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

Chapter 43 The Cemetery, Nightmares and Tony

Two Months Later

"(Y/n), hey? Are you paying attention?" Tasha asked, while she swung her hand in front of my face. The bay door to the jet opened in front of us, and the freezing cold seeped into my tired bones, "see, I know you think you need to be here, but you really should take some time off... it's okay..." She sighed, once my eyes met hers.

She was probably right.

It had only been two months since New York, but the damage, and melancholy from that day was still very much with me.
The nightmares.
The all consuming ache..
The questions Loki left unanswered in his wake..
The whispers, and smells.
My past..blackness..Phil..
All of it hit me like fresh bullets everytime I breathed.
Yet, I got up everday, went to work, and forced my wary feet ahead.
Of course, Fury's nonchalance at Coulson's death, along with the fact the Security Council sent a nuke into Manhattan, didn't help my bouts of melancholy. Nor did their questions I struggled to answer about my run ins with Loki, and my ability to ward off the sceptor.
The council, along with Fury, didn't seem to believe me, when I continually said 'I don't know', but it was the truth.
I honestly didn't know any more than they did, and I refused to keep talking about it. How the hell could I have answers to something I hadn't figured out, even after living with it all my life?
I'd never set foot in front of the council before, but my Director spoke on my behalf when questions about Phil arrived. My anger was still prevalent at the fact Fury didn't listen to me, but thankfully, the council didn't ask, and neither did Fury, but the reiteration I had to go through, once again, about what happened just made my nights worse.

Oh, my friends all tried to be there for me, Nat, Clint, Rhodey, even Tony, tried to stay in contact as much as possible, but I was ambivalent to their words or need to offer me some form  of comfort, especially from Tony. The short conversations and worried texts only made me feel guilty, and more restless, regardless what he promised or said before I ran from his tower, unwilling to stop till I was at the front door of my apartment.

Most sleepless nights were spent wondering what else I could of done to save Phil, or wondering why I couldn't kill Loki when I had the chance, since Thor had taken him back to Asgard before he could answer for his crimes here on earth.
Other nights were spent walking around the city at night hoping some moron would mug me just so I could release my anger and pain, only to end up at Phil's small plaque at one of high-end cemeterys.
It took a month of demands and shouting to get Fury to finally agree to at least have some kind of epitaph placed there in memory of one of the best agents in the organization, since the Director refused to answer my inquiries about where his body was.
I would never understand why one of the best agents in the organization was denied something so important, but it was more than that. I needed the ability to say goodbye, I needed some semblance of him, since our last moments were filled with blood and his last confession.

One month ago

"What the hell's the matter with you!?" I shouted at Fury, for nearly the hundreth time, "this was Phil! He followed you, blindly, and probably would of for the rest of his life! We need to honor him, not forget him! This needs to be done, now!" I challenged, and paced around Fury's office, but the angry energy underneath my skin wouldn't dissipate.
"As I told you before, and again this morning, that's not what Agent Coulson wanted," Fury answered, angrily, "and when was the last time you got a good nights sleep, or took some ordered time off? You look like shit."
"That's not important!" I yelled, "this is important, Phil is important. The world should know how one agent died trying to save the world from Loki.."