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Phil got woken up from his light sleep by a distressed sound coming from down the hall. Shifting around underneath his blanket, he blinked at the dark ceiling of his bunk in disorientation for a few seconds before his brain caught up to what was going on, and he promptly sprang into action.
Jumping up from his bed, he slipped on a shirt and a pair of socks, so his feet wouldn’t freeze off on the cold floor of the Bus, and quickly made his way down the hall to May’s bunk. He knocked softly on the sliding door and, leaning close to the opaque glass, whispered, “Melinda?”
A weak grunt was his only answer.
“I’m coming in,” he warned her, slowly sliding the door open. “Don’t shoot me.”
The dim light from the hallway LEDs showed him May’s weary face briefly, before he closed the door after himself and the bunk was once again immersed in darkness. She looked tired, her eyes sunken and with deep black circles underneath, her hairline wet with cold sweat. “Another one?” he whispered as he crawled onto the bed next to her.
She grunted noncommittally, though she did scoot over a little to make space for him on the narrow mattress. He touched her arm carefully, making sure his intent to do so was clear, so it wouldn’t startle her. He had learned his lesson after the first time he heard her having a nightmare and went to her bunk - he hadn’t been careful and ended up on the floor with a knife pressed to his throat and a hundred and thirty pounds of lethal specialist kneeling on his chest.
“You want to talk about it?” he asked softly, rubbing her upper arm soothingly.
She shook her head, her black hair sliding across her slumped shoulders.
“Okay,” he whispered. He wasn’t surprised; she never wanted to talk. In the five weeks since the events at that damn Hydra bunker, not once had she shared what her nightmares were about. It wasn’t really necessary, since he could guess.
Scooting closer to the small woman, he slid his hand slowly around her back, so their sides were touching. He waited for her to relax a little against him before squeezing her in a warm half-hug. He knew from experience that they would have to sit like this for at least half an hour - if not longer - before he could even attempt to get her back to sleep.
“Want me to talk?” he asked, modulating his voice to make his offer as lighthearted as possible. Sometimes, she would take him up on it, and he’d end up chatting mindlessly about nonsensical stuff - his childhood, comics, Academy stories she hadn’t been a part of - but other times she was so wired, even his calm presence grated at her and the best he could do was breathe quietly.
She hmmed neutrally, and only their years-long friendship allowed him to read her response as assent.
“Right,” he chuckled softly. “So, have I told you about the time I tried to ask my neighbour out for a date?”
She stayed quiet, but Phil’s mind wasn’t so feeble as not to remember that he hadn’t told her this particular anecdote before. “I was four,” he began, voice light and amused. “And this new family had just moved into the house next to ours - nice people, three kids, redheads-”
Melinda snorted.
He squeezed her shoulder. “I know, you don’t trust redheads,” he teased. “But just because they have virtually no melanin and don’t disintegrate the second they step out into the sun doesn’t mean they’re untrustworthy.”
The Chinese woman didn’t comment but looked decidedly skeptical.
He narrowed his eyes at her. “You like Natasha,” he reminded her. “She’s a redhead.”
May nodded slowly and then spoke, the words a little uncomfortable on her tongue but clearly understandable, “She also often lied to get out of our morning sparring sessions.”
Coulson was amused. He couldn’t really fault the young Russian; he wouldn’t want to get beat up first thing every day either. “Still, you didn’t give up on her,” he countered quietly.
Melinda shrugged. “I was her SO,” she said as if it explained everything. And perhaps it did - she always took her duty seriously, and if she thought something was worth it, she didn’t give up, no matter how tough it got.
“Anyway, back to my childhood crush,” Coulson returned their conversation to the original topic. “Their youngest kid - a five-year-old boy called Cody - was this cute, dimple-cheeked thing that immediately got my attention. The second I saw him step out of the family van, I knew I wanted to be his friend.”
The Asian woman leaned into him slightly. “You always fell fast,” she murmured.
“Yeah,” he muttered, head involuntarily dipping towards hers before he caught himself. “It was the same thing with you - the second I saw you drop that two-hundred-pound guy on his ass in combat class, I knew.” Knew he’d want to spend the rest of his life in the woman’s company, he didn’t say.
They were silent for a while, just soaking in the calm atmosphere that had settled over them in the warm, jasmine-scented air of May’s bunk. Phil liked moments like these, where they could just be together without any of the outside world’s bullshit intruding. He felt content, sitting here atop May’s deep red blanket, his best friend curled up against his side.
“That day,” he continued his story, staring unseeingly into the darkness of the room, “I asked my mom about what you should do to let someone know they were special. I don’t remember the exact way I worded it, but I know she had got the impression that I was crushing on a girl.” He chuckled. “She told me that a hug is a good way to show someone you care,” he recounted, squeezing Melinda to himself, “or a small gift like a chocolate or a flower.”
