Hey everyone! Sorry for the wait, but special thanks goes out to auraauraaura for kickstarting me into writing this again and to VanillaAshes for her brainstorming help. You both rock.

Also, SDCC is amazing and if you guys ever get a chance to go, it is totally worth it. The Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. cast is just as amazing in person as on our screens. They deserve all the love and respect we can give them, because I don't think there's another cast out there that cares so much and so genuinely about their fans as they do.

Onward with the story!

Do You Want to Build a Snowman?

The alarm on Bobbi's phone went off, waking her from a dead sleep. Less than ten seconds after she'd pressed her thumb against the home button to turn it off, Isabelle slipped through the door and approached her bed, rubbing her eyes sleepily. Bobbi reluctantly pushed herself up into a sitting position and invited Isabelle to join her despite it being 5:30 AM.

"Where's Hunter?" Bobbi yawned.

"On the floor," the girl replied helpfully, climbing onto the bed. "I almost stepped on him but then I didn't because that would hurt."

Bobbi smiled. "That's good; I'm proud of you. That probably would have hurt a lot."

Isabelle smuggled into her side, pulling the covers over both of them and mumbling into Bobbi's pillow.

"What was that?" she asked.

The girl shifted, voice only slightly more audible this time. "I didn't die."

"Of course you didn't die," Bobbi replied, perplexed. She pulled Isabelle onto her lap, tucking her head against her chest. "Why would you say that? Did you think you were going to die? Did you have a nightmare?"

"You said it was like falling asleep," Isabelle told her. "And that it happens to everyone."

Adrenaline raced to the tips of her fingers as swirling guilt and regret clenched her heart. "But I didn't mean—" She stopped, took a breath. "Were you really scared of that?" Isabelle nodded. "Then why didn't you tell us?" The girl shrugged her tiny shoulders. Bobbi hugged her. "I wish you would have, we could have reassured you that that's not how death works."

"Then how does it work?" Isabelle asked.

"Well…" Bobbi considered what to say—she hadn't thought it out this far. "It's like...it's like I said, when your body stops working. But it doesn't just stop working for no reason. And your body, and my body, and Hunter's body...they're all working just fine. Okay?"

"But Trip's body wasn't?"

"His body was affected by something else," Bobbi told her. "And it was an accident."

Isabelle made a face. "I hate accidents."

She kissed her head. "Me too. Do you have any more questions, or should we talk about something else while we wait for Hunter-the-sleepyhead to wake up?"

The girl gave a soft giggle. "Why do you call him that?"

Bobbi tickled her stomach. "Because he sleeps forever."

Her eyes got huge. "Forever?" She bolted off Bobbi's lap and tumbled off the bed, scrambled to her feet and raced out the door.

"Isabelle, wait, I didn't mean—Damn." Bobbi shot up after her, making it to the entrance of Isabelle's room just in time to see her daughter step up on Hunter's back, give a little bounce, and then jump off again.

"Daddy, are you dead?" she demanded, plopping down next to his face to peer into it closely.

His head shot upwards, almost knocking her in the chin. "Ow. No, I'm not dead, love. Just sleeping. Or, I was."

"Oh," Isabelle said, sitting back on her heels. "Good."

"Glad you think so," Hunter mumbled blearily. "Now can I go back to sleep, or am I going to get stepped on again?"

"Sleep," Isabelle said. "Your body's working, right?"

Hunter was so tired he didn't even bother to question the question. "Right."

"Okay. Sorry for stepping on you, Daddy." She retreated to where Bobbi was waiting at the door. "Can we get breakfast?"

"After your bath we can," Bobbi told her.

Isabelle made a face. "Breakfast and then bath?"

"No," Bobbi told her with a smile.

"Bubble bath, and then breakfast."

"Quite the little negotiator, aren't you?" she laughed. "Fine, you can have bubbles in your bath. Bursting Blueberry or Splashtastic Strawberry?"

"Strawberry," Isabelle grinned as she followed her into the bathroom.

"Okay, but you remember that having Splashtastic Strawberry bubbles doesn't mean you actually get to splash me, right?" Bobbi asked, using her semi-stern voice.

Isabelle deflated slightly. "Yes, Mommy."

"So remember, people might be acting a bit sad for a while," Bobbi told her as she held Isabelle's hand. They turned a corner, headed down the hallway towards the kitchen. "And it's okay to be sad too."

Isabelle nodded. "I know."

