Okay, so I don't know whether to apologize or expect thanks for the 6,441-word chapter I'm about to impart upon you all. Tell me afterward? ;)

BUT FIRST. THAT EPISODE. *deep breath* Honestly I can't think of a better sendoff that's truer and more respectful to their characters than that one, but I just...wasn't ready for them to leave just three episodes out from midseason. ABC, you'd better deliver on that Marvel's Most Wanted spinoff now. Seriously.

Earthquake

The man with short-cropped, jet black hair who was currently trying to kill her was having a very hard time of it. She cracked him across the shoulder—damn it, she'd meant to hit the brittle bone of his forearm but he'd twisted—and followed it up with a whack to the side of the head. She wiped the scarlet streak off her left stave on his uniform as he slumped against the wall, leaving a bloody trail down it.

Bobbi left his body there as she continued on through the Ponce de León, eyes and ears alert for other HYDRA agent lurking about. She was on her own, but she knew Coulson and May were elsewhere in the building doing the same thing she was—looking for Skye and the Obelisk. Shutting down the drill currently tunneling into the alien city. And distracting HYDRA from the charges Fitz, Simmons, and Trip were planting in the aforementioned alien city.

By killing them.

Some days she really, really loved her job.

Her fingers tightened around her staves as she heard others approaching, but at the last second let them clip magnetically to her back and drew her gun. The first agent received a bullet in her head almost as soon as she turned the corner, but the others were smart enough not to charge around it when the first fell dead. Bobbi waited silently, positive she could outlast the curiosity of the goons on the other side. Sure enough it took less than minute for one of them to peek out. Grabbing the collar of his uniform, she shot him just under the chin and red splattered the wall across the way. Two more bullets discharged but not from her gun, and she felt the dead man's body slam into her with the force of bullets hitting it. She pointed her own gun at him and pulled the trigger, only to hear it click empty. Damn, she hadn't been counting rounds like she usually would. Two more bullets hit the body she was now using as a shield.

Izzy would be laughing at her right now.

The thought of her fallen friend—murdered by HYDRA, and over the Obelisk as if she needed any more reasons to kill today—made Bobbi grit her teeth and pull a small circular disk from her belt. She chucked it at the HYDRA goon, watching it latch onto his body and disintegrate him into nothing and thinking that Hartley probably would have enjoyed trying out a splinter bomb as well. Then again, Izzy had always been more of a hands-on, knife-in-the-gut kind of fighter.

Hartley kept it personal.

Bobbi discarded the body, loaded her gun with a second clip, and then moved onwards. The walls of the Ponce de León looked worse for wear for HYDRA's occupation even before she started painting them with blood, but it still contained an air of regality to it despite the foreign occupation.

Up ahead she heard the sound of voices, so she flattened herself against the wall. "Where's Trojak?" one of them was asking.

"Didn't you hear?" another said. "He's dead. The madman's daughter did it." Bobbi wondered if they were talking about Skye.

"Is she dead?" the first asked.

"No," said the second, sounding thoroughly disgusted with that fact. "Why not is above my pay grade."

"I've heard she can hold the thing," a third man chimed in.

"Then she's worth more than both of us," one said drily to a few nervous laughs.

"Tell that to Trojak."

Bobbi interrupted their little grumble-session by kicking open the door to the room with her boot and going in guns blazing. The door smacked one of the men in the face and knocked the weapon out of another's hands. That left her one to dispatch—which she did—before smacking the unarmed one in the temple with the butt of her gun.

Three guys in three seconds. Izzy would be proud.

Looking around, the room she was in now seemed different from the others—more lavishly furnished in shades of maroon and purple, with a plump velveteen couch in the center and fresh flowers in a vase on the small table. Daisies, if her botany knowledge didn't fail her. She inwardly wondered if Coulson or May had found Skye yet. With HYDRA jamming their comms, she had no way of knowing whether the others had completed their objectives yet—and no way of calling for backup if she needed it.

