"Prekratit govornit" The voice was raspy and harsh.

Coulson looked over to Skye. She didn't understand the Russian's command to stop talking, but she looked down and her lips tightened into a slight frown. Coulson would have smiled, if they weren't on a cold cement floor, hands tied behind their backs. The guard walked over to Skye, and grabbed her chin roughly, gun handing at his side. His hairy knuckles were cut, crusted with blood. He had probably put down one or two of their agents already. Coulson hoped May was alright. As he thought of her, the pain of betrayal stung anew, like salt in an open wound. But he was brought back by the man's words.

"Vy khoroshen'kaya." His tone was neither gentle nor sweet, and Skye almost looked afraid. Almost. But then Coulson saw her eyes harden. She was not new to this kind of interrogation, gruff men hitting on her in compromising situations. That truth stung Coulson more than anything he felt about May at this moment.

"Otpustit yeye." Coulson's voice was calm, polite. There was no harshness to it, which gave it all the more weight of a command. Let. Her. Go.

The guard glared at him. "Ona vash pitomets? Ya ub'yu tebya i vsyat yeye." He gave a wry grin, Skye was disgusted but remained expressionless when she glanced at Coulson. He had hatred in his eyes, but kept a calm demeanor. Coulson's fury was mostly because the man called Skye his pet. She belonged to no one. This big oaf would not do anything to her. The threat to kill Coulson, however, was comedic at best. The best thing the guard had going for him was the distance. Taunting him would bring him into range. Coulson grinned. He knew what to do.

"Sdelayte eto to." Coulson said. Skye remembered that smile. He always used it when he had a plan. Her eyes danced with amusement, Coulson was clearly egging on the guard.

The man bent over Coulson, about to speak. It all happened so fast.

Coulson kicked his gun and it fell from the guard's shoulder, as the man turned to grab it, Coulson kicked him forward and the guard hit his head on the cement floor. Out. Easy as that.

"Why did you wait?" Skye asked; he could have done that minutes ago.

"As you said, May has got it under control out there. Besides, I was enjoying our conversation." Coulson let his lips curl into a small, subtle smile.

Skye laughed. "The one we didn't have?" She looked at his wrists, then his ankles. "Still all tied up though."

Coulson actually grinned, forced himself to his feet and hopped to the guard. He bent down, practically sitting on the guard, and with his hands behind his back, he grabbed a knife from the guard's pocket. He flipped it up and began cutting the ropes tied around his wrists. It was slow work. His wrists hurt a little more trying to maneuver the knife. He cut his ankles next, then looked at Skye with a questioning look.

"Do I have to hop on over there or what?" Her tone was playful.

Coulson couldn't believe she was already making jokes. How was she always so calm? So happy? After a life like hers, it seemed as though nothing could get to her, least of all a tough situation. She didn't care about being an 084. She didn't care about the alien blood that saved her life. She didn't care about any of it… but she cared a lot about everyone around her. About the wonder twins, about May, about Ward, before…

Coulson walked over to her as she struggled to stand without use of her hands. She stumbled a bit and he steadied her with his free hand, touching her shoulder gently.

"Thanks." She hopped around.

He held her wrist as he cut the rope. Her ties looked worse. Tighter. Her usually pale skin was pink, even red in places that the rope had rubbed raw. She had tried to wriggle free multiple times. Coulson smiled, thinking to himself how she acted so cool and collected, but she was a fighter. He wondered how many different escape strategies she had played with. He almost wondered if she had considered what he had done as an option. Coulson prided himself on being a step ahead. Then he finds this hacktivist who always manages to be right beside him, if not mid-stride ahead. It was frustrating, in the best possible way.

When her hands were free, he put out his hand for her to take the knife.

"You'd be quicker." She responded to his unspoken question.

It was true; he had more upper body strength, better to saw through the rope. He hadn't wanted to assume anything, personal space and all that. His politeness always made her smile. They had lived together on a plane for a year. They shared secrets, including the newest, and arguably strangest, the whole alien blood cure thing. She had saved his life once, and he had saved hers…in more way than one. And here he was, afraid to assume too much by bending down to cut the rope around her ankles.

