"Are you going to be alright?"

That was the last thing Skye expected as the team bustled about the plane, gathering everything they would need for the operation. May held a straight face, but her voice held a note of concern as she asked. Skye nodded numbly, taking comfort in her gentle, rhythmic vibrations. Next to her stood Coulson, who looked at her with the expression of a parent worried sick.

May studied her for a moment; her guarded expression said everything that Coulson verbalized. "If you are more comfortable staying on the Bus, that is more than okay. We absolutely understand that potentially being in such close proximity to your abusers will be very taxing for you."

Skye shifted, her skin prickling uncomfortably – whether the sensation was from the older agents' concern for her wellbeing or the realization of what they said actually dawning on her, she had no idea. Unconsciously, her hands met and started wringing each other; May's eyes flickered downwards at the movement and then back to Skye's face, and Skye felt all over again that the woman could see directly into her soul, rifling through all her deepest and darkest secrets.

Coulson and May exchanged a glance, their nonverbal communication speaking volumes. Skye pressed her lips together in what might resemble a smile. "I'll be fine," she managed to spit out (taking care to suppress the shudder that passed down her spine and the way her hair stood on end at the sound of her own terrible voice – they don't punish you for speaking here, not yet anyway-)

May's eyebrow twitched minutely – Skye had no idea what that meant.

"Are you sure?" Coulson asked.

Ah. That might have been what May's non-expression was saying.

Skye nodded. Of course she would be fine.

This was her job, after all.

She was trained for things like this.

But Coulson and May didn't seem convinced – exchanging one more glance, all the while millions of words seemed to pass silently between them. Skye lifted her chin, stamping her emotions down and pushing them into the corner of her mind that hid everything else she'd boxed away.

You are property. You follow orders.

Do your job. No questions asked.

She was ready.

"Okay." May straightened up – any glimmer of concern that had been there was wiped away. Skye wondered if she had just witnessed May doing the exact same thing she did. "Wheels up in five."

Coulson shot her one last reassuring glance – punctuated by May's curt nod – before the two took off, leaving Skye standing alone, her fingers twitching by her sides as she tried to sort her somewhat ambiguous orders in her head.

"Skye!"

She whirled around at the sound of a feminine, British voice. Jemma's lips were pulled effortlessly into her sweet smile, and Skye felt her shoulders relax. Fitz came up behind her, offering her a similar, toothy grin.

"Come on," he said, gesturing her to join them. "You and I are together. Let's get our story straight while Jem practices her backstory."

"Oh, undercover is so exciting!" Jemma was saying as the trio sat down and strapped in. "But quite nerve-wracking, I'll admit. I've never been one for acting on the spot."

Fitz cracked a humorous smile. "Jem's a terrible liar."

Jemma rolled her eyes. "I'm not a terrible liar, I just... I excel at preparation! Besides, I like following rules. It makes me feel nice! And lying makes me go all queasy."

The corners of Skye's mouth twitched as she imagined Jemma doing anything remotely against the rules. She was such a lovely, sugary-sweet human being it was hard to even fathom her doing anything immoral or unethical.

"Now, should my mother be terminally ill or already deceased?" Jemma asked, her voice so genuinely serious that Skye had to stifle a snort. Ward let out an amused huff from the other side of the room.

Fitz just shook his head, turning his attention back to Skye. "Our first objective is to get the keys to the storage car. That way, we can set up comms and get everyone online undetected. Coulson suggested that our best bet might be as a couple, since we would never pass as siblings."

"You could, but you'd be adopted siblings," Ward supplied. "Though, the differing accents would make things difficult with that route."

"It's up to you," Fitz told Skye, not even acknowledging Ward. "Whatever you're comfortable with."

"But you made time for your work," Jemma suddenly shouted, her voice full of despair. Skye jumped in her seat, her breath catching in her throat. "And your prostitutes!"

"Jemma," Fitz sighed, casting a concerned glance swiftly in Skye's direction as she quickly fought to control herself once more (her hands trembled in her lap and she was quick to cross her arms to hide them). "Really?"

"Prostitutes? Plural?" Ward asked incredulously.

"It's more dramatic that way!" Jemma explained. "Besides, if one were to be having an affair, they wouldn't hire the same prostitute over and over, correct?"

"I… I wouldn't know." Fitz shook his head. "Ward might."

Ward raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"How was it? Believable?" Jemma asked. "Be honest. Should I put more gusto into it?" She cleared her throat, raising her pitch to be a little more desperate. "And your prostitutes!"

