A/N: Thanks for being patient with me. I'm so happy to have a new chapter to share with you.

Part of this chapter was inspired by recent events on the show, although there are no spoilers - more of me just trying to capture all my feelings and use them in this universe.

Enjoy!

"What do you mean, there's nothing on the drive?" May demanded.

"I mean, we're standing here in the police station looking like idiots," Coulson replied. "We just plugged the drive into the cop's computer and there's literally no evidence of any of that stuff we saw last night – in fact, there's a big eff-you from Grant Ward. The drive is now full of pictures of kittens."

"Phil, you know you can swear in front of me."

"I'm not in front of you. I'm in front of six cops and Miss Simmons – and Skye, of course, who I'm sure is reading my lips."

May rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean."

Coulson let out a tense sigh.

"What's our next move?" May asked.

"Well, it's clear that the cops are not going to take us seriously," Coulson said. "At this point I usually have just one plan."

"I'm listening."

"Pancakes."

"What?"

"Usually when I can't think of how to proceed, I make pancakes. And then… I eat those pancakes. And somewhere in the process, I figure out how to proceed."

"Always?"

"You realize this conversation is delaying any action, including pancakes."

"I'm just surprised, Phil. How long have I known you?"

"Several years."

"And you've never once confessed your secret pancake decision-making ritual."

"I didn't want you think I was soft." Coulson rolled his eyes. "Any thoughts, Melinda?"

"I prefer blueberries in mine."

"I was referring to serious thoughts."

"That was serious." May paused, though. "How's Skye taking it?"

"Oddly enough, she's bizarrely focused. Took the computer away from the cops and is typing like a madwoman," Coulson said. "It's like she thinks she can find Grant Ward's sick files if she just types fast enough."

The computer beeped and Coulson looked over. Skye was signing rapidly, her mouth moving in tandem. Her signs were so expressive that even Jemma looked as though she understood.

I found them. I! Found! Them!

"Gotta go, Melinda," Coulson said.

He hung up and looked over at Skye. Are you serious?

You know what my major is, right? Skye asked, and for the first time in weeks, Coulson saw the sly, sarcastic girl he had come to love.

Greek antiquities? Coulson grinned at her.

I'm a computer science major, Skye signed, rolling her eyes. And in my misspent youth, it's possible I dabbled in some less-than-legal computer tactics.

They just call it hacking, Coulson said.

"Um, Mr. Coulson?" Jemma asked hesitantly. "The cops want to know what Skye's found."

"Oh!" Coulson hurried to explain, leaving out the parts about the "less-than-legal" tactics. "It turns out the files were hidden on the drive."

One of the officers, a kindly-looking older gentleman, turned the laptop towards his colleagues, and another officer, who was holding a stack of paperwork, started writing on the top form.

"What's the process now?" Jemma asked.

"We'll fill out these forms," the older officer said, "and then we'll write you out a restraining order."

Coulson translated that to Skye, and she shook her head. He won't listen to that. Or he'll find some way around it. Garrett will help him!

I promise you he won't, Coulson said, although he knew, deep down, that if Garrett was going to go off-book to help any of his students, it would be Grant Ward. And Garrett, though he now cultivated the image of a scholarly type, had had a shady past filled with some of his own less-than-legal tactics.

It won't do anything, Skye protested.

Coulson looked at Jemma. Somehow, without him saying anything, she stepped forward and took Skye's hand in her own.

The officer with the forms looked over at Coulson. "Does she understand that this is a serious process? Like, one that can't be revoked?"

"She can speak for herself," Jemma said hotly. "Officer… Parsons, is it? You understand that Skye's not brain-dead – she's just deaf. And she found those files on the drive when your compatriots from the computer science division were going to give up and call us all liars."

Officer Parsons looked at Mr. Coulson.

"She speaks for me too," Coulson said, indicating Jemma with a nod of his head. "Not all the time. Just when she's right."

When the forms were taken care of, Officer Parsons handed Skye a copy of the petition for a restraining order, which had to be taken to family court and filed with a judge. His colleague, Officer Samuelson, had some further words. "Until that petition is filed and goes through the verification process, you understand that Mr. Ward can still legally approach you, talk to you, and give you further… well, gifts, much like this flash drive. At any time, if you feel your safety is threatened, please call our department."

