Phil and Melinda
*gasps* Look what it is! It’s another installment of my Philinda President/Secret Service AU! This has been a long time coming, but thanks to everyone’s continued support, I’ve finally gotten back to working on it. This is just the beginning of more stuff to come, so I hope you all like it!
Despite having been a member of the Secret Service for nearly a year now, Melinda had never been given the opportunity to travel outside of the country. President Coulson had spent the first couple months of his term working through some domestic issues before he ventured abroad, and when that time had come, Fury had opted to leave Melinda behind to watch over Skye. Back then, Melinda had bristled at staying in the country. She had been hired to protect the President, so why wasn’t she doing that?
Over time, she learned not to care so much about what her assignments were. Some days they would be vital, like being on the President’s detail as he made a speech regarding the terrorist attack that had occurred at his daughter’s birthday party. Other days, she would be tasked with checking on their comms system to ensure they were still working properly.
No agent was more important than another. Fury believed in that and was not shy in letting others know.
That was why Melinda was honored Fury had selected her to travel to England for President Coulson’s meeting with the Prime Minister. Despite all the awkwardness and tension she’d been feeling with her boss, she had proven her skills to him, and it had not gone unnoticed.
As she packed her things for the trip, she made a resolution: No talking (or anything else that could possibly get her in trouble) to the President. He couldn’t be Phil to her for the next few days; he was President Coulson.
She had no doubt the President would be unhappy with this, but Fury would be watching her like a hawk. Now wasn’t the time to slip up, no matter how much she enjoyed her burgeoning friendship with Ph-the President.
On the flight to England, it was easy to avoid the President. Air Force One was a large plane, large enough for Melinda to stay with Barton and Hill and not see anyone else. She knew the President would be in his office preparing for his meeting with the Prime Minister. As long as she stayed away from that area, she would be fine.
Once they touched the ground in England, however, it got a bit more difficult, mainly because Melinda’s job was to be at the President’s side at almost every waking minute. He did not try to speak to her whenever they were traveling with the other Secret Service members, but he did attempt to catch her eye more than once.
“Are you okay, May?” Barton asked her. They were on the way to 10 Downing Street, and Melinda had just ducked quickly into a car to avoid the President’s earnest gaze.
“Yes,” she replied in a clipped tone. Barton raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah, okay,” he said. “You sound totally okay.”
Melinda suppressed an eyeroll and didn’t respond. She could have sworn the President looked disappointed when she averted her eyes, and it made her stomach twinge uncomfortably.
This trip was already proving to be harder than she expected.
Barton fiddled with his earpiece, something he was always prone to do because of his hearing issues. “You know, if you weren’t okay…”
“Thanks for the concern,” Melinda cut in bluntly. “But I’m fine.”
Socializing with people had been her strong suit once, but certain experiences had changed her and made it difficult to open up. Skye – and by extension, her father – had been the first person in ages to break through her walls, something that Melinda suspected had been aided by her adorableness. Despite working in close quarters with the other agents for months, she hadn’t let herself get friendly with them. She’d learned her lesson a long time ago.
The rest of the car ride to the Prime Minister’s residence was silent, and for that, Melinda was grateful. She needed to focus, and to do that, her almost encounter with the President had to be locked down. It wouldn’t do her any good to get wistful about the look in his perfectly blue eyes.
The press was there to capture President Coulson’s arrival at Downing Street, and Melinda and the other agents were right by his side. The President didn’t attempt to get her attention again, and she couldn’t tell if she was relieved or disappointed.
Prime Minister Margaret Carter was charming and polite, and it appeared she and President Coulson got along quite well. It was foolish to believe all foreign leaders would become friends and work together peacefully, but it seemed the Prime Minister and the President had similar values that complimented each other well. It looked like relations between the US and the UK were going to be quite stable for the next few years, barring no huge incident.
The meeting between the two leaders stretched on for hours, leaving the Secret Service to stand outside the room and keep watch. What they were watching for exactly was unclear, but it was their duty, and they did it without complaint. Melinda was just grateful she wasn’t being subjected to Fury’s intense scrutiny. If her boss had noticed any tension between her and President Coulson, he hadn’t said anything.
So far, so good, she thought.
The first day of meetings drew to a close around six o’clock, and President Coulson was escorted back to The Dorchester, where he would be staying for the duration of the trip. Fittingly, he’d be staying in the Presidential Suite while his agents would be in the surrounding rooms. Melinda was rooming with Hill, something she was grateful for, because she knew the other woman wouldn’t try to talk to her too much.
