2012-09-16 Target of Opportunity

Late Sunday evening, the world cools off fast and clouds roll in. Bethany is out on the tarmac at a private hangar, big airliners taking off not far from her, watching Gidi and Sal load her gear into the underbelly of her charter flight to Madripoor. It's cool out and Elora is standing nearby with her coat, almost twitching to get Bethany to put it on. A blast of cold air rolling down the runway convinces her when it hits her bare back where her dress is cut away to make it less prudish than the neckline suggests. 
"I'm going to go in and get a drink," she says, once she has the soft black lambskin coat on. It is comforting to be warm. Everyone moves at once and she holds up her hand. "The interior is secure. I just want to go to the bar like a big girl."
Her staff let her be and Bethany heads inside, scanning the buildings as she goes. It's habit, and she's nervous, even if she didn't let on to Tony today. She doesn't really want a drink, a coffee will do. They have good coffee here. 
"Just coffee," she tells the young man who starts toward her, waving him off. For a moment, when there's no one around and nothing to do, she stands there lost, ties of her coat twisting in her hands. Chin up, Cabe. Scan the room, breathe, pick a seat, sit. Easy.
 
Coffee arrives, but not by the expected vector nor by itself. Employees at coffee shops do not typically retain their positions by inviting themselves to patron's tables, however tired/etc the patron seems.
Phillip Coulsons, on the other hand, go where Coulsons please. And usually this entails coffee and a cupcake where Bethany's concerned. He's back in a suit, but still stuck in the sling, though he seems to have incorporated it into his life by this point.
"You," he notes mildly as he removes things from bag and sets them out neatly, "Do not look thrilled with the way things are going."
 
"Well, that was before you sat down." Bethany gives Coulson a smile that should be cheeky but is just -tired-. "It's good to see you. How's the arm?"
Questions about how he knew where she was or why he's here are not on the table. It's Coulson. He's here. He brought her coffee and a cupcake, and Bethany has to take a breath and let it out slowly before she actually thinks too hard about the differences between now and the last time they were in the same place at the same time. His non-question goes unacknowledged for now.
 
"Nice of you to say so." Coulson shrugs his good shoulder and pushes Bethany a cupcake across the table. "It would be better if I did what I was told," he admits, choosing to set a tone for candor. "Of course, it might be their fault for letting me back on duty," he muses with a slight smile.
 
"Letting?" Bethany does manage an arch look and a quiet laugh. "I think they just know what's good for them. Thank you for being here," she adds. "I haven't had time to get to the park, and..." She gestures at his arm. It's not as though he hasn't been busy.
 
"I haven't either, to be honest," Coulson says reassuringly. As... reassuring as being too busy to drop by could be. "In fact, this is a bit of a target of opportunity as well, but it happens. I'm flying out shortly myself." He pauses for a while, watching her with an agent's non-expression, then speaks up. "How're you holding up really?"
 
"Worse than it looks," Bethany admits. Usually she pounces on cupcakes and devours them. Now she's just carefully tugging back the pink paper. "I got some sleep last night at last, it got me through today so far. Still finding it hard to muster up much feeling about this whole mess that's not being pissed at the cause for not hiring a better shooter. Nervous, but not for myself. I don't want anyone else to get hurt. And I don't want to know it's happening." 
When Bethany reaches for her coffee, her hand is unsteady. "It'll pass. I'll keep moving. I have friends. I'll be fine." She nods firmly as if to convince herself. "I'll take care of this and go home and it'll be like it never happened."
 
Coulson looks thoughtful, then finally develops an odd half-grin at his own expense. "I'm afraid I'm ruining the mystery. I'm not at all up to speed on what's been going on in your neck of the woods for a change." Usually, he'd keep sort of an ear on reports from her direction, but... yeah. So he'll admit to a failing this time. He'll also allow her to hear him sounding concerned. It's been a long month already.
 
"Oh, a crime lord in Madripoor I pulled a custodial extraction on last year got back together with his ex-wife--the custodial parent--and their joint crazy says that I'm one of the reasons they were apart at all. He's been trying to kill me for a little while. Nine thugs with semi-automatic pistols in Hell's Kitchen, a sniper team in Chinatown, another nine or ten with AKs and the like in the village... and a garbage truck. That was a nice touch." 
Bethany's voice is completely calm. She dips a fingertip in the frosting of her cupcake and then licks it off thoughtfully. "I got lucky, all three times. There were civilians around the last two times which is not on. So I'm taking care of it. I'll have to take both of them, if I can't think of a way around it by the time the shot is set. I like their kid. Beautiful little boy. He's two now."
 
"You have to take him at the least," Coulson says promptly, and then shakes his head, and sips his coffee. "You don't seem sure about any of it," he notes, giving her a light looking-over. Not that he didn't already notice all the little twitchy signs.
 
"She's pretty irate as well. It's a folie a deux like I've rarely seen. Terrorists get it, usually, or something like it. I don't think she'll stop." Bethany bites her lip and pauses. 
"I'm sure about what I have to do. I'm just touchy about death right now. Someone took my parents away from me... I was eighteen, that was bad enough. But one way or another, that baby is going to be down at least a daddy. Maybe a mommy." Bethany is sad and wistful at once, about so many things. "I went to so much trouble to bring him home without hurting anyone, least of all him. And now I'm going to do this." She gives Coulson a glance and a shrug.
 
