It took a long time before everyone could pull themselves together and stop crying. For a while it seemed like any time one person made eye contact with another, that was all it took to set them both off, eyes misting and mouths wobbling with weepy joy, they were all so happy and overwhelmed to be together again. Even Miss Hand had trouble keeping her composure at one point, and Skye caught her dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief as she watched the five of them all holding onto each other, savoring the fact that there wasn't any space or distance between them anymore.

Eventually, though, they were able to keep their smiles and eyes dry, and they found themselves all piled together on the couch, no one really wanting to make the first move. It wasn't until Phil happened to look over at the clock that anyone even had anything to say.

"It's almost six. Is anybody hungry? Did anybody even get to eat lunch in the middle of all this hubbub?" Bashfully, Skye, Jemma, and Bobbi shook their heads.

"Let's eat," May agreed. "We could all stand to have a good meal together. Victoria, what are you and Izzy doing tonight?"

"Oh, uh, nothing, really," Miss Hand said. She looked almost surprised to be included in May's dinner plans. "But you all should eat as a family. And I have plenty of paperwork to—"

"Vic, our family wouldn't be together if it wasn't for you," May said seriously. "Please, it's the least we can do. Stay for dinner. Invite Izzy."

"You know what," Phil announced as he hoisted himself off the couch, untangling himself from the arms and legs that were all noodled together, "we never used all that stuff we got for Thanksgiving a few days ago. Give me a couple of hours, and I think I could whip us up quite a feast."

"We certainly have a lot to be thankful for," murmured May with a smile. "What do you say, Vic?"

"Okay," relented Miss Hand, returning May's smile. "I'll give Izzy a call. She'll be happy to hear she got out of leftover night."

"And your mom should be back soon, shouldn't she, Mel?" Phil asked over his shoulder. He was already elbow deep in the refrigerator, pulling out an assortment of things Skye couldn't really see from her position on the couch. Phil's words piqued her interest, though, and she cocked her head in May's direction.

"Your mom's here, May?"

"She flew in to stay with us while you were gone," nodded May. Something sad flickered across her face, but she quickly replaced it with a fresh smile. "She knew how sad Phil and I were and came to help. When we got the news you all were coming home today, she decided to go spend some time downtown, probably hunkered down with some tea and a book somewhere. She wanted to give us some space while you all came back."

"That's really nice of her," remarked Bobbi. "To come and take care of you, I mean."

"As she'd put it, that's what moms are for," chuckled May. "She probably won't stay much longer, now that you're all home, but I know she's been dying to meet you."

"Give her a quick call, will you, Mel?" Phil called. "Let her know the new game plan for the evening."

"I will," May told him. "And I need to finish putting clean sheets on the pull-out." She drifted towards the back of the house, rummaging in her pocket for her phone. "Be back in a flash."

"I better go call Izzy," Miss Hand said, heading in the opposite direction with her own phone. "I'll grab your things from the car while I'm out there, Skye, all right?"

Skye nodded and watched as the two women went their respective ways, leaving her, Jemma, and Bobbi woven together on the couch. They probably looked a sorry sight, with her arm in a cast and her stomach stitched up, Bobbi's knee back in its brace, and Jemma moving stiffly against the bandages that still covered her own stitches where the doctors had taken the bullet out of her, but Skye didn't care. All that mattered was that she was here, with them, with the people she had clung to in her mind while she had felt her most alone in the past week.

"Was it really awful going back to St. Agnes?" Bobbi asked quietly, once it was clear that the three of them would be alone for a while.

Skye didn't say anything at first. She wasn't exactly sure what to say about the whole ordeal. Beside her, Jemma stretched out a finger and tapped it lightly against the back of Skye's hand. Jemma knew. Jemma had talked her through one of her worst days.

"It was pretty bad," Skye admitted, drawing strength from the steady beat of Jemma's finger against her hand. "Not the worst it's ever been, because people mostly left me alone, since I had a cast and everything, but it was… really hard. Lonely. I felt… bad. I got to talk to Jemma one day, and that helped, but I…" Her voice snagged somewhat, and she had to swallow hard a couple of times to loosen her words back up. "I don't know how much longer I could have stayed there."