Once ensuring President Coulson was safely in his room, Melinda went straight into hers with no intention of leaving it until the morning. She didn’t believe the President would do anything when they were so close to the other agents (he would never do such a thing), but it was better to just remove any possibility of it. She was dressed and ready for bed before Hill had even finished her shower.
She hadn’t anticipated just how much she would miss talking to Ph-the President. Their lunch “date” in the Oval Office the previous week had only cemented her desire to get to know him better, but in preparation for the trip to England, they hadn’t been able to speak since. And now with her self-imposed rule of avoiding any interaction with him in the coming days, it was unlikely she’d really get time with him until next week. It wasn’t a terribly long time, but it already felt like ages.
The knowledge that he was just across the hall with no distractions (unless he was Skyping Skye) was almost too much to bear. It would be so easy to slip across, to close the gap and see him…
But she couldn’t. If anyone saw them – if Fury saw them – the fallout would be disastrous. Staying put was her best option for numerous reasons, and Melinda ran them through her mind until she fell asleep.
The next morning, she woke up at five. In the bed beside hers, Hill slept soundly. The President didn’t need to be back at Downing Street until nine, so the agents weren’t required to be ready until he was. Melinda had always been an early riser; she preferred to start her day promptly and get more things accomplished.
What she could really use today was a good workout. There was little she could do in her room with Hill sleeping, and she couldn’t afford to go on a lengthy run in the city in case she was needed back at the hotel for the President. The gym was her best option. After changing into her workout clothes, she slipped from the room and went in search of the fitness center.
Running on the treadmill was a poor substitute for running outside, but she had to settle for it. The pounding of her feet on the track still loosened the knots in her shoulders and eased her stresses away. They would no doubt return by the time she made it back upstairs, but it was nice to be rid of them for a while.
There was a large flat screen TV mounted on the wall across from her displaying BBC News. The current story was about the country’s economy, and Melinda allowed herself to tune it out.
The next time she looked at the television, footage of President Coulson’s arrival in London was playing. Melinda was proud of the fact that her pace didn’t falter at all, even if her heart stuttered a little.
After some cooldown stretches, she headed back up to her room. She’d spent an hour in the fitness center, and she was uncertain if Hill would be awake by this time. She hoped Hill wouldn’t be, mainly because she wanted to keep the peace a bit longer.
She was just pulling out the key card for her room when she heard the door behind her open. Her hand stilled, the key card hovering above the slot. She knew exactly who would be standing behind her, and it made her spine tingle.
“Have a nice workout?” the President asked. Melinda took a deep breath and turned to face him. Her stomach gave a little jolt when she saw he was still in his pajamas, his hair still sleep-matted.
“Were you waiting for me?” she asked.
Phil – the President – leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed. Melinda glanced up and down the hall. Imagine if Fury came out of his room at that exact moment…
“That would be really creepy, wouldn’t it? No, I just heard footsteps stop outside my door and got concerned.” He smiled then, and his eyes seemed to brighten with it. “I was happy to see it was you.”
Melinda clutched her key card so tightly the edges dug into her skin. This was exactly what she’d been trying to avoid. She needed to get out of it and fast.
“Mr. President –”
“Aha,” he said, some of the brightness leaving his eyes. “So we’re back to that. You know, this feels awfully repetitive.”
Melinda flicked her gaze to Fury’s door. “Phil,” she said quietly, privately enjoying being able to say it. “I’m just doing my job. Things need to stay professional.”
Phil raised an eyebrow, and she swore he almost looked amused. “Who said anything about not being professional?”
She shut her mouth, wondering for a brief moment if she’d misjudged everything. But she couldn’t have. He’d used the word date more than once. That wasn’t a word people used when they were keeping things platonic.
At least, she hoped it wasn’t.
“While we’re here,” she said, choosing to ignore that for the time being, “I need to be able to protect you. This,” she gestured between the two of them, “can’t exist.”
She wasn’t even sure what she meant by “this,” and based on the look on Phil’s face, he didn’t either. Her cheeks warmed.
“I understand,” he said. “Agent.”
That was more of a slap in the face than she thought it would be. Really, it shouldn’t be, because she had brought this on herself. But the warmth that she had seen in him had lessened considerably, and it hurt her.
In that moment, she made a decision.
