Phil Coulson is going to die - sooner, rather than later. He has about two hours, give or take, if he's lucky. Or unlucky as the case may be, he thinks, struggling to keep his breathing slow and even, despite the agony each breath brings. Severe internal bleeding - Phil's been there enough times to know what it feels like but this time no one is coming for him. As far as SHIELD is concerned, he's already dead.

Popular wisdom holds that your life flashes before your eyes as you are about to die. Phil has been close to death often enough to tell you that that notion is patently untrue. When it is sudden and unexpected there is only shock, and denial, and a desperate compulsion to do whatever it takes to survive. When it is slow and certain, as it is now, then your life does not flash so much as parade stately through the mind, lingering on past mistakes and missed opportunities.

Despite his reputation as 'Perfect Coulson', Phil does have a number of these but the only one that matters, the only one he regrets, is that now he will never get to tell Clint Barton that he loves him. He could have - he's always told himself that he didn't because he was Clint's handler, his superior, and it was inappropriate, but that's not really it, to be honest. And if you can't be honest with yourself when you're dying when can you? Phil didn't say anything because he was afraid.

Clint Barton is amazing, larger than life, a hero. Phil is just a man in a suit. They're friends, sure, and Phil's grateful for that. He's even more grateful that he gets to play some small part in what SHIELD does - what Clint does. Clint respects Phil, and that's a big deal - Clint doesn't respect many people, and Phil should be content with that - but sometimes Phil catches Clint looking at him and there's something else in his eyes, something like respect but . . . more.

He should have said something. The only failure is not to try, some famous person once said. Phil used to know who but he can't remember - his mind is getting fuzzy. 'The only thing we have to fear is fear itself,' Phil knows that one - it's Roosevelt. Franklin, not Teddy. He shouldn't have been afraid. He should have said something. Even if Clint didn't feel the same way at least then he'd know that someone out there loved him more than anything. But Phil is dying and Clint's not here and he'll never know.

Phil drifts a bit - he's not sure how long, he's losing his sense of time, and the pain doesn't feel as bad, which he knows isn't a good sign. It'll be over soon, and despite his one big regret at least he can die knowing he's accomplished something with his life. Phil isn't a hero, not like Clint, he knows that. But he's one of the people who makes sure the heroes have what they need to do their jobs, and he's proud of that. And he didn't give his captors anything useful. Phil's proud of that, too.

There's the dim sound of a commotion several rooms away and Phil can hear someone coming down the hall to his cell. He doesn't bother trying to move. There's nothing more they can do to him now. The cell door opens and Phil blinks in the sudden light.

"Coulson! Jesus." That's Clint's voice. A split second later Phil is looking at Clint's face as it stares down at him in concern. His vision is blurry, but Phil would know Clint's face anywhere.

This is nice, he thinks. Phil isn't sure when he started hallucinating, but this is a good one. And Clint's face is a much better last sight than the blank wall of his prison. Clint's hands are touching him gently, and Phil manages to snag one in a loose grip as it brushes past his hand. "Clint," he whispers in satisfaction.

"Oh man. It's going to be ok, sir," Clint says. Phil wants to snort, but can't bother to make the effort. Of course it is. Clint's here, isn't he? That's all the ok Phil needs. Besides, it won't be long now. He's getting sleepy, but he keeps his eyes on Hallucination Clint's face for as long as he can stand to keep them open.

"Stay with me, sir," Clint says. Always with you, Phil thinks, too tired to speak and knowing Clint will hear him - this Clint is just a product of his own mind, after all.

"Coulson!" Clint's voice again, tense and worried-sounding. Phil frowns. Why does Clint sound like that? Everything's ok - Clint himself just said so, after all. It's a puzzle, and usually Phil would be all over it - he's made an art out of interpreting the way Clint sounds which is often quite different from what he says - but he's just too tired.

"Dammit, Phil!" Clint's voice again, but he sounds far away now. When did he move? But Clint called him 'Phil'. The real Clint never calls him 'Phil'. He likes it, wishes he'd gotten to hear it from the real Clint, just once. But that's ok, because even if it is a hallucination, Clint saying his name is the last thing he's ever going to hear and that's good, so good, and he's so very tired.