He did, though, bend down. "You're probably right." He said looked at her ankles. Fortunately, they weren't red at all. She was smart. Hurting her wrists wouldn't stop her escape or be a liability for the duration of their mission. Hurting her ankle, that would cause too many problems and slow them down. He stood after tossing the rope aside.

The door burst open and Coulson turned, already in a fighting stance. If the intruder had a gun, they'd both be done. If not, they could fight their way out.

"Good, let's go." It was May, she was bleeding from one eyebrow, her hand was also bloodied. Come to think of it, she had splatter all over her black leather outfit.

"Woah." Skye knew she shouldn't be surprised. But seeing May during or after kicking ass was already so impressive.

"Slower than I had expected. How do we get out of this place?" Coulson spoke calmly.

"Follow me." Agent May began to run. Skye glanced at Coulson. Neither of them had eaten in a while and running was harder than expected. Coulson was tough, he seemed fine, and fortunately for her, Ward had trained her well. Ward…

…

[12 hours earlier]

"Quinn has been seen traveling into Russia." May enters Coulson's office on the bus without knocking. Coulson would give her his irritated look, it has been planted on his face ever since she revealed the real mission of the bus was to protect Coulson, or take him out if he became a threat. He would have glared, but finally having eyes on Quinn was exhilarating. He hides his glee, and instead sets his jaw. If she wants to keep things from him, he will keep things from her.

"Good." He says plainly. "When will we land?"

"Three hours, sir." May's face is equally blank, but her eyes have a softer glow than usual.

Coulson has seen it there before. It reminds him of a child asking for a toy, knowing they will be denied. It's like an admirer finally getting up the courage to confess their love only to be rejected. It's like a dog that wants to be let back inside after peeing on the carpet. It is some combination of these, and none of them. She isn't a child. They are not lovers. And he will be damned if he ever thought of "The Cavalry" as a puppy. She knew what she was doing. She knew the consequences. He does not feel any guilt, only betrayal and lose.

"Anything else?" He asks, somewhat sharply, as he returned to looking at the papers in front of him.

She purses her lips. "No, sir."

She leaves swiftly. May is strong, her shoulders are always held high, her stance always set. In the moment she turns however, had he been looking at her at all, he would have seen the slight slump. Deflated. Defeated. How long could he stay mad at her? And why couldn't he trust that she was doing it for him not to him. He was a dear friend, a comrade in arms, and he had died. You don't get second chances, not in this business. But May would be damned if he died again, not on her watch. Not if she had anything to say about it. He could hate her, if he had to. She wasn't going anywhere, and maybe a few hours of flying would help clear her head.

Coulson reads more of the papers in front of him. He is almost done with them when he hears another knock. He doesn't need to look to sense who it is.

"Hey, A.C." She smiled. Her eyes were bright but sad. The small smile was meant to encourage, but it only reinforced the dire situation they had all found themselves in the past three weeks.

"Skye." Saying her name reassured him. Somehow, as it left his lips, it felt as though things weren't really that bad.

After things had fallen, Skye had been promoted. Quickly. Well, would have been promoted, except there was no SHIELD, at least not in the same way. The organization existed, but now it mattered so much more about who you were, your loyalty, than your experience or skill set. Skye, even with her questionable approach to things, was his right hand. It was only just beginning to surface in the back of his mind that she always had been. Though he was forced to lie to her, back when SHIELD was more—bureaucratic—they had still often discussed things. He always told her just as much as he could, revealing the others through subtle smiles or vague descriptions. Lying to her then had been hard. Now he didn't have to.

"I heard…" She didn't have to say much. He knew this would be hard for her.

"It's okay. You don't have to go in." He gave her a calming expression, lips curling up the smallest amount.

"Are you kidding me?" She came over and plopped in the chair in front of him. The sadness in her eyes had vanished, replaced by passion and fire. Fire was the only way he knew to describe it.

