She's not sure how many days it's been since she last slept alone. When she wakes the bed is much too big, as it was when she fell asleep. The room's too silent without Phil's breathing. Part of her wants to creep down the hallway and crawl into bed next to him. Melinda could wrap her arms around him, listening to him breathing and hope everything goes away, but she doesn't.

She leaves her lonely bed, removing her pyjamas. Her breasts are still sore, somehow too heavy. She holds them for a moment, remembering Phil's hands and the way he smiles when he looks at her. She stops in front of the mirror and stares. Her muscles and bones endure. Her scars heal, some of the older ones fading. It wasn't until she was on the Bus that she started to collect new scars again. The line just beneath her left clavicle pulls her attention and she strokes it. Phil's presence is as written on her body as it is on her heart. She wants him; fears him because letting him in is a risk. He was safe at arm's length. Safe as a friend. She changed that, risked him and all she feels for him because she almost trusted herself.

She pulls on her clothes and runs over her hands over her abdomen. She tries to remember other women she's been near and what they looked like. But it's too early; there's nothing there, probably won't be for weeks. Would it be more real if there was? Jemma would tell her at length if she asked, but she won't. She could look it up herself, but that doesn't seem right, either.

She tugs her hair back and ties it up behind her head. She can't keep Skye waiting. To her surprise, both Jemma and Skye are waiting for her in the practice room. Jemma's brought tea in a thermos, because even at just after five in the morning, she's English.

Both of their smiles are so genuine and tentative. She's not sure if Skye knows, but Jemma does and after she tries her hardest to return their affection with a smile of her own, Melinda decides she doesn't care. They're her family. If that family's changing, it'll affect them too. Jemma hasn't done tai chi before so they slip slowly through the motions. It's not as rhythmic as working through at the speed she and Skye have fallen into, but it's pleasant all the same.

She lets herself not think. Instead, she watches Jemma's hands, arranges Skye's feet and listens while they talk to each other. Their small talk is softened by sleepiness and they're quieter than usual. They don't talk about anything important, and by the later postures, it's all about what they have to do today.

Jemma stops during 'needle at the sea bottom' and stands up, breaking her concentration. "What do you want for breakfast?"

It's almost too simple of a question. She should have an answer. Phil would.

"What?"

"Skye and I are going to make breakfast after this. We thought-"

"We'd make something you like."

"If that's okay," Jemma finishes.

She rarely puts that much thought into food. Breakfast is very simple at her mother's house. When she arrived at the academy, the food in the dorms was shockingly complex with so many options. She tries to avoid breakfast on their cooking schedule because she's never sure what other people would want. Lunch and dinner are much easier, especially when they're in a base because the kitchens are usually well stocked.

The two of them look at each other, almost shy. Jemma tries to follow Skye into the next form, 'fan through the back', but Melinda's concentration is shot and Skye's not ready to lead. The three of them stand there, like trees when the wind has stopped.

"I kind of default to pancakes because I still feel a bit rebellious having them for breakfast when they're more of a dessert or dinner item at home," Jemma says.

"Cinnamon buns," Skye says, shrugging. "I never had an oven in the van. We can actually bake them here and it makes everything smell nice."

She nods, but can't think of anything. Leading them both into 'fan through the back', Melinda thinks of home, and her mother making breakfast. Frozen dumplings to cook at home were hard to find when they travelled. Her mother used to make huge batches on her days off and fill the freezer so they'd have them when they woke up and got ready for work and school.

As they finish 'cross hands' and move into closing posture, Jemma and Skye both look somewhat dejected that their kind idea hasn't been taken up. Melinda shuts her eyes. There's no reason to push either of them away.

"Bāozi," she says, opening her eyes.

Skye and Jemma look at each other again, lost.

"Is that breakfast?" Skye asks. "Do you have a recipe?"

Melinda tilts her head towards the kitchen. "Come on."

Their smiles widen and Jemma drags along the thermos of tea, now mostly empty. Both of them are rather sweetly only half awake and she keeps calling the ingredients by their Chinese names in her head which makes asking for things from the pantry difficult.

Skye emerges from the stores with her arms crossed after the third time it happens. "I have no idea what me-an-fen is. Is it a brand? Is it-"

For a moment she can't even remember the word, because all Melinda hears in her head is her mother talking her through the recipe. She follows Skye into the pantry, wandering the shelves.

"This." Picking up the plastic container, she looks at Skye in apology.

