On the scale of things Skye had gotten in trouble for, a fight at school usually landed somewhere right around the middle. She had been in fights before. She had been in fights at school before. She had won some, had lost plenty more, and while no one was ever happy when she let her anger get the best of her, it certainly wasn't the worst thing she had ever done, at least as far as she was concerned. It wasn't even the worst thing she had done since coming to live with Phil and May, but the serious expressions on their faces and the presence of Miss Hand cast some doubt on that sentiment.

"Are you all right?" May asked, once they all had the room to themselves. She crossed over to Skye and started inspecting all the places where her face was swelling and scraped. Skye wriggled free and tucked her chin into her crossed arms. She didn't want to be fussed over, even though her eye and her chin and her stomach all hurt more than she was willing to admit. She wanted to be left alone. May tensed a little at the sudden withdrawal, but didn't pursue Skye as she shrank back.

If Skye hadn't been working so hard to keep all the virulent anger stewing around inside of her swallowed down, she might have had the focus to realize that she had probably hurt May's feelings by jerking away from her. As it was, though, there wasn't room in her to linger too long on that thought. Just one more thing she was doing wrong lately, she supposed.

"What about you, Jemma, are you hurt?" May turned her attention to Jemma, who shook her head. Jemma hadn't stopped tapping since the fight, but at least now it wasn't quite so fast and frantic as it had been when they were getting reamed out by the new principal.

"Skye, what happened?" Phil wanted to know.

"Jemma already said," Skye sulked. "Ward was hurting Fitz. I made him stop."

"I think there's more to the story than that," said Phil. "Why would you go after him like that? You know fighting doesn't solve anything. Why not get a teacher? Why not come to us if you were having problems with someone at school?"

It had been hard to get a read on Phil at first – he wasn't angry, but he wasn't being especially comforting, either. He looked tired, unhappy, and with a pang, Skye realized that, above all, he was disappointed. Guilt twisted in Skye's gut at the sight of his pained expression, at the knowing that she was the one causing it, but she swallowed that down, too. There were just too many feelings to deal with all of them at once. Even though she knew it was the one most likely to get her into trouble, anger was the one she chose to dwell in. Anger was hot and fast and harder to tame, but it was familiar and powerful and even if Skye couldn't exactly control the anger itself, she had long ago learned that staying mad at least gave her a modicum of control elsewhere.

"It wouldn't have mattered," she said churlishly, letting the anger she had chosen harden her voice. "It wouldn't have changed anything. Nobody cares when you're getting picked on, they only care when there's a fight, because then they have to do something about."

"Skye," May sighed, "you can't use violence to solve your problems. That's how people get hurt. People did get hurt. You, and Ward and Trip, and F—"

"I know!" Skye erupted, cutting May off before she could say Fitz's name. She didn't need to hear her say it. She didn't need to be reminded that it was all her fault. "I don't care," she lied, turning away from them, from all their sad, let down, condemning looks. They knew what she did. They knew how much she'd screwed up. Her eyes burned and she blinked hard to clear them. "I know you think I did the wrong thing, but I don't care. I'm not sorry I hit him. I'd do it again. He's a jerk and he deserved it."

"Jerk or not, Skye, you have to understand that there are other ways, better ways, of handling things. Starting fights isn't acceptable," Phil said sternly. "That's not how we deal with problems. If someone's giving you a hard time, you have to tell us. We want to help you, but we can't do that if we don't know what's going on."

"I don't get why you're so mad," she grumbled. "You didn't get mad at Bobbi when she got in a fight."

"Bobbi didn't start that fight," May pointed out. "In fact, she didn't actually participate in it, she just got caught up on the fringes. And she knew to get help rather than try and handle things on her own."

"I didn't start the fight, either!" Skye said angrily. Why were they all acting like she had gone out of her way to beat up an innocent old lady? She got in a fight with Ward. Ward, who had been making their lives miserable. Ward who was twice her size. Ward who made her feel even more worthless and small than she normally did. "You're not listening to me. Ward was choking Fitz. He had his arm around his neck. There wasn't anything else I could have done."

The room fell silent, save for Jemma's tapping. Skye glared from adult to adult, daring any of them to contradict her. She watched as May shot Miss Hand one of those exasperating looks grown-ups give each other when you've done something wrong that proves some point they've been trying to make about you. A 'see, what did I tell you?' kind of look. Something hot and tempestuous flared up in Skye's chest at the sight.

"What?" she challenged, looking back and forth between the two women. "You're talking about me. You should just say it."

"Skye, we're not—" Miss Hand began.

