TW: self harm, torture, implied/referenced child abuse, depression, etc.
May left Skye at around 3 am when she was certain the brunette was soundly asleep.
It had been admittedly hard to leave her. Skye was so incredibly afraid of them all, it was heartbreaking. May had been checking up on the feed from the Cage practically the entire day – though she'd never admit it to Coulson – and Skye's visible anxiety had only increased. She looked exhausted; May couldn't even begin to imagine when the last time she'd gotten a good night's rest had been.
That's why, when she had checked up on her last night, she wasn't surprised when Skye had started crying.
May could tell just by looking at her that she was used to physical contact being a bad thing, a painful experience, a punishment. So being totally relaxed, letting herself succumb to her exhaustion, and finally feeling a gentle touch for the first time in who knows how long, must have been incredibly cathartic for Skye. May had been more than happy to give her that experience and to help her finally breathe again.
Once she'd calmed Skye down enough to start lulling her to sleep, however, she'd noticed a light, rumbling murmur breaking the silence – and very quickly discovered Skye to be the source.
It resembled… purring.
May figured the gentle buzzing was a result of excess vibrations, or maybe it was similar to how a cat purrs when content – after all, from the way things started to shake whenever Skye was anxious, it seemed like her powers were definitely linked with her emotion. Either way, May was very amused by this little quirk she'd discovered.
It was, quite frankly, adorable.
She also took it as a sign that Skye had finally fallen into a deep sleep. Slowly and quietly, so not to disturb her, she pulled away and left the room, leaving the door open as an invitation should Skye take it when she woke up.
On her way back to her bunk, she passed the lounge, where Fitz still sat at the table, tinkering away at what looked like some scraps. She sighed, glancing over at him. "You should be asleep," she chastised, her voice thick with exhaustion.
Not looking up, Fitz murmured; "I will soon."
Her eyes swept over the sight once more before she turned towards the door. But curiosity got the better of her, and she asked; "What are you working on?"
Again, keeping his attention transfixed on his project, he told her noncommittally; "Something for Skye."
May pressed her lips together. A flicker of warmth surged in her chest at the sentiment before she promptly squashed it back down. The team was getting too attached to Skye, herself included. There was no guarantee that Skye would stay if given the chance to leave, which they ethically had to do.
Fitz absently grabbed his water bottle and without looking away from his project, took a sip. "That's… nice of you," May murmured. Then, using a more authoritative tone, she told him; "Bed by 4 the latest. We need you sharp."
Fitz nodded absently. "Mhmm…"
Knowing full well that Fitz would most likely be up all night and that any attempt to persuade him otherwise would be fruitless, May headed to her bunk.
Her hour of sleep was fairly restless, and she was grateful for Tai Chi in the morning to help clear her head. She was also somewhat relieved to see that the kitchen was empty when she'd finished up – maybe Fitz had gone to bed after all. Not to mention that she was able to get at least a few moments of peace and quiet to enjoy her tea before everyone woke up.
Which, unfortunately, didn't last long – but it never truly did on the Bus.
(This wasn't always a bad thing – maybe deep down May sort of enjoyed the company... sometimes.)
"Morning May," Coulson greeted her, crossing over to the coffeemaker to brew a cup of coffee. May nodded in response, bobbing her teabag in the hot water to help the tea steep. "How'd you sleep?"
"Fine," May responded, shifting her gaze in his direction. "You?"
"I slept okay," Coulson told her.
(The bags under his eyes said otherwise but May knew better than to argue – after all, it's not like she hadn't lied to him recently as well. She didn't like keeping secrets, but it was necessary – and it would be hypocritical of her to point out his.)
(But even still, she could tell there was a silent wall between them now, and her skin prickled uncomfortably at the thought of the subsequent fallout that would occur when that wall finally did crumble down and reveal all that she'd hidden from him.)
Coulson pulled a piece of bread out of the loaf and popped it into the toaster. May dropped her gaze back down to her mug, bringing it up to her lips to take a sip.
"You did good with her last night."
Coulson kept his eyes on the toaster, only turning his head slightly in May's direction as he addressed her.
May paused mid-sip, batting a glance in his general vicinity before closing her eyes and swallowing, setting the mug back down. Tracing the lip of the mug with her fingertip, she huffed; "I needed her to calm down before she quaked the Bus apart." Then, after a beat, she swiftly added as an afterthought; "She purrs in her sleep."
"She does what?" Coulson asked, turning to face her. May looked up. His eyes held a glimmer of interest, and his lips curved in a humored grin. "She purrs?"
A wobbly smile grew on May's face for just a moment before she quickly turned her attention back down to her tea, giving a curt nod to confirm.
Coulson looked like he had a million questions on the tip of his tongue about last night, so instead May was quick to steer the conversation in a different direction. "We really need to start figuring out where she came from," she cinched, darting her gaze back up to Coulson as he started moving everything around in the cabinet. "The peanut butter is on the far right, behind the sunbutter and the oats."
"Thanks." He moved the oats out of the way to unveil the blue Skippy jar. May pursed her lips as he shut the cabinet without putting anything back – everything was out of place now, and Simmons was certainly going to have something to say about that. She made a mental note to rearrange everything back to the way it was supposed to be when Coulson was done. "You're right though. Knowing where she came from or anything about her past can help us protect her the best we can."
