Resurrection - Chapter 4
The usual disclaimer, and it's time to get the band back together again. Except...it's not the same band.
Chapter 4
It was like the first time, but it was completely different. When the team first gathered on the plane they were an untested, untried, unknown quantity. They had doubts, maybe fears or apprehensions, and nearly unbridled enthusiasm. They had no real feel for what would happen or what adventures they would face.
This time, however, although the process might be similar, everything else was vastly different. This time they knew, if not specifics then at least generalities of what they might face. Unknown weapons, unknown enemies, and even unknown unknowns. That, however, wasn’t really the problem.
The team had been torn apart, violently ripped to pieces and then thrown to the winds. If that assault had been purely external it might not have mattered as much, but the fact that one of their own had done the ripping only made it worse. They longed to trust, but found no basis for doing so, for Trust had been shattered, and although the plane had been completely refurbished the debris of that Trust still littered the floors. No amount of fresh paint and new glass could change that.
One by one they filed into the lounge, sitting noticeably apart, sharing looks that betrayed the misgivings they held inside. To one side sat Agent May, wondering how the team would function with two missing elements. Nearby, but clearly separate was the odd man out, Agent Antoine Triplett. He was a replacement, and though not completely unknown, he knew, as did the others, that he was the new kid, experienced yet largely an enigma, not quite trustworthy due to his long association with John Garrett.
Sitting together were Skye and Jemma Simmons, holdovers that had grown closer, partly because Fitz wasn’t present. In fact, Fitz’ absence might have been the real problem. He wasn't with them, but he wasn’t really gone. He certainly wasn’t gone from their memories, and that made his absence even more noticeable. The group had eagerly joined in clearing out Agent Ward’s berth, glad to make room for Trip, but by silent agreement, Fitz’s space was left as it always had been.
Since he hadn’t been replaced, no one needed the space so it was left as a reminder. That was both a good thing and a bad thing. They all knew they needed to move on, but tacitly they agreed they didn’t want to do so. Fitz was part of the team…and that wasn’t going to change. So, they sat, together though apart, waiting. Finally Coulson walked in.
He began by looking around, enjoying the space now that it was put back in order. He had ordered one change, a tacit reminder that he too noticed somebody missing, so now there was a large fish tank located against the bulkhead near the bar. Fitz had always wanted a fish tank, and now there was no Director Fury to say no. Coulson had one other secret he was about to unveil.
He laid a rather large duffle bag down on one end of the couch and then sat down facing the others. “There’s no use pretending nothing has changed,” he said matter-of-factly as he glanced around the room, pausing to meet each set of eyes individually. “It’s different, and it’s not necessarily better.” Each of them squirmed a little, uncomfortable that their shared misgivings were so bluntly revealed.
“We will be a team again, but that’s going to take time. We all know that somebody is missing, so let’s be honest about that. Fitz should be here, and perhaps in time he will be able to return, but that time is not now. However, I want you all to believe that he’s still here. I know we’re all going to carry him around with us, so let’s admit it.”
Slowly he reached over and unzipped the duffel, removing a life-size stuffed capuchin monkey. “This is Fitz,” he said with a smile, and they all joined his expression. “It’s not Fitz, but it will fly with us on our adventures, at least until the man it represents can return in person. Fitz will always be with us.” The he stood and picked up a bottle of champagne that had been hiding behind his couch.
May, who had been in on a little of the plan, produced a tray with proper champagne flutes and Coulson poured a measure into each glass. When each of them had taken a glass, Coulson raised his. “To Fitz.”
“To Fitz,” they all responded, clinking them together before taking a sip.
“Drink up,” he added, urging them to drain their glasses. When that was completed he moved a few feet and then threw his glass at the base of the fish tank, shattering it against the stand. Then he motioned to the others, and one at a time they pulverized their glasses, creating a messy pile of shards.
“Why did we break them?” Simmons asked cautiously.
Coulson smiled. “The glasses were used for a noble purpose. The breaking ensures that it will never again be used for a lesser event.” He turned to face them all. “I think that was a most noble purpose,” he said and then smiled. “I think we can afford a few glasses. I put that in the budget.”
