A/N: Yes, I just updated recently. But Saturday was AMAZING and I came home even more excited to write and enjoy fandom. I attended the Motor City Comic Con and had the privilege to meet Chloe Bennet. It was pretty much the best day ever. I haven't stopped smiling since.

Anyway, enjoy some more intrigue and plot furthering. Thanks for all your reviews! You are the best readers!

Melinda looked up as Skye entered her office Monday afternoon. Her student looked tired and unfocused, and instead of coming over to have a conversation as usual, Skye gave her the briefest of waves and then sat down in the study area in the corner, choosing the farthest chair from the professor's desk, one that ensured her back was to Melinda, and took her computer out of her backpack.

Then she did something Melinda had never seen Skye do – she took out her hearing aids, flicked them off, and put them on the table in front of her. It was as if Skye fully intended to shut herself off completely from the world, and by extension, from Melinda.

A knot of cold fear dropped into Melinda's stomach. Even though she knew it was ridiculous, she was suddenly terrified that Skye had found out about Katia, found out that five years ago she had been privy to details of another young deaf girl's harassment by yet another student of John Garrett's, found out that maybe Melinda May hadn't always been the solemn woman she generally presented to the world.

But that was ridiculous. How would Skye have found out about Katia?

Melinda shook her head. It was probably just lingering anxiety from her conversations with Maria. The anniversary of Katia's death was approaching, and it tended to be an anxious, unsteady time for Melinda.

It reminded her of all of the potential downfalls of getting too close to a student. Or anyone else.

Seeing that Skye was still hunched over in front of the computer, clearly totally deaf to the world, Melinda picked up her phone and dialed Maria. She wanted someone with a caring voice to remind her that she was still a good person, still someone worthy of instructing and molding young people, still someone who deserved to be loved.

Sometimes she just forgot.

Skye's stomach was in knots as she slipped into Professor May's office. She'd already decided to sit far away from the professor, unsure of how she would react to the professor in person, but when she was finally seated, her heart pounding, she reached up and took out her hearing aids.

It shut her off from the world and that caused her heartbeat to pick up a little further.

She gripped the table in front of her and forced herself to breathe.

Jemma's right, she thought as she stared, unseeing, at the open term paper before her. Professor May didn't have anything to do with that girl's death.

It was the kind of rational statement she wished she believed.

But someone had something to do. Somewhere on Barnham's campus, someone knew what had happened to Katia. Skye just had to figure out who.

A Skype window popped up on her screen and Skye smiled. It was Jemma, who was possibly even cuter over the Internet.

Hi! Jemma signed, and she grinned at Skye.

Hi.

Where are you?

Professor May's office. Waiting for MC to pick me up for English.

Have you talked to her about… Jemma hesitated. About the thing?

Skye shook her head. No.

Jemma frowned at her. Are you wearing your hearing aids?

No.

What? Why not?

Skye shrugged. Just want to be in my own world, I guess. They're on the table.

Jemma gave Skye a sympathetic look. Did you sleep at all last night?

No. Still looking for answers. Making connections.

Jemma sighed. We talked about this. You have to sleep.

I can't, Skye signed. I can't sleep. I'm either having nightmares about Grant Ward or about not being able to breathe after a seizure.

How long has this been going on?

Two days? Three? It's hard to tell. Everything's sort of bleeding into everything else.

Jemma looked at her watch. I have to go, she signed. Our lab experiments need to be pulled out of the fridge and I can't trust Hunter with them, obviously. I'll see you in English.

Then she pointed her finger sternly at Skye. And you're going to sleep tonight, young lady, even if it's in my bed.

Wow, you're frisky today, Skye replied, her eyes wide.

Jemma went bright red. Oh no. That's not what I meant. I just meant you might sleep better if…

Skye laughed and waved her hands. Stop, stop. I know what you meant. Thanks, Jemma.

Jemma waved and the Skype window closed.

Skye checked her watch. Only twenty more minutes of sitting in her completely silent world, her back to Professor May.

She felt vibrations on the floor as though someone was getting closer and she quickly slammed her laptop closed, whirling around to face Professor May.

The professor sat down across the table from Skye, and gave her a long look before she raised her hands. Skye? You want to talk to me?

Skye frowned, biting her lip. Not really.

Is there something I've done to upset you?

Skye shook her head.

Is something else wrong?

There were plenty of things wrong, but Skye couldn't express any of them. She wished Jemma was there.

