Archive of Our Own ^beta

Blooming Hopes 

The day begins like any other. Skye is the first to wake up, slipping out of the bed careful not to wake up her lovers. Nowadays they sleep in what used to be Sherlock’s bedroom. 

There was a long talk with Mrs. Hudson, some months after Sherlock’s return. One that included lawyers. Mrs. Hudson decided that since she didn’t have any children of her own, and Sherlock, John and Skye were all like family to her, she wanted them to have 221 Baker Street. To avoid any possible future issues with her sister and any other possible family, arrangements were made so the trio basically bought the house from her. She was still living in 221A, and living her life as usual, but the place now belonged to Sherlock, John and Skye in equal parts. (Sherlock would often joke about Mrs. Hudson no longer being their landlady, but rather their guest, a beloved guest, and as good as a grandmother to all three of them). 

So, once the legalities were handled, the trio decided to do some renovations. B and C were turned into one sole living space. What was once the common area of C stayed as a working area. Not just for Skye anymore, but Sherlock’s own work was moved up and enough space left for him to work his cases. The two bedrooms on the top floor (Skye’s and John’s) were cleaned-up and left as guest-quarters for the time being; though Mrs. Hudson would ever so often hint at how nice it’d be for them to ‘grow the family’, and to be able to hear children’s footsteps all around… to which John always joked that they’d have an insane time child-proofing the place. 

221B for the most part remained the same. With Sherlock’s case work upstairs (even his experiments, they’d all agreed that he could use the kitchen-area of what used to be 221C and the bathroom up there if necessary; he in turn promised to leave the two bathrooms on 221B (the one by the living area, and the en-suite connected to the bedroom) alone, same applied to the kitchen in 221B. Sherlock’s old bed was thrown out and a bigger one bought, one where all three of them could fit together if they snuggled (which they do, often, whether or not they’ve had sex beforehand). 

So Skye gets dressed in exercise clothes and makes her way to the living area, where the moving of Sherlock’s stuff upstairs has left them enough room for anything that might be necessary: like Skye’s morning tai-chi, John’s military exercise routine, Sherlock playing the violin, and even sometimes a little dancing. Sometimes when Sherlock’s playing something nice and slow, Skye will convince John to dance with her. Skye herself plays some guitar, and managed to convince the two men to dance together to one of her tunes, once (it was a bit of a disaster, but quite enjoyable for all three of them nonetheless). 

They also have a new table, in the kitchen, and while it’s usually just the three of them (four, since Mrs. Hudson has made a habit of joining them every so often), the new table can be ‘grown’ whenever they happen to need additional space. Like for Christmas. 

A little over a month after Sherlock’s return from the dead, John decided they were going to organise their first Christmas dinner. He invited Mrs. Hudson, Mycroft, Anthea, Ray, James, Lestrade and Molly. Each person contributed a dish, and they had a very good time. Mr. and Mrs. Holmes then invited them all to spend New Year’s at the Holmes cottage in Bristol (well, they called it a cottage, John would forever insist that ‘mansion’ was a far better description). 

Skye will never forget John’s expression that day, he clearly wasn’t expecting such an effusive greeting from Mummy Holmes… 

“Oh hello, John!” Margaret Holmes, nee Vernet, called brightly. “Come, come, let me look at you!” 

The doctor went because, well, what else was he supposed to do? 

“Mrs. Holmes…?” he asked, somewhat hesitant. 

“Oh, call me mummy,” she stated immediately. “Welcome to the family, my boy!” 

John sputtered in shocked disbelief even as he reacted automatically, hugging the woman back. 

“You, uh…” the doctor coughed a bit. “You know?” 

“What? That you make two of my children incredibly happy?” Mummy Holmes scoffed. “Of course I know, I’m their mother, aren’t I?” 

She was, and as they all found out during the holidays. She was also a former MI6 agent, one of the very best in the business. Known as one of the Crown Jewels, one of two female agents who were so good most of those in intelligence nowadays weren’t sure they had ever been real at all. 

“Oh, poppycock,” Mummy Holmes said dismissively after hearing what was popularly known about the ‘Crown Jewels’. 

From the mouth of none other than James Bond no less, who’d arrived at the cottage as Ray’s own +1. It was almost as if, following the mess in the House of Parliament, his bosses had decided there was little point to pretending he’d ever stopped being a Holmes. He still didn’t bear the name, but then again, neither did Skye these days, they were still family. 

“Mummy, you were a 00?” Sherlock asked, disbelief colouring his voice. 

Mycroft wasn’t asking a thing, but it was obvious in his expression that he kept wondering how he’d managed to miss something so huge, and about his own mother! 

“Oh no, nothing like that,” Mummy shook her head. “See, at the time Via and I were in the business, women weren’t made 00s. We were too… fragile, too weak to be given such positions, you know? What if we happened to be on our period during a mission? Why we might burn London to the ground while we were PMSing!” 

The Holmes men sputtered in disbelief, Sherlock in particular blushing, just a bit. Even James seemed somewhat uncomfortable. Skye? She just cackled, loudly. 

So Skye does her morning tai-chi, followed by some yoga and several katas. Sometimes John keeps her company, doing some simple exercises of his own at the same time. At least if he and Sherlock didn’t spend half the night running around due to a case or something. 

After Skye recovered from being shot, John decided to quit the clinic. Instead he dedicated himself to building a PI business with Sherlock, he even convinced the detective to get a licence, so he’d no longer depend on NSY to get access to crime scenes and they were doing pretty great. John still got the chance to be a doctor though, either when Sherlock got injured during a case, or… Sometimes John’s mobile will ring, a call from a blocked number. He’ll then be asked to go to a particular address, or be informed that a vehicle is picking him up. And he’ll end up having to treat someone, either MI5, 6, or some other agency. Usually agents who’re undercover, or in some other position that makes it so going to the hospital, or their HQ is inadvisable. Then there are of course the times when James, or one of his friends will just drop by Baker Street to request help stitching up a wound, setting a dislocated bone, or in one memorable occasion, taking pieces of a bullet out of a foot after someone shot himself while absolutely plastered (that one they took to him less because they couldn’t go to HQ, and more because they didn’t want to admit they did something so stupid as handling a gun while completely shit-faced). 

Skye still has her job in cyber-security. She’s not as fully dedicated to the whole ‘solving cases’ shtick as her lovers. Though that does not mean she won’t help them whenever they have need of her. Whether that means hacking someone, finding some kind of top-secret information or playing bait for the latest low-life they’re hunting down (she does complain that she’s always the one playing bait, and not one of them, but it’s not like she cannot fight too, if necessary). 

Skye heads to the bathroom for a quick shower after her morning exercises. If John’s done a lot of exercising himself he might join her, but he doesn’t usually do enough in the morning to get really sweaty. So while she showers he’ll get some breakfast ready. By which time Sherlock will be joining them (sometimes, if he wakes up particularly randy he might slip into the shower with her for a quicky, but that’s rare). 

They don’t spend all day, every day together. Skye has her job, the boys have theirs. They have their own stuff besides the job, too. Like Sherlock’s experiments, or the way John will extend his services as a doctor to agents, or to the homeless, for free; Skye will sometimes give hacking aid to some contacts, either to pay back, or accrue, favours. Once a week they’ll have dinner together at Angelo’s. And at least twice a week Mrs. Hudson will prepare breakfast and insist they all eat together. They also have lunch together with Mycroft and Cassia, Ray and James, or with the elder Holmes every other month (they’d try to do it more often but life and their jobs just have a habit of getting in the way). 

It hasn’t been exactly easy, building a relationship between three people. But at the same time, it hasn’t been quite as hard as they all might have feared at one point or another. Perhaps it helps that they all know who they are, where they stand. As much as they might love and be devoted to one another, they haven’t given up their own lives, the things they like and that make them happy, in order to be together (nor would the others ever ask them to). That has in fact become a pillar of their relationship: respecting each other, what they each are, and bring to the table. None of them will ever do anything to change the others, accepting the good, the bad and the ugly in equal measure. After all, they fell in love with each of them being exactly as they are. 

Skye takes a quick shower after her exercise-routine, made slightly longer when Sherlock joins her. A blowjob for him, and his talented fingers on her, and a good orgasm for each of them later, the pair make it to the kitchen dressing robes over underclothes, feet bare and hair still damp. John just rolls his eyes when he looks at them (it’s not like it’s the first time). 

“I’ll compensate you after breakfast,” Sherlock’s promise is accompanied by a quick, dirty kiss as John steps close, placing a cup of tea by the detective’s hand. 

It’s Skye’s turn to roll her eyes, though that’s not new either. She’s the only one who keeps a work schedule anymore, after all (and even that is only when she’s made appointments for certain clients, the rest of the time she works at her own pace). 

So they share breakfast, and then an extra cup of tea while John reads the paper, Sherlock checks his email to see if they have any new clients, Skye checks several forums to see what’s new online. 

“Anything new this morning?” Sherlock asks as he closes his laptop and pushes it away, having found nothing himself (there are some cases he and John will get around to eventually, though nothing particularly interesting). 

“Potential case,” John states, handing the paper to Sherlock. “Page four, the third column.” 

Sherlock scans the article John points him to, finding what at first sight looks like a very simple matter of a man who died of seemingly natural causes, and has his various relatives fighting for a piece of the inheritance. Then he reads it over a second time and realises that the so-called natural-causes are absolutely ridiculous for a man of his age, physical condition and ethnicity! 

Sherlock’s grin is huge, John just seems to have a way of finding them the most interesting cases! 

“I received a warning,” Skye admits offhandedly. 

That pulls both of her lovers short as they drop what they were doing, turning their whole attention to her in an instant. 

“Not that kind of warning,” Skye backtracks. “Apparently SHIELD is looking for me.” 

“What…?” John blinks. “Why would they be doing that?” 

“No idea,” Skye shrugs. “But I’m not worried. It’s not like they have any hope of finding me. Last they knew, Skye, the hacker and consultant, vanished in Hong Kong. There’s no record that she ever actually left the city! For all they know she might even be dead.” 

Both men seem to consider things for a moment, before eventually nodding in agreement. They might not dismiss the matter as completely as Skye, but if she isn’t worried about things, they won’t borrow trouble; not until they really have to. 

“Also, FitzSimmons invited me to their wedding,” Skye adds. 

Her lovers know all about FitzSimmons. Actually they know all about her old team, her stint with SHIELD; or at least as much as she can comfortably tell them without potentially breaking some sort of law. Even though she never signed any contracts or confidentiality agreements, and though Coulson might not have actually known it, she is an agent, she can tell when some things are meant to be secret. 

In any case, FitzSimmons. She actually got back in touch with them, or rather they got in touch with her, several months ago. Not quite a year after they quit SHIELD. It started with Fitz leaving a coded message in one of the forums he knew Skye to frequent (as she once told him that’s how some hackers who don’t know each other or have one another’s contact information might get in touch). Turns out they somehow found out she was connected to their fantastic job offers after leaving SHIELD and wanted to thank her. 

It started like that, and then slowly but surely the three of them found their way back to a friendship. An actual friendship, like they never had a chance to fully form back on the Bus. Also, she managed to nudge the two of them until they finally confessed their feelings! And now they’re getting married. 

“Actually, Jemma asked if I could get up there earlier, help her with the wedding preparations and everything,” Skye admits. “Apparently Leo’s many cousins, aunts and even her sisters and grandmother are driving her crazy and she’d like someone to be on her side, or so she says.” 

John snorts, he can only imagine what it must be like. 

