I'm Iron Man, And I'm Agent Coulson

Chapter 44 Pretending

After another couple of months, the initial investigation, conferences, and red tape, the Avengers had become the heroes Fury and Phil always hoped they'd be, but I still couldn't join in on their celebration.
Not yet.
It'd been seven months and I was still taken aback when adults and children asked for autographs as I went for a walk, or run in the park, since I was only loosely tied to the Avengers, and videos of me fighting next to them made their rounds. I plastered a fake smile over my face for all of them, and accepted their praise, but it did nothing to lift my melancholy.
It didn't help that Pepper continued to invite me to stay in the tower, after word got around about my depression. She mentioned Tony had started building rooms for all of the 'Avengers', but I was still reeling from what happened between Tony and I, and ultimately losing Phil, plus I wasn't an Avenger, and there was no way in hell I was staying there.
I comprehended she was trying to help her wayward friend, but the fact she asked just pissed me off. She obviously had no idea what conspired between Tony and I, and it just made my melancholy worse.

What happened with in the cemetery felt more like a dream, and I began to hope it wasn't real, but my guilt reminded me everyday, especially when Pep's name showed up on my phone, or Phil appeared when I slept.
For the most part I tried to stay busy with work, and keeping my questions about my past away.
On my few days off I would sit in my apartment, read, watch TV, wrapped in Phil's jacket, or the old college t-shirt Nat found a couple of months ago while she was cleaning. He must have left it here after our last night together.
Our one night together continued to play over and over in my head, keeping me in a state of constant turmoil. I got better at hiding it, I had too, and attempted to move forward, but I was just too exhausted to care anymore.
There was too much guilt and regret there, buf of course what happened..just reinforced work I still needed to do.
After my rage settled, about that night, confusion and wonder piled on top of my state of mind.
His few calls and texts didn't help me forget, even though I told him to leave me alone.
I never spoke about what occured to anyone, and kept him at a distance, but I couldn't deny what happened, and what exploded between us.
I begrudgingly admitted what I felt for him still layed in wait, and his words reiterated the same for him. He didn't say it, but it was there in that small kiss, and poured between us, sheltering us from the rain.
Yet, just like so many times before, we left whatever struggled to stay lit between he and I, out there in the cemetery, along with more pieces of tattered heart and soul.
Tony wasn't mine, and Phil was dead. There was nothing else to do, or hope for, except to survive.

Then, AIM happened, and for fear of losing someone else, drove all that guilt to the wayside. Natasha tried to stop me, but once Clint tossed me my gun and knife, and told me to be careful, I left, disobeying orders from my Director to stay out of it, inadvertently changing the course of my life once again, but gaining a friend.

A few months ago

"(Y/n), I need you to get to Ronald Reagan hospital, Happy's in critical," Rhodes sputtered over the phone, while I was in LA, coming off a reconnaissance mission, about to report back to Clint.
"What?!" I gasped, and immediately turned my truck around and turned onto the freeway, "what happened, I'm on my way, I'm already in LA."
"Oh good, but uh," my oldest friend sputtered, before he began going into the small bombings being set all over the country, which I was already privy to.
SHIELD, as well as other intelligence agencies, were trying to figure out who this mysterious, and dangerous villain only called the Mandarin was, but like all the other agencies we were coming up with nothing. In fact, I was sent to LA, to gather intel on the latest bombing, but had no idea Happy was one of the victims because I was to busy focused on the man responsible, breaking into CCTV cameras, and gathering evidence.
Rhodes also let it slip that Tony was drowning under the stress, and while he didn't really mention details, the fear in James's voice forced me to drive faster.
I didn't even change out of my uniform once I arrived at the hospital, and skidded into Happy's private room, shocked not only by the immense wounds littering Hap's body, but because Tony looked like a ghost.
It'd been a little while since I'd seen him, the cemetery, in fact, and I was shocked by his posture and heavy atmosphere of angst pouring off him. 
His face was pale, and black bags layed under his hollow eyes, while his usually styled hair was a dark sweaty mess. His clothes were wrinkled, and he wrang out his shaky hands every few seconds. His muscles twitched, almost as if he was struggling with anxiety, or panic, but I couldn't ascertain which one, only sensing his anger.