A/N: Wow. I was floored by all the encouragement that flooded in this week. Thanks for letting me know you care about this story! It makes it much more fun to write when I know that people are enjoying it! :)
I started writing this chapter...and it got really long. So I divided it into two chapters. Then it was still almost 6,000 words. So I divided it into two chapters again. So...this is approximately one-third of the content I intended to include in this chapter. Ha! As a result, there are lots of character moments in this chapter, and not as much forward progress on the plot as I had planned. But on the positive side, you can look forward to another new chapter very soon, because it's already mostly written. :D
Skye's mouth dropped open as her eyes swiveled from May to Simmons and Coulson and back. "What are you talking about?"
May glanced over at Coulson, who supplied gently, "May seems to have some memory gaps, beginning after the alien city."
"That isn't it," May corrected, shaking her head and folding her arms across her chest. "I remember everything. I remember what happened with Whitehall in San Juan. I remember Bobbi and her team leaving. I remember setting up this op with you yesterday afternoon, Phil." Coulson blinked. "What I also remember, as clearly as the three of you standing in front of me, is that we lost Skye in San Juan."
She looked at Skye, her lips pressing into a tight line, and her words came out deliberately, with difficulty. "I remember Simmons finding your body in the rubble after the earthquake, and Coulson and I pulling you out. I remember checking for your pulse and finding nothing." Her voice quavered, though her expression stayed steady. "I remember burying you, and all of us standing around your grave in the pouring rain. I remember -" Her voice cracked this time, and she stopped to take a deep breath. "I remember mourning you." She glanced up at Coulson searchingly, as if checking to make sure he really had no recollection of those moments, which apparently they had spent together.
Skye's jaw hung slack. She almost forgot to wonder how the false memories had gotten there, so surprised was she by her SO's emotional response. She had known, of course, that May cared about her, but the stoic agent never wore her affection openly, and Skye hadn't realized its depth. She felt tears pricking in her own eyes, just as they were again shimmering in May's.
May shook her head slightly in disbelief, blinking back the tears. "It's all so clear." She turned to Coulson and Simmons. "And you say none of it happened?"
Simmons shook her head slowly. "I'm afraid your memories have been tampered with somehow," she explained in a gentle voice. "It isn't just amnesia," she added, looking to Coulson.
He shook his head. "No, it isn't," he replied tightly. "Let's continue to assess what's there and what isn't. And make sure we're debriefing the others as soon as they come around, to find out what they know." He paused. "Make sure you ask about Skye."
Simmons nodded.
Coulson turned to Skye. "Do you want to stay here for a little while?"
Skye nodded, a lump in her throat. "Yeah," she managed quietly.
Coulson nodded crisply, then turned to leave. On the way out, he deviated from a straight path to pass behind the WCA agent they had found in the side hallway, who was now awake, stretching and examining his wrists, from which the zip-ties had been removed.
Coulson clapped him on the shoulder. "Good to see you, Clint," he greeted him amiably.
The man looked up and abruptly went white as a sheet. "Coulson?" he choked out, a little too loudly, visibly shell-shocked.
Coulson just flashed him an ironic smile before turning and leaving the lab.
Skye wondered what that was all about.
She turned back to May, who seemed to have regained her composure for the most part, only the faint quiver of her lip hinting at the emotions she was still wrestling with.
"Simmons said it was unfortunate that my memories had been tampered with," May said quietly, "but I was glad to hear that they weren't real." She looked Skye over carefully, affection and grief now visibly mingling in her eyes. "Losing you...hurt more than anything has hurt in a long time."
Skye's face crumpled as she fought back tears. If it weren't for the glass wall in between them, she'd have thrown her arms around May, and she had a feeling the hug would have been returned. She drew a deep breath, summoning her own courage. "I love you, May," she whispered.
May almost flinched, a flicker of wariness crossing her face. She seemed to find strength enough to overcome it, saying quietly in response, "And I you." She held her trainee's gaze steadily. "Truly, Skye."
A tear trailed down Skye's cheek.
