In the Still of the Night
by Ginny
As usual, I own nothing and I will put the characters back unharmed.
Reviews and comments are always appreciated.
While this is not a direct sequel to any other stories I've written there are certain aspects of Coulson's and May's personalities, habits etc, as well as their relationship, which are consistent throughout my SHIELD stories.
After a long conversation with Skye, during which she made her feel better by telling her the dirty details of the first person she took out, Agent May wearily headed down the hall to the kitchen. She hoped more than anything to get a few minutes of peace and quiet in which to have a cup of tea and perhaps one of Phil's secret Twinkies.
The thought of a few quiet moments disappeared quickly as she found Fitz in the kitchen making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He moved slowly with what seemed like great purpose, like the sandwich was his biggest accomplishment of the day. A week ago, a perfect sandwich would quite possibly been Fitz's biggest accomplishment. But he'd had a good day and he was returning to his former self, although very slowly.
"Agent May, I'm sorry. I'll be out of here, uh…soon," Fitz muttered as he scraped the knife against the edge of the peanut butter jar to clean it. His movements were clumsy as they usually were by the end of the day and a blob of peanut butter landed on the counter.
"It's okay Fitz," May assured him as she handed him a napkin. He took it with a small grateful smile and carefully wiped the counter.
"Did you know that Simmons was on a…a…mission?" Fitz asked as he walked to the refrigerator and grabbed the carton of milk.
"I did," May admitted. "And before you ask, yes, I know what the mission is and no, I can't tell you."
"Can't tell me because of me, because of…because of how I am now?" he asked as he poured the milk.
"No, it's not at all about that. It's because even though SHIELD is still in shambles we need to maintain some kind of hierarchy. When it's time for you to know, Coulson or I will tell you ourselves, we promise."
"Okay. Thank you," he said quietly as he sat down on one of the stools at the counter. He quietly started to eat his sandwich while May hopped up to sit on the counter.
"I saw Ward today," Fitz admitted without looking at May.
"I heard. Are you okay?" May asked with genuine concern. She gave Fitz a second to answer while she reached over her shoulder to grab a mug out of the cabinet.
"I don't know," Fitz muttered as he slid from the stool and started to pace. "I could have killed him, you know. I may have, pro…problems but I could have done it. All I had to do was to cut the…the…oxygen. Just like he did to me, to us, me and Jemma. But I'm not a killer, that's not…not who I am."
"How did you know he was here?" May asked.
"I didn't. I got tired of doing nothing so I went for a walk. Didn't know what…what was in that room so I opened the door. I knew it was an "asset", I should have guessed it was Ward. I wish…"
"Wish what?" May asked with a sad smile.
"That Jemma could have stopped me from opening that door," Fitz whispered as he swiped at his eyes and then stuffed his hands in his pockets, starting down at his sneakers. "But I knew she wasn't really there."
"I know you did, look at me," May said as she pointed to his sandwich and then the stool, motioning for him to sit back down, and hopefully relax a little. He sat down, took a few deep breaths and calmed himself down a little.
"Am I really getting better?" Fitz asked as he picked at a piece of crust on his sandwich.
"You are. Yes, it's going slower than you would like. But you are better. You really helped us the last few days, with the cloaking and with Donnie Gill. You are on target with your recovery."
"Yeah, that's what Simmons says all the…." Fitz stopped short before finishing his thought. He knew Simmons wasn't really there even though it seemed so real.
"I know," May whispered as she slid off the counter and pulled the whistling kettle off the stove to pour her tea.
Fitz finished his sandwich and cleaned up his crumbs while May got the out the milk and poured a bit into the mug with some sugar. "Tea?" she asked him.
"Sure," Fitz answered with a small but genuine smile, the first one May had seen in days. She handed him the mug with the monkey on it and he smiled again at the memory of Simmons giving it to him the previous Christmas.
"I'll let you in on a little secret," May said with a wink as she reached into the cabinet next to the stove and pulled out the box of Twinkies from behind the canned vegetables. "Coulson hides them behind the peas."
"Thanks Agent May," Fitz said as he took the cake and sat back down on the stool.
"You're welcome. Enjoy that and then go get some sleep, you've have a long day."
"I will. And thanks….for….for everything. Not many people take the time to talk to me any…anymore," Fitz said sadly.
The sight of him sitting there looking completely lost tugged at May's heart and brought forth the maternal instincts she liked to keep well hidden. She moved behind him and ruffled his hair a bit before patting his shoulder and whispered a quick "good night."
May stopped by her room and changed into yoga pants and a black fleece before heading to check in with one more person before she settled down for the night.