"Flour," Skye says. "You forgot the word for flour." That awe Skye so often has when she looks at her fades and as they walk back to the kitchen, something's changed in Skye's eyes. They're softer when she looks at her.

"I was looking for flour," Skye tells Jemma. "Apparently."

Melinda ignores them and measures salt into the bowl.

"Right." Jemma has the easier task of chopping pork for the filling. That was in the refrigerator, which meant she could grab it without wracking her brain for the English word.

"Maybe you want to get the rest and I can do the stirring or the measuring?" Skye offers. "I can count to, like, eight, in Chinese. I think. I get six and seven backwards, but we're not going to go up higher than six in the recipe, are we?"

Looking at them both, she wonders if she should make some kind of excuse, or apologise. She lives so much of her life in English that she rarely has trouble like this. Perhaps it's because she's thinking of her mother, or because she's afraid. It's harder to speak and finding words in any language is difficult. She feels like a child, but when she was young she didn't fear like this. Fear came later.

"Four cups of flour," she tells Skye, concentrating on the words.

"That I can do."

Jemma beams at them both while she chops pork and cabbage into the finest, neatest pieces Melinda's ever seen. Her mother would approve at that kind of efficiency and precision.

She'll see her tonight. Her mother will pick her up from the airport and chastise her and criticise Phil and somehow make it all okay. Melinda tries to focus on the moment, on the gentle hiss of Jemma's knife, on the way the spoon sounds against the side of the bowl and on the smell of yeast in warm water. She's safe here, with them. Caring for them both as much as she does is painless and good. They're both such extraordinary women: so enthusiastic and bright.

Neither of them ask her what she wants, or what's she going to do, and until Phil and Trip come in for breakfast it almost feels like a normal day. How much she missed him overnight aches when he walks in, still half asleep. There's coffee now and plates of bāozi that that actually turned out fairly well considering how long it's been since Melinda made them.

Trip wonders what they are, accepts Skye's explanation and digs in. "They smell great," he says.

Melinda's grateful that Skye and Jemma take up the conversation and just let her sit and watch. They make small talk with Trip, joke with him about what they're going to do in New York, and keep the silence from being as oppressive as she feared.

Phil touches her shoulder as he passes, and he sits beside her. He touches her leg under the table and she reaches for his hand. When their fingers touch, she grabs on, holding him much tighter than she thought she needed to. He smiles at her without reproach, gentle. Even what little she could say is useless and now's not the place. He squeezes back and keeps his left hand in hers. He doesn't need it to eat, and it's probably not that obvious until his coffee spills and neither of them reach for it with their closest hands.

He starts to move his hand but she just sits there, watching the coffee roll in a brown puddle over the table. Skye and Jemma jump up, and Skye tosses a towel in front of them before the coffee gets anywhere.

"Waste of good coffee," Skye says, staring at Melinda and Phil who still haven't moved.

"I was just going to say how glad I was that it wasn't tea," Jemma replies, smirking.

Skye threatens Jemma with the coffee-soaked towel and she shrieks and ducks towards the sink. Phil chuckles. Trip laughs, but his eyes are still on Phil and Melinda. Switching his gaze, he studies them because they're like statues, even when liquid ran towards them.

Her plate's empty, so she squeezes Phil's hand on last time and leaves to get dressed for the day.

"You'll be working with the Stark Tower mainframe. It's kind of unofficially called the Avengers Tower, but if you call it the Potts Tower, everyone will think that's funnier. It's also probably more accurate, considering that her name's on the lease since it's been rebuilt." Phil sets down his tablet computer neatly on his desk then looks up at Skye. "Any other questions?"

She sits on his desk, shaking her head. "None mission related."

"You have not mission related questions?" He almost doesn't want to ask.

She leans in. "Are you and May okay?"

He wonders how much she knows. Simmons and her were so sweet this morning, making breakfast and reminding Melinda that she does know that recipe for bāozi, even though she doubts her memory each time she makes them. Maybe it doesn't matter. Secrets haven't helped anyone get to this point and he needs to talk about it with someone. He always talks to Melinda when he's upset but he can't, not this time.

"We're fine."

"You're not talking to each other."

"Not in a bad way." He looks down at his hands and the memory of how tightly she held his fingers at breakfast flies to the front of his mind. "Sometimes we do that."

"Don't speak to each other?"

"Don't speak with each other. I keep talking, but this time there's nothing I can say."

Skye tilts her head. "Because?"

