By the time Hunter and Agent May switched off, Skye was feeling a little better about her prognosis. Okay, so it meant more time in the Cage, but if there was a chance of achieving conscious control of whatever this was, that meant something to do again - something besides staring at the walls and brooding and drawing blood and journaling and watching the "100 all-time best comedy movies", which Hunter had found on some list online and kept renting for her.
When May checked in, Skye explained to her the substance of the discussion with Simmons and Coulson that afternoon.
"I thought that, if anyone had mastery of controlling subconscious functions, it would be you," she concluded.
A tiny, pleased smile took up residence on May's lips. "Yes, I think I can help with that," she replied, looking thoughtful. "Give me a few minutes."
She disappeared from view, and about fifteen minutes later there was a knock on the door. "Come in," Skye called, and May came in with a bundle of wires and monitors and electrodes. Skye bristled almost unconsciously at first, but when she realized this was biofeedback equipment, her reticence turned to anticipation.
"Achieving control over subconscious processes is all about awareness," May explained, as she began placing the electrodes against Skye's skin. "Once you're aware of the unconscious process, you can begin to manipulate it." She paused, pressing her lips together and looking Skye over appraisingly. "Obviously, learning to control your abilities won't be quite so straightforward; but we can start with this to get you used to the transition from subconscious to conscious."
Skye smiled. "Sounds good to me."
May smiled back, placing a reassuring hand on Skye's shoulder. In May-speak, that was as good as a hug. "We started this process already, when we were working on keeping your heart rate steady. We'll just take it a little further today. This equipment will facilitate gaining control over your blood pressure and surface temperature. Core temperature control requires a deep meditation technique, which I can teach you next time. It comes in very handy when you're stranded for hours on the tundra waiting for an extraction." May rolled her eyes expressively, and Skye made a mental note to ask about that story some time.
May finished setting up the equipment and left the Cage, reappearing on Skye's laptop screen in a few minutes.
An hour and a half later, Skye was able to raise and lower the surface temperature of each hand on command, and even separately, and felt well on her way toward having good control over her blood pressure. The whole "developing awareness of her subconscious bodily functions" thing was beginning to make more sense.
"Very good work," May pronounced, looking Skye over approvingly.
"I'm a fast learner," Skye responded with a grin, and May tilted her head in tacit agreement.
Hopefully it would be as easy to learn control over the vibrations.
On the other side of the base, Lance Hunter was sprawled across his bed with a bottle of beer, thinking idly of the pile of clean laundry he probably ought to put away before he ended up just fishing semi-wrinkled T-shirts out of it for the next week.
He had just grudgingly stood up to open a drawer when he heard a familiar knock on the door frame and turned to see Bobbi standing in the open doorway.
His lips curved into a smile. "Hey, Bob," he said affectionately, taking the few steps toward her and sliding his arms around her waist before pressing a kiss to her lips.
"Hey, Hunter," she replied quietly, untangling herself from his arms and moving over to sit on the edge of the bed. The stiffness to her movements clued him in that something was wrong. But she was smiling up at him, and he tried to quiet his inner voice of suspicion.
"What are you up to?" she asked casually.
"Laundry," he said with a shrug, nodding toward the clean pile and the open drawer.
Bobbi arched an eyebrow, smirking. "Impressive."
He rolled his eyes at her with a grin.
They looked at each other for a moment, and then Bobbi's eyes shifted away from his face. Hunter tensed, recognizing the signs.
Here it came.
"Hunter, there's something I'm not telling you."
He closed his eyes briefly. There it was.
"I know there is, Bob," he replied quietly. "I'm not stupid."
Bobbi looked chastened, her eyes returning to his. "I never said you were," she murmured softly.
His reaction was calmer than he expected. "But you think I wouldn't notice the conversations that stop when I come in the room? The secret thumb drive? The fact that you'd rather share a room with Agent May than with me?" She was quiet, just fixed on him with those devastating eyes. "I'm not entirely sure what kind of covert operations you thought I was doing before we met, Bob."
