A/N: Hey, friends. I know it's been awhile, and I apologize. Life has been... well, life. I'm trying to figure things out as best I can, but most days it's harder than it looks. But I'm sure you don't want to hear about all that. So here's a new chapter.

In this chapter: oh, God, a bunch of stuff.

In upcoming chapters: Melinda reunites with the group; Christmas and Hanukkah; Cal comes up with the worst/best plan ever; Skye and Jemma come up with a better one; someone disappears.

Thanks to everyone who reads/reviews/favorites/follows/messages me. I appreciate all of the support more than you could ever know.

I found out recently that someone stole one of my stories from here, changed a few things, and posted it as their own without giving me credit. Please know that as much as I appreciate all of you, I will never give permission for something like that. And I will be unbelievably pissed. I'm always flattered to hear that people enjoy things I write - I turn into a writhing ball of fury when those things are taken away from me. If you have questions, please ask.

Anyway - enjoy!

Skye could read the nurse's lips perfectly: "Family only."

"I am her family!" she protested out loud. Her voice's vibrations buzzed up her throat and across her lips, and she knew her speech was slurry and blunted. Deafie voice, a voice in her head mocked her.

The nurse looked at Jemma. "Tell her family only."

"She understood you," Jemma said, crossing her arms.

Skye dug into her bag, hoping against hope she had some sort of identification that would convince the nurse to believe her. "She said she wanted me to come…" she got out, sobs threatening to choke her. She knew it made her voice even worse, but there were too many emotions bottled up inside her. "Wanda, please let me see…"

Her fingers clenched around a clutch of papers; as she hauled them out she saw that most were receipts and folded flyers, but she managed to pluck out a single photograph – a picture of the entire family, taken at Thanksgiving in preparation for mailing with Christmas cards. Pietro's face was blurry – he was laughing – Wanda had a huge grin on her face as she looked down at Summer; Skye had a look of confusion and a small, bemused smile due to Summer's moving hands, which had tried to sign "look at the camera" but somehow had ended up signing "look at all that."

Skye thrust it towards the nurse. Before the nurse could register the item, Summer's voice called from down the hallway: "Jemma! Oh, thank God!"

Jemma tapped Skye on the shoulder and indicated Summer.

Summer threw her arms around Skye, and for a long series of moments they just rocked back and forth in the hallway.

"Ma'am?" the nurse asked.

"She's with me," Summer said, her voice slightly muffled by the hug.

The nurse looked at Jemma.

"And I'm with them," Jemma said firmly.

The nurse sighed and walked away.

What the hell happened? Skye demanded of Summer once her older sister let her free from the hug.

I don't know, Summer answered. I went out to do some shopping and the next thing I know I'm getting a call from Natasha saying that they were on their way to the hospital and Wanda was in restraints.

"No," Skye wailed vocally. Why would they do that to her?

Darling… she cut her arms to shreds. It took them more than a hundred stitches to close her up. She couldn't remember what day it was, couldn't even tell them what her name was. They had no choice.

Don't they know…? Skye was shaking so badly that her signing got jittery.

Summer reached over and put her hands over Skye's for a moment. Jemma stepped up next to Skye and slipped her hand into her girlfriend's.

Once Skye was calmer, Summer started signing again. There was no time to tell them about Wanda's past. They're not paid to care about her past, only her immediate medical needs.

They should know! Skye protested.

And we can tell them, Summer replied.

Skye froze, as though a thought had just occurred to her. They're going to have to keep her, aren't they?

Summer hesitated.

Tell me, Skye signed fiercely.

Summer nodded. They have to. By law.

Skye let out another wail. Jemma saw other people in the hospital corridor turn to look at them, at the strange, oddly deaf noise that had emanated from Skye's mouth. She glared at anyone whose eye she caught.