"We should have Simmons do something about that implant in her neck too," May added, steeling her voice to conceal the rush of anger that flooded her chest at the mere thought. Coulson gritted his teeth, his grip firm on the butterknife as he spread peanut butter across his toast.
"Simmons said she's got a lot of medical-related anxiety," Coulson explained. "I'm not certain she'd be okay with it." He screwed the lid back onto the jar and stuck it back up in the cabinet – May narrowed her eyes slightly as she watched him put it on the top shelf rather than the bottom. "Though, then again, next time we're up against Hy- er, Centipede, and she's on our side, I suppose it would be much safer for her."
May nodded, but kept her mouth shut. She had a few objections – as well as a few theories of her own about the possibility of Centipede being tied to Hydra – but they weren't anything she hadn't already voiced. Coulson took a bite of his toast, his brows pulled together as he considered his thoughts. After swallowing, he decided, "I'm going down in a few to bring her some food and see if she remembers anything from before. I think any lead she can give us will be valuable – we can go from there. Are you with me?"
"I'm always with you," May reminded him. "You know that."
"HQ sent us a new case," Coulson told her after a beat. "I'm briefing everyone after Simmons checks up with Skye. Agent Weaver has requested for Fitz-Simmons as consultants on an active investigation at the Academy, I figured we'd send them, Ward, and maybe Skye if she's feeling up to it, and you and I could do some digging on where she came from."
"You're sending Skye into the field?" May asked pointedly. "Is that really the best idea?"
"If she's feeling up for it," Coulson said. "Simmons keeps saying she's recovering at a remarkably swift pace, and I think being out with our team and seeing how we work might help build trust. Plus, Fitz has an active theory that because she controls vibrations, she'd be able to shift states of matter, which could really come in handy with this case."
"Oh?"
"Cryogenics. There was an attempted murder on campus – someone tried to freeze a student to death. If things go south-"
"Skye could theoretically thaw someone out," May finished for him. "And you think she's ready?"
Coulson nodded. "Simmons think so, and I trust her judgement."
May frowned. "And you think that sending her on this op with Ward is the best idea?"
Coulson shrugged. "He acted way out of line yesterday, and don't get me wrong, I'm furious; but if they're going to be on the same team, they need to learn to work together. My hope is Ward will be able to move past his bias, and maybe undo some of the damage he's done."
May bit her tongue, keeping her gaze set firmly on her tea. Coulson had some fair points, but again, he was banking on Skye wanting to stay and be a part of the team. Plus, the idea of letting her be alone with Ward again admittedly made her stomach clench.
Plus, if things did go south, Skye still wasn't one hundred percent healed.
There were so many variables; Skye was a wildcard for a number of reasons, and while May was well versed in adapting to changes, this was a pretty major one.
But Coulson seemed pretty confident in his plan and May knew that when Coulson set his mind to something, he was going to do it. She also trusted him enough to know that he didn't make decisions like these lightly.
So, May simply swirled the tea in her mug and took another sip.
When Skye woke up the next morning, she was alone.
A little disoriented, she sat up on the mattress, shrugging off a fuzzy gray blanket she had no recollection of having before. Blinking the sleep out of her eyes, she stretched her arms out in front of her, letting her fingers curl one by one before twisting to crack her back all the way down.
It was then that she realized that not only was she in minimal pain, but she also felt well rested.
It was… odd. Not unsettling. But not quite… normal, either.
She hadn't realized just how out of sorts her own vibrations had been up until this point either. But now, sitting in the comfortable silence of the Cage, she could feel the familiar, gentle purring of vibrational energy beneath her skin, rather than the throbbing or simmering or shooting she'd been subject to for so long now.
She turned her attention towards the ground – vibranium, May had called this material vibranium – and running her fingertips along the surface of the floor she marveled all over again as it bounced her vibrations right back at her.
But as her gaze swept back upwards, she froze, her shoulders tensing and her vibrations spiking to match as she realized the door was wide open.
May must have left it open when she'd left.
And not only did that fact make her uneasy… but oddly, it made her a little bit curious as well, because besides quick vibrational scans to get her bearings, she had no idea what was beyond the vibranium room.
(A gym, with punching bags they'd make her unwrapped fists hit for hours, with Centipede trainees they'd make her fight, and everything would burn and ache but they'd make her keep going, don't ever stop until I-)
(The interrogation room, where she'd take one look at an innocent and slit their throat or quake their lungs until they gave them the information they were seeking, and she'd have to bite her tongue and grit her teeth and look away because those were people, they were people with names and families and-)
(A lab, a pristine, white lab, with sharp tools at her stomach and her blood in jars and the sharp, pungent stench of sterilization and what was that going into her what were they taking from her why couldn't she just-)
But despite the tugging she felt in her chest, the urge to see what was out there, she stayed put – after all, she hadn't been allowed to see much of the Hydra base beyond what her superiors allowed her to, and she knew that she wouldn't be allowed to wander aimlessly and find out – that choice wasn't hers.
And besides… Ward was out there somewhere.
That thought alone put to rest any peace she might have felt, as suddenly anxious little vibrations started to bubble up in her chest. He reminded her so much of her superiors – whenever she saw his face, she saw the face of the smiling superior who'd disappeared after Hong Kong. But he wasn't familiar enough to where she could place exactly where she'd seen him before.
Best not to think too deeply about it, she decided. There's no use wondering when there's no choice.
You are property of Hydra, you don't get a choice.
