A/N: I couldn't understand why it was taking me so long to write this chapter. And then I realized it's really LONG! Enjoy. :)
It had been eight days, Skye was pretty sure, since the earthquake at the Party House. Eight days of living in the Cage. The days and nights seemed to blur into each other a little, with only the numbers on her laptop screen and the events of her daily routine to mark their passing.
It really wasn't too bad, most of the time. After all, she was used to being alone in a small space, after living in her van. She had her laptop, and work to do, which helped keep her mind off her surroundings and the reason for them. And Coulson had sent someone out for a lightweight room divider screen, which made attending to her more personal needs much more comfortable. After her nightmares had knocked the screen over the first few times (which was a hell of a way to wake up), Fitz had come and somehow managed to bolt it to the floor. So that, at least, was good.
Still, it got old looking at the same four gray, blank walls every day.
May tried to encourage her during their morning sessions. "This is invaluable practice for maintaining your physical and psychological strength if you're ever in captivity," she assured Skye firmly. "Most agents would benefit tremendously from an experience like this. It's making you stronger."
If you're ever in captivity. The words echoed around in Skye's brain. If ever.
She knew she wasn't a prisoner. Not really. After all, she was there voluntarily; she wanted to keep the team safe until they figured out what the heck was going on with her and how to keep it under control. She wouldn't leave, if she had the choice. But she couldn't help but notice the parallels between her present situation and Ward's during his imprisonment in Vault D, and a heavy sense of disgrace tugged constantly at the edges of her thoughts. She couldn't escape the truth that she had to be locked up, because, even though unconsciously, she was a danger to the team.
And especially at the beginning of the day, when Hunter brought her toiletries to her, and at the end, when mercifully it was May or Bobbi who came to attend to the SHIELD equivalent of a chamber pot, Skye was acutely reminded of how both her privacy and her independence had been stripped away.
And of what a tremendous burden she had become. She hated it - knowing she was a drain on manpower that could be used more effectively for beating back Hydra and rebuilding SHIELD. Watching the team go on missions without her, knowing full well how much easier it would be with another field agent in the mix. Coulson had been forced into the field twice in the last week, when he should really be out recruiting or in his office coordinating.
Skye sighed, tapping her fingers on the table next to her open laptop and empty breakfast dishes. She was out of ideas again, which was why she was sitting here brooding. She'd managed, after the first five days of trying, to track down the physical location from which the intel in São Luis had originated, but when the SHIELD team from Rio de Janeiro had arrived, they'd found nothing but a cleaned-out warehouse. Whoever had been there hadn't left so much as a fingerprint. Since then, Skye had been combing cyberspace and reaching out to every contact she still had to see if anyone had heard anything - even a rumor - about this nearly untraceable source. But everything was coming back empty.
On top of that, the sensors attached to her chest were itching. Skye fought the urge to tear them off.
Simmons was still out of commission, a fact that nearly crushed Skye with guilt and worry whenever she allowed herself to think about it. But Coulson, Fitz, and Skye had decided a few days ago to begin moving forward with what testing they could do in her absence: wirelessly monitoring Skye's vital signs and putting two DWARFs on patrol in the Cage to continually measure the strength of any vibrations. The readings would be stored for Simmons to analyze when she was feeling up to it, and they'd have a head start with days' worth of data.
Hence the blood pressure cuff and pulse oximeter perpetually attached to Skye's left arm, as well as the sensors to detect any vibrations at skin level. She went through phases of feeling like a lab rat. Plus, it was really hard to type with that irritating little clip on her pointer finger. After four days, it was driving her crazy.
Don't be a pansy. Things could be much worse, she reminded herself.
Sneezy bleeped at her quietly, and Skye stuck her tongue out at the DWARF, which was hovering up in the corner of the Cage. A few seconds later, an invite came up on FACE.
