i'm just the pilot,

(✉️ ➡️ mel ): I DEFINITELY WOULDN’T (✉️ ➡️ mel ): you think you’re scary? your mother is terrifying (✉️ ➡️ mel ): I’ll go if you want me to but (✉️ ➡️ mel ): I’d probably die (again)

She didn’t seem to think he was insane, though Danny supposed his story was easier to believe when there was concrete proof of its truth. Davos’s Fist wasn’t something easily denied, and it was clear that it had come from somewhere. There were probably tests to prove that it wasn’t mutant DNA or Terrigenesis that made his brother who he was, so… Why not a ritual? Why not a competition? There was still some relief that came with being believed, of course, and Danny’s posture relaxed slightly with the realization that the agent in front of him wouldn’t think him insane if he continued. “No,” he replied quietly, shaking his head. “No, I don’t think it’s anything anyone needs to be concerned about. The things someone needs to complete the ritual are… specific. And the place they’d need to go to learn about them is gone. There are only two people alive who know anything about it.” Danny and Davos. That was all that was left of K’un Lun now, just them. And they were both broken. Maybe it was fitting that the only ones left to carry K’un Lun’s legacy were two boys broken beyond repair by its teachings. “More than one person can hold it at a time,” he said, a little cautious. “But… It gets complicated.” He didn’t know why his Fist had returned to him, didn’t know why Colleen’s had split itself between her and Davos or if his power would last. There was so much they didn’t know, so much they’d likely never know now that K’un Lun was gone.

Her eyes flickered down to his leg, and Danny suddenly felt a little self conscious at the cast encasing the limb. He shifted a little, uncomfortable in his own skin. Did she know just how much damage was under the plaster? The expression on her face told him that she probably did. It was almost a relief when she spoke again, if only because Danny wanted so desperately to get away from the subject of his injury. Of course, her question wasn’t any more enjoyable to answer than thoughts of his leg were. For a moment, he was back in the warehouse — the first time Davos performed the ritual. Drugs still hazing the world in and out of focus, pain sharpening his senses as the Crane Sisters drug their blade across his chest, confusion clouding his mind again as Davos cupped his face in his hands almost gently before beginning the process of bleeding him far more than necessary. “Yeah,” he replied quietly. “There’s a way to get it out. But it — It’s brutal. And you have to have somewhere to put it. Someone has to take it to get it out of him. And I don’t — I don’t think there’s anyone to give it to.” Colleen didn’t want it, and the more Danny considered it the more he suspected that taking on that much power would rip him apart. And there wasn’t anyone else he trusted with it.

It was stupid, asking about Davos. Danny knew, logically, that he shouldn’t care if his brother was comfortable. Davos had made it clear in that warehouse that he wasn’t worried about Danny’s wellbeing, had put that knife to his chest with all the determination of a man prepared to use it. Without hesitation, he’d said when Danny questioned if he’d truly kill him, and Danny knew it hadn’t been a lie. If he hadn’t acted when he did, Davos would have killed him. Would have killed them both, most likely, and Colleen by extension. And yet, the worry gathered like a pit in his stomach, eating away at him. He loved Davos. He didn’t know how not to. He swallowed as Melinda continued, nodding his head. “That’ll keep him from using the Fist,” he said quietly, remembering how he’d struggled to call upon his own Fist through the haze of drugs clouding his mind. It had been impossible. “Good. That’s good.” He paused for a moment, not meeting her eye. “I know what you must think. What it must look like. But he… My brother isn’t a bad person. He’s not. He’s been hurt by everyone he’s ever cared about. He just… He doesn’t know how to cope. He isn’t a bad man. He’s just lost.”