Her silence felt like an admission of guilt.
Hunter rubbed his hands through his hair, a physical sign of agitation he didn't feel. Inside, everything was numb, resigned. "I can't live this way, Bobbi."
She looked down and spoke so quietly he could hardly hear her. "I know you can't."
He raised his eyebrows expectantly, though he knew it was an empty expectation. "So are you going to tell me?"
She looked up at him, her expression remorseful, but adamant. "I can't do that."
Her words had the finality of shotgun shells dropping to the floor.
Hunter turned back to his laundry. "Then I guess we're done here." His voice sounded stiff.
He had to remind himself that this was really happening - not that them breaking it off was anything new. They'd done it a half-dozen times before. But it was dissolving quietly this time, without any explosions going off, literal or figurative. It felt measured, conscious - like a flame burning out, rather than a pressurized container self-destructing in the heat of a furnace.
Maybe that meant it was real this time.
The thought had him tasting bile. But he wasn't going to back down.
"Just like that?"
There came the flare of anger he'd expected five minutes earlier.
"'Just like' -" He whirled around. "Bobbi, how many times has it been now? Five? Six? You know I keep wanting to make this work, but I can't make it work if you won't be honest with me."
"And sometimes there are things I just can't be honest about. You know that." Her voice wavered slightly, but he could no more trust that than he could the pleading look in her eyes. He'd seen her manufacture both on command when it suited her.
"It's not just that." He gritted his teeth, trying to keep it together. Part of him wanted to get into it, to let this escalate into a screaming fight and then solve it the way they always did, but that resigned, unnaturally calm place in his mind was prevailing. "You can tell me to my face that you're not playing me, and I'll never be able to believe it. And I won't be a pawn, Bobbi - not yours, not anyone else's."
She absorbed it quietly, her eyes still locked on his, acceptance washing over her face. After a moment, she got up to leave, but she stopped just inside the door, turning partway back toward him.
"When everything goes down, I just want you to know that it had nothing to do with you."
His response was very dry. "Well, that'll be a comfort." He folded his arms and gazed at her as she stood there, his genuine affection for her welling up in concern. Quietly he said, "What are you playing at, Bobbi?"
"I can't tell you," she repeated firmly. "But you know I wouldn't tell you this much if it was something nefarious." She turned those pleading eyes back on him, but he was unmoved.
"Unless you wanted me to think that it wasn't."
Bobbi pressed her lips together, visibly frustrated. "SHIELD isn't the same any more, Hunter. Coulson's not the kind of leader that Fury was. I don't know that he's capable of handling the threat that is out there."
"So you're gonna what? Go handle the threat?" His voice was thick with sarcasm.
She didn't rise to it. "Someone has to." She turned back toward him, studying his face intently. "Do you remember what I said the other day about Coulson? How he's too emotionally invested, in the way he's handling Skye?" Hunter nodded in acknowledgment. "Hydra would have her sedated and intubated until they figured out her biochemistry, and then they'd brainwash her and train her to weaponize it. They wouldn't be expending resources and manpower making sure she's comfortable."
Hunter felt his hackles rise. "And what - you'd rather SHIELD operate like Hydra?" That was a bit much, even for Bobbi.
She shook her head, her expression serious. "That's not what I'm saying. But this is the tip of the iceberg with Coulson. 'Zero acceptable losses', destroying weapons that could give us an edge over Hydra - he has too many scruples. Fury never operated this way."
"I think you and I disagree on what constitutes too many scruples, Bob."
Bobbi rolled her eyes at him. "Think what you want, Hunter, but too much idealism is a weakness, and Coulson's got it in spades. Hydra will exploit it. A SHIELD that won't do the ugly things when necessary is always going to lose to a Hydra that will."
"Fury did the ugly things," he reminded her. "Look at how that turned out. I'm not so sure I mind being part of an organization that keeps its nose clean."