Incoming transmission from Agent Lance Hunter
Skye groaned, but inwardly felt a little rush of relief at the interruption. Hunter had the day shift five days a week, with the result that Skye was seeing even more of him than she had expected. On the third day, she'd asked him why he was assigned to "Skyewatch" so often, and he had blithely pointed out that his skill set - consisting primarily of combat, survival, and covert ops - was rarely needed around the base. Consequently, he had more time on his hands than the others.
Skye wondered what he usually did around here when he wasn't bringing her meals or taking her mind off things with well-timed interruptions. Thankfully, he had a good sense of humor and a knack for recognizing when she was starting to go stir crazy.
*ACCEPT*
"Are you picking fights with the electronics now?" Hunter led off genially.
Skye's lips quirked in a faint smile. "He started it," she replied, with exaggerated peevishness.
"What has that poor little robot ever done to you?"
"He was staring at me," she grumbled, then heard an almost hysterical giggle slip from her lips. Yep. She was losing her mind.
Hunter looked torn between sympathy and laughter. "Morning briefing in ten. Think you can make it?"
Skye heaved a sigh. "Yeah."
"I hear there'll be a pleasant surprise."
Skye arched an eyebrow. "Like that Hydra has been eradicated, SHIELD restored to its former glory, and I've stopped making things shake?"
Hunter grimaced. "Maybe not that pleasant. But better than staring at the wall or making faces at DWARFs."
The pleasant surprise was obvious as soon as Skye accepted the transmission from Coulson. There, standing next to him, was Jemma Simmons - still a little pale, but bright-eyed and steady.
"Simmons!" Skye exclaimed. Joy and relief flooded her, quickly tainted with apprehension as she realized she didn't know what kind of reception to expect from someone she had, however unwillingly, been responsible for injuring.
But Simmons' face broke into a smile upon seeing her, and Skye nearly dissolved into tears. The two women's eyes met in an emotional exchange, but there wasn't time to say anything more before Coulson started the briefing.
"I think everyone will agree that it's wonderful to have you back with us, Jemma," he began warmly, and Simmons beamed. Skye nodded vehemently in agreement.
"Thank you, sir."
"Unfortunately, we don't have the luxury of easing you back into things. We need you too much. Where would you like to start?"
Simmons shuffled through the papers before her and brushed a lock of hair back from her face. "Well, I've given instructions to my team in the lab regarding the samples from Brazil. Unfortunately, I think there's very little more we'll be able to learn from them at this point in time, unless we're very lucky. Which means..." She paused.
Fitz supplied what Simmons seemed hesitant to say. "We're going to have to quarantine the affected agents until either we observe negative effects -"
"-or enough time has passed that we can safely assume they are out of danger," Simmons finished, glancing over cautiously to gauge Coulson's reaction.
He was impassive. "How long are we talking?"
Simmons seemed to be steeling herself. "The longest typical incubation period I know of for an Earth-originated virus is 90 days. With the possibility that we're dealing with something alien that we can't detect, I would recommend at least twice that."
Skye's jaw dropped. "Six months?"
Simmons nodded, apologetic but earnest, and glanced back over at Coulson. "I realize it's a tremendous inconvenience, especially at a time when SHIELD is so short-staffed, but if we are dealing with alien virology, it's something we can't risk allowing to spread."
Coulson nodded, drawing a deep breath. "I'll let Agent Ferreira know your recommendations." He put both hands onto the table and leaned over it heavily.
The room fell silent. After a moment, Simmons cleared her throat. "For today, sir, I'd like to work with Skye. I've been looking over the data, and I have a few theories I'd like to investigate."
Coulson blinked, pulling himself back to the briefing. "That sounds terrific. In that case, Hunter, I'm turning you and Mack over to Koenig for inventory. It's been a while since we've done a comprehensive count."
Skye heard a familiar male voice faintly mutter, "Bloody hell."
Ah. So that's what he usually does.
Skye waited a little nervously as Simmons made her way to the lab from the briefing room.
Incoming transmission from Agent Jemma Simmons
*ACCEPT*
The tears started welling up in Skye's eyes again as soon as Simmons' face appeared on the screen. "Oh, God, Simmons," she began brokenly. "I'm so glad you're okay. I'm so sorry."