"Because I don't want to push her."

"Push her into what?"

"Into talking about something before she's ready."

"Not ready to talk about what? I'd ask her, but she still scares me half to death."

He finds a smile for that. "She should."

"So why are you scared of her?"

"I'm not."

""I know you're together. It's pretty obvious now. You two always acted like you had a thing, and now you do have a thing. Simmons found something weird in May's blood tests, but she's not sick. You're not talking but you held hands like one of you was drowning at breakfast when you thought we couldn't see." Something clicks in Skye's head. "She's late."

"Late?"

"Late, like, need a stick to pee on instead of tampons, late. We don't have all night drug stores but we have Simmons, who's been freaked out since yesterday- I'm right, aren't I?"

"Right about what?" Playing dumb is so beneath him, but he does it because he must be almost as afraid as May is.

Her expression softens in sympathy. "I think this is the one thing that May and I would probably freak out equally about. She's pregnant."

"We're not talking about it."

"Then talk about it with me because keeping it secret is about to give Jemma a breakdown and you're just as close to cracking as she is. I can really only handle one of you on the edge, so just tell me."

He leaves his chair, holding on to the back of it. "You know what was in the Guest House. You know what we've been injected with. That's in her now, because of me."

"It hasn't hurt either of us."

He has reams of paper covered with scribbling that say otherwise but he doesn't want to tell her that. He'll need to, soon, but he can only handle one crisis today.

"What is it?"

"I-" he stops, biting his lip to keep from continuing.

"I'm not going to tell her. You can tell me you hate the idea of being a father, or that you're freaked the hell out, because I would be. It's normal. You just got this huge promotion and someone on your team turned out to be working for neo-Nazis and your girlfriend's pregnant."

"She's not my-"

"Your best friend with benefits? Your lover? What word do you want me to use?"

"May. May's pregnant. That's important regardless of her relationship to me."

Skye slides off the desk and folds her arms. "Uh-huh."

"You're not going to tell me that what I think is more important than what she wants? That's just wrong, Skye and I-"

She holds up her hand, staring him down with the kind of fearlessness he remembers from decades ago on another face. "Of course what she wants is important! But you don't rank things and say what she wants is more important or less important. When you care about someone, you listen and if they don't want to talk, you make them."

"Are you hiding some QNB-T16 serum behind your back?" He smiles weakly.

"Should have brought some," Skye replies. "Look. What do you want? If May walked in here and said she wasn't going to have the baby, what would you say?"

His stomach twists. His heartbeat crashes in his ears. He tries to picture it, tries to imagine what he'll say. "Okay," is all he comes up with.

"Okay? And you're not even going to discuss it with her?"

"It's not like that."

Skye rolls her eyes. "Then tell me what it's like."

"It's a much bigger change for her than me. I have to be supportive."

"And?"

He tries to strengthen his resolve. "There's no 'and', Skye."

"You looked like I'd promised Fitz a monkey and then shot it in front of him."

Mentioning Fitz stings, and she brought him up to remind him of loss, of everything they could lose in a moment.

"It's not a monkey."

"Nope. It's a kid. Your kid and I think you want it."

He leans against the desk, clasping his hands in front of him and staring at the floor just past his shoes. "Of course I want it. It's a boy or a girl and he'll look like May or she'll laugh. I didn't want children. I never made them a priority, never thought about having them, but this morning May walked into the kitchen and all I could think about is how beautiful that baby's going to be. I can't tell her that. I can't walk up to her and tell her how long I lay awake last night, staring at the wall and thinking about the baby we might not have and how much I want it."

He sighs, almost unable to meet Skye's eyes. "I can't say that to her. I can't imagine how hard this is and I can't add to that. I can't make it worse than it is."

"What if she wants that too? I don't know if she does, but if she wants the kid, won't it be harder if she thinks you don't?"

"I can't push her."

"You're not pushing. You're not going to say, 'hey, I want the baby.' You'll say something like, 'I love you and whatever you decide, I'm here for you.'"

He stares at her, his mouth slightly open. "I forgot."

"You forgot?"

"I didn't say it back."

Skye's completely confused now. "What didn't you say?"

"Wǒ ài nǐ," he mutters. "I didn't say it."

"Everyone's speaking Chinese today," Skye complains, tossing her hair back behind her shoulders. "What didn't you say?"

"She told her mother that she loved me."

"May did?"

"Yeah. I heard her and I-"

"You heard her say she loved you?"

