A/N: I am so, so sorry for the wait! I had school and stuff, it was very hectic. Anyway, I'm back now. :) Hope you like this chapter, please R&R!
"Skye." Jemma grinned, "That's a beautiful name. How old are you, Skye?"
Skye picked at her nails and muttered, "Twelve."
"Twelve?!" Jemma asked, astounded, "That is literally impossible! You can't have that high of a pain endurance level at only twelve! That is physically impossible! I mean, I thought you were maybe a small teenager! But twelve! Wow... I'm fourteen. But wow! Anyway, sorry, you're hurt. Let's go." Jemma stopped herself from rambling and blushed, before walking back to her house, checking behind her every so often to make sure Skye was still following.
When they got to Jemma's house and she knocked on the door, her parents opened the door with a warm smile at their daughter, before turning their attention to the pale-skinned young girl with cuts and bruises all over her arms and face. "Jemma, who is this?" Simmons' mother asked, referring to Skye.
"Oh. This is Skye. I'm sorry, but Grant Ward attacked her and I stepped in to stop him. She got hurt pretty badly before I got there, though, and needs medical attention, so I thought to bring her here, as you're both doctors." Jemma explained to her parents.
Jemma's parents smiled warmly at Skye, who fidgeted a bit. "Come on in, dear. We'll help." they said.
Jemma led the way into her house, and Skye followed after, gasping at the splendour of it all. The house was the most marvellous thing she had ever seen, except Jemma herself.
Jemma noticed her astonished look and smiled a bit.
"Skye, what's your parents' number, so I can call them and tell them where you are, so they won't worry?" Jemma's dad asked.
Skye muttered the orphanage's phone number, her eyes never leaving the floor, and Jemma's father punched the number into the phone and put it against his ear.
"Hello? St Agnes' Orphanage." came the voice from the other end.
Jemma's dad looked shocked for a bit, then regained his composure, "Sorry, but my name is Dr. Chandler Simmons. A girl named Skye was brought here by my daughter a few minutes ago. She was attacked on her way home."
"Skye? We don't have a- oh. You mean Mary-Sue? So that's where she's been. Tell her she's in big trouble- she was supposed to be on washing-up duty, but Janie had to do it instead and she doesn't look very pleased."
"Right... Well, she needs medical attention. Me and my wife are doctors, so we can help her. She should be home in half an hour, an hour at the most." Chandler replied.
"An hour? Well... Okay. But tell her this better not happen again. She's out past her curfew, yet again." the exasperated voice said.
Chandler nodded, then hung up. He looked down to tell Skye, or Mary-Sue, the verdict, but found that her, Jemma and his wife were in the kitchen.
"So my name's Monica, and that's my husband, Chandler, Skye." Monica smiled at Skye, who was sitting on a chair in the kitchen.
Skye nodded and looked at her hands.
"I'm going to have to ask you a few questions whilst I'm fixing you, and you'll have to tell me if it hurts, is that alright?" Skye nodded again.
Monica cleaned the cuts on her arms first, stitching up the deep ones, making Skye wince and sometimes gasp in pain.
Monica started putting her hands in different places on Skye's torso, noting whenever Skye winced or cried out slightly.
"So, Skye, Jemma said it was Grant Ward who attacked you?" Monica asked, after a minute or two of examining her.
Skye looked up, evidently surprised that someone was talking to her, and Monica could see the cogs turning in her brain whilst she processed what had just been said to her.
"Y-Yeah. He came up to me when I was walking back from school. Then he dragged me into an alley. He warned me not to speak, or he'd hurt me even more." she told Monica and Jemma gaped.
She had a really beautiful voice. Jemma had only heard her speak in one-word answers so far and it was a shame. Her voice was really pretty. She should speak more, Jemma decided.
Monica nodded. "We'll call the school when Chandler's off the phone, okay, hun?"
"No, don't!" she shouted, startling everyone, including herself, "He'll hurt me again!"
"Sweetie, he'll never hurt you again." Monica smiled.
Skye mumbled something along the lines of, 'You don't know that.' before settling in her seat.
"Well, dear, you have one broken rib, two cracked ribs, and a dislocated shoulder. I'm going to have to pop that back in place, then you'll have to wear a sling for three weeks. You know, it:s remarkable that you held on for that long! How old are you again, twelve? Wow... Have you gotten in many fights?" she asked.
"Yeah, I-" she started, before Monica grabbed her arm and yanked her shoulder back into place.
Skye let out a quiet scream and backed away from Monica and Jemma.
"I'm so sorry, dear. I had to do it when you weren't expecting it. We need to put a sling on and patch up your ribs." Monica told her.
Jemma stood there, biting her lip. Skye looked so afraid and so small, trying to shrink herself into the wall. It was quite adorable.
Well, that was until Monica tried to touch her again and she yelped, jumping up off the seat and running for the door, holding her arm the whole time and evidently trying not to breathe.
Skye held her breath as she ran through the house, since breathing hurt her ribs. She ran past Chandler and through the front door.
She ran all the way to the orphanage, before leaning against the wall and breathing deeply, really hurting her ribs in the process. The nice man, Jim The Caretaker, opened the door and smiled at her, before frowning when he saw her condition.
"Inhaler?" he asked her and she nodded, trying to breathe as much as possible without hurting her ribs.
A few seconds later, Skye was inside and leaning against the door and Jim had returned with her inhaler.
"What happened to you, kid?" he asked, "It's seven o' clock."
She took two puffs of her inhaler before replying.
"Kid in my school... Hit me... And cut me... He was one of those... Stereotypical popular douches... Ya know?" she said, in between breaths and Jim shook his head in distaste.
"'Hate those types of kids." he said, "Have you had that looked at?"
Skye nodded. "I have two severe cuts, lots of not-so-severe cuts, a broken rib, two cracked ribs, and my shoulder was dislocated, but it just needs a sling now." she told him.
"And how do you know that, hm?"
"I just do."
"Really? Because Sister Agatha told me a nice girl found you and took you back to her place to get fixed up. Her parents are doctors. Now, either they are terrible doctors, or you ran away from them." he stated in a disproving tone.
She bit her lip and looked down.
"When... When she relocated my shoulder, it hurt and I started think I was back there, so I panicked and ran." she muttered, tears welling up in her eyes for, remarkably, the first time that day.
Jim's features softened and he knelt in front of her and put his hands on her shoulders. "Hey. Look at me." he said, softly. She sniffed and slowly lifter her head to look at him. "You are never, ever going back there again. Okay, Skye? I will never let you go back. You will never have to go through that again. You know, in those conditions, with that much suffering, an average person from your age to 19 would be dead. But you didn't die there, Skye. You know why? Because you're strong. So strong. Strong enough to know that you're never going back there again, okay?" he comforted her.
The tears now started rolling freely down her face and she hugged Jim with all her might. Jim was shocked, since this was the first time in a year and a half since Skye had shown any affection, and Jim was both honoured and proud.