I'm not sure where this came from, but it was bugging me enough that it needed to come out, so... consider it a slice of possible life from Season two.

And now... the usual wha-wha - don't own them, wish I did, just having some fun.

It's probably Skye's tears that do it… push him over the edge so that the careful barrier he's been able to keep in place falls. Phil Coulson pulls the younger agent into him, hugging her tightly, because for weeks now - months really - she's been toughing it out, fighting, getting stronger, growing up.

But today was too much. Today she got a glimpse of what the future might be, and Skye's not ready for that.

Phil will never be ready for it.

"You have to tell her," Skye says, sniffling against his shoulder. "You have to tell her she can't keep doing that. She's not expendable. If we lost her…"

She can't finish, but Phil doesn't need her to. He knows because it's his worst nightmare. He's choked down hundreds of horrible visions over the years… the what ifs, the bad endings to scenarios too terrifying to send your best friend to face, but he's done it too many times to count now.

He did it today, and they almost lost her.

"I'll tell her," he promises, his voice gentle to help Skye calm down. But he's not at all ready for what comes next as the young woman pushes back from him and looks him square in the eye.

"Make her promise. She'll keep any promise she makes to you. You have to make her promise."

As he walks toward May's room, Phil forces himself to focus on his mission, not his anger, because his anger doesn't belong to the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. The Director sees that his prize operative sacrificed herself for the sake of a dozen others and pulled it off… everyone, including her, made it home. That's something to be proud of, to admire. And he does.

But Phil Coulson the man… he heard Skye screaming over the radio as the HYDRA jet headed for the ground, engines in flames. Tripp's report had filled in the agony of the wait… of the smoke that obscured every vision but the massive explosion that had left the plane a smoldering husk. And then the glimpse of white fabric from her parachute in the distance, the realization that Melinda had gotten out in time…

The relief was etched on the faces of his team as they returned. Even Hunter had been rocked by what had happened, though he was quick with a joke to try to pretend otherwise. But Skye had taken it the worst.

Well, second worst. Because while Phil had been standing there listening over the radio, knowing that seconds would determine whether or not Melinda died… he'd taken it pretty badly himself. Her "all clear" had found him sweat drenched, hands white from gripping the radio table, and he'd collapsed into a nearby chair trying to get his heartbeat under control.

She offers an easy "come in" when he knocks, and he finds her in yoga pants and a t-shirt. Simmons medical report had already alerted him to the fact that Melinda had twisted her back at some point – getting out of the plane, landing, who knew – but some rest and massage therapy would fix that.

He wasn't sure what would fix the rest.

"How's Skye?"

It's her first question, and he smiles despite his mission because he remembers so clearly when the only response Melinda would have wanted was "gone." But they've grown so close. Skye is still uniquely Skye, but the dark wave of grief she felt over Ward and the betrayal that still stung her heart was being offset by the discipline and meditation May was teaching her. Skye was still the first person to earn an eye-roll in a briefing with a joke, still always up for a good prank. But she was stronger inside and out.

"Worried about you," he answers honestly.

"I'm fine," but despite the snapped response, her effort to stand deems her a liar. Phil can't help but rush forward, hands moving to steady her.

"It feels like I landed on concrete instead of sand."

"I think it was packed dirt. Kind of the same thing when you're moving that fast."

She smiles slightly, and they stand there, looking at each other, and Phil hears Skye's plea in his head.

His own soon follows.

"They can't afford to lose you," he offers, choosing his words carefully.

"You're the one they follow," she adds, and he shakes his head.

"You're the one who makes them believe they'll make it home."

Melinda sighs and moves away from him. She leans into the dresser a few feet away, and he wonders if she's doing it because her back hurts or because of the weight she carries on her shoulders every day.

"I can't let them take risks they don't need to take when I can spare them that."

He knows. He knows that Melinda's worst fear is that one of them will have to survive a day like Bahrain and that all the light and hope they carry will disappear. So when he speaks the words in his heart, he doesn't second-guess them. He knows they might hurt, but they need to be said.

"They can survive whatever comes, Melinda, because you've already taught them that they can. "

She turns then, and her face reminds him of that day that now seems years ago but was less than one…the sadness that had resurfaced in her eyes after she'd repeated his words of comfort to save Hannah.

"I want better for them."

Phil nods and moves to her, his hand reaching out to slowly slip his fingers into those on her right hand.

"I was flailing in Bahrain, Melinda. You were in pain and you needed something and I… I said what I thought might help. But you aren't grasping, hoping you can steady them. You show them every day that a person can break and stand tall again. They already have better."

He sees that she hears him, that she understands, but still… still she resists. And he knows she always will. Because Melinda doesn't know how to not go through the door first, not assume the most risk. It's what made her a legend in S.H.I.E.L.D.

It's one of the things he loves most about her.

So he steps closer, his hand pulling her gently against him. He's not playing fair, but he needs her to see herself the way they do before it's too late.

"Who called you?"

She looks up at him confused, but then he sees darkness sweep over her features and Phil knows she understands the question.

"Natasha."

