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The town was nestled in the pocket of a forest, cut into a clearing and never really growing since. The place perpetually smelled like maple leaves and the roads had barely evolved to be pavement, many offshoots of the town still connected by their colonial roots. At the center of the quiet little town, that still sang like a settlement, sat the local church, it’s bell tower the highest point beside the trees, which many a child had been chastised for climbing.
For the majority of its life, the bell lived alone in the tall tower. Occasionally it would have a visitor, someone there to pull its ropes and make it sing. And it would, its voice a booming chime that never changed and yet was as versatile as a good pair of black shoes. It had the power to turn rain into life or death all depending on the context and its song went from sweet to somber in the stopping of a heart. However, it had never before done what it did until that fateful rain-drenched night, the night it's clanging chorus changed.
It was as cliche of a night as it could have been. Rain rattled the windows and ripped at the town’s wall of trees, trying to claim as many leaves for its collection as it could. And at the heart of the town, the bell sang along with the storm and as it sang it hardly noticed the moth that had fluttered up into the old wood-beam rafters. The wings of the insect shimmered like raindrops as it flapped its wings with a purpose as if it were at home in the old bell tower, enjoying the repetitive tune of the bell before taking flight once more. It hovered around the piece of the town’s history before fluttering up into the hollow of the metal chime and landing upon the clapper. Unlike a normal moth, the shimmering raindrop of an insect stuck there to that metal clapper, its wings standing still as the bell began to sing a new tune.
For the first time in a while, the Bus Team finally had some downtime. Ward was spending it downstairs punching the hanging sand-filled bag, Coulson used it to finish filing reports in his office, and May decided to spend her time closed off in the cabin, enjoying the clear blue skies ahead. The rest of the team, Fitz-Simmons and Skye, used the time to not act like agents, decided instead to play board games.
“Remind me again why we let Simmons pick the game?” Skye asked, sitting back into the couch as Simmons laid down her Scrabble tiles.
Fitz swallowed his handful of popcorn before replying. “Because your suggestion was strip poker and I’d rather try my hand at beating Simmons in Scrabble than undoubtedly have to take off my clothes.”
“That’s the fun, Fitz,” Skye teased as she held her hand out for him to pass her the snack bowl, giving him a large Cheshire grin.
“Fun for you two. I’d be handing over a month’s supply of ammunition for the pair of you to use to take the mickey out of me.”
Jemma let out a little tsk. “Oh, Fitz. I don’t think we’d end up having anything to mock you for.”
Fitz’s eyebrows raised and Skye had to bite her tongue to keep herself from telling them to just kiss already. She had become incredibly close to the scientists and she saw them as her closest friends and it was because of this that she wanted to yell at the dorks and have them admit their feelings for one another. She had tried pushing Fitz to tell the biochemist how he felt and she had had multiple late-night chats chucking popcorn at Simmons as she told her that “of course he feels the same way!” but to no avail. The two continued to operate around one another and buzzing with so much sexual tension it was almost audible.
As Simmons blushed slightly after her comment and Fitz opened his mouth to speak, Coulson came marching out of his office, a tablet in his hands and his signature “let’s get down to business” look.
“Just got a call from higher-ups. We got a mission on the East Coast with a possible 084 in play. I need you all in the briefing room in five.”
They said their reply in chorus. “Yes, sir.”
Since they were all about five feet away from the briefing room, the youngest of the crew were standing by the table in less than three minutes with May and Ward following soon after them and allowing the briefing to begin.
“Around ten hours ago there was a strange disturbance in a small town in Pennsylvania with nearly the entire population going into simultaneous convulsions. Luckily there weren’t any casualties but people who experienced the incident say that the convulsions started happening about halfway through the storm that had hit them, many claiming the storm itself to be the cause.”
“Did the reactions happen after they were exposed to the rain?” Simmons asked, her eyes focused on Coulson.
Coulson shook his head, his finger pointing quickly at the biologist. “Nope. Many of those affected didn’t even leave their houses.”