Leaving the strangely ornate room behind—something still felt off about it to her—it didn't take long to find another group of HYDRA agents lying in wait for her. The adrenaline of the initial breach of the facility had long since worn off, but it didn't stop her from utilizing her staves to knock their guns out of their hands. Just as she thought she was finished with the two of them, a giant sneeze rocketed down the corridor from somewhere nearby. Bobbi smirked. Well, that was one way to accidentally give up your position.

When she found him the last HYDRA agent didn't even bother trying his weapon but came at her swinging. Bobbi moved to block but overextended as he suddenly pulled back into himself. Surprised, she moved close and smashed her arm against his head towards the wall just as he sneezed right in her face. Her forearm connected and his head smacked against the wall. He slid down it as she wiped the moisture off on her sleeve, glaring at his immobile form. "Cover your mouth next time," she growled, stepping over his body.

Bobbi checked her watch. A whole thirty minutes had passed since they'd breached the compound, and she would have no idea how things were going until she reached the drill. They'd given her the long route because it was less likely to be protected—since she was alone—and most likely to have Skye hidden along it—as far away from the drill as possible. So far she'd seen neither hide nor hair of Skye, and that troubled her. Having spent some time as their enforcer herself, she didn't trust what HYDRA would do to her, especially if those guards were right that she had killed one of their own.

She also didn't know how she'd explain to Isabelle that her beloved playmate Skye was dead. Bobbi refused to let that happen.

Luckily the long winding part was over and she'd almost reached the spiral stairwell that lead straight down into the basement, where Coulson's map had it located. She took them two at a time as she hurried downwards from three floors above.

Something felt wrong. Bobbi couldn't put her finger on it but she stopped suddenly, sure of the sense of deep foreboding that had just overtaken her. Normally that would probably mean somewhere Hunter had done something stupid—a good guess because he always seemed to be doing something stupid—but Hunter wasn't on this op. After a few moments of clenched muscles the feeling receded, leaving behind a profound wariness. All of her specialist instincts were on high alert.

Nevertheless, she had no choice but to continue onward.

Just as the tip of her boot grazed the last step before the second landing, the earth trembled beneath her. It shook and then jerked, left, right, left and she fell against the side wall feeling her wrist crunch against it sickeningly, followed by a wave of pain as her gun skittered across the floor. The earth continued to roll beneath her, stronger in magnitude than any earthquake she'd ever experienced—and she'd lived a few years in California. It knocked her from side to side and dust from the ceiling began to clog her nose and eyes, but she did her best to curl into a ball on the step, trying to remain immobile when everything else around her was moving.

At last, the ground gave one final shudder and was still. Almost not believing it was truly over—again, she'd lived in California, so she knew all about aftershocks—she waited a few seconds before daring to straighten and allow her legs currently twisted beneath her to rest in a more natural position. Huge coughs wracked her frame as her body tried to expel the dust she'd breathed in over the—how long had it been? A minute? Two?—course of the earthquake. Her wrist cried out in protest when she tried to move it, and Bobbi hoped it was just sprained instead of broken.

She gingerly got up, picked up her gun, and then ran down the rest of the stairs into the basement. Several times her foot slipped on the dust and bits of rubble coating them, but she didn't adjust her speed. That feeling of warning, of foreboding—that hadn't been for Hunter, it had been for her and her team.

Bobbi skidded to a halt in front of the giant hole in the floor, peering down into it despite the darkness of the basement. "Bobbi!" May shouted from somewhere to the left of her, and she turned to see May with her leg trapped under a fallen steel pipe around a foot in diameter. She immediately ran over and tried to lift it, but her wrist couldn't handle the strain.

"Hold on," she told May, who just gritted her teeth.

Spotting a steel rod on the wall, Bobbi broke it off and used it as a lever to lift the pipe, pushing down on one end with all her strength after slipping the other near May's trapped limb. May pulled her leg out from under it with a grunt and Bobbi let the pile fall with a dull clang.

"Where's Coulson?" she demanded, offering May her arm.