An eyebrow went up at that. "It would be understandable—"

"I don't do things that way, you should know that by now. I want him. I want to help get him." She interrupted.

Coulson would have argued, in the before times. He would say that it wasn't professional, how easily it could turn into a vendetta mission. Revenge was dangerous in this job. It pushed people too far, like the old man who died unnecessarily as the Clairvoyant at the hands of Ward. Ward…

He would argue, but he knew that between the two of them, he was more bent towards murder. Skye wanted answers. He wanted Quinn buried as deep underground as they come, or for his corpse to be used as feed for any number of benthic fish, or to be burned alive until the wind blew away his ashes. Gruesome, of course. But Coulson would settle for a shot to a gut so Quinn knew the unbearable pain he had caused Skye.

"You're sure?" He asked. It was a redundant question.

She nodded. "A.C., we need all hands on deck. My combat skills are improving." She paused for him to object, he didn't. He just looked at her, traces of a smile on his lips. "I'm a decent shot. I can help get us in." She swallowed. His expression caught her off guard.

"I'm not going to tell you that you can't. And you're right, your combat skills have improved." He jokingly rolled his shoulder. He wasn't her S.O., but he had started training with her. He knew that the more she trained, the better she would become, and the less likely she was to be shot again.

She laughed playfully. "Sorry about that." She grinned.

He finally grinned back. A full smile. Skye missed those. They were few and far between. Fitz Simmons may say he never smiled. But he does, often, for her. Lately, even those have been lacking.

"Guess I don't know my own strength." She sat up excited. "Think it's the alien blood's work? I really want super powers." She teased.

And there goes his smile. Coulson looks like he could yell "get out" at her for making light of their recent situation, at the agony he felt at almost losing her. But she doesn't know how much it hurt him. He can't let her know, not fully. The one and only secret he plans on keeping from her here on out. Instead he slumps a little in his chair, lips tightly pulled together.

"Skye…"

Skye stares at him with glistening eyes. They still have the fire, but they are sad again.

"Come on, Coulson. You can't take all this so seriously. We're in this together. Doesn't that count for something?" Her eyes pleaded, like a kid wanting an ice cream cone on a hot day, like a woman waiting to hear "I love you too" from her husband after a conflict, like a dog waiting for their master to throw the ball just one more time before going home.

After his long pause, he straightened up.

"It counts for everything." He said simply, voice low.

Skye lit up at his affectionate comment. Coulson couldn't help but smile again, though the exhaustion he felt danced in his eyes, mixed with something else Skye couldn't read.

"A.C., things will get better. I've been around the block a few times… not the Hydra infiltrating a secret agency block… but the people get hurt and betray each other all the time block. And life always goes on." She paused, wanting her words to sink in. Coulson just looked at her, waiting for her to go on. She did. "But this time is different. This time, I'm in a better place than I've ever been." Her eyes pierced his. "I'm not alone. For the first time in my entire life, I have people. Real people. My people. You… and the wonder twins and May. And a bunch of people I don't even know, fighting with me."

She took a deep breath. "So I get it. It sucks. It hurts, and it should. But… but we have each other. We still have our team."

"Not all of it." He cut in, bitterness dripping with each word.

"Most of it." She glared stubbornly, now standing. Her tone was stern, but her eyes were still all sadness and fire.

"We will rebuild. We will be… a stronger SHIELD than before. Hydra revealed our weaknesses, like any hacker. But once you're hacked, damned if you ever get hacked that way again." She spoke, smiling. She knew the metaphor might be lost on her boss, but it was so true to her. Hydra didn't betray them. Sure, a few people did betray. They became friends, lovers, partners, and that stung. A lot. But in the end, it was just a smooth hack. And like any system, SHIELD could reboot and rebuild and be faster and stronger than ever before.

"We will come back from this. Things will get better." She ended finally.

Maybe the words weren't sinking in, but she had to say them. She would repeat them to Coulson until she was blue in the face. If it took one year, ten, twenty. She wasn't going anywhere. That was a new feeling, the desire to be there, to stay committed, to remain through the tough times.