He tilts his head back up towards the ceiling. He's an idiot. "Yeah."

Skye stares at him. "So what did you say?"

"I made a joke about her mother trying to kill me."

"She should if that's how you respond to 'I love you.'"

"Damn."

"You gotta fix that first, before you even get into the other stuff." She leans beside him on the desk. "Maybe start with that before you move to on to 'I want to build a playground in the Playground for the kid'. Being supportive doesn't mean that you stop being honest. It means being honest and then kind if she wants something other than what you want. If that's not a kid, then I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry?"

"Because you obviously want it. You have dad eyes. I mean, you always had dad eyes, but this- You're a mess, you know that?"

"I love her so much." He didn't mean to admit it, but the words force themselves out. "And she would be such a good mother."

"Hey." Skye smiles at him and for a second she looks like she's about to cry. "Maybe you should go to her room where she's packing up and tell her that. Don't tell me she knows, because obviously you messed that up."

"I didn't mean to."

She pats his arm, then hugs him, tight because he might be the director of a secret agency but he's also just a guy who'd be a really good dad who's trying to be a good boyfriend. His hands go tentatively behind her back, then he holds on tight.

"You love her. You love the kid. I'm assuming S.H.I.E.L.D. has some kind of 'I actually want to have a life while I save the world' auxiliary plan you can talk about. Otherwise I'm pretty good with older kids but I wouldn't know what to do with a baby-"

"Skye?"

She ends the hug with an extra squeeze because he kind of sounds like he's going to cry. "Yeah?"

"None of us know what to do with a baby."

"Right. Well, better get Jemma started on that. You know she likes to prepare."

Skye settles into the co-pilot's seat as the Atlantic Ocean passes beneath them. Melinda's become accustomed to Skye's presence, and she enjoys it. She's so fond of the bright young woman who's grown so much since she came on board. She nods to her in welcome. Does Skye know? Did Phil tell her? Does she want to talk about it?

Skye looks straight ahead. "AC told me."

She keeps her eyes forward, because that seems easier for both of them. Skye won't expect her to talk, she knows her well enough for that. It occurs to Melinda slowly that Skye might need to talk about it. Her relationship with Phil changes things for everyone. She didn't want to make it public for that reason, but it's out. A baby would change everything even more. Maybe too much.

"Know something funny? If it was me, you're the first person I'd come running to talk to." Skye pulls her knees up to her chest. "You wouldn't judge me, no matter what I said. I've never had that. I've never had anything like this. You and AC, Simmons, Fitz, you're family. Even Trip's like the big brother I never had. It's safe here. Is it like that for you? I suppose it's different, because you have your mother-"

There's something so wistful about the way Skye says it that Melinda turns her eyes from her instruments for a moment. "She's not the easiest person to talk to."

"AC implied she's pretty intense."

"Yes."

"How does she feel about it?"

"You mean how she feels about my complete lack of consideration for how much a grandchild will alter her life?"

Skye smirks and looks over, resting her chin on her knee. "She said that?"

"She's still angry because she still thinks Coulson let me get shot."

"That was Hydra, well, S.H.I.E.L.D. really."

She flicks two switches, transmitting their request for landing to the Stark Industries private airfield north of New York. "Maybe I should have worked for an agency I can trust not to shoot me."

"Good luck."

Melinda smiles forward, relieved her sunglasses are hiding her eyes. "My mother will support what I want."

"We all will," Skye promises. "You're family."

They've built a sturdy little family, and Melinda still doesn't know if she wants to add to it. Everyone's equal now. There are no weak points. They need Fitz to heal while they build S.H.I.E.L.D. differently. Phil will construct a far different organisation than Hydra burned. Can he do that with a child who needs him? It seems he wants to. She could see hope in his eyes, but does he understand how much work this is? How much it will take from both of them? There will be months where she won't be able to go into the field and Phil and Trip will have to keep Jemma and Skye safe. She can keep training them, but will that be enough? Isn't she failing them if she lets them get hurt because she selfishly decides she wants to keep this child?

"That almost makes it harder."

Skye looks forward again, watching the clouds. "I wouldn't, if it was me. I'm young and stupid, and I wouldn't trust myself not to screw up someone's life." She's always admired Skye's ease with brutal honesty.

"Age doesn't preclude stupidity."

"It's not your fault."

"I was a willing participant."

Skye smiles but flushes a little. "Apparently you were both pretty willing."

"So you don't want to know how many times we participated in his office?"

