9574/Missing Melinda

Missing Melinda
Date of Scene:	11 January 2022
Location:	Somewhere in New Jersey.
Synopsis:	Peggy comes to find Melinda May after the woman worrisomely takes off two days with no notice. She realizes something is much more wrong than just needing a vacation. May figures out a few loopholes to help Peg figure out what is going on and plans are made to fix it.
Cast of Characters:	Peggy Carter, Melinda May

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Peggy Carter has posed:
It's still fairly early. Getting through morning traffic means Peggy didn't make it to the site that May's tracker pinged until a little after 9:30 in the morning, though she started before 8. She's not certain what she's going to find, but under the small worry that May had been taken by someone, she's in her tac suit. Ill fitting, barely zipping, tac suit. She really needs to get a new one soon. She's driving one of the SHIELD sleeper sedans, just so she doesn't draw too much attention. She pulls the car into a spot a few down from the room where May's signal is pinging and swings out, listening for anything worrisome on the air.

Melinda May has posed:
There are worse places to end up. It's not overly defensible, mind, but defensible wasn't on Melinda's mind when she left the Triskelion. Hell, it someone had taken a shot at her, she'd have welcomed it. Which even she can tell is a dichotomy. The Widow's words should give her hope. There's a cure. An antidote.

Offered by the woman who injected the damnable stuff into her in the first place.

The whole situation screams trap. The whole situation reads to her as a feint. A shot across the bow. They're going after Belova, perhaps. But they know she can't stop them, if they order her not to.

Which means she needs to be as far away from SHIELD as she can get. New Jersey might not be as far as she'd like to be -- Singapore sounds good; Shanghai, maybe -- but it's as far as her bike could get her in one night. It's a fairly rundown strip motel, though there are some indications (mostly around the front entrance) that the ownership at least *tries* to keep it from being scuzzy. But... well... It's Jersey. There's only so much that can be done.

The bike is sat in front of one of the lower level doors.

The bike, however, is pointed away from the door, which suggests that if Melinda was drunk when she entered the room (and, oh, yes, she was), she was still planning on being able to leave in a hurry if she needed to.

Still, it confirms she's still there. That's something.

Peggy Carter has posed:
The fact that the bike is there and parked in a way that says Melinda was readying to make her own get away? That gives Peggy some immediate relief. It means that the woman wasn't dragged here against her own will. It still doesn't explain what's going on with May, but it means Peggy hasn't come into a combat ambush without any back up.

She shuts the door to her own car, hugging her wool coat around her frame as she walks up to the door behind which May's tracker rests. The other woman can no doubt feel the mix of pure concern and wariness coming off of the tired Chief. But they are familiar emotions, Peggy's empathetic pattern probably something May knows by heart now. "Melinda... it's Peggy. You didn't call me back...?" She calls gently.

Melinda May has posed:
Nine-thirty in the morning and Melinda is barely conscious. If that's not out of character, nothing is. Of course, the mostly empty bottle beside the bed probably explains that. Even so, she's conscious enough that she can *feel* Peggy. And then she *hears* Peggy. She doesn't waste her breath on cursing. Instead, her lips press together in a thin white line and she seriously considers smothering herself with the pillow.

The thing is, Peggy has never been one to be put off easily. Not in the 40's. Not now. Better to greet her on her feet than face down in a puddle of her own drool.

She pushes herself up, half rolling off the bed and onto her feet. Her fingers scrape haphazzardly through her hair. The moments tick by as she half-stumbles into the bathroom to splash water on her face, rinse out her mouth, and scrape her fingers through her hair a second time to try to make herself look less like an angry muppet and more like herself.

It's not overly successful.

Nothing to be done about it. She moves to the door and leans against it, forearm across the frame and the door itself, head pressed against her arm. "I've got the time," she says through the door, voice thick. "I've got enough furlough coming to me for months." True. "I made sure someone covered my shift." Also true. "I'm fine." Baldfaced lie.

Peggy Carter has posed:
The fact there is not the sound of any sort of struggle behind the door and that Peggy can hear May moving, if nothing else, means that she practices patience as she stands waiting outside, her shoulders squared and set. She's standing a bit straighter by the time May opens the door and her eyes narrow a bit at the sight of the woman across from her. Peggy looks her up and down, that concern only deepening.

