Her hair was still wet.

May shifted as she returned to consciousness. Most of her being urged her to drop back into slumber but a wet pillow was something that could not be ignored and she opened her eyes.

She was on the double bed in the Zephyr's stateroom. Everything was a bit musty but the clean scent of a shower hung in the air. She turned her head and smiled.

Coulson was in the chair next to the bed, chin dropped to his chest, eyes closed. He was still only half dressed, a glass of what she assumed to be whisky precariously held between his hand and his white undershirt. His other arm hung limp out of view.

She was contemplating the best way to wake him up which wouldn't end with the drink tossed all over one of them when there was a knock at the door.

Coulson blinked awake with the awareness of a lifetime spent in insecure locations and May slammed her eyes closed. She did not want to give him any reason to invite in whichever well intentioned member of their team was on the other side of the door.

"Jemma?" She heard Phil ask.

Of course it was Jemma. Her memory was fuzzy but to the best of May's recollection, she'd been barely able to hold herself up before essentially collapsing into Phil's arms. It made complete sense that the young doctor would be concerned.

"She's sleeping." "No, It can wait until she's awake. There's been enough of people manipulating folks while they were unconscious."

Phil was speaking with his director's tone but May could hear the tightness in his voice as he reasoned with Simmons; she hadn't had much time to think about the logistics of what had been done while she was in the framework and she was certain she didn't really want to. No doubt Phil didn't either.

"No. When she wakes up we will both come to you. For now, we wait."

It sounded like he finally succeeded in dismissing Jemma. May smiled. She may watch his back in the field but he had always been the one who took care of things once the coast was clear. It was a familiar and comforting reminder after the lonely existence she led in the framework.

When he didn't immediately come back into view, she couldn't help but tease, "You protecting me?"

He reappeared around the corner wearing a strained smile.

"I can do that sometimes, y'know." He shoulders stooped and his eyes were dark. He wasn't wearing his prosthetic.

She blinked, did he not understand she was joking? That of course she knew he protected her? That he had always protected her?

"You can. You do." She nodded, trying to instill as much sincerity as she could muster into the words.

He hesitated at the edge of the wall, jaw tightening and she watched his shoulders tense. Based on his body language, she braced herself for some dark confession but instead he nodded to a duffel at the corner of the cabinet, "I grabbed your gear bag from the locker. Shower's free if you're ready."

She glanced at the bag, allowing herself a moment to stretch and more fully awaken.

"How long did I sleep?"

Phil looked to the clock behind him, "Not long. About 90 minutes. We still have a couple more hours if you want to try to sleep again."

It was an alluring option and she considered it for a beat. But now she was awake and feeling more like herself she realized how grimy she felt.

"Maybe after a shower." She sat up and grabbed the bag. It was the go-bag she had packed herself eons ago. Everything she knew she might need was in there.

Phil was still standing stiffly in front of the chair, watching her, eyes shuttered. When he was tense she felt no choice but to be tense as well and she didn't like it. May didn't know what was bothering him so she was unsure how to best put him at ease. Of course, teasing was reliable method of gauging him…

"Is there shampoo in there?" Knowing full well that he hadn't used shampoo in years and there was a small bottle of her favorite cucumber shampoo in the bag.

He snorted and smirked, "Didn't notice."

She waited for his shoulders relax a hitch before she backed into the small bathroom and closed the door.

Placing the bag on the closed toilet seat she turned on the water. She knew that despite the extensive water reclamation system on the Zephyr that showers should be quick. All the same, she granted herself the small pleasure of allowing the water to heat up.

The thin black top and leggings stuck to her limbs as she peeled them off and she shivered. Leaning into the mirror she pried the medical port off her chest. A small bead of blood followed and she put pressure on it with her fingers; it was warm against her cool skin.

Looking over her body there were no other unfamiliar marks; no bruises or cuts, no indication that she had been hurt while unconscious. She clamped down on the fact that she'd never know for sure what had been done to her. Feeling overcome with the need to cleanse herself, she stepped into the shower, putting her hair under the water and allowing the warmth to envelope her.

This felt real.

But so had the shower she had the previous morning at the resistance base…and the previous showers in her apartment. Showers in the framework all had the same cucumber shampoo, moisturizing bar soap and steam that she breathed in deep.

A shiver ran up her spine.

The warm shower was cleansing but not enough to ease the fracture inside.