One corner of Ward's mouth twitched in an almost mischievous side-smirk. "Definitely."

"Maybe a little bit angrier?" Fitz suggested. "Really sell that resentment Jem."

She nodded enthusiastically. "Right, right. Let me try again..."

After all was said and done, that was how Skye ended up on a train in the Italian countryside, undercover, teamed with Fitz to run communications on the package they were tracking. They took their seats by a window with a clear view of the rest of the car.

"Nervous?" Fitz asked her after a beat upon noticing her relentless tapping on the windowsill.

She shrugged, batting a swift glance around the car before giving him a quick nod – they'd made some strides within the past week, and she supposed if she hadn't been punished for anything yet, a little bit of honesty wouldn't hurt.

"Me too," he admitted. He lowered his voice, leaning a bit closer. "Quinn's got connections to Centipede - where you came from. I promise you, we won't let them get to you again."

She knew he meant to be reassuring, but it only made the vibrations buzzing under her skin spike momentarily before she quickly quelled them once more. May and Coulson had expressed the same concern – clearly it was a major possibility.

And… Fitz thought she was exclusively from Centipede.

(Again, their lack of awareness regarding Hydra was concerning to say the absolute least… and maybe a little baffling?)

"So, are we American or British?"

He caught her completely off-guard with that question. "I- What?" she sputtered before she could properly reign herself in.

"Well, we're travelling together, we might as well be from the same country," Fitz reasoned.

Skye nodded slowly. A good point for sure, but she wasn't certain she could muster up the energy to fake a Scottish accent to match his – not that her attempt would be any good. Hydra barely let her speak as it was, let alone practice ways to make any accent she tried sound convincing enough.

Upon noticing her hesitation, he said (in a pretty flawless American accent, she'd admit); "American then."

She smiled. Hearing Fitz speak in an American accent was, oddly, very funny.

He chuckled. "I used to watch a lot of American TV growing up," he explained, noting her amusement. "Some of it's really good. Lots of nice teeth!" As one of the attendants made his way down the aisle, he quickly switched back to business. "Here he comes, okay, you ready? I can lead if you-"

Without missing a beat, and not letting him finish, Skye stood, pulling a travel brochure out of her bag. "Excuse me?" she asked the attendant sweetly. "Do you speak English?"

"Of course," he told her enthusiastically. "How may I be of service?"

She cast a swift side glance over in Fitz's direction – he gave her a reassuring nod before getting to his feet, and she turned back to the attendant, the grin she'd plastered on her face never faltering. "Can you recommend a restaurant in downtown Zagreb?"

"Someplace affordable with big portions," Fitz jumped in, using his (very comical) American accent. Skye nodded in agreement.

"You are looking for something romantic?" the attendant asked.

"Yes, please!" Skye gasped excitedly, grabbing Fitz's hand and giving it a squeeze. They'd agreed earlier that the best way for them to act like a natural couple was if she initiated any and all physical contact – whatever she was comfortable with. "We are celebrating our six-month anniversary with a whirlwind trip all over Europe." The attendant smiled brightly, and she elaborated. "Well, technically we met six months ago, but he didn't ask me out until last month, so our official one-month anniversary isn't until next Saturday!" She leaned in closer to the attendant, reaching around him for his keys. "I think he found me intimidating."

With the keys secured, the pair made their way towards the back of the train to the storage car. "A fine job!" Fitz praised her as he shut the door behind him. She flashed him a quick smile.

"You weren't so bad yourself," she mused – bad word choice, awful word choice, be quiet, she gritted her teeth and waited and waited and it was coming-

But Fitz just chuckled as he set his stuff down. "You know, I actually have a device that could have done all those things – broken the lock and all that."

She raised an eyebrow, unable to wipe the smirk off her face. "You do?"

"I'm always the gadget guy," Fitz elaborated. "Sometimes I want to do things with my bare hands."

"I- Don't you make the gadgets with your bare hands?"

"Just allow me these rare moments of self-pity, okay?" Skye felt her muscles tense up, but Fitz quickly glanced back up at her and shot her a goofy grin, and she allowed herself to relax once more. He wasn't upset, he was joking with her. "You're the least supportive pretend girlfriend I've ever had."

She'd have to get used to that, for sure.

(She really, honestly appreciated that Fitz didn't tiptoe around her like the others did – as much as she appreciated that they cared, it was nice to have someone speak to her in a way that made her feel equal. Not that she didn't feel like an equal with May or Coulson or Jemma, but they always sort of gave off the impression that they viewed Skye as fragile, and while Skye was aware that her mental state was less than ideal, she also knew that she was more than capable.)

