A/N: This was the chapter I didn't want to stop writing... but it's almost midnight my time and I have work tomorrow. It's highly likely I'll come home tomorrow and write more of this, because... well, you'll see.

Thank you to everyone who reads/reviews/favorites/follows me or this story. It's extremely flattering and I love seeing how many people support the things I produce.

And a shout-out to whoever needed some Little Bear cuteness before terrible things happened - that showed up in here!

Can't wait to hear what you all think of this. Enjoy!

Jemma awoke to find herself in a cage. Or a box. Or a box-like cage. It was taking her far longer to process things. Whatever she was in, it was plexi-glass and steel and looked like something from a horror movie.

She tried to stand up but her body wouldn't obey her. She felt like a puppet, a limp rag doll on the floor of her new prison.

She heard voices and managed to keep her eyes open long enough to see Grant Ward and John Garrett stride into the room.

"Damn it, boy!" Garrett yelled. "You had one job! And that one job was to get the deaf bitch!"

He smacked the side of the box. Jemma jumped.

"I'm sorry, sir," Ward said, his eyes downcast.

Serves him right, Jemma thought.

"You're sorry? How fucking hard is it to get the right girl?!" Garrett's voice approached a screech.

"She was in Skye's… in the girl's… dorm room," Ward mumbled. "I thought…"

"You thought wrong!" Garrett screamed. "And now you don't think! I'm going to go fix this mistake you made!"

He took two steps away from Ward before turning abruptly and smacking Ward hard across the face. "Stay here and don't let anything else go wrong," Garrett said in a low voice.

With that he left, and Ward turned to Jemma.

She shrank back, as though she could somehow pretend she hadn't just heard and seen what she'd definitely just heard and seen.

"You think this is funny, don't you?" Ward asked.

"I think it's exactly what you deserve," Jemma replied.

She had been studying the surrounding area, and had figured out, almost without a doubt, where she was being held. Underneath Barnham's agricultural complex, a series of tunnels twisted and branched in multiple directions, connecting the McKee Soil and Crop Research Laboratory with the first of several large greenhouses; from there it was possible to go all the way to the College of Veterinary Medicine on one end and the Print Journalism building on the other. No one knew exactly why the tunnels were there, though some students thought they were a holdover from Cold War days and others proposed that they had been an efficient way for students and professors to move between agricultural research stations during inclement weather. Now, though, they were mostly used for shenanigans, fraternity pledge dares, and drinking.

It was definitely not the most high-trafficked area, and it seemed like a perfect location for a kidnapping and then whatever Garrett had planned as an encore. And it was a location Jemma knew Skye would never think of.

The only thing keeping her from crying was the fact that Skye was brilliant – she thought in ways no one else ever considered, made connections no one else saw, and if anyone was going to come rescue Jemma, it was going to be Skye.

"You know what Garrett's going to do to her when he finds her," Ward said.

"No, I don't," Jemma said. "You just skulk around leaving notes and weird displays of your twisted affection, and…"

"I don't like her!"

"Oh, silly man," Jemma said, rolling her eyes. "Little boys chase little girls around the playground because they like them. They pull pigtails and spill finger paints because they're too infantile to demonstrate their desire in a concrete way that doesn't piss off the girl."

"That's exactly what the pirate said," Ward muttered, and he turned away from her.

Jemma had no idea what that meant, but she forged on. "All you know is that Garrett wants Skye, and you're too weak to have your own ideas, so you just do what he says. What's he got over you? And why on earth does he want to hurt Skye so badly?"

Ward shook his head. "You have no idea, do you?"

"No," Jemma said slowly. "That's why I'm asking."

"It's her parents," Ward said. "He wants revenge for what happened to his brother."

The doorbell rang and Maria moved towards the front door with a sigh. "It's like a goddamn train station around here," she muttered.

"No one understands that reference," Phil told her.

"Well, yeah, well… you know…"

"What's that, stutter-bot?"

"Someday you're going to wake up in your boxers taped to a flag pole," Maria informed him.

"Ooh, that sounds exciting. Tell me more," Phil said. "Where do we go for dinner? And what will you be wearing?"

