Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.

Bullet Wounds and Things That Hurt Even More.

!ANGST!

Phil Coulson got shot once, through the arm; he almost bled out. Another time, two in the shoulder. He had lost half of his arm. He had also been stabbed through the heart and died and had his memories surgically altered, but this hurt more.

This hurt more than Skye's bullets in the abdomen. It hurt more than Fitz's broken arm or almost drowning. It hurt more than Bobbi's broken leg and lung, and more than Hunter's being beaten to a pulp. More than an alien taking over Mack's body and being dropped 100 feet. It hurt more than Simmons' disease and being sucked through an alien portal and surviving on a planet alone for months. Bullet wounds hurt more than this.

All the agents were all asleep in the waiting room. Some slumped in chairs and others stretched out on couches. Well, all but two of them: Jemma Simmons and Melinda May.

14 Hours Ago: Unknown Secret Location:

Fitz and Simmons were both tied to chairs in the dark, dusty, aircraft hanger. Flashes of light appeared in the dark as the shots were fired. They had run into hydra once more, but this time, there was no way out. May, Coulson, Skye, Mack, and Hunter were all behind giant cargo boxes as they popped out and fired back. The two dozen lasers from snipers all pointed at the hostage scientists. A bomb ticked off their time left on this earth and bullets rained down on them. Bobbi was in their ears from the base, talking to them, reassuring them, though she too knew the outcome. Simmons gave out a sob.

That was when Melinda May pulled off another Miracle. Another Bahrain. This time though, she was saving her own children. Her own two precious science babies and her family. So, she took them out. One after another dropped to the ground as she dodged Hydra's bullets and retaliated. She punched and kicked and shot and killed until she was numb, and then she did it some more.

Once they were all down (snipers included) she ran to the chairs despite her broken leg and untied the hostage agents. They helped her back to the others. Coulson picked May up and then they ran like hell: all of them. "What the hell were you thinking Melinda? You could have gotten yourself killed! I told you we had it! Next time you pull a stunt like that and ignore my orders you're OUT!" Coulson scolded as they exited the building. He was mad, and he was mean.

May started to explain. "I couldn't let them die Phil!" she was crying "They're my family. You're my-"

And then the bomb went off.

In the waiting room:

Coulson awoke with a jolt to find Skye asleep in his lap and the rest of the agents slumbering around him. The white overhead light was hard on his newly-opened eyes and pounding head, so he squinted. He had no idea how long he had been asleep, only that it wasn't bright outside. He craned his neck to look at the wall clock: 1:46 A.M. He tapped his fingers softly on the wood on the arm of the chair and bit the inside of his cheek.

14 hours ago, same secret location:

They were all knocked flat on their faces as the wave hit their backs. Coulson was careful not to put his weight on May as he tried to tug his foot from underneath a giant metal structure while the smoke cleared. When he looked down, dread panged in the pit of his stomach.

Blood. Everywhere. Pouring out at an alarming rate. A piece of shrapnel imbedded in May's neck. It must have pierced an artery. He called for Simmons, he screamed. Although, all that filled his ears was a ringing sound. It continued until something else replaced it. Sirens and red lights. People trying to take the unconscious Melinda May out of his arms. And they did.

The waiting room, 1:49 A.M.:

Coulson sat up straight as he saw a figure in a white lab coat appearing from the hallway. Skye stirred in his lap, and then sat up straight and looked alert as if she forgot where she was. She looked up at Coulson intently, who shook his head. Her hope faded.

The lab coat came closer; it was Jemma Simmons. Jemma Simmons whose face was covered in blood and dirt and ash, and whose eyes were red and bleary. She approached them and turned to face the expectant agents. Then she said mechanically, "Agent Melinda May died at 1:44 this morning due to excessive blood loss and two seizers caused by a punctured artery in the neck."

Melinda May died at 1:44 this morning.

Melinda May died.

Melinda died.

Mel died.

His Mel, died.

Coulson sat and remained frozen, mouth gaping, trying to absorb what he just heard. Skye sobbed into his shoulder and tear tracks broke the ash and blood on Jemma's face. As the two women went around waking everyone up and giving the news, Coulson rose and went back the way Simmons came. He ran down the cold hallways until he found a door leading into the room that held Melinda May. He opened the door and walked over to her.

She was still, so... still. And so pale. White, like the snow on that evening at the academy when they got in a snowball fight in the parking lot, and a dozen other recruits joined in, and he picked her up and spun her around and dropped her in the snow. But there would be no more snowball fights.

He brushed her dark hair with his hand. And then he found hers, and he held it, and he cried. He cried for what seemed like an eternity. He cried for the snowball fights and the failed missions, and for the undercover costumes, and for the nights spent eating takeout and scrambling to finish papers due early the next morning. He cried for his best friend.