"I hate that place," Bobbi said darkly. "I've never even been there and I hate it. I hate what it did to you."

"It's not so bad," Skye shrugged. "Better than some of the foster homes we've been in, at least."

"Well then I hate those places, too."

"What about you?" asked Skye, suddenly remembering that Bobbi had been with another family this whole time. "How was your foster home?"

To Skye's surprise, Bobbi's cheeks went pink. "Oh, um, it was… it was good, actually. Really good. Not as good as here," Bobbi said quickly, looking from Skye to Jemma and back again. "I didn't have you guys, so it wasn't as good. But they took good care of me. And you'll never believe it," Bobbi paused and bit back a grin, "but the family that I stayed with? It's Natasha's family."

"Natasha? Like our Natasha?"

"Yeah," Bobbi nodded, smiling. "Her cousins, they're older, and she lives with them. They're still licensed to foster, so Miss Hand set it up so I could stay with them."

"That's so cool," Skye breathed, eyes wide. "It's like you got to have a sleepover with her. We've never had a sleepover. Was it fun?"

Bobbi shrugged. "I don't know about fun. I was still really worried about you guys, and about the investigation and everything. And I missed you like crazy. But it was nice to be with friends. Nice to have someone to talk to about everything that was going on."

"And what about you?" Skye asked then, turning to Jemma. "What was it like staying in the hospital all that time? Did you get to see the doctors doing all kinds of medical stuff? Could you watch tv all day if you wanted to?"

Jemma shrugged listlessly, still tapping on Skye, but keeping her eyes on the floor. She hadn't said a single word since those couple sentences she'd uttered when Skye first came home, but Skye wasn't too worried about it. She had waited four months after meeting Jemma for the first time to get so much as a peep out of her, and Skye figured with everything that had happened, Jemma might feel better staying quiet for a while. She'd had a lot to say when they talked on the phone a few days ago, but Skye suspected that had more to do with Jemma's desire to be helpful during Skye's freak out than a desire to start talking again.

"Were the doctors nice at least?" Skye asked, a little softer, and making sure it was a yes-or-no question that could be answered with a nod or a shake of the head.

Jemma tilted her head from side to side slightly, thinking hard, before she gave a small nod. She didn't lift her gaze from the floor.

"That's good," Skye smiled. She flipped her hand over so that Jemma's fingers were tapdancing in her palm instead of on the back and stretched her own fingers up to meet Jemma's. They twisted together instinctively, and Skye gave her fingers a flex, so they squeezed against Jemma's in what Skye decided was almost like a finger hug. "What about the food? Was that any good?"

Jemma paused only briefly before shaking her head 'no' to that. Skye bit down on her lip to keep from laughing. She wasn't surprised. Jemma had always been particular about her food, and somehow Skye didn't think hospital food would be much to Jemma's taste.

"Did you have a window?" Bobbi wanted to know. "Could you see the stars at night?"

Jemma's brow tightened, her mouth twisted downward in a sad, lemony look. She didn't nod or shake, but it was clear from her expression that she didn't really need to.

"You'll see them tonight," Skye said confidently. "And even if it's cloudy, we can just look at your map, or turn the star lamp on and watch them on the ceiling. We'll have double stars tonight. Maybe triple."

"Triple, triple, triple," Bobbi agreed. "I think we deserve triple stars tonight, don't you?"

Time seemed to speed up as the evening wore on. Izzy arrived not too long after Miss Hand had called her, and she grinned when she saw the three girls sitting together on the couch.

"Hey," she said with a wave. She was wearing normal clothes, not her police uniform like the other time Skye had seen her, and she brought a relaxed kind of energy into the room that made everything feel safe and calm. "Thanks for inviting me to this little shindig. We've got a lot to celebrate tonight, don't we?"

"Phil said we're doing our own version of Thanksgiving," Skye offered, a little shyly. Izzy struck her as a person who was super cool, in a way that made Skye feel a little self-conscious.

"We're in for a real treat, then," Izzy grinned, flopping herself down in an armchair. "Because Phil's Thanksgiving food is awesome. Way better than the stuff we ate at the hospital this year, right, Vic?"