Bobbi's expression softened, her eyes tracing the lines of his face with affection, tinged with regret. "I know. That's why you joined the Navy, not MI6. You like black and white." Her voice was gentle, but Hunter felt her observation for the barb that it was.
"At least then I know who's lying to me," he shot back. He took a step away from her, rubbing the back of his neck. "Why are you telling me all this, if you're not going to tell me what you're doing?"
Bobbi stopped short, searching his eyes for a long moment before she answered. "I don't want you to die out there," she said quietly.
God, he wanted to throw it all out the window, to walk over there and kiss her and forget this conversation ever happened.
But he knew they'd just be having it again six months from now.
"You either, all right?" he returned softly.
Bobbi nodded, pressing her lips together as though disappointed, and turned and walked out.
Skye was surprised when Hunter FACE'd her at 0720 the next morning. It was supposed to be Simmons' day.
"Something weird's going on," he explained unceremoniously, downing the last of a cup of coffee. "Simmons shoved the laptop at me half an hour ago and ran off to the lab. Now Coulson's called morning briefing early and he wants you in it, and people are running around like crazy. I have no idea what the hell's happening."
Skye felt her muscles tense up. If Coulson hadn't brought her in on two more ambushes, but he was bringing her in on whatever this was, it had to be serious.
Hunter half-jogged her through the hallways and set the laptop down on the table so that Skye could see him, Fitz, and Coulson. She had caught May in the corner of the screen when they first came in, and Simmons and Koenig walked in just before Coulson started to speak. Skye gathered that whatever was happening was too urgent to wait for Bobbi and Mack.
"We have a situation," Coulson began bluntly. "Our first clue was when our hangar staff discovered this morning that the quinjet was missing. Then we began receiving reports from other SHIELD installations of missing equipment and personnel." He glanced around, giving that much information a moment to sink in.
"Since then, we've confirmed the absence of Agents Morse and Mackenzie, a half-dozen analysts, four scientists, and every security team that was on duty last night. Our weapons inventory at the Playground has been reduced by approximately half, and there's an electronic record of our entire system, including all accessible restricted files, being backed up onto a separate drive around 0230. All relevant security camera footage has been deleted."
Skye glanced, shocked, at Hunter. The look on his face was unreadable, but she saw him close his eyes briefly as Coulson finished explaining the situation.
Did he know?
"I've completed a very cursory inventory of the lab," Simmons added breathlessly from somewhere behind the laptop, "and we are definitely also missing lab equipment and supplies as well as medical supplies and medications."
"Sir," Fitz broke in, and Coulson nodded to him. Fitz's eyes were red-rimmed, and Skye swallowed hard at the shell-shocked look on his face. He had already experienced his share of betrayal with Ward - now Mack, too?
"Sir, there - there's more," he said falteringly. "A number of the pieces of - of tech we acquired from Hydra are also, uh, missing; particularly, several of the - the more, uh, the weapons..." He looked helplessly toward Simmons.
"The more powerful weapons," she continued smoothly, her voice wavering only a little, "which we had judged too dangerous to put into circulation."
Fitz nodded gratefully at her.
Skye's eyes were stinging. Fitz's speech was worse than she had heard in months.
"Mack helped you study and inventory the tech," Coulson observed flatly. It was a statement, not a question.
"Yes." Fitz's jaw was working in an attempt to keep his composure.
Coulson pinched the bridge of his nose, and it suddenly struck Skye that he looked more tense than he had since he was battling with compulsively carving alien symbols. "We're not entirely sure what we're dealing with here, but it seems to be SHIELD-wide," he admitted, and a strained silence filled the room.
May's calm voice broke through it. "If they wanted to cripple us, they would have taken everything. If they were Hydra, they could have killed us while we slept."
Coulson turned toward her, seeming to draw strength from the contact. "True enough," he acknowledged.