He looked at Coulson. "Uh… or whatever the deaf version of a phone call is."

Coulson didn't break his expression, but he signed the officer's confusion to Skye.

I understand, Skye said.

"We do not recommend the use of force should this situation come to a physical altercation," Officer Samuelson went on. "Run, yell, throw things – get attention from someone."

"You mean she can't defend herself if he comes after her?" Jemma asked, her face getting hot. "He already pushed her down a hill and his advisor practically gave him a gold star for it."

"Of course, everyone has the right to defend themselves," the officer said hurriedly. "That can cause further issues, however."

Jemma muttered something under her breath.

Coulson's phone rang as the officers bid the young women a pleasant evening. "Melinda, are you that hard up for some of my pancakes? What, is Maria out of town?"

"I'm at Grant Ward's dormitory" came the terse answer.

"And?"

"Son of a bitch cleared out of here," May swore. "He knew we could trace the photos back to him, back to his dorm room, so he's gone to ground. Garrett's probably got him shacked up at the goddamn Assholes Club."

"I used to have a suite there," Coulson said. "But they kept raising the membership fees."

"How can you be so glib about this?"

"Remember when I told you I was in a police station?"

May sighed. "If Garrett's protecting him, Ward could be anywhere on this campus and we don't have a prayer of touching him."

"Well, right now we don't need to touch him," Coulson said. "In fact, I would wager that's the very last thing Skye wants to do."

"We need to regroup, Phil."

Coulson looked over at Jemma and Skye, who were still sitting on the bench in the police station lobby, next to a woman dressed in a hospital gown, hot pink leggings, and a coat that had apparently been shorn from a Muppet. "Come to my place."

"I haven't stayed over at your place in years, Phil. We haven't done… that for years."

"And we're still not," Coulson replied. "I'm making pancakes, damn it."

Pancakes, Skye signed to Jemma.

Jemma tried to copy the sign, but her sticky fingers caught each other. Skye laughed, and Jemma rejoiced in the sound. She wiped her fingers on a napkin and tried again, successfully executing the sign for "pancakes" before she moved onto her next question. You okay today?

Nervous, Skye replied. And headache.

Jemma reached over and grabbed her backpack, pulled out a notebook, and wrote: Did you have another seizure?

Skye looked irritated for a split second, then signed and rolled her eyes. Bobbi tell you?

Jemma nodded. Sorry.

I'm not an invalid, Skye wrote in the notebook.

I know, Jemma signed. You're brave… and funny… and smart…

Skye took the notebook and wrote for a few minutes before she passed it back to Jemma.

It's not, like, a thing. I shake and the world tilts around me and things get shaky and I fall to the ground and then it stops. Sometimes it feels like it's never going to stop. Like I can feel my heartbeat in my palms, like my heart's trying to get out of my chest. Like I'm going to split in half, break all the bones on my body. I hate that I can't control it… all I can do is wait for it to be over. And then I get up and go on.

We… go on, Jemma signed.

Skye looked at her, her eyes suddenly sad.

What? Jemma asked.

Skye furrowed her brow. Hesitantly she signed, You don't… have to stay. With me.

Jemma was even more confused. What?

Skye started signing, her emotions moving her hands quickly, leaving Jemma behind. Jemma signed, Wait, please, slow down, and called for Professor May.

May came in and looked at Skye, who was signing furiously with tears in her eyes.

"Can you… interpret?" Jemma asked softly.

To her credit, May didn't ask any questions. She merely stepped into Skye's line of sight and began speaking.

"… would understand if this was the kind of situation you'd want to distance yourself from. I know it can't be easy worrying about Grant Ward and trying to go to school and figuring out who's going to be with me every minute of the day. And if it gets to be too much, please don't feel bad about leaving."

Jemma had heard enough. She waved her hands in Skye's space, causing the other girl to stop signing.

"Listen to me," Jemma said, for the first time using her voice and her hands in synchronicity. "I decide when I leave."

She didn't have to look at May to know that she'd gotten the signs right. Didn't have to look at Skye to know she had to continue.

"You are more important than school. We are more important than school. Do you believe me?"

Skye reached up and wiped her eyes.

