N – Nailing Nightmares
Part 1
This one got away from me and just kept growing so I will post it in parts. Feedback is always appreciated.
"You've got a call on line three." One of the secretaries announced as she poked her head into to Phil's office.
He smiled and shook his head as he tapped a stack of paper into a neat pile and laid it in his open briefcase. "Take a message, Helen. I am out of here in…" he stopped and looked at his watch, "in just about now." He dropped the top of the satchel closed and snapped the locks.
"Says it's urgent, sir. Guy sounds pretty upset." The woman informed him with eyes wide.
"Give it to Mack or Elena," Phil informed her as he reached for his coat and took the briefcase in his hand.
"Tried that," she countered. "Said he would speak with you only, told me not to give up until you took the call."
Phil stopped and let out a long frustrated breath, dropped the briefcase back on the desk and his coat on the chair. "Fine, but it better be a real urgency not some ridiculous needy something or other." He reached for the phone as the woman started to pull out of the half opened doorway. "And call Skye's school, tell them I'll be a little late picking her up today." Helen nodded as she disappeared and Phil Coulson picked up the black telephone receiver.
"Coulson," he barked into it, already poised to chew out whoever it was.
"Coulson…"
Phil recognized the voice immediately.
"We have a situation…."
XX
Phil carried a jabbering Skye through the back door then set her down and pulled off her coat while she continued to regale him with the tales of everything that happened in preschool during the day. Ryan had hit Ethen with a block and sat in time out for a very long time. Chelsea had an accident and her mommy had to bring clothes. Darienne spilled her milk at lunch time and so on and so forth. At least that's what he got out of Skye's sideways descriptions.
Phil nodded although he was only half listening. His thoughts were a mile away…more like a continent away. He looked at the clock that hung above the kitchen doorway…half past four. He considered starting dinner. Trip was at basketball practice, would be until at least six and Melinda had taken the twins to a dentist appointment after school. (Hence his mission to retrieve Skye from preschool.) He stood staring at the clock, his mind a mix of the news he'd received as he left his office for the day and what needed to be done immediately as well as long term solutions to a very sensitive problem.
He felt a tug at the hem of his jacket and looked down at his youngest daughter's quizzical scowl.
"Daddy," she scolded. "I sayed I needa go pee-pee real fast."
Phil's mouth formed an 'O' as he hurried the little girl to the powder room. A few seconds later he held her up to the sink as she washed her hands, then carried her to her bedroom to quickly change from uniform to play clothes.
"So, angel, what do you want for supper?" He smiled as her head poked through the neck of her pink and purple sweatshirt.
"Why you cow me ain jo, daddy?" Skye responded as she pushed her hair away from her face and frowned at her father.
"Because you are a gift from heaven," Phil smiled as he sat the little girl on her bed, slid her sneakers on her feet then tied them. Skye sang some song about an overweight dog. He plopped her down on the floor and asked again what she might like for supper.
Skye folded her arms atop the mattress that was chest high to her and stared up at her father for a moment. "Momma say we have asetti for supore."
Phil laughed as he watched his little one's serious tone. "Spaghetti, hmmm? Didn't we just have spaghetti yesterday?"
"Daddy," Skye sighed. "Asetti is good for supore. It haves no breen, ownee red."
He smiled at the little girl's reasoning. Spaghetti was one of the foods she would eat without worrying she'd come across something green. Green was a color Skye avoided at all costs, though no one had any idea why and she was not very forthcoming with the reason.
Phil stood and lifted the little girl into his arms as he headed back toward the kitchen. "I think we might need a little variety, don't you?"
Skye thought for a moment as she bounced down the steps in her father's arms. "I non't eat biarity, daddy. It bees breen?"
Phil laughed as he walked back into the kitchen. "Sometimes, angel," he kissed her head and lowered her into the nearest chair, "but not tonight."
He'd pulled off his suit jacket, tie and dress shirt and now stood at the refrigerator door in a T-shirt and his suit pants. "I think some chicken…" He pulled a package out and set it on the table. "And some sweet potatoes…" four large tubers were set next to the chicken. Skye nodded at each item as her father continued. In the end Phil prepared baked chicken, candied sweet potatoes, rice, yellow beans (because they weren't green) and salad for those who were not green avoidant. He pulled an apple pie from the freezer and popped it in the oven, all with Skye's attempt at helping. With any luck everything would be ready by the time Trip stomped in the back door.