The two of them entered the kitchen, which was empty except for specialist sitting at the table staring into the depths of a mug of tea. Isabelle released Bobbi's hand and ran forward before she could stop her, ducking under the table to scramble onto May's lap.

For a moment—just a moment—Bobbi feared this would be the last time she saw her daughter alive if the Cavalry's specialist instincts kicked in. But after a second of tense shock, May relaxed as Isabelle's small arms looped around her neck, hugging her tightly. "What's that for?" May asked, using the softest voice Bobbi had ever heard her use. And Bobbi and May went back...years.

Isabelle shrugged, darting away to attach herself to Bobbi's leg once more, seemingly shy again. May appeared surprised at the whole exchange, reminding Bobbi of Isabelle's rocky relationship with May previously. Maybe this would be the first step in getting through it—for both of them.

"What do you want for breakfast?" Bobbi asked.

Isabelle looked up at her, tugging on her pant leg. "Can I have pancakes?"

"Sure, I can make that hap—"

"Did I hear someone asking for my famous, one-of-a-kind, buttermilk pancakes?" Coulson questioned, appearing in the doorway.

"Phil!" Her daughter ran over to give him a big hug. "Do you use the super secret ingredient like Laura?"

Bobbi's eyes widened, but she didn't know what to do in order to keep more sensitive information from falling out of Isabelle's mouth.

Coulson laughed. "I don't know who Laura is, but I certainly do know the secret ingredient! Want to help me make them?"

"Do I get to know the secret too?" Isabelle asked, eyes wide.

"You wouldn't be much of an assistant if you didn't," the director smiled broadly, moving towards the cupboard where the metal pans were kept.

As excited as the girl looked, Bobbi took her aside for a moment, turning away from Coulson and lifting her up to speak quietly in her ear. "We're not supposed to talk about Laura, remember, Isabelle?"

The smile dropped off her daughter's face. "Oh!" She buried her head in Bobbi's shirt. "I forgot, Mommy, I'm sorry."

"No harm done this time, bear, but remember next time, okay?" Bobbi didn't wait for an answer it set her down again, well aware of the curious glance of the director and his second in command. With a small, reassuring push, Isabelle scampered off towards Phil, giggling with delight as he scooped her up, spun her around, and set her on the counter.

Bobbi took a seat a few comfortable feet away from May, trying not to intrude on the solitary specialist's space. May nodded her acknowledgment of her presence, then took another sip of tea. "Sleep much?" Bobbi ventured.

May paused, then shook her head. "And you?"

"All right I guess, considering," she said, shifting her shoulders slightly in semblance of a shrug. Then they were silent, watching as Coulson taught Skye a pancake-making song.

"And in goes the batter," Coulson sang loudly.

"And out comes the pancake!" Isabelle finished, reaching out to tip the pan to slide the still-raw pancake out.

"In one and a half minutes," the director hastily added in an extra-deep voice, ushering her hands away from the hot pan. Isabelle laughed, kicking her feet against the edge of the counter.

"But that's so long!"

Hunter came in, blearily rubbing his eyes. "Do I smell food?"

"Coming right up," Coulson told him, unable to catch Isabelle as she took a flying leap off the counter. She hugged Hunter around the legs and he lifted her into a seat at the table. A minute later, Coulson arrived with five plates stacked with pancakes.

"How did you make so many so fast?" Hunter demanded, eyes popping out as he reached for one of the plates.

"Trade secret," Coulson smiled. "Multiple pans."

"Tricky," Hunter complimented as he began eating.

"I helped," Isabelle told him proudly, stabbing into one of her pancakes with a fork. "Phil told me the secret ingredient but I can't tell you 'cause it's a secret."

"No need to tell me, love, as long as you'll keep making me these wonderful pancakes," Hunter told her with a smile.

Isabelle giggled. "I will, Daddy, for ever and ever!" Hunter gave her a sideways hug before leaning over to whisper to Bobbi.

"Remember that for when she's a teenager and wants nothing to do with us," he said.

As they made their way through second helpings of pancakes, the rest of the team trickled in: first Mack, who greeted Isabelle with a suspiciously long hug; then Simmons, who sported large dark rings around her somewhat bloodshot eyes that, tactfully, no one mentioned; and finally Fitz, especially quiet and reserved—even more than usual.

In short, everyone looked like they'd had a bad, bad night.

"Do you know the secret ingredient?" Isabelle asked, climbing onto Simmons's lap.

The scientist blinked, seeming jerked out of her reverie as a small smile appeared on her face. "No, what is it?"

"Can't tell you," Isabelle grinned, at the same time as Coulson told her, "Lard."

