A/N: Hi everybody! Here's the next chapter of this. The storyline I start in this chapter will be continued in at least the next chapter. I would have written more but a) it's NaNoWriMo and so I'm writing all sorts of stuff and b) I need to go to bed and c) dramatic chapter ending is dramatic.

The idea for this chapter occurred to me around Halloween, but I haven't been able to get back to this story since then, so that will explain all of the Halloween references herein.

Next to be updated: "Shaken"

Thanks to everyone who reads, reviews, follows, or favorites. Reviews are *my* favorite but I'm grateful for all the support.

Enjoy!

"I told you, I do not want costume!" Wanda protested loudly. "Costumes are for babies and theater people!"

"Actors," Skye said patiently. "And you're going to need a costume."

"No! Do not need!"

"We told Trip we'd go to the costumed football game with him," Skye reminded her.

"Have been to plenty of football games. No one is wearing costumes."

"Yes," Skye agreed, "but tonight is Halloween, so the team is playing against their teachers while they all wear costumes, and they're raising money for charity. Trip has a costume, I have a costume, and now you need a costume."

"No."

"Fine. Then I'm picking your costume, and it's going to be the most ridiculous one in there."

Skye gestured to the Halloween store, a temporary business located in a strip mall next to the DMV. "And I was here last week with Trip and I happen to know all of the most embarrassing options. So, your move."

"You are deflecting," Wanda said, pointing her finger accusingly at Skye. "You do not want to think about fight with Jemma, so you are bothering me into wearing silly clothes."

Skye sighed, putting one hand to her head. "When was the last time you actually wore a costume, Wanda?"

"Never."

"That can't possibly be true."

"We do not have Halloween in Romania."

"Don't you guys go all out for the Dracula nonsense?"

"Tourists do. People who work in the jobs do," Wanda answered. "Most of us not so much on the Halloween. We have instead Noaptea Sfântului Andrei in November instead."

"And that is…?"

"St. Andrew's Night, and a something I would much rather to explain when we are not standing in parking lot."

"Fine. Let's go inside."

"That is not as I meant."

"I know," Skye said with a grin.

"Fine. I will go in store."

"Good girl."

"If…"

"If what?"

"If you will talk to me as to why you will not fix romance with Jemma."

Skye groaned. "God, you drive a hard bargain, woman."

Wanda merely nodded.

Trip pushed open the door to the staff locker room at the end of the corridor. He'd just finished his afternoon shift and had just enough time to get home and take a shower before heading out to the football game.

He loved coaching the high school boys. They were so energetic and, for the most part, eager to participate. As a rule they were generally star-struck upon meeting him – his older brother was a professional football player for a team in Canada, but one who had made the news in the US multiple times – but after they'd gotten over that, they realized Trip was an extremely fair and hardworking coach who expected the most out of them. The guys gelled as a team and sometimes Trip was positive that they all were nearly psychically linked in the way they planned movements down the field, the ways they looked for passes and dove for tackles. He was so proud of his team.

And tonight was going to be awesome. He'd been thrilled with the idea of a charity football match between his guys and the high school teachers. When one of the teachers, Mr. Billings, suggested that since the game was on Halloween, they should all wear costumes as well, Trip enthusiastically agreed. He'd been planning his costume for a few days and was more than excited to throw it on.

His phone rang as he gathered his backpack and headed out the back door of the restaurant, yelling a farewell to the head chef. The caller ID showed him it was Wanda.

"Hey, girl, you find a costume yet?"

"I am not wearing costume," Wanda replied. "I am also not calling about costume."

Trip sighed. "You have to wear a costume."

"I am not going to talk about costume any longer," Wanda said, and there was something firmly nervous in her tone.

"Okay," Trip said, softening. "What's going on?"

"Is Skye."

"Can you be a bit more descriptive?"

"Something is wrong."

"Again, I need more, Big W." Trip knew Wanda hated his nickname for her, but he also knew it was the best way to break any tension and get her to slow down, think about what she was saying.

"I cannot be more specific," Wanda said. "I don't know what it is. She is… off."