(Did that still apply? Was she still property of Hydra? She sure as hell didn't feel like property of SHIELD-)
(It's not like she had a choice in the matter, but if she did, maybe she'd choose SHIELD-)
(But you owe us your life-)
(But she owed SHIELD her life now too even if she hadn't actually wanted-)
(But it didn't matter because-)
"Good morning, Skye."
Skye jumped as the voice jolted her out of her mental spiral. A few rogue vibrations escaped her grasp and skittered across the vibranium floor, before she suddenly pinpointed and recognized the frequency that had entered the room. It was a calm, friendly, always steady rhythm – if Simmons' vibrations were an inquisitive, sweet orange-y pink, Coulson's were a safe, gentle green.
Coulson glanced down at his feet, then back up at her. "That tingles," he commented with an amused smile.
Skye felt the tension release in her shoulders at the sight of him. Though part of her couldn't let go of her fear, Coulson had only proven himself to be an ally, and she couldn't help but to maybe trust him.
Just how he did the day before, he squatted down about halfway towards her and slid the bowl he carried across the floor, sitting cross-legged where he was. Her eyes darted down to the bowl, then back at him, asking permission.
"Apple cinnamon oatmeal," he told her. "With sunbutter on top. We weren't certain if you had any allergies, so we thought we'd play it safe."
Tentatively, she reached for the bowl; for the first time in what felt like ages, her speedy inhuman metabolism was rearing its head.
You didn't earn-
She swirled the spoon around the oatmeal, half-mixing the sunbutter in, before tentatively spooning a bite. It was warm and sweet, and she was just so hungry-
Coulson looked so genuinely happy at this little action that it almost negated the guilt that flared in her chest from eating something she hadn't earned.
Almost.
"I wanted to check up on you myself," he started. "And ask a few questions, if you're comfortable with answering."
Skye glanced up from her bowl of oats. So that was the price. He wanted intel.
Shit. Her superiors would be furious if she-
But what would Coulson do to her if-
But she could never betray-
But-
"Hey, hey, hey, deep breaths Skye," Coulson cut in, breaking her train of thought. "Only if you're comfortable – and it's nothing bad, I promise." Her eyes widened as she realized she'd released a little quake in her sudden rush of panic – quickly she pulled the vibrations back towards her and redispersed them into the mattress. Coulson watched inquisitively. "How… how do you do that?"
She opened her mouth to respond – then quickly bit her tongue, dropping her gaze.
She couldn't forget her place. It wasn't hers to speak.
But Coulson looked a bit crestfallen at this. "I wish I knew how to make you feel comfortable speaking," he sighed. "I don't know what they did to you to silence you like this. But I don't need to know the details to understand that it must have been horrific. And I'm sorry. No one should have to go through that, and it's not your fault, and I promise you, I won't ever let anything like that happen to you again."
Unsure how to respond – or what the correct response would even be – Skye continued swirling the sunbutter into her oats, avoiding eye contact entirely. But across from her she could feel Coulson's vibrations slowing down into a melancholy, almost hopeless frequency, and she looked back up warily.
And even as every instinct screamed otherwise, she spoke.
"It's… they're tied to my emotions," she rasped, her voice quiet and wispy from underuse. She winced, half expecting a shock in her neck, or for him to yell, or something. But Coulson instead simply raised an eyebrow, his vibrations picking back up with newfound hope and interest. She exhaled slowly, steadying her nerves. "The vibrations, I mean. I can reduce the quaking by pulling them back inward, and some surfaces can absorb them better than others." Her throat burned as she spoke, and she coughed a few times to try and clear it. Coulson watched patiently as she steadied herself again, unbothered by the way she repeatedly scanned his body language just to be sure. "Depending on what's nearby, I can sometimes pull them back and then re-release them into a surface that will absorb them and minimize the quaking."
"What if you can't do that?" Coulson asked, obviously excited that she was freely speaking but trying to not make too big a deal out of it.
Skye placed the bowl next to her and started picking at her fingernails. She opened her mouth to explain… but what was there, really, to explain? It was only natural that pulling the vibrations back into herself would have adverse effects, and telling him would only upset him – what an odd concept, this man was always so upset by her circumstances…
Noticing her hesitance to respond, Coulson dropped the topic. Instead, he asked; "How long have you had your powers?"
Skye frowned. How long had it been? How many years had she spent with Hydra? "I… have no idea," she admitted softly, her shoulders sagging as she realized just how much of her life had blurred away without her realizing.
"Did they give you your powers?" Coulson asked. When she nodded to confirm, he followed up with; "Well, do you remember how old you were or what year it was when you joined?"
Skye thought for a moment, furrowing her brow as she tried to recall. She remembered only snippets of her past – often what came to mind were elderly ladies dressed in long, black robes, and rows and rows of beds for children of all ages, as well as multiple different adult faces and homes. It was all a confusing, muddled blur, but the moment that stuck out to her the most was when she was approached by that man – the one with wild, dark hair who'd called her that name-
It had been the last thing she truly remembered of her old life before Hydra. But how old was she when it had happened? What year was it?
No one will ever hurt you again-
She gritted her teeth, forcing the man's voice out her head. Biting the inside of her cheek - and determined to recover this one simple detail of her life that eluded her - she clung to the imagery of the apartment complex and the bustling streets and followed it.
It brought her to a massive brick building with tons of teenagers in groups – there were no vibrations attached to this memory, but she could feel her own heart racing and her palms sweating as she took in all the people. A school of sorts, definitely.
