The next chapter! Ah, the joy of being able to publish more than one chapter at once! Enjoy it while you can!

Skye hardly felt the bullet enter her back, but she did when it exited the other side. Pain, excruciating pain, filling her entire stomach and spreading into her chest and legs. Heaviness washed over her, and she fell forwards. She heard the gun drop to the hard, frosty floor beside her and vaguely wondered if she would die. Coulson shouted something indecipherable and Simmons screamed. Ward picked up a different gun.

"Still call it the night-night gun?" he asked Fitz casually, but casual was the last thing he felt. Fire was burning through him, fire that was guilt, knawing away, and fire that was... fear. Fear that he hadn't felt in a long time. Garret put a hand on his shoulder. Ward pretended to examine the gun.

Go on, do it. Finish her off.

Ward held the night-night gun at arm's length and fired it in Simmons' direction. Then, slowly, slowly, he forced his leg to move forward. Then his other one. And in the same, stiff way, he left.


"Jemma!" Fitz shouted. It was pitch black - Coulson had dropped the torch when Skye fell - and he nearly tripped over her sleeping form. Coulson made his way to Skye. May had the good sense to turn the torch back on. She started to go after Ward, but the man before her told her not to.

"We need to get her to the bus. Fitz, get over here."

"Jemma," he repeated. Her head was in his lap.

"It was a night-night gun," May snapped, "He took her out so we wouldn't know what to do. Now get over here."

"I- I don't know what to do! Basic first aid never covered this... Simmons is the biochem one, not me!" Fitz cried.

"Fitz," said Coulson, "Get over here. You practically live with Jemma. All that time you spent with her... you must remember something that can help us."

"Ok," he said, "Skye, can you hear me?"

Skye nodded weakly. "Ok. Ok. You need to try and stay awake, do you understand?" She nodded again. Fitz was shaking all over. "We need to put on pressure. Stop the bleeding."

He ripped off the bottom of his shirt, wadded it into a bandage and pressed it onto the wound. Firmly, but not ridiculously hard. She screamed.

"Ok, Skye, I know it hurts. Try to stay conscious," Coulson whispered, grabbing her hand.

Fitz was panicking. He'd never received proper medical training. Simmons dealt with that. But Simmons wouldn't wake up for hours. Hours. "We need to get her back to the bus. It's cold out here. We'll all freeze. Except perhaps... Simmons. The toxin in the gun should help her store body heat. It's actually kind of-"

"Fitz," said May.

"Right. Sorry. Ok. Um, let's go."

"How do I lift her?"

"Oh. Um... oh. I guess, just... avoid the wound?" Coulson may have laughed, had the situation not been so dire.

May went over to the other woman and slung her unceremoniously over her shoulder. "Let's go."

"Be gentle," Fitz pleaded.

"Get the torch," May ordered, and followed her CO into the night.

When we get back to the bus, the chapters are quite likely to change lengths. I don't whether they'll get longer or shorter, but it would be great if you could just stick with the story. I don't really know what I'll do, but if you have any ideas or questions, feel free to let me know in the little box below (it rhymed and everything)!