"She's not Hydra," Hunter broke in matter-of-factly. "I may not always know what Bobbi's thinking, but I've known her long enough to know that when you cut her, she bleeds SHIELD. It's just -" He seemed to cut himself off.
Coulson looked at him sharply. "You don't seem particularly surprised by this development, Agent Hunter -" Skye caught his slight emphasis on Agent - "which strikes me as either odd or suspicious, especially in light of the nature of your relationship with Agent Morse."
Hunter raised his eyebrows, nodding slightly in acknowledgement. "I didn't know this was coming, but I'm not surprised."
Coulson's jaw was set, his eyes steely and guarded. "Would you care to explain yourself?"
Hunter broke eye contact, glancing away, then cautiously back at Coulson. "I'd prefer to do that in private, sir," he replied, the light stress on the honorific affirming Coulson's position.
The two men locked eyes for a moment, Coulson's gaze piercing, Hunter deferential but firm.
Skye realized she was holding her breath.
"Excuse me, Director?" Koenig spoke up hesitantly. "I know this isn't exactly a convenient time, but we've just had a visual of Raina pop up on a security camera in Florida."
Coulson paused for a beat, assimilating the new information. Skye barely noticed the flicker of relief that crossed Hunter's face, consumed as she was by her own suddenly spinning thoughts.
Raina had managed to inactivate or cut out the tracker after San Juan; by the time they'd returned to the Playground, her signal had disappeared, and she had eluded them ever since, even though they had been sweeping every available source for any sign of her. Coulson had initially wanted her for the knowledge of Hydra she had gleaned from working with Whitehall. But now it occurred to Skye, with a shock like icy water, that Raina might also be a source of information about whatever was happening with her. And a more appealing source than crazy Cal - whom Skye honestly hoped never to see again as long as she lived. The image of him beating Coulson into a bloody mess still held too much fresh horror.
While Skye had been thinking, so had Coulson. "May, Hunter, and I will go retrieve her," he said grimly. "Wheels up in fifteen. Fitz and Simmons, I want you inventorying what's left of our supplies, and Koenig, I want full reports of what's missing and what we still have from all of our bases by the time I get back."
"Coulson," Skye interrupted, but he cut her off.
"That's all for the time being," he concluded decisively. "We have to get moving. Simmons, take Skye with you."
The screen view shifted as Simmons picked up the laptop, but Skye just caught the flinty look in Coulson's eye as he confronted Hunter.
"I'm trusting you because I need you right now. Don't make me regret it," she heard him say, the cool threat more than implied in his voice.
Hunter nodded crisply, but Skye didn't hear whether he responded, as Simmons took the laptop out into the hallway toward the lab.
Skye disconnected the transmission. Her thoughts were racing. With the quinjet gone, they were going to have to take the Bus. She would be going along anyway.
With a few keystrokes, she hacked into the huge screen behind Coulson in the briefing room. When the image of the room flickered into view, Coulson jumped at the sight of her face appearing, four feet tall, on the wall next to him. He was alone in the room now.
"Coulson," Skye began imploringly, without prologue, "you shouldn't be going. You need to be here. SHIELD needs you. If we can get me two more monitors, I can mirror the Command Center into the Cage and run the back end for May and Hunter from here. You can stay at the Playground and deal with the fallout from whatever the hell Bobbi's doing."
Coulson hesitated.
"Come on," Skye pressed. "I can do sat surveillance, cameras, schematics, comms, everything we need." She paused, her heart feeling like it was going to explode. "Please," she said, her voice weakening as she searched his eyes, seeing the burden he was carrying. "Please let me do something."
Coulson's resistance began to crumble. "Fine," he said tightly, and the strain in his face seemed to ease a little, displaced by grudging relief and, Skye thought, a hint of pride.
She smiled weakly at him.
"Thank you," Coulson said, his voice soft, and for a moment he stopped being the always-composed, invincible, inscrutable Director Coulson and was just AC.
They locked eyes in mutual empathy, each recognizing the weight of what the other was carrying. "Thank you," Skye whispered.