Previously: After escaping Deathlok at Wal-Mart, Skye and Wolfe decide they need to lay low.

Chapter Five

The Comfort Inn room was small, smelled like cigarettes, and was stained in more places than Skye could count, but she found it one of the most welcome sights in the world.

"Ugh! Thank the gods of linens and things," she stated before collapsing face first onto one of the double beds.

Wolfe raised his eyebrows at the girl. "I wouldn't do that if I were you, kiddo. Have you ever heard of how disgusting those comforters are? They're not washed, pretty much ever."

"Don't care," came her muffled reply.

"Skye, come on. Get off of there and take the comforter down. That's filthy."

She lifted herself up onto her elbows so that her face was no longer concealed. "Wouldn't think you to be a germophobe, Agent Wolfe."

"I'm not," he laughed. "But those things are known for their lack of cleanliness."

"Fine, fine, whatever you say, boss man. I want to go get cleaned up anyway." She paused. "Unless you want to warn me about the bathroom germs too…?"

"Go take a shower, Agent Skye," he told her in a nagging tone, leaning down to take off his boots.

Skye was grinning as she grabbed her Wal-Mart bag full of new clothes (at great discount prices!) and headed into the bathroom. The image in the mirror startled her. She gasped, realizing she hadn't gotten a good look at herself in days.

She was, for lack of a better word, gross. Her hair was so tangled and dirty it rivaled the day that she had flown out of the BUS with Lola. Actually, the dirt was everywhere on her clothes and skin as well. Along with more minor cuts, her cheek held a scar from when she had fallen after the explosion whilst wearing handcuffs. She fleetingly hoped it wouldn't be permanent. But the ugliest thing she noticed on her face was a giant bruise on her forehead from the foolish head-butt she'd tried to give Garrett right at the start.

She scowled at her appearance, only adding to the unattractiveness.

Turning on the shower, she started to strip out of her clothes. The new cargo pants she set delicately down to be put on afterwards while the medical gown remains were thrown immediately into the garbage.

"Good riddance," she whispered to the piece of clothing.

Just as she was about to get in, she remembered her injured hand and the now filthy and used gauze that was wrapped around it. She began to take it off, but stopped when it crossed her mind that hot water could be very painful for such a deep injury and she had nothing else to cover it with. She decided to assess its damage when she got out.

She made a point to be sure and scrub every inch of herself down; it was her first shower in four or five days. Hopefully. She didn't want to think of what they might have done while she was unconscious…

Her mind wandered that way while she was relished in the hot water. What had happened to her? Three days was a long time to be asleep, and in that time she'd somehow gotten from a secret Costa Rican base to a closed down Ohio fair.

Before she could dwell too much on things that she couldn't change, she switched off the water and got out.

Gathering up a pair of the panties (boy-shorts, score!) her new bra, and cargo pants, she got nearly fully dressed. She rummaged through the bag again to see what he got her by way of shirts. One of them was a Heroes of New York: Thor t-shirt. She wasn't usually one for graphic tees, but she was one for Thor.

After a reassess in the mirror she decided she looked much better, combing through her knotted, wet hair with her fingers in the absence of a brush.

Now came what she'd been avoiding: her hand.

The gauze was now soaked from the shower, but this actually made it a little easier to unravel. She hissed in pain as she began to pull it off of her actual palm. The fabric had begun to stick to her wound and was proving difficult to rip off.

She pierced her lips together, but couldn't help a few grunts and small whimpers as she tore it off.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

"Skye? Is everything ok?"

"Yes! Everything's fine," she answered quickly in a panic, feeling slightly disconcerted at being caught in her vulnerability. "I'm just… cleaning a wound."

"Are you decent?"

She nearly laughed at how formal a question it was. "Hmm, well, depends on the topic I guess. I'm decent at Poker, but I'm pretty kick-ass in Battleship, if I do say so myself. Which I do."

"Skye, are you dressed?" he said seriously, but she could hear the grin in his voice.

"Completely covered in the finest of Wal-Mart brand clothing."

Wolfe burst through the room and his focus immediately zoned in on Skye's hand. "Oh kiddo, why didn't you tell me how bad this was?"

Skye sighed, her sarcastic attitude now lost with Wolfe's concern.

"I guess I didn't even really know myself," she admitted, looking down at her raw and now burning palm. The initial attack had hurt pretty dang badly, probably ranking somewhere around an eight on her pain scale, but the amount of blood had kept her from seeing just exactly what he'd done. She could now see bottom and top of it had fairly good-sized chunks out of them, with the center only just scraped. She didn't think any of it got down to her muscle, though.

Wolfe motioned to take her hand, only to hesitate. "Can I take look?"

Skye nodded and made a welcoming gesture with her good hand. "Look away. Not like, look away from me, I mean feel free to look… away. Here," she finished, holding out her hand so it was easily accessible.

Wolfe took her wrist gently, avoiding the wound strategically as he observed. "It looks so fresh."

"There was gel or some crap on the gauze, so Raina must have put some sort of medicine on it. It's like it stopped the bleeding or whatever."

"That's good it's still fresh, because it needs more than just gauze and some anti-biotic ointment."

"It does?"

"Yes. I'll go get some stitching supplies."

"Please tell me you just have a sudden urge to knit a sweater."

Wolfe gave her a look of sympathy before heading out the door.

Skye looked down at the wound that needed to be sewed together, trying to look at the bright side. But with the nagging absence of her team, it was hard to see one. She still tried.

"At least they can't do anything else to me now," she reasoned to herself.

A/n: This chapter is short and I probably should have just combined it with the last one, but I didn't realize. Oh well. Hope you enjoyed the throwaway chapter of Skye's depressing thoughts! I'll probably update again tomorrow with some Fitzsimmons.