Coulson didn't know if he should laugh or cry. To yell "you're wrong!" or mumble "you're right." He just looked at her, unable to look away. All of her passion and brilliance and wit and playfulness were just the outer layers to what was really the core of Skye – her love and her loyalty. Seeing her commit herself to the cause after so many had died or defected was more than he could handle. Slowly, he stood up and walked around his desk. As Skye watched him move she stood frozen and tense, as if any quick movement or noise would startle him. He leaned against the mahogany near where she stood.

"Thank you, Skye." Coulson spoke finally. His eyes were glistening with incomplete tears, though it seemed a few had managed to escape and slide down his cheeks.

Instinctively, Skye reached over and wiped his cheek with her sleeve. She looked at where the tears had fallen down his face, not directly in his eyes. But if she had, she would have seen him staring into hers, with awe and wonder that a young woman, so hurt by the world, could be so hopeful and strong, so caring and loyal. So unbroken despite all that she has been through. Skye was, if nothing else, quite whole. Unbelievably so. Her kindness was no mask. She wasn't fooling herself or those around her. She was a rock.

"Anything for A.C." She withdrew her sleeve, only slightly damp from his tears.

Coulson gave a stiff nod.

"I mean, the guy who brings you back from walking towards the light deserves everything I can give and more." She teased him, and for once, he wasn't bothered by what she said. He enjoyed her ability to joke at a time like this.

He even let himself chuckle. Then he swallowed, too much emotion to express.

"Better go suit up." He said to her, as she was dressed in casual clothes.

"I do love me some leather." She gave a small nod and headed out of his office.

He did his best not to stare as she walked away, the rock on which he could stand.

Skye was no child, and though she was young when he first found her, she had never been lacking experiences to make her a bit older beyond her years. Any innocence she had was her ability to cling to the best in the world and in people. She was not an animal waiting for a treat. She was a beautiful woman with passion and fire in her eyes, kindness in her words, intentionality in every action. But, she wasn't a wife either. Every time he tried to figure her out, it was fleeting.

…

They landed, and the mission began. Coulson and Skye tried breaking in through the back door of the compound. May was on the roof with some special gadgets courtesy of Fitz. Simmons stayed on the plane in case they needed an emergency rescue. She didn't know how to fly, but May had taught all of them a few buttons that would begin the auto-pilot protocols she programmed before they landed. Some were for more combative escapes, the others for smoother, though still complicated, rendezvous. May had hoped they would use the latter, if any. Skye and Coulson were in. They were trying to navigate the tunnels with some help from Fitz when they were knocked unconscious from behind. Whoever it was did it hard enough to knock them out, but not to leave any long lasting damage.

…

When Coulson opened his eyes, it felt like hours had passed. He felt a little achy in his neck from the hit, but otherwise was okay. AS he came too, he felt the hard cement underneath, leaning up against a wall. His wrists were behind his back, making his shoulders a little sore. His ankles were also tied tightly, though not enough to give him a burn.

Skye! He thought immediately as he remembered where they had been, what they were doing. It wanted to curse for being so dumb, not watching their backs more. He had been so enthralled in the thought of catching Quinn that he would stop at nothing. And because of his desire for justice, he had been less cautious and put them both at risk. Coulson was not a risk taker, usually. He was calculating. Clever. Always making plans and plan B's and C's and D's. His backup plans had backup plans. But here he was, sitting on a cold cement floor all tied up.

With his wits about him, he looked around. He couldn't see anything alarming. The room was small, all cement, like a holding cell. The door looked like heavy wood, with no window.

He was about to try to stand when he heard foot steps, then keys. The wood door opened and a hulking man came in carrying a female figure in the fire-fighter carry. He plopped her on the cement beside Coulson, who was now pretending to still be asleep, and skulked out. He locked the door behind him.

"Skye." Coulson said, once he was sure the guard was cone. "Skye!" His voice was a loud whisper.