May huffed softly, clearly unimpressed.
“Yeah, I know it’s a bit cliché but my mom was a romantic soul,” he told her wistfully. “I guess I take after her in that regard.”
“What did you do?” Melinda asked, voice deep but interested. Phil felt his smile grow; she was finally relaxing.
“I gave him half of my Hershey’s chocolate bar,” he disclosed and gave his friend the stink eye when she made a face at him. “Hey,” he complained, “it was the seventies - half a chocolate bar was a big commitment back then.”
She shifted, stretching her legs and causing the blankets to rustle, before lowering her head to his shoulder. Phil squeezed her again, pressing a warm kiss against her scalp and smelling her hair. “Hmm,” he hmmed in contentment. “New shampoo?”
The Chinese woman stayed silent, not bothering to answer.
Phil picked up where he’d left off. “You’d be glad to know that my gesture wasn’t appreciated,” he told her, a little sulkily. “It turned out he was lactose intolerant.”
May slid a hand onto his thigh, the gesture seemingly unconscious, but Phil knew better - Melinda May never did anything without intent. “So am I,” she commented offhandedly.
“Yeah, I know,” he acknowledged, trying not to tense up his muscles under her hand.
“What happened then?” May asked, voice sleepy.
Coulson breathed in the scent of her hair again, before answering, “I was devastated Cody didn’t want my gift - I don’t think I fully comprehended what it meant to be lactose intolerant - so I started crying.”
“Of course you did,” she snarked, not completely unkindly.
“I was heartbroken!” he objected, nudging Melinda’s foot with his shin. “Besides, it worked - Cody felt so sorry for me that he went to comfort me, giving me a hug.” Coulson then grinned, continuing, “I, of course, took advantage and begged him to become my best friend.”
Nails scratching lightly at his thigh, May grumbled softly, “You basically used the same technique on me.”
“Did not.”
“You whined about your arm hurting and didn’t stop until I promised to go to the mess with you,” she reminded him.
“Yeah, well, you did twist it pretty hard,” he said, sliding the hand he had on Melinda’s shoulder down her arm all the way to where he could intertwine their fingers. “Anyway, that’s the whole story.”
His friend twisted to look up at him, her face dangerously close to his. “How was that a date?” she asked, whispering. Phil could feel her breath on his cheek and was immediately distracted. Her eyes were a glittering black, her full lips parted as she watched him.
“Uh, what?” he stuttered, eyes shifting over her face as he took in every single detail.
“You said you asked your neighbour out for a date,” she reminded him quietly.
He cleared his throat, trying not to stare at the lips that were tempting him. “Well, once he agreed to be my best friend, we decided to play house,” he explained, too distracted to even feel embarrassed at the admission. “We kissed in the middle of the sandpit.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Cute,” she deadpanned.
He was a little startled at how her face went carefully blank. “What’s wrong?” he inquired in a whisper.
She shook her head. “Nothing, I’m fine.”
Not wanting to push her, he just narrowed his eyes at her, trying to figure out the problem for himself. His first thought was that she was sad he hadn’t kissed her the day they met, but he quickly dismissed the ridiculous idea - May was nothing if not straightforward and, had she wanted to kiss him back then, she would’ve just done it. He certainly wouldn’t have complained.
His next thought was a lot darker - had he somehow reminded her of what had happened in that bunker? Maybe he shouldn’t have mentioned playing house, or the sandpit. Or talked about kids at all - that had been kind of stupid now that he thought about it.
He sighed. Sometimes it seemed like it was one step forward and two steps back with her. In the couple of weeks since that dreaded mission, they had hesitantly gotten closer - exchanging platonic kisses and sleeping next to each other any time May had a nightmare. They hadn’t really spoken about what it was that was happening between them, but Phil wasn’t in any rush. He thought she was slowly getting better under his careful ministrations, and he refused to endanger her recovery with his unruly feelings.
Sliding lower on her bed, he squeezed the hand that was still entangled with his. “Do you think you can go back to sleep?” he asked her as he tugged her over to lie next to him.
She settled on her back, her head lolling as she gazed at him. The look she gave him was one of those ‘is water wet?’ sort of looks she often gave him during missions when he asked if she could handle something.
“Okay,” he said with an amused chuckle, shifting closer.
She mirrored his movement, bringing their faces intimately close together again. He smiled, before closing the distance and pecking her lips. “Good night,” he whispered.
She hmmed, smiling lightly and closing her eyes.
They slept.