Professor May leaned forward and put her hand on Skye's arm. Skye didn't mean to, but she jerked back, away from the professor's touch.

When she was able to look back at Professor May, the professor was giving Skye a look that was half sadness, half confusion. Skye, talk to me.

"Don'… wan'… talk," Skye spat out. She could hear her voice vibrate in her throat and she knew she probably sounded deafer than ever. It was frustrating, not being able to know who she could trust – she knew Jemma and Mr. Coulson were on her side, but Professor May had slid directly into the "gray" category.

Professor May looked shocked, and Skye suddenly felt like the room was too small. She shoved herself away from the table and started pacing the room, pushing in on the pulsing point on her forehead. It felt like a migraine and Skye just wanted to survive the next twenty minutes without collapsing on the floor or screaming at Professor May about Katia.

The room got wobbly and Skye found herself on the floor, sitting down, hard. Exhaustion and weakness swept over her and she felt familiar panic clamp itself over her ribcage.

Not here. Not here, she begged herself. Having a panic attack in front of Professor May was definitely not on her to-do list.

The thing about panic attacks was that they took over like wildfire. Skye's ribcage felt like it had shrunk and her hands began to tingle from lack of oxygen. She forced herself to breathe, her heart pounding wildly. Now she wanted Jemma to be there more than ever. She wondered if she could get her phone out of her pocket.

Through the tears blurring her vision Skye saw Professor May kneeling down in front of her. She tried to push herself away but her body was no longer her own. Breathing was getting even more difficult.

Professor May had something in her hands – Skye's hearing aids. She leaned forward and gently put them in Skye's ears, seemingly untroubled by Skye's shaking body and terrified breathing.

"Let's talk," the professor said, using sign and her voice.

Skye knew what that meant – I'm going to talk – because it was abundantly clear she couldn't move, let alone get her hands up to sign. She tried closing her eyes, but she knew Professor May would just wait.

Melinda watched as first Skye flinched from her touch, then angrily spoke – something Melinda hadn't heard – before pacing and then nearly collapsing to the floor. Melinda bolted from her seat, thinking Skye had gone into a seizure. She was nearly relieved to see that Skye had just sat down; she was slightly less relieved when she realized Skye had entered another state completely.

It wasn't the first time Melinda had felt absolutely useless in front of a panicked deaf girl, and the way her life was going, it wouldn't be the last. She gently scooped up Skye's hearing aids and moved towards her student.

Skye was clearly in no shape to take any help from anyone – she was too stubborn for that, something Melinda both loved and hated about her. It was downright painful, though, to watch Skye struggle for breath, to watch tears stream out of her student's eyes.

Once Skye's hearing aids were in, Melinda leaned forward and placed her hand on Skye's chest. Skye didn't pull away, which was a sign of how deep the panic attack was.

Breathe, Melinda signed.

Beneath her palm she could feel Skye's heartbeat like a hummingbird trapped in a fist.

Breathe, she repeated.

While she waited for Skye to take her advice, she slid her phone from her pocket and hit an entry on her contacts list. "Jemma?"

"Professor May?" The British girl sounded surprised. "Um… is something wrong?"

"I need you to come to my office. As quickly as possible," Melinda replied.

There was a pause. "Could I have a little more information?"

Breathe, Melinda signed again. Under her palm Skye was shaking and hyperventilating.

"Skye needs you," Melinda said. "She's having a panic attack and I'm not sure how to reassure her."

"Did… did something happen?"

"She's been out of sorts since she got here," Melinda answered. "She wouldn't talk to me, and now she's beyond talking."

Another pause, this one shorter. "I'll be right there."

Skye was still shaking and sobbing and taking in little sips of air when Mr. Coulson showed up, and she was still in the same state when Jemma arrived. Melinda had gotten no less worried – the panic attack had been going on for twenty minutes, and Skye was getting tired. Melinda could see it in her eyes.

Jemma didn't speak to Melinda or Phil, just sat down next to Skye and took the deaf girl's hand in hers, looping their fingers together.

Under Melinda's palm, she felt Skye's heartbeat slow just a fraction.

She turned to look at Phil, and found he had red paint on the sleeves of his suit coat. "What the hell is that?" she demanded.

"Oh. Uh… it's paint."

"I can see that. What is it from?"

Phil gave her a Look. It was the kind that usually meant "I'll tell you later," but Melinda was in no mood.

"Phil," she said sternly.

"I went by Skye's dorm to drop off some paperwork," Phil answered, sighing. "Grant Ward had been there, and he left a gift."