It was a short list of possibilities – Fury, Maria, Clint, Natasha – but somehow Phil had never asked how she'd heard about his death on the helicarrier. Natasha makes sense. The bond between the two of them was something rare and deep, forged on a hellish training mission that had gone south and required them to fight their way out of a terrorist stronghold in Turkey.

His next question is mean on some level, but it has to be asked if he's going to make his point. Phil falters a little, hating the idea of hurting her even for her own good, but he's doing this for more than his own selfish reasons. When she revealed to him that she'd pulled their team together, really, behind his back, he'd been angry. But in the months since HYDRA had ripped them apart, Phil has seen what the responsibility of that has done to May, for good and ill. She's opened herself up to them, trusting their team, laughing with them. But no love comes without fear of loss, and Melinda channels her fear into sacrifice.

"What did it feel like to hear those words?"

Her eyes cut at him and she tries to turn away but her back spasms and stops her. Phil waits as she catches her breath following the sudden surges of pain – physical and emotional - and when she grips his hand harder, he stays silent, waiting her out.

"Like I'd never draw a full breath again."

He nods and steps into her, hands moving gently because he knows even if he managed to aggravate her injury, she wouldn't want to show it. He pulls her against him, arms wrapping around her, and Phil can't deny how much he loves the feeling of her giving in and letting him hold her.

"Every time you throw yourself in front of a bullet or go in alone to spare us, that's what we face. That's what I face. And I know I'd have to survive it if I lost you… they need me to. But I don't want to, Melinda. I need you here with me."

"You need to be safe."

He chuckles because even now, swamped by her emotions, she's so damn stubborn.

"I'm not asking you to sit behind a desk. I'm asking you to remember that we need you. You're not expendable, Melinda."

He uses that word because when Skye said it and Phil realized how true it is to the way May acts sometimes, it gutted him. She thinks they all matter more than her, not because she doesn't value herself, but because that's how she loves. It's beautiful and selfless, but it's also too much for any one person to carry, especially when so many eyes turn to that person for strength and hope.

"We're just asking you to remember that we're always ready to fight with you," he says, knowing he can't change who she is, but hoping he can open her eyes. "We're your family, but you don't have to save us all the time. Not alone."

The stutter in her breath catches him off-guard, and Phil moves on instinct, pulling her even closer.

"They've already taken so much," she says, and the weight of all the pain she's kept hidden to look after them shifts onto his shoulders. Phil doesn't mind helping to carry the load.

Every agent who died to stop Insight, all the traitors they once trusted, their homes, their pasts… HYDRA and their enemies have torn their world apart. They've lost everything they ever counted on except each other, and the possibility that they could lose more exists every day.

"Skye wants me to make you promise to stop putting yourself in harm's way for the rest of us. She says you can't say no to a promise I ask you to make."

Melinda pushes back from him then, eyes fighting back moisture she refuses to let turn to tears.

"Please don't ask me to do that. Please…"

He takes her hand and lifts it to his chest, pressing her palm against his heart, the rough edges of his scar reminding them both that they are not invincible.

"I won't ask you to make a promise you'll have to break. I know you too well. But promise me this…"

He steps into her, keeping their hands where they are over his heartbeat.

"Promise to never forget how much we need you to live. Promise to never stop fighting to get home, even when you can't imagine a way we can save you. Because I promise, Melinda, I will always come for you. All you have to do is hold on long enough for me to get there."

She smiles at him, then, grateful perhaps that he's asked for something she can give, and she nods.

"For the record," he starts, arms lacing around her waist, "being your boss and the man who loves you kind of sucks."

That makes her laugh, and Phil marvels at his power to do that, to make Melinda laugh despite the heavy cloud of doom that hangs over them sometimes. The barrier he has to live with every day, the one that allows him to send her off into harm's way, it's pushed down by that laugh as they climb into bed together at night or in the shower after she comes back from Tai Chi with Skye.

He fights so hard to be the Director more often than the man because it's not just the two of them at risk. But the man gets to win today because Melinda made it home, and Phil isn't letting that go by without notice.

His hands pull away from her and he slips off his jacket, tossing it onto a nearby chair. Melinda watches as his hands then move to his tie and unknot it. There's a glimmer in her eye that makes his stomach flip-flop, but her back is too sore for that. Still, that doesn't mean he can't show her how happy he is to have her home.

"Vanilla scented or lavender?"

Phil watches understanding dawn on her face, and she moves to the bed, her t-shirt already halfway off.

"Lavender."

He laughs and takes off his button down before grabbing the lotion Skye "found" on a mission and brought back for all the girls. He warms the lightly scented concoction with his hands before they drop to May's back and he carefully begins to work the muscles she tortured in that parachute jump.

"I will always try to get back to you," she says, her voice a deep, melted thing full of relaxation even as she winces from a tender spot. "But you have to always be there when I come home, Phil. That has to be part of your promise."

Phil can't resist leaning down and kissing the base of her neck, his lips gentle against her skin. Even this vow between them sets them up for disaster, and they both know it. The chance that the day one of them isn't there… they can't pretend it doesn't exist. But they can refuse to surrender to it, forcing whatever power out there might try to tear them apart to use every ounce of strength it has to succeed.

"Promise," he whispers, and her skin ripples at the tickle of his breath. Then his hands go back to work, healing what he can, putting his need for her into every touch.