TW: self harm, torture, implied/referenced child abuse, depression, etc.

"Good morning… Skye, was it?"

The young British woman almost startled her as she entered the room – curiously, she was finding that whatever material this room was composed of made it difficult to sense the vibrations in the rest of the plane, and that fact alone was enough to make her uneasy.

She – Skye, they were insisting on calling her by her name (which was maybe almost sort of nice) – suppressed a tremor that shuddered its way down her spine as the door swung open. The girl was dressed very smartly in a pair of black jeans and a dark red sweater, a white collar poking out at the top. Brown, wavy hair cascaded down her shoulders, and if it weren't for the medical kit hanging off her arm, Skye might have felt her shoulders relax at the sight of her.

Instead, she tensed up and clamped down on some anxious vibrations rippling under the surface.

The girl stopped where she was, her huge hazel eyes trained right on her. "Right," she murmured to herself, flashing Skye a reassuring smile. "My name is Jemma Simmons. I'm a part of Coulson's team. We didn't ever formally meet – though I did save your life."

(She hadn't asked for that, but she was, for some reason, finding it a bit difficult to be mad at this woman for doing so.)

Skye's stomach flipped as she flicked her gaze from the medical kit to the woman's kind eyes. She hugged her knees a little tighter to her chest, warily scanning the girl's vibrations. They radiated off of her in eager, albeit slightly uneasy waves, reinforced by tense muscles and that wobbly, sweet smile. She seemed nice enough, but a smile could mean a thousand things.

Raina smiled because she knew something others didn't – or knew secrets better left buried – and would use the information as leverage to instigate or to get what she wanted.

Her superior smiled because he enjoyed setting her straight – he got some form of pleasure from inflicting pain and watching her suffer, he practically scrutinized her every move just so he could have a chance to punish her.

The man in the white lab coat smiled because discovery-

Jemma took a few slow steps towards her, and instinctually Skye shrank back, despite the friendly vibrations the woman gave off. "I'm not going to hurt you," she told her softly, kneeling down beside her. "I just need to check your stitches, and make sure everything's healing properly. Is that okay?"

Skye didn't dare move a muscle. The woman's voice was light and the way she'd phrased her sentences sounded almost like Skye had a choice, but she knew better than to trust it. She'd never had a choice about anything, especially medical.

This proved true (but again, it was hard to be upset with someone who seemed so sweet and heartfelt, even if it was just deception – that was still yet to be determined). Jemma nodded to herself and gently, almost cautiously, she asked; "Could you take off your hoodie so I can take a closer look at that shoulder?"

Skye slowly unfolded her legs, wincing as dull pain coursed through her entire body at the movement. Obediently, she carefully pulled the hoodie back over her head and set it aside, shivering as the cool air hit her bare skin.

Jemma's expression darkened a bit as she took in all of the bruising on Skye's torso. "Oh, Skye…" she breathed, covering her mouth with a slender hand.

Skye glanced down at herself, unsurprised to see the yellowing purple bruises that covered a majority of her abdomen, before the pinky-white lines on her arm caught her attention; she felt a sudden and overwhelming feeling in her chest that she couldn't quite place as she realized that it was incomplete, that Ace's Aunt Mindy hadn't been added.

(And somewhere in a corner of her mind she could hear the woman's hollow wheezing as her breaths squeezed through her airways and she could feel the woman's rapid, haphazard, pulsating heart as all the color drained from her face and she'd stood her ground when Mindy collapsed, her hands clasping over her chest, convulsing on the floor as she exhaled all the oxygen she had left and her body lost its grasp on life and she didn't even bat an eye as Ace shrieked in terror, as massive, crystalline tears flooded in his eyes, and she'd done that, she'd caused that, she'd taken away that kid's family and it was her fault her fault her fault-)

"Right." Jemma cleared her throat, bringing Skye back down to earth. "Sorry. They only look worse because they're healing. You're healing remarkably fast…" Her horrified expression morphed into one of undisguised interest, her vibrations spiking as her curiosity took over. Skye's chest tightened at the all-to-familiar sensation that she was nothing more than a lab rat.

Skye watched warily, her heart skipping a few beats as Jemma opened her medical kit and pulled out a pair of blue gloves. Without her realizing, she'd started tapping her fingertips against the mattress, letting the cushiony material soak up some of the excess vibrations that had been building up inside of her. Jemma glanced back up at her, offering her a reassuring smile. "I'm going to have to change the dressing on your shoulder; there's no need to be nervous," she told her gently. "It's not going to hurt."

