There had been whispers; rumors that Phil Coulson was alive and that Fury had been lying to them. Clint and Nat had both dug into it but never got far, Fury and Hill always there to stop them from prying into something that needed to be left alone.

Phil was dead, they said. He wasn't coming back.

And yet here he was, kneeling before Clint as if nothing had changed. As if the other had been killed by Loki during the battle that first brought the Avengers together. As if he hadn't sacrificed himself in an attempt to save people. For a long moment the archer thought he was hallucinating after he startled out of his tormented thoughts to look at whoever was now with him, staring at the familiar face with tear filled eyes that were narrowed in confusion, his hands still shaking despite his attempts to calm them.

Fingers twitched then curled after a long moment of nothing, touching Phil's hands as he tried to make sense of this.

Laura had died. Phil was alive.

He choked on a sound, words stuck in his throat before he crumbled again, hunching over as sadness and anger overwhelmed him, Clint shaking his head as he tried to get his head on straight.

Why now? Why now of all times?