"Yes. You do have the time and you are welcome to take it, but even at the *worst* of things, I could barely convince you to take time off. And you covered your shift. But you didn't answer when I tried to see what was wrong and... something's wrong. That much I can tell and I don't need to be an empath to do it. And I'm your *friend*, Melinda. I... I'm not here as your boss. And you can tell me to sod off. But as your friend I... I'm worried. Talk to me. And then I'll let you be."

Melinda May has posed:
Melinda knows how tenacious Peggy can get. She doesn't need to see her friend's squared shoulders and stubborn set jaw to know she won't leave until she gets some sort of satisfactory answer. Thus, Melinda pulls the door open to let her in.

She steps back wordlessly, clearing the way. It's about as close to an invitation as she can muster. And once Peggy has passed in, she pushes the door closed again behind her. No sense letting all the light in. It just hurts Melinda's dark ringed eyes.

The room is small. It's not messy, only because May brought nothing with her. There's the empty bottle, of course. And her now-scarred winter riding jacket, which is tossed carelessly over the end of the bed. Hell, the sheets don't even look much slept in. More like she slept on top of them. Possibly with her boots on, since her feet are shod.

Yep. This is a flop room, where you buy a bottle from the dive bar across the street and lurch home with it... likely after you've made some very poor decisions with the local regulars.

Peggy Carter has posed:
Peg comes into the room, letting the door shut fairly quickly behind her and she catches the knob as May pushes it close, guiding it shut as quietly as possible. She has a good idea that May's probably got the headache of the ages, so she's going to ease that as much as possible. Once inside, she walks over to the little table and sets down her purse as well as pulling off her jacket.

"So... what happened. I know something's wrong and I know it's bad. You don't come here and drink yourself asleep without telling anyone where you are going because you just need a few days off." She states gently. She then reaches into her purse and pulls out a bottle of asprin. She pops two out and goes for the sink to fill a small glass of water, offering both of them in May's direction. "This will help. A bit."

Melinda May has posed:
May flops down on the end of the bed -- not quite petulantly. There's a stiffness to her. Frustration and anger all but radiate off of her, a subtle tension in the air almost like the lingering odor of a sharp perfume hours after it was applied. Moreover, beneath it all, powering it all, is fear, which, of course, is where most of the anger comes from: a cover for that fear. There's too much for her to completely channel it all away. So it seeps into the room and clings to her skin.

She takes the aspirin and water, murmuring a word of thanks (thus proving she's not completely somehow reverted to 'recalcitrant teenager'), and knocks it back with a grimace. The cup is set aside after. Still, there is a long silence as she struggles to come up with some excuse, some explanation, something... *anything* that will allow her to articulate those things she desperately needs to communicate. But can't.

Finally, she chuffs out a frustrated breath. "I just... hit a wall," she says. It's not a lie. It's just an awkward way of explaining the truth. "And I need to get away for a while. It's just... safer. For me. For you. For everyone." She rakes one hand through her dark hair. "You need to just... let me go. For a while."

Peggy Carter has posed:
Unless Melinda pushes her physically away, Peggy also pulls off her tac suit jacket, leaving her just in the black underarmor and the tac pants. She comes over to May's side and sinks down to resting next to her. She knows skin to skin contact will heighten whatever connection is between them, but she's also hoping it will help as well. She wraps one arm around the back of May's shoulders, trying to coax the woman into leaning against her. Peggy's warm to the touch from being wrapped up in the wool coat, most certainly softer than she used to be. She's pleasant to lean against. And calming. Her emotions are a quiet blanket of worry and care.

"Melinda. You're my *best friend*. The world is upside down right now and you are also one of the best agents in the world. I don't want to force you out there and I won't but... I know this isn't just a wall. I don't know what you're not telling me and... God, I wish I could read minds. But I don't want you to go through this alone. Whatever it is."

Melinda May has posed:
"Peggy, I'd tell you if I could." There's a sharpness to Melinda's tone, the anger and frustration bleeding through. It's not directed at Peggy, but it means that Melinda's body is not pliant as Peggy tries to comfort her. The stiffness remains. Her spine is steel and her shoulders are wood. She doesn't reject the embrace, but neither does she surrender to it. She simply can't.

"You want me in the field, I will go." There's conviction there. "I'll fight angels. I'll fight demons. I'll fight aliens. I don't care. They're all a lot of metaphysical, extra-terrestrial bullshit, anyway. And it'd be a *great* workout." Two words: Aggression. Therapy. Melinda's favourite coping method.

