Melinda was always one to express her emotions with actions rather than words, with hugs, kisses, hand holding, shoulder touches, spooning... little things that matter. She’d often cuddle with people she cared about under a throw blanket while they were watching a movie.
One thing was clear to her; words weren’t her thing. Ever since her childhood, she’d never said “I love you” except a few times to her parents.
After the events in Bahrain, she was unable to show affection to loved ones, pushing them away instead.
Phil Coulson was the first she had let in after that dreadful day. He had become her reason to fight harder.
So when Maria Hill called her to the medical bay on May 12, 2012 to share the news, Melinda felt stuck in her last memory with him.
”You’ll be okay, right?” Phil wrapped her arm around her waist.
“Yes, Phil. I’ll be fine. You don’t need to baby me.”
“I’m not babying you.” He countered, “I just don’t know when I’ll be back and I want to make sure you won’t be miserable.”
“Well, thankfully, I won’t have to cook for myself.” She laughed, “You know, because of the million tupperware containers in the fridge.”
He laughed along with her, “But I’ll be okay, Phil. You don’t need to worry.”
“Good.”
She smiled, twisting out of his arms and looking him in the eyes, “I will miss you though. Be back soon?”
“You know it.” He smiled and kissed her forehead, taking her hand in his.
She leaned into his touch, noticing how it lingered longer than usual. She closed her eyes to relish this feeling for a second before he pulled away, somberly smiling, “I have to go now.”
She nodded, “Take care, Phil.”
“I’ll call you when I can.” He let her hand fall by her side.
“Bye, Mel.” He waved as he exited her apartment.
“Bye.” She whispered when he was out of sight, unable to say the three words on the tip of her tongue.
She was basically numb the morning of his funeral when Maria picked her up from her apartment.
“How are you holding up?” Maria asked.
As usual, she shrugged in response. She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to say, her best friend died.
They reached the site in a few minutes, “You ready?”
She sat there in silence, staring at the crowd of people gathered to honour the death of the fallen agent. It was absurd, nobody here knew him. Nobody knew how he laughed in his sleep sometimes. That he liked to hold on to her hand when he slept beside her to make sure she’s by his side. She almost laughed at the cellist that sobbed beside a SHIELD agent.
She didn’t know him either. At least, not as well as Melinda knew him.
They walked over to the side, away from the cluster of agents in the middle.
She wrapped her arms around her middle as the service began.
At the end, when the priest asked if anybody had any words to share, no one offered.
When Maria led her to the car, she let herself shed tears, away from everyone.
A few days later, Maria showed up to her home. Melinda tried to get her to leave, not wanting anyone to see her like this; surrounded by bottles of alcohol and tupperware containers.
“May?”
“Go away, Hill.”
“How are you holding up?”
“Can’t you see?” Her tone was harsh. She didn’t mean to hurt her.
“Tell me what’s wrong.”
“What’s wrong is that he isn’t here.” She hissed, “He would’ve been here every Friday, cooking me dinner so I don’t feel lonely. He’d sing something and he’d make me laugh.” Her voice became louder, “He’d hold me at night when I couldn’t sleep.”
“What’s wrong is that I fucked up. I fucked up so bad because I couldn’t tell him that I love him when he was here. So now I’m stuck here in this hole. I’m stuck here because I couldn’t use words like I’ve been told to and now Phil Coulson is dead.”
“I wanted him to stay.” She shook her head, “The day he left. I was going to ask him to stay. If I had asked him, he would be here. He would tell me that he’s still here.”
She sniffed as tears flowed down her cheek, “HE SAID HE’D BE BACK SOON.”
“HE PROMISED, MARIA.”
“Agent May.” Fury addressed the Level 7 agent.
“Director.”
“This folder contains details about Agent Coulson’s recovery.”