A little angsty.
MELINDA MAY
Lately, when she dreams; she dreams in the color of red; of Bahrain and blood.
The old dream differs now, as she wields the Berserker Staff and no one stands against her, not for long. They scream and run from her, begging for leniency but there is no forgiveness in Melinda May's heart. The time for absolution has long passed.
It's now time for killing.
And if she takes great delight in killing someone that looks like Jemma Simmons, well, it's understandable. Simmon's an insipid lump of humanity; a school girl who crushes on a shattered man, her mindless adoration is why Coulson takes her to his bed. He seeks absolution in the only way he knows.
Missionary position.
Naturally.
Skye is next. And the Hacker falls at her feet, and still sobs about finding her parents.
"Maybe you should just accept that your parents didn't want anything to deal with you as you were a mistake," Melinda says. "A huge mistake."
Ward is easiest to kill as he believes that he's Mr. Secret Agent. He falls while he whimpers about his big bad brother who was just so mean to him and his little brother.
"Pathetic," she snaps. "You were a lousy lay anyway. You failed your little brother and he died due to that."
She storms through the bus and she finds Leo Fitz, hiding. She smiles, as that means Phil is still out there and she looks forward to regaling him with the gory details on how his little dream team died, mewling like feeble kittens. She knows the emotional trauma will shatter him anew. Then she'll take her time killing him, and this time, he'll stay dead.
And she plans to dance on his grave.
Naked.
"Little bear, you should never have left your lab," she tells Leo.
For a wonder, he doesn't panic, doesn't weep or wail, he just looks at her with those big baby blues and he says, "I never liked you. I always thought you were fucking mental."
His criticism stops her dead in her tracks for a moment. Respects and fear is what her fellow agents give to her, never doubts about her sanity. Rather rude, she thinks.
"I'm crying," she says.
"You are," he says as she raises the staff. For a wonder, Fitz just stares at her and doesn't flinch when she kills him. It's a shame, that it's only after he dies, and dies well, that she feels a grudging respect for the Scot.
Maybe she should have bedded him rather than Ward.
And she wakes, and she's horrified to realize that she is indeed, crying.
Since Phil was captured and tortured, the nightmares about Bahrain, about failing, have been a frequent companion. Lately though, there is a darkness and a hatred in her dreams that scares Melinda May to her very core, because the anger spills into her waking hours.
She had pulled a gun on Coulson because she thought he had mocked her trauma.
She had fucking pulled a gun on Coulson and for a moment, she had wanted so desperately to pull the trigger.
"Pull it together, May," she snaps at herself. "Pull it together and do it quickly."
The only person who understands her inner turmoil, who might be able to help her through this, is currently not accepting her phone calls.
WARD
Coulson is talking with Sitwell when Ward finally locates him. They're in the kitchen and Fitz and Skye are there, with the remains of takeout on the table. It seems the three musketeers went for takeout and didn't invite him. Typical. Really it's more than a bit annoying that he has to save them from their own stupidity, constantly, and they can't be grateful.
What a bunch of unappreciative brats. Next time, they can save their own rears. Or Sitwell can, because the agent seems to have taken his spot on the team.
It's an odd thought, he realizes. It's even odder than he's angry about not being invited to their tea.
"Jasper, May's in the cockpit, so you're Senior Agent in Charge for now. You have my cell; call me if you need me. I need to run some errands," Coulson explains.
"What about our meeting, Sir?" Ward asks.
"Rescheduled it for tomorrow," Coulson easily admits.
"I would like to talk to you, today," Ward insists. He doesn't even bother to hide his annoyance with Coulson. That Coulson believes he can simply dismiss Ward and replace him with Sitwell.
"Tomorrow."
"No, today," Ward protests. The minute it leaves his mouth he realizes that he's made a mistake. Skye flinches even while Sitwell motions for the trio to leave the kitchen.
Coulson speaks very quietly. "I understand that I have been a little lenient with you. However, when I tell you to jump, you will yell, 'How high?' When I tell you to do something, you do it. Because failure to do so is insubordination. I understand you've been a Lone Wolf for a while, but it's over. Done."
"You barged into my hotel room and pointed a gun at me. I told you that you had to apologize to Simmons for being an utter idiot and you have failed to do so. Therefore, for tomorrow's meeting, you will submit a report to me detailing why I shouldn't kick your ass to the curb and find someone more willing to be part of the team. And a hint, Grant, sleeping with the pilot isn't sufficient reason for me to keep you. Because, as crushing this news will be to both your egos, you both can be replaced. Easily."
Gone is the easy-going, mild-mannered Phil Coulson. No, instead Grant Ward realizes that he's dealing with the iron willed man that threatened to tazer Tony Stark.
