Excused Absences

The fighting may have gotten everybody else to give her a two foot berth in the hallways but it didn’t get John Garrett off her back.

She thought that it would.

Every high school movie that she’d ever seen said that all it took was one punch but as she predicted, the movies had misinformed her. If anything, it made her more of a target to the big stupid ape.

He bullied a lot of people. She was the only one that gave him a reason.

It didn’t bother her.

Well, it did because she was a human and had pain receptors and feelings, but being shoved into a locker a couple times a day was hardly the worst thing that had ever happened to her. It definitely was not something that she felt she needed to share.

The movies said that everything would eventually blow over. She just wondered what would happen until then.

Garrett, like all children who were never given limits, would pushed things too far. She knew that he would but she figured that it would be in a dark alley or a locker room – something very typical, high school movie.

She needed to watch fewer movies about high school because they were clearly inaccurate.

Well, not entirely.

She had been right about the locker room, though the bondage was unexpected.

The splitting headache was expected considering that the last thing she remembered was her head colliding with the corner of someone’s locker door. She had heard the thundering footsteps down the hall, expected the typical shove but not the strength that was behind it.

He practically threw her to the floor.

She stayed calm, forced herself to keep her breathing evenly and her eyes to stay hooded as she came to. Her feet were high enough off the ground that her toes just barely scrapped against the cold tiles beneath her.

The pain in her shoulder and the numbness of her hands suggested that she’d been hanging there for a while which was disconcerting, and annoying. They were reading Hamlet in English and she had been looking forward to it.

From what she could tell, there was only one other person in the room and that person was John Garrett. He appeared to be having a somewhat violent conversation on the phone just out of sight on her right.

She opened her eyes a bit more, not enough to be noticed by the casual observer but enough to see through her eyelashes. There was dry blood smeared across his hand and judging from the soreness radiating from the side of her face, it was hers.

He stripped her of her boots and socks, and there was a rip across her David Bowie t-shirt, which was also annoying because she liked this shirt. She borrowed this shirt.

May got distracted because her head really hurt and it was cold and, really, Horatio had to deal with a lot less irritating shit than this in Hamlet. She would love to rather deal with ghost hallucinations than John Garrett.

She was distracted enough that she didn’t notice that Garrett ended his call with something like ‘fuck you, too, this is bullshit’ or felt his stalker eyes on her until he was upon her.  

In fact, she had been so distracted that she didn’t notice Garrett at all until he tossed a bucket of water on her. She gasped at the sudden shock of it.

“Wakey-wakey.”

She glared at him but stayed quiet even as the water seeped into her torn shirt and dropped off her toes.

Men like Garrett loved to hear the sound of their own voices. They liked to prove how cleverer they were than you. If you stayed quiet long enough than they would fill in all the blanks, like how the hell he managed to get her here without someone seeing him.

“Oh now, sweetheart, show me that pretty smile,” He crooned, grabbing her by the jaw and forcing her to look up at him.

Her voice strained against the harsh grip, “What do you want?”

“There’s something about you,” He began, pushing her away despite her shoulders protest. The pipe above her head groaned. “You truly are fascinating. You fight well… for a girl.”

“Kicked your ass,” She responded, bracing herself for a punch that never came.

He just sneered, “Beginner’s luck.”

“Cut me down and we’ll give it another go.”

She made sure that her voice was even, sounding dull and bored even when she was anything but bored. It wasn’t quite fear but it was something close.

She was tired and her head was so fuzzy. She knew deep down in her bone that if they were to go for round two that he would win.

He’d win and men like Garrett never stopped at just winning. They didn’t stop until they destroyed everything in their path.

“How did you get me here?” She asked, observing the locker room. If she was not mistaken, this was the boy’s locker room right outside of the gym. People should have seen him.

“Oh, little Miss Melly May,” He breathed condescendingly before clicking his tongue at her like she was missing something right in front of her face. She felt her breathing hitch as he hissed, “Who would come to the aid of the Cavalry?”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Don’t,” He snapped, slapping her hard across the face and splitting open her lip once more, “Interrupt me. Darling.”

“Dually noted.”

Another slap. She smiled as blood coated her teeth.

“Who would care about you?”

“Who indeed,” She muttered to herself.

He slapped her once more as if to emphasize her unimportance and then laughed. If May didn’t already think that he was crazy, she was sure of it now.

She looked up past her hands, white from lack of circulation and rope strained red from her uncasted wrist to the pipe above. It wasn’t steady, strong enough to hold her up but it groaned and protested when he pushed her. Now, if –

“My mother can hit harder than that,” She spat blood at his feet, before flashing him a smile that was all teeth. “In fact, she has. You can do better than that, come on.”

