TW for doctor's office, discussion of medical care/stitches

They left Dr. Garner's office without much fanfare, and, much to Skye and Phil's immense delight, had enough time to stop at the Pie-in-the-Sky diner for lunch before their next appointments.

Carolyn greeted them all cheerfully as they trooped into the diner, and she surprised them all with root beer floats when she brought out their plates.

"Carolyn, you didn't have to –" Phil tried to protest. The grin on his face gave him away, though.

"Don't be silly," Carolyn tutted with a wink. "It's just good to have my favorite customers all back in one booth. Consider it a celebration."

"Well, thank you," Phil said. The rest of them echoed with a chorus of 'thank yous' as well, but Carolyn waved them off good-naturedly.

"Holler if you need something," she called over her shoulder as she returned to the kitchen. "And don't forget to save room for pie – we've still got plenty of pumpkin and pecan left from Thanksgiving, plus a new one I dreamed up last night: lemon icebox with a strawberry swirl."

"We're all going to go into a sugar coma after this," May teased, but she didn't protest a bit when they all tucked into their slices of pie at the end of the meal.

After dropping May and Bobbi off at the house so they could pick up May's car to go to Bobbi's appointment, Phil, Skye, and Jemma headed off in the opposite direction, towards the pediatrician's office where Dr. Little, who had come recommended by Jemma's doctors at the hospital in Two Rivers, worked. Phil has assured them all that Dr. Little had already been made aware of their situation, and they had nothing to worry about, but of course that didn't stop Skye from feeling nervous as they pulled into the parking lot fifteen minutes later.

"How're we doing?" Phil asked gently, twisting around in his seat once he'd cut the engine to get a good look at Skye and Jemma, who were both slouched in the back. Neither one made a sound, besides the soft tap Jemma was maintaining on her knee, and Phil gave them a sad smile.

"I know," he said. "This is a lot for one day, and I'm sure coming here isn't easy. I know I had a really hard time making myself go to the doctor after my parents had been sick. It was hard to force myself to go to a place where I had a lot of unhappy, stressful memories."

"How'd you make yourself go?" Skye asked. Phil smiled again, not so sad this time.

"Melinda helped me. She helped me face my fears and she also helped me remember how important it is to take care of my body, get it checked-up from time to time. She went with me, the first time I went back to a doctor after my mom died. It's helps you face scary things when you have somebody to hold onto, I think."

"Yeah."

"And that's what we'll do today. The three of us, we'll stick together, and we'll make this as painless as possible, I promise. And we're all leaving here together at the end. That, I can guarantee you."

"And then we'll go home?" Skye checked. "And May and Bobbi will be there?" Maybe it was silly of her to ask that, because if she thought about it logically, of course they'd go home after and of course May and Bobbi would be there, but still… it was nice to hear Phil confirm it for her out loud.

"Yes, then we'll go home, and we'll see Melinda and Bobbi, and I'll make us something good for dinner," he promised. "I'll even let you two help me decide what it's going to be, if you like."

Jemma smiled at that, and Skye found herself giving in to a smile as well. It was hard to keep a frown on her face when Jemma looked so happy. And she seemed relaxed, too, Skye realized as she got a better look at Jemma. The taps that she was rapping out on her knee were slow and steady, not anxious or flighty like Skye might have assumed they'd be, and the little wrinkles she got on her forehead when she was fussing about something were nowhere to be seen. If Jemma could be brave and calm, then Skye could be, too. She took a deep breath.

"Let's get this over with."

There was nothing remarkable about the inside of the doctor's office. It looked pretty much like every pediatrician's office Skye had ever found herself in, which, given social services' insistence on their annual checkups regardless of whether they were at a foster home or with the nuns, had been a lot. There were hard plastic chairs with the weird vinal seat covers, a few babyish toys in one corner, and glossy brochures all stacked neatly along one wall. The chipper, toothy-grinning kids on the covers of the pamphlets gave Skye a weird feeling, like she was being watched, and she scrunched her nose up at them. They all looked too happy to be paired with titles like "Save a Life with Infant CPR," "When Is A Fever More Than Just A Fever?" or "It's Never Too Soon To Talk About Puberty."

