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May comes back six months after they leave her and Coulson in Tahiti.
Daisy is in the common area, looking something over on a tablet when she looks up at the sound of footsteps- her heart falls to her toes at the sight of the older woman alone. She has her duffel over her shoulder, her hair pulled back, and a kind of permanent sadness she seems to wear around her shoulders.
“May,” Daisy says, standing as she set aside the tablet; May sets her bag down, and allows Daisy to enfold her in a hug. “I didn’t think we’d see you again.”
“I couldn’t be at my mother’s anymore,” May replies as they pull apart, and Daisy’s heart twists.
“When did…”
“Two months ago,” Melinda answers the question Daisy can’t finish, and her voice wavers a fraction. “It was in his sleep. He just…didn’t wake up, one morning.”
She turns, digging into her bag and pulling out a stack of photos.
“He asked me to…when I was ready. To come back and show you these,” she starts quietly, and Daisy takes the polaroid photographs from May, her eyes catching finally on the thin band on her left hand. Her free hand snags hers, thumb brushing it gently, and she looks up at May with wide, questioning eyes. “Something on his bucket list. And mine.”
“I’m sorry I missed it,” Daisy says, offering a half-smile, and May tilts her head towards the pile in her hands.
“There are pictures. You can help me frame them.”
Daisy makes the two of them tea before they sit together on the couch; the stack of polaroids on May’s lap and a stack of frames on the table. They settle side by side, and May picks up the first picture- it’s a candid of Coulson on the beach, wearing a ridiculous Hawaiian shirt and his aviator sunglasses and smiling out at the water. Daisy smiles, chest burning a little as she takes the picture carefully.
“How many of these shirts did he have?” she asks, and May’s breathing huffs a little in a tiny laugh.
“About six,” she answers, handing Daisy another picture, this time one of May herself, swimsuit-clad and hair wet, sitting in the shallow tide with a beer in hand, the sun setting low over the ocean. “He said he wanted the full beach experience, I couldn’t get him to stop wearing them.”
Daisy laughs at that, the sound catching wetly in her chest as she gently sets the pictures in her hands aside to look at the new ones May hands her.
The new collection of pictures are all of May and Coulson together- a few are blurry, out of focus self-style ones, clearly taken by Coulson, May most of the focus. A few of the others were clearly taken by third parties- tourist shots in town, which Daisy never would have pegged them for, but it’s so disgustingly adorable she can’t help but love it.
“I can’t believe you let this many pictures of you be taken,” Daisy comments, and May is quiet for a few long heartbeats before she answers quietly.
“I wanted pictures with him. Of us. So that I have something tangible, now that he’s gone,” she murmurs, finger gently touching the surface of a picture beside Coulson’s face. She lingers for a moment before she swallows, setting the picture aside. “And it made him happy. That was what mattered.”
May’s lips curve upwards gently in the corners.
“Tell me how he did it,” Daisy asks, picking up a picture of the two of them on the beach, flowers in May’s hands and a white sundress and twin smiles that warm her heart.
“It took him a little while. Almost an entire month to dig the ring out of his bag,” May finally starts, picking up one of the other photos- she’s alone, arms around her knees and a sea of white cloth, and Daisy squints, tilting her head until she realizes what she’s looking at.
“C’mon. In bed?” she complains, though her voice is gentle and full of warmth, and May rolls her eyes, though her lips threaten to turn up into a smirk.
“He was a perfect gentleman about it. He even waited until I’d caught my breath,” May teases, and Daisy’s eyes widen before she lets out a laugh, shaking her head and looking at the next picture. It’s the wedding kiss, and her face softens as she looks at it. The next picture captures their genuine, beaming smiles post-kiss, new rings glinting in the Tahiti sun, and Daisy’s never seen the joy displayed on May’s face that’s in the photo in her hands before.
“You guys look really happy,” Daisy tells her, and May’s lower lip trembles slightly, her eyes dampening before she can collect herself enough to answer.
“We were,” she whispers, and Daisy reaches over, twining their fingers together and gripping her fingers gently. “I had four months more than I ever thought I would with him. I never dreamed there would be a day when I’d be able to call myself his wife. And this was what he wanted.”
A tear slips down May’s cheek, and Daisy lifts her free hand to brush it away gently.
“I miss him,” May whispers, voice breaking ever so slightly around the words, and crumbling what’s left of Daisy’s heart. “I keep- expecting him to magically walk through the door. Like the first time.”
“But he can’t,” Daisy replies softly, and Melinda shakes her head, eyes heavy with sadness. Daisy leans her head against May’s, tears of her own gathering in her eyes as the sadness of the last months hits her full force once more. “I miss him too.”
May shifted, sitting back so she could wrap an arm around Daisy until the younger woman was tucked under her chin; Daisy felt lips brush her temple fleetingly, and she let her eyes slip shut.
“Are you back?” she whispers, and there’s a pause before May answers softly.
“I’m home.”