The specialist accepted it, pulling herself to her feet. She stood favoring the other, but when she walked towards the hole in the floor it was with only a slight limp. "Down there," May pointed.

"How did that—never mind," Bobbi said, recognizing that information as unimportant at the present moment. Focus, Morse, she berated herself. She was usually better than this. "And the earthquake?"

"Not unusual for Puerto Rico, but I have a bad…"

"A bad feeling, yeah," she nodded. "Me too."

"Hey!" A shout, faint but audible, drifted up from the pit. They both froze. "HEYYYYY!"

"Mack?" Bobbi leaned over it, astounded. Could it really be him, or were her ears playing tricks on her? Was she hearing what she wanted to hear? But no, the look she was currently exchanging with May told her the specialist was alarmed—she'd recognized it too. "MACK! Say something!"

"I have Coulson! Lift us up!"

The relief that flooded her at hearing Mack's voice again faded somewhat as she recalled what he had been the last time she had seen him. Bobbi looked at May. "Should we?"

"We have no choice." May motioned at Bobbi to raise her gun before hitting a red button on the machine nearby. Bobbi pointed it at the pit, praying to whatever deity was listening that it was really Coulson and Mack who were about to come out of it, and that Mack would be his old self again and wouldn't try to kill them.

That she wouldn't have to kill him.

The cable made a small hissing sound as it was pulled upwards and towards the ceiling, but the platform attached to it emerged after less than a minute. Mack and Coulson collapsed off of it in a heap of body parts, leaving it swinging slightly from the sudden loss of weight.

"Coulson!" May was by his side in an instant while Mack rolled away from him, pushing himself to his knees.

"He's knocked out; I had to carry him," he explained, breathing labored and harsh. Bobbi let the gun fall to her side, then holstered it to kneel down beside the director as well. The side of Coulson's head was bloody and his eyes were closed. "I don't know if it was the earthquake, or if I did it…"

"Did you see Skye down there?" May looked up at him. Her hand was pressed lightly into the side of Coulson's neck checking for a pulse. "He's alive." The words were more a release of tension in her than spoken for their benefit.

"Skye?" Mack asked. A shadow passed over his face. "Skye. Yeah, I think so. She said...she said she'd come back for me."

"Before or after the earthquake?"

"Before. But I was still...I was still that thing then. It's all hazy, but...I don't think I wanted to attack her. Not like I did him." He gestured towards Coulson on the floor. Standing up, Bobbi threw her arms around his neck.

"I thought you were dead," she whispered. She couldn't feel his heartbeat through the layers of her tac suit but she knew it was there just from touching him, strong and steady like always.

"You shouldn't be doing that," May said and Bobbi released him. "We don't know how the city possessed him, or if it's communicable."

"His eyes aren't black and he's not trying to kill us," Bobbi replied. "It was a risk I was willing to take."

"No, she's right, Barbara," Mack rumbled, stepping away from her. "I'll have Simmons take a look at me when we get back from…" He looked around. "Wherever we are."

"Skunggghh," Coulson groaned from the floor.

May put her face close to his. "Phil?"

"Skye…" he murmured, eyes opening. "I...saw her. She's still down there. We have to...save her."

"We will," May promised. "Are you hurt?"

"Don't...think so," he replied, carefully maneuvering himself into a sitting position. May's eyes watched him like she was expecting him to collapse any second and was ready to catch his head before it hit the concrete, which she probably was. He looked up at Mack. "You're not trying to kill me anymore, so that's a good start."

"No, sir," Mack said. "And I'm glad, director."

"Me too." Coulson looked at May. "We have to rescue her."

"What's it like down there?" Bobbi asked.

"Rubble. Lots of rubble. Had to move some pretty big pieces to get to here," Mack replied.

"I'll call Fitz and Simmons," the specialist nodded. "Fitz might have a solution we haven't thought of to dig her out." She pulled out her phone. "Damn, no signal." Back in mission mode now that it appeared Coulson was in no immediate peril, May headed up the stairs without a second glance as Mack hefted the director to his feet.

