I own nothing. Just borrowing for fun and amusement.

He's not her type. At all.

He's got this air about him that screams entitled and he's a little too smooth, too charming, but it's the thing in his eyes that freezes her, makes it so she can't look away. He's smiling, but it doesn't put even a small glimmer into the blue irises that flash her way once and then, seeing her, come back again.

She smiles almost against her will, because he's not her type. But she's alone in Macau for another three days while Rae finishes celebrating graduation with the hot Aussie rugby player in Kyoto, and she can't stop thinking about what it is that makes his smile incomplete.

So when he walks over and sits down without an invitation, she bites back the comment that wants to come out of her mouth and instead just stares straight ahead into the mirrors behind the bar. And he doesn't come at her with a line or lean in too close, which tells her he's older than her, though she can't really tell how much. Already done with college maybe? At 18, she's enjoying a world tour, and she's used to boys who paw at her or say really stupid things, but this man radiates maturity and composure, and she likes that about him.

"First time in Macau?"

So British, maybe? That's the accent she guesses. She should get used to that. Oxford is waiting for her in the fall.

"First time. You?"

She lets her gaze slide toward him as she speaks, and he turns to look at her, his eyes tracing the bubbles in her champagne.

"First time. Here for business."

"The business of?"

He chuckles then and shakes his head. For a second she thinks he's about to decide she's too young, too not his type, but instead he rests an elbow against the bar and lets himself lean into it comfortably, the tips of his fingers against his temple.

"I'm a magician."

The look on her face must express her curiosity... and her doubt... because he sets down his glass of... vodka, she thinks, and slides his palm against the bar top. Everywhere his skin touches, a swirl of color follows, disappearing into a cloud of wonder right in front of her eyes.

"How did you do that?" She asks reflexively, but then she catches herself. "Sorry. Never reveal your tricks, right? Still, that was impressive."

"My mother taught me."

The admission brings some light to his eyes, and she knows that whatever else dims that intensity, the thought of his mother sparks it anew. It touches her, and she wonders if he's always this exposed, if the broken pieces inside of him are always so visible, or is this just a night where he's too worn down to try to hide it.

"So you know mine. And you're here because?"

She laughs and sips at her champagne. "Guilt, really. My parents and my best friend's parents, they sent us on a world tour for our graduation gift. I call it a 'thanks for not turning into delinquents and burning down the house' reward. They all travel a lot, so it's just the two of us most of the time."

She lets that line of conversation drift off. Her parents' work is not the kind of thing you can talk about, and she's drinking, so she has to be careful not to mention anything she shouldn't.

"Have you taken a moonlit walk through Senado Square yet?" he asks, his drink forgotten as he finally moves a little closer. But she doesn't mind. He may not be her type, but he's intriguing, and she's alone in a strange city, and intriguing feels nice.

She also knows four forms of martial arts. So if he turns out to be a nut, she feels confident in her ability to defend herself.

They leave the bar and walk the square, and she doesn't need to show him any of her favorite self-defense moves because he's... lovely. She's not sure how else she'd describe him. He seems lighter outside under the stunning moon and in her company, and though she has a half-hour in a bar as a mark of comparison, the newfound ease in his shoulders makes her heart flutter. Not as much as when he takes her hand, but almost.

He has a suite in the one hotel in the city nicer than hers and she goes back with him because something in her just tells her it's right. She's safe with him and his laughter makes her head spin and this is what life can be when a girl is 18 and traveling the world and finding out who she is.

Everyone thinks they know the answer to that already... to who she is. Oxford was her one rebellion, but it felt a little like her parents were just happy she didn't pick Stanford because if it wasn't going to be an Ivy League, it damn well better have been Oxford. Her mother fully expects her daughter to follow in her footsteps, working in secret, doing things to keep the world safe that mean your life is mostly a lot of rushing off and saying good-bye and leaving people hoping you make it home.

She's not sure she can live that life, but she isn't sure she can walk away, either.