Simmons choked and nearly spit out her bite of pancake if not for Fitz clapping her loudly on the back, looking startled. "Sir!" she spluttered. "Really?"

Hunter looked back at his own stack of pancakes and shrugged, biting into his next one. "Oh well. I work out." He looked up at her. "Right, Bob?" She rolled her eyes.

"Oh well?" Simmons asked incredulously, rounding on him before turning back to Coulson with an indignant look on her face. "Sir, lard is horrendous for you! A single quarter cup of it is nearly an entire day's worth of fat and don't even get me started on how much of that is saturated! Of course, some saturated fat is needed for bodily functions, but—"

"Simmons, there's no lard in these pancakes," Coulson assured her. "Eat up."

"Oh," was all Simmons said before cutting into her stack again. Bobbi glanced around at the rest of the team, finding that each of them was now wearing a smile, however small. Coulson had succeeded in cheering them up at least a little, lifted the shadow of Skye and Trip's absence for a moment.

It occurred to her that as good a strategist and general all-around agent as he was, this was why Coulson was the director.

Breakfast was finished in record time—Coulson's pancakes really were stuff of legend—and soon Hunter was helping to clear plates while she filled the dishwasher with detergent. "Look at you!" Hunter exclaimed quite loudly, so loudly in fact that Bobbi spun around with her hand flying to where her gun was usually holstered though there was no hint of danger in Hunter's voice. He was staring at Isabelle, a half-dumbfounded, half-amused expression on his face. "You're a mess!"

Isabelle looked up at him, hands sticky with syrup. She wiped them on her shirt, then held them out to him with bits of cotton fuzz stuck fast to her tiny fingers. "All clean now, Daddy!"

"Not quite," Hunter shook his head, lifting her out of her seat and settling her against his shoulder. "Let's go get cleaned up and then we can decide what you want to do today, okay, love?"

"I wanna see Skye," Isabelle told him, oblivious to the hush that fell over the rest of the team at her words as they all froze in what they were doing. She was not oblivious, however, to the ashen look that came over Hunter's face. Her lower lip trembled, and after a few silent moments with no answer she twisted in his arms to look at Bobbi. "Can I, Mommy?"

"We'll talk after you get washed up," Bobbi replied evasively. She nodded to Hunter, her meaning clear. Get her out of here.

"But—"

"Let's do as Bob says," Hunter said, turning and walking out of the room with Isabelle still in his arms.

The team was still staring at her. Some with pity—Simmons, Fitz. Some wariness—May, Coulson. But it was Mack who spoke first. "Don't do it, Barbara," he said in his deep voice. "Don't take her in there. It's bad enough being told without seeing with her own eyes—"

"Maybe it's what she needs to understand, to make sense of all this," Bobbi answered quietly. "Maybe it'll be reassuring."

"Then think about her safety," Mack pressed, walking forward. He stopped in front of her, drying his hands on a towel. He set it on the counter. "I was taken over by that city too, against my will. It changed me. You know that."

"She's not dangerous," Bobbi countered, looking to Coulson for support. "Right, sir? When you visited her, she wasn't—wasn't abnormal?"

"If you mean, did she go postal and try to kill me, the answer is no," Coulson replied. "But she wasn't stable either, Agent Morse. She is distraught. Blames herself for what happened to Agent Triplett."

"But that wasn't her fault!" Simmons cried immediately. "You told her that, right, sir?"

"Sometimes what we feel is more real to us than the truth," May responded quietly.

Coulson nodded. "As the situation is, I'm going to agree with Mack." He looked at Bobbi. "I'm not going to go so far as to forbid it—this is not an order—but just my advice. Wait a few days, and hopefully Skye will be free to visit Isabelle instead of the other way around, if she's up for it."

"Thank you, sir," Mack said.

"Now, Fitz, Simmons, update me on what you know from the experiments you ran last night," Coulson said, gesturing them out of the kitchen with him. "And Mack, the Quinjet engines—"

"I'm on it," Mack told him. With one last glance at Bobbi, he left as well.

It was just Bobbi and May now, and Bobbi turned to leave. "Wait," the specialist said from behind. Bobbi did, to find the woman gazing at her with a particular intensity. "It's your decision, Bobbi," May told her, "but I disagree with Coulson and Agent Mackenzie."

"You do?"

"The best thing in Skye's life right now might not be the team working night and day to find out what happened to her," May replied. "It might be a little girl coming to see her not caring that anything happened to her at all."