"Physically?"

"Possibly."

"Mentally?"

"Could also be the possible."

"Okay. Well, she just had a huge fight with her girlfriend. That's enough to throw anybody off their game."

Wanda sighed. "She is fragile."

"She was that before the fight with Jemma."

"No," Wanda said, and her voice got a little more panicked.

"Slow down," Trip said. "I can't help you if you can't tell me what's going on."

"Something is happening and it is not good." Wanda sounded close to tears. "She seemed very pale and also wobbly and I feel pain when I look at her and she is ignoring the Arthur."

Worry thwacked into Trip's stomach. "Where is she now?"

"Bathroom."

"Has she been in there a long time?"

Wanda let out a noise that was something like a whimper and Trip forced himself to calm down. No matter how much he teased Wanda about her gifts, deep down inside he knew that she was very rarely wrong about things. She was incredibly in tune with the entire world around her, and she was extremely responsive to others' situations, including pain.

"Take a breath, Big W," Trip said.

"Very long time," Wanda managed to get out.

"Okay. Okay. Go in there."

"What?"

"Go in the bathroom. The worst you can do is embarrass her, and if it's very serious, she'll thank you later. If it's locked, you get an employee and tell them to open it."

"This is okay?"

"It's very okay," Trip said. "Explain the situation. Remember to speak slowly and carefully."

"Okay. Okay, Trip?"

"Okay," Trip said. "You're going to do just fine."

"Okay. Okay."

"Call me as soon as you know what's going on and give me an update."

"I will. Thank you muchly."

"Anything for my two favorite ladies, Big W."

"Also, do not call me this."

"We'll see."

Arthur pushed against Skye's shoulder and whined.

"No," she mumbled at him.

He pushed harder.

"Arthur, down," she managed to say. Why did her chest hurt? Why were her lips wet? Where was she?

The dog barked.

"Stop," she told him irritably. Her head hurt. Maybe if she just slept a little longer…

But pieces of the world were starting to intrude. She wasn't in her bed. Wasn't anywhere she could recognize or remember. The floor under her was cold. Tile, upon further investigation. Navy blue tile with some sort of ugly grout that looked reddish-pink.

Her stomach hurt, her chest hurt, her head hurt, and she couldn't feel her feet.

"Huh," she said, somewhat surprised.

A wave of nausea rolled over her and Skye moaned, pulling her legs in towards her body. The tile-floored place swam around her and Arthur started barking louder.

"Arthur, call," Skye grit out. She tried to reach for her backpack but found that her hands were losing feeling as well.

The nausea got worse and she rolled to one side just in time to vomit. The majority of it was bright red and it made Skye's nausea even worse as she realized that was what had discolored the grout around her. Blood.

How long had she been in there?

"Skye?"

It was a familiar voice.

"Wanda."

Arthur barked and ran over to the door, scrabbling at it furiously.

"We are coming in now, yes? I have staff person of costumes here with me." Wanda's voice sounded rushed and forced, a combination of sounds Skye would have recognized as a sign that Wanda was terrified if she'd been in the right mindset.

"Yeah," Skye said. The pain in her stomach shot through her like fireworks going off in her belly and she couldn't get to the side to throw up again. Blood and bile filled her mouth and she gagged and retched. "Please, please."

The door flew open and in an instant Wanda was next to her, kneeling on the tile floor. "Oh, Skye. Is to be okay. Is to be okay."

Her friend looked up at the costume shop employee and barked, "Call ambulance now!"

The terrified employee nodded and darted off.

"Stay with me," Wanda said. "Look at me. I am to talk to you."

"No," Skye said. She was feeling groggy and the numbness was creeping up her legs.

"Tell me how you feel."

"Wrong."

"Be more of a description."

"Can't feel… hands. Feet. Sick."

Skye curled in on herself and choked as the bright acidic tang of bile rose up her throat. Wanda's hands were on her immediately, rolling her to one side. "Okay. Tell me something else."

