Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, nor Marvel, nor Agents of Shield, NOR ABC.

The tension is so thick on the bus that not even a knife could cut it. May doesn't know where to look first. She can feel herself being torn in different directions. Does she hover over Skye? Does she stand next to Phil; let him know she's there for him? Does she stay by Ward's side? She has to bite her tongue when he all but tells her that he blames Coulson for Skye's…accident (she can't…won't bring herself to say death). It's not Phil's fault, the same way it's not Ward's or Fitz's. And should, God forbid, the girl not make it, it won't be Simmons' fault. May knows what it's like to have the guilt and blame of an unspeakable accident rest on her shoulders.

She's quiet, she's stern but she cares for her team and none of them deserve the feeling she lives with every day. Ward's angry. She sighs, squeezing his hand and walking back over to Phil. The doors close on Ward and she sees him flee upstairs. Her eyes settle on Phil's back. When he lifts his head, ever so slightly, she can see his eyes glistening like he's holding back tears. She's not sure if he's more afraid of losing Skye to death, or dragging her through hell the way he was. She can see him wondering if he'd make the call to bring her back to life, robbing her of her old self just get some version of her back. Would he do to her what Fury did to him? "She won't die. We won't let her," May says sternly. She won't let Phil make that choice. It would crush his spirit all over again. It would tear the team apart, and Skye deserved better.

The look Phil shoots her is grateful, but scared. He looks hollow. May wonders if that's what he sees when he looks in her eyes. She knows it's what she sees when she looks in the mirror. Scars upon scars. Few are on her skin, most written in her eyes. "It's my fault."

"Don't say that," she scolds harshly, watching him jump at the anger in her voice. "Ward already blames you enough for the both of you. Don't listen the voice in your head that's trying to figure out where you went wrong. You didn't. Focus that energy on keeping her alive," she says. It's the advice she thought of giving herself, if she could go back in time. Now, Phil needed to hear it, and she could actually help him.

All this time, he hasn't taken his eyes off of Skye. May doesn't have to ask why. She felt it too: the fear that if she looked away for one second, Skye's shallow breaths would cease completely. At some point she had to step away though. They all did. But Phil wouldn't.

"Ward will need you," Phil says. May rests her hand on his and he looks at her, taking his gaze off of Skye for the first time in hours.

"He'll get his turn," she says, letting their fingers fall into place. He drops his gaze back to Skye's body, but she can feel his fingers tighten around hers.

Jemma sits in the lab, trying and failing to wipe the blood off of her hands. She'd gotten messy in labs many times before, she'd been bloodied before. But this was Skye's blood. Another sob rips through her at the thought. Fitz still stands behind her, hanging back after their hug had broken.

Now his hands reach down and he begins to clean her up. Jemma looks up at him, blinking through her tears to focus on his face. She has never seen him look so stoic. He'd looked more scared when she was sick. She can't place the emotion on his face. When she looks down again, her hands are clean.

"Th-" a sob interrupts her stammering 'thanks', so Fitz just nods, pulling a stool up next to her. She can see it now, the guilt in his eyes. She takes his hands into hers.

"F-Fitz. It's not your fault," she murmurs. Fitz lowers his head.

"I was outside, Jem. I was under a car, perfectly safe and well while Skye was getting shot. Twice," he shakes his head. Jemma is also shaking her head, more adamantly than he is.

"No. No. N-no one is to blame other than Quinn. You d-did all you could. You are fine, you are good. You share no blame," she assures him softly, still stammering a little. Fitz pulls her into a hug again, her head resting against his shoulder. She's never felt this tired, her whole face is aching from the tears that are falling and her throat is raw. Taking uneven breaths, Jemma tries to focus on the familiarity of this moment, and on Fitz's rare tenderness. Well…not rare. But usually they were poking fun at each other. Their friendship was usually more of the mind than this weirdly intimate moment.

The sound of a door closing pulls them apart and Jemma can see Ward through her tears. He's staring at them, looking lost. He doesn't have anyone to bury into, Jemma realizes. She looks at Fitz, who nods at her. She gets up and throws her arms around Ward's neck. She can feel him tense up beneath her, even more rocklike than normal.

She bites her lip, about to pull away. That's when Ward softens, his arms coming up around her. She hears his breath change. Is he crying? She won't ask, or react if she sees tears. This moment is probably already harder for him than he's willing to admit. Nothing is said. Fitz sits in his chair, watching them and looking almost happy.

Finally, Ward pulls away (Jemma can't tell whether he's been crying or not and really, she'd rather keep it that way. She can't handle seeing someone like Ward break) and thanks her, before going upstairs.

Grant feels cold after letting Jemma go. He's just so mad. Mad at Coulson, mad at himself. Mad at Skye for going in there alone.