Maria resisted the urge to throw her coffee mug at him, and opened the door.

Wanda was standing on the front porch. She looked cold and a bit hunched, but she smiled when she saw Maria. "Good morning."

"Hi, Wanda," Maria said. "Come on in. Do you want some coffee?"

"Tea, if it is possible."

"It is," Maria said. "I'll let Melinda know you're here."

Phil looked over. "Hi, Wanda."

"Good morning, Mr. Phil."

"I thought Pietro was going to come," Phil said.

"Yes. He was," Wanda said. "He… had other things…"

There was obviously something bothering her; she was awkwardly twisting the sleeves of her red jacket over her wrists, back and forth. Phil stood and led her over to the couch. He switched off the TV and looked at her. "Do you want to talk, or do you just need to sit here for a minute?"

"Is Skye," Wanda said. She ducked her head, not looking up at him.

She wrenched her jacket sleeve around her wrist again.

Gently Phil took one of her hands in his. For a few minutes they sat together like that, until Wanda's hand in Phil's seemed to relax.

"Is also maybe not all Skye," Wanda said quietly.

Phil nodded.

"Also I do not drive all the way like this alone before," Wanda went on. "Is not… my favorite."

She sighed and put her purse on the couch before removing her jacket. "Pietro is who drives all the way usually. He is to go to track meet today."

"It was very brave of you to come," Phil said. "And very kind. Skye had a very rough night and she really needs her hearing aids."

"Da." Wanda's hands moved to her wrists again.

"May I ask you a question?"

Wanda nodded.

"Why did you take your bracelets off?"

Wanda's head jerked up and she looked at him. "You noticed?"

"I did."

"Wanted to show Skye is all right to have pain," Wanda said, turning her head away from him again.

"I think she knows that," Phil said gently. "You have proved to her that it is possible to be strong through difficulties. You are quite possibly the very best example of that – you are kind and patient, you work to help others, and you always want what's best for your family. You are all of those things whether you hide your scars or not."

He carefully reached out and separated her hands. "And if your bracelets help you to focus on helping Skye, then you should wear them."

"You are good man, Mr. Phil," Wanda said, and she smiled.

"I have my moments," Phil answered.

He released her hands and she hesitated only a fraction of a second before reaching into her purse and pulling out her bracelets. She fastened them around her wrists just as Melinda came into the living room with a coffee mug. "Good morning, Wanda."

"Hello."

"I brought you some tea," Melinda said, and carefully passed the girl the steaming mug.

"Thank you."

Phil and Melinda watched as Wanda sipped her tea. After she was finished, she looked up at them. "Am not deaf," she informed them. "Could have talked while to drink the tea."

Melinda smiled. "Honestly, we were just enjoying the silence."

"Skye is to have rough time, yes?"

Phil translated that in his head. "Yes. Last night was incredibly rough on her."

"She's still sleeping," Melinda added.

"Jemma is worried," Wanda said.

"We're all worried about her."

"Jemma is confused as to why people they hurt themselves," Wanda said.

"I think we all are," Melinda said. Looking at Phil, she saw him nodding in agreement.

Wanda hesitated. She set her mug down on the table next to the couch. "Inside pain is twisting, ripping, tearing. Can't see but can feel. Can't express but need for others to see. Bring pain outside, becomes real. Becomes visible."

She paused and tapped her fingers against her mouth. "Horrifies others. Causes them to back away. They realize what you feel inside and becomes their burden as well. No one gains from it all."

Almost unconsciously her fingers moved to touch one of her bracelets. "Then outside pain becomes the way for to shut off inside pain. Shut off buzzing. Shut off noise."

Wanda gave them a half-smile. "And no, is not the type of noise Skye cannot hear. Is different noise. Soul noise. Brain buzzing."

"I think I understand," Melinda said carefully.

"And in Skye's case, the self-harm was a way to try to fight her way out of the panic attack," Phil said.

"Do not seek for to understand," Wanda said. "Is no understand. Is only love, and patience, and persistence."

She reached for her purse. "I have hearing aids. She needs, yes?"