"Another one?" Jemma asked, and both Phil and Melinda jumped, having forgotten she was there.

"Yeah," Phil said. "I cleaned it up. But I took pictures first."

He looked at Skye, who was still sipping tiny breaths of air and sobbing. "How long before we call somebody for this?"

"Who do you want to call?" Jemma asked.

"Anybody with a sedative?"

"She just hasn't slept lately," Jemma informed him. "She's upset about…"

Here the British girl hesitated, and a slightly guilty look flashed across her face. "About Grant Ward," she continued.

"It might not be a great idea for her to go back to the dorm," Phil said to Melinda. "Something tells me this whole thing is escalating."

Melinda looked back at Skye, feeling the girl's heartbeat slow just a tiny bit further. "You two can come to my house," she said to Jemma.

"Oh, no, that's not necessary," Jemma said. "Skye can stay in my room."

"You live in the same dorm," Phil pointed out.

"But Grant Ward isn't…" Jemma trailed off.

"He approached you before, Jemma," Melinda said. "There's no reason he wouldn't do it again, especially if Skye's unavailable."

"We'll need things from the dorm," Jemma said.

"Mr. Coulson can get them or I can get them," Melinda said.

Under her palm she felt more of Skye's weight pressing onto her, and she wasn't surprised when Skye's body listed forward, the girl gone absolutely limp.

Melinda lowered Skye to the floor and was somewhat relieved when the deaf girl pulled her knees into her chest, closed her eyes, and took her first deep breath in more than an hour. "Tell Mr. Coulson what you need," the professor said to Jemma. "We'll stay here and let Skye rest for a bit."

Jemma nodded and she stood, moving to talk to Phil. Melinda looked down and gently brushed her hand along Skye's cheek as though reassuring herself that the girl was still breathing, still alive, still fighting.

Skye wasn't like Katia at all, but sometimes Melinda couldn't put the past down.

I don't like this, Skye signed, a bit drunkenly, to Jemma. Neither of them had consumed any alcohol, but an extended panic attack was like a baseball bat to the nervous system.

What's not to like? We're in bed together, Jemma pointed out, a trace of a smile on her lips.

At… May's… house. Skye forced herself to get the signs out.

They were very nice to us, Jemma said, and it was true. Maria and Professor May – who had finally told both girls to just call her "Melinda," even showing them her name sign – had been extremely welcoming. Maria cooked dinner and made them some excellent pasta with some sort of sauce Jemma had never tasted, and there were cookies for dessert. After that Professor May had gone into her office to work and Maria had sat down on the couch and watched a dance competition show.

"It's my one vice," she admitted to Jemma. "That, and new flavors of iced tea. They're all so… refreshing."

They'd watched "So Your Dance Moves Make You a Star" together, mostly because Skye was on the floor behind the couch in the fetal position. Jemma sat on the floor and stretched her hand around the back of the couch, just far enough so that she could link her fingers with Skye's.

Eventually it had gotten late and Professor May showed them to the guest room, where they were greeted by a tidy, well-made bed. Jemma had shoved Skye into it and now was staring into her girlfriend's tired brown eyes. Just go to sleep, Jemma suggested.

We're in… Skye trailed off, and she clenched her free hand around Jemma's.

I know. We're here and it's weird, Jemma signed.

Skye blinked and her grasp on Jemma's hand loosened slightly. Promise me you won't leave.

I'll be right here. If you need to wake up and tell me something, there's a flashlight on the nightstand.

She had no clue what the sign was for "nightstand," so she slapped together "little table tonight" and watched as a small smile crossed Skye's lips.

I'll find the little table tonight, Skye signed, and she yawned. I'm sorry about today.

What? Why?

I lost control.

No, you had a very normal reaction to a stressful situation. Jemma kissed Skye on the forehead.

That's why you're the best, Skye signed, and then her eyes slid closed.

Jemma turned out the lamp, leaving her fingers woven through Skye's. She couldn't help but wonder about Katia – had the other girl stayed at Professor May's home? Or about Grant Ward – what had his new "gift" been? Mr. Coulson had refused to show them the pictures, saying they were disturbing and there was no need to see them; he'd cleaned everything up. And there was still the matter of John Garrett. Who was he really, and what were his real motives?

There were too many loose ends, and Jemma was worried that one of those loose ends would whip back towards them, like a wire snapping free from a taut power line, and take all of them out.

She forced herself to listen to Skye's slow, even breathing, but it was still a long time before she could relax enough to sleep.