He's not really mad at Skye. But he's choking on the grief, fear and guilt bubbling in him. It's easier to turn it into anger. He wants someone to hold, and he's never felt more alone. If she weren't the one in peril, Sky would stand by him, making jokes and smiling at him comfortingly. Maybe even holding him, like she did when he was a rage monster. But no, she's in that…glass coffin, barely hanging on to life. Grant's hands tremble at the thought.

His eyes burn from the tears as he shuts himself in his bunk. She's too good and too young to die. She can't fix herself the way Simmons could. This was one of their own, closer to the other side than ever…except for Coulson's death. Coulson.

He tried not to think of him, because it just made his blood boil again. He slams his fist into his pillow, feeling like a helpless child again and he's hearing harrowing screams of Grant! In his head again but this time it's Skye's voice and it's tearing him apart. He runs his hands over his face. Deep breathes. Steady. Find your calm spot.

None of it works.

Grant thinks he's about to go insane when suddenly, finally, he feels the plane begin its descent. He bolts, almost running into several doors and walls. He's sprinting, going to where Skye and the rest of the team wait. May is gone. Landing the plane, no doubt.

Everything's a blur. They touch down and Skye is rushed out, light blinding Grant as he helps push the chamber out of the bus and through the hospital doors. They're all running alongside it. People are yelling at them and finally they let go, handing Skye over to the experts. Grant felt useless before.

Now he feels even worse. Hopeless. Broken. Numb. Simmons is crying again, silently now. Grant is sure he looks shocked and blank. May has caught up with them. All of them are frozen.

They operate for what feels like hours. Everyone is in the waiting room, either sitting or pacing and no one is talking and Grant has never felt worse in his life. All he wants is to hear Skye's voice, making fun of him, poking holes in the armor.

Coulson feels like he's the one who's dying. He can't focus; he's pretty sure May is reminding him to breathe. Finally a surgeon comes out, blood on his smock. Everyone stands up.

"We have her in a room. Who here is family?"

They all look at each other. "She has no blood family. We're the closest you're gonna get," Coulson explains. The surgeon's gaze softens. "Alright. We'll let you all stay. But please, not all of you in her room at one time."

They all nod and follow him down what seems like countless corridors, Coulson thinks his mind will melt from the fluorescent lights. He just wants Skye back.

"Is she stable?"

"For now. We did all we could, we just need to keep her stable or else she may not wake up," the surgeon replies. Coulson feels his blood run cold. He nods and they finally stop. Through the window, he can see Skye propped up on a hospital bed. She looks so peaceful, like she was just sleeping after an exhausting, but successful, mission. Of course, the mission that did this was anything but successful. Sure, they have Quinn. They could have the location of the Clairvoyant for all Coulson cared, but if Skye was still hanging on like she was now, Coulson would never consider it successful. If any of his team died…

The door is open, but no one is moving. May looks at Coulson. He nods and steps in, listening to the beeping of the heart monitor, like a taunt reminding him that this did not mean she was okay. The door closes, leaving Simmons, Fitz and Ward all outside. Coulson sits down, gently moving his hand to rest on top of Skye's. She feels like ice.

"Hi," he says, looking up at May. He can tell she hates seeing Skye like this. They knew each other too well to pretend they were okay. "I don't think you can hear me. But please, Skye, hang on. We need you," he whispers. He feels May's hands on his shoulders and he slumps with grief.

Fitz watches Coulson and May finally get up and they come out of Skye's room after nearly an hour in there. Jemma grabs his hand and tugs him towards the door. He casts a look at Ward, who's sitting in the waiting area, head in hands.

"Go. I don't mind being alone with her," he murmurs.

Fitz nods, closing the door behind him. Jemma is just staring down at Skye's body, rubbing her hands nervously. He can barely stand to look at Skye. Guilt racks his body and he's afraid that any minute everyone will realize that he has blame to share and yell at him like he deserves.

Instead, Jemma just whimpers and turns into him, resting her head on his shoulder. Fitz buries his face in her hair a little, not able to look at Skye's pale face any longer.

"It'll be okay, Jem. She's gonna be okay. You're a genius, and this facility as amazing," he says, though he isn't so sure anymore. They stay in there only a half an hour, just looking at her and mumbling "It'll be okay" over and over again.

As soon as the door opens on their way out, Fitz sees Ward bolt to his feet. The agent slides into the room quickly. They all try not to stare, but it's ever so obvious that Ward is crying. Fitz shoves his hand in pockets, staring at the linoleum floor.

"It's not your fault."

Jumping, Fitz looks up at May. He sighs. "I was with her. I should've been more vigilant, I should've helped," he says. May rolls her eyes.

"To what end? Either we'd be in the same predicament and you'd be even guiltier, or Quinn would've shot you too, and we'd be even more of a mess. She might still be in this state even if Ward or I were there. This is no one's faults but Quinn's, okay?" she insists.

Fitz nods, his heart feeling only slightly less heavy. The guilt was evaporating, but Skye was still dying.