"Don't lie," Skye snapped. She stared hard at May. She thought she could count on May to be honest and upfront with her, but it seemed like they were talking over her head. It was one of the things she hated the most about grown-ups – when they acted like you wouldn't understand, when they talked like you weren't right there, or worse, talked about you when you weren't there to explain yourself at all.

"We're worried about you, Skye," May said seriously. Her tone was level, matter-of-fact. For some reason, the straightforwardness caught Skye off-guard. "And I was meeting with Miss Hand today to see if she had any suggestions that might help. You haven't been acting like yourself lately. You seem… unhappy. Angry. Things that don't normally bother you are upsetting you, you're short-tempered at home, you're getting in fights at school… It's not like you."

"How would you even know?" Skye blurted out before she could register just how rude those words sounded and pull them back in. They weren't untrue, though. They didn't know anything about her, not really. They didn't know that this was just how she was, didn't know that this was the kid they had agreed to foster.

"She's right, Skye," came Jemma's voice, soft and hesitant. Skye whirled around and stared at Jemma, mouth agape. She hadn't expected Jemma to take their side. Jemma, who was usually the only person who understood her, who knew just how vile Ward had been to them, who saw the cataclysmic amount of pressure Skye felt all the time, felt it herself, too. "It's like something's been bothering you, more than just Ward, but you won't say what."

"Nothing's bothering me," Skye said flatly. It was lie, of course. Everything was bothering her, but she couldn't begin to explain it fully to herself, much less to a room full of other people.

"Is it school?" Phil asked. "Because I know it's hard to wait for the accommodations, but they're coming soon. You've been working so hard and we see that. We're proud—"

"It's not school."

"Is it therapy? Or something we're doing at home?" he asked, pivoting gracefully and graciously ignoring Skye's interruption.

"No," Skye said. She crossed her arms grouchily and pulled her feet into the chair with the rest of her. She didn't like this game of 20 questions they were embarking on.

"Is it your parents?" May asked quietly. Skye's head snapped up and she looked at May with alarm for a fleeting moment before she quickly replaced it with indignation.

"No!" she insisted. "It's nothing. Nothing's wrong. I'm just being myself. It's not my fault nobody likes me this way."

"Skye, of course we like you. We like you plenty, and we want you to be able to be yourself. We just don't want you to be unhappy," Phil said, a little hurt.

"Are you unhappy, Skye?" Miss Hand wanted to know. "Do we need to reevaluate your placement? Find you somewhere new to stay?" If it had been any other social worker asking those questions, Skye would have heard the words as a threat, a veiled warning that she was about to be yanked out of her foster home. With Miss Hand, she was pretty sure they were just genuine questions, but the gnarled roots of fear didn't unsnake from around her heart completely; because as much as she knew everyone might be better off if she just left, the selfish part of Skye really didn't want to leave. Not yet, at least.

"No," Skye said in a small voice. "I don't want to go somewhere else."

"Okay," said Miss Hand in her trademark no-nonsense tone. "Well, then, let's figure out some ways for you to show us that this is the right place for you. That you're going to try and make this work. Because right now it seems like all we're doing is stirring up the same trouble we've had before, and I know you're capable of more than that."

They were all staring at her, waiting. They all expected so much from her – trying hard, being good, doing her best. They all just assumed that she was a good person, a smart person, a reasonable person, and they expected her to try and be that way, not knowing that no one had ever assumed those things about her, not knowing that no one had ever thought to hold her to those standards, not knowing that she didn't know the first thing about trying to live up to those insurmountable expectations.

Miss Hand said that she knew Skye was capable of more than causing trouble, but what if she wasn't? What if there just wasn't enough common sense and common decency inside her to meet that ideal? Her track record certainly didn't indicate some untapped potential for brilliance and demure tranquility that she just hadn't accessed yet. She wasn't sure she could bear to let everyone down again.

"I don't know what you want me to say," Skye finally admitted, once it was clear that they were all waiting on her to make the first move. She was fighting to keep her voice steady, but all the emotion she had been choking back for weeks was swirling to the top of her throat. "I don't know how to do what you want. I'm not… I'm not good enough. I don't want to leave, but I think maybe I should just go before I screw up again and you have to send me back anyway. That way you won't have to be disappointed in me."

A cacophony of objections rang out, startling Skye.

"What? Skye, no—"

"Of course you're good enough—"

"We could never be disappointed in—"

Skye screwed her eyes up against the tidal wave of voices, trying hard not to jump up and bolt away from them all. This wasn't the response she had anticipated. She wasn't even sure this was the response she had wanted.

