DAMAGE CONTROL

The caller ID listed a number with a nine-one-seven area code. There was no name listed. There didn't need to be. He'd always memorized important numbers. You never knew when you might find yourself without your phone, stranded in a desert, with only a decrepit phone booth and a dozen pissed-off, alien tech-enhanced drug cartel enforcers to keep you company.

Besides, he'd been expecting this call. "Hello."

"I am not laughing, Coulson!" She sounded irate.

It took a lot to rile her. Part of why he'd hired her in the first place was her ability to quietly and thoroughly assess a situation. She seemed laid-back - downright harmless - right until the moment she tased someone in the testicles, or verbally eviscerated someone on national television.

"Is there are problem, Agent?"

There was a crackle of static, and then something that sounded like shattering glass. She cursed. "Yes! Yes, there is a motherfucking problem, Phil! You sent me a new guy with a kid!"

He raised his eyebrows and turned away from his team. He could feel their curious gazes on his back. "You don't like kids, Darce?"

She sighed. Phil could imagine her rubbing her forehead, trying to ward off a headache. "I like kids fine. You know that. The kid's not the problem. What I DON'T LIKE is being sent a dude with a well-documented - NAY, VIRAL! - history of violence, and his kid. I've had six calls forwarded to me from CPS, and I'm tempted to work with them! He looks dangerous! How am I supposed to spin this guy?"

He smirked. "Did you just say 'nay'?"

"Shut up! Are you even listening to me?"

"Of course."

"Now you're trying to placate me. Fine. Whatever. I'll deal with this, but I want you to know that I'm not a magician. I can't delete things from the social consciousness. Your new band of merry misfits needs to preventsituations like this. That warehouse CC video never should have gotten out. Actually, I thought that was, y'know, what you did - you and your Men In Black-"

"I prefer 'Persons In Black' - it's less gender specific," he interrupted.

"I'm not finished! And...okay, good point. But anyway, I'm good at this, Phil-"

"I know you are."

"-but building a PR campaign is pretty goddamned hard if the very first Super Hero - sorry, unregistered Gifted - the public sees after New York is a psychopath."

"He's not a psychopath. He was an experiment."

"I get that. The American Public does not. Please please please...all I'm asking is that your team be more careful with stuff like this. We knew who he was, we should have had something in place to monitor video feeds at his old job. Or, just constant scanning of video surveillance feeds linked to facial recognition software..."

She was brainstorming aloud. Phil hoped she was wasn't calling while in line at Starbucks again. "Hey," she continued, "Maybe the Boy Genius can come up with some kind of seek-and-destroy software...what do you think?"

"I think Agent Fitz has a crush on you and will probably say he can do whatever you want, whether or not he actually can."

From behind him, something rolled off the conference table and hit the floor. "Is that Agent Lewis?" the Scotsman inquired hopefully.

Coulson shot a look at the entire eavesdropping group. The look said clearly, 'Get back to work,' and was not a look you argued with.

"Fitz has a crush on my mad data-collating skills," Darcy replied lightly. "Still, I can work with that. Although word on the street is you've bagged the Mata Hari hacker. She's probably better for what I have in mind."

Now it was Phil's turn to fight down a twinge of headache. "I don't know where you heard-"

"Simmons told Garcia, who told Banner, who told me. Nobody gossips like secret government agents."

"I'll have a word with them both," he promised, eyeballing Simmons. The scientist smiled innocently. "It shouldn't be a problem. It would make the most of the assets at our disposal."

"Great!" she quipped. "More assets to deal with." She paused, and he could hear typing. Not at Starbucks, then. "So...about Mata Hari," she continued, seriously. "Are we going to have a problem with her, Phil?"

"Too soon to tell," he said shortly.

"Should I be prepping for skeletons to come popping out of closets? You know I like to start my 'Oh, Shit' files early."

"Probably. But it's too soon to tell," he repeated.

Darcy sighed an enormous, world weary sigh. "Got it. God, I love government work."

"I know. Keep me posted."

"I will. Keep me happy."

"No promises."

She may have growled, but hung up before he could tell for sure. He smiled and slipped his phone into his pocket.


Notes:

In this universe, Darcy Lewis finished her Poli-Sci degree, went and got a Masters in Communication, and then went to work for SHIELD. Why? I don't know. I just know the idea of Coulson getting an irate phone call from her tickled my fancy.

Also, this fic has an M rating for language. Which I think is silly, but I'm trying to abide by ToS for . Darcy will not be censored!

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