Rain drums heavy on the roof of the airplane hangar in New York. The air's cold and thick, clinging to the earth. It's a sharp change from the Playground and the warmth closer to the equator. He pulls his jacket a little tighter and closes the top button.

Simmons, Skye and Trip file down the cargo ramp, bags in hand. He waits by Lola while the rest of them get into the SUV. Trip can find Stark/Avenger Tower, whatever Tony's calling it these days, and Maria's going to meet them and get them settled. Simmons and Skye both watch him as they get in. Simmons smiles gently while Skye's look is more forcefully encouraging. He tries to smile back but it falters. He doesn't know what he's doing. Okay, sure, he loves her and he wants to see her parent because she'd be incredible. He wants to risk this with her. In his life, this is the time he's wanted to bring a new person into the world and show them how wonderful it is.

She might not. There's the physical toll, the time away from their child and from their work, the emotional struggle of caring for someone so vulnerable and the terrifying thought that they could leave that child alone at any moment. Who are they going to name guardian? Will this child grow up with retired Secretary May? Pepper? Maria? Natasha and Clint? Who's going to teach her how to ride a bike if something happens to her parents? Growing up without his father left marks on his heart. Can he risk doing that to his child?

Phil shuts his eyes and listens to the rain and the whine of the engines as they cool. He's too far ahead of himself. What Melinda wants, what she needs from him has to come first. Skye's admonitions still sting. He has to be honest, but when she appears in the cockpit doorway, he only wants to help her. Part of him wants to run up and hold her. Tell her how much of an idiot he is, because he loves her, more than he thought possible.

He doesn't run. Melinda walks out of the cockpit, bag in hand. He meets her by the stairs and puts his hand out for her bag. She smiles, tentative. She still has her sunglasses on, which is surprising in the rain. She removes them, tucking them into the bag before she hands it over. Her eyes are red. It's been years since he's seen her cry and he remembers the eerie silence while tears rolled down her face. He never knew who she was crying for then. Now he can't be sure if it's because of what she can't have or because she's decided to throw everything up in the air as he is. He can't truly understand what he's asking of her in his heart. It won't be his body that changes, and takes him away from the field.

She leads the way to Lola and gets in next to him, still silent, but it's comfortable in a way it hasn't been for awhile. He raises the roof and backs out of the Bus. The cargo ramp closes and the plane locks itself down.

"Feels like leaving home," he says. It's a stupid thing to say.

"It is." She looks at him, just for a moment and there's so much pain in her eyes that he can't drag his eyes back to the tarmac and the road ahead.

He can't fix this. It's not Bahrain, but the ache is the same.

"We'll be back," she promises, turning her eyes forward again. What does that mean? They'll return to the Bus as they were a week ago? Together, but only behind closed doors? Maybe they'll be together publicly, but without the added responsibility of a child. What's that going to do to them both? How many angry conversations is he going to have with Skye before he breaks down? He'd never tell Melinda to keep the baby if she doesn't want to, but he'll grieve for what could have been. He's helpless and he can't even be frustrated because he loves her. She holds the future of his life in her hands, and he's always trusted them.

He drives. Rain slides off the windshield and up over Lola, leaving streaks of silver. The rain is their only company. He shifts, and her hand covers his, gently enough to not distract from his driving, but heavy enough to be there, with him. When they move onto the freeway, her hand traces up his arm and brushes the back of his neck. Her fingers are warm and Simmons' concerns about her being feverish rise in his stomach. She hasn't said anything. She doesn't look ill, but her skin is more pink than usual. Is he just worrying? Is it the light? He wants to pull over onto the shoulder and make sure, but that's foolish, so he drives.

Melinda's hand stays on the back of his neck while she settles in to her seat, staring straight ahead.

It's hardly scenic down to Newark airport and he doesn't even bother to turn on the radio. He would have found her another flight, something Air Force, but she insisted she didn't mind. Newark to Buffalo's pretty short, and it's not that far from Buffalo to her mother's house in the Pennsylvania woods. He's never been sure why former Secretary May picked such an isolated place. She could have had anywhere she wanted, a cottage in the Orkneys, the Mount Victoria above Hong Kong, but she chose Pennsylvania, bought a huge old farmhouse and retired to a country that had never held her loyalty. Perhaps it was easier to distance herself that way. He'd never asked, and probably never will. It's a beautiful house, and Melinda's always been fond of it.

