Title: Maybe Not
Rating: K
Summary: Post-ep 4x10. This is her opportunity to tell him.
Disclaimer: I do not own Agents of SHIELD.
Spoilers: post-ep 4x10 so spoilers up to there.
A/N: A little scene that would not leave me be.
… … …
Every time one of the team leaves the room she tells herself that she should do the same. If she doesn't, then, inevitably, just she and Coulson will remain and she knows that, in that scenario, she is likely to give in to the almost overwhelming impulsion to tell him what she has uncovered.
She has spent the evening watching everyone closely, evaluating whether or not they have noticed a difference; judging whether or not anyone already knows – if perhaps it is an element of her return from the dead that they failed to share with her. She doesn't think that is the case. She had already told Daisy that something was off and somehow she knows that it is not as simple as a necessity to keep her alive.
She longs to tell Coulson. She wants them to figure this out together, wants the support and the reassuring words that he has never failed to provide in the past. But therein lies her problem.
She has run the possible explanations through her mind over and over as she has sat in this same corner all night. And no matter how many less terrifying scenarios she has come up with, she cannot shake the feeling that the truth is that she is not Melinda May. She doesn't have her past. She hasn't shared countless moments of comfort with Coulson. When she tells him that truth, he is not going to be thinking about her. He is not going to offer her reassurances; he's not going to work with her to figure this out so they can protect her. The minute he knows the truth, his thoughts will go to his Melinda. Where is she? How is she? How long has this imposter been in her place? The affection, the hope, the love she has seen in his eyes, particularly in these recent weeks, will vanish completely, replaced by fear, distrust… repulsion.
She is not his. No matter how deeply - how profoundly - she feels otherwise.
She will lose him the minute she tells him the truth. And, as has always been the case, she cannot bear the thought of losing him.
Always. She almost lets out a sardonic laugh.
…
Lost in her thoughts she has failed to notice that there are only three people in the room now. It is Daisy calling good night to her that breaks her from her distraction. She lifts her hand from the table to offer a semblance of a wave and they are left alone.
She tries to force herself to stand, to make her excuses and go. But, simultaneously, she is forcing herself to stay, to face up to the truth and subsequent consequences. This is a war within herself, and, either way, she's not winning.
Coulson crosses the room and sits down opposite her, a small smile on his lips, though a crease in his brow.
"You okay?" he asks her, not waiting for a response before he adds, "You haven't seemed yourself tonight."
She aims for a reassuring smile. "I'm fine.
"Sore?"
"A little."
They fall into silence but she cannot find comfort in it as she might have before. This is her opportunity. She can tell that he knows something isn't right. Any other worry and she would tell him right now. But as it is…
"May?" he queries, concerned.
"I just… I hate the thought of losing you," she admits, and she hopes that he didn't notice the tiny crack in her voice that she failed to control.
His smile turns sympathetic. "I know. But I'm back."
She simply nods because she can't trust herself to speak.
"Hey," he says, softly, reaching out to lay his hand on top of hers, "You're not going to lose me." He smirks, "You would never let that happen."
She has to roll her eyes at that quip, because that is what he would expect her to do. But the truth of his words resounds more keenly than he will have anticipated. How can she bring herself to initiate the conversation that will cause her to lose him?
She turns her hand over beneath his so she can hold on to him and she tries to quash the fear that is rising through her chest.
He squeezes her fingers – the reassurance and comfort she wants. The reassurance and comfort that will retract when she tells him the truth. She squeezes back, clinging to him, almost desperately.
"Phil –"
"No."
Her eyes dart up to meet his; her heart is pounding; adrenaline surging through her – if, in fact, she has either of those things. She's ready to tell him but…
"I'm not going to let you say it."
She tries not to show her panic and confusion. He can't know what she was going to say. Can he? Then it occurs to her that in all her considerations of her situation, she has never contemplated that maybe the real Melinda May is dead. Maybe she is here because Coulson couldn't face life without her. Maybe only he knows the truth. Maybe she won't lose him. There's a glimmer of hope, because maybe she is the only Melinda May that he can have.
"I know you're scared. I know that there have been too many times recently when you've had to wonder whether or not I'm alive. I know that has been hell for you, and I'm sorry I put you through that. But you told me I should take more chances and I'm ready to do that…"
Maybe not.
"… And I know you're ready too. So I am not going to let your fear stand in our way… You can't bear the thought of losing me and I can't bear the thought of losing you. Because to lose you without ever having told you how I feel would be a regret I'm not sure I could live with. So I am not going to let you talk us out of this. Whatever you were going to say, forget it. I'm not listening."
"Phil –"
"Not listening."
"You need to hear this."
He stands up from his chair. "You need to sleep on it… If you still want to say it in the morning, then I'll listen. But be prepared to be wrong."
"It's not that simple."
He rests one hand on the table in front of her and leans in so his face is merely centimetres from hers. "It's only as complicated as we make it. Take everything else out of the equation. SHIELD, life and death, the team, the past, the future. Right here, right now: What do you want?"
He can't know what a bad choice of emphasis that was. He doesn't know how close she came to making what probably would have been the right choice, and how that one word stopped her. In the future he'll no doubt regret this moment but he's asked her not to think about the future.
He's asked her to think about what she wants, right now.
And, taking everything else out of the equation, the answer really is simple.
"You."
She'll tell him the whole truth another day…
He smiles that confident grin and she can't help but smile back.
… Maybe.
… … …