She and Jemma perched on a pair of the plasticky chairs while Phil went up to speak with the woman in the window about checking them in. Jemma kept her eyes on the ground, and if Skye had to guess, she would have said Jemma was probably counting all the little checks that patterned the all-weather carpet covering the waiting room floor. Not being particularly interested in the number of diamonds under their feet, Skye cast her gaze around the rest of the room. The only other kid in there with them was a sniffly toddler who was curled up in her mother's lap, sucking her thumb on one hand and wiping her nose repeatedly with the other. The toddler's mother kept trying to get her to use a Kleenex instead, but the toddler screwed up her face and kept pushing her mother's hand away with a grumpy "no!" every time. Skye bit back a sympathetic smile. She knew how the little girl felt – being in here made her want to shout 'no,' too.

"The nurse up front said we should be called back in just a few minutes," Phil said as he rejoined Skye and Jemma. "They're actually running on schedule today, which according to Tonya, is a rarity here. Guess it's our lucky day."

"You already learned the nurse's name?" Skye asked, amused. Phil flashed her a wink.

"You know I can't help but make conversation," he chuckled. "It's the neighborly thing to do, as my mother would say. And my dad was always Mr. Popular around town, so between the two of them, I was well-trained for social niceties."

True to Tonya's word, it didn't take long for them to be called back, and the three of them filed out of the waiting room and through the heavy wooden door that led to the exam rooms, Phil in front and Skye and Jemma traipsing behind with little enthusiasm. They followed a new nurse through the narrow hallway until they reached a door with a 6 on the outside.

"In here, please," the nurse chirped, holding the door open for them. "I'll be taking some vitals first – height, weight, temperature, blood pressure, that sort of thing – and then the doctor will be with you shortly."

"Sounds good, thank you," Phil smiled. He gave Skye a little nudge and nodded encouragingly at her, coaxing a listless nod of halfhearted agreement out of her. It didn't exactly sound good in her opinion, but it did at least sound normal and, most importantly, doable.

The nurse shut the door behind them, and Skye's heart immediately leapt up into her throat, snuffing the breath out of her and making her chest squeeze with tight anxiety. She maybe should have used that as an opportunity to start practicing some tricks for coping with closed doors better, but she was already so on edge from just being in the doctor's office to begin with that she wasn't sure she had the stamina or the fortitude to endure the added stress of a shut door. Besides, Dr. Garner had also said it was good to practice asking for help, so maybe it would be okay this one time.

"Phil," she started to say. He didn't hear her. Her voice came out all shriveled, like it had gotten lost somewhere along the way out of her mouth. She cleared her throat and tried again, tugging on his sleeve for good measure. "Phil."

"Mm-hm?" He turned his attention quickly from Jemma, who was being measured by the nurse, over to where Skye was shrinking in on herself. Almost instantly his face softened from causal curiosity to gentle concern. "Are you okay?"

"Can… can we open the door?" she asked, not much above a whisper, her ears burning with embarrassment. "Please?"

"I don't see why not," he soothed. "Would it be okay if we cracked the door a bit?" he asked the nurse.

"We keep them closed for privacy, but I suppose if you all don't mind it open, it wouldn't hurt anything."

Phil went to the door and turned the handle, popping the door open a few inches. "Is that better?"

"That's good," Skye told him. "Thank you."

"Of course," he smiled. "Anything to make this a little easier on you."

Soon it was Skye's turn for measurements, and she took a little sliver of joy in the fact that she had grown an inch since the last time she had been to a doctor's office at her last foster home. She'd still probably never be as tall as Bobbi, but Skye was determined to catch May before the end of the school year.

"Your temperature's a little elevated," the nurse frowned, once she had pulled the thermometer thingy out of Skye's ear. She made a small note on Skye's chart. "Have you taken any fever reducers in the last 24 hours?"

"No." Skye shook her head. She hadn't known she needed to. She had assumed the shivery feeling she'd had since that morning was nerves, not anything worth worrying about.

