As soon as she heard the engine roar to life, something snapped inside Skye and she felt somehow emboldened. "Well," she said, "If you won't talk to her..." she reached over and grabbed a notebook and pencil that had been sitting on the surveillance equipment in the back of the van. "...then I will."

"What?" Coulson asked in alarm, looking over his shoulder to see Skye moving towards the door. "No, no, no. Bad idea! You stay here," he said, watching as Skye's hand landed on the door handle.

"Coulson, we've come too far for you to turn around now. I know you don't want her to see you and, okay, that makes sense. But at least listen over the radio."

"No, Skye. We're going back right now."

But Skye was already opening the door.

"If you get out of this van, Skye, I swear-" She climbed out and slammed the door before Coulson could finish his warning. "Damn it!" Coulson cursed, smashing his hands onto the steering wheel aggressively. He wanted to jump out and go catch Skye by the arm, drag her back to the van and throw her inside. But he was trapped in that driver's seat. He couldn't even honk for fear that it would draw attention to the van and Alys would see him.

"Ward," he commanded, "go after her!"

But Ward just sat there. "Sir, you and I know exactly what would happen if I tried," he gave his boss a pointed look. Skye would stubbornly refuse to come back to the van, and if he tried to bring her back by force, she would probably cause enough of a scene that Coulson's cellist would be inclined to look their way. When Skye got like this, there was no stopping her, and both occupants of the van knew it.

Coulson repeated his curse again when the other agent did nothing. "You are both going on disciplinary action when we get back!"

Skye could hear the protests from her superior through her earpiece as she descended the steps into the concert arena. She felt bad for getting Ward in trouble, but she was committed now. She hoped that she was doing the right thing. Sometimes she thought she should just quit while she's ahead, but this whole endeavor had gone too far south too fast. She just wanted to find some way to salvage it. She knew better than anyone else what it was like to be separated from someone she loved. She would give anything just to hear the sound of their voices. Deep down, even though Coulson was livid right now, Skye knew this was the right thing to do.

She approached the stage and held the notebook and pencil officially. "Miss Simon?" she asked.

Alys looked up from her cell phone at the sound of her name. "Yes?" she responded, looking at the unfamiliar young lady in confusion.

The voice came over Phil's earpiece and his heart leapt. It was just one word, one little word, but his ears had missed hearing that voice so much. It was like a rain drop in a desert. One word was enough to make him forget his anger towards Skye...for now.

"Hi," Skye said, stepping forward with a friendly smile. She reached her hand up to the woman on the stage. "I'm Skye. I'm a journalism student at the University of Portland and I was hoping to get an interview for an assignment. We have to write a piece about an 'artistic local figure.' Someone from the concert hall gave me your name, said you'd be interested in helping me out?"

Alys looked a little confused as she stood from her chair and walked to the front of the stage, taking the girl's hand. "Oh, and...who was it you talked to?" she asked.

"Oh," Skye looked embarrassed as she pretended to think back, "I don't remember his name. He was an older guy...with glasses?"

"Samuel Cohen?" Alys asked, looking slightly surprised.

Skye snapped her fingers, "That's it, yeah, Mr. Cohen."

Alys nodded vaguely, "And what did you say your last name was?"

"Uhh..." Skye tried not to let the hesitation draw out too long. She said the first name that came to mind. "Ward. Skye Ward."

Back in the van, Ward tried not to notice as his superior officer cocked a questioning eyebrow in his direction.

"Creative," Alys said with an amused smirk. "Well, miss Ward, I don't remember Sam mentioning anything about this to me, but I suppose I do have a few minutes." As she spoke, she came around to descend the few steps of the stage and join Skye on the main level.

Skye smiled, "Thank you so much! I really appreciate it! So," she cleared her throat as they both took a seat on the edge of the stage.

Skye started off with some basic questions: how to spell her name, where she grew up, how she got involved with music. Alys politely answered each question, feeling slightly flattered by the unexpected attention. Skye wanted to direct the conversation more towards her relationship with Coulson, but she didn't want to use some awful segue like, "So, have any dead boyfriends?"

Luckily, the conversation drifted that way organically.

"So, tell me about this concert. Why is it outside?" Skye asked.

Alys looked around at the concert arena. "Well, we wanted someplace public that would attract a lot of people. It's a benefit concert for the New York Relief Fund. You know, even though it's been almost a year, they're still doing cleanup there. Not to mention all of the emotional turmoil for the families of the victims. Half of our proceeds from tonight will go to the cleanup efforts in downtown Manhattan, and the other half will go to the Rhyse Family Clinic, which specialized in helping the families of victims cope with their loss."

