CHAPTER 1

The engine was loud, vibrating through her body as she weaved through the traffic, the wind whistling in her ears, nearly drowning out the sounds coming through her comms. Maybe if she drove fast enough the wind would actually drown out her handler so she could ignore him telling her that the Rising Tide had leaked her mission details, had told the entire world - good and bad - where to find the Chitauri neural transmitter she was here to retrieve. This was her third mission in a row that had been leaked by the Rising Tide.

"Vous ne pouvez pas être ici! Comment avez-vous que vous obtenez ici , Mademoiselle?" A man in an expensive suit approached when she walked through the side door of the little French bistro.

"Agent Morse, avec le bouclier." A flash of her badge and the man let go of his arm.

"Bouclier?" A look of unease crossed the man's face as she reached into her mission pack for her x-ray tray and prints napkin. "Pourquoi est- Shield ici? Tout va bien? Y at-il plus de those-" the man worried, a bead of sweat forming on his brow.

"Je vais avoir besoin d' un accès à l'étage supérieur." She cut in, because whilst there weren't currently more Chitauri raining down upon them - it may have only been New York that was attacked, but the entire world felt the repercussions. Aliens had descended on New York to kill and enslave humanity. Just thinking about it was enough to bring back the stench of burning, the terror-filled screams, the feeling of hopelessness as she watched from the ground as Tony Stark flew a nuke through a wormhole in the sky.

"Bien sûr. Bien sûr." The man agreed quickly, snapping her back to reality. Nice reality where the Chitauri were dead, humanity wasn't enslaved, and the only alien they had to worry about was Thor and his muscles. "Pour aider à Bouclier, quoi que ce soit."

She checked her outfit - a perfect replica of the other waitstaff - and inhaled the aromatic scent of the kitchen - what? It smelled good! - before straightening. "Oublier que je suis ici." The blonde commanded, readying her tray before exiting the kitchen into the main area of the bistro.

The floor squeaked under her shoes, the sounds of the traffic on the street was barely louder than the hum of conversation as she approached her target, blue eyes darting around the room to cover all exits. Just in case. "Mai Je prends votre verre?" She leaned forward to speak, letting her breasts fall directly into his line of vision.

"Oui. S'il vous plaît." He waved a dismissive hand as she reached across him, light fingers grasping the stem of his glass. "Apporter un autre lorsque vous revenez." The order was accompanied by rough fingertips trailing her arm, lingering at her hand. "Il sera utile de votre temps." The implications were clear. He wanted her body, and he was willing to pay for it. It made her sick, but instead of breaking the hand still touching her, she smiled and batted her lashes.

"Bien sûr." She wouldn't be returning anyway, so the empty promise wouldn't hurt anyone. His hand fell from hers as she straitened.

Her blonde hair tickled her upper back as it swished in its ponytail as she climbed the stairs, swiping the glass across her napkin to pick up the fingerprints on it before tucking it away for later use.. The low hum of the patrons in the bistro faded away as she ascended to stairs to the residential levels. The scents grew fainter and a sense of foreboding tightened her stomach. The lock was easy to pick and apartment inside had a classic overly expensive feel to it with sleek furnishings, expensive paintings, and Scotch in crystal tumblers.

Sci-Tech really didn't get enough credit for their inventions, Morse mused as she twisted the drinks tray and held it up to the walls, looking through the circular viewing panel. Wall, wall, painting with questionable frame - not her problem - bingo! The drinks tray discarded on a nearby table and the painting lifted from the wall, she draped the napkin over her own hand and held it to the scanner of the safe. Baited breath gave way to a relieved smirk as the safe clicked open and her goal was sitting there, just waiting to be taken and given to S.H.I.E.L.D - or whatever nefarious plans any other sellers buyers might have for it.

"Huh." Morse mused as she peered at the small, alien device. All this fuss over something so small.

"Qui es-tu?" The voice shouldn't have come as a surprise - she'd been trained better than that - and yet when it sounded she couldn't help the way her spine straightened and her fingers twitched for her batons. "Vous êtes l'un d'entre eux . Un des-"

"Je suis l'un des bons gars." Morse cut in, pocketing the little velvet bag containing the Chitauri neural link.

"Parce que les bons gars percent et dérobent." The woman rolled her eyes, waving a wooden spoon in her direction. The movement made the silk robe encasing her near-nude body ripple, showing off supple skin and lacy lingerie.

