Over Ice Cream and Classic (Shot 'em Up) Movies:

May needs to get laid. That's what she had told Ward and she regretted it immediately. She could feel it, the guilt, the pleasure, all of it coming off him in waves, his back still turned to her.

It was overwhelming, nearly crippling, but she kept talking, trying to cover up the physical sickness that she was beginning to feel at the thought of him and May, together. She didn't want to show him how affected she was by the thought of him sleeping with anything. They weren't together. She had no real right to be jealous or betrayed or any of the things she felt. However, stating this fact over and over to herself did not change how she was feeling. So for the moment, she forced her emotions- and everyone else's- down into a place where she didn't feel them anymore, pretending to be the air headed hacker they found in L.A. She had even sat down with May in the cockpit, just to make sure what she felt was real, and it was.

It was only later when she was alone that she allowed herself to let the myriad of emotions overwhelm her until the tears flowed down her cheeks. She could cry noiselessly, because foster homes are a lot like prison. If you showed weakness, you'd get eaten by the wolves. She figured that on a plane full of spies, the same probably applied.

After that, she avoided touching anything of Ward's. The residual emotions that would flood into her from his things, the memories, would make her ill. When she did make the mistake of touching his shirt on her turn to do laundry, the shirt he'd worn the night he slept with May, she actually did vomit at the overload of emotions she felt from it.

"Skye, are you alright?" Simmons asked her when she came in, the English girl's eyes full of concern. She pulled herself away from the toilet, away from the scientists, and felt a jab of pain from the other girl as she did. "I-I can leave, if you want?"

"NO!" she yelled a little too loud and she winced as her headache only grew. "Please. I need-" She didn't know what she needed. She needed to get away from everyone. She didn't want to feel their pity. She looked back to Simmons, but the other girl had disappeared.

The bathroom door clanged open again a few minutes later, the scientist entering carrying crackers, a glass of water, and some ibuprofen. When she had finished all three, Simmons helped her up, carefully, almost like she knew the dark-haired girl was one wrong move away from breaking completely. Together they walked to her room and Skye climbed into the bed, pulling her shoes off.

"Why don't you tell me what happened? Did you eat anything unusual or -?"

"I feel everything." The words were numb, hallow, and once they were out, Skye couldn't stop talking. "I feel you pitying me, but you're also curious about it, and Fitz is wondering what happened to you. Coulson's more or less brainwashed about Tahiti and May and Ward had sex in Ireland."

"Oh." Simmons eyes widened. "Oh! Oh! You're empathic, aren't you?"

"Shh!" Skye hushed her, not wanting anyone else to know.

"Right, sorry. So are you?"

Skye reclined in the bed, "Yeah, I am."

A fury of emotions went through Simmons, from confusion, past curiosity, and finally settling on understanding. "Alright. Get some rest. You were throwing up, so you'll probably be dizzy in a little while from the headache and the nausea." The dark-haired girl groaned. She already was dizzy. She lay down, letting her eyes falling shut.

Skye woke up the next morning to the feeling of intense anger and annoyance outside her door from Simmons and frustration from Ward, and while she couldn't quite hear what they were saying, she had a general idea. The door opened and closed and the scientist huffed at the inconvenience of it all. "The nerve of him… she's sick. What part of 'she's sick' didn't seem to penetrate that thick skull of his?" Jemma was muttering angrily under her breath. Skye opened her eyes and looked at her.

"You don't have to take care of me. I'll be fine." The scientist smiled at her, her emotions calming instantly.

"Nonsense, sweetie. It's no bother. You're sick."

"Just a little nauseous," she argued, "I've taken care of myself through worse."

Jemma shook her head and sat down on the bed. "You're lovesick. You might be able to take care of yourself, but you shouldn't have to." She grinned. "Now, as the only one on this plane with a medical degree, I am prescribing you one pint of ice cream to share, chocolate, and sappy romance movies?"

Skye managed a weak laugh, sitting up in the bed as the other girl joined her with two spoons and the promised ice cream and they turned on the classic movie channel, which was showing the aforementioned sappy romance movies.

At some point during the day, Coulson and Fitz had joined them with their own cartons of ice cream and "My Fair Lady" turned into "Die Hard." Eliza's graceful umbrella and long white dress turned into McClane's sleek Glock and sweaty wife-beater. Hours passed and she'd somehow forgotten the reason for her sickness. She dosed asleep as the other three filed out.

"She'll be fine," Jemma reassured Coulson later that night. "Her body's just a little worn down. She needs to rest and relax. Give her a day or two and she should be fine."

"Good, because if not, we're landing at a SHIELD hospital and letting them check her out." Confusion flickered over the scientist's face. "It's a liability to have someone be seriously sick and deny them medical treatment," he explained and she seemed to buy it, so he left, walked into his office, and shut the door.