Skye sat up straighter and gave a wry smile. She had only been pretending to still be unconscious. "You're okay." She said, looking at him. She had a bruise on her forehead, but looked okay otherwise.

"I'm okay. Where were they keeping you?" Coulson tried to keep the worry out of his voice. From Skye's expression, he wasn't doing it very well.

"You know, drinking Vodka, playing cards. The usual." She took in a deep breath. She had tried to keep track of all the turns the guard made, but being carried so roughly was painful and distracting.

Coulson glared at her. He wanted answers, not more games.

"I was being kept in a separate area of the compound. A room with a one way glass, I assume… that or they thought I needed a mirror so see how sexy I was in my uniform after being knocked unconscious." Skye shrugged. "Quinn must not be here cuz after a while they took me out of the room. Some guys argued a bit, Russian I think. Probably about what to do. Eventually they brought me here." She tried to sound reassuring. Nothing bad had happened. Although, had Quinn been there, she was sure much worse would have taken place.

"Did you understand anything they said?" Coulson hoped they could piece some things together.

Skye shook her head. "Just Quinn's name, and they both sounded irritated. I assume they couldn't get a hold of him. We probably don't have much time, though, before they contact him."

Coulson wanted to yell or mope or curse. They were supposed to be catching Quinn, not the other way around. Some underling guards had taken them out and now here they were. Trapped. Coulson let out a sigh, hoping all of his frustration would leave his body with it. He needed his mind clear to think of something.

"It'll be okay, boss." Skye rested her head on the wall. It was a little tender, but nothing too bad. She had seen worse on other missions… compared to a gunshot wound, this was nothing.

Coulson wanted to tell her she doesn't know that. But instead, he chose to believe her.

"The others will come get us." She said, definitively.

Skye never underestimated what her team could do. Coulson admired that. He had felt that way, once, before…

"I'm sure they will." He tried to keep his tone even. Tried, and failed.

Skye looked at him. "A.C., they're the best. They've done this for others. We've all been in bad spots, and our team always came through." She smiled, and nudged him with her shoulder. "So stop being so down… I don't want to be all sad sad when they find us." Her eyes twinkled with playfulness.

Coulson grinned. "If not 'sad-sad' as you say, what should we do? There is nothing in here to help."

Skye shrugged. "Talk, entertain ourselves. I mean. I know you prefer to be the strong, silent type but a girl needs some conversation once in a while."

He let out a chuckle and shook his head. "If you think I'm silent, I've been doing something wrong this last year."

Before they could go on, Coulson heard footsteps again and made a shushing noise. Skye took the hint. A guard entered carrying a small chair. He sat on it, his automatic weapon hanging over his shoulder.

Skye looked at the guard blankly, but she was surprised. They had both been alone in their rooms for over 30 minutes, plus however long they were knocked out, and now they send someone in? Her stomach turned. Quinn was probably on his way.

"It's not so bad, being a sympathist you know." She said, looking back at Coulson.

Coulson raised his eyebrow. He had forgotten what his once friend called him on their second mission on the Bus. More than that, he forgot that he had told Skye. What did he keep from her nowadays?

"You're thinking about that right now?" He glanced at her, brow furrowed in confusion. His wrists ached a little, but otherwise he wasn't bad for ware.

"What else are we supposed to do? May said she's got it." Skye shrugged, arms fidgeting behind her back. They had talked a little before, but with the guard and the gun in the room, she no longer felt relaxed.

Coulson would have chuckled, if the guard hadn't glared at them. He could not understand their English, but he didn't seem to like them talking anyway.

""Prekratit govornit" The guard's voice was raspy and harsh as he told them to stop talking.

Coulson looked over to Skye. She didn't understand Russian, but she looked down and her lips tightened into a slight frown. Coulson was irritated that this hulking man had interrupted their near heart to heart. It wasn't very often that he and Skye could just be together free from interruptions. Somewhat ironic that this was closest to happening when they were being held captive on a failed mission. Coulson made a note to see if this could happen more often. He wanted to know more about Skye, and as the old ways of intel were gone, not to mention she had already wiped record of her life out of existence, he would have to ask her the old fashioned way. Somehow, he preferred that anyway nowadays.

