Bad Cop

They had sat in silence for the better part of four hours. Melinda really had to hand it to him; not a lot of people would sit with her in complete silence with the expectation that she was going to say something at any time. Or, maybe he knew her well enough to know that she wasn't and didn't bother letting it bother him.

As he maneuvered the Rubix cube for what had to have been the hundredth time, she looked down at the front of his desk, fiddling with her thumbs. The words, the words she didn't want to say or admit were even a possibility, were right on her tongue. Goading her, telling her to grow a pair and look reality in the face for what it was. But she couldn't. Because it wasn't supposed to happen.

Ward, he was just a bedmate, or was supposed to be. They would fuck after every tough mission and then go on about their business. This wasn't supposed to happen. They had fucking rules and precautions so this very thing wouldn't happen.

So, what went wrong?

She blamed Ward. He was just so… sweet and loving. Why, for a woman who was just a glorified booty call? How could he develop feelings for someone like her? How could she do so in return?

Phil's phone vibrated. He placed the cube in the desk and picked up the phone to check the message. "She's awake," he announced, with what proved to be the first words uttered in the last four hours. He stood after replacing the solved cube in his desk, and walked to the door. "I have to say, I'm impressed," he said as he opened the door, "you went… four hours without saying a word to me. That's a record."

He wasn't angry, he was amused. It made her sick. If she wasn't going to tell him the truth outright, then she do it in a roundabout way. "Agent Ward and I have been having sex."

There was a lengthy pause. "And suddenly, the world makes sense," he said before slamming the door closed.

Fuck you, Ward. Just fuck you.

"Everything cool, boss?" Clint asked as Phil approached.

Everything was certainly not fine, as he had literally just found out that two of his agents, one being his ex-fiancee, were having sex on his plane, behind his back. "Yeah, just needed to hash something out with May." They shared a short look, which said so much. "Is she cognizant?"

Clint nodded. "Yeah. You going in or should I?"

"I will. This shouldn't be too long." With that, Phil stepped inside the interrogation room and closed the door behind him. Rappaccini was covered in cuts and bruises. He couldn't help but grimace. Her eye was still slightly swollen, but not nearly as much as it could have been, if not for Simmons. She really was a miracle worker. Her good arm was wrapped around her chest, with her other one in a splint. "Dr. Rappaccini?"

Her eyes cut toward him, scanning over him quickly before flicking back to the wall. He smiled and took a seat.

His smiled faded into seriousness. "Okay, then let's cut to the chase. Where are the inundators?"

She said nothing.

He looked mildly interested in what she was looking at, but internally, his patience was wearing thin. They were already pressed for time, thanks to May, and now it seemed that Rappaccini had no intention of talking. "May got your tongue?" he quipped, despite being very annoyed.

She shrugged. "How long have I been out?"

"Four hours." Hours wasted on nothing but sitting and waiting.

She chuckled. "Well, you're screwed."

He already knew that. "Why is that?"

She didn't answer.

A harsh sigh breezed through his nose. He closed his eyes tightly. "The inundator needs water to function right?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Meaning that, if you plan on attacking cities with out, you'll need to be near water, right?"

"Perhaps. Perhaps not."

"Enough games!" he snapped, finally losing his patience. "People's lives are at risk, and I'll be damned if I let you or anyone else stop us from saving them."

She laughed tauntingly. "As I suspected. You're up against the wall and need me to bail you out. Fine, I'll throw you a bone. There are hundreds, maybe thousands of cities worldwide that are established near a coast. Be it a river, lake, sea or ocean. The inundators are in one of the cities."

They'd spend hours, maybe days looking for them at that rate. "Which ones?" She shrugged. "You do, and you aren't leaving this room until you do."

She smirked and tucked her good hand behind her head. "Guess I'm in it for the long haul, Dad. Hey, can I get some water. I'm pretty thirsty after being abused by one of your people. Trying to soften me up beforehand, by the way?"

Phil didn't answer the latter question. "I'll see that you get something to drink," he said before walking out. "Well, that was a waste of time." It seemed that that was all they had been doing lately.

"Let me at her, boss. I'll have her singing in minutes," Clint offered.

"I know how you'll have her singing," he countered with a knowing smirk. "I'm sure that no one here wants to see that."

Clint rolled his eyes. "Fine. But we have to get her to talk somehow."

"You're right. But… oh. Good cop, bad cop."

Clint groaned. "Seriously? Has that ever worked?"

"Sure, with people of weak wills. Rappaccini isn't a weak willed person."

"Then why'd you even bring it up? I suppose you or Simmons would be the good cop. Likely Simmons because they're intellectual peers. The bad cop would be…"

As much as he didn't want to deal with her right then, he had no choice. "May."

Understanding dawned in his eyes. "Because of the ass kicking she leveled on her. Good call. Heh, might want to hold off on the water until later, then. Seeing May again might have her pissing her pants."

Phil smirked despite himself. "You get Simmons, I'll get May."

Phil opened the door to his office and frowned when he found Melinda sitting in the exact same place she had been when he left. Granted, it wasn't that long ago, but he would have assumed that she would have moved on to the cockpit. Her shoulders were slumped and her head was down. She looked ragged and pathetic; not a state that he hadn't seen her in before. Like then, in twisted his heart up in knots.

"Where to?" she asked quietly.

