For a moment, Skye just stared. Shards of the broken mug lay all over the table, scattered across the floor, across her lap. The thought abruptly struck her that she should make sure there weren't any in her skin.
Upon inspection, she found two small slivers of ceramic stuck into her right arm. She hadn't even felt them go in, distracted as she had been by the shock of the mug breaking, but the pain of pulling them out brought her back to her senses. She realized she should probably do something about the growing puddle of coffee dripping onto the carpet.
She jumped up to grab towels, her thoughts swirling. What on earth would make a mug do that? Had it been cracked? Was the coffee just way too hot?
She looked around quickly and checked the security cameras to make sure there was no one nearby with a weird piece of tech that could have caused the mug to break. But the hallways were empty. Everyone else was still in bed.
Skye tossed the towels onto the puddle to start soaking it up and began collecting the broken pieces of ceramic to throw away.
Of course, the mug was a piece of junk Trip had picked up for fifty cents somewhere. Probably prone to breaking. Still...
A crack, I could understand. But to shatter like that? With that much force?
Skye sighed, tossing the fragments in the trash, then began to scrub at the carpet. She didn't have an explanation. And honestly, with everything else that was going on in life, she didn't have the mental capacity left to try to figure it out. It was just one more weird thing. Her life practically revolved around weird things now, and as long as it wasn't a dangerous weird thing, she was just going to let it go.
After all, it wasn't like it was going to shatter again.
Their first mission back in the field was supposed to be a simple one: four Hydra scientists, two guards, one computer system full of intel to steal.
Except there were six guards. And two of the scientists were apparently also combat-trained. May, Bobbi, and Hunter had borne the brunt of the firefight and close combat, while Skye had been responsible for hacking the system. They'd hoped to destroy the lab, but they'd had to retreat with it still intact. At least the virus Skye had seeded into the system would wreak some serious havoc on the progress of their research.
And they had made it out with the intel and everybody still alive, though Bobbi had a minor gunshot wound to the leg and Hunter looked like he'd been in a bar fight with a bunch of Marines.
Heck, maybe they were Marines before they joined Hydra.
Skye buckled herself into the seat on the end, next to Hunter, and drew a deep breath as the quinjet lifted into the air.
Honestly, it felt good to be back in the field again, after more than two weeks of inactivity. She knew Coulson was just trying to give everybody time to grieve and process what had happened, as well as to catch their breath after the breakneck pace of the previous month, but it just made it worse having nothing to do. Skye was glad to move on and have something else to think about for a change.
She allowed herself a brief moment of satisfaction at her composure today throughout an op that had been going horribly wrong. If she'd freaked out, or left the computer to go fight alongside her team like her brain was screaming at her to do, they wouldn't have gotten what they came for. But May had trained her too well for that. She had focused on her objective, and the mission, though rough, had succeeded.
Skye let out a relieved sigh. "Well, that went better than it could have."
Hunter winced, checking his puffy lip for bleeding. "We definitely could've used another man in there."
His offhand observation stabbed at Skye's heart. It was true. The mission would have gone much more smoothly if they'd had another field agent. Unfortunately, he was now a pile of rubble on the floor, ten stories below San Juan.
Skye didn't say anything else the rest of the way home.
The kitchen and lounge were empty when Skye came in and flopped onto the couch, warily eyeing the coffee stain on the floor that hadn't come out, no matter how hard she'd scrubbed. She was a little nervous that Koenig would freak out about the damage to "his" base, but thankfully, he hadn't seemed to notice yet.
Skye felt a sudden pang of loneliness. Typically, after a mission, she and Trip would have been in the lounge joking around, probably with Fitz and Mack, maybe Simmons. But now it was just her. Coulson and May had retreated to his office to debrief; Simmons, Fitz, and Mack were working on something all-consuming over in the lab. And the last time she'd seen Bobbi and Hunter, they had been arguing heatedly in the hangar, Bobbi standing on one leg but still managing to gesture wildly without losing her balance.
Skye rather unsuccessfully resisted the urge to feel like an eighth wheel. Their team, unofficially reorganized by the loss of Trip, now consisted of Mom and Dad, Mr. and Mrs. Smith, and the Lab Trio. And Skye. It was hard not to feel a little out of place.
