Wow, so it's been over 6 months since I published this story, which is crazy 'cos I swear it wasn't that long! I can actually remember saying I wanted to have it done before season 4 came out.
Man, I make myself laugh sometimes.
So so sorry about the wait, guys, but hopefully there's still some people willing to read this! I still haven't nearly gotten over Bobbi and Hunter leaving, so I'm really really hoping something will change in the next half of season 4! I've got some ideas planned out for the next chapter of this story which could tie in with the more recent events on the show, so hopefully an update won't be nearly as long this time, haha.
If you could leave a review telling me what you think, it'd be amazing, but thank you regardless for reading!
Chapter Two: May
[Ottawa, Canada.
Four months after Andrew's death.]
It was a small headstone, marbled white, etched in a neat, black font. There was no shortage of brightly-coloured flowers, fresh despite the frigid air and time that had passed since the burial.
Andrew Todd Garner.
1963-2016
'The happiness of the other man is essential to our own'
His sister had chosen that quote, something May had appreciated and hated with equal measure- appreciated because she had such little experience for profound words of wisdom and love; hated, well… for obvious reasons.
But she knew something Andrew's sister didn't, not that it was anything to be proud of. More the opposite really. But it was fitting, May supposed, considering all the secrets they'd had in their relationship.
What was one more lie in a sea of deception?
The grave was empty.
The body, as far as the world was considered, had been buried forever in this graveyard near where Andrew had grown up. There'd been a funeral for his family and close friends; a memorial at the university for the large amounts of people he'd encountered in his career. May had attended both, but remained at the back, relying on the shadows and dark corners to remain inconspicuous. She didn't belong there, and she wasn't needed there. Let Andrew's family grieve without the shadowy figure of his ex-wife hovering in the background.
No one had questioned the weight of the empty coffin- why would they? They had no need to; absolutely no comprehension of the secrets Andrew had been involved with, both within SHIELD and out. To them, Andrew was simply a man taken too early in an unfortunate accident.
His inhuman genes, the true nature of his death, the cremation of his body- a measure taken to prevent any astute observer from extracting the nature of his DNA- were things known to very few.
And as far as May was concerned, they'd stay that way. Andrew Garner would remain someone who was simply too good for this world.
("What was that about?" Melinda motions her head towards the open office door, where only seconds ago she'd watched a woman, only slightly older than her 35 years, run out of with tears pouring down her face and sobbing into her hand.
Her husband stands from his chair, the cracked leather protesting this release, and slowly makes his way over to where she stands. He plants a soft kiss to her hair.
She knows he won't give her a proper answer, but Andrew's secrets are far less malicious than her own, far more necessary too.
"New client," he eventually replies, and sure enough, there's the small black book on his desk, open to show a page filled with black scrawls and notes.
"She looked pretty upset."
Andrew backs away a few steps, and it's immediately apparent that there's a weight hanging from his shoulders, an emotion that's dragging him down and curling his shoulders inward. She hates to see him like this, when for a few moments the burdens of his job simply become too much to bear.
It's only ever for a second though. Then he's collected, focused, determined to help others.
"She would be," he says, "her husband just died."
Ah. May swallows. "Was it sudden?"
Andrew nods. "Very."
There's a silence then, filled with things unable to be said and emotions not fully expressed. They've never actually talked about it; about the possibility that Melinda might not come back one day, but she knows he's thought about it, in the same way she's spent sleepless nights bracing herself for a time when he might not be lying next to her.
He has it worse though, because surely- surely- the chance that his fears will come true are far more likely. Odds are, he'll outlive her, and some selfish part of her revels in that.)
She breathes out a sigh, hugging herself within her jacket despite the warmth from the afternoon sun. There's no one waiting for back at the motel room, but she should be getting back all the same. Coulson's expecting a call from her and the last thing she wants to do is add worry to his already precarious frame of mind, what with the talk of a change in leadership hanging over their heads and the ever-present worry over Daisy.
She should be getting back. God only knows how long she's just been standing here. She should-
"As far as it goes, this is a nice place to be buried."
May whirls around, her hand automatically reaching for the familiar weight of the gun at her hop. An instant later though, she stills, because through the fog clouding her brain the voice suddenly registers.
"Hunter," she says, fighting to keep the surprise out of her voice. But in that single word she acknowledges a man she wouldn't've thought she'd see again.
She hears his footsteps tread softly over the grass until together they stand, looking down at Andrew's grave in a companionable silence.
"Where's Bobbi?" May asks, at a loss as to what else to say.
"Toronto. I was here meeting some old mates when one of them mentioned a local professor who'd died. Didn't take long to figure out it was the same man I knew."
May accepts those words with another silence, and Hunter doesn't push for a response, instead kneeling down and placing his palm over the engraved words of Andrew's name. He murmurs a few words, too quiet for May to make out.
It's a touching gesture from a man May knows doesn't care to show loss and grief all too often. The exception to that, of course, had come at the time when the woman he'd loved and scorned with equal measure had saved him from a bullet to the head; when Bobbi had been bleeding out and choking on her breath in his arms.
