I'm not dead! Nearly, but, you know, such is life. I won't bore you with the details of what made this chapter so long in coming, but just know that I'm hopeful for the next one be written much more quickly.

As for the recent episodes of AoS (spoiler alert, skip past this paragraph if you haven't seen eps 21/22 yet) ... :D for everything except the last 5-7 minutes of the finale, which had me more like "WTF." I'll definitely miss what Brett Dalton brings to the show, both on the screen and off of it.

And I'm also a bit pissed (as I'm sure many of you are) at ABC for the slew of cancellations they hit us with a week ago. Marvel's Most Wanted had so much potential... Gotta wonder what went on behind the scenes there. Sigh. Anyways...

Transport yourself back to mid-season 2 and enjoy :)

Chapter 34 - The Hard Part

Bobbi gently strapped the left restraint over Isabelle's small body as the girl wriggled impatiently. "What did I say about staying still?" she asked, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Isabelle huffed and sat back again, allowing Bobbi to deftly strap the right in. "There you go."

"Are you sure we can't go back and say goodbye?" Isabelle wanted to know, looking at Bobbi with a plaintive expression.

"We already said goodbye," Bobbi told her. "Remember? Laura said you could visit often and Lila put the little flower that's in your hair right now."

"But we could say bye again," Isabelle suggested.

"Sorry, love," Hunter dropped into the seat next to her."You're stuck with just us now." His grin got mischievous. "And look, you're strapped in. No way to escape from…" He whipped his head around to look at her, plunging his hands towards her sides. "...the tickle monster!"

Isabelle shrieked with laughter, writhing to get away and kicking her feet against the edge of her seat. Smiling, Bobbi made her way to the cockpit to initiate takeoff. She glanced back to make sure everything was stowed before flipping the correct switches to disengage the landing gear and begin the upward thrust, fitting the headset over her ears.

"Playground Base, this is S.H.I.E.L.D.-616; do you copy?" she asked into the microphone that jutted out near her mouth.

"We copy, S.H.I.E.L.D.-616," an agent said on the other end. Agent Kensington? Agent Lord? She couldn't tell over the crackling of the mic and wind noise of the Quinjet. "What is your position? We are currently not able to activate your tracking, over."

"We are headed back to base now from a classified location, over," Bobbi said.

"Copy that, S.H.I.E.L.D.-616. Can you give us an ETA? Over."

"Playground, I will enable tracking and give you an ETA in one hour, once we are safely away from the classified location," she replied. "Is there anything we should know before heading in? Any changes with Skye, Mack? Over."

"No changes to report, ma'am," came the voice. Definitely Agent Kensington; she was the one who usually bothered to call Bobbi "ma'am" on these transmissions.

"Thank you, Morse out." Checking her flight path, she pulled on the throttle to bring them to a full fifteen thousand feet before turning on autopilot. The first stars of the night sky were just visible through the glass of the cockpit as she removed the headset and set it down. She stood up and headed back to where her daughter and ex-husband were sitting. Isabelle's face was flushed from laughter, but it looked as if their tickle-war was over.

"Hey, Bob, we all set?" he asked, giving her a smile. His eyes, however, held a question within their brown depths.

"Yeah, we're set," Bobbi replied, giving him a slow nod as she sank into a chair across from them. They looked at each other, each unsure how to start and hoping the other would take the bullet for them.

"Isabelle," Hunter said finally, looking at her carefully, "there's some stuff we need to tell you before we get back home."

"Okay," Isabelle agreed with a smile. "What stuff?"

"Well, there are some changes that happened since we left," Bobbi said haltingly.

"I can't wait until I can see Skye and Jemma and Leo again," her daughter grinned, attention suddenly elsewhere at the thought of seeing her friends. "And Trip!"

Bobbi's breath caught in her chest. "That's the thing, Isabelle," she choked out. "Trip, he...he won't be there when we get back."

"Why not?" Isabelle wanted to know with a small frown. "Then can I call him instead? When will he be back?"

"You can't call him, love," Hunter said softly, taking her tiny hands in his. "He's gone."

"Trip died, Isabelle," Bobbi told her in as gentle a voice as she could muster.

The girl shook her head, getting upset just from Bobbi and Hunter's tones of voice though Bobbi could tell she didn't get it. "So...I can't talk to him?"