Shocked, Skye drops her feet back to the floor. "His office? You were in his office? I was just in there." She holds up her hand. "Don't say anything else. I have to go in there and act like AC's my boss and the responsible director of a secret agency. I can't think about you guys... and that."

"He takes off his tie sometimes."

Skye covers her mouth and shakes her head. "I take back wanting to be nice to you. I take it all back. You deserve this."

Turning to look at Skye, Melinda smiles easier than she has all day. "Thanks."

"You're welcome. I'm not even going to be able to look at AC for weeks with that in my head."

"Was Ward and I so different?"

"Other than Ward being a psycho? Yeah. He might have turned out crazy, but he was hot and you had that soldiers in arms thing. AC's different."

"He's still hot."

Skye holds up her hand between them. "Yeah, but he's also the closest thing I have to a father, so we need to keep the conversation on a level where I can still look at both of you without needing to hide behind Simmons."

Melinda nods. Somehow, Skye's discomfort almost makes it easier. There's a reality in the way she looks up to both of them. It's grounding.

In the silence, Skye's expression darkens. "You know about T.A.H.I.T.I., right?"

"The alien origin of the compound that got me pregnant?" Trying to keep her voice cool only makes her sound more afraid. She wonders what's worse for Skye, knowing she had sex with the man who's like her father or knowing how much this baby terrifies her.

"Yeah, I mean, that's got to be really weird. Being knocked up would be bad enough. Having alien stuff involved... That's pretty freaky." Skye turns to study her. "And you're still a statue, but that means it's all underneath, isn't it? What can you use fear for?"

Melinda flicks on the autopilot and pulls her hands back. She lifts her sunglasses and rubs her eyes, because they ache. "Fear keeps you alive."

Skye touches her shoulder. "We're all here for you guys. Whatever you need. I'm not the greatest nurse or anything, but if you want someone to go with you, or sit with you, I will. I promise I'll talk less than Simmons."

What Skye's just offered to do resonates like a bell through Melinda's chest. She reaches for Skye's hand, and then, surprising them both, she hugs her. It's a weird angle over the seats and she's probably holding her too tight, but she's so grateful.

"I don't think I can," she whispers into Skye's hair. "I should. It's so much to ask of Phil, of you, of Simmons, even of my mother, but I-"

Shifting in her chair, Skye sits up straight and holds her just as tightly back. "That's okay. It's totally okay."

"I should-"

"No, you do what you want, live your life. I think you deserve a life after you've saved the world so much. If you want a kid, I think the world owes you one. Or, I guess in this case another world because there's that alien stuff-"

She thought she'd hold it together until she saw her mother. She didn't cry in front of Simmons, or Phil, and she's making terrible jokes with Skye about aliens and where she and Phil made love and that's what sets her off. Skye, who must be so uncomfortable, holds her tight and whispers nothing important. Melinda can't even be sure why she's crying. She's frightened. Everyone's walking around eggshells around her trying to support what she wants, but how is she's meant to know what that is when she's never even thought she could be in this place? Her body's always been what she could count on. Her mind falters, but her muscles know what to do.

Her body seems to have made her choice. She doesn't even feel that different, but her body's managed to cling to this new life through sparring sessions and g-forces and birth control that said it shouldn't be.

Voices carry over the plane's engines. Phil's little meeting about the Guest House and the T.A.H.I.T.I. project must not be going well. Should Skye be there? Should she let her go make the peace between Phil and Triplett?

Skye holds her tighter when she tries to pull away. "If you want this, we're all behind you. Simmons and I have already talked about learning to babysit, and she started looking for an internship as a midwife so you don't have to have someone you don't know. And AC, he's a mess. I know he's an idiot sometimes and I think you love him anyway, so cut him some slack while he gets it together, okay? He's not as controlled as you are."

Skye's insisting Melinda has control when she's hiding her eyes in Skye's denim jacket and wishing her mother was on the damn plane. She only manages to let go when the flight controls demand her attention.

"I won't tell anyone."

Melinda dries her eyes and hides back behind her sunglasses. "Thanks."

"He really loves you."

She nods, but that makes her tears threaten again so she tunes out of the conversation and focuses on the plane. Skye remains, silent by her side as they land.

"So half the plane has alien genetic material inside of them?" Triplett asks, staring at the floor in front of his feet.

"Technically sixty percent," Simmons corrects. "As there are five of us."

"And you and Agent May were- are- involved?"

