A/N: Thank you to all of my readers and reviewers! You guys rock!
Enjoy!
Skye loved trains. Well, not how trains worked, or what they carried, or where they went. Or really anything truly "about" trains. What she loved was standing mere feet from the railroad tracks when a train went by, watching as the train's wheels clack-clacked over the shining rails. Her rib cage vibrated with the thunk-whack of each car's passing, and she found herself standing on her tiptoes, rocking back and forth with the train's rollicking movements.
No train was too long. Skye would stand at the railroad tracks for hours, feeling the vibrations of a coming train through her feet, relishing the way the feelings started at her toes and went all the way up through the top of her head.
It was where she was Monday afternoon when her phone vibrated in her pocket. At first she thought it was just from the train, the cars rocking and rolling on their heavy metal tracks, until the train passed and she could still feel pulses against her leg.
She pulled it out of her pocket as the train rambled by, seeing a text message from Professor May.
Mr. Coulson and I met with the dean this morning. She is very concerned about Mr. Ward's actions. Phil and I are speaking with his program's coordinator in an hour. Could you come to my office around four o'clock? We should have some results by then.
Skye let the train pass as she thought about the message. She had no desire to talk about Grant Ward, or discuss what should be done about Grant Ward, or to hear his program adviser tell May and Coulson he was an "upstanding young man" or something. Which they would. People didn't want to hear that their students were involved in anything shady, be it drug dealing or threatening deaf girls.
But to not show up at May's office would be as good as packing up her dorm room and going home, back to the little house she shared with Summer, back to… to some unknown that would be both heartbreaking and isolating.
The train's vibrations were gone from the rails. Skye took a deep breath, hoping there would be another train coming. She desperately needed to feel something else, to be something bigger than herself, to be outside her silent body.
The tracks were empty, and she was starting to attract stares from passer-bys. Skye rolled her eyes and opened a reply to May's message.
I'll be there at four.
"Oh, great," May muttered. The door to the conference room had opened, revealing Professor John Garrett. Of all the professors at Barnham, Grant Ward's program coordinator had to be one of the most pigheaded and obtuse. Garrett had a reputation for playing favorites, often pitting his pets against each other until they were reduced to tears. Only the strongest survived in Garrett's program, and that was just the way he liked it. He often said he was building the future of America, and May had come to realize that Garrett's future didn't encompass any diversity – it was a broad-shouldered, white male kind of future, often with money or power attached to those shoulders and noble chins. No women, no people of color, and no one with a disability.
In short, Garrett was the worst person to face across this pitted and scarred conference room table. He would see nothing wrong with his student, his all-American white male, bullying a female, and a deaf one at that. Garrett would probably give this Grant Ward a gold star, or whatever his asshole interpretation of a gold star would be.
Coulson looked over at her. There were few people in the world that got under May's skin, but unfortunately, John Garrett was one of those few. It wasn't looking good for Skye.
"Phil," John said. "Didn't expect to see you here."
He shook hands with Coulson, then regarded May as though she was some sort of curiosity in a glass case in a museum. "Professor."
"Professor," May replied.
"Now, what's this all about? Why'd I get called out of a staff meeting?" Garrett looked from Coulson to May.
May resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Staff meetings" for Garrett mostly consisted of his TAs kissing his ass. "I apologize for the short notice," she said, "but Mr. Coulson and I have heard about some interesting run-ins with a student of yours, and we'd like to speak to you about his behavior."
Garrett raised his eyebrow. "This should be rich."
May indicated the chair across from her. Garrett seemed to hesitate, but then he sat down. Coulson sat next to May, and put his hands on the table expectantly.
"Let's hear it," Garrett said.
"One of the students I work with is being harassed by one of your students," Coulson said.
"I highly doubt that," Garrett said. "Your student's deaf, right? Is it possible she just didn't understand the situation?"
May reached into her briefcase and brought out a file folder. She opened it, passing the inside sheaves across the table to Garrett. "They have a history class together. Your student, one Grant Ward, has been following our student, making threats towards her. And Friday night? He shoved her down a hill. Could have seriously injured her."
Garrett looked over the pieces of paper, reading the threats crudely written on all of them.
"She's scared," May went on. "And she doesn't deserve to be."