She finished, toweled off and changed. Phil would probably have gone to find Daisy on the flight deck. May was still exhausted but doubted she'd get much rest alone in the room; she only hoped that Coulson's over-protective instincts had calmed enough to not order her back to bed once she found him.

She was in the middle of silently rehearsing what she'd say to get him off her back when she opened the bathroom door only to realize that he hadn't left.

He hadn't even put his prosthetic back on. He looked just as he had when she first woke up, slouched in the chair, whisky in hand; except he wasn't sleeping. His eyes were open but glazed, focused on nothing somewhere in the middle distance.

He didn't move or give any indication that he heard her. Sitting there, barefoot, glass in his only hand, freckles and old scars prominent on his stooped shoulders, May's heart clenched. Phil looked…vulnerable. Like one wrong word would be enough to break him.

She swallowed and wrapped her arms around herself, "You okay?"

He twitched, dragging his eyes up to look her over. "'m fine." He muttered, not bothering to hide behind an attempted grin.

It had been over a year since she had seen him like this; since the night he had appeared at her room with an already cracked bottle of huangjiu and the news that Daisy was gone and he was accepting the president's suggestion that he resign from the director's chair.

That night had been full of self-recrimination; now he just seemed hollow and lost.

"Right…" She didn't have the words a year ago and she certainly didn't have them now. Best she could do was what she had done then, "Got another glass?"

May followed his gesture to the corner cabinet. There was a small box askew behind the door. A fond smile pushed at her lips as she realized this must be his personal hidden stash, "You do know there are more sustainable things than candy and donuts?"

"There are pistachios in there somewhere." The corners of his eyes slightly crinkled, "Just in case."

She looked down, a pleased smirk pulling at her lips. Pistachios and craisins had been her fuel for many long missions. Digging through the collection of Little Debbies, Hostess and candy she located a small package of the green nuts.

Settling on the edge of the bed she opened the pistachios and picked up the bottle of scotch.

"You sure you should be having that?" He asked as she poured herself a finger.

She felt her eyebrows climb her forehead, giving a pointed look to his own glass.

"I just meant because of the epi." He defended with a shrug. "You did kind of collapse earlier."

Over-protective mode still going strong, apparently. She tilted her head, "Is that why you're here? Keeping an eye on me?" She took a sip of the drink in an attempted projection of nonchalance, proving there was nothing to worry about.

He just stared back, hard and unamused. She had the same feeling that she had in the containment pod, that he might be mad at her.

When he spoke it was quiet and flat, "You scared me."

"I told you I knew what I was doing." She tried a comforting smile, "Not the first time I've used an epi high."

He harrumphed, "Still not accepting it was a good idea, but also not what I was talking about."

May's stomach tightened. He was being honest, he wasn't mad; Phil was scared. She dropped the smile. What was he scared about?

She scanned his face looking for clues; he was laser focused on her, jaw tight.

Daisy had said that Phil had taken it really hard when her robot double had been revealed…for a moment May tried to put herself in his shoes, how she might feel if it turned out that he wasn't really here, that she'd been tricked and she had no idea where he was.

She swallowed, "Phil? How long was it, really, before you noticed?"

His jaw shifted. "Weeks." He looked down. "25 days."

Almost a month. Her breath stilled in her throat. She had been gone almost a month before anyone even noticed. "And then?"

"You stole the Darkhold. FitzSimmons figured it out the same time I did. They called Daisy, and she quaked RobotMay before she could shoot me." He wasn't looking at her, focused on his drink. "Not a great day."

May had nothing to say. Daisy had warned her not to be angry with him, assured her that the duplicate had been perfect. But how perfect could it have been if it was able to betray Coulson; nearly shoot him?

She turned to her own glass.

"We didn't…" Phil rested his drink in his lap, breaking the silence, "We didn't know anything. Where you were. If you were okay. If you were even…"

There it was...The familiar Coulson guilt. The tone of voice which carried with it the implication that he felt responsible for the wellbeing of every person, at all times.

"I know the feeling." She looked at him pointedly.

He got the message and bristled with indignation, "It's been literally years since I died. It was only a few months ago that we almost lost you for good."

"Years?!" She felt her neck snap with the speed she glared at him, "What about you disappearing into some kind of dark alternate dimension and almost being sucked away for good?" Or apparently some plane crash, she wanted to add but kept those questions to herself for another time.

"Okay, fair enough. I forgot about that little adventure for a moment." He had the decency to look contrite, "How about we both agree to cool it with the close calls?"

She gave a slight shake of her head, Phil Coulson: King of the Understatement.