Do… you… believe… me? Jemma signed, her signs forceful and weighted. I stay… because… because I love you.

Skye looked between Jemma and May, as though she couldn't figure out what had just happened.

And I fight… for those I love, Jemma finished.

Skye's eyes were still locked on her face, and Jemma didn't want to break the gaze first.

As it turned out, she didn't have to.

Something alien crossed over Skye's face, something Jemma had never seen, and before she could figure it out, Skye's eyes rolled up in her head and she collapsed on Mr. Coulson's kitchen floor.

The first thing Skye realized after coming out of the seizure was that her chest ached. She could feel her breathing and it was ragged and faintly seemed to whistle in her throat.

The second thing was that Jemma's hand was in hers, squeezing it tight.

Professor May and Mr. Coulson were kneeling next to her, and Skye could still smell pancakes from the kitchen. They all looked worried, and Skye felt bad. They were spending so much time with her. They were all caring about her, working to make sure she was safe, and all she could do was fall on the floor like a broken puppet.

She tried to push herself up from the floor, feeling the soft squish of the thick carpet in Mr. Coulson's living room compress under her fingers. Her head swam and she felt sick, lowering herself back to the floor.

Take it slow, Mr. Coulson signed, his fingers moving into her line of view. Do we need to call anyone?

Who… would you call? Skye signed weakly.

She realized it was true – almost everyone she cared about, minus her sister, was in the room.

An ambulance? Professor May signed.

Skye shot upright. No, no, no! she signed as fast as she could.

Okay, okay, Mr. Coulson signed. Please, Skye, just stay calm.

Skye realized that Jemma hadn't said anything. She turned to her friend and was surprised to see that Jemma was shaking.

What's… wrong? Skye signed.

Jemma didn't answer; she flung her arms around Skye and squeezed her tight, and for a few long minutes they rocked back and forth on Mr. Coulson's living room floor, Jemma sobbing into Skye's shoulder and Skye gently patting Jemma's back.

When Jemma finally let Skye go, the Brit brought her hands up and signed, Never… do that… again!

No promises, Skye replied.

"I'm sorry," Jemma said, looking at Mr. Coulson and Professor May. "I don't mean to be this upset."

"It's perfectly all right, Jemma," Professor May said.

"I just… she looked so… so breakable," Jemma whispered. "I thought it was never going to stop."

Mr. Coulson looked down at his watch. "I know you don't want to hear this, Jemma, but that was a fairly quick one."

"The shaking, and her body… she was just gone," Jemma managed to get out. "She was somebody else. She couldn't control it."

Jemma? Skye signed.

Jemma turned.

Thank you for staying with me. And I… Skye paused, looking down at the body that had betrayed her, the self that Jemma somehow still loved. I love you too.

May turned to look at Coulson. "Come on, pancake master. I'll help you with the dishes. Let's give these two some alone time."

They worked in silence in the kitchen until the plates, silverware, and pancake-making supplies were cleaned. Coulson folded his dish towel and turned to May. "What is it about her, Melinda?"

"About who?"

"Skye. Why're you fighting so hard for her?"

May looked at him, wiping her hands on her own dish towel. "She matters, Phil. You know that."

"I know, Melinda. And I know you don't get involved with your students. Not since…"

May held up her hand. "You don't have to remind me. But Phil – she doesn't need us."

He looked at her, confused.

"She doesn't need us. We're lucky enough to fight with her, but we're not fighting for her. She might doubt herself, but she's never going to quit. That's the kind of person I want to support." May put the dish towel on the counter. "Besides, I've been looking for a reason to take Garrett down for years, and this Grant Ward asshole is the best one I've seen lately."

Coulson looked at her awkwardly, as though trying to decide how best to handle the situation. Eventually he patted her shoulder. "Then I guess it's good for Skye that I'd fight in your army any day, Melinda."

"Easy there, sweet talker," May said. "You're a kept man, and for the most part, I'm a kept woman. But for what it's worth, Phil – I'd fight with you any day, too."

She looked out into the living room. "We're not much of an army, though, are we?"

Coulson came up behind her and looked at the two girls, curled up on his floor under the afghan from the couch, hands still – as far as he could see – intertwined. "We're enough," he said.