"Hurry," Coulson whispered, looking as lost as she'd ever seen him as he stared after her. With visible difficulty, he turned his gaze to Mack. "You...brought me out?"

"Yeah." Mack held out his hand to Coulson, who forcibly lifted himself from the floor on it. Bobbi was almost afraid he was going to topple over as soon as Mack let go, but by sheer force of will he didn't.

"Thank you," Coulson said. "How do you feel?"

"Better than you look, director," Mack told him.

"But I'm not the one that got possessed by an alien city."

"Like my insides have been turned inside out. Or microwaved. Don't know another way to describe it," Mack replied.

"You should have Simmons do a full work up," Coulson told him. "When we get back."

"Trip went down in the tunnels as well," May came back. The blood in Bobbi's heart ran cold, producing a stiff feeling in her chest. "Fitz says he ran down without his hazmat suit to disable the detonators."

"I have to go back down there," Coulson said, turning and limping towards the pit.

"No!" May sprang forward and caught his arm, eyebrows condensed into one angry line across her forehead. "No, Phil. You're in no state to go anywhere."

"That's my team down there, Melinda," Coulson replied, looking at her helplessly.

"Fitz is suiting up."

"You're sending Fitz in?" Bobbi asked. "He's not equipped, or trained, or…"

"Right now he's the only one with a hazmat suit, so he is the most equipped of all of us," May replied evenly. "And he was two credits and a thesis away from a Ph.D. in Physics, so I trust that he knows how to deal with unstable rocks. And only from down there will he be able to do the assessment of structural damage he'll need to know how best to dig down there if we need it."

Bobbi nodded reluctantly, still uncomfortable with lab-loving, unathletic Fitz going down there despite seeing May's point.

"Bobbi," May continued, "take Mack and meet Simmons at the Bus. As soon as I give you the all-clear, go straight back to base and get him checked out." She looked at Mack, who nodded. "I want to be able to trust your judgment again as soon as possible, Agent Mackenzie. Coulson will go with you."

"I'm not going back to base," Coulson told her flatly.

Her eyes narrowed. "Then have Simmons patch you up and start liaising with local authorities. It's going to be a big clean up job." This time the director did not seem to mind taking orders from his second-in-command.

"What about you?" Bobbi asked.

"There's one more suit left. I'm going to help Fitz." Without waiting for them to reply—perhaps to avoid arguing over it any longer; May always said they talked too much—she exited the Ponce de León's basement and headed up the stairs two at a time.

But Bobbi didn't want to argue any more either. She just hoped the Cavalry arrived in time—for Fitz's sake.

Bobbi bought Coulson the short-brimmed hat he had been eying early this morning, overpaying the stall vendor in her hurry—well, just paying his ridiculously marked-up price without haggling him lower—before walking quickly back to the shade of the trees at the edge of the park where Mack and Coulson were waiting with both the hat and a plaid shirt for Mack tucked under her arm. She handed the items to the two of them, waiting uneasily for them to put them on so that they could cross the well-lit square without arousing too much suspicion. For Coulson the issue was mainly the blood on his upper forehead and temple that the hat helped over up, while Mack's undershirt was nearly in shreds both from his time in the tunnels and from digging their way out of them. As for herself, the way they'd exited the Ponce de León via the back exit had brought them right by a bunch of dead or unconscious HYDRA agents and her stashed go-bag filled with innocuous clothing baggy enough to be thrown over her Mockingbird tac suit. Though it would never be enough to hide her true identity from someone trained to look, with regular civilians it would be fine. She wasn't running from anyone today.

The day was getting progressively hotter in Bobbi's opinion even in the few minutes it took to cross the square. She wasn't used to it being eighty-five degrees out in the middle of December, but then again Puerto Rico was much closer to the equator than New York or California. Finally they made it across, only having a few more blocks to go before feeling far enough away from the building full of dead men with octopus patches on the backs of their uniforms to hail a cab and take it most of the way there.