"I am more than happy to agree to that." They toasted and settled back into the quiet.

He balanced his glass between his thighs and held out his hand. Reading the silent gesture, May shook out a handful of pistachios into his waiting palm.

She took another sip, savoring the smooth liqueur as she pieced everything together.

About 6 weeks ago she left the base to go collect AIDA so she could assist against Eli Morrow.

AIDA knocked her unconscious and returned to the base with a RoboMay who had her memories and mannerisms.

Over the next 25 days Eli Morrow was taken out by his nephew, somehow Coulson convinced Daisy to stay, Coulson, Mac and Mace were in a plane crash. RoboMay's behavior was convincing and she accurately told Daisy about a mission from about 20 years ago.

Then, RoboMay stole the Darkhold and almost shot Coulson before Daisy showed up and quaked her based on information from FitzSimmons.

For a week and a half they searched for her.

About 11 days ago Coulson, Mac, Mace and Fitz joined her in the framework. The next day Daisy and Jemma came in to save them.

Somewhere in there Daisy had been shot and Phil had drank their bottle of Haig.

She pursed her lips, it was far from enough information, too many things still didn't make sense. She leaned forward, "So, how'd you end up in there? Do something stupid and reckless?"

She smirked. He hated when she called him out for being reckless. He rarely feared for himself and he wielded that lack of fear as when times got desperate. The reason for his fearlessness held implications she wasn't comfortable exploring.

Phil didn't react, just stared back with an open intensity that had her smile faltering.

"No. Not reckless. I was tempted. Went a little rogue with Mac…"

She breathed, that was familiar, "Of course you did…"

May wasn't stupid, she knew she was important to Phil; he was to her too. Hell, it was her concern for him that led her to asking Radcliff to read the Darkhold. It made sense that he would do something senseless that resulted in the team being captured.

"Not like you think." He corrected her silent thoughts, "Kept in touch with the team. Was measured. Careful. Controlled. Just like you would have wanted."

His words were deliberate, like he wanted ensure that she heard them and understood. And she did. In her absence, he created a version of her to be his conscience and acted as he thought she would want.

She bit her lip. There was a reason he had been promoted faster than her, had found himself trusted by Fury and chosen to lead; his instincts were usually sound. Using her as his conscience ended with him and half their team imprisoned in a virtual world. Was trying to do things by her standards actually a weakness for him?

Her chest hurt and she sighed, "Stuff like this is why spies aren't supposed to have friends."

Personal connections were dangerous.

He looked up, locking eyes, "Is that really us?"

She frowned. Was he questioning their friendship? She knew it was complicated; had been more complicated than either of them wanted to admit for some time.

"Can we really even call ourselves spies anymore?"

She looked away, relieved and confused by the question. "I don't know."

She exhaled, her brain was beginning to hurt again. She put her glass down on the floor and shifted back against the headboard, "All I know is that I'm tired."

Coulson nodded, "You should sleep some more. Still have time. I can wake you when we're close. Davis is a novice pilot, I bet he'd appreciate the help landing in the hangar."

She looked him over, slouched in the chair, "You should get some rest too."

He rolled his eyes and gestured to himself, "Do I look like I'm intending on doing anything productive anytime soon?"

They had done this before; one sitting watch while the other slept. But they weren't in the field. This was the Zephyr, with their team awake and aware on the flight deck. There was no reason he couldn't get some real rest before they were tasked to face whatever was next.

She made room and patted the mattress.

He pulled back, same hesitant guilty eyes he had given her when she asked what had happened with her robot self.

She sighed, she wasn't sure what he had to feel guilty about, but she didn't care; her exhaustion was teasing her with memories from the framework and the creeping sensation of alienation coiled inside.

"Stop whatever it is you're doing. I get it. You're feeling weird about my robot self. Doesn't matter." He still didn't move as she lay down so she appealed to his practicality, "Either come here and lie down or go to one of the other bunks. It's stupid to keep sitting in that chair when we both you you're just going to fall asleep like that and be cranky when you wake up."

With a few beats of hesitation, he swallowed the remainder of his drink and transferred from the chair to the bed without really standing, more of collapsing on to his back and releasing a contented sigh when his eyes closed.

May rolled up on to her side, holding in a smile. She knew he trusted her but it was warming to see evidence of it after her time in the framework where it felt like years of no one trusting her.

In that world everyone knew she was responsible for bringing Katya to the US. Of being the ultimate cause of the Cambridge Incident.