Skye blinked, hard. The room was spinning around her again and little black dots were filling the edges of her vision. Her entire body felt like she was floating, weightless, drifting off to parts unknown. "You have to tell her," she whispered to Wanda.

"Tell who?"

"Jemma."

"Tell Jemma what?"

"Tell her I'm sorry," Skye murmured, and she reached out and gently took hold of Wanda's skirt with her bloody fingers before she closed her eyes and sank into the darkness there.

"Simmons."

"Um, hello, Jemma."

The voice was somewhat unfamiliar, but after a few seconds Jemma thought she could identify it.

"Wanda? Is that you?"

"Yes. Very much so."

"Why are you calling me and not Skye?"

A pause. "Skye is unable to call."

"Unable or unwilling?" Jemma asked with a sigh.

"Unable," Wanda said firmly. "You are needed, though."

"Needed for what? Last time we spoke she made it pretty clear what she thought."

"She is not thinking now."

Jemma scoffed. "She wasn't thinking then."

"No," Wanda said firmly. "You are not to understanding."

"Then help me understand."

Another pause. When Wanda spoke again, her voice was shaky, as though she'd been crying. "Skye is… she is at hospital. It is very serious."

"Did she put you up to this? Is this her idea of a sick joke?"

Wanda burst into tears.

A heavy ball of guilt dropped into Jemma's stomach. "Oh, no. Wanda, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

Wanda's sobs were replaced by another voice. "Jemma? This is Trip. I don't know what you just said to make Wanda cry, but frankly, I just don't care. Find a way to get down to the university hospital. Skye's in bad shape and it doesn't matter what you said to each other the last time you were together – she's going to want you here when she wakes up."

He was so matter-of-fact that it brought tears to Jemma's eyes. "Okay," she whispered. "Okay."

"We're on the lower level," Trip informed her. "Should be for quite a while still."

Jemma somehow managed to say goodbye, and then frantically shoved her essential items into the backpack she carried to work. She grabbed her cane and went down the hall to Bobbi's work station, heart beating erratically, palms sweaty.

"Hi, Jemma," Bobbi said, and Jemma moved towards her. "I was just going to come talk to you about the Underhill project and… what's wrong?"

"Skye," Jemma forced out, gripping her cane tightly. "Skye."

"What'd she say to you now?" Bobbi asked with a sigh.

"Skye is in the hospital," Jemma said, forcing her breathing to stay steady. "I have to go. I have to be there. Can you… can you drive me?"

There was no response for a few beats, but Jemma could hear the change in Bobbi's breathing. "Yeah, of course," the other scientist replied quickly. "Yeah. Let me get my keys. Do you have your stuff?"

Jemma nodded.

"Okay. Let's go."

Bobbi didn't speak again until they were in the car. "Do you know what happened?"

"No."

"Did her parents call you?"

"No."

"A friend?"

"Yes."

"The girl?"

"Yes."

"Okay," Bobbi said. "Whatever it is, Jemma, the university hospital is one of the best in the country. They'll figure it out."

Jemma shook her head, hard, trying not to cry.

"I know it's difficult for you to know Skye is dealing with all of her health issues, and I know all you want is for her to be well."

"I should have apologized," Jemma sobbed. "I should have told her I was sorry, and that she doesn't need fancy degrees to be more important than everything else in my life. But I didn't tell her, and now…"

She bit her lip.

"And now you have a chance to realize that, and to tell her that," Bobbi said gently. "That's why we're going."

"She's so… she's so fragile," Jemma whispered, "and yet she's made of iron. And I don't understand it but I respect it and it drives me crazy and all I want… all I want is to hold onto her and not stop."

"You'll be able to do that," Bobbi promised. "We're going into the parking garage now."

Bobbi parked the car, and numbly Jemma took Bobbi's elbow as they went into the hospital. People were all around, flowing in streams of noise and movement, blurring the thoughts in Jemma's head.

"Did they say where they were?" Bobbi asked.

"The lower level," Jemma answered. "I don't know what that means."

Bobbi stayed silent as she navigated Jemma around a group of nurses. "The lower level is the surgical ward and all of the operating rooms."

