Son of the Storm

The dead do rise

By rest, Coulson meant sleep, but before he could guide me to a free bed, we were intercepted.

"Sir?"

I glanced up to see a tall, dark haired man with clean cut white-bread-American-as-ma's-apple-pie good looks, the sort you might expect to see on 'be a man, join the army!' poster. He was built along the same lines as a younger and slightly shorter Michael, which meant that his muscles sniggered at mine and beat them up for their lunch money.

"Yes, Agent?"

"This is Dresden?" he asked in something that barely avoided being a monotone, giving me a look that I'd seen on many a police officer, the one that automatically categorised me as 'annoying weirdo civilian who is probably a fraud and does not belong in official business, but has been brought in by someone more important than me so has to be left alone'.

The only difference this time was that this Agent tensed ever so slightly. You'd have to know what to look for to see it, but it was there all right. He knew very well what I was capable of. And like many people who knew very well what I was capable of, he was predisposed to treat me as a ticking time bomb waiting to go off.

In other words, the suspicious government drone didn't like me. And didn't that just break my little heart.

"If I'm not, he's going to be real pissed when he finds me wearing his clothes," I drawled. "And since we're exchanging names, who are you? Agent Action Man? Captain Cardboard?"

GI Joe's eyes narrowed, then he glanced at Coulson who gave him Bland Government Official smile #3 – mildly placating, with a hint of fellow feeling and a suggestion that going away might be a good idea, and said, "Yeah. It's him."

Coulson has long since mastered the deadpan delivery. It's one of the things I like best about him.

Action Man nodded curtly, and left without another word.

"Real barrel of laughs, that guy," I said, watching him go. "I have no idea how you can possibly drag yourself away from his company."

"I manage," Coulson replied calmly. "And he's a good field Agent. Terrible with people, but great with guns."

"Ah," I said wisely.

"The others have been looking forward to meeting you," Coulson said. "Except for Agent May. She thinks the same as Ward."

"He thinks?"

"Be nice. He does have a personality, you know."

"Did he leave it in his locker?" I asked, eyeing my very high tech surroundings and wondering when something vital was going to explode and we were all going to fall out of the sky and die horribly.

Coulson sighed. "I have noticed, Dresden," he said. "That you get more sarcastic the more nervous you are."

"Well spotted. Would you like a Doctorate of the Obvious for that?" my mouth said without any reference to my brain.

Coulson raised his eyebrows. "Dresden, even your dog's noticed it," he said.

I blinked and looked down at Mouse, who was, indeed, giving me a worried look. I ruffled his head and said, "Okay, maybe you have a point."

"Of course I do," Coulson said calmly. "You can relax. Every piece of tech on this plane has been shielded against the influence of your magic."

"What, a sort of anti-magic?"

"Not quite. If you were to try and blast your way out, it wouldn't provide much noticeable resistance," Coulson said. "But it'll ground out your wild magic, so to speak. The stuff that floats around you at all times."