“Your mom’s dead.”

“Really saying something then,” She smiled brighter, blood covering teeth.

He did do better than before, his closed fist cracking against her jaw with all the metaphorical tweeting birds and stars. It made her feel hazy.

The pipe whined in protest but it only whined.

“Is – is that supposed to hurt?”

He laughed, all smiles and stupid turtlenecks, the promise of pain playing across his lips. “I’m going to enjoy this.”

Garret got close enough that she managed to get a kick or two in before he punched her in the stomach. He growled, grabbing her by the hair, “Now listen here, you little bitch. You-“

“Garrett!”

They both paused, his hand in her hair and blood dribbling down her chin.

“John,” The voice called breathlessly through the door, followed by three quick knocks. “I, uh, are you in there?”

“Coulson, go away,” He replied, glaring at May with a look that promised bodily harm if she spoke. Well, it promised more bodily harm.

“John, I need to talk to you.”

“I’m busy, Phil.”

“Doing what?”

“Masturbating.”

“…Okay, ew.”

May raised an eyebrow at Garrett and he just shrugged. A smile crept its way across her face and she opened her mouth to speak, only to have Garrett clamp his clammy hand over it, “Shut up.”

“Mmmmmmtmu.”

“What?” He asked, removing his hand.

“Behind you,” She smiled, showing him that that pretty smile that he had wanted so badly to see. Garrett turned around slowly to find a wide-eyed Coulson in the doorway looking very distressed.

His hair was tasseled and his shirt was more untucked than tucked. One of his sweater sleeves were pushed up while the other one wasn’t. He looked like a grade-A geek. May found it to be hilarious.

“What the hell?”

She smiled at him from over Garrett’s shoulders, that same fake smile that he said he liked, though the blood probably didn’t make it very appealing.

She smiled anyways.

“Like seriously, what the actual hell?” He let the door slam shut behind him as he pocketed the big ring of keys. Garrett, like the stupid child that he was, decided that if he blocked her form Phil’s view than he would just forget that she was there.

It was almost funny.

“Fancy meeting you here,” May drawled. Garrett took another step towards her, still facing Coulson. It was a dumb mistake, really.

“Shut it, sweetheart,” He hissed.

“What’s going on?”

“Just hanging,” She responded before swinging her legs up and around Garrett’s neck, squeezing tight. “Don’t call me sweetheart.”

“Melinda!” Phil called over Garrett’s wheezing and his angry clawing at her thighs. The pipe bowed in and whine with the movement, and she could feel blood wet her wrist every time he tried to pull away.

“Stop it!” Phil shouted, pushing them apart. Garret stumbled away and finally, finally, the pipe gave out. May fell to the floor lacking any sort of grace and instantly became soaked with water because yeah, there it was a water pipe that she just broke.

May got to her feet slowly and then stumbled out of the water, feeling a headrush. Phil seemed to have avoided the water all together.

She didn’t get far enough before Garrett was upon her, big meaty hands gripping her tattered wet t-shirt and lifting her off the ground. He shoved her back hard into the lockers.

“You little-“

“Get off her, Garrett!” Phil demanded angrily, stepping between the two of them and shoving Garrett back. May thought that it was a stupid, reckless thing to do even as she stumbled to remain on her feet.

Garrett was big, bigger than Phil and stronger than him. He was reckless, and meticulous, and cruel. It was like putting yourself in the path of a raging bull; it would be stupid to expect to walk away without any bruises, especially if you turned your back on them like an idiot.

“Go,” Coulson commanded sounding so much like a soldier, like a captain. His voice was hard and ice, and it froze May to the core. Garrett, too. “Stand over there, John.”

He pointed to the far side of the room, as far from May as physically possible without actually leaving the room altogether.

“Now.”

Garrett listened, trudging in the rising puddle of water over to the corner that Coulson has pointed to with drooping shoulders and a kicked puppy expression. She was confused.

There was no reason why Garret should listen to Coulson. He didn’t listen to the teachers in the hallway. He didn’t even bat an eye when he disobeyed Nick Fury.

Phil Coulson in his stupid sweater should not be able to tell him what to do.

“Are you okay?” Phil asked her, turning his back to Garrett which was a good way to get dead. Coulson didn’t seem to comprehend that you couldn’t turn your back on a bull.

Seriously, he was either stupid or he had a death wish.

She needed to talk to him about that.

“May?” He said softly. “Are you okay?”

‘I’m okay,’  She wanted to say

‘I’m not okay,’ She wanted to say.