"The cafeteria left a lot to be desired," Miss Hand admitted, the corners of her mouth twitching. "And Phil is a very good cook." Izzy patted the arm of her chair and inclined her head towards Miss Hand, batting her eyes a little.

"Izzy." Miss Hand cleared her throat and fiddled with her glasses, almost like she was embarrassed. "Not in front of—"

"Oh, come on, Vic, we're all off the clock here," Izzy wheedled. "I haven't seen you all day. I miss my wife."

Skye bit back a giggle, and she caught Bobbi twisting her mouth up to do the same. It was wildly amusing to see Miss Hand being the one getting bossed, instead of doing the bossing.

Miss Hand only held out for a second more, before giving in with a smile and a roll of her eyes. She crossed over to where Izzy was sitting and perched on the armrest of Izzy's chair. Izzy wrapped an arm around Miss Hand's waist and gazed up at her face with a look Skye had only seen a few times between grownups. It was like the look Phil and May exchanged sometimes, when they were about to be sappy with each other. Skye wrinkled her nose in anticipation.

Miss Hand shook her head and chuckled – an actual, honest-to-God chuckle – then leaned down and gave Izzy a quick kiss. "You're lucky I love you so much. You'd be exasperating otherwise."

"And the fact that I'm strong and beautiful and charming helps, too, right?"

"It helps."

"Do you think Phil needs help in there?" Izzy wondered, craning her neck to try and see into the kitchen, to no avail. "Phil, do you need help in there?"

"No." The clanging clatter of what sounded like a pot hitting the ground reverberated through the air, causing both Bobbi and Jemma to jump a little on either side of Skye. There was a beat of silence before Phil spoke again, admitting defeat. "Maybe."

Izzy smirked, and she and Miss Hand got up then, heading for the kitchen. They beckoned for Skye, Jemma, and Bobbi to follow them, and before long, the kitchen was full of warm laughter and busy bodies as everyone did their best to help pull together a makeshift Thanksgiving. May tried to join them, but was quickly dismissed by Phil with a grin.

"I love you, Mel, but I think we're covered in here. And you know you don't have the best track record when it comes to Thanksgivings, honey."

"I'm never going to live that down, am I?"

"It's one of my favorite Melinda stories, so no, probably not," Phil smiled. He leaned over the counter, almost dragging the front of his untucked shirt through a full mixing bowl, and gave May a kiss. She smiled and kissed him back, carefully pushing the flap of his shirt away from the bowl.

"Don't make a mess," she chided warmly. "If you really don't need me in here, then I'm going to go pick up my mom. She tried to convince me to let her take the bus home, stubborn lady. I should be back in ten, fifteen minutes, tops."

"You're leaving?" Skye asked, looking up quickly from the apples she and Jemma were supposed to be cutting. Something sharp and unexpected snared in her chest, squeezing around her heart with icy claws.

"Just for a minute." May's brow furrowed and she turned an almost confused gaze onto Skye. "We'll be back before you know it. It's getting dark, I don't want my mom taking the bus alone."

"No, I know," Skye backpedaled. She could feel the back of her neck heating up with embarrassment. She hadn't meant to sound as babyish and clingy as she had. "You should give your mom a ride."

"Is everything okay, Skye?"

"I'm fine. It was a dumb question, forget it."

"It wasn't dumb," May said kindly. "Your questions are never dumb. Do you want to ride with me to go pick up my mom? Would that make you feel better?"

Skye shrugged one shoulder and returned her attention to the apples, avoiding May's x-ray vision. Beside her, Jemma leaned into her side slightly, and Skye noticed that she had started drumming a finger on the countertop. Skye inhaled sharply through her nose. She couldn't explain it, but she didn't really want May to leave, even though she had to. She didn't really want to go with her either, though. She didn't want to leave Jemma or anyone else behind. She didn't want any of them to be apart right now.

"I'll stay here," she finally said, not looking up from the apples.

"Okay. Anyone else interested in a quick drive downtown? Last call," May offered.

