"You know, AC, I could get used to this. Unlimited cinnamon rolls, good coffee, a dishwasher-" Skye sighs happily then licks icing from her fingers. "Have you tried these?"

He shakes his head. He's had the same folder in front of him all of breakfast and he hasn't opened it. Bad sign. It can't just be missing May because that wouldn't make him look so gloomy. He looks a little happy when he talks about her.

Skye still can't quite wrap her head around them having a kid. It's weird enough having friends that are close enough to be family. When those friends are adding to the family, it's a little stranger.

"Earth to AC, we have cinnamon buns and you're really missing out."

He looks up and manages one of his weaker smiles. He's trying, he's just... something. Jemma has disappeared back into her lab, and Trip's gone to test out some new Stark Industries weapons in the shooting range in the sub-basement and it's just them.

AC doesn't reach for the rolls, but he does finally move his spoon in his cold oatmeal.

"You can get new stuff."

He stares at the gloop at the end of his spoon. "It's fine."

"It's cold. It's the consistency of cement. You're not really going to eat it, are you?"

He toys with his spoon again and pushes it away.

Skye shoves a cinnamon roll into his hand. "Eat. It's delicious."

AC takes a bite but he has the face of someone who's forgotten how to chew. The folder's plain, grey, entirely ordinary without any fancy S.H.I.E.L.D. insignia or Stark Industries logo. She maybe shouldn't be paying so much attention to it, but it must be important.

"I need you to research something for me," he says. Holding the sticky mess of the cinnamon roll in his hand, he pushes the folder across with his empty one.

"What is it?"

"Something I can't stop drawing." He sets the roll down on his plate and wastes the icing on a napkin. "The first photos are from the wall in the Playground. The rest is scans of scrap paper."

She pages through because there are reams of the same scribbled lines and ovals, in the same pattern. "You've been writing this since-?"

"We arrived at the Playground."

"Months ago," she stares at him. "May knows, doesn't she?"

"It happens mostly at night. It was impossible for her not to know."

"Right," she says. She can feel the sting of blood in her face, because she's still not entirely sure how she feels about them together in the naked sense, but it's getting easier. "And you haven't told anyone else? Hill, Simmons, Trip?"

He shakes his head. "I didn't know what it meant."

"No one knows that this means," she reminds him. "It's the same stuff Garrett scratched onto the Bus when he was having his moment of unique oneness with the universe."

"I'd like to avoid that if I could."

"Yeah, let's definitely sign up to avoiding that." Skye pages through again, turning the drawings, looking for a pattern. "What do you think I can do?"

"What you do," he answers. That smile's almost real. "I should have said something."

"Yeah, you should have." Skye shakes her head. "And May. Both of you know better."

She sounds so much like a parent that he grins, and it's probably because it is kind of ridiculous that she's lecturing them, but they need to be responsible. They are parents, kind of.

"I don't know what it means, but I think I need to. I can't risk it being a mystery."

"No, we need you at one hundred percent. Do you think this has something to do with the serum? The GH stuff Simmons is studying?"

"I've had it months longer than you. Maybe the dosage was different, perhaps because I was dead and you were still alive." AC shrugs but pain's bright in his eyes. "Hopefully it'll never happen to you, but if it's going to, we need to understand it. We need to know what this is."

She adds 'for the baby' in her head, but she can't really imagine him saying it. It's still weird. "I'll figure it out, " Skye promises. "I'm good at puzzles.'

"I know. That's why I asked for help. "

She can't help smirking. "We ask for help now?"

AC smiles and his eyes are weary. "We do, because we need it. "

"You need to eat," she threatens."I'll call May or her mom if I have to. I hear her mom's terrifying. "

"She is. "

"So eat, so I don't have to talk to her. I'll run some basic searches on this. See if I can find it anywhere. There's probably something on the internet. There always is. The computers here are pretty exciting and I think I figured out how to piggyback my IP so it looks like I'm from the UN, which is a pretty damn good security clearance."

"I'm going to drink my coffee and pretend you didn't just admit to doing something illegal."