"It's not in violation of protocol."

"With all respect, Sir. Protocol doesn't talk about what the director does in his free time because the director's supposed to show discretion. Sure, there were rumours about Fury, some of them about him and Agent Hill, but they were always professional in public."

Phil keeps his hands at his sides, trying to read what's behind Triplett's frustration. "My relationship with Agent May hasn't strayed beyond the professional."

"We're detouring our mission so she can take off again-"

"We're detouring the mission because I need the resources of Stark Industries since we no longer have the medical facilities of the Hub or the Triskelion to fall back on," Simmons insists. "And Fitz is-"

"Hey, I miss the little guy, too, but we should be recruiting. We can't rebuild S.H.I.E.L.D. with one plane and a handful of agents, where some of them are involved with-"

"Would you be as upset if it were Agent Skye and I who were involved instead?" Simmons asks. Her eyes have gone steel again and Phil wonders how long it will take her to realise what strength she has.

"You're both what, level four?"

"I'm level five."

"Skye probably should be promoted to level two," Phil interjects. "I'll have to do that."

"As long as hold your secrets, I don't care what you and Skye do together. Director Coulson and Agent May are a different situation. They're basically the two highest ranking people we have left. What if you lose focus?"

Phil holds his coffee thoughtfully in front of him. There's no nice way to say how little focus he has at the moment. Every time the plane changes direction, he wants to go talk to Melinda. Skye has to be with her, and that's good, because Skye's good for her, but he has to tell her what he failed to tell her before. He owes her so much.

"Then we'll trust you to keep us on point."

"You just met me, Sir."

"Sometimes you don't need much time to judge a person, Trip." Phil looks from Simmons back to Triplett. It will be hard, harder still if Melinda keeps the baby and they have to balance all of S.H.I.E.L.D. and their child. "May and I are professionals. We'll keep our relationship compartmentalised and keep working together for the benefit of the organisation. If we start going astray, we have you, Simmons and Skye to steer us back. We're a small organisation now. More like a family, and we have to trust each other. I don't want this S.H.I.E.L.D. to be founded on anything else."

"Director Fury didn't put much stock in trust, Sir."

"That's why we're going to try it this way."

"For the record, Director, I think your relationship with Agent May is ill-advised and potentially dangerous. She's a specialist. You're going to have to send her into the line of fire just about every day. Are you going to be all right with that? I wouldn't be, if it were me."

He can't look at Simmons, her emotions are too naked on her face. Phil forces himself to look at Trip, to think like an agent, not like a man in love.

"I've sent May into some pretty bad places."

"Are you going to be able to forgive yourself if she doesn't come back?"

Trip's right, of course, but it still hits like a punch in the gut. If he sends Melinda to her death, he'll be taking away his child's mother, just like his father was taken from him. He'll be the one who had to live with that knowledge. For a moment, he wants to throw up. He hates Fury for putting this on him. If he was still an agent, it wouldn't matter. He'd take leave with Melinda when the baby came, and take a desk job while she went back to work. He'd have the baby sleep in his office while he did paperwork.

That'll probably still happen because he needs Melinda in the field. She knows that just as well as he does.

"No," he answers Trip's question finally. "I'll destroy myself if that happens. I know that's selfish and part of me thinks S.H.I.E.L.D. ought to come first, but it's come first my entire life. S.H.I.E.L.D. came first when I died. This time, I'm going to put myself first. I'm sorry for the extra burden that puts on you and the rest of the team. I'm sure we both are, but this is what we need to do. I hope you all can make that choice when you get to it. You can't always give yourself up to save the world, otherwise you'll forget what you're trying to save."

"Take your seats for landing," Skye's voice comes over the intercom. She must still be up front with Melinda.

"This isn't the last discussion we're going to have about this," Trip says.

"No," Phil agrees, taking his seat. "And I appreciate that."

After they've landed, while Skye, Triplett and Simmons collect their things for a week in New York, he notices the damp patch on Skye's shoulder and realises where it must have come from. He hasn't seem Melinda cry in years.

Pepper said she cried at his funeral. That Maria sat with her and said nothing while Melinda's tears fell onto the grass. He wishes again he could have protected her from that pain. As much as he wants to hate Fury, T.A.H.I.T.I. brought him back so that Melinda didn't really have to bury him that day. T.A.H.I.T.I. also brought life to their child, so maybe there's a little magic there after all. That magic has had a price, but they've paid it. They've paid enough.