Skye wakes up to bright lights. Where is she? How long has she been asleep? She shifts and pain shoots up her abdomen. The knowledge hits her like a bag of bricks. She was in Quinn's basement. She was…he shot her. She gasps and her eyes fly open.

The sight she's greeted with is the only thing that calms her down. Her team. She's in a hospital. That means she's not dead. Skye laughs, more pain erupting, but it's subdued this time. Coulson's asleep in a chair pulled right up next to her bed, hand on hers. Ward is in a chair slightly farther away, also dead asleep. There's a throat clearing and Skye looks up at Melinda May. She's smiling.

Skye feels her eyes get watery. "How long?"

"Two days. Welcome home, Skye," the older agent replies, grinning wryly. "You scared us half to death. Coulson's a mess." Skye licks her lips, nodding. She rests her head back, feeling happy. Drunk. Loved. Is this was family felt like?

"Fitz and Simmons?"

May doesn't say anything, just looks out of the window. Skye sees Fitz asleep on one end of a couch, sitting up, and Simmons is sprawled out on the rest of the couch, her head in his lap and using a coat as a blanket. Her team stayed here in this cramped, dreary hospital for two days, waiting for her to wake up.

"Am I going to be okay?"

May nods. "You're very lucky," she notes. She walks over to Coulson, resting a hand on his shoulder. He jolts awake, looking bleary.

"Did the doctors do the check-"

He stops when he sees Skye, sitting up and eyes open. "Hey, A.C," she says weakly. Coulson smiles and his grip on her hand tightens. He pulls her in to the gentlest hug she's ever encountered, like he's afraid she's gonna break. She'll have to prove she's ready for combat, she can tell, everyone will be worrying about her. May won't baby her, she realizes. And maybe she'll help convince Ward to train her sooner than later.

"I'm gonna go get you breakfast," he says after a few minutes. Skye nods as he, and May, slip out of the room silently. She settles in, looking at Ward.

"Hey, Tin Man," she says a little louder than she has to. Ward jerks awake, looking for the source of the noise. His eyes settle on her and his excitement is a gentle and tender as Coulson's. He gets up, coming next to her. His hand finds hers.

"Hey Rookie," he says, and she swears she sees tears in his eyes.

Fitz and Simmons are more excited. Simmons cries, and so does Skye. Everyone is filing in and out, doctors too, making sure she's okay and looking at her like they can't believe she's alive. She can't think of a moment in her life where she's felt more loved.

Finally, she's allowed home. Simmons brings her a bag to change out of her medical gown before she gets back on the bus. Shakily, Skye steps out of the gown, alone in her room for once. She pulls on pants and a new bra before turning to look in the mirror. She sees the scar on her stomach and it hits her again, just how close she was to death.

She's wearing her attack on her skin and she can't help it, she begins to cry. It was supposed to be a few scared tears and that was all, but a wail slips out unintentionally. She can't tell who rushes in, maybe it's all of them, but when they see what she's crying over, she hears them leave again.

She pulls her shirt on, crying and resting her hand over her stomach. At least it no longer hurts when she moves. There's a knock on the door.

"Come in," she replies, wiping at her eyes. It's May. She opens her mouth to explain, but all May does is unzip her jacket, moving it to the side to display a nasty scar across her collarbone. Skye cringes.

"Got this the same day you were shot," she explains. "You'd be surprised how many of these I have. I mean, I killed most of the people who gave them to me. Fair is fair," she says bitterly.

"Oh." Its all Skye can think to say.

"I feel the same way every time I get a new one. Ashamed. Annoyed. But eventually…I get over it. They become a part of me. It doesn't say 'I was almost killed, I had a tragedy'. It says 'I am a survivor'. Some scars change you. You don't have to let this one," May shrugs. Skye has never been more touched by words from Melinda May. She nods, feeling a few more tears slip from behind her eye. May grabs Skye's bag and heads towards the door. "Oh, and you should talk to Coulson."

Skye climbs back on the bus, Fitz and Simmons on either side of her like they're afraid she's going to fall even though she's told them that she's fine. Maybe they don't believe her. She briefly thinks they have reason not to. But then she thinks about May's words. She won't let herself not be fine.

The first thing she does is go find Coulson. He smiles at her, closing his office door. He unbuttons the lower half of his shirt, and if this were any other day, Skye would be weirded out. But she watches him cautiously, noticing the scar that emerges when he's done.

"I got this with the Avengers. Loki, Thor's brother, ran a scepter through me. I was gone. Just like you. And our scars almost match up. The world is full of cruel coincidences like that," Coulson says, buttoning up again. Skye's not sure how that's supposed to make her feel better. She gets sick looking at his scar…imagining him being in anything close to dead hurts her. His hand reaches out and finds her scar. She cringes, but doesn't move.

"You're not alone."

Skye smiles then, tears all gone. She throws her arms around Coulson.

As soon as she leaves his office, she finds the rest of the team and hugs them too. She's okay. She's alive. And she'll get better and better everyday. She's ready to get back to her old self again. It's time.