She had acquiesced to Hydra in an effort to right her wrongs; clear out the red from her ledger as Romanov might say. But in the field no one covered her six or asked her to cover theirs. She had no partner. They couldn't deny her skills but they never fully trusted her.

And then Mac had leveled the shotgun at her and she was accepting of his judgement, but Phil arrived, all glasses and plaid, standing between her and the barrel of the gun, announcing he trusted her.

In that moment she hadn't understood it but his voice was familiar; something she had heard in dreams, telling her it was going to be okay, that she had done good...

Eventually Phil's eyes blinked open and he turned his head, registering that he was being watched. He rolled on to his right side to face her and May internally lectured herself when his eyes flicked to the shelf with his prosthetic; she should have arranged it so he could be lay his side without pinning down his good arm.

"Want me to get your hand?" She offered.

"Nah." He smiled slightly and again she felt the warmth of his trust.

She smiled back.

She cared deeply for the whole team but even as Daisy and Jemma had grown better at understanding her, they were still so young. To have someone who had been through it all with her, the ups and downs, the years, the missions, close calls, deaths…she was so thankful they were both still standing; as long as Phil was somewhere, she'd never be alone.

May thought back to the first time they shared a bed. It wasn't long after they started working together, maybe only their 3rd op without supervising officers. Phil was tasked with trying to talk a potential asset into abandoning the shady arms dealer who operated a luxury Thai resort. She was in charge of making sure Phil didn't get killed.

Their cover was newlyweds on their honeymoon so when the scanners revealed their room was bugged they had no choice but to put on a show or risk blowing their cover and the mission before it even started.

Poor Coulson nearly blew it anyway, he was so nervous that he mangled her bra clasp, barely able to release it. Operations students were well prepped that 'whatever it takes' didn't always mean something miserable and she would have been perfectly fine following through on their 'act'; she knew Phil respected her and with the libido of a 27 year old spy, she might have been a little curious about the wry guy with blue eyes and strong arms.

But Phil had other plans; after a good deal of fumbling he made loud apologies about jetlag and exhaustion despite the fact she could very much feel through his pants that he was ready to go with nothing to apologize for. Regardless, she followed his lead, assured him it was okay and suggested a shower might help. They had gone to the ensuite together, out of sight of the cameras and took turns in the cold shower.

It was one of those ridiculous moments they shared that no one else would ever understand but she held close to her heart; despite teasing him mercilessly for years after.

Looking across the mattress he was smiling at her in a way that told her he was absolutely not having the same memory she was.

She watched his eyes trace her face and his smile fade into a frown, gaze becoming unfocused.

Her own smile fell away as she watched his jaw tense, eyes squeezing shut. His left arm rose and twitched and he grimaced, breath stuttering. She knew this look; he wasn't in physical pain but he was in pain.

She started to reach out but withdrew her hand. "Phil?" She tried, not showing her relief when his slate eyes blinked open, "You okay?"

He swallowed and pulled on a half-attempted smile, "Just…working through things."

She inhaled. "Memories?"

"It's a lot." He confirmed with a wince.

"Yeah…" She nodded, yet again unable to resist the pull through her own framework existence.

Most of her life had been the same up until Bahrain; childhood memories and young adulthood all seemed to line up. When she got to SHIELD a rotation of familiar faces had taken Phil's place on missions and sparring sessions and prank wars. Blake had been with her in Sausalito, Sitwell in Madrid, Natasha in Thailand, Murphy in Glasgow and Hill in Bahrain.

Bahrain. The set up was the same; Hill authorizing her to go in to extract the team despite orders to wait. She made it upstairs, Katya approaching, hand outstretched, asking for her pain…and May found the words, knew what to say to make the girl stop, hand dropping to her side, big tears falling from wide eyes as she cried and collapsed into May's lap, begging for forgiveness.

She shuttered, she didn't want to think about that, couldn't think about that, she would not let a computer program reverse the years of work she had done to reclaim herself.

She needed grounding and looked to Phil who was still watching her. For a second the image jumped and in place of the closed and steady one-armed man he was the other guy; a little jumpy with a dopey smile and thick rimmed glasses.

She blinked back to him, focusing on his eyes and she smiled, "You were wearing glasses. Didn't have LASIK in the framework?"

He frowned, "Guess I didn't. Makes me grateful I did; those glasses were always getting filthy on base."

She smirked, during the early months of restarting SHIELD he complained of the speed his eyes were beginning to fail him as he spent late nights shifting through mountains of reading. One of his overseas recruitment trips apparently included a stop at an optometrist and when she asked him what happened to his reading glasses he had just muttered that it was better for a SHIELD director to have only one eye than two that required glasses.