Perhaps a high school.
She remembered being fairly young still when she'd been brought into Hydra, and if she could just remember…
Clinging to the memory, she forced herself to dig deeper. Musty hallways, sneakers squeaking on a gym floor, the smell of teenage hormones and overly sweet candy-scented perfume, icy cold classrooms and uncomfortable desks and markers squeaking on whiteboards-
-A short, square man writing numbers and squiggles and the occasional letter on the board, putting them in boxes and explaining it like it came naturally-
-Skye's chest flared with bewilderment and anger at this memory, and she felt incredibly stupid-
-Focus, Skye-
-And in the corner of the whiteboard-
-God, what did it say-
-Mr. T… the rest was blurred, but his name started with a T-
-Freshman Algebra I-
Freshman year. It was freshman year.
"Fourteen," she said finally, and it felt right. "I was fourteen, it was 2007."
But Coulson's face twisted into an expression of horror and despair. "God," he whispered. "Skye… that makes you… Only twenty."
She frowned, not quite understanding what the problem was, and clamped down on a couple vibrations that started simmering up as a result of his reaction.
Coulson covered his mouth, considering it. "You were with them for six years…" he murmured. "Oh my God, Skye-" She must have looked scared, because upon meeting her eye again he quickly rearranged his features into a more neutral expression. "Okay. Okay. Sorry. 2007, you go missing, is that right?"
She straightened up, and letting out a shaky exhale she nodded in response.
"We couldn't find any leads when we checked. Are there any names you might go by in a government database?"
She shrugged. It didn't matter. They wiped everything they could, anyway.
Coulson nodded in understanding. "Is there anything you remember from before? Names, places – anything helps, really."
Skye sighed softly to herself, digging through old, faded names and pulling them from the dark corners of her mind where she stored past lives. "Mary Sue Poots," she said through gritted teeth. "That's what my name was legally; they gave it to me at St. Agnes Orphanage."
Somehow, Coulson's devastation written all over his face surprised her again – and the anxious tremors bubbled up under her skin once more. "You were an orphan," he murmured. "Oh, Skye-"
She squirmed uncomfortably, gripping the edges of the mattress. His pity felt wrong, and she had absolutely no idea how to respond to it, or what he was expecting of her. He was quick to wipe the expression off his face once more, offering a gentle smile instead.
"Thank you," he told her, standing up. "I told Simmons to take a look at you when you've finished your oatmeal. If you're feeling up to it– oh, how are you feeling? I forgot to ask."
"Better," Skye said, and she meant it.
"No pain?"
She shook her head. Genuinely, she was feeling better than she had in probably months.
"Good." Coulson smiled. "Well, if you're feeling up to it, HQ has requested the team at one of the SHIELD Academies for an open investigation, and you're welcome to join us. I think you'd be a great addition to this op, if you would like to help."
"She was an orphan?"
Coulson nodded tersely. May frowned, crossing her arms as she took in the information.
"She gave me a legal name too – Mary Sue Poots," Coulson added. "Definitely not a name I'd want to go by either, if I'm being honest."
"So what now?" May asked. "Run another search? I can imagine that would narrow it down considerably – we'd just have to find a baby girl dropped off at St. Agnes twenty years ago, then what?"
"We follow the lead," Coulson said. "Wherever it takes us."
"And the team?"
"They'll be fine," Coulson reassured her. "Skye said she feels much better; Simmons is determining as we speak whether or not she can return to the field. I trust them, May."
"Ward?" May reminded him.
"I trust him too," Coulson said. "He's a good agent, don't forget that."
May nodded. "Of course, I just worry about-"
"Me too." Coulson sighed. "But he'll come around. I'm sure of it."
"Right then, let's go touch base with Fitz and Ward."
Skye's legs felt stiff and a little sore as she took her first few steps across the room, following Jemma to the door. After checking her wounds once more – and a lengthy discussion on galactic dark matter – Jemma had cleared her for the field. She'd been very pleased with how quickly the wounds had scabbed over, and though they certainly weren't fully healed yet – and Skye's gait was still uneven, as putting weight on her injured leg still didn't feel right – she was good enough to be up and about, so long as she was careful.
Jemma had shown her to the shower, and after a much-needed scrub, a tally mark for Ace's Aunt Mindy, and a fresh change of clothes – a pair of black jeans and a soft gray sweater from Jemma's wardrobe, and a pair of black combat boots from May – Skye was ready for action.
"You haven't met Fitz yet," Jemma was saying as she led her down a hall. Skye let her eyes wander across every surface as they walked, running her fingertips across the wall to get a feel for everything. The whole plane wasn't comprised of vibranium – it appeared that trait was exclusive to the Cage. "Fitz is my best friend. We've been friends since the Academy, he's been by my side since freshman year."
They entered a room that looked like a few rooms put together – there was a kitchenette and a small table, a few couches, a tv, and some bookshelves. It sort of resembled if someone pushed together a kitchen, a dining room, and a lounge. Somehow, it felt very spacious, despite the fact that it was a multi-purpose room on a plane.
At one of the tables sat two men – one of which she instantly recognized as Ward, which sent a nervous tremble down her spine before her gaze landed on the other man, whom she'd yet to meet. By process of elimination, this man must be Fitz.