"Daddy," Skye sighed as she stooped and peered into the oven then turned to him. "I humgary. I have fitchies and grain jupes that no is pourpul?"
Phil wanted to smack himself in the head. He'd forgotten all about giving Skye an after school snack. It was generally a long wait for supper in the Coulson house and Melinda usually gave all the kids something light when they arrived home. He quickly poured a cup of white grape juice and grabbed a handful of those little cheesy fish crackers and set them on the table. Another trip to the powder room had Skye's hands clean when he plopped her into her seat and watched as she took a drink and chomped on the little yellow crackers.
The back door opened emitting Melinda, Jemma and a very grumpy Fitz. The boy kept his gaze to the floor as he stomped past his father and headed for the stairs.
"No cavities," Jemma smiled as she wrapped her arms around her Phil's waist. "I'm going to change and start my homework."
He kissed the top of her head and watched as she too headed for the stairs then turned to Melinda who already had Skye in her arms. "I take it Fitz didn't do so well."
Melinda shook her head as Skye slid a fish cracker into her mouth. She chewed quickly and nodded. "Two cavities, the doctor filled both. Our little man is not happy." She smiled as she accepted another cracker from her baby. She and her husband were well aware of Fitz's early life. Dental care was not on the top of Emilie Fitz's child rearing practice. Neither was physical care. Neither could imagine how their young son retained his advanced intelligence given the poor nutrition and medical care he received…if he received any at all. Fitz was small for his age with an immune system that failed him miserably. If there was a virus in the wind the boy would surely be down with it. The family dentist worked hard at repairing what a lifetime of neglect had done to the boy's teeth. Melinda strictly enforced brushing and flossing, especially with her younger son.
Phil looked toward the stairs debating on how to tell his wife the news he'd received earlier in the afternoon. Two cavities were nothing compared to what he had to tell. Hell a mouth full of cavities would be hard pressed to even compare to it. He watched as Melinda smiled at their youngest while sharing the little fish crackers. He mentally debated with himself. Should he spoil dinner for her, spoil the whole evening or wait until the kids were bathed and tucked in for the night? She had to know and neither of them would sleep tonight or any night until this fiasco was behind them.
He chose the latter keeping the horrifying news to himself for the remainder of the evening.
XX
"Okay, they're all down and even Fitz is finally asleep," Melinda breathed as she stepped into the kitchen and stared at the cup of tea Phil had set on the table. Something he rarely if ever did, this time of night. "You gonna tell me now?"
Phil tried not to smile. It wasn't surprising. Melinda could read him like no one else. Hell, she knew what he was thinking before he did. Right now he wished he could turn off his mind, wished he would not have to see the look in her eyes when he told her…when she felt the ice cold dagger pierce through her heart…the same one that he could still not pull from his own.
"Mel," he started, speaking softly as he took her hand in his. She pulled it back, immediately on guard, immediately expecting the worst.
"Just tell me, Phil, no sugar coating, no bush beating…just tell me." Melinda growled, her anger already rearing its head to protect her from the fear that grew in its shadow. Fear and anger, the strongest of emotions vying for control, fight or flight and in Melinda May's world the winner was always anger. Anger masked everything. Anger gave her control.
"I spoke to Hunter, today." Phil began. "Someone's come forward to contest Fitz's adoption." He said it quickly almost as if it hurt to roll off his tongue or he needed it to be out of his mouth because of the vile taste. He vaguely remembered being a kid and yanking off that band aid as fast as possible. Doing it slowly just drew out the pain.
For a moment Melinda said nothing, did nothing but stare into nothing. "Who…who, Phil? We searched, we all searched, every agency and found nothing, no one, not one living relative. Who now, after all this time….who?"
He heard the crack in her voice, but did not react. She wouldn't let him, not yet.
"The guy claims to be Fitz's father. Hunter and Bobbi are already on it." Phil added but wasn't sure if she was even listening.