"Faire ils la vente de technologie alien au plus offrant?" One eyebrow arched at the French woman challengingly. "Parce que c'est qui se serait passé. Je suis le bon côté. Croyez-moi."

The woman eyed her, the scent of her perfume was sweet, even from halfway across the room. Or maybe it was just her natural scent? She liked it, whatever it was. "Si vous voulez tellement, juste aller." The woman gestured vaguely at the door with a resigned sigh. "Je ne pas besoin de vos explications."

"D'accord puis." Morse nodded slowly, tucking her napkin back into her pocket and picking up the drinks tray after putting the painting back on the wall over the safe. "Adieu."

"Fermez la porte, je ne veux pas étrangers ici." The woman called after her and the irony was not lost on her as she obediently shut the door behind herself.

That had been... Remarkably easy.

At least she'd gotten there before anyone else - no thanks to the Rising Tide - and had managed to get out without having to fight anyone. "On my way to rendezvous." The blonde murmured, tapping her comms unit on as she descended the stairs. "Thinking of getting some of those fancy French pastries, anyone want one?"

Another pass through the kitchens to get her pack and thank the managed - reminding him to keep his mouth shut about her presence, not that it would matter if the woman from upstairs said anything - before heading back outside to her waiting motorcycle. Sleek black and silver hummed to life between her legs, drowning out the sounds on the street.

She was tired. Tired, and hungry, and there was an ache growing behind her eyes as she waited for her superior to show up. A normal room, a long table lined with chairs, glass doors, the large S.H.I.E.L.D eagle on the wall. She sighed, her fingers tinkering around the Chitauri neural link, itching to investigate, discover, learn.

"Agent Morse." The neural link made a metallic thunking sound as she let it drop to the metal table when Agent Hill entered the room.

"Agent Hill." The blonde nodded her greeting as the other woman sat at the opposite end of the table. Blue eyes watched carefully as Hill set down a manila folder and started flipping through it. Hill let out a low hum, Morse tapped against the metal table with her nails.

Hum.

Tap, tap, tap, tap.

Hum.

Tap, tap, tap, tap.

Hill finally looked up, keeping the file open in front of her. "You were told to abort your mission in Paris after the details were leaked." A statement, not a question, Morse kept staring at Hill through narrowed eyes. "You defied a direct order from your mission handler, went into possibly hostile territory, and-"

"And isn't that what I'm trained to do?" Morse pointed out with a raised eyebrow. "Go into hostile situations, incapacitate the opposition if need be, and get out with the objective." The neural link lifted between her fingers for a moment before sliding with a metallic scrape across the table, stopping two inches in front of the file. "I went in, got the transmitter, and got out in under ten minutes, without having to throw a punch or use a weapon. If I had listened to Wentz and aborted we would have had to reschedule, try and track the transmitter down again, maybe have to fight our way in and out, and wasted dozens of man hours for what took ten minutes."

"You willfully defied orders for a risk." Hill planted both hands face down on the table, a clear show of dominance. Morse itched to do the same, assert her dominance. But, this wasn't a pissing contest, and she had defied orders. Technically she was in the wrong.

"My apologies, Agent Hill." Forced through gritted teeth, the woman in question nodded once, picking up the transmitter and gesturing for a nearby Agent with a waiting containment box to step forward.

"You've been reassigned, Morse." Hill announced once they were alone again, the words hanging stale in the air for a long minute.

"Because of one mission?" Not the labs. Not the labs. Not the labs. She loved the labs, but she'd transferred to Operations for a reason.

Hill shook her head, the ghost a smile cross her lips. "Because you were requested." Well, that was a relief. She had seen Agents re-assigned for less than defying orders and proceeding with a rogue mission, but to know that she'd been requested for something else was a relief. "By Agent Coulson."

"Agent Coulson is dead." Morse clenched her jaw, she'd seen the aftermath - had nursed one of her friends during a drinking binge after Coulson had died during the battle of New York - she'd seen the affects his death had had on the Avengers.

"Just call me Jesus then." Her gun was out of its holster, safety clicked off and aimed at the owner of the voice within two seconds. "Agent Morse." The man stepped out of the shadows with his hands up in surrender. Blue eyes, receding hairline, bland smile - Phil Coulson.

