Variations on the Death of Coulson

A/N: The title for this story was taken from David Ives' "Variations on the Death of Trotsky," a one-act play of eight different ways the russian revolutionary Leon Trotsky could have died (he was hit in the head with an ice-axe by his gardener, a soviet assassin). It's a hilarious play, and the title seemed apropos, but I realized toward the end that really none of my one-shots were actual variations on Coulson's own death. So, in homage and with apologies, here are some legitimate variations on Coulson's demise.

Loki stared at the strange human, coughing as he was slumped against the wall, head tilted at an angle.

Slowly, the human's head lilted over, enough for the man to see the smoking, charred hole in his chest.

"Ohhhh…" The man nodded. "You're supposed to hold it with the OTHER end around…"

"Think I'm checking out here, boss…"

"Not an option." Fury frowned.

"No, it's really not." Coulson eyed him. "I mean, I really don't think I have any choice in the matter. You're behaving like that guy in the movie who says, 'I ain't got time to bleed.' Honestly, boss, are you just a collection of action movie tropes?"

Fury continued frowning. "It can't be that bad, if you can talk so much."

"That's another trope. Dying people always have all the time in the world to get out their last profound words. I thought of some, but I'm not going to say them. Until I say them, I can't…."

Coulson's head lolled off to the side and his eyes rolled up.

Something stabbed deep into Coulson's chest, invading some of his favorite internal organs. He could feel his ribs snapping, and his horrified eyes tracked downward to see the glistening point of the scepter, protruding from his chest, blue gem shining amidst the flecks of blood and bone.

"Oh my gosh! It went all the way through!" The scepter gave a sudden painful lurch backward and suddenly Loki, of all people, was catching him. "I'm so sorry, that's incredibly embarrassing, I just meant to tap you, you know… brainwash you like the others… I really don't know my own strength around you people, I think I must have just put a BIT too much elbow grease into it…"

"Kinda… prefer this… actually." Coulson gasped out, sinking to the floor.

"Agent Coulson is down."

"Medics are en route to your location…"

"They're here." A pause. "They called it."

"Hang on." Coulson looked up at his boss. "I'm not dead yet."

"Quiet." Fury glared at the agent.

"I think I might pull through." Coulson smiled. "I think it's got something to do with the drug trials for the TAHITI project."

"It's more inspiring this way." Fury gestured. "Gives the rest of the team something tragic to coalesce around."

"Couldn't they coalesce around me being 'mortally wounded' or something?"

"Nope. Not tragic enough." Fury shook his head, unholstering his pistol.

"I feel fine, actually." Coulson said, struggling upward. "Let me just…"

BLAM!

Coulson's eyes went wide and he slumped to the floor.

"Shh…" Fury patted the side of the dead agent's face. "Brave, brave Coulson. You shall not have died in vain."

Coulson saw just the faintest flicker in the Loki he was staring at, and on the whim of a moment, jogged sideways. A flashing scepter stabbed through the air just a few inches to the left, where his heart had been moments ago.

"Ha!" He said, whirling around to see a very-startled Loki. The god was too close to allow for much thought; Coulson's finger tightened on instinct.

The bolt hit Loki and sent him crashing into the bulkhead. The recoil sent Coulson shooting across the floor and through the open shaft.

Well. Coulson thought, as the silhouette of the helicarrier above him shrank with alarming swiftness. So that's what it…

Coulson's knees gave out and he collapsed to the floor. "I guess… I get the point…" He coughed.

Loki, god of chaos, stared at him with an incredulous expression.

Coulson gave a shrug. It hurt. "Best I could do…"

Loki rolled his eyes. "Honestly, you people." He snorted, making his way to the console.

"Shoot." Coulson murmured, eyes lazily tracking Loki's path as it intersected with the fallen muzzle of his gun. "You're fired."

Brilliant energy lanced through the air and sent Loki flying through the bulkhead and out into the open air.

Coulson's eyes tracked up to where Thor was watching him, with some sort of mixture of sadness, triumph, and surprise. And just a hint of disappointment.

Coulson gave another shrug—his last, probably. "C'mon man, you're killing me."

"Oh, drat." Loki frowned, as Coulson sank to the floor. "I could have sworn that's where your heart was."

"Left… side…" Coulson corrected him.

"Right. Here we go again…."

AAAGGH!

"No… you're still not dead." Loki frowned.

"Lower…" Coulson gasped. "That's… shoulder…"

"Oh, ah."

AAAGH!

"Odin's beard, is that… is that a spleen?"

"T…too… l…low…

"Sun and stones, I can't believe this. I got top marks in Asgardian anatomy, you're not THAT different from us."

"Here…" Coulson beckoned for the scepter. "Let me."

"The medics'll be here soon." Fury told Coulson. "Hang on. Eyes on me."

"It's all right, boss." Coulson murmured. "If this was ever going to work, they needed something to… to believe in."

He fell silent. Fury bowed his head.

"Oh, one thing." Coulson opened his eyes suddenly. "Those vintage Captain America cards… they're in my locker? Can you get Cap to sign them?"

Fury frowned. "Sure, I guess. But why…"

"And then send them to Audrey. I'd like her to have them as… as a memento." Coulson coughed wetly. "Just… be careful with them, all right? Don't crease them or put them in direct sunlight or store them anywhere humid." He looked down at Fury's fingers. "And put gloves on before handling them, the last thing they need is… bloodstains… all …o…ver…"

Coulson's eyes rolled back and his head slumped on his chest. Fury stood up and looked down at the body.

"Bloodstains." He said, contemplatively. "Well, that's an idea."