The sound of footsteps coming down the hall interrupted her thoughts, and Hunter strode in. He had apparently cleaned up since she'd seen him last, but he was still sporting a nasty black eye and a swollen lip. He grabbed a beer out of the fridge, twisted off the cap while slamming the fridge shut with his foot, and took a long pull before clanking the bottle down on the counter. Then he noticed Skye.
"Trouble in paradise?" she asked dryly. She might not normally have said anything; though she and Hunter had enjoyed some comfortably snarky banter back when he'd first joined the team, they hadn't talked much since Bobbi had returned from Hydra and he'd become increasingly preoccupied by her presence. But Skye felt a little desperate not to be alone with her own thoughts right now.
"You could say that." Hunter took another long swig.
"You two were really going at it."
"Comes with the territory," he replied, shrugging philosophically. "I took a punch today that was meant for her. She doesn't like it when I do things like that."
He looked at Skye for a moment, then reopened the fridge, taking out a second bottle. He walked over and handed it to her. "Here. You look like you could use one of these, too. It's cheap beer, but it'll still take the edge off."
"Thanks." It wasn't a bad idea, and Skye appreciated the thought. She accepted the bottle and twisted it open. He was right - it was cheap. But oh well. Maybe she'd have two.
Hunter settled down into the overstuffed chair opposite her. "Remind me to get us a case of the good stuff after our next successful mission," he said amiably.
Skye raised an eyebrow. "We got what we needed. What would you classify as a successful mission?"
Hunter grimaced, indicating his face. "I'd prefer not to look like this afterward."
Skye grinned in spite of herself, then sobered, remembering his comment on the plane. Today could have gone very differently, and she didn't know how their team would keep going if they had lost another... The thought was too painful to finish. "I'm glad you guys were okay. I wanted to come help, but..."
Hunter shook his head. "No. You did exactly what you ought to've done." He studied her for a moment, then asked breezily, "So, if you're not brooding over the regrettable injuries sustained by Bobbi and myself, what is it that's weighing on you?"
His attempt at levity fell flat as Skye blinked, at a loss. Honestly...what wasn't weighing on her?
Hunter, chastened by her reaction, made an apologetic face. "Guess that's a stupid question."
She nodded. "Understatement," she mumbled, suddenly captivated by the label on her beer bottle.
When he spoke again, Hunter's voice was quiet, his tone serious. "I'm sorry. Look, we all know you've been through hell these last few months. What with your father, and Ward, and being taken hostage - that's a lot to go through without following it by losing someone you care about." He took a deep breath. "I know how it feels to lose people, and that by itself is bad enough." Skye looked up to meet his eyes, and was surprised by the honest sympathy in them. "You've done a fantastic job being strong, and no one would blame you if you broke down."
Skye swallowed hard. The sympathy and affirmation, coming as it was from a wholly unexpected source, was fraying the fragile threads of her composure. She felt tears welling up in her eyes.
This was not where she wanted to do this, and this was not the company she wanted when she did it. But the dam was breaking, and her best efforts to hold everything in were failing. Rapidly.
Hunter, taken aback by Skye's watery response, hesitated before coming to sit beside her, awkwardly placing an empathetic hand on her shoulder.
That did it. Skye doubled over, burying her face in her hands as the tears began to flow, abundant and hot. Grief - guilt - confusion - the horror of learning what had happened to her mother - the conflicted loyalty she felt to her monstrous father - and more that she couldn't articulate - it felt like such a relief to let it all come sobbing out of her.
But just as it flashed through her mind, her moment of relief was cut short by a powerful rocking of the earth. The walls rattled as kitchen cabinets flew open, dishes crashing onto the floor. Skye was vaguely aware of Hunter pulling her close to shield her from any debris.
The quake passed after only about half a minute, which was a relief; but the base alarms had been activated, and in a moment Coulson's voice came over the loudspeaker.
"All personnel, please evacuate to the east parking lot until we have conducted a thorough damage assessment."
Skye sat up shakily, looking around. Thankfully, the room was still intact, but there were broken plates and glasses all over the floor in the kitchen.
They sure had been cleaning up a lot of broken glass and ceramic in the last week, she observed vaguely.
Hunter's voice snapped her out of her daze. "Are you hurt?"
Skye turned to see him now standing beside her. She shook her head weakly. "No, I'm fine."
"Come on, then." He extended a hand to help her to her feet. "Let's get out of here before the ceiling comes down."