Fitz gave off somewhat unpredictable vibrations – if Skye had to describe them, she'd compare them to a sort of organized chaos, a frequency on its own specific pattern. If Jemma was that warm orange-y pink frequency, then Fitz felt like a similar-but-not-quite-the-same orange-y yellow – an inquisitive, friendly, albeit a bit haphazard vibration.
Both were a stark contrast to Ward's decidedly reddish-purple – loyal and brave and independent and powerful.
Ward immediately sized her up as she approached, which made her uneasy so she focused on Fitz (while making sure Ward was in her peripheral just in case). Jemma's vibrations spiked with eagerness as Fitz handed her a mug of tea. "Thanks. Fitz, this is Skye. Skye, Fitz."
"Nice to meet you," Fitz greeted her in a thick, somewhat hard to understand Scottish accent. He offered her his hand, which she unconsciously shrank away from. He retracted it somewhat awkwardly, bringing it up to scratch the back of his head.
Ward, who had been watching the whole exchange, cleared his throat. "Let's bring Skylar up to speed," he announced, and Skye suppressed a flare in her chest at his use of the wrong name. She'd give him the benefit of the doubt – it was fine, it wasn't on purpose.
(But it felt like it was-)
(But maybe she shouldn't have given up her name so easily, what if they took it from her, it was all she had left-)
"It's Skye, Ward," Jemma corrected him. "Just Skye."
Ward scoffed. "Right. Skye. A device was planted in the indoor pool's filtration system, possibly days before, as if someone was waiting for those particular cadets. It used technology that these two created to instantly freeze the pool – the cadets barely escaped before they were frozen too."
"As far as they can tell, the device uses a crystalline nucleation process she designed," Fitz supplemented, nodding over at Simmons.
"And a delivery mechanism he invented," Jemma finished, stirring some sugar into her tea. Skye cocked her head curiously, picking up on how the two of them seemed to speak as a unit – very reminiscent of what she'd witnessed with Coulson and May. She even noticed now how their vibrations seemed to synch right up into a frequency of its own pattern, like they were totally on the same wavelength. "That's why we're being asked to consult on the investigation."
"We're going to the Academy – more specifically, the Science and Technology Division," Ward finished, not looking at her as he spoke. "Cadets are pretty shaken up over what happened. Agent Weaver has asked Fitz-Simmons to speak to the student body about potentiality to calm them down."
"Right, the Talk." Jemma bobbed her pretty head. "We've all had the Talk."
Skye had absolutely no clue what the girl was talking about – but Jemma was brilliant as far as she was aware, so she decided to just trust her and not ask questions. Besides, with Ward here, she was pretty certain keeping her mouth shut was the way to go.
"You're coming along because Coulson wants to see how you'd do with our team," Fitz explained. "Plus, with your powers you could potentially negate any cryogenic threats we face – states of matter are determined by the frequency of molecular vibrations, and theoretically you'd be able to change phases of matter of an object by honing in on those frequencies."
Skye pondered for a moment. She'd never tried that before. Her superiors had never posed that as an option - much like how they'd never taught her how to crush a heart the way Raina had told her to, something she was still disgusted she could do. But Fitz was right – theoretically, that sounded like something she should be able to do.
A part of her was almost excited for the chance to try, but she also sort of hoped she wouldn't have to.
The three agents bantered for a few minutes over the superiority between Academy divisions – Skye instantly picked up that there was some sort of rivalry between Sci-Tech and Operations, and that the only one that really interacted with the others was Communications. Briefly she wondered which Academy she would have attended had she been given the chance; then she wondered if she would have even considered it a path for her to follow at all.
Maybe Communications, actually. She wasn't certain why, but it felt right to her.
As they started their descent, Simmons leaned over to her. "I know you were reluctant to give us your name," she murmured. "You can go by an alias if you would prefer."
Skye flashed her a grateful smile. She'd purposely sat next to the pretty British scientist – she knew her the best and trusted her the most. Ward glanced over, his jaw set. "You'll have to blend in," he told her. "Don't use your powers unless completely necessary and try to act normal for once. No flinching, speak when spoken to, just… act like a normal person."
"Ward," Jemma scolded, turning back to Skye. "He does have a point though, somewhere buried underneath all that snark. No one knows who you are, and it would look bad for us to have someone from an opposing force on our team - er, no offense. But if it gets to be too much, let one of us know and we'll be more than happy to accommodate you."
Skye chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully. She appreciated Jemma's kindness, but she wasn't certain she wanted to be "accommodated." It sounded either painful or like another one of their weird pity-things, and neither sounded pleasant to her at all.
She resolved to just do her job, no questions asked, just like normal.
The Sci-Tech Academy was gorgeous, and nothing like she could recall ever seeing. Sleek, modern buildings perched atop impossibly lush green grass, and bustling with intelligent looking young adults strolling up and down stairs, books in hand. Golden afternoon sunlight beamed down from the sky, bathing the silver buildings and causing them to practically glow.
"Science and Technology what you imagined, Agent Ward?" Fitz asked, his face pulled into a smug grin.
"Yep," Ward said. "No uniforms, no rope course, no defined muscularity on anyone-"
"No marching in place, no IQs in double digits," Fitz snarked back. Jemma practically snorted next to her, and Skye had to suppress a chuckle that rose in the back of her throat.
"There they are, so good to see you."
A new voice broke Skye out of her thoughts – an official-looking woman approached, greeting Fitz-Simmons like old friends.