"What do you want me to do about it? I don't have any control over Grant," Garrett said. "He's his own man. Makes his own decisions."
"Yes, and those decisions are hurting another student," Coulson said. "Which is against the majority of Barnham College's student code. We could have called the cops, brought them in on this, but we chose to come to talk to you first."
"And again, what do you want me to do?"
"Talk to Mr. Ward," May said briskly. "Inform him that if he doesn't stop, we will be contacting the proper law enforcement officials."
Garrett put the papers back on the table. "It sounds like your student has a crush on Grant, and she's embarrassed."
"Really? You think that's what it is?" May was nearly out of her seat. "After reading all those messages?"
Coulson put a hand on May's shoulder. "It's clear that's not what's happening here, Garrett. We spoke to the dean this morning, and she's very concerned about Mr. Ward's activities. She will be keeping a closer eye on him now, and is considering expelling him from Barnham if this harassment continues."
"I think that's a bit rash," Garrett said. He tapped the table with one finger. "Listen, I guess I'll speak to Grant, let him know this girl's got it out for him. I can't say he'll be pleased."
"I don't care if it thrills him to pieces," May said firmly. "He needs to stop, or we will take action to remove him. Skye deserves to be here as much as anyone else, and Mr. Ward's harassment is making it difficult for her to concentrate on your studies."
"Well, can't say I'm surprised," Garrett said. "Maybe she's not up to the rigors of the academic programming here at Barnham. Aren't there schools for people like her?"
Coulson and May shared a glance.
"It's true that there is a liberal arts school that caters to deaf students," May said after a beat. "Gallaudet in Washington, D.C. It's very highly regarded, and as a matter of fact, Skye was accepted to study there. She chose to come to Barnham instead. Much as Mr. Ward chose to attend here. They both made choices – and now Mr. Ward is making a series of extremely unfortunate choices."
"Please speak to him," Coulson went on. "Get him to understand that he could face some extremely unpleasant consequences for these choices he's making."
"Grant can't help it that he's good-looking and intelligent," Garrett said. "It's not my problem if some young thing can't keep it together around him."
May looked at Coulson. The interpreter shrugged. May reached into her briefcase again and brought out her cell phone. She called up a photo album and held the phone out to Garrett. "These are photographs taken on Saturday morning, less than twelve hours after an altercation with your student."
She watched Garrett's face as he scrolled through the photos, seeing the scrapes and cuts on Skye's arms.
"An altercation you claim occurred," Garrett said eventually. "Were there any witnesses?"
"Skye didn't mention any," May said. "She was too scared to notice her surroundings. I'm sure you can understand that."
"However, she did go to the residence of a friend," Coulson said. "Another student, who can verify the time and place Skye was attacked."
"Well, sounds pretty far-fetched to me," Garrett said. "But I guess I'll talk to Grant. Ask him to tone it down with the ladies."
He stood up and grabbed his jacket. "Is there anything else I can help you with today?"
"No," May said.
"I hope we don't have to have another of these talks," Garrett said. "I don't want to say you're wasting my time, but…"
"You just did," May said shortly. She picked up her briefcase, and before Garrett could get the last word in, she left the room.
Coulson caught up with her in the elevator. "I think that went as well as could be expected."
"Which is to say, terribly," May said. She slapped the button for the ground floor. "Skye's not going to like this."
Skye and Jemma sat outside Professor May's office, facing each other on a long bench. Jemma had her sign language textbook open on her lap, and Skye sat cross-legged, her eyes intent on Jemma's face and hands.
You… like… watch… candles? Jemma signed, putting all of her energy into the signs.
Skye laughed and reached forward to correct Jemma's sign. Movies, she signed. Yes, I like to watch movies.
Movies, Jemma repeated.
Not candles, Skye signed.
Jemma flushed.
Your signing is good, Skye said. You work hard. You can be fluent in no time.
Jemma went even redder. She flipped a page in the textbook, then raised her hands again. You happy, me happy, she signed. She knew it was inadequate, but she wanted to convey to Skye how awesome it was that the girl who had shown up shaking and crying on Friday night was now sitting in front of her, laughing and correcting her sign language.
I'm happy because of you, Skye signed. She knew it was too soon for Jemma to have caught most of the meaning, but she hoped the message could be conveyed through her slow, careful signing.