"See, you've got Dad down already. Smile, nod, open your wallet." Skye studies him, wishing she'd had someone like him when she was young. " I hear that's what they're like anyway."

"Maybe." He says. His coffee and orange juice must both equally lukewarm but he drinks.

"I miss her, too, you know. I woke up at five and had to do tai chi with only Jemma and she's not that good and I'm a lousy teacher. It just wasn't the same."

He actually perks up enough to seem to taste his breakfast. "She'll be back."

"Good, because I don't want to forget anything." Skye pats his shoulder because even his suit's a little rumpled and there's something so sad about that. He's always so together. "I'm going to go try and solve your puzzle, okay? Remember to eat lunch."

"I'm not that bad."

"You could call her. You know - pick up phone, dial, speak."

He shakes his head. "She needs time."

Skye's fairly certain that the time May wants isn't time away from him, but he's not going to believe her. Maybe he needs some time, too.

"Eat, okay? Drink water, not just coffee."

He rolls his eyes, but he doesn't do it as well as May does. Skye didn't think she'd miss her as much as she does. Maybe she's gotten to used to having someone to talk to while she works, or tai chi in the morning before breakfast. They have a good thing going. It's routine and feels like family.

"There's nothing to be nervous about," her mother says. "I don't know why going to the doctor always makes you so jumpy. Even when you were small."

"I'm not jumpy, Mama."

"You're sitting as if someone's going to pull a gun."

Something moves in the corner and Melinda jumps to her feet, hands ready and a large cat blinks sleepily at her and stretches.

"Don't mind him," the voice she's been dreading says from behind her. "He'd rather sit on your lap than cause any trouble."

"She's nervous." May's mother says, not helping at all.

"Weren't we all?" Dr. Ogundana asks. Her smile reveals very white teeth and the hand she extends towards Melinda is empty and without threat. "Your own mother threatened her obstetrician with banishment to the furthest corner of Siberia if anything went wrong."

"I had no authority to banish anyone to Siberia," May's mother says, sniffing. "Not then, at least."

"That, I did not know at the time," She waits for Melinda to take her hand. Her palm's warm and dry against Melinda's. "Your mother is a terrible patient."

"Qiaolian was not an easy child to carry."

"You had a very easy pregnancy, and your delivery, no matter what she tells you, was straightforward and less than the average time for a first time mother."

"Straightforward," May's mother scoffs. "On second thought, we should find another doctor."

"I hear there are an abundance of retired doctors in this part of the state who will see you at such short notice."

Melinda looks between them and settles on the doctor's face because she seems less threatening. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologise. Sit, perhaps you'd stroke Ivan. He'll be grateful."

Hearing his name, the cat rubs against Dr. Ogundana 's feet, then saunters off. Melinda almost misses him, because he seemed the closest to her level. Less intimidating than her mother and her mother's old friend.

Instead of an examination table, Ogundana has her lie down on the kitchen table, on top of an old blanket. Her mother stands by her stomach, watching as Ebiere's dark hands pull up May's tight black shirt.

"She only wears black now. I keep saying she'd look good in colour."

"Perhaps that is why she choses black," Ogundana says. "You know how children are, even when they are grown." Looking down at Melinda, she smiles again. "I'm going to unbutton your trousers, just to get a good feel of your uterus. I'll press a little but it won't hurt."

Simmons and her scan seems less intimidating than having Ogundana feel around her belly, but she needs to know everything's okay. She tries not to wince, because it doesn't hurt, yet it's strange to think there's another person beneath the muscles of her stomach.

"Good muscle definition," Ogundana says, pressing into Melinda's stomach so that she circles part of it with her hands. "You're barely going to show at all until baby's gotten big."

"Show?" Melinda asks, even though it's probably a stupid question. She wishes Phil was here because he'd pay attention, even if he was a wreck, and Skye would smile.

"Right now your baby's about the size of a kumquat. This big." She holds up her fingers. "It's within your uterus, wrapped in fluid and that's about this big." She widens her hands, just enough to fit a grenade. "Now, your stomach muscles are strong, so it'll be months before they're overwhelmed and baby pushes her way through."

