TW for brief mention of neglect
Skye had made a lot of mistakes in her relatively short life. She had done a lot of bad things, and she had gotten in trouble plenty of times. But what she had done that day probably took the cake. The thing that made it so much worse than every other wrong thing she'd ever done wasn't the fact that she'd been caught, or the fact that the whole thing had turned out to be a pointless failure. It was the fact that the people she'd had to come home to and face weren't mad at her. May hadn't shouted, Phil hadn't thrown anything, Jemma hadn't given her the cold shoulder. They weren't mad. They were sad, and scared, and disappointed. She hadn't angered them – she'd hurt them.
If there was one thing that made Skye feel worse than anything else in the world, it was the knowledge that someone else – someone she cared about – was hurt because of something she did. That was why it was Jemma's voice that intertwined with her conscience, why Skye did her best to reign in her most reckless impulses around her. She never wanted to hurt Jemma the way other people had hurt them, and now, she figured, she could add Phil, and May, and even Bobbi to that list.
That was also why, she supposed, she found herself telling Jemma everything about everything that night, under the cover of darkness. She owed it to Jemma to stop keeping secrets after everything she'd put her through that day.
Jemma had wordlessly invited Skye to slide into bed next to her once Phil had turned the light out and closed the door, and Skye didn't hesitate to curl into place beside her. Jemma knew that Skye didn't want to be alone, and Skye loved her for it. She knew she owed Jemma a thousand apologies and gestures of remorse, and she intended on making all of them, but Jemma didn't need to wait for all that to happen before she invited Skye back to her side. She was just good that way.
They lay there, Skye's chin tucked near Jemma's shoulder, the warmth and stability of one another keeping Skye steady as she spilled it all, the whole disastrous truth, for Jemma to see. She told Jemma about Ward, and how he'd known her secrets and pushed all the right buttons. To her credit, Jemma didn't seem nearly as flapped by the news as Skye had feared. She started tapping under the covers, of course, but she took Ward's latest jibes almost in stride.
"Skye, he's just awful. You can't let him get under your skin like that."
"I know I shouldn't have, but… I don't know, something about the things he said… they just bothered me more than stuff like that usually does. And I hated that he knew all that stuff, and knew how to dangle it over my head."
"We have to be more careful with him. Maybe move up our timetable. We should talk with Fitz and Trip and see what they think."
"Doesn't it weird you out that he and that Raina girl know so much about us?"
"Maybe a little," Jemma admitted, "but it doesn't bother me much if people at school know I'm in foster care. The only people at school whose opinions matter to me are you and Fitz and Trip, and you three already know."
"I guess you're right. I just… I don't like feeling powerless against him. And I don't like that he thinks he can get away with it."
She told Jemma about Bobbi's warning regarding Raina, and how she'd gotten Bobbi to give her the money she needed for the bus ticket. She recounted her mistakes on the way to Sheboygan, the way she'd snuck into the back of the hospital, and her encounter with nice Nora in Records.
"So they still wouldn't let you see the files of the patients themselves? Not the babies or the parents?"
"No," Skye said sadly. "Just the ones with the last names and all the numbers and codes and stuff. I wish I'd had you with me. I bet you could have figured out more of that medical mumbo-jumbo than I did."
"Still, surnames might come in handy at some point. At least it's better than coming away totally empty handed."
"It doesn't really feel like it. It feels like another dead end, and this one is even worse because it cost so much more to get."
"I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault," Skye said, a little indignant. "It's my fault for making such a bad plan. It's my fault for ever thinking I could actually find them."
"I just meant that I'm sorry it didn't turn out how you wanted. I'm sorry you can't find the things you're looking for. I'm sorry there hasn't been anyone to… fill the empty space for you."
Skye was surprised. Obviously Jemma knew she wanted to find her parents, and it stood to reason that she understood Skye's desire to know where she came from, but she had never told Jemma about the empty space. She had no idea that Jemma knew about the aching longing to belong that she cradled in her chest. Skye realized she should have given Jemma more credit. Of course Jemma had known. Jemma somehow seemed to know every part of Skye's heart, whether Skye uncovered it for her or not. Not for the first time, Skye was overwhelmed with the knowledge that no one understood her like Jemma.
"Well, I'll always have you," Skye said softly, smiling into the blanket and tangling her fingers up with Jemma's under the covers. "You'll always be better than anyone I could ever hope to track down."
