So mostly I'm just really, really dying to know what in the world made May decide to trust Lincoln in the finale. And also I'm kind of a sap, and I kind of love the notion that maybe it's May who talks Coulson into keeping the new kid around, despite his dark and mysterious past (can we find out what that is, already, btw, it's driving me nuts)... anyways, I'll stop talking and let you folks get to reading.

Usual disclaimers, yada yada. Enjoy!

Melinda and Andrew had been the unwilling parents of a golden retriever puppy for two weeks once. They'd returned home from their honeymoon to find the thing curled up on their front porch, trying in vain to keep out of a thunderous rainstorm that had swept through the neighborhood. They never had figured out where he'd come from, or who had abandoned him there. She would never know, she supposed, why his previous owners had chosen that street, their house. It was a pathetic thing, half-starved and shaking with fear, uncertainty and desperation. More than that, there was this strange, haunted look in the creature's eyes; like it was waiting for her to kick it when it was down, because that was all it had ever known. She had wanted to take it right to the animal shelter, of course, but Andrew was a sucker for big brown eyes; so they'd coaxed it into the garage, getting completely soaked in the process themselves, and waited for it to calm down enough that they might dry it off. Then Andrew went out and bought dog food, and once it was dry and fed and reasonably sure they weren't going to beat it with sticks, it curled up next to her husband, head in his lap and fell asleep. It took three days for the dog to worm his way into the house. Another two before he was sleeping on the end of their bed. Andrew played fetch with him in the backyard and suggested they find a name for him, because it would be easier to find a home for him if the dog had a name. Melinda complained of the fleas the creature might theoretically bring into the house, and by the next day, Fleas was what they were calling him.

At the end of the second week, a little girl from down the street fell in love with Fleas, and her family agreed to adopt him when they learned that Andrew and Melinda intended to take him to the shelter if they couldn't find a good home. They were newlyweds, after all, and working professionals, and they didn't have time to take care of a puppy, but she would be lying if she said it hadn't broken her heart just a little bit to see him go.

The story of Fleas the golden retriever should not have been the first thing that her mind conjured when Lincoln Campbell rounded the corner. She had just finished taking out one of his friends, who had been trying to kill her, and he was probably there to do the same. But she couldn't help where her mind went; and though she drew her gun and trained it on him, and maybe she should have, she didn't shoot him on sight.

"Please don't shoot me," he said politely, his hands raised in a gesture of surrender. Of course, for all she knew he could have electrocuted her from that distance easily, so she didn't lower her gun or even take her finger from the trigger.

"You're Skye's friend," May pointed out, something accusing in her tone. Because Skye had chosen these people over her, over Phil, over her… what? They weren't her family, not really. She wasn't Skye's mother. But maybe they were, and maybe she was, in a way that even Jiaying couldn't touch. She didn't know. She didn't know what to think anymore.

"Yes, I'm Skye's friend," he nodded, "And me and Skye, we need a favor."

"A favor? From me," she barked out a caustic laugh and almost told him to go to hell then and there. But Skye was the only explanation for the message coded into the distress call, which meant she was back on their side. That didn't mean this kid had turned coat with her. If anything, it would have been the perfect trap. Her eyes narrowed, and her finger tightened on the trigger, but he started talking again, and the desperation in his voice felt real.

"Look, I know this is a lot to ask, but everyone's lives depend on it. So please, Agent May, can you please just believe me for the next five minutes?"

She listened to him. She couldn't have explained why, exactly, but she did, and then she lowered her gun and followed him as he directed her back towards the control complex, where he thought Jiayang and the others might still be.

And as it often had in the past, her gut instinct saved them all.

Afterwards, after they'd evacuated Phil and Skye and the others who suffered the worst injuries back to the base for treatment, after she'd gone with Lincoln while he rounded up the rest of his people and explained the situation, after they'd all been apprehended and flown back, and she was sitting in Coulson's office trying to figure out how the hell to do his job, and what they were supposed to do now that the 'committee' was down to her and Weaver… after all of that, Andrew arrived, right in the middle of all the madness. And he'd sat there with her while she told him everything that had happened. He listened quietly while she confessed how betrayed she'd felt by Skye's sudden abandonment; that she really had come to think of her as the daughter she'd never have.

She got to the part when Lincoln rounded the corner and she hadn't fired on him, even though she probably should have. He looked at her curiously.

"Why didn't you? You would have been in the right. You didn't know that he and Skye had switched sides. You didn't know he wasn't there to do the same to you," he rationalized it matter-of-factly, as if there was a rationale for why she'd been unwilling to pull the trigger. She looked up at him, and suddenly a wan smile played across her face.

"Honestly? He kind of reminds me of Fleas."

It took him a moment. She rolled her eyes, "Of course you don't remember. You went on and on about how we should maybe think about getting a dog for almost a year after that, and you don't even remember Fleas."

"Wait," he blinked at her, "You didn't shoot the kid who might have been coming to kill you because he reminded you of the stray dog we found on our porch after our honeymoon?"

"You're the psychologist, not me," she shrugged, "I just answered your question. You're the one who has to figure out the answer."

"We both already know the answer," he said quietly, shaking his head and laughing under his breath, "You and Phil really are two peas in a pod."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded.

"Hey, don't let me talk you out of it," he stood up, smiling, "Skye turned out all right, all things considered."

"We weren't talking about Skye-"

"No," he turned and looked at her with raised eyebrows and a knowing smirk, "We were talking about how you and Phil are both suckers for strays."

She blinked at him, trying to think of something to say to that, even as he chuckled a little and went on, "You said he'd been here before, so I assume he's been Indexed? Because I can start psych screenings if I get the word from you. As Acting Director and all."

She stared at him for nearly fifteen seconds before she could find her voice again, and the protests and denials she had been preparing in those fifteen seconds died on her tongue as she promptly realized all at once that her mind had already been made up. There was a mountain to climb before he ever got near a badge, assuming he would even want to walk that path. Assuming Phil could be convinced. Assuming Weaver didn't throw up a stink about it, or that Mac didn't lodge a violent protest of his own. Assuming the world didn't implode again before it ever got past the idea stage.

It was a lot to assume, especially concerning someone whose real name she probably didn't even know. But no matter the demons in his past, he struck her as a good kid who had been drawn down a bad path, and May thought he deserved a chance to rectify all of that.

So she let the corner of her mouth quirk in the first smile she'd been able to manage since all of this started, and she felt herself nodding slightly. Andrew returned her smile.

"Andrew?" she called out suddenly as he was halfway out into the hallway. He cocked his head at her quizzically, "You know, I really wish we'd kept Fleas."

Thoughts are nice, if you have any to share. Thanks for reading!