"Any other medications?" Skye shook her head again, and the nurse made another note. "I think that's all I need for now. The doctor should be with you soon." When she left, Skye was pleased to see that she left the door open a little, just like how Phil had had it. She already liked this nurse way better than the one from the hospital.

"Do you feel warm, Skye?" Phil asked, once they had the room to themselves. She just shrugged, prompting him to press a hand lightly onto her forehead and frown. "A little. I meant to take your temperature this morning, but we ran out of time before we had to leave for Dr. Garner's office."

"It's fine," she mumbled. She squirmed away from Phil's touch slightly – not enough to hurt his feelings, she hoped, but enough to try and quell some of his fussing.

"It's not fine," Jemma fretted. "A fever can be a sign of infection, Skye. It's a way for your body to fight disease."

"Not a very good strategy," Skye joked lamely. "Overheat the system to fry the virus, and you end up frying the motherboard, too." Jemma gave her a pained expression, one of those 'this is why I worry about you' kind of looks that Jemma had perfected over their years of friendship.

"Let's just see what the doctor has to say," Phil sighed, running a hand through his hair. "One step at a time, okay?" Something about him seemed off to Skye – frazzled, maybe, or frustrated. Guilt swirled up to the top of her throat.

"Are you mad, Phil? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to –"

"What? No, Skye, I'm not mad." He looked so sad when he said it that it made Skye shrink slightly. "I'm a little nervous, maybe. I'm worried you're getting sick and I didn't see it in time to help you. But I'm not mad, not at all. I'm sorry if I made you think I was."

"I'm sorry I'm sick," Skye mumbled. "I should have taken better care of my stitches. I made you worry; you shouldn't have to worry about me."

Phil chuckled weakly. "Skye, I'm always going to worry about you. I worry about the people I love – you, Jemma, Bobbi, Melinda. I can't help it. It's just something that I do. And you never have to apologize for being sick, sweetheart, it's not your fault. I'm the parent, I should have been keeping a closer eye on you. Besides," he said firmly, "we don't actually know that you're sick yet. Like I said, we should wait for the doctor."

They didn't have to wait much longer. Dr. Little arrived a few minutes later, smiling warmly at them as she slipped into the room. She was a Black woman, younger than Phil, and her dark, tightly coiled hair fanned out from her face, like one of those halos from the really old pictures of saints the nuns had all over St. Agnes. The fact that she left the door open a little, just as she had found it, made Skye feel like maybe she was saint-like in more than just her looks.

"Hello," she greeted them brightly. "I'm Dr. Little, I'll be taking care of you today."

Skye, Jemma, and Phil all introduced themselves, and Dr. Little nodded and repeated their names back to them as she met them all. It was a little odd, in Skye's opinion, but she didn't mind it. At least she knew Dr. Little was taking them seriously and was trying hard to learn their names.

"So it says on your charts that you're here for a post-op checkup, is that right, Jemma?" Dr. Little asked, once they had all been settled. She indicated that Jemma should hop up on the exam table, and Jemma obeyed without missing a beat.

"Yes," she said, situating herself on the edge of the table. She didn't look up from her fingers, which were tapping on her knee softly, but her voice was confident. "I had surgery nine days ago to remove a bullet from the upper right quadrant of my abdomen. The bullet lodged near my liver and caused a minor laceration, which was repaired during the surgery. A small portion of the liver was resected, the bullet was removed, and I received ten stitches."

"Sounds like you were paying close attention during the doctors' rounds while you were in the hospital," Dr. Little remarked. Her eyes sparkled a little when she smiled, but Skye didn't think she was teasing Jemma. It seemed more like she was impressed with her, and Skye couldn't help but feel a little proud on Jemma's behalf.

"I wanted to know what was going on," Jemma said shyly. "I've read lots of things about medicine."

"I'm guessing you can tell me what your aftercare instructions were, once you were released from the hospital," prompted Dr. Little.

"Daily monitoring of the incision, cleaning and dressing of the wound, oral antibiotics to prevent infection," recited Jemma. "Limited physical activity, fluids and rest to encourage healing. A post-op check up 7-10 days following the surgery, with stitches to be removed no later than 14 days after surgery."