“She also asked me to be her maid of honour,” Skye adds for good measure. 

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” John smiles brightly. “When were you planning on leaving?” 

“Next week?” Skye shrugs. “The wedding is on the second week of November, that’d give me a month to be there with Jemma, and even Fitz. Help them with whatever they might need and just… just spend some time together, I suppose.” she considers something before adding. “You could join me for the actual wedding. I could introduce you.” 

Their relationship isn’t a secret, at all. And not just because they managed to ‘come out’ in such a public way, in front of half the people at NSY, but the three of them just have never seen the point of trying to keep such a thing a secret. They don’t flaunt their relationship, and don’t tend to engage in PDA most of the time (exceptions made when there’s a specially intense case and adrenaline might make them a bit crazier than usual), but nor do they try to hide it. 

John has even made mention of it in his blog a few times. Never in too much detail, it’s usually in the context of a line mentioning something ‘his boyfriend said’ or ‘his girlfriend did’, that sort of stuff. Skye knows that the first couple of times people were debating if he was a two-timing jerk, or just some sort of ‘bi-disaster’. Which is what eventually led to John one day biting the bullet and actually making a post about their three-way relationship. Some people were supportive, others tried to joke about him ‘having his cake and eating it too’, one went into a long rant about it being unnatural and what-not (John gave the username to Skye to check this person out, make sure they wouldn’t be a danger later on, then blocked them and that was that). All people seem to either be supportive, think it’s all just some kind of fad, or that they’re trying to draw attention to themselves; most simply do not care. Which is just fine with all three of them. 

“We’d love to, little fae, but I’m afraid we have a case,” Sherlock admits with a twist of his mouth. “One of Mycroft’s, you know how it is.” 

‘One of Mycroft’s’, that’s actually code for when they have a case from MI6, or some other agency. And she does know, actually, she’s been there, after all. Sherlock hates telling his little fae that they won’t be joining her, not just because he wants to go with her, but he’s really interested in meeting her friends. But while he’d usually have no problem blowing off Mycroft, he knows this case is important; top secret, and very time sensitive. 

“I’m really sorry we cannot join you, love,” John tells her softly. “But you know how these things are. Also, it’s not like you cannot look after yourself, should it prove necessary for whatever the reason. Sherlock and I can always meet your friends some other time. Hey, that’s a thought, you could invite them for Christmas in a couple of months!” 

Skye smiles, she likes the idea. 

“Will you be back for the anniversary?” Sherlock asks quietly. 

It’s funny because the man was never one to pay attention to the dates. He forgot his own birthday half the time, wasn’t even interested in finding out when John’s was until he returned from the Hunt. Yet from the start he’s been all too aware of the day when the three of them got together. Wants the three of them to spend the entire day together to celebrate it privately. 

“Of course!” Skye assures him. “Like I said, the wedding is in the second week of November, our anniversary isn’t until the end of the month. Also, I will only be going to Scotland, a property in the outskirts of Edinburgh that belongs to Leo’s family, from what Jemma’s told me. It’s not like it’s another continent or anything. We should be just fine.” 

Famous last words… 

xXx

Just in case (and because sometimes Skye can be just as paranoid as the rest of the Holmeses), Skye chooses to travel to Scotland under one of her aliases. She buys a train-ticket to Edinburgh under the name of Xiuying Li, a Chinese immigrant. She arrives just as planned, exactly a month before the wedding is set to take place. FitzSimmons pick her up personally, and they’re clearly happy to see her.  

Simmons practically throws herself at Skye the moment she recognizes the younger woman. 

“Oh, I missed you so much!” the scientist cries out. 

They spend the rest of the day having fun, catching up. They’ve talked online before, enough to be aware of the basics of each other’s lives. Leo even subscribed to John’s blog and has been following it quite faithfully. Which means they’re aware of her relationships, and what all three of them tend to get up to, nowadays; doesn’t stop both of them from still blushing whenever Skye makes an offhanded mention about her lovers, though. 

“Why do you call them that?” Jemma asks at one point, and she sounds curious rather than judgmental. 

“Lovers?” Skye clarifies. “Well, they’re not exactly my husbands, are they? And boyfriends sound so… juvenile. Like it’s something temporary, a thing that will end at any moment. And it’s not.” 

They haven’t actually talked about it but… well, Sher is always deducing everything before they even say it, and both she and John have always prided themselves in understanding feelings before even the great consulting detective does! So she really has no doubt that even without having any talks about the matter, they’re all on the same page about this (they’re living together, and not only that, but they all own the home they live in, which they’ve renovated to fit them perfectly). 

Leo blinks while Jemma sighs dreamily. It’d seem that being so close to her own wedding has made her a bit of a romantic… or maybe she’s always been like that, and Skye just didn’t know her well enough when they were in the Bus. 

At some point they even talk a bit about what finally made FitzSimmons leave the team, and SHIELD as a whole: 

“Things changed, a lot, after Ward died,” Jemma explains quietly. 

There’s so much pain in Leo’s expression, Skye cannot not notice it. 

“I know you all were in Italy when it happened, that something went wrong…” Skye pauses, before adding. “There were rumours about bribes and corruption, but nothing specific…” 

“We were on a mission,” Jemma reveals. “I… I don’t think I’m supposed to reveal the details…” she hesitates before adding. “It was about Centipede.” 

Skye knows already about that, and it should be enough to give her an idea of how serious it was. 

“Some of us were there undercover, while others handled things in secret,” Jemma continues. “It…” 

“It was a fuck-up,” Leo practically hisses. “An absolute fuck-up. We were betrayed, by the Italian authorities! They gave us away to Quinn! And Ward paid for it with his life!!!” he swallows before adding: “It could have been me…” 

Could, not should… which means he isn’t talking out of guilt… exactly. Or at least not the sort of guilt that made him passively suicidal but, maybe survivor’s guilt. 

“I was there,” Leo adds. “Ward and I… we were the only ones left. May and Coulson were missing and Jemma… they did something to her, we weren’t even sure if she was dead or poisoned or just knocked out.” he shakes his head. “We made it to a villa, and Ward decided to go in. I was willing to go with him but he said no. He said… he said I wasn’t a field-agent. Instead he told me to stay out and just disable the cars so Quinn and his minions wouldn’t be able to get away. So I did that. With the help of the dwarves I disabled all the vehicles, then I hid behind some bushes and waited.” He swallows. “I don’t even know how long I waited. I was so nervous, so full of adrenaline, it could have been minutes or hours.” He shakes his head. “Then May, Coulson and Jemma arrived. I was so happy that she was alright… and then May told me about the betrayal, and how Quinn was more dangerous than we had known. And I realised then that Ward still hadn’t come out, and that couldn’t be good… I…” 

He trails off, unable to finish the story. 

“Ward was half-dead already by the time we found him,” Jemma says quietly. “There was nothing any of us could do. We got him back to the Bus, and Coulson ordered us to some hospital in Switzerland hoping they’d be able to do something but, just no. He insisted on talking to Coulson privately, when it became clear he was going to die. Then he talked to each of us, told us how good we were, how he hoped we’d look after each other. He… he asked us to send his best wishes to you Skye, if we ever saw you again.” She sobs a bit. “There was a lot of mumbling and muttering there at the end, half-apologies and complaints, and regrets… we didn’t understand all of it immediately. Then, after Ward passed, we were in the air and the first thing Coulson did was call us all to his office. He told us then what Ward revealed to him: he’d been HYDRA…” 

Skye gasps, she cannot believe that… then she stops and reconsiders that: Why wouldn’t she believe it? She was with the team barely for a few weeks, not even three months. She hadn’t known him any better than she did anyone else on the team, and she was well aware of how little she knew any of them. So why would she find it so hard to believe him to have been HYDRA? It’s sad, certainly, and she can only imagine how badly she’d have taken such a betrayal, had she still been with the team when it happened. Or worse, if the revelation hadn’t come from Ward’s own mouth, but when HYDRA as a whole was revealed. 

“Anyway,” Jemma clears her throat. “Things were never the same after Ward’s death. We stayed long enough to help Coulson and May handle things with those Ward had revealed he knew to be HYDRA as well, but after that… after that we couldn’t stay. It was just…” 

“It was too much,” Leo says gruffly. “We clearly weren’t meant for field work.” 

That much Skye suspected since she first met the pair. But they’d been so excited to be part of the team. Who was she to tell them they couldn’t at least try? At least they survived the experience. 

“At least you’re here now,” Skye tells them with a small smile. 

“Yeah, we are.” Leo agrees, smiling back just as softly, one of his hands reaching for one of Jemma’s. 

They look so perfect together… Skye is really, really happy for them. 

So that first day is spent with the three of them chatting, catching up. In the morning Skye and Jemma head to a seamstress, an old friend of her paternal grandmother’s, who’s working on an old wedding dress that belonged to that very same grandmother, making it a bit more modern, and fit Jemma better. She will also be doing Skye’s dress as maid of honour. 

“I don’t have a lot of friends,” Jemma says somewhat self-consciously. “My dad passed away when I was in university and my mum just… she was never really in the picture, you know? I’ve never had a big family, not like Leo.” 

“I get it Jem, really, I do,” Skye assures her. “I mean, look at my family! I never knew my birth-parents. My adoptive parents are wonderful, but they’re retired nowadays, living in a cottage in Bristol and I only really see them thrice a year or so. And both my brothers are mad geniuses with social issues who work for the government in one way or another.” and her not-brother who’s now one of her two lovers. “Thing is, family doesn’t end in blood, it doesn’t necessarily start there either.” she smiles softly at Jemma. “We might not be as close as we might have been at one point, but that doesn’t mean we’re not still friends. That we cannot be family.” She remembers what her lovers said when they talked about her trip to Scotland. “Which reminds me, you’re invited to Christmas dinner at Baker Street. And of course, you’re welcome to visit at any time. I know Sherlock and John would love to meet you two.” 

xXx

A few days later Jemma is standing outside the en-suite bathroom of the guest-room Skye is staying in (at her friend’s insistence, though she was quite ready and willing to rent a room in a hotel), a tray with some crackers and ginger tea on the bedside table. 

“Eh, Skye…?” The Englishwoman is so hesitant about voicing her suspicions. “Are you…?” 

“Pregnant?” Skye finishes for her. “Yes.” 

Jemma actually eeps. 

“Well, I’m at least beginning to suspect so,” Skye revises. “See, before this week I’d been sick twice. The first time was after we ate some food from a street-vendor. The day was quite insane. The boys asked my help with a case, we were running all across London, and when we were finally done it was pretty late at night and we hadn’t eaten a thing since breakfast and I was starving! Wasn’t the only one either. It was late enough that most places were closed already, and we hadn’t done the groceries yet so… we bought something off literally the first vendor we saw who was still selling food. Hours later I woke up and ended up throwing up. I chalked it up to the dubious quality of the food and told myself I wouldn’t be buying food just anywhere again.” 

“Sounds reasonable,” Jemma nods. “And the second time?” 

“That was after one of Sherlock’s more… intense experiments.” Skye answers. “He was studying the rate of decomposition of… something, I don’t know the details. Apparently he finished sometime past midnight and either he didn’t dispose of everything properly or he just forgot to air out the top floor. Whichever the case, when I went to work in the morning… The whole floor smelled so horrible I ended up being sick into the kitchen sink. John carried me downstairs and Sherlock called in a specialised team to handle proper cleanup.” 

A team Mycroft knew, and who were absolutely trustworthy… though Skye still did a full sweep to ensure there were no bugs, hidden cameras, or anything of the sort. 

