A/N: So this one's short, but I didn't want to make the next one super-long. Anyway, thanks to everyone who reads and reviews!
"We need to talk about a contingency plan," Coulson said as soon as the team had regrouped. Kat was still sedated in the med bay; Simmons stood just outside the door and the others took up positions around her in the hallway.
May had her arms crossed; she studied Coulson with a serious expression.
"She's losing control," Skye said softly.
"We all saw what she's capable of," Ward agreed. "If we hadn't been there, Coulson, there's no doubt in my mind she would have killed both of those men."
"Is that so wrong?" Fitz's voice came from the far side of the hallway, where he stood next to Simmons.
The group turned to face him.
"I know, I know, killing's wrong," Fitz said, "but those men were just two of an entire group who tortured her and kept her prisoner for years. The things they did to her… killing them would have been mercy."
"But that's not who she is," Coulson said softly.
"We don't know that," May interrupted.
"I'd say the evidence we've seen pretty conclusively suggests that is who she is," Ward added.
"Yes, maybe now," Coulson admitted, "but she wasn't always like this. She was made to be this… this enhanced young person, and she didn't get a say in it at all."
"Well, what are our options?" Simmons asked. "Her family's gone, her homeland's gone…"
"Her family's just misplaced," Skye interjected. "We could find them."
"And tell them what? Here's your daughter – the one you were given far too little money for, the one you allowed to be taken away and turned into a science experiment?" Fitz shook his head. "They don't deserve to have her back."
"And who knows if they'd want her," Simmons mused softly. "At this point she's more an invalid than a warrior, or whatever they were trying to turn her into."
"Focus," Coulson said. "We're now dealing with the very real possibility that Kat has… for lack of a better term, gone rogue. Her programming, her 0-8-4 biology, everything she's been exposed to – it's failing her and it's slipping fast."
"What about the Scientist?" Fitz asked. "After all, he's the one who carried out all these experiments. What if he has the answers?"
"A cure?" Ward snorted. "Are we talking about the same girl here?"
"Oh, Fitz," Simmons whispered. "I want there to be a cure as well, but just look at her."
"Contingency," Coulson repeated. "In the event that our work at the Institute's compound in India goes in a manner other than what we'd like… medically, what can we do for her?"
"More of the same," Simmons answered. "Keep her comfortable. Eventually that means sedation and enough painkillers to eliminate whatever distress bleeds through. We could… we could do fluids and antibiotics, but if she's really spiraling in, that'll just prolong it."
Fitz took a step towards her and squeezed her hand.
Skye raised her hand halfway. "Um, not to be the rain on this already obviously flooded parade, but who's to say that the same brain misfire that told her to try to kill those two Institute guys won't force her to do the same to us?"
Coulson had no answer for that; his eyes remained locked on Skye's bruised fingertips.
"Then we do what's necessary," May replied, her voice firm.
"She's just a kid," Fitz squeaked out. "You're talking about killing a child."
"She's not a child," May said. "She's a weapon."
An awkward silence fell over the group like dirty snow.
"So… apparently the contingency plan for the moment is that we don't have a contingency plan," Coulson said.
"There has to be something at the Institute," Fitz said.
"Or something we've missed in the files," Skye added.
"We'll look again," Simmons put in. "We'll look right now."
When they'd gone Coulson turned to May. His second-in-command looked grim.
"If she dies, if we have to… they won't understand, Phil."
"Nobody will understand," Coulson answered softly. "Not FitzSimmons, not Skye… and definitely not Kat."
The second the lab doors slid shut Skye turned to face FitzSimmons. "We have to do something," she said, keeping her voice low.
"That's why we're here," Fitz said, looking at her as though she was a slow child.
Skye shook her head. "We have to get Kat out of here," she clarified. "You heard May. They're going to put her down like she's a dog or something."
"We're more than 30,000 feet in the air, Skye, where would you like us to take her?" Simmons asked, sighing.
Skye squeezed her eyes shut, trying to keep herself from crying. She felt like she'd been thrown in the back of a cement mixer, tumbled around for far too long, and then spit out broken and battered. "I don't know," she whispered. "I just…"
Simmons took a deep breath and gently touched Skye's hand. "We'll figure it out," the Brit said. "I understand how important she is to you."
"I can't explain it," Skye said, tears threatening to spill from her eyes. "She's more than what they think she is."
Fitz and Simmons shared a look, then Fitz said, "You have things in common, and this is a highly emotional situation. It's easy to draw parallels between your situations."
"You have our word. We'll find a way to help her," Simmons added.
Skye moved to her laptop and began researching; the scientists moved away from her to the other side of the lab.
"You had no right to promise her that," Fitz whispered almost angrily.
"Fitz, she's not going to let it go," Simmons answered. "We don't really have a choice."
"But we…"
"It's not a choice," Simmons repeated firmly. She flicked her gaze up to the monitor feed, which was being broadcasted to the holotable in the lab.
Her eyes stayed there, and Fitz eventually had no choice but to follow her gaze, taking in the data presented there – heart rate, temperature, oxygen saturation, and every other vital being measured in the med bay.
"It's not a choice because she's not going to live long enough for it to matter," Simmons whispered.
Get up.
The words were forceful, insistent, gold.
"No," Kat muttered. Her body pulsed with pain – whatever had been in the strange blue gun had obviously interacted in a bad way with all of her implanted accessories, and everything was ringing like church bells. It wasn't that she didn't want to get up – she was physically unable to.
They're going to kill you.
"Maybe that's for the best."
She reached up and the words froze in midair, thinking she was going to destroy them. Kat merely readjusted one of the tubes connecting her to the ventilator and let her arm drop back down. Even that tiny bit of exertion caused her head to spin.
Get up. We didn't raise you to be this way.
"You didn't raise me at all," Kat replied. "You tortured me."
Is that so, little bottle of nothingness?
"The people who raised me loved me."
We love you.
"No."
You need us.
"No."
You'll be sorry.
"Probably." Kat couldn't imagine being any sorrier. Her life lately was one big clot of pain and sadness and endings and destruction. Bringing Skye back from the drop-off of recently acquired powers had been the first good thing she'd done in years, and Kat was pretty sure that one good deed didn't make up for years of terrible ones.
And she hadn't wanted to bring Skye back, hadn't wanted that to ever be something she'd have to consider. It had been her own fault that power had jumped the gap, seeking out 0-8-4 blood, singing in the void and screaming out for a home.
Fell from the sky, think you know it all.
"I do know it all," Kat answered. Unfortunately "all" tended to be awful. It was all awful. "And if you know so much, how come I'm still out here running the body and you're somewhere else?"
The words didn't have anything to say to that. Kat reached up, pulled the words towards her, and yanked them apart. They shattered into gold dust and Kat's arms ached with the effort.
Is this how it ends, little bottle? the glittery words asked as they came to rest softly on her chest, like feathers from a falling bird.
"It has to end some time," Kat mumbled, and let the ache in her limbs pull her back down into the dark.