That has been the only moment May has ever seen Hunter truly lost. Even in that bar all those months ago, with farewells only possible in the burn of tequila down their throats, he'd had Bobbi by his side. Seemingly, that was all these two needed to survive.
May almost wanted to scream at them at how idiotic that was.
Instead, swallowing harshly, she asked, "is it safe for you to be in Canada?"
Hunter rises to his feet, taking a moment to dust off his knees. "You're kidding right?" he says with a grin, "if there ever was a country where two people trying desperately not to look like bloodthirsty ex-agents can hide, it's the place of pacifists." His eyes drift to the tombstone before them, and the smile falters slightly. "Nowhere is really safe, we've found, but we had some things to sort out."
"Is that what Bobbi's doing? Sorting things out?"
"Yeah, in a manner of speaking. At the risk of sounding like a bloody James Bond hero, but the less you know the better." Another pause, as his attempt at levity falls flat between them. "We would've both come back if you'd wanted."
Just as she'd remembered, Hunter's words are a sharp contrast sarcasm to plain-spoken opinion; it'd been one of the reasons she'd taken so long to warm to the merc, thinking him unprofessional and blunt. And it was one of the reasons for her sharp retort.
"I didn't want it."
"Oh right," Hunter's voice takes on an edge, "because no one could ever come close to the Cavalry, less she reveal some deep, dark emotion she doesn't want the rest of the world to see."
May blinks, wondering as to why his anger was so quick to surface. Surely things weren't in edge with him and Bobbi, not from how he'd talked about her only moments earlier. Grief about Andrew would be the obvious choice then. But somehow May has the sense that Hunter's anger is without real direction, more at the situation rather than an individual.
And it's with the sudden flash of something akin to regret in his eyes that May comes to understand. He's angry because he wasn't there; he's angry because him and Bobbi- undoubtedly some of the best agents SHIELD had seen- had been completely in the dark when their friends were desperate.
No one could've foreseen the situation with Hive, Lash, Daisy and Lincoln, but that didn't take away from the fact that Bobbi and Hunter hadn't even had the option to do anything about it.
And May was all too aware of how it felt to be useless, whether there was any truth to it or not.
"I didn't know how to help Bobbi after she got shot," Hunter says suddenly, "she was just so angry at herself for not being able to fight or shoot, or for barely being able to walk. And she was frightened too, God, I could tell, not that she'd ever say anything. I mean," he scoffs, running a hand over his closely-shaven head, "we were closer than we'd ever been during those months and yet she barely talked to me about that stuff, you know? The best I ever got was her to agree to go see Andrew." He looks back up at May, and his voice is as soft as she's ever heard it when he says, "she always came back from those sessions a little more calm, a little more in control of herself despite the crap she was dealing with. I'll always be grateful for that. Hope you understand."
She did. Of course she did. How many times had Andrew saved her?
("I know what you're doing, Melinda, and it's not going to work. I know the things you've done, I see the things you've had to do, but I see so much more as well.")
(He holds her close, her head to his chest, and almost unconsciously her hands come around to grip at his shirt with a frightening strength.
"It's alright," he whispers into her hair, pressing soft kisses to her head," it's alright, I love you.")
("Marry me.")
With little warning, May spins on her heels and heads for the carpark. Her steps are purposeful, direct, but her mind's a whirlwind of disastrous emotions she doesn't know how to calm.
She used to be able to talk about what was troubling her. What if she'd lost that forever along with him?
Frantic footsteps follow her. "May, hold up- wait-". No, she's had enough for one day.
"May, we saw Daisy."
She stops. And turns. And waits for him to explain.
"She needed a place to crash. Fortuitously, we had a safe house in the same place," he pulls a scrap piece of paper from his pocket, "she left us this. Bobbi's gonna give me hell for taking it, so you better do something useful with it, yeah? It's a few weeks old but it should still give you some indication of where she is."
May looks down at the scribbled numbers, sees the series of numbers in scrawled handwriting that could only belong to one person
A phone number. Daisy's number.
She looks up, and Hunter shrugs, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Last I overheard, Daisy mentioned she was looking for someone. A mother and daughter, last name Hinton. Any idea who they are?"
May curls her hand around the piece of paper and nods. She remembers Charles Hinton, the homeless man with inhuman genes and glimpses into the future that landed him in so much trouble in the first place. She hadn't known about his family, but if he'd said anything about them to Daisy, of course the girl would want to ensure their safety.
Of course she would.
Hunter huffs at her silence. "Alright love, I need to get going anyway, but I'm always glad to be of service. See you in another six months, yeah?"
And with that, the ex-agent walks away, moving further into the graveyard despite the only exit being the other way.
And after a few moments, Daisy's number flashing through her head along with her almost certain next location, May leaves too.
But she keeps the graveyard to her back. It's almost easier that way.
So, not quite as long as the last chapter, but I really did want to give some closure to May and Andrew's relationship. If you have any comments, or any ideas for future character's chapters, they'd be completely welcome!
Coulson's chapter next :)
Thank you!
-F