Simmons smiled, a bit more weakly than before. "I'm glad I'm okay, too. It felt a bit dicey for a moment there."
"I'm so sorry," Skye repeated shakily.
Simmons' eyes were deeply empathetic, as though she wanted to reach through the computer and give Skye a hug. "Oh, Skye, it isn't your fault," she protested fervently. "I ought to have had better safeguards in place before we started trying to trigger you. I didn't realize things could get out of control so quickly."
A tear slipped down Skye's cheek, and she absently reached up to brush it away. "Well, I'm pretty out of control," she murmured bitterly.
Simmons looked chastened. "That's not what I meant," she apologized, her brown eyes holding Skye's gaze.
Skye flicked the tears away, pulling herself together. "No, I know it isn't." She took a deep breath. "How are you?"
"I'm well," Simmons assured her with a smile. "Still a bit weak from being down so long, but the spinning in my head has stopped and I can think clearly again." She frowned, looking at Skye searchingly. "How are you? I can imagine that discovering you're manifesting powers would be rather...shocking."
"To say the least," Skye said quietly, realizing she was being evasive. She didn't really want to talk about her emotional state; it had been working better to ignore it. Fewer things vibrated that way. "How do people usually respond?" she asked, hoping to deflect Simmons' question.
Simmons studied Skye's face, seeming to sense the diversion, but she answered. "A number of different ways, really. There are some who've always wanted something like this to happen: they've always wanted to be special, or they've been looking for a big break. Those people can be dangerous. There are some who respond with shock - it hasn't sunk in yet, and it doesn't for quite some time. There are some who are in denial - they try to convince themselves and others that, really, there's nothing unusual going on. And then some are angry or withdrawn." Simmons paused, then added thoughtfully, "I suppose it's the different stages of grief, really - denial, bargaining, depression."
"Grief?" Skye was confused.
"Well, yes." Simmons' eyebrows furrowed. "It isn't the same kind of grief as when someone dies -" her thoughtful expression faltered briefly - "but it's a loss nonetheless. A loss of the life one expected, of a coherent sense - or perhaps any sense - of one's identity. A grief response is normal," she concluded gently.
Skye was quiet.
"I think I'm in shock," she mumbled eventually. "I'm really hoping this turns out to be a temporary effect of exposure to whatever was inside the Obelisk."
Simmons gave her an obviously forced smile that, while meant to be reassuring, was so easy to see through that it failed utterly. Skye sighed. So Simmons had a hunch it was permanent, too, despite Coulson's reassurances.
"How did you learn so much about the psychological side of all this, anyway?" Skye asked lightly, trying not to dwell on her thoughts.
"Three semesters of psychology at the Academy. It's fascinating, really, how many ways psychology and physiology can influence one another." Skye recognized the look in her friend's eye as Simmons slipped into science mode. "And how many...unusual phenomena can be linked to both." She looked down, thumbing through the pages of data from Skye's monitors. "Like this one, perhaps." She looked back up, making eye contact. "Would you like to talk about what I've found?"
Skye nodded.
Simmons continued, her demeanor now thoroughly professional. "The data indicate that the waves you're producing are well-correlated with spikes in both your blood pressure and heart rate, which take place just before the vibrations begin. Those physical symptoms could be consistent with a release of catecholamines in your system."
"What are cat...?"
"Catecholamines. Stress hormones," Simmons clarified. "Adrenaline, among others."
"Right."
"I know we've speculated that the strong emotions themselves might be triggering the pulses, but you also had one painful memory, in our initial tests, that did not trigger anything. So I'd like to investigate the effects of your catecholamine levels on the vibrations, as well as the effects of your emotions on them."
Skye nodded, not clear what the implications were. "Okay. What does that mean?"
"I'd like to take blood samples each time the phenomenon occurs, as well as several times throughout the day, so that we have control samples with which to compare. And I'd like for you to begin journaling your emotional state: what you're feeling and thinking and how strong those emotions seem to you, subjectively. Again, throughout the day, and particularly when you notice the vibrations occurring."