The guard hit on Skye, argued with Coulson, and was knocked out for it. Coulson cut his ropes, then Skye's. Soon they were running down the hallways with May. Hopefully, Simmons was ready for the extraction.

…

Safely past their vehicles, and the bright red Lola, the plane lifted up as the door closed.

"Good job" Coulson was breathing heavily. "Simmons."

The young woman beamed at him. "Anytime, sir. Although I would prefer to never have to fly again if that's quite alright." She gave a flustered expression.

Coulson let his lips curl slightly up. "Understood."

Simmons helped Fitz to his feet. He had been lying on the ground catching his breath, his eyes wide.

"We blew it up." He repeated again, making Skye smile. Fitz had said that about five times already, each one getting slightly higher and more flabbergasted.

"We did indeed." Simmons helped him. She glanced at May, Coulson and Skye with regret in her eyes.

"Why does that matter?" Skye asked, confused. She was just glad to be on the bus. Though she had kept her cool, she preferred to not be in custody of Russian baddies trying to sell her body to Quinn. The thought made her subconsciously bring a hand to her stomach.

"Why does it matter?" Fitz was his usual stubborn self, if not still short of breath. "It was a lab! A huge lab… they had tech I've never seen before!" He didn't realize he was yelling, well screeching, partly because he was excited and partly because his hearing had not returned to normal post-explosion yet.

Simmons' tightened her grip on Fitz's arm. "Let's make sure that new tech didn't do any damage, shall we?"

Fitz turned to her, wanting to argue, but Simmons' pleading eyes convinced him to stop mourning, for now. Coulson nodded, further encouraging Fitz to calm down and get checked out. May followed the pair but took the stairs. While the plane was set to auto-pilot, she wanted to do some stealthier flying just in case they didn't get all of the tech in the explosion. Despite her love of the chase, heat sensing alien-powered missiles did NOT sound like fun right now.

Skye turned to Coulson, both breathing normally now. "Quite the job back there. I feel like I deserve a day off." She gave a slight smile, waiting to see how he responded.

Coulson glanced at her, then over her should to watch as Simmons sat Fitz down and began inspecting him, beginning with the usual—eyes, ears, throat, nostrils. Simmons was so by the book, her contract with Skye's "wing-it" attitude would have made him laugh, if it all hadn't been so close.

"You could have warned us what you were thinking about doing." His voice was stern, eyes hard.

She frowned. "There wasn't time, and we were all about to get extracted anyway. Self-destruct seemed better, once we saw some of the weapons they had. We couldn't let HYDRA keep that stuff."

Coulson wanted to argue, but as they were already ten steps behind Hydra, taking out one of their research bases seemed better than keeping it in tact for study. Plus, as they had all recently learned that the Freezer hadn't actually destroyed a lot of the tech his team and other agents had rounded up, blowing their lab made him almost gleeful. The world needed a little less weaponry, in his opinion.

"Am I in trouble?" She asked seriously. Only then did he realize he had a stern expression but hadn't actually responded.

"Not this time. But you do need to work on your communication skills. Keep everyone in the loop, as much as you can anyway." He didn't smile, but the stern expression faded. "Think you'd be better at that, with your history of informing people."

"I will. I'm sorry." She hung her head a little and was turning to go when he reached over and grabbed her shoulder. It was a gentle grip, but sturdy, like when he had stopped her from falling earlier in the cement holding room.

"You did a good job out there today." Coulson still looked serious, but his eyes were smiling for him.

That's all Skye needed to brighten up. She stood straighter, her eyes dancing with joy.

"Thanks A.C. I know I have a lot to learn…"

"Definitely." He replied quickly, allowing a real smile this time.

"Good thing I have you around to teach me." She grinned.