"Stand down, Morse." Agent Hill commanded, a sharp edge to her voice that had the blonde lowering her weapon and clicking the safety back on.

The man - she couldn't admit it was Coulson yet because she'd been there to see her friend drinking way too much in the aftermath of New York to mourn his death - smiled at her, stepping further out of the shadows. "Good reflexes."

"Thanks." Morse muttered, "you're dead." Although clearly not from look of him. For a man two years dead he looked remarkably healthy.

"The rumours of my death have been greatly exaggerated." The man smirked a little, Hill rolled her eyes, Morse just kept staring. "Tough crowd." He winced, "I was dead. Technically. For forty seconds. I was revived and sent to Tahiti to recover, it's a magical place."

"For two years?" Long recovery. "And you didn't tell anyone? You didn't tell-"

"It was on a need to know basis." Hill cut in with a stern glare. "The Avengers don't need to know." Not that they didn't, but that they don't. They still don't know, and that was Hill saying don't tell them. "And it was eight seconds, not forty. It gets longer every time you tell it." The last part directed a the patiently observing man.

"When you're staring down the pointy end of an Asgardian with a God complex and seeing the bright light at the end of the tunnel, you can tell it your way." He accepted the file when Hill held it out. "Agent Morse, impressive file." She'd suspected it was hers, but that was the confirmation. "You were recruited to Sci-Tech and achieved Doctorates in Biology and Chemistry before transferring to Operations. Why did you transfer?"

It had been strongly suggested by the head of Sci-Tech after she gave another student a concussion and broken arm in three places when he refused to take no for an answer. "It was better to focus my energy and temperament." Is what she answered with though.

"Whatever your reason, you seemed to flourish at Operations; top of your class in combat and espionage." The man hummed, flipping through the file. Her file. "six languages, seven specialties, on the shortlist for the Avengers Initiative. By all accounts a perfect Agent." Hill snorted before trying to cover it up with a cough when they both turned to stare at her.

"Are you not seeing the eight disciplinary notes?" Eight? Morse tried not to react to that, sure she knew she'd had a few notes - probably would have had a new one from the last mission in Paris too - but eight seemed excessive.

"Going off book, ignoring orders, this one is just a drawing of a time bomb with legs." The man shot a puzzled look at Hill who in turn looked exasperated.

"It's not a bomb." The brunette muttered, "it's a person. Rolling their eyes." As if to demonstrate her own rolled skyward for a moment.

He tilted his head to left, then the right. "Are you sure? It looks like a bomb. Look it's even got a fuse!"

"Morse, you're dismissed, report to the airfield with your bag at oh-six-hundred tomorrow morning." Hill ordered, turning away from the blonde with a shake of her head.

Morse let out a sigh, "yes, Ma'am."

Blue eyes scanned the airfield. Quinn jets mostly, a couple of jeeps, and one large black plane. It looked like the old MCU's from the 80's that was being loaded with crates of supplies. Her duffle bag was weighing on her shoulder as she walked up the ramp to sound of two bickering little UK kids.

"FitzSimmons?" She double checked the file Maria had given her less than ten minutes ago - whilst also telling her to keep her eyes open and her mouth shut in the most friendly way possible. FitzSimmons were legend at Sci-Tech, they'd been there after she'd already left, but word about prodigies like them spread quickly.

"Fitz, Simmons." The young English woman pointed the man first and then herself with a bright smile.

"I'm engineering, she's bio-chem." The Scottish man stared at her with wide eyes. "And you must be Agent Morse." Her bag thunked as it hit the floor of plane. "The, uh, the-the pictures didn't-didn't show how-how beautiful you are." She raised an eyebrow, Fitz flushed and ducked his head whilst Simmons just sighed.

Fitz and Simmons, geniuses, prodigies - adorable accents. They looked like a pair of puppies. Puppies that were currently bickering about dendrotoxin and something called a Night Night gun. "Have you tried removing some of the paralysis from the dendrotoxin and infusing it with a more stable substance so it doesn't break up when the gun is fired?" She suggested, making both the puppies go silent.

"Yes, that does sound-"

"That seems very-"

"It's a very good idea-"

"Thank-you very much!" They spoke over each other before ending at the same time, Simmons smiling brightly and Fitz ducking his head to tinker with something.

The smell of the tarmac - asphalt, jet fuel and burnt rubber - faded the further she got into the plane, giving way to clean air and stylish furnishings. This had definitely been update after it was taken out of commission in the 80's. It had a bar!