"We'll see you both when you get back," Phil told her, when no one else took May up on the offer. "Who knows, we might have something ready to start eating by then. We have a pretty crack team here in this kitchen."

"I'm just glad no one is bothering with that frozen turkey," May laughed.

"Well, I thought we might better go with the leftover chicken if we wanted to eat before midnight," chuckled Phil. "And since it's Thanksgiving… or, Thanksgiving inspired, I guess, I figured, why not put it into a pie?"

"I do love your chicken pot pie."

May turned and left then, although not before giving them all a wave that looked a lot more chipper than the slightly perturbed expression on her face suggested. Something slippery flipflopped in Skye's stomach, and she glared hard down at the cutting board, attacking the last of the apples with a ferocity that the poor fruit didn't really deserve.

"Easy, Skye," Phil warned with a chuckle. "We're trying to bake those, not turn them into applesauce."

"Sorry."

"I'm only teasing, Skye. You're doing great, really." Phil turned a concerned look on her and, after wiping his hands with a dish cloth, gave her a soft squeeze on the shoulder. "You sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine," she said again, forcing her face into an easy-breezy expression. She flashed Phil a smile that didn't make it all the way up to her eyes. "Honest. Just hungry."

"I guess we better keep moving, then," Phil said jovially. He smiled back at her, but like Skye's own, his didn't quite make it to his eyes, either. "Victoria, could I get you to chop up all those vegetables there? Izzy, let's poke around the cabinets and see if we can't find something else to fill this meal out with, and Bobbi, how would you feel about learning my special gravy recipe?"

With the flurry of activity that followed in the kitchen, Skye was almost kept busy enough that she hardly had time to dwell on the lingering gnaw of worry that burrowed around in her stomach. Almost. She couldn't quite ignore it completely as she and Jemma tossed their chopped apple pieces in the butter, sugar, and cinnamon that Phil had passed over to them, or while she helped Izzy sort through the cabinets.

"What do we think, Skye?" Izzy asked, pulling out her findings for Skye to inspect. "Do we need canned peaches with this meal? How about peas?"

"I like peaches," Skye shrugged. She had always loved the bursting sweetness and the bright color of them, even though it was a rare treat for them to have peaches at St. Agnes. "Jemma likes them, too, but only if they're not in the syrup. It makes them too slimy for her."

"Peaches are in," nodded Izzy stoutly, setting the can down. "I'll see what I can do about the sliminess. What about the peas?"

"I'll take the peas," Phil piped up. "Can't make pot pie without peas." Izzy passed him the can and turned to Skye with a gleam in her eye.

"There's some canned tuna, think we can use that for anything?"

Skye wrinkled her nose and shook her head. Too many unpleasant memories of Tuesday tuna casserole at St. Agnes. "Veto."

"Tuna's out. There's a jar of salsa up here, how about that?"

"Izzy, do we really need salsa with our chicken pot pie?" Miss Hand called from the other side of the kitchen, chortling a little.

"Hey, we're celebrating, aren't we?" grinned Izzy. "We're pulling out all the stops. Peaches and salsa and pie and…" – she poked her head back in the cabinet – "maybe some macaroni and cheese. And I bet you there's ice cream in the freezer, right, Phil?"

"There is," Phil laughed. "And antacids in the medicine cabinet for when we all get stomachaches from this smorgasbord."

That made all the grownups laugh again, although Skye didn't find the prospect of a stomachache very funny. She was already dealing with a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach, a feeling that flickered worries up into her brain, a feeling that something was wrong when they weren't all here together. She didn't need to add indigestion to the mix.

Not too much later, the sound of the front door cut through the din of the controlled chaos, and Skye immediately dropped the bag of tortilla chips she was supposed to be dumping in a bowl to eat with the salsa.

"Sounds like they're back," Phil smiled, ignoring the scattered chips that tumbled out of the open bag onto the counter. "We're all still in here," he called back towards the living room.

And then there she was, May standing in the doorway, taking in their handiwork and raising an eyebrow at the eclectic collection of half-finished dishes that were slowly filling up the kitchen. A shaky breath rattled out of Skye's chest, and she forced herself to stand stock still in her spot. Normal people didn't go running towards a person who'd only been gone for a few minutes. They waited patiently for a person to come in. And they definitely didn't attach themselves to the person's hip, even though that was precisely what Skye most wanted to do.