They looked at each other for a moment, and then May cleared her throat, recovering her usual stoic expression, with just a hint more softness remaining than had been there before. "Have we still been training every day?"
Skye nodded, suddenly uncertain. "There have been...a few changes, though. Since San Juan." She blinked helplessly, not sure where to begin or even whether she should.
Thankfully, Simmons came to her rescue, sweeping over from checking vitals on Martin, who had just come around from the knockout gas. "I'll be working with May on all of that, Skye - no need for you to worry about it." She turned to May. "I'm hopeful that as you begin to identify the false memories, your mind will begin to sort them out and help you to recover the real ones. But it might be a gradual process."
May nodded slowly. "Do you know how whoever did this managed it?"
Simmons shook her head. "No, unfortunately," she admitted. "I mean, obviously SHIELD has experimented with memory replacement in the past -" she grimaced at the allusion to Coulson - "but I've no idea how this group managed to do it so quickly and thoroughly." She sighed. "It's one of the many mysteries we'll be attempting to unravel after today."
"As well as why," May added tightly, her expression grim.
"Indeed," Simmons agreed. She turned to Skye. "Martin's memories, of you at least, seem intact. So there's some good news."
"Good," Skye replied, glancing over to where Hunter lay. She hadn't allowed herself to look at him yet, not trusting whether she'd be able to keep it together. But she allowed herself a quick glimpse, taking in his motionless form, the adhesive stitches across the gash at his hairline, wondering what his memories would be like when he awoke. She glanced back to Simmons, who was studying her compassionately.
"I'd really like for May to rest now," she informed Skye gently. "You're welcome to stick around, if you'd like."
Skye nodded gratefully.
She spent the next half hour or so seated in an uncomfortable chair off to the side of the lab, trying to stay out of everyone's way and to escape notice as long as possible, so that no one suggested she return to the Cage. There was one agent's recovery she really wanted to be there for.
Hunter regained consciousness abruptly, his body twitching before he sat up suddenly, bringing a hand to his temple as a headache set in. Simmons noticed him right away, bringing over painkillers and a glass of water, and asked a few questions Skye couldn't hear from where she was sitting. Hunter replied slowly, nodding, then winced as he shifted his weight on the counter.
Skye held her breath as his eyes wandered around the room, catching hers just briefly, with a little flare of surprise. She found it encouraging, at least, that he didn't seem stunned to see her alive - hopefully, the surprise was just at seeing her out of the Cage - but his apparent coolness toward her worried her, until she remembered that the lab was full of people who didn't and shouldn't know about their relationship. Even if he remembered everything, he wouldn't show it in this setting.
Skye took a deep breath, fighting down the urge to run over there. Instead, she got up after a moment and walked over casually.
"How are you feeling?" she asked him, unable to hide her concern.
He grimaced. "I've been better. But I've definitely been worse. I came back, at least," he added quietly. His eyes lingered meaningfully on hers for a beat, with a hint of that softness that he reserved only for her, before he slipped back into his mask of disinterested friendship.
She sighed in relief. He remembered.
Simmons had noticed the exchange. "So I take it your memories of Skye are intact?" she murmured, tapping something into the tablet.
Hunter blinked, taken aback. "I think so." His brow furrowed as he glanced between the two women. "Should they not be?"
Simmons frowned. "It's kind of a long story. Coulson will fill you in when he comes back," she added apologetically, as she pulled out a little flashlight and shone it into his eyes, checking his pupils.
"Any chance a fellow could get something besides water to drink around here?" Hunter cracked. "I had a hell of an afternoon."
Simmons looked at him chidingly, reaching for his wrist to check his pulse. "Absolutely no alcohol for at least the next few days," she replied crisply. "I'm still ruling out concussion."
"Oh, I'm definitely concussed," he confirmed cheerfully. "But I've had worse. I'm pretty sure a beer would help."