He nodded. Only then did he realize he still had a hand on her shoulder. He let it drop, and he thought he saw some of the joy leave Skye's eyes, but maybe it was a trick of fluorescent light.

"I need a day off before we go another round." He chuckled lightly. "I think I've had my share of combat for a little bit."

The pair headed towards the stairs, climbing to the more comfortable part of the bus. The bar. Couch. Tables. Skye smiled. It was home.

"What now?" She asked, falling into the couch. Coulson took a seat beside her.

"We didn't get Quinn… but Hydra took a hit today. They will be striking back, I imagine." Coulson felt tired. This war would be the end of him, since the battle of New York was not. He was already having trouble sleeping after the discovery of what TAHITI really was. After Skye almost died. After SHIELD fell. After Ward… Fear of another Hydra attack was too much.

Skye seemed to sense this, and she put a hand on his knee. He looked at her hand, wrists still a little raw, then her eyes.

"We can do this. You can do this." She emphasized the last sentence. "You're A.C. You kept SHIELD going until we found Fury. And even now, you're more or less running the show anyway."

Coulson leaned back and closed his eyes.

"Thank you, Skye. We should rest. Haven't slept in over 24 hours." He didn't want to sleep. Not really, but it sounded like the responsible thing to say.

"I always preferred napping on couches to sleeping in beds. Night owl habits I guess." She moved to the other couch, giving them enough room to sleep. Skye knew she would be starving when she woke up, but she didn't want to ruin the moment. Coulson looked so peaceful, drifting off to sleep.

Soon, she drifted too, falling into dreams with the sound of plane engines in the background.

When she awoke a few hours later, she felt a soft blanket on her but couldn't see Coulson anywhere. She fell back into a deep sleep.

…

The next thing to wake her was Fitz crowding behind the table. Simmons was across from her, and May was standing near the fridge. Coulson emerged from his office straightening his tie. Skye slowly sat all the way up, the blanket falling to her lap.

"Rise and shine." Fitz teased, taking a bite of his eggs.

Coulson nodded to May, who knowingly handed him a cup of coffee. Skye smiled a little. Though he was still obviously mad at the leather clad agent, Coulson couldn't help his morning ritual. She silently handed him a cup of coffee. He stood leaning against the bar, drinking it, observing his team's morning banter. The only thing missing was Ward pretending to not be a morning person, as if that explained why he was particularly grumpy in the am… but what about the rest of the day? The thought of Ward made Skye close her eyes, clearly upset.

Agent Coulson got up from the bar, but didn't move. Before Skye opened her eyes he had rested back against it. He needed to keep his instincts in check. He didn't need to suffocate her. Everyone was grieving, and it would come in waves. If he made a scene, Skye would only say it was nothing. If he did nothing, she would feel alone.

"Are there more muffins?" Coulson asked, looking at Simmons.

"Oh, yes sir." She got up and scurried around the counter to the oven. There were two fresh blueberry muffins, in the oven to stay warm. Jemma was a glorious baker. Her chemistry skills were quite useful.

"And one for Skye." Simmons smiled excitedly. "You're favorite!"

To be fare, blueberry muffins were the favorites of Simmons and Skye, and probably May, though she would never stoop to talking about her favorite muffins.

Skye sat up a little straighter. "Yes please."

They ate breakfast together with lighthearted playfulness and everyone went to their various duties. They had no planned missions but Fitz and Simmons were in the lab, tinkering and experimenting. May was working out, and Skye was on her laptop in her room.

There was a light knock on her door, even though it was open.

"A.C." She said without looking up. If Coulson didn't know any better, he would say she was bothered.

"How'd you sleep?" He asked.

She shrugged. "It was better than the cement floor for sure."

"I would have to disagree. An hour on the couch and my back… I was glad to be in bed for a night." His eyes glittered, a smile tugging at his lips.

"I'm glad you got some much needed rest." She stopped typing and looked up at him.

He nodded, serious again. "Long road ahead."

His quickly shifting expressions made Skye smile.

"But not a lonely one."

…

RNR always loved.