“Phil,” she said before she could talk herself out of it. He hadn’t moved at all, just continued to stare at her. She clasped her hands behind her back and straightened. “This doesn’t mean I don’t want to…” she faltered. Be his friend? Reach the point where they could be something else? Did she even want something else? Was that even on the table? Her head spun with unanswered and, in some cases, unasked questions. This was moving too fast for her to keep up.
“I know,” he said. The warring questions in her head fell silent, and she looked at him hopefully. He smiled. “You have a job to do. I get it. Considering how that job is to protect me, I should really be grateful you take it so seriously.”
Her lips curved into a little smile. “Once this trip is finished, we can be Phil and Melinda again.”
“And that’s what you want?” Whether he noticed it or not, he’d taken a tiny step forward. “I’m not forcing you or anything?”
She could hardly believe the words were coming from her mouth, but they fell from it easily. “It’s what I want. No presidential pressure.”
Phil’s smile widened, and Melinda was struck at how much younger he looked. It was impossible not to smile back.
“I’ve never wanted a diplomatic trip to end quicker,” he said. Melinda didn’t know how to respond to that, so she turned and ducked into her room.
If she was being honest, she felt the same way.
Despite the internal wishes of Melinda and Ph-the President, the visit seemed to drag on for an annoyingly long time. Melinda’s days were filled with working the protection detail, and his were spent locked up behind closed doors with Prime Minister Carter and her advisors. The topics of their meetings ranged from climate change to terrorism. There was an abundance of things to discuss, and Melinda was incredibly grateful she didn’t have to deal with it.
As excited as she had been to travel overseas with the President, she had to admit the whole thing was rather routine. The newness of being in a different country had worn off around the same time her jetlag did, and now it was just like being in the US. She longed to explore London, since she hadn’t been since she was a college student, but Fury wouldn’t let any of them go off on their own. The President’s needs surpassed their desires, as they should.
“I just want one picture with Big Ben,” Barton declared. It was their fourth day in London, and they were escorting the President through the hotel to his room. The Dorchester staff had been incredibly accommodating and ensured their whole floor would be empty except for them. It made their jobs easier and meant that as soon as they reached the floor, they could relax a little.
“You have some free time now,” the President said. “Go ahead and see the sights. You guys deserve it.”
Hill shook her head, letting her hair fall out of the tight bun she’d kept it in during the day. “Fury’s orders say we have to be near you at all times. Can’t be too safe.”
President Coulson snorted. “Fury can be overprotective.”
“With all due respect, sir,” Hill replied, her voice curt. “You’re the President. It’s best to be overprotective when it comes to you.”
Melinda admired Hill. She was a no-nonsense woman, and she did her job well. They were the only female Secret Service agents, so they shared a sort of unspoken camaraderie. Melinda was enjoying getting to know her better on the trip.
“Good point,” President Coulson said. “Still, I feel bad you can’t see the city.”
“Eh, it’s what we’re used to,” Barton said, coming to a stop beside the President’s door. He took his earpiece out and glared at it distastefully before sticking it in his pocket. “Besides, it wouldn’t be fair for us to sightsee when you can’t. Sir,” he added as an afterthought. Melinda had noticed Barton sometimes forgot how the chain of command worked.
President Coulson smiled and shrugged. “The life of a politician. I made my bed, I’ve got to lie in it.”
Barton and Hill both laughed, Barton out of delight, Hill out of politeness. Melinda merely cracked a smile, despite almost wanting to do more.
“Is this your first time in London, sir?” asked Hill. They were still all standing in the hallway, but surprisingly it didn’t feel awkward, even though they were the President of the United States and his subordinates. That was what Melinda found to be so extraordinary about President Coulson: his friendliness and ability to shed the role of politician so easily to just become a normal man. It was a side few Americans saw, but if given the chance, he would show everyone. She was certain of it.
“Actually, yes,” President Coulson answered. “I wanted to study here when I was in school, but I chose a program in DC instead. Thought it would make more sense with my career path.”
Barton nodded to the small American flag pinned to the President’s lapel, the one all politicians wore. “Yeah, I’d say you made a smart choice.”
“Thanks, Barton.” President Coulson chuckled. “London has always been on my list of places to see. I’ll just have to come back another time to really see it.” He paused, thoughtful. “Maybe when I’m out of the White House. I could bring Skye.” He automatically brightened at the thought of his Skye. It made Melinda’s insides warm.
“I’m sure your daughter would like that very much, sir,” said Hill.
