandy across the room.

"Wh—"

He doubled over coughing, staring at Coulson in disbelief.

Since when did this guy learn to bargain?

Coulson set down his glass.

"Listen, buddy. I don’t particularly want this situation either, but you need to understand my position."

He sighed.

"Whether I’m technically dead or not, S.H.I.E.L.D. has already announced my death publicly. For security reasons, everything that needed to happen after my death has already happened."

"So...?"

Evenson finally managed to breathe again.

Coulson gave him an apologetic look.

"Dead men leave estates behind. Those assets have already been distributed."

He drank the rest of his brandy.

"My house and savings were transferred to the beneficiaries named in my will."

He held up three fingers.

"So now I have three months’ salary and Lola."

Evenson’s eyes slowly drifted toward the convertible.

Coulson’s expression changed instantly.

"Don’t even think about Lola."

He pointed at him.

"You can have her when I’m dead."

"Fine."

Evenson’s shoulders slumped.

"For this time, I’ll let it slide."

He thought for a moment.

"You can owe me. Pay me back when you have the money."

He sighed dramatically.

"I won’t even charge interest."

Coulson’s mouth twitched.

"Deal."

He finished his drink and straightened his suit and tie.

"Now, I’m going to interrogate our hacker."

He started toward the interrogation room, then stopped.

"Oh, and you’re free to take whatever you want from the liquor cabinet. I’ve already accounted for the bottles."

He hesitated.

"Actually, never mind. Take two."

"Thanks."

Evenson immediately grabbed two bottles he didn’t recognize and started stuffing them into his bag.

Coulson snatched one back.

"Not this one."

"You said two."

"I said two."

He held the bottle protectively.

"This one is for after I finish the most difficult mission of my life. I’m supposed to drink it with someone."

"Someone?"

Evenson followed Coulson’s gaze toward the cockpit.

His mouth curled into a knowing grin.

"Never mind. That bottle probably tastes like the unbearable sourness of romance."

Coulson put the bottle away and continued toward the interrogation room.

"Evenson?"

Coulson stopped.

Evenson leaned against the bar.

"I never asked. How was Tahiti?"

Coulson’s expression softened with nostalgia.

He looked toward the floor for a moment.

Then he smiled.

"Oh..."

He sighed.

"It was a magical place."