Simmons ignored him, finished checking his pulse, and wrapped the blood pressure cuff around his arm. "Do you recall what happened before you were knocked out?" she inquired. Both Martin and Ramirez had had only vague memories of a dimly lit fistfight, but nothing particularly helpful. May didn't remember anything after they had gotten into position in the warehouse.
Hunter nodded slowly. "Yeah," he replied, a strange look crossing his face. "A few very interesting things."
"Coulson will want to hear the details when he debriefs you," Simmons informed him, watching the blood pressure gauge.
"Can't wait," he quipped, his eyes flicking around the room. "Looks like we brought the whole mess back?" He glanced at Skye, who nodded.
"That promises to be an interesting story," he murmured. "I have to say, I was glad to wake up somewhere familiar." He turned back to Simmons. "Everyone else already up?"
Simmons shook her head, making a note of his blood pressure reading and removing the cuff from his arm. "Bobbi and one of her agents are still unconscious. They should be coming around any time now."
Hunter nodded, his jaw setting. "Are they okay?" he asked vaguely, relaxing somewhat at Simmons' affirmative response.
Skye fought down a sudden wave of insecurity. She hadn't really processed until now that this would be the first time Hunter and Bobbi had seen each other since their split. She suddenly recalled the tension in his voice during the op, when Bobbi's team was walking into the trap. Their separation was still fresh, their history far longer than his with Skye, and clearly he still cared about her well-being.
Skye silenced those thoughts. She was a grown-up. She wasn't going to play the part of the paranoid, jealous secret girlfriend. She would give Hunter the benefit of the doubt.
But it might not be easy for her, she realized. Though she knew Hunter's casual demeanor toward her was just their cover, it still felt strange and a little bit painful. And she realized, with a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, that he hadn't yet heard about what she had done to the humanoid on the Bus. What she was capable of doing.
If anything was going to test his commitment to Skye - she had to be honest with herself - this was the ideal set of circumstances to do it.
Skye tried to shove the thoughts away.
She stayed in the lab, lurking in the corners and trying to look nonchalant, until she saw Bobbi beginning to wake up and decided it was probably best for her to remove herself from the situation before her brain got any crazier. On her way out, she bumped into Coulson, who was on his way in to debrief Hunter, and told him where she was going.
Hunter, preoccupied with Simmons' poking and prodding and then with the Director, didn't realize Skye had left until after Coulson finished debriefing him. By that point, Martin and Ramirez had been cleared to leave, and time seemed to stretch on interminably as he waited for Simmons to come back around to him for one final assessment.
The atmosphere in the lab had become increasingly unbearable since Bobbi had regained consciousness. She'd spent the last hour tossing glances in his direction, which he refused to meet - questioning, pleading looks that he knew threatened to quench all the carefully stoked fury he had kept burning in his chest toward her. The genuine concern that had welled up in him when he found out why she was in quarantine hadn't helped.
To compound matters even further, he was also aware of the jealous glances being leveled at him by the sharp-eyed, muscle-bound fellow across the room - whom Coulson seemed to know somehow - and of how inexplicably furious the implications of those glances made him. He shouldn't care whether some other bloke had his eyes on Bob. They were through anyway. But his treacherous heart wanted to stand up, cross the room, and punch the guy.
"Bloody hell," he swore under his breath.
Bobbi's presence was making his head spin, as usual - beyond what he could reasonably blame on the head injury. The internal pressure mounted to an intolerable level before Simmons got around to his final check-up and cleared him to leave the lab.
"Normal activities are fine, but light duty only for the next few days," she ordered. "Let me know if the symptoms worsen. And absolutely no alcohol."
He vowed compliance and escaped quickly, pausing somewhere down the hallway to lean against the wall, take a few ragged breaths, and clear his head. He entertained a momentary rebellious thought about the six-pack of Bendeery's English Ale he had stowed away, before turning instead to stride off decisively toward the garage.
Really, there was only one place he needed to be right now.