"You are on very thin ice with me," Coulson informs Ward. "That report better be damn good. Another suggestion, don't blame everything on the Big Bad Berserker stick. I'm seeing a bit of a pattern with you, Ward. I don't particularly like what I'm seeing, so one warning. That's it."
They stare at each other and Coulson's eyes narrow. "Is there a problem, Agent?"
"No, Sir," Ward states.
"And next time, you feel the urge to tell everyone about my personal life, you will refrain from doing so," Coulson states in a very pleasant voice, which doesn't fool Ward.
Coulson leaves and Ward is filled with an almost murderous rage.
SIMMONS AND COULSON
"You're early," Jemma exclaims when Phil opens the door to his apartment. "Fast meetings?"
He invites her in and after closing the door, pulls her in for a long kiss.
"I canceled them," he explains after they break for air. He then kisses her on her forehead and hugs her. "I would much rather spend quality time with you than deal with May and Ward. They're both acting odd and I don't have the energy to deal with them and entertain you. And I'd so much rather entertain you in assorted different ways."
"I'm just so demanding," she teases.
"No, you're not," he insists in a very serious tone. "If anything I'd wish you were a little more demanding so I could be sure I was making you happy."
She pulls him by his collar so they're at eye range. "I am happy. If I wasn't, I'd let you know. Now show me around."
Phil's apartment is actually a small rowhouse, so it's a quick tour. Everything is rather neat and tidy. She stops in the main living area as there are a few pictures on a crammed bookshelf. There is a rather large Captain America poster, vintage, that she notices on the far wall. There is an American flag in a triangular case located near it and two shadow boxes of various military medals.
"Is this you?" She asks, as she picks up one photo.
"Yes, when my nose was straight and I was really young. That's Gunnie," he says, pointing to an older man who wore a high and tight. "That's his wife, Rosie. That's Lola, I think you know her. Gunnie owned her first."
He hopes she doesn't ask how young he was in the picture, because he was only a few years younger than she is. Would be rather awkward, but fortunately she puts the picture down.
"Middle Eastern takeout and wine?" She asks as she rummages through the various delectables . "Are you trying to get me tipsy and take advance of me?"
"I'm just trying to share the better things in life with you," he admits. "I understand that wine in a box is considered classy. However, Gewurztraminer refuses to be tamed and put into a box. Also I have a small bottle of Dip rakisi. It's an acquired taste."
She laughs and he smiles. It's surprisingly... easy ... with Simmons. He's never been particularly glib with the ladies, but Jemma laughs at his jokes. She's open and affectionate, and... she makes him happy because she's just... alive. What a remarkable woman, he thinks. She drinks from life like it's a waterfall, even when the experience terrifies her, she won't stop.
So since she wants to sit on the floor, like a picnic, he does so. She wants him out of his suit so he changes into sweat pants and an old t-shirt. They snuggle next to each other and he feeds her various tidbits between stealing kisses.
He makes her try dried goat, and he tells her about the first time he had goat in the Middle East, thanks to Gunnie. It's a long story, but she laughs in the right spots. Like he's funny. It's amazing as nobody laughs at his jokes. Not since... he shuts down that thought. Immediately.
Because it is still a raw wound. He never permits himself to think of that particular woman, even on the rare time when Phil listens to classical music. Jazz is much safer for him, while he remembers Gunnie and his damn horn, but those memories aren't as jagged.
"Since we're having a mezze tonight, does that make you the Sheik of Sheets?" Simmons asks.
"I'm cutting you off, no more drinks for you."
They make love, leisurely. After what Jemma knows to be an absolutely through, obscenely long time, all she can manage is a very soft, "Wow."
"I want to give you happy memories," Phil softly says. He smiles at her and gives her a one armed hug. It's important to him that Simmons comes out of this relationship with fond recollections because what they have... it won't last. He's far too old for her and she has all of her life yet to live. It's fun, he admits, to be able to share her reaction to new experiences. Not just the first time she made love, but Jemma's exuberance as she sips really good champagne or drinks top shelf liquor. Jazz, dancing, even eating goat jerky.
Well, it's not just fun. It's exhilarating. It recharges his batteries and... her enthusiasm heals his soul.
"I don't like the way that sounds," Simmons protests.
He puts his finger over her lips. "I just want to see you smiling, when you think no one is watching you. I'll wonder if you're remembering Boston."
"I wish I could spend the entire night," she protests. "There, I'm being assertive and demanding. Plus I demand a kiss, right now."
So Jemma commands him, so he must follow her orders.
"You'll get tired of me," Coulson teases after they stop kissing. "If you spent the entire night with me, you'll get tired of my snoring."
"I could fix that, just a simple procedure," she says.
He sits up in bed, and it's a measure of how comfortable he is with her that he doesn't try to hide his scar. "I've seen you scope someone's nose. It was utterly horrifying how gleeful you were about it. You're not touching my nose."
