A/N: In a fantastic twist of irony, last night I came down with a high fever that left me mostly unable to move, whimpering in pain... so, I've now co-opted part of this story's plot. I can only assume earthquake powers are next. Stay tuned!
Thanks for all the reviews and favorites and etc. You guys make my day! Enjoy!
When the doctor brings the cooling system in, Simmons is waiting for him. Fitz is at Skye's bedside, gently stroking the most unbruised part of Skye's fingers that aren't covered by a cast or threaded through wires, tubes, or monitors.
"Why was the cooling system not made available earlier?" Simmons demands before the doctor can even get through the door. "Her fever was higher when we arrived."
"Honestly, Dr. Simmons, we weren't sure she was going to survive," Dr. Ullman replies. A tech follows him in and begins setting up the machinery. "A fever of a hundred and eight? We've never had a patient come back from that before."
"Skye's not just anyone," Simmons says.
"I understand," Dr. Ullman says. "That's obvious from her tests and her physical presentations."
He's got an edge in his voice, half-fear and half-sarcasm.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Fitz asks, looking up.
"It means she's not normal," Dr. Ullman says. A tech is wrapping blue pads around Skye's chest and upper legs. Fitz moves out of his way, blushing a little as the tech moves in to pull up Skye's gown. "According to her files she's got alien blood running through her veins and she's set off earthquakes through this entire facility."
"She's a SHIELD agent and she deserves your best care," Simmons says. "End of discussion. If you're unable to treat her, perhaps it's best you find someone else to do so."
"Oh, who? Like you?" The doctor practically sneers this. "You just waltz in here and demand things, think you're going to choreograph our every move. Do this, don't do this – it's like being a damn child again. You'd think this freak is worth our time?"
A bottle of medicine on the cart on the far side of the room explodes, and the tech jumps and drops the tubing running to the cooling system. Skye's head lolls back and around the breathing tube Simmons swears she hears a moan.
"Skye, stop," Fitz says, his voice rising a half-tone with anxiety. "It's okay."
Skye's hands attempt to clench inward and two more bottles slam together.
"Out," Simmons says firmly to the doctor.
"Your director will hear about this!"
"He most certainly will!" Simmons replies heatedly.
Dr. Ullman throws his hands up and exits the room. The door catches as though in a breeze, and then slams, the glass in the window rattling in the pane.
"Skye, shh," Fitz soothes, touching her fingertips as softly as he can. "It'll be all right."
The door opens again and Coulson and May come in, both looking extremely upset. Coulson moves to Skye's bedside. May moves towards Simmons. "What the hell happened?"
"The doctor," Simmons manages to get out. "He just…"
She feels herself breaking down into tears again.
"He's off the case," Coulson says firmly. "Skye, I know you can hear me. Slow your breathing down, channel your power, relax – you're breaking expensive things and you know we don't have a budget for that kind of stuff."
He says it as though it's a joke, which it sort of is, because he can't bear the tension in the room. He looks up at those gathered around Skye's bed – five of the original six, plus the tech that's caught between cowering in the corner and still setting up the cooling system.
"I'm almost done," the tech whispers, and flips a few switches. "It should… um… start working here soon."
When he finishes he bolts out of the room.
Coulson looks over at Simmons. "Can you explain a little further?"
"He said Skye's not worth saving," Fitz says softly.
The moan rises and Skye's fingers twitch in Coulson's hand.
"You're worth saving," May says firmly, and she leans in and brushes hair from Skye's forehead, then glances up at the monitors. "Her fever…"
"I know," Simmons manages to get out. "It's still too high."
Skye's fingers twitch again and she manages to curl her pointer around Coulson's thumb. Her eyes open and her gaze swims over Coulson's face confusedly. She tightens her grip on Coulson's thumb, and tries to mouth something around the breathing tube.
A plastic pitcher on the table starts rattling and wobbling.
"Shhh," Coulson says. "Don't try to say anything."
Skye's brow furrows and she jerks her arm up, tears filling her eyes.
"Please," Coulson says. "We understand you're upset and confused. We're getting you some help."
Skye shakes her head minutely and her head flops back. Coulson has just a handful of seconds to see fear and pain dart through her gaze, and then she's gone.
Skye lands on the mat, her breath slammed out of her. She looks up at May, terrified of the angry expression on her SO's face. Nothing in this dream world makes sense, and all of it hurts. Skye can't remember where she is – still back at the cabin? In that SHIELD hospital? Are they looking for her? Had something happened to Simmons?
She remembers, foggily, looking up at Coulson. Why couldn't he understand her? Why hadn't he done what she'd asked?
All she knows is, she isn't safe.
"Again," May orders, and exhaustedly Skye gets to her feet.
For a few moments they spar on the mat, fists and feet flying. May seems to be going at Skye as though they're locked in a fight to the death, and Skye knows it could turn into that almost immediately.
She blocks May's punch and attempts to sweep May's legs. May jumps forward, rolling and darting out of the way. Skye doesn't have time to track May's movements, she's breathing far too hard; May jerks forward and punches the back of Skye's knee.
Skye lets out an "oomph" and feels her body go slack like a puppet cut from its strings.
May's on top of her in seconds, her hands around Skye's neck.
"May," Skye wheezes. "May! Stop!"
"Should have done this a long time ago," May says, looking down at Skye. Her eyes are black marbles of hate as she presses down on Skye's throat.