"You'll always have me," Jemma murmured. "And I'll always have you."
They were quiet for a while, sitting with the magnitude of the promise they'd just made to each other. It was Jemma who eventually broke the silence.
"Skye? I… I want you to know… I feel the empty space too, sometimes. Maybe not the same way, but… I understand feeling like part of you is missing."
"I know," Skye whispered, her heart sinking a little. She wasn't the only one without her parents, even if she selfishly acted like she had exclusive access to that pain sometimes. "I know."
"But I feel less empty with you."
"You mean it?"
"Of course."
Skye bit back a smile. Of course. Jemma didn't say things she didn't mean. "You make me feel less empty, too," Skye told her. "I forget sometimes, but that doesn't make it less true."
"I know."
"You know?"
"I know."
"Before May came and found me," Skye said, after a long while, "I thought I was going to be stuck there forever. It was raining, and I didn't have any money for the bus home. And all I kept thinking was that I let you down. I let you down again, and this time was going to be so much worse because I wasn't even going to be able to see you again to tell you how sorry I was."
"I'm glad she found you."
"Me too." Skye's cheeks grew warm at the admission. "I'm glad you told her where to find me."
"I felt horribly about it—" Jemma tried to say, but Skye cut her off.
"You shouldn't. It was the right thing to do. You always know the right thing to do, even if someone's – if I'm – trying to get you to do the opposite." Skye paused for a moment, weighing whether or not she wanted to broach the subject that had been on her mind since that afternoon. "May said you had gotten called down to the office. I'm sorry, I bet that was terrible."
"Mr. Hanes isn't a very nice principal," Jemma said, and Skye detected a tender spot in her voice. A tiny wound that Skye hadn't noticed until now. Some friend she was. Jemma always spotted the places where Skye was hurting, but she had missed it when it was her turn to do the same. She took the opportunity to correct her mistake.
"What did he do to you?"
"Nothing, exactly. He wanted me to tell where you were, but I couldn't say it, and he got angry with me. He kept saying I was going to get in trouble too, and his voice was… too sharp. I… I didn't know what to do. I got… out of sorts."
Skye inhaled sharply. "Out of sorts" was one of those code words she and Jemma had come to understand between one another. Neither one exactly knew how to describe what happened to Jemma when she got overwhelmed, and Jemma didn't really like talking about it, so phrases like "out of sorts" often took the place of any real label that either of them spoke. It was better than calling it any of the insensitive or inaccurate terms grownups tried to throw out when they were clearly uncomfortable talking about Jemma's behavior: fit, tantrum… even something like episode wasn't much better in Skye's opinion.
Grownups always made it sound like some petulant, childish thing, like Jemma was just acting out until she got her way, or like she was sick and was suffering a bout of some unfortunate illness. Skye knew that Jemma didn't act that way on purpose, and that Jemma wasn't sick. Jemma just acted a little differently sometimes when things upset her. When Skye got upset, she usually ended up in trouble for getting into a fight or doing something stupid like taking a bus to Sheboygan. Honestly, as far as Skye was concerned, having someone melt down a little when they got upset seemed much more appealing than having someone fly off the handle and make reckless decisions the way she did, so she didn't understand why so many grownups made such a big deal out of the way Jemma chose to cope.
"He upset you?" Skye asked quietly. She knew Jemma was often reluctant to talk about her meltdowns, especially after years of being made to feel badly for having them, but she wanted to make sure Jemma was okay.
"It wasn't just him, it was… everything. It was too much. And I couldn't get settled."
"I'm sorry. I know you don't like feeling like that."
"Phil came. He made Mr. Hanes stop saying things that made me feel… bad. He settled things enough that I could… come back."
"Yeah?" Skye twisted around a little in bed to look at Jemma and try and make out her expression in the dark. She was impressed that Phil had been able to help. That meant both he and May had both managed to figure out how to help Jemma when she had a hard time, which, as far as Skye was aware, was a first for one of Jemma's foster homes. A mischievous smiled tugged at the corners of Skye's mouth. "Is my job title as 'best friend and best calmer downer' at risk?"
"'Calmer-downer' isn't a word," Jemma giggled. It was nice to hear her laugh.
"It could be. It's one of those things that sounds like what it means," Skye laughed back, trying to keep quiet enough so as not to wake anyone else in the house up.
