Gone
by Apple Blossom
bDisclaimer:/b iMarvel's Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D/i belongs to Joss Whedon, Jed Whedon, Stan Lee, ABC, Marvel Television, Mutant Enemy, and anyone else who wants to lay claim to it. iDaredevil/i belongs to Drew Goddard, ABC, DeKnight Productions, Marvel Television, Netflix and anyone else who wants to claim it.
I am sitting in an out of the way spot in a local bakery sipping on a hot cup of coffee. The steam filters out of the ceramic mug, moistening my chin ever so slightly as I lean forward and blow softly before bringing it up to my lips. The heat is startling even though I expect it and the piquant brew nips at my taste buds moments before the sweetness of the added sugar and cream mingle in to create just the tang I'm looking for. It's warmth on this winter morning is more than welcome and I enjoy my coffee listening to the conversations around me as the morning rush of patrons orders and waits, settling into chairs, heading out into the frozen morning, basically keeping to their normal routines. The door opens, the bell attached to it clanging loudly as two businessmen leave, their patent leather shoes clicking softly on the floor as their briefcases rub quietly against their slacks. A woman with a small child enters and behind her is Skye. I smile as I recognize her heartbeat and that fresh, clean scent of shampoo that she uses, the kind that the orphanage always keeps in stock. I can tell when she sees me because her mood changes and I wonder instantly what's up. I wait as she orders a hot chocolate for herself and a few minutes later she is headed toward me.
"Hey Matt," she says, dropping her backpack to the floor as she slides into the chair across from me.
"Hey," I say back in greeting, cupping my hands around my mug, the heat emanating out from it, warming my palms. "I'm glad you called but shouldn't you be in school?"
She knows she's busted but she lets the silence overtake us as she sips the hot beverage in front of her, blowing on it several times before she does. The smell of chocolate and whipped cream is overwhelming and I let her take a moment to enjoy her drink before I step into big brother mode. "Skye?"
"School's boring," she says as if that answers everything and I shake my head at her.
"True," I answer even though she knows I disagree. "But what's Sister Angelica going to say when you go home?"
"It's not a home," Skye snaps and I feel annoyance simmering off her like a bubble ready to burst. "Besides, I'm not going back."
"To St. Agnes?" I ask and I know she hears the surprise in my voice. She's only sixteen. Or maybe seventeen since she really doesn't know when her birthday is. Either way this is a really bad idea. "You know they'll come after you."
"Not if I don't exist," she answers cryptically.
"That's not funny," I reply.
"Not like that, Matty." She sighs dramatically, reminding me once again just how young she really is. "I met a guy online. He's gonna help me erase my identity."
"That's not a good idea," I tell her.
"No. It's a great idea." She drains the rest of her hot chocolate, gasping slightly as the warmth burns her throat before she asks, "Hey, do you want a muffin?"
"No," I snap back wanting to keep the conversation on track. "Who's this guy?"
Her chair scrapes against the linoleum and the table moves slightly as she pushes away from it, getting up to get something else from the counter.
"Skye," my voice is a warning that we aren't done with this conversation yet.
"I'll be right back, Matty. Honestly."
She's exasperated with me and my over protectiveness but from the moment we met I've felt this overwhelming need to keep her safe and up until now I thought I was doing a good job. I hear her at the counter ordering another hot chocolate and two muffins and a few minutes later she is back, pushing a plate towards me, the paper whining in protest as it rubs against the wooden tabletop.
"It's bran old man," she teases.
"It's banana nut," I reply, reaching out for it and smiling at her as I do. "Now who's the guy?"
"He's nice," she tells me, the words sneaking out around the chocolate chip muffin she chose for herself. "His name is Miles. He's like a computer genius."
"You mean a computer hacker," I say, quickly understanding what the interest is in him. "How old is he?"
"Does it matter?" she asks and I sigh inwardly. For being a New York City girl sometimes she's terribly naive. It's something I hope she outgrows before she gets hurt. My face must give something away because she adds, "I think he's your age. But before you get all parental on me, I'm telling you he's a nice guy and he's going to help me."
"I'm sure," I tell her, snarky and annoyed now.
"C'mon Matty, don't be like that," she says and I hear the concern in her voice as she reaches out a hand and covers mine, startling me slightly. "You're my friend and you're decent. Why can't you believe that there's someone else like you out there?"
"Because most guys aren't like me," I answer. "How's he going to help you?"
"I stole my file from St. A's."
"Skye!" I can't believe she's doing all of this. They will bust her big time just for running away and probably put her in juvenile detention until they say she's eighteen at this point.
"There's a redacted file in it, Matty." This gets my interest and then she adds, "From S.H.I.E.L.D."
"Seriously?" I ask even though I already know she's telling me the truth.
"Yeah," she adds. "Miles is going to help me look into it. After he shows me how to erase Mary Sue Poots from existence."
Her tongue trips over the name the orphanage gave her disdainfully and I can tell that nothing I say will change her mind at this point but I can't help adding, "That's really not a good idea."
"There is no Dana. Only Zuul," she teases and I shake my head, trying not to smile.
"You watch too much television."
"Whatever," she answers as we eat our muffins and sip our drinks in companionable silence. She glances at her watch and when she reaches for her backpack I know our time is up. "Matty, I gotta go."
"Skye, this is such a bad idea. Please don't do this."
She's pushing herself away from the table again and I get up too, reaching for her arm until I have a light grip on her elbow. She leans in and hugs me and I know she's made up her mind. "I promise it's going to be okay. I'll call you when I get there."
"Wait," I say, desperate to find the right words. The ones that will make her change her mind, but I have nothing. "Where are you going?"
"I'm not supposed to say," she answers. I'm holding tight to her arm now, scared for her.
"Just let me meet him first, Skye. I need to know he's not a serial killer."
She laughs as she wiggles free of my grip. "He's not. I promise."
I'm sure my expression is giving away my concern about the situation but I can tell she's made up her mind about this. Finally she says, "I'm doing this Matty. I need to find out who I am. Where I'm from and why S.H.I.E.L.D has a document about me. I need to find my parents."
I sigh in frustration at her words, understanding but at the same time worried. "You might not like what you find out."
"I know," she agrees. "But knowing is better than not knowing."
"Call me," I tell her knowing there is nothing I can do to change her mind. "Every day."
"Yes Dad," Skye answers and impulsively she hugs me again. I hold on longer than I should and she pats my back lightly before whispering in my ear, "I love you Matty."
"I love you too, Skye." A moment later she is gone, the door opening and closing, the bell proclaiming her exit. My coffee has grown cold, bitter, and I push it aside, leaving the half-eaten banana muffin as well. I need to get to class myself so I quickly bundle up, buttoning my coat before wrapping the knit scarf around my neck. Carefully I make my way out of the bakery onto the street and I'm surprised that the scent of Skye's shampoo is still in the air. I wonder how long it will be before I hear from her again and I hope she is making the right decision. For now all I can do is wait and while it is something that I am used to, this time it is different. She hasn't been shipped off to a foster home and she's not coming back. The realization that I may never see her again hits home and I hope that I've made as big of an impression on her as she has on me. She's the only family I have and I don't want to lose her.
The end