Summer grabbed Skye's shoulders and forced the deaf girl to look up at her before her hands started moving again. We will get her out of here. She will be fine. But right now you need to be strong for her. She keeps asking for you, and I want you to make sure that when you go in there you are strong no matter what she says, no matter what she tells you. We can't show weakness. Pietro hesitated when she first… - here Summer's hands stopped, and she shook her head – started hurting herself, and she got even more upset. No hesitation. Treat her exactly like you would Wanda in her right mind.

This isn't fair, Skye signed, her hands firm and definite.

No, sweetheart, it isn't, Summer agreed. But we don't get to choose what happens, only how we respond to it.

Skye carefully opened the door to the hospital room and took a deep breath. Her senses seemed to be working in overtime; she could smell disinfectant and vomit and everything in front of her eyes appeared forty times brighter than normal. The hospital was disorienting.

Natasha and Pietro were in the room. Pietro was sprawled across the end of Wanda's hospital bed, a blanket over him and a pillow under his head; his fingers were firmly entwined with Wanda's. Wanda's wrists were restrained to the bed rails, so Pietro's arm reached up over his head in an awkward position, but he showed no signs of letting go. Natasha sat at the bedside, ramrod straight, in an uncomfortable-looking chair. She looked over at Skye as the deaf girl entered. Her mouth moved, and Skye read her lips: "You're here."

Skye nodded. She pointed to Wanda and raised her eyebrows and her shoulders, trying to ask How is she? or What the hell happened? or Can you tell me what to do now?

Natasha shrugged back, then held up one arm, drawing one finger down it with the other. She repeated the motion on her other arm.

Skye stopped breathing momentarily.

There was movement from the bed and Skye looked over at it. Wanda's head was moving back and forth, her brow furrowed.

Natasha waved her hands to get Skye's attention and pointed to the bed, then to her mouth.

She's talking? Skye signed.

Natasha seemed to get the message and nodded.

Wanda's movements became stronger, and Skye saw her eyes open. There was a glassy incoherence behind the expression and she seemed unable to focus on anything. Her mouth started moving.

Skye looked over at Natasha. Natasha scrambled for her purse and pulled out a notebook and a pen. She began scribbling frantically. When Wanda at last stopped speaking Natasha passed the notebook to Skye.

Skye. Skye. Skye has to come here, yes? Have to tell her. Tell her. Tell Skye. About the bad man. The bad man who has Skye. Can't tell her. Yes, we can. We can tell her. Tell her. She needs for to be safe. She is not safe. That is not our fault. Tell her. Give it to her.

Skye leaned over Wanda and signed hesitantly, Hi.

Wanda's mouth moved again. "Pretty girl."

You have something to give me?

Wanda nodded and spoke. "Undo arms."

I can't do that, but if you tell me where it is I will go and get it.

"Undo arms now." Wanda's face took on a look of more agitation.

I'm sorry.

Wanda's body jerked back against the restraints and she glared at Skye. She spat a single word, but Skye didn't recognize her mouth's movements. She looked over at Natasha.

Natasha made a "y" shape with her hand and held it up to her ear, miming a telephone.

Her phone? Skye asked.

Natasha nodded.

Wanda, where is your phone? Skye asked.

"Undo arms now."

Skye shook her head.

Again Wanda yanked herself back against the restraints wildly. Skye had no idea how Pietro wasn't waking up. Then she saw him jerk up from the bed as she heard a low but piercing noise ring through her hearing aids. A look over at Natasha confirmed what she'd thought – Wanda was screaming.

Two nurses entered the room. Skye jumped as one of them pushed her out of the way.

The door opened again and Jemma grabbed Skye, yanking her out of the room. Skye wasn't sure when she'd started crying, but it finally registered as Jemma rocked her back and forth.

Melinda sat at the breakfast table with her phone in front of her, staring down at a text message she'd received from Raina only a few moments before.

I know what they did to the third. I have the evidence. You're going to want to know.

At last Melinda's frozen fingers picked up the phone. She'd spent the night alone in the bedroom she was supposed to share with Maria, mostly awake, paralyzed by thoughts of what Raina had shared with her. Though she'd failed Katia and Raina, Melinda was starting to believe that she could still save Skye, that it wasn't too late. She'd given up on the newspaper articles after the lab was shut down, but as with most things, every story had loose endings.