Both hands were pressed lightly into Isabelle's shoulders as she spoke to her firmly. "Stay here, all right?"

"Okay, Mommy." Isabelle nodded solemnly, and Bobbi turned away. She rounded the corner, the quarantine area coming into view. She tapped in her PIN code on the door and heard it unlock, allowing her into the room where Skye's glass box was housed. The hacker had appeared to be asleep, but upon hearing the click of the door she sat up immediately, eyes wide.

"Sorry, did I wake you?" Bobbi asked.

Skye shook her head. "I haven't been able to sleep since…"

"How are you doing?" she asked, approaching the glass.

The younger agent shrugged noncommittally. "Okay, I guess. Simmons is running more tests. I'm not quite sure how much blood I have left to give." Her dry attempt at humor fell flat. "Well, thanks for stopping by, Bobbi."

"I have something for you," she said, alarmed by the somewhat vacant look in the hacker's eyes but determined not to be sent away that quickly. She shrugged the small backpack off her shoulders, setting it in the bin sticking out from the glass and pushing it through the contraption to Skye. "Quarantine survival kit, built from my own experience."

Looking a bit intrigued for the first time, Skye shifted to swing her legs over the side of the bed, bringing her pale face closer to the light. The rings around her eyes looked especially dark as she passed the lamp, her barely feet moving unsteadily across the floor. Unzipping the backpack, she pulled out a deck of cards. "For solitaire," Bobbi supplied. Homemade trail mix. "If you want to eat healthy." Full-size Twix and Snickers bars. "And if you don't." Skye set two soda cans on the mini lab table next. "Cactus Cooler. You can only get it in California—I keep a stash. It's the best," Bobbi smiled at her.

The corners of Skye's mouth twitched upwards back. "Thanks. I...I was beginning to feel like a leper."

"Are you kidding?" She moved closer to the glass. "You were taken hostage by three known murderers, you gunned Ward down, then were blasted by an alien chemical weapon and walked out unscathed. Leper? I think you're a rockstar." Skye dropped her gaze, unable to look Bobbi in the eyes, but she pressed onward. "And right now, your biggest fan would like to come in and see you."

Skye's head lifted. "My biggest fan?" She bit her lip. "Isabelle?"

"If that's okay," Bobbi told her. "I don't want you to do anything you're not comfortable with, Skye, but she...she's scared. Seeing that you're okay would do a lot for her."

"But I'm not okay," Skye said miserably. Catching Bobbi's confused look, she added, rubbing her arms, "I mean, we don't know for sure."

"Something different about you or not, you would never hurt her," Bobbi assured her. "I'm willing to take the risk. Are you?"

Slowly, Skye nodded.

Bobbi smiled. "I'll go get her." She came back leading Isabelle by the hand. The girl immediately ran over to the glass enclosure, pressing both palms up against it. In the few moments of Bobbi's absence, Skye had situated herself so that the bed lay between her and them.

"Hi Skye!" Isabelle waved happily.

"Hi Isabelle," the hacker replied, sounding unsure of herself as she twisted her red, plastic S.H.I.E.L.D. medical bracelet around and around her wrist.

Isabelle tapped on the glass, looking at Bobbi. "Why is this here, Mommy?"

"So that if Skye is sick, she doesn't infect anyone before Jemma can make her better," Bobbi told her.

Isabelle's eyes widened and she whipped her head back to stare at Skye. "Skye, are you sick?"

"I hope not," Skye said, finally skirting around the bed to come a little bit closer to them. "But maybe, yeah." Looking very unsure of herself, she sat down cross-legged in front of Isabelle, the thick pane of glass between them.

"But you're not gonna die like Trip, right?" Isabelle asked in a small voice. "Stay away from accidents. Accidents are bad."

"I'm not going anywhere," Skye told her. They stared at each other for a whole minute. "Do you want to build a snowman?" Skye sang softly. "Come on, let's go and play—"

Isabelle smiled widely. "Yes!" She looked around. "But there's no snow…"

"Look," Skye said, then leaned forward and breathed gently against the glass, covering it in a misty sheen. She traced the shape of a snowman through the fog on the glass, adding a carrot nose and two stick arms.

"I wanna try, I wanna try!" Isabelle exclaimed happily, clapping her hands. She puffed at the glass, expelling all of her air in one giant whoosh.

"Breathe softly," Skye advised with a smile. "Like this." She demonstrated.

This time Isabelle's side of the glass fogged up too.

They drew snowmen together for the rest of the morning.

Thanks for reading! Reviews make my day, so please let me know what you thought!