Listening to each detail carefully, it only raised more questions for Melinda. But the way that Danny was speaking, it made her wonder if he even knew the answers or if he was just as lost as she was. After all, Danny Rand had gone missing for fifteen years, and she suspected that wherever this place was that they stayed --K’unLun, it was where Davos was from. But they were the only two people that Melinda had encountered that knew of that place... and Davos was in no condition to answer the questions, but would he even have them? “Complicated is my job,” Melinda reminded him. “Whatever it is, however ridiculous you might think it sounds, I’ll listen.” There was some relief in the idea that someone couldn’t walk into Birch and take the Iron Fist from Davos -- but push and shove -- if someone wanted to, they could. And that was important to note. “Two people with a secret, it’s only a matter of time before three know -- and then four -- secrets have a nasty way of getting out when we least expect them. Are you sure?” The last thing that she wanted to do was instill more doubt in him, but this was a serious matter. They couldn't leave this to chance. 

“So, it’s not an option then,” Melinda replied quietly. What were their options if he gained control of himself and ended up hurting someone? Without the Raft there were few options and Davos was being kept in a civilian facility. But Danny... he didn’t need this extra worry on his plate. All he needed to worry about was the information, Melinda would worry about how to act on it. “You might want to think about having a list of people then, just in case.” Melinda didn’t want to alarm him, but Melinda needed all options on the table. Even the ones that Danny didn’t want to think about. And it was clear that he didn’t want to think about options that put Davos in a tighter spot, given the fact he was concerned about his brother despite everything that had been done to him. Melinda put her elbows on the table and clasped her hands together. “I had... someone who was on my team, who was like that. I trusted him... and eventually, he showed us who he really was. And his family -- they were terrible people. But I have seen people who suffered the same way he did and they found a way to make something good out of it. I’m not asking you to change how you think of him, he’s your brother and you care about him. But, I need to ask you not to make excuses for him. He might be lost, but I’m not so sure he wants to be found.” 

Clint could talk like no one else. He had mastered the art of talking for hours without saying a single important thing. When he was a kid in the circus, it was a useful distraction while Barney or one of the acrobats was picking a pocket. When he was an agent, it was a useful distraction to keep his marks from torturing him or the shrinks from benching them. 

It’d never really worked on Melinda. She was the opposite, kept totally silent unless she absolutely needed to, only spoke when she had something important to say, and everything else stayed under lock and key. Clint’s cavalier facade didn’t stand up next to her level of stoicism, but that’s what had made them close at the academy. 

Close enough for her to be the one person to recognize him on the street. 

“Yeah,” he agreed, nodding absentmindedly. He was still staring straight ahead at the target, visualizing the arrow he could put through the bullseye. “She’s great. One of the best directors I’ve seen come through this place, that’s for futzing sure.” He let loose, and turned to her. He didn’t need to see it to know the dull thunk meant it hit the center of the target. “You’ve never been big on talking,” he noted, swallowing at the lump in his throat. “Could’ve given me the lecture when I was still in the cell. And I did,” he added, a little defensively. “Get it checked. I was bleeding when I gave my report, they didn’t take no for an answer. Benched for a week at least, over nothing.” 

“She is,” Melinda agreed easily. There were a lot of struggles that came with being director. And this wasn’t something that Daisy had been wanting. It more or less fell on her shoulders when Fury Sr. died. But she was good at it, a natural leader. And it was clear that she was trying to do what was right for everyone -- and Clint, despite his actions a few months ago, was a good man. A good agent. And he was a lot better out there helping people rather than sitting on his ass. 

But that didn’t mean he should be out there. Not when he was this lost in himself. There was a chance that it’d only push him further into the hole he was already in, and there might not be any pulling him out if he hit rock bottom. Because he would, eventually. He might have thought he had when he thought Natasha was dead and gone -- but Melinda knew from experience that there was often another depth to the pain they could be forced to face. A false bottom that could be ripped away at any given moment. 