"Maybe," Jemma conceded. "Although grammatically, 'person who calms another down' makes for better English."
"English-Shmenglish," Skye said playfully. "Geez, it's like you were born in the country the language is named after or something."
"They do take their grammar seriously in Devon," remarked Jemma. "And don't worry, your title as 'best friend and person who calms another down' is perfectly safe. It was nice of Phil to help, though."
"I'm glad he was there for you. I'm sorry I wasn't."
"You're here with me now. You're safe. That's all that matters."
Skye disagreed, but she didn't know how to tell Jemma that there was so much more that mattered. It mattered that Skye had abandoned her – had done the very things she resented her parents so much for – and it mattered that Skye hadn't treated her with the care and appreciation someone like Jemma deserved. It mattered that Skye had been the reason that Jemma had gotten upset that afternoon and that she hadn't been there to fix her mistakes. It mattered that there was no one Skye cared about more in the world than Jemma, but that she didn't know how to prove it. It mattered that it wasn't being home or having a roof over her head that made Skye feel safe – it was Jemma.
Skye was about to try and explain all of the complicated thoughts that were swirling around in her head when her ears picked up the sound of deep, even breathing. Jemma's chest rose and fell slowly against Skye, her fingers still intertwined with Skye's. She was fast asleep.
Jemma was still asleep when Skye woke up the next morning. Not wanting to wake her, but not being particularly interested in sitting quietly in their room until Jemma woke up, either, Skye slid out of bed gingerly and made her way to the door. She hadn't even finished coming down the stairs when a sweet, warm smell twisted its way up to her nose, and Skye followed the aromatic trail all the way to the kitchen where, to her surprise, Phil was pouring batter onto a sizzling griddle pan.
"You're making pancakes," Skye said. It wasn't a question, but she didn't do a very good job of masking her confusion, either. Phil looked up and smiled. A Phil smile, crinkly eyes and broad beam. It felt even warmer than the pancake smell to Skye.
"Hi Skye, good morning," he glowed. "Yeah, I felt like we could all use some pancakes today. And it's a Saturday, so I have the time. Do you want to help me?"
"Okay." Skye came around the counter and drew level with Phil. He handed her the spatula.
"See how the batter's starting to bubble up on top there? That means it's almost time to flip 'em," he instructed, pointing out the air pockets that were forming. "Once the first few bubbles burst, go ahead and scoop them up, okay?" Skye nodded, focusing hard on the pan. She didn't want to mess up Phil's pancakes. It was hard to wait for the bubbles to pop, but she managed to entertain herself by watching the oil dance around the bottom edge of the pancakes, turning them from pasty white to golden brown.
When it was time to flip, Skye clumsily wedged the spatula under the nearest pancake and tried to flip it. Rather than turn over neatly, as Skye had hoped, the pancake folded over onto itself before she had a chance to lift it all the way up, and she was left with a soggy, crumpled heap of half-cooked pancake and raw batter.
"Maybe you should do this part," Skye mumbled, trying to push the spatula back at Phil.
"It's okay, give it another try," encouraged Phil. "Use your wrist a little bit and come at them from a higher angle."
"But I messed it up."
"Skye, I can't even begin to count all of the pancakes I've mangled over the years," Phil chuckled. "Besides, it's still a pancake, even if the shape's a little wonky. It'll still taste good."
Skye tried again, with only marginally more success, but Phil didn't seem discouraged in the least.
"You're already getting better," he said. "Keep practicing and I may be out of a job as head pancake chef soon."
"How come you're being so nice to me?" Skye asked, her eyes glued to the griddle and her third attempt to flip a pancake. She hadn't really meant to ask that, but she was still so confused by how casually Phil was acting. She hadn't expected him to shout or anything, of course, but she had assumed he'd at least be a little stern or chilly after everything that had happened yesterday.
"I don't think I can turn it off," he joked. When he got a look at the seriousness on Skye's face, however, he changed his tone. "Well, I like you, for one thing. It's very easy to be nice to the people I like." Skye blushed. "And everyone deserves to have someone who's nice to them, don't you think?" he continued.
"I guess so," Skye shrugged. "Not everyone stays nice once you screw up, though."
