The Lonesome Road Not Taken

'This is my first AoS fic so please be kind to me haha ;) just a little insight into what could've happened after May showed up in Coulson's room and the aftermath of her return. Also I was annoyed they didn't let us see the teams reaction to her presence. It sucked. Melinda May is totally taken for granted on this show and it needs to stop. Immediately.

She is my ultimate favourite so this story is quite Melinda centric but its awesome so I'm happy :D haha. I hope you all enjoy and please review at the end cause they make me so very happy and I need the reassurance that I don't suck lol! Fingers crossed the characterisation is on point or I'll cry.'

Important Message: Please don't use this story as a way of sending abuse and hate to me in regards to my other stories on the go that I've neglected as of late. I'm trying my very best to find my muse and recapture that pesky inspiration we all desperately require. Please be patient. I'm only human.

52 minutes. Neither one of them had uttered a single mono-syllabic word in 52 minutes. 52 minutes, 16 seconds.

She had given him time to process—she'd certainly required some—but now concern was beginning to grow.

This wasn't just shock. He wasn't simply numb or oblivious to his surroundings. She feared he was shutting down, closing himself off to everyone and everything that mattered. That could ground him.

It wasn't healthy, this she knew from painful personal experience. The pain, trauma, grief, the anger it all demanded to be felt and denying such emotions was dangerously self-destructive.

It was a dark and lonely path to venture down and Phil, he wasn't built for such a lonesome road.

"Huh."

May frowns at his response, having expected more but remains silent a little longer. He's in shock, requires time to process this new information and longer still to digest it.

So she stands still and she waits with hands clasped behind her back. She waits.

The seconds tick by; they turn into minutes and those minutes stretch on. She continues to wait patiently. But he just sits there and stares. Sitting and staring and saying...nothing.

He isn't reacting at all and it's wrong. She's just handed him solid and undeniable proof of yet another hard truth.

An impossible truth.

His already shattered world is crumbling beneath him once again and he just sits there staring.

It scares her. Melinda May does not scare easily.

"Phil?" She calls to him, quiet and tense.

He blinks at the soft sound, fingers flexing in his lap. He doesn't speak.

She moves closer without sound. "Phil."

Now there's the barest trace of fear in her voice; her pitch is higher, lacking control and it rouses him.

Coulson turns to her slowly and meets her worrisome, searching gaze. May slides into the closest chair by his side.

"Talk to me." Melinda demands breathlessly, her smouldering dark eyes silently pleading with him to comply, and just so he knows of her desperation she voices it, "Please?"

Coulson leans away and tilts his head at her. His mind is racing, buzzing and full with information. But his body is empty, absent from him and he feels both weightless and weighed down simultaneously.

He has just received the latest answer to his seemingly endless list of questions. Another piece of the puzzle revealed to him and yet he feels...nothing.

No anger, no horror, no disgust or guilt. There's nothing there. He's empty and cold, completely detached from the situation and it's frightening.

He should be all of those things but he's not.

He's drifting. Conflicted. Confused.

Phil Coulson has never felt so unlike himself than he does now.

The only truth he can see, the only thing he does know without any questionable doubt...Melinda May came back. She's come back to them, despite holding every reason not to, and she returned willingly.

She's here. With him. For him.

And it's a damn good thing too because he needs her. He just...needs her.

"Phil, please..." Melinda reaches for him, her hand creeping toward his until it stops. She hesitates, hand hovering in mid-air before clamping down around his wrist.

She squeezes it, hard and dips her head to catch his eye: they're glassy and glazed with unfocused thoughts.

May tightens her hold in an attempt to bring him back to her, "...you're scaring me." the admission passes her lips in a quiet, unsure whisper.

Coulson immediately squeezes back even more tightly and his deep, soul-seeing eyes lock onto her.

She blinks, thrown not by the intensity of the emotion swirling inside of him, but because they're all for her.

"Phil—"

"You came back." Phil whispers to her thickly, both of his hands encasing hers atop the table, "You...thank you."

He'd proceeded to view the recording three additional times before briefly exploding with anger. Fortunately for them the only object damaged in his outburst was a chair.

May smiled small at the memory, even in a fit of rage Phil Coulson was too sensibly responsible to allow himself to damage valuable equipment.

But afterwards he'd reverted back to his current state, and remained that way.

He wasn't talking to her. If he didn't talk, she couldn't help and that was all she wanted to do. She just wanted to help him. Like he had helped her.

May shifted in her chair and cocked her head, observing him carefully for a moment before she swiftly rose, closed the laptop with a snap and snatched it up.

"What are you doing?"

