Chapter 4 –

3 weeks later

Coulson awoke with a strangled gasp, heart hammering in his chest as he tried to make sense of his surroundings. Eyes wide and panting he looked around the small cabin that was his sleeping quarters on 'The Bus'. His legs were tangled in the sheets and he was drenched in sweat. He disentangled his legs and pulled them to his chest, dropping his head into his shaking hands as he tried to calm his breathing. His head ached, the pain radiating down his neck and across his shoulders, exhaustion and worry making him feel sick. All he wanted to do was sleep but every time he closed his eyes 'they' came back, the images and patterns that he couldn't make sense of; even during the day if he wasn't concentrating he found himself scribbling, absentmindedly drawing the same patterns over and over. That alone had been bad enough…but now the screaming had started. Terrible, heart wrenching screams, the feeling of running and going now where, of being trapped and the overwhelming sense of fear. He couldn't go on much longer like this. He looked at his hands again. Still shaking. Slowly they balled into fists and he rolled out of bed, yanked open the door and made his way to his desk, fear giving way to fury as he grabbed a pen and paper and began to draw. He drew until his fingers started to bleed but at least his hands had stopped shaking.

Coulson glanced at the clock and groaned before he got stiffly to his feet and padded down stairs to the common area and kitchen. He took a glass from a cupboard, filled it with water and took a long, cold drink. He turned from the sink and jumped in fright, almost dropping the glass. Conall was stood, leaning against the wall, one hand in the pocket of his slacks, the other holding a glass of his own. He could have sworn the man wasn't there before but he was so tired he didn't trust his own senses at the moment, he could have walked straight passed the Scottish agent and never noticed him.

"You're up early Director" Conall observed, smiling across the cabin at him, then the smile dropped as he took in Coulson's appearance and the blood on the fingers of his right hand,

"Is everything alright Sir?"

Coulson put the glass down and rubbed his eyes,

"Just trouble sleeping is all. What are you doing?"

Conall gestured to the window beside him. Moonlit clouds drifted by outside,

"Just admiring the view" he said, taking a drink of amber liquid. Coulson noticed the bottle on the table,

"A little late for a night cap isn't it? Or early, depending on how you look at it" he said dropping onto the sofa

Conall laughed lightsly and pushed away from the wall,

"I'm a Scottsman Director, it's always the right time for whiskey"

He made his way behind Coulson there was the clinking of a glass before Conall reappeared and pressed a glass into Coulson's hand and taking a seat opposite him,

"And I find it to be the answer to many of life's problems" he said, raising his glass,

"Slangiva…good health"

The two men took and drink, savouring the warmth and smokiness of the single malt. Coulson nodded appreciatively before looking up at the slightly younger man across from him,

"So, why are you up at this ridiculous hour?" he asked,

"Tell you the truth, I get twitchy on aircraft…I find it difficult to relax"

Coulson smiled,

"You're frightened of flying?"

Conall shrugged,

"I'm not keen that's for sure, I much prefer to have my feet firmly on the ground…but I deal with it, no choice in this game is there?"

Coulson laughed lightly,

"Nope" he drained his glass before placing it on the table and slumping back into the sofa. Conall stood, retrieved the bottle and poured him another measure before retaking his seat,

"If you don't mind me saying Director, you don't look well"

Coulson gave hi a strained, crooked smiled,

"Thanks…I…I'm just running on empty…a good night's sleep is all I need", he sat forward and picked up his drink. Conall watched him, the agent's expression thoughtful as he noticed the slight tremor in Coulson's hand. As Coulson put his glass down Conall reached over and took his wrist, turning his palm upwards. Coulson froze, resisting the urge to pull away, watching Conall carefully as the Scotman placed his thumb into Coulson's palm and applied pressure. Coulson sighed as the tension across his body evaporated and the ache in his head disappeared. Conall released his hand,

"Better?"

"How did you?"

"It's a similar concept to reflexology, use of pressure points to produce effects within the body, relaxation being one of them" he grinned and raised an eyebrow, "amongst other things"

Coulson blinked at him and Conall laughed, a hearty, warm sound that Coulson hadn't heard before. Conall brushed a hand through his grey hair,

"Actually there is a pressure point that is supposed to help with sleeping" he tapped the back of his neck,

"At the base of the skull, helps to produce melatonin"

"That's the sleep hormone?"

"Correct"

Conall cocked his head to one side, his expression turning serious as he watched Coulson wring his hands,

"Look, I know there is more than to this than lack of sleep but it's not my place to pry and I'm sure most of your problems are above both my clearance level and my pay grade…let me at least try to help you with this"

Coulson looked up at him. Conall held up his hands,

"No funny business"

Coulson gave him a long, uncertain look, then nodded,

"Alright then…I'll give anything a go at this point"

Conall stood and stepped up next to him. He felt the agent's strong hand on the back on his neck, fingers pushing up into his hair line. There was pressure and everything went dark.

May watched from the door as Coulson slumped forward, Conall catching him and laying him down on the sofa. She resisted the urge to barge in with fists flying, she had heard part of the conversation, alerted by Conall's laughing and decided to give him the benefit of the doubt…for now. Conall, seemingly unaware of her presence, turned and bounded lightly up the stairs to Coulson's office. As soon as she heard the door close she moved into the room, making straight for Coulson and placing her hand to his throat checking for a pulse. The man was breathing deeply and steadily, his pulse slow and regular, his face completely relaxed. Coulson was deeply asleep, he hadn't even flinched when she's touched him.