After pulling on the gloves, she reached for Skye's bare shoulder – Skye instinctually recoiled away, her breath catching in her throat as she nearly released one of the tremors before dispersing the rogue vibrations through the mattress. "I promise, Skye." She stopped, thinking for a moment. "Skye… you chose that name for yourself, right?"

Hesitantly, Skye nodded, overtly aware of the Brit's nitrile fingertips grazing her skin.

"That's a beautiful name," Jemma expressed, gently starting to peel the dressing off of her trembling shoulder. "One of these days, you'll have to tell me why you chose it. Of course, only if you want to, there's no pressure."

Images of cotton-candy skies flashed in Skye's mind for a moment – of birds soaring overhead and wispy pink clouds swirling in an open, painted horizon. A tug in her chest ached to see it again, but instead another tremor shook its way down her spine as she felt the cool air hit the bullet wound on her shoulder.

She flinched away as Jemma reached for it again.

"You know," Jemma quickly continued, switching out her gloves and depositing the old dressing in a plastic bag. She pulled out a small, unlabeled bottle with what looked like just water – but looks were deceiving, it could be drugs, she'll drug her and dull her senses so she can't fight back and then she'll-

"I've always been interested in the sky." She pressed a piece of gauze against the top of the bottle and flipped it upside down to soak it. "Well, more specifically the stars. Astronomy, I should say. I've always thought that it was so fascinating – there's so much out there, so much we don't know. And it's all so beautiful and vast."

Skye had suddenly found herself so entranced in the way the Brit spoke about the stars that she hadn't even noticed that Jemma had started patting the wound with the gauze until she stopped speaking. She'd never really heard anyone else share her interest in the sky, and there was something intrinsically beautiful about the way her favorite topic passionately rolled off of Jemma's tongue. Once it was quiet again, however, she winced at her touch, fighting every single urge, every little muscle that screamed at her to put as much space between them as possible.

Jemma's eyes flicked up to meet hers, and upon realizing that her fear had settled back in she quickly started to fill the silence again. "You know Skye, we can see stars that are at least twenty quadrillion miles away. At least. Isn't that fascinating? And stars are created and die out over the course of millions, even billions of years. Their brilliant light comes from a chemical reaction – you see, a star on the main sequence glows as it fuses hydrogen into helium. And when exceptionally large stars run out of hydrogen to burn, they explode in what's called a supernova." She taped down a piece of gauze on Skye's shoulder, jolting her out of her mind's imagery of glimmering stars in a cosmic-painted galaxy. "There, see? All done. You can put your hoodie back on, but I just need to do the same to your leg now too."

Skye shivered, keeping a cautious gaze on Jemma as she slowly reached for the Captain America hoodie. A little miffed that Jemma had managed to lower her guard almost completely, she quickly pulled the hoodie over her head in an effort to minimize the time she spent blinded – for all she knew, Jemma was waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

(But Jemma didn't seem like she had an evil bone in her body, and Skye was almost okay with her having to dress her other wound, especially if it meant listening to the pretty Brit talk at length about their newfound shared interest-)

"Right then," Jemma decided. "Let's see about that leg."

Skye wasn't certain why she was grateful that Jemma busied herself fiddling with her medical tools while she painfully slipped her legs out of May's sweats, but she was.

Jemma changed her gloves once more before bending over Skye's leg, her fingertips brushing against the edges of the gauze. Skye resisted the urge to shrink away, instead letting her thumb tap away the building vibrations into the mattress, and Jemma paused, looking back up at Skye. "Did you want to keep talking about the stars? Would that help?"

Was it a choice? Skye studied Jemma's face for any sign that this was a trick question – there had to be a right answer that she was looking for, there always was.

But all she saw was a gentle, harmless smile and those big, excited eyes that held a million little stars in them.

And, despite her better judgement, she nodded in response.

Jemma offered her a reassuring grin, turning her attention back down as she began to work again. "Stars are clustered into galaxies, which also are home to large amounts of gas, dust, and dark matter. Galaxies can hold anywhere between a few million to a trillion stars, and there's an estimated one-hundred-billion galaxies in the universe. Did you know that it's theorized that there are at least one-hundred stars for every grain of sand? Every last grain of sand, Skye."