"Putting the laptop away." Melinda retorted dryly.

There was no conviction in his tone, nor malice or curiosity. No interest. His voice was a monotonous drone.

He didn't give a damn what she was doing or why she was doing it, he was simply making conversation.

It infuriated her but May kept moving, abandoning the laptop on the dresser she'd initially rested against upon his arrival. Then she turned back to her friend and with renewed determination commanded, "Talk to me, Phil."

Coulson blew out a long and loaded sigh, scrubbing both hands over weary features. He shook his head slowly and leaned back in the chair, "I…don't know what to say." Phil confessed with slumping shoulders.

May's frown returned with a blink at his words and she slowly began making her way back to the table, "That's odd. Normally you have too much to say." Melinda sassed evenly, easing herself back into her vacated chair.

She crossed her legs and tilted her head again, hair falling over her left shoulder, "Or is that only in situations where you aren't at the centre of."

He managed to smirk quite easily: her dry and sarcastic humor—although at his expense—never failed to have a positive effect on him. Perhaps it was the rarity of it now that ensured such reactions. Whichever it was, he was grateful.

Coulson met her searching gaze with heavy-lidded orbs, lips twisted up in deep thought.

May thought he looked old in that moment, so very, very old. Far beyond his years.

The feeling in his chest…his emotions were on a violent tailspin within him. Raging and burning like wildfire. He couldn't catch them, couldn't reign them in enough to make tangible sense of each one individually.

It was a mess. He was a mess and expressing the severity of his internal destruction was proving to be incredibly difficult.

But her eyes, they shone with stubborn determination. His dear friend was not giving up on this particular battle any time soon and there was no way to beat Melinda May in a war of wills. He'd tried to before. He failed.

It was far less painful and potentially dangerous to oneself to surrender the fight. Give her whatever it was she sought after and make her happy. In his case: words. Words with weight and meaning and truth.

She was attempting to save him from himself . Curious thing was, Phil Coulson hadn't been aware he as even drowning.

"I know what you're doing, Melinda." Phil announced to her suddenly smug and crossing his arms over his chest.

May arched her brows in response but refrained from speaking, waiting once again for him to elaborate.

And he did.

"It's not going to work."

She merely tilted her head to the right and crossed her own arms in a show of challenging disagreement.

Coulson's defiant stare wavered under the weight of her resilience and he squirmed.

May noticed this, of course, and openly smirked in triumph at the effect she was having on him. Relaxing back into the chair, she arched one lone, expectant brow and waited for her silence to take hold.

He narrowed his eyes to accusing points, "I don't need saving." Phil insisted firmly, "I'm fine. You don't…don't worry about me."

May's smirk vanished and she scowled at the thought, "Impossible. You're my friend, Phil."

His smile at her words was soft and warm, "Yes, you are. Which is why I'd tell you if there was something wrong."

Her dark eyes instantly filled with doubt and her entire frame seemed to sag, buckling under an invisible burden. Head hanging low, May peered up at him through thick and heavy lashes.

"Would you?" Melinda questioned hesitantly, arms held stiff across her chest, "Because I'm honestly not so sure anymore."

Coulson released a weary, saddened sigh and his arms fell away from his chest as he pushed forwards.

"Melinda…" Phil began, voice low in his throat and elbows resting on his knees, hands tightly clasped together.

He seemed uncertain himself; of how to continue or what to say, how to say it was unclear. Maybe it was all of the above.

They didn't quite know how to talk to one another anymore and it pained both persons involved.

May realized, with bitter familiarity, that their current circumstance was not unlike the one they'd found themselves in, in the aftermath of Bahrain.

She'd hated it then and she hated it now.

May had lost…so very much because of that day. People she had cared deeply for, loved fiercely and worst of all, so much of herself as well.

Everything had changed after that day and it almost killed her. She couldn't take that again.

"What happened between you and Fury, I can't pretend to know or understand…" Phil's words trailed away from him once again but this time, it was not from lack of words to say, it was because of her.

The anguish contorting her face, the guilt and grief twisting her features. That old torment haunting her pained eyes had him abandoning his thoughts to reach for her instead.

Coulson pried her hands free and held them securely in his own, squeezing, anchoring, grounding her to him and the now. His touch kept her focused and in the moment.

May, upon startling at his initial touch, furiously blinked the ghosts from her eyes and swallowed hard.

"I'm here." She promised him hoarsely, "I'm…here."

He was silent and still a moment longer just watching and reading her before he nodded once and continued.

"I know you did what you felt was necessary, Melinda and you did it all because you care." Phil assured her kindly, his bright orbs swirling with a thousand conflicting emotions, "I appreciate that, I do…I just, don't agree with the methods."