Somehow that sounds like something out of a horror movie and Melinda has to keep herself from wincing again.

Ogundana looks up at May's mother. "Two months I think, only seven left."

"Spring," May's mother says for her. "It'll be snowing."

The air's hot and still around them. Snow feels like a distant memory. She almost wishes for it, because it's hot again, and she can't concentrate.

"You're right," Ogundana says, feeling Melinda's forehead. "She does have a fever."

"Mama?"

"You do. It could be something."

For the first time in her life, Melinda wonders if her mother's exaggerating. She was also so patient with Melinda's illnesses when she was a child. Nothing phased her. Not chicken pox, or the flu, everything was always fine. Now she complains of being cold, or warm and her mother memorises each instance.

"I'd like to take some blood samples. I can coordinate with your friends at Stark Industries."

"You're in contact with them?"

"Oh yes," Ogundana says. "Being out here doesn't mean we're away from everything. I have a satellite uplink in my office and I can easily reach your doctor in Stark Tower."

"She's not my doctor. She's on my team."

"She told you that you were pregnant?"

Melinda sits up because it's too strange having both of them look down at her. "She did."

"And she looks after you?"

"She's a biochemist."

"Then, with your permission, may I speak to her of your biochemistry? Perhaps together we'll be able to work out what's happening to you."

Melinda looks at her mother. "That information is-"

"Very classified, I know," her mother answers. "Dr. Ogundana retired with the highest level of clearance in our agency. I can make a formal request and Phillip can deal with the paperwork or he can just approve."

She can't just call Phil and tell her that her mother's old friend who happens to be a doctor needs to be their midwife because she's one of the few people in the world with enough security clearance to talk to Jemma. Will he mind? He's not usually so strict regarding protocol, and no one really retires from her mother's agency.

"There may be things Simmons can't answer for you," Melinda says carefully. That terrifies her more than it did when it was just Phil in danger. This could hurt the baby. Perhaps the alien process that gave her this child will also take it away.

"I will do my best, Qiaolian." Ogundana's pronunciation of her name is strange, almost lilting, and she almost expects to be Melinda, yet her mother always calls her Qiaolian and Ogundana knows her through her mother.

"Now tell me," she continues. "How long have you been feverish?"

Melinda can't answer the question. It comes and goes. She's not even sure she's always aware of it. Jemma said… What did she say? Melinda can't remember. "You should ask Simmons. She'll be more help than I am," Melinda says. She pulls her trousers back into place and tucks in her shirt. Her breasts are barely sore today. Today, other than the nagging heat beneath her skin, she could be normal.

"We'll take care of you."

Melinda nods and again she wishes Phil were here to absorb the look her mother's giving her. He'd hold her hand and she wonders if his eyes would tear up. His emotions are so much closer than hers. She wants Skye to remind her it's okay; Jemma's smile and enthusiastic reassurance. She misses Trip humming as he walks through the Bus and she lets her mother and Ogundana talk of the old days and plot how her baby will arrive without listening. She has months to make it through yet. She can't plan.

Yet she can't stop thinking of the space between Ogundana's fingertips and how her baby is already a thing that can be measured, that could be seen. Her mother takes her arm and leads her back to the car. Insects hum in the lazy forest around them and the wind sweeps slowly through the trees. Everything is old, green and empty, with the kind of quiet that absorbs the sound of their feet on the gravel driveway.

She looks into the trees, watching the leaves. "Who else retired out here?"

"Many of us," her mother says. Opening her door, she waits for Melinda to calm. "We needed each other to talk to. Perhaps when we are very old, we will share the same wing of the home for forgotten elders."

"Mama!"

"You'll be working. You'll be raising my grandchild, you will be busy, Qiaolian."

She reluctantly gets in the car. The trees are still moving slowly and she just wants to lose herself in watching them. "Not too busy for you."

"You live on a plane, where would you put me if not in a home?"