Jemma trailed off, the corners of her lips dropping as she pulled back the dressing on Skye's leg. The wound on her thigh looked, admittedly, pretty gruesome. Perhaps it was the fact that her superior had made her walk on it, or maybe it was the amount of time she'd spent with an open wound pressed against a filthy floor-

(-misdemeanor and Whitehall and disgusting fucking animal and property property property and-)

-Of course, she hadn't been able to see the one on her shoulder, so she couldn't compare the two. But even Jemma sucked in a sharp breath when she laid eyes on it.

"I mean, it is an improvement," Jemma offered.

Skye raised an eyebrow; but very quickly she remembered that she wasn't supposed to- she should never- she wasn't allowed to- and wiped the expression right off her face.

But the corners of Jemma's mouth lifted, curving it into a graceful little smile that made Skye feel a little bit lighter, if not just for a moment.

"You're in much better shape now," she elaborated. "If I'm being honest, I really wasn't certain I could save you."

There it was again. Skye stamped out that tiny flicker of annoyance at having her chance to die taken from her again.

(Because Jemma meant well, she meant well, really, she did-)

(But what if it was just-)

(What if-)

(What would they do to her-)

She didn't get that choice. She should know that by now.

Your life isn't yours-

Property of-

"Um, right… this one might sting," Jemma apologized. "I'll keep explaining about black holes, then?"

Skye nodded without really thinking – the way the Brit spoke fascinated her, with her lilting voice and the way all those words fluttered from her lips so effortlessly, strung together in such a way that Skye could get herself almost comfortably lost in all of the information.

(And Jemma hadn't hurt her yet, she wasn't sure that Jemma was even capable of hurting anyone even if she really wanted to-)

"It's thought that in the center of every galaxy lies a supermassive black hole, which actually brings us back to the end of star life cycles," Jemma started. "Black holes are formed in a supernova event, and in essence, everything that remains of the star collapses down into a small, dense object. Gravity is intense around these objects, which is where black holes get their 'sucking' reputation from – even light is pulled in, a bit like water going down the drain, if you want to picture that. There are three types of black holes – the smallest are primordial, which can be as small as an atom or as large as a mountain. The largest are supermassive, which are more than one million times more massive than the sun. And in the middle are stellar black holes, which are about twenty times more massive than the sun. There's actually a wide variety of stellar black holes scattered throughout the Milky Way. There. All done."

Skye frowned. She hadn't even felt a thing, and she was so enraptured by this woman speaking about something she'd adored all her life, she wasn't quite certain she was ready for her to leave.

Jemma nodded towards the joggers. "You're all set, if you'd like to put those back on as well."

She winced as she reached for the sweats, slipping her slender legs back through the holes.

"I brought you some aspirin if you'd like something for the pain," Jemma offered. "Are you hungry at all? I still wouldn't advise you to have too much solid food yet – your stomach is very weak from malnourishment – but we can bring you something easier on the stomach like soup or oatmeal."

Skye pulled her knees up to her chest, pushing her back against the wall. Jemma watched her, her brows pulled together in a strange, almost melancholic expression – one that almost sort of reflected pity or concern, both of which Skye didn't deserve. She rested her chin on her knees and kept her eyes downcast, all the while making sure she had Jemma entirely in her line of vision just in case.

(But why did she feel so tired all of a sudden?)

Jemma's eyes clouded for a moment, her lips twitching downward before she straightened back up, zipping up the med kit. "Well then," she chirped, her vibrations changing in frequency just the slightest to match. "It was very nice meeting you Skye – well, meeting you while you're conscious I suppose I should say." Jemma cracked a humorous smile at her own joke, and Skye found herself returning a little, wobbly smile of her own at the Brit's endearing nature before it slipped right back off her face. "I'll let you rest for now, but I'll see you later."

Jemma hesitated for a moment, unable to pull her gaze away from her, before standing up and turning around.

Skye watched her leave until she shut the door behind her, and then watched the door through tired, burning eyes, all the while gnawing on her fingernails, trying to make sense of everything.