When they arrived, Simmons already had her medical kit out and waiting for them in the Bus's lab. "Sir!" she exclaimed, eyes wide, when Coulson entered with his hat off. "Mack!" she added brightly, spotting who was behind him. She exchanged warm glances with their resident friendly giant. "Finally, some good news coming out of today." She patted one of the stools for Coulson to sit down on, beginning to swab away some of the dried blood on his temple and applying antiseptic.

Bobbi motioned for Mack to come with her with a jerk of her head, leading him down to the Cage. If he was contagious somehow, this would be the safest place to store him. If she was already exposed...well, they had to assume that the limited contact they'd had wasn't enough to spread it, or she, May, Coulson, and now Simmons were now infected, and that was half their team. Not much point in quarantining anything on their own property if everyone belonged in quarantine in the first place. "I'll be back soon; just sit tight," she told him.

He looked up at her, slightly amused. "I'm an agent, Barbara, not some fragile civilian you have to reassure. I know what's going on."

She gave him an apologetic glance. "Sorry. Habit, I guess. I'm just...really glad to have you back." Bobbi smiled. "I'd hug you again if I could."

"Right back at you," Mack said warmly. "Go, I'll be fine here."

Bobbi nodded and exited the Cage, making sure the door shut fully behind her and trusting the silicon carbide-coated vibranium alloy to keep any alien particles inside from here on out.

"Any word from May?" Bobbi asked, arriving back in the lab. She dropped her bag in a corner and stepping over a few scattered pieces of medical equipment that had apparently come loose when HYDRA had tried to shoot them out of the sky, then peeled off some of the extra layers of clothing she wore as well, letting them fall on top of her bag. Coulson already looked somewhat better under Simmons's ministrations, with less blood coating his temples.

"Just that she entered the tunnel," Simmons replied, face falling. "I didn't want to let Fitz go down there again, especially alone, but she insisted…"

"I'm sure they'll both be fine," Bobbi told her. "They'll find Skye and Trip and we can go home, put this whole alien city thing behind us."

"I hope so," Simmons smiled. "We could use some quiet in our lives after this. And Isabelle! It's only been two days and I already miss the the little munchkin."

"Munchkin?" Bobbi laughed. Simmons's cheeks tinged pink. "I miss her too." She pulled out her phone, checking for texts from Hunter. All she found was a picture, but one that was worth all the texts in the world: Cooper seated in an armchair mid-yawn, Lila and Isabelle sprawled across Natasha's lap fast asleep, Natasha herself glaring at Hunter's snapping of the picture in her usual Black Widow fashion, and Laura sneakily putting up bunny ears behind Natasha's head completely unbeknownst to the red-headed assassin. It was captioned, Post pillow fight.

She grinned, some of the stress of the op falling off of her like a snake shedding its skin, and almost showed it to Simmons before remembering that Laura and the kids were a secret. Instead she simply tapped out a short reply—something along the lines of awwww except more sophisticated because she was an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Mockingbird—and added a second text, We got Mack back.

His response came through in seconds. Thank God. You okay? The team?

I'm fine, she typed. Others a little banged up but okay. Earthquake. Skye and Trip still down in the tunnels.

Okay. Keep me updated.

She turned her phone off silent now that she was done sneaking through a HYDRA outpost and stuck it back in her pocket.

Coulson left as soon as Simmons would let him, leaving just her and the biochemist alone in the Bus's lab. Simmons busied herself cleaning up the stuff on the floor and Bobbi excused herself to go make sure the plane was ready to fly. She hadn't flown something this big in ages, but she did have a license...she just thought May might not take too kindly to any nicks or dents in her plane because Bobbi hadn't thoroughly familiarized herself with the controls before a hurried takeoff. Plus it had seen some damage lately.

She was about halfway through running diagnostics on the status of the engines when her earpiece crackled. "Bobbi," May's voice came in.

"May," she said, pressing her hand to her ear. "Are we clear to—?"

"Lower the Bus's ramp," the senior agent ordered, voice stiff and forceful. Somehow that was more alarming than had the specialist been outwardly distraught. "And get Simmons. Full quarantine protocol, or as best as we can manage."