“I could have. But would that have mattered? Would that have helped? Because where I was standing, you were in no place to hear what I had to say. No place to listen either. You probably would have taken your aids out just to spite me.” A light humor that didn’t really reach the mark, not when it came to them. They were a far cry away from letting loose chickens in the SHIELD HQ, but maybe, someday, they’d get back to that. “And I wasn’t sure what I wanted to say to you.” What could she have said? That she was disappointed? Angry? Those words all felt wrong. “And not being big on talking -- then we pour shots. Not all conversations are with words.” Melinda inhaled and tried not to roll her eyes. “If they benched you for a week -- they have reason for that. They had me on desk duty for months after ---” Kilgrave. “Maybe you should be resting instead of doing this.”

She was, as ever, difficult to read. Sarah didn’t take offense to that. Agent May was trained to stay in perfect control at all times, so she could do her job effectively. And beyond that, it was clearly personally important to her. To appear as though nothing could touch her. Sarah could understand that instinct, to build a wall or a suit of armor, to wear a mask and keep the outside world at bay. 

“Of course,” she said, following after May. They walked for a bit, the silence not uneasy but ripe with unanswered questions. Agent May, of course, wasn’t one to beat around the bush, so Sarah extended the same courtesy. “I was given Andrew’s files when I took over his practice. But there’s several of them that are missing. Several… special cases.” She glanced up, met Agent May’s eyes. “I was wondering if maybe you could point me in the right direction to find them.” 

Melinda thought of the box that she had on Jessica’s desk not that long ago -- those very files that Sarah was now looking for. “Special cases,” Melinda repeated with a faint smile. She could have easily shrugged it away and pretended like she didn’t have the files... but Sarah was good at what she did. There was a reason that Andrew trusted her, and a reason why, out of everyone else, she was given Andrew’s cases when he passed. 

“I can,” Melinda said after a beat. “Have you been cleared to view them?” It was a cheap strategy to keep Sarah away from the files, but it was also a valid one. In Melinda’s mind at least. “I took the files in question because they... have an impact on current missions.” And she was pretty sure if someone else saw what was in her own file or Jessica’s that they’d be pulled for further review. 

“Yeah, me and bonding usually goes so well together,” Jessica said, smirking back at May. She wouldn’t pull something like that without warning first, May was too much like her for that. Daisy could be the spitting image of Coulson at times, the same brightness, the same open arms and loving heart, but she and May held back a little more. They needed to be coaxed into something as emotionally charged as bonding.

And sometimes, like tonight, they needed liquor to ease them through it. Jessica froze for a second at the words, every muscle tensing. For a second, she wasn’t even sure she could breathe, but she managed to nod. She walked over to the shelf, grabbed the glasses and bottle hypnotically. Poured the drinks on instinct, muscle memory, because the rest of her mind was whirling with the knowledge of what was in those files. “What are you planning on doing with them?” she asked, picking up a glass and holding it out towards May. “With… mine?”

“Just wait until you meet my mother. My father is a little more relaxed but...” The more she thought about it though, her parents were a lot like herself and Phil. Her mother often came off a little frosty and her father was the warm one who welcomed many people into their lives. Having words of encouragement at just the right time. “They’ll both be at the wedding though,” Melinda warned. “I plan on taking Daisy up to meet her soon -- they both know of each other but they haven’t met yet.” 

Glancing at the files in the box, Melinda shook her head. She wasn’t sure what she was doing with them, only that she felt like she had to look at them. Like the insight would give her another moment with Andrew or reveal something about herself that was tucked away. She was looking for answers but she didn’t have a question to ask. “I don’t know,” Melinda answered honestly. Normally, she would have kept her uncertainty closer to her chest -- but Jessica was family. There was no reason to hide what she was feeling. Taking the glass from Jessica, Melinda took a quick sip and started pulling out the files she had collected. “I should turn them over to SHIELD but...” A small sigh escaped her lips. “That would be the right thing to do though...” 

(✉ → melissa): The murder kind of situation. What else could it be when it comes to me? (✉ → melissa): UNSENT Hydra’s perfect weapon, everybody!  (✉ → melissa): Thanks. I might need clean up for my neighbours, too. They all made a break for it, and they’re pretty thoroughly dosed with fear pheromones. (✉ → melissa): Or horny pheromones. Idk which. (✉ → melissa): Moping in the park. I know we make fun of the cap and sunglasses disguise, but it seems to be working.