She turned and made her way upstairs, opening the door she stopped dead. The room was littered with bits of paper, she didn't have to look to know what was written on them. Her heart broke for Coulson, whatever this was it was tearing him up, it must take him an inordinate amount of strength to just get through the day without letting the cracks show. There was, however, a distinct lack of Conall in the room. She made her way towards Coulson's sleeping quarters and almost walked into the Scot coming through the door. He was carrying a pillow and blanket.

"Agent May?"

May stepped forward, looking up at him. Normally this trick forced people to step back but Conall didn't move a muscle, just looked down at her with a carefully inquisitive expression,

"What are you doing Agent Sloan?"

He proffered the pillow and blanket by way of explanation. When she continued to glare at him he sighed,

"I don't know if you noticed but our esteemed Director is sleeping like a baby downstairs and it was going to be to take these down to him than carry him upstairs"

"What did you give him? Something in the whiskey?"

"I was drinking from the same bottle May"

"Agent May"

The corners of Conall's mouth twitched,

"Agent May" he said,

"I have not given him anything, I have not done anything untoward to him, I would not and have not harmed him in any way. He's deeply asleep, nothing more…he needs this, you have to admit that"

"How did you put him out?"

"Pressure point, produces a surge of melatonin…out like a light"

May scrutinised his face then stepped back out of his way.

"Did you look at any of this?" she said, gesturing to the paper strewn room. Conall shook his head,

"Not closely no…Coulson's business is none of mine" he said, heading for the door. May grabbed the nearest piece of paper,

"Conall wait"

He turned in the door and for a moment she could have sworn his eyes flashed in the gloom,

"Oh its Conall now is it?"

She ignored both his tone and question and showed him the paper,

"Have you seen these symbols before?"

He took the paper from her, scanned it and handed it back,

"No"

"He draws them all the time…half the time he doesn't even know he's doing it, we don't know what they mean or –"

"Perhaps they don't mean anything…he's an exhausted, highly intellectual bloke who can't switch off. These scribbles are probably just his brain's way of offloading before it gets damaged"

May looked at the paper,

"Pehaps"

Conall took it gently from her and dropped it on the floor, pushing the pillow and blanket into her arms before gently gripping her shoulders. She felt the strength in his hands and looked up into his eyes…those emerald green eyes, almost glowing in the dim light,

"Why don't you go and tuck the Director in?"

May nodded and he stepped aside to let her passed. He followed her down the stairs and stood to one side as she tended to Coulson. When she looked up Conall had gone. She picked up the bottle of whiskey and poured herself a large glass before curling up on the sofa across from Coulson. She swirled the amber liquid, looking at the space where Conall had been standing and recalled a conversation she had had with Bobby a few days previously about the enigmatic Scott.

3 days earlier

"May, can I have a word?"

May gestured to the co-pilots seat,

"Sure, what's wrong?"

Bobby sat and seemed to be thinking as to how best to choose her words,

"It's Conall"

"What about him?"

"I don't really know how to explain it May…nobody can touch him, in training I mean"

"If I recall Mac gave him a black eye the other week"

"He let him"

May turned her head to her, eyebrows knitted together in confusion,

"What?"

"Conall let Mac hit him…he lets all of us hit him. He ducks, weaves, parries, defends and counters but never hard, just with enough force to let you know he's there. Yesterday no matter what I did I couldn't touch him, everything I did he countered or got out of"

"He's that good?"

"May he's unbelievable…his athleticism is off the chart. Anyway, all of a sudden he dropped his guard and I knocked him down…he let me wipe the floor with him"

May thought for a moment then put the plane into auto pilot,

"Go and get him, show me"

May drained her glass and lay down, wriggling until she got comfortable. She had watched Bobby spar with Conall and the blonde agent had been right. After a while she had swapped Bobby out and stepped up to have a go herself.

Initially everything she threw at him he blocked and avoided, she just chased him around the mat and if he did counter he pulled every blow. She had moved her hip in to try and flip him and he slipped out of it like he was greased. Then she saw it, just like Bobby had said. A flicker of realisation crossed his features and he dropped his guard as she threw the next punch. Her fist had hit his jaw, rocking his head back. He blocked the next few then again one of her blows landed. She had pushed him back, knocked him sideways and eventually swept his feet out from under him. She dived on him as he hit the mat, pinning him down. May leant down,

"Get out of it" she hissed in his ear, she twisted his arm and he grunted in discomfort,

"I know you can…get out of it!"

She snaked an arm around his neck, pulling his head back, her knee in the small of his back. Bobby, Hunter, Skye and Mac watched from the side lines,

"May" Skye said, making to take a step forward by Bobby stopped her.

"Come on Conall…don't be shy…fight back!"

She felt the muscles in Conall's back and shoulders bunch and move then she hit the mat and Conall was on top of her, a hand around her throat, the pendant he wore on a leather throng around his neck dangling infront of her nose. His grip wasn't harsh, his whole body was relaxed but his eyes were hard. She understood then how dangerous this man could be and the impressive control that he had.

"Good" she whispered. He stood, pulled her to her feet and, without so much as a glance toward the team, walked away.