They slide into traffic around the airport. It's busy, because it's always busy, and he's going to have to leave her in the drop off zone where he's not even really supposed to get out of the car.

Phil leaves Lola running and reaches for his door to get her bag out of the trunk.

"I'm not running away from you," she says. Melinda turns and her eyes are wet, matching the rain. "I don't want you to think it's you that I need to be away from."

"I know it's not." He still smiles and she reaches for his chin.

"You do now."

"I do now," he agrees. "You're okay?"

"I don't know." Her lips brush his cheek. "When I do, I'll tell you."

"If you need me-"

That makes her smile, really smile, the way her whole face changes. "I know." Melinda gets out of Lola, closing the door carefully.

He circles around, collecting her bag and she meets him by the trunk. Rain's falling all around them, catching in her hair. She takes the strap from his hand and their fingers touch. Her skin is warm, much warmer than usual, and part of him wants to follow her into the airport and go with her to make sure she's safe. She runs her hand down the side of his face, shaking away the rain.

He leans forward and kisses her forehead. Her arms slide around his neck and she holds him tight. The world moves around them, wet, busy and chaotic, but she's all that matters. He curls into her, losing his fears.

"You want the baby," she whispers. It's not an accusation, instead it's almost wistful, as if that's something she wants to happen.

"I want you, Qiaolian."

She pulls away, smiling. "That was right."

"I said I'd get it."

Melinda squeezes his hand. "I'll see you soon." She doesn't say a week or a few days, or put any amount of time on it. He's not sure if that's an invitation, or something that he should fear. She's less tense now, less like iron, more soft, human.

"Whatever you need to do," he says again.

"I know."

She takes a few steps then turns back, hurrying to him to kiss him. It's harsh and warm. She tastes like rain, and he's probably had Lola parked too long, but that's the least important thought. They rarely kiss like this: thoughtless and desperate to be close to each other. She finally pulls away. The rain falls between them and she disappears into the airport.

He stands with his hands in his pockets, staring into the last hint of her black jacket disappears into the crowd.

"We've established a dedicated link with San Antonio Military Medical Center," former Agent Hill explains as she shows Jemma around her temporary lab. "You'll be able to video conference with Agent Fitz' medical team."

"If we had anything new to conference about."

Hill's expression is sympathetic but distant and professional. Being in her presence is still intimidating for Jemma. Hill was level nine, after all. She was Fury's right hand for years. Now she's in the private sector, and her reach is no less profound.

"Hopefully you'll be able to make a breakthrough. Stark Industries has some very impressive biotech equipment and several scientists in residence with high security clearance that you'll be able to consult with."

That's also intimidating, but Jemma nods, because Hill's being nice.

"Just ask one of the techs if you need anything, all right?"

"Thank you, ma'am."

"I'm retired, Agent." Hill smiles. "There's no ma'am."

"Right, sorry."

"I'll let you get to it."

Hill leaves her alone in the spotless laboratory. Much of the equipment is updated version of what they have on the Bus, there is an impressive array of other diagnostic tools, much of them too sensitive or complex to be on the plane. Several million dollars went into supplying her corner of the lab alone and for a moment she almost feels bad touching anything. She's here for Fitz, and May, and she's been the youngest person in her lab most of her life. She can handle this.

Transferring all her data onto the Stark Industries computers takes very little time, and she's able to get right in to her analysis. She'll have to be careful with May's blood until she comes back, but Skye's only a few floors over and though she complains, she always lets Jemma take blood samples.

If she wants to study the GH protein, she needs more of it. She'll need an expression system. The fridge full of cell cultures down the corridor offers her a wide array to chose from, but she might as well start with the basics. Grabbing samples of iE. coli/i, iC. glutamicum/i and iP. fluorescens/i, Jemma takes them back to her work bench and starts separating the GH DNA from Skye's blood sample. She'll only have a tiny amount, but if she can get any of the cultures to start producing, she'll have more to work with.