"I suppose that's true," Phil said thoughtfully. "But I've found that the right people usually do. I know I'd be in a sorry spot if all of my friends stopped being nice to me every time I made a mistake. I certainly wouldn't have gotten a second date with Melinda." His eyes sparkled with mischief.
"Did you know, I accidentally set our tablecloth on fire while we were on our first ever date? They had to call the fire department and evacuate the whole restaurant. It was such a disaster. The sprinklers went off, Melinda's hair got drenched… I'm very lucky she decided to continue being nice to me after that debacle." He was chuckling now, a little lost in the memory, and Skye giggled at the idea of Phil trying to be smooth and lighting a table on fire instead. Skye wished she could see the movie playing in his mind's eye – it sounded like a funny one, and she knew it had a happy ending. She pried the now-cooked pancakes off of the pan and slid them onto the plate Phil had waiting on the counter.
"Hey, those look like they turned out pretty good," Phil said, coming back to reality. He gave Skye's shoulder a quick squeeze. "Nice work, kiddo."
"Is May still asleep?" Skye asked, as Phil tipped another round of batter onto the hot pan. Phil laughed again. Skye loved the sound of his laugh. It was strong and happy, and never made Skye feel like she was the butt of the joke.
"No, she's been up for a while. Mel gets up earlier than anyone I know," he told her. "She's probably just finishing her tai chi. She'll be down soon."
"I though May drank her tea at the table?" Skye crinkled her nose, confused.
"Tai chi, like the martial art. Not chai tea," Phil corrected. Skye felt her face flush, but Phil didn't seem to think her mistake was as dumb as she felt it was. "She'll have her tea down here with us, don't you worry," he said with a wink. "Actually, that reminds me, I should probably go ahead and put the kettle on."
He bustled off to take care of the tea kettle, leaving Skye alone at the stove with the pancakes. As carefully as she could muster, Skye swooped the spatula under one of the pancakes and lifted it fully off of the griddle. When she rotated her wrist, the pancake fell back to the pan, landing right where it had come from, perfectly smooth.
"Phil, I did it!" Skye announced proudly. It occurred to her that she probably sounded like a little kid showing off some ugly macaroni art, but she didn't care. She waved the spatula in the direction of her new masterpiece, which Phil inspected seriously.
"That's your best one yet," he grinned. "Now let's see if you can do two in a row."
Everyone else trickled into the kitchen as Skye finished up the pancakes under Phil's watchful eye. He had been right; she did get better the longer she worked the griddle, although there had still been a few that didn't escape unscathed. Phil had promised to eat all of the gummy, folded up ones that Skye had messed up, though, and he wouldn't let her dump them in the trash.
"I promise you, the lumpy ones taste the best," he said, shoveling all of her messy attempts onto his plate before Skye could protest. "They have personality."
Once everyone had taken their seats, they all dug into their breakfast, and, much to Skye's delight, no one had anything but compliments on her cooking. May had her tea, and Phil was polite enough not to bring up Skye's mix-up between martial arts and hot beverages. She didn't think anyone here would make fun of her for it, of course, but it was nice not to have to acknowledge that it wasn't just in reading that she mixed up the letters to things. It was one of the nicest Saturday mornings Skye had ever had, she thought, and she wondered briefly if everyone was going to just choose to ignore all of the awfulness she'd forced them to endure the day before.
She was dispelled of the notion not long after the last few bites of pancake had been polished off and the tone of the room grew suddenly serious.
"Bobbi, Jemma, why don't you two go and find something on TV?" Phil suggested, setting down his fork. "I think the Avengers are starting soon."
Wordlessly, Bobbi and Jemma nodded and drifted away to den, leaving Skye in the unfortunately now very familiar position of being left alone at the table with May and Phil for a talking to. She wished that the prospect didn't fill her with quite so much dread, but she couldn't help but feel her stomach clench as the two adults turned to face her.
"How'd you sleep last night?" May asked. "Okay?"
Skye nodded. "I was tired, I guess."
"That doesn't surprise me," May said with a small smile. "You had a full day yesterday." Skye blushed. That was an understatement. "We should probably talk about it, don't you think?" Skye pumped a single shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. Even if they should talk about it, she wasn't especially interested in rehashing the whole thing. Everything would be so much easier if they just told her what her punishment was and let everyone move on with their day. She already knew what she did was wrong, she already felt bad about it. What was the point of going over every excruciating detail and reminding her of just how many places she had royally flubbed her life?