Skye was back to sitting cross-legged on the cot, trying to sort through her jumbled thoughts, when Hunter came in without knocking. She froze at first, uncertainty twisting her stomach and riveting her in place, until his evident distress distracted her from her own worries. There was something almost haunted about the look he wore, but Skye didn't have much time to wonder about it, as he closed the door and quickly crossed the room, leaning across the cot to press his lips to hers.
His kiss was fierce, needy, and the way his fingers twined up into her hair communicated a dependency that was deeper than Skye had felt him express before. She wasn't sure where this was coming from, but she went with it gladly, letting her uncertainty dissolve into the wave of relief that washed over her, allowing her neediness and vulnerability to mirror his.
Hunter broke off the kiss after a moment, resting his forehead just lightly against hers so as not to disturb his stitches, still weaving his fingers gently through her hair.
"What is it?" Skye murmured.
"I missed you," he replied roughly. He climbed up onto the cot beside her, pulling her close, and Skye wrapped her arms around his torso, squeezing tightly.
She was horrified when he let out a quiet gasp of apparent pain. She panicked, trying to squirm away, but he caught her firmly around the waist, keeping her close to him.
"It's not you," he assured her, wincing. "Just bloody bruised ribs from the op."
Skye melted into him, letting out a sigh of relief. "Just bruised?" she asked softly, running her fingers gently over his rib cage. "Not broken?"
Hunter shook his head. "Simmons said not."
Skye lifted her eyes to meet his. "I'm really glad you're okay," she murmured, trying to pretend that her voice wasn't trembling.
Hunter grinned. "You and me both."
Skye pressed her lips together, mustering up some indignation. "Don't you ever do that to me again. I would have been furious if you hadn't come back."
Hunter's reply was low, his eyes fixed on hers. "What do you think I was thinking about the entire time I was in there?" He let that linger for a moment, then added, more lightly, "Other than the obvious and imminent danger, of course." But his eyes stayed on hers, questioning.
Skye hesitated. She saw through the attempt at levity and had caught the significance of what he was saying. "Really?" she asked quietly, searching his face.
He nodded, exhaling slowly, as if it were a confession. "I wanted to be sure I came back to you," he said softly, holding her gaze.
Skye bit her lip, and Hunter bent in to catch her lips with his, in a kiss that was different: still needy, but soft, coaxing, passionate - definitely past the limits of what they'd yet allowed themselves. Skye couldn't find it in herself to resist, instead giving in to the swell of longing that swept over her, letting fall from her metaphorical fingers the restraint to which they'd both been clinging so tightly. God, it felt good to let it go, to pull him closer, run her fingers through his hair, and not have to stop.
Their kisses deepened, increasingly hungry, and Hunter lifted both hands to cup Skye's face, his fingertips threading into her hair. "I heard how you came in after us. I'm glad you're safe," he murmured between kisses.
Skye was dizzy under the surge of emotion she felt in response. "Me too," she whispered - and then she was tasting salt from the tears spilling down her cheeks.
Hunter brushed the tears away with his thumbs, trailing kisses along Skye's jaw to her ear, then returning to her lips. They stayed lost in each other for some time, just savoring the freedom they hadn't allowed themselves before.
Eventually, they had to come up for air, and Hunter pulled her back against his chest, Skye gingerly wrapping her arms around his waist to make sure she didn't aggravate the bruised ribs. Her heart was thudding wildly - as she could feel his was as well - but her powers were, thankfully, staying firmly under her control.
She took a deep breath, drinking in his leather-and-musk scent, soaking up this moment of peace with him. Then she worked up the courage to ask the question that was burning her up inside.
"Did Coulson tell you about what happened on the Bus?" she asked quietly.
"Yeah," he rumbled, then shrugged. "You did what you had to do," he said frankly.
She exhaled, with a relief that almost brought tears to her eyes again. "Thank you," she mumbled.
He rubbed her back slowly, reassuringly. "How are you doing with it?" he pressed.
Skye shook her head against his shoulder. "Kind of shell-shocked," she replied faintly. "I...had no idea I could do that."
Hunter nodded. "Remind me to let you win all the arguments," he quipped.
Skye laughed weakly, then sobered.