Jemma smiled. Her hands still felt tingly from Skye's light grip on her fingers, correcting her signs. She was feeling halfway dizzy; she still couldn't believe that she and Skye were sitting together, conversing in Skye's native language.
Jemma looked up, aware that Skye was watching her. Her hands still nervous, she signed a question she'd been wanting to ask since they met. You… deaf… how long?
She watched Skye's eyes, aware that this was delving into insanely personal territory. Quickly Jemma grabbed her notebook and scribbled a further message: You don't have to tell me if you don't want to.
Skye read the written message and looked up at Jemma. She leaned forward and took the notebook from the Brit's hands, and wrote It's okay to ask. I'll teach you a new sign.
Skye waited until Jemma's eyes met hers, and then she signed, All my life.
You… hear… never? Jemma replied.
Skye shook her head. Never.
Jemma's forehead furrowed. Never?
Maybe when I was a baby. But I don't remember, Skye signed.
She repeated the last sign, showing Jemma. Remember.
Remember, Jemma repeated. Then she took the notebook from Skye's lap and wrote, Were you born deaf?
Skye shook her head again and wrote, No. I was born hearing, but when I was six months old I contracted meningitis. I almost died. I was in the hospital for almost eight months. When I got better, they realized that the combination of a fever and the medications they gave me had left me deaf.
Jemma read Skye's words, putting her fingers to the notebook. You… ever… sorry?
Skye smiled. No.
Never?
Never, Skye repeated. My life is good. Except for Grant Ward.
Jemma stuck her tongue out. Meanie, she signed.
Skye laughed, and Jemma felt as though she was drinking champagne, all fizzy and bubbly.
They were both still smiling when Professor May and Mr. Coulson came up the hallway. Neither looked happy, which sobered Jemma and Skye quickly.
What happened? Skye signed to Mr. Coulson.
Interesting meeting, he replied. Let's go in the office and talk about it.
May unlocked the door and then looked at both girls. She put her briefcase on the bench and signed to Skye, Jemma is the girl I told you about, the one who wants to learn to sign.
She's doing amazing, Skye signed. It's like she's a natural.
I'm glad she's your friend. May picked up her briefcase and let the girls into her office. Mr. Coulson closed the door behind them.
"Is it all right if we speak, so Jemma can understand us?" May asked Skye, signing as she spoke.
Skye nodded.
Mr. Coulson stood next to May's desk, ready to interpret should he be called upon.
"We spoke with Mr. Ward's adviser," May began, using both modes of communication. "Professor John Garrett. Unfortunately he's a bit of a hard-ass and a jerk."
Have you had run-ins with him before? Skye asked.
May nodded. "Yes. He's not a nice man, and if the stories we've heard are true, neither are his students."
"I believe that," Jemma said hotly, and she flushed as Mr. Coulson translated her words for Skye.
"He said he'd speak with Grant Ward," May went on. "I believe he will, but I also believe he's not going to change this man's mind."
"What's our next move?" Jemma asked. As the words left her mouth she realized how they sounded; she wasn't really part of this.
Any doubt she had was erased, though, when Skye leaned over and took her hand, squeezing it.
"We become Skye's defense team," Mr. Coulson said, also using both methods of communication. "We'll be with her as much as possible, to make sure this creep stays away from her."
"And then?" Jemma asked, aware that her voice was shaking.
"If he doesn't, we're well within our rights to go to the cops," May replied. "And we will, Skye."
Skye didn't want to accept what the professor was saying, but she knew May was right. Fine, she signed.
"Good," May said.
They chatted for a few more minutes, and then Skye and Jemma let themselves out into the hallway. Jemma touched Skye on the shoulder – another tip she'd picked up from Professor May's book – and waited until the deaf girl was watching her. You scared? she asked Skye.
Skye shook her head. No, she signed.
Why not? He's a bad man, Jemma signed.
I have you, Skye replied, and she smiled. I'm not alone anymore.
No. Not alone, Jemma agreed. Two-of-us… then hesitated. Sign for… t-o-g-e-t-h-e-r?
Skye smiled. Together, she signed to Jemma.
Together, Jemma repeated. There was that champagne feeling again.