Hearing her say that he had her back too made a sense of something wash through Phil, although he couldn’t place what it was. Happiness wasn’t quite right, because it was tinged with the feeling that they needed these things, and that their relationship didn’t always perfectly go both ways. She needed more support than he did because of years of trauma, and the enormous amounts of pressure she was under as a specialist; to compartmentalize and be capable of being alone, while trying to protect her sanity and not push everyone away. It was a delicate line to walk; one of many reasons he could never do specialist work. And she was always so fiercely loyal to him, in a way that even if he tried to be to her, he just wasn’t in a position to be. She was never the one making the calls, never the one in charge, even if she’d be good at it. 

If she was… He’d follow her anywhere.

Don’t glance down, Phil told himself. For all that Melinda was one of the strongest people he knew, she was also as delicate as spun glass, and he feared drawing attention to her hand in his would only make her back away from it. He wouldn’t push, couldn’t push, even though a part of him wanted to push the closeness between them, to see just how far it could go. “He was a good man. Even when he was Lash… He was still trying to do good.” He said. Lash had sacrificed himself so that Daisy could be free, and that was a debt they would never be able to repay - a debt that Daisy continued trying to repay now as she was on the run. As he looked at Melinda, he thought about all the people she didn’t get to say goodbye to and a lump formed in his throat - she hadn’t gotten to say goodbye to him, in New York. “I’ll try to - if I die again - and I’m not saying I’m going to.” He clarified. “I want to die without having anything unsaid between us.” There was so much he’d never said.

A good man. Melinda found herself feeling something -- maybe regret? There was so much unsaid between her and Andrew, so much that Melinda had avoided facing because of what had happened in Bahrain and Andrew’s inability to let things sit. He was a therapist; he talked about everything and expected Melinda to follow suit. But after what had happened to her, after what she had done, Melinda had needed space to think. And Andrew had wanted her to dive headfirst back into the life they had. To keep trying to start a family -- but Bahrain was the one thing Melinda couldn’t compartmentalize. No matter how much she wanted to, no matter how much she tried. It was that thing that settled in the back of her head and constantly demanded attention. That reminded her that she wasn’t so different from the monsters they faced. 

“I know,” Melinda said in a whisper. That was one thing Melinda and Andrew did have in common. Even in their lowest moments, even when they weren’t really themselves, they protected the people who mattered the most to them. Or in this case, Andrew was protecting the people who mattered to Melinda. Highlighting the fact that even after all the distance between them, he still had her back. And she’d never have a chance to properly thank him for that. But when Phil started talking again, Melinda felt a lump in her throat.

It wasn’t like Melinda to volunteer for ops, but then again, it wasn’t like her to spontaneously confess to being in love. In love? Was that it? There were so many forms of love, and Phil couldn’t place which she felt for him - let alone which he felt for her. She used to volunteer for ops, go on adventures, before Bahrain, but now? Now she went on what she was assigned, or at least, that’s how it had been for the last few years. If she volunteered, it was because she was the only one capable of something. “Good. I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to you.” He said, biting his lip. He’d said the same thing to the LMD, hadn’t he? I’ve lost too much lately. I’m not gonna lose you. 

And yet - here he was. Losing her. And it was his own fucking fault.

Commitment - now that was the operative word. If Phil could figure out if commitment was what he wanted - or if it was something they could even have - he might’ve been able to keep her from going. “I’m sorry, these past few weeks, I haven’t been -” A good partner? A good friend? A good person who loves you very deeply and really really sucks at figuring out how to tell you or to tell myself? “…very good to you.” He finished lamely. “You deserve better than everything you’ve been through lately.” Or ever. 