"You won't be forgotten," Melinda insists. She buckles her seatbelt and folds her hands in her lap. They're too close to her stomach and she can't stop looking at the dark leather between her and the tiny, almost-child, beneath.

"A home for remembered elders? Well now…" Her mother clucks her tongue. "I am lucky. My daughter and the father of her child, who hasn't even asked to marry her, will visit me, with my grandchild."

Melinda rests her face in her hands. "Have you ever thought that I want to ask him?"

"You?"

"What if I did?"

"Do you have a ring?"

"Not yet, no-" the words crash into each other in her mouth and as often happens around her mother, Melinda just stops because what she wants to say will never make it out of her mouth.

"You should get a ring, if you are serious. It's so hard to tell when you are serious. You're always joking."

hr

Phil answers his phone without even looking at the number.

"Hello Phillip." Only May's mother and his elementary school teachers have ever called him that. May's mother's voice makes him jump to attention, even though they're separated by hundreds of kilometres. She'll hear slouching so he stands up straighter.

"Secretary May."

"You know I'm retired."

He does, but his options are her first name or guessing whether she'd prefer Ms. or Mrs., so Secretary is a safe bet. "I do, ma'am."

"Very well." She pauses, probably just to make him more nervous. "I think you should take a few days off and come to Pennsylvania, if you can spare them." Her tone turns it into a command, where there's no room for negotiation.

"I should?"

"I need to attend a meeting in London. As you know, my daughter is here, and she'd never want me to say anything, particularly to you, but she's not feeling well."

His heart plummets into his stomach. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, she says. She has a fever and she claims it's fine. It's not high, only thirty-eight, but it was thirty-eight point two this morning, and she's tired. She's seen a doctor, but I'd rather she wasn't alone in my house when I must be so far away."

"Of course." He needs to call Simmons. Is this the same fever? Should they worry? Will Melinda be angry if he shows up? She said she wasn't running away from him but he's not sure. He never trusts himself with her. "I'll leave immediately."

"Good. I shall see you when I return, Phillip."

He only has the dial tone for a moment. Then he calls Simmons in the research lab before he even realises that he touched her number. "Simmons, May has a fever. Did she have one when she left?"

"No," she pauses. He can hear her moving to another station. "Her body temperature was thirty-seven point four when I measured it last. It has fluctuated a great deal. She's had spikes in her body temperature, for weeks. However, the newest vitals I was sent last night show her temperature's higher now than it was."

He stops in front of the elevator, then takes the stairs up to Pepper's office because he doesn't want to risk losing the connection to Simmons. "What does it mean if she has a fever?"

"Did she mention other symptoms?"

"She's tired." He couldn't refuse Melinda's request to leave, but he wishes, stupidly, that he had. He wants to be with her, especially if she's ill.

"From what I've researched, fatigue's very normal in pregnancy, even early pregnancy. Low grade fevers are also common and usually resolve themselves in a few days."

"If it doesn't?"

"It could be anything from a mild viral infection to a reaction to the GH compound. There's no cause for alarm unless her fever rises to thirty-nine. Technically, thirty-eight point eight, but everyone has a slightly different basal body temperature and I don't know exactly what Agent May's natural variation is. I've constructed a model, but it's not entirely accurate. She could be slightly warmer or cooler than the average and then we'd be worrying for nothing. Or not worrying enough, I suppose, and I'd rather not guess."

He forces himself to take the stairs at a steady pace. Pepper's office is far above him and Maria's is the floor below. "Thank you. I'm going to take a few personal days- you, Skye and Triplett can as well, or you can work here. I'm sure Maria can work something out with Stark Industries."

"Sir?"

"I need to go, Simmons. See you in a few days." He hangs up, then heads for the elevator again. He presses the button, but it just lights up. No elevator appears and he paces back and forth in front of it. It's only a handful more floors but the elevator will be quicker if it ever arrives. Phil stares at his phone. He could call her, ask her if she's okay, but she's tired. May so rarely admits to being tired. What if he wakes her up? What if she doesn't want him there?

What if she does?