Skye watched curiously as Fitz set up comms, then spoke into them; "Comms are live – Coulson, Simmons, you guys in position?"

Coulson's voice crackled in – "Yes, just waiting for May's signal."

Fitz sat back in his seat. "I guess now we just wait."

Skye nodded, glancing over at him before casting her gaze back towards the monitors he set up, her eyes sweeping across all of the information, trying to make sense of it all. Fitz looked back over at her curiously.

"You know anything about comp sci?" he asked. She shrugged in response. "I could teach you some things if you want. When Kalmowitz was on the team, he was brought in as a comp sci specialist – legal hacking, I suppose you could call it. He was a genius. I'm very proficient myself of course but certainly not a hacker of his caliber. I figure if you're sticking around it might be helpful for you to learn some new skills – not that you're not useful as it is, I just mean like, there are ways to be a good agent without having to fight all the time."

Skye hadn't truly considered it before – both a permanent (or semi-permanent) position at SHIELD or the idea of not having to fight in order to be an agent. She was still navigating the notion that maybe she didn't want to die after all, and that maybe there was more out there for her than life (and death) in Hydra, so she hadn't even considered the possibility that this team actually wanted her to stick around – or that maybe, that didn't sound half bad.

Then again… Skye was still waiting for the rug to be ripped from right under her feet. This team was too good to be true, and she didn't do anything to deserve the break they'd been giving her. If she wanted to stay – and maybe she did – she had to earn it.

You earn everything in this life.

But looking at Fitz's hopeful expression, and the way he was so willing to teach her… she nodded. "Yeah, that'd be cool. I'd like that."

"You would!" He sounded almost surprised, quickly clearing his throat. "Uh… right. Yes. We can start when we get back to the Bus, I'll teach you some basics. Just, don't tell Jemma, she'll turn it into an entire curriculum and treat it like an Academy course." He laughed at his own joke, but quickly fell silent when he realized Skye wasn't laughing with him. She smiled to herself, dropping her gaze and picking at her nails.

The two fell into a comfortable silence for a while after that, listening in on the rest of the team and monitoring the feed. The vibrations on the train were a lot to handle, so Skye was grateful for the mental break – and it gave her a chance to try and make sense of Fitz's frequency. She'd originally pegged it for an organized chaos, haphazard and a bit jarring, but now, sitting alone with him and honing in on just his vibrations, she realized it was just a bit of an abnormal pattern - an offbeat, but still consistent nonetheless. Perhaps around the rest of the team it spiked up the way it had before, but now it seemed to settle into its own rhythm.

The sound of an Italian woman's lilting voice jolted her out of her thoughts. It crackled over the P.A. system, tinny in sound, announcing to the passengers on the north side of the train to look out the window at the sights.

"I wish we had more time to take in the scenery," Fitz sighed as the woman continued. "Three peaks of Lavaredo; supposed to be stunning."

A thought dawned on her as she focused on the black briefcase on the monitor. "Any chance that what's in there could be an 0-8-4?"

It was worth a shot. And if it was, then she'd gain intel on what being an 0-8-4 actually really meant for her, and how SHIELD dealt with them.

(And, subsequently, what was in store for her.)

"This?" He pointed to the monitor – Skye nodded to confirm. "We may not know what it is, but we do know it came from Cybertek. An 0-8-4 would have an unknown origin."

She frowned. "Right."

"We found one in Peru a while back," Fitz continued. "A machine."

Her muscles tensed up. Peru. The 0-8-4.

Sand and heat and her superior standing over her demanding her to keep going, don't ever stop until I tell you to. Her lungs filling with dust and blood running from her nose and the current of vibrational energy rattling her bones as she worked to take an entire temple crumbling to the ground. And Coulson and May and innocent civilians and next time you hesitate-

She shivered, pushing those thoughts aside before she could entertain them any longer. That was in the past.

This was now.

"Could… could an 0-8-4 ever be a person?" she asked, steadying the tremor that remained in her voice.

Fitz thought for a moment. "I've read about all kinds of 0-8-4s; weapons, spacecrafts, energy sources, machines… I suppose a person could be one, yeah. I'd hate to meet the guy though. The one thing 0-8-4s seem to have in common is that they're dangerous."

Skye nodded to herself, dropping her gaze back to her raw fingernails. "Right."

"Hey." She looked up. "Don't worry about this. Whatever the package is, we'll deal with it together. We've got each other's' backs."

