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It was like the world fell away. They were orbiting her, the threats forgotten, faces stricken, rushing almost without direction.
The way they had ran to her. He hadn’t known what was happening at first, suddenly Melinda and Phil were charging toward him with eyes wide with terror. He hadn’t understood what was happening, the shaking had ceased, but it wasn’t until he heard the soft thump of a weight hitting the grass behind him that he finally realised. They hadn’t been running at him, soles pounding, hearts pumping, they’d been running to her.
Phil was at Skye’s side within seconds, chattering breaths and a hurried gaze. He seemed to shake as her pressed the keen pads of his fingers to the girl’s neck. A choked sigh of relief escaped, leaning over Skye, head lolling, his shoulders trembled. She was alive.
Melinda hadn’t even really finished running before she fell to her knees at Skye’s side. She skimmed the damp turf, bringing up grass in her haste. Hands gentle but strong, fumbling only just noticeably as she checked the girl over.
Andrew froze, observing. Skye was lying, sprawled out on the ground not a yard away. The two older agents gathered around her. He hadn’t seen May this way in so long. The emotions were raw, so nearly unguarded; She didn’t bother to hide her concern.
“Phil,” Melinda stressed painfully, fingertips trailing over the bruised skin at Skye’s wrists.
The man raised his gaze from the girl’s face, squinting at the wounds in the dim light. His horror was apparent.
“Did someone… hurt her?” The man’s jaw was taught, anger and concern fighting for dominance behind his darkening eyes.
Andrew swallowed, finding his voice, “There was no one else here.”
Melinda tilted her head at Skye. The girl could have been sleeping, she looked so peaceful. She pursed her lips, trailing soft touches across the younger agent’s forehead, her cheek, brushing the hair back lightly. It was a long time since Andrew had seen this type of quiet affection. He remembered how it had felt against his skin. He was glad Melinda had found someone else to share that part of herself with, even if it was only in the direst moments, when it would be overlooked.
“Tell Jemma what happened.” Phil told Melinda through gritted teeth, “We need to get her back to the bus.”
May nodded sharply, tearing herself from Skye’s side as though she was leaving part of herself behind.
Phil rolled up Skye’s sleeves further with an assured tenderness, investigating the extent of the wounds. His eyes flickering, relieved to find the tiny purple and red blooms ended at her elbows. He was the one to lift Skye up, cradling her, careful not to antagonise her injured arms. Andrew would have offered, be already knew Phil would say no. If the man was struggling he didn’t show it, his mouth set in a thin line of determination.
“Let’s go.” Melinda didn’t look at either of the men as she walked back their way, her gaze Skye’s and Skye’s only. Bobbi arrived with her, something akin to sorrow on her features as she took in the sight of the wrecked young agent. Still the girl was unconscious, her body limp in the Director’s arms.
The journey was silent, the air around the five of them thick with it. There was so much to say and no way to say it. Andrew’s eyes moved over Melinda, but she didn’t respond to it, merely watching Skye sleeping. Phil looked only ahead, oblivious to everything but his destination.
Even when they reached base and Jemma took over Phil and Melinda refused to leave, and so, so did Andrew. Coulson’s arms were crossed, shoulder’s hunched. His demeanour serious as he hid his insecurities; the fact that he didn’t know how to keep a girl he considered his own blood safe from herself.
May stood in the corner, and Andrew knew the expression she wore. It wasn’t dissimilar from the one she’d adopted after Bahrain. He’d grown so used to that one, it was easy to spot the difference, the warmth behind her eyes when they moved from the plated, silver floor to the girl arranged on the bed. That unquenchable guilt paired precariously with a spark he had often seen in their good moments.
It was only after Skye woke that they found the strength to leave. Andrew trailed May, ignoring the reality that she would resent him for it. She knew he was there. His head peering round the doorframe, she still didn’t look up.
“It’s not your fault. You can’t blame yourself for this Melinda.” Andrew tried. He was much less sure of how to relate to her than he used to be.
Melinda scoffed, eyes averted, arms crossed, “Isn’t it?”
“Definitely not.” Andrew shoved his hands in his pants pockets and advanced, entering Melinda’s bunk warily.
“I pushed her to contain her power.” May stated, brow furrowed in disappointment.
“You were trying to protect her.” Andrew offered, perching on the end of the bed with a squeak of the mattress.
“I failed.” The woman looked angry, aggressively remorseful over an act she hadn’t committed. In her mind she might as well have fractured Skye’s arms with her own hands.
“She knows you tried.” Andrew refused to let it consume her. The same volatile emotion that had stolen her from him. He couldn’t let it steal her from Skye, from Phil. “She knows how much you care, Melinda.”
The agent shot him a dark look, “She has no idea.” The words were heavy with a confession Melinda May was unlikely to ever make.
“Well… kids rarely realise or appreciate the lengths their parents will go to for them.” Andrew smiled down at his hands, fingers intertwined.
Melinda blinked rapidly, “She’s not mine, Drew.” Her tone was softened now, less settled. She seemed adamant and yet still confused, surprised that Andrew had read into her relationship with Skye to that extent.
The psychiatrist looked up knowingly, “Isn’t she?”
Melinda only stared back.
“I heard what Skye’s father was saying, it was pretty black and white, the man may be out of his mind but his jealousy over Skye’s relationship with Phil isn’t just paranoia. His daughter found a family with S.H.I.E.L.D and it infuriates him.” The doctor shrugged, taking a pause before continuing, “You always wanted to be a mother Melinda, I know that. You, Phil, Skye… you were all looking for a family. It’s common that when individuals are estranged from their biological family they find substitutes, especially with those they’ve been in highly intense emotional situations with.”
