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𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐘 𝐒𝐀𝐓 at the table in the briefing room with a dazed look on their faces. "These were in Phil Coulson's jacket," Nick said, throwing the blood-stained Captain America trading cards onto the table. "Guess he never did get you to sign them."
Steve picked up the cards, his eyes scanning over the paper. Grace's loopy signature filled one corner, half of her last name covered with blood.
"We're dead in the air up here," Nick continued, letting out a breath. Adelaide leaned her head on Maria's shoulder and the older agent rubbed her back in comfort. "Our communications, location of the cube, Banner, Thor. I got nothing for you. Lost my one good eye. Maybe I had that coming."
He paused and glanced at Adelaide and Maria, the former having picked up one of Phil's trading cards. "Yes, we were going to build an arsenal with the Tesseract. I never put all my chips on that number though, because I was playing something even riskier. There was an idea. Stark knows this, maybe you do, too because Grace told you. It's called the Avengers Initiative. The idea was to bring together a group of remarkable people, see if they could become something more. See if they could work together when we needed them to—to fight the battles that we never could. Phil Coulson died still believing in that idea."
Tony shook his head and Adelaide followed him out of the room. If he was anything like his aunt, she figured he shouldn't be alone. He seemed to be taking Phil's death pretty hard.
"Well..." Nick said, watching Tony and his agent leave the room. "It's an old-fashioned notion."
"Where's Grace?" Steve asked, walking up behind the blonde agent. She looked at him and sighed.
"Her office," she replied, pointing in the direction of the room. "She... doesn't do death well, so if you find her staring out of a window like she's in a movie... it's just a part of her process."
Steve furrowed his brows before nodding and walking in that direction. He knocked softly on the door before opening it and finding Grace sitting at her desk with an open bottle of whiskey and a journal in front of her.
"Grace...?" She didn't look up from the journal and he walked closer to her desk. "I know that Agent Coulson meant a lot to—"
She shook her head. "Don't do that," she said, interrupting him.
"Do what?"
"Give me that speech." Grace looked up at him and pressed her lips together. "I've heard it so many times I have it memorized. You were going to say that you know how much Phil meant to me. But his death won't be in vain. You'll get the man responsible. Right?"