“Were you… well, were you planning…?” Jemma isn’t sure how to ask the question. 

“Yes,” Skye nods. “It’s one of those things we talked about, together, not long after we started our relationship. When we agreed we were in it for the long haul, we also decided we wanted to have children together someday. This might be a bit sooner than we expected… when I stopped getting my contraceptive injection a few months ago I was told it could take up to a year for me to get pregnant!” she swallows. “There was also some doubt on how easy or hard it might be for me to get pregnant at all.” 

“Why?” Jemma’s honestly concerned about that. 

“According to my doctor, some of my genes or something are… mutated.” Skye says, vaguely. “I’m not really a scientist, so I don’t understand the details. My eldest brother sent the results to some doctors, ensuring my identity remained secret, of course. And eventually someone got back to him and told him that while they don’t know what the mutations do, exactly, they don’t seem to be the kind that could be hurtful, or indicative of a syndrome or degenerative disease or something.” she makes a pause before adding. “One scientist in particular, Dr. McTaggert, who’s known to work with mutants, and metas and enhanced, believes that what’s on my genes is like a passive form of mutation.” 

“What, like you’re a mutant?” Jemma blinks in shock. 

“More like I could be a carrier of the mutant gene, or perhaps even a latent myself.” Skye shrugs. “We cannot know for sure. Apparently there’s a specific gene through which they can tell whether someone is mutant or not, depending on its presence or absence. But they don’t know for certain how to tell when someone is just like… going to have mutant children or grandchildren.” 

“So your children could be mutants!” 

“They could,” Skye nods. 

She remembers once suggesting how the Holmes’ genius could in itself be a mutation, Sherlock had been absolutely horrified at the mere idea! She didn’t understand at first, until John explained it to her. How to Sherlock such a suggestion was the equivalent of saying that his genius wasn’t… well, his. Like he didn’t earn it, cultivate it, fostered it in himself. Like he was just handed it. It would be like someone telling her that she got her hacking skills by some sort of magic when in truth she worked hard to learn everything she could from Ray, and later on from others. 

“Sherlock and John are both well aware of the possibility and… well, I won’t say we’re ready for it, but if it happens, we’ll handle it,” Skye declares. “To be honest, even without a mutation, if our children are anything like any of us, that in itself will be enough to make them a handful and a half!” 

“They cannot be that bad!” Jemma states with a giggle. 

“Oh, they can!” Skye insists. “We can! Remember what you said to me back at the Hub?” 

Jemma blinks, confused. 

“About my ‘bad girl shenanigans’?” Skye clarifies. 

“Oh!” Jemma blushes and bursts into giggles at the same time at the memory of that day. 

The two keep on giggling for a while longer. Though eventually they do manage to calm down for the most part. 

“So, you’re pregnant,” Jemma states. 

“I’m pregnant,” Skye nods. Then, it’s like it suddenly hits her as she exclaims, louder: “I’m pregnant!” 

Since they don’t actually know that for sure, Jemma insists on conducting a test for it (and of course, because she’s a scientist first and foremost, rather than buying a pregnancy test at the closest pharmacy, Jemma draws some blood and does the test herself). There’s a bit of a situation when one of Leo’s cousins finds out what they’re doing, only they believe the test to be for Jemma. Things get pretty crazy for a little while as people argue about unplanned pregnancies and having children out of wedlock, Leo nearly passes out at the mere thought of having a child… and then Skye breaks the insanity (or makes it greater, depending on who one asks) when she shouts she’s the pregnant one. 

“Oh… and who’s the lucky father, dearie?” Leo’s grandmother asks. 

“One of my lovers, we cannot actually know which one just yet,” Skye shrugs, and really, it’s not like any of them will care whether the baby is Sherlock’s or John’s, they’ll love them anyway. 

That seems to almost give the Fitz family conniptions! Except for one woman, Fitz’s great aunt: Annabelle Lloyd, nee Fitz who, after insisting on seeing pictures of Skye’s paramours, congratulates her on getting two ‘very hot men’ all to herself (which in and of itself seems to be enough to make her sons, daughter-in-law and several other relations cough and sputter) before going into what is clearly a well-known and practised story of the time when she was a showgirl and got to be on stage with Captain America himself! 

xXx

Eventually, the day of the wedding arrives. Skye’s in a beautiful, floor-length, long-sleeved green gown that lets her show off her toned legs, her hair down and cream-coloured high-heels finishing off the look. She’s only just starting to show, which is only natural as she’s just about to enter her second trimester. Also, she’s carrying twins. And wasn’t that a surprise! She was as shocked as Jemma, who offered to accompany her to her first ultrasound, right there in Scotland, a week before the wedding. 

Sherlock and John don’t know about the pregnancy yet. And not because Skye didn’t want to tell them. But as Ray told her when she tried, and failed to get in touch with them, the case they were working on got unexpectedly hot and they, along with James, had to go to Morocco to get things handled. She has no idea what kind of things they may have to ‘get handled’, but apparently the lack of communication was expected and nothing to worry about. 

“I imagine that since they’re expected to be back in London before you, they thought there was no need to needlessly worry you,” Ray offered. “They probably would have told you all about their little trip once you were all together back in 221B… though John knows he won’t be writing a blogpost about this particular case.” 

And she would have worried, she knows. But she can tell that her brother isn’t worried at all, so that does help settle her down. She supposes she’ll be surprising her lovers upon her return. Knowing Sherlock as she does, he’ll probably deduce her pregnancy the moment he looks at her, without her even having to say a word about it. 

The wedding is absolutely beautiful. Skye gets a kick when learning that her friends have planned that, instead of taking one or the other last-name, or hyphenating, they will combine it; becoming FitzSimmons in truth, once and for all. She hasn’t told them yet, but for their wedding present, she went into their honeymoon reservations and changed all their plane-tickets from economy-class to first-class, and their basic double-rooms in the hotels, to luxury honeymoon suites, paying the difference herself. She has no doubt they’ll enjoy all of it. 

Several times throughout the wedding ceremony and reception Skye gets the sense that she’s being watched. It doesn’t really surprise her. In between the revelation of her pregnancy, her romantic relationships, and then Jemma claiming her as a sister despite how everyone can see they look nothing alike. It’s only to be expected that people would be curious about her. 

So the wedding is beautiful, and in the morning Skye joins the bride and groom, along with those of Leo’s family who’ve actually been staying in the house, just like her, for breakfast, and in wishing the newly married ones a safe trip as they’re driven to the airport so their honeymoon can begin. After that, Skye picks up her bags (which she packed the day before) and, dressed in a grey sweatshirt, black jeans, calf-high thick-soled, black leather boots and a cropped leather jacket (this last one, a Christmas present from James and Ray) takes her leave. 

A car is called for her, so she can get to the train station. She knows her lovers won’t have made it back home by the time the train arrives in London. Though thankfully not for any terrible reasons. Rather it was a combination of bad weather and poor timing. Also, from what she’s heard from Ray (who’s ranted to her on the topic, multiple times), there’s an informant/witness/potential victim who won’t stop flirting with James, which is clearly driving her brother spare (enough to make Skye wonder if some of the poor timing might not have been less coincidental than most assume). 

All in all, she’s distracted enough not to realise there’s something off the moment she climbs into the car. She does notice it the moment the car takes a wrong turn, though. By the time they make it to a private airstrip she’s not surprised at all. She does still make a show of pulling out her mobile, she fires off a couple of texts through one of her apps pretty quickly, before closing it and moving to the actual phone and is about to try and make a call when the car-door is opened and someone takes the phone right out of her hand. 

“Hey!” she cries out, perhaps more dramatically than entirely necessary. 

“Follow me,” the man, agent, because she has no doubt he is, in fact, some sort of agent, orders her. 

Skye makes a big show of being put-upon. Demanding her mobile be returned to her, making dramatic and ultimately empty threats of what will happen if she’s not left alone. She barely even pays attention to everything coming out of her mouth, instead her focus being on finding out who exactly is abducting her, and why. And then she sees it: the quinjet. Skye has worked with over half a dozen different agencies and only one has planes of that particular make: SHIELD. 

She abruptly remembers some of her former Rising Tide contacts’ warnings of how SHIELD was looking for her. How sure she’d been that it was nothing to worry about. That there was no reason for them to be trying that hard to find her. And even if they, for whatever the reason, got into their heads to truly go after her, how would they even find her. She and Mycroft had ensured no one would ever know how she made it out of Hong Kong, two years prior, or even if she ever did. She was so sure she was untraceable. Teach her to be overconfident! 

She eventually does stop with her over-dramatic act, deciding there’s no point to it. She keeps silent when a female agent (who introduces herself as Bobbie Morse) pats her down, taking her wallet, and even her keys. The latter of which means she’s left without her extendable electric baton, the only weapon she had on her, as travelling with a gun would have been too complicated, and called too much attention upon herself. Even then, she says nothing, following Morse onto the quinjet when ordered to do so, and even securing the multiple clasps of the harness for take-off herself (she does still remember how to do this sort of stuff), which does seem to surprise the woman a bit. 

“Xiuying Li?” Morse asks softly as she looks at the ID in her wallet. “I was told your name was Skye?” 

“Have you ever known someone called Skye?” the hacker asks in return, perfect Chinese accent in place. “I mean, other than as a nickname or something?” 

That seems to give Morse something to think about, as she goes through everything else in the wallet. There’s a debit card (under the same name), some money, the train ticket from her arrival to Edinburgh and some tickets from places she went to with FitzSimmons, where she insisted on paying. No special notes, no pictures, nothing to give her away (Skye is not an amateur!). 

She holds onto her cover as Xiuying Li throughout the whole trip, until the quinjet lands on a SHIELD base somewhere (they were in the air long enough Skye’s pretty sure they’re not in the UK anymore) and waiting for them as they climb out of the quinjet is none other than Melinda May. 

“It is her,” she announces, barely even looking at Skye at all. 

Morse turns to look at her, eyes narrowed. Skye shrugs at her, it’s not like she ever lied and said that Skye was not her name or anything… 

“Hello Agent May,” she greets the older woman, dropping her Chinese accent and taking her usual, neutral one. 

Morse, who’d turned away and was about to leave, spins back, staring at Skye in disbelief. Right, the accent. Skye has to wonder if it’s the first time the agent has heard someone change themselves so much with such a small detail. Skye knows she sounds like an entirely different person. John has even told her about his experience, meeting three of her identities that first week in London, and how he’d have never suspected all three of being the same person if she hadn’t told him. 

“So,” Skye continues. “Why am I here?” 

For a moment there May looks honestly surprised by the question, Morse too for that matter. But in the end neither of them answers it. Instead they escort Skye through several hallways in what looks like an underground base, eventually making it to a bigger room, with lots of agents standing around. There, she’s led to the front of the room, to where an older agent is standing. 

“I am Robert Gonzales, Co-Director of SHIELD,” the man announces. “And you, miss Li, Skye, or whatever your real name might be. Are being formally detained for illegal hacking, the stealing of secrets and artefacts, as well as selling of those same secrets and artefacts to suspicious individuals and organisations. Also, under suspicion of sedition, conspiring with known enemies of the state and attempted terrorism.” 