Besides, it'd also get her well away from the Triskelion and most other places she could do actual damage to the things most important to her.

Peggy Carter has posed:
While May isn't exactly yielding, Peggy also isn't letting go. Because she knows the other woman would push her away if she really didn't want her there. So, Peggy continues very slowly brushing her fingertips up and down the outside of May's arm. Especially as she tries to piece together the mix of emotions she is getting off the woman by daring to be this close. Whatever May is projecting, it's not just exhaustion. But Peggy isn't that good at sifting through emotions yet.

"If you *want* to be out there... I can get you in on the fight. But that's certainly the exact opposite of having hit a wall and taking a few days off. If you need the days? Just... come home. Come back to the house. It's plenty far from the Triskelion, relaxing, and has better booze than whatever you are shoving down your throat now." And it would let Peggy try to piece together whatever caused this.

She then pauses. Thinking back to the timing. "... is this something to do with the Red Room? You left...right after the incident. The agent they brought it."

Melinda May has posed:
The offer of sanctuary in Long Island is tempting. But Melinda worries that someone will use her to get to Peggy. She needs to find out more about Dreykov. About the antidote. About all of it. About what the hell sort of game the Russians think they're playing. And whether or not HYDRA is pulling the strings.

'Cause mind control shit is *so* up their alley.

The comment, however, about the Red Room is enough to cause an actually palpable spike in May's aura. Peggy is too close, too intentional in that closeness not to feel it. "I... can't... talk about it," she says stiffly. Frustration. Desperation. Fury. The room is filled with them. In the neighboring motel room, something crashes against the wall. Something breakable.

Peggy Carter has posed:
Peggy almost jumps as she feels that response from Melinda. Her dark eyes go wide, body shifting just enough that she let's go of May's shoulders to face her entirely. She even drags her leg up onto the bed and reaches both her hands to wrap around May's palm closest to her. One hand on her palm, one hand on her forearm. She wants every inch of those emotions she can get, even if the sound of something breaking next door makes her jump.

"...This is about the Red Room. Something happened... And you can't -- or won't -- talk about it. Hell, Melinda, it's ME. We've been through hell and back. Utter misery before. You can tell me anything and it won't leave this room, I promise. But whatever they said or did to you... You don't have to deal with it alone. What the hell is going on?"

Melinda May has posed:
As Peggy speaks, Melinda begins to shake her head, becoming more vehement as the words pile up. "You're not hearing me," she says, fingers curling into a fist despite Peggy's hands around them. "I... *can't*." The consonants become projectiles between her lips.

Her eyes narrow. The frustration and anger focusses down into a white hot pinprick as she tries to find a loophole. *Anything* that will let her explain the hatred she has for that woman in the infirmary -- a woman she ordered saved by any means necessary.

Mainly so she can kill her, herself, one day. (Aggression. Therapy.)

She turns away abruptly and grabs her jacket. Wordlessly, she hands it to Peggy. It's the jacket Peggy gave her. The one that was scarred in that accident.

Peggy Carter has posed:
That second pressure of words, the forces sounds around 'can't, they are enough to get Peggy's attention. She sits a bit straighter, head tilting. "Can't. Something has taken your...words. Or your physical ability to speak them." Peggy's eyes narrow more, suspiciously. She's now on the mystery hunt, not just the worried for her friend hunt.

She looks up at the jacket, more confusion dancing across her face as she sees the injuries to the side of the beautiful coat that were taken in the incident. "Your... incident. Was one of them there? Did they do something to you? Did the Red Room knock you off your bike?" Peggy is going for the most simple answer, then she can work on some details.

Melinda May has posed:
Again, wordlessly, Melinda nods. It's stiff, though. Like her body is fighting her. What qualifies as speech? What does the word 'speak' really mean? She has to wrap her mind around it. It's like folding origami blindfolded. Possibly with one hand tied behind her back.

She rises from the bed, beginning to pace, prowling the room like a caged tiger. She reaches for her phone and has to power it on (which probably explains why she didn't respond to any calls or texts Peggy made). It takes a few moments to wake up. She looks through her work messages... hoping.

Then she finds the one from Yelena. She passes the phone to Peggy.