"What kind of punishment do I get?" she asked. Maybe if she was the one to bring it up first, they could just skip to that part.
"Well first," Phil said gently, "I think it might be helpful if we think about it more in terms of some consequences rather than a punishment. Melinda and I aren't trying to penalize you for making mistakes, even if they were some pretty big ones. We're more interested in helping you understand the impact of them, so that you don't make those mistakes again. We want you to see that the choices you make carry weight."
Skye cocked her head to one side, considering what Phil was saying. She had never thought there was much of a difference between a punishment and a consequence, but some of what Phil was saying made a little sense. Either way, she didn't question it.
"Your computer restrictions from before are going to be extended for another two weeks," May informed her. "You can use it for homework, and Phil or I will be supervising. If one of us isn't there to supervise, then we don't want you using a computer, got it? That means at school, too, Skye."
"Okay." She had figured that was coming, after she had blurted out to May in the car about how she had broken the rules of her previous punishment.
"Do you know why we don't want you using the computer unsupervised?" Phil wanted to know.
Skye thought for a moment. "I guess because I keep doing stuff I'm not supposed to with it," she muttered. Her ears were hot. She didn't like having to explain the reason behind her consequences. It had never mattered before why. Usually she just got told to do something to make up for or make her feel sorry for doing whatever bad thing it was she had done.
"Yes," Phil nodded. "That's a big part of it. We know you're very capable of doing impressive things with a computer, but there have been a few times now that you've used those skills to violate our trust. We want you to use the computer supervised for a few more weeks to show us that we can trust you to use it responsibly."
"Okay," Skye said again. "What else?"
"You'll be in charge of the dishwashing rotation for the next two weeks, too," May said. "Bobbi and Jemma won't be taking their turns during those weeks. Phil and I are hoping that can give you a chance to do something nice for them, and to show them that you can be counted on." Skye nodded. She had expected some extra chores. At least with this one, she could start to make up for what she had put Jemma and Bobbi through.
"And the last thing," Phil said seriously, "is that we'd like for you to write an apology letter to Miss Hill. When you skip school, it's like you're telling your teachers that you don't respect their time or appreciate the work they do to help you learn. I don't think that's what you meant to tell Miss Hill yesterday—"
"No!" Skye shook her head. She didn't think that at all about Miss Hill. If she was being honest, she hadn't really thought about Miss Hill at all in the grand scheme of things. "I wasn't skipping because I don't like her. I skipped because…" She trailed off. She wasn't really sure if she could articulate exactly what had been going through her mind when she'd cooked up the plan. "I guess I skipped because I wanted to find out about my parents. I thought that was more important than school, and going during the day seemed like the only way I could go without getting caught."
"Well, it's up to you how much of that you want to include in your letter, but we do think it's the right thing to do to let Miss Hill know that you're sorry for skipping school, and for lying to her about it," concluded Phil.
"Do those seem like fair consequences to you, Skye?" May asked. Skye nodded. They seemed more than fair. If Skye had been in charge of coming up with the consequences for her actions, she probably would have locked herself in her room and thrown away the key. May asked another question: "Do they help you understand how serious what you did yesterday was?"
"I understand," Skye said, her voice small. "I won't do it again. I know it was wrong. I knew it was wrong while I was doing it, but I… I just couldn't help it."
"Do you think, going forward, if you're feeling like there's something you want to do but know you shouldn't, you could come to us and talk about it?" Phil wondered aloud. "We might be able to help. We might be able to come up with another solution that doesn't end with you putting yourself in danger. Because that can't happen anymore, Skye. We meant it."
"I guess I could try," Skye shrugged. She started picking at a spot of dried syrup on the table. She had never known a grownup to want to talk about the impulses for illicit activities that she got. Usually they just wanted you to rat yourself out so they could tell you no or punish you for even thinking about breaking the rules.
"That's all we ever ask," May smiled. "And I want you to know, I haven't given up on finding your parents. Things are going slowly, but I'm still trying. I promised you that I would work on it, and I'm not going to break that promise."
"I have names," Skye said suddenly. She hadn't known until the words were tumbling out into the open that she was going to tell May and Phil about that, but full honesty seemed like the right thing in the moment.
"What?"
"Well, last names. The lady at records, she wouldn't let me see the full files, but she let me look at some records that had the last names of all the babies. There's still a lot on my list, but I got it narrowed down some. I cut out all the boys, and the twins, and looked at the months I might have been born in."