"The bastard has nothing to do with him for ten years and all of a sudden crawls out from under a rock to come after him. Damn it, Phil, there wasn't even a father listed on the birth certificate. Where did this moron come from and how did he even know… Grant, that bastard Grant…"
"Melinda," Phil spoke softly, "the man is dead…"
"Oh, I'm sure he had a lot of sleazy friends. It's got to be one of them, Phil…it…" She stopped, her knuckles white in the grip she had on the back of chair. "No one is taking my son, no one." Melinda spoke through her teeth.
XX
"Alistair Dunn," Hunter spit as he slammed a large file on Phil's office desk. "The bloody bastard," he snarled as he turned and stormed across the room. It had been just over three weeks since his call to Coulson.
"Bobbi?" Phil asked as he opened the file and stared at the photo clipped to readouts on top.
"Went on to be with May," he let out in a harsh breath, "picked up a rental at the airport." He shook his head as he slammed the office door closed and marched back to the desk.
Phil flipped through the thick file. "This is everything?" He looked up at the angry man in front of his desk.
Hunter slammed a hand down on the desk then jammed his finger into the file emphasizing each word. "That is all we have on the damn piece of shit. Damn it, Coulson, he's already filed a petition to nullify the adoption, says it was not legal."
Shaking his head, Phil stared at the copy of the legal papers that would start an investigation into Fitz's adoption. A chill ran through him as he read the man's rant.
"Can you believe that load of bullock? Says the lad's mother refused to let him have anything to do with him, that she disappeared with the infant and he's spent the last ten years searching! She disappeared….she!"
Again Phil reviewed the legal mumbo jumbo that said the same thing Hunter had just put into his own vernacular. He continued reading as Hunter continued ranting.
"I'm sure he did a lot of looking in Sydney and Johannesburg, like the lad's mum had the means to go skippin' about the globe like some bloody superstar!"
Phil spread the forms in a fan and picked up travel records for the man called Dunn showing he left London for Australia late in the eighties. Fitz would have been a toddler. Before that he had addresses in Manchester, Dublin and Bristol. According to the investigation Phil and his team had done on Emilie Fitz, she and her young son had not left Busby until Jamie Grant dragged Fitz to London. Nowhere was there evidence of the young woman crossing paths with Alistair Dunn.
"He's a lot older than her," Phil noted as he flipped a page over and continued scanning the rest. "According to this he never lived in Glasgow or Busby." He looked to Hunter for more information.
"He was some sort of door to door," Hunter huffed, "hawking everything from magazines to Hoovers. Far as we could find he never set down anywhere but we tracked him to a stay in Glasgow in March of eighty-seven." Phil looked over the top of his glasses, eyebrows raised. "Do the math, boss…it's exactly nine months from March to December."
Phil took off his glasses and put the papers he held on his desk before turning to stare out the window into the distance.
"He was there a few days at the end of the month with some convention of some sort." Hunter explained then hesitated, uncomfortably giving his boss the additional information he and his partner had uncovered. "Emilie was young," he reasoned, "probably living on the street already and…"
Coulson closed his eyes against the truth he would never share with his son. Some things were never meant to be told and Fitz would never know this one. "And she sold the only thing she had to stay alive." He finished for his agent.
"There's nothing to show she was a slapper, for all we know it was just that one time. Maybe when she found out she was…" Hunter let the topic drop as Coulson turned back to him. "The bloke's had more professions than we could count. All of them seemed to be no more than some sort of con, but he's never been caught as far as we can tell, always manages to pass the blame to some flunky."
"So what does he want with Fitz…after all this time, what's his game?" Phil was thinking out loud more so than asking a question.
Hunter shook his head before realizing that fact. "The court is ordering a paternity test. What are you going to tell the lad?" Hunter dropped his chin to his chest and took a deep breath. "How are you going to tell him?" He let out on the exhale.
"Let's hope we don't have to," Phil sighed as he stacked the paper on his desk into a neat pile and tucked it back into the large envelop Hunter had given him. "There is no way this son of a bitch is going to get his hands on my son. We don't stop until we find out his endgame and make sure he doesn't get within fifty feet of Fitz. With any luck the they'll do the paternity test and it will be the end of it."