May snorted weakly, "Neither do I." she commented with a bitter smile.

The two partners gazed at one another for the longest time after that. Thinking quietly, conversing silently.

Sometimes words were not necessary between them, but sometimes they were.

"I'm sorry, Phil." Melinda apologized thickly, her voice coated and dripping with sorrowful regret, "I never intended to hurt you." her eyes glistened with moisture.

"I know." Phil answered her with a voice just as thick and eyes just as full, "And I'll forgive you, for everything I will but…I just need some time."

May's vision blurred askew with salty tears that she stubbornly blinked gone before giving him a sharp nod, accompanied by an understanding yet weak smile, "Of course." She sniffled, clearing her throat and drawing her hands back to her lap, "Um…what about the uh, the video? T.A.H.I.T.I."

Coulson internally winced at the loss of contact but pushed through the hurt their strained and fractured relationship caused him, in order to formulate a response. But she was moving away from him and it was hard.

"I can't deal with that right now."

"Phil."

He heard the disapproval in her tone and knew, without looking that her eyes would say it all. She'd be sending 'that look' his way.

Inhaling deeply, Coulson spun in his chair to find her and, yeah there it was: 'the look'.

Her hands were on her hips and there was fire in her eyes. She was angry or, at the very least, on her way there.

He tried to ignore the sharp pang slicing through his chest at the noticeable and considerable distance she'd placed between them. Strategically he'd bet.

The woman was always running.

"I'm not avoiding, if that's what you're thinking." Phil confidently declared.

May arched both brows skeptically.

"Which you are." He added with a tilt of his head.

"Phil."

"I'm not."

She scoffed, "Right."

"Really, I'm not."

"Of course you aren't."

"Melinda." Phil glared at her in frustration, "I am not avoiding this development I'm…simply hitting pause."

She pursed her lips with a frown, "Pause."

"Yes." Phil confirmed with a sharp nod, as if only then deciding himself, "Pause."

May barely suppressed the urge to roll her eyes at his obvious bullshit, her hands tightening on her hips as she stared back at him, unblinking.

He smiled, all charming and calm.

She did roll her eyes then, and began to pace.

Coulson watched her from the table where he still sat. She was up by the bed, in the slim space between it and the dresser.

Her brow was creased in conflicted thought, pinching her face in an endearing way and she did not look happy at all.

"Temporarily, on pause." Phil slid in, in an attempt at easing her discomfort and concern, "A temporary pause."

"Until we stop, Garrett." Melinda assumed tightly before spinning back to him, "And, Ward."

He nodded stiff and her eyes narrowed to slits.

She knew what he was doing now; being intentionally vague to give himself adequate and lengthy leeway.

"We have no way of knowing how long that'll take."

Coulson scoffed indignantly, "It wont take very long."

An amused smirk consumed May's lips and she crossed the open space between them, "Cockiness will get you killed."

He shook his head slowly, "Not cocky: confident." Phil corrected her easily, rising to his feet to meet her eye to eye, "I have the best of the best on my side."

She smiled warmly at the obvious compliment, letting it touch her heart for a second before growing serious, "I don't like it, Phil. Putting this off could be dangerous, it's…important. Too important."

The both knew 'important' was a gross understatement of the truth but any other, more appropriate, adjective was much too frightening to use.

"It is, you're right." Phil agreed smoothly, "But so is stopping, Garrett. He's unstable, Melinda and with his level of training—"

"I know." She cut him off with a swipe of her hand, "You're right." Melinda echoed unconsciously and inhaled through her nose, holding it for several seconds then blowing it slowly out and relenting.

"Fine. A temporary pause." Melinda stressed with eyes of steel, "I'm serious, Phil we will talk about this. At length and in-depth."

He smirked at her; triumphant and smug.

She wanted to smack him.

"You should rest." Melinda suggested instead, swallowing the violent impulse, "These next few days are gonna get crazy."

"We both should rest." Phil amended sternly, catching her by the wrist when she turned to leave.

May stilled at his touch, eyes falling closed at the contact before she turned to stare back at him with wide eyes.

"Stay."

"Stay." Phil requested timidly, shrugging his shoulders a second later to lessen the meaning of that one word, "Sun will be up soon and we won't be here long. The bed is big and…you need your rest too, Melinda."

She sighed softly at just how right he was. Her muscles had been screaming at her since she'd taken that knife to the chest. When their world was simpler and far less unknown.

The hits had kept on coming ever since. Never stopping, never slowing down. She'd barely catch her breath before the next one struck her.