May's jaw was practically on the floor, and Phil's eyebrows had nearly disappeared into his hairline. Skye felt her cheeks flush. Maybe she shouldn't have said anything.
"Skye, that's…" May fumbled around with her words. "Skye, I don't want you to take this as me encouraging what you did yesterday, because that was still very wrong, but I'm… really impressed with your detective work." Phil whirled his head around and stared at May like he couldn't believe what he was hearing. Skye knew how he felt.
"Again," May stressed, "I'm not saying what you did was okay. It's not. And I don't want you to ever do something so reckless again—" She stared hard at Skye until Skye nodded to let her know that she read her, loud and clear. "—but I can't believe you managed to actually find something. I've been trying to get information from that hospital for weeks—"
"Mel, honey," Phil interrupted gently, "maybe reconsider the message you're sending right now."
"You're right, I'm sorry." May shook herself. The corners of Phil's mouth twitched as he watched May try to figure out what to say next, and Skye had to bite back a smile herself. She still felt horrible about everything that had happened yesterday, but she would be lying if she'd said that she didn't feel a glowing ember of pride at the way May was reacting to her news.
"Skye, do you think I could see your list?" May wanted to know. Skye considered for a minute. She hadn't really planned on showing the list to anybody but Jemma, and maybe Fitz, but if May was going to keep working on finding her parents, then maybe it would help her to have the names. Admittedly, Skye wasn't sure how much good they were going to do her personally, since her resources were so much more limited than May's.
"Okay," she finally said. "But do you think I could have it back when you're done?" There was something about the notebook and the fact that it might bear her last name in it somewhere – her real last name – that made her hesitant to part with it for good.
"Of course," May assured her. "I'd just need to borrow it for a few days."
"And you really think it might help you?" Skye asked, losing her battle to keep her smile in check.
"I don't know," cautioned May. "It's hard to say right now, but any piece of new information is usually a good sign." She paused, thinking for a moment. "Can I make a deal with you, Skye?"
"I guess so."
"If you let me see your list, and I use it to continue looking for your parents, will you promise to leave the searching up to me from now on? I promise I'll give you better updates and fill you in on the things I find, but in exchange—"
"I have to stop looking on my own," Skye finished. She scrunched her nose up in thought. She wasn't sure she was ready to give up her search entirely to someone else. She had spent her whole life focused on this one thing, and to suddenly turn it over to another person, to abandon it… the thought left a bitter taste in her mouth. "I don't know if I can do that," she admitted quietly. "I can't just not look. I can't not try."
"Just think about it," May said softly. "I want to help you, Skye. But part of that – the biggest part, in fact – means keeping you safe."
"Maybe you could still help Melinda," Phil suggested kindly. "You two could work together sometimes. That way you could keep looking Skye, but we could be sure that you were making smart, responsible choices because Melinda would be with you."
"Maybe," Skye agreed. The compromise might be the best she could get, given the circumstances. "I guess that could work."
"You can take some time to decide if you want," May said. "But I think Phil makes a good point."
"I have my moments," he teased. Skye couldn't help but smile a little.
They all fell silent then, and Skye wondered if that meant they were done talking for the time being. She had just started to get up from the table when Phil stopped her.
"Hang on, Skye, there's actually one more thing we wanted to talk to you about." He wasn't smiling anymore, but he didn't look mad, either. He had a tentative kind of look on his face, a little sad. The lines on his forehead seemed tense. Skye's stomach flipped over like one of her pancakes as she sank back into her chair.
"Okay." She was trying to keep the suspicion out of her voice, but she knew she wasn't doing a very good job. Something about the reluctance that May and Phil were suddenly exhibiting put all of her senses on high alert.
"We wanted to talk with you about some of the things that were said in the car yesterday." Skye's face went crimson. She had hoped that part of the day could have been forgotten until the end of time. She hadn't meant to admit all of those things to May, and she wasn't interested in revisiting her myriad of embarrassing confessions.
"That stuff doesn't matter. We don't have to talk about it," she said defensively, trying to deflect.
"It does matter, Skye," Phil said. The sad look in his eyes was still there. "The things you think and feel and say always matter. And they're worth talking about."