Fitz turned quickly to look at Simmons before glancing back at Coulson. “Then do we have any idea what caused it, sir?”
“Glad you asked, Fitz. We do not. However, all reports had two things in common: the storm and hearing a bell. In fact, that was pretty much all the victims were able to talk about when discussing the incident with local authorities which is half the reason we got called. The odd nature of it all put it on S.H.I.E.L.D.’s radar and the fact no one is saying anything just adds to it.”
“They were avoiding talking about something,” Skye said, her elbows perching on the computer table.
“Exactly. Big questions are which factor caused all of this and why isn’t anyone giving any details. So, Fitz-Simmons I want you scanning the area for the root of all of this. Look for any definite signs of this being caused by an 084 and if it isn’t figured out what is causing it. Agent Ward, since we can’t yet rule out any foul play I want you with Fitz-Simmons, checking the area and staying on the lookout for anything out of place. Well, even more out of place. Skye, I want you digging into the town’s history, see if there is anything significant there. And May, you and I will be questioning whoever is willing to talk to us. How far out are we?”
“Wheels will touch down in twenty,” May informed briskly and Coulson gave her a nod.
“Alright, you all have that much time to get your things together.”
After Coulson walked out of the briefing room, his path tracked through the glass walls as he made his way towards his office, the rest of the team scurried, or in May’s case walked calmly, to their respective positions to pick up whatever essentials they needed for the mission.
Sure enough, The Bus landed in exactly twenty minutes, May’s flying time as punctual as always. It was a clear day in the small town, the night’s previous storm making it so the place was drenched in the smell of wet leaves and damp air. It was almost too lovely for words and, given the context of their mission, the calm atmosphere was rather unsettling. After arriving in the center square of the town, Coulson and May split from the group to go talk to residents and Fitz-Simmons set up their science shop by the fountain. Skye, meanwhile, sat on the fountain’s rim, shivering slightly in the shadow of the town’s church as she scrolled on her laptop.
“From what I’m finding, this town hasn’t had anything incredibly interesting happen to it in awhile. I mean the biggest story from the past year is about a guy that grew a giant pumpkin.”
“I bet he was pretty proud of his pumpkin, Skye. There’s no reason to undermine his achievement,” Fitz teased, his face still in his tablet as he set the drones down for their flight.
“Hardy har. I wasn’t undermining his achievement I was just saying that this place isn’t one that is super likely to have such a strange event happen to it.”
Ward, who was stalking around the group with his eyes ever vigilant, scoffed. “I think our past few missions have proved that strange things happen everywhere, Skye.”
As the operative turned around, Skye stuck her tongue out at his back, causing Fitz to snort and alert Ward to the action. Ward gave Skye a flat glare but Skye liked to think he had been at least somewhat amused by it.
Turning back to their tasks, the group fell silent and they began to focus more heavily on their work. Fitz sent his drones into the air, tracking the data they sent back, while Jemma took a sample from a puddle of leftover rainwater, the two operating and moving around one another seamlessly. Skye still believed in her theory that they could actually read each other’s minds. It seemed the only explanation for how they could anticipate the other’s actions so well. Jemma didn’t even have to say anything before Fitz was walking over and handing the sample container she had asked for.
Ward, meanwhile, continued his circle, his radius widening around the fountain as he went, and Skye continued to tap away at her computer, her search for anything unusual appearing to be coming up empty. That is until she found an old clipping centered around an event that had occurred at the town’s church.
“Hey guys, I think I found something,” Skye called. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and bent closer to her laptop screen, having to squint to clearly see the faded type on the aging paper. “It says in this clip that there was once a person who jumped from the church’s belltower back in the 1800s after claiming to be cursed. Many witnesses recall the victim shouting about being cursed with knowledge by the wings of Death. Uh, that’s intense.”
“Does it give any other symptoms the victim was experiencing before their death?” Jemma asked, the container in her hand hovering above the shallow collection of water.
Skye shook her head as her eyes scanned down the paper once more.
“How odd. Perhaps they were experiencing some negative effects from a drug of some kind, maybe some sort of hallucinogen.”