“Shouldn’t I be on a couch for this?” Melinda drawled, considering Andrew’s intrusion unwelcome.
“Melinda,” Andrew shook his head, “I’m just trying to have an honest conversation with you.”
Despite herself May moved to his side, sitting herself down on the sheets tentatively.
“I’m glad you got the chance…” Andrew admitted, “… even in this… unorthodox fashion…”
Melinda watched his profile as he continued to speak.
“Even if it wasn’t with me.” The man finished sincerely, smiling sadly.
“Andrew…” May trailed off. She used to be able to see that child. When she closed her eyes she could construct a face, little bits of Andrew, little bits of her, but mostly Andrew. A portrait of their daughter, painted on the backs of her eyelids. Now when she closed her eyes and considered motherhood… all she saw was Skye. Andrew was right, but it was a truth she’d gotten so good a hiding she’d somehow managed to even hide it from herself.
“She really does think the world of you Melinda… and so does he.” The doctor stretched his fingers before taking the risk, reaching out to place a warm hand over hers, curling it around till his fingertips rested against her palm.
“We’re not. We are never going to happen.” She answered solidly.
The corner of Andrew’s mouth twitched, he would have rolled his eyes but it seemed inappropriate so he merely continued to regard the floor, “Which is why you chose me.” He stated.
Melinda looked almost horrified, shoulders rising. She tried to find the words to adequately rebuke him.
“Don’t worry, Melinda.” Andrew reassured her, squeezing her hand, “I know you love me.”
She clenched her jaw tight, deciding not to interrupt.
“But you made a choice all those years ago, you said ‘yes’ to me instead of waiting for him.” He moistened his lips, nostalgia on his mind, “I wouldn’t have married you if I couldn’t handle the fact you were always going to be a little bit in love with someone else. It never bothered me.” He said it with his brown eyes still soft, uncorrupted, somehow, despite everything she’d put him through. She had always thought he was more than she deserved, whereas… Phil was more than she could cope with.
She couldn’t begin to make Andrew understand that he had it backwards. She had never been ‘waiting’ for Phil. It had been her choice.
Just a little while out of the academy they’d been on a mission. They weren’t supposed to see much action but it had gone south. She took down seven men but it wasn’t enough, one slipped past whilst Phil was distracted. Seeing him lying pale against the white sheets of that hospital bed had made her realise she couldn’t protect him. Not always.
Years later she’d been watching his back during a recon mission in east Africa when he’d been hit. The doctor had told her if it had been an inch lower or higher then she could have lost him. That was the reason she’d called the bright-eyed, young psychiatrist, a man she’d consulted with a few times. He seemed kind, and respectful, and he’d offered her dinner. More than anything, she’d considered as she watched Phil sleep, white bandages strapped to his collarbone, she wouldn’t have to watch him die.
Seeing Skye lying small and motionless had brought back those ancient feelings of inadequacy. The same ones she’d felt last time, taking out her anger on Ian Quinn. A hatred she felt for him but also herself. She should have been there, made sure that Skye didn’t go into that house alone. She should have been there to protect her.
She didn’t know how to protect Skye now. This wasn’t a monster she could battle, a person she could punch, it was something internal and intangible, and that frightened Melinda more than anything had in a long time. How was she supposed to fight for Skye… if the person Skye was fighting was herself?
“I can’t protect them.” Melinda’s voice cracked.
“No one could.” Andrew told her, “But you can be there. Be there for her Melinda. That’s all she wants.”
It was late when May returned to the bus, no one around to clock her decision to visit Skye, cracking the door to the girl’s temporary room. The holding cell was eerie in the dark, vague splinters of light glancing off the polished metallic walls.
Skye was just a lump under the blankets, laid on top the shelf-bed protruding from the side of the cell.
The corners of May’s mouth twitched as she made out the soft sound of Skye breathing deep as she slept. There was a chair pushed into the corner, and May collected it, taking care to be silent so as not to disturb. The woman sat by Skye’s head. She could make out the shape of the young agent’s parted lips, eyelids fluttering ever so slightly. Reaching out, May stroked a finger over Skye’s brow, repositioning her bangs just in case their presence over her eyes was what was disturbing her sleep.
“I’m going to try anyway.” Melinda murmured to herself. Answering Andrew. Promising Skye.
“Try what?” A whisper from behind her. A familiar voice.
May turned sharply, fingers drawing away from Skye.
Phil looked almost small in the doorway. A silhouette wearing a loose shirt and dress pants, he hovered, as if waiting for permission. Another someone that couldn’t bear to be anywhere else tonight.
Melinda turned back, facing away from him, refusing to respond.
A warm hand appeared, stroking lightly over her shoulders, comforting her. “She’s going to be okay.”
She hoped that wasn’t a promise. Phil couldn’t promise her a lot of things, he never had been able to, and he certainly couldn’t promise her that.
“I don’t know where we go from here.” She admitted, paying attention to the tiny twitches at the corners of Skye’s eyes. She was dreaming.
“She’s sleeping.” Phil stated softly, perching on the edge of the bed, aware of his proximity to the girl, taking care not to jolt her, “We’ll talk in the morning.”
Melinda didn’t answer. At that moment Skye clenched her eyes tightly shut, and the woman responded, caressing the dent between the girl’s eyebrows with the pad of her thumb. Letting her know that there was someone here, watching over her. Melinda May had never had the chance to sit at her daughter’s bedside and read her stories, or check under her bed for monsters, or kiss her goodnight. If this was as close as she ever came, chasing the nightmares away from a sarcastic, tortured, delinquent orphan they’d accidentally adopted off the streets of Los Angeles, it would be enough, because it was Skye. Maybe Andrew was right, for better or worse, more born of circumstance than reason… maybe they were her parents after all.
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