"Agent Morse." Coulson - she was still tentative to admit it was the man her friend had mourned - called once he spotted her. Maria said it was him. She wouldn't say anything else about the subject, but she'd assured her it was actually Coulson. "You're early."

"My orders said six." She replied with a shrug, because it had been instilled in her at the Academy that whatever time she'd been told, being on time meant she was half an hour late. They walked through the plane in silence; a lounge area, bar, kitchen, she'd already passed a gym and lab downstairs near the cargo ramp. "Nice plane."

"Thanks, I only had to die to get it." He smiled at her as if it was some kind of inside joke. "Hey, did you hear the one about the guy who's afraid of flying?" Dad jokes? Sure, she'd heard stories about Coulson acting like a total Dad, but she never really expected him to use Dad jokes. "He probably shouldn't have told his passengers before take-off." It wasn't even a good Dad joke.

"You should work on that." She didn't even have it in her to pretend to laugh. "If you need any material, my marriage was kind of a joke." Coulson stared at her, unblinking and blank, for a long minute. "When's take-off?" Just to get the attention off her.

Another long moment of Coulson staring at her. "You can unpack and get settled, mission briefing in half an hour, take-off in an hour."

"Yes, Sir."

Finding the bunks was easy; six standard 9 foot by 12 foot rooms decked out with a TV, desk, under the bed storage, and the scent of fresh linen under the bright lighting. Her duffle gave a half bounce when she dropped it onto the bed, ruffling the perfect military tautness. She could unpack her clothes later, but some things she took with her everywhere. Her personal effects like her Franny's Saloon keyring, the picture of her parents, and all of her friends together at her wedding - the marriage may be over, but that didn't mean she couldn't cherish the photo with all of her friends.

After kicking her mostly full duffle bag under the desk and looking around the bare bunk, she let out a breath. Maybe this was what she needed? A new start after her failure of a marriage with Lance. That one spot on her left hip tingled at the thought, it made her pause for a moment.

Her Soul Mark had appeared in kindergarten when she was 5, waking her up from naptime to the curious sensation of her Soulmate's first words to her scrawling across her skin. It had been warm and tingling and her 5-year-old mind had barely registered anything beyond the thought of 'pleasant' before going back to sleep, unaware at the time that her entire life had just changed.

Her fingers slipped under the waistband of her pants and panties, touching the warm skin on her left hip where her words were. A woodsy, earthy brown that reminded her of freshly turned soil or the middle of a sunflower. Even without looking she could see the brown letters in a messy scrawl spelling out her Soulmate. The first words her Soulmate would ever say to her.

There was an unknown powered person on the loose and Coulson was more interested in chasing down the Rising Tide who revealed him. Shouldn't they be going after the powered man? The man who had jumped out of a burning building and done more damage to the street than had been done to him. Instead of the Rising Tide who uploaded a video of him, because if it hadn't been the Rising Tide, it would have been someone else. The Rising Tide were a minor hindrance, but at this point they weren't a major obstacle.

But, she held in her complaints, she caught herself from arguing, she followed along like a good little Agent - no need to get another behaviour note on the first day - and bit her tongue. They were tracking an open broadcast from the Rising Tide with the same signature as the person who posted the video of the powered man, and she tried not to hang onto every word as the woman spoke. Her mark tingled with every syllable and she had to catch herself from touching the words more than once.

"A bag?" Morse raised an eyebrow when Coulson handed the plain black bag to her after stopping the SUV.

"It's a bit old school." Coulson admitted with a passive shrug, "but it is effective." He was already heading towards the alley behind the coffee shop that signal was coming from. Morse kept her eyes open and her gun cocked as she followed. The coffee shop was fairly busy, the streets of L.A smelled like week-old car exhaust, and the camera outside the bookstore next to the coffee shop moved as she and Coulson crossed the street.

Someone was watching them!

Her grip on her gun tightened, her jaw set, a dusty blue van with a white top that had to be at least 20 years old. Their Rising Tide hacker worked out of a van? Coulson slid the door open - not even locked - and there was a moment of complete silence.

"Hey." The girl - she barely looked out of her teens - waved with one hand. "What up?" Her world stopped spinning, her heart thudding in her chest. Her words. Her Soulmark.