She's just finished, and placing her petri dishes in the incubator, when she sees her first other scientist. He looks kind of scruffy, brown hair with a little grey, and a rumpled shirt beneath his lab coat.

"Protein expression?"

She nods. "I'm trying to isolate a protein that's been eluding me for awhile. I haven't had the equipment to do a full expression in my lab."

"They do have the best equipment here," he says. He extends his hand, almost shyly. "I'm Bruce, Banner. Dr. Banner, but we're all doctors aren't we?"

"I suppose we are," she replies, trying to stay calm. "Simmons. Biochem, I mean, I have a double doctorate in biology and chemistry."

"Nuclear physics-"

"I know! I've read several of your papers on the perpetuation of gamma rays and your most recent one on gamma rays and hypernovae."

"You did?"

"Agent Weaver recommended them." Her smile fades. "She had a great appreciation for your work."

"I didn't know it really interested anyone but the military."

"Gamma radiation is a subject of a whole line of research at the Academy-" she stops. "I mean, it was, before."

"I'm sorry."

"Secret organisations within secret organisations, I suppose we're not meant to be surprised by that." She looks down at her hands. Agent Weaver would be such a help with her work. She always loved a puzzle.

"I'm sorry that so many people you knew must have died."

"Oh." She's unprepared for that. Everything's happened so quickly. First Hydra, then Fitz and now May and Coulson might be in danger. Jemma tries to be grateful for life in the midst of so much death and destruction, but it's hard some days.

"I usually work by myself now, but I remember being on a team and it was nice. I'm sorry if you lost people you worked with."

She nods. "Me, too."

"May I?" He surveys her samples, then looks at the charts open on her tablet. "I like to dabble. Never officially picked up medicine, always wondered if I should."

She's missed this. Having someone to talk to who understands, who cares about research, but she needs to ask. "What's your security clearance?"

"Not high," he says, almost sheepish. "I kind of need two."

Of course he's shy talking about his other personality. She would be if she had part of her that broke the rules so often. "This one of you?"

"Four."

"I'll have to authorise you," she says. Taking the tablet, Jemma enters her authorisation code, even though it's really only for Skye, who maintains the records, and Coulson, who might someday look at them.

"Thank you."

She hands back over the tablet and he reads it over.

"So this is a regenerative protein?"

"I think so. It's shown powerful regenerative properties in two of the three subjects. Both had a similar dose so their responses are predictably similar."

"The third subject was exposed over time?"

She nods, trying to keep herself from blushing. "Low doses, unintentionally over many weeks. It seems to have reached a point of equilibrium within her system."

"It's greatly increased her production of the BRCA1."

"Where do you see that?"

"Here," he points to a subgraph she hasn't looked at in detail. "I think one of the side effects of this GH protein is increased production of BRCA1 and BRCA2."

"Which is in line with its behaviour as a regenerative serum." She paces in front of the cell cultures. "If the GH protein encourages the healthy production of BRCA1 and BRCA2, then certain degradations of DNA through ageing-"

"-Might be affected by the GH protein," he finishes her thought and nods. "BRCA1 and BRCA2 are both responsible for maintaining healthy DNA. If this protein of yours increases their production, especially if they're clean, without mutation, you're talking about levels of healing at cancerous speeds, without any danger of unnatural cell development."

"Especially useful for stimulating homologous recombinational repair, which would, among other things, increase the viability of the ovarian reserve."

"Are you studying infertility?"

She shakes her head and pulls up another chart. "No, conception was an unexpected outcome of the accidental exposure."

"Considering subject three's well above predicted levels of homologous recombinational repair and improved oocyte meiosis, it must have been a hell of a surprise if she wasn't trying to conceive."

"Quite," Jemma agrees. She sighs and runs her hand through her hair. "I'm sorry. I know all of them."

"That's hard. Then subject three wasn't trying to-"

"No."

"On the upside, you may have discovered an effective fertility treatment, provided the side effects aren't too extreme."

"Earlier tests on full doses led to mental instability and total psychological collapse." She's read too many of the T.A.H.I.T.I. files now to consider it anything but a curse. "Subject one and two haven't shown signs yet, but-"

"You're worried."