She doubled back to the kitchen and put her mug in the sink. She grabbed her tablet from where she'd left it on the counter earlier. With a flick of her finger she open the program which showed all the security feeds around the compound. She scrolled through, stopping on the feed which showed Coulson's office. The fact that there was a feed at all was a sore spot between her and Phil. He was obviously against it but the fact that she was supposed to be looking out for him won out. She didn't check it very often, just when she got the sense that something was up, when she felt that Phil needed an extra set of eyes keeping watch over him.
With a quick tap she changed the angle and found Phil was sitting at his desk with his feet up. His shoes were missing, which caused her to take a deep breath and quickly think how long it had been since his last writing episode. It had been less than a week so she felt reasonably sure he'd just taken his shoes off after a long day. He had his reading glasses pushed up on the top of his head and he was fidgeting with something in his hands. May zoomed in and realized it was his rosary beads.
Figuring he would appreciate a few more moments alone she turned the burner under the tea kettle back on and grabbed his favorite striped mug out of the cabinet. She found a decaf tea bag and dropped it in.
Five minutes later with his mug and a Twinkie in hand she headed for his office. She found him still in his chair, feet still up, glasses still on his head, rosary beads on the desk. He lolled his head in the direction of the door when he heard it open. His glasses slipped down a little and he caught them before they slid down to his nose.
"Hey," he said quietly, making no effort to get up. He dropped his glasses on the desk. "How are things out there?" he asked as he took the tea and snack she held out to him.
"Quiet for now. I think Skye's asleep. I talked to her for a little while, she seems to be handling things fairly well. Fitz just had a snack and some tea too. Sent him off to bed too."
"So you're just the mother hen tonight aren't you?" Phil teased.
"Shut up," May smirked.
"How is Fitz? You know that he saw Ward?"
"I think he's okay. A little hard to tell. Aphasia seems to be lessening, slightly. Happy to have helped us out these last few days. He misses Simmons," May sighed as she sat on Phil's desk, next to his feet.
"I wish I could tell him," Phil said before letting out a frustrated breath. "He's been through so much. Jemma misses him too. She feels horrible about leaving him."
"She's where we need her," May said, ever the voice of reason. "I never asked, how was she when you saw her earlier?"
"She's…she's Simmons. Tries to maintain her cheerful attitude while the very idea of working for Hydra is killing her. Except for work she's isolating herself as much as Fitz. Oh and she only has beer and Sriracha in her fridge," Phil snorted, sounding very paternal, much to May's amusement.
"Let me guess, you cooked for her?" May teased, knowing his love of cooking, something he had little to no time to do lately. Phil just nodded. "And now who's the mother hen?" asked with a smile. "What did you make?"
"Steak, potatoes and kale," he said proudly as he broke the Twinkie in two and offered half to May. She declined with a small shake of her head.
"Kale, I'm impressed," May teased as she reached over and pulled his left foot into her lap.
"First green vegetable I saw at the store. But it was good," he admitted as he picked up his tea and took a sip. May pressed the pads of his thumbs against the bottom of his foot and he let out a contented sigh. Both were quiet for a little while. Phil sipped his tea with half closed eyes as May took a moment to get a good look at him. She wasn't exactly happy with what she saw, which had been the norm for many, many months. He looked both on edge and completely exhausted. Like May had mentioned earlier, he looked as if he bore the weight of the world was on his shoulders.
"How are you?" she asked a few minutes later.
"I'm fine," he answered quickly, a little too quickly for May's taste. She just raised her eyebrows a little, letting him know that answer was not sufficient in the least.
"Tired. Frustrated. Sick of waiting around for the other shoe to drop, for me to go completely mad," Phil said quietly. He avoided eye contact with May, focusing his attention on the small chip in the handle of his favorite mug. He ran his finger over the rough spot.
"Did something happen? Do you feel okay?" May asked as she motioned for his to switch his feet. He turned his chair a few inches to the left and set his right foot in her lap.
"No, nothing happened. I feel okay, I guess. I've already been through the medical grilling from Jemma earlier, by the way."
"And?" May asked, letting him know that his answer was not exactly sufficient.
"Blood pressure is high end of normal, my sleep sucks and in general I don't take very good care of myself," he said.
"None of that is new to me," May smirked.
"I was with Simmons for two hours and most of that time was spent cooking and eating, she didn't exactly have time to give me the million dollar work up," he teased.
"I did actually talk to her last week. Gave her an update," May said carefully as she glanced at his face to gauge his reaction. Surprisingly, there wasn't one. "She went over a few things to look for, nothing we haven't already discussed at length, nothing new, so don't worry," she said, trying to reassure Phil a little. His lack of a real reaction was a bit concerning, but then again, he knew May and Simmons talked about him and deep down he knew it was because they were both worried about him.