"Yes," Melinda agreed.

"I will go for to see if she is awake," Wanda went on. "Is all right?"

"Of course," Melinda said. "She's in the craft room. It's right around the corner on the left."

"Thank you," Wanda said. "Uh, and thank you also for the taking care of Skye. She is lucky for to have people such as you in her life."

"She's lucky to have you too," Phil said.

"We will see," Wanda replied, but she smiled.

"Her parents? What are you talking about? They died in a car crash," Jemma said.

Ward shook his head. "No. That's not what happened."

"Does Garrett have proof of that?"

"Do you have proof that it happened the way Skye told you?"

"No, and I don't need any," Jemma said defiantly. "I trust Skye."

"And I trust Garrett," Ward said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"The difference between Skye and Garrett is that I'm not scared of Skye."

"Are you sure?" Ward tilted his head.

"Not in the way you're scared of Garrett. I'm scared for Skye."

"Maybe you should be scared."

"I don't think so."

"How much do you really know about Skye?"

"Enough to know she doesn't scare me."

"Hmm," Ward said. He rocked back and forth on his heels.

"What?"

"Maybe you don't know Skye as well as you think you do."

Skye woke to someone stroking her hair, and she blinked, seeing Wanda sitting on the bed next to her.

"Why… 'ou… 'ere?"

Wanda reached into her purse and pulled out a soft-sided vinyl purse featuring the princesses from "Frozen." She handed it to Skye.

Skye unzipped it and pulled out her backup pair of hearing aids. "'Oo tol' 'ou…?"

"Mamochka," Wanda said. "Put in, please."

Skye nodded and slipped the hearing aids in. The world got a little sharper, and with that sharpness came the acute knowledge of what she had done the night before. She looked down at the gauze wrapped around her arms and hands, and she went bright red, wishing she could sink down into the floor and never have to look at anyone ever again.

"Have something," Wanda said. She reached into her purse again and pulled out her phone. "Mishka."

Little Bear's smiling doggy face appeared, and a hand appeared from the side of the screen holding a card reading "A New Trick." The video cut then to Little Bear sitting expectantly on the floor, looking up at whoever was standing above him.

Another card appeared, being held in the same hand as a music box that sat on Summer's desk in the dance studio. The card read "Summer Teaches LB to Dance."

The video panned out to show Summer standing above Little Bear. He was following her every move. Pietro was at one side, winding the music box. He held it out towards Summer, who raised one hand as though conducting the music, and then counted with her fingers – one, two, three…

Summer raised up on her toes, bringing her arms up and out to the sides. It was something Skye had seen her sister do many times before.

Little Bear proceeded to do something Skye had never seen him do – he raised up on his hind legs and brought his paws up, then wobbled side to side on his back legs, copying Summer's movements.

"Awwww," Skye said.

Wanda tapped her shoulder to get her attention, and when she looked up, Wanda said, "Mishka is good dancer."

Skye nodded. Keenly aware that Wanda's eyes were still on her, she watched the video three more times, reveling in the familiar sights of Summer and Little Bear and their kitchen, of everything she associated with safety and security.

After the third time Wanda reached over and removed the phone from Skye's hands. "We have to talk," she said.

Skye put her head down.

Wanda sighed and reached in, putting her fingers under Skye's chin, gently tipping the other girl's head up. You… trust… me? Wanda signed hesitantly.

Skye nodded, tears filling her eyes.

"Okay," Wanda said. "So we talk."

Skye pressed her thumbs against her eyes and sniffled.

Wanda waited until she made eye contact again. "You are to be loved."

Skye shook her head.

"You are to be loved," Wanda repeated. "You can say or do nothing to change this."

I screwed up.

"No," Wanda said, and shook her head.

I did something horrible!

"No." Again Wanda shook her head. "Is not horrible."

What kind of a person tries to destroy themselves from the inside out? What kind of a freak –

Skye cut herself off mid-sentence, dropping her hands to her lap.

Wanda tilted her head and waited.

Sorry, Skye signed after a moment.

"Is all right," Wanda said. "I know I am not freak."

No. And I understand why you did what you did.