"You all have been busy," said May with a bemused sort of chuckle. "We're going for quite an assortment, I see."

"Call it a party," Phil said grandly. "Izzy said it best: we're pulling out all the stops."

"Melinda, you've sold them short," came a voice from somewhere behind May. A clipped and craggy kind of voice that Skye had come to associate with age, but one that sounded almost giddy with excitement. "You told me my granddaughters were wonderful, but you didn't tell me they were perfect, too."

May rolled her eyes, but she smiled as she stepped to the side and made room for a small, wiry old woman to come into the room. The woman had neatly cut black hair and wore the kind of chunky gold earrings Skye was used to seeing on some of the silver-haired ladies at church. She didn't look as much like May as Skye was expecting – they had the same eyes and mouths, but their noses and chins were different. The woman was also several inches shorter than May, which struck Skye as a little funny, since May wasn't exactly tall herself. Skye was almost to May's height now, if only she could grow a few more of those inches she had been promised years ago, so she felt almost like a giant standing in the same room as the little old lady.

"Mom, this is Bobbi, Skye, and Jemma. Girls, this is my mom," May announced with the tentative awkwardness of a person who wasn't sure just how the meeting was going to go.

"Your mom," Bobbi echoed in faint disbelief. "Mom, mom, mom." She blinked, like she just realized she had said that out loud, and her face flushed. "Sorry."

"I know, I'm so glamorous it's hard to believe we're related," May's mom said with a wink. "Melinda takes after her father, poor girl."

"Gee, thanks, Mom."

"Oh, I'm only teasing, Melinda," May's mom tutted. She reached up and cupped May's chin in her slightly knobby fingers. "You're plenty stylish and beautiful, and you know I think so."

"I think so too, for the record," Phil chimed in, waggling his eyebrows at May, who looked thoroughly put out and embarrassed by the whole conversation. Skye chewed on her lip to keep herself from smiling at the scene. May was acting like a surly kid around her mom, and it was pretty much the funniest thing Skye had seen in weeks.

"That's enough out of you two," warned May, scowling at both Phil and her mom.

"Quite right," nodded May's mom. "I have granddaughters to meet." She shuffled a little further into the kitchen, stopping briefly to greet Miss Hand and Izzy, whom she seemed to already know, before drawing alongside Skye, Jemma, and Bobbi.

"Let me see," she hummed, looking them all over carefully. "You must be Bobbi the brave," she said, tilting her head backwards to get a full look at Bobbi, who had to be almost a foot taller than her. "And you're Skye the bold," she continued, nodding at Skye, then turning to Jemma last. "Which makes you Jemma the brilliant."

All three girls had red faces at May's mom's assessment. Jemma's eyes were glued on the floor, and her hands were stuffed in her pockets, while Bobbi's were fiddling nervously with the rolling pin that was sitting near the edge of the counter. Skye, trying to take her new nickname in stride, decided to take the lead.

"You're a pretty good guesser."

"You pick up a few tricks when you work in Intelligence for nearly forty years," May's mom smiled. "And of course Melinda has told me so much about the three of you, I feel like I've known you for years."

"May talks about us?" Skye asked, a little surprised, but not unpleasantly so.

"Of course," May's mom said. "Proud parents always talk about their babies, and Melinda—"

"Mom."

"What?" May's mom swiveled back to look at May. She raised her eyebrow in the exact same way May did, and it took all Skye's willpower not to look over at Jemma and Bobbi to see if they noticed the resemblance, too. "You do talk about them all the time. As you should. They're extraordinary, I can already tell."

"Let's just… try and take things a little slower, okay, Mom?" May sighed. "It's been a full day. Let's eat, get to know each other a little, but not go overboard with it."

"I don't know what you're talking about," May's mom waved her hand dismissively, but she seemed to listen to what May was asking, and changed tact with a good-natured smile. "I see you all have been helping out in here. That's good. Everyone should know how to cook."