"They're my friends."

He nods. "It's tough. Being responsible for people you care about."

"This protein should have a whole team of geneticists working on it. It should be studied and taken apart until we can reconstruct it from the DNA up, make it work." Jemma glances over at the other computer, wondering if the feed to San Antonio has been set up yet. "It should be able to help people. Save them, bring them back-" she sighs again. "There's a fourth potential subject. I'd started researching this to help him. I don't even know if it will, even if I find a suitable protein expression system and I can create a large enough dose, if there are side effects I don't understand, most of my team's already been exposed. If something goes wrong..."

"You could watch all of them deteriorate around you." He meets her eyes and winces. "Sorry. I didn't mean that to sound so dire."

"It's all right." She straightens and tries to smile. "It's the truth. Sometimes the truth is dire. There's also a chance that all of them will be fine, that I'll find a way to extract the GH protein and help him or that subject four will just wake up and realise how many monkeys I've put in his hospital room." Her smile breaks and she can't hold it together. "I'm going to make some tea."

"I'd love tea."

"Great," she says, blinking until her eyes are clear. "Where's the kitchen?"

"You have a better view from this office," Phil says, standing across from Maria's new desk. Her technical title is executive vice president of external communications, which is neatly printed on her Stark Industries business cards. "Unless you miss the helicarrier."

"This is a little more down to earth," she says. "Coffee?"

"Please."

She nods to her assistant and shuts the door. New York continues to glisten in the rain below. "So you got May to take some time off?"

"Not exactly- I mean- I didn't do anything, she asked."

Maria raises her eyebrows. "She did?"

"It's complicated."

A steady hand sets coffee in front of him, then hands a cup to Maria. She looks at the woman who brought it for a moment, almost surprised, but Phil doesn't pay any attention to her. Maria waits for him to elaborate. The woman who brought the coffee returns and perches on the corner of Maria's desk. Confused, Phil glances up, following the long line of her legs to her tailored suit and-

"Pepper."

"Still take it black?" she asks, smiling.

"I didn't even notice it was you."

"I still remember some of my assistant duties, from awhile back. I think it keeps me humble."

"And she makes coffee better than my secretary."

"You could change secretaries or make your own coffee."

Maria shrugs. "Or wait for you to get bored and come downstairs."

Phil stares at the surface of his own coffee, losing himself in it. The memory of Melinda's mouth on his still glows in his thoughts, taking up much of his ability to concentrate.

"May took a week off," Maria tells Pepper.

"Really?"

When he looks up, Maria's staring at him. "Phil's going to tell us why."

Pepper's tone is low and sympathetic. "Did you fight again?"

"You shouldn't blame her," Maria says. "Fury makes his orders difficult to refuse."

He nods. That's long over between them. He was stupid. "We're done with that."

"Then why do you look like someone scribbled all over a mint condition set of Captain America cards?"

Phil's not even sure he can say it. "Melinda and I-"

"So the cellist is over?"

Maria shrugs. "Guess it didn't work out. It's hard when they don't have security clearance."

"And you're dead," Pepper finishes for her. "Which I still haven't forgiven you for, Phil."

He stares at them both, almost angry. "I'm not with May because of the practicality of her knowing I'm alive."

"Faking his death really wasn't his choice," Maria mutters over her coffee.

Pepper shakes her head, threat in her eyes. "Oh, you can bet I have several things that I would love to get Nick Fury alone in a room to talk about, may he rest in peace."

"Back to Melinda," Maria says. Phil's not sure he's ever heard her call May by her first name. He's not even sure how well they know each other. Melinda's obviously closer to Fury than he thought. Perhaps they're also friends.

"Melinda and I-" Pepper corrects. "So there's something there?"

Maria pulls herself up on the desk next to Pepper and they both watch him. "Whole agency thought so for years."

"Really?"

"They were inseparable."

He can nearly hear her add 'until Bahrain', but both of them leave that unsaid.

"Fury asked her to watch you because he knew that she'd never let you go wrong." Maria swirls her coffee thoughtfully. "He didn't trust many people, but he chose well when he did. May did what she had to do."