"He's arriving here come Monday." Hunter reminded him.
"Then we have six days to fix this." Phil commanded.
XX
Melinda pulled the front door open and stared at the figure standing on the front porch. She shifted the drowsy toddler on her hip to the opposite side and wrapped Bobbi in half a hug as she stepped inside. Skye let out a soft moan that might have been a mumbled 'momma' and snuggled into her mother's embrace.
"Bobbi," Melinda breathed, almost relieved to see her long time friend and associate. She knew why the agent had traveled across the Atlantic and showed up unannounced at her door. She knew the news could not be good but did not have the strength or the energy to ask.
The other woman smiled and pushed a stray hair off the little girl's face. She bent close to Melinda and placed a soft kiss on the child's flushed cheek then looked to her friend with concern. The dark circles under Melinda's eyes did not go without noticing. Bobbi frowned at the obviously sick little girl in her friend's arms.
"Just a little cold," Melinda whispered. "She's so stuffy I can't lay her down. I've been walking the floor with her for about an hour hoping she'd drift off but…" She let the comment drop and looked toward the stairs.
Bobbi had known Melinda for many years. She never saw her so haggard. The constant worry over the last three weeks had taken their toll and having a sick child only made it more difficult.
"The other two fell asleep about fifteen minutes ago." Melinda remarked as she swayed a bit when Skye whimpered softly. "They've all got it," she sighed as she closed the door and started toward the kitchen motioning for Bobbi to follow. "Jemma came home sick on Monday and the other two woke up with it yesterday. I kept them all home. Jemma doesn't do well with the cough syrup and this one…" she paused and took a deep breath as she cast her eyes toward her baby. "Well, let's just say she and Fitz never do anything small. "Simple cold today, bronchitis tomorrow, pneumonia by the weekend," she shook her head as she filled the tea kettle and set it on the stove.
Bobbi slid off her jacket and draped it on the back on one of the chairs. All three of the younger kids were sick and the couple had to deal with the Fitz thing as well. How was Melinda even standing? Bobbi reached out her arms. "Let me take her for a while, Mel. You need a break. Maybe you should consider a nap yourself." She almost smiled but it looked more like a frown. Bobbie made to take the little girl from her mother but Skye's whiny protest and a few kicks of her little feet ended that.
Melinda shook her head. "She won't even let Phil or Trip take her when she gets like this."
"Okay," Bobbie nodded as she stepped back. "Then you need to get yourself into that big old recliner in the family room and let me help with the others. Geez, Mel, you're dead on your feet." She cast Melinda a knowing smile. "Get this little munchkin to sleep, we'll share a cup of tea and I'll fill you in on everything."
"Momma…" a hoarse call came from the stairs, followed by a round of croupy coughing.
Melinda let out a long breath and took a step in the direction of the call only to be stopped by Bobbi's hand on her shoulder. "Recliner, boss," she took her friend by the elbow and escorted her to the family room door then gave her a gentle push toward the comfy chair in the corner. "I'll take care of whatever it is, you get some rest."
Twenty minutes later Bobbi tucked a soft blanket around a snoozing Melinda and a finally sound asleep Skye. She'd tucked Jemma back into bed, assuring her that all was well and she was there to help with whatever needed to be done. The little girl, in true Jemma fashion, apologized repeatedly for being a burden, for being sick, for needing so much attention. Bobbi located the children's acetometophine gave it to the young patient for her headache complaint and assured her it was probably from the coughing. Jemma drifted off quickly. Bobbi pressed her lips to the girl's head and found it cool. She smiled as she pulled the blanket over the child and tiptoed into the hall.
She pushed open the door on the opposite side of that hall, hit immediately by the menthol smell in the room. Fitz seemed to be breathing with a bit of a snuffle but was sleeping soundly. She pressed a hand to his slightly warm forehead and made a mental note to keep Melinda informed. She put the little boy's foot back under the blanket and quietly exited the room.
