A/N: This is inspired by a random Facebook post I saw that was being circulated where someone had written "I wanted to kill myself and you were screaming about dirty dishes" in graffiti. I don't know why that specifically inspired this.
Anyway, I've lowkey not been doing so hot lately, so this one might be a little angstier. We'll see.
Also, I mentioned this previously, but my memory of early AoS is a little hazy, so I can't quite remember who's here and who isn't at this current moment in time (between seasons 1 and 2)? So I'm just gonna focus this around Skye, Coulson, and May, with FitzSimmons, Mack, Bobbi, Hunter, and Trip popping in and out as needed. I know there's a handful of others who I might be missing? And I know at this point Coulson isn't entirely around as much but I'm not entirely certain when specifically that happens, so for this I'm gonna say either this is right before he leaves or early season 2 when he comes back. Again, I don't know.
***TRIGGER WARNING*** for mentions of sexual abuse and suicidal thoughts.
Set probably sometime between seasons 1 and 2, with flashbacks to one of the foster homes Skye stayed at when she was 15.
One thing Skye had noticed from her first year with S.H.I.E.L.D. was that it was extremely hard to keep track of what time of the year it was.
When they'd had the Bus, it was simply due to the fact that they were constantly up in the air and moving around - there was no shift in the air to signify a season change, and there was constantly different scenery below them. One day they would be above Canada looking down on a snowy landscape, then a day later they'd be over the Bahamas and there would be people on the beach. Now, at the Playground, it was even harder to know when exactly it was in the year without looking at a calendar.
Even the other agents had voiced this. Over dinner the other night, Simmons had wistfully mentioned how she noticed it was October and by now the leaves in England would be starting to shift to such brilliant hues of orange and yellow. Fitz had added that his mom used to make the most delicious apple crisp every fall, and how whenever she'd bake it the smell would fill the entire house. And Trip piped up about the upcoming holidays - Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas - and how he hadn't realized that it was already October.
Skye was almost a little surprised when she went into the kitchen that morning to see Coulson setting out fall-themed decor.
She stood in the entrance for a moment, watching him through curious eyes as he carefully arranged some plastic pumpkins and fake pinecones in the middle of the table before he noticed she was there. "I thought this might help," he explained. "You know, with internal clocks and everything."
Skye couldn't help the smirk that played on her lips. "Right," she mused. "Internal clocks."
"Oh it's lovely!" came the excited gasp of Simmons from behind her. Fitz was right on Simmons' heels as Simmons entered the kitchen, her eyes lit up at the sight. Coulson pulled out an autumn leaf garland and held it out to her.
"It's not as pretty as you described the leaves in England," he confessed. "But I thought it would be a close second."
Unable to hide her excitement, Simmons took the garland and scanned the room for a place to hang it up. Skye shook her head, amused, and went over to the toaster, grabbing an everything bagel on her way.
"Oh, and Fitz, it's not apple crisp, but I thought you might like this," she heard Coulson say behind her. Pushing down the lever to start the toaster, Skye turned, curious to see what Coulson was offering.
Seeing Fitz's eyes light up when Coulson handed him a Yankee candle was absolutely priceless. He took the lid off and inhaled deeply, sighing happily at the scent. "Oh that's brilliant," he murmured.
"Sorry it isn't specifically 'apple crisp' scented, but I figured this might scratch that itch," Coulson explained. Fitz wasted no time pulling a lighter out of the drawer and lighting the candle, setting it gingerly right in the center of the table.
"Oh that smells lovely!" Simmons hummed as she clipped the last end of the garland in place. As Skye left the toaster to grab the cream cheese out of the fridge, the scent of the candle hit her nose, and she froze.
That scent was eerily familiar.
"Coulson," she started, forcing her voice to stay even. "What's that scent called?"
"'Sugared Cinnamon Apple,'" Coulson stated, reading off of the candle jar. "It's very dessert-y, reminds me of-"
Skye stopped listening. Her mind was suddenly reeling.
'Sugared Cinnamon Apple.'
The scent filled her nostrils, wafting around her head like it was taunting her. Her stomach lurched and her chest tightened as the smell seemed to creep into her mind, rustling up memories like wind stirring up fallen leaves.
And all at once she was standing in front of the little brown house at the end of the road, the one with the overgrown stepping stones leading up to the front door, the one with the screen side door that was coming off its hinges, the one with the big oak tree out front and the deflated football underneath, the one with all the old baseballs littered throughout the grass.