Coulson shakes his head. "This is their doing, not yours. You did a job, did it well, and now they're abusing you over it. They've made it a matter of survival, not you." He tilts his head, thinking about the next thing he wants to say, decides she'd probably rather have it straight. "You should consider farming this out, though." It's mild, but something about the way he delivers it suggests 'consider' doesn't really belong in the sentence for anything but tact.
 
"I want to make sure he's okay." Bethany shrugs her shoulder again and doesn't look at Coulson. She's very interested in that cupcake now.
 
"I said 'farm it out', not 'pick a random hitman on a discount', he notes mildly-- but pointedly-- while picking at his muffin. "You're becoming emotionally compromised. It's dangerous, and not just to you." But especially to her.
"Ling's meeting me there. I'm not dumb enough to do this alone." She breaks off a piece of cupcake to eat. "I know I'm compromised. When have I ever not been, though? Have you read my file? Have you -met- me?" Now Bethany cracks a real smile and laughs a little.
Coulson waves vaguely, with a wry smile. "Everything is relative," he quips, not entirely flippant. "I suppose she can keep you out of trouble as well as ever. I'd offer to come with you, but I'm on a flight to Moscow shortly."
 
"I'd say no," Bethany says dryly. "Not that it would stop you if you didn't want it to, but you know I would. I'm a big girl, even when it hurts." She reaches over and touches his hand lightly. Her hand is very pale and cold, the nails unpainted. "I like my cupcakes, though. I won't say no to that."
Coulson gives her a smile and her hand a reassuring squeeze. "I'll bring you some when we get back," he replies. It of course is like making a deal that they will in fact both come back from respective missions. "You know it wasn't a statement on your ability, Beth. Support isn't babysitting, concerned or not."
"I know." Bethany looks at his hand on hers as though it's some kind of mirage. "I just... I was telling a friend just last night... I feel hollowed out inside like a suit of armour. If I give away any of my functions, I'll stop existing because there's no one here but those functions. Once I take care of this, I'll go hang out with Tony and his pretty girls and we'll go to my house in Spain and maybe I'll even sleep once in a while."
"That'll work," Coulson agrees. "As long as you aren't turning him into your new job," he amends, adding in an irony he refuses to acknowledge, "Perhaps the problem is that you've been too much defined by your jobs and you've lost one."
Bethany tries not to laugh and then she does. She turns her hand palm up under his so she can squeeze his hand. "You look like the world's worst example and biggest hypocrite when you say that. On first glance," she amends. "I know you're not, because you couldn't be -you- if you were. I don't think I'll ever manage to be as good at all this as you are, but I'd like to be." He's Coulson. Of course she wants to be. 
"I do listen, so thank you." She couldn't have gotten this far if she didn't believe in listening to the people she respects.
Coulson flips their hands, and *then* remembers he can't pat the back of hers. So much for one-upmanship. CURSE YOU ONCE MORE WINTER SOLDIER-- I mean... He covers over the mild irritation well enough. "You're better than you think, and none of us are as good as we'd like. It's good for us." The second part, well, he just nods. "And that's why," he adds.
"I'm glad you're here," Bethany says quietly. "I don't just mean here. I mean I'm glad you are, at all." That's really all there is to say. She doesn't need to tell him she wants things to stay that way. Even if he wasn't here with her just knowing he was out there would be a comfort.
Coulson just smiles and nods, gives her hand another squeeze and then lets it go. "Thank you, Beth. Finish your cupcake and let's see you to your plane."
 
"Yes, Coulson." Bethany allows herself a smug little smile because, really, that's what she wanted. Right there. She eats the last of her cupcake and finishes her coffee, then tidies up. "Ready." She takes a deep breath and stands. She can do this. It's just work.
An unanticipated problem. With his arm in the sling, he can't really offer it properly, but doing so with his other arm would look ridiculous. What is an agent to do? Offer her the sling anyway-- she can work out a way to pull it off-- she's versed in this kind of thing. It's not quite wholly business-like, but he'll make up for it with the brisk walk to the plane.
They can make do. It's what they do, after all. Bethany's careful not to lean on him too much but it's nice to do things properly. When they step out onto the tarmac, the cool, cloudy evening has turned the air to drizzle. Bethany is in no way surprised that Coulson has an umbrella in his off hand, one that shelters them completely. Gidi, similarly equipped, is waiting at the stairs to the aircraft for her to be handed over. 
"Call me," she says to Coulson, as Gidi offers her more shelter and his hand. It is not a demand and yet not a request either. More of an invitation. He's welcome to do so. She'd like that. "Whenever." She gives his arm a gentle pat and lets go. "Thank you and good luck."
"People like us make our own luck, Beth," Coulson notes. "So it's a good thing we've excellent craftsmanship." He waits for her to board, and somewhere between there and her seat, he's vanished again.
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