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The problem that nobody had anticipated in bringing Phil Coulson back from the dead was the budget. SHIELD actually has plans in place for "resurrecting" agents who are officially dead but, off-the-record, are still breathing air and pumping blood and need to get back to work.
There were dossiers. There had been meetings. Coulson had, of course, been involved.
The options were varying levels of expensive and included:
- staging a cryo unfreezing--"We were able to get him on ice just in time! Now we can thaw him out, using our special SHIELD technology, start his heart again and have the appropriate doctors fix him up!"
- faking a hitherto-unremembered "clone" of the agent in question--"It's a copy from a few months back, so she might not remember anything that's happened since February, but it's definitely her!"
- doctoring the records (logs, camera footage, retraining the agents who had been present) to show some kind of miraculous or alien intervention--"There was this bright light! And then his heart just started beating again! I've never seen anything like it!"
They were also varying levels of believable, but when you're talking about bringing someone back from the dead, there's only so much you can do in that regard.
The stupidest of their options--and Coulson had said so at the meeting where it had been brought up--is also the cheapest one. It came, not surprisingly, from a SHIELD intern who was supposed to be bringing the coffee into the meeting. The intern had stood in the back of the room for a minute after the coffee was distributed and then spoke up uninvited: "What if we just gave the agent a new name and a disguise and sent them back to work?"
No, there was definitely nothing that could go wrong with that plan. They definitely don't work in intelligence, with the best and brightest in the business. A fake goatee is all they're going to need.
"Where did you get this idea?" Coulson asked the intern, swiveling in his chair at the meeting table to face the young man.
"I saw it on TV," the intern said, a little sheepish when confronted.
It was a really stupid plan. It had been then, and it still is now. They'd only added it to their official dossiers as a sort of joking afterthought. But SHIELD's entire emergency budget is going towards paying to fix their smashed-up equipment and what's left of Manhattan, so when Nick Fury approaches Coulson about bringing him back to life, there are not a lot of options.
"I don't think you comprehend just how expensive a helicarrier is," Director Fury says, scowling. "Or you could stay dead for a while longer." Coulson does not grumble any more. He is tired of being dead--not literally dead, of course, just smuggled off to a SHIELD safe house with fairly grievous wounds while the Avengers razed half of Manhattan in his honor. He is tired of the safe house; of waiting here, out of the loop; of not-quite-existing. But he also knows that Phil Coulson can't go back to work, not without losing Rogers, not without Stark going nuclear at the deception. "It'll be temporary, a few months maybe," Fury promises, "Until we can find the money to 'defrost' Phil Coulson."
So Coulson doesn't press the issue. He likes the idea of a doing a cryo unfreezing later, and he does get to help smooth out the edges of his temporary new identity, which sounds like it could be fun. He's spent the last month and change lying in a bed recovering from a chest wound and watching Netflix; any kind of change is good at this point.
"We want your new name to be similar to your old name," the identity tech tells him. "You know how you can pick out somebody saying 'Agent Coulson' in the middle of a conversation halfway across the room? We need your brain to be able to register the new name like that, without thinking on your part."
Coulson squints at the identity tech's computer screen. "William Molson," he reads from the name badge displayed there.
"Bill Molson!" the tech affirms. "What, don't you like it? We can make some changes if want. We still have most of your history to fill in too. Then you need to pick a distinguishing characteristic. This plan hinges on you not looking exactly like your old self, so you need something new: a beard, maybe; a new haircut or hair color; a prominent scar--"
Coulson absent-mindedly touches the still-new scar tissue through his shirt, making a note not to choose that option.
"--or we even have stick-on birth marks, if you'd like. Lots of choices."
This is how he comes to stand in front of a small group of his old team members, wearing an obviously-fake mustache and staring straight at Director Fury while he introduces the team's newest agent: "Billip Jolson!" Fury stops, checks the file he's holding again, and stares one eye's-worth of daggers at Coulson.
Coulson's expression doesn't move. "It's an old family name, sir. You can call me Bill."
"Of course we can," Fury mutters to himself. He looks like he is reconsidering this plan.
(Coulson actually sort of loves the mustache. He'd picked it from SHIELD's Big Drawer of Facial Hair Disguises, which is apparently a thing. Each mustache, goatee, or beard had a little placard underneath it, an identifier to distinguish it from its neighbors. The one he's chosen had been inexplicably labeled "Wendy".)
He allows himself to look away from Fury now, across the various people he recognizes in the room. Maria Hill, at Fury's side, sets her jaw. Hawkeye looks like he is going to start laughing and never stop. The Widow raises an eyebrow at him, refusing to look fazed. The other SHIELD agents appear varying shades of confused.
"He'll be with us for a while, probably until our budget evens out," Fury continues. "I trust he will be made to feel welcome." His tone is a warning. Everyone had better understand what's going on here and not mess around. He is not going to take any shit about this.
When the meeting is over, Coulson is surrounded by a throng of his old agents. "Welcome to the team," they say. "We really liked the guy you're replacing. We miss him a lot. You have big shoes to fill."
The crowd clears, and Hawkeye and the Widow approach. Hawkeye catches Coulson in a grateful, back-slapping hug. "Good to have you with us, Agent Jolson."
"It's good to be here," Coulson replies, smiling under his mustache.
Natasha stares at him for several uncomfortable beats. "You know," she says, her voice surprisingly devoid of accusation, "I know some people who are going to be really upset with you. A lot of them are guys you really don't want to make angry."
Coulson shrugs helplessly. He knows he should respond but I've only just started here; instead, he says gently, "We do what we have to do. You know that's what we all signed up for."
She offers him a nod and a serious smile. "I'm just glad you're back."
"I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Agent." He gets it right this time, straight-faced and prim.
The laughter that was threatening Barton earlier finally breaks out. "So, do you need somebody to show you around the office? This place can be big and confusing when you first start, and I've got some free time this morning." Coulson agrees, somehow unable to resist Barton's overly-pleased demeanor. The other man continues, "Jolson, do you have any cousins or something who might have worked here? Maybe a clean-shaven guy? Because I swear, you look so familiar."
Coulson just twists the end of his mustache and grins.