"I didn't even mean any of it anyways," Skye said stubbornly. "I was just tired and cold, and I was mad that I had been caught. I don't even know what all I said, but I don't really mean it."
"I don't think that's true, Skye," May murmured. Skye bristled. She was pretty sure May hadn't meant to call her a liar, but the accusation still stung, even if a liar was precisely what Skye was. "I think you did mean it. I think you were being more honest with me in the car than you've been with us since you got here."
"I'm not a liar," Skye glowered. "I tell you guys the truth… most of the time."
"I'm sorry, that's not what I'm trying to say," May corrected herself. "I'm not trying to accuse you of being dishonest. I just mean that I think you've been hiding a lot of your feelings for a long time, and yesterday was maybe the first time you faced them head-on."
"Sometimes there are things that hurt us, or bad feelings or scary thoughts that rumble around in our heads, even when we don't fully realize they're there," Phil added. "And they make us feel badly about ourselves or about our lives without us being aware of the impact that they have on us. Sometimes it takes something big, like getting stranded in the rain in a faraway place, to help us acknowledge that those feelings have been inside of us for a long time."
"So, what then?" Skye asked hotly. "Do you want me to say that I do really think those things I said? Do you want me to tell you that everything I said yesterday is true, because I really am a screwup and nobody I've ever known besides Jemma has liked me enough to keep me around for more than a few months?"
"Skye, we're not trying to upset you, we just want to make sure you're okay. If those are things that you're feeling, then maybe…" Skye didn't hear the rest of May's sentence. A roaring was filling her ears. She knew where this was going, and she didn't like it one bit.
"I'm not going to one of those doctors again. You can't make me."
"We won't force you, of course not. But Phil and I think that finding someone who you can talk with might really help you."
"I thought you said I didn't have any more punishments – consequences – whatever," Skye said, failing to mask the hurt in her voice.
"Talking to a therapist isn't supposed to be a punishment—"
"Why couldn't you just lock me in my room for a few days or take away my food privileges like a normal foster family? Why are you making me go see a doctor?"
"Skye—" Phil tried to answer her, but he cut himself off midsentence as the weight of her words fully registered and a look of near horror slid onto his face. "Skye, locking you up or taking away your food is not normal. Those are not acceptable ways of disciplining a child. Were… were there families that did that to you?"
"It's fine, it doesn't matter. Just, please, don't make me go see a—"
"It absolutely matters. Skye, if someone treated you that way, that was wrong," May said, looking almost as shaken as Phil. "We had no idea. There was nothing in the files about anything like that."
"There's a lot missing from those files," Skye said flatly. "When I looked at them on your computer, I saw all the places where they left things out. No offense to Miss Hand or anybody, but those files are kind of worthless."
"What do you mean?"
Skye felt a prickling on the back of her neck. She had said too much. She didn't want to get into every bad thing that had happened to her ever. Not here, not now. The corners of her eyes were getting hot with gathering tears, but she blinked them away angrily. She had done more than enough crying the last couple of days. "Nothing. Just that the people who fill out those forms are usually more interested in whatever we did to get kicked out than in the reasons we wanted to get kicked out in the first place. But I don't really want to talk about it right now, and I don't want to go talk to some doctor either."
"Okay," Phil said after a long pause. There was a little bit of a sigh hiding in his voice, but not an exasperated one. "If you don't want to talk anymore, then we don't have to talk. We can take a break. And if it means that much to you, we won't force you to go see a therapist. But will you at least think about it? We could find someone good, someone who we trust, and they might be able to help you figure out some of the things that you're feeling."
"I'll think about it," Skye agreed sullenly. "But I don't think I'm going to change my mind."
"We just want to help you, Skye. Whatever that looks like. We want you to feel good about yourself, and to be safe and healthy and happy, because you deserve to have those things," May told her.
"And if you're ever ready to talk to us about what's missing from those files," Phil added, "we'd be more than happy to listen, okay? We care about you – the whole you. A lot."
"I guess I'll think about that, too."
Hi you guys! It's been a hot minute, and I am so incredibly sorry for making you wait so long for an update! Things just got really busy, and then there were a couple of chapters that were giving me kind of a hard time, which all compounded in the update being like a week later than usual... To make it up to you all, and to thank you for your patience, I've got some longer chapters coming up, and BONUS, you get four in this upload :) Thanks for sticking with me and for continuing to read - hope you like the new chapters!