Summary: Phil Coulson was quietly ubiquitous in the lives of the Avengers, an everyman, the SHIELD agent. He was the one thing that tied them together, the reason they were The Avengers, and it was time for them to pay their respects.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

For Everything

The car door opened and Bruce stepped out, blinking at the onslaught of sunlight in his eyes. He raised a hand to block out the offending glare, squinting at the sea of standard issue black suits and demure dresses that filled the rows of white lawn chairs. Tony emerged from the limousine behind him, uncharacteristically silent, and turned back to offer a hand to Pepper. Squeezing her hand comfortingly, he led her to a seat in the second row, behind Fury and Agent Hill, and turned back to Bruce.

Steve rode up, clad in his dress uniform, and parked his motorcycle behind the limo. Bruce flicked his gaze over his left shoulder, to where Clint and Natasha suddenly were, and greeted them softly. The priest glanced at Fury, requesting permission to start, when clouds suddenly blotted out the sunlight. With a great crash, lightning struck the tree behind the podium and the majority of the attendees ducked for cover. The Avengers, however, simply greeted Thor with quiet murmurs. Nodding a return greeting, he set Mjölnir on the ground, walking to where the hearse was parked.

Bruce watched as the SHIELD agents visibly braced themselves, glancing at Steve for confirmation. At his nod, they reached into the hearse and gripped, sliding the coffin partially out. Steve and Thor took the middle handles, Tony and Bruce the last. With another nod, Steve and Thor lifted and supported the coffin enough to allow the corner to rest on Natasha's slim shoulder as they bore the brunt of the weight.

The Avengers, as a team, carried Phil Coulson's body down the aisle and laid it gently on the platform.

Together, they filed into their row. Clint sat at the far end, pulling Natasha's hand into his lap and squeezing it like a lifeline. Thor pulled his cape to one side and took the seat between Natasha and Steve. Bruce slid into place next to the soldier, smiling gingerly at Pepper as he slipped past her, leaving the end chair for Tony. Fury, from his position at the end of the first row, nodded at the SHIELD chaplain to begin the short ceremony.

"Why is the box sealed?"

Bruce glanced around Steve to Thor, who was staring with some confusion at the coffin.

"It's Agent Coulson's burial box," Steve whispered back, explaining Midgardian funeral rites to the demi-god. "We are going to bury him in the ground and put up a stone to tell everyone who is there."

Thor finally tore his gaze from the coffin, his brow furrowed. "You do not pay your honor to the dead? Allow the sun to light their face one last time?"

Steve shrugged. "We do, sometimes," he admitted, watching Natasha shift as she listened to the conversation. "I guess that wasn't what they wanted to do today."

Thor frowned at the coffin again, and after another few minutes, stood abruptly. Bruce blinked bemusedly at him, as did most of the congregation, as he lifted one long leg and stepped over the empty row of chairs in front of them. Walking calmly up to the coffin, he nodded once at the shocked priest, and lifted the lid. Saying nothing, he raised one arm in front of himself and with the other, proceeded to rip a few links of his armor from the rest. Reaching down, he pulled one of Coulson's hands away and tucked the links into his palm.

"You were a good man, Son of Coul," he murmured, just loudly enough for the first few rows to hear. "I was proud to call you my ally in battle, and my friend."

Stepping back, he bowed shallowly to the coffin, and returned to his seat. The priest watched him, still somewhat stunned, and had just begun to gather himself to continue when Steve suddenly rose and muscled through the empty row.
He said nothing, but reached beneath his uniform and pulled out a length of grimy, rusted chain. Pulling it over his head, he gently unclasped the ends and Bruce finally saw his dogtags dangling from the end. Carefully, Steve reached around the back of Coulson's neck and reclasped the necklace. Taking his time, he arranged the pendants neatly on Coulson's chest, smoothing them down. Nodding once, almost to himself, he raised his hand in a perfect salute and held it for a few moments. When he returned to his seat, he was looking much the worse for wear. Natasha wordlessly offered him her other hand, and he took it without hesitation.

Pepper sniffed gently beside Tony, and he visibly rolled his eyes, clearing his throat. "Looks like I'm going to have to pony up," he muttered, standing and flattening down his tie. Bruce furrowed his brow as Tony walked down the aisle and reached for his wallet.

"What is he talking about?" he whispered to Pepper, wincing as he saw the tears streaming down her face. Steve silently passed him a handkerchief, indicating Pepper. She smiled gratefully at the both of them and dried her eyes, finally answering.

"On the helicarrier, when Tony first got there, he thought it was another consultation. Phil," she swallowed thickly, tears forming again in her eyes. "Phil told him that he might have to join the Avengers after all. Tony reminded him that he didn't play well with others, that he wasn't a team player, and Phil bet him fifty dollars that Tony was wrong." She laughed lightly through her tears. "Phil won."

Tony dropped heavily into his seat and curled an arm around Pepper's shoulders, pulling her into his embrace. The priest made a move to return to the podium, but Fury waved him off with a subtle gesture. Abandoning all hope of conducting a normal service, he took a seat in the front row as Clint and Natasha rose in tandem.

They approached the coffin hesitantly, and Bruce felt himself grieve for their loss. As Coulson's agents, they were closer to him than anyone else in attendance, more family than coworkers, and Bruce knew something of what it was like to lose someone so important. Standing at the graveside, the two agents bowed their heads. Subtly, they each lifted a hand to their necks and yanked. The sunlight glinted gold off the bits of broken chain, each agent staring down at the jewelry in their hands.

Clint coiled his necklace gently in his hand and passed it to Natasha, resting his hands on the open edge of the coffin. She knotted the chains together and bent forward to slip them into Coulson's breast pocket. She let her hand linger, tenderly smoothing away the nonexistent wrinkles in his suit. Clint's knuckles whitened and he slowly bent, touching his forehead to the edge of the coffin.

The archer's grief was a tangible thing, the sight of it almost overwhelming. Bruce finally glanced away, unable to intrude on Clint's final moments with Coulson. Pepper pressed her face into Tony's shoulder as he stared sightlessly at the tableau before them. To Bruce's left, Steve looked close to tears as he pulled Coulson's bloodstained cards from his pocket, fingering the edges lightly. Thor met Bruce's eyes, visibly uncomfortable, and Bruce made his decision.

Rising, he ran a hand down his borrowed tie and stepped forward. Clint was still bent double over the coffin, his chest heaving with the effort it took to maintain some semblance of calm. Natasha was standing with her back ramrod straight, eyes closed in anguish as tears flowed freely down her cheeks. Bruce laid a soft hand on her shoulder, garnering her attention, and pressed a warm palm to the back of Clint's neck.

"It's time," he murmured gently, sorrow lacing his voice. "It's time to let him go."

Natasha glanced at him for a moment, her aching heart in her eyes, and nodded. Wiping ineffectually at her tears, she pulled delicately at Clint's shoulders. Clint straightened at her behest, his eyes red, but still dry. He laid his hand on Coulson's shoulder one last time and turned away.

Bruce put his hands in his pockets and glanced down into the coffin where Coulson was lying peacefully. Steve's dogtags rested lightly over his fatal wound. The links of Thor's armor were pressed carefully into his palms, Tony's fifty tossed haphazardly into the mix. The leaves on the tree rustled in the wind and the light peaking through the branches glinted off the two matching rings that had slipped from the knotted chains in Coulson's pocket. Bruce let a small smile quirk his lips as he lifted one hand and laid it on the lid.

"Thank you," he whispered to the agent in the coffin as he slowly closed the lid. "For everything."

Fin.