Bobbi's eyes widened and she ran out of the cockpit, the door ricocheting in its track behind her. She took the spiral stairs two at a time, bursting onto the floor of the garage and startling Simmons who was still working behind the glass doors of the lab. Bobbi hit the panel to lower the ramp, then turned to Simmons.

"Don't open the lab doors!" she called through the glass. Alarmed, Simmons dropped what she was doing and clamped her mouth shut against all the questions on the tip of her tongue, moving to stand in front of a non-S.H.I.E.L.D.-symbol-frosted part of the glass.

Unfortunately, even if she'd asked, Bobbi didn't have answers. Just suspicions. Bad ones.

And a horrible clenching feeling in her gut that told her all was not going to be okay.

She spun to face the world outside the Bus, searching for anything out of the ordinary on the field of grass they had chosen as a landing site. Startled, she caught sight of a figure in red sprinting towards them pushing something large, long, and on wheels in front of them. Almost without thinking about it Bobbi ran out to meet them, realizing at the same moment as she nearly tripped over a particularly dense tuft of grass that the figure was May in a hazmat suit, and the thing she was pushing was a gurney. Idling up on the main road was an unknown white van—hot wired again?—with the driver's seat empty.

Skye was on that gurney, deathly pale, covered by a blue emergency blanket tucked all the way to her chin. Her eyes were closed and encircled with dark pigment, and her skin appeared clammy and cold, though Bobbi didn't dare to touch her. May waved her off when she got within five feet of the gurney, so Bobbi chose to run alongside back towards the Bus. They only slowed to lessen the jolt of hitting the edge of the ramp, and by the time they got into the garage enough was understood between them that neither needed to speak to know where they were headed. Bobbi opened the door to the Cage for her and May wheeled asked inside, then emerged and immediately pulled her helmet off. She stripped out of her hazmat suit as quickly as humanly possible when covered with baggy sheaths of red plasticky fabric, handing it off to Simmons, whose white face had just appeared around the corner.

"Is she all right?" Bobbi asked as Simmons pulled the suit on, being careful not to touch the exterior areas. They were breaking so many quarantine protocols today, but there was no time for proper sterilization.

"We found her in the temple," May said, face ashen. "Couldn't find any visible bodily injuries on her, but she was out cold surrounded by rubble. With the amount of dust in the air…"

"I'll check her airways," Simmons responded quickly, jamming the hazmat helmet over her head and disappearing into the Cage.

May immediately strode back towards the lab, and Bobbi wondered what she was doing before the specialist activated the security camera of the Cage and the intercom leading in there so that they could communicate. They could see Mack retreating to the corner of the room to give Simmons room to work, expression grave. Within three minutes the young biochemist had ascertained that Skye's lungs, though not operating at full capacity, would do for now and that her temperature was 1.1 degrees above normal.

"Can you help?" Simmons asked Mack onscreen. Leaning closer, Bobbi could see the thin IV line trapped in the thick fingers of the hazmat glove.

"You're the biologist, not me," Mack replied warily, coming towards her.

"I can't insert this needle while I'm in this suit," Simmons said calmly. "I'll tell you right where to put it."

"You've got to be kidding me," Mack muttered, taking the needle from her. In his hands it looked almost as small as it had in hazmat gloves. He shifted so that he wasn't tripping over the end that trailed into tubing and stepped over it to get better access to the arm Simmons was holding out for him.

"Here," she placed a glove tip on a certain place just below the elbow. "Insert it swiftly but gently. When you feel a slight resistance and then very little, stop, or you'll puncture through the other side of the vein wall."

"Reassuring." Mack's brow furrowed as he got in close, holding the needle between two fingers. He placed it against Skye's arm. "Here?"

She moved him down a few millimeters. "Here." With bated breath, Bobbi watched as he slid it in. "There you go." Simmons beamed at him. "Thank you!"