Clearing her throat, May smiling shyly up at him and nodded her consent, "Okay."

The relief that erupted in his eyes was blinding and her smile grew with his.

"Good. Thank you."

Seconds ticked by slowly as they stared, content with the others touch before she broke the spell.

May moved from his grasp, unzipping her jacket as she went and draped the discarded item over the back of a chair. Then she dropped heavily onto the large bed to undo her boots. It was casual and comfortable. Familiar.

The type of easy comfort and domesticity that only a very close friend could offer.

Coulson watched her every move, internally debating his next move. He knew already what he wished to do but he also knew—from painful past experience—that the brunette across from him did not respond well to ambush. Of any kind.

Direct was better. Safer. And full disclosure advised.

"Melinda?"

She hummed her reply, pulling off the last boot with a contented sigh. Her feet were killing her.

When she glanced up and he was standing directly before her she visibly flinched with widening eyes, "Yes?"

His hands jerked, fingers flexing at his sides, "Could you stand."

May frowned at the request but did so anyway, throwing up her hands in confusion, "Why?"

"I'm going to hug you." Phil informed her casually.

She blinked in surprise.

"And I know you don't like to be touched." He continued evenly, gesturing to her with his hands, "So, I'm giving you some warning. This way, you'll have time to prepare."

May didn't react. For the longest time she displayed no indication that she'd even heard him.

She waited until she saw his nerves set in and then she smiled, "Okay."

Coulson scoffed at her torturous teasing but was delighted to hear the light and carefree laughter escape her lips following it.

"You're hilarious." He drawled sarcastically as he drew the shorter woman into his arms.

"I am, yes." Melinda agreed with a grin, settling herself against his chest comfortably.

One of his arms encased her waist, while the other came to rest between her shoulder blades and she wrapped both of hers around his middle.

The embrace was comfortable and familiar and tight, exactly what they bother desperately needed.

May closed her eyes when he rested his cheek against her forehead and his hand, previously between her shoulders, twisted into her hair and stopped on her neck.

"It'll be okay, Phil." Melinda reassured him softly, willing herself to believe it too, "We'll stop them and we'll keep our team safe. And if it's not…we will be okay."

"I know we will." Phil promised with a small smile, "As long as you don't leave again."

Sadness clouded her features and she swallowed hard, "Next time, don't let me."

~AOS~

Coulson jerked sharp and suddenly awake, torn abruptly from pleasant slumber. The rapping on his motel door was persistent and firm, lacking in all polite consideration.

There was no hesitance to the sound, and its pattern messy, uncoordinated which meant it could belong to only one person.

"Rise and shine, A.C!"

Skye.

Coulson groaned loudly into his pillow before scrubbing his right hand over sleep heavy eyes.

"Breakfast is on route so…up 'n at 'em!"

"Yeah, o-okay!" Phil called back to her stiffly, his eyes still closed to the world and willing the girl to stop.

Skye banged on the door one last time before taking her leave, "Hurry up!"

He heaved an exhausted sigh, falling back flat onto the bed, "Damn…" Phil turned his head to the right, eyes searching out the alarm clock residing there.

The florescent red numbers hurt his unadjusted eyes but he blinked through the discomfort until they came apart enough to read.

0847

It was almost nine am. He'd slept for a solid six hours. Which was…surprising to the say least, considering their ongoing predicament. Sleep was a distant memory, a fickle dalliance of unpredictability.

What was even more unexpected, however, was the warm body still present beside him. And their current position was not the one both had fallen asleep in.

"I can hear you thinking."

Coulson sends a glance her way in the darkened room, frowning irritably at how perceptive she could be.

Without opening her eyes, May orders soft but stern, "Stop."

He sighs heavily but tries to comply; closing his eyes in a futile attempt at finding a peace he knows won't come. Less than a minute later his eyes pop open ad hes back to staring at the ceiling above, fingers locked over his abdomen.

May lies on her left side, her back to him and her eyes closed. Where he lies tense and stiff, she's relaxed and loose.

He knows it's an act, it must be. Despite being known for her ability to stay inhumanly calm in extra-ordinarily stressful circumstances, he could not accept that now.

Not with this, not this level of tragedy. She couldn't remain indifferent in the face of such overwhelming betrayal and uncertainty and finality.

Her training, her experiences, her damage…none of that mattered now. She was a person who, yes, was capable of terrifyingly spectacular things but she was still human. And regardless of what others believed, Coulson knew the truth. Melinda May was not the unfeeling, indestructible, impenetrable ice queen the masses declared her to be, in actual fact, she was the complete opposite.

