Author's Note: Hello there, great to see you're reading my story today, and this one is going to be a real treat. I wrote this at about midnight the other night, because I just couldn't get it out of my head. I could barely sleep with it so vivid and clear in my mind. This story is all about the moment May encounters a dangerous stranger who is searching for a special someone, and not all goes well for the Agent as she faces painful consequences. So, with no further ado I give you The Father's Return...

Disclaimer: I do not own Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.

She sat at the bar, her dark hair scraped loosely back into a pony tail. Her finger tapped the side of her glass, the whisky forming ripples with each tap. Her keen eyes watched dead ahead of her across the bar, eyes sore and red rimmed. She looked back over her shoulder; it was deserted, save for the drunken old man in the corner swishing down a shot of something alcoholic, and the barista who was polishing a tall pint glass.

"Anything else I can get you miss?" he asked quietly, his grey moustache dancing around above his top lip as he spoke. She smiled and raised her glass,

"No thank you."

There was a gun shot and the glass in her hand shattered, scattering glass and whisky all over the bar and her raised arm. Watching the glass fall she found that the barista was lying on the floor behind the bar, his shirt pocket on his chest turning dark red…

She was about to turn around to see the attacker, when she felt a strong hand grasp her arm and yank her off the stool. Her body toppled backwards and she fell to the ground, her head banged against the concrete floor. Shaking her head, she tried to stand up but the stranger was pinning her to the ground with such a force there was no way she could move. She tried to focus on the stranger who peered over her, their breath warm against her clammy skin. They leaned closer and their grasp on her arms got tighter. Attempting to fling a kick from below, they knelt on her shin with a crunch, and she let out a painful yell. She opened her eyes wider to see a full set of teeth grinning at her, and then felt a pair of dry lips brush against her ear,

"Now, tell me, where is the child?" he spoke in such a low, gruff voice that it sent shivers down her spine. Frowning she turned her face to look them in the eye, although she couldn't see him fully as the night had grown darker and the sun had long gone beneath the horizon.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said with effort, trying to forget the pain in her shin for the time being.

"Don't try to fool me, you know where she is, I can smell her on you," he bent over her body sniffing at her neck, their fringe sweeping against her cheek. She fidgeted and tried to shake him off but he lifted up her torso and pushed her to the floor, her shoulders crunching as they hit the cold surface.

"Now, tell me. Tell me!" he bellowed at her, spittle falling into her silky dark hair. She shook as he looked down on her, their eyes all a blaze. Now she came to think of it, his eyes did look like they were strange; there was a sort of unearthly look about them, dark but full of wonders. Coming back to her focus on the situation, she sighed shakily,

"Listen here, I don't know who this child is or where she is, but I know people that can help you-" Clasping his broad hands around her neck, he swooped her off the floor, her boot heels dragging along beneath her, until she was lifted up into the air. She chocked and spluttered at the pressure on her breathing, sweat glistening on her brow. She took a final look at his ever changing eyes, when he suddenly thrust her back through the air into the tall shelf of glass behind the bar. Landing hard on her side into the shards, her legs slapped against the cold tiles, her shin bursting with pain. She grunted as she rolled onto her back. She heard the heavy breathing of the mad man from behind the bar, and pulled out her phone. The glasses in the sink beneath the bar shook and clinked as he stomped slowly towards her, the vibrations in the ground coursing through her bones. Fingers shaking with fear and pain, she struggled to type the number into the phone. Breathing quickly she prodded the call button with such a force that it might have broken the screen if she'd pressed any harder. Lifting the phone to her ear she listened to it ring out, each bell ringing in time to the stomping that approached her.

Suddenly looking up at the bar top, she saw two sets of fingers grasp the wooden hatch, and it was swiftly ripped off the hinges and thrown across the room. There he stood, tall, menacing and dangerous; she liked danger, but not this type.

"Hello, May?" a voice said calmly from the end of the phone. She peered up at the man, who stood still as if frozen in time, his arms hanging strongly beside his looming body. Those eyes starred right into her own, like he was reading her mind and ripping her apart.

"I'm in Ruthie's Skillet diner, I need help, now," she said quietly. Slowly sitting up she began to drag herself backwards across the floor, the glass cutting through her already bloodied hands.

"What's wrong? What's happening?" Coulson said worryingly. The whole team gathered around the table, the computer loading a map destination of where she was. A little red dot represented her in the diner.

"There's a-" Suddenly there was a deafening roar that rose from the strangers lungs, the noise so loud that she squeezed her eyes shut, the cut on her forehead seeping blood down onto her eyebrow and along her cheek bone.

"What the hell was that?" asked Skye, leaning her hands on the table. The dot on the map didn't move and the team felt a tension build in the air around them.

"I don't know, May, get out of there. We're on our way," Coulson assured her and went to programme in the coordinates.

"I, I don't think I can," she breathed slowly and looked down at her leg. She couldn't feel anything; pain had gone past the point of numbness now.

"What do you mean, just get out!" cried Jemma, panicking on the spot. Coulson turned back, the worry in Jemma's voice stopping him in his tracks.

May watched as a creepy grin crawled across his face and he stepped a little closer. She shuffled backwards with one hand, the phone clutched tightly in the other. He followed her slowly as she helplessly retreated along the tiled floor. She stopped short when she felt something behind her that was soft and cold. She turned to see the barista lying behind her, his face grey and drained. She removed her hand from his side, and felt her stomach curdled. She'd seen a lot of death but touching death was much worse.

"Please," she mumbled as the man was almost upon her, "I can help."

"May, get out of there!" Coulson yelled his hands clenched.

May looked up in horror as the man stood before her and lifted his booted foot off the ground. He brought it down with all the might he had. Crunch! May screamed a blood curdling scream that ricocheted down the phone.

"May!" Coulson shouted as the phone line went dead.