Chapter 4
It was like the first time, but it was completely different. When the team first gathered on the plane they were an untested, untried, unknown quantity. They had doubts, maybe fears or apprehensions, and nearly unbridled enthusiasm. They had no real feel for what would happen or what adventures they would face.
This time, however, although the process might be similar, everything else was vastly different. This time they knew, if not specifics then at least generalities of what they might face. Unknown weapons, unknown enemies, and even unknown unknowns. That, however, wasn’t really the problem.
The team had been torn apart, violently ripped to pieces and then thrown to the winds. If that assault had been purely external it might not have mattered as much, but the fact that one of their own had done the ripping only made it worse. They longed to trust, but found no basis for doing so, for Trust had been shattered, and although the plane had been completely refurbished the debris of that Trust still littered the floors. No amount of fresh paint and new glass could change that.
One by one they filed into the lounge, sitting noticeably apart, sharing looks that betrayed the misgivings they held inside. To one side sat Agent May, wondering how the team would function with two missing elements. Nearby, but clearly separate was the odd man out, Agent Antoine Triplett. He was a replacement, and though not completely unknown, he knew, as did the others, that he was the new kid, experienced yet largely an enigma, not quite trustworthy due to his long association with John Garrett.
Sitting together were Skye and Jemma Simmons, holdovers that had grown closer, partly because Fitz wasn’t present. In fact, Fitz’ absence might have been the real problem. He wasn't with them, but he wasn’t really gone. He certainly wasn’t gone from their memories, and that made his absence even more noticeable. The group had eagerly joined in clearing out Agent Ward’s berth, glad to make room for Trip, but by silent agreement, Fitz’s space was left as it always had been.
Since he hadn’t been replaced, no one needed the space so it was left as a reminder. That was both a good thing and a bad thing. They all knew they needed to move on, but tacitly they agreed they didn’t want to do so. Fitz was part of the team…and that wasn’t going to change. So, they sat, together though apart, waiting. Finally Coulson walked in.
He began by looking around, enjoying the space now that it was put back in order. He had ordered one change, a tacit reminder that he too noticed somebody missing, so now there was a large fish tank located against the bulkhead near the bar. Fitz had always wanted a fish tank, and now there was no Director Fury to say no. Coulson had one other secret he was about to unveil.
He laid a rather large duffle bag down on one end of the couch and then sat down facing the others. “There’s no use pretending nothing has changed,” he said matter-of-factly as he glanced around the room, pausing to meet each set of eyes individually. “It’s different, and it’s not necessarily better.” Each of them squirmed a little, uncomfortable that their shared misgivings were so bluntly revealed.
“We will be a team again, but that’s going to take time. We all know that somebody is missing, so let’s be honest about that. Fitz should be here, and perhaps in time he will be able to return, but that time is not now. However, I want you all to believe that he’s still here. I know we’re all going to carry him around with us, so let’s admit it.”
Slowly he reached over and unzipped the duffel, removing a life-size stuffed capuchin monkey. “This is Fitz,” he said with a smile, and they all joined his expression. “It’s not Fitz, but it will fly with us on our adventures, at least until the man it represents can return in person. Fitz will always be with us.” The he stood and picked up a bottle of champagne that had been hiding behind his couch.
May, who had been in on a little of the plan, produced a tray with proper champagne flutes and Coulson poured a measure into each glass. When each of them had taken a glass, Coulson raised his. “To Fitz.”
“To Fitz,” they all responded, clinking them together before taking a sip.
“Drink up,” he added, urging them to drain their glasses. When that was completed he moved a few feet and then threw his glass at the base of the fish tank, shattering it against the stand. Then he motioned to the others, and one at a time they pulverized their glasses, creating a messy pile of shards.
“Why did we break them?” Simmons asked cautiously.
Coulson smiled. “The glasses were used for a noble purpose. The breaking ensures that it will never again be used for a lesser event.” He turned to face them all. “I think that was a most noble purpose,” he said and then smiled. “I think we can afford a few glasses. I put that in the budget.”