"Wow, that's really incredible," Skye said with a genuine smile. She was really starting to like this woman. This benefit concert was exactly the sort of humanitarianism that appealed to Skye. It was why she joined the Rising Tide, and ultimately why she joined SHIELD too: to help people. "So, why this charity specifically? Do you have connections to New York?"

Alys nodded, looking down at her hands. "Yes, actually. I lived there before coming here to Portland," she paused before adding, "And, I also lost someone in the Battle of New York...so this cause is very important to me."

Bingo.

"Oh, no. I'm so sorry to hear that!" Skye said sympathetically. Truly, her heart did go out to Alys. The look in her eyes told stories of obvious hurt and grief for the poor woman, and it was all Skye could do not to tell her the truth right then and there.

Alys forced a smile. "It's okay," she said softly. "It's getting easier to talk about now."

Skye let the silence play out a little longer. "May I ask who it was?"

"His name was Phil. He was my..." Alys let her gaze drop down to her lap, smiling softly. "He was my husband."

In the van, Ward looked over at Coulson. A sweet smile spread across the older agent's face. He hadn't expected her to say that, but it made his day. It made his life!

Skye smiled too, but tried to make it look sympathetic. The good miss Simon had taken a liberty just then, and Skye knew it. But she also knew that it must have been telling of exactly how deeply the two of them cared for each other.

It was then that Skye remembered Coulson's words from several weeks ago, when she first discovered the ring in his desk. "I think she would have married me when I asked her," he had said.

Well, yeah AC, I'm guessing she probably would have, Skye mused inwardly.

Outwardly, she looked at the cellist with a warm expression. "Tell me about him?" she asked gently.

Alys looked surprised by the question. She hadn't thought that was the sort of thing the college student would want to write about. But a subtle, beautiful smile graced her face and she replied, "I'd love to."

She started to tell the basics, that Phil worked for the government and had to be very secretive about his job. That they both shared a love for history and memorabilia from the past. In fact, their first interaction was as opponents in a heated bidding war over such an item. "I won," Alys informed proudly (and Coulson rolled his eyes in the van). As she continued to speak, Alys retrieved her phone and pulled up a picture to show Skye.

The hacker looked at the two-person selfie with a smile. So, Mr. Suits does have some normal clothes, she thought, seeing the seasoned agent clad in a simple maroon shirt and jean jacket. Both Alys and Coulson beamed at the camera, tipping the sides of their faces together to make sure they were in frame. Skye had never seen him so happy. The man wore a perpetual smile on his face, the disarming kind of smile that always made you wonder if it was because he felt something or because he knew something, but this particular smile was one she had never seen on him before. She couldn't put her finger on the difference, but it looked good. He looked normal. He looked happy.

Skye glanced up at Alys, who was leaning over to also view the picture. The cellist smiled and pulled away. "You two make a beautiful couple," Skye said, returning the phone.

"Thank you," she replied, "I was pretty crazy about him...even though he was sort of a paradox," she said.

Skye furrowed her brow. "In what way?"

Alys sighed, "Well, on the one hand, he appeared so ordinary. Just a soft spoken, cleanly cut guy in a suit and tie. But...I also knew that his job could get really dangerous at times. I mean guns- and knives-type dangerous. So he was all...Jimmy Stewart with me, and like, Bruce Willis out there at work."

Skye snorted at the comparison. "Tiger at work and a teddy bear at home kind of thing?" she asked.

Alys nodded, "I guess." She looked down at the image on the phone and added, "But a really sexy teddy bear."

They went on talking and Alys' eyes lit up as she oozed affection for this man who meant the world to her. It was like déjà vu for Skye. She had already watched Coulson do this same thing only a few weeks ago, and now, watching his cellist mimic his enthusiasm felt like such a privilege for Skye. She found the whole situation very endearing.

"It was the little things about him that I loved the most," Alys explained. "The wrinkles by his eyes when he smiled. The expression he'd get when he concentrated on something he was reading. The way he'd always rub my arms or back whenever I wore my purple sweater because it was kind of fuzzy he liked the way it felt." That one caused her to laugh a little. Skye watched as a small tear glimmered in the woman's eye, but a moment later, a solid blink and a good sniff calmed it down again.