Skye flashed him a quick, feeble smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. Before either of them could say anything else, static broke them out of their thoughts, and Fitz quickly pulled his attention back to the monitors. "Woah, May's goggles went offline, when did that happen?" Tuning into the comms, he called, "May, do you copy?"

Skye's heartrate shot up, and unconsciously she started tabbing her fingers against her knees.

"All comms and phones are dead," Fitz observed. "Someone's using some sort of electronic scrambler." He stopped, his eyes widening. "Cybertek knows we're here."

Blood roared in Skye's ears. If Cybertek knew they were on the train, what did that mean for her team? What about her? Were they taking her back? She could fight, she could stay-

They'd shock her and restrain her, they could still do that, she wasn't ever truly free, god she was so stupid, she would never truly be free-

"Skye, Skye, come back to me, stay with me." Fitz started to reach out to Skye, but she unconsciously flinched away, and he retracted his hand. "Skye. Focus on your breathing."

In one, rushed out breath, Skye whispered, "we have to warn the team-"

And it was at that moment that the door burst open.

Skye's chest constricted and her head spun and somewhere among the haphazard cacophony of vibrations and overbearing sounds of a gun firing she could hear a Scottish voice yelling at her to get down. Tremors rippled under her skin, and what felt like ocean waves battered against her skull as she ducked into a corner, her lungs screaming for air as her breaths shallowed.

"Skye!"

Fitz.

She stopped for a moment, gathering all of the energy she possibly could to try and ground herself back in reality. Focusing in on the onslaught of gunshots, she located the man who had opened fire.

With a deep breath, she pulled all of her nerves together, spun around the corner, and released a shockwave right at the man, knocking him down.

Fitz let out a sigh of relief, standing up from where he'd taken cover. Admiration shone in his eyes, but they couldn't breathe for long – the man was quick to get back up to his feet, and he lunged for Fitz, who dodged out of the way and shot his foot out to trip the man. He stumbled, but whirled around and landed a punch, knocking Fitz back. Skye shivered, mentally preparing herself to use her powers again, and just as she lifted her hand, the door burst open once more and a British voice rang out, "we've been made!"

"Jemma!" Fitz cried.

"Oh, bloody hell!" Jemma sputtered as the man whirled around. A high-pitched whirring filled the car, and Skye quickly pinpointed a new mechanical frequency – a small device in the man's hand.

Before any of them could react, the man had grabbed Jemma, the device went off, and both of them collapsed to the ground.

"Oh my god, Jemma," Fitz gasped, running towards her. Skye followed suit, her chest tightening as terror took grip of her lungs once more. She dropped to her knees, hovering her hand over Jemma; relief washed over her as she felt Jemma's familiar vibrational frequency pulsing under her skin.

"She's alive," she breathed. "She's okay."

Fitz let out a shaky breath. "Good. Good, okay." He came towards her. "Hold her up."

Together, they laid Jemma down carefully. Fitz stopped, taking in the navy blue streaks that were disappearing on Jemma's skin. "I… I think this is some form of dendrotoxin," he figured. "That's the stuff we use in the night-night gun. But this version is clearly evolved… I think they made it airborne." He gently closed Jemma's eyes before straightening up. "We need to get out of here."

"What about Jemma?" Skye asked, cringing at how small and nervous her voice sounded. Get it together, don't show weakness-

"We can't just leave her here," Fitz said. "But we need find the others and figure out what to do next. Come on, help me move her." As they got into position, he added humorously, "look at her little face, she'd be so embarrassed."

"We should leave her with something to protect herself, just in case," Skye added, a shiver running down her spine as she imagined more guys coming in while Simmons was still unconscious- or her being left defenseless- and what they would do with her- oh god what if they took her and they-

"Skye," Fitz murmured. "Breathe."

Right. She cleared her throat, forcing herself to count the seconds as she inflated and deflated her lungs.

"I have a spare," Fitz added, grabbing an extra night-night gun from his stuff and slipping it into Jemma's fingers, tucking it against her protectively.

"And him?" Skye nodded to the man on the ground, also unconscious.

Fitz smirked. "I'll take care of him. Are you okay to go find the others?" She nodded (her stomach flipped), and she spun on her heel and headed for the door. "Skye!" He nodded reassuringly towards her as she stopped and turned back. "Deep breaths. I have your back."

She bobbed her head in response (her hands trembled by her sides) and returned a feeble smile (her chest was tight and her head was still a little foggy). Taking a moment to brace herself, she left the storage car behind.