Peggy Carter has posed:
As Melinda nods about that, Peggy's eyes go a little wider. She's onto something now, but it's also a scary something. She stands up, not mirroring May's pacing, but there is enough energy in her body now that she can't just sit there and wait. Fotunately, the message from Yelena is enough to give her something to focus on. She scans it over, reading twice and considering.

"...The woman that Yelena brought in. Did *she* do something to you? Something to do with this... Chemical that Belova reported? That they have *one* antidote for?" Peggy's mind is very quickly starting to put pieces together and she hates the puzzle that she's seeing.

Melinda May has posed:
Melinda doesn't say anything. Can't say anything. But there's that emotional spike again. The anger. Bald fury and no little hatred. Her eyes glitter, focussed, angry... and just a little shiny around the edges.

One antidote. It's not enough. Melinda can't monopolize it. But without it, she just might be one of the biggest liabilities SHIELD has right now. "I'm not safe." She can say that. It reflects many truths.

Peggy Carter has posed:
A slow, calming breath comes in through Peggy's nose, and then she lets it out again. And she goes through the cycle a second time. Peggy steps over to May, reaching for the woman's shoulders. She's trying to get her friend to breathe with her and, now that she has some grasp of what is going on, is certainly more calm herself. Peggy is used to being able to fix things when answers are found.

"Alright. Belova says there's only one but... it's SHIELD. We can make more. We keep you away from that... operative. Maybe even away from Belova, if you don't trust her. We get the antidote cloned, we get it in you, everything's fine. But you aren't going through this alone and NONE of us are safe. Not from ... Shit like this."

Melinda May has posed:
The headache Melinda has is pounding in her temples -- in no small part to the Russian cossack kicking the shit out of her amygdala... which is a bit of a problem for an empath. The booze was bad enough. The pressure of trying to explain without speaking about things, however, is almost making her dizzy.

She moves back to the bed and sits on it for a moment before she lays back and holds her head. "You can't... trust me," she says slowly. "Don't. Trust me."

This isn't the Framework. That was bad enough. But that she can take responsibility for. She made those choices. This, though, is outside of her control. And, quite possibly, is Melinda's biggest nightmare.

Peggy Carter has posed:
"You were on camera the entire time you were with Yelena and the prisoner. I can go back through the footage, make certain nothing strange was said... actived. Done. I CAN and DO trust you, Melinda. We just have to be a bit more careful where you go, and going places *alone* until we get this shit out of your head? That's the worst idea. Otherwise, we can vouch that no one has gotten their fingers in your head. So, from now on, you stick with me. Daniel. Anyone else who is entirely vetted in SHIELD. You think you can handle that until we get this antidote in you?" Peggy asks with a flat, stern look. She's not going to let Melinda drown herself in pity, anger, and this nightmare any longer.

Melinda May has posed:
As Peggy speaks, Melinda places her elbow across her eyes. She knows the cameras will show nothing. She has to explain somehow. Her arm falls away as the note of command creeps into her friend's tone. She pushes herself back up into a sitting position and nods. But then holds her hand out for her phone.

When it is in her hand, she begins going through older reports. Much older. Back to the Framework, while both of them were still caught in it. She read through, months ago now, the report of the attack HYDRA made on the Sphere and how they triggered Bucky. She brings up that report and scrolls through to the mention of the trigger.

Then, she hands the phone back.

Peggy Carter has posed:
Peggy is patient. She realizes what May is doing as the woman starts scrolling through her phone, and instead she goes over to put on some hot water in the cheap coffee and tea maker that comes with the motel room. At least she's going to put some bagged tea into them while they are having this miserable conversation. Once two bags are steeping in a mini-carafe of hot water, she comes back to May.

She takes that phone, looking it over with a deeper furrow to her brow. "She put control words in your head. So... it doesn't have to *just* be the Red Room women who do it. Alright. That is... more complicated. But that doesn't change my thoughts. We make certain someone we trust, who knows what is going on, is with you at all points in time. If someone starts using random Russian words in your direction? We ICER you before it's finished. Hell, that was the plan with Bucky half the time too."

Melinda May has posed:
"My head hurts," Melinda says now, sitting forward to hold her head in her hands, elbows on her knees. "It hurts to think." The interdiction was clear: Don't speak about it to anyone. Well. Technically, she didn't speak. The little black and red cossack in her amygdala, however, is highly disgruntled about the narrow loophole she's exploiting and is making sure she knows it. Her heartrate is elevated. There's a flush to her skin that isn't hangover.