And suddenly she was sitting in the kitchen, a 'Sugared Cinnamon Apple' candle burning on the counter, her chest feeling hollow and lonely as she forced her eyes to remain on the textbook in front of her, trying so hard to string the words together but the letters seemed to dance along the page, her breath hitching as the woman cooking at the stove stole a suspicious glare at her and as the teen in the red shirt casually sat back in his chair, eyeing her as he shoveled potato chips in his mouth.
And the smell of apples and cinnamon and nutmeg and vanilla constantly wafted through the air in that tiny house, filled every single room. Marianne Fischer loved that smell, it was her favorite, and Skye knew that she kept them stockpiled in the hallway closet so she could smell it year round.
"Skye? I think your bagel is burning."
Skye's fingers closed over the container of cream cheese in the fridge and she pulled it out, slamming the door shut. Gritting her teeth, she spun back around to the toaster and popped the bagel out - sure enough, the bread had turned a charred brown that was almost unappetizing, though Skye's stomach was rolling and the thought of eating anything was making her want to vomit.
"Eh, I wasn't too hungry anyway," she played it off. "Anyone like their bagel well done?"
"I'll eat it," Coulson offered, though he eyed her suspiciously. He crossed over the kitchen to retrieve the bagel, lowering his voice as he asked, "Everything okay? You feeling alright?"
Skye nodded, swallowing thickly as the images of that house crossed her mind once more. "I just... May's probably waiting for me downstairs."
Without waiting for a response, she spun on her heel and left the kitchen, her fingernails digging into her palms.
The scent of apples and cinnamon stuck in her nose, following her down the stairs.
But sure enough, May was down in the gym, sitting back on the bench and sipping her water. She didn't look over or open her eyes to acknowledge Skye's entrance, but she knew she was there. May knew everything. So Skye wasn't surprised when she said, "You're back early. I told you to take an hour for breakfast."
"We're out of cereal," Skye lied. "Besides, I'm ready to keep going if you are."
She hoped that training would be able to get her mind off of that house, though her chest was still tight and her heart was still racing and the smell of apples seemed to cling to her, creeping into her head, taunting her.
May put her water bottle down. "I'm always ready."
Skye quickly tightened her ponytail. They'd done Tai Chi earlier as well as a few laps around the base. Afterwards they would break for an hour to eat breakfast to give them that extra boost of energy that they'd need for the second part of their training, which was focused more on sparring and strength training.
May was already on the mat, loosening up a bit, so Skye joined her, doing a couple quick stretches.
The scent of apples and cinnamon wafted up the stairs, creeping under the closed door of Noah Fischer's room and mixing with the smell of weed. Skye sat with her legs crossed on the air mattress in the corner, her headphones in and her attention fixed on her phone, as Noah took another hit.
Sometimes she wished he'd share. It would make living here bearable. But she knew it wasn't that simple.
She knew it didn't come free. Nothing did.
Not even the corner of his room that she'd been reluctantly given when this family took her in.
"Skye, wake up and get in your stance."
Skye snapped her attention back to her SO, who was already standing with her legs apart and her fists up, ready to strike. She couldn't fight that panicky feeling in her chest, but she complied - widening her stance and copying May's arm positions. May shook her head, clearly a little exasperated.
"Where are you right now? Disneyland? Bend your knees," she scolded.
Skye's cheeks warmed with embarrassment as she fixed her stance, trying to focus her attention back on May. She bit the inside of her cheek. Why was she so freaked out? It was just a candle. It was just a scent. She hadn't thought about the Fischers in years.
But that specific aroma of apples and cinnamon and vanilla and sugar was so ingrained in her mind, she would have recognized it anywhere. It simply was the Fischers' house.
And smelling it brought back all of those memories she'd locked away for so long. She could almost hear Marianne Fischer screaming at her to get her shit together, that she wasn't good enough, that she was lucky that they'd brought her in.
She remembered that point in her life so vividly; a time she'd been quick to lock away as soon as she could. She remembered being 15, and so incredibly lost. She'd been bouncing around the system for so long, each house bringing something different, each stay ending in a heartbreak. She'd been in so many terrible houses, but also some really nice ones - when she'd wanted to stay, something bad happened and they were ripped away from her. When she wanted to leave, she'd do everything she could to be kicked out, but somehow she always spent the most time with the families she had the worst experiences with.
She'd stayed with the Fischers for a year. One whole year.
Skye narrowly avoided May's foot coming towards her face.
"Focus," May snapped, coming at her with a jab. Skye dodged, then ducked as May threw another kick at her and advanced with a couple more punches. Her chest felt tight though, and it was hard to steady her breathing, making it difficult to move the way she was supposed to, to find the rhythm. May advanced, landing a couple of jabs, before managing to grab both of her hands and in one swift motion hold them behind her back and force her to her knees.