"No," Wanda said. "Is no understand. Is love, and patience, and persistence."

She leaned in and kissed Skye on the forehead. "You have much to accomplish. You have much to give. You are strong. When you want for to talk, you know where to find me."

Always.

"Now, get up. Time to be doing things."

What are you talking about?

Jemma, Wanda signed.

Skye stared at her, still confused.

"Did you forget what day it is?"

Fear sluiced through Skye's body. December first.

Wanda nodded.

They're not going to let me leave, Skye signed. They want to "keep an eye" on me, and that therapist guy wants to talk to me again.

Wanda shrugged. "I am good diversion."

You would do that for me? You're not going to tell me I'm crazy and that I should stay here and try to fix things?

"Cannot fix things from here," Wanda said. "And no one is crazy here."

Skye tilted her head.

"Go back to dorm," Wanda went on. "Get things. Figure out plan. Find Jemma."

And what if she's just there studying?

"Then you have found, and no need for to look further. Then you talk. And maybe more than talk."

You got really bold over the last few minutes.

Wanda shrugged again. "I am Russian. We are known for being the bold."

She made a shooing motion with her hands. "Now go, go, solnishka – before I lose famous Russian nerve."

Skye scrambled into her boots, pulling her sweatshirt on over her wrinkled long-sleeved shirt and yanking her coat on over that. She twisted her hair up into a knot on top of her head and grabbed her purse. Thank you, she signed to Wanda.

"Always," Wanda replied.

And if you need some more Russian courage, I'm pretty sure Maria keeps some in the cabinet over the refrigerator.

Skye hugged Wanda tightly, and then whisked out into the hallway. Instead of turning right to go back to the living room, she turned left, presumably heading for some back exit.

Wanda squared her shoulders and turned right. Time to spin some Russian folk tales.

Or, at the very least, bob and weave and try to escape all questions, and if that didn't work, tell them about Pietro trying to push snow off the workshop roof and falling face first into a snowbank. That was a people pleaser.

Skye didn't realize how upset she was until she reached her dorm room, and found the door wide open. Then she found Jemma's phone on the floor, screen cracked, and the anger and fear twisted in her chest like a sailor's knot of grief and aggravation.

Then she found the note.

Lesbian whore –

We've taken your deaf bitch…

Skye was reeling, but she managed to get the door closed before she collapsed on the floor. Her thoughts were spinning.

They came to get me. Jemma was here for some reason. They took Jemma instead. This note was meant for Jemma, not for me.

The note continued:

… and we'll give her back once she confesses her sins.

Skye pressed her hands against her eyes. She had absolutely no clue what the note meant. As far as she knew, she'd never had any dealings with Grant Ward or his sadistic advisor before they started attacking her. What sins could they be referring to?

If you want to get her back, you'll need a file kept by one Professor Melinda May. It's in her gray file cabinet, top drawer, behind the one on that girl she killed.

The reference to Katia hit Skye like a punch to the sternum.

Find it. Bring it to us. We'll be waiting in the tunnels.

There was no signature. The note didn't need one.

Skye clenched the note in her hand, and pain shot up her arm. She had forgotten about her hand injuries. She looked down at the gauze and the tears she'd been fighting welled up in her eyes.

"NO," she said aloud, letting the vibrations of that one word reverberate through her chest.

It'd been years since she'd "talked" to herself like a child, signing her thoughts with no one else around. Usually she only did it in the safety of her own room, mostly with Little Bear watching her. But he wasn't here, and her safety had ceased to matter since she'd found that damn note.

Her hands rose. You are going to get off your butt, you're going to call in some backup, and you're going to go get your girl back. And then you're going to spend the rest of your life, however long that is, apologizing to her for all of this.

The movements of her hands, as bandaged and wobbly as they were, calmed her. She repeated the sentences until her breathing evened out.

Then she pulled out her phone.

Thundercats are go. I need all the backup I can get. Meet me at Professor May's office in twenty minutes. And bring Hunter – he's an asshole, but he seems like he could either take someone in a fight or cause a remarkably effective distraction, and I feel like we're going to need both those skills.

