Author's Note: Originally I was going to post this right after T.R.A.C.K.S…but then my laptop was stolen so…all relevant Skimmons comments I made on my original writeup are moot since they've been said elsewhere. Left some dialogue, cut some, but you know what was said.

Disclaimer: Obviously I do not own else this would already be a thing.

"Oh dear, I'm a mess…" Simmons watched as the swarm of doctors prepped Skye for surgery. Only two hours had passed since she ran into the cellar of Quinn's mansion to see Skye lay bleeding on the cold concrete, cradled in Coulson's arms, blood oozing between his fingers and drying at the corner of Skye's mouth. Only two hours, but it felt like two weeks. Two hours of watching over the mysterious hacker who came into their lives so suddenly and who had, almost immediately, became her closest friend, next to Fitz.

For two hours, Simmons has been shut off. All of her focus is dedicated to saving the hacker. The only break from this state was when she left her team and tried to acquire something to wipe the drying blood, Skye's blood, from off her hand. The sensation of the blood drying made Simmons think about how her hands were almost shrinking, stretching her skin tighter over the bones of her hands, making dexterous work more ponderous. She had felt Fitz's presence before she felt his reassuring hand on her shoulder. And in that moment, she had let go of her work mentality and succumbed to the fear that she would never again her Skye's laugh, or see her smile.

As soon as she purged her body of the emotion she had kept bottled up, she returned to her deadened state of fastidious work. Everyone was emotionally compromised and she needed to absorb the brunt of these emotions and make sound decisions, Skye's life depended on it.

The waiting room was slightly better than the Bus. Not the pacing or everyone's need to place blame, but the fact that Simmons did not need to star at the barely breathing, bloodied girl. She ran the scenario over and over in her head (and she assumed everyone else was doing as well) and concluded that she had done everything she could; and it would not be enough. All the waiting was torture and Simmons found herself silently praying to a God she didn't believe in, begging to make it all right.

Simmons might not have been a medical professional but "perforated stomach" and "resected large and small intestines" were cues that she felt prepared her for the news the rest of the team had yet to grasp. However, hearing the exact words from the doctor still made Simmons feel like a bag of bricks had been dropped into the bottom of her stomach which in turn knocked the air out of her lungs. As May moved through her field of vision, she began to feel the support of her legs giving out, as though the crushing weight of the bag of bricks in her stomach was pulling her down; down, falling, through air – memories of her fall through the sky came rushing back, but this time there was no one to catch her, to stop her from dying, either from the Chutari virus or from breaking once her fragile body collided with the massive surface area of the Atlantic Ocean.

"But at what cost?" Simmons felt like she was the only one asking that question. As she stared at Skye through the monitor she wondered if the hacker was somehow better off. The idea that she would have to witness Skye begged and pleaded (with her since, undoubtedly, Simmons would have to perform the diabolical treatments) to let her die terrified Simmons, more so than letting Skye go and let her drift off peacefully. The demands on her to save Skye at any cost also made her feel like everyone was being selfish. Maybe Skye would not want any number of unknown alien substances injected into her; maybe she did not want to be a vegetable, more tubes and wires than human.

She would watch Skye through the window. Every inch of her prayed Skye would open her eyes, smile, make some stupid joke about being a robot or whatever; but Simmons remained off, to hope was to be disappointed, and she could not afford to be off her game for a second.

"It's hard when it's your team. You been together long."

"No. Only a couple of months. We have nothing in common, couldn't be more different."

"But you can't imagine your life without her."

Simmons looked at the Agent. "Yes. Have you ever felt that way before Agent Triplett?"

"I have."

She would not need to turn on to explain…

"Skye's coding. Both of you now." Simmons calmly stated as she moved into the room and began chest compressions.

Skye had tried to die on her four times. Her ability to continue effective chest compressions was diminishing rapidly. Skye's heartbeat returned. "Every time we bring her back I wonder, 'is this really what Skye would have wanted?'" Before she could get a proper break Skye began to code, again. Immediately Simmons began giving chest compressions, but that bottomless pit of despair that had been gnawing at her stomach was growing and she knew, she could not save her…

"What is it? How much? And where do I put it?" Of course Fitz had no clue as to the answer of any of those questions, she didn't even know. But Skye is dead. Simmons knows it before she reaches out to grab the syringe. Silently she wonders: is what Skye would have wanted? Will she scream out and beg to die like Coulson? Will it change Skye? Will it change Skye into something none of them would even recognize? Like Coulson? Will Skye hate them for this? For forcing her from death itself?

"Don't give it to her!" Coulson yells as her runs into the pod. Simmons wished she could simply reverse the plunger on the syringe and pull out whatever alien substance she just injected. Instead, she calmly explains that Skye was dead so it can do no additional harm. And magically (can science truly counteract death?) Skye's heartbeat returns. Relief washes over Simmons and she can turn back on, she can hope because she selfishly wants Skye to sit up and smile at her.

Instead, Skye emits a gurgling, raspy breathe that causes Simmons to feel that plugging, sinking feeling as Skye's heart rate moves into the 'not physically possible' realm. The entire team is begging Simmons to help her, save her, but she is completely incapable. Right now, Simmons feels and rational thought is the furthest from her mind as she watches Skye agonize in a pain that Simmons cannot imagine. Desperately she tries not to break down right there in a mess of tears and panic. All Simmons can do is look down at Skye, barley mutter that she does not know what is happening, stroke Skye's head, and pray to God she doesn't believe in.