"We were both busy people," she went on, "and it was always hit-or-miss whether we would even be in the same city at the same time, so the little moments we got to steal away were some of the most special. He wasn't overly extravagant so we ate in more than we ate out. He would make us something. He was a genius in the kitchen, and I was utterly hopeless, so most days I just leaned against the counter and watched him work. Have you ever seen a gorgeous man cook?"

Skye just shook her head. Truth was, she had. To be more specific, Skye had actually seen Coulson cook. The day after a particularly rough mission, after the team had been chewed out by HQ for going "off book," Coulson endeavored to lift everyone's spirits by making them dinner. It was some kind of cheesy pasta thing with a generous helping of wine sauce. Delicious. But Alys didn't need to know that.

The cellist just dropped her jaw subtly at Skye to emphasize her point. "With a hand towel over his shoulder and a wooden spoon in his hand? Mmm. Put it on your to-do list, kid, I'm telling you."

Skye smiled with a nod, "Will do."

Alys returned the smile. "He was tidy, too," she added. "Phil never left a dish dirty. I wasn't much help in the kitchen when it came to the cooking, but cleaning dishes was something I could do. It was one of my favorite parts of the evening actually. Standing side-by-side with him at the sink. Or sometimes...he would stand behind me and reach around. And we'd both work on the same dish, taking turns holding it and scrubbing it. We took longer than necessary but, at that point...it wasn't really about the dishes anymore."

The woman smiled, eyes far off in some memory. She could still feel Phil's hands, covered in soapy suds and drifting over her own, up her arms, his lips somewhere on her neck. She had no idea that, just a few yards away, gripped around a steering wheel, two hands remembered the same thing.

"We got such water bills," she concluded softly, her smile fixed in place.

But then she seemed to remember where she was, and that she was being interviewed by a total stranger. "But look at me," she said, sitting up a little straighter and softening out the wrinkles in her blouse. "Just jabbering away. I'm sure you don't need any of that for your paper."

"No, no!" Skye assured. "That's exactly the kind of thing that will make my article feel real, you know? That personal touch."

"Well," Alys said, turning off the screen on her phone and putting it away. "The truth was, Phil Coulson was a good man. He was kind and idealistic, with a heart of gold. The report was just a list of names and it didn't say how any of them died, but I know that Phil was the type of man to be right in the middle of all of that chaos, working to pull a stranger out of the wreckage and get them to safety. There's no doubt in my mind that's how he died. It's just the sort of man he was. Noble, selfless...a hero."

Now Alys' tear finally made it out. She wiped it away quickly, "Put that in your article."

Skye nodded. "I will."

Both women were silent for a time. Alys was admirably trying to fight off the flow of tears and Skye just didn't know what to say. The world felt extra cruel then, as Skye watched this poor woman pine and grieve for a man who was a matter of steps away. She knew that two simple words could put an end to that suffering. She knew that all she had to do was point and it could all be over. But Skye also remembered Coulson's words from the van, and she knew that he was right. They could never be together again and the proximity was what really made it hurt. It was like a special brand of pain, and there was a pang of sympathy in Skye's heart knowing that Coulson would have to endure that special pain for quite sometime. But he was right, there was no reason why Alys should have to feel it too. As horrible as it was, things actually were better this way. So Skye bit her tongue. After a time, she reached over and grabbed the cellist's hand.

"Well, wherever Phil is now," Skye began softly, restraining herself from the pull to look over at the van. "I know that he's watching out for you. And if he could tell you anything, I'm sure he'd say that..."

Skye paused and waited. It took Coulson a moment to realize what she was doing, but he soon straightened in his seat and cleared his throat, wondering if he still had a voice. "That I love her," he choked out.

"...he loves you," Skye said. She heard a ragged intake of breath from her earpiece as he finished.

"And I never meant to leave her," he gasped, shaking his head and pinching his lips together in a tight grimace. He felt the tears roll down his cheeks, but he was done caring about them.

Skye took in a shaky breath before delivering the message. "And he never meant to leave you," she finally said, shaking her head and squeezing the other woman's hand a little tighter.

Alys was visibly taken aback. Her face contorted into a mix of astonishment and heartbreak, and several anxious tears broke free from her eyes. She let loose a single sob and brought a hand up to cover her mouth. She shook her head in wonder at the young journalist. The girl would never know how much it meant for her to say those words. She squeezed Skye's hand in return, closing her eyes and shaking her head. "Thank you," she said. "You have no idea how badly I needed to hear that."

Skye just nodded encouragingly. "Well, it's the truth."

