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That first night is a pretty rough one.
Their main priority, of course, is to get Ace to a safe place, and Skye immediately begins working on that. Even though she’s exhausted, even though she really just wants to curl up in a ball and never move again, she won’t let Mike down. He would want her to take care of his son, so that’s what she’ll do.
Her shaking fingers dial the number that Ace has neatly printed on a piece of paper for her, and when Mike’s sister Mindy answers Skye explains the situation as calmly as she can, determined to keep it together for both Ace and Mindy. The deafening quiet on the other end of the line is almost more than she can bear. Then Mindy gasps, “Oh god, Mike. Oh my god.” There’s a few muffled sobs and then she’s back on the line, voice ragged. “T-Thank you for telling me. I-I can come and get Ace right now if you need—”
“No, no,” says Skye, her voice softening. “You don’t have to come get him. We can bring him to you tomorrow, we’ve got a bed for him here. You…you need time to yourself right now.”
“Thank you.” Mindy gives them her address and then doesn’t quite manage to hang up before Skye hears her start to cry.
Skye’s own grief feels like a hole in her chest, a weird absence of feeling that she’s not sure what to do with. So instead of trying to figure it out, she goes to make sure Ace is okay. She was insistent on him not being in the room when she called Mindy, leaving him with Jemma, who promised to make up some sort of makeshift bed for him. As it turns out, that meant curled up on one of the lounge couches, the boy’s sleeping face almost invisible in the mass of blankets. “He seemed to be in shock,” says Jemma, who’s curled up in one of the chairs, “so I figured more blankets would be better. And I made him some hot chocolate, I thought it might help him sleep.” Her voice is too clipped, and it’s clear she’s been keeping herself busy fussing over Ace so that she doesn’t have to think about what happened earlier. She glances at Skye, looking utterly lost.
“Looks comfy to me,” says Skye, her voice only quivering a little. “Thanks, Jem. I told—told Mindy we’d bring him to her tomorrow.”
“Poor little scrap.” Jemma rests her hand on the pile of blankets gently. “He’s exhausted. I don’t think he could’ve spent another moment on his feet. He needs to rest, recover from the trauma.”
“Yeah, I think I need that too.” Skye huffs a laugh, but it’s not really funny and they both know it. She moves over to the chair and nestles in next to Jemma, who slides over for her without comment. Without discussion, they clasp hands and Skye leans into Jemma’s chest.
Skye barely sleeps, the heat and fire of the explosion plaguing her dreams, but whenever she wakes up sobbing and shaking, Jemma is holding her, breathing deeply and keeping her anchored. And when Ace wakes up crying, they move onto the couch together, cushioning him between them and trying to stave off the nightmares together.
Ward doesn’t even say anything when he comes in the next morning and they’re all curled up together, faces hollow and tearstained.