"Have you seen Ward?" May asked, clearly changing the subject away from Phil's well-being. He stiffened at the mention of Ward's name and almost changed the subject back to his own health, it would have been a more comfortable conversation.
"Not in person. I've seen the footage when Skye visited him and I watched the tape from earlier when Fitz saw him."
"And?" May asked as she put his foot back down on the desk.
"And it was heartbreaking. He had no idea that Ward was there."
"Yeah, he just knew it was an "asset" and he went to try and prove to us he was still valuable."
"He could have killed him," Phil whispered as he pulled his feet off the desk and scooted the chair up so he was sitting inches from May. "But he didn't. I would like to say I wouldn't have killed him given the same circumstances but I'm not so sure. Fitz was in tears, I don't blame him. Hell, I was in tears watching it," Phil admitted with a sigh.
May reached out and tipped up his chin to get him to look in her eyes. "You can't go around with the weight of the world on your shoulders, Phil," May pointed out, not for the first time.
"I know but some days, most days, that's how I feel," Phil whispered harshly. May slid off the desk, ending up completely in Phil's personal space. He leaned forward a little as she reached out to him, settling his head against her stomach. He reached around and hugged her, happy they had a relationship that allowed them this closeness. She messed up his normally perfect hair and rubbed his back for a minute.
"What can I do?" May asked as she rested her cheek against the top of his head.
"Just what you're doing already. Looking out for me, making sure I sleep and eat once in a while. Reigning me in when I need it. Basically making sure I'm still in once piece," he said with a small laugh. He untangled himself from her embrace and sat back a little.
"Happy to do it. I mean that," she said sincerely.
"I know."
"You done here?" May asked as she stood up.
"I have some reading left to do," Phil said as she reached around her and picked up his glasses.
May arched a well groomed eyebrow at him and pointed to the clock on the wall. It was well past midnight and with a small glare she let him know she was expecting him to go to bed soon.
"And you call me the "mother hen". Take a look in the mirror, May," Phil teased.
May just shook her head. "Good night. Give a yell if you need anything," she said as she leaned over to plant a kiss on his forehead.
"I miss that, you haven't done that since I became Director," Phil said with a smile. May laughed and headed for the door. She looked over her shoulder one last time and closed the door behind her.
Phil put his glasses on and set the stack of folders in his lap, opening the top one.
Ten minutes later is was perfectly clear to Phil that he was not being productive in the least. He'd barely made it through 5 pages and had reread the last paragraph multiple times and he still couldn't understand it. He tossed aside his reading material and his glasses. Leaning over he slipped his shoes back on and stood up slowly, having been sitting down for well over two hours he knew getting up too quickly could very well lead to him hitting the floor.
He put the files back in the desk drawer and grabbed his suit jacket off the back of the chair. As late as it was he knew he would have a hard time settling down. So he threw his jacket back on and opened the drawer, rummaging around a bit before he found what he was looking for.
The night was cool, a change from the recent heat. It was cloudy, no sign of the moon or a single star. Phil took a few deep breaths trying to clear his head a little, without much luck. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Paying no attention to the voice in his head, which not surprisingly sounded like both May and Simmons, he flicked the lighter and took a long drag. He knew it was a bad habit but in all honesty, if he smoked half a dozen a week that was a lot. May knew about it, as did Simmons who had discovered his secret the night Skye had been shot by Ian Quinn. Neither said much about it and it was something he rarely did in the presence of either of them.
Phil figured there were plenty of things which would kill him before cigarettes, not the least of which was the alien material moving through his body. He'd been thinking about it more and more, which was understandable as his current symptoms increased and other new ones started cropping up. As he lifted the cigarette up he was faced with the newest of the alarming symptoms, hand tremors. So far he'd been able to hide it from everyone, although he wouldn't have been surprised if May had noticed it. Getting anything past Agent Melinda May was a difficult task, as he'd learned decades earlier.
His phone vibrated in his pocket and he knew he'd been caught, damn security cameras were everywhere. He hit the button to read the text, presumably from May.
One cigarette, Phillip. I mean it.
With a laugh he took one final drag and held his arm out to drop the butt to the ground in an exaggerated movement May was sure to see on the camera. He was about to put the phone back in his pocket when he decided to answer her.
Yes, mother (hen)
He turned to go back inside. He hoped to make it to his quarters without running in to anyone.
Luck was on his side and 20 minutes later he was sitting in bed in his plaid pajamas. He had a yellow legal pad propped on his knees and he was scribbling away, not some foreign writing, but his version of a medical advanced directive. More specifically a list of things May would most likely have to do in the coming months to help to minimize the damage and impact his declining mental state would have on the team in particular and SHIELD in general. He and May needed to have a long, heart to heart talk.
One which would probably be the hardest conversation of their lives.
THE END