Out in the field, Coulson had always seen the HYDRA asset – Skye, her name was Skye – as dangerous and maybe even a little intimidating, despite the fact that he had been so certain it wasn't her (as May had put it, it was her lack of control that made her a threat). But now, looking at the feed from the Cage, watching her as she hugged her knees to her chest, backed up in a corner, staring at the door warily… she looked small, and fragile, and incredibly young.

Simmons had returned from the Cage looking optimistic, despite this. "She's healing remarkably fast," she'd announced. Coulson smiled over at May, who quickly averted her gaze back down to her green tea; he caught the tiniest upwards twitch of her lips, the most minute flicker of warmth in her eyes. "Of course, I have several concerns, mainly regarding her malnourishment, but as for her physical wounds she's days ahead of schedule."

"Really?" Fitz asked around a mouthful of cereal. "That's impressive."

"There's so much untapped potential flowing through her veins," Simmons continued. "I'm absolutely dying to know how her powers work, what caused them, what triggers them, if they're genetic or synthetic, how it affects everything – I have a theory that it's some form of genetic mutation in her DNA sequences, because that would also explain how she's able to heal so rapidly and endure so much physical trauma – more than the average human could."

"That makes her dangerous," Ward growled from the couch, flicking his eyes up from his cup of coffee. "I say we send her to the Raft before she kills us all."

Simmons shot him a glare across the room before swiftly shifting the conversation back to the positive. "I think she'd make a great addition to the team, sir," she addressed Coulson as he popped his bagel out of the toaster. "She's definitely got a lot of trauma to work through, but she's certainly a fighter."

"That is, if she wants to join us," May butted in, not looking up from her tea. "She might very well want to leave when she can."

"Can we, in good faith, release someone like that into the world?" Ward challenged. "May, do you feel safe letting a dangerous enhanced murderer walk the streets like that? She could become a vigilante, and then we've got an even bigger problem on our hands."

Again, Simmons ignored Ward's grumbling. "And it would be wonderful to have another girl on the Bus to talk to."

Fitz raised his hand. "Uh, again, if Simmons gets a girl, I want a monkey, it's only fair."

Ward shook his head, gritting his teeth in disgust. "Are you guys failing to see the severity of the situation? This doesn't bother anyone at all?"

May pulled her attention up from her tea and shot him a look that could kill. "Ward, do you forget that this woman saved our asses twice?"

"May," Ward said, matching her even and calm tone. "Do you forget that this is the same woman who killed Kal?"

"Stand down, Ward," Coulson warned him, ignoring the I-can-handle-this glare May shot him in response. "We'll take it day by day. Skye doesn't seem to be hostile – she appears to be more afraid than anything else."

Ward shook his head and muttered something under his breath before getting up and storming out of the room.

Simmons's gaze bounced from Coulson to May to Fitz. "Just to be clear, we're not sending Skye to the Raft, right?"

"Of course not," Coulson informed her. May nodded in agreement, taking a sip of her tea. Simmons smiled.

"Okay… good."

"The water in the kettle is still hot if you want some tea," May told her. Simmons nodded.

"Thank you," she responded, heading over to the stove to make herself a mug of English breakfast tea before taking her spot next to Fitz.

"What's Ward all fussed about anyway?" Fitz asked. "It's not like she's ever done anything to him personally."

"Oh, he's just upset 'cause there's someone stronger than him on the Bus now," Simmons snorted. May raised an eyebrow, and Simmons quickly shot her a sheepish smile before ducking her head and casting her attention back down to her tea.

Coulson smirked to himself, shaking his head as he spread some cream cheese on a bagel.

"Phil, look," May interjected, pointing at the feed from the Cage. Coulson's eyes widened as Ward threw the door open, storming over towards Skye. She flinched, cowering under him.

"What the fuck," Coulson muttered under his breath. "Fitz-Simmons, stay here. May, let's go."

"I'll deal with Ward," May told him as they headed down the stairs. "You make sure she's okay."

"Seriously, what is his problem with her?" Coulson asked, unable to mask the annoyance lacing his voice. "He doesn't even know her."

"I mean, neither do we," May commented. "I get where he's coming from, but this is totally out of line."

"What's going on Ward?" Coulson demanded as he opened the door to the Cage. Ward didn't even turn to acknowledge him, keeping his eyes trained on Skye, his fists clenching and unclenching by his sides.