Hunter gently lifted her chin so she was looking at him. "We made it out because of you, love. And I don't think you have to worry about whether or not you're field agent material any more. I think that question just answered itself."
His certainty was contagious, and Skye found herself answering with a faint smile.
"Thanks," she said softly. Her eyes searched his for a moment, and then she added haltingly, "I really wouldn't be okay without you, you know."
Hunter shook his head, just slightly. "I'm not okay without you, either," he replied huskily. He reached for her hand and lifted it to his lips, pressing a kiss to her palm, and Skye shivered.
"Careful there," she warned quietly.
A surprised but pleased smirk spread across Hunter's face.
Skye narrowed her eyes at him, glaring playfully. He just laughed, then, with a mixture of affection and intensity in his eyes, leaned in for another kiss.
Just as his lips brushed hers, Skye's laptop bleeped.
Incoming message from Agent Jemma Simmons
Skye pulled back, glancing from the laptop back to Hunter with some embarrassment.
When Skye hit the space bar, Simmons popped up on the screen, her eyes averted. "I haven't been watching, guys, honestly," she assured them hurriedly. "But Fitz needs an extra pair of hands for something he's working on, and he's trying to track down Hunter to help, and now everyone is wondering where Hunter is, and I just thought I'd help you keep your secret, and -"
"Thanks, Jemma," Skye interrupted with a smile, recognizing her friend's endless nervous ramble. "And no worries - we're decent. Kind of hard to forget about the surveillance camera."
"Well," Simmons replied coyly, darting a sidelong glance at them, "I was glad to see that you forgot it a little." A dismayed look swept across her face. "Not that I was watching or - oh, bloody hell..." The transmission disconnected abruptly.
Skye glanced up at Hunter, who had one eyebrow quirked. "That's a bit creepy," he observed evenly, only his eyes betraying his amusement.
Skye grinned at him affectionately, and Hunter grinned back, ducking in to press a lingering kiss to her lips. Skye leaned into it, letting out a soft sound of disappointment when he pulled back.
"Duty calls," he sighed apologetically, and Skye nodded.
"In the form of a demanding Scot," she added dryly.
"Glad to see you can tell the difference between a Scot and an Englishman now," Hunter ribbed her, and Skye shot him a dirty look. He grinned irrepressibly, pulling her to her feet and lacing his fingers with hers as she walked him to the door.
Hunter opened the door and stepped out into the hallway, and Skye leaned against the door frame, reluctantly letting go of his hand. "Bye," she said softly.
He turned back toward her, then slipped his arms around her waist to pull her in close, once again communicating a dependency Skye was perplexed by, but grateful for. "Bye," he murmured into her hair.
Skye soaked up the closeness, then tilted her chin up to kiss him. They got lost in each other briefly, one kiss turning into several before they managed to pry themselves apart.
"You should probably go," Skye said, a little breathlessly. "For multiple reasons."
He grinned, his eyes mischievous. "Good to know." Tenderly, he tucked her hair back from her face, tracing his fingers down her cheek. "I won't stay away long."
Skye smiled. "Good."
Hunter was punching in the code to lock the door when he heard a familiar "Ahem." He turned to see Coulson standing on the catwalk, on the other side of the broken blast door that was standing ajar.
The color abruptly drained from the former merc's face.
"Agent Hunter," Coulson said mildly.
"Director," Hunter countered, with forced casualness. "Coming to visit Skye?"
Coulson nodded, with corresponding nonchalance. "Bringing her an update about May's condition. No change," he elaborated.
"Ah." Hunter paused uncertainly.
"Looks like you were eager to visit Skye, once Simmons cleared you to leave the lab." There was something excessively measured about Coulson's tone.
Hunter shifted his weight, eyeing the Director uncomfortably. "How...long were you standing there?"
"Long enough," Coulson replied matter-of-factly, looking Hunter up and down with a grim expression, as though sizing up an opponent. "My office. One hour."
Hunter winced, then nodded, clearing his throat.
Bloody hell.
"Yes, sir."