Back again! I love publishing more than one chapter at once!
She woke up slowly, opening her eyes and trying to make sense of this blurred world through her splitting headache she groaned. Someone started shaking her. Simmons was brought to her senses by a sharp, but possibly not sharp as it could be (given the circumstances), slap to the cheek.
"Agent May," she murmured, "Was that entirely necessary?"
"Yes," snapped the woman above her, "Skye's dying."
Simmons clapped a hand to her mouth. "Skye! Where is she?"
She jumped up, ignoring the dizziness that she'd recieved as the blood rushed to her head. May pointed to the nearby lab.
"Jemma!" Fitz came straight to her, but she brushed him aside, hurrying over to the patient on the table in the centre of the room. Skye didn't look good. Fitz had done his best, but he really had no idea.
"I want a list of everything you've done and given her. Tell May that we need to leave in five minutes and get her to the nearest S.H.I.E.L.D. medical facility ASAP."
Fitz hesitated. "Do you need anything?"
"Go!"
Skye was pale, colourless even. A drip was injected into her arm: a good sign that Fitz had at least some idea of first aid. One day she would put him on an advanced course. Simmons cut into Skye's top. She realised with a jolt that they should have been wearing bulletproof vests. All of them. Skye wouldn't be like this, she wouldn't have such a splitting headache, there wouldn't be such a panic.
The wound was a bad one. Skye lay on her stomach, so Simmons could see the entry wound. The bullet had hit her small intestines, and from the looks of it her larger ones as well. There was no way she could survive this, was there? Not with these resources. Fitz came back in.
"An hour, maybe two."
"The list?" she asked, and he walked out again.
Garret. Standing there, in front of him. Not dead. Not dead! How was that possible? It wasn't. He was dead. Gone. Boom.
"Well done. Didn't think you had it in you. We've got Coulson out the way. Target the HYDRA agents out there. Gather them together. Strike."
"You're dead." Ward said hollowly. "Why aren't you dead?"
"Nobody told me I was dead. Why do I have to be dead?" Garret laughed. "I'm glad you killed the girl. You were falling in love for a second there."
Ward denied it hotly. "She is... Dead? Completely?"
"Oh, yes. Dead as a doornail."
The fire inside turned cold. Cold grief spreading round. Guilt, grief, fear. What would they do to him now?
He sat down on a handy chair that happened to be behind him. Skye was gone. He felt somehow empty, deprived of emotion. But somehow he also wanted to scream, hit something. Skye was dead and gone, and he had killed her.
Ward opened his eyes. She stood in front of him. There was a gaping hole in her chest. She gasped. "Help me," she whispered, "Please." He stood up and she fell into his arms. He cried against her bloody shoulder, until she disappeared completely and
he fell into his own bed, drenched in cold sweat and shouting. Skye was dead. Garret was dead. He was safe.
Wasn't he?
Bit of a cliffhanger there, sorry... I've got a bit of time on my hands at the moment so I might be able to update more frequently than I usually do. Maybe I'll even finish this before the end of the holidays!
Probably not though, give the circumstances. This is me we're talking about.
Until next time, guys! And don't forget to leave a review!