Plastering a smile on her face, she weaved her way through the train cars, scanning for any signs of Coulson, May, or Ward. As she made her way from one car to the next, she could feel eyes on her back, like someone, or a collective, was watching her – or maybe it was just her own paranoia. She couldn't be too sure. Skye kept her hands in fists, digging her nails into her palms to keep herself grounded, all the while anxious vibrations bubbled beneath her skin.

But her chest deflated as she made her way to the final car and she realized that not a single face in the train had been familiar.

Biting down on her cheek, she found her way to the bathroom, closed the door behind her, and counted to one hundred, making sure to take a breath or let it out every fifth number. Then, once she'd reached one hundred, she slid the door open and made her way back to the storage car, scanning each face once more just to be sure she hadn't missed anything.

Fitz whipped around as she opened the door and let herself back in. He sighed in relief once he realized it was just her, then closed the top of the wooden crate he had been standing over. "Any sign of them?" Skye shook her head numbly. "What about Cybertek?" She shook her head again – she couldn't be too sure, but she hadn't recognized anyone from her time at Hydra or from the briefing.

Fitz cast a quick glance towards the door before making his way to the window, huffing on the glass and wiping away the steam so he could peer through. Outside, several adults were gathered, dressed professionally and chatting amongst themselves. Skye's eyes landed on one man who carried a black briefcase. Almost immediately following her revelation, Fitz breathed, "that's our package." They watched for a beat as a woman took it and placed it in the back of a car. "What do we do? We're the only ones left."

Skye frowned. "Do you have an extra tracker?" she asked.

"Of course."

"Then we follow them," Skye murmured.

"Skye?"

She looked over – concern was written all over Fitz's face.

"Look, I know in Centipede you were trained to push through," he told her gently. "To not show weakness, follow orders and all that. But here, it's different. Coulson wouldn't want you to put yourself in danger for an op."

"It's… it's not just about that," Skye explained, heat rising to her cheeks as she dropped her gaze. "This is important to Coulson."

"Yes, but it puts us at risk," Fitz argued. "It puts you at risk, more than anything."

Skye wasn't sure what the issue was. This had never been a problem in the past.

Sand in her throat and blood streaming from her nose and her teeth chattering and her bones rattling and don't stop, keep going, take the temple down-

And fire burning straight for her, singing her hair and smoke filling her lungs and he kept advancing and she did too, take him down, do what is necessary-

"Are we doing this?" she asked, breaking herself out of her own thoughts. She had to do this for Coulson, she had to repay the man who had saved her life – the one who was giving her a second chance. Fitz held her gaze for a moment before letting out a soft sigh.

"I have your back," he promised her, his voice full of resolve. "We have each other's backs."

Skye nodded in response. "Let's go."

She hadn't realized how oppressive the walls of the train had felt until they were back out in the open – fresh air filled her lungs, and a crisp breeze kissed her cheeks. The sun beamed bright overhead and puffy white clouds painted the horizon and if Skye wasn't on a mission she would love to just run through the grass for hours.

Instead, she followed Fitz as they trailed behind the Centipede vehicles.

The cars pulled up to a huge mansion, far out of the way of civilization. Fitz stopped short, ducking behind a hedge, and Skye found herself shrinking back and pressing herself against him. He cast a quick glance down at her before gently placing his hand on her back reassuringly. "It's not too late to turn back," he told her gently. "Find Coulson and May, regroup."

She shook her head, stepping away from him and straightening up.

She had to do this.

"Coulson was right," Fitz observed. "Cybertek led is straight to Quinn."

"Activate the tracker – let them know we're here," Skye murmured, suddenly very aware that she was giving him orders. Her skin prickled uncomfortably, and she glanced over at him to make sure he hadn't taken it wrong. He simply nodded and pressed the button.

But he suddenly was studying her very closely, watching as her muscles tensed and her fingers twitched by her sides, her gaze narrowing as she sized up the mansion. "You want to go in." It was a statement, not a question. She nodded but didn't respond. "Skye, Coulson wouldn't want you putting yourself in danger for the sake of the team-"

"I'm not letting him get away," Skye explained. "Coulson wouldn't want us to let that happen."

Fitz sighed. "I know I can't convince you out of this." He placed his bag down and started to unzip it. "I suppose you're right though. Let's do it."

"Could you… could you disable their cars?" Skye asked him.

"With my bare hands."

Of course. The corners of Skye's mouth lifted at the Scottish scientist's confidence. He pulled out one of the night-night guns and offered it to her. "Take this."

"You'll need it out here," she reasoned. "Besides, I have my powers, I'll be okay."