A crease formed between Fitz’s brows and he put the side of his pointer finger to his lips in thought. “Wings of death is rather specific, don’t you think Simmons. I mean, Death isn’t always portrayed with wings and yet it’s the things they say gave them these visions.”
“You’re right, Fitz. Skye, trying looking up any association between Death and Wings. Fitz, I think we should head back to The Bus and start taking a closer look at these samples.”
“Sounds good to me,” Fitz agreed, calling the Dwarves back from their scanning.
Taking the scientists’ cue, Ward crossed his arms and nodded before reaching up to his ear to contact Coulson through coms. “We’re heading back,” he said in his authoritative voice. Skye looked up over her laptop with a smirk, trying not to giggle at the way Ward set his jaw when he talked over coms.
“What are you smiling at?” he asked, turning to shoot a glance at her.
Her lips ticked upwards and she focused on the clicking keys of her laptop. “Nothing, Mr. T-1000. You’re just very serious.”
“We’re on mission, Skye. If I’m not serious, people get killed.”
“Okay, was just trying to lighten the mood a bit,” she said, raising her hands up in an apology before quickly shutting her laptop with a thud, trying to swallow down her annoyance. She was just trying to make it so they all didn’t kill one another from the pressure they were under.
Somehow, Coulson and May beat the team of agents back to the bus and the fact that they stood there calmly in the lab like they’d been there forever further proved one of Skye’s theories that the pair were actually able to teleport. May was closest to the doors, standing with her arms crossed and her normal passive expression while Coulson stood by the large screen with his hands in the pockets of his suit pants. The senior agents watched from behind the heavy glass doors as the rest of the crew trudged up the cargo ramp, their hair getting whipped about their faces and their open jackets puffing out as the wind picked up. Ward lead the troop with Fitz and Simmons not far behind while Skye made up the rear, her pace twice as slow as the others. Where the other three marched, Skye almost had to drag her feet to keep herself going, her head continually turning back like they were being followed, feeling like a strange sense of foreboding had fallen over the leaf littered town once the wind had whirled back to life.
The sliding doors of the lab hissed open, letting in Ward, Fitz, and Simmons before shutting with a plush thud. Skye, meanwhile, stood on the open cargo ramp, her eyes trained on a spot in the distance that she knew to be the church as the wind began to howl with a fury. At the sound of a distant church bell, a chill zipped down her spine and every hair on her body stood in fear before dulling to pins and needles. Somewhere in the back of her brain, a small voice told her to move towards her team and get in the lab but she could only just make out the command. Black spots began to form at the ridge of her vision, her heart pounding with a fear her mind couldn’t process and she willed herself to turn around and walk up the closing ramp. The voice that forced her forward must have sensed the large ramp closing but Skye didn’t, every ounce of her that was still present in the moment going towards focusing on the lab ahead as it began to turn sideways.
She could see Fitz, who appeared to be the one shouting at the others to open the door, his face pale and his eyes wide. As her vision tunneled, the feet keeping her upright began to go numb as the spine that did the heavy lifting very much wanted to give way. At the end of the dark path, she thought she could see Coulson rushing towards her and her mouth said the last thing she remembered.
“The bell…”
And then the world went black.
Skye’s eyes fluttered open as lightly as a moth flapping its wings, her pupils narrowing to pinpricks as she took in the ray of light streaming in above her. However, it wasn’t where she was that made her panic; it was the fact she had woken up to find herself standing.
“What the hell?” she breathed, her lungs inflating and deflating rapidly as she gasped for air. Her body felt heavy but her mind weightless, making it seem like what she was seeing was entering her mind before she saw it like her vision was delayed.
“Hello!” she called, her voice bouncing off the curved walls of the stone room. There was a round plinth in the center, the beam of light falling directly on its surface like it was showcasing something. As she blinked, an object appeared before her on the plinth, a strange twisted silver prism with glowing orange symbols. Just as she was about to move towards it, she heard someone moving next to her and her head turned with a slight delay.
