A/N: Thanks for the feedback! This story will probably be four or five chapters in the end. Hope you enjoy Chapter 2!
Disclaimer: Marvel. Not me. They're the best.
Chapter 2
"How do I know you?" she whispered.
"I told you," he said quietly. "From the real world."
She shook her head, automatically rejecting this ridiculous idea. Insanity …
"You said you wanted proof," he said. "Well, I don't have … irrefutable proof, but, look."
He moved away from her and rifled around in a satchel that had been on the desk. He pulled out a folder and opened it. She stared as he sorted through the odd collection of newspaper clippings, a postcard from Tahiti and scribbled notes in what she assumed were his own hand. Despite the cynical thought that this did nothing to reassure her of his sanity, she continued to watch with rapt attention.
Finally, he handed her a thick page. It was ripped from a calendar, the month of May. There was a picture of a corvette in the corner.
"What is this?" she asked, puzzled.
"These are all … things that kept reminding me of another life," he explained, waving his hand vaguely over the still open folder. "May is my favourite month, but I never understood why."
He stared pointedly at her and she couldn't help feeling ridiculously touched.
"Also, Skye says I have a red corvette called Lola, some connection to my father. I suppose the sight of a corvette next to the word May was … well, it certainly meant something to me."
God, he sounded crazy. But … but she felt … She half shook her head again, but it felt like a futile attempt at fighting his words.
He gave a shrug and said, "I get it. I can't prove anything to you, because I'm pretty much in the same boat as you. Except that I remember some things sometimes, things that make no sense … And I recognised Daisy. I mean, Skye, but her name is Daisy. I recognised her, but I've never met her."
May felt emotion curl in her stomach. That was exactly what she had been feeling about him. Her fingers tightened on the month of May, crinkling the paper.
As if he had read her mind, he continued, "And you. I recognise you. And clearly you recognise me, or you wouldn't be up here."
"But," she objected, still fighting something in her chest, "I've never had anything remind me of another life. It's just … just you …"
He gave her a small smile.
"They say I've had my memory altered before. In the real world, I mean. That's why it didn't work properly on me."
She sighed, half letting go of her resistance, the battle between her intellect and emotion wearing her down.
"So, how do we know each other, then?" she asked him, trying to sound sceptical as opposed to desperate for the answer. "You said we're both SHIELD agents?"
"Yes," he said quietly, an absurd affection in his gaze. "And we're friends."
Something about the way he said this seemed to transport her straight back to the reason she had come up here in the first place. She saw again the hurt shining through the blue eyes of the Phil Coulson in her dream, felt again the crushing sense that she had lost him, that she had lost everything …
And as he stared at her, she felt the last of her resistance melt away. Still half caught up in her dream, lulled by the silence and the darkness, mesmerised by his gaze, she suddenly knew he must be right. How could I possibly know that? was her last desperate thought before she gave in to the impossible.
She felt a deep unwavering connection form gently between them as they stared at each other and she was struck by a sudden realisation.
"Are we … together, in the … the real world?"
He gave a slight frown.
"I don't know … I don't think so."
She let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding and broke eye contact to look at his feet. She had been so sure in that moment. Then she looked back up at him.
"I remember … something."
His eyes widened.
"What?" he asked, eagerly.
"It's just a moment, a dream really, except … except it feels …"
He nodded understandingly.
"Yeah. I get those. Like fragments of another life."
"I don't know about that," she said, suddenly stepping back from him and looking away. It was still hard for her to accept that she believed him about something so wildly unbelievable. "I don't get fragments, but this …"
"What was it?" he asked quietly after a moment.
She looked at him again, searching his eyes helplessly, looking for answers.
"I think I betrayed you there," she said, and she felt the ache in her chest come back. "I … I did something wrong, and I hurt you."
He didn't seem upset, only curious.
"What did you do?"
"I don't …"
She wrung her hands in a lost gesture.
"Well, I mean, don't worry about it," he said kindly. "I'm sure we sorted it out."
"How are you sure?"
"Because I feel like I trust you now. Anyway, I'm sure Daisy or Jemma would have mentioned if there was some kind of problem between us. But so far they've just said we're good friends."
She stared at him again, hungry for answers.
"What else did they say?"
"Just that we've worked together for a very long time and that we were partners. Neither of them said anything about us being … you know …" he looked fleetingly bashful, but then recovered with a smile. "But, apparently we're pretty close."