Just another difference between him and the other guy, "Tell me more about FrameworkPhil..." She leaned closer, feeling an internal urge to know about his life. Judging by his career, the framework changed much more than just the last 9 years for him and her curiosity was strong, "10th grade history?"

He shrugged, "Makes sense, doesn't it?"

"Maybe." She squinted. He loved history and loved sharing his knowledge, and she knew he romanticized the idea of a 'normal life', but she couldn't imagine Phil Coulson being content in that kind of existence, "SHIELD didn't approach you?"

"They did." He nodded. "Just like here; end of first semester. I just didn't say yes."

She frowned. She had assumed that he hadn't been approached. The cadet she had met, and the young agent she had worked with had been so excited to be a part of SHIELD that she simply couldn't imagine a version of him that would ever say no. "That's so unlike you. To turn down adventure."

He shrugged, "I don't know about that I…" He stopped mid-sentence, eyes going wide and features paling.

May propped herself up, placing a hand on the mattress between them, "What?"

His eyes were slow to focus on her again and he swallowed, "My response that day wasn't what the framework changed for me."

He paused and she found herself holding her breath.

"My dad." Phil finally spoke, not looking at her, "In the framework he didn't die until I was in my thirties."

He rolled onto his back and covered his face with his hand, taking large, slow breaths.

May watched him, heart tight.

Phil was blinking at the ceiling and it took her a moment to register he was talking to her again, "I've told you what it was like for Mom and me when he died. I guess all that moving around and working to make ends meet made me more open to accepting risk."

May bit her lip. The fact was that he hadn't told her what it was like. Phil didn't talk about his childhood much. There were a few things she knew; that he became interested in strategy by watching his father map out football plays, that working on Lola together was one of the last things they shared before he died, and that his file identified his father's death as a 'defining moment' in his life.

She knew that despite it only being the two of them for most his childhood, he wasn't close to his mother; he rarely went home for holidays and almost never had a warm anecdote to share while a group would reminisce about times before SHIELD. She knew they moved a lot; he had once mentioned 6 high schools in 4 years and that he'd learned to take a punch in that time.

She also knew that Phil didn't start wearing tailored Italian suits or $2,000 watches until after his mother passed. Despite receiving fast promotions and being Fury's clear favorite, Phil had lived tightly, maintaining a low rent room at the Triskelion, stitching holes in his pants and often opting to cook instead of going out. May suspected he sent most of his paycheck home, only buying what he had always wanted for himself once she wasn't there to support.

May sighed internally, of course his father staying alive would have changed the choices he made. Just like exposure to Fitz's father turned him into a hardnosed villain, a life with his father turned Phil into the cowardly lion.

The lack of adversity suddenly made so many things about frameworkPhil fit into place; the naïveté, the openness, the quick to trust and believe in the good of people. Not that this Phil didn't have that; he just had a darker side; a temper running hot below the surface, a ruthless pragmatism and determined instinct for survival that superseded his better nature.

"Among other things…"

She didn't realize she had spoken out loud until he blinked at her, "What?"

She froze, they were both already fragile enough; there was no way she was pulling on that thread now. "Nothing." She forced a smile and tilted her head, "So, your Dad. What was he like?"

He frowned and shook his head, "Doesn't matter. It wasn't real. I barely remember him. Whatever that was in the framework was a complete fabrication. Wish fulfillment."

His voice trailed off, wistful and she winced, "I'm sorry." Wanting to offer comfort she reached out, grazing his hand but pulling back from the uncertainty.

She wished she had kept her hand on his when he looked back at her, eyes focused and dark, voice quiet, "I can imagine what the program changed for you."

May's breath caught in her throat and she had to look away. Of course he knew. He was there; that day and for all the aftermath. "Look how well that turned out."

"Knowing that…" He paused but she knew the question he was preparing, "Does it give you any kind of…closure? Or something? Knowing what you prevented?"

So many times May had wondered what she could have done to end that day better; how her life would have played out differently but even before the framework she had come to a fragile peace with herself, "I've always known it was a no win situation. Doesn't ever make it better."

Phil just stared back at her, empathy softening his features, his own regret clear on his face. He swallowed, "Up until then, everything was the same?"

She looked him over.

The same? In so many ways yes, but she began to realize how big of a difference one omission could make.