The spot she knew her mark to be was burning and she was nearly dizzy as she stared at the girl; dark hair, pink lips, olive skin, brown eyes... Woodsy, earthy coloured brown eyes.

"Took you guys long enough, I was running out of things to say." The girl was speaking again, but all Morse could hear was the rushing of blood in her ears. "Are we going?" Apparently they weren't arresting her quick enough. She was certain Coulson would want answers about her freezing up later, but as she snapped back to reality she didn't care. This girl, this hacker, was her Soulmate. She abandoned the idea of the bag over her head and instead pulled the girl out of her van, peaking inside as she did so; computers, a tiny bed tucked in one corner, a desk cluttered with papers and transmitting equipment. One of the screens showed the street they'd just crossed, most likely from camera outside the bookstore.

She had been watching them.

Waiting for them.

Morse gripped the edge of the table and breathed deeply, squeezing her eyes shut and trying to block out the outside world.

"Is it the girl?" Coulson demands, following her out of the interrogation room.

"Is what the girl?" Morse straightened her back, cleared her mind, focussed her breathing.

"You deliberately throwing an interrogation."

"I didn't throw the interrogation." She denied indignantly. She had never thrown an interrogation, she'd been top of her class in interrogation at the Academy and had only gotten better at it over the year, the girl just...

She didn't react.

Skye - if that was her name - hadn't reacted at all when she'd spoken; not a twitch, not a flicker of recognition, no surprise. Nothing. How could she have no reaction? It wasn't possible. She was sure it was her, positive that Skye was her Soulmate, there was no mistaking the burn in her mark, but how could Skye just ignore that so easily?

Skye.

Her Soulmate.

"We know nothing about her. Do you realise how rare that is?" Coulson had kept talking, and she'd been subconsciously following him to where he took a secure case out of a safe. An injector gun lay inside.
He said they knew nothing about her, but that wasn't true. She knew Skye was born on July 2nd, 1988, right in the middle of nap time. She knew her eyes could look as bright as molten gold in some light and as dark as the darkest chocolate in other light. She knew far more about Skye than she would like to right now.
"This is QNB-T-sixteen." He took the vial out of the injector gun and she eyed. She'd never used it, but she'd heard of it. A highly potent truth serum. Coulson held up a second vial from a nearby bench. "This is saline and dye. Are you ready to get us an ally, Agent Morse?"

The interrogation room smelt like metal and daisies when they went back in. The metal she had expected, the daisies made her pause. Skye was sitting there, looking at them with a cross between boredom and expectancy. Seemingly unaffected by her presence, Skye just stared, waiting. Her fingers itched to reach for her, to touch her, to find out if her skin was as soft as it looked. Her mark burned at the thought, urging her to find out, but she couldn't.

She couldn't because Skye was a Rising Tide hacker, because she had information they needed, because she hadn't even reacted when she had spoken. Morse had had training at the Academy not to react if she found her Soulmate on a mission, but she still couldn't help but react. Skye hadn't done anything. Not even blink.

Coulson was gone and the air felt a lot thicker. Skye was leaning forward, her breasts nearly falling as she leaned across the table. "Agent Morse." Her name sounded sinful from her lips. "What's your real name?" She resisted the urge to roll her blue eyes, she was meant to be under the influence of a powerful truth drug.

"Bobbi. Short for Barbara." The answer was automatic. Keep as close to the truth as possible.

"Bobbi Morse." Skye walked around the table, light fingers walking across the metal and stilling beside Bobbi's hand. "I'll tell you a little secret, Bobbi Morse." It sounded like satin and sin. She could feel the warmth of her body behind her, the ghost of a breath on her ear that sent shivers down her spine. "I know there's no truth serum." Skye's lips brushed her ear and she had to hold in a groan. "But, if you want my help you'll tell me what I want to know." Her teeth nipped at her earlobe as she pulled away, fingers trailing up Bobbi's arm and across her shoulders. "The staring; is that real or did you think it would get me on your side?"

"Little of both." Bobbi admitted, blue eyes following Skye as she went back to the other side of the table. She was finally able to breathe, the buzzing under her skin dimming enough for her to focus. How did Skye know she was under the truth serum? Or was that just a guess and she'd fallen for it? Less than an hour and this girl was already messing with her head. And Skye wasn't affected at all.

"How does your husband feel about that?" Her left hand still had a tan line where her ring had been.