"Do you even know who you killed?" Ward's voice was a low, threatening growl, and it made Skye shrink back, her eyes huge as she stared at seething man in front of her. "Do you understand that these are human beings you've murdered?"

"Ward-" May warned, her voice scathing.

"His name was Tristan Adam Kalmowitz, son to Levana and Simon Kalmowitz, who were absolutely devastated when you took away their only child. He was a computer genius, he was brilliant, and he was witty." Ward took a step back, shaking his head, a smirk playing on his lips. "But you wouldn't know that, would you? Because you fucking killed him. Like a savage fucking animal-"

"Agent Ward," Coulson snapped. Skye recoiled, the floor beneath them swaying as she accidentally released a tremor.

"Really?" Ward growled, towering over her. "I bet you'd love to quake the goddamn plane apart and bring us all down with you – I fucking bet your superiors sent you here on a goddamn suicide mission. I will never let you hurt anyone on this plane. You understand?"

"Ward," May snarled, stepping towards him. "Stand. Down."

"Now, Ward." Coulson narrowed his eyes as Ward finally turned to face them.

"Come with me," May ordered. "Now."

He shook his head, turning back to Skye. "Know your place," he spat, before turning back and storming out of the Cage. May shot a glance over at Coulson - which he read as frustrated, though to the naked eye it would look... just as stoic as always, probably - before turning to follow Ward out.

"You okay?" Coulson asked Skye once they'd left. She didn't respond, which didn't surprise him. She shook like a leaf, cowering in the corner, her eyes wide as she stared at him. "Take a deep breath Skye. You're okay. I promise."

She hugged her legs close to her chest, resting her chin on her knees. Coulson sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'm sorry about Ward. He can be a bit… well. You know." He cracked a humorous smile, but it didn't seem to help with her nerves. "I was actually about to bring you some food. You know, before… that." He gestured towards the door dramatically. "Do you need anything else?"

Of course, as expected, she didn't respond. "I'll be right back." He offered her a friendly smile before turning and heading back upstairs.

"Simmons, what did you say would be good food to start her on?" Coulson asked when he made it back to the kitchen. Simmons looked up from her tea.

"Things that are gentle on the stomach and easily digestible. Oatmeal, toast, applesauce, eggs…" Simmons trailed off, worry darkening her features. "Everything okay? How is she?"

"She's shaken," Coulson admitted.

"Well yeah, she was just threatened by a killer robot," Fitz snorted, earning a chuckle from Simmons.

Coulson shook his head, smiling to himself and popping a couple pieces of bread in the toaster. "How was she for you, Simmons? When May and I saw her last night, she was a bit nervous."

Simmons nodded. "Yes, I agree. She's definitely skittish around medical," she reported. "I found that distracting her by talking about the stars really helped."

Coulson raised an eyebrow. "How'd you reach that conclusion?"

Simmons shrugged. "Her name is Skye, and you said she chose that name. I figured it was for a reason. I sort of went on a tangent about astronomy, though she seemed really interested. I have some old books I might bring down for her, I think she might really like them."

"I wanted to go down there and introduce myself later today, but I don't want to upset her further," Fitz lamented.

"I'd give her a bit more time to settle in," Simmons agreed. The toaster popped, and Coulson pulled out the bread and started spreading some butter on it. "I'll let you know how she is tomorrow though, and maybe if she's doing better you can come meet her."

"He's blowing off steam," came May's voice from the doorway. Coulson nodded in response, cutting the toast in half and placing an applesauce cup next to it on the plate.

"What's his deal?" Simmons asked.

May shrugged. "Hard to say."

Coulson sighed. "All I know is it'll probably take a while to undo the damage he caused." He grabbed a napkin and a bottle of water. "I'm going to go try and get some food into her."

"Good luck," May murmured.

"Let me know how she does with it," Simmons added. "We can start incorporating other foods into her diet once we see how her body reacts to that."

"I will," he promised as he headed out the door.

Ward's angry grunts followed by the dull thudding of fists on a punching bag reverberated throughout the plane. As he approached the door to the Cage, he wondered if Skye could hear – or if she could feel his angry vibrations, he still wasn't entirely certain how that worked.

Something told him she could, though.

"Hey," he called as he let himself back in, making his voice as gentle and friendly as he possibly could. Skye regarded him warily, biting down hard on the nail of her thumb. "I'm back. I brought food - you must be hungry."