"I know, we're past that."

"How far past that?" Pepper asks.

Both of them stare at him with the patience of interrogators. Other than Melinda, they're his closest friends. He really needs to learn how not to be outmanoeuvred by the women in his life. If that's even possible.

"Melinda and I-"

"Are together?" Maria finishes for him.

"Pregnant," he corrects.

Maria sets down her coffee.

Pepper gulps the mouthful she had and covers her lips. "Pregnant?"

"She is, I'm not. Except, well, I guess I sort of am."

"You got her pregnant?"

Pepper slides off the desk and sits next to him on the sofa in front of Maria's desk. "Oh, Phil."

"We weren't, I mean we didn't-"

"I bet not," Maria says. She rests her hands on her knees. "You guys okay?"

Pepper takes his coffee and sets it down on the table in front of him. "Do you need anything?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"Of course he doesn't know," Maria says. She shakes her head at Pepper. "How's he supposed to know? Do you think Tony would have any idea what to do if you guys-"

Pepper raises her eyebrows. "No. He'd probably start building a robot nanny."

"Phil's a little wiser than that."

"You're going to need help. Someone to run the agency when you're both on leave. An obstetrician, a nanny, or at least a list of babysitters. I have a very good OB I can-"

"May's mother will have one," Maria interrupts. He's never found out how they met, if it was on a mission or some other incident, but Maria and Secretary May have always understood each other.

"Good, that's good. Do you want me to start looking for nannies? You really need to start early."

"Pepper, thanks, but-"

"You have a company to run," Maria reminds her.

"Do you know how much fun it would be to look for nannies and watch Tony squirm because he wouldn't dare ask me why I was looking?" Pepper's smile has the kind of wickedness that makes Phil glad he never went against her.

"Fair point. Are you going to need an interim director? Do you need a safehouse for a while? I'm not sure what the timeline is, but if you give us the details we can-"

Arranging his life has suddenly become an operation, complete with timelines. "I don't know if we're-"

Maria nods. Pepper takes a second longer, then her eyebrows widen.

"Whatever you need, Phil," she assures him. "Really, if there's anything." She holds his hands and stops his fidgeting. "What do you want?"

"What do I want?"

"Yes, that's something you need to think about."

"I want her."

Maria nods and she smiles, just a little. "You should."

"And the pregnancy? If that ends up being a baby?"

"I'd like that, too." It sounds incredibly pathetic when he says it, but neither of them seem to think so.

"And you told her?"

"She knows."

"And what does she want?"

He shrugs and looks from Pepper's concerned blue eyes to Maria's inscrutable ones. "I don't know if she's decided yet. It's a lot to ask."

"We'll make it work," Maria promises. "I can take over as interim director for a few months, Romanoff, Rogers and Barton are easily brought in. Romanoff has the security clearance. Despite appearances, Barton's very organised and Rogers can keep us all on the side of idealism. Which is what S.H.I.E.L.D.'s trying for now."

"It's a good change," Pepper says. "Trusting those around you is much more important than Fury ever gave it credit for being."

"You're going to bring in half of the Avengers so May and I can go on parental leave?"

"I'd bring in all of them if I could, Thor's great for morale and he makes a fantastic lunch. Banner's an asset as well, but he often comes attached to Stark-"

"Who's the last person you want in charge of a secret organisation. He couldn't keep his own identity secret through one press conference." Pepper makes a mental list of what the nascent S.H.I.E.L.D. would need if the director and his second both needed some time off. "If you're keeping your Bus as a mobile command centre, Rogers, Barton and Romanoff would be good additions to your team, Maria."

"With Simmons and Skye we'd have a functional team. Assuming they wouldn't mind a little Avengers invasion."

"They'll probably miss Thor."

Maria shrugs. "I'll ask him. I don't know if he's available. I hear he's great with kids."

"Really?"

"It's in his file. He can cook, great with kids and animals, always does the dishes-"

Pepper smirks. "I should have held out for an Asgardian."

Maria nods. "Oh, we all should have."

"You'd really do this?" He asks before they can get deeper into their conversation about how fantastic Thor is.