That twisted Jemma's stomach, and the short elevator ride down to the lower level didn't make things better.

Bobbi led her into a waiting area. "Jemma, there's a receptionist on your right. Do you want to ask him about Skye?"

"Yes," Jemma said immediately.

"I'll put your hand on the desk," Bobbi said, and did just that.

"How can I help you?" It was a man's voice, solid and confident and gentle.

"My… my Skye… is she here?"

"Who's the patient you're looking for?"

"Skye. Skye Coulson. Is she here?"

A pause as the receptionist typed something. "Yes. Her family is down the hall in waiting room C. Do you need directions?"

"No," Jemma said, feeling numb. "Bobbi can… Bobbi can find it."

"Okay," the receptionist said. "If you need any further help, please come back here and we'll be more than happy to give you assistance."

"Thank you," Jemma whispered, and she turned back to Bobbi. "Waiting room C."

"I'm on it," Bobbi said.

Jemma took Bobbi's elbow again and they began to move. The walk seemed to take forever, and each tip-tap of Jemma's cane against the tile floor felt like a throbbing pulse in Jemma's brain.

"Okay, this is the waiting room," Bobbi said. "Skye's friends are over on the right side of the room with two people I don't recognize, but from the way they're comfortable with her friends and the way Skye's dog is with them, I'm assuming they're her parents."

Jemma turned to her right.

"Jemma? Do you want me to stay here?" Bobbi asked.

"No, no, that's okay. You should… you should get back to work," Jemma said distantly.

"Well, let me know if you need a ride home," Bobbi said. "And please call me when you get there. I want to make sure you're okay."

"Okay."

"I am so sorry about all of this," Bobbi said, and she touched Jemma's shoulders lightly before hugging Jemma.

"Thank you for bringing me here," Jemma responded.

"Any time."

Jemma waited until Bobbi's footsteps went off down the hallway before she turned further to the right and began navigating the waiting room, moving in the direction Bobbi had indicated.

"Jemma?"

"Phil."

A hand slid into hers and Phil squeezed it. "Oh, my goodness. Thank you for being here."

"I was informed that I was needed," Jemma said, realizing as the words left her mouth just how British and reserved her tone was.

"God, honey, you have no idea," Phil agreed. "Do you want to take a seat?"

"Yes. Thank you."

Phil found her a seat, and Melinda, Trip, and Wanda greeted her in various solemn tones. Arthur jumped into her lap and pushed up against her chest.

"Hi, buddy," Jemma whispered to the dog.

He was like a comforting stuffed animal, curled up in her lap, and she stroked his soft fur, somehow finding the courage she needed to ask the question that had been on her mind since she'd gotten the phone call. "What… what happened?"

Wanda spoke first. "We were shopping. For the costumes. Skye was… something was wrong. Pain, uncertainty, dizziness. She went to bathroom. She…"

Wanda's voice seized up and from there Melinda took over. "She got very ill in the bathroom. It was very serious – a lot of blood. Wanda called for an ambulance and for us, and then for you. Skye's in surgery now."

"Surgery for what?"

"A part of her central line dislodged itself in her body and caused a blood clot. Two blood clots, actually," Melinda answered. "One clot blocked a vein leading to her legs, and the other was up by her shoulder. She lost feeling in her legs and in her hands, but that was as far as it went before they took her in."

"They're going in to break up the blood clots and make sure there's no damage to any surrounding tissues," Phil went on. "They also have to remove her central line, find the part that broke free and take it out, and put in another central venous line. Probably in her neck, at least temporarily."

"And she'll need to be on antibiotics," Melinda added. "It's possible that whatever caused the central line to break apart was a symptom of an infection."

Jemma's head was whirling.

Phil squeezed her knee. "She's come through worse than this," he said. "And I know that sounds like both a lie and the shittiest thing to say right now…"

Jemma managed to get out a laugh.

"… but she'd tell you it's absolutely true."

"So we wait?" Jemma asked.

"Nothing else to do," Phil replied.