Skye didn't peel her eyes off of him, but he could feel her anxious tremors skittering across the floor with every step he took towards her. He stopped short, then bent down to sit on the ground a good few feet away. This caught her off guard – she raised an eyebrow, unsure of his intentions; her teeth worked away the skin on her knuckle.

"It's nothing special," he continued, his voice as even and gentle as he could get it. "Simmons said that applesauce would be a good way to start, and that toast wouldn't hurt either, since it's easy on the stomach." Placing the plate of food on the ground, he slid it with just enough force for it to stop right by Skye's feet. She inhaled sharply, inching away, her back pressed firmly against the wall.

Coulson's chest tightened, unable to peel his eyes off the girl as she cowered away from the meal.

"We're not going to hurt you," he promised. "I just figured you were probably hungry." She didn't respond; her eyes flicked back and forth from the food to him. "Please, Skye, if there's anything I can do to make you more comfortable, tell me."

She pulled her knees up to her chest, her eyes huge as she stared at him.

"I promise you Skye," Coulson prompted gently. "It's okay. You can speak to us. I'd love to hear what you have to say, really."

She shuddered, drawing a shaky, hollow breath. And in a hoarse, gravelly, barely audible voice, she murmured; "I didn't earn this."

"You didn't-" Coulson stopped, taking a deep breath to calm himself. Every time Skye opened her mouth and revealed a little of what HYDRA had done to her, his stomach churned in horror. "You don't need to earn your right to eat, Skye."

She bit down hard enough on her knuckle to draw blood.

"You need your strength," he told her, relaxing into his position on the floor, making it clear he wasn't going anywhere. "Please, it's okay, I promise. Just try to eat a little bit, okay?"

Keeping him in her line of sight, she slowly uncurled herself and reached for the applesauce, lifting the cup with trembling hands. Casting one last dubious glance his direction, her eyes flicked back down to the cup, and she lifted a small spoonful to her mouth.

Coulson smiled to himself, quietly sitting with her while she nibbled at the toast. She left about a quarter piece of toast and a little bit of applesauce, but he was just content to get a little bit of food in her.

They sat in silence for a little bit after. Coulson's hope was to desensitize her to his presence; to show her that he, and the rest of the team, weren't going to hurt her. While Ward might have set them several steps backwards, Coulson was determined to reverse that damage.

He was surprised when after a while, Skye hesitantly asked; "What are you going to do with me?"

Coulson, honestly, hadn't really gotten that far yet. He would love to keep her on the team – after all, he knew she'd make a great addition and would be a force to be reckoned with. However, he also knew that, like May had expressed earlier, she might not want to stay in this line of work after all.

There was also the issue of protocol – he'd managed to sneak her on the Bus after Hand and the other agents finally left, but of course there were definitely regulations surrounding harboring an enemy; not that she was one, of course, but SHIELD HQ would probably see her as one.

Or, he'd have to make a very strong case for her.

"I'm not quite sure," he admitted. "I suppose it's sort of up to you – what you want to do."

Skye's expression darkened considerably, and without hesitation she muttered; "You have to kill me."

His stomach flipped. "What?"

She dug her teeth into the cuticle of her pointer finger. A nervous shudder passed down her spine and into the ground, rocking the plane. Again, she breathed; "Please. You have to kill me."

Coulson knitted his brow. "Absolutely not."

Skye's eyes widened with desperation. "Please, sir," she begged, her voice barely a broken whisper. "I-I can't go back, and I can't stay here."

"Skye." He looked her right in the eyes, and she quickly dropped her gaze, shrinking back. "Skye, I promise you, you are never going back. But you'll always have a place here if you choose to stay."

"No, you don't-" She stopped, clasping a hand over her mouth. "I'm sorry," she breathed. "I'm sorry, I didn't- I'm sorry, please don't-"

"Skye, hey, take a deep breath, you're okay." Coulson had to stamp down the urge to reach out, knowing full well it would only freak her out more. "You're safe," he repeated gently. "You're safe."

She shook her head wildly, pulling her knees back up t o her chest. Her breathing shallowed, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Coulson felt the ground rock beneath him again.

"Skye," he said gently. "I need you to calm down. Everything's okay."

The quaking subsided, but Coulson didn't miss the fleeting way her face twisted in pain. Instead, she started drumming her fingertips against the mattress, her muscles tense and her chest rising and falling rapidly, irregularly.