'What a mess,' she told herself as she walked down the stairs. "Damn that Dunn throwing Melinda's world into turmoil. She hated the man with a fury she could not contain. She and Hunter had tracked him from Scotland to London to South Africa and Australia. He was a grifter, swindling people out of their life's savings and managing to remain two steps ahead of the authorities for years. He posed as a salesman but it wasn't sales he was after. She couldn't imagine why he would have been involved with young Emilie Fitz except for a one night diversion that left the troubled girl with a child she could not care for and a habit she could not support. Fitz had been damned from the beginning and saved by the love of Melinda May and Phil Coulson. There was no way she was going to let that rat bastard take this little boy and destroy his life. Who knew what kind of monster Alistair Dunn would turn their sweet and always mischievous Fitz into with his corrupt lifestyle. And why…why would someone like him, who cared about no one, want this child. The possibilities turned Bobbi's stomach and she knew Melinda's mind had visited those places as well.
She and Hunter had not found any indication that the man, in addition to his other illicit undertakings, was or had any association with pedophiles but then again both were aware of sleazy bastards that profited from selling children to the low life scum that were. She drew a deep breath through her teeth knowing she'd snap his neck if she found the slightest clue that he was one of them. There was no way he wanted anything to do with this little boy unless it profited him in some way. The answer to the problem lay in them finding out what that was.
Bobbi stopped at the family room door and looked back at her friend then moved to the kitchen. A cup of tea might not be a bad idea. A soft sound her spun her around. A bleary eyed Fitz stood in at the base of the stairs. Apparently he wasn't as sound asleep as she thought.
"Where's my mom?" He asked around a cough.
Bobbi was surprised the boy offered no greeting and seemed unfazed at her unannounced arrival. She smiled at him, but he did not return it. 'He's not feeling well,' she told herself and nodded toward the family room.
"Is she sick?" He asked as he leaned forward and peered at the form on the recliner.
"No, sweetie," Bobbi assured him. "She's just tired and your little sister has her worn out. I think."
He looked at her and she knew immediately he did not believe a word of her explanation. Fitz had been lied to most of his life. He had an almost innate radar to be able to tell when someone was giving him a half truth or flat out telling him something to mask what they did not want him to know. Even with his bloodshot blue eyes, she could tell he was glaring at her.
"Hey," Bobbi spoke softly. "You really should have something on your feet."
Fitz looked down at and lifted his bare toes up and down a few times.
"Probably a robe or something," she added. "Why don't we get you warm and then we'll both have a cup of tea. I bet your mom's got some honey that will help with that nasty cough as well."
The boy shrugged his shoulders. "Will you tell me what's going on?" He asked in his hoarse nasal voice then waited for her answer, never looking away from her gaze.
Bobbi let out a short breath. They hadn't told him. She wouldn't have either, but he knew something was not right and now looked for answers. It wasn't her place and she was glad for that. "We can talk, sure honey." She put an arm around his shoulder and walked him toward the kitchen.
Fitz shook his head. "I want my mom," he said so quietly she barely heard him. He slipped from her arm, headed into the room and toward Melinda.
Bobbi reached out to pull him back, afraid he'd wake both his mother and sister. She started to call him but stopped herself as Melinda lifted the blanket for him to crawl into her embrace. He snuggled into the space between his mother and the wide arm of the chair, content in the nook of her arm. He nuzzled into her chest as his eyes closed and he reached an arm across her. Melinda pulled the blanket around her little boy and mouthed a 'thank you' to Bobbi before once again closing her eyes.
XX
An hour later Jemma shuffled into the kitchen and dropped into her regular seat at the table. She sniffled a few times and dug a fist into one eye.
"Feeling better?" Bobbi asked as she poured a cup of tea and set it in front of the girl with a small pot of honey on the side.
Jemma smiled and nodded as she scooped out the sweet nectar and added to her cup. She stirred it slowly and watched as the liquid swirled a tiny cyclone. Bobbi topped off her own mug, picked it up and took a sip."
"How's the headache?" She asked the quiet little girl.
"It's not as severe as before. Dr. Stephens says I have rhinosinusitis. She's given me augmentin and a saline spray which is quite uncomfortable." Jemma answered in a comical nasal voice. She looked back into her cup and let out a soft sigh. "I'm so sorry I brought this home to Fitz and Skye."