"You look lovely as ever," Simmons greeted her warmly, shaking her hand.
"I concur," Fitz added.
"Thank you." The woman smiled at the two before turning her attention the Ward and sticking out her hand for him to shake. "Agent Ward, a pleasure to have you sir."
Ward sounded much more professional and friendly than Skye had ever heard him, although he was still succinct as he greeted her. "Agent Weaver. There's a list of suspects?"
"Based on the level of intelligence it would take to put a device together like the one we found, we've narrowed it down to the top ten percent of our cadets. I'm worried there's a bad seed."
Ward leaned over to Skye, and in an almost condescending tone he explained; "Ops and Sciences have differences, but both have to be careful of what we call 'bad seeds' – people who want to use the tools we give them for their own personal gain, no matter the ethical cost."
Skye bit her tongue – she knew what a bad seed was, hell, she vaguely remembered being called one in a life before Hydra, but listening to him mansplain it was probably the safer option.
Agent Weaver glanced over her in a scrutinizing, almost expectant manner. Skye suppressed a flutter in her chest and stuck out her hand, deciding on the spot that she was not about to let this woman have her name. "Stella Armstrong," she rushed out, grateful that her voice managed to stay steady. If Agent Weaver was dubious, she didn't show it, instead taking her hand and giving it a firm handshake.
"You must be Coulson's new cyber consultant," Weaver decided for her, her lips curved downward. Well, at least now she didn't have to think of a cover story on the spot too. "I was wondering if he'd find someone else to fill Agent Kalmowitz's role."
Skye let go of her hand just as a few nervous vibrations made their way to her fingertips. Ward shot her a pointed look as he expressed; "Yes, it was a difficult process to find someone – his passing was so unexpected and so horrible that we almost couldn't bear to fill the position that was so rightfully his."
Sucking in a deep breath, Skye forced herself to look Weaver in the eye – her stomach flipped, but she knew this was something she had to do. "I am so sorry for your loss," she told her genuinely, guilt tugging at her chest relentlessly and balling up in the back of her throat, almost suffocatingly. She swallowed nervously. "I can't imagine what that must be like, losing such a brilliant agent so young. I know I can never replace him, and I would never want to, but I will do everything I can to keep his memory alive and honor him with everything I do."
She felt Jemma's vibrations shift beside her and was grateful that the Brit had given her plenty of silent notice for when she placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. The flinch was inevitable, but much less obvious than if Jemma hadn't taken her time.
"Thank you, Miss Armstrong." Weaver straightened back up, turning to Ward once more as he turned the conversation back to business.
"I know you've already questioned the victim but I have a few questions I'd like to ask him myself," Ward stated.
Weaver nodded. "I'll arrange for you to talk to Seth Dormer when he's out of class."
Though Coulson had been eager to open an investigation into Skye's past, May was discouraged to see him sitting at his desk, flipping through the files he'd requested detailing his death.
Every time he gave it his attention, it only made him frustrated – and it only made May feel worse about keeping the secret.
"I just can't get my head around it," he expressed, perplexed. "I remember what happened… the pain… But I also remember Tahiti. It's-"
"What's in the file is the truth," May cut him off.
"Says who?"
"Director Fury."
Coulson gave her an almost desperate look. "If I hadn't asked, he'd have kept it from me," he told her. "Kept me from knowing."
"And now that you know, you feel better?" May challenged. His blank expression said no for him, and she told him again; "Put it away."
Dejectedly, he flipped the binder shut and sighed, placing it back into a spot on his desk.
"While you were going over those files – again – I ran a quick search and found something," May began, hoping that progress on Skye's investigation would not only lift his spirits but give him something new to focus on. "It's not confirmed to be her, but twenty years ago an agent of SHIELD dropped off an unidentified baby girl at St. Agnes Orphanage. Agent Avery, now deceased. But her partner, Richard Lumley, is still alive but has been off the grid ever since."
"May-" Coulson's eyes were wide and incredulous. May couldn't help the amused, proud smirk that curled her lips as she continued – what she'd told him so far wasn't even the best part.
"A few days ago, a Mexican teenager posted a selfie on his Facebook page; managed to capture our guy leaving a grocery store in the background."
"Holy shit May, you found all of this in just ten minutes?"
May shook her head. "It's been an hour since we dropped off the team, you've been holed up in your office reviewing those files for an hour."
Coulson opened his mouth to say something, then shook his head, a wry chuckle escaping his lips. "You really are the best, Melinda." He stopped, thinking for a moment. "But if he's good enough to avoid SHIELD all these years, then he'll know."
"And he'll be on the move," May finished for him. "So we have a short window to intercept."
"How long do we have until we touch down?" Coulson asked.
"Forty minutes," May told him, turning towards the door. "I'll gas the car."
With Ward off talking to the student in question – Seth Dormer – and Fitz-Simmons up front at the podium giving a speech, Skye noted that this would, theoretically, be the perfect time to run away and never turn back.
Nevertheless, she sat in one of the auditorium seats towards the back corner – with the rest of the student body in her direct line of sight – and watched with slight interest as the scientists spoke about the consequences of technology falling into the wrong hands, drawing on personal experiences that they've had in the field. It occurred to her that they could use her as an example – after all, she could technically be considered untested technology in the wrong hands – but then that led her mind down a rabbit hole of her own humanity, which Hydra had always insisted she had none, and she swiftly decided to simply focus on the way Jemma spoke rather than what they were saying to quell the nerves that bubbled up as a result.