"Just because it's a secret organisation doesn't mean we can overlook basic employee rights like parental leave. You two will be difficult to replace, but certainly not impossible." Maria opens the calendar on her computer. "Okay, just hypothetically, what's the timeline?"

"Timeline?"

"When's she due?" Pepper asks more gently. "Have you had an ultrasound?"

He wasn't ready for any of these questions and just stares at them both, dumb.

"How pregnant is she?" Maria asks. "When will she have the baby?"

"Simmons said ten weeks, but that actually meant eight and-"

Maria counts through her calendar. "It's a ridiculous method of dating."

"Simmons said that too."

"March?" Pepper guesses.

Maria agrees and makes a note in her calendar. "I'll make preliminary arrangements, if something changes, I'll cancel. It's fine, Phil." She never refers to him by his first name. She rose so quickly through the ranks that it feels like she's always been his superior officer.

"You'll cancel, just like that?"

"I can plan an OP without notifying the participants," Maria reminds him. "What you and May need to know is that we've got this. Whatever you need, whatever you need to do, we'll take care of it."

He looks at them both, more than a bit dumbfounded. When he took that black cube from Fury and agreed to become Director of the new S.H.I.E.L.D., he didn't think about back up. Phil didn't worry about who would do the job if he needed time, because he's never really had a life. He'd fit dates with Audrey in around OPs and had no family outside of his work. He hadn't ever needed help balancing, and now he does.

"Thank you."

"Of course, Phil." Pepper puts her arm around his shoulders. "This is a big shock, for anyone. Even when you are trying it's a lot to get used to. You have to give yourself room to feel whatever you're feeling."

"What if it's wrong?"

"Wrong?" Pepper asks.

Leaving her computer, Maria sits down at Pepper's side on the sofa. "If you and Melinda want different things, you'll have to work that out. You said you wanted her?"

"I love her."

Pepper squeezes his shoulders. "Whatever she decides, we're here, okay?"

"You look sick," her mother says. She puts out her hand and takes Melinda's bag.

She knows better than to aruge, yet she does. "I'm not sick."

"But you look sick." She tosses the bag into the back seat of her silver SUV then gets in. Melinda can't even get her seat belt fastened before her mother touches her forehead. "You're warm."

"I feel fine."

"Don't lie, Qiaolian."

"I'm tired. My head hurts and yes, I am a little warm." She sighs and rubs her eyes, digging her fingers into the pressure points just above her nose. "It's better than being cold."

"You were cold?" Her mother flicks the heat on.

"It was cold on the plane."

"You shouldn't fly commercial. Your agency should have found you transportation."

More than an hours' drive is ahead of them and this is what she has to look forward to. She tries to get comfortable, than realises slowly that she has to pee. "You know there's not much left of my agency at the moment."

"They still shouldn't make you fly coach." Her mother puts the car into gear and Melinda has to look over sheepishly.

"I have to use the bathroom."

"There weren't bathrooms in the airport?" Her mother pulls out of her parking space and sighs. "I'll stop. You'll need tea."

"I don't need tea."

"We'll stop and you'll have tea. It'll warm you up."

She's not really cold. More in that in-between place where her skin's too warm but she's cold on the inside. "Okay."

They drive in silence until her mother pulls into the coffee shop. She lets her mother order for her and retreats to the bathroom. She didn't drink much on the plane. Is this part of being pregnant? Is it starting? She thought having to pee more often would come later, but she really doesn't know. She knows next to nothing about having a child, and Phil's the same. No wonder they're such a wreck together.

Her mother hands her tea and a muffin when Melinda gets back into the car. She's rarely allowed to eat in the car because her mother's been keeping it nice. She didn't think she was hungry but it smells good through the bag. She tears off pieces and eats them with painstaking care.

"So what did he say?"

"Mama-"

"Don't avoid it, Qiaolian. What did he say?"

She sets the muffin down, suddenly not hungry. "He wants me in his life and he said I should do whatever I want to do."

"No commitment there."

"What are you talking about?"

"Did he offer to marry you? Agree to help raise your child? Will he get up with you in the middle of the night? Sit through doctor's appointments, recitals and violin lessons?"