"I was thinking about getting some snackage," Trip said. "Anyone want anything from the vending machines?"

"You should go for to football," Wanda said.

"No," Trip said. "I need to be here."

"She will be in surgery many more hours. She will not wake up tonight. You have responsibility to students," Wanda pointed out.

"Trip coaches the high school football team," Melinda told Jemma. "Tonight they're playing a charity game against the teachers, and everyone is wearing costumes."

Jemma had forgotten that it was Halloween.

"You should go, Trip," Phil agreed. "Those guys need you. You're their inspiration and their leader."

"I don't know about that," Trip said, "but if my inspiration's in there fighting her demons, I guess I can go out and play a game."

He murmured something to Wanda, and came over to say goodbye to Phil and Melinda. He stopped in front of Jemma. "I know we don't know each other very well, at least, not yet, but I do know that you've brought so much light into Skye's life. She deserves someone like you, and despite everything that's happened recently, you matter so much to her. Thank you for being here."

She reached up and hugged him, tears in her eyes. "Thank you, Trip," she whispered.

"Oh, please, I'm not Trip any longer, at least not for the next few hours. I'm now Count Tripula," Trip replied, and though his laughter sounded a bit forced, it caused some part of Jemma to relax.

"Jemma, Phil's going to be finished in a few minutes. Would you like to go in and sit with Skye for a bit before we take you home?"

Jemma turned towards Melinda, surprised. "Is that okay?"

"Of course it is," Melinda said. "It's encouraged."

"Oh." Jemma wasn't sure how to feel about that. Part of her was terrified of intruding on this family and their private moments. The other part of her was just nervous, nervous for Skye, nervous for what she might feel, being with Skye in the ICU.

"You don't have to," Melinda said.

"No, that would be… it would be okay," Jemma decided.

If nothing else, she wanted to hold Skye's hand. She wanted to touch Skye, to prove that Skye was real, and to talk to her.

"Okay," Melinda said. "I'll take you in there."

Phil returned a few moments later and said some things to Melinda in a quiet tone. Then Melinda said, "Jemma? Are you ready?"

Jemma nodded, and she took Melinda's elbow, the older woman guiding her a short distance, the sounds of beeping monitors and whirring machines growing louder as they approached.

"This is Skye's cubicle," Melinda said. "There's a chair here at her bedside if you want to sit."

Jemma found the chair with her cane and maneuvered herself into it.

"Her hand is right here next to the bed rail," Melinda went on. "She has a tube in her mouth connecting her to the ventilator, and she's still unconscious, so she won't be responsive, but I know she can still hear us."

Jemma nodded, still stunned at all of the circumstances that had occurred just in one afternoon.

"I'm going to talk to Skye's team for the night and see what the plan is," Melinda said. "I'll come back in a few minutes."

Jemma nodded again.

Once Melinda's footsteps faded away, Jemma leaned in and took Skye's hand. "Um, hi," she said, her voice wobbly and unsure. "It's me. I mean, it's Jemma. I'm here. Trip called me. Bobbi brought me here. And I… I can't believe any of this."

She squeezed Skye's hand tighter. "I'm so sorry about what happened on trivia night. I should never have let you down so critically. I'm with those people all day every day and sometimes I forget that not everyone needs multiple degrees – or any degree at all – to succeed in life. You have so much light and joy in your life, and I've been so honored to be a part of that. And you are smart, smart in the ways that really matter.

"And whether you finish your degree or not, whatever you choose to do from now on, I will support you. It doesn't matter to me if you have ten degrees or no degrees. You are a good person with an amazing heart and a laugh that's sometimes enough to make me think I can see… and that's better than a hundred ," Jemma said.

"And I will always, always defend you against anyone who thinks you're a lesser person for whatever reason. I was dumb to forget that in the first place. I hope when you wake up… I can make up for it."

Jemma wasn't sure where the tears came from, but she put her head on the bed rail and listened to the sound of a machine breathing for Skye, her fingers wrapped tightly around her girlfriend's hand, waiting for a miracle or whatever passed for one these days.