Based off a Tumblr meme and set during Season 2, episode 13. Contains spoilers.

Phil had almost forgotten what her laugh had sounded like as he stopped to listen in the darkened hallway just outside of the door, the sudden, beautiful sound sending his heart pounding away and forcing a smile onto his face. Melinda was laughing.

And it was glorious.

But as quickly as his grin had formed, it disappeared at the lower, distinctly masculine chuckle that followed.

He shouldn't have been as annoyed as he was. It wasn't as if he had any claim upon her other than friendship and Andrew had always been more her type anyways: charming and charismatic, with just a hint of a roguish streak about him.

Despite Andrew and Melinda's differences, she'd been happy for the short period they been married, even if she had, eventually, filed for divorce. And even though he and Andrew had never been particularly close, they'd been united in their affection for the woman they'd both come to care for.

Phil sighed as he retreated back to his office, his growling stomach no longer his sole focus.

He practically fell back in his seat, his head in his hands as he rubbed at his temples, the sudden pounding in his ears a nuisance as he reached for a bottle of bourbon that he'd hidden away.

It was perhaps an hour later, maybe two, when he heard a knock on his door, but he frowned when May didn't immediately waltz in as if she owned the place as per usual.

"It's open, May," he called, head bent low over an unfinished report as the door opened.

A throat clearing, that was definitely not Melinda, had him raising his head in confusion and he frowned unconsciously as the man stepped towards his desk, but he managed to nod in greeting.

"Garner? What can I do for you?"

"Sorry to interrupt, but I wanted to bring you Skye's latest evaluation," Andrew relayed, holding the file out for Phil to take. "I saw your light on, figured it couldn't hurt to have it a few hours early."

He took the file carefully, it's weight far too heavy for a few pieces of paper. "How is she?"

Phil waited as Andrew sat in the chair in front of his desk.

"Skye's terrified, but she's a fighter. She'll figure it out."

Phil mulled over his words quietly as he prepared them a few fingers of bourbon, but was brought out of his thoughts by a chuckle as he handed a glass to the grinning psychologist.

"To be honest, she reminds me of Melinda."

Phil laughed lightly, thoroughly amused by the comparison, and so very aware of it's accuracy.

"May is..." Phil trailed off, suddenly unable to describe the woman he knew better than himself, but he needn't have worried, as Garner's eyes softened in understanding.

"She looks good, Phil."

He knew what Andrew meant and he couldn't help the brief flash of pain that lanced through him at the veiled mention of Bahrain and the agony she'd been drowning in since she'd come back, just a shadow of her former self.

"I have to thank you for that."

"Pardon?"

Andrew looked hesitant, but he continued. "After Bahrain, I couldn't reach her and I was so sure that she'd never be...okay, again, but she looks happy, Phil. And as much as I never wanted her back in the field, she looks comfortable. We both know that administration never suited her anyway."

A heavy pause settled over them then, before Andrew broke it suddenly, his voice far too quiet. "She was always better off with you."

A protest rose to Phil's throat quickly, but Andrew stopped him. "Don't do that."

"Don't do what?" he asked, suddenly defensive. "Are you psychoanalyzing me?"

But Andrews gaze was merely calculating and not truly searching, so he relaxed just a fraction.

"And anyways, she's not better off with me. I've put her in danger. I've asked her to risk her life again and then I forget to tell her how grateful I am, but you...you make her laugh."

He wanted to scream at himself for revealing so much, but it was too late to take the words back and Phil watched as a peculiar expression crossed his guest's face.

"Wait a minute," Garner mumbled. "Are you jealous?"

"Excuse me?" Phil asked, his voice perhaps a bit too high.

"You're jealous," Garner pointed out, his hand coming up so that he could pinch the bridge of his nose. "The both of you are ignorant."

There were so many thoughts pouring through his mind, that he had no idea which offense to acknowledge first, but Garner spoke before he could get a word in.

"How many years are the two of you going to dance around this? Or are you both just that blind?"

Phil failed to speak, his bewilderment knowing no bounds as Garner downed the rest of his drink and Phil took a deep breath, bracing himself for whatever offense would come next.

"You love her."

"What?" he croaked, his eyes widening at the implication.

"You've always loved her."

He couldn't deny it. And anyways, the words wouldn't have come if he'd tried.

"She loves you too, you know."

But Phil was already shaking his head, "No, she doesn't."

"Please tell me you're kidding." At Phil's blank stare, a stark realization presented itself to the doctor. "You're not kidding."

Garner looked as astonished as Phil had ever seen. "She came back into the field for you, a place she swore she'd never see again-"

"She was under orders, Fury's orders. That means nothing," he retorted irritably, standing on his feet and pacing behind his desk.

"Fury's orders? Do you honestly think she would have come back for anyone but you, regardless of her orders? You mean a great deal to her."

'You mean a lot to me. A lot.'

Melinda's words echoed in his head and he shuddered at the memory, pushing away the tiny spark of hope that had quickly blossomed.

"You didn't see her, Phil."

Phil stopped abruptly, instinctively knowing that he was about to hear something unpleasant. "What are you talking about?"

"When you died."

The words hung heavily between them and he wished he had the strength to tell Garner that he didn't want to know, that he didn't want to hear of any more pain he may have caused her, but his throat was thick and he was unable to force the words out.

"I don't think it hit Melinda that you were gone until they'd buried you, but she stayed for hours, just staring at the fresh dirt at your grave-site, according to her mother," he informed the agent softly. "I'll admit that I had no idea about your death, but I got a phone call in the middle of the night and let me tell you, that I've never heard Tian May so terrified. I don't remember how I got inside, but Melinda was like a ghost. She'd destroyed her apartment in a fit of rage and then, when she'd exhausted herself, she just sat on the floor, completely catatonic, with a picture of the two of you in her hand and glass from the broken frames littering the floor."

Andrew stopped speaking then, allowing his words to sink in.

"And do you know what I learned that day?"

Unconsciously, Phil's eyes snapped up to his from where they'd settled on the floor as he'd listened.

"That she never needed me."

Phil swallowed the lump stuck in his throat at the hidden implication, whispering, "She doesn't need me either."

For the first time since Andrew had walked onto the base, Phil noticed that he just looked...sad. "Melinda needs you a lot more than you obviously realize. And I'm willing to bet, that it's just as much as you need her."

Phil watched silently as Garner stood, pouring a decent amount of Bourbon into Phil's glass, before replacing the lid and grabbing the bottle as he made his way to the door. "So, I've left you a little liquid courage, you know, just to get the wheels turning. Do yourself and her a favor and tell her. Trust me, she won't run—not from you."

And with that, Garner stepped out, leaving Phil behind, his heart splayed open and burning.

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