So she decides to let the warmth of the air and the feel of his fingers tracing the skin of her forearm and the rightness of how they fit together as they dance barefoot in his hotel room be her choice. She chooses this for now, for this moment, and it will be hers, a thing no one can ever take away.

He's gentle and tender and later, when she's lying in his arms, her eyes fighting to stay open against the lull of his heartbeat, he tells her that she's the first woman who's ever made him feel like she wanted him and not the idea of who he's supposed to be. She feels tears sting at her eyes, but she holds them back, instead turning her head just enough to kiss his chest where the strong "thump, thump" lies beneath. The small act of love makes her feel more womanly than the one of making love to him.

They have three days. Three days that are the richest, most romantic time she can ever imagine having in her life, though at 18, she knows that's a bold statement. Who knows what is heading her way, who is for that matter? But this... this little window will be a series of treasured snapshots in her memory, and she's grateful for it even as it happens.

When they say good-bye, it's sad, not because they think it can be any other way... he has to get home and Rae has finally caught up with her, and they have a flight to St. Petersburg tomorrow. She makes him promise to try to let the light in his eyes shine brighter, and he makes her promise to live the life she wants, not one handed to her. She can still feel his lips against hers as he climbs into the taxi, his eyes fixed to hers until finally the car pulls away.

She tells Rae most of the story when her friend gets settled in their suite, and the other young woman is pained she missed meeting the English Romeo, but not so much so that it keeps her from launching into a story about her rugby player.

The more precious parts of those days, Melinda keeps those to herself. And she can imagine a time in the future when she's struggling, trying to decide what path to take and she'll remember his voice in her ear and it will help her find the strength to listen to her own desires above all else.

"You're exquisite, Melinda. You will be amazing. Just be who you are and never be afraid of the power it gives you."

She smiles thinking of it, of the response she spoke back to him.

"And you are beautiful, Luke. I know you don't believe me, but you are. In the places that matter, you're perfect."

She hopes he believed her.

Fury wants to be anywhere but where he is. He wants to be fighting a war or arguing with Pierce. Hell, what he really wants is to be drunk, because this...

This is the part of his job he hates.

He loves her. Melinda May is one of the ones who got inside him, crawled in like the scared little girl she still was in some ways and made him care.

He'd almost missed her, but the necessary deferral of her Oxford admission had given his scouting reports time to catch up with him. She was off the charts when it came to test rankings and fighting skills, and between her and the other recruit he'd brought in, Phil Coulson, Fury knew he had found the building blocks for S.H.I.E.L.D.'s future.

But no one had planned on what the doctors saw when they ran "a few tests" on Melinda and her unborn child.

They weren't sure who the baby's father was. They did know he was not human, that the energy readings created by the fetal bioprocesses were similar... too similar... to that damn cube Howard Stark had pulled out of the ocean.

It was too great a responsibility to leave a child like that in the hands of someone barely out of childhood herself, even if she was destined to be one of the legends of S.H.I.E.L.D. Fury could feel that in his bones when it came to Melinda.

So instead of anywhere else, he was here, watching doctors wrap the tiny newborn girl in a blanket and rush her away to the hiding place they'd chosen, a small village in China where hopefully no one would notice one extra baby girl.

"Sir, we're ready to run the memory protocols."

Fury sighed and shook his head. This was for the best. May would become the force he knew she was meant to be without anything to hold her back, and the child would be safe until they could figure out who her father was and what her powers might be.

"Tell me again what the story will be?"

"Car accident. That will allow for her to submit to her recovery without questioning what happened to her. It resulted in an emergency c-section, and the child didn't survive."

Fury nodded, and then added one last note.

"Remember to replace the weeks in Macau and Russia with the approved narratives."

He felt a tug of regret as he recalled the way Melinda had talked about her plans for her child, that her parents would raise the girl until Melinda was able to do it herself after her training. There was already love there, and now...

"Begin," he said, and the doctor went to work.

He hated this part of his job. But he told himself they were just memories. If it meant Melinda and her daughter would lead safer lives, it seemed a small price to pay.