Melinda May—arguably—felt too much. Everything was heightened with her; she felt things so deeply and so absolute. She loved fiercely, was loyal to a fault, betrayal and hurt and anguish worsened. And when that love and loyalty and respect was directed at you, when she felt those things for you…god, it was indescribable.

She made you better, stronger. You felt invisible and capable of anything in her presence.

That's how he knew she was breaking inside, that she was feeling everything Coulson himself was experiencing. They were both fractured people with complicated pasts and numerous, deep-seated issues that almost outnumbered their physical scars. And because of this, in turn, their relationship was painfully complex. Maybe even destructively so.

"I can hear you thinking again."

Coulson flinches at her voice. He can picture her smirking.

May sighs heavily, exhaustion lacing the rattling sound. She rolls over, "Do you need to talk?"

He immediately shakes his head and she inhales. He senses she'd been anticipating that answer.

May clasps her hands, just like his, over her abdomen.

"You need to rest, Phil."

"I'm trying."

"Try harder."

Coulson frowns, glaring at air. She's growing impatient now. As is he, but still sleep evades him.

She blows out another weary breath and rolls back onto her left side, "Close your eyes, Phil." Melinda instructs softly, "Clear your mind and breathe deeply."

He does as told without any form of protest. He's desperate.

"Relax your every muscle, listen to the sound of your own breath. Tune out everything else around you."

Coulson's frown evens out when he feels her excercise beginning to take effect. His body gradually going numb, a blissful lightness consuming him.

All he hears are his own breaths and her rich, lilting voice. Its incredibly soothing.

His tight, restrictive tension melts completely away, and he feels calm. And finally, finally, his mind stills.

Heaviness begins to set in and he knows sleep is near.

May smiles, feeling the bed dip on his side and exhales.

Slowly her right hand slides back over her hip, creeping across the small space between them until her fingers brush his. With barely there hesitation, May curls their fingers loosely together, not expecting a response. But almost immediately his fingers tighten, entwining themselves entirely with hers and they greet the Sandman together.

Now she laid atop his arm, her forehead lightly touching his chest. She looked peaceful, younger, lighter.

He was very quickly relieved she hadn't yet woken, because once she did…

Coulson blew out a deep, rumbling sigh and it stirred her. He winced, kicking himself for the lapse.

May returned to consciousness slowly at first; twitching, blinking, squirming slightly.

Her movements drew a soft, nostalgic smile to his lips. She looked damn adorable.

But then her eyes opened properly and she was upright in a start. Abrupt and alert and wary.

This was the May he remembered all too well: on edge, troubled, tense and closed off. Unapproachable. Her light dimmed almost to extinction.

Her wide, calculating eyes found his in the bright morning light and she stilled.

Coulson smiled when she relaxed at the recollection of his presence.

"Morning."

He chuckled at the sleep laced hoarse to her voice and she scowled lightly at him.

With a roll of her eyes, May dragged both hands over her face then pushed them up through her hair. She inhaled deep and exhaled slow.

"Sleep well?"

Her eyes popped open at the question, "Surprisingly so."

Coulson smiled again.

"Yourself?"

"Better than I have in a long while." Phil shared with honest eyes and a slow nod, "Thank you."

May shrugged indifferently, "Usually you complain. Call me bossy." with a small smirk, Melinda narrowed her eyes, "Now, you're thanking me?"

Coulson laughed deeply and lifted his own shoulders, "You're the boss, not bossy. We both know that."

She instantly arched one brow and clicked her tongue, "Your actions are contradictory."

"Yeah." His face fell steadily and guilt filled his eyes once more, "I...I've lost sight of a lot of things lately."

An awkward silence filled the room then, straining the air between them.

Clearing his throat, Coulson nodded to the room door, "Breakfast."

She followed his gaze mutely.

"Team is waiting."

May's face darkened and her spine stiffened.

Coulson placed his hand atop hers and with pointed eyes reassured her confidently, "They miss you."

Doubt flashed clear in her dark pools before she blinked it gone and forced a weak smile.

When Coulson ventured out of the room some twenty minutes later, his team was assembled poolside, sans May of course.

She'd quietly refused to leave before him, subtly, but he saw straight through her procrastination techniques to the truth.

She was nervous. Which made her uncomfortable and fidgety. She was afraid of rejection, of their anger and their blame.

Coulson knew, however, that those fears were hers alone. Their team didn't blame her for leaving or hate her for doing it, nor were they angry at her secrecy. They looked up to her and idolized her. They were simply relieved she wasn't Hydra too.

The infamous Calvary was legendary and they'd all heard the stories, every version.