Skye was one of those loose endings, and Melinda wasn't about to let her fade away.

Tell me where to meet you, she typed to Raina.

"Mr. Ward," Whitehall said as he entered the study, "I have some guests I'd like you to meet."

Ward stood as Whitehall extended his hand to indicate two people following closely behind him. The first was a man with floppy brown hair, wearing a badly-fitting suit. His eyes roamed all over the room, seeming never to rest on one place for long; his mannerisms seemed to suggest he wasn't comfortable with standing still or wasting time. He was accompanied by a woman with scars crisscrossing her face. She wore her hair back in a thick braid; her clothing had a simple cut but also spoke of luxury – a silk pantsuit in brown, overlaid with a pattern in muted gold.

"This is Cal and Jiaying," Whitehall said. "I'd like them to work with you on the plan to bring down the journalist and recover my assets."

Ward shook hands with the man and the woman. "It's nice to meet you. Do you… did you work with Dr. Whitehall before? At the lab, I mean?"

Cal's eyes jerked away. Jiaying nodded. "Yes," she said softly. "We were researchers there."

"They were my lead scientists!" Whitehall said proudly.

"What happened to you during the raid?" Ward asked, referencing the events that had closed the lab.

Jiaying pursed her lips. "Dr. Whitehall protected us. But we…"

She trailed off.

Cal spoke. His voice was rushed. "We lost our daughter. She was the only thing that mattered, and we lost her. He didn't do a damn thing to protect her!"

"Cal," Jiaying said softly, touching his elbow.

"It was out of my hands," Whitehall said frankly. "The journalist was there with the police. I wanted to preserve my research."

"Your research," Cal spat. "All you cared about was that damn research. You tore our family apart for that research!"

"Don't flatter yourself." Whitehall snorted. "You tore your own family apart when you brought your daughter to me to be used as a test subject."

"You said you could cure cancer!" Cal roared.

"And we would have," Whitehall said firmly. "You know that."

Jiaying held up her hand, then turned her attention to Ward. "You're going to help us get our daughter back?"

Ward looked over at Whitehall.

The doctor nodded. "Mr. Ward has agreed to take on this task, no matter what it takes. He'll get your Daisy back for you. Thanks to him, I have recent photographs of her and her associates."

Ward had no idea what Whitehall was talking about. He hadn't given the man any photographs. Maybe Garrett had, but Ward definitely hadn't.

Whitehall moved towards his desk and opened the top drawer, removing a manila folder. He handed the folder to Jiaying.

Ward was close enough to see both the photographs and Jiaying's face as she looked at them.

It's Skye, he realized as the woman flipped through the images. Their daughter is Skye.

"She's beautiful," Jiaying said, her voice catching in her throat. Her face was hardened, though, as if she couldn't believe the answers she'd sought for so long were right in front of her.

"It's her," Cal said, and for the first time since he'd entered the room he seemed focused and calm. "We're going to get her back, Jiaying."

Jiaying nodded wordlessly.

Cal looked up at Ward. "We'll give you anything you need. What's the plan?"

Melinda entered the coffee shop and looked around. It was late afternoon and the place was mostly deserted, so it didn't take long for her to find Raina sitting at a corner table, hiding behind a thick novel, a plate of lemon cake next to her.

Raina looked up as Melinda approached, and the half of her face that wasn't twisted by a burn scar moved upwards in a sultry smile. "Good afternoon, Professor."

Melinda sat down as Raina closed her novel. "Hello, Raina."

"Can I get you anything?" Raina asked. "Coffee? Cake?"

"No, thank you."

Raina nodded solemnly. "You're in deep."

"Excuse me?"

"You care about the third."

"Her name is…"

Raina cut her off. "I told you I don't need to know her name. Knowing what I do about her is painful enough."

She reached into a tote bag sitting on the empty chair next to her and took out a manila envelope. "Don't ask me how I got these, because I will deny it and I will cut off all communication with you. There's more where these came from, but I need to be careful how often I check in with my source."