"Jemma's been on top of things," Phil smiled. "She's the future doctor of the family, so she takes recovery seriously."

"So I can see," Dr. Little nodded. "You've been following your aftercare instructions, Jemma?"

"Yes."

"And how has everything been going? Pain, discomfort, difficulty with the dressings?"

"It still hurts sometimes, but not too much. Mostly only if I get bumped."

"Any fevers, headaches, nausea, anything like that?"

Jemma shook her head. "No."

"Okay, great," smiled Dr. Little. "So let me tell you what our next steps are going to be here. I'm going to ask you to let me take a look at your incision. I'll probably need to put my hands on your abdomen to perform my examination. Is that okay with you?" Jemma nodded. "Great, thank you," Dr. Little said. "I'll perform the examination, take a listen to your breath sounds with my stethoscope, so more touching, this time on your chest and back. Then, depending on what I see and hear from those steps, we'll either be done, or I'll have a few follow up things for us, which I'll tell you about if we get there. Sound good?"

"Sounds good."

Dr. Little had Jemma sit back some, and lift her shirt to reveal the crisscrossing stitches that closed up the places where the bullet and the doctors' tools had opened her up. The stitches and the skin around them looked tender still, although not as red as Skye's, and there was still some faint purple bruising blossoming away from wound, a reminder of just how much Jemma's body had been put through. Skye had to look away then. She didn't like seeing where Jemma had been hurt. To her surprise, Phil scooped up her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze, and when she cut her eyes over to him, he gave her a soft smile.

"It's hard for me to watch, too," he whispered to her. "I know Jemma appreciates you being here, though."

Dr. Little spoke while she examined Jemma, talking through everything she was doing and explaining why as she went. Skye wasn't looking at Jemma, but she was positive that Jemma was happy to have someone walking her through the steps so clearly. And the firsthand, up close and personal experience with medical care probably wasn't unappreciated, either, Skye thought with a small flicker of mirth.

"You've been very thorough keeping your stitches clean," Dr. Little commented, once she finished her exam and had Jemma lower her shirt back down. "The incision looks like it's healing very nicely."

"I like to be thorough," Jemma admitted, a little bashful.

Dr. Little leaned in conspiratorially and half-whispered: "Me too. Makes things easier in the long run, if you ask me." That drew a giggle from Jemma, and Skye was sure the doctor had just managed to cement herself on Jemma's list of favorite people until the end of time.

"I'd like to get a listen at your lungs now, Jemma, make sure you have strong, clear breath sounds. The stethoscope might be a little cold. We'll do the front first." Dr. Little slipped the stethoscope up under Jemma's shirt. Jemma flinched a little, probably at the cold metal on her skin, but took deep breaths in time with Dr. Little's direction with no trouble. After they had repeated the steps on the back, Dr. Little removed the stethoscope and smiled.

"Your breaths sound good. No fluid, no congestion, very deep and strong, which is what we were hoping to hear. You've passed with flying colors, Jemma." Jemma beamed.

"Are we looking at removing the stitches today?" Phil asked.

Dr. Little shook her head after a moment's thought. "No, I think I'd like to leave the sutures in for the full 14 days. Jemma's taking good care of them, so there's no rush to get them out, and while the wound is healing nicely, I'd rather take a more cautious approach with it. Give us a few extra days with the added support of the suture to really make sure everything is where it needs to be when we remove them. Is that okay with the both of you?"

"That's fine with me, you're the doctor," Phil said jovially. "Jemma?"

"Fine," Jemma nodded.

"Okay then," Dr. Little agreed. "Just keep following your aftercare instructions, okay, Jemma? Be sure to finish out your medication, and we'll make sure to schedule an appointment for Tuesday of next week to have those stitches removed." She paused then, and looked a little curious. She hesitated a little before she spoke again, like she wasn't sure she was supposed to ask her next question. "Can I ask… is there a reason you chose to see me for your checkup? Rather than return to the hospital, for example, where Jemma's surgeons and Skye's doctors are? I spoke on the phone yesterday with Victoria Hand, your family's social worker, and she gave me some family history, but she didn't go into much detail about the hospital. Not that I'm not happy to have them as patients, I just wondered…"

"We wanted somewhere a little closer to home," Phil explained. "Plus we… we didn't have the best experience at the hospital. There was some… confusion… when it came to the girls' safety, and we thought it would be better to just transition over to a smaller practice. Somewhere we can actually build a relationship with the doctors."