This; lying here, open and vulnerable in more ways than one, debriefing and mending, was so right, and had been missing from that other life. It was no wonder she always felt a little lost and alone in the framework. While she and Phil had gone through this process countless times in various ways, she never did with any of her framework partners; it was always a little more by the book with them.

"Well, there was one notable difference." She smirked fondly, not strong enough to fully admit how much his presence had been missed in her life, "I never ended up treading water in San Francisco Bay, waiting hours for a rescue."

It took him a moment to register the tease; the intensity of the previous moment giving way to a huffed chuckle and roll of his eyes, "Will you ever let that drop?"

"Doesn't seem likely." The familiarity of the banter warmed her from the inside and she smiled at him. How could Framework May have ever doubted her world was a lie when she didn't have this in there?

She was just starting to feel better when the humor slid from Phil's face one more time. Damn him and his insatiable need to know; he couldn't just relax in to the moment, he had some other question and May was certain it would be one she didn't want to hear.

"What about Andrew? Was he in the framework?"

She was right, and as she recalled the answer it was even worse than she feared. Her body tremored and she blinked, looking down as she decided if she wanted Phil to know.

She didn't. But she would tell him the truth because she had to speak it. Same as she had to face her role in Mace's death, she needed to confront all her actions from the framework; real world consequences or not.

She bit her lip, "Andrew was flagged as a potential inhuman and taken away. I didn't even try to stop them. Never tried to find out where they took him, what they did to him."

Andrew was the same in the framework, empathetic and kind and funny and smart and way out of her league; but he loved her. Showered her with attention. Never questioned her choices or her humanity even as she questioned herself.

He made her want to be a better person, a more complete person. But she had been so shattered after Cambridge that she couldn't let him see; couldn't risk ruining him the way she was ruined. She pulled away.

They were already on the verge of their split being irreparable when he was taken. She'd been going through the 5th round of Hydra agent interrogation and when she came home after midnight it was to a note on the door that her husband had been relocated for his own safety; and for hers.

Her breath shuddered as she held in the tears but not the cry her body needed to release. Her eyes tightened and in the space of a moment, Phil had closed the gap between them, pulling her close and wrapping his arms tight around her.

"It's okay. It wasn't real. That wasn't you." His voice was low next her ear and his breath smelled of whisky and pistachio as he repeated the mantra,
"You tried to save him. It's okay."

But it wasn't okay; it was her. Her framework self wasn't like Fitz or Phil with a new personality moulded since childhood. Her actions in there were the actions that she would take in that situation.

She suddenly found herself quietly grateful that Phil wasn't wearing his prosthetic; she wasn't feeling particularly fond of robotics or artificial anything and it was comforting that in the moment everything about them was real.

Phil was like Andrew in that he cared about her, unabashedly. And like with Andrew, she felt compelled to be the woman he saw her to be. But Phil was damaged too; she could be honest with him in a different way; unafraid of breaking him the way she was afraid for Andrew. She knew her husband had felt it the difference and knew Phil was completely unaware of the envy it generated.

It wasn't either of their faults; it was just hers.

She used the sound of his breath to center and gave herself permission to indulge in the feeling of being held.

This wasn't something they did. Neither of them were physically demonstrative; though that had changed a little for him over the past few years; Daisy rubbing off on him May supposed. The younger woman had been prone to jumping in for a hug within the first few months of joining the team. May had watched in amusement a few times as Phil stiffened, not quite sure how to react.

For the two of them an embrace wasn't used in place of a "thank you" or "I'll miss you" or "Good to see you." It was saved for nearly dying of hypothermia in the Alps or when all words failed, like Bahrain or when Phil returned from that planet.

Her cheek was against his chest and she could see the slight outline of his scar through the thin fabric of his undershirt. The one time she had wished for an embrace that never came was when he returned from his recovery.

She had known what happened, had seen his corpse in the morgue before being caught by Fury and cornered into the worst assignment of her career. But Phil hadn't known the emotions that slammed into her that first day back as he smiled, oblivious to his own pain.

She watched her hand come up, palm over his heart, thumb tracing the ridge of the scar. The scar that reminded her of the real cost of Bahrain; leaving the field meant she wasn't there to have his back.

But she had been there, in the framework, and he'd still been shot. If she closed her eyes she could feel his blood on her hands and the panic in her chest.

Melinda May didn't get panicked; not in the framework and not in the real world…but panic was the only word for what she felt in that moment.

