"How are your knuckles?"
"Fantastic," Skye muttered, rummaging the cabinets for the first aid kit. When she couldn't find them, she winced, the bloody trickling down her fingers. This was, what? The fourth time? The last thing she remembered was punching the bag until she felt her knuckles were going to shatter. It seemed like not too long ago Skye was tipping the punching bag over. Now, she got a real kick out of it. It was a way of forgetting.
"Doesn't seem fantastic. You've been at that punching bag for the past 4 hours. Coulson tells me that you've shooting targets again yesterday." Melinda sighed. "So what's really up?"
Skye's face went slack. "It's nothing. Melinda, I'm fine." But she wasn't. Her shoulders ached. Eyes dark from insomnia. Lips chapped and cracked. "Look, I'm not not in the mood today to talk."
"You don't want to talk? Fine." Melinda said calmly, her voice likes sharp glass. "I don't see why you need to fake everything you say."
Skye slammed the counter. "Why are you suddenly getting so pissed at me? You think there's something wrong with me? Don't you? No one bothers around here to talk to me anymore. Simmons is afraid of me, Melinda. Fitz... Fitz doesn't even want to talk to me. And Coulson, especially Coulson. He won't even look me in the eye," she seethed, the blood from her knuckles splattering the floor.
"You're different, Skye, we all are. But you, you've endured, and it's done something to you."
She whipped the first aid kit out, crashing it to the floor. Not even a flinch. "Then you can stop caring about me, no one gives a damn anyway," she spat, her words like acid.
"Don't you dare think I don't care about you, Skye. You don't think I know about how you cry yourself to sleep every night? The names that wake you up screaming?" Melinda said furiously, anger burning behind her eyes. "I care, Skye, we all do."
Her eyes watered, the burning sensation choking her throat again like the previous night. She had always made sure the door was shut. It usually happened when she couldn't fall asleep. Simmons was with Fitz doing therapy. Coulson was, well, Coulsoning. And Melinda was usually shut away in her room. Because honest to god, she had prayed no one heard her muffled cries. The silent cries for help that she dare not let anyone hear.
"Please, Melinda, please don't tell Coulson," she wailed, releasing the tears that she locked up inside since everything came crashing down. Her body shuddered, and Skye clamped a hand shut over her mouth as her sobs when Melinda quickly shut the door. She walked up to Skye, a monotone face on, and hugged her.
"You are loved, Skye. We love you. We don't show it all the time, and hell do I know more than anyone but whatever you are feeling, I'm sorry. You don't deserve any of this pain, Skye, and I'm sorry you had to go through it alone."
And no matter how much I try to tell myself to stop, the tears just keep coming. Like it's expected. A thunderstorm waiting to destroy everything. My heart, I can't explain it, but it's filled with an empty void. There's something there, but it's aching. It's searching for something that I can't grasp. I feel a strange darkness inside. Some days I feel like sleeping all the time. Other days, I feel afraid. For the people I love, for the people I can't protect. And for the people I will never meet, and never find. It feels like drowning in oxygen, which brings me to the days I feel like I'm living in hell. And I can't wake up.
But I want to. I tell myself that I will be burden to others. I want to wake up and breathe knowing that I am okay. That I am safe. That I am loved. But that's not true. How can I possibly wake up knowing the person I want to be when I don't even know who I was before? Who am I now? A hacker? A SHIELD agent? A fighter?
A monster?
I am a changed man, Skye.
And so have I, Ward.
"I don't know the world like I used to anymore," Skye weeped. "Ever since... ever since things have gone bad nothing has gone right. Nothing. Everyday feels like I'm going through hell. I'm afraid the world I understand is on the moving train I missed."
Melinda rubbed Skye's shoulder, saying nothing and only listening to Skye speak world she knew in her language. She knew how much it hurt Skye, and she hated seeing her like this. Rather, she felt an indescribable instinct of protection. It angered her to see Skye broken and cold. Knowing the truth was always dangerous, but the consequences were even deadlier. She could never ever know what it would be like to be in Skye's hoped that Skye would find the answer she was looking for. As long as it would take, she needed time to heal. And when she would, Skye would be stronger than ever, and there was nothing to fear in her journey of hell. Nothing at all.
"Thank you, for listening," Skye said softly, dried tear paths staining her face. "I just hope things get better. I hope I get better. For better or for worse," she whispered. The last words before she drifted into a peaceful sleep. Melinda carefully draped a blanket over her, bandaging the fingers that have endured much pain, and much strength. She gazed at Skye, and felt a feeling that she once, had also felt. What the feeling was, she did not know. Pain. Anger. Bitterness. Loss. Love. If there was one thing she felt, she felt faith.
"You will Skye," Melinda said. "You will."