"You can talk to any of us," Coulson told her. "I know this is all so different and new, and it's probably overwhelming. But I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

The tapping sped up, and Coulson could hear her wheezing breaths from his spot on the floor. With every passing moment it seemed like her anxiety was only building up, and with a sinking feeling, he realized it might be better to leave her alone for a little while so she could cool off.

"I'm sorry, I'll give you some space," he offered. "And I apologize on behalf of Ward. I think he's just a little tense right now. If you need anything, feel free to come find me or anyone else on the plane. The door's unlocked. Otherwise, we'll probably be popping in and out to check on you." He stood, his knees cracking a little bit, and then flashed her a humorous smile. "Boy, I'm getting old!"

The joke didn't quite land; Skye flinched as he stood, tensing up more than she already was, almost as if she was bracing herself.

Coulson murmured a soft farewell before turning around and leaving the terrified girl behind.

Do you know who I am?

Because you will.

Skye's eyes burned as she stared at the door, every muscle in her body achingly tense as she actively clamped down on anxious vibrations bubbling beneath the surface. She couldn't remember a single moment since first waking up in this vibration-stifling room that she'd rested – she refused, there were too many new people to keep track of.

That one man – Ward – scared the shit out of her.

(She couldn't shake the feeling that he was oddly familiar-)

He'd burst into the room, aggressive vibrations rippling off of him in jabbing bursts, just barely masking a more urgent, tumultuous, maybe even nervous undertone. He'd marched right up to her, his fists clenched and trembling with rage; he'd leaned over her and growled those six words.

Do you know who I am?

And it sounded like a threat – he'd followed it up almost immediately afterwards with because you will, but there had maybe even been a sense of urgency, a question, a genuine question hidden underneath.

(And he seemed familiar in the type of eerie way that made her feel like she'd seen a ghost of her past, but not quite enough to place – though her memories were hazy; several blurry faces lived behind her eyes, haunting her, so it was hard to tell-)

(But foresty green and earthy scents and soft terrain beneath her feet; but spooked vibrations of wildlife spiking all around her, stilled by the steadiness of the earth and the gentle sway of the trees; but a young man in a red baseball cap and a knife; but it was hard to tell, she didn't have a face to go off of, and though the foggy memories lived within her head, they felt so foreign that who's to say they were even her own?)

One little tremor escaped her grasp, and beneath her she felt the floor shudder in response.

At least in HYDRA, before Coulson came into her life and ruined everything, she'd known what to expect, how to act, who to fear most. She had her routine and she had her survival tactics. But here, she knew nothing at all – she didn't know if Ward was like her superiors, she didn't know who was in charge, she didn't know what the rules were. All she knew was that if HYDRA ever got their hands back on her, they'd never stop torturing her.

If HYDRA ever so much as saw her again, there'd be hell to pay.

The floor shook again.

A pained cry escaped her lips as she redirected another quake inward, letting it rattle her bones. She'd been doing this all day, and it was getting harder and harder to keep her anxiety induced frequencies at bay; her arms were nearing excruciating pain once more, and she knew that tomorrow when Jemma came around again her arms would be an unsightly shade of purple.

Her chest felt full of water, and her throat scratched like sandpaper, and she was so incredibly exhausted. Ever since waking up here, it felt like one thing after another and she was tired of being so afraid and in so much pain all the time.

She rested her head against the wall, her eyelids starting to grow heavy, and just as she was starting to debate whether or not letting herself drift off would be such a bad thing, she picked up on a shift in vibrations just outside the door.

It was faint, but there.

Her breath snagged in her throat as the door opened.

The vibrations hit her first. That woman – May – had a very specific frequency that she found rather calming. She wasn't sure how she'd done it, but May somehow had managed to keep such a firm grasp on her own vibrations, smoothing them over and calming them down until they resembled a gentle lap of waves in the sand – soothing and serene, a placid, predictable push and pull.

"Can I sit?" May asked gently.

Skye didn't respond – it didn't matter. She didn't have a choice. She never did.

And she was too tired to protest either way.

May nodded to herself before taking a few steps towards her and taking a seat on the ground – like Coulson, she maintained a comfortable, respectful distance. "You're worrying yourself sick," she murmured. "Try to focus on your breathing."