Skye blinked uncomfortably, pressing her lips together. She was suddenly finding it difficult to maintain her composure. "Okay."
"Skye," Simmons said quietly, looking her in the eye. "This is going to require allowing yourself to connect with some of those emotions that I'm sure you would rather avoid. We have to be able to test their effects."
The compassionate understanding in Simmons' eyes was too much. "Got it," Skye mumbled, grabbing her water bottle and taking a swig as an excuse to break eye contact.
Simmons moved on carefully, sensing her discomfort. "I'd also like to do a 24-hour EEG, to measure your brain activity. That will be...irritating-" Simmons grimaced apologetically - "as you'll have to have electrodes attached to your scalp for the entire day. Hopefully, it won't be longer than that. We'll just have to make sure that a couple of episodes take place during that time."
More electrodes. Episodes. Skye knew Simmons' med-speak was meant to make this all more comfortable by depersonalizing it, but it had the actual effect of feeling...dehumanizing.
That's if I'm even human. The thought flitted through her mind quickly.
She would definitely feel like a lab rat, now. Skye had a sudden panicky sense of powerlessness. It felt like when she was watching Trip disintegrate in her dreams, trapped in a rebellious body that wouldn't obey her commands to move.
Trapped in her body.
Fitz suddenly burst into the lab behind Simmons. "Coulson's called an emergency briefing," he said breathlessly, clutching his side. "Bring Skye."
Simmons and Skye exchanged concerned glances. Simmons picked up the laptop and carried it, screen out, as she hurried toward the briefing room.
It was strange to see the familiar hallways Skye hadn't walked in more than a week. Everything looked just the same, as if nothing had changed.
Coulson was solemn as they entered the briefing room. Simmons set the laptop on the table so that Skye could see him and May.
"We've had another one," Coulson informed them in clipped tones, once everyone had arrived. "This time in Lubbock, Texas. Agents ambushed, knocked out with some kind of gas. Woke up an hour later with needle marks."
"What's in Lubbock?" Skye heard Hunter ask.
"A report of an individual with superhuman strength. He was captured on a cell phone video last week moving a city bus."
May's eyes widened. Skye was pretty sure everyone else's had, too.
"The team was investigating what was believed to be his place of residence - an apartment complex on Brownfield Drive called The Cove. The second team that arrived on site reported that the apartment was unfurnished."
"He wasn't really living there?" May guessed.
Coulson nodded. "Likely. But he wanted it to look like he was."
"What was he doing moving a city bus?" Skye asked, incredulous.
"I don't know," Coulson replied, almost lightly, but with an edge. "Maybe catching the attention of SHIELD agents."
May's lips tightened slightly, her fierce eyes giving away the agitation behind her composed countenance.
"This has just taken first priority," Coulson continued grimly. "São Luis was not an isolated incident, and all our agents in the field are potentially at risk. We need to track these people down and figure out what they're doing and why they're doing it. Skye, Bobbi, I want you both on the electronic trail. Figure out who rented the apartment, who posted the cell phone video. Simmons, I have Agent Thomson drawing blood as we speak. Fitz, let's get your drones in the air, and then I want you and Mack assisting Simmons with analysis."
"Yes, sir," came Fitz's voice.
"Sir?" Simmons broke in. She must have been making a gesture Skye couldn't see, because Coulson nodded in acknowledgement.
"The trail is fresh and time-sensitive," he replied, almost apologetic. "You and Skye will have to continue once we've gotten somewhere with this."
Coulson made questioning eye contact with Skye, who nodded. She was a SHIELD agent first. That was fine with her.
Denial had nothing to do with it.
A/N: Many, many thanks to Nascent Narrator for beta-ing the first segment of this chapter and helping me iron out some really awkward passages! Yes, the base in Rio is canon, too (courtesy of the same map from "A Fractured House").
I love feedback, both positive and constructive! :)