I am soo sorry about the absence. I've recently gotten a job and it's been kind of crazy busy. I am so so grateful for all of the reviews, I honestly wouldn't have kept working on this if it hadn't gotten such a big reaction. (for me, this is big, so fic writers who get an average of 80 favorites, please hush. you're too perfect and it's a problem)
SO, enjoy chapter six and here's hoping I won't leave you hanging for another 8 months. D:
LOVE,

-N

Agent May started up the plane, after hearing Coulson's confirmation to do so over the earpiece, she grabbed the controls and used the buttons and gears to lift the entire aircraft into the air. She let out a soft breath and leaned back in her seat, she felt something jolt for half a second. She frowned, double checking that she had all of the safety measures in place. It was probably nothing, she told herself, setting the coordinates for Central City again.

They'd stopped in the desert due to a sudden alert that had come up on the screen, she'd had to lower the plane somewhere in the middle of nowhere. Apparently there was a fuel leak in one of the engines and the warning was screaming at them that they had to land immediately and turn off the engine or it'd combust. Or something. May hadn't been paying much attention, she hadn't felt threatened by it at all.

But Fitz and Simmons had insisted they land so that they could fix the engine before continuing, Coulson had decided that a slight detour wouldn't hurt any of them. And he'd taken Skye out for a walk in the sun, so that she could vent some about Trip and Dad and anything else she needed to talk about. Coulson obviously had a soft spot for the girl, which was why May was always so hard on her, to help bring her down a notch, to not let it all go to her head.

As she switched it into autopilot, May stood up, stretching some. She left the cockpit, expecting to see the team standing in the main sitting area, but it was empty. She frowned some. Where did everyone go? Walking over to the counter, she reached to the underside, and pulled up an Icer pistol, just in case.

Raising herself onto the balls of her feet, she approached the hallway, looking down the row of sleeping quarters. There was no one anywhere. She approached the hangar bay, assuming maybe they were still down there, FitzSimmons was most likely in the lab now, but Coulson would have been heading for his office by now.

Carefully she came forwards, glancing down the spiralling staircase, she came out onto the balcony. Voices reached her ears and she heard Coulson demanding something, she focused on his words.

"Put the weapon down, sir!"

She took one final step forwards and aimed her gun at the first unfamiliar figure she could see, a man dressed in yellow leather. Shoot first, ask questions later. That was how she'd been trained, but in this case she wished she hadn't. She trained the Icer barrel at the man's chest and pulled the trigger, firing a blue burst of incapacitating Icer bullet at this man.

The impossible happened. He dodged it, his body seemed to become a blur as he moved out of the way and the bullet embedded itself into the wall behind him. She wanted to rub her eyes, clear her vision, to see if what she was seeing was actually true. It was impossible to move with that speed, he was standing in one place one minute and seemed to vanish for a second before reappearing five feet away.

But now she was paying more attention, she could see the massive metal rod that was clutched in his hand, he most likely got it from the entire stack of them that was along the wall next to the cars. She also got a look at his face, her breath caught in her throat and her heart seemed to stop beating. The world around her fell silent and the only sound in the room was his movements and their breathing, her vision blurred for a second and the only thing she could see was him, staring up at her with those unblinking ice blue eyes.

She wanted to talk, to move, but she couldn't, something inside her had died a little bit at seeing him and it rendered her unable to do anything. She could only watch as a blue bullet from an entirely different angle buried itself into his chest and he choked out a gasp that sounded vaguely like Tess, before his body fell to the ground with a thump.

Letting out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, May moved forwards, calling out. "Who fired that?" she wanted to see them, she wanted to convince herself she wasn't angry at them, she wanted to tell herself that they weren't trying to hurt him. She leaned over the edge of the balcony and saw Skye drop the Icer in her hand and sigh.

Of course it'd been Skye, May trained her and she'd shot first, asked questions later.

Her legs seemed to finally move as she stumbled down the steps, coming to stand at the base of them and watch as Hunter and Mack picked up the man in yellow and carry him over to the lab, where they laid him down on one of the tables. Fitz seemed to be watching May, he was visibly confused, but Coulson ushered him out after Simmons, into the lab.

May's dark eyes were fixed on Skye, she breathed heavily and swallowed every ounce of emotion, before walking up to her. Coulson seemed to be standing protectively near her, he'd rescued the man too, perhaps not as quickly, but he knew about May's attachment to him.

Looking at the young woman, May opened her mouth and said. "Good shooting, Skye."

Skye's shoulders seemed to drop from the relief, she gave a tiny smile and nod and replied. "Thanks," before shuffling off after FitzSimmons and the rest of the team. They were all like little ducklings, circling around the unconscious man, waiting for him to do something. It was surprising that Hunter didn't start poking him.

Coulson's stance shifted and he seemed to be challenging May, his gaze was intense as he spoke, choosing his words very carefully, obviously not wanting to upset her. "You missed," his words were sharp, accusatory and they stung a bit. But he hadn't meant them in a hurtful manner, he didn't want to hurt May, everyone knew that.