It also occurred to her that this operation felt incredibly odd – she was used to her presence being a threat, to Hydra bringing her so she could tear down buildings or keep people in line. But here, she felt like she was just tagging along, and Fitz-Simmons spoke to her like she was a friend or a teammate rather than a sentient weapon.
Perhaps she was getting too comfortable with this team, she decided.
As the lecture continued, she found herself losing interest fairly quickly, and instead starting to hone in on all the vibrations in the room. Up front, Fitz-Simmons' vibrations were synched and tamed down into a very professional, authoritative frequency, matched by their tones of voice and put-together body language. The student body, instead, had a very chaotic frequency, all the vibrations meshing together excitedly but with a strange, almost combed-down effect – like they were trying so hard to tone down their eagerness to appear more mature and professional, as she would imagine students often would do in the presence of their role models.
Somewhere underneath all of that was a distinctly different frequency all on its own – a vibration that she didn't recognize as remotely organic, and that very fact was starting to put her on edge.
There was something in the hall that wasn't supposed to be there, and whatever it was, it was getting stronger.
As she started trying to tap into the vibrations to pinpoint it, one of the cadets started shouting.
And just as chaos started to erupt within the hall, the cadet's body was encased in thick ice, and he was frozen solid.
Fitz-Simmons raced towards the cadet and the professors started ushering the other students away to give them space. As Skye started pushing her way down to them, she heard Jemma shout over the chaos about glucose and lowering the body's freezing point.
"Simmons, I need something to break the ice," Fitz was saying as Skye finally reached them. He cracked some of the thinner ice by the cadet's neck and jabbed a needle into the exposed skin. "Skye, something's doing this, you need to find it!"
She suppressed a flinch at his urgent tone and whirled around, scanning the floor for those odd vibrations. Locating it just as Ward approached, she called; "It's over here, what do you want me to-"
"Smash the damn thing!" Fitz snapped. Quelling the anxiety that prickled her skin, she glanced around swiftly before kneeling down and tapping into the device's frequencies, clenching her hand into a fist the way she'd done with that woman's heart, and effectively crushing the machine, shutting it down.
And while the ice started to crack across the cadet's body, it wasn't enough to shake him free.
"Skye, can you thaw it off of him?" Jemma asked, her usually gentle tone swifter and more urgent. Skye froze – she'd never done that before, and she really didn't want to risk hurting the student further-
"Skye, can you or can you not get him free?" Ward growled as he directed a student towards the door.
"Bloody hell," Fitz muttered, and without warning he grabbed Skye by the arm and pulled her towards the frozen cadet. The sudden contact sent panic shooting throughout Skye's entire body, and it took everything in her to not freeze up or cry out. "Focus on the vibrations and thaw him out before he dies!"
Her breath caught in her throat, and vaguely in the background she heard Ward murmur something about covering for her. Fitz's grip on her arm was still tight, but she steeled her nerves and took a deep breath, closing her eyes to hone in on the ice. Stretching her hands out, she felt for the slow-moving particles of the ice and directed her own vibrational energy into it, speeding the overall frequency and causing friction among the particles.
It didn't take much else to warm him enough to thaw him out.
Letting out a shaky exhale, Skye took a few steps back as everyone rushed forward again. The cadet fell to the ground, gasping for breath as Fitz-Simmons bent down to reassure him that he was okay. Ward eyed her with what could almost read as slight admiration and he offered a curt nod and a brief "good work," but Skye merely stumbled back to the corner of the auditorium, her heart racing in her chest and her head spinning at the overstimulation.
The rest of the mission was an absolute blur – she wasn't called upon to use her powers or quake anything or hurt anyone, so she spent it making sure her own vibrations were in check and, unconsciously, flinching away from Fitz-Simmons and Ward every time they came near her.
The cadet's name was Donnie Gill, a socially anxious yet brilliant student, and when Fitz went to talk to him friend-to-friend, Jemma and Ward settled on going down to the boiler room to see if they could gather any more information that might be useful for the case. Jemma gingerly offered to sit it out with Skye, pointing out that a busy party scene might not be the best place for her but also not wanting her to be alone. Skye declined, and was grateful that she did, welcoming the silence and stillness that taking a break by the staircase offere while students partied and got drunk on the other side of the wall.
Her solitude was short lived, though, as suddenly they were on their way to Donnie Gill's dorm room in a hurry, Fitz was unconscious on the ground, and they were calling May and Coulson for backup.
And before Skye knew it, they were back on the Bus regrouping.
(And it was quite admirable, and fairly reassuring, to hear Fitz describing Donnie Gill as a good kid who had been simply misled, even though he was one of the perpetrators. Once again, this team proved different from Hydra in the sense that they didn't see the world in such black and white – those who deserved to die and those who served the "right" cause.)
Coulson and May were noticeably off when they'd regrouped though, Skye noticed. May hid it well, but Coulson was struggling to look directly at her, and Skye wondered what she'd done wrong. Even if it wasn't logical, a part of her wondered if they knew that she'd used her powers at the Academy or lied to a high-ranking agent, and if she'd be punished for it later.
The thought sent worried vibrations skittering up and down her spine – but she knew better than to let her anxiety eat away at her, so for now she settled on hanging back and laying low, and when something happened, she'd deal with it then.