The next morning found May bright and early in the cargo hold, a fresh coat of concealer hiding the dark circles under her eyes, doing her daily Tai-Chi routine. She was breathing rhythmically through waving clouds , when the sound of trainers walking down the stairs alerted her to an approaching Skye.
The girl seemed hesitant as she sat down on the last step, looking at the specialist anxiously. “You, uh, okay?” she asked.
May ignored her.
“Right,” Skye said bitterly when it became clear no answer was forthcoming. “Of course you are.”
The hacker stayed quiet for a long while afterwards, allowing May to work her way through the next five moves in peace. Then, when she fluidly transferred her weight to begin the snake creeping through the grass , Skye spoke up again, “Do you even care at all?”
Tensing almost imperceptibly, May slowly moved her arm in the appropriate manner, once again ignoring the girl.
“I don’t understand you!” Skye cried out, working herself up. “You killed a baby and you stand there like a statue!”
Melinda gritted her teeth, wishing the bothersome girl would just leave her alone. She hadn’t gotten much sleep and she was in no mood for interrogation, so walking away would really be in Skye’s best interest.
That looked to be less and less likely, though, as the hacker seemed to be on a roll. “Do you even feel anything?” she questioned, standing up. “I mean, did you feel the least bit bad about it as you put a gun to his head?”
May could feel the overwhelming anger bubbling up inside of her, and she struggled to control it, closing her eyes and breathing deeply through her routine. The waves of uncomfortable emotions were crashing at her mental shields, demanding to be let out in a forceful display of a natural disaster calibre.
Not seeing the storm brewing underneath the calm surface, Skye snorted. “I thought not,” she scoffed, an ugly sneer on her face. “You’d have to have a heart first in order to-”
The hacker’s tirade was cut off by May’s arm across her throat as the pissed-off specialist pressed her against the laboratory glass wall. “You think I don’t feel anything?” Melinda snarled through gritted teeth, eyes boring into the girl’s frightened face, her control gone.
“I-” Skye gasped, the pressure against her windpipe restricting her air. “May,” she got out weakly.
The Chinese specialist tried to focus her anger back inwards, easing off a little with her arm, so the younger woman could breathe. “Get out,” she grunted, before stepping away completely.
The girl took a deep breath, staring at her with wide eyes as she clutched at her neck. “You hurt me,” she whispered in disbelief. “You actually- Is that really all you do? Hurt defenceless people?”
May clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms. “I’m warning you, Skye.”
“Or what?” the girl shouted, some of her fight returning with vengeance. “What are you gonna do? Shoot me in the head? Because that’s what the Cavalry does now, right? Kills kids.”
The pressure in Melinda’s chest was almost unbearable, the young woman’s words cutting into her like a knife. She breathed deeply, letting the air out of her nose. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d lost control like this. Couldn’t remember the last time she felt this dangerous.
Closing her eyes, she inhaled again, trying to bring her heartbeat back down. She pictured a serene scene with a small pond of water surrounded by tall bamboo trees softly swaying in the breeze. It took her a long minute to finally manage to force the bubbling feeling of anger into submission, shoving it deep inside of herself where it belonged. The bamboo trees rustled softly. A broken sound abruptly brought her out of her meditation, causing her eyes to shoot open.
Skye was crying, arms wrapped around her own torso as she curled in on herself. Melinda stared. She’d done this to her, she thought to herself. She’d caused the young girl to feel like this - hurt and frightened.
“I’m scared,” the girl sobbed, tears rolling down her pink cheeks.
“Skye,” May whispered, taking a step closer to her, halting when the hacker tensed up.
“I don’t want to be scared of you, May,” the girl pleaded, choked up. “I- I thought you-” A heartbroken wail escaped Skye’s throat. “You’re like the closest thing to a mom I’ve ever known and you- you…”
May selfishly wanted the younger woman to stop talking. To stop twisting the metaphorical knife in her heart and just leave her alone, so she could retreat back into her cold and impassive shell and pretend she didn’t care.
“You hurt me,” Skye repeated, this time sounding more sad than shocked. “I didn’t think you’d-” Another sob and then a whisper, “You scared me.”
Melinda tried to get the necessary words of apology out, but she found herself unable to speak. She felt horrified at her loss of control. The specialist knew she was dangerous at the best of times, but angry and unchecked like this?
Skye slid down the glass wall behind her, crumbling as tears kept escaping her brown eyes. She looked so small and innocent at that moment that Melinda felt all of her instincts calling for her to go and hug her. She couldn’t do that - even if she somehow found the courage - because Skye was afraid of her.
“Skye,” she managed instead, pitching her voice low and soft. May wasn’t completely sure what she was trying to say but then again, she was never really one for talking. Holding her hands up in a universal gesture of surrender, she hesitantly moved closer.