"Skye." That was Jemma's voice. Soft and cool and close by, very near her ear. Even though she wasn't speaking as loudly as anyone else, it was her voice that broke through. She scooped up Skye's hand and squeezed, tapping on the back of her hand tenderly. "Skye, please don't say that. Please don't run away just because of what happened. Don't leave me."

Skye opened her eyes and turned her face towards Jemma. Jemma was wearing a fretful expression, eyes wide and shining with a pleading kind of worry. Internally, Skye chastised herself for thinking that she could just turn her back on Jemma so easily. She ducked her head slightly and leaned forward so that her forehead bumped lightly onto Jemma's, a gesture she saved for only her most serious of messages.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I wasn't thinking."

Jemma squeezed her hand again and tapped it three times. It's-o-kay. I-am-here. I-love-you. Skye wasn't exactly sure which one of Jemma's messages was being telegraphed, but the sentiment was clear as day. Jemma cared about her, and they had to stick together.

"Maybe we need to come at this with a different approach," Phil said thoughtfully, once the energy of the room had settled back to a place where conversation could regrow. "Let's not think about things in terms of what we want from you, Skye. You're already everything we want, just the way you are. Instead, maybe we can all come up with a couple things that we can all do to make things a little better for each other."

"What do you mean?" Skye asked, scrunching up her nose in confusion.

"Like, we can all try to be a little more honest with each other," Phil suggested. "You and Jemma can try to be more upfront with us about things that are bothering you, so we can try our best to help. Melinda and I can try to be more transparent about things that involve you, like when we have meetings with Miss Hand. We should have told you Melinda was meeting with her today."

"Okay," said Skye slowly. She wasn't quite sure where this was going.

"And we can all try to find better ways of dealing with our anger," May added. "Fighting isn't a healthy solution. Neither is us getting short with you when we're frustrated."

"What about you two? Is there something you think we could do that would make things a little better for you at home?" Phil asked. His face was soft again, the lines around his eyes and mouth relaxed. He looked from Skye to Jemma and back again, waiting patiently for an answer.

Skye couldn't figure out how to explain that the problem she'd been grappling with recently stemmed from the fact that May and Phil were nice to her. Too nice. Too patient, too kind, too easily inclined to believe the best of her. She didn't know how to handle it, and when Ward had pushed the right buttons, she had cracked under the pressure of it all. She shrugged one shoulder Phil's way.

"I don't know. I guess maybe I just need a break sometimes." That was the best she could muster.

"A break," Phil nodded. "Sure. Everybody needs a break sometimes."

"What kind of break do you mean?" May wanted to know.

"Just…" Skye faltered. "Some time alone, I guess. Time when I don't have to be trying so hard."

"Okay," said May seriously. "That's a good suggestion. We'll all try to give each other some space, some extra personal time every now and then." She paused, and a brief look of consternation flashed across her face, drawing her eyebrows together. "Skye, have we been pushing you too hard? Because if we have, Phil and I, we're so sorry. We don't mean to pressure you. We just want to help, but we're still learning, just like you are."

"No, it's…" Skye started to shake her head, but she stopped halfway through the gesture and switched to a shrug instead. "It's fine," she said. "I know you're trying to help. I just feel bad when I can't do what you want me to."

"All we ever want is for you to be yourself. To do your best. Not anybody else's," Phil assured her. "I'm sorry if we made you feel otherwise. We like you for you, Skye, no matter what."

"No matter what," May echoed. "Sometimes we might not like the choices you make, like what happened earlier today, but that doesn't change how we feel about you. Nothing you do or don't do is going to change that. And it will never change the fact that you'll always have a place with us. You'll have a home here, for as long as you want one."

"You won't send me back?" Skye asked quietly. She knew she had asked them that same question before, more than once, and their answer had always been the same. Still, it was so hard to let go of the anguished, gnawing fear that this time would be the one that changed things. That there could always be something that shook the steady ground and caused the assurances to crumble. She couldn't let it go, and she needed to hear it again.

"We won't send you back," May said, emphasizing every word as if each consonant and vowel was marble she sculpted with her lips. "We won't let you go, unless you want to go. We don't have to say goodbye until you're ready."

"Promise?"

May paused only for a moment, flashing her eyes over to Miss Hand for some kind of confirmation, then nodding in sync with Phil. "Promise."

A slightly shorter one to end this burst, but an important conversation for them all to have, I think. Things got kind of heated in these last few chapters, but I hope you still enjoyed them. As always, I'm so immensely grateful to you all for being here and reading - sharing cyberspace with you all makes me so happy :) Thank you!