"They tried to report Phil and May, our foster mom," Skye said, a little bluntly, when Phil's explanation didn't quite erase the confusion from Dr. Little's face. "They thought it was May and Phil's fault that we got hurt, that May and Phil had hurt us, even though we told them that wasn't what happened. But Phil said that Miss Hand already told you that you don't have to report them." She paused, narrowed her eyes at the doctor and forced herself to use her toughest voice. "You're not going to report us, right?"

"I have been given no reason to," Dr. Little assured her. Skye's muscles unlatched somewhat as a fragment of tension slipped out of her body. "And I'll be sure to speak with you directly if I have any concerns. You and Jemma strike me as two competent and honest people – I think I would trust you to tell me if there was something I needed to be concerned about."

"Oh." Skye was a little taken aback by Dr. Little's upfront and frank candor, but she found herself having no trouble believing her. "Okay. Thanks."

"Of course. Are you ready for your turn up on the table, Skye?"

Skye and Jemma switched places then, Skye hopping up onto the table and doing her best not to wince as the effort sent a sharp sting through her stomach. Even though Dr. Little was about to take a look and discover that Skye wasn't exactly the model patient that Jemma was, Skye couldn't exactly allow herself to drop the façade of being fine.

"So, Skye, you're here with stitches, too, is that right?"

"Yeah," Skye nodded. "I didn't have surgery or anything, but I had some cuts on my stomach from climbing through a broken window, and the doctors stitched them up."

"That must have hurt a lot."

"Kind of," shrugged Skye. "Honestly my arm hurt worse for most of the time. After I got my cast on I guess my stomach hurt more than my wrist, but at first I almost didn't realize how bad the cuts were."

"You've been taking care of your stitches?" Dr. Little asked.

Skye hesitated. She didn't want to lie to Dr. Little, but she was feeling kind of sheepish about the fact that she hadn't followed her instructions as well as Jemma had. "Mostly. Sometimes I forgot to clean them, but Jemma reminded me. I didn't get them wet, or my cast either."

"That's good," smiled Dr. Little. "What about medication? I'm guessing your other doctors prescribed you something if you got your cuts from broken glass."

"Yeah, there was some medicine I was supposed to take. Anti-bionics or something. I… I wasn't so good about remembering that. But I'll do better with it now, I promise. I won't forget anymore."

"I kind of dropped the ball on that one," Phil admitted. "My wife and I should have been paying closer attention, making sure Skye remembered. We've all had a lot on our plates, not that that's any excuse. But we're planning on making a system to help us all remember moving forward."

"My other doctor, Dr. Garner, he thinks I might have ADHD, so I'm not the best at remembering stuff," Skye tried to explain. "But he says systems can help, so we're coming up with one for meds."

"That sounds like a smart idea," Dr. Little said kindly. "I would definitely urge you to take the medication as prescribed, and definitely finish out the dose. Sometimes people stop taking their medicine once they think they feel better, and that can lead to problems down the line. I saw on your chart that your temperature's a little high today. Have you been experiencing any other symptoms? Any pain, discomfort, headaches, nausea?"

Skye pumped a single shoulder up and down noncommittally. "I don't know. It hurts, I guess. When I move or bump it into stuff, or if I take too deep a breath sometimes. But it's a cut, that's just normal, right? And people get headaches for all kinds of reasons. I got really mad yesterday and it made my head hurt for a while."

"That's true, that injuries can continue to hurt, and that headaches can come and go for a variety of reasons. It's also true that those things, combined with your fever, could also be warning signs of early infection. We don't know that for sure, of course, but I'm glad you came in to see me. I'd like to take a look, just so we can make sure you're healing the way you should be. I'll need you to lift your shirt for me, and I'll also need to put my hands on your stomach. Is that okay, Skye?"