Melinda bit down on her tongue and nodded her head. He didn’t want her hurt -- but that... that was the job wasn’t it? They got hurt so other people didn’t. They got hurt so the world was safe. The goal, of course, was not to get hurt, but it happened. And they both knew that if Phil was in the line of danger, Melinda would have jumped in the way to protect him... and he probably would have done the same. (The only reason she was hesitant to say he would, was the fact that things between them seemed to be eroding. Quickly.) “I’d much rather have my feet on the ground,” Melinda reminded him. “I’m only taking a backseat because---” I have to. Which was the sad truth, but Melinda couldn’t say it. Not when he was looking at her like that and saying he was glad she’d be safe. 

Nadia didn’t have much reason to trust S.H.I.E.L.D. Most large organizations made her nervous, and part of her always worried they would take her in for working with the Red Room. She knew that wasn’t actually her fault now. She was someone else. She’d been brainwashed into doing what they said and had the threat of death always on her. However, as far as she could tell, S.H.I.E.L.D. had nothing against her right now. When Agent May called her in, she did so willingly. While she didn’t exactly trust S.H.I.E.L.D., Agent May had been kind to her, and she felt like she owed her something. Other agents directed her to where Agent May was, and she knocked on the door. “It’s Nadia,” she called through the door. “You wanted to talk?”

Playing the part of SHIELD Agent Melinda May was... odd. But it wasn’t the hardest thing she had tried to do. Looking through the files that her counterpart had access to, she had found a few things that happened in both universes. An asset that she had used a few times when the Red Room and Hydra came across similar goals and shared information. It was a rare occurrence, but the results were always beneficial on both sides. Nadia Pym was one such asset. Just like Jessica Drew and Natalia Romanova. This Melinda had built a relationship with Nadia, and by her notes, it was a fragile one, but still... it was something Melinda could work with. All she really needed was Nadia in the door, and after that? It would be easy. 

Hearing Nadia’s familiar voice bleed through the door, Melinda moved to open it, offering Nadia a polite smile. “I would, please, come in,” Melinda said, waving for Nadia to join her inside and sit down. “I’m sure you’ve noticed the chaos -- I thought that you might be of some help to keep the peace. You have a unique skill set that could be put to very good use.” 

The more that Natalia found out about herself in this universe, the more that she knew it was impossible. This was an alternate universe if she’d ever seen one. The version of herself here had defected from Russia, ran from the Red Room. She had joined SHIELD and became an Avenger. She had friends here. A lover. It made Natalia sick. There was no way someone could forget about the things that they’d been taught. There was no way that this Natalia could not be the monster that she was trained to be. Why did this version of herself get a chance? 

She tried to contact the Red Room. She tried and failed to get into contact with them. Her frustration was growing with each passing second. She needed to find a way out of this world before she did something that she’d regret. 

“No,” she replied lowly, in Russian. The woman was lucky that she’d caught Natalia’s attention without spooking her. Otherwise, she’d be on the ground right now. “Have you? Who are you with? Hydra?” 

That wasn’t the answer that Melinda was hoping to hear, but nothing that was happening here was what she had wanted. There was no control here -- nothing familiar other than people with the same faces as the ones back home. But at least the Black Widow was the same --- or maybe just similar enough. It was hard to tell, and everything being different put Melinda both on edge, and off her game. But Natalia’s demeanor was enough for Melinda to believe that she was, in fact, on the right side. 

“No one,” Melinda confirmed quietly. “My understanding is that Hydra is all but defeated... a ghost of what it used to be.” The foundation was still there, ideas didn’t just die overnight after all, and even if the main members of Hydra were dead, you couldn’t kill an idea. They were still alive. They had to be. “Hydra. Apparently, the... version of me that exists here is with SHIELD.” Helping people. Helping inhumans. Melinda looked at Natalia and cocked her head to the side. “Have you run into yourself here yet?” 

Guns were never a part of Jessica’s repertoire. Even as an agent of SHIELD, the standard Glock was completely superfluous considering her abilities. If anyone managed to pull a gun on her, bullets rarely did any significant damage, and Jess could count on one hand the number of times she actually got hit during her career. Things were different now. She heard the click of a gun being unholstered, and immediately she jumped off the sofa, fists clenching to form bio-electric blasts … only to find her fingers left nothing but crescent moon shapes from her nails on her palms. Clint’s voice in the back of her mind said it was SHIELD only with access to this place, to relax, but SHIELD had been her naive safe place for far too long. Jess wasn’t going to go back there.

