May was moving instantly, arms sliding under the girls body, lifting her quickly. She ran for the lab, watching numbly as Coulson and Ward shoved items out of the way so she could lay Skye down. Jemma shoved her way past the boys, fingers moving to her neck, her face set in grim determination. Skye was wearing a black SHIELD issue sweatshirt and Jemma snapped at somebody to sit the girl up so she could slide it gently over her head.
"Jesus Christ." she heard behind her and Jemma got a good luck at Skye's arms and holy hell, she thought she might be sick herself, nevermind Fitz.
Jemma grabbed a towel, wiping down as much as she could, grimacing and biting her lip. "Some are deep, one's hit a vein." she wrapped the towel around that particular one, stepping sideways, getting Grant to hold said arm in the air.
"Skye?" the biochemist leaned forward, tapping her face, the other cradling her cheek. "Sweetheart, can you hear me?" she asked, peeling back an eyelid. She frowned, glancing at the towel rapidly collecting blood.
"May, I need you to pilot the plane and get us to a med facility, something's not right." she murmured, trying to rouse Skye, pinching her hand and gently pulling her hair. She was bleeding badly but by this point, the girl should be semi-conscious and she should not be that pale yet.
"I can't…something's wrong. I can't…put my finger on it." she moved as Ward leaned over, his free hand brushing Skye's face and checking her eyes too.
He froze suddenly. "Fitz, Coulson, search her room. Find any damn pill bottle you can." he snapped and Jemma tried to hold back tears. Fuck. Oh god, she'd bloody taken something, of course.
Simmons checked Skye's pulse and was alarmed to find it considerably weaker than before. She made her decision, getting Grant to help sit the girl up, braced with his hand. "Dammit, Skye." she muttered, grimacing and opening her jaw, unceremoniously shoving two fingers down her throat. Skye seemed to come to slightly, gasping and choking, throwing up painfully into a large plastic bowl.
"That's it sweetheart, let it out, breathe, it's okay." she whispered and when Skye had stopped, she cursed and apologised numerous times before making the girl sick again, holding her as her body quaked and heaved.
She helped Skye get a few sips of water down, laying her back and on her side, in case she was sick again. Jemma was pretty sure she had helped the hacker get most of what she'd taken up, the rest was likely to have been already have been absorbed.
Coulson and Fitz returned, a bottle of sleeping pills in one man's hands, heavy dosage painkillers in another.
May returned, informing them they'd be touching down in about half an hour, but Jemma was fairly certain she could keep Skye stable until then. "Okay, I need blood and I need it now."
"Agent Coulson and Fitz are a match." she added, raising an eyebrow. "Anytime boys, a decision would be nice."
Coulson pulled off his jacket and rolled up his sleeve, sitting down beside the table Skye was laying on. Jemma made quick work of setting up the transfusion, all but shoving a bottle of Gatorade under Coulson's nose. "If you get too dizzy, tell me and Fitz will step in."
Leo nodded. "Y…Yeah sure." he said bravely, his face already alarmingly pale.
Five minutes passed, then ten, then eleven, then twelve…and so on.
No one talked much, not to each other unless it was to ask Jemma if Skye was okay or to ask Coulson if they needed to switch.
Jemma was getting incredibly antsy, chewing on her thumbnail, watching the soft rise and fall of Skye's chest. She had no idea what damage Skye had done with the pills and she was still losing blood, Coulson's blood moving into her body only to drip out of her wrist.
Phil was looking decidedly worse for wear, his cheek pillowed on his hand, eyes closed. But he refused to switch with Fitz, knowing of the boys fear of needles and about any medical procedure at all.
May stood behind Coulson, hands on his shoulders, rubbing up and down his neck gently in an attempt to soothe him. And no one said anything about the rare show of affection because Fitz was close to Jemma and Grant looked like he was in pain, his eyes red from the effort of not crying.
Melinda left five minutes later to land the plane and then everything passed by in a rush.
The doctors took Skye, talking about shock and blood loss and potential heart failure and stomach pumps.
They all sank into seats in one of the private waiting rooms, the silence broken when Phil started shaking.
Melinda sat on the arm of a chair, Phil in front of her. The woman's fingers moved to measure his pulse, sighing softly. "Dammit, Phil, you should have said something."
Jemma knelt, doing her own check. "Fast pulse, pale, dizziness, lethargy, nausea. Okay, we're getting you set up in a bed and to be quite honest, Sir, I don't care what you say."
Phil simply raised an eyebrow and Melinda coerced the man into a bed, Jemma getting the necessary equipment to set up a bag of blood and warmed saline for her boss.
She finally sank down in the private room, Fitz winding an arm around her waist, her head slipping down onto his shoulder.
In Coulson's hospital room, Phil dozed on and off, Melinda a constant at his side, stroking his forehead.
Ward sat with FitzSimmons, but he was alone, left with images of a girl with a bright smile and a beautiful laugh.
He'd never felt so lost.