A/N: All right, so it's not as long as I wanted to give you, but I'm trying to fix my sleep schedule and get into bed before midnight tonight. In this chapter: feisty!Simmons, Coulson plays cards, and Fitz + sandwiches = making any attack on SHIELD that much tastier.
Thank you to all my readers and reviewers and everyone who adds me/this story to their favorites. I've been trying to respond to reviews and messages this week and I promise I will do a better job replying to everything sooner. I love getting reviews and messages and I (honestly) always answer questions and send thank you's to folks who review.
More soon. Enjoy!
Simmons finds Fitz quite quickly. He's wearing a knapsack and hiding in the presumably locked cockpit of the Bus. She can only imagine that he's got the computer core backups in his backpack; he has an array of snacks (including a tasty-looking sandwich that she has no idea how he managed to make during all this) scattered around him and a thick book on his left knee (presumbly to whack either Mack or Bobbi with).
She turns the camera towards Fitz and begins tapping out a message with the "on" light next to the lens, using Morse code. It's short, and she repeats it over and over, hoping he'll see her.
Are you okay? We are okay. She knows it's not enough, but what she really wants to let him know is We're not dead.
At last Fitz notices the camera and watches the message. He gives the camera a thumbs-up. From his backpack he takes out a small flashlight and begins to Morse-code a message back to her. Skye okay?
Simmons looks over at Skye. Her friend is curled as tightly as possible, wires and tubes woven around her. The monitors indicate that even with the extra oxygen support, Skye's saturations are jerking up and down, and her fever has crept back up to 104. She's very sick.
What do you want to do? Fitz asks.
For the first time Simmons feels absolutely overwhelmed. Her training, her experience – none of it will be enough to save Skye. She feels tears wick at her eyes and she squeezes Skye's hand. I want to go back. To how it was.
Fitz nods.
A flash of movement from the hallway catches Simmons' eye and she looks up, seeing a group of people heading towards the medical bay. Hurriedly she taps out a final message to Fitz. Got to go. Hang on.
We'll get through this, Fitz transmits, and then his flashlight beam disappears.
Simmons hurriedly closes the laptop and shoves it into Skye's backpack.
A few seconds later, an elderly man with a cane and distinguished bearing strides into the room. Mack and Bobbi are behind him.
Simmons squeezes Skye's hand again, and her heart sinks when Skye doesn't even respond, her hand warm and damp and limp. It's as though Simmons can feel the quarantine chamber getting smaller around them. Part of her prays Skye will sleep through whatever this confrontation will be, since any earthquakes would surely prove to these intruders that she needs to be taken away for her own safety; the other part wouldn't mind seeing Skye earthquake-shove this elderly man and the two traitors into next week.
"Good evening, Dr. Simmons," the elderly man says.
Simmons flicks her eyes to Bobbi. Bobbi refuses to look at her. Mack, meanwhile, has his eyes locked on Skye.
"I'm Agent Robert Gonzales," the man goes on. "I apologize that we're meeting under less-than-cordial circumstances."
Simmons forces down any desire to speak. She keeps her fingers looped in Skye's, trusting the rhythm of the machine supporting Skye's breathing. The white noise becomes her ocean, her heartbeat, keeping her head above water.
Agent Gonzales waits as though expecting Simmons to respond. When she doesn't, he looks at first Bobbi, then Mack. Neither of his lieutenants speaks, so Gonzales takes a deep breath and starts again. "We're concerned about your friend."
I am too, Simmons thinks. She waits until the urge to say it aloud passes. In hers, Skye's hand twitches.
"She's unfortunately been given powers that are out of her control. Powers that endanger everyone around her – even you, Dr. Simmons. I know you're very fond of everyone here at SHIELD, and I admire that dedication. I know how much you'd like everyone here to remain safe, even Skye."
Again Simmons says nothing, and again the older agent looks absolutely stymied. He looks at Bobbi. Bobbi refuses to look up at him.
Skye whimpers, and her body jerks in on itself. On a shelf behind Gonzales, two beakers start to wobble. Simmons clamps down on Skye's hand, praying her friend can stop the quake before anyone notices it's started.
"Help us keep Skye safe, Agent Simmons," Gonzales says, stepping closer to the glass.
One of the beakers knocks against the other, and Bobbi's head comes up. The blond agent turns her head, sees the beakers, and turns back, locking eyes with Simmons.
Simmons tenses.
Bobbi says nothing.
Skye whimpers and moans, her head rolling back and forth. Under the positive pressure mask Simmons sees her lips moving, and she wants to bend down to hear what Skye's saying. Gonzales' presence prevents her from doing so, though.
Then Skye's voice rises and her head on the pillows begins to thrash side to side. "No, no, no," she sobs.
"It's okay," Simmons whispers.
The cabinet doors behind them start to vibrate, and Simmons repeats herself. "It's okay, Skye."
"We want to help her," Gonzales says.
Something in Simmons snaps, and she shoves herself off the bed and towards Gonzales. "You want to help her?" she demands. "You say that's what you want. If you want to help Skye, you'll leave her here with me."
She turns and extends her arm, showing Gonzales Skye's writhing form. "Do you see how sick she is? She's unable to keep her oxygen saturations up to normal levels. She's having trouble breathing and every ten breaths or so her body is forgetting to take a breath. That's what the positive pressure system is for. She has a raging viral infection that's settled into her lungs, a fever of a hundred and six, and she's extremely susceptible to seizures and septic shock. If you take her out of here under the guise of helping her, do you know what you'll be doing?"