A long silence drew out between them once again. Alys tried to compose herself, as well as avoid the concerned gazes of her fellow musicians who observed the quiet conversation from a distance. A violinist approached from the stage and handed Alys a handkerchief from his pocket. She accepted it gratefully and took a few more minutes to pull herself together. After she had recovered her aplomb, Alys looked back at Skye with her beautiful smile. "So...will you be staying for the concert?" she asked.

Skye returned the smile, but shook her head sadly. "Afraid not, I have a deadline to make," she said, tapping the notebook with her pencil.

"Oh, of course," Alys replied understandingly.

"But," Skye added, reaching into her jacket pocket. "I would love to give to your charity." She pulled out a few folded dollars from behind her phone case. "I don't really carry much cash on me anymore, but..." she counted it in a flash, "I've got four bucks here."

Alys gave a small laugh as she accepted the money. "Believe me, every bit counts. That's so thoughtful of you." Then raising the few dollars into the air she announced to the group, "Hey everyone! Our first donation!"

The orchestra broke out in various cheers and the percussionist slammed the cymbals together, which caused everyone to laugh. "Hey! Give that woman a CD!" the conductor called.

"Oh yeah!" Alys responded happily, boosting herself off of the stage and heading over to a nearby table. She came back with a small CD in hand. "This is a live recording we just did on our tour around the east coast last week. Hot off the presses. We're giving them away as incentives to donate, today only."

Skye accepted the gift with a smile, "Well, I'm honored. Thank you."

"Thank you, Skye," Alys extended her hand. "It was a real pleasure meeting you."

"Same to you," the hacker replied, standing and shaking her hand. "You have no idea."

The two finished their goodbyes and then Skye turned and started to walk away from the stage. In her ear, she heard Ward's voice give the order, "Do not come straight back to the van. Repeat: Divert behind the shopping center. We'll pick you up by the northern entrance."

Skye raised a hand to her ear discretely and acknowledged the order. When she climbed back into the van, it was eerily silent. Ward looked over his shoulder and just gave her an approving nod before turning forward again. Coulson refused to look at anyone.

Skye leaned forward and tapped the CD lightly against Coulson's arm. He looked down at it and paused. The cover was crowded with 80 smiling musicians and their instruments, but his eyes only landed on one. After a brief moment, he took the album and placed it in his lap. As he flipped his turn signal to pull out of the parking lot, he cast one more look in his side mirror. He could barely see the stage. Pressing the gas pedal was one of the hardest actions of his life.

But he did it.

"Skye?" he called quietly, finally looking at the young agent in the rearview mirror.

She met his gaze nervously, and was relieved when he gave her a little nod.

"Thanks," he said.

She nodded back. "You're welcome."

When they got back to the bus, all three returning agents were silent. Simmons, Fitz, and May all stood and watched as the others solemnly boarded the plane. May waited and exchanged a wordless conversation with Ward before turning and heading back to the cockpit, apparently content with his answer. The two scientists looked expectantly at Skye, but she just shook her head and quietly said, "I'll tell you later."

No one said a word to Coulson, and he didn't give them much time to anyway. He kept his eyes low and headed straight to his office, the only words out of his mouth being "Wheels up, May," when he caught a glimpse of her on his way up his stairs.

The pilot dutifully obeyed and the team was in the air within minutes.

Later that night, Skye began to grow concerned. No one had seen Coulson since they had returned to the bus and that had been over six hours ago. She climbed the stairs to his office with a subtle gulp, but she paused before actually making it to his door.

She smiled sadly to herself and turned to descend the steps once again, the soft melodies of orchestral music floating through the door behind her. Somehow, she knew he would be okay. And she had a feeling she and the others would be hearing that music from his office a lot, but that was fine by her.

Skye had just decided that she liked classical music.

THE END

Author's Note: Thank you all so much, those of you who have followed this story. What was originally just a oneshot has blossomed into a quaint little story and I have your reviews to thank for that. I must also thank ConcertiGrossi, for both inspiration and permission to use the fabulous Alys Simon in my story. For those of you who haven't done so yet, go read "Second Fiddles" (you can find it listed amongst my favorite stories). The character of Alys Simon originated in that story, and the first 5 chapters serve as the background for this fic. It's a fabulous story, the best Coulson story I've ever read, and it's profoundly well-written.

And for those of you who enjoyed my little story here, I would deeply value any comments you could leave for me. I am desperate to know what you think and every comment really does matter to me, good or bad.

Thank you all for reading, and take care!

-Monker