"Just take it," Fitz urged. "Please?"

"You need it more," she said, shaking her head.

"Fine," he sighed. "Just… just be careful, okay? Get out if you're in danger. I'm serious Skye."

She nodded. "You too," she told him honestly.

They held each other's gaze for a beat; Fitz's eyes glimmered with determination and he nodded at her reassuringly. For that moment, Skye felt her nerves wash away – was this what it was like to have a team? To have people by her side who had her back?

A… friend?

Fitz held his hand out to her and after a moment of hesitation she took it. He gave hers a gentle squeeze. "Breathe," he reminded her. "We've got this."

And then, he stood, and took off towards the cars.

And Skye sat in the grass for a moment more, quelling the sudden rise in her vibrations before heading around the back of the mansion.

Almost immediately she was met with one of the Centipede workers, and instantly she raised her hand and quaked him out of the way, knocking him against the wall. He slumped down, unconscious, and she took a deep breath.

One down.

You are Quake, you follow orders.

Taking the steps two at a time, she made for the door; once inside, she scanned the mansion for vibrational energy to get her bearings.

For now, she was good.

She made her way through the corridors, her hands twitching by her sides, ready to quake anyone who was in her way.

"Find Mr. Quinn, tell him his purchase is downstairs," a voice echoed down the hall. Skye stopped in her tracks and ducked around the corner, waiting until she was certain the vibrations of the two people were gone before continuing.

Downstairs. The package was downstairs.

She made it to the door.

Every muscle in her body screamed wrong wrong WRONG but Skye swallowed, gritting her teeth and pushing through with every little step she took. This was her mission – this was what they needed her for. Her job was to get in and get out, find the package and return to the team.

These were her orders.

And her job was to follow orders, nothing more, nothing less.

(But that wasn't right, not exactly, not anymore. Her superi- Coulson, just Coulson, had never outright ordered her to push forward if it got to this point. That had been her own instincts. So technically, being down here was a direct violation of everything she was supposed to be.)

(But she knew this meant a lot to Coulson, and Coulson sort of maybe meant something to her – that perhaps this whole team meant something to her.)

So Skye took a deep breath, and twisted the doorknob with a trembling, clammy hand.

Golden light filtered through one little window, illuminating a strange chamber in the corner of the room as well as the package she sought. A lump rose in Skye's throat, her chest tightening up and little skittish vibrations bouncing between her fingertips. Casting a quick glance over her shoulder just to be sure, she approached the package – this is what she was here for, grab it and get out.

But-

Her eyes wandered over to the chamber in the corner, painted in a chiaroscuro of golden evening sunlight and dingy dark shadows. It glistened invitingly, begging her to take a look.

Coulson would want to know, right? He'd want her to take a look. He'd been encouraging her this whole time – inviting her to explore the Bus and practically begging her to join the team. It wouldn't hurt, just a peek-

But that's not your choice, you don't get to choose-

(But Coulson wanted her to choose, didn't he?)

Skye let a shiver travel down her spine and with one last glance at the package, she turned her attention to the chamber. Slow, tiny steps brought her towards it, her muscles tensed and ready to quake if need be. As she approached, she peered down into the window, her stomach twisting at the sight.

Mike Peterson.

In the flesh.

(The last time she'd seen him was on the bridge, when she was shot, before she was with SHIELD-)

(Her breath caught in her throat as a phantom shock crackled in her neck because she disobeyed she shouldn't be here misdemeanor follow orders-)

Unconsciously she reached up and rubbed the back of her neck, shaking her head and reminding herself to stay steady, to keep her anxious tremors at bay. Breathe, like Fitz told her to. It was just her mind, she told herself. It was just her mind playing tricks on her.

They weren't really here, telling her what to do.

(But if Peterson was here-)

He looked awful, Skye realized upon closer look. Nasty burns stretched across his face and down his neck. His eyes were dark and baggy, a perpetual exhaustion that his chamber-induced slumber couldn't fix. Skye reached a trembling hand and traced the glass with her fingertips. She could break him out, she realized. She could crack the glass and bring him with her-

"Hello, Quake."

Skye's breath snagged in her throat and she whirled around, her arm whipping out in front of her and her fingers outstretched, ready to quake. The man was unfamiliar, but he held a gun and bore a cocky smirk that was reminiscent of Hydra.

Her blood turned to ice.

And before she could even think or react, another man emerged from the dark and grabbed her by her neck, pointing a gun at her with his free hand.