Illegal hacking? She supposes they might be calling that whichever hacking does not benefit them. Stealing of secrets? Does SHIELD have any secrets left after they dumped their entire databases on the web?! Also, on that front, she doesn’t actually need to hack SHIELD, even if she were so inclined! Stealing of artefacts? Do they mean the artefacts they supposedly destroy?! And yeah, she knows that’s a lie, knew it from the start, but still. Selling secrets and artefacts, whatever for? Suspicion of sedition? That one sounds way too dramatic, even for her. Enemies of the state? Which state exactly? Far as she knows the US officially washed their hands off SHIELD after the mess with HYDRA. And the whole terrorism idea is absolutely ridiculous. All in all, Skye can only wonder what the hell are these people thinking, exactly. 

She’s taken to a cell. A small, windowless and doorless room with three concrete walls and one made of energy, with nothing more than a concrete bench on a corner and limited ventilation. There’s not even a bathroom, which Skye knows for a fact is against the law, but she says nothing about it. It’s not like she’s planning on staying there that long. Really, SHIELD should have started wondering at what she might be planning when she stopped trying (never did try, not really) to get away. 

She summarily ignores every person who drops by to try and question her. Some asking questions directly, others making a huge production of a ‘formal interrogation’. One in particular, even claims to be a doctor of some sort and makes an attempt at interrogating her while supposedly ‘evaluating her’. Skye just rolls her eyes and ignores them all. 

At least until the one to enter her cell is Coulson. Agent Coulson who just stares at her for the longest time. Almost as if doubting it’s really her, or as if he were trying to find the old Skye in the woman sitting before him. 

“Hello, AC,” she decides to go ahead and answer his unasked question. 

“Hello Skye,” he greets her in return. “Is that your name? Or do you prefer I call you Xiuying, or…” 

He’s fishing, she knows that, but it’s alright. 

“Skye is fine,” she tells him. “Strictly speaking, it’s not my name. But it’s still what I like to be called. It’s what my lovers call me.” 

She decides to throw that out there because, why not? Depending on how closely they were spying on her during FitzSimmons’s wedding, they’ll either know exactly what and who she means by that, or perhaps they’ll just think she’s talking in general about people she might choose to bed. Though she doesn’t think that whoever was onto her at the wedding was looking that closely, or for that long, otherwise they’d be calling her Violet Vernett… even if no one in Scotland called her by that name, it’s easy enough to make the leap once you put together Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. 

Coulson pulls a chair from a corner until he’s sitting right in front of her cell. He even goes as far as dismissing the transparent barrier that keeps her inside her cell. Skye for her part ignores the… Well, she’s not entirely certain if it’s supposed to be a challenge, a test, a taunt, a bizarre show of trust or just Coulson being Coulson. She ignores it nonetheless, not moving from her spot, sitting on the concrete bench, back against a wall, and with one leg pulled against her chest. 

“Why do all this?” he asks her. 

“In order to answer that question I’d first have to know what do you suppose it is I’ve done, exactly,” she answers with complete honesty. 

Coulson blinks and Skye imagines he’s wondering if she’s lying, bluffing or telling the truth (this is the part about being in the intelligence business that she did not miss. The whole ‘lying without lying’, every single word having multiple meanings, reading between the lines, watching what’s being said as well as what isn’t in search of all possible interpretations… it’s exhausting). 

“You heard Gonzales read your charges,” Coulson finally points out. 

“That was for real?” Skye asks in return, and she’s being a tiny bit dramatic. 

Coulson actually blinks. 

“I mean, I thought it was just, you know, posturing,” she shrugs. “You know what I mean: bluffing, making shit up, lying through his teeth to try and justify my very illegal detainment.” 

“Your detainment isn’t illegal if you’re a criminal,” Coulson offers. 

“Oh come on AC!” she blurts out the nickname almost without realising. “You know what SHIELD did picking me up after FitzSimmons’ wedding was in no way legal. If it were your people would have actually introduced themselves, read me my rights when they took me, rather than fake being the car that was called for me, and then frog-march me into a quinjet, taking me out of the country, illegally I might add, and to a secret base I have to wonder not just where it’s located, but also if the country in question is even aware that you exist. After all, last I knew, SHIELD as a whole was considered persona-non-grata in most places nowadays.” 

Coulson winces, just a bit, but it’s there. 

“Now, if you’d be so kind as to tell me what the hell is going on,” she presses. “Because I honestly haven’t the faintest idea.” 

It’s hard to tell for sure whether he believes her, or if he planned all along on explaining things to her. But in the end she does get the explanation. Apparently several very dangerous SHIELD secrets have been sold in the dark web over the past months by an unknown individual. A hacker who seems to be so good they’re impossible to track. Even with all the systems’ experts SHIELD has, they haven’t been able to get anything conclusive. 

Also, this same person has apparently been inciting rebellion, calling for coup-de-etats, not just in the US, for several other countries like Russia, China, South Korea, France, Germany, among others. 

The most important point, however, is that whoever this person is, they’ve been auctioning off several highly dangerous artefacts. Some of which were stolen from a SHIELD facility during the HYDRA uprising. The most worrying in particular however, is the auction of one particular artefact which is still in SHIELD’s possession; which makes them think that the individual (or individuals) are planning on stealing it sometime soon, and pretty confident they’ll succeed. 

“Or they’re over-reaching,” Skye offers with a shrug. 

Coulson concedes with a nod, though it’s clear he doesn’t entirely believe it to be that simple. To be honest, neither does Skye. 

“Okay, so that’s all very interesting and all, but what’s all that to do with me?” she asks once Coulson stays quiet long enough she assumes he’s finished with the explanation. 

“The one thing we know for sure about the hacker is that whoever they might be, they’re Rising Tide,” Coulson explains. 

“Okay,” Skye blinks, head tilted to the side. “You do know the Rising Tide doesn’t exist anymore, right?” 

It’s Coulson’s turn to blink in evident confusion. And that… that’s one thing too much for Skye. 

“This is… this is… bloody ridiculous is what this is!” she starts ranting, jumping off the cot and pacing from one side of her tiny cell to the other, gesturing wildly. “You haven’t changed a bit! None of you. You hear ‘hacker’ and immediately blame me. Because, why? It’s not like I’m the single bloody hacker in the entire world! No, in the end I think you blame me because it’s easy. Certainly much easier than trying to pick up, I don’t know, IronSmith, WawaSeed, TaserQueen, or hell, the Black Queen!” 

Hell, she’d pay to see SHIELD try and abduct the freaking Black Queen like they did her. They’d be in so much shit. She can still remember what the BAU is like, they protect their own. Also, it’s not like Skye doesn’t have people who would protect her, she just hasn’t activated her beacon yet because first she wants to see what exactly is going on. Then she’ll call in the back up. 

“Also, how the hell do you people not know that the Rising Tide is fucking gone!” she spins around, staring at Coulson. 

She pretends not to notice the people standing on the stairs leading out of the detention area. Clearly someone somewhere must have gotten twitchy when she jumped off the cot. Not like she’s come anywhere near to the edge of the cell, or Coulson, but still. Truth is, she could almost laugh at the way they insist on treating her like she’s a little girl, the same seemingly confused, lost hacker Coulson and Ward first picked up back in LA. While at the same time fearing her like she’s some hardened criminal on par with HYDRA. Ridiculous, is what it is. 

“It happened two years ago!” she goes on. “It was a joint operation between Interpol, and a great many intelligence agencies from Europe, Asia and North America. Fury knew, he made a point to drop by after the fact and complain because SHIELD was left out of the op!” 

Coulson is not the only one blinking in disbelief at that. And as everyone files out of detainment Skye is left wishing she could be a fly on the figurative wall when they go and demand explanations from Fury (because yeah, she knows he’s not dead, she’s not stupid!). 

xXx

Skye doesn’t really sleep that night. She just doesn’t feel safe, and it’s not just being in a cell, but the fact that SHIELD can so blatantly take her, get her to a different country, and keep her detained… it’s not that she’s waiting for some fancy rescue or anything like that. It’s the fact that them doing it, the ease, the confidence that they can get away with it, it tells Skye that they’ve done it before… And she knew that, had seen it, hadn’t she? Even in the short time she was with the team. Matter of fact, the way Coulson and Ward ‘picked her up’, it was pretty much the same, wasn’t it? Even if she might have chosen to stick around, it started very much with them abducting her from the back of her van. 

So she doesn’t sleep that night (and she knows it’s night, not only because they’re considerate enough to bring her dinner, especially since they made her miss lunch) but she can feel it in her internal clock. At most she manages to meditate some. She knows she can handle some sleepless nights. She has before. Though she doesn’t want to be too hard on herself, especially with the babies. 

In the morning she’s offered a shower, which she agrees on. She doesn’t even comment when, after the fact, instead of being given back her own clothes she’s handed a standard-issue black-jumpsuit. Thankfully they leave her boots alone. The only thing she demands is the return of her leather jacket. Something which is commented upon when Morse leads her to what looks like a cafeteria for breakfast. 

“So, why so fixated on the jacket, dear?” Lance Hunter (mercenary, probationary SHIELD Agent and Morse’s ex-husband) asks as he hands over said jacket. “Keeping a top-secret weapon in it?” 

“Please,” Skye snorts. “I’m quite sure if that were the case, someone would have found it already. 

“Expensive then?” Hunter keeps fishing. 

“A gift,” she finally answers. “From my brother and his partner.” 

That, and Skye knows that the inner lining of the vest is actually meant to serve as body-armour. 

“They have good taste,” the man makes a show of looking her up and down (and not just at the jacket she’s wearing either). 

Skye rolls her eyes but doesn’t comment on it. 

“Coulson says you’re innocent,” Morse states apropos of nothing. “I’m not sure I believe it yet.” 

Skye shrugs because, it doesn’t make much of a difference to her. Though she does have to wonder if Coulson truly believes her to be innocent, if he’s feeling guilty over how things went back when they were a team on the bus, how she in some ways blamed her own leaving on his lack of trust; or if it’s maybe something else entirely. She supposes it doesn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things. 

Surprisingly enough, after breakfast, instead of being taken back to her cell, Hunter and Morse lead her to what looks like a conference room. There is a man who’s addressed by others in the room as Koenig, who’s typing something on a keyboard, Skye’s attention goes to the screen, and she soon realises what’s going on: SHIELD is following the auction of the artefact that they believe is going to be stolen. 

“So, Miss Skye,” Gonzales turns to face her from his seat by the screens. “Are you ready to confess?” 

“What…?” Skye blinks because, what the hell? “Confess? To what?!” 

“To what?” Victoria Hand, another of the Co-Directors of SHIELD, steps forth then. “To your crimes!” 

“We know you’re behind this…” Gonzales begins. 

All of a sudden, Skye’s furious. 

“Know?” She cuts the man off. “You know shit! You have absolutely no proof that I am in any way involved in whatever insanity’s going on. I’m not the only fucking hacker in the world, you know?!” she shakes her head vehemently. “But no, you came after me… I’m not sure if you’re truly so deluded that it didn’t even occur to you to think that it could be literally anyone else, or if it’s just that you’re so desperate to be seen doing something, it doesn’t even matter that that ‘something’ is something entirely pointless.” she makes a pause and then adds. “No, it’s even worse than that. Because see, if you’d come to me for help, I might have actually helped! As things stand now, you’ll be lucky if I don’t outright ruin you all!” 

It just goes from there. As Gonzales and Hand seem to take turns accusing her of the same crimes they’ve been spouting at her from the start, to demanding she cancel the auction, since it’s obvious she won’t be able to deliver on what she’s promised her potential buyers. It doesn’t matter how many times she tells the two agents that she has nothing to do with it. The auction is still ongoing, and not just that but also the posts inciting rebellion pretty much everywhere; all without her, shouldn’t that be proof enough? Apparently not. 