"Phil lets me help him out a lot," Skye explained. Somehow, maybe with everyone back within her sightlines and the party atmosphere really starting to take hold, Skye found it almost easy to slip back into her normal, chatty self. She had never been one to shy away from meeting strangers the way Jemma often did, and May's mom didn't exactly feel like a stranger. "And Bobbi cooked a lot at her old house, so she knows stuff about cooking. And May taught us all how to make jiaozi one time."

"Did she now?"

"She said you taught her when she was growing up and she wanted to pass it along."

"That's true, I did teach her. I imagine you three were somewhat better students than she was at your age," May's mom teased. Once again Skye found herself struggling to suppress a giggle, but May didn't seem too upset by the gentle ribbing of her cooking skills, so Skye didn't feel quite as bad about laughing this time.

"They're naturals," May said graciously. "Fast learners, all of them."

"Having a good teacher probably helped, too," smiled May's mom.

"It did," Skye piped. "May showed us all the different ingredients and she taught us how to crack an egg one-handed, and she didn't get mad once, even though I probably wasted half the carton trying to practice."

"Of course she didn't," agreed May's mom. "It's not wasteful if you're learning."

"That's what she said!"

May's mom arched her eyebrow again and smiled. "And where do you think she learned it?"

Another round of chuckles washed over the kitchen, before a small silence dipped in and settled over them.

"She told us you worked with the CIA," Bobbi said politely, taking advantage of the lull in conversation. "That was probably pretty cool."

"It was," she nodded. "I was in data management, so not quite as flashy as Ethan Bourne or Jason Hunt or whatever those sweaty men in the movies with all the explosions and car chases make it seem, but I was working with computers at a time when everything we knew about computers and digital technology was changing. It was very exciting, if you ask me. I tried for years to get Melinda to join me, but she had her heart set on staying close to home. She's stubborn, you know, there's no changing her mind once it's made up."

"It's a family trait," May laughed. She looked at her mom while she said it, but Skye was almost sure she saw May's eyes flick over in her direction, too. The thought made her stomach lurch, like she had missed the last step on the stairs, and she turned away slightly, suddenly very interested in pulling out forks for everyone from the silverware drawer.

"You read my mind, Skye," Phil said from across the kitchen. He had just eased several casserole dishes out of the oven and was shedding a pair of big, floral patterned potholders. "Everything is just about ready, so all that's left is to set the table, and then we can really get this party started."

It didn't take long to lay out plates and silverware, especially with everyone helping, and soon all eight of them were crowded around the kitchen table, preparing to dig into the unusual feast in front of them. There was Phil's chicken pot pie, plus some other more Thanksgiving-appropriate dishes, like sweet potatoes and green bean casserole, but there was also the bowl of canned peaches, artfully drained by Izzy, the chips and salsa, a pot of stovetop macaroni, a big bowl of salad Miss Hand had insisted on preparing, the baked apples Skye and Jemma had worked on, plus a few more odds and ends. It was the biggest and most nonsensical meal Skye had ever seen in her life, but somehow it didn't matter that nothing seemed to go together.

It reminded her of the people around the table in a way – on paper, none of them should have fit together. A scruffy kid from an orphanage shouldn't have become friends with a child genius, a superstar high school athlete had no business sitting next to a former member of the CIA nearly sixty years her senior. You wouldn't think teachers or social workers would marry detectives, much less raise ragtag children together, and yet here they all were, friends and loved ones, bumping elbows as they passed the wibbly cranberry sauce and laughing as Phil recounted the time May had tried to serve a still-frozen turkey on their first Thanksgiving together.

Somehow, they had come together. Somehow, they had found each other, somehow, they had been allowed to fight for what mattered most, somehow, somehow, they were here, safe and close and holding onto hope for a forever that Skye desperately prayed wouldn't slip from her fingers once again. Never before had a Thanksgiving felt so thankful.

Hello! I'm so sorry for the long delay in updating. Things got very busy for me, between work and family things and the life, and I kind of lost track of time, but we're back! I hope you like these three chapters - a little slower paced, but I think we've been in need of some slower pacing after everything that's happened so far ;)