After all, the last time she let her nerves eat her alive, she ended up medically unconscious and with tubes in her palms for a few days.
As a massive storm started breaking on the horizon, all they could really do was watch while May attempted to fly the plane directly into it. Fitz-Simmons hypothesized that the storm was caused by Gill's device, which was most likely located right in the eye of the storm with him and Dormer. Skye hung back, her arms crossed protectively over her chest, as Fitz-Simmons monitored the radar and Ward reported from the Academy, where he had been ushering the students to safety.
The plane descended upon the scene, where Gill was shaken and Dormer was unconscious. Skye hung back from the whirlwind of action, not too keen on getting in the way. And while Jemma did her best to save his life, Dormer was gone.
Jemma, Fitz, and Gill were absolutely riddled with guilt-laden vibrations that nearly made Skye stumble back at their intensity. She wanted to help - she wanted to comfort Jemma, who had wanted so desperately to save Dormer, or even to connect with Gill, who felt as though Dormer's death was on his hands. She understood that feeling far too well. But instead she hung back, nervously picking at her fingernails and watching like a fly on the wall.
Skye caught one last glance at Donnie Gill before he was driven away, but she felt his vibrations rattling deep within her bones long after he was gone.
Exhausted – and somehow both overstimulated and numb – Skye graciously made her way back to the sanctuary of the Cage, where she stayed curled up on her mattress for a while, ruminating in her thoughts. The way this team operated was vastly different from Hydra. They'd had each other's backs and did everything they possibly could to try and find a solution that didn't cost innocent lives. Skye respected that greatly.
But the way Coulson and May acted when they got back from the Academy didn't sit right with her at all – she'd unconsciously gnawed the skin off from around her fingernails in her panic. Those two were the "superiors" of this team - were they called that here? - and they were the ones who'd shown her mercy. If she did something wrong to jeopardize that, she feared the absolute worst.
"Uh… hey."
The voice jolted Skye out of her thoughts. She had felt the man's rumbling vibrations hanging outside the door for a few minutes now, as if he had been hesitating – they rolled off him nervously, as if he was working up the courage to enter.
Now, Fitz stood in the doorway, holding some sort of peculiar looking dome-shaped object. He shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, offering a wobbly smile that Skye couldn't bring herself to return.
She was still turning over their interactions at the Academy in her head – and still suppressing panic over Coulson and May's sudden shift in attitude towards her.
"I, um, I know we didn't really start off on the right foot," Fitz admitted, taking a few steps towards her. Skye's muscles tensed, and she stared unblinkingly at him, watching his every move. "I'm sorry for snapping at the Academy earlier today, and for grabbing your arm. I know you don't like that, and I didn't mean anything malicious – I was just reacting in the moment. But I know I scared you, and I don't want you to be afraid of me. I just want to be your friend."
Friend.
Fitz came a little bit closer. Skye eyed him curiously, intrigued by his apology but still wary of the thing he'd brought. He crouched down, crossing his legs and sitting a couple feet away, respectful of her space – something she'd noticed almost everyone on the team did, at least at first, when approaching her. She couldn't ignore that; the distance they'd offered and the way they moved slowly around her, making sure she was fully aware of every movement.
It made her feel like maybe she could trust them.
"I've been working on something." Fitz set the dome in front of him, and Skye unconsciously shrank back. "Jemma told me you like the stars. And we've been working on fixing up a bunk for you – well, me and Jemma have – but until then unfortunately the Cage will have to do. Anyway, I figured that while you're cooped up here, you'd want to be able to see the sky. It might make this place feel a bit more comfortable." Fitz reached forward and pressed a button on the side, and suddenly the ceiling above her illuminated in shades of blue and purple, speckled with bright lights. Skye followed the beam of light from the ceiling back down to the strange, crystal-looking object at the top, her eyes widening in awe.
Fitz's smile grew bigger as he took in her awestruck expression. "It's a projector of sorts – the technology is easy, they sell these everywhere, but I figured I could just make one out of stray parts from the lab. I programmed it to mimic the sky based on our coordinates, but there's also a setting that can switch between galaxies." He pressed another button on the side and Skye watched as the star patterns above her changed; different lines connecting different speckles to form different constellations, colors shifting from blues to greens to deep purples, planets and black holes and celestial bodies moving across the walls.
"Th-this is amazing," Skye found herself saying, her voice holding its usual unpracticed rasp. She blinked, surprised to hear her own voice. She started to bite down on her tongue, but when Fitz seemed to only smile wider, she let her shoulders relax, and added a quick; "Thank you."
Fitz scratched the back of his head, chuckling to himself. "I- of course, we all just want you to feel at home." He cleared his throat, straightening up. "Right, well, we're all upstairs getting ready to watch a movie. Not sure yet which one – we were debating between Mad Max, Star Wars, or Harry Potter. I think May's making popcorn, which means there will not be any snacks-" he laughed at his own joke, "-but it'll still be fun, if you want to join us."
She was almost tempted – but a shudder passed down her spine at the thought of facing Coulson and May again, and after today's excitement she wasn't sure she could handle that yet. So instead she bit the inside of her cheek and shrugged noncommittally.
Fitz looked a bit disappointed, but respectful of her decision, nonetheless. "Today was long, huh," he chuckled. "That's alright. Maybe tomorrow." He stood, backing up slowly. "Thank you for your help today. Sleep well, I'll see you later."
And with that, Skye was alone once more.