She didn't really want Dr. Little poking around her midriff, but Skye appreciated that she had asked so explicitly, like she had with Jemma, and she knew that the fastest way to get this whole thing over with was to cooperate. Begrudgingly, Skye nodded and rolled the hem of her shirt upwards, wadding it around her ribs so that her stomach was exposed. She saw Jemma's face wrinkle into a frown on the other side of the room, so she knew her stitches probably didn't look so good before she'd even glanced down at them. Skye grimaced. This wasn't how she had hoped the appointment was going to go.

Dr. Little's hands weren't cold, which was a nice surprise, but they were strong as they prodded and inspected all the soft and tender places along Skye's belly, and Skye had to force herself not to suck in agitated hisses of air every time the doctor's hands brushed a little too close to her cuts. Skye forced herself to look down at her stomach, and she was dismayed to see that the biggest cut, the one right to the left of her navel, was still open and angry-looking from when she'd reinjured it yesterday. The other cuts, smaller and not so bad looking, were still tinged with pink along the stitches, and Skye realized, as Dr. Little's hands worked their way from place to place, that the skin across her stomach felt warm to the touch. Probably not a good sign.

"Does this hurt, Skye?" Dr. Little asked. "When I press here?" The way Skye's face screwed up involuntarily at the pressure more than answered the doctor's question, but she nodded for good measure.

"Sort of."

"Okay, so Skye, the next thing I'd like to do is take a sample from you. I'm going to swab your cut here, and then use that to see if there's an infection starting. Can we do that?"

Skye nodded again, and watched as Dr. Little used a big Q-tip-looking thing to poke at her big cut. She popped the Q-tip into a plastic holder, sealing it up tightly.

"We'll run this quickly and hopefully get some results very soon. I'll be back in a moment; I just need to drop this off with a nurse for a rapid test."

Dr. Little stepped out of the room, and Skye unfurled her shirt back down over her stitches. When she looked over at Phil and Jemma, they both had sad looks on their faces. Skye wrinkled her nose at them.

"It's not that big a deal. I don't even feel bad, not really. You guys don't have to look so worried."

"I'm allowed to be worried," Jemma pushed back. She was tapping tightly on her collarbone, her arms all folded up in close, protecting her from stress. "Infections can be serious, and we've had enough bad things happen. We don't need any more."

"I already said I was sorry for not taking my medicine," Skye mumbled, chastened. She dropped her gaze back down to her lap and hunched her shoulders against Jemma's words.

"That's not what I meant, Skye," Jemma said softly. "I'm not cross with you. I'm worried about you. And I'm going to worry no matter how many times you tell me not to. I can't help it."

"You can't turn off Dr. Simmons, I know," Skye relented, smiling a little. "I know you're just looking out for me. I didn't mean to be crabby at you, I'm sorry."

"It's okay." Jemma returned her smile, and her tapping fingers slid down from her collarbone to her knee, slowing their tempo somewhat. "I know you don't like going to the doctor."

Skye made a face. "Dr. Little's not so bad, but I can't wait to get out of here." She paused for a minute, debating for a split second whether or not she wanted to make the request that had just popped into her head. She decided it couldn't hurt to ask. "Sit with me?"

Jemma's smile deepened, and, after checking with Phil to make sure she was allowed, she climbed up onto the table next to Skye and leaned into her side. Her fingers migrated from her own knee over to Skye's, and Skye could feel her heart filling with sunshine and shooting stars as the feeling of Jemma's steady hand keeping time worked its way into her muscles.

It wasn't much longer before Dr. Little returned with news of Skye's test results.