She takes another step towards the glass. "Killing her."
Gonzales takes a wobbly step backwards.
"Do you know who's the real danger in this room? You," Simmons goes on. "You stormed in here with armed guards and a bomb, and now you're accosting a sick girl who can't defend herself because you're afraid of her."
"That's not it," Mack growls. "You saw what she did to the kitchen. To the windows. She could have killed any of us…"
"Except she didn't!" Simmons snaps sharply. "You all fear her, so much to the point that you enjoyed when she got sent away – and now you're here trying to take her away from the one place she feels safe, from the one group of people who love her and support her! Now, when she's struggling to breathe. That's a coward's way out, Mack."
Mack takes another step towards the quarantine chamber. Gonzales holds his hand up. "Agent Simmons, no one is saying Skye isn't ill. We have medical facilities that will be…"
Simmons interrupts him. "Be what? Perfect for experimenting on her?"
"You know that isn't true," Mack says.
"Really? Who do you even work for?"
Mack looks at Bobbi, who's still keeping her eyes on the floor. "The real SHIELD," he says eventually.
"As opposed to what?" Simmons looks back at Skye, who has gone very still, and then up at the monitors – oxygen saturations are falling, Skye's heart rate is shooting up. Something big is coming; Simmons can feel it in her chest, rattling her sternum.
Gonzales looks around, alarmed, as the glassware and equipment start moving and the lights overhead flicker. "Agent Simmons, you can stop this," he says.
"No," Simmons says softly, firmly. "No, I can't."
"Agent Simmons…?"
"You started this," Simmons says. "So you get to stop it."
And she turns her back on Gonzales and his crew of traitors, just in time to see Skye's heart rate plummet as her friend spasms into a seizure. Overhead the lights shatter and Simmons feels a glimmer of pride start to burn in her chest – a tiny pinpoint saying told you as it blossoms into flame.
Coulson looks at May. They've been stuck in his office for nearly an hour, four guards standing watch in the hallway. May has stayed mostly silent, cataloguing their various routes of escape, and now she stands at the window.
Coulson lays out another game of solitaire. His skin is crawling with his inability to protect his team; he's desperate to know they're all alive and safe.
May moves towards him and picks up a pad of paper and a pen. She scribbles a message to him: Fitz is on the Bus.
Coulson reads it and writes How do you know?
May silently points to his computer screen, showing that an hour ago the Bus' cargo bay ramp was lowered.
Coulson nods.
From the hallway there's a brilliant flash of blue light. Coulson looks over, wondering which of his team has gotten loose with an ICER. He rules out Simmons and Skye immediately, and with Fitz on the Bus… it has to be Hunter.
Then the door opens, revealing a tall, elegant-looking woman with scars bisecting her face and a man who seems completely ordinary, except for the fact that his eyes are missing, covered instead by smooth skin.
Almost immediately May is on her feet, reaching for a weapon that one of Gonzales' men relieved her of more than an hour ago. Coulson is a little slower to respond, but he gets to his feet as well. "How did you get in here?"
"Good evening, Agent Coulson and Agent May," the woman says. Her voice is warm, gentle, inviting. "My name is Jiaying, and this is my associate, Gordon."
The eyeless man nods in their direction.
"Do you work for Gonzales too?" Coulson asks.
"No," Jiaying says. "I don't work for anyone."
May and Coulson share a look.
"I'm here on a different matter," Jiaying goes on.
Coulson wants to make a joke about it being tax audit season or ask if they're selling Girl Scout cookies, but something in Jiaying's patient expression silences the jokes before they can leave his mouth. Instead he says, "Yes?"
"I'm here about Skye," Jiaying says.
"We know how ill she is," the eyeless man – Gordon? – says. "We want to help."
"And you are…?" Coulson wants a real answer. If they don't work for the "real SHIELD," they still have to be representing someone's interests.
"We're Inhumans," Gordon says. "Just like Skye."
It takes a minute for Coulson's brain to process that, and another minute before he can ask the two visitors what they mean, and several more minutes for Jiaying and Gordon to explain. When the conversation stops Coulson looks at May. "Did you know any of this?"
May shakes her head. "No."
"The Mist gives Inhumans amazing abilities," Gordon says. "Unfortunately many of them never realize their true potential because their bodies are unable to adapt to the change."
"We don't want Skye to be one of those people," Jiaying adds. "Her illness and its severity are proof that her body is trying to fight the change that has already occurred. It never ends well."
"So you want to… what? Give her some sort of Inhuman medicine?" Coulson asks.
"No," Jiaying says. "We want to take her with us."
"And any member of your team who is overseeing her care," Gordon hastens to add. "There are many things we can do to help Skye's Inhuman side, but continuing the medical regimen she's on now will only be to her benefit."
"Take her where?" May asks.
"Afterlife," Jiaying answers. "And it's not the afterlife – we have no intention of harming Skye or anyone here. It's the English name of the place where the Inhumans have a colony."
Coulson feels like his head has been scrambled by an egg beater. "So you'll take her, make her better, and then what?"
"If she chooses, she can stay at Afterlife and learn to control her powers," Jiaying replies. "Whether she chooses to stay or not, she is always free to return here to SHIELD. Or to go anywhere else she wants."
For a moment the office is silent. Then May speaks, addressing Coulson. "It's what you wanted for her," she says quietly. "You wanted to find someone who could help her control her gifts."
"Turns out they found us," Coulson murmurs.