Melinda shuts her eyes, trying not to picture the tiny violin she never learned to play. Learning martial arts so well saved her from a million other things that her mother would have wanted her to learn. "He doesn't have to marry me."

"Do you want him to?"

"Yes," she says, without even thinking.

Her mother smirks, all too proud of herself. "Good."

"Good?"

"I like some things to be traditional."

"You haven't seen my father in forty years."

Her mother keeps her eyes on the road. "Still married him."

"He could be dead."

"He's not."

"I can't marry Phil like that."

"Nor should you, it's a terrible thing."

Melinda turns to the window, lifting her leg to hug her knee to her chest.

"Boots," her mother reminds her.

Sighing, she unties her boots and gets comfortable on the seat in her socks. Her muffin smells good again so she keeps eating it, trying not to think of the mess she's just walked into by admitting she wants to get married. It was a gut reaction, an impulse, and she has no idea Phil would even want that. She had no idea that she did until she said it. It's going to be a long week.

"Tell me about the baby."

By the time she reaches her mother's house, she's going to be ready to go back to the Bus. "I don't think it has much of a personality yet."

"Is it someone you'd like to know?"

She was tripped up last time so she holds her tongue and really thinks about the answer. Her heart and her head rarely war. Usually she can make her heart obey, channel it into something useful, but the well of emotion she's fighting doesn't seem to have any purpose. She's tired, never seems to be the right temperature and she cried. She doesn't cry. Then, she kissed Phil. Remembering that almost makes her smile.

"I think I might."

"Qiaolian, that is a big responsibility."

"I know, Mama."

"You'll need help."

"Apparently I'll have my husband," she says, rolling her eyes.

"You need more than that. You'll need someone to run your agency while Phillip's a mess about you and the baby. Someone needs to protect your team."

Her thoughts immediately fly to Natasha, which is impossible. She's far too busy. She's creating a new cover and she's one of the most wanted spies in the world. She can't drop everything to take Trip, Skye and Simmons into the field. Yet, that's what she wants. She's more like her mother than she's ever wanted to admit.

"We'll find someone."

"You should call Maria."

"She works for Stark now."

"She works for Potts, Qiaolian, Stark's just a noisy man with lots of toys."

"Then she's busy."

"Am I not busy?"

"Of course you are, Mama and I-"

"It's far too late for 'thank you'."

She's never going to get that right.

"I couldn't leave my grandchild at the airport."

Melinda's eyes sting suddenly and she has to look away out into the rain.

"Are you all right?"

"I don't know."

"If you don't want this, you can tell Phil you lost it. It's still early, that happens."

"No," she says, shaking her head. For all the energy she thought she was putting into not crying, tears start to overwhelm her eyes. "I can't do that."

"Can't lie or can't end it."

"I can't lie to him."

"You lied to him for months."

"Under orders! I lied to him to keep him safe."

"Will having a child keep him safe?"

"No."

"No, it'll risk you, him and your entire team. Are you willing to do that?"

She starts to rub her eyes on her sleeve but her mother clucks her tongue.

"Tissues in the glovebox."

Melinda digs them out and dries her eyes. She's still crying. "I want to."

"What?"

"I want to risk it. I want-" she stumbles over the words, "I want this. I know how much it's going to take, but I want it. It's so stupid of me."

"Not stupid."

"I'm not in any position to have a child."

"What position should one be in? Married, with a house and a comfortable job where you never get shot at? Certainly not raising a child alone, working in intelligence and hiding weapons in the bottom of your desk drawers."

"You were, and are, an incredible mother."

Her mother nods, which is how she accepts a compliment. "It's not easy."

"I don't need it to be easy."

"Good, Qiaolian, because it won't be." She reaches over and strokes her daughter's knee. "Even when you think you've been through everything and your baby is happy doing something she loves, some Tuesday she calls and tells you she's pregnant and suddenly all you can think about is what you can do to help, because she sounds like she's going to cry. All these years and I still don't know what to do when you cry. It was so much easier when I just had to pick you up and make you laugh."

Melinda uses up the rest of the tissues before they even turn into her mother's driveway.