“I had it under control,” She said instead. Her voice sounded angry even to her own ears, even if she didn’t feel anything but her heart beating painfully against her ribcage, and tired. She felt so tired.

She had apparently stumbled into a different universe where people like John Garrett listened to people like Phil Coulson, but really that was the least of her problems today.

“That’s not control,” Coulson stated, disbelief coating his voice as he pointed to the busted pipe and the water that seemed to never let up. Phil’s shoes were wet and she was wet, soaked, and looked so cold.

“That’s my control,” She replied venomously.

She was Melinda May and like her mother before her, she was never out of her depth. She was never without a plan, never without control. Even when she was out of control and tired up, and losing, she was in control.

You lose control and people die.

She was in control with no extraction plan, no back up. It was the only option so it was her control.

‘Who would come to the aid of the Cavalry?’

‘Why would anyone care about you?’

“How did you know I was here?”

“I didn’t,” He replied, seemingly just as grateful for the change of conversation as she was. “This is the fourth place I checked.”

“Son of Coul,” Thor greeted, jubilantly, as he passed Coulson in the hallway, flashing him a bright smile.

“Hey Thor,” Phil returned the greeting, grabbing his calculous book from his locker and slamming it shut before quickening his step to join Thor in the trek to their class. “I heard you’re going to be in Much Ado, congratulations!”

“Aye, thank you, I will be Benedick,” he said sheepishly ducking his head before getting serious. “I hope your friend is well.”

“What?”

“Miss May,” Thor identified.

“What about her?” Phil asked, stopping in the middle of the hallway, almost being trampled by a bunch of freshman. It could really be anything and none of that was good. “Was it a panic attack?”

“No,” Thor answered warmly, his deep accent that was usually so calming did nothing to ease Coulson’s uneasiness. “She fell, hit her head.”

“Is she okay?” Coulson asked, and then felt like a moron because obviously Thor didn’t know anything. He’d asked Coulson to see if he knew, after all. “You didn’t help her?”

And Jesus, from the hurt look that fluttered across Thor’s features, he sounded judgment and accusing. This was Thor, after all, he’d drink the ocean if you asked him to.

“Aye, John Garrett helped her,” Thor told him. “I offered my service but he – what is it?”

What was it indeed because no one paled that quickly if they weren’t planning on passing out and breaking their nose against the floor.

“Garrett helped her?” Coulson asked because he had to have heard that wrong. Phil had known Garrett for a long time now and that man had never helped anyone before in his life, even if he’d benefit from it.

“Aye,” he confirmed before he started walking again. “I’m sure she is well. We’re going to be late.”

“I’m, uh – I’ve forgotten my book,” Coulson lied terribly because Thor looked pointedly down at the calc. book in his hand. “And by that I mean, I… I just need to go… talk to someone. Yep, that, gotta do that.”

“What ails you, my friend?” Thor asked concerned, cocking his head to the side.

“I’m – it’s nothing,” Coulson answered even if he knew Thor wouldn’t believe him, even if he didn’t believe it. Something was wrong, he could taste it. “I’ll just – bye.”

Phil didn’t know he had paused until May yanked her arm out of his hand. He wasn’t even aware of when he had grabbed her arm in the first place.

All he really knew for sure was that Thor was the best. Truly, he was a god among men.

“Here,” Phil said quickly, calmly. “Let me help you.”

She was gnawing at the rope with her teeth, and it didn’t look like it was doing a damn thing, “You look stupid, give it here.”

She reluctantly held out her hands for Phil to remove the bloody rope. He did so with care, caressing her wrist until she pulled it away.

“I need you to tell me if you are injured,” He said seriously because May walked around with a broken arm for half a day because she didn’t find it very important to do something about. Her wrist was ruffed up, rubbed raw but the cast seemed to have held up.

He tapped his fingers against it, “Thank god for fiberglass casts. Am I right?”

“I’m fine,” May replied because physically she was. Mentally, she was shaken up more than she should have been but he hadn’t asked.

“You look like hell,” Phil commented. Blood was smeared across her face, she was soaking wet, and disheveled. Her shirt, her socks were soaked, and she was bleeding. “Where are your shoes?”

She shrugged.

“Where are her shoes?” He asked as he rounded on Garrett, who had at that point seemed content to brood in the corner forgotten. He gestured with his head where he’d tossed them on top of the lockers.

“Speaking of,” Phil said, voice going dark and his shoulders going stiff. He transferred from adorable geek from Administrations to a soldier, leader, commandeer. “What the actual fuck is wrong with you?”