“I don’t know if London is one of her dream spots.” He turned to Melinda then, who had been silently hiding behind Hill. Her stomach dropped when he looked at her, and she cursed herself for feeling like a teenager. “Agent May would probably know better than me. What do you think? Would Skye like it here?”
Suddenly they were all staring at her. She kept her face blank, though her thoughts were currently cursing out the President for the pleased gleam in his eyes.
“One of her best friends is Jemma Simmons,” Melinda replied. “The British ambassador’s daughter. I think she’s heard stories of this place from her and wants to see it all firsthand.”
President Coulson nodded, as though he approved of her answer. Melinda suspected (hoped, really) he liked that she knew his daughter so well.
“It’s settled then,” he said. “First vacation out of the White House, we’re coming here.”
President Coulson looked once more towards Melinda, and she swore his smile softened. Her lips curved into the smallest of grins. Then she forced herself to look away. He cleared his throat.
“Great work today, agents,” he said. “See you in the morning. I’ll see what I can do about getting you your Big Ben picture, Barton.”
Barton brightened. “Thank you, sir. Much appreciated.”
The President nodded to them all before entering his room. Barton shook his head as he walked to his own door.
“I swear, sometimes it’s hard to believe he’s a politician,” he said. Hill and Melinda exchanged an amused look.
“Got something against politicians?” Hill asked. Barton turned to look at them both.
“Doesn’t everyone?”
Hill snorted, and Melinda smirked. Barton winked at them before saying good night and disappearing into his room.
“He’s right though,” Hill said once she and Melinda had moved inside their room. “President Coulson is better than most. Possibly better than all.”
Melinda thought of the warmth in his eyes when he looked at her, of the way he playfully said her name and tried to be her friend. The little smile on her face grew.
“I think you might be right,” she said.
After several more days, President Coulson’s trip to England ended. There was a special dinner held in his honor on the last night, and both Prime Minister Carter and the Queen herself attended. Melinda was present, of course, along with the other agents. They watched from afar as the President interacted with England’s highest officials and bolstered their countries’ good relationship.
The next morning, Fury granted the agents two hours to go do as they wished. He stayed by the President’s side as they left, only looking mildly annoyed at Barton’s profuse gratitude. Hill had to drag Barton from the room in the end.
The other two agents invited Melinda to join them on their accelerated adventure, but she politely refused. As much as she wanted to see the sights, she had realized she would enjoy them far better with another pair. Another pair she had no claim to and no guarantee of spending time with. Still, she wanted it all the same.
Instead, she opted to wander Hyde Park. It was right across the street from The Dorchester. The sky was a bit overcast, but it was on the warmer side, and the park was filled with people walking along the paths. Melinda always enjoyed going for little walks. They cleared her head and got her moving, which was quite nice when she sometimes spent her days standing in once place for hours at a time.
Eventually she exited the park and walked across the street. She was now in a busier area, on a street lined with shops. Following the crowd, she slowed her pace to look at all the storefronts. She had no intention of buying anything, but then she spotted a store called Crest of London. It was a tourist shop by the looks of it, and Melinda found herself perusing the different items for sale.
Shelves lined with teddy bears caught her eye. Some of them were dressed like the guards that stood outside Buckingham Palace, complete with a fluffy black hat. She only had to look at them for a second before she picked one up and brought it to the back counter to pay for it.
Skye would love it.
A few hours later, after all the agents had returned to the hotel, the President and his entourage had left the hotel and driven to the airfield, where they boarded Air Force One for the flight home. As the plane took off, Melinda was regaled with stories about Barton and Hill’s quick jaunt around London. Really all she wanted to do was curl up somewhere and sleep, but she forced herself to be polite and listen.
“And Barton tried to get the guard to flinch,” Hill said, dropping into a chair in the Secret Service area. Melinda raised an eyebrow at Barton.
“I know, I know,” he said. “It was a pointless attempt, but I don’t think you’ve really lived until you’ve tried it.” He tossed Hill a water bottle, and she caught it with a thankful salute. He offered one to Melinda, but she shook her head.
“If anyone found out you were a Secret Service agent and you still did that,” Hill said, “there would be a scandal.”
“Oh, please.” Barton flopped down onto the chair behind Hill’s. “I could create a far worse scandal if I wanted to. That wasn’t bad.”
“No,” Melinda said. “I’m sure Fury would find it hilarious.”
The look of fear on Barton’s face was worth speaking up. Hill snorted and pulled a book out of her carryon. Barton sprawled across his seat and closed his eyes. The steady hum of the jet replaced the talking, and Melinda was relieved. She’d found she liked Barton and Hill’s company, but socializing was… draining to say the least. She enjoyed her solitude.