"No," Bobbi shook her head. "Being dead means…" She glanced at Hunter. "It means that his body doesn't work anymore because he's no longer inside it. And we can't see him, or talk to him…"

"And it means you're very sad," Isabelle said with a tremble of her lower lip. Her arms snaked around Hunter's bicep and she pressed her head against his shoulder, voice muffled. "Like Elsa and Anna were when their parents died on the boat."

It took Bobbi a moment to remember the events of Frozen, but it was followed by a helpful flood of realization that they could use movies of Isabelle's to help her understand the concept. "Yes, and it's okay for you to be very sad too. Elsa and Anna were sad because they could never see their parents again, just like Trip. Being sad when someone dies is normal...especially when it's someone as special as he was."

"Trip is the special-est," Isabelle retorted fiercely. Tears had wet Isabelle's face now, and when she brought her hand up to her face Bobbi discovered her own had fallen as well. Hunter was not immune either. "But why did Trip have to die?" Isabelle asked.

"It's just something that happens," Hunter told her gently. "Happens to everyone eventually."

Isabelle shrank back. "Everyone?"

"Not you or me or Daddy for a long while yet," Bobbi assured her. "And it's not something to be scared of. It's like falling asleep—once it happens, there's no pain, you're just gone."

"But you wake up from sleep, right?" the girl sniffled. "Can you wake up from being dead?"

"No," Bobbi answered regretfully. "No, you can't."

"Then I hate death," Isabelle declared, crossing her arms and squeezing her eyes shut until they presented something more angry than sad. "It's not fair. I want to see Trip again." She kicked her feet against the chair. "I want Trip!"

Bobbi immediately stood up, crossing the aisle and falling into the seat next to Isabelle. "So do we, but there's nothing we can do."

"I don't care! I want him!"

"I know." Bobbi's voice was pained, stressed to the breaking point. Her hands deftly undid the straps holding her daughter to the seat—screw protocol for once—and she lifted Isabelle onto her lap, closing her arms over her head and locking her in a tight, warm embrace. "I know. I know you want him back because I do too. I know." She just held her against her chest, feeling her daughter quake against her as fresh wetness seeped through her shirt. Her eyes met Hunter's and she wordlessly mouthed, Now what?

He gave a helpless shrug in return, then reminded her, Skye. As if she had forgotten.

Right now? Bobbi questioned, thankful they had always been able to read each other's lips so well.

He shrugged again, just as lost as she was. "How much time do we have?" he asked in a low voice.

"Total over four hours—I wanted her to be able to fall asleep before we arrived, so she could wake up in her own bed."

Hunter checked his watch. "Then we'd better tell her the second part sooner rather than later, or she'll never fall asleep."

Bobbi nodded, in agreement but unsure how they were going to get Isabelle to listen to even more bad news when she was already distraught as she was. Eventually, though, the tears slowed and the shaking stopped.

"Why is he gone?" Isabelle whispered from where she was pressed against Bobbi.

"Because he died," Bobbi reminded her gently.

"But why," the girl insisted, pulling away a little so that she could look at Hunter too. The determined expression on her face made it clear that whatever she was trying to get at, her parents were the ones not getting it this time. "The big waves caused Elsa's mommy and daddy to be dead. Why is Trip dead?"

"It…" Bobbi glanced at Hunter. "It was an accident."

"And it actually relates to something else we wanted to talk to you about," Hunter continued.

Isabelle recoiled. "No more talking. No more stuff."

"I'm sorry, love, but you need to know this before we get back," he told her softly. "Trip died while trying to help Skye. He was a hero for doing that, but his death was an accident. No one's fault. No one meant it to happen."

"'S Skye okay?" Isabelle asked fearfully.

"She will be," Bobbi responded quickly. "Skye is sick right now, though, so we'll have to stay away from her for a bit."

"That means Skye's gone too," Isabelle trembled, new tears leaking from her eyes.

"No! No," Hunter said quickly, taking the metaphorical reins from Bobbi. "No, Skye's not dead. She's very much alive. But we don't want anyone else getting sick and we want her to rest up and get better, so we leave her alone for a little while."

"When will Skye be better?" Isabelle asked suspiciously. "Tomorrow?"

"We don't know," Hunter admitted. "But Simmons—Jemma—is taking good care of her. Okay?"

"Okay." Isabelle looked down, dropping her gaze, and somehow Bobbi knew she didn't believe them.

