SUMMARY: If May can soldier through injuries, why can't Skye? - In which Skye goes a little too far in trying to be independent.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I don't know why, but I rather liked this chapter. Next chapter will be something a little fluffier - which may or may not star our little senior agents. Anyway, hope you enjoy!
CHAPTER FOURTEEN: To Be Like Her
It's the end of the battle scene, and Skye is heaving for breath, staring dully at the body of the armour-clad Hydra mole. He's dead, of course. She doesn't even want to look at his ID card. It was a tough battle, but May had been by her side the entire time, and in the end they had won through.
"Skye!" Her head whips up too quickly, and she stifles a groan of pain as the world appears to spin. She raises a hand to the crown of her head, pulling it back down to see the tracks of blood that come off. Simmons is by her side instantly, a medicine kit by her side and a worried expression on her face. "Are you hurt?"
Skye's head is spinning, the world looks distorted, and her side burns with something almost as bad as the time she was shot, but a side glance to May silences her from voicing this. The Calvary is always so composed, so calm. Never afraid, and never showing pain. That was Skye's aim. She had to become more like May; stoic, fearless, amazing.
"I'm fine, Simmons," she pants, forcing a smile for the distraught bio-chemist's sake. There's an overwhelming pity for her friend every time she sees Simmons, because Fitz is lying somewhere motionless on a bed, and there's nothing Skye or anyone else can do to fix it except the engineer himself. "Go check on May."
Simmons scrambles off obediently to tend to May. Skye lets out a loose breath and ever so slightly lifts her arm up to cradle her side.
...
"You sure you're okay?"
"Damn you, Triplett," Skye frowns at the charismatic specialist. He's just returned from his own mission - a mission that he's refusing to tell her about, by the way. He's obviously noted that something's wrong, and for that Skye hates him. Her head's cleared up now and she can think clearly, but her side still burns like hell and she's honestly too scared to check the wound.
"Because I'm sure Simmons will fix it. She looks like she needs the distraction," Triplett nods over to the lab doors, and Skye notes with a tinge of guilt that Simmons is bent over some research, looking scared and terribly alone. But Skye can't tell Simmons. If she wants to be more like May, she has to start now. And that includes sucking up her injuries and not whining about it like some distraught child.
So instead she forces a dry smile at Triplett. "I'm fine, Trip. Seriously. It was just a couple of Hydra moles. No biggie."
"No biggie for May. But you're different, Skye. You've been in the field for.. how long? You don't have the skills to fight, not even after all of Ward's lessons." For once, Skye is surprised to find that he doesn't stutter and avoid Ward's name. Everyone else has been practically walking on ice around her with the subject of Ward. His name hits her like a punch to the gut, but instead of feeling depressed, she finds it refreshing. Maybe someone like Triplett is just what she needs to get over it.
"Yeah, well I handled it. Maybe I'm just getting better," she retorts quickly.
"Maybe you are," Triplett chuckles. He twists around and pulls two drinks from the fridge - some of those cheap beers you can buy for almost nothing at any liquor store -, sliding one over the table to her. "Here. You look like you need one."
"Why do you offer everyone beer?" Skye asks curiously, although she accepts the beverage with a grateful nod of thanks, desperately trying to ignore the hell fire that is brewing on her side. "Don't lie to me, I've seen you offer it to people at least four times just in these past two weeks."
"I believe alcohol is the best remedy for everything," he replies simply, his lips tilting up into a small smirk as he pops open the cap.
"Damn straight." She follows suit, tilting back her head and chugging down some of the contents. It's only afterwards that she thinks to offer a cheers. She holds out her bottle with a wry smile. "To SHIELD."
Triplett holds his bottle to hers. "To Coulson, May, FitzSimmons, and the agency we were once a part of."
"To the agency we are still a part of."
"That too," Triplett smiles.
"Cheers, Trip."
Clink.
Skye finds that the alcohol and the good company numbs her pain, so they drink the night away, pretending not to notice the lonely figure of Simmons crying silently in the lab.
...
"Get up."
That's what jolts Skye out of her fevered dreams and into the real world - which wasn't much better, in all honesty. May is standing in the doorway, and it takes Skye several moments for her vision to stop being blurry and concentrate on the senior agent.
"May?" She pushes herself up, only to regret it instantly as her side burns like fire, and tears spring to her eyes instinctively from the pain. She bites her tongue to stop from whimpering, instead forcing a tired grin at May.
"Get up. You're coming to train with us this morning."
"Sorry, what?" She can hear the incredulous tone in her voice, and her heart does a weird skipping dance in her chest. On one hand, this is the chance she's been looking for. Skye's been trying to be more like May for so long, and here's the time. On the other hand, her wound stings like a thousand angry Hydra bees, and a tired Skye is not a cooperative Skye. "You want me to get up at.. what, two AM to train with you and Triplett?"
"It's half four, Skye. Coulson's orders," May responds, arching one eyebrow up at her. She throws a bundle of clothes at Skye, and it lands on her lap. "You've got fifteen minutes. We'll be down in the training room."
...
It takes everything she's got to pluck up the courage to look at her wound. When she eventually peels back her shirt and looks in the mirror, she visibly winces. Skye suddenly feels like throwing up.
