Who Am I? » [Stucky]

166. Respect and Dignity

"We need to talk," Skye demanded, barging into Phil's office uninvited, Clint, Natasha, Bucky and Steve trailing after her in a dawdling conga line, like a mother and her ducklings.

"Did I say you could come in?" Phil snapped, opposed to the intrusion. He slammed closed the thick paper file, flipping the stack of fluttering sheets into a compressed wedge.

"No. But it's about time we got some answers..." She had her hands belligerently resting on her broad arching hips and her other team mates flanked her defensively, like a wall of football players in a penalty shootout.

"Show some respect, I am your boss!" Phil commanded, voice booming in the office. The cold cup of coffee on his desk rattled and ripples skittered through it with his shout.

"Respect?" Steve piped up from the back of the pack, a startled look on his face. His legs were spread at hip width, eyebrows raised challengingly and arms folded over his bulging broad chest obstructively. "Do you really think you're in any position to talk to us about respect?!" Steve have a mocking sarcastic snort and shook his head patronisingly. "If you had any respect for us, and what we're fighting for you would tell us what the hell is going on with you. Lying is disrespectful!" Steve spat.

"As director of SHIELD, I think you'll find I'm well within my rights to withhold information from you! For your own good!" Phil shouted back at him.

"Because that worked so well last time(!)" Clint said unenthusiastically.

Natasha interrupted to reinforce Clint's blunt statement. "SHIELD was an empire built on secrets and lies and look where that's got us! In the gutter, tirelessly working to save the world from some unforeseen threat. Because information was withheld! Important things were brushed under the carpet," she reasoned, her green eyes pleading for understanding.

"Compartmentalisation!" Phil struck back. "Omissions!"

"This isn't an omission anymore! This is a neglect of duty! Erasure! Censorship!" Bucky listed, bristling like an untempered lion.

"I don't have to tell you anything..." Phil's tone weakened and his expression changed from stiff and commanding to apathetic and fearful.

"Confidentiality is all good and fun until other people get hurt..." Steve said in a velvety voice, seeing the fragility in Coulson's eyes - a delicacy he'd never once seen in the man who was usually as stable as a galleon loaded with ballast as both cargo and stabilisers. "I've seen too many people get hurt because of secrets. I've seen whole organisations and empires quake and fall apart because of secrecy... So what is going on?"

"It's personal, and doesn't concern you..." He dismissed them casually and melded with his chair as he melted into the cushions and metal poles. In that moment, he wished he could be one with the unthinking and unfeeling inanimate object.

"The thing is, it does..." Clint huffed deep, giving Coulson a stern glare that seemed to pluck him apart like a child does legs from a spider. Clint utilised that penetrating look to peel away Coulson's outer mask and strip him down to the truth.

"I'm ill..." Coulson said non-specifically; being selective with the truth. "Very ill, if you must know." He covered his mouth with a shaky hand, wishing he could grab those words back out of the air and shovel them behind his lips.

"Are we talking severely, but can recover? Or mortally ill? Like never going to recover ill?" Clint investigated deeper.

"My mind. My mind is deeply ill. Diseased, if you will. And there's no known cure for whatever the fuck I have..." Phil slammed a fist into the table. "And it's getting worse each day. My mental health is deteriorating and it's spinning out of control." Tears welled up in his exhausted blue eyes.