Chapter 17 : CHAIN OF COMMAND
The summons came at 0800.
I'd spent the night not sleeping, running through scenarios in my head. Best case: Coulson understood why I'd acted, accepted my reasoning, let me off with a warning. Worst case: I was removed from the team, shipped back to whatever holding facility SHIELD used for assets that didn't follow orders.
Most likely case: something in between, calibrated to demonstrate that insubordination had consequences while acknowledging that my insubordination had helped save Skye.
Coulson's office door was closed when I arrived. I knocked and waited.
"Enter."
The office was smaller than I remembered—or maybe I just felt smaller standing in front of his desk, awaiting judgment. Coulson sat with his hands folded, expression unreadable, the image of administrative authority.
"Shut the door."
I did.
The silence stretched. Coulson let it stretch, watching me with eyes that gave nothing away. A technique, I realized—let the subject fill the silence with nervous explanations, reveal more than they intended.
I kept my mouth shut.
Finally, Coulson spoke. "You disobeyed a direct order."
"I did."
"You compromised a covert operation by introducing an unauthorized element."
"Yes."
"You endangered yourself, the primary infiltrator, and the extraction team by acting without coordination or communication."
"All true."
Another pause. Coulson's eyebrow twitched—surprise at my lack of defense, maybe.
"No excuses?"
"I have explanations. Not excuses." I met his eyes. "You gave me an order because you had incomplete information. I had additional data—my instincts, my ability to sense when something's wrong—that suggested the situation had changed. I judged that waiting for confirmation would cost more than acting on uncertainty."
"Your instincts."
"Yes."
"The same instincts that warned us about Reyes on the Bus."
"The same ones."
Coulson leaned back in his chair, studying me with an intensity that made me want to fidget. I kept still.
"Tell me about these instincts, Jake. Because you keep referencing them, and they keep being right, and that's either the most convenient coincidence in SHIELD history or there's something you're not telling me."
The question I'd been dreading. The moment where I had to decide how much truth to risk.
"It's part of my abilities." Partial truth—the safest kind. "The same thing that lets me sense certain people also gives me... impressions. Feelings about situations. It's not reliable, not clear, but when it's strong, it's usually right."
"And last night it was strong."
"Strong enough that ignoring it felt like watching someone drown while holding a life preserver."
Coulson absorbed this. His expression shifted slightly—not softening, exactly, but becoming more thoughtful.
"You understand why this is a problem."
"Yes, sir."
"If every agent acted on their personal instincts without regard for chain of command, we'd have chaos. Operations would fail. People would die. The structure exists for a reason."
"I understand."
"Do you?" He leaned forward. "Because understanding and believing are different things. And right now, I need to know which one applies to you."
I considered my answer carefully. The wrong words could end my place on this team—and with it, any chance of preparing for what was coming.
"I believe in the structure," I said slowly. "I believe in chain of command. But I also believe there are moments when the structure breaks down. When information can't flow fast enough. When the person on the ground sees something the person in command doesn't."
"And you think you get to decide when those moments are?"
"I think if I'm wrong, I should face consequences. I accept that." I took a breath. "But I also think that if Skye had died while I sat on the Bus following orders, I wouldn't have been able to live with myself. And I don't think you would have forgiven me either."
The silence that followed was different. Heavier. More honest.
Coulson's expression finally shifted—something like respect flickering behind the administrative mask.
"Your instincts were correct," he said. "Your method was insubordinate."
"I know."
"If this becomes a pattern—if you start treating orders as suggestions—I will remove you from this team. Clear?"
"Crystal."
"But." He paused, weighing his next words. "Don't apologize for saving her. That's not what I want. What I want is for you to find a way to reconcile your instincts with the chain of command. Figure out how to communicate what you're sensing without acting unilaterally."
"I'll try."
"You'll do better than try." He almost smiled. Almost. "May's doubling your training schedule. She says if you're going to run into danger without authorization, you should at least be competent enough to survive it."
I couldn't help the wince. My ribs were still healing from the last session.
Coulson's lips twitched. "Dismissed."
---
I made it halfway to the door before he spoke again.
"Jake."
I turned. Coulson's expression had shifted—less commander, more... something else. Something human.
"You asked me why I was on the team when you first interviewed," he said. "Why a man who died and came back was running a mobile unit instead of a desk."
I remembered. The interview room, the folder, the calculated questions and careful answers.
"I remember."
"The answer is because I understand that sometimes the rules don't cover everything. Sometimes you have to make choices that don't fit in the handbook." He held my gaze. "That's why I recruited Skye. That's why I kept her after she betrayed us for Rising Tide. And that's why I'm giving you another chance now."
"Thank you, sir."
"Don't thank me yet. May's really looking forward to the extra sessions."
I left his office with my position intact and my body dreading what was coming.
But underneath the dread, something else stirred. Coulson had given me an opening—a crack in the armor of chain of command, an acknowledgment that instincts and rules didn't always align.
It was time to start building on that crack.
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