"There is a minor infection," she informed them. "We seem to have caught it early, which is good news, and it doesn't seem to be anything too severe at this point. Obviously I'd like you to keep an eye on it, and certainly come in if Skye's condition worsens, but I don't think it's anything to worry about too much. Skye, I want you to continue taking the oral antibiotic you were given at the hospital. Work on getting that system in place so you don't miss any more doses, and be sure to take everything that you were prescribed. I'm also prescribing you a topical antibiotic to put on your cuts, twice a day, okay? It's a little stronger than the stuff I suspect you've been using up to this point, and it might sting a little until the wound starts to heal a little more, but that should stave off any serious infection going forward. I'd like you to come back in on the same day as Jemma to have your stitches removed, and so I can check in with how you're feeling. Does that all sound doable?"

"It does," Phil nodded, and Skye echoed him in agreement.

"Excellent," smiled Dr. Little. "See Tonya at the front desk on your way out to make an appointment on Tuesday, and I'll see you all then. Do any of you have questions for me before you go?"

Skye shook her head no, as did Phil, but Jemma hesitated, like she had something she wanted to ask, but wasn't sure she should. Skye gave her a little nudge with her shoulder, and Dr. Little, who must have picked up on Jemma's waffling, turned a warm expression on her, waiting patiently.

"What's on your mind, Jemma?"

"I… I was wondering… where you went to medical school," Jemma asked, her cheeks pinking faintly. The corners of her mouth danced upwards in a bashful, nascent smile, though, when Dr. Little beamed at the question. Skye should have guessed that was what Jemma wanted to ask. She always asked doctors that, if she could. Skye knew she had a mental list of all the medical schools people went to, and, knowing Jemma, she suspected that there was probably some kind of elaborate ranking system based on which schools had the most alumni and which ones produced the doctors that Jemma liked the best.

"I went to Northwestern University for medical school," Dr. Little told her with unmistakable pride. "Had a great experience there. Are you thinking ahead to your prospects already?"

"Just curious," Jemma said, the pink flushing deeper. "I'm not old enough for medical school yet."

"It's never too early to imagine what wildest dreams you might want to chase," said Dr. Little. "Gives you plenty of time to explore your options, change your mind if you need to, and find the right thing down the line. But, for what it's worth, I'd be remiss if I didn't leave you with a 'Go Wildcats.' They'd be lucky to have someone like you. Both of you, really."

"That's very nice of you to say," said Jemma shyly. Skye chomped down hard on her lip to keep her face straight. It was very nice of Dr. Little to say, but it was also definitely only true for one half of their dynamic duo. The idea that a school would be lucky to have a student like Skye made her want to laugh out loud, but she did her best to take the compliment politely. It wasn't like Dr. Little had any idea how ridiculous what she'd just said was, after all, and it was obvious that she was trying to be kind.

"Luckily we're a few years away from college searches with these two," Phil chuckled. "I don't know if I'm ready for all that stress quite yet. I have at least another year before we have to start thinking seriously about college for any of our three."

"Do you think Bobbi would let me help her look at schools?" Jemma asked suddenly, like she had just realized the possibility that potentially lay before her. "I'm very good at research."

"You'll have to take that up with her," Phil said with a wink. "But I'd bet good money that she'd say yes in a heartbeat."

"Well, if she does let you help, put in a good word for Northwestern for me, will you?" Dr. Little asked, teasing a little. Jemma nodded solemnly, like she had been given an enormous responsibility, and Skye had to bite back a smile. "It was really nice to meet you all. I'll see you next week."

They exchanged goodbyes with Dr. Little and gathered their things, ready to head back to the waiting room so Phil could schedule their next appointment with Tonya and they could finally, finally head home.

"Any suggestions on what we could make for dinner?" Phil asked, once they had piled into the car and cranked up the heat against the early December chill. There was still no snow to be seen, but it was certainly getting cold enough for it, now that Thanksgiving had passed and the bite of December wind had set in full force.

"Something warm," Skye suggested, puffing on her fingers to try and speed up the warming process.

"Like grilled cheese and soup?" Jemma tossed out. Skye grinned.

"Yeah, that would be good, wouldn't it, Phil? We haven't had that in ages."

"Sounds like a plan to me," Phil declared, matching Skye's grin with a beam of his own that made the car feel ten degrees warmer than it had. "Grilled cheese and tomato soup is hard to beat."