May demonstrated, taking long, deep breaths through her nose and letting them out slowly through her mouth. Almost instinctually, Skye mimicked her.

"There, like that." May folded her hands in her lap; Skye couldn't quite read the expression on her face, but her vibrations remained the exact same.

As they sat together, quietly observing each other, Skye came to the conclusion that May and Raina had a lot of similarities – they both always seemed to be able to look straight into the soul. The difference was, with Raina, Skye felt violated, like she was digging for secrets to use as ammunition.

With May, it felt like mutual understanding.

(But who's to say she wouldn't-)

"You're tired," May commented gently. "Why don't you rest?"

Skye's heart skipped a beat. She couldn't rest. She couldn't, she couldn't, she couldn't-

They'd come, they'd do something. Ward would come back. Coulson would finally turn on her. Jemma would do her experiments like she wanted to – she was sweet, sure, but Skye knew she had an interest in her powers, it was so obvious, and she'd come while she was sleeping and she'd-

Or Ward, with his angry fists, he'd-

Or-

"Skye." May stood and came closer; Skye's entire body started to tremble as her heart rate spiked again and she struggled to reign in the anxious vibrations bouncing among her fingertips and stirring beneath her skin, even as she started tapping against the mattress. "Skye, focus on your breathing."

She couldn't- she couldn't-

May sat down on the mattress, and Skye's breath caught in her throat at the closeness. Involuntarily, a strange, hollow whimper escaped her lips, and another little quake slipped through her grasp.

"Skye." She looked up at the sound of her name, into May's deep brown eyes, and May held out her hand as if asking for permission before placing it gently on hers. Skye's entire body tensed up – a strange, almost static-like shock passed from her skin to May's from the buildup of jittery vibrations dancing at her skin. But May gently rubbed her thumb across Skye's raw knuckles, taking deep breaths that Skye found herself matching.

(And Skye had to admit, latching onto May's calming vibrations was almost sort of starting to help her steady her own.)

"We are not going to let anything happen to you," May told her firmly. "Ever."

(And something about May made her almost want to believe it-)

As Skye's body untensed, a wave of exhaustion hit her again. May let go of her hand; Skye hated that she missed the contact, because May's vibrations were so incredibly soothing that for the first time in probably years it made her feel a little bit okay, and she was just so tired of feeling not okay-

"You need to rest," May told her. "I know you don't want to, and I know it's hard, but you need to sleep." She inched away a little bit, patting the space left beside her. "Lay down."

Skye bit the inside of her cheek but did as she was told; she moved over, then curled up into a ball on her side.

"Can I touch you?" May asked gently. A shudder ran down Skye's spine, but a tiny piece of her craved to feel May's soothing vibrations again.

And despite her better judgement, she gave a little nod, tracing her finger along the edge of the mattress.

May's fingertips grazed against her scalp as she started softly running her fingers through Skye's hair. Almost instantly, her nerves seemed to melt away, thawed by the rhythmic motion and May's steady frequency. Once she'd released the tension she'd been holding, an ache settled deep in her bones, and whether it came from her healing body or her own anxious vibrations or a mixture of both was uncertain; but all she knew was it would feel so nice to finally rest.

"Take some deep breaths," May murmured, and Skye complied, breathing in deeply and letting it out slowly in time with each stroke of May's hand through her hair. "Focus on nothing but the sound of my voice. Your name is Skye. You are on a plane with a SHIELD team – there are five other people on this plane with you, including myself."

Unconsciously, a few tears rolled down her face – she wasn't quite certain why, but she couldn't make them stop, either.

"We are currently flying over Wisconsin: local time is 8:41 pm. You are lying on a mattress in a room composed of vibranium. My name is Melinda May, and I'm by your side."

Her cheeks were soaked with an endless stream of tears, but she hadn't felt so at peace in what felt like a lifetime. Unable to fight her heavy eyelids any longer, she closed her eyes, letting herself succumb to her own exhaustion and melting into the woman's touch.

She was now fully at the mercy of Melinda May – but somehow, despite this knowledge, she wasn't afraid.

She was… calm.

"You were injured pretty badly, but you're healing very quickly. You're okay, you're safe."

Maybe she could believe that.

Maybe she's telling the truth, she thought as May's gentle touch began to lull her to sleep.

I'm okay... I'm safe...

...Maybe.