A cry escaped her lips and she writhed in his grip, caught completely off guard.

(How hadn't she felt their vibrations? How could she be so stupid?)

"Well, this is certainly interesting!" the man hummed, the corners of his mouth twitching. "I don't believe we've met, but I've heard a lot about you. Look Mancini, it's Quake!" The other man – Mancini, she figured – let out a snarky chuckle. "The Clairvoyant told me to expect you."

"Hey Quinn, looks like SHIELD has their own version of a super soldier now," Mancini mused. Skye gritted her teeth, her muscles tensing and her fingers twitching with the urge to quake them both away. She could – she should – but she couldn't bring herself to; it was like the vibrations were backed up, frozen and building up behind a wall of compliance instilled in her.

Quinn stepped closer, his hot breath beating against Skye's skin. "You know, I heard about the stunt you pulled on the bridge. You really thought you were some sort of noble hero, didn't ya? You must think you're some hotshot now that you're with SHIELD." Quinn clicked his tongue, stepping back towards Mike's chamber. "Your handler's been dealt with by the way, for letting you slip away like that. The Clairvoyant was less than pleased."

Skye suppressed a shudder, and Mancini tightened his grip on her neck, clearly feeling some of the nervous vibrations tingling on her skin. "Don't you dare," he warned.

Quinn huffed humorously, tapping the glass. "You know, you guys have been looking at us, but we've been looking at you. And we've found a handful of some particularly interesting things." Skye watched cautiously as he opened the hyperbaric chamber. It gave a little hiss as it came loose, and Quinn pulled Mike out.

Skye's breath caught in her throat again as she laid eyes on him fully – he was missing half of his leg.

(Her fault, it had to be her fault that he was like this, disfigured and permanently impaired and it was her fault her fault her fault-)

Mike's eyes fluttered open, and groggily he started stirring, sitting upright and blinking blearily at his surroundings.

Skye stood, frozen in place and unable to peel her eyes off of him.

Quinn glanced over at her, then at him, then her again. "Do you guys know each other?" he asked. "Have you formally met? Quake, Mike Peterson. Mike, Quake. That's it. Just Quake." He turned his attention to Mike. "Hey, do you know who I am?"

Mike nodded slowly, glowering at Quinn.

"And you have your orders?" Quinn asked expectantly.

Mike dropped his gaze, responding with a defeated nod.

Quinn straightened up, smiling contentedly. "Good, because I recently purchased something that's gonna… help you complete them," he chuckled, taking the gun from Mancini, who crossed over to the other side of the room. Skye cocked her head, confused, studying every miniscule movement Mike made; all the while making sure to keep Quinn in her peripheral, and tracking Mancini's vibrations carefully as he moved around in the shadows. She wasn't about to let anything go undetected again, although it was, admittedly, a lot to keep track of and a lot to take in. Mike grunted almost painfully as he sat upright. He narrowed his eyes, his gaze sweeping over her almost accusingly.

Skye's chest burned and tightened – she suddenly realized that she hadn't been breathing, and sucked in a wheezy inhale, hoping the oxygen would quell the vibrations building inside of her. Mike didn't speak, but the way he looked at her said enough; after all, the few times she'd seen him, she had been taking down a building he'd jumped out of, tailing him at Union Station in a futile attempt to bring him back to Hydra, and threatening to kill his child on a bridge.

She clamped down on a tremor that simmered under her skin, remembering Ace's bright, inquisitive brown eyes, how he'd offered her his Black Widow action figure, the way he'd asked her to be his friend after she'd-

Shit, she killed Mike's sister, too-

Her breaths shuddered in her chest, and she opened her mouth, trying to find her voice but unable to even begin to form any words. All of her thoughts balled up in the back of her throat, a confusing, jumbled mess of incoherent thoughts she couldn't make sense of.

Instead, she dropped her gaze, finding herself unable to look at him any longer.

But Mancini's return drew her attention once more. He crouched in front of Mike, fitting his leg with some sort of tech. Mike glared back up at her and she flinched, keeping her gaze fixated on whatever Mancini was doing. When Mancini was done, he took a few steps back and directed Mike to stand.

Mike complied, hobbling a bit to get his balance on one leg – but suddenly, the device clicked and whirred, and Mike cried out in pain. Skye watched, her stomach twisting in horror as the tech grew and adjusted and eventually formed a leg.

Mike gasped for breath, recovering from the pain, and Skye watched him warily.

"Mancini, thank you. You will be receiving your payment shortly."