She had initially planned to just grab a seat and take a nap, but a cup of tea sounded rather good. Leaving the Secret Service area, she picked her way through the plane to the kitchen. It was near the front, close to the President’s suite and office. There were two chefs already hard at work with preparing dinner, but they left Melinda to her own devices as she boiled the hot water for her tea.
“Fancy seeing you here,” someone said behind her. Turning, Melinda saw President Coulson standing by the door, a pleased smile on his lips. His suit jacket was gone, and the sleeves of his button-up were rolled to his elbows. His tie was loosened too. She kept her face expressionless even as her heart leapt.
“It’s almost like I work for you,” she said. He laughed.
“Fair enough.” His eyes jumped to the chefs, who had murmured hellos when he came in but otherwise were ignoring them. He seemed to weigh his words before he spoke next. “So. The trip is over…”
Melinda looked away from him as the kettle started whistling. She poured the water into a mug and dunked her tea bag in. She could hear her heart pounding in her ears.
“So it is,” she said. She turned her head to the side ever so slightly and looked at him. “Phil.”
Something like relief washed over his face, and his smile widened. Melinda allowed herself a begrudging smile of her own. Phil stepped to the side and gestured to the space beside him.
“Come join me in my office?” he asked.
Considering how they were on Air Force One and Fury was lurking around somewhere, this was probably a terrible idea. And yet, after days of avoiding speaking to him, she found she didn’t care.
“I’ve never been in here before,” she said as they entered his office. She assumed he’d automatically sit behind the desk, but instead he took a seat in one of the chairs on the other side of it. She thought that was quite sweet of him.
“You’ve been on Air Force One before though, right?” he asked. Melinda sat in the chair next to him and took a small sip of her still scalding tea.
“Yes. For your trips to Boston and Seattle."
Phil looked surprised. “I don’t remember seeing you on those trips.”
“Because I do my job really well,” she replied. She took another sip of her tea and smirked. Phil chuckled.
“I supposed that’s a good thing.” He regarded her for a long moment, long enough that Melinda felt her cheeks warm. She hated that she could. “How’d you like this trip?”
She shrugged. “It was boring.” Phil laughed again, which surprised her. People never laughed at what she had to say. “Which is better than being exciting.”
“Is it?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. He put his elbow on the arm of his chair and leaned his head against his hand. “Some people would disagree with you. I’d probably be one of them.”
Melinda swirled her teabag around before plucking it from the mug and tossing it into the trashcan beside the desk. “If it’s exciting, that usually means something has gone wrong.”
“Ah,” Phil said. “Then I can see why you think that way.”
For whatever reason, that made her smile. She brought her mug up to her lips in an attempt to hide it, but based on the way his eyes lit up, she guessed she hadn’t been successful.
“How was the trip for you?” she asked. Phil shrugged the same way she had.
“Fine. A success, I suppose.”
“You seemed to get along well with the Prime Minister.”
“She’s a remarkable woman,” he replied. His hand drifted up to fidget with his tie. “I got lucky this time. Not all foreign leaders are like her. She said that between Secretary Rogers and I, America is in good hands.” His cheeks got red as he said it, and Melinda bit her lip, suppressing a grin. He was humble. It was cute.
“She’s right,” she said gently. Phil looked at her, almost in surprise. His expression became grateful.
“I’m just trying my best,” he said, his voice quieter than before. He suddenly looked more worn, like the weight of his job decided to settle more heavily on his shoulders. Melinda felt a pang of compassion.
“No president is going to be perfect,” she said. “But they can be good. And I’d say that’s the kind you are.”
Phil didn’t respond right away, instead choosing to stare at her. Melinda found it hard to breathe with him looking at her like that, yet she couldn’t look away. The office suddenly felt too cramped, the air too thick. The roar of the engines seemed to dim.
“You’re just saying that,” he said finally, breaking the spell. Melinda took a large sip of her rapidly cooling tea. “You can’t insult the President to his face.”
Melinda snorted. “You want to bet?” Phil grinned, his eyes sparkling. She softened. “And I don’t say thing I don’t mean. I don’t believe in it.”
Phil nodded, a smirk playing at his lips. “That’s good to know.” He tugged on his tie again before looking down at it distastefully. He reached up with his other hand to unknot it. The silken material slid from his neck easily, and he tossed it onto his desk. Melinda swallowed, fully aware she was staring. Phil raised an eyebrow. “Something wrong?”