Melinda gave her a look clearly meant to say go on.

"It's not good."

"I wasn't expecting it to be."

Raina's grip remained tight on the envelope.

"You care about her too," Melinda said, realizing what Raina's hesitation meant.

"Of course I care about her," Raina snapped. "The three of us shared a bond closer than sisters, closer than anything I could explain."

"And you think if you know her name, you'll be forced to care. You'll have to be part of her life."

"And I don't have time for that."

"She's…" Melinda paused, trying to think of the right words to describe Skye. "She's unlike anyone I've ever met."

"As are most people we meet," Raina said with a snort.

Melinda shook her head. "Forget it. It's too hard to explain. Just… just give me the information and I'll get out of your hair. We won't have to talk about her ever again."

Raina put the envelope on the table but left her hand on top of it. She looked away from Melinda.

Melinda caught on. "Unless you want to," she said gently. "If you decide that's something you're interested in. I know she'd be… grateful to meet someone who understands."

With that Raina slid the envelope over to Melinda.

Melinda's fingertips were tingling as she opened the envelope and pulled its contents out. She recognized them – brain scans. She held them up to the light, and what she saw took her breath away.

"Is this… is this recent?"

Raina nodded solemnly. "She was in the hospital earlier in the year with seizures. They did some brain scans then."

Melinda's buzzing fingertips traced the outlines of an ovular white blob. "This is…"

Raina nodded again.

"This is bad," Melinda whispered, feeling like the floor had dropped out from beneath her.

"I told you," Raina said, but her voice was the saddest thing Melinda had ever heard.

Summer came out of the hospital room looking shaken. Pietro was behind her. He shook his head and practically darted away down the hallway.

Summer looked over at Skye. Natasha had her backpack, she signed, and handed it to Skye. Pietro went through it just now. Apparently she's been hoarding pills.

Skye frowned. Why would she do that?

He asked her. She said she didn't like what they were doing to her brain. That she asked the voices if it was okay to stop and they said yes, and she listened.

Just like she listened to the voices telling her to slice her own body open, Skye signed bitterly.

Why didn't she ask for help? Jemma signed.

Summer sighed. I don't know. Maybe she was scared. Maybe she thought we'd send her away.

Never! Skye signed angrily.

I know. I know we'd never do that, but honey, we have no way of knowing what's going on inside her head. Summer held out the backpack. Her phone's in there.

Skye looked over at Jemma.

The phone is what she wanted us to have, Jemma signed.

Skye nodded.

I'm going to call Fitz, Jemma went on. Maybe Pietro could use some man time.

Good idea, Summer signed. I'll stay here with Skye.

As Jemma went off down the hallway Skye stumbled to a nearby bench and sat down, pulling her knees to her chest, putting her head on her knees. She pulled out her hearing aids and handed them to Summer, then closed her eyes.

Summer rubbed her back, and Skye retreated into a pocket of darkness and silence. It seemed fitting.

Fitz found Pietro standing outside the hospital, pacing back and forth. Though Fitz was pretty sure Jemma hadn't told Pietro he was coming, Pietro spoke to Fitz as though they were merely continuing a conversation they'd started earlier.

"For why would my sister do this?"

Fitz had no idea. He and Bobbi and Hunter had cleaned up the workshop as best they could, and then spent the next hour or so discussing what had happened. They hadn't come to any answers. "I don't know," he said lamely.

"For why did she not tell me what was happening?" Pietro reached up and tugged at his hair.

Fitz leaned against the wall, looking over at a clump of people near the bus stop outside the hospital, smoking. "Maybe she was afraid," he said.

"Why is she not afraid of something like this?"

Fitz shook his head. "In her head, she knows she loves you," he said, unsure of where the words were coming from. "Perhaps the desire to make sure you are happy outweighed the desire for her to be happy."

"I am happy when she is happy!" Pietro snapped. "Now she is the broken and I am the broken!"

"I know you don't want to hear this, but maybe it's okay that this happened," Fitz said.