Even when her eyes caught Melinda’s familiar form, Jess couldn’t relax an inch. “What did you just call me?” she asked, eyes narrowed at the other woman. Melinda never referred to her as Arachne, not even when she first defected. Jess didn’t understand it, not until she saw how Melinda’s shutters came down the second someone mentioned the Cavalry. But the look on her face, combined with the name … it brought back memories of someone else. Another safe space gone wrong. The gun shifted in her grip, and because Jess didn’t have all the variables, she played along, raising her hands in surrender. “Depends,” she replied. “What options are we talking here?” Arachne …Grant came into her mind, how he turned on his heels in the Framework, how he was different. Good. (He could’ve been good again.) Jess met Melinda’s gaze, and then said, testing it out despite the way it burned in her mouth, “Hail Hydra.”

The way Drew reacted to the name told Melinda all that she needed to know. This wasn’t the girl she had taken in -- this wasn’t the one she had wrapped around her finger -- and this also wasn’t the one who had tried to defect from Hydra. But the venomous way she was reacting to the name Arachne... she had defected in this universe, hadn’t she? And while that grated her in a way that was hard to put to words, Melinda kept her face neutral. Not letting any of her thoughts reach the surface -- not that she ever let more than a whisper of what she was feeling show through, but especially now when she was in another universe, fumbling through unknown territory with familiar faces. 

Melinda opened her mouth to ask the question -- to give the options: are you from here or some place else? (But even if she wasn’t from here, that reaction to her name... that told her one thing: she wasn’t Hydra.) And even as those two words left Drew’s lips, Melinda didn’t buy into it -- it was too late for that charade. Melinda kept the gun steady, pointing ti at Drew’s head. This wasn’t going to do anything to her, maybe an ICER would have at least put her down for a minute. But she had to flip the switch, pretend to be the Melinda from this universe. 

She hated undercover missions -- hated them, but there was no other choice here. How familiar was Melinda with Drew? What name did she use in this universe? “You know, for all your training, you’re not a great liar, Jess. Never have been -- around me at least.” Drew was good at faking it in ways that would make people’s heads spin, but years of being around Drew, of training her herself, she had learned her ticks. “It’s me -- it’s really Melinda, I’m sorry -- I had to make sure, Jess,” she offered -- going full casual, full... gentle as she lowered the weapon. “I woke up with a different Phil in my bed and... I’m on edge.” 

The face that came into focus was one Phil recognized - and one he feared. The books he taught were mostly lies, but the ruthlessness and danger of Melinda May wasn’t one of them. He’d been fascinated by her when he’d heard her story and couldn’t put his finger on why - every time she was mentioned in news, it ended up in his clippings of newspapers and calendars, crude drawings that somehow resonated with him. But unlike most of those things, this was an interest he feared pursuing - one of the things that made him most curious, and also most terrified. Why did her features seem so eerily familiar? Why was he so curious if her face looked different in a smile? Those history book pictures of her in fierce combat - why did they make him yearn for something he couldn’t place? “I - I don’t -” Eyes wide open in terror, Phil shook his head, stilling his body as much as he could, even curling inward in an attempt to make himself a smaller target. The only thing Melinda May was more famous for than horrific torture of Inhumans was letting a little girl murder hundreds.

The bed was plus, warm, and when he took in more of the room he recognized photographs of what looked almost like it could have been them. A place that was domestic, more than any home he’d ever lived in had been. “I just woke up here - I went to bed last night in my home, I swear, I’m - I’m human! You can check if you can find terrigen! Just please -” He grimaced in pain, but even so, a part of him yearned to be softer with her - to trust her. To trust one of the highest ranking members in HYDRA. His ex wife was right - he was insane. “My name is Phil Coulson. I’m a teacher at one of HYDRA’s high schools outside of DC, I - I’ve done nothing wrong, I swear.”