Eventually she just takes a seat in a corner and stops insisting, not seeing the point anymore. Gonzales and Hand are clearly not listening to her. Too convinced that they’re right to even consider any other possibility. 

It goes on for long enough that Skye starts looking around. She sees it then. The fact that the more things keep going, the more the other agents start wondering if perhaps they might not have made a mistake. If their leaders might not be wrong… 

At some point Coulson goes to sit beside her. Skye very pointedly does not react to his sudden arrival. 

“Who do you think it could be?” he asks her, unprompted. 

“From the thousands upon thousands of hackers that exist?” she asks, voice tinged with sarcasm. 

“I imagine most hackers aren’t interested in fostering anarchy, chaos and mayhem,” Coulson offers. 

“True,” Skye concedes. “That was never the objective of the Rising Tide, you know?” 

“I know, freedom of information, right?” So he has been paying attention! 

“Yeah,” Skye exhales. “It’s awful when some people use it as an excuse to do bad things. But such people can be found pretty much everywhere, not just with hackers. I mean, how many times have we heard of supposed charity organisations where the people in charge end up pocketing the money instead of really using it to help the poor, orphans, animals, or whatever other cause they’re supposed to be dedicated to?” 

“Miles was a bad apple,” Coulson says quietly. “And we were wrong for blaming you without knowing the whole story. I was wrong…” 

“Miles…” it hits Skye abruptly. “What do you know about Miles?” 

“What do I know…?” Coulson’s at a loss. “Not much. He managed to break out of the bracelet…” 

“I know that,” Skye cuts him off. “He was arrested by Chinese Intelligence after trying to hack an airline in order to get himself on a flight back to America. Last I knew he’d been remanded to a psychiatric hospital after ranting about secret agents and government conspiracies, and who knows what else?” 

Coulson looks like he wants to ask if it was Skye’s doing, but in the end he doesn’t. Though whether that is because he doesn’t believe her capable of something like that, or he just doesn’t care, Skye doesn’t know. She supposes it doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. Truth be told, Skye would not have done something like that to Miles, that was all Myc. What she would have done, and did, in fact do, is ruin him on the web. The likelihood of Miles being able to find anyone to join him again on any sort of endeavour is negligible. 

The question is, in the end, enough to get Coulson, and later on several others, investigating. The first thing they find out is that Miles is no longer in the hospital. He got out shortly after the whole HYDRA insurrection. He seems to have vanished shortly after that. It’s May who brings to their attention several flights with blacked-out flight-plans, a detail that apparently means they belong to intelligence agencies of some sort. A number of those flights apparently either took off from, or at the very least made a stop in Hong Kong in the weeks following the HYDRA mess. 

“So you think that Miles made a deal with some other agency?” Coulson guesses. 

“Well, it’s no secret that a lot of people and organisations don’t really like SHIELD,” Skye drawls. “Which I totally understand.” 

It looks like Coulson might want to complain, but in the end he doesn’t. 

It’s around then that Hand seems to finally reach the end of her patience. 

“I don’t know why we keep talking in circles,” she states, loudly. “Just give me leave to ‘interrogate’ her and we’ll get the information we need!” 

Everyone knows what she means when she says ‘interrogate’ in that tone. 

Skye reacts to the implicit threat, viscerally. It’s not about her. While she cannot say that she’s ever been trained to resist interrogation, she likes to believe that she could do it, if she really had to. However, that line of thought is pointless since she doesn’t have the answers Hand wants anyway! Also, while she might be capable and willing to endure a lot herself, she will not let the foolish woman put her babies at risk! 

“I’ve about had it with all of you!” The hacker practically snaps, loud and intense enough that everyone in the room shuts up and focuses on her. 

Coulson looks honestly shocked. Though May… she actually looks like she’s been waiting for the moment when Skye would snap. What does seem to surprise her though, is that after her initial outburst Skye doesn’t go into an impassioned, over-dramatic rant. No, instead she’s cold, calculating, serene. 

“You agents think you have so much power,” she almost drawls. “You think you can do whatever the hell you want, and that you’ll get away with it. Why? Because you have a fancy badge? Newsflash, lots of people have fancy badges. In fact, yours are worth a lot less than most others. You might keep telling yourselves that SHIELD is all that, but you really, really aren’t. And in the eyes of most of the intelligence world, you never were. There was a time when you achieved a lot, yes. But was it because you were that good, or just because you continuously took advantage of the fact that the world did not know you existed? Or that you didn’t really have to answer to any government? It’s why other agencies hate you, you know? You give the business a bad name. Most of the people out there, the civilians, who tell horror stories about black suits and government agencies that ‘disappear people’? That’s you. And you’re probably even stupidly proud about that, but here’s what you don’t seem to be getting yet, you cannot do that to me.” 

“Newsflash, little girl, we already have,” Hand practically hisses at her. 

“No, you really haven’t,” Skye almost laughs at her, almost, but manages to control herself. “Now, let's break things down a bit, shall we? You keep accusing me about ‘stealing’ SHIELD secrets. What secrets? One of your own dumped them all on the web over a year ago! You have no secrets left to be stolen! At least none worth much.” She doesn’t tell them that she was one of those who recovered the dumped information and encrypted it in order to protect people, that part isn’t as important right now. “Artefacts? I have no interest in any of your artefacts. And if you’re about to try and claim that I’m doing it all for the money. I do not need that either. I have my own money. More than I’ll ever know what to do with, if I’ve gotta be honest.” 

It pays working in cybersecurity, especially when one is as good as she is, and manages to cultivate the kind of reputation she has. 

“That’s impossible…” Hand begins. 

“Why? Because you did not know it?” Skye scoffs in an almost derisive tone. “You need to understand lady, you know nothing about me. Now, stop threatening me, or I’m not the only one who’ll make you pay. You have no idea what my family’s capable of.”

“Now I know you’re really bluffing,” Hand states, rolling her eyes pointedly. “We know you’re alone.” 

Skye looks at her for a moment and then… she just laughs. Loudly. Probably more than entirely necessary (in a corner of her mind she wonders if perhaps the pregnancy is making her emotions a tad harder to manage than usual). 

“You don’t know me, Agent Hand,” Skye reiterates. “As for Coulson, and May, my ‘old team’? They don’t either, they never did. See, I know you didn’t find much of anything on Skye, but then again, Skye is a nickname,” it’s not even her screen-name! “It’s pretty simple, I like being called Skye, but it’s not in any legal document anywhere. Xiuying Li? That’s a cover identity I have. Elaborate enough I can even use it for travel, I even got a debit card under that name. But that’s it. And I have so many other names that I’ve used throughout my life. The real me? You wouldn’t want to know her.” 

Truth is that, to a point, Hand already knows her. Not directly, of course not. But Victoria Hand is one of the people Skye’s been sending tips to, concerning HYDRA, in her identity as Agent Fleur. She actually wonders what the SHIELD Agent would say if she were to find out that Skye is Fleur. The older woman seems to truly respect Elisabeth Fleur, how would she react to finding out that the hacker she just threatened to torture is the same person as the freelance agent who’s been helping her and the rest of SHIELD take down HYDRA operatives they didn’t even know about?! 

Before Skye can make up her mind regarding what to do next they’re interrupted in a most unexpected manner: by the SHIELD base being invaded, by a paramilitary group. 

“Everyone stay exactly where you are!” the female voice of the leader demands. 

Enough figures garbed head to toe in black and armed to the teeth pour into the room that even Hunter doesn’t dare to so much as make a quip. They certainly don’t move. 

“Now, if you ladies and gentlemen cooperate, no one needs to get hurt.” the woman continues. “I am Roseann McBride, and for the remainder of the day, I’m in charge here.” 

The following hour is a bit of a mess while the paramilitary group rounds up all the agents and staff, locking them up in the barracks. The more skilled agents are put in the detention block, with just a few staying right there in the conference room (where the rest of the leadership is brought in). The agents there are disarmed, and tied up one to the other in such a way as to make it next to impossible to either free themselves or fight. 

Skye watches it all happen in silence, carefully studying the people, their actions. And their leader… Skye has read about Roseann McBride, though not with that name… or rather, not just that name. It wasn’t that Skye went looking for her either, the information came across her desk while she was compiling everything on A.G.R.A. That was also when she discovered that there are more ‘freelance agents’ in the world than most people might think. The difference between most of them and herself, is that the majority of such operatives tend to allow the claim of whichever agency they happen to be working for at any given time. Thus Sarah Russell working for the CIA, Jane Thompson for NASA, Margaret Campbell for MI5… all of them being the same woman: Roseann McBride. 

In comparison, Skye has a single ‘persona’ which she uses for intelligence work, that of Elisabeth Fleur, and while she has worked ops with MI5, MI6, Interpol and even the FBI, it’s always been under the same name, and she’s never called herself one of their agents. Choosing to keep her identity and independence even in such things. 

Once they have everyone where they want them, and they’re all secured, McBride orders several of her people to stand guard by the doors and turns to leave. It’s then that Skye sees him: Miles Lydon. In the same get-up as the military, though the clothes are big enough on him, to make it obvious that they weren’t actually made for him. Skye curls up a bit, doing her best to not be noticed. She also pulls up the zipper on her jacket to cover herself as much as possible. She does pay attention though, enough to notice Miles going straight after McBride. Are they working together? How long has that been going on? Was she the one to help him out of Hong Kong? 

“Well, I suppose that answers that question,” she murmurs to herself. 

Because at least Miles’s presence does serve to answer who’s behind all the crimes SHIELD mistakenly blamed her for. 

Beside her Coulson nods minutely, clearly having seen Miles as well. She wonders if his presence doesn’t make him wonder about other things as well, like the last day in Hong Kong, how different it all could have been. It's pointless wondering in the end, she supposes, though Skye has always been the sentimental one, among the Holmeses. 

A little time passes, an hour perhaps, and people start to actually relax. Beginning to believe that they won’t just be killed or something. It’s then that, from the corner of her eye, Skye notices Morse bracing herself. Probably preparing to do something incredibly stupid. Does she not notice that any move she makes will pull on Gonzales, and the other Co-Director that’s been connected to her (a woman called Anne Weaver)? 

“Don’t!” she snaps in the direction of the agent, as quiet as she can. 

Even then, it’s enough for the military guys to turn to look at them, if briefly; which actually helps make Morse desist from her intentions. That also leads to her shooting a glacial look at Skye. 

“I could have done it,” she hisses at Skye under her breath. 

“You could have gotten us all shot, is what you could have done,” Skye retorts. “Haven’t you noticed yet? The rope used to tie us all up, it’s not your commercial rope, it’s handmade. Which means that, more likely than not, it’ll have a core made of something a lot more resistant than twine. Which in turn means that no matter how hard you pull or how well you twist, it won’t break. It will hurt you, and the two at your sides. And depending on how trigger-happy the guys over there are, they will probably shoot you, and them, perhaps even all of us.” She takes a deep breath. “We can avoid all that messy business if you just stay put and avoid doing something stupid.” 

Morse only blinks. In fact, most people are staring at Skye like they’ve never met her. Even Coulson and May look a little taken aback by that whole analysis. 

“How do you know all that?” Hand asks, surprisingly non-confrontational. 

Skye has a feeling that either she’s made her own, far more discreet, attempt at freeing herself, discovering exactly what Skye just described regarding the ropes, or she’s come across such ties before and knows them by sight. 

“I told you before, you don’t know me,” Skye says quietly. “Even the person I was two years ago, on Coulson’s team? That’s not all I am. It’s just a fraction that I played up.” 

