After years of service Melinda May had discovered that when you live in close-quarters, over time, people tend to divide labor naturally based on the quirks, kinks and talents of the individual group members. The band of misfits to which she was currently assigned was no exception. Simmons cleans the restrooms because a dirty sink disgusts her "more than anything in the world". Skye takes out the trash, mostly because Coulson orders her too. Fitz is a picky eater so he stocks the fridge out of a deathly fear of what the others might try and force him to eat. May maintains the weapons locker (among other things). Every morning she unlocks the gun-vault and accounts for every weapon. Every evening she does the same in reverse only this evening had been different.

After a crappy night of sleep Melinda woke early to work-out before heading to the new mystery coordinates Phil received from now former Director Fury. They landed only to find that "Koenig 2" (as Skye had deemed him) wanted everyone to submit to yet another series of intense background checks before granting the team full access to the base. After a spirited exchange between the two Agents, in which Melinda told Koenig exactly where he could shove his "Lanyard", she found herself promising Coulson she wouldn't kill or maim the portly Agent and inevitably she submitted to the second round of tests.

It had been a long week and an even longer year. She could barely remember the last time she'd had a solid night's sleep and after hours of filling out documents and answering personal questions, Melinda was ready for bed. Unfortunately, in her haste to reacquaint herself with a proper mattress, she'd forgotten to lock the vault door and the lapse in judgment didn't occur to her until 2:00 AM when she was wrested from her slumber by a ridiculous dream (nightmare?) involving Ward in a clown suit, Swedish Fish and an open vault door… Dammit the vault door is open she remembered angrily. Look out Freud she mused as she recalled the details of the dream. For the last five minutes she'd been laying silently in bed, scrutinizing the ceiling and trying to convince herself that locking the gun vault was unnecessary and returning to sleep was a much better idea.

You can let it go for one night. You're being ridiculous. Just go to sleep she scolded herself internally

The only living people for hundreds of miles already have access to the combination so go to sleep dammit just ignore it. she blinked but her eyes remained fixed on the ceiling.

We are at a secret base with a defense plan that includes heavy machine guns and reinforced steel….your high-school combination lock doesn't matter, at this point. You can do this Melinda, just ignore it and go to sleep. Go to sleep. GO TO SLEEP!

May wanted to prove to herself that she could suppress the anal-retentive side of her personality, but quickly accepted that if she didn't just lock the vault she'd spend the rest of the night staring at the ceiling and thinking about it. She sat up with a sigh, turned on the light, threw on some shoes and headed towards the Bus.

Moments later May found herself in front of the hanger bay door. She pulled out her newly minted key-card and smirked as she recalled how much it had annoyed Koenig when she removed it from the lanyard.

"Wait" he exclaimed "What are you doing? Your ID and access card should be worn on the lanyard, around the neck and displayed at all times while on base" Koenig insisted as he watched her pull the card off the lanyard and place it inside her pocket

"No" she replied simply.

May was about to slip the card into the card reader on the hanger bay door when she hears what sounds like scratching coming from the storage room behind her. Her eyebrows contort in confusion and she abandons her current mission to investigate the noise. It doesn't take long for her to locate the source of the noise and when she sees the source, the force of the accompanying shock stops her dead in her tracks.

Coulson is dwarfed by his own apparent creation. Etchings fill the wall in front of him. May stands, mouth agape, and eyes wide as Phil tattoos the wall without any apparent regard for her presence. May moves forward reticently and instantly recognizes the etchings as the same symbols Garett had carved into the glass doors on the Bus only days prior. God was it just a few days ago she thought seems like years. This realization that the drawings are virtually the same terrifies her.

"Phil" she calls softly and walks closer.

"Phil!" her voice is louder as he continues to ignore her.

"Phil!" she yells this time but stops short of touching him. She is standing inches away from him now, staring at the right side of his expressionless face and watching as he carves unconsciously. She watches for a moment before she reaches up and clasps her hand around his, careful to keep the knife pointed towards the wall. She was ready for anything, but as she pulls downward on his hand she is surprised to find that he offers little resistance. Phil stands there motionless; with his hand in hers, still staring at the empty space where he was carving before she'd interrupted him. She can feel his hand lightly attempting to move back towards the wall but the action seems passive, like a ball prevented from rolling down a hill, she senses that if she continues to hold his hand still, the drawing stops, but if she lets him go, it continues. She lets the hand go, and her theory is confirmed immediately. Phil continues drawing.