The elevator chimes and opens. He runs in, though it saves him absolutely no time to do so and the young man he recognises as one of Pepper's aides just stares at him.

"Sorry."

The button for Pepper's floor is already pressed so he has to stand there, pretending to be patient when he wants to tear his hair out or leap out of the building. He needs to be there, now. His urgency telegraphs itself to everyone else in the elevator and they let him out first. He half-jogs to Pepper's receptionist.

"I need to speak to Ms. Potts."

"Ms. Hill is in with her. Just a moment, Director."

He's only been officially back from the dead a few weeks and already Pepper's staff knows him on sight. She has good people.

The receptionist nods to him. "You may go in."

He tries not to jog, but he's too fast, too hurried. Maria reads right into him, so does Pepper and he stands there in front of both of them like an idiot.

"I have to go."

"Okay," Pepper says. She doesn't ask him to sit. He likes that about her. "Your team is welcome to stay here until your return. Their accommodation is nearby and if they need anything else, we'll get it for them."

He keeps looking at his phone, but Melinda's not going to call. She wouldn't ask for him, even if she wanted him. She never asks. "She's sick."

"Sick?" Maria asks.

"Her mother says she has a fever." He sounds like a teenager trying to find an excuse to visit his girlfriend.

Maria leans against Pepper's desk, arms folded. "Secretary May called you."

"She's worried about Melinda." He looks at Pepper, whose face is soft with sympathy. "She didn't say worried."

"She wouldn't," Maria says.

"Go, Phil. Take some time. Look after her, talk. It sounds like her mother's given you a good excuse."

"I don't know if she wants me-" He breaks off because he's going. He can't stop thinking about Melinda, and he has to go.

"She wants you," Pepper assures him. She shares a look with Maria, who nods.

Maria pushes off the desk "Come on, Director. I'll fly you out there."

"What?" He stares from one woman to the other.

"You're not rated to fly your plane. I am. What were you going to do, fly commercially?"

"We don't have to take the Bus."

"Secretary May lives more than an hour from the nearest small airstrip," Maria says. How she knows this is a question for another time. They have always gotten along and she did work as a liaison between agencies for Fury, perhaps she's been to the house before?

"If we take the Bus," Maria continues, "I can land it nearby. If we take a private jet, we'll need a rental car, and you'll have to drive and we haven't resurrected your license yet." She doesn't mention that he's in no state to drive across the Pennsylvania countryside. She doesn't have to.

"Thanks."

"Go," Pepper says. "Go make tea and watch old films on the sofa. Be honest, and patient."

"Okay, thanks, again."

Pepper smiles and stands. She touches his shoulder. "Sometimes you just need to be frightened together in a relationship. There are things you'll struggle to face, and it'll be hard, but it's much easier when you have each other. Even if that other person's Tony."

Maria nods. "Be glad that's not who you're dating. Come on. I can have the wheels up in fifteen."

He thanks Pepper again then follows Maria to the elevator, still clutching his phone. He finally forces himself to put it into his pocket, but he still wants to grab it. Looking at Melinda's name isn't going to help. Thinking of her number over and over won't make her call.

Maria doesn't say anything.

"I was harsh when I thought you'd sold us out," he says. If he's going to apologise to Melinda for being such an idiot, he should start now with Maria. "I'm sorry."

"You did what you thought was right. Fury likes that about you." Maria studies his face. "You'll make things right with May."

"I'll try."

"You will," she promises. "You just have to-"

"Be patient," he finishes.

"No," Maria corrects. "Stop being patient. You've tried that. Be blunt. Be impatient. Run up to her and tell her that you were so frightened for her that you stormed into the office of one of the most powerful women in the world and told her you were leaving immediately. Tell her you're bringing in the Avengers to cover your leave. Tell her you can't think about anything but her. Tell her you love her, because you do."

"I did." He stares at his feet before he looks up at her. "I thought I-"

"Tell her again, Phil. Make it stick."

"Right."