“What are you doing here?” Skye felt herself say, though her lips had moved without her making them.
“I came to get you,” the man said as if it was obvious.
She tried to look him over, her vision still catching up with her mind. He was tall with dark skin and Skye was taken by his large brown eyes and a mouth that looked like it was made to smile, though it wasn’t doing so just then. He was sweating and had a bandage tied around his arm, and it appeared as though he had been right in the thick of things, whatever “things” was, whereas Skye felt like she had just been plopped into the scene with no direction.
Suddenly, the room felt like it fast-forwarded, the object on the plinth opening to reveal a collection of blue crystals that hissed as they let out a shot of what looked like steam. It hit Skye in the chest and she felt all the air leave her lungs as, to her horror, a brown, mud-like ooze began to crawl up her arms and legs. She shouted for the man next to her to help her, her arm stretching out to meet his and her breath coming in sharp choking gulps. She had no idea why, but every fiber in her being began to whisper a name she didn’t even know, magnifying it until it became a cry.
“Tr--Trip!”
The man’s eyes searched her face as the substance worked its way over her eyes and she felt tears sear her throat before the world went dark. When she burst out from the cocoon, her nerves vibrating with such force it left her feeling like a leaf caught in the wind, she saw the crumbling figure of the man who she couldn’t help but think was her friend. She didn’t even know him but it didn’t matter. He was dead. He was dead and she knew it, the light in his large eyes extinguished by stone.
Before she could even let out the scream she so desperately wanted to cry, her vision went black once more and her body crumpled to the floor. Light flooded back against her eyelids and she again found herself standing. She felt dizzy but her vision appeared to be catching up with her mind, the delayed effect wearing off somewhat.
Blinking her eyes into focus, she finally took in where she was. The metal walls and cargo ramp beneath her set her on a S.H.I.E.L.D. plane, the eagle on her jacket confirming it. She still had tears in her eyes and she was only just able to wipe them away when she saw a head peek around the pilot's chair. Skye’s breath hitched as he caught her eye, the sunken globes of his face only just taking her in. The man was clutching his side and his blonde stubble cheeks were hallowed with blood loss. He was so sick looking and frail, blood covering his hands and what Skye could see of his clothing. She had the strangest desire to scream at him for being there. Why was he there? He shouldn’t be there!
His lips moved and as Skye was trying to process what he said, a bolt of blue electricity shot from his hand, knocking her off the plane. Yet, it wasn’t the man’s inhuman ability that made her scream so violently that her whole body rebelled, it was the plane taking off, ripping away from her like a bandaid and leaving her so unbelievably vulnerable and alone.
As she turned around a radar screen materialized before her and she scrambled to pick up the radio attached to it. Just as it had done with the other man, Trip she recalled, the dying man’s name appeared on her lips like she had said it a thousand times.
“Lincoln! Lincoln, come in!” she shouted into the radio. Unlike how it had been uttered for Trip, it was more than just fear that laced the man’s name; it was pure unbridled dread. Tears began to blur out her vision as she felt death begin to clutch the radio at the other end of the line, time speeding her towards downfall. Her heart broke when he said his actions were his purpose and she wanted to pull him back through the radio static.
“You can’t just die for me like this it’s--it’s wrong,” she sobbed, her body curling in on itself as her mind spiraled in on the face she had seen, his blue eyes greying with pain but still ever so handsome.
“I don’t know. Saving the girl I love and the world at the same time, feels pretty right to me.”
The radio began to crackle and with it so did her sense of purpose, her soul being torn in half with every prickle of static.
“I can’t take it if you--” she wavered, tears straining her throat, “you can’t do this.”
Time began to speed up again and her limbs fell limp with panic. She knew her time with this man was fleeting and her heart raced against his clock. She wanted this over with but not if it meant he was over too.
“I can’t just say goodbye. There’s too much I want to say,” she cried, holding onto the bits of the world that still remained to her, the radio and his crackling voice.
“Me too,” he said before letting out the ghost of a laugh, “come to think of it I just did. I mean--I tried. We didn’t even realize it.”