The wound is worse than she'd anticipated. It's a ghastly graze, digging deeper into her skin than normal. Dried blood crusts the outside, and there's other horrible things that she doesn't even want to think about. Swallowing heavily as she peers into the mirror, Skye desperately tries to recall anything at all about first aid, or any of the spiels Simmons often went on. Nothing comes to mind, so she dabs at it tentatively with a cloth - cue the pain -, wriggles a clean shirt on and swallows some random painkillers that she finds in the medical drawers of the tiny bathroom.
By the time she clears everything up and applies make-up to cover her sickly expression, she's running late for her session with May.
"Time to hate-fu," she mutters to herself, gritting her teeth at her reflection.
...
"Up. Down. Block right," May spits out directions at Triplett like quick-fire, sending jabs and kicks to his body whenever he messes up or gets a move wrong. It's a little harsh, but she knows from experience that it's the best way to get it done. Now and again, she sends a glance to the door, but Skye hasn't turned up yet.
With one swift move, she delivers a sharp jab to Triplett's ribs, and he stumbles back. While he's down, she attacks again, and within moments, she's got him pinned to the floor.
"Damn," he pants, shaking his head in wonder at her. "They don't call you the Calvary for nothing."
"Don't call me that," May chides, but the corners of her lips tilt up into a wry smile. She moves her weight from his and lets him up, reaching over to grab one of the many bottles of water sitting on the sidelines. She offers him one, and he takes it with a nod of thanks. "You're getting better."
"You think? I won't ever be a Melinda May, but I think I could do well for myself."
"You'd do fine for yourself." Antoine Triplett has gradually grown on May. Of course, the man has enough charm to tame a lion, but May had been wary because of his connections to Garret. If Ward was a traitor, who was to say Triplett was safe as well?
"You spoil me, May." The conversation pauses as both take a breather to gulp down some water.
"Ready to go again?" Before she can get Triplett's answer, a very familiar person enters the training room.
"You took your time," Triplett notes, and May turns to meet Skye. She smiles and rolls her eyes.
"Yeah, well. I fell in love with my reflection." The words are definitely Skye worthy, but there's something off about her. She looks normal, her skin is healthy, but it lacks some of it's usual shine, and glints slightly in the light, looking almost like.. make-up. Her movements are slightly different, and she favours her left side more. No normal person would have picked up on it, but May was trained specially for situations such as these. She considers asking what's wrong, but she stops herself. Skye would say if something was wrong. Things had been hard on everyone lately. Perhaps everything was only just beginning to catch up to Skye.
So she doesn't comment on the fact that Skye is almost fifteen minutes late, instead setting down her water and leaning back against the wall. "Warm up. You two spar. I'll watch."
The two take their respective places, and May watches Skye closely. She knows that Skye's been trying hard, but the younger woman still doesn't have the same skills as Triplett, who's been training for a longer time. Being trained by Garret was a force to be reckoned with. May knows from various fights with Ward. Ward. The name sends a stab of anger through her heart, but it's gone in a split second, and she's back to reality.
Triplett waits for Skye to throw the first punch, and she does so, attempting a kick at the other agent. It falls pathetically short of him and he dives forward again to deliver a light jab to her ribs. She attempts to block, but she fails.
And then everything happens in slow motion. Skye topples to the ground, collapsing on the ground. Triplett watches with wide eyes, as if he had caused something terrible to happen. Skye began to twitch, and when May dashes forward, it feels like she is underwater.
"Skye, can you hear me? Go get Simmons! Skye?"
...
"Skye! You're awake!" It's the first thing she hears when she jolts back to reality. The voice hurts her brain, and when her eyes flutter open the bright lights stab at her vision.
"What?" She manages to stumble out eventually, blinking rapidly to see Simmons beaming down at her. Her smile is brighter than Skye's seen it in a while, but something is off. Something Skye is too tired to think about at the moment.
"Simmons?" She enquires blearily. "What happened? In English for dummies, please."
"You were training with Triplett and May when you collapsed," Simmons explained. "After further examination, I discovered the wound you had been hiding from us. It's infected, but now that I've properly treated it, you should be feeling better now."
Skye remembers with a pang of guilt the wound that she had tried so hard to hide. "I'm sorry, Simmons. It's just.. I wanted to seem more like May. Brave, and fearless. Ready for anything."
"Oh, Skye," Simmons sighs, but she has a gentle smile on her lips. "That's not the way to go about it. But if it makes you feel any better, it's partly my fault. I should've properly checked over you, but I was preoccupied with..." Fitz. The unspoken word hangs in the air like an ominously brewing storm cloud.
"It's okay, Simmons," she returns the smile. "How bad is it?"
"You'll be on bed rest for several days. Strictly bed rest, you hear me? That means-"
"Not leaving the bed, yeah, I know," Skye sighs, before wincing as a thought occurs to her. "Coulson's going to kill me."
"Well.. He did say that he wanted to talk to you," Simmons says regretfully, her eyebrows lifted in an apologetic fashion.
"Great. Oh, joy."
"He's just worried for you, Skye. We're all worried," Simmons replies gently. "You need to tell us about things like this. It's nice that you want to be brave, but.." she took an oddly shaky breath, "sometimes bravery isn't a good thing. Get some sleep, alright? I have to-"
"-visit Fitz. Yeah. Tell him.." she pauses, because she's not exactly sure what to tell a comatose engineer. "Tell him that I miss him, okay?"
Simmons sad smile is genuine as she begins to creep out the door. "I'll tell him."
"And, Simmons?"
"Yes?"
"Thanks. Tell the team thanks. For worrying about me."
"I'll be sure to do that, Skye."