Sequel to failure
Her issue had been shame. The great Melinda May- raped. How do you admit that? She'd been young then, but still. Most guys who flirted with her undercover, well she'd tolerate them to maintain cover, but if they got too close she would kick out their private parts. Maybe little Lance had prepared her for that. Made her just the right amount cautious of drunk guys with motives. Meeting Andrew, and falling for him, that had been a long road. Coulson used to tease her about it- but he didn't know. Andrew had been kicked around a lot, yet persisted, even diagnosed her violence, almost understanding. She hadn't told him either, now she couldn't, Unless Lash was up for talking...
Coulson she could tell, and yet she hesitated. Shame. Would he understand? Her moment of weakness, a nine month failure. No one would ever know if she didn't tell anyone. She had only recessive genes, it was eerie how little Lance looked like her. Eerie but fortunate. Had they looked more similar... Well, Coulson was a smart guy, director for a reason. And everyone else? Even Daisy could put two and two together.
She had missed out on telling Andrew, and had no way of telling her son. It was still awkward thinking of him as her son. She'd been told enough she'd be a good mother, could never admit she was one, and hadn't let herself go through the motions of motherhood. She didn't know if she was supposed to regret giving him up. She supposed he was the only technical family she had. But he'd never been family. She'd only ever tolerated him. And he didn't know she'd ever questioned whether he was supposed to feel like a son. If he was then he was her problem child- almost as problematic as Daisy. Funny how that inhuman felt more like family than flesh and blood of hers.
She let a few punches fly. Training, she'd said. No one bother her. Chanel it, she'd told so many agents, Use the guilt the anger the frustration, don't let it use you. Well she felt pretty used now, and angry. Angrier, perhaps, than she'd been when the mistake ACTUALLY happened. She tried to channel it, tried to use it, but it left her feeling worn. What had it been? Back then? Why'd she let it happen? Why'd he gotten to her, why was this getting to her? Had she been careless? Naive? Unprepared? Too young for the field? Or just weak?
What was the thing they said, the people who looked out for the people she refused to believe she was one of? That it wasn't her fault, that it was the guy, and the motive. Had she been drugged? Well, there'd been alcohol sure but spiked? She didn't really remember the night. All she knew was that she'd slipped up. She threw a punch, it was bold, not calculated. She stumbled. Glanced up.
"What do you need?" She'd asked, anyone else and she'd just made them leave.
"Mother's day this past weekend."
"Uh huh."
"You know last year for father's day Fitz and Skye chipped in and got me a watch?"
"It's Daisy now."
"It was Skye then."
"Fine. So what do you need?"
"I thought it was a shame, no one got you anything. Skye used to make jokes about you and I being the parents of the team."
"Mm hm." She punched again.
"You would've made such a good mom..." Where was he going?
"It's a shame you and Andrew didn't..." She didn't like where Coulson was going with this.
"In the past." She hit the bag. Channel it channel it channel it.
"There should be more of you in this world." She snorted.
"doesn't even look like me." she muttered.
"Hm? What was that?"
She looked at him.
Philip Coulson.
Friend.
Ally.
If anyone were to know...
"I have a secret. I've been keeping..."
"Oh, another one." He said, with a smirk. Last secret she'd had his eyes had narrowed, a scowl had set on his face. Now he was smirking. Her eyes narrowed. The punching bag swung dizzily then stilled.
"You know." She accused ever so quietly.
"What do I know?" This wasn't a trick, he'd set her up he knew he just wanted her to admit it. She hit the bag, not one to break down.
"I didn't have a kid with Andrew, I couldn't..."
"You were scared?"
"Cautious." She muttered.
"I understand."
"You don't. I don't want you to."
"I knew when it happened. Took me awhile to figure out it was Hunter. I tracked down his dad and... Well you can imagine." She couldn't muster a smile. He knew she'd failed. He'd always known she'd failed and never said anything. She'd been ashamed and he'd always know. So he'd never said anything. She grimaced.
"It wasn't your fault."
"That's what the ads say."
"It was his."
"I know."
"Do you wish you'd told him?"
"Who?"
"Hunter." Another grimace.
"I'll tell him. Maybe."
"I can get him your communication if you want to write a letter or something..."
"No, no... It's too late, much too late."
"I missed my chance to be his mother. Didn't want it. Still don't!" She swung. He caught her.
"Channel it?" He offered, holding her up. She didn't want to be weak. She didn't want to fail...
"I can't." Her voice cracked. This wasn't her. It was the her that had messed up that one time that one night that one bloody night. It had been horrible. Terrible, what had she been drugged? She barely remembered only that she'd never do it again it... A tear slipped, he caught it.
"I failed."
"No. No... You don't fail."
"I did. I failed that night and I failed to tell you and I failed my family! I didn't even want a family and everything happened so... weird and..."
"You can't always channel it May. It's okay to break down."
"No." She stood straight and sighed.
"I won't fail again."
"You didn't fail then."
"Stop."
"Alright, I'll ease off. But my opinion stands. You've made a wonderful mother. If only you and I know it."
"Shut up."
I don't know, that one was hard to write. Some of the words I could hear in her voice but many of them I'm not sure of. If it's really bad (tell me) I'll rewrite it better.