Now they all held the privilege of knowing the woman behind the myth.

Melinda May was a living legend and that was a rarity in itself.

Their team needed her and more than she could ever know. Or believe.

"Smells good." Coulson stated with a smile, alerting them all to his approaching presence.

"Good morning, Sir!" Jemma greeted cheerily, respectful and proper with titles as always.

Agent Triplett nodded to him once while both Skye and Fitz could only wave with their mouthfuls of pancake and bacon.

Fitz hastily swallowed down his food to announce happily, "There's pancakes!" fingers pointing down at his half empty plate.

Triplett raised his brows, wide eyed, "Lots of pancakes, Sir." He corrected in unconcealed amusement, "Too many. Not enough bacon."

Simmons dramatically gasped in outright horror. Fitz glared at him in disgust from across the table.

Skye burst out laughing at their comical reactions, inhaling maple syrup in the process and almost choking as a result.

Shaking herself back to normalcy Simmons shot him a disdainful scowl, "And there's plenty bacon."

Coulson's resulting smile was broad, feeling endlessly relieved to hear them laugh and joke with one another again. He'd missed this side of them in the short time since their world had gone to utter hell and things would most likely only get worse from here on in. He'd enjoy it while it lasted.

"Pull up a chair!" Skye ordered him breathlessly, patting the one next to her; empty and waiting.

He did but not before dragging a sixth chair with him, placing it between himself and Simmons. He had a feeling she would embrace May's return with the greatest of ease. Simmons seemed to idolize her the most. Although, at times it appeared more like awe.

The four of them sent him varying looks of confusion and curiosity.

Coulson jerked one thumb over his left shoulder when he heard the motel door open and close.

"Boss is back."

That title befuddled them further until May came into view.

Triplett was on his feet immediately, training and etiquette taking over. He may not know May on a personal level like the other three but he certainly respected her, and tremulously.

Skye's complexion paled at the sight of her and she promptly dropped her fork with a clatter. Fitz looked up like a deer caught in headlights, mouth hanging open and loose.

Coulson watched them all with nervous apprehension, sitting straighter at the tension visible between his friend's shoulder blades.

Simmons, however, perked up considerably at her presence and grinned, "May!" She exclaimed happily suddenly up and on her feet also.

May blinked once, surprised by the enthusiasm and Simmons checked herself, eyes bugged in slight embarrassment.

It was adorable and endearing and it made May smile.

Cheeks tinged red, Simmons swallowed thick and cleared her throat, "I mean, um...hi, Agent May. It's good to see you."

The smile May sent her in return was beautiful and eased the girls awkwardness entirely.

"Hi, Jemma." Melinda greeted smoothly, almost unable to dampen just how touched she truly was by the girls welcome.

The young scientist was grinning again when she declared, "Welcome back. We missed you."

Coulson's eyes narrowed at the twitching hands and wondered, if maybe, Simmons was fighting the urge to embrace her.

Triplett once again respectfully nodded his greeting to which May returned with her own.

Shaking himself free of his shock induced speechlessness, Fitz cleared his throat nervously and waved, "Y-yeah, welcome back, Agent May."

Coulson externally winced. Wow, the kid couldn't sound more uncomfortably awkward if he tried. It was almost painful to watch.

Turning to his friend, Coulson saw the stab of hurt burst in May's eyes before she could hide it. Guilt was quick to follow but she managed to give him a genuine smile of gratitude.

"Thank you, Fitz."

He nodded at her, smiling weakly then returned to his meal.

May compressed her lips, eyes falling briefly closed as regret tightened her chest up. Ouch, that she had to fix as soon as possible.

Simmons frowned with unhappy disappointment in his actions. Yes, she may have shot at him but it was a highly stressful and confusing situation of which they still remained mostly in dark about. Add in the fact that May used an Icer and felt incredibly threatened coupled with all of her specialist and extreme training and well, Simmons was of the opinion that Fitz needed to forgive her and forgive her soon.

But she politely refrained from any comment in the presence of company. Later, they'd discuss it later.

"We have pancakes." Jemma stated instead, her wide and genuine smile returning, "And bacon."

"Lots of them." Antoine added in again, a playful smirk dancing on his upturned lips.

Simmons scowled fiercely then rolled her eyes, "Okay, fine! Yes, Fitz and I might have gotten a tad carried away upon purchasing breakfast but it's pancakes!" Jemma stressed out passionately, unable to comprehend the man's apparent aversion to this particular food product. Who didn't like pancakes?

"Who doesn't love pancakes?! Honestly."