Skye's breath hitched.
Apples and cinnamon and sugar and weed and Noah's room was dimly lit, the sound of Marianne's snoring echoing throughout the house, and his door was closed and Skye just wanted so desperately to sleep but Noah had offered - actually offered - to roll her a blunt and she had accepted, she wasn't going to argue if he was offering and these days it was just so hard to get out of bed and face the day, and maybe a hit would help her sleep-
But all things come with a price.
"-you have to have your head in the game at all times-"
And Noah had coaxed her, told her to come sit on the bed, and she had. And the corners of his lips had upturned into a sickly sweet smile and he'd placed a hand on her thigh and told her it wasn't free, nothing in this world was free. She'd have to earn her reward.
And she'd said never mind, she said she just wanted to go to bed.
"Wouldn't you rather sleep in my bed than on that awful old air mattress?"
She'd shook her head. Her stomach rolled.
He told her he'd gladly roll her a joint...
...If she let him do whatever he wanted.
"-they don't care, they'll stop at nothing to get what they want-"
And she'd said no, she said she was fine, it didn't matter, she was all set.
And she'd gotten up. The air mattress was in her vision and she'd gotten up and started walking towards it.
And suddenly she was on her knees, and he had her hands behind her back, restraining her, and he was on her in an instant, his hot breath tickling her neck.
"-so you always have to stay focused-"
He told her no one wanted her. He said he was doing her a favor.
His other hand was under her shirt.
"Skye, did you hear a damn thing I just said?"
She didn't. The blood was roaring in her ears.
She fought. Tears welled up in her eyes, nearly blinding her as she fought back, panic suffocating her as she clumsily fought May off, her breathing ragged as she took a few steps back, her vision bleary.
"-Skye-"
Her chest was tight and her throat felt like it was closing up and she hugged herself, rubbing her arms and she staggered backwards, her cheeks growing hot - get ahold of yourself, May won't want to train a hot mess - but images of Noah and the smell of apples and vanilla and weed and the sound of Marianne yelling never good enough, get it together, stupid worthless stupid stupid stupid were clouding her judgement.
And suddenly there was a hand on her shoulder and she recoiled, a strangled gasp parting her lips as fat tears rolled down her cheeks - God why are you freaking out this shouldn't bother you anymore it was years ago, you haven't even thought of the Fischers in years, please dear God stop freaking out in front of May - and Skye took another few steps back, feeling her calf bump against the bench and her knees went weak and she sank down to the ground, her back against the leg of the bench and her legs pulled up to her chest, her lungs aching as she struggled to regain composure.
"Breathe, Skye," May murmured, kneeling down to her level and gently rubbing her thumb against her shoulder. "Breathe. Take in a deep breath - okay, one, two, three - now let it out, one, two, three."
She'd been wheezing.
May continued counting Skye's breaths until it finally became even again.
And suddenly Skye was overly aware that she'd just freaked out in front of May.
"You okay?" May asked, her brow knitted in concern, and Skye just nodded numbly in response, standing back up on shaky legs.
That hadn't been the first time Noah had done something like that.
Even the corner of the room where the twin sized air mattress was set up had to be paid for, and Noah made sure she paid for it.
But that had been the worst up until that point.
And it slowly became routine. Every single night was the same - the scent of apples and cinnamon and sugar mixed with bud. The sound of Marianne's snoring. Noah's voice hissing "I'm doing you a favor. No one wants you. You should thank me."
And he'd do what he wanted, and then he was done. And Skye would crawl back over to the air mattress and bury herself in the singular quilt she had been given, curl up in a ball, and stare at the wall for hours before drifting off to a restless sleep.
She used to cry about it.
She didn't anymore.
"Sorry," Skye mumbled. May raised an eyebrow as if prompting her to explain herself. She didn't.
She stood and walked out of the gym.
Skye avoided the team for the rest of the day. She tried so hard to focus on getting some work done but her mind kept on drifting to that house - the stench of apples and vanilla and cinnamon seemed to cling to her all day, and if she let her mind focus on the memories she could almost smell the weed as well, she could feel hot breath on her neck and Noah Fischer's hands all over her...
Trip had found her around 6:30 to bring her downstairs for dinner. His smile was kind and gentle, but Skye could see the concern reflecting in his eyes - so they've been talking about me. Of course May had - she'd walked out on training and avoided her ever since.