"Ex husband." Bobbi corrected.

"Because of the girls?" Skye smirked, leaning forward to be let in on the secret.

"He liked the girls. Thought it was hot." Had tried to convince her to have a threesome on more than one occasion, but she'd refused to sleep with anyone else while she was married - she had morals, and she knew Lance had been faithful despite her wants for a threesome. Fidelity had never been a problem with them, nor was the sex or even the fact that they had loved each other - despite not being Soulmates - it was the secrets and lies that tore them apart.

"How bad do you want my help?" Skye sat back, arms crossing over her chest, Bobbi narrowed her eyes at the younger woman.

The blonde let out a sigh and shook her head. "I don't. I wanted you arrested and locked away where you couldn't use a computer." She kept her blue eyes alert and focused, watching for any micro-expression Skye might give off. Any indication that she'd argue against imprisonment because they were Soulmates, because they had a bond, because this was more than just an interrogation between an Agent and a Rising Tide hacker.

"How bad does Coulson want it then?" And just like that moment passed without so much as a mention of them being Soulmates. It frustrated Bobbi more than Coulson wanting to recruit the girl. How could she be so indifferent? Her mark was burning against her skin, nearly to the point of pain, and she didn't look the least bit fazed. Was she not feeling it? Or did she just not care? "So tell me, Bobbi Morse; have you ever killed anyone?"

"Yes." Her answer was stiff, through gritted teeth as she fought against the burning sensation on her hip.

"Did you like it?"

"No." Killing was never something she liked. Taking a life - no matter how evil - was never something she liked doing.

"How many people have you killed?"

"Seventeen men, two women." And she knew the names of each of them. "All of them criminals who had killed before and would kill again."

"What level Agent are you?"

Bobbi narrowed her eyes again, that was a different turn in the questions. "Seven." Nearly unheard of to rise so quickly considering she'd started as a specialist two and a half years later than she should have. Izzy had just been promoted to Level 6, Maria was a 9 - even more unheard of, but she'd earned being Deputy Director - Idaho and Trip were both 5's.

Skye stared at her for a long moment before looking away as her shoulders deflated a little. That answer had disappointed her. Why?

And why did it make her want to comfort the girl?

Skye wanted something from them, and they needed to be a certain Level to give it to her. 7 wasn't high enough, it'd only be a matter of time before she tried to question Coulson or tried to hack her way into whatever she wanted without help. What was she so desperate for that she was willing to get caught to try and get a better chance at getting it?

"Skye-"

"I'll help." Skye cut her off before she could even finish her thought, let alone vocalise it. The brunette stood from her chair, scraping it across the metal floor.

Bobbi watched the Agents with an uneasy feeling in her gut. Fitz was running around, trying to get the holographic simulator set up for when Skye would send the audio of the explosion to him. May was with Skye, driving her back to the alley so she could unlock the codes. Coulson was watching next to her. Simmons was helping Fitz set up and cringing at his attempts to flirt with Skye. It was normal, safe, nothing to give reason to the uneasy feeling in her gut.

"This is a risk, Sir." She was still trying to convince Coulson not to trust Skye. Because she's a hacker, she's with the Rising Tide who had leaked three of her missions, she wants something from them and she needs a high security clearance to get it. She was Bobbi's Soulmate and she wasn't acknowledging it in the slightest. "She's with the Rising Tide, she's a hacker, what happens when-" the piercing ring of Coulson's phone interrupted her.

She watched Coulson' jaw set as the person on the other end of the phone spoke, his eyes darkening and his grip on the phone tightening. "Mike got Skye."

For the second time in as many hours Bobbi's world tilted after hearing three words. Three words from Skye that had been driving her insane for the last two hours. Her Soulmark, her Soulmate - and she was ignoring the very bond that was making her crazy.
Three words from Coulson that made her see red. Mike Peterson - down on his luck father - had taken Skye. The unstable, powered man had taken her Soulmate and it made her want blood. Mike Peterson's blood.

Bobbi was working on automatic as she followed Coulson's orders - in the back of her mind she registered that Fitz said something about someone hacking the system. Skye. Skye. Skye. It had only been two hours, but she could already feel the despair rising; what would she do without Skye? She'd been waiting since naptime when she was 5 to meet her, she wasn't ready to lose her. Not now, not ever.