“Realize what?”
“A moment ago… it’s the first time I said I love--”
As the line went dead, her body ran cold and buzzed with the static. Despite knowing that his fate was sealed, despite knowing there was no going back, no getting him back, the realization that he was gone didn’t truly sink in. His life had faded with the red dot on the radar, and nothing could stop the hot tears that poured from her eyes like rain, her brain spinning in denial. Getting to her feet, she ran into the darkness, the black void around her adding only necessary details as her body narrowed to pure emotion and her mind continued its senseless search towards finding a way for him to be alive. Lincoln. He had to make it. He had to live. As if trying to give her comfort, the hellish landscape she had been thrust into materialized two new forms, their figures materializing in a hush of wind. They were standing on a platform behind a computer-board terminal, their attention trained on the screens surrounding them before finding her. Coulson and Fitz were looking at her with heartbroken eyes and she began to plead for the help she knew only they could possibly give her, the help they would always give her if they could.
“Turn it back! Turn it back!” she cried, unable to stop the tears from cutting into her voice and turning it raspy.
The frozen features of Coulson’s face piled her soul with another heap of panic. He was supposed to have all the answers. “I can’t. Remote access is offline,” he said, the shaking of his head barely enough to be registered as any movement at all. Coulson’s voice was soft but it did nothing to relieve the agony that was holding her heart like a vice.
“You have to. You have to. Help me, Coulson,” she heaved each word, their weight pulling her down down down.
Fitz looked up from the board with eyes like glassy orbs and Skye felt her stomach bottom out, the weight of everything become too much. “Even then the Quinjet isn’t designed to move in space, Daisy.”
She didn’t even try and figure out why Fitz was calling her Daisy or why both he and Coulson looked older, she just wanted this to be over. All of it. And she wanted that man in the plane to come back to her so desperately her body screamed for it. And the man in the cave, or whatever it had been; the one who’s deep brown eyes had turned to stone and left her feeling like she would never laugh again. She wanted him back as well.
“Please!” she cried to no one in particular, for Fitz and Coulson had drifted back into shadow. “Make it stop!”
Whatever was happening, wherever she was, must have listened as the world went dark around her, air swirling around her like ink and blacking out her vision.
When the world came to once more, the first thing she noticed was the fluorescent light that buzzed above her like a fly had been caught in it. Though boiling tears washed at the rims of her eyes, they didn’t fall over, her feelings too drawn out and worn to let them. Something about the new scene that had appeared before her was off, the cool concrete walls too bare and the world too lifeless. Wherever she was, it was the worst.
Skye couldn’t bring herself to shout for anyone, feeling if she did it would be marking them for death. So, instead, she stood in the quiet concrete room trying to catch her hollowed out breath, though no air truly was enough to calm her nerves. As she looked around the empty room, her hands began to shake, every detail of her surroundings filling her mind before she could process them. Whatever this was, she couldn’t bring herself to take in the details she thought should matter, like the scene was avoiding what it had brought her there for.
Finally, her eyes landed on a metal slab of a table, like the ones she recalled people using in morgues or surgery rooms. At the sight of the black body bag atop the table, her heart stopped in her chest and her lungs gave up on holding onto the bars of her ribs. Her feet moved without her, leaving her mind as a prisoner to their path, and she came to stand with her hands gripping the edge of the table, the metal burning her fingers like dry ice. It must have been minutes before she finally willed herself to open the bag, to get her fingers to grasp the black plastic zipper, but it only took a second for her entire world to collapse and for her vision to narrow down so it was just the body of her best friend in front of her.
“Fitz…”
Tiny gasps of air were the only thing keeping her upright as she stared down at his pale face. His eyes were closed, almost like he was asleep, and his mouth formed a thin pinkish-grey line while a short beard carved his face so that his cheekbones were sharper looking than usual. Shallow lines were etched into his forehead and somewhat around his eyes, further separating him from the Fitz she had last seen shouting for the door to be opened. He was older, more mature, but still far too young to be laying where he was.