"Just a little procedure," she insists as she gently touches his nose. "Could fix that little problem."
"No," he says. Then in a mock serious tone, he adds, "You fix my nose, you may want to fix other parts."
She looks him up and down and her gaze lingers in a specific spot.
"No complaints," she says. "Delightfully sized. Wonderfully responsive."
Deliberately, he covers his lap with a pillow and glares at her while she continues to prattle on and on with inane comments like "Hours of fun!" "No assembly required!" "Batteries not needed as it's self-powered." His serious mien amuses her so she just stares back at him. Then she adds, "Perfect for personal use or among friends."
In his best Agent Phil Coulson voice, he says, "You're not sharing me with your friends."
They both burst out in laugher then. Simmons leans towards Phil and she strokes his face. "I love to hear you laugh."
"You'll be the death of me," Coulson insists.
She shivers as though someone walks over her grave.
"Not planning on going anywhere," he assures her.
COULSON
Simmons stays in his bed for a time, content to cuddle, and then she decides it is time to be an adult. "I shall return to my pod where I will drift off to sleep as I'm absolutely exhausted."
"You have my new cell if you need anything?" Phil asks. He's already 'suited up' in his sweat and t-shirt so he's deliciously rumpled with bed hair, but he hands her clothes. Neatly hung on a hanger so they're wrinkle free. He then sits on the bed and looks away so she can get dressed.
Such a gentleman.
"Yes," she assures him.
"Don't hesitate to call. Anytime. Right now, you're the only person with that number," he assures her.
"No one else?" Simmons asks.
"They commandeered my personal cell phone. Maybe a dozen people had the phone number," Coulson explains to the wall. "All people I trusted."
"I'm dressed," she announces and he turns to face her.
"You're not," he protests.
"Just buttoning up my shirt," she teases. "You're adorable when you get flustered. Especially those dimples."
Coulson gives her a very crooked smile and then he leans towards her. "I had a wonderful time."
"Same here," Jemma agrees. "Do again soon?"
"Hope so," he says. "I'll try to plan something. Any suggestions?"
Her sincere response of 'just time with you' surprises him and he gives her that small smile with the dimples, where he tries not to show how he's really feeling.
Phil escorts her to her car and he reminds her to call him if she needs him. No matter what the time, no matter the issue. Jemma humors him as she believes that he's being overly protective but she promises to call if necessary. Before she drives away, he again makes her promise to call.
That done, Phil Coulson returns back to his 'home'. It's not a home, just a place for him to crash in-between missions, but maybe, he could make it nicer. A dog would be great, as he had always wanted one when he was a kid but not very realistic. Plants would die; there must be something to do so his 'home' doesn't look like a Mariott. He does have Gunnie's favorite Captain American poster framed and it hangs next to the various service medals that he and Gunnie had acquired, but his home is still rather sterile.
It's thoughts for another day, as he's exhausted. He collapses in his bed, grabs the pillows and arranges them so he can smell Jemma's perfume. His last conscious thought is that he hopes for pleasant dreams. Naturally, it's not to be.
He's walking in the bus, and Gunnie is standing next to him. The handler has dark hair and he's 'suited up' in his black SHIELD fatigues, which denotes that Gunnie means business.
"You know what needs to be done," Gunnie states. "You need to lure her away from them."
Since he's died and has come back, the veil between life and death seems thinner, so dream visitations from Gunnie usually means that the fan is gonna be hit and hard. And soon.
Phil nods and Gunnie gives him a long searching stare. "I'm always watching over you, kid. I won't let Fury...not again. Never again."
There's a phone ringing, and the ring tone is "She Blinded Me with Science."
Coulson wakes and grabs his phone. "Simmons?"
"Phil..." Jemma's voice is close to panicking, but she's trying to remain calm. "We need you on the bus. Ward... Fitz tazered him and... May's... May's trying to kill us. Sitwell... he locked us all in Medical but May... I think she's Berserking. "
Phil puts on his sneakers and grabs his car keys. With his SHIELD phone, he shuts down May and Ward's access to the vital systems.
"Be there in ten," he promises. "Let me talk to Jasper."
Jasper's voice is calm, cool and collected but there's a hint of tension. "Grant went after me. He went nuts and went after me, Coulson. It was absolutely unbelievable as I saw when the chip blew in his mind. Thank God I did as I was prepared. Fitz tasered him six times after Skye hit with the coffee pot, and he's in restraints in Medical, but May's off the wall right now. We're in lockdown in Medical and Simmons is running tests on Ward."
"Is she after you?" Phil asks, because why would May? Then again, why would Ward go after Sitwell?
"No, she's after Skye and Simmons."
"Call Elliot Randolph and find out if this is a side effect of the damn staff," Coulson orders. He hangs up and protests, "Damn in, Gunnie. What am I supposed to do now? It would have been nice if you warned me it was May."