"Don't know. She isn't talking. I was hoping you'd do the good cop, bad cop routine with Simmons. Seeing you might change her mind."

"Sure I won't jeopardize the world at large when I snap like some psychopath?" She was bitter and angry, but not at him.

"I… trust that you'll keep it together this time. This is our one shot. Please don't make me regret this. And the technical term is sociopath, by the way."

She sighed heavily and stood. His heart jumped at seeing her puffy red eyes. Had she been crying? He wanted to ask, but her glare told him everything he needed to know. She had, and it may not have been him who pushed her there.

Simmons jumped out of reflex when she saw Melinda walking down the hall with Phil. She tried not to sigh, but she couldn't help it. Seeing what she had done to Rappaccini in such a short time likely scared her. "H-hello, Agent May. Ready to play bad cop."

She could have said something corny, like she was born ready, which wasn't necessarily untrue, but she was in no mood. She had cried for the first time in months, and it was all Ward's fault. She couldn't wait until he woke up so she could kiss him hard. Oh, and kick his ass. She was going to do that, too. "Yes," she said tersely. Thankfully, no one could see how pathetic she really was due to her aviators.

"Right. Well, let's go, then." Simmons smiled lopsidedly and nervously shuffled her notecards. She could see questions scribbled on the top one.

Melinda flung the door open and smirked smugly when Monica flinched.

"Hello, Dr. Rappaccini. I'm Agent Simmons, and, well, you're already well acquainted with Agent May. I've a few questions to ask you, and I hope you've answers."

"I know who you are, Dr. Simmons. I've read about some of your work. I'm quite impressed." Melinda rolled her eyes when Simmons blushed. "Tell me, since no one else will, how's Agent Ward faring?"

Melinda wouldn't admit it, but she did inhale deeply when she mentioned Ward.

"Quite well, actually. He's resting as we speak."

"A shame. But impressive. I thought for sure that the mercury would have killed him within a minute. Tell me, who cured him?"

"It did, for seventeen and a half seconds." The longest seventeen and a half seconds of her entire life. "But you're looking at the one who brought him back. I'll admit that it wasn't as easy as I would have liked."

"Well, look at you. I'd clap, but," she wiggled her splinted arm. "How did you do it?"

"I had an antitoxin for mercury prepared before the mission started. A good scientist is always prepared, after all."

Monica smirked. "Well, you are certainly a good scientist."

She could feel her jaw tightening by second. These two were having a fucking casual intercourse while time was ticking away. Could Simmons really not see what was happening?

"Oh, stop." She tapped her notecards on the table. "But, really, I'm going to need you to answer these questions."

Monica shrugged. "Really, that's a waste of time."

"And why is that?"

"Because it really doesn't matter what I say, the results will remain the same."

"Oh, I beg to differ. And besides, it really is in your best interest to cooperate."

"And why is that?" she parroted.

"Because, then I'll have to leave leave, and you two will be alone. I believe you recall what happened the last time you two were alone. You really don't want to relive any of that, do you?"

Melinda didn't have to try very hard to look overly intimidating. She did have to try not to throw something at Simmons.

Monica swallowed roughly, then shrugged dismissively. "Eh. I doubt that sap Coulson will let anything happen."

Simmons' eyebrows raised. "So, then you're seriously won't cooperate?" She stood from the chair. Melinda clenched her fists and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Like I said, it won't make a difference. So there's no point in playing these games."

"Well, if that's how you plan of playing it." Simmons backed away toward the door. "Don't say I didn't warn you." The cheerfulness in her voice made her sick, but seeing her back away felt like someone taking the leash off of a rabid, pissed off pitbull. One who's new sole purpose in life was to tear someone's face off.

Melinda stepped forward from the corner of the room and removed her aviators. Pure, unadulterated hate permeated from her brown eyes, outlined with an aura of ruthless aggression that was once again beating against the cage of her control. She didn't stop until she was directly in front of the chair Simmons had been sitting in. A casual grab and toss sent it flying into the wall with a loud clang. Monica jumped. "Are you afraid of me?" Melinda asked in an eerily calm voice.

Monica had the gall to scoff. "No. I'm not afraid of some SHIELD agen–" Melinda grabbed her head, cutting her off, and slammed her face into the hard metal table. The sound of her skull meeting metal was loud and sickening. Two, three, four, five times she slammed her head down, until blood was drawn. "Agh! Again?! Where the hell are my rights?!"

Melinda grabbed her face, fingers digging deeply into her cheeks. "You have no fucking rights on my plane," she growled lowly. "You're just a toy that I can play with at my leisure, and break when I'm bored. I can tear your limbs off and twists your head off like a top, because I'm bored with you. You'll answer her questions, or I will impale you on your own fucking spine, do you hear me?" She grinned savagely, showing just for the briefest of moments just how unhinged she had become. "If you think I'm playing, try me. No, I want you to. Test me, and give me a fucking reason to kill you. Do it, make me enjoy ending your life as slowly and painfully as you know I can manage."

Monica couldn't speak because of Melinda's grip on her face, but her eyes were literally shaking with fear. Her hand was gripping the table so tightly that her nails seemed like they were going to crack. Melinda, satisfied, let her go and turned to leave.

Simmons was terrified.

Melinda didn't care. She had done her job to a t.

A/N: Word to the wise, don't give May a reason not to like you.