“To get into SHIELD?” Morse asks, suspicious. 

“In part,” Skye admits. “To find the person who left me in St. Agnes when I was but months old, with nothing but a repurposed blouse to serve as a sort-of dress and not even a birth-certificate. I managed to hack their records while still a teenager and discovered that my admittance form was redacted, by SHIELD. Tried to get in legally, but… well, I suppose that’s beyond the point.” 

That seems to shock people even more. For a moment it looks like Coulson will say something, but in the end he doesn’t. No one does. 

“Also,” Skye continues speaking. “You heard what McBride said. She’s in charge for the day.” 

“Yeah, and what’s that supposed to mean?” Morse snaps. 

“It means that whatever has brought her and her… compatriots here, they’ll be done by the end of the day,” Skye points out calmly. 

“The Gravitonium,” Weaver blurts out, a horrified expression on her face. 

“What…?” Skye is completely thrown by that. 

She knows what the Gravitonium is, she was part of the mission to recover it (her first big mission with SHIELD). 

“Wait,” something occurs to her just then. “That’s the thing that’s being auctioned off? The thing you kept insisting I was going to steal? You knew someone was going to try and steal that thing and you brought it here? To the very base where you were bringing the person you believed would be stealing it? Are you all bonkers? Have you completely lost the plot?!” 

“Hey, are you a Brit?” Hunter unexpectedly interrupts. 

“In what universe is that relevant right now?!” Skye demands. 

The last thing any of them expect is for Miles to be walking past right then. And not just that, but for him to overhear Skye’s last words, and be able to recognize her voice. Which is exactly what happened: 

“Skye!” Miles calls loudly as he bursts into the room. “I thought I recognized your voice.” 

The hacker holds herself back from reacting, pasting the blandest look she can upon her face (Mycroft is her big brother, she knows all about bland expressions). 

“Tell me, how have you been?” he asks, perching on the conference table, right in front of her. 

Skye says nothing. 

“You know, I did not expect you to still be hanging around with these losers,” Miles says almost conversationally. “Thought you would have wisened up by now.” 

And still Skye doesn’t answer. 

“Oh, I know! You should meet Roseann!” He cries out, very dramatically. “She’s gonna love you. And I’m sure you’re gonna love her. Hell of a woman. With an interest in the finer things in life, and the money needed to treat herself whenever she wants. Precisely what you need.” his tone turns quieter and he gets closer to Skye, right into her personal space. “But don’t worry, there’s nothing between us. You are the one I want, still.” 

Skye shudders even as she fights to keep herself from reacting. 

“Back down Lydon,” May snaps defensively. 

“Hey! I remember you!” Miles yells practically in May’s face. “The bitch that put us in handcuffs back in Hong Kong.” he practically spits at her. “I wasn’t talking to you.” He turns back to Skye. “I was talking to my girlfriend.” 

When he makes an attempt to kiss her, Skye just cannot hold back anymore, she leans as far away from him as she can. 

“I’m not your girlfriend,” she hisses at him. 

That actually seems to make him pause, just for a moment though. 

“Oh, don’t be like that baby,” he tells her. “I’m sorry we had to be apart so long. But we’re together now. And once we’re finished with this job we’ll even be rich! We can go wherever we want. Have a fantastic life…” 

“I’m not going anywhere with you!” Skye snaps. 

Miles blinks, clearly not expecting that. 

“Sweetheart…” he begins. 

“Do not call me sweetheart, or baby, or anything of the sort,” Skye orders, fighting to keep herself as calm as possible. “I’m not your girlfriend Miles. And I don’t want to be. Now move away, and stay away from me!” 

When the change comes, it’s like the flip of a switch. Miles goes from overly sweet and ridiculous to cold and vicious, he touches Skye cheek, moving his hand to grasp her chin between two fingers, forcing her to look at him. 

“No one says no to me, you hear me!” he demands loudly, spittle flying from his mouth and in her direction. “No one!” 

He tries to kiss Skye and she bends back just enough to avoid him, pulling her face off his hold and completely ignoring the scratches his nails leave on her chin and neck. 

“Bitch!” Miles snarls. 

It all happens very fast. One moment he’s reaching for her, intending to do her harm, no doubt. The agents at both of Skye’s sides yelling at him to stop… the next moment he’s falling, and there’s blood spraying on Coulson’s face, some drops landing on Skye’s neck and one cheek. 

It takes Skye a moment to actually process what just happened. The fact that Miles is dead at her feet. And behind him is none other than McBride, gun held high. She says nothing and her expression is totally cold. Like she didn’t just kill one of her own associates… or like she doesn’t care. 

And then the smell of blood actually hits Skye and she cannot help herself, she vomits. 

xXx

McBride herself releases Skye from the ropes and escorts her to the bathroom. She can see May, Coulson and even Morse trying to insist that they should accompany her, but it’s pointless. Skye makes a point of washing her mouth, face and neck. 

“I’m not in the habit of allowing my people to force themselves on others,” is all McBride says on the matter. “No matter who they are, where we are, or what we’re doing.” 

Skye can respect that. 

Glancing at the mirror as she’s drying her hands, Skye notices the older woman looking at her. She assumes that McBride believes Miles’s death to be the first time Skye has seen someone die. That that’s the reason for her being sick. Thankfully Skye’s still early enough in her pregnancy that it’s not so obvious just yet; the jumpsuit has made hiding it a bit harder than it would be with her usual clothes, but her jacket helps, even if the fact that the jacket is cropped does call a bit of attention to the fact that her waist isn’t quite as narrow as it used to be. 

As they make their way back to the conference room a part of Skye wonders at their situation, and not just that, but how different things might have been, how different she herself might be, in another world. If she’d never met Sherlock, never been adopted by the Holmeses… would she be just like McBride? A freelance hacker/operative at the service of the highest bidder? Or maybe she’d still be a SHIELD Agent working under Coulson. If she hadn’t known her brother would be willing to help her out, to get her home, would she have ever left the team, even with the insane trust issues between all of them? And had she still been with the team, would she have been able to be there to help Ward? To save him? Or maybe… maybe she would have been the one shot, perhaps even the one to die! 

Something else comes to her mind then, and it is how much she truly loves the Holmeses, her family. And it’s not even just then. But John and Sherlock… she loves them, heart and soul, cannot imagine living her life without them. The thought of living any sort of life where she isn’t in a wonderful, loving relationship with the two of them, expecting their babies… she cannot fathom it, she doesn’t want to. 

Things start moving much faster once they’re back in the conference room. The floor has been cleaned up by someone already (presumably one of the paramilitary), Miles’s body disposed of. McBride for her part seems to be running out of patience; or perhaps it is that she knows the longer they’re in place, the more likely they’ll be found by someone. Of course, they don’t know that that’s going to happen anyway. Skye has made sure of that. 

Ray dropped by the flat before Skye left for Scotland, carrying with him a tiny radio transmitter, the kind he usually outfits MI6 agents with. It was just meant to be used in emergencies (which the current situation definitely qualifies as). Skye keeps it in a concealed pocket on the inside of her jacket, and didn’t activate it until McBride showed up. In the end, SHIELD is an annoyance, but no real threat, not in her mind. The paramilitary on the other hand, they’re a very real threat. The kind she knows she can’t handle on her own (she won’t risk her babies). And she isn’t sure SHIELD won’t be more of a bother instead of a help, if she ends up having to act. 

Things get a bit dicey when whatever technician and so-called experts McBride’s brought along to help her break-open the vault where SHIELD’s keeping the Gravitonium fails to get it open. The man manages to blame it on Miles not having finished something despite claiming he had. Skye’s not 100% if that’s true or just the man saying whatever he can think of to save his own life (unknown if McBride would have actually killed him for his failure, but she’s clearly not the kind of woman who takes failure easily… or at all). In any case, Skye decides to take the opportunity. 

“I could help,” she offers. 

That makes McBride turn her full attention onto her. 

“And why would you do that, little agent?” The woman inquires, head tilted to the side. 

Skye almost rolls her eyes, almost, what is it with people always picking up on her for her height? She’s not even that short. Granted, next to people like Sherlock and Mycroft a lot of people would be considered small, and even John’s taller than her… but that’s beside the point! 

“Why would you betray your own people?” McBride continues. “I do not like traitors, you know?” 

“I’m no traitor, because I’m not one of them,” Skye states evenly, head held high. 

“Oh…” that definitely calls the other woman’s interest. “What are you doing here then? If you’re not one of them?” 

“I was abducted, in Scotland,” Skye answers sincerely. “I have a… past. Was with the Rising Tide for a couple of years.” 

“Ah… the Rising Tide,” McBride nods. “Lydon was part of their group as well.” 

“He was,” Skye doesn’t see the point lying about it. “It’s how we knew each other. He’s actually the one who got me in. We also dated, very briefly, when I lived in Texas. I moved on eventually, but he grew… obsessed.” 

Enough to try and force himself on her. Skye shudders at the thought. 

“The Rising Tide is gone,” McBride continues. “Yet you’re not in prison, or playing nice with the government.” 

She clearly wants to know how Skye avoided being either imprisoned or recruited. 

“You cannot catch someone you don’t know is there,” Skye shrugs somewhat. 

Granted, that’s embellishing things a bit too much, but it’s not an outright lie, so she’s pretty sure she can get away with it, even if McBride’s better at reading body language than Skye thinks she is. 

“Very well,” McBride nods, and waves a hand in the direction of the main computer in the room. 

Because apparently, with there being a ‘Board of Directors’ leading SHIELD nowadays, rather than a single individual, there’s no small office in use anymore. The room Skye has been calling a conference room in her head all day, it turns out, is actually effectively the Directors’ office. 

Skye sits down on the offered chair, takes a deep breath, mentally mapping what she needs to do, exactly, and how she’s going to do it without getting caught. Then she exhales, and her fingers start flying across the keys. 

She can tell, by the several sharp inhales behind her, that she’s managed to surprise more than one person. Either for the speed at which she’s working, or how fast she’s getting things done, despite never having used that particular computer before. Then again, if Skye has learned something in her years as a hacker it’s that, in the end, all computers are the same, if you just know how to use them. Yes, there might be some small differences, in things like processing speed, the size of the hard-drive, but those are just details, and easy to get around, if one knows how to. 

Several windows pop up in quick succession, before almost half of them close back up almost as quickly. She makes the smallest of pauses, holding her breath, and when there’s no comment, gets back to typing, relieved that her ruse hasn’t been discovered. 

As McBride’s people look on, they watch her going through maps of the facility (the Playground, the SHIELD files tell her, is the codename for the base), comparing basic blueprints, with security maps and records. 

“What are you doing?” one of them asks, either suspicious or just curious, it’s hard to tell for sure. 

“Checking the basic security of the base in general, of the vault you want opened, and of the areas closest to the vault.” Skye explains honestly. “It’s entirely possible that the failure to open it hasn’t been caused by anything done wrong directly at the vault, but rather that there’s a particular security feature that is not technically on the vault itself, but rather an adjacent space, and it’s affecting the vault almost as a side-effect.” 

The low hiss coming from somewhere to herself (most likely Hand) tells her she’s right about her assumption. It also tells her that Hand at least has completely bought her decision to turn on them (Skye would roll her eyes if it wouldn’t completely give her away). 

“I’m also comparing the different versions of the blueprints of the base, to see what’s missing where.” she adds for good measure. “Usually when people have different versions of these, it’s for a reason. Most often because they’re hiding something, and if it’s anywhere near the vault, it’s probably something you will want to know.” 