Dinner was spaghetti. She barely was able to choke any of it down, and she didn't willingly speak - just numbly nodded or shook her head or shrugged in response.
It didn't matter anyway - Coulson lit that stupid godforsaken candle again because he thought it would be nice and "set the mood."
Apples and cinnamon and sugar and vanilla-
And Noah eyeing her at the dinner table, stroking her leg with his foot under the tablecloth-
And Marianne serving her half a bowl of pasta because until she got her grades up she didn't deserve any more-
And somewhere in the background she could hear Ivan Fischer slamming the door shut, thumping up the stairs, grumbling and groaning-
And Skye could barely stomach the few noodles on her plate, she could barely hear Marianne droning on about how stupid she was and how she wasn't trying in school and how Noah was so smart, he'd been accepted into every college he applied to and she should really try to be more like him.
All she was thinking about was how goddamn stupid and pointless this all was, how it was never going to get better, how she was never going to be wanted and no one was ever going to stay and all she deserved was what she got, because she was the problem, she was the reason everyone always abandoned her, she was the reason the only families that kept her around for longer than a few months were ones who degraded her and hurt her, it was all she deserved because she was stupid and rotten and worthless and a hopeless case and she was never going to find a place where she belonged, if the world was a computer program and everyone was an algorithm that connected and had a purpose and a place, then she was a stray piece of code, a virus, destroying everything in its path-
And people got rid of viruses.
"Skye... Skye!"
They were all looking up at her expectantly. Skye looked up from her untouched bowl of spaghetti, forcing a smile, but there was a lump rising in her throat and she was certain that she was going to break at any second.
May and Coulson shared an uneasy glance. FitzSimmons both were staring at her, worriedly. Trip gave her a kind smile, but the concern was still reflecting in his eyes.
"You okay?" he asked her. She nodded numbly. He continued; "Well, it's your turn to do the dishes, but if you're not feeling up to it-"
The plate slipped out of her hand and shattered on the ground.
Marianne spun around, her eyes furious. Skye just stood, staring at the shattered pieces, her arms hanging limply by her sides, as Marianne started screaming at her.
And Marianne grabbed her by the hair and threw her to the ground, and Skye landed on her hands and knees, her palms digging into the broken glass, and she had no idea what Marianne was even saying, she was so focused on the glass under her hands and how it bit into her skin and the bloody handprints she was leaving behind and suddenly she was acutely aware of the life flowing through her veins, of the arteries in her wrists that connected to her heart, of how it would be so goddamn easy-
Because, realistically, what was the point of any of this?
It was dead silent at the table, and everyone was staring at her now.
Skye didn't realize that she'd started crying.
But when she did, she suddenly couldn't stop.
And that night she brushed her teeth and pocketed an old bottle of sleeping pills from the cabinet. She'd returned to Noah's room and slipped them under her pillow.
Noah didn't notice. He smoked and then called her over to his bed, and her legs numbly carried her over, and he did whatever he pleased, and she didn't fight.
She didn't fight at all.
And she returned to her mattress and she'd never felt so awful and so disgusting and so done in her life.
And she took as many pills as she could.
Skye flinched at the hand on her back, but quickly warmed to the touch when she realized it was Coulson. He was by her side in an instant, and so was May, and Fitz and Simmons and Trip looked on worriedly, and Skye sobbed shamelessly for at least another few minutes, fully leaning into Coulson's embrace as he pulled her close and rubbed soothing little circles on her back.
With one last hiccup, Skye wiped the tears off her cheeks, flushing bright red as she realized how much attention was on her.
"What's going on?" Coulson asked her gently. "You've been off all day, from what I was told."
May didn't say anything, but her expression told Skye everything she needed to know.
Skye looked away, feeling really dumb at the whole thing. She hadn't thought of the Fischers in a long, long time.
And the smell of that stupid fucking candle triggered all these terrible memories, and she gritted her teeth and clenched her jaw and her gaze shifted over to the candle and Coulson followed where her eyes were leading and suddenly he put the cover on the candle to douse the flame.
He didn't ask why the candle bothered her so much. But he wasted no time in disposing of it.
"Is it the candle itself or the scent?" he asked.
"The scent," Skye responded with another hiccup.
"I'm so sorry," Coulson said.
"It's okay," Skye reassured him, wiping her cheeks. "You didn't know."
"Next time, please tell us," Coulson said softly. "Please."
May nudged her. "And always tell me if something in training bothers you," she added, her voice gentle.
Skye nodded. "Thank you," she whispered hoarsely, wrapping her arms around Coulson again.
Skye had woken up in the hospital.
She never saw the Fischers again.