Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Cross posted on my AO3 account under the same username.

It was bright and cold but so noisy and the scent of slick, hot copper was thick in the air. May felt the blood over her fingers, coating the digits to a slippery finish and with every heartbeat beneath her fingers Phil was dying. He lay there in her lap, blood trailing from his mouth, eyes staring up at her face. He moved a hand up as if to stroke her cheek but abandoned the gesture halfway. Melinda pressed her hand harder to his wound, the scepter just off to the side at her hip.

She tried to ignore the pulsing within her, the force she couldn't fight, that overcame her once before. She tried to resit but it was like the oxygen she took in was tainted and with every breath the bright blue returned to her vision, usurping her conscience and…

She watched her hand tighten around Phil's throat, cutting off the last bit of air he could get. He panicked, sluggishly fighting against her, the blood loss and pain of the stab wound constricting his movements. She screamed, telling herself to stop, begging, but her hand stayed tight around his throat, even as he mouthed her name and he cried.

His hand was soft on hers still, gently pulling at her fingers, trying to force her hand away with his forearm. With his training she knew he was well aware of how to break her arm as it was right now but he refused to do it even as she knelt there, killing him. Finally he seemed to stop, blood trailing down his face and onto her hand as the bloody bubbles in his mouth gurgled and popped. He was watching her, his face changing color and the light slowly fading from his eyes.

Just as he died, his chest stilling all movement and his eyes staring off at nothing, she felt the fog leave, slamming her back into control of her body. She pulled Phil's body to hers and screamed and screamed until-

She was sitting in bed, sweat running down her face, down her neck and into her tank top. She was sticky all over, sheets tangled with her legs, pillows either on the floor or the opposite side they were supposed to be on. She looked around, searching for Phil's body but she was alone. There was a TV mounted on the far wall, two Captain America recruitment posters from WWII on either side of it and sleek modern furniture.

Tears began streaming down her face. She was in Phil's room. She was in Phil's room because Loki killed him and the T.A.H.I.T.I. program only lasted as long as it took for her to fall in love with him all over again. Then he began deteriorating. He had said he loved her, that he would always love her and then he had tried to kill her.

She did the only thing she could do, just as she had in Bahrain, and she did the unthinkable. Her hands burned with the memory and her stomach rioted.

"Mommy?" a little voice called from the doorway. Melinda looked up, quickly smiling.

"Hey, baby. What's the matter?" she said lowly. She hated when she woke up her daughter.

"Were you dreaming about Daddy again?" the little girl asked hesitantly. She was still half hidden by the door, her stuffed bear in her arms. The shape of her eyes she inherited from her mother but the bright, expressive blue color matched her father's. Her hair was straight and dark like her mother's but the crooked smile that was almost always on her face was all her father's. She made Melinda smile at her darkest of times and this night was no exception.

"Yes, Peggy, I was dreaming of Daddy." Melinda held her arms out for her daughter, squeezing her tight as the little girl launched herself into her mother's embrace.

Unlike in Bahrain, this time she saved the girl.

Fin

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I went there. Please leave feedback of what you liked, what you want more of or concrit if you have any!

I hope you enjoyed :)