No, no, no no nononononono.
The crack of gunfire, the shouting.
This can't be happening.
The flash of red.
And then he's falling and she's never felt this empty before, not when her foster parents gave her up, not when she'd realized that her parents didn't want her.
Never, never this alone.
She falls to the ground, unable to support the weight. Don't leave. She gasps to an empty room, to the cold air around her where his arms used to be. Don't leave me here alone. And then she breaks down, in the back of a cement storage facility, with the cold flirting against her skin and the pain in her heart so much heavier than the wounds on her arms.
And then she stands up. Wipes away her tears and struggles through the pain. How can she do it? Stay on her feet, through the memories tearing her down? Because she has to. She takes one step at a time, leaving it - leaving him behind. One step, then another, then another. And the pain does not dull, but it becomes easier to hide without becoming easier to bear.
She steps into the control room. If he was there, he would've stood there and raised an eyebrow, asked her why she was late. She'd hear the concern in his voice as he saw the dirt on her face, the wounds on her arms. The ghosts of tears along her face from an eternity ago. But instead, it's them, looking, wondering. But she can't say the words, can't force a sound from her throat. And she sees recognition dawning, the awful realization. And then Simmons collapses, but Fitz catches her, because he always does. May and Coulson don't look away, but they freeze, stopped in a neverending echo of pain. Skye knows what that feels like. She's felt it ever since she saw the red splatter across his chest, the blankness in his eyes as he fell to his knees. It's only been an hour but it's been a thousand years, and Skye doesn't know how much longer she can hold this. She wants to cry, or scream, but she can't. Can't force the sounds out of her throat without knowing that she'll ever be able to stop. And wouldn't it be such a release just to stop - stop breathing, stop thinking, stop moving. Just fall beside him, red on red, skin on skin.
She goes back to her bunker, sits on the bed. The bed that he'd sat on the other night, when he'd come in to apologize for his harsh words, explain why he didn't mean it, ask for her forgiveness. She'd given it, of course she had. Because when had she not been able to forgive him, when every moment next to him was better than anything before? And she presses her face to the pillow and tries to catch his scent but there's nothing, as if he'd never even existed. Her eyes are dry then, and why isn't she crying, shouldn't she be? Shouldn't this ache in her chest that's much, much too heavy for one person to carry be able to make her cry? Because she can't feel and she feels too much, she's strong and she can't stand on her own. And maybe this was a nightmare, but even she couldn't think up this numbness spreading through her. And she curls up on the bed because all of a sudden she can't support her own weight. And maybe, someday, this will be better. But she can't imagine what that will feel like.
She doesn't fall asleep. There are too many nightmares already.