Her mind flooded with Fitz, not just the one lying in front of her but the Fitz she had left. The one who snorted at her jokes and did impressions and desperately wanted a monkey. Somehow, these two Fitz’s began to blend in her mind and her throat tightened as their faces overlapped. This was still Fitz or was going to be Fitz and the thought made her want to scream. She didn’t want to seem him like this, pale and cold with a deep blood-stained gash on his forehead and side. But it wasn’t the painful slash on his forehead or the brownish-red stain on his side that she knew was the mark that made his end that left her so hollow she could barely stand. The thing that truly sent tears flooding back to the surface of Skye’s eyes was the golden band she caught glimmering on the ring finger of his left hand, the object leading her to think of how Simmons would react to this, to Fitz’s pale lifeless face, how desperately she would miss him. The object that symbolizes how much he would be leaving behind…
Skye shook her head as her hands hovered above his chest. Fitz couldn’t die! He couldn’t! She imagined her hands going through his body and outing him as an illusion. He wasn’t real. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real! Her lips began to quiver and she slowly lowered her tremoring hands to his chest, gasping when they landed solidly on the spot where his heart no longer beat. Horrible, trembling sobs shook her body as she ran her hand over his forehead and through his curls, cold seeping through the skin on her fingertips and making her want to wretch. She whispered a single word over and over again until it felt like she would never say anything else.
“No no no no no.”
The word only stopped when the world began to drift away from her, a black fog falling over the body she still clung to, wiping it away. There was no use screaming anymore, there was no point. Skye was in hell or purgatory or perhaps they were one and the same and just as she felt like it would be better to just fall into the void of nothingness that surrounded her, she felt a soft voice of comfort fall across her shoulder. She turned towards it, hoping beyond anything that it would drag her away to waking like a liferaft.
“You’re having one hell of a day, aren’t you,” Coulson said, his shoulders down and his head tilted slightly to the right. Her nose itching as a fresh storm of tears hovered over her, she launched herself at Coulson, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck and letting her face fall into the crook of his neck. He returned the hug, his hand protectively on the back of her head as he comforted her like a father would a daughter.
Even with her eyes closed, she could sense time speeding forward, but it was only when Coulson faded from her hold to appear a short distance away at the edge of a large cargo ramp that Skye processed the shift. They were landed on a white beach, blue sky in the distance and the sound of waves crashing. His back was turned to her as he walked down the ramp, his feet clanging against the metal, and each step dug out a bit of what was left of her heart.
“Coulson,” she whimpered as his figure retreated and the ramp went up. Why did it feel like he was saying goodbye? “Coulson. Coulson!” The ramp thudded to a close and her quavering shout faded into the coming darkness.
“Coulson!”
And the world went dark once more.
“Uh, sir,” Fitz yelped, cutting off Coulson as he started to debrief.
“What is it, Fitz?”
“Skye!”
The Bus’s cargo door clanged to a close just as Fitz rushed to open the thick glass door. Once the door slid open, Coulson, his quick-time reaction skills coming into play, hurdled himself towards Skye’s swaying figure. He caught her just as she collapsed, only just hearing the whisper that escaped her lips.
“The bell…”
The rest of the team came jogging up to stand next to Coulson. Ward’s jaw was set and his eyes were wide as he looked over Skye’s limp frame while Fitz had gone paler than usual. May was just over Coulson’s shoulder and if anyone had been looking at her then they would have been shocked to see fear.
“Simmons,” Coulson breathed as the young scientist quickly kneeled down on the ground. “What is happening?”
“She must have been exposed to whatever was affecting the town,” Simmons cried, grabbing Skye’s wrist to find a pulse and sighing in relief when she found one. The relief was short lived, however, as Skye’s limbs began to jerk and convulse, her fingers curling and her jaw tightening like a bear trap.
Simmons stood incredibly quickly, pulling Coulson up with her. “She’s seizing! Everyone back away,” she declared before ducking back down quickly to turn Skye onto her side. “Fitz, move her gear away from her so she doesn’t hurt herself. Ward, I said back away!”