He was scared. That much was abundantly clear, but even with that flicker of fear in his eye, Melinda didn’t let up. If anything, she pressed her knee to the center of his chest a little harder. She didn’t know who this man was but there were pictures all over the place that made it look like they were together -- like they were family. And it made her wonder if this was some perverted trick to get her to believe she had lost her memory. But who would be stupid enough to try that on her? “What did you drug me with?” She then asked, that was the only explanation to how she woke up in a bed that was not her own (but that also meant that someone like him had managed to sneak up on her). He kept moving, trying to get out of her grip or make himself seem less threatening, but all that did was further annoy her. “Stop moving,” she demanded. 

The story followed the one that Melinda remembered --- so who had done this? And why did the photos on the walls look so real -- why did this feel strangely normal? Melinda looked down at Phil and tipped her head to the side. He was desperately claiming to be human, and it was clear that he recognized her from more than just the photos. He knew her, but perhaps that was only on reputation. “You’re willing to die to prove your point?” Melinda asked -- it was a bold thing for someone who looked so... fragile. But looking at him, it made her want to be a little gentler, made her want to give him the benefit of the doubt -- but that went against all her training at Hydra. Melinda moved her knee from his chest but she still had him pinned, sitting on his midsection while having a hand on his chest. She’d let him breathe. At least a little. “If you’ve never been here before, then why are their pictures of us all around?” She glanced at one that had the two of them plus one other -- “And why is Agent Johnson in some of these?”

There were few places that Melinda could trust here. There was no Hydra office for her to return to, in fact, everything pointed to Hydra being a dormant force here, which meant any of the contacts she had come to rely on in her own universe weren’t here. Or they were otherwise occupied with their own confusion. But it was hard not to feel the need for something familiar, and that strange apartment she had woken up in was not at all familiar. But what was -- was a safehouse. The isolation it offered was familiar. Comforting. Especially when the whole universe seemed to be tearing itself apart. 

It hadn’t taken her long to find one that was a match to the set of keys she had stolen from her counterpart in this universe. When she pushed open the door though, she immediately pulled out her gun once she realized she wasn’t alone. But the figure... it was familiar. Jessica Drew. “Arachne.” Melinda didn’t put down her weapon though, but there was a false softness in her eyes like she was looking at someone she deeply cared about. That was how she had gotten Jess last time -- and with the world upsidedown -- there was a chance this wasn’t the Jess she knew. But it was impossible to tell until they spoke. But no matter which Jess this was, playing up the mothery look wouldn’t hurt. And given the pictures on the walls of the apartment she had been in, this Melinda had a motherly instinct. A real one. “Which one are you?” Melinda asked, taking in a breath like she felt threatened, before cocking the gun.

Waking up to a stranger in her bed was one thing -- something she would have done in her younger years... but it wasn’t her home and it certainly wasn't his but there were pictures of them, together, on the tables along with another girl that looked like it was their daughter. This version of herself... what had happened differently? How was it that she had a family here? There were a thousand differences in this universe, and the hardest one for her to accept was the fact that SHIELD was still thriving and Hydra had fallen -- but that was impossible. It had to be.

Melinda went to one of the places she knew that Hydra would have an access point at. All she needed was a hint, a frequency, a something and she’d be back with her people. It was a dead drop that they had set up years ago, a breadcrumb that could lead her back to the main base -- at least... it would if anything in this universe was the same. But when she approached the drop point, she saw a familiar redhead just at the corner of the building. Hyrda and the Red Room had a tumultuous relationship at best, only cooperating when it was necessary or when their goals lined up. But if Hydra was in the dust, chances were, the Black Widow didn’t have her people either. 

“Black Widow,” Melinda called the name in a whisper, knowing that she’d never sneak up on a Red Room agent. “Have you been able to contact anyone?”