This was such a terrible idea, and, really, she knew better. But the words came from her easily. “You look better without it.”
She might have imagined it, but she thought she saw his eyes darken. His smirk grew, and her stomach dropped ever so slightly.
“That’s also good to know,” he said, quieter this time, but not because of something heavy. She sipped her tea, meeting his gaze evenly. At this rate, she wouldn’t have any more tea to drink, and the little shield she had would disappear. Though, it hadn’t been much of a shield to begin with, considering what she’d just said. She didn’t regret it though.
“Melinda,” Phil said, seemingly relishing being able to say her name. “Tell me more about yourself.”
Melinda instinctively gripped her mug tighter. “What do you want to know?”
“Everything.”
A slight panic rose up in her with that simple word. So simple that it really shouldn’t hold as much power as it did. He was watching her, waiting.
“That doesn’t give me a place to start,” she said, trying to quell the fear in her. It wasn’t like he was looking to learn everything now. She didn’t need to reveal much. Most likely just the basics, which was confirmed when he said, “Where did you grow up?”
Melinda went to take another sip of tea before she realized she had finished it. Setting her empty mug on the desk, she forced herself to look him in the eye.
“If I tell you,” she said, “you have to answer the question too.”
Phil looked surprised, but pleased. “Most people already know the answer.”
“I want to hear it from you.” She knew the answer, of course, but she really did want to hear him say it. It felt more personal that way, more… intimate. The word caught her by surprise, but she realized it fit the situation terrifyingly well.
“Manitowoc, Wisconsin,” he said, his voice growing fond. “Your turn.”
“Pennsylvania,” she replied. “Though I sometimes ended up traveling to other places depending on where my mother was stationed.” Phil’s eyes lit up with interest, and she quickly asked another question to avoid it. “What was your family like?”
Judging by the look on Phil’s face, he knew exactly what she just did. But, to his credit, he didn’t push her. “Just my parents. They’ve both passed.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I had just my parents too. Though they’re still alive.”
“Did you ever want siblings?” Phil asked, getting more comfortable in his chair. There was a growing sense of familiarity between them, and she found she didn’t mind it. “I did. I wanted a younger brother or sister to boss around.”
She surprised herself by laughing. It was only a quick chuckle, but it was more than she usually allowed. “I doubt that.”
Phil raised an eyebrow, amused. “Oh? And why’s that?”
“Because,” she said, “you don’t seem the type to boss around someone smaller than you. Especially not someone who would look up to you like a sibling would.”
He softened at that. “But I’m the President. Isn’t that what I do?”
“You work with people,” she said evenly. “You give orders, but you’re fair about it. I wouldn’t say you ‘boss’ people around.”
“I wonder if the members of my cabinet would agree,” he said, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Melinda suppressed another laugh.
“I’ll ask Rogers next time I see him.”
Phil ran a hand over his hair, shaking his head in amusement. “You never answered my question.”
“No,” she said. “I never wanted siblings. I liked my privacy.”
“Somehow,” he said, “I guessed that.”
Something funny stirred in her stomach at his words. He was looking at her in the same way he had earlier, and she could feel the plane’s walls getting closer again. There was something growing between them, and she didn’t know what, but she almost wanted it to grow faster.
Then the door opened and everything fell apart.
“Mr. President,” Fury said, and stopped. His one good eye looked from Phil to Melinda. His face was blank, but Melinda could sense his displeasure. She gripped her armrest tightly, wishing she could be anywhere else.
“Yes?” prompted Phil, either not noticing the sudden tension or ignoring it. Fury took one last look at Melinda, no doubt intending it to say, ‘We’ll talk later,’ then put his focus on Phil. His next words shook Melinda to her core.
“We’ve just received word of another terrorist attack, sir.”
Phil closed his eyes. His fingers pinched the bridge of his nose. Melinda suddenly wished they weren’t on an airplane.
“Same people as last time?” asked Phil, putting his emotions aside for the time being. Melinda had already done the same, as she had trained herself to do.
“Unclear,” Fury reported. “But we’re guessing yes.”
“Where?” Phil asked. Melinda hoped it wasn’t a big city like New York or DC, but the likelihood of that was slim.
For the first time, there was a flicker of emotion on Fury’s face, like he was unwilling to answer. The nausea in Melinda’s stomach grew.
“Wisconsin,” Fury said. “Manitowoc.”
To be continued...
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