May grabs his hand again and pulls it back away from the wall, only this time she uncurls his hand from around the knife and places it on the ground. Again he offers only passive resistance. She then places her hands on his shoulders and spins him around to face her. She stares into his eyes. He stares past her (or maybe through her) at God only knows what.

"Phil" she yells again. She feels his body lightly twisting in the direction of the knife trying to pick it up and continue his work.

"Phil" with her left hand she grabs handful of his t-shirt to hold him in-place and she taps on his face with her right. She can hear her voice crack with emotion as she calls his name "Phil".

"Phil" she continues. His body continues to twist towards the knife and he begins to blink rapidly as she holds him in place.

"Holy Shit" Melinda screams. May doesn't normally curse, or raise her voice, but she maintains her carefully constructed demeanor because Melinda May is rarely surprised. Unfortunately she was caught unaware when Phil collapses without warning. His eyes close and his body becomes instant dead weight. Melinda gets behind him just in time to grab under his armpits before his head hits the ground. She quirks her eyes in annoyance and sighs with deep relief as she lowers Phil to the ground.

She lays him supine on the concrete floor and leans over his still form to check his vitals. She's relieved to find that his breathing and pulse are normal. From his position on the ground he looks like he could be sleeping.

May is reluctant to involve Simmons, because she doesn't want anyone thinking Coulson is crazy unless he actually is, but if she can't wake him in the next few minutes, then she really has no choice. You're a specialist not a doctor she hears Phil's voice inside her head and she sighs because if Coulson's nerd quotes are rolling around in her head then she must really be tired.

She shakes him and rubs her knuckles on his sternum. After about two minutes she is ready to call Simmons but then his eyelids start to pull open slightly in response to her continued prodding and probing.

"Phil, open your eyes" she commands forcefully. The man complies if only slightly. His eyes roll around in his head as if medicated.

"May?" he questions groggily and she is flooded with relief. He looks like he is falling back into unconsciousness so she taps the side of his face.

"Hey?" she says "What day is it? Do you know where you are? You need to sit up" his eyes seem a little clearer as he processes her questions but he still looks like he is fighting a losing battle with sleep.

"It's still Thursday" he answers with an air of confusion "and we're at the Playground"

She pulls him to a sitting position by his t-shirt and he hunches over sprawled legs, his right elbow resting on his thigh as his right hand swipes at his eyes which continue to close against his will.

"God m' tired" his voice is low "never been so tired. Why am I on the floor?"

Phil feels like lead. The forceful need to close his eyes pulls at him like a 40 ton weight and he's never quite felt like this before. He tries to process the world around him but his eyelids keep directing him downward and backward. Melinda is telling him to stand, but he feels like he can barely sit.

"I'm not carrying your fat ass back to your quarters Phil" she insists "Get up" and Phil listens because when Melinda May is telling you to do something in that tone you just do it. He feels an arm slip under his armpits and around his back. He places an arm above hers and around her neck.

"I'm not fat" he responds as he is pushed and pulled upwards by his shaky legs and Melinda's strong arms. Once he's on his feet he sees the wall in his peripheral. He stops and turns them around to look at it directly and notices the symbols on the wall. Had Garett drawn those? He pondered. He still feels like he is falling asleep and Melinda seems to notice because she doesn't let him go. He considers the wall with a sleepy, perplexed expression.

"I don't remember Garett drawing that much… did he?" he says with confusion and when he looks at Melinda for the answer, her eyes tell her all he needs to know. She can sense him piecing together the identity of the etchings' creator.

"No" he whispers "No I didn't?" he stares at her and the devastation in his eyes makes her increase her hold around his back and spin him toward the door.

"Let's go!" she again commands leaving no room for argument. As they walk she can feel him trying to stand on his own power but he continues to stumble into sleep and wake again. He doesn't ever ask for her to let go and she knows that he would if he thought he could walk on his own. He doesn't speak during the short trip to his quarters and when she lays him down on his bed there is still devastation in his eyes. He fights the weight in his eyes for another moment.

"I've lost it." He whispers.

"We don't know what's happened" she grabs his shoulder. "Well figure it out when you wake up."

He's asleep before she finishes her statement.