“Moms are not supposed to do that,” the girl muttered into her arms, the words barely distinguishable.
“Skye,” Melinda repeated as it seemed the girl’s name was the only word she was capable of saying.
“You are supposed to protect me,” Skye continued to mumble, hiccoughing in between words. “Not scare me and sleep with the guy I like and then… then hurt me like that and…” the girl abruptly stopped speaking as if just realising she had been rambling.
Melinda felt like the monster Skye had accused her of being all those months ago in Antarctica. She opened her mouth to apologise only to find that, once again, the words stuck in her throat. God, she was a coward.
There was a moment of quiet, interrupted only by the occasional hiccoughing intake of breath coming from Skye, before the young woman lifted her head and looked up at May. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, surprising the Chinese specialist. “I just really miss our talks. ‘S all.”
Well, that was just ridiculous. “We don’t talk,” May contested, finally finding her words.
Skye rolled her eyes - and in that moment, she looked so much like the cheerful and bratty girl May was used to seeing that the whole ugly argument suddenly seemed like it had been just a bad dream. “Yeah, okay,” the girl acknowledged with a watery smile. “I talk and you just look at me. But I know you listen.”
“I do,” Melinda admitted softly, before finally getting out, “I’m sorry, Skye. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Her apology clearly surprised the hacker, the girl’s mouth falling open in shock. “Oh, it’s okay. I shouldn’t have provoked you.” There was a long pause during which Skye seemed to be gathering courage to say something. Then, shaking her head, she appeared to dismiss whatever it was and instead said, “I don’t really think you’re a monster who kills children, you know? I get why you had to do what you did.”
Melinda nodded, not daring to say anything else.
Exhausted from their emotional chat, the two women went silent, content to just stay in each other’s company without any other words being exchanged. Melinda breathed rhythmically, slowly letting go of the remaining pressure in her chest. Interesting how a sincerely-meant apology could leave you feeling lighter than an hour of driving your fists into a punching bag.
The sound of footsteps atop the metal staircase brought May out of her reverie, alerting her to someone’s approach. The tread was heavy and slightly irregular - the result of an old knife wound - which meant Phil. Coulson made his way down the stairs, a smile on his face, completely oblivious to what had happened in the cargo hold mere minutes before.
He shook a red and yellow packet at Melinda, raising his eyebrows suggestively. “Prawn crackers?” he asked.
Skye jumped up, her eyes red but otherwise showing no other signs of distress. “I’ll have some,” she said, snatching the bag out of Phil’s hand and opening it. “I missed this stuff,” she then mumbled around a mouthful of crumbs. “We’d sometimes get a couple bags at the orphanage - that was awesome.”
Coulson smiled. “Well, at least someone appreciates it,” he joked, glaring teasingly at May. When she didn’t react, he frowned. “What’s wrong?”
She shook her head. “Nothing, I’m fine. I should go take a shower.”
Phil stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Ward’s in there,” he told her. “So, unless you want to join him…” he trailed off suggestively.
May threw him a murderous look. “I don’t,” she deadpanned.
Phil grinned. “Good. Now, I’m gonna go and make us some pancakes for breakfast. You want chocolate chip or blueberry?”
“Chocolate chip!” Skye piped up, mouth once again full of crackers.
Coulson nodded in acknowledgment. “Chocolate chip it is,” he said. Then stepping closer to Melinda, he asked quietly, “You sure you’re okay? You look weird.”
The specialist lifted one corner of her mouth slightly. “I’m fine,” she assured him. “I promise.”
“Okay,” he said hesitantly, sizing her up. Deciding she seemed well enough, he then informed her, “I’ll go and start the batter; you two make sure not to miss breakfast.”
“Sure thing, AC,” Skye chirped and Melinda couldn’t help but admire the girl. She seemed to have completely pulled herself together after their argument, the only sign anything at all had happened was the redness of her eyes. On the other hand, May was still feeling off-kilter.
The girl cleared her throat, glancing at the Chinese specialist. “You, uh, gonna finish your Tai-Chi? Because if you want to, I could keep you company?” she offered hesitantly.
May forced the words out, almost wincing at the effort it took. “I’d like that.”
Skye grinned, reminding Melinda of a young and cheeky Coulson from their Academy days. He had also always been able to bounce back quickly, smile ready on his face. “Great, I’ll just sit and watch then,” the hacker said, popping a chip in her mouth.
Melinda narrowed her eyes at the girl. “Don’t eat the whole thing at once,” she warned her. “You should leave some space for breakfast.”
Skye’s eyes glittered, her lip trembling slightly. “Sure thing, mom,” she whispered, grinning happily.