"How long have you known she's yours?" a voice asked as he sat down. He didn't jump. Melinda May's appearing act didn't scare him anymore.

"How long have you?"

"Since that first day when I looked at her and saw Katharina Siegel." May sat down. "She has you're eyes though."

The woman looked at the papers she'd pulled onto Coulson's desk, the file of information on Skye's mother. "I didn't even know I had a daughter until that day we picked her up." He poured himself a drink. "Rina was always talking about the two of us going off grid, living where no one'd find us. It always seemed like a fantasy. I didn't know she was in danger until they found her body. She disappeared that last year and I just assumed that she had done it, but-"

"Obviously she didn't hide well enough." May shifted in the chairs. "I noticed she's wearing Katharina's necklace."

Coulson didn't answer her. It got very quiet in the office very quickly, then he started talking again, rushed.

"Half of me says I should have left in that van, left her to live her life. Whatever reason Rina had for giving her up, for hiding her for me, I want to respect that. But at the same time, how can I let her go again? She was all alone and if she got sick like she is now and she was on her own, I don't know what I'll do if I lose her, Melinda."

"You'll lose her if you don't tell her. She spent her whole life searching for answers, searching for you. There's even an application to SHIELD in her name. She's been looking for a long time."

"I know. I just can't yet."

"She's going to hate you for not telling her."

He looked saddened by this and she stood. "I know." The words came from a broken man, an unprepared father, a boyfriend who never received closure for his girlfriend's murder twenty-four years ago. She knew what he needed before he did and disappeared.

Skye woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of her bunk door closing. Not feeling or seeing anyone around, she almost shrugged it off. But then she saw the flowers.

They were gorgeous, a mixed arrangement obvious picked out with some care. There were light purple and yellow roses, yellow tulips, purple violets, all smelling beautiful. She smiled at them, stroking one's delicate petal and receiving a feeling of Ward's emotional signature. Her hand fell. She was tempted to throw them out in the hallway as a sudden flare of anger came over her. She wanted to rip out every petal in them and- and do something violent and painful. She wanted to put the vase through his head and watch in satisfaction as he bled, make him hurt as much as she did.

The anger was gone as quick as it came. It was obvious he cared about her, and while he might not feel the same way that she did, she'd probably destroy any friendship between them if she put them out in the hallway. They were her favorites, something she was sure she hadn't told him, so he had to have gone through some trouble to find out the information. And he had gone to great lengths to avoid her new bodyguard, also known as Jemma Simmons, and put the flowers here, to try to cheer her up, make her feel better, or whatever his reason was.

She stifled her cries with her hand, angry and hurt by his gesture. She was sure he hadn't meant to put her in pain like that, but each reminder of him was like rubbing salt in her wounds. It wasn't just her pride that had been hurt by him blatantly rejecting her offer to listen, though it was just as chafed as the rest of her was. He'd chosen May over her, which showed her where he placed her in the grand scheme of things. He'd probably put the flowers in here then snuck over to the great Melinda May's bunk for some quality time. While she understood why May was the way she was and why people thought she was so great, she didn't understand why he couldn't just straight out tell her he didn't want to talk. Perhaps that was the biggest slap in the fact of them all.

So Skye took the flowers and opened the closet door, flinching the whole way, and placed them on the floor where she wouldn't have to look at them. She made sure she locked her door before she went back to bed this time. She could deal with them in the morning.

When she work up in the morning, she discovered that the closet door had done little to slow the spread of the flower's scent in her room. The sleep had allowed her to calm down and her headache was nearly gone. She realized he, Ward, had just been trying to show he cared. She could feel him outside her locked door, his worry overwhelming her. She sat down with her back to the wall, unknowably putting her head next to his on the other side of the solid walls, waiting… wondering…

Skye jumped up with a sudden determination, lifted the vase as quietly as she could and replaced it on the nightstand where he'd placed it hours earlier. Then she opened the door.

He was as much of a mess as she was and she wondered how she'd missed that he had been there last night, outside her door, keeping vigil over her without her knowledge. He stood quickly and she never thought she'd see the day when her S.O. would be so uncoordinated. "I was just-"

"Sleeping against my wall?" Ward opened his mouth to protest, but closed it, as if realizing there was no use. "I got your flowers. They're lovely. Thank you."

A smile and look of relief flickered over his features and she smiled back at him, her anger at him from the previous night mostly dissipated by now. "I'm glad you liked them." He rubbed the back of his neck, a little awkwardly, and it was adorable. "I'm, um, glad you're feeling better."

"Thanks."

"You should get some more rest. You're still a little pale."

"And you look like you slept for five minutes," she replied, taking in his appearance a little more completely.

"I probably did." He sighed, dropping his hand down. "I'm just going to head off now."

"Sleep tight," she replied as he walked away, feeling slightly better. For a second, he glanced back at her, their eyes meetings, and she felt it, whatever it was. Then he was gone and she knew they'd be alright.