Any possible reply to her obviously rhetorical question was interrupted by the loud scratch of metal over concrete as Skye shot abruptly out of her seat.

She flew at May without a single word of warning, crashing into the shorter woman with such force she almost knocked them both off their feet.

May gasped aloud, physically flinching at the sudden and unexpected contact.

Coulson winced, rising up from his chair with wary apprehension. Skye should know better. May didn't liked to be touched and all it took was one quick once over to determine that the older brunette was extremely uncomfortable with this impossible-to-predict turn of events.

Her spine was stiff as a board and her eyes had flashed dangerously. Her widened dark chocolate orbs found him as she stood stock still and rigidly resistant; arms suspended at hip height, a trembling and oblivious Skye wrapped around her frame.

May was trapped and worse, she felt trapped and that always made her dangerous.

Skye held on tightly and she squeezed her eyes impossibly closed, her left arm snaked around May's neck, the other her waist. Relief didn't seem like an accurate enough description of what she currently felt.

After discovering Ward to be Hydra, Skye had begun to doubt every word he'd ever said to her. She'd assumed May to be dead. He'd killed Eric in cold blood—messy and violent—and Skye hadn't actually seen May leave herself so, of course, her mind had instantly jumped to the worst and most sickening conclusion.

It hadn't helped at all that no-one had even mentioned the woman since her rescue from the Bus, not once and—who does that? Who doesn't talk about their friend and colleague if everything's fine and dandy? Oh, god she was alive! She was alive thank god.

Swallowing hard, May licked her dry lips and said her name, "Skye?" her difficulty and distress excruciatingly apparent. "Skye."

"Ithoughtyouweredead." Skye mumbled out in a thick and indistinguishable whisper.

May's brow furrowed intensely and she held her breath once more.

She processed the girls words carefully, turning them over and over in her mind in case she'd misheard the incoherent murmur. She hadn't. Their proximity made that impossible.

Skye believed her dead?

May gave a bewildered shake of her head, "What?"

Swallowing back fresh tears of pure, unbridled relief and joy, Skye repeated herself, "I thought, you were dead." loud and clear enough this time for all to hear.

"What?" FitzSimmons queried as one, a deep frown marring their identically puzzled expressions.

"Why?" Phil asked of her with a frown of his own, unconsciously taking one step closer to the pair, "Why on earth would you think that?"

"Because he said you left!" Skye sharply exclaimed, still clutching May to her.

The older woman cringed at the volume, ear ringing from the shrill sound.

"He told me you left us and I was so mad but then I found Eric's body and it was Grant and he's Hydra." She ranted in a breathless ramble, fresh tears coating the back of her throat.

Simmons eyes widened in realisation, "She never saw the video footage."

Sniffling loudly, Skye shook her head distressed by her own violent thoughts, "He murdered, Eric. In cold blood and god it was awful and violent and I know you're better but he was damn good and he fooled us all. He had the upper hand and you're not a murderer and then I was here and no-one was talking about you." She added weakly, eyes still tightly closed and void trembling.

May remained in her statuesque position, too floored and stunned to form coherent intelligible sentences while she listened.

"I just...I thought they couldn't bear too." The still fresh agent—if they could even still be considered such—admitted sadly, her heart clenching in her chest at the awful memories swirling through her minds eye, "That they—that it was easier to pretend it wasn't true o-or real or happening 'cause you couldn't be dead. It wasn't possible and I—" her voice hitched, catching in her throat in what sounded like a sob.

That one distraught sound snapped May back to life and into action.

Tentatively she placed her hands on the young girls back in an attempt to soothe her.

"I'm...fine." Melinda assured them all as one, rubbing mindless circles into Skye's back. Her comfort, however, only seemed to upset Skye further and she sobbed again, loudly.

"I was afraid he'd hurt you." She whimpered shakily, hating herself for her lack of emotional control, then buried her face in May's neck.

"No." Melinda refuted gently, her face imploding with empathy and compassion for the once so distant young woman now showing her so much of both.

Inhaling deeply, May swallowed back her fear, shoving all past demons aside, and wrapped both arms securely around Skye's still trembling form.

Sky pressed herself more firmly against her, relaxing completely into the older woman's hold and her shoulders shook with a shuddering sigh.

"No, he didn't hurt me." Melinda reiterated confidently, allowing herself to uncoil just a touch in the embrace, "He won't hurt any of you." Her eyes traveled over to FitzSimmons before May continued, "If I'd known, Ward was-was Hydra I never would've left you alone—I wouldn't have left at all."

Simmons sent her a knowing and watery smile, whispering thickly, "We know."