"May! Please!" Skye struggles to breathe, struggles to get her arms up to fight May off. Her heart sinking, she sees only her bruised and broken arms, locked into those tight casts – they've been present in all of her hallucinations and it hasn't mattered before, but now she's really going to die because her arms are useless.
Except they're maybe not. Skye goes limp under May's grasp, dropping her arms to the mats.
It stops May for a split second.
Skye brings up one of her arms and whacks May across the head with it. Pain ricochets up her arm and spreads through her shoulder and chest, but the impact is enough to knock May off her trachea. Skye rolls to one side and tries to get to her feet. Her throat aches and she's dizzy as she stumbles towards the door, trying to be anywhere but trapped in the gym with her crazed SO.
A burning pain rips through her ankle and she falls to the mats. Pain blossoms through her leg and Skye turns to look at May. Her SO is standing four feet away, her gun still in her hand.
"You shot me?"
"There's something we do with things like you," May spits. "We put them down."
Skye tries to crawl towards the door. She has to get out. She has to leave.
"I did it in Bahrain and I'll do it again." May moves closer, the gun still pointed at Skye.
"Why?" Skye gasps out. "Why do you all want to kill me?"
"We don't want to kill you," May says, and the gun gets closer. "We just don't. Want. You. Anymore."
May shoots, and a fresh spate of pain blossoms in Skye's chest. "You're an abomination. You're unnatural."
Skye shoves herself backwards a few inches, still trying to escape this inescapable situation. "You saved me before," she gets out. "When Lady Sif wanted me to go to Asgard with her. You were willing to protect me then. What happened? I haven't changed!"
"No," May says, and then she's right in front of Skye. The gun looks even bigger. "No, you haven't changed. We have."
Skye hears the final shot, but she closes her eyes so she can't see the hate in May's face.
"That's it," she hears May say as pain fizzles throughout her body. "Go to sleep. And don't wake up."
The ventilator alarm goes off and Coulson nearly falls out of his seat. A quick look at May confirms that she too was awakened by the sudden noise. His second look is to the bed, and it breaks his heart to see Skye lost in the throes of a seizure.
A new doctor, a female this time, comes running into the room with two nurses behind her, Simmons behind them. "How long?" Simmons asks.
"It just started," Coulson says.
"Her fever's still very high," the doctor says.
"You haven't given the cooling system enough time to work," Simmons says.
"What's the next step?" Coulson asks.
Simmons looks at the doctor.
"Hello, sir," the doctor says, stepping forward. "I'm Rose Mayerstein, and I've taken over from Dr. Ullman. I'd like to discuss your agent's treatment options."
"Can you fix this first?" Coulson asks, indicating Skye's seizing body on the bed.
Dr. Mayerstein nods to the nurses, who move into action. "We'll stop the seizure, but we have some difficult decisions to make."
Simmons moves to Skye's side and leans down, whispering something into her friend's ear. Coulson gives May a look.
"Let's go to the hallway," May says to the doctor. "I'll update Director Coulson once we've talked."
Dr. Mayerstein shakes her hand. "Sounds like a plan, Agent May. Please, step this way."
A drug in Skye's IV slows the seizure. At last the dark-haired girl falls limp on the bed. The room seems to collectively let out a breath.
Simmons is still crouched next to Skye, still whispering.
Coulson moves closer. He can't hear what Simmons is saying, but he can hear her frantic tone.
One of the nurses says something to the other, and Coulson loses the low beats of Simmons' whispers. "Can we make sure the seizures stop for good?" Coulson asks, turning to the nurses.
"It's… it's unlikely, sir, until the fever goes away."
Simmons straightens up. "She needs percussion."
Coulson gives Simmons a look. "I hardly think a drum set is going to solve our problems."
Her shoulders drop a scant inch or so, and he sees some of the tension dissipate from her face. "Oh, sir, that's… I should have expressed myself more carefully. Percussion treatment will knock loose the clots of mucus that are sticking to her lungs so that we can suction them out. That will help her to breathe easier while we track down the source of the infection and try to wipe it out."
"How did she get so sick so fast?" Coulson asks, his voice low.
Simmons shakes her head. "I don't know. But we can't change that. We can only try to make the best decisions going forward."
Skye's back arches and she flops awkwardly onto her side. She brings her arms up and her eyes slide open. Her expression is one of fear, and as Simmons and Coulson approach, she pulls back as far as she can, her lips moving around the breathing tube.
"Skye?" Simmons asks softly.
Skye's eyes go wide with terror and she pushes herself back further, her mouth wobbly, her hands shaking in her casts.
"Skye, it's Jemma," Simmons says. "And Coulson's right here with me."
Skye shakes her head, bringing her arms up as though to block anyone from seeing her.
"Skye, what's wrong?" Coulson asks, though he knows it's a stupid question. She can't communicate and she's clearly delirious, but he's desperate to know why she's so upset.
"It's going to be okay," Simmons says, and she reaches out and touches Skye's shoulder gently.
Panicked, Skye jerks her body away from the touch. Her arms slam together, and the lights overhead shatter.
In the dark Simmons can still hear the heart rate monitor – Skye's heart rate is through the roof, and judging from the jerking pulse under her fingers, Skye's breathing heavily. "What are you so afraid of?" she whispers to Skye.
Skye's arms fall to her sides and she again goes limp, all the fight gone out of her body, leaving Simmons and Coulson in the dark – both literally and figuratively.
"We have to fix her," Coulson says quietly.
"I'm trying," Simmons says as her heart sinks. "I just wish she'd try too."