"Never ask me to do that again," Mack retreated again with a shake of his head. Simmons busied herself checking Skye's pupil dilation.

"What about Trip?" Bobbi asked suddenly, looking at May.

"Oh, yes—have you found him yet?" Simmons said, glancing up the monitor to address May before returning her gaze to her patient.

"We found his body," May said in a low voice. "What was left of it. He was turned to stone."

"No." Summons let out a little shriek of disbelief and stared up at camera. Her little flashlight clattered to the floor.

As for Bobbi...

Train tracks. She was standing on them, and that news, coming out of May's mouth so unexpectedly, was a train. She'd been worried about others this entire time—losing Mack, rescuing Skye, avenging Hartley—but she'd never once considered Trip to be one of the ones in danger. Trip was the guy they all laughed with hanging out in the lounge together. Trip was the guy who played with Isabelle no matter how many times she wanted to play the exact same game. Trip was the...the guy everyone wanted to be around.

Isabelle would be devastated. They all would be devastated.

The knowledge was an icy grip around her throat and chest, a loud whistling in her ears even though they all were silent, trying to process the news. "Are we sure?" she asked finally, voice cracking. "How did he…"

"We don't know. Maybe Skye will, when she wakes up. We found them both in the temple."

"No," Simmons repeated. "No, that's the kind of thing that happens in horror stories, to bad people—how could that city had turned someone—" She paused, shaking. "—Trip, into stone?"

"I don't have any answers for you, Jemma," May said softly. "Fitz is with him...his body...now." They stood there in a shocked silence, no one knowing what to say. How was that possible? Why him when Skye was alive? Was she going to turn to stone too?

Bobbi closed her eyes momentarily, trying to shut out the horrible questions without answers. Did Trip have any family?

"Simmons," May said finally. "You have a patient."

"Ye—yes, right," the young woman gulped, blinking hard as she turned back to Skye's immobile form.

"Bobbi, get the Bus in the air and back to base." She paused, gazing blankly at the monitor. "We have to continue on. It's what he would want." May looked at Bobbi, and then at Simmons through the monitor though she couldn't see her. "We'll mourn properly later, when this is all figured out." She pulled a screw-top test tube from her pocket and handed it to Bobbi. It was filled with something gaseous and pearly white. "A sample of the chemical to which Skye and Trip were exposed," May told her. "Have the techs run it—"

"On the gas chromatograph, understood," Bobbi murmured, placing the sample down in a small test tube holder for later. The specialist gave them one last look before turning and walking off the plane, the glass doors swishing shut behind her. Bobbi exited them as well to watch her walk across the grass and climb into the stolen van, then hit the button to retract the ramp.

"I'll be starting the engines and taking off in a few minutes, so it could get bumpy," Bobbi warned Simmons before turning the security feed off. The Bus seemed very empty with everyone else onboard huddled up in the Cage, but once she got to the cockpit it wasn't so noticeable. She was used to flying alone.

Bobbi stood a few feet outside the containment wall, looking at her. Skye was asleep, or unconscious—Simmons's explanation had been long and complicated and not at all explained by her Biology degree, but either way Skye's eyes were closed. She stepped closer to the thick, quarantine-level glass—because that's what this was—and wished she had something to say to the young agent. She'd been on the other side of that glass once. Multiple times, actually. But never having experienced something as Skye must have...never after having experienced something that would make the prospect of being along very, very desolate on the other end.

Skye was a rockstar for what she went through, and she deserved to feel like one. Bobbi just didn't know how to do that.

For now, though, she looked peaceful. Or as peaceful as one can look in a starchy hospital gown with wires and tubes attached. She was still pale, but some color had returned to her cheeks in the scant few hours since they'd touched down, as if she sensed being home.

"Skye." Though she didn't expect the young woman to wake up at her name, she placed her palm just a few millimeters from the surface of the glass. "You're amazing. And we're really glad you're safe." She paused. "I'll be back as soon as I can, and I'll need your help. You were always good with her—the best, really—and she's going to need all of us right now." Bobbi swallowed. "Thank you for being such a good friend to my daughter. And to me." Bobbi lingered a few moments longer but Skye made no signs of stirring, so she eventually turned and left.