They got to the train station in time for hundreds of people to flood out around them in a panic. Bobbi held her escrima sticks in tight fists, stalking into the building with a singular purpose - get Skye. She could hear Coulson yelling behind her, telling her to stop and follow orders, but her body was moving without any conscious thought and the red in her mind wouldn't listen to reason.

Mike Peterson was easy to spot - he was the one in the middle of the station that everyone was running away from. She could see Skye running away from the scene and her instincts told her to chase her Soulmate and protect her, but then she caught sight of little Ace Peterson.

Skye would have to wait.

She approached the boy that was staring at his father in fear. No child should look at their parent in fear. Flashes of her Academy days flashed through her mind, the course on how to deal with children in the field; get down to their level, establish trust, soothing tones, maintain eye contact, way for them to come to you... If all else fails and it's a dire situation, grab the kid and run. "Ace." She dropped to her knees and held her hands up to show she didn't have a weapon. "My name is Bobbi." Establish trust, "I'm work with Shield. You know Shield, right?"

"What happening to my Dad?" The boy was nearly shaking, his voice laden with fear - for or because of his father she wasn't sure.

"Your Dad is a little sick right now." She inched closer when Ace didn't seem to be moving in her direction. "But, we're here to help, and we're going to do everything we can to make him better, okay?" Hesitant brown eyes flickered her way. "But, I need you to come with me, Ace. We need to get you out of here so we can talk to your Dad."

"You'll help him?" Ace took half a step towards her, eyes still flickering between her and his father. "You won't hurt him, right? You'll help him get better." Before she'd run off with nothing but Skye in her mind Coulson had ordered to her to be the one to take the shot. Only if she needed to.

She was looking into the eyes of a boy she'd have to turn into an orphan if Coulson couldn't talk Mike down. "I'll do everything I can." That was the truth, she wouldn't pull the trigger until the absolute last second, if there was no other choice. Ace stared at her for a long moment before accept her outstretched hand. Bobbi didn't waste any time, jumping up and picking Ace up, running him out of the building as fast as she could. "Wait here, okay, Ace?" She beckoned a uniformed officer over, flashing her badge at the man. "You stay here with Officer... Diaria, and I'll go help your Dad." Bobbi turned to the officer with a glare. "You don't let this boy out of your sight. Got it?"

She didn't wait for an answer, already running back into the train station. Ace was okay. The train station was eerily empty. Coulson and Mike were in the centre, Mike was getting increasingly angry, demanding to see his son. May was nowhere to be seen, neither was Skye. It made her stomach clench with fear, but she didn't have time to dwell on it. She could worry about where Skye was and if she was safe, or she could deal with Mike Peterson and make sure that if Skye was still in the building she wouldn't die in a fiery explosion.
Bobbi reached her birdseye view on the mezzanine level, blue eyes darting around for any sight of Skye. A flash of brown hair, a taunt of a sarcastic remark, anything. Her mark itched uncomfortable when all she heard was Coulson and Mike arguing, Mike getting more angry... A gunshot. Her stomach twisted, her mark burned, urging her to find Skye, protect Skye. But, the best way for her to protect Skye right now was to stay where she was.

Her escrima sticks were tucked back into the holsters on her back and replaced with her rifle. She wasn't a sniper, that wasn't her specialty, but she was good enough to get the job done if she needed to. Little Ace Peterson pleading for her to save his father flashed through her mind. She really hoped she didn't need to. Her eye peered through the scope; Coulson, trying to exude calmness. Mike, getting more angry, more demanding, more violent. If Coulson couldn't talk him down in the next minute Mike could explode. Literally. His skin was starting to glow orange, and that was never a good sign when Extremis was involved.

Scuffling shoes squeaking across the floor caught her attention; Fitz running through the train station, eyes darting around until they landed on her. "Come on, Fitz." Bobbi urged under her breath, she couldn't go meet him, couldn't go find out why he was here. Because she needed to stay where she was. Just in case. Just in case it was too late and she needed to pull the trigger.

Another sound, the scrape of a door made her turn in the other direction. Her mark let out a spurt of warmth of approval. Skye. Skye and May, alive and relatively well, and right now not at all safe. Her eyes sought out Skye's, hoping to find something in the depths of brown - what she didn't know - but before she could even ask for silent forgiveness for what she was about to do, Fitz was at her side, panting and heaving and shoving something at her.