Pietro whirled around to face Fitz, and he barked something out in Russian, his face a mask of rage.

Fitz held his hands up. "Listen, listen, let me explain myself. Skye seemed to think Wanda was slipping, and from what I can tell everyone agreed with her. Maybe this happened so Wanda can find the right medications or the right treatment or whatever's going to make her happy in the future. Maybe this suffering right now is going to reduce the suffering later."

Pietro froze.

Fitz tilted his head.

Pietro walked towards Fitz. Fitz braced for a slap. Instead Pietro clapped him on the shoulder. "You are very smart for man with strange accent."

"All I want to do is help," Fitz said.

"In that we are same," Pietro said.

"Would you like to go and get a soda?"

Pietro nodded. "This I would like very much."

Skye came back to herself to find her hearing aids in her own hand, and a Post-It note stuck to her knee. The yellow note read I went to talk to the doctors. Jemma went in to sit with Natasha and Wanda. I want you to look through her phone and figure out what she was so upset about. Phone's in your pocket. I love you. – Summer.

Skye sat up and poked her hearing aids back into her ears. She slid Wanda's phone from her pocket and looked down at it. Let's figure this out, she thought grimly.

Wanda's phone had a four-digit passcode on it; it took Skye less than three minutes to divine that it was Wanda's birthday (and Pietro's, too, by default). The lock screen was a goofy picture of Wanda and Pietro in heavy winter outerwear, cheeks bright red after a snowball fight. The home screen featured a close-up of one of Wanda's fountain sculptures.

First Skye checked through Wanda's recent photos. Nothing out of the ordinary there. Then she went through the phone calls, though if she found anything suspicious there she would be unable to ascertain its sources without someone who could hear. Thankfully most of the phone calls were labeled with names – Pietro and Summer most prominent – and using her own phone, Skye was able to check the other numbers, finding that they belonged to schools or institutions Wanda had contracts with, the local library, and a pharmacy.

Moving on, she went into the text logs. Again, the texts were mostly from numbers or people Skye recognized, but there was one text stream that was out of the ordinary. It was an unknown number, and according to the log, this unknown number had exchanged more than a hundred text messages with Wanda.

Skye pressed her thumb against the screen and the text messages' contents spilled out before her.

I saw you today.

Who is this, please?

That doesn't matter.

A day later:

I saw you today.

Please tell me who is this.

I told you, it doesn't matter.

If you are seeing me why cannot I see you?

I think there's a lot of things you see that others can't.

I do not like to talk about this any longer.

Get this through your fucking crazy head – you no longer have any control over what we talk about. We know where you live. We know who you love. And we're going to destroy all of it.

Skye jerked back from the phone as though it had burned her. She forced herself to continue reading.

Over and over, the mysterious texter told Wanda that she was worthless, crazy, useless, expendable. That she was being watched. That they would take everything from her. They threatened Pietro and Summer and Skye and Jemma. They threatened Little Bear. They threatened Wanda herself in so many vulgar and completely disgusting ways that Skye wanted to throw the phone away from her. Nearly every exchange ended with the same promise: "tell anyone about this and we'll kill you."

Her heart sank as she found a series of messages that confirmed her suspicions – she knew who the mysterious texter was.

I liked spending time with you today.

You pointed gun at me! You took me from home! I am not to like this!

You didn't like our little ride?

No!

I liked it. For a crazy bitch you're remarkably pretty.

You broke everything I work hard on! You look at my scars – you touch my scars! This is not okay!

Just trying to show the world who you really are.

I am not my scars.

Oh, darling. You are. And you'll never be anything else.

Skye seethed with rage. Ward had forced her sister into the hospital, forced Wanda into restraints as surely as if he'd done the actual restraining himself.

She took the Post-It note from her knee and turned it over, scribbling down the phone number the texts came from. With a little luck and a little time, she could trace Ward's movements. Find out what he was up to next.

And maybe, just maybe, get ahead of the miserable bastard hell-bent on ruining her life.