Maria leads to the car, then drives out to the airfield. He's incredibly grateful for her steady presence because he's a wreck. He touches his phone to look through the medical database about fevers in the first trimester, but he's already asked Simmons, and she's probably looking into it right now and there's nothing he can do to make it better. He can't fix this, not this part.

When Maria parks the car, Simmons, Trip and Skye are waiting for them in the hanger. Skye's arms are folded over her chest, her bag at her feet and Simmons carries a medical bag in addition to her own luggage. Trip's is still swung over his back and he seems the most calm.

"We're coming," Skye says. "We'll let you two do your thing, but we're coming. We can stay on the plane if we have to."

"She'll make you stay in the house." Maria says, walking past them all towards the Bus.

"Who?" Simmons asks, following along. Skye picks up her bag and waits for Coulson.

"May's mother."

"The former secretary of-"

"That's her," Maria says. "You'll stay in her house. You'll be on time for every meal and you'll ask her if you need anything."

"Nothing wrong with being on time for dinner," Trip agrees easily.

"Right," Simmons replies, absorbing that for later.

Skye shoots her a look that demands to know what Simmons knows about May's mother, but Simmons hushes her.

"Later."

"Wheels up in five," Maria says, heading for the cockpit.

Phil stands there in the cargo bay as the door closes behind them and Simmons heads for the biology lab with Trip following her.

Skye stays with him. "She'll be okay."

"Yeah."

"And she'll be happy to see you."

He finds it harder to agree with that. "Yeah, okay."

"She will."

"I made a mess of it, Skye."

"So what?" Skye asks, leading him towards his office for takeoff. "Tell her what you want to say again, and again, until she gets it. Go all mushy over the baby, you'd be cute. You are kind of cute-"

He sighs. Being cute is not part of being the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. "So it'll be okay?"

"Yeah. It will. It really will. She loves you."

He stares at her, wondering why it's so easy for Skye to say that. "Yeah."

"Look, you're already like our parents. You can do this together." She sits next to him on the sofa, tossing her bag on the floor.

Phil didn't even grab his clothes. There are some on the Bus, but he just left everything he'd taken off the plane in his room. Pepper's people will get them. She'll get everything. She does that. He puts his hands in his lap and listens to the engines spin up. He shuts his eyes.

"Your kid's pretty damn lucky, you know that? May's mom, you're dad. Fitz and Simmons will help her with her homework. Trip'll make sure that the kid has the best, and noisiest toys. I'll cover computers and how to keep you guys from reading the kid's text messages. He- she- this kid of yours- is going to have a great life."

"Living on a plane, growing up in secret bases where no one can ever visit-"

"Being with her parents. Her really awesome parents who love her so much that they want to be with their kid all they can. Billy will get the kid a lanyard and a security clearance. Jemma and I will babysit so much that you'll have to fight to get the kid back. He'll probably have Pepper Potts as his role model and Maria Hill will teach her to fly a plane before she's ten and he'll be happy, and loved. She'll have Captain America bedsheets and you'll be jealous."

"Oh no, they come in all sizes." He manages to smile and Skye nudges him.

"See, it'll be okay. You've got this." She looks at him, really staring deep into his eyes. "You're gonna be great. I know you'll be."

She knows she had a conversation with her mother before she was really awake. Melinda just can't remember the details. She overslept. The sun's high over the horizon in her window. Her bedroom doesn't have much of hers in it. It is one of the few rooms in the house without pictures of her on the wall, which makes it hers by default. When she sits up, her head spins so she takes her time getting to her feet.

She passes her childhood in the corridor. Pictures of her in school uniforms, at martial arts competitions, and in front of flowers and trees, watch from picture frames without comment.

Her mother's note is on the table. She had to go to London. There's plenty of food in the house and keys for the other car. Dr. Ogundana will check on her. She's been left like a teenager home alone for the weekend. It's cold in the kitchen and her mother's bright red sweater hangs on the back of one of the chairs. She pulls it on over her pyjamas, hugging it to her chest. It smells like her mother, which is more comforting than it should be.