Mike's eyes darted from Skye to Quinn, then back at Skye. She, on the other hand, couldn't drag her attention away from him, her gaze numbly sweeping him up and down in disbelief and horror.

"That is the best money can buy, my friend," Quinn announced to Mike, almost showman-like. "Every piece of technology in you is top of the line." He narrowed his eyes. "I just wonder if I'm getting my money's worth. I know you get your orders from the Clairvoyant, so that means you're not allowed to hurt me, right?"

Skye frowned, biting the inside of her cheek.

"No," Quinn answered for him, cocking his gun and pointing it at him. "What if I tried to hurt you? Would you stop me?"

Mike looked down at it, almost as if he was considering, before looking back up and responding with finality, "no, I would not."

Of course not, Skye reasoned (though her legs trembled beneath her). She had never tried to stop her superiors from hurting her – she was below them, after all, and she was their property, and it was her role to do as they said and take punishment when she didn't. Perhaps that was what was happening here – Mike was now their property.

(The very thought made her sick to her stomach – the role of "property" was something she would never wish on anyone.)

But she hadn't been so submissive when Hydra had first taken her - that had taken years of conditioning - and she had been much younger than Mike was now, more impressionable. She wondered what was different between the two of them that would make him act this way.

Quinn placed the gun in Mike's hand and guided it towards Skye. "And… what if I wanted you to hurt her? You know… kill her."

This wasn't an unfamiliar feeling. Skye had stared the barrel of a gun head on plenty of times – the last time, she'd begged for it to fire.

But somehow, this felt much different, and Skye inhaled sharply, her breath catching in her throat. Her whole body trembled, her stomach churning with anxious anticipation.

Coulson. May. Simmons. Fitz.

"Will you?" Quinn dared Mike. "I mean, what would hurt Agent Coulson more than to lose his pet project?"

Skye's stomach flipped.

They knew.

Of course they knew – how wouldn't they? They had Raina and security footage and access to endless resources that they'd been watching SHIELD with. Of course they knew where she was this whole time – of course they'd been tracking her, and she was only endangering the team being here because she had Fitz activate the tracker and now the team was probably on their way and oh god, what had she done-

And if she made it out of here alive because theywouldneverletherdie, then she'd have their deaths on her hands.

Coulson and May and Simmons and Fitz-

But Mike's voice shook. "Those aren't my orders." He handed the gun back to Quinn. "She's not who I'm supposed to kill."

He turned and started towards the door. Without thinking, Skye took a few strides after him, not entirely sure how to react. "Mike-" she started, but he was gone too fast for her to think of what to say.

She stopped, staring at the doorway for a moment, before suddenly alarm bells rang in her head because her back was to the enemy don't ever turn your back to the enemy and she whirled around, almost disoriented by her carelessness and feeling a bit like a fish out of water because her superior wasn't here to tell her what to do and she didn't have orders and where had her instincts gone why wasn't she being sensible what was happening why why why-

And a gunshot rang out and suddenly pain exploded in her abdomen and she didn't believe it at first. Her hand flew to her stomach and she stared at Quinn, her head whirling and her chest aching for air.

And Quinn just stared back at her, intrigued and maybe even a little confused.

Skye lowered her gaze town to her hand, removing it from her stomach and not quite registering the crimson streaks painted across her palm. Bleary eyed, she looked back up in Quinn's direction, the silhouette of the man hazy and wavering.

"I thought you would be better than this," he said, his brow furrowing. "But… you're just a kid." He pulled her close, and she was too shell-shocked to do anything about it as he fired another shot into her stomach, lowering her down to the floor. "I'm sorry," he told her softly. "You didn't deserve this – any of it. And I have my orders too."

Footsteps. Ringing in her ears. The sound of a door clicking shut.

The cold, hard ground beneath her.

Blood rising in her throat. She gagged, wheezing and gasping for breath.

She wasn't ready to die.

Her entire stomach was on fire. Her limbs heavy and weak.

Water sloshed around her skull. The room spun.

She wasn't ready to die, not yet, there was so much more-

Breathe- Breathe-

We have your back-

And a fog seemed to settle in the room-

But she had to try-

She wasn't ready-

Coulson and May-

Simmons- Fitz-

Her muscles screamed in pain as she pulled herself towards the door-

Not yet-

Please-

Not yet-

She wanted to see them again-

Please-

Breathe-

Breathe-

Keep breathing-

Help-

Please-

She didn't want-

It wasn't-

Coulson-

May?-

Help?-

Please?-

Ringing and-

Haze and-

Darkness and-

Please-

Please-

Please-

Help?-