He marched over to Garrett glared up at him in a way that felt like he was staring down at him.

‘The disapproving dad look,’ May thought. ‘Times ten.’

“We don’t do this,” He pointed around the room jerkily, anger in every moment and every word. “Whatever kind of school initiation thing, it stops. Now.”

“You,” He jabbed him in the chest with every word spoken. “You. Do. Not. Do. This. To anyone. Ever.”

“I-“

“No, shut up,” He snapped, shoving Garrett back into the wall.

May should leave. She should go find a shirt but from what she had seen, people avoid Garrett like one would avoid a plague victim on fire. No one had ever, ever talked to him like this so someone had to stick around so Phil didn’t get himself killed.

“I know you don’t like her,” He continued. “But that does not make this okay. This, what you did to her. That is assault, John. It is evil and if you do it again I’ll-“

“I know,” He snorted. One could say a lot about Garrett, May thought, he was cocky to the point that it was stupid. “You’ll tell Fury.”

“No,” Phil told him, sounding far too calm for the anger that was clearly coursing through his every move. “I will put a bullet into you. Do you understand me?”

“You got that?” He demanded, pushing Garrett again.

“Yes.”

“Now get out of my sight.”

Garrett left without a fight, avoided looking at May altogether which was just fine with her.

Phil’s words settled heavy in her stomach. It made her feel relieved, and angry, and sick. There was no hesitation there, no trimmer in his voice when he made his threat. He meant his words.

“Melinda, let’s get you cloth-“ Phil said, turning back to her. “Oh, okay. You can apparently break into lockers, good to know.”

“The combination was on the wall,” She commented absentmindedly, pulling out a shirt with a bulls-eye target on the front of it.

“Of course, it was,” Coulson sighed. “That’s Clint’s.”

She shrugged. It didn’t matter to her.

“Let’s get out of here,” Coulson said, grabbing May’s shoes.” “Fitzsimmons’ lab has a couch. Then I’ll go get Fury.”

“No.”

“May,” He sighed, punching the bridge of his nose.

“I’m not telling him or anybody.”

“If you’re embarrassed-“

“I’m not.”

“May, you need-“

“No, I don’t,” She protested. “Promise me. Promise me that you won’t tell.”

“May-“

“Promise me,” She repeated. “It is important that you promised me.”

“Okay,” He said, giving up. There was no point in arguing with her. He would not be able to deny her anyways, not when she was asking him of only this.

“What happened here?”

May rolled her eyes as she pulled sweatpants out of Clint’s locker.

Phil turned slowly towards the door where janitor, Mike Peterson, was standing with a mop staring at him for answers. Phil looked around the room, at the broken pipe and the puddle of water up to his ankles.

“Uh, nothing?” he tried. May actually snorted at that, sending an incredulous look his way.

“Try again,” Mike suggested. May for her part slammed the locker shut, before turning to look at Mike with a bright sunny smile on her face.

“We were passing by when we saw the water,” she told him. “We found the cause.”

“Is that so?” He asked eyeing her, unimpressed. “And what class are you currently not in.”

“Gym,” May responded confidently.

“Is that what happened to your face?” he asked.

The smile, fake as it was, disappeared off her face almost immediately. “Yes.”

“There was an accident,” Phil jumped. “Yeah, I am, uh, I’m taking May to the nurse.”

“And if I asked the gym teacher?”

“He will confirm it,” May replied sharply over Phil’s intelligent response of ‘uhhh.’

“Uh, Mr. Peterson,” Phil jumped walking up to the unimpressed janitor and talking low. “I, um, I can’t explain this, like at all, but it…we didn’t do all of this. Well, not really.”

Mike raised an eyebrow then looked over at May. Phil imaged that she rolled her eyes at him.

“Is she alright?” he asked, voice low enough that May couldn’t hear it over the water.

“Yes,” Phil confirmed.

“Then get out of here before someone sees you.”

“Oh my god, thank you so much,” Phil grinned gesturing to May to follow him. “Oh, um, you should probably take these.”

He pulled the key ring out of his pocket, sheepishly added, “Don’t ask.”

Coulson should probably feel bad about stealing the keys off a janitor, but given what he needed them for he didn’t really care.

“Nah,” Mike responded, tossing them back. “I’ll tell Henry he lost them. Take the elevator, she looks like she’s going to collapse.”

And she did so Phil gathered May and guided her to the elevator.

When he did finally get her to Fitzsimmons lab, he turned around after unlocking the door to find that she wasn’t even there.

He followed the puddles of water up the hall to a cracked door.

He knocked.