What she doesn’t tell them, is that before she got started on all that, she unsealed the Playground (which was originally sealed when they came in, either something Miles managed to do, or perhaps someone else, in an attempt to keep the invaders out, not realising they were already in). With that done, all she can do is cross her fingers and hope others will be quick enough. 

“You traitor…” Hand hisses, pulling at her ropes ineffectively. 

“Not one of you,” Skye reminds her as she types one more command. 

A window pops up on the screen unexpectedly. 

“What’s that?” the paramilitary closest to him demands sharply. 

It’s a plain black window, with a single word, written in Chinese: ‘duck’. 

Skye reacts instinctively, pushing the rolling chair she’s on just far enough away from the desk so that she can get down on the ground and roll right under the desk. Behind her she thinks she can hear May saying something to Coulson and guesses she must have managed to read the message as well. On the opposite side the paramilitary guy yells something, so does McBride, but Skye isn’t really paying attention to either of them. She’s just fully curled up into herself when a cylinder goes rolling through the open door. Smoke coming out of it. 

Then it’s absolute mayhem. 

Four people rush into the room the moment there’s enough smoke to sort-of cover their arrival. They’re clad in black from head to toe, wearing breathing apparatuses and what looks like a modified version of night-goggles (for the smoke). The paramilitary guys start going down almost immediately. Skye knows who they all are: Sherlock, John, Cassia and James. 

SHIELD Agents of course try to intervene, either forgetting or trying to pay no heed to the fact that they’re all weaponless and tied up. It’d have been funny if it weren’t so dangerous. 

All goes well until Skye finds herself pulled out from under the table by her hair. Courtesy of none other than McBride herself. She waits until the smoke has cleared and it’s evident that she’s the only one of her group left standing, to address the newcomers. 

“Now, you’re gonna step aside, and you’re gonna let me go, or I shoot.” McBride orders coldly, pressing the gun against her back. “A single shot might not kill her, but it will certainly ruin her life.” 

This time Skye definitely rolls her eyes. 

She takes a moment to consider her position, as well as McBride’s before going into motion. Skye drops to her knees, abruptly enough to unbalance McBride, who pulls the trigger reflexively. Skye winces but doesn’t react beyond that, twisting in the ground and kicking out at McBride’s ankle, forcing her to go down. It’s, regretfully, not a hard enough fall to knock her out, so she comes back up, gun raised, ready to shoot, before another shot rings throughout the room and then she’s dead. 

“Thanks John,” she doesn’t even need to look to know exactly who just took that shot. 

Sherlock, on the other hand, is the one to help her back onto her feet, while the others help the SHIELD agents get free of their bonds. 

“What the hell just happened?” someone finally asks (or rather, more than one someone). 

“We just got our asses saved by special forces, that’s what happened.” Hunter snipes. 

“How did you get in here?” Gonzales demands. “This is a top-secret facility.” 

“So top-secret it got invaded and all of you held hostage by paramilitary?” Sherlock scoffs. 

Even Skye snorts at that. 

“Who are you people?” Hand wants to know. “And how are you even here?” 

“Oh, don’t worry, we’re not here for you,” Sherlock says dismissively, before pointedly turning to Skye. “You might want to call Myc and Ray, let them know you’re alright.” 

“How can she be alright?” May demands as she approaches, attention turning to Skye. “You just got shot. At point blank!” 

“I’m alright,” Skye states. 

When it’s made clear that May doesn’t really believe her she turns enough for May to take a good look at her back. Her jacket looks a bit scuffed but that’s about it. 

“How…?” she begins, shocked. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” Hunter’s the one to roll his eyes then. “The lady’s jacket is bulletproof.” He turns fully to her. “I knew there had to be a reason you were so intent on getting it back.” 

“It was a gift, from my brother and his partner,” Skye reiterates, before pointing at James. “Said partner being him.” 

“James Bond, with MI6.” the blonde states evenly. 

“Cassia Evans, MI5.” the next announces. 

“We’re just along for the ride,” Sherlock states blandly, signalling to himself and John. 

Once again, Skye snorts. 

“How…?” Gonzales, like most of the SHIELD Agents, is clearly at a loss. “What are you doing here?” 

“Told you, we’re not here for you,” Sherlock’s tone makes it obvious how much he hates to repeat himself. “We’re here for her.” 

All eyes fall on Skye, then. Not just SHIELD’s, but also her family’s. Clearly she’s being given the chance to decide herself how to handle this. She can just say they’re family, and leave it at that. Or she can step forth and claim her own place in the group. 

“I told you before, Skye is nothing more than a nickname,” she reminds everyone with more calm than she actually feels at that moment. “I also told you I’ve had many names, some more important than others. Well, one of those many names, and perhaps the one most relevant in the present company, is the one of Elisabeth Fleur, freelance agent.” 

The number of sharp inhales in the room, as well as the whispers of ‘ fleur-de-lis ’ tell her that at least some people know exactly who she is. Or at least are aware of her reputation. 

Coulson and May look especially flabbergasted, clearly at a loss on how to react to that revelation. The fact that they clearly did not know her, at all. Like she’s been telling them all along; though Skye suspects that they might have convinced themselves it wasn’t that big a deal, either because they’re such good agents, or just not believing that someone seemingly living in the back of her van could amount to much… she supposes it doesn’t really matter in the end. 

Gonzales and Hand of course try to get James and the others to give a report on what they did exactly, how they even got in, but they blatantly refuse. 

“Look, we don’t work for you people,” James states strongly. “I barely even do what M tells me. And he’s my boss! What makes you believe I’ll do anything you want me to?” 

“You’re in our jurisdiction.” Hand states strongly. 

“What jurisdiction?” Cassia scoffs. “Have you forgotten? You have no jurisdiction, because SHIELD doesn’t exist!” 

It’s the truth. By their own choice, when the American government tried to push them into the light, in an attempt to clean house and ensure that what happened with HYDRA would never happen again; SHIELD leadership instead chose to have them go even deeper into the shadows. Deeper than they were even before they were in touch with Iron Man, and created the Avengers Initiative. To the point where most people nowadays weren’t even sure they existed at all anymore. It was what they wanted, but it also meant that the organisation didn’t really have a legal standing anywhere. 

Which means of course that they can’t force actual agents from legitimate agencies to do anything. They were lucky as it was that said agencies weren’t moving against them for the abduction of Skye… So in the end they did not insist. 

“Well, what are we waiting for, time to go people!” James snaps. “Life’s short and all that.” 

Some agents think they can hear him saying something about some Q-person being proud that he (James) will be returning his equipment in one piece this time… only the comment sounds so ridiculous that they convince themselves they cannot possibly have heard right. 

Skye’s about to step out of the room when Coulson unexpectedly calls to her: 

“Skye!” he approaches her, May at his heels. “Or do you prefer Agent Fleur?” 

Skye wonders if he remembers, back when they’d just met, when she tried to call him by his first name, and he cut her off, told her not to call him Phil. 

“Skye’s still fine, AC,” she smiles at him, a small smile, it’s enough. 

“Here,” he offers her an SD card. 

“What’s this?” Sherlock intercepts it, not even bothering to be courteous 

“The answers to the questions you joined SHIELD to try and solve,” Coulson answers. 

Skye blinks because, he cannot possibly mean what she thinks he means… Sherlock and Skye look at each other, a whole conversation in a single look. In the end the consulting detective nods, slipping the card into the inside pocket of his coat. They’ll of course have to run the card through several malware programs, just to make sure it’s safe, but after that… 

“Thank you,” she nods gently, not quite knowing what else to say. 

She hesitates, wondering if she ought to say something else, leave, or what exactly. When May makes some sort of gesture, to which Coulson nods. 

“Right,” he turns to Skye again. “Something else. The woman, the one who left you on St. Agnes’s doorstep? She was a SHIELD Agent: Linda Avery.” 

“Was?” John asks, though clearly already suspecting the reason for the past tense. 

“She’s dead,” May murmurs. 

“Linda Avery…” Skye whispers to herself, then she nods once more. “Thank you.” Then, for good measure, she adds. “Farewell.” 

James and Cassia are already waiting for them at the helicopter they arrived in. 

“Finally!” 007 cries out dramatically. “Strap in people and lets go! I've got a hot date to make it back to! Was promised all sorts of sexual favours if I gave back my toys whole.” 

It’s clear to Skye that James is only saying that to try and get a rise out of Sherlock. Though his attempt fails, because instead of listening to him, the consulting detective’s whole attention is on her. Skye realises the exact moment when he deduces her, the way his eyes go so very wide, mouth drops slightly open, he doesn’t seem to be breathing at all. 

“Sherlock…?” John asks, clearly noticing something’s off with one of his lovers. 

Skye very pointedly stares straight at him, waiting until he’s looking back at her to bring one hand to her lower abdomen in a very telling gesture. 

“What…?!” John blurts out in shock. 

“What?!” James yells from the front. “What’s going out back there?” 

“Skye’s pregnant,” Cassia announces. 

Skye briefly wonders if she saw the gesture, or if, being a woman, she was able to notice something before either of the men did. 

“Really?” James sounds just a bit surprised, though he processes quickly. “Congratulations.” 

“Thanks,” and then, because Skye cannot help but be a little shit sometimes, she adds: “We’re going to have twins.” 

It’s clear even Cassia wasn’t expecting that. Sherlock is staring at her like his mind has done the equivalent of a blue-screen of doom. And John? He just faints. Skye laughs. 

xXx

The video is prefaced with recordings of a file (a top-secret SHIELD file, to be precise) on Agent Linda Avery. Deceased. According to the file, she was tortured and murdered; officially it is unknown what information her killer wanted, and if they got it. Officially, Coulson’s pretty sure they didn’t. After the file is a voiceover from Coulson, identifying the other man in the video as Richard Lumley, Avery’s old partner. Who went off-grid around the same time Avery was found dead. He was long suspected to have been responsible, or at the very least connected to her death. Though apparently whatever was revealed in their conversation cleared him from all suspicion. 

The video is in black&white, security feed, and taken from an angle that means Lumley isn’t fully visible. That’s okay, Skye isn’t planning on looking for him, anyway. In her hands she’s holding the picture Eli made of the person who left her on St. Agnes, Linda Avery, as she knows now she was called. The first thing she did (after thoroughly checking the SD card and being sure there was no virus, malware or anything of the sort in it) was compare it with the pictures in the copy of Avery’s file included in the card. It wasn’t a perfect match, Avery clearly made an effort to ensure she’d go unnoticed, but there’s enough to tell Skye it’s most definitely her. After so long, she finally knows just who left her on the orphanage’s doorstep. Now as to why… 

“Cyanide?” Coulson asked, sitting across from the other agent, May standing by his side, he sounded somewhat perturbed. “What did you think we were gonna do to you?”

“What they did to her.” The man, Lumley, stated, pointing out some pictures on the table (presumably from Avery’s file). 

“Agent Linda Avery?” 

“She wasn’t the first one to die,” Lumley said. “We were headed into the Hunan province of China. A senior agent had called in an 0-8-4.” 

“An object of unknown origin.” Coulson nodded. “We’ve dealt with those before.” 

“He said the entire village had died trying to protect this one.” Lumley says, quietly, half lost in some distant memory. “Avery and I were just fresh out of the Academy. And there was five of us just running the back end, until we lost communication with the first team. We went searching. We found the senior agent under a bridge. He managed to escape with a gunshot wound to the neck, but he bled out. He was still holding on to the 0-8-4. Poor thing was covered in blood. We thought she was dead, too, but sh… she was just asleep in the dead agent’s arms.” 