"We're just..." Leo trailed off once again, nervous and intimidated by her just like their very first meeting, "...we're glad you're back now."

It seemed so wrong. For them to back at square one like this was...upsetting at best.

May smiled at them both then pried Skye away from her body, peeling them apart. She looked the girl over, trying to collect her thoughts and place name on her myriad of emotions. All she could see shinning back at her was genuine anguish and relief and joy.

May was still reeling, unable to fully comprehend what was currently transpiring between her and her team. It was surreal. She had no idea she meant this much to them, that they cared this fiercely. It warmed her heart and touched her soul, igniting something she thought long-dead within her.

"I..." Melinda smiled at them, warm and encouraging, "...I'm sorry I left and I'm sorry I scared you." She apologised sincerely, the fingers of her right hand ghosting over Skye's damp cheek, "I didn't mean too."

The pad of her thumb lightly stroked the olive skin, gently bushing wet tracks away, "And...I will try not to do it again."

Skye hugged her fiercely again, squeezing so tightly it actually hurt before sense and awareness finally caught up to her and she realised exactly who it was she was embracing so ferociously.

The brunette released her and jumped back with a quiet shriek, "I'm so sorry." Skye immediately apologised, "I'm uh..." She swiped at her damp cheeks and shook her head, "Wow, I didn't mean to like, attack you—god, I'm sorry."

May raised one hand and she obediently fell silent.

"It's alright." Melinda settled with a smile quite large, locking eyes with Coulson pointedly. She knew he'd been on edge for the duration of that entire exchange and eradicating all of his worry and doubt would be the only way to successfully ensure their younger teammates believed her words also.

"Really, it's okay."

"It is?" Jemma sought hopefully, surprise widening her bright and questioning eyes.

May nodded once, "Yes."

"Oh, thank goodness!" Jemma cried in relief before throwing her own arms around May's neck, "I've been wanting to do this since I saw you approach. Well, actually, if I'm being quite honest I've wanted to do it since I first met you but that isn't important right now."

Highly amused by the girls excited ramble, May hugged her back without pause and was content to 'endure' the embrace until Simmons let go and stepped back.

"Thank you."

She smirked, "You're welcome."

Having pulled herself somewhat together, Skye cleared her throat and clapped her hands declaring, "Pancakes anyone?"

"Yes!" Jemma agreed exuberantly, re-taking her seat in one fluid motion, "Food, breakfast. Yum."

May met Coulson's intense gaze once more, silently asking him to confirm all that just took place.

He replied with an infuriatingly smug and all-knowing smirk.

She was about to take her appointed seat when a timidly Fitz appeared at her side. He looked unsure of himself for a short moment before taking her arm in both of his hands.

"I am really glad you're back, May." Leo promised her firmly, eyes oozing his internal sincerity, "And I missed you also. A lot."

Melinda returned the sentiment with a soft smile, "I missed you too, Leo." managing to give his hands a meaningfully tight squeeze before he retreated back to his own spot.

It filled her with hope that perhaps her relationship with the young genius wasn't unsalvageable after all.

Coulson gave her wrist a small and subtle tug.

She practically fell into her waiting chair.

Chatter erupted at their small table again; snarky and teasing and full of familiar comfort.

Coulson handed her a generous stack of assorted pancakes and perfectly crisped bacon—precisely the way she liked it—with twining blue eyes.

"Don't say it." Melinda pleaded evenly, accepting the plate and snatching the coffee cup from his other hand.

His coffee cup.

"That's mine."

"We're sharing."

He scowled lightly but surrendered it to her without further protest. After all, it was not the first time she'd stolen his coffee, seemed to be an annoying and unbreakable habit she'd developed at some indistinguishable point in their long history.

Nostalgia struck him full force of long days and longer nights, cramped hotel rooms and take out containers. Playful smirks, impressive sass and ingenious pranks. Endless coffee runs and grabby, thieving hands

"Don't drink it all."

"No promises." Melinda snarked with a careless shrug and a teasing smirk. She took a long exaggerated sip.

He rolled his eyes. Fine, he could play too.

"I told you so."

Her smirk vanished and his erupted.

"You had to do it."

"I did."

"It's not funny, Phil. You aren't funny."

"Oh, but it is, Melinda. And yes, I am. I'm funny."

"Just eat your damn pancakes."

But she was smiling. And it made him smile too.

~A.O.S~

'Well, I sincerely hope it wasn't awful and apologise profusely if it was haha. Please let me know by reviewing like a boss?

I will be forever in your debt haha.

Thank you so incredibly much for reading :) and it was nice meeting you all.

Rachel x'