Skye was situated and comfortable, that she was sure of. It was what she had meant to check on going in, and she wasn't sure where that sudden admission had come from. Maybe it stemmed from the fact she'd promised herself she'd go fetch Isabelle and bring her home as soon as Mack and Skye were settled, and that time was fast approaching. Maybe she wasn't as uncertain about that reason as she liked to pretend.

Bobbi entered medical with a knock on the door frame. Mack was alone inside, sitting on a tall chair, but she could hear Simmons approaching rapidly from the next room over, so she took up a spot standing at his shoulder. He'd cleared quarantine, thankfully—she had a feeling that without Hunter around she'd need a lot more hugs from him before the day was out.

Simmons entered in a white lab coat and holding a tongue depressor and mini flashlight aloft. Mack obediently opened his mouth for her and Bobbi shot him a questioning look which was answered by Simmons just a few seconds later.

"Hmm," the biochemist said, gazing into his mouth with holding the tongue depressor at a steep angle. "Your throat feels scratchy, you say?"

"Little bit, I guess," Mack admitted. "More...goopy."

"Hmm," Simmons said, adjusting the depressor. Finally she removed it from his mouth. "Were you ever a smoker?"

Though smoking was a serious issue, for some reason the thought of it—or maybe just Mack doing it—made her lips quirk upward slightly despite everything. Maybe she was just desperate for some lightness in her life right now. "As if he would. Too worried he'd lose his good looks."

"More like lose my deep, sexy voice," Mack joked softly along with her. Even in mourning he still appreciated her humor.

Simmons smiled weakly at them both, which looked to be as much as she was capable of at the current moment. "I'm glad to know I don't have you to give you two the 'smoking kills' lecture then." She clicked her pen light off, dropping it in her pocket. "Well, there seems to be some buildup in your throat that I can't identify. I'd like to take a few scrapings just to be sure, but I think it's a natural part of your body's secretions—" Mack swallowed, as if trying to rid himself of the sensation. "—most likely caused as a reaction to the air and dust down in those tunnels," Simmons continued.

"So am I still free to go?" Mack asked.

She paused, eyebrows furrowing. "Yes," she eventually decided, crossing over to one of the drawers adjacent to them, "provided you wear this. Until we know it's nothing...well, alien." She held up a surgical mask. "It'll keep you from coughing on anyone, just in case." Forcing him to open his mouth again, she took a few scrapings and dropped them into sealed test tubes before exiting the med bay.

"You know you're doing this whole get-out-of-quarantine thing wrong," Bobbi told him once she had left. "You're not supposed to say things that have the potential to get you put back in it."

"Better safe than sorry, Barbara," he grumbled. He met her eyes. "Especially since we're dealing with aliens."

"True," she sighed.

"Speaking of which," he said in low tones. "You're bringing Isabelle back here, aren't you?"

"Yeah." Her throat clenched at the thought of all she had to tell her. "As soon as you and Skye are settled."

"Well, I'm settled." Mack looked at her expectantly. "Don't avoid it, Bobbi. I know that look."

She feigned offense. "What look? I don't have a look."

"You have a lot to tell her."

The tiled floor of the med bay became very interesting to her. "I know."

"She's gonna be scared."

"I know."

"And confused."

She shot a glance up at him, meeting his eyes. "And you wonder why I'm reluctant to go?"

Mack put his hand on her shoulder, slowly pulling her into a comforting embrace. "You're a mom now, Barbara. You don't get to choose."

If that seemed rushed, it was for good reason. There was a lot of plot to cover before we could get back to our main storyline, but we should be diverging from the show pretty unilaterally now, except for a few choice pieces. Up next: Isabelle cuteness! Isabelle heartbreaking-ness! Hunter! Clint and Laura et al. Natasha. Cake. A minor freak out from Bobbi. And...Skye post-terrigenesis ;)