“Wait…” Coulson interrupted, in disbelief. “The baby? The girl was the 0-8-4?” 

“If she had powers or something, we never witnessed it,” Lumley clarified. “The five of us helicoptered the kid off, headed home. After we landed, we started getting crossed off.” 

“Executed?” Coulson asked for clarification. 

“Tortured, heads bashed in.” Just like Avery. “And when it came down to Avery and I, we realised the only way to keep our people and the kid from being hunted…” 

“Was to erase her from existence.” Coulson finished for him. 

“Avery was smart.” Lumley hummed. “She used the lead agent’s credentials to fake a level 8 clearance, she set up a nearly invisible protocol. The foster system was ordered to move the child around every few months.” 

“But they still got to Avery.” Coulson pointed out. 

“She died protecting that secret.” Lumley sounded oddly proud of that fact. 

“And you left town.” Coulson prodded a bit. 

“Oh, I left everything.” Lumley nodded. “I mean, whoever killed that kid’s family and all those agents was a force to be reckoned with.” 

“And that girl…” May spoke up for the first time. 

“Don’t tell me a damn thing about her.” Lumley cut her off. “I don’t want to know. You understand? Just tell me… is she okay?” 

“She’s safe.” Coulson assured him. 

“Then maybe it was all worth it.” Lumley said softly. 

The video cut off after that. 

Skye, sitting on her armchair, with a tablet on John’s lapdesk is crying silently. John turns the screen off and pulls the desk off Skye’s lap, placing it on the closest table. At the same time Sherlock, who was already sitting on the armrest, on the opposite side from Skye, curls up around her, pulling her against his chest protectively. John goes to sit on the other armrest, pushing a lock of honey-brown hair behind Skye’s ear and then rubbing his hand up and down her back in soothing motions. 

For a few minutes none of them say a thing. Skye just sobs and her lovers do her best to comfort her as much as they can. Even Sherlock, who has such a hard time when it comes to sentiment, he holds onto Skye and refuses to let go until she’s calmed down enough to sit up straight in the armchair once again. 

The giggling throws them off a bit. John actually wonders if it might be hysterics of some kind, until his lover speaks up: 

“I wasn’t unwanted,” she says, in a perfectly even, if still slightly giggly, tone of voice. 

“What…?” John’s a bit unsure what that comment has to do with anything. 

“Ah…” Unsurprisingly, Sherlock seems to get it. 

“My whole life… or well, until I was twelve years old, at least,” Skye explains. “I thought I wasn’t wanted. I was always sent back, never with any family for more than two or three months. I thought it was because they didn’t want me. That I didn’t belong anywhere. That every family that took me in just… they decided I wasn’t what they were looking for in a daughter, that it was them who didn’t want me to stay. I… I didn’t realise… never suspected…” 

“Nor could you have,” Sherlock assures her. “This isn’t exactly standard procedure.” 

“No, it isn’t,” Skye agrees. 

“But they did it to keep you safe, from whatever killed your family, and your village,” John adds, because he thinks that bears mentioning. 

“Do you want one of us to…” find out what really happened? 

Sherlock leaves the sentence hanging, but Skye gets it, both she and John do. Though to the men’s surprise, she shakes her head. 

“No, I… I’m alright,” she assures them. “It’s… finding out what happened exactly won’t bring them all back and… I think that, if they loved me” and they must have loved her, right? To have all died trying to protect her… “I think they’d want me to live, to live my life rather than be stuck in the past, trying to discover things that won’t change anything in the end. Whoever I might have once been, wherever I might have once belonged, that is not my reality now. This…” she signals to herself, and to them. “This is who I am, and it is with you that I belong.” 

This, her quest this far was important. She has some closure now. She knows who brought her to the doorstep of St. Agnes, and why. She knows that she was never unwanted, that her being moved around was for her protection. She has answers. They might not be the ones she used to dream of finding, when she was little. It wasn’t some secret queen or very important person who spent their entire lives searching for her, trying to get her back… but it’s an answer nonetheless. 

They destroy the SD card. Whoever killed so many people trying to get to Skye, it’s better if they have no way of connecting her to that little girl who vanished all those years ago. They don’t know what happened to Lumley, Skye can only hope he’s safe, that he might have found some measure of safety and contentment, wherever he might be. 

“There’s only one thing I don’t get,” John says thoughtfully, later on, as they find themselves cuddling together on the couch. 

“Which is…?” Skye inquires. 

“If there was this secret protocol in place to ensure you were moved around so often, how did the Holmes family manage to adopt you?” John inquires. 

That, is a very good question indeed. 

“Our parents didn’t go through official channels,” Sherlock points out. “Or at least, not the traditional ones. When mummy heard about the girl who’d helped me find that serial killer, who protected me from him when things got dicey… she decided she wanted to have a daughter, and she wasn’t taking no for an answer.” 

And woe betide anyone who tries to get in the way of something Margaret Holmes, nee Vernet, wants. 

“There’s also the fact that, at the time of it all, I was living on the streets, and in an entirely different state from where St. Agnes sent me,” Skye points out. 

She doesn’t tell them that the last foster family she got assigned to had a father who could be more than a little violent when drunk, and a penchant for being drunk more often than not; as well as a mother who spent her time either trying to placate her husband enough not to be one of those he beat up, or drugged enough not to notice when the kids she was supposed to be caring for were hurt. It’s perhaps no surprise Skye chose to run away less than a week in. 

It wasn’t even the first time she ran away. Though she was usually found by social services pretty quickly. If she had to guess, the serial killer in the streets might have made things harder on that front. And then, of course there was Sherlock, and the Holmes family as a whole. Skye’s pretty sure there was nothing truly official just yet when they got her on a plane and out of the country; but once again, one doesn’t say no to Mummy Holmes. 

She does wonder what her file at St. Agnes might claim happened to her. Did they put her down as adopted? Do they believe her to have died all those years ago, or at some point since? Or perhaps they might even believe her to still be on the streets… She supposes it doesn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things. Her life is what it is. And she’s not Mary Sue Poots anymore, anyway. Hasn’t been for a long, long time… 

xXx

Christmas that year is a very cheerful (and somewhat rowdy) affair. Baker Street is full to the brim on Christmas Eve night, with Skye, Sherlock, John, James, Ray, Mycroft, Cassia, Mrs. Hudson, Molly, Lestrade, Jemma and Fitz all together for dinner. 

FitzSimmons are still on a high from their month-long honeymoon, and eager to share stories about all the places they visited, the luxuries they got to enjoy. They know already that Skye was behind the improvements they got and… while the two would have never spent so much money on what they consider frivolities, they certainly enjoyed them. 

Jemma also shrieks particularly loudly when she and Leo arrive at 221B proper and find Skye standing in the middle of the room in a long, ice blue, maternity dress, her bump quite obvious by then. 

The gift-exchange gets unexpectedly emotional when Skye opens the small box FitzSimmons gave her and finds inside… a hairclip. To be more precise a hair clip in the shape of a purple flower. Unlike her original one, it’s clearly not made of plastic (it’s much too heavy for that). Still, it looks so much like her original one that a tear is falling down Skye’s eye before she even notices it. She can’t even blame it on the pregnancy hormones, because it’s not about that at all. 

“Oh… don’t cry!” Leo exclaims, horrified. “Don’t…” 

“These are good tears,” Skye assures him, pulling the hair clip out of the box and holding it against her chest with care, as if it were the most precious thing ever. “How…?”

She’s not even sure what she’s asking, exactly, but her friends understand anyway. 

“Ward found the one you were wearing… that day,” Jemma explains quietly. “When we saw it, blackened and half-melted… we were horrified.” 

“It was… the computers, they sparked and… I smelled the burnt plastic but there was no time to focus on that.” Skye answers vaguely. 

“Ward explained,” Leo nods. “We knew it was special to you, even if we didn’t know why exactly.” 

“It was a gift,” Skye explains quietly. “The first gift I was ever given. When… when I was twelve. Not long before Mummy decided to adopt me.” 

“Oh…” more than one person is left shocked by that. 

It’s hard to tell what shocks them most though. The idea of her being so sentimental about a gift, or that she hadn’t gotten a gift before she was twelve. 

“Such a cheap thing,” Sherlock scoffs, more dramatically than entirely necessary. “Had I known you’d place such importance on it, I’d at least have gotten you something better.” 

John shakes his head goodnaturedly. He knew even before being told that Sherlock was the one to give it to her. 

“This one isn’t plastic, of course,” Jemma starts babbling unexpectedly. “I… it’d have made for a more precise replica, I know. But I thought, and Leo agreed, that this way it’d last…” 

“We made it fire resistant too,” Leo adds for good measure. 

Skye lets out a giggle that comes out half-sob. She tries to clip the flower to her hair a couple of times but keeps missing. Until John takes the hair clip from her hand, carefully arranges one of her forelocks behind her ear and then places the clip in place. 

“There,” he says, satisfied. “Beautiful.” 

“John, she’s always beautiful,” Sherlock states cheekily. 

“Aww…” Jemma coos dreamily. 

Mycroft just rolls his eyes. 

The rest of the gift-giving at least is less emotionally intense. At Skye’s insistence the gifts are all small, simple things (mostly because she knew that, otherwise, Myc and Sher would have spent ridiculous amounts of money on them, which would have made Lestrade, Molly and her friends more than a little self-conscious). 

By the end of the night FitzSimmons, along with Lestrade and Molly, agree to be the twins’ godparents. FitzSimmons also promise to visit more often. 

Mycroft is the only one who seems somewhat put-out by not being asked. 

“You’re already family Myc,” Skye explains with a roll of her eyes. “Now, so will they be.” 

On Boxing Day the trio make their way to Bristol, where Mummy Holmes is quite excited to see them. She, in fact, refuses to let go of Skye for a long while. 

“My first grandchildren!” she excuses, when Sherlock tries (and fails, again) to get her to let go. 

The real shock comes when she turns to Mycroft and the words that come out of her mouth then: 

“And you?” she demands. “When are you going to give me some grandbabies to spoil?” 

Mycroft sputters, Cassia tries to hide it, but she’s blushing. 

“Oh…” Skye breathes out in shock, then she starts laughing, loudly. 

Cassia’s not the only one blushing then. 

Mummy of course is absolutely delighted. While Skye wonders at their chances of surviving the upcoming year. While they might not know who’s the father of her twins (and there’s always the chance that, since they’re not identical, they might have different fathers); but even if they’re both John’s, they will still be Holmes children. And now with Cassia expecting as well… things are probably going to be more than a little crazy for all of them in the coming months and years. Skye couldn’t be happier. 

This, right here. This is her family. Her real family. It’s not about blood, not even about names. It’s about the bonds that bind together, the love. 

She wonders what her lovers would say about using the name ‘Linda’, if at least one of the twins is a girl… or perhaps Avery, that one would work whether it’s a boy or a girl. Skye sees it as a small way of remembering her, the woman who saved her life, who gave her a chance. 

Skye raises her eyes, her lovers are watching her. Sherlock whispers something to John that she cannot quite hear, though it’s made obvious with John’s next words: 

“Avery Vernet-Holmes?” he offers. 

“Avery Watson-Holmes,” she corrects softly. 

“I like it,” Sherlock nods. 

Yeah, now they just need to choose a fitting name for the other twin. 

And for Myc’s baby. 

Life definitely has a way of being interesting when you’re a Holmes!