They rode in quiet as they stopped by the pharmacy to pick up the medicine for Skye's cuts and then headed for home, the fullness and exhaustion of the day taking up most of the space in the car. Still, things felt settled and sure in a way that Skye hadn't quite felt for a while, so she was content to sit back in her seat, warm forehead pressed against the chilly glass of the car window, and soak in the tranquility that permeated the air around them. It wasn't until they had arrived home and gotten hallway up the walk, Jemma ahead of them and already inside, that Skye realized there was still one thing nagging at the back of her brain, scratching away at her thoughts.

"Hey Phil?"

"Hey what?"

Skye cracked a smile at that. Phil sounded so much like a kid sometimes it was hard not to feel happy around him. Still, the question she had on her mind was a serious one, and she quickly rearranged her face to match the tone she was trying to strike. "If… if I didn't want to go to college… would that be okay?"

Phil looked pensive for a minute, and slowly eased himself onto the top step of the porch. He indicated that Skye could sit down beside him, and she did, easily slotting into the space right by his side and nestling into his warm coat. "That would definitely be okay. College is a great experience, and it can help you get a good job, but there are lots of great options for people after they graduate high school, and college is just one of them. When that time comes around, you'll get to choose what feels right for you."

"But you wouldn't be… disappointed or something? If Bobbi and Jemma went to college and I didn't?"

"As long as you're happy and doing what's right for you, I will never be disappointed in you, Skye," Phil assured her. "But I do want to make sure you know that I very much believe you could do great at college if you wanted to go. I know school isn't always easy for you, but you work hard and you're more than smart enough to go to college if you decide to. And you could study the things that you like best, computers and codes and all those things that make my head spin."

"You really think I could go to college?" Skye knew that plenty of foster kids didn't even graduate high school, much less pursue college. She had never really given much thought to the possibility that she would ever be able to do something like that.

"I absolutely do. I think you can achieve anything you put your mind to, Skye, and I believe you can achieve more than you think you can. I also think you have plenty of time to figure it out," he added with a playful nudge. "Let's just focus on graduating middle school for now, okay?"

"Okay," Skye smiled, laughing a little as Phil's nudge veered towards a tickle. "Hey Phil?"

"Mm?"

"Do you think Bobbi and Jemma and I are still going to be here then? When we're graduating high school and deciding to go to college and stuff like that? Will we still be living with you and May?"

There was a moment before Phil answered. For a second, Skye was afraid that he was going to give her an answer she didn't want to hear, but when she looked up to scour his face for bad news, she saw instead that his eyes were dewy, and he was smiling even more broadly than before.

"I really hope so, Skye. Nothing would make me happier, and Melinda and I… we're going to do everything we can to make sure that's how things are going to be, so long as that's okay with you three."

"Really?"

"Really," he said. He wrapped an arm around Skye's shoulders and gave her a quick, hard squeeze to show her that he meant what he was saying. Then, he exhaled sharply, and they watched as his frozen breath billowed and swarmed around their faces. "Gosh, it's freezing out here. You ready for some hot soup and melty cheese?"

"Can I help?"

"Of course."

"Will you tell me your secret grilled cheese ingredient?" Skye wheedled. She had been trying to ply that little tidbit of information out of him for almost as long as she'd known him, but he hadn't cracked yet.

Phil grinned at her and waggled his eyebrows mischievously. "Sorry, kiddo, still classified. Nice try, though."

"It was worth a shot," Skye shrugged. They got to their feet then, and Skye slipped her hand into Phil's for a moment before they went inside. "I still love you, though."

"I still love you, too," he laughed. "Now let's go get warmed up."

Once again, I can't thank you all enough for being here and sharing cyberspace with me. Things have been so out of sorts in my life lately and this story is one of the things that always makes me feel better, so thanks for continuing to let me share it with you :) We're drawing near the end, probably two or three major updates left (depending on if I can reach the end in four-six chapters or seven-ten haha), which is a little bittersweet... but (to answer the question left by a lovely guest), there is a sequel already planned and in the works! I've got a pretty thorough outline mocked up for it and a handful of chapters already drafted, which I'm very excited about! Love y'all lots, I'll see you next time!