But hurt her, he did. May turned around and headed back towards the stairs, saying over her shoulder. "You're right, I was aiming for you," in any normal circumstance, Coulson would have laughed, she was joking. He didn't laugh, he just watched the broken woman make her way back up the stairs to the main sitting room, knowing that she would just disappear back into the cockpit to pretend like the world doesn't exist.

"Hello, we promise not to hurt you, if you'd just lie still," came a high sweet British accent, filling his ears with a throbbing feeling that made his head pound. Why was anyone talking right now? Trying to sit up, a gentle hand pressed against his chest and the same soft voice said. "Please, hold still, Dr. Wells."

"How-" he gasped. "How do you know my name?"

A light laugh. "We're very good at what we do. And I dare say, so are you, you're quite successful."

Struggling to open his eyes, Harrison Wells looked up, blinking through the light. His gaze landed on a smiling face, surprisingly pretty, a soft face with brown curls that fell around the chin. A young woman watching him carefully, her eyes a rich brown, the color of oak.

His mouth opened and lingered for several seconds, sucking in air. "W-who are you?" he queried, his eyebrows ducking down to press over his eyes.

"Your doctor, and it's under my suggestion - and insistence - that you hold still, please," she gave a tender smile and continued doing...something.

He looked down and saw a burn mark on his abdomen, she was treating it with some sort of solvent and a sponge on the end of a metal clamp. A groan escaped through his lips and he wanted to roll over, but instead he held still. The pain was starting to settle in, a numbing ache that ran throughout his entire chest, it thrummed against his skin, like icy fingers prodding him.

Speaking of, he looked over and saw a young man, sitting on a tall stool next to the bed, poking his leg. He yanked it up, shooting a threatening glare down to the curly haired doctor.

"Fitz, don't disturb the poor man," the young woman said, moving across the room to shoo her lab partner out. He seemed disgruntled over being sent away, but giving the girl a small smile, he eventually shuffled off.

"Why am I here? What are you planning on doing to me?" Wells rasped, he wanted to clutch his side, hoping to feel something, but he couldn't move his arms. He felt sore, tired and weak. He hated feeling weak. Just thinking about being weak sent a fiery rage ripping through his chest, it would have erupted in a fit of anger, but he was too tired to lash out. Maybe later.

"Dr. Wells, please, just rest for right now. We don't have any terrible intentions, I assure you," she said, reaching over to the machine that he was apparently attached to. She pressed a button and a sense of calm washed over him, sweeping from his feet up, it was a warmth that almost prickled. His eyes drifted shut.

No, this is what they want. This is what Tess wants. To hurt you. To make you vulnerable.

His eyes shot back open and he somehow managed to lift his arm, just enough to grab the girls wrist, crushing it in his hand. She cried out in shock, trying to pull her wrist free from his grip.

Scrambling for something to use to protect herself, she ended up knocking things off of her table, gasping in fear as he slowly sat up.

"You are beneath me, you can't overpower me," he sneered at her. He stood up, slowly and painfully.

Her hand found something, Fitz's latest project. He'd brought it in when he followed her, he must have accidentally left it. She didn't know what it was exactly, but it was metal and heavy. Gripping it in her hand, she brought it forwards, smacking it into Wells' head.

His body fell backwards, hitting the bed with a thump and a creak of the springs. He was like a deadweight, dropping down.

Her wrist stung with pain and she pulled it to her chest, wrapping her other hand around it. Footsteps behind her alerted her to someone running into the room, she looked over her shoulder and saw a massive figure, moving quickly towards her. Mack.

She looked up at him as he laid a hand on her shoulder. "What happened?" he asked, staring at Wells' unconscious body, he might as well be dead, he was so pale. "Are you okay?"

Slowly standing up, Simmons picked up Fitz's project. "I'm fine. Any idea what this is?" she looked up at Mack, seeing recognition pass over his face, then it dropped away and he shrugged.

"No idea."

Suspicion rose in her, but she was too concerned with the man who'd just attacked her to question Mack about it right now. She motioned towards him and said. "Help me get him back on the bed."

Mack moved around her and lifted the man's legs, swinging them onto the bed, before roughly shoving his torso into a straight position. "Why wasn't he strapped down?" he asked, picking up the ankle straps and tightening them around his ankles, walking forwards to do the same with the arm and chest straps.

Looking down, Simmons murmured. "I thought I could handle him. I figured I'd given him enough painkillers to render him virtually immobile. I guess I was wrong," she finished her words with a solemn tone and carried Fitz's little hunk of metal out of the room, leaving Mack alone to stare at this Dr. Wells.

He looked at him closely, he was very thin and didn't look like the type that could be a supervillain, he didn't have any apparent muscles underneath all that leather. He wanted to scoff. He was kind of pathetic, in a lost soul sort of way.