Everyone watched in a panic as Skye continued to thrash on the ground, her muscles tight and tremoring. It must have been several minutes before it stopped, her body suddenly going lax as her muscles untensed and it was another minute before she opened her eyes, her lips flying open as her pupils dilated with fear.
After taking in her surroundings with wide petrified eyes, Skye suddenly went into a fit of hysterics, tears pouring over and her lungs unable to take in air as she clawed for somebody to grab onto, her face searching for someone in particular. Fitz, who had backed away to a spot in her sightline, was the one she ended up clinging to, outstretching her arms like a child until he sped over to her and her hand fisted his tie to pull him into a hug. He followed the tug and fell to his knees next to her to allow her to wrap her arms firmly around his neck. As she latched onto him, she began to cry so hard her body heaved, shaking the both of them and causing Fitz to go into protective mode, holding tightly onto her and rubbing his hand in soothing circles along her back and spine.
Having no idea what else to do as he held his terror-stricken friend, Fitz searched for Simmons over Skye’s shoulder, his blue eyes colored with fear as Skye let out another wretched sob that plunged like a knife into his heart.
Simmons’ eyes met Fitz’s and he could see the alarm that laid there, woven into the hazel irises. Taking small steps towards the two huddled figures, Simmons gently kneeled down on the ground once more and placed a gentle hand on her friend’s shoulders.
“Skye, you just had a seizure. We need to move you to the medical pod, alright. It’s okay, you’re safe. It’s okay,” she cooed, brushing the hacker’s long mussed hair so that it was no longer sticking in drying tears to her face and neck. She was still holding tightly to Fitz, her fingers digging into his shirtsleeves like she was afraid he’d disappear forever, but she nodded her head against his shoulder.
After she had unlatched from Fitz and he was able to stand, he lifted her gently by the elbow and pulled her to her feet, holding her by the waist when her knees almost gave out. Coulson quickly rushed to Skye’s other side and the two worked in tandem to get Skye to the medical pod, Simmons following directly behind and Ward trying his best to keep up and remain next to them.
For the next few hours, Simmons continually came in to check over Skye as she lay staring at the white hexagon-patterned ceiling, her mouth closed tightly shut like it had been wired that way. In the time that she spent laying there, she only said one thing and it was to Fitz after Coulson had called him and Simmons to the briefing room.
As he had gotten up at Coulson’s call, her face had snapped to his and her arm reached out to grab his sleeve. His expression had been one melting from shock to understanding but she still voiced her anxiety. “Please don’t leave me,” she had whispered, panic-filled tears filling her eyes. She had looked over his face and, for some reason, at his side like she was checking to see if something had appeared on the fabric of his shirt. While biting her bottom lip to keep it from trembling, Fitz had noticed her swallow a sob and his heart had sunk to his toes. Gaining Coulson’s permission to stay, which hadn’t taken much, he had stayed with her in the medical pod, May watching over The Bus while Coulson, Simmons, and Ward went to analyze the town’s bell tower.
Skye also refused to sleep and barely even blinked, her brown irises swimming in saltwater for a time before drying up, though she wouldn’t say why. Or say anything. She simply laid in the bed and listened to Fitz read to her chapters from his well-loved copy of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince in an attempt to keep her mind on something nice, knowing something horrible was keeping her from closing her eyes to sleep. She didn’t say it, but Fitz knew she appreciated it by the way she relaxed her shoulders into the pillows behind her.
It was a few hours later when the rest of the team returned and since Fitz couldn’t leave Skye and Skye couldn’t leave the pod, Coulson came into the room to give them the debrief. He told them about the moth that Ward had shot down from the bell, why he had decided to shoot it of all things was beyond anyone, and how Simmons was running an analysis on it. He assured Fitz that Simmons had the analysis covered and that was okay to remain in the room to keep Skye company. He also informed Skye that Simmons would be coming in soon to check on her progress and the like. While Fitz had listened intently to all that Coulson had to say, Skye on the other hand had simply turned her head to the side to stare at her heart monitor, watching the spikes of green.