"I just want to hit things." Yeah, that's her go-to. No surprise there. Maybe the tea will help. Or another cup of shit whiskey. She's not sure which.

Peggy Carter has posed:
"There's a punching bag back at the Long Island house, and a whole rec room at the Triskelion. I'm not letting you stay here alone, so I'll take you where ever you want to go. I've also got some melatonin in the car and stronger pain pills if you just want to pass out for the drive and give your head a break. But you're not handling this alone, and we've been in situations like this before. Hell. *I* have been in situations like this before. We'll get through, alright."

Peggy comes over with a crappy styrofoam cup of crappy tea. She offers it to May's fingertips as she sinks down to kneel in front of her, not forcing her to look back up at all but gazing into the woman's eyes from where May is sitting forward like that. "What they did to Bucky? It was years and years of torture. It's hard to find a quick fix for that. What they did to you? They cheated. Quick cheat... easier solution. We already have it. We just need to make more. Okay? It's SHIELD. We've got this. You just have to trust me. And lean on me, a bit. I might be slower, but I sure as hell still know what I'm doing."

Melinda May has posed:
The shine around Melinda's eyes hasn't entirely gone away. Her lashes are damp and her eyes are red. It could be chalked up to the lingering effects of cheap whiskey and too little sleep. It's not. Ultimately, she looks at her friend and nods, cheeks flushed, lips pale, rings too dark beneath her eyes, making her look more bruised and beaten than any physical fight ever has.

"Someone needs to take my bike," she tells her. "I'm not leaving it here." But she doesn't want to stay here any longer. She takes the crappy cup of tea and wraps pale fingers around it. The surface of the liquid betrays the subtle tremble of effort in her limbs.

"I don't think I should go back to the Triskelion right now." That Red Room woman is there. Even if she isn't much of a threat right now. And, indeed, Melinda *can* talk about that incident, as long as she doesn't reference the accident. Which makes explaining Vostokoff's importance to her difficult. Though the camera playback may reveal enough.

Peggy Carter has posed:
Peg's eyes shift towards the door for a moment, considering the bike. Then she looks back up to May, and the slight shaking of her hand. She's quiet for several heartbeats, considering this all. "Alright. Let me call Daniel. He can get a taxi out here. It'll take a bit, but then we don't have to leave your bike. You and I... we're going to nap. I think we both need it, frankly. I've got the better pain killers in the car. You take one and actually get some sleep. Once he's here, we'll get you in the car and I'll get your bike back home. Alright?" Peggy's tone is calm and solid. Grounding. She's fully confident that they have total control of this.

Then she's standing slowly. She picks up her phone and hits the button to call Daniel while shrugging into her coat. "I'll get those pills. Just sit tight." She then disappears outside to head back for the sedan. A moment later she's there with the Tylenol 2, passing two in May's direction. She then settles next to May again. She leans down to grab at her shoe laces and starts taking off her boots, kicking them aside. She then considers the bed, and the tightness of her tac pants. She unzips those, pushing them off so she's just in her undershirt and little black shorts. Far more comfortable for a nap.

Melinda May has posed:
Melinda takes the medication. Normally, she's not inclined to. But right now... If it knocks her out, all the better. "I'm sorry," she says after a while, finally kicking off her own boots. She doesn't bother with her trousers. She's slept in worse and she's not pregnant.

She stretches out, throwing part of the thin comforter over her. She's still angry, still caught in the rage of the moment where the Red Room serum froze her. But she's perhaps a little less desperate, now. A little less alone.

It's a start.

Peggy Carter has posed:
"There is no reason to be sorry. None. I'm sorry this happened to you but not sorry that I'm here. Or you finally... we finally figured out what is wrong. I'm sorry it took so long. But we're going to handle it. You're not alone." Peggy reaches over, pulling her into a one armed hug as they settle down into the bed. It might be awkward for other people, but they've been friends so long now Peggy really could care less.

Then she's crawling under the sheets as well. Even if she only gets 30 minutes of napping in, it'll help with how little sleep has been going around lately. She double checks her phone to ensure the ringer is on for when Daniel arrives. "Get some sleep, Melinda... this will all feel better on a little sleep." She whispers to her friend. Then she kills the light, settling into the pillow next to her. Peggy probably won't rest until she hears Melinda's breath drop off, but hopefully they both can get some shut eye in while waiting for a different cavalry to come.