By the time she got to him his shirt had been covered in blood, more seeping out with each breath he took. Her movements were frantic, trying to find a way for two hands to put pressure on three entry wounds. They were on the edge of nowhere with no medical equipment or supplies but she insisted for herself they could get him patched up. He hadn't needed the comfort; he'd been oddly calm in the face of his mortal injury. But she couldn't handle losing this man she'd known for barely a day.

She felt him still, holding his breath when she touched the scar. She wanted to tell him everything; how his scars allowed a connection that was missing between her and her ex; how she wished they had more hugs in their history; how she blamed herself for his death on the helicarrier and everything he went through after; how she was more afraid of his death than her own…instead, all she managed was, "Do you have any idea how scared I was when you got shot in that warehouse?"

She felt him shift, bending his neck and shrugging, "We didn't really know each other in there."

"Exactly." How to tell him what that moment represented to her? "But when you went down I felt as panicked as if it had happened here. Only it was scarier because I wasn't prepared for that level of caring. I didn't understand it." She tightened her hold on him, fighting the nausea the memory invited.

"Well, I guess it's a good thing." He gave her a weak smile. "I needed you to take out those guys and to help me get to the portal."

He didn't understand, she looked away, "I hated it."

He tensed and shifted against her, "Well it wasn't exactly enjoyable for me either."

His breathing became shallower, and the heartbeat under her hand sped up. She silently cursed herself; honesty and a bared soul only ever hurt those around her. "I'm sorry." She removed her hand from his chest.

His breathing was focused and measured and he replied with forced levity. "It's okay. I'm thankful if that's what it took for you to follow me through."

May snorted. After all this time how was he still so daft? He had never understood. When was he going learn what he meant to her?

...Perhaps not until she told him?

She looked down, focused on the tight weave of his cotton shirt, "There was never a chance I wouldn't follow you anywhere. I'd think you'd realize that by now."

Phil froze against her. She wondered if he was more surprised by what she had said, or the fact that she actually said it.

There was a long time when nothing happened and she wondered if she should say something; elaborate or ease out of it with a lame joke. But then his arms tightened, pulling her so tight against him that she feared she might crack if she didn't expand her lungs. His face was dipping into her hair; not in the comforting way of a moment ago, but in near desperate possession.

She breathed him in, felt his need for her matching her own and her hands fisted, taking all she could from this moment and storing it in her memories for the future.

But this wasn't them. It couldn't be. If they ever gave into whatever this was they'd never be able to do their jobs again, never be able to send the other off knowing what potential fate awaited them. It was hard enough as it was; anything more would be an insurmountable weakness and they still had work to do.

So she pulled back. Not as far as before, but enough. And she pushed away further by calling to mind the one detail that she'd acted like didn't bother her, and smirking, "Did I hear right from Jemma in there that you were married?"

Phil didn't appear prepared for the change and he stared back at her, dumbly.

May always did enjoy how easy it was for her to fluster him and she smiled even as she leaned into the new topic, "Can I guess? She was a red head, tall, with a penchant for crosswords."

They had both had their experiences through the years but while May settled down with Andrew, Phil kept up an inconsistent series of relationships with women of happenstance.

There weren't many who stuck around for long enough for May to be aware of and none of them really had much in common but she saw the way Phil's eyes nearly melted out of his head when Barton had first pulled Natasha Romanov in for a debrief. Since then May had always based her supposition of Coulson's ideal woman around the super spy.

Except for the crosswords; that she based on knowing that when he was happy, Phil dreamed of a Sunday morning in a sunny kitchen with a newspaper crossword.

He sighed, visibly uncomfortable, "I mean, she was a creation of whatever AIDA thought would work out."

"Mhrm." May took that as tacit admission that she had pegged the fictional woman, "And she didn't have any issue with you running off with two young women to join the resistance?"

The tension eased from his shoulders and one of his tight smiles grew, "She divorced me years before Daisy and Jemma showed up."

May blinked. That didn't make sense. Why would the framework give him the perfect wife and then have her leave? "She divorced you?" She thought back to the quirks of Framework Phil, "Was it because of the soap you kept going on about?"

He rolled his eyes, "I think it was more because she fell for Hydra's story hook, line and sinker while I kept having flashes of memories that had me thinking I was slowly going insane." He smirked and paused, "My calendar had a red corvette on the month of May and I couldn't bring myself to change the month for half the year. She got really upset about that for some reason."