When Fitz had begun to fall asleep in his chair, his eyes refusing to stay open, May arrived and made him leave to go to his bunk and rest, assuring him that she’d stay with Skye. Though Skye wanted to have Fitz stay, she also knew it was wrong of her to make him and so she silently allowed May to take his spot in the uncomfortable chair.
“I know you don’t want to talk,” May started after a few moments, leaning forward in her seat, “but Simmons just got her analysis back on the moth. It’s not of this world, which isn’t at all surprising but has similar components to that of LSD. That’s where the visions came from. Coulson also took a deeper look at the clipping you found and discovered that the person who had jumped from the bell tower had been a part of an expedition team in what is now marked by S.H.I.E.L.D as a visitation site, a place with known alien activity. Simmons believes they must have brought the moth back with them and suffered from its effects. But, I’m guessing none of this matters to you right now.”
May looked carefully at Skye, her eyes the softest the younger woman had ever seen them.
“When Coulson and I were gathering intel from victims, none of them wanted to talk either but one did and all they said was that they saw Death. I’m guessing that’s what you saw and why you won’t talk to anyone.”
Skye’s bottom lip began to tremble and she stared up at the familiar white ceiling to keep herself from crying more. She was becoming sick of the burning sensation coating her throat like liquid fire.
“Hey,” May hushed, her hand gently falling to hold Skye’s hand as Skye used the other to reach up and cover her face. “You’re okay. Shhh, you’re okay.” In any other scenario, Skye would have been giddy to suddenly see this side of May; now, however, she could only be grateful.
“They’re gone,” Skye choked, her chin bobbing as a sob shook her, “I watched them die. I saw it.”
May began to stroke her hair, tucking the strands behind her ear like Skye had always pictured a mother doing. The gesture managed to calm her but tears till continued to flow.
“It’s okay,” May soothed as her thin fingers brushed the edge of Skye’s ear.
“No, May. I saw them die. And I knew them. Not now but then and it--it hurt so much. And Fitz…” At the confession of her vision of Fitz, Skye placed both hands over her face, scrunching her shoulders to her ears and she shuddered with sobs.
Slowly, May reached to pull the hacker’s hands away from her face, swiping her thumb across her cheekbone to catch a tear. “Skye, look at me,” she said, her voice so filled with strength that it managed to pass some to Skye, “They were just visions and you can’t let them eat you alive or they will do just that. And if they weren’t just visions and you had some sort of glimpse into the future than we’ll deal with it as they come. But, listen to me, there’s no way for you to know that any of those things mean what you think they do. I spent so many years of my life thinking about a thousand ways something could have gone and living in the nightmares they brought. And what it taught me is that the future is often out of context and can be filled with the worst things you can think of, but life, life is in the present.”
May swiped another hair off Skye’s face, unsticking it from where it had gotten caught in a tear. There was a feeling of relief once the lock of hair was no longer covering up part of her vision or causing her face to itch and it almost made her smile.
A similar ghostly smile fell on May’s lips and she lowered her hand away from the girl’s face. “You’re going to be okay, Skye.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I know.”
A comfortable silence settled over them then and Skye laid back into her pillow. The visions she had seen still floated in her mind but May’s words had at least given her something she could use to combat them. Hope didn’t have to be gone. Life wasn’t a means to an end. Life was thousands of moments strung together, filled with highs and lows, goods and bads. And people. People who loved her and who she loved, loved so much she missed them. People she refused to take for granted. The realization, as well as May’s presence, calmed her enough for her mind to move towards sleep. Just as she was drifting off, a thought gripped her and, again, she kind of almost grinned.
“May,” she muttered, her eyes fluttering closed.
“Yes, Skye.”
“In my vision, Fitz was wearing a wedding ring. If he isn’t married to Simmons, then I know for sure it isn’t real because there is no way in hell those two don’t end up married.”
“Well said, Skye. Now let yourself rest and I’ll be here when you wake up.”
Skye murmured a soft thank you and her mind went into a dreamless sleep.