Melinda opens the fridge, stares at the food within and shuts it again. She's not hungry yet. She's not even that awake. Her mind's racing but it doesn't seem to be going anywhere. Her eyes ache and as much as she tries to centre herself, it doesn't work. Melinda barely makes it through the first three postures of tai chi before she stops. It's not helping. She can't focus. Maybe she's just tired or perhaps it's a good thing her mother asked the doctor to check on her.

Something hums. Is the refrigerator making that sound? Does her mother have a security system she doesn't know about? Something continues to whine, then gains in volume. It's a plane.

Melinda grabs her ICEr from one of the kitchen drawers. Hiding it in the pocket of her mother's sweater, she heads out to the porch.

Her plane.

Landing in the grass in the front of her mother's house, the Bus settles there as if that were an entirely normal occurrence.

Shaking her head, she tries to imagine what her mother's going to say when she gets back. Phil knows to fear her mother but the rest of them are innocent. They don't know what they're getting into and Phil can't fly the Bus by himself.

Watching from the porch, she hugs her mother's sweater to her chest, keeping herself warm. She doesn't know what to think, what she'll say or what's going on. Her mother wouldn't call Phil, would she? Would she ask him to come? Was he worried about her? Did he come on his own? Has something else happened? Did they need her and she wasn't there?

When the cargo ramp starts to lower, she doesn't care why they're here. A few days ago, all she wanted was her mother, but now, watching them walk over the grass, she realises how much she needs all of her family. It aches to see them, and she wants to run to all of them, but she waits.

Skye waves from the grass, her hair blowing everywhere around her face. Jemma hangs back a little, but she smiles. The engines are still whining, spinning down. Dust and leaves blow all around them. She's so busy watching Skye and Jemma that she almost misses him. Phil outpaces both of them, nearly jogging up to her and he's let his suit get all wrinkled. There are circles under his eyes, dark and worn. He hasn't been sleeping and she wonders if it's them or the drawings that are keeping him awake.

He smiles, a real smile, one that turns her stomach into mush. Phil skips the bottom step up to the porch and grabs her arm. She touches his face, tracing the lines that his smile makes.

"You landed on the grass."

"Technically, Maria did, so maybe we'll not be black-bagged and all hidden away somewhere unpleasant because she likes Maria."

"She's not happy with you."

"Is she ever?"

Melinda smiles, holding his chin with her thumb. "She has been."

"And you?"

"I'm so happy you're here." She hugs him, tight, throwing her arms around his neck and squeezing. His arms wrap around her lower back and he lifts her off the porch just a little with the force of how tightly he holds her. She kisses his neck, then his jaw, then they're kissing mouth to mouth, knowing how foolish they both are when they try to communicate in other ways. She forgets the audience they have, her mother's bright red sweater and how odd it must be for Jemma and Skye to hold back, waiting about three metres away.

When her bare feet touch the warm wood of the porch again, she realises how lucky she is to have all of them.

Phil touches her cheek, then her forehead, trading one intimacy for another. "How are you feeling?"

"Grateful."

"You're warmer than when you left."

As if boldened by the change in conversation, Jemma joins them on the porch, Skye only a step behind.

"We missed you," Skye says.

Jemma hovers near the steps, as if she might need to escape at any time. "Is she here? Your mother?"

"She's in London."

Relaxing, Jemma waits half a moment for Phil's hand to move from her forehead before she does the same thing. An ear thermometer appears in Jemma's hand before Melinda can even invite them in.

Rather than be examined on the porch, she gestures to the door. "Come on in, all of you," Melinda says. Phil's hand doesn't leave her back.

Skye rubs her shoulder, smiling. "You look nice in red."

"It's my mom's."

They look at each other, and Skye's face, where she's always so honest, brightens into longing and affection and the younger woman hugs her nearly as tight as Phil did. Skye tugs Jemma in, too. Hugging them both, Melinda notes, ridiculously, how much taller they both are when she's barefoot, how they both hold her so enthusiastically, and how Phil's hand rises to the nape of her neck.

She holds them tight, so grateful they're there.