She still felt as though something essential was missing from this description of their relationship, like there was a forgotten element. Maybe they were wrong?
"Could it … maybe they don't know if we're …"
He looked thoughtful, but far more hesitant than he had looked before.
"I suppose it's possible," he said doubtfully.
May found herself stepping close to him again, the month of May slipping from her fingers as her hands came up to rest on his chest. Her heart was thudding uncomfortably, and she couldn't for the life of her figure out what it was she was feeling.
"You make me remember," she tried to explain, the rushing feeling in her head getting in the way of coherency. "In that building, when you said … and I did, I snapped out of it. You made me remember I was on the wrong side."
He said nothing, simply watching her.
"And you're … I know you, I can feel it, you're important …"
Suddenly she felt overwhelmed and ridiculous. She squeezed her eyes shut and made to move away from him, but she felt his hands gently resting on her upper arms, holding her in place.
"I know," he said consolingly, and she looked back up at him. "I know how hard it is to try and understand, to try and articulate these … these fragments to yourself. I know you feel like you're going insane."
Unable to speak, she continued to stare at him. She felt a deep longing for more, for a closeness that felt maddeningly elusive, an intimacy that was there, but that she couldn't quite grasp.
Making a decision, she leaned up and placed a very soft, hesitant kiss on his lips. Seconds stretched as they lingered there and then he responded with an equal little kiss back. Moments later, they were clutching at each other, kissing with fierce intensity and May felt as though something was coming back, some kind of knowledge of him, of their world together. Yes, Phil, he was … he was everything –
Suddenly he broke the kiss and she felt as though she had been jerked out of another vivid dream, only this one slipped out of her mind's eye before she could grasp what it even was.
No …
He seemed taken aback by the look on her face, which must have been as distraught as she felt.
"I'm sorry," he said, his voice soft, but oddly gruff. "I just … I don't think we do this."
"I was remembering …" she tried to explain.
"Remembering what?" he asked after a short pause. "You remembered us together like that?"
She thought hard, barely aware of the fact that her hands were still resting at the back of his neck, and his fingers were still against her cheek. But the memory - or whatever it was - wasn't coming back. She closed her eyes and shook her head in frustration.
"I don't know what I was remembering," she admitted in a low voice. "There was just something … something about you. I don't know."
She was surprised to feel his lips find hers again, tender and soft this time, and even more surprised to feel the jolting intensity with which her heart leaped as an odd thought passed through her head. I'm kissing Phil. It wasn't the thought itself that was so distinctive, but the joyful wonder that came with it.
He pulled away again before it escalated like before. This kiss had clearly been more experimental, because now he watched her closely again, waiting for her reaction.
After a moment or two, she gave a sigh.
"I think you're right," she admitted slowly, now avoiding his eye. "I don't think we do this."
He nodded and carefully disengaged from her, although one hand lingered lightly on her elbow.
"Why do you say that?" he asked.
She didn't know why she suddenly felt almost … embarrassed.
"It felt," she muttered, still not looking right at him, "like a first kiss."
She risked a glance at him and saw that he was smiling slightly.
"Yes, that's what I thought, too."
She was relieved that he seemed to be on the same page as her. Anyone listening might have pointed out that it felt like a first kiss because it was a first kiss, between them, in this world. But she had felt the deep significance of it, one that didn't correlate with how they knew each other here.
The hand that had been resting on her elbow came down to hold hers and she gripped it back. Despite feeling fairly certain that they weren't actually a couple in the world they had come from, she wanted to press her lips against his once more, to pull off his clothes, to feel him in some way that might make sense of how desperately drawn to him she felt.
Almost as though he had read her mind, he said quietly, "It's probably not a good idea to pursue this … not here. Might make it uncomfortable for us when we go back."
"Yeah," she muttered distractedly, her brain lingering on the phrase when we go back. "You're probably right. I just … I wish I could remember properly. It's driving me insane."
He gave a little laugh.
"I know the feeling."
She felt a great relief at seeing him smiling at her, as though she had been missing him. And she didn't want the conversation to end. She glanced behind him at the rest of the folder.
"So … what does all the rest of that mean, then?"
He brightened.
"Really? I don't seem like too much of a lunatic, with my conspiracy folder?"
Amusement coloured her chest now.
"No, you definitely do. But apparently I'm as insane as you are, so we might as well embrace our shared delusion."
x x x
tbc
