"Alright, John. Enough about me," Coulson finally said, his tone carrying both weariness and curiosity. "Now tell me—why have you come to see me?"
"You already know why I'm here," John replied calmly, his gaze steady.
Coulson exhaled slowly, the sigh of a man already burdened by too many compromises. "You saw what happened today. Given that… I don't think it's possible anymore."
John had expected this. He could almost recite the words before Coulson spoke them.
"I know exactly what you're talking about," John said, his voice firm yet measured. "And I also know this situation is well beyond your control now. It's time for the Avengers to step in."
Coulson's head snapped up. His eyes widened as if John had suggested something unthinkable. "What? You want the Avengers to intervene in this? Are you serious?" His disbelief was genuine. Of all the things John might have proposed, this was not one he anticipated.
"Why not?" John narrowed his eyes, his words carrying a sharper edge. "Do you think the Avengers are untouchable? That they only deal with grand battles and ignore the smaller threats?"
"I—I didn't mean it like that, John," Coulson stammered, caught off guard. "What I meant is… the Avengers must already be busy with other matters. So why not let me and my team handle it?" His words came out halting at first, but by the end his tone softened into something closer to a plea.
He knew the truth, though. Deep down, Coulson recognized that neither S.H.I.E.L.D. nor his own team were fully independent anymore. In the shadows, both were tied to John, bound by a quiet authority that even the government couldn't override. That didn't mean Coulson resented John—on the contrary, he understood that John was trying to do what was right. But understanding didn't make it any easier.
What weighed heavily on him was something else. Leadership. The role of principal, it had never been the life Coulson desired. He was a field man, someone who thrived in the gray areas, not at the head of the table. And so, he found himself fumbling for excuses now, anything to avoid shouldering that mantle.
"You don't have to say more, Coulson," John interrupted, his tone soft but unyielding. "Right now, your team is too weak to face this threat. Just you and May aren't enough—and you know it. As for the Inhuman girl… she still hasn't gained control of her powers. Sending her into this fight would be reckless. I can't allow your team to take on this mission. I'm sorry."
He rose to his feet, his presence filling the room with quiet authority. Without waiting for Coulson's response, John turned and made his way toward the lower deck. His steps echoed against the metal floor as he went to check on the captured Skrull.
Coulson sat there in silence, his thoughts heavy. He wanted to argue, to fight for his team's right to stand on their own—but John's words had struck too close to the truth. And that truth, whether he liked it or not, was inescapable.
----
Inside the lab,
Jemma Simmons stood near one of the worktables, arms loosely crossed, her expression thoughtful. She had the look of someone quietly piecing together a puzzle that didn't quite fit. Her eyes flicked toward the door every so often, as though she half expected John to walk in again.
Across the room, Leo Fitz paced slowly, hands in his pockets, head tilted as though turning over a problem in his mind. His usual restlessness was there, but it carried less frustration and more curiosity this time.
Skye, meanwhile, swiveled lazily in her chair, spinning halfway one way, then back the other. Her energy made her seem impatient, though the grin tugging at her lips suggested she was enjoying the mystery more than she wanted to admit.
"So…" Skye said, drawing out the word. "Did I hear that right? Coulson called him John. Just John. Who even is this guy?"
Fitz paused mid-step, lifting his brows. "Yeah, I caught that too. John. Not much of an introduction, is it? Coulson just… acted like we should already know him."
Jemma tilted her head, her tone calm, analytical. "It wasn't just that. Did you notice how Coulson listened? He wasn't questioning him at all. It was as if John already had the authority." She glanced at the others with a small frown. "That's unusual for Coulson."
Skye spun her chair once, stopping with a little squeak. "Maybe he's some old friend. You know, the kind of mysterious friend Coulson never talks about but just shows up one day. Wouldn't be the first time he's kept secrets."
Fitz shrugged, lips quirking into a half-smile. "True. Still… whoever he is, he definitely knows more about us than we know about him."
That thought settled over them, not heavy, but curious.
The silence stretched for a beat, filled only by the hum of machinery—until footsteps echoed in the hallway. Steady. Unhurried.
All three turned toward the door.
The panel hissed open.
And may stepped inside with her usual composed stride, her eyes sweeping across the room. At the sight of their guilty faces, one eyebrow arched ever so slightly.
"What?" she asked simply, her tone clipped and cool.
The three exchanged quick looks. Skye, unable to resist, raised her hand halfway like a kid caught gossiping. "We, uh… thought you were John."
For the briefest moment, something flickered in May's expression. Not quite a smile, but close enough to suggest she knew exactly what they'd been talking about.
"So you do know him?" Skye pressed, leaning forward eagerly.
May's gaze lingered on her, then shifted to Jemma and Fitz. She measured her words carefully. "I know enough."
"Enough?" Fitz echoed, tilting his head. "That's… not much of an answer." His tone was more curious than accusing.
May gave nothing away. "That's all you need for now." With that, she turned and walked out, her footsteps fading down the hall.
The three sat in silence for a moment.
Jemma finally exhaled softly. "John… such a simple name for someone so mysterious."
Fitz smirked faintly. "Aye. Figures Coulson's friends wouldn't be simple at all."