Hunter put a finger to his lips, giving her a significant look and a smile as she exited the cockpit to see Isabelle still asleep across his lap despite the noise and slight jolt of the landing procedure. "Impressive," Bobbi murmured quietly.

"Lucky, I'd call it," he whispered back.

The corner of her lip sneaked upward. "Knowing our luck, think we'll make it all the way to the bed with her?"

"I guess we'll find out." She helped Hunter undo his seat restraints around the girl's sleeping form, pausing for a moment halfway through unbuckling one of the straps to watch the slight rise and fall of her chest. Then Bobbi slid her arms underneath Isabelle's shoulders and legs and lifted her up into a comfortable carrying position, resting her head against her elbow and then tilting it against her chest. Hunter yawned and stretched before holding out his arms to take her back. "It's fine; I can do it," Bobbi told him.

He gave her a somewhat sheepish look. "I want to."

Bobbi smiled and handed her over, careful to jostle her as little as possible until she was settled in her ex-husband's arms. Exiting the Quinjet, they found a haggard-looking May waiting for them. The specialist's eyes slid over them and Isabelle, assessing what she saw quickly but making no mention of it. Perhaps she was analyzing any clues as to where they had been, but somehow, Bobbi doubted it. There was far too much going on here for May to be concerning herself with Barton and Romanoff's secrets.

"Did you tell her?" May asked in a low voice, eyes sliding to Isabelle again as if there was any question of who she was talking about.

"Yes," Bobbi nodded.

"I'm surprised you got her to sleep then," May noted, gesturing for them to walk with her into the main part of the base.

"It wasn't easy," Hunter replied. "We almost thought she wasn't going to by the time we got here, but luckily…"

"That's good," May said shortly.

"Any change with Skye?" Bobbi pressed.

"She woke up a little past seven for a few hours," May informed them. "Simmons believes that's a sign that she'll be all right, but still can't be sure seeing as she has no idea what Skye was exposed to in that alien temple."

"How was she?"

May glanced at her. "Scared. And alone."

"Sounds like quarantine," Bobbi muttered.

"Coulson, Simmons, and I all spoke to her," May continued. "But she didn't divulge any new information, and in her current state we didn't want to press."

"I understand."

May stopped mid-hallway, turning to the two of them. "All of your stuff from the safehouse has been moved to your rooms."

"You didn't have to do that—"

"There was nothing else that needed doing," May cut her off curtly. "And Mack said he needed something to do with his hands as well."

"Thank you," she replied, choosing her words more carefully this time. "I'm just not sure how comfortable Isabelle will be there, considering the bombs we just dropped on her and her being alone..."

"I think you'll find that it doesn't look much like it did the last time," May answered cryptically. "But where you sleep is up to you. Goodnight, Bobbi, Hunter." She reached out as if it stroke finger across Isabelle's cheek and then thought better of it, walking away with some hidden pain lingering deep in her eyes.

"I guess we go to your rooms then," Hunter said once she was gone. They headed there as quickly as they dared with a sleeping child in Hunter's arms. The first thing Bobbi noticed was that the door to Isabelle's was open, putting the freshly painted light green walls on display. Isabelle's pink bedcovers were tucked in neatly, and the toys Bobbi and Hunter had bought her were arranged on a new set of wooden shelves that shone a pearly white. The fan was going full blast—explaining the open door—and there wasn't even a whiff of paint smell in the room.

A soft area rug covered the main section of the floor, which Hunter was careful to step over as he placed Isabelle down gently on the bed after Bobbi pulled the comforter back. She slipped off the tiny shoes covering her feet while Hunter unzipped her jacket. From there Bobbi changed her into a pair of clean pajamas from the dresser and tucked her in.

She moved toward the door, but Hunter lingered.

"You want to stay here with her, don't you?" Bobbi asked.

He smiled helplessly. "Yeah."

"I'll get you a blanket and a pillow," she told him, rolling her eyes. It wasn't an annoyed eye roll—somehow she meant it as a gesture of affection.

And somehow Hunter understood that.

She brought him back a blanket and a pillow from the storage closet, then leaned over Isabelle and gave her daughter a small kiss on the temple as she slept. "Night, Hunter," she told him as he made himself comfortable on the floor. In the doorway, she paused, looking back. "And don't make a habit out of this or we'll never get her to go to bed on her own."

"Right now I don't really have a problem with that," came the muffled reply against his pillow. "Night, Bob."

I'd love to hear your thoughts! Hope you all have a great day :)