Bobbi set down her cup and squatted down to Jemma's eye level. "Hey, none of that," she wrapped an arm around the girl's shoulders. "I'm sure there are kids sick all over. It's just that time of year, sweetie."
Jemma pursed her lips and nodded. It was unlike the girl to make such a statement. She knew more about viruses and contagion and medical terms than anyone in the family, probably as much if not more than her pediatrician.
Bobbi stood and kissed the girl on top of the head before sitting across from her. Jemma smiled as she looked around the kitchen.
"It was kind of you to clean up. I know momma's been busy with Skye. She's so little and she is so difficult with medicines and mentholated rub. She puts up such a battle." Jemma smiled weakly. "It was also quite nice of you to insist that momma take a nap as well as the little ones, even though they are perched on her chest." She attempted to smile again.
"Maybe you need a little more TLC yourself, huh?" Bobbi mock-pouted, thinking the child might be a bit envious of her siblings' closeness to her mother.
"Oh, no, not at all," Jemma stated calmly, as she pulled a Kleenex from her pocket and wiped her nose. She pushed the tissue back into her pocket and pulled a small bottle of sanitizer from the opposite pocket, squirted it into her hands and rubbed vigorously before snapping the cap shut and stuffing it back into her robe.
"It's okay to be sick, Jemma." Bobbi reached across the table and patted the girl's hand. "And it's okay to want your mom's attention as much as your brother and sister."
"What's really wrong with Fitz?" Jemma blurted out with a look of desperation that Bobbi had never expected.
She merely stared at the little girl for a moment before swallowing her shock. There was no way Melinda or Phil would have told their ten year old daughter the nightmare they were battling. There was no way the little girl could have found out. Phil had made it a point to have the matter discussed only at the office. Nothing was to be said in their home. Her hesitation in answering sent the child into an almost panic.
"He's more than just sick isn't he? He's got some dreadful illness?" She threw a hand over her mouth. "Is he going to…to…"
Bobbi gathered the little girl into her arms before she could finish the sentence. "No, sweetie, no, Fitz has a little bug, just like you. You know how he is. He always gets a little bit sicker than you do. You know Fitz, he never does anything small." She smiled and attempted a tiny hint of humor which Jemma ignored.
"But momma's been so protective of him. She drives us to school and picks us up. She's never done that before and when I got sick she just kept him home before he was even complaining. She wouldn't let him go on the field trip with the science club last week and when he got all cheeky and quiet belligerent, she didn't even punish him." She paused and took a breath, pulling out another tissue and wiping her eyes and nose. "He stomped and carried on something dreadful. Normally he would have gotten quite the smacking, but momma just held him and I think she was crying. She would never let him get away with anything like that unless something was very wrong. And she talked to Dr. Stephens for such an awfully long time when she visited yesterday. Please, Bobbi, please tell me the truth, please." Jemma had given up trying to catch her tears and her voice had turned to little more than a raspy whisper.
"Oh sweetheart," Bobbie shushed the child and hugged her closer. "I promise you that Fitz has no terrible illness or any you need to worry about. The doctor had to talk to your momma about all three of you and Dr. Stephens and I'll bet she probably scolded your mom about pushing herself too far as well. I know I did."
"But," Jemma swiped a tear from her cheek. "But, momma's been so sad and she's worried about something. I can tell by the way she's been acting. She's just…just different. Something's wrong Bobbi. I know it."
Bobbie held the little girl close and let out a long breath. Jemma would suspect. She was very in tune to others' feelings. The woman was at a loss for what to tell this little girl. "Honey, I think your mom is just tired and I think you've been sick and everything is just all blown out of proportion." She felt Jemma shake her head against her chest.
"And now you're here, Bobbi, and Hunter is too, I suspect. You never just show up unless there is something very wrong." Jemma sniffled softly. "Just like when that awful Jamie Grant tried to hurt us, but he's…"
"You mean we can't just visit?" Bobbi stopped her and tried to sound insulted. "Just missed our friends and their feisty kids and wanted to catch up with them?" Jemma actually laughed a funny weak laugh that lead to a cough. Bobbi smiled, hugged her again and kissed her temple. "I promise you, sweetie, if there is anything and I mean anything you need to know about, your mom and dad will tell all of you." Jemma tilted her head back and looked up at the woman who quickly made an 'X' over her heart. "Cross my heart!" Bobbie held up her right hand in a sincere pledge as she secretly wished her friends would never have to do so.