May bit the inside of her lips to keep from smiling. She was intrigued; she really didn't want to think about how the Framework actually worked but it was interesting the different ways they reacted to it. She didn't have anything that could count as a flash of memory until she was adjusting his tie before the broadcast. For the most part she'd just had weird feelings.

"I had things like that too." She pulled herself to his eye level, "I'd look at the patch on my uniform and it just seemed wrong… or dates would pass and I'd feel like they were important but never understood why. I had so many circled dates in my datebook that didn't mean anything."

"Birthdays? Notable missions?" He questioned.

"Both." She nodded, There were a dozen of them which rang at her every year but she decided to use ones he'd appreciate, "Like Aug 17th."

"When Shield pulled Steve Rogers out of the ice." A mirthful smile crinkled his eyes.

She nodded, pausing before the next example, knowing it was the only one that would make him happier than the fact she remembered Rogers' recovery date, "And July 2nd."

His smile faltered for a beat, "Daisy's birthday." He confirmed, his smile growing wide and fond, eyes warm.

"There were others." She ignored his smile, thinking back to what else tripped her awareness of the framework, "And then, we were in that damn building, where Mace…" She swallowed, and Phil's face grew somber, "And you yelled at me to snap out of it."

She ignored the tug of a smile at the recollection; there was nothing to smile about that awful memory. But, that moment was the most Phil had been like himself in all that she had seen of him in that world. It was enough to break through the walls she'd built up since Cambridge, it was enough for her to really see what was in front of her and enough for her to consider what Skye had been trying to tell her.

"And it was like…That feeling all over again, like I was missing something. My brain making connections I couldn't keep up with." She mock glared at him, "I couldn't sleep that night. Drove me crazy."

They stared at one another for a beat and she wondered if that moment had sparked a memory for him too.

Instead, he smirked, "If there's one constant across all realities, me driving you crazy is a reliable bet."

She rolled her eyes but matched his smirk; there was definitely truth to that.

They stared at one another for a long time, not needing anything to fill the silence. More had been said than was needed while still not saying enough.

It was okay. It was them. Melinda May and Phil Coulson. Agents of SHIELD; international spies; partners.

She sighed, she supposed she should still try sleeping but there was too much in her brain now; if she even managed to quiet it all enough to sleep she doubted she'd like the dreams that visited her.

She poked at the bed, "This mattress is terrible, how did you sleep on it all the time?"

He didn't move, "You know me; I didn't do much sleeping while deployed."

She rolled her eyes. Not helpful. "Well I don't think we're about to get much sleep now."

Phil softened and readjusted himself on the mattress, "I'm sure we could if we tried."

For a moment she was tempted. She could so easily put her head on his shoulder and use the rhythm of his heart to lull her to sleep.

But it wasn't the right moment for that; someday, soon, maybe. When all this was over and a new bottle of Haig had been bought and some groveling occurred, maybe she'd pull him to her room and curl up next to him; taking in his comfort when the situation wasn't dire.

For now, she pushed herself up, "We'll be home soon. We'll get AIDA settled in the containment room. You'll talk to Talbot, get things on the level and then we can all have a good night's sleep in our own beds before we start really dealing with everything."

She could see the regret in Phil's face as he closed his eyes, steeling himself against what came next. "Okay."

She withheld an instinctual wince at the distance created as he sighed and stood, reassuming his role of agent in charge with a twist of his prosthetic.

"Jemma probably wants to check you out so stop at medical before you head to the cockpit." He stared at May waiting for her confirmation.

She nodded, wishing she had ignored herself and agreed to stay in the bed as she pulled on her boots.

He still needed to put on his shirt and find socks and shoes but she was done and stood stiffly by the door, watching him start on the buttons.

He raised his chin in her direction, "I'll be right behind you."

She swallowed, one hand on the doorknob before impulse hit her and she turned back, "Phil…"

I don't want to leave without you. It feels safe here. What are we doing? I changed my mind, let's lie down again. I'm scared of being alone again. I'm scared. All the time. Let's just run away. We both have safe houses around the globe; let's pick one and just go. I don't want to do this anymore…

He tilted his head, waiting. "Yes?"

She gave him a sad little smile before shaking her head, "Nevermind. See you in the cockpit."

She stepped out of the room, closing the door behind her before exhaling and leaning back against it.

Time to get her head in the game. Later she'd get a good night sleep in her own bed and then she could face everything with a clear head.

But maybe her subconscious did have a point; maybe it was time for a break, a vacation. Maybe she should pull Phil along with her; get him to confess what happened with the Haig and her robo-double.

But first, they had to deal with AIDA.