"Jus'-jus' trust me." His accented words pleaded, the new rifle weighing in her hands. Fitz, Mike, Coulson, Ace, Skye.

Bobbi snatched the gun and took the shot before she could second guess herself - or Fitz - the sound echoing around the otherwise silent room. Silence. A long, heavy beat of silence.

Skye slowly stepped closer, looking horrified, Fitz waited pensively as Coulson took a couple of steps closer to Mike. Bobbi let out a sigh of relief as he nodded at them. It worked. "Fitz, you're a fucking life saver!" The Scotsman was currently giving Coulson the thumbs and flushed under the praise.

"He's alive?" Skye peaked over the railing, down to where Coulson was calling in a containment squad and Mike was still laying in the middle of the floor.

Bobbi stared at the girl. Her Soulmate supposedly. The girl who still hadn't even mentioned their shared bond. "He's alive." She confirmed, watching the younger woman sag in relief.

The tarmac stretched out in front of them, waiting for take off, the sky above them was clear and blue with hardly a cloud in sight. It should have been peaceful, waiting for Coulson to return from dropping Ace off at his Aunt's house in the country, May running pre-flight checks with practiced ease next to her, the gentle warmth of her mark on her hip was soothing.

It should have been peaceful.

"Is it the girl, Morse?" May was the second one to ask her that question. She didn't bother to question how May knew something was bothering her, let alone that it was a five foot four hacker that was full of snark and logic.

"Something like that." Everything like that. It was the girl, her very existence, her handwriting, the particular shade of brown that her eyes were, that she was born on July 2nd 1988. That she'd said the three words she'd been waiting to hear since naptime in Kindergarten. That she didn't seem to even acknowledge the first words she'd said to her with even an ounce of surprise.

May barely glanced at her before continuing her checks. "Coulson's going to make her an offer." Of course he was, he hadn't arrested her, hadn't handed her over to S.H.I.E.L.D when they'd taken Mike Peterson away to the Sandbox. Instead he'd been all bland smiles and unassuming patience as he invited her to her be a 'friendly face' whilst taking Ace to his Aunt.

"I know." A slow breath out through her nose. She hoped Skye wouldn't accept. That was the last thing she needed, to be distracted in the field by a Soulmate who didn't even want her. She knew Skye would accept, could feel it in the thrum of her mark. "I don't trust her. She's hiding something." May started to receive a transmission before answering.

"So find out what it is and get her off my damn Bus." May cast a look through her aviators, regarding her silently. "Don't make it personal, Morse."

"Yeah." Bobbi frowned to herself, getting out of the copilot's chair. "Right." It was too late for that. Three words and a snarky hacker too late for it not to be personal.

All translations provided by Google! Sorry if anything is wrong!

Vous ne pouvez pas être ici! Comment avez-vous que vous obtenez ici , Mademoiselle? - You can not be here! How did you get here , Miss?
Agent Morse, avec le bouclier - Agent Morse, with Shield
Bouclier? - Shield?
Pourquoi est- Shield ici? Tout va bien? Y at-il plus de those - Why is Shield here? Everything is fine? Are there more of Those
e vais avoir besoin d' un accès à l'étage supérieur. - I'm going to need an access to the upper floor.
Bien sûr. Bien sûr. - Of course. Of course.
Pour aider à Bouclier, quoi que ce soit - Anything to help Shield.
Oublier que je suis ici - Forget that I'm here
Mai Je prends votre verre? - May I take your drink?
Oui. S'il vous plaît. - Yes. Please.
Apporter un autre lorsque vous revenez. - Bring another when you return.
Il sera utile de votre temps. - It will be worth your time .
Qui es-tu? - Who are you?
Vous êtes l'un d'entre eux . Un des - You are one of them. One of
Je suis l'un des bons gars. - I'm one of the good guys .
Parce que les bons gars percent et dérobent. - Because good guys break in and steal .
Faire ils la vente de technologie alien au plus offrant? - But they sell alien technology to the highest bidder ?
Parce que c'est qui se serait passé. Je suis le bon côté. Croyez-moi - Because it is would have happened . I am the good side. Believe me
Si vous voulez tellement, juste aller - If you want it , just go
Je ne pas besoin de vos explications. - I do not need your explanations.
D'accord puis - Okay then
Adieu - Goodbye
Fermez la porte, je ne veux pas étrangers ici. - Close the door , I do not want strangers here .