XX
Hours later Phil made his way through the darkened house to the room he shared with his wife. He turned on no lights and walked softly across the room knowing she was aware he had entered the room. He stepped to the side of the bed as he loosened his tie and smiled at the dark little head snuggled into her mother's embrace. Surprised not to see his son tucked into the space next to Skye, he slid the tie from his neck and tossed it over the back of the chair next to the closet. He moved to the bathroom, changed his clothing and slipped into his side of the bed without disturbing the child asleep next to her mother.
"Long day," Melinda stated.
He could see the moonlight from the large window reflecting in her eyes and smiled, unsure if she was referring to his day or her own. "Sorry…" was all he could answer.
"Don't be, I know you're doing everything you can. Bobbi made sure I got some rest today and Hunter was a big help." She spoke as she shifted and Skye let out a soft whimper. Shushing the little girl softly, Melinda motioned for him to wait before answering.
Phil smiled a crooked grin. "Yeah," he spoke with a sarcastic drawl.
"No, really," Melinda whispered as she ran her fingers through Skye's soft hair. "Maura stopped again today and everyone got a shot." Phil rolled his eyes, knowing his wife could have used his help with that situation. "Hunter got here about five minutes after she did and kept Fitz pretty calm with some silly argument over soccer." She laughed silently, "had him so worked up over some game that Fitz wasn't even aware of the injection until Maura was done."
"I'm impressed." Phil nodded. "Never would have pegged him for that duty."
"Fitz was so upset afterward, I promised him he could watch a game with Hunter so he's all tucked in down in the basement." Melinda informed him. "He slept most of the day and Hunter promised to keep him in bed and watch his language."
Phil laughed. "I wouldn't hold him to that." He listened for a moment to his wife's steady breathing and thought she'd fallen asleep.
"Jemma was pretty good, but got a little teary in spite of herself." Melinda spoke suddenly, startling him in the silence. "Bobbi's bunking in with her for the night. "Jemma suspects something, Phil. She opened up to Bobbi this afternoon. I think our friend managed to calm her fears but we are going to have to tell her something or she will not let this rest." She peered into her husband's eyes until he nodded in agreement.
"And this one," she glanced down at the little girl cuddled next to her.
Phil shook his head, knowing the struggle Skye would have put up when finding out she was about to receive a shot. He ran his hand along her arm and leaned over to kiss her head.
"Took all three of us to hold her down, she carried on for three hours after. Had Jemma and Fitz more upset than they needed to be. Again, thank God for Bobbi and Hunter helping out with the other two."
"I'm really sorry, Mel. I should have been here with you. I…"
She reached out her hand and placed a finger over his lips. "I know you would have been if it weren't for that bastard Dunn."
"He's here, Mel." He told her quickly. There was no way to do it gently. He held his breath waiting for her response. "Mel?" He prompted when none came.
"I heard you." Her voice was hard and though he could not see her clearly in the darkness he knew her face was the same.
"He's at the District. I made sure he was alone and stayed there, put two agents on him for the duration. Mack says he has an appointment with a lawyer tomorrow and they plan to file a petition to vacate the adoption. I've spoken to Alex. She says he has to prove paternity and that he is committed to raising…" he cast a quick glance at Skye. "To raising his alleged offspring," he finished.
Melinda pulled her baby closer and squeezed the tears from her eyes. She took a deep breath. "The court will order a paternity test." She paused and he waited for her to continue. Resting her cheek on Skye's head she sighed. "It will be a cheek swab or a blood test…in either case we'll have to tell him, Phil. It's going to destroy him and his trust. We promised him, Phil." She ended in little more than a whisper.
He moved quickly to her, taking her in his arms with Skye sandwiched between them. "We're going to fight this Mel. That bastard ignored him for ten years. He's not just going to waltz back in and pull him from everything he knows…from everything he loves." He felt more than heard her sob and quickly kissed her forehead then her cheek. "We're going to fight this and we're going to win."
"Momma," a little voice mumbled, stopping their conversation flat.