Skye's smile was as fragile as spun glass. "I... I think I'll go back to my bunk for a bit," she stammered, her eyes darting away from Leander's piercing gaze. "I was up until midnight running training sims with Ward. My brain is basically oatmeal right now."
She didn't wait for a reply, turning on her heel and hurrying down the corridor toward the crew quarters. Leander watched her retreating silhouette, his eyes narrowed slightly. He didn't need a psychology degree to see the panic vibrating off her.
She knows him, Leander thought, a faint smirk playing on his lips. And she isn't just a fan. She's his partner.
As Skye vanished around the corner, she pressed her back against the cold bulkhead of the plane, her breath hitching. She reached into her jacket, fingers brushing against a hidden pocket. Tucked deep inside was a burner phone card. She had felt a genuine sense of warmth from this team—Simmons' kindness, Fitz's awkward humor, and even Coulson's steady, fatherly guidance. But her past was a magnetic pull she couldn't resist. She was torn between the family she was beginning to find and the person who promised to help her find the family she'd lost.
Leander turned away and headed toward the cockpit level. He tapped on the glass door of Coulson's private office before stepping inside.
"Phil. It's been a while since we had a quiet moment," Leander said, his voice dropping the "Advisor" persona for something more personal.
Coulson looked up from a stack of physical files—he still preferred paper over holograms whenever possible. A genuine, weary smile broke across his face. He stood up, and for a moment, the professional distance evaporated. Leander stepped forward and gave the older man a brief, firm hug.
"Leander," Coulson breathed, patting his shoulder. "It's good to see you. Truly. I was worried you might still be holding a grudge after that business with the Tesseract and Fury's... let's call it 'aggressive' recruitment tactics."
"I don't blame you for that, Phil," Leander said, sitting in the guest chair. "You're a man in a system. Sometimes the system is a meat grinder, but you're the one trying to make sure nobody gets chewed up. How are you feeling? Really? No lingering chest pains? No strange dreams about Tahiti?"
Leander's eyes scanned Coulson's vitals. This was their first real meeting since the Battle of New York. The last time Leander had seen him, Coulson was a pale ghost lying in a pool of his own blood on the Helicarrier, a victim of Loki's scepter.
"I'm fine, Leander. Better than ever," Coulson said, though there was a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. "Thank you. For everything. For New York, and for... well, for making sure there was still a world left for me to wake up in. You gave the Avengers something to fight for."
"I just gave them a nudge," Leander replied. "Fury was the one who used your 'death' to guilt-trip them into saving the planet. I just added a bit of flair."
"Well, my vintage Captain America cards were ruined in the process," Coulson joked, though his smile was a bit self-deprecating. "Bloodstains are hell on the resale value. Quite a blow for a collector."
He leaned back, his expression turning curious. "So, where did you go, Leander? You vanished for ten months. The Tesseract went with you, and then you pop up in the middle of a war with the Mandarin. Nobody in the history of this agency has ever just... stepped out of reality like that."
Leander let out a slow breath. "It's a long story, Phil. One involving a lot of blue light, a lot of space, and things that would make even Nick Fury lose sleep. I'll tell you over a beer sometime. But right now, let's talk about your new hobby."
"My team?" Coulson asked, a hint of pride returning to his voice.
"They're the best of the best, Phil. Fitz and Simmons are legends in the making. Ward is a top-tier operator, and having Melinda May in the pilot's seat? That's cheating. But you know as well as I do that Skye is a wild card. The team is still a bunch of jagged pieces that haven't been sanded down yet."
Coulson's smile faded slightly. "They need time. Skye is still on a trial basis, but her talent is undeniable. As for the friction... that's just part of the process." He paused, his eyes sharpening. "But let's get back to the point. How did you find Chen Haoran? Last I checked, he wasn't exactly a high-priority target for a guy who hangs out with billionaires."
"It was a coincidence," Leander lied smoothly, nodding. "I was in Hong Kong helping my aunt move back home. I saw him performing, saw the spark, and wanted to see if he was looking for a real job. I didn't know your boys were breathing down his neck."
"And now?"
"Now I want to make sure he doesn't end up as a science experiment," Leander said softly. "If SHIELD doesn't want him, I'll take him under my wing. He's got potential, but he's desperate. Desperate people do stupid things."
"Well, maybe you can help us stretch our legs in Austin," Coulson said. "I assume the 'Strongest Avenger' doesn't mind dealing with a local hacker?"
The comms crackled. It was May's voice, cool and professional. "Coulson, we're landing in thirty. Get your boots on."
Austin, Texas, was a sweltering contrast to the air-conditioned silence of the Airbus.
The team hit the ground running. They had tracked Miles Lydon to a local coffee shop known for its high-speed fiber and lack of questions. The plan was a classic pincer movement: Ward and Skye would go inside to identify the target; Coulson would circle the block in his vintage Corvette, 'Lola,' to cut off any escape; and May and Leander would provide overwatch from across the street.
Leander stood next to May on the sidewalk, his hands in his pockets. He watched Skye enter the shop, her movements slightly too stiff, her eyes scanning the room with a focused intensity that went beyond professional curiosity.
"Advisor Hayes," May said, her voice dropping into her native Cantonese. "Are you Chinese?"
"Born and raised, Agent May," Leander replied in the same tongue, his tone easy. "I see Coulson gave you a special mission today. Your eyes haven't left Skye once."
May didn't look at him, but her posture tightened. "She's a security risk until proven otherwise."
"Maybe," Leander said. He didn't turn around, but the golden shimmer in his eyes intensified. His vision tunneled through the brick walls of the coffee shop, out the back door, and down the adjacent alley. "I've got the target. East of Fifth Avenue. He's not in the shop. He's on the move."
May touched her earpiece immediately. "Ward, target is east of Fifth. He's outside your perimeter. Move now."
She glanced at Leander with a hint of suspicion. "How did you see him? He's three blocks away behind a row of brownstones."
"I have a good view from up here," Leander said cryptically.
Ward moved with predatory speed, cutting through the crowd toward the east end of the street. Skye followed him, her face a mask of worry.
"I think I see him," Ward's voice crackled over the comms. He spotted a man with a beard and a messenger bag, looking nervously at his phone. But Ward's height and his "agent" vibe were too much to hide. Miles Lydon looked up, his eyes meeting Ward's for a split second.
Lydon didn't hesitate. He bolted like a rabbit that had caught the scent of a hawk.
"Target spotted me! He's running east toward the parking garage!" Ward shouted, breaking into a full sprint.
Lydon was fast, weaving through the Austin traffic with the practiced ease of a man who spent his life running from authority. He reached a black sedan, threw his bag in, and peeled away just as Ward reached the bumper.
"He's in a vehicle! Black four-door, Texas plates, heading south on Congress!" Ward reported, frustrated.
"I've got him," Coulson's voice came over the radio. The roar of Lola's engine echoed through the street as the cherry-red Corvette surged into the chase.
As the chaos unfolded, Skye didn't follow Ward or Coulson. She turned and began walking rapidly in the opposite direction, toward a residential area.
May frowned, her eyes narrowing as she watched Skye's retreating back. "Skye is breaking formation. She's going off-grid."