Trip was waiting when Skye showed up at Professor May's office. He was leaning casually against the wall, checking messages on his phone. As she approached he looked up. You gonna tell us what this is all about, girl?

Skye nodded. She handed Trip the note.

He read it, his face getting more and more perplexed.

Skye pulled a bobby pin from her hair and knelt down in front of the doorknob.

Trip put a hand on her shoulder.

She looked up at him.

What are you doing?

Saving Jemma.

Yeah, I get that. What are you doing specifically at this moment?

"Oh," Skye said. Picking the lock.

Easy there, Ocean's Eleven, Trip signed.

I need that file, Skye replied.

You don't think we can just storm the tunnels?

He wants it, we can get it, why not give it to him?

You think the professor's going to be all right with this?

Skye shrugged. I don't care.

Trip studied her, frowning as he noticed her bandaged arms for the first time. You going to tell me what that's all about?

Maybe someday.

I can't stop you, can I?

Skye shook her head.

You think Bobbi's going to be able to stop you?

Skye shook her head again.

Trip sighed.

It'd go a lot faster if you'd be a lookout and stop all this yapping, Skye informed him.

Trip stared at her, his expression slowly changing to one of admiration. Girl, you are ice.

No. I'm mad. And this is my fight. I'm taking back everything Grant Ward took from me, and I'm going to make them pay.

With that Skye turned her attention back to the doorknob. It took her a few long minutes of poking and probing, but eventually she felt the click and pop that signaled the door was unlocked.

She was up on her feet and through the door before Trip could catch up with her. She bolted to the gray filing cabinet in the corner and began rifling through its contents.

The file on Katia was surprisingly thick, but Skye didn't even stop to look at it. She didn't care about Katia. She only cared about Jemma, her Jemma, who was being held in those tunnels under the agricultural buildings, suffering in her place. It wasn't right and she was going to fix it.

Skye's frantic fingers stilled as soon as she saw the name on the file behind Katia's.

Johnson.

Her last name.

And the word after it: Accident?

Her knees threatened to give out again; Skye grit her teeth and forced herself to stay upright. She leaned against the filing cabinet.

It doesn't matter what's in it, she thought. It doesn't matter. I have it, we'll give it to Ward and he'll give me back Jemma.

And there had to be hundreds of kids with the last name Johnson. Surely Melinda had taught some of them. Surely some of those kids with the last name Johnson had been in accidents. The odds were astronomically high.

Skye shook her head, hard.

She didn't believe any of that, but she didn't have any time to convince her brain any further. She had the file, and she was going to get Jemma.

Skye turned around to see Trip, Bobbi, and Hunter standing against the closed office door.

"We need some explanations," Bobbi said, signing as she spoke.

Skye flicked her eyes to Hunter.

"Yeah, that's why I'm speaking," Bobbi said. "I want an explanation."

Skye shoved the file into her backpack to free up both of her hands. Ward and Garrett have Jemma. They want this file. I have this file. I'm going to give it to them. I'm going to get Jemma.

Bobbi and Trip shared a glance.

Skye waved her hands at them. I don't have time for conversation. You're in or you're out.

"I'm out," Hunter said.

Skye raised her eyebrows at Trip.

He said, 'I'm out,' Trip signed.

What else is new? Skye moved towards the door.

Bobbi put her hands on Skye's shoulders. "You need to explain," she said.

I did. And now I'm done, Skye signed, making sure her sign for "finished" was strong and emphatic. Like I said, you're in or you're out.

She pulled out of Bobbi's grasp and opened the door.

When she was halfway down the hallway she felt the vibrations on the floor behind her. A quick turn of her head confirmed that all three of her comrades in arms were following her.

She was so angry and tense that she would have saved Jemma without them, would have fought Ward and Garrett with her bare hands, but some part of her heart was relieved to have backup.

If nothing else, Hunter could be an asshat in Garrett's direction while she kicked Ward in the man-parts.

It was a nice fantasy, and Skye let it keep her warm as she exited the liberal arts office building and headed for the veterinary medical college, the closest place to get down into the tunnels, to start kicking some ass.