Chapter Text
The day was perfect, clear skies, no fog, even the usual dank smell of garbage that clung to New York like a daily cloud of perfume was less than it’s usual degree. The perfect fall day by all accounts, which to Skye only meant one thing; disaster. Perfect days didn’t happen when the sky was clear and the air was crisp. If anyone ever watched a movie they would know, the good stuff happens when it’s cold and hands are stuffed into pockets to keep warm and the main character only gets the girl when it’s raining. Art mimicked life and life was only a series of tropes and cliches.
Or maybe she was just a cynic.
The only reason she even noticed was because without the morning fog she had a clear view from the rooftop she was settled on. Her rifle sat rested against the buildings edge, her cheek pressed to the stock so she could see through the scope. The cross hairs found their way to a pretty brunette, dressed nicely and moving along the sidewalk in the herd of other sheep off to their mundane jobs. Skye watched as the woman sipped her coffee and finished off the last of her breakfast sandwich. She tossed both into the trash at the corner, smiling politely at the homeless man who stood guard of it, seeking scraps. Bless her. If anyone was a movie cliche it was this one, prim and put together, strutting off to a high paying job with not a shred of herself out of order. Except in line with Skye’s cynical views on the beautiful day the woman was blissfully oblivious to one unfortunate fact.
Her number was up.
Skye tapped her earpiece to activate two way communication. “I’ve got eyes.” She reported casually, the barrel of her gun still following along with the woman as she watched her enter a large building. “She just went into Cybertek.”
“Jemma Simmons, twenty seven, gifted scientist and all around over achiever.” Came through into her ear, her coms crackling to life. “The woman has three PHDs.”
Skye straightened up, removed her rifle from the ledge and begun it’s disassemble. “Are you crushing Coulson?”
There was a distinct sound of air blowing through the connection, Coulson huffing or sighing. “You say that every time.”
Skye smirked. “And it never gets old. So what’s her deal?”
“It’s uncertain. Her records are clear, digital footprint spotless, no prior arrests, no hidden debt or funds.”
“Ah, so a fun one.”
“If you call the extra work of discovering the imminent threat the machine has detected fun, then yes.”
“I love a good mystery.” Skye quipped, heading for the roof door. She wasn’t going to get any information standing on the wrong building.
“Surveil her until we know the nature of this number, alright?”
“You got it, AC”
Another sound of sighing.
“I told you to stop calling me that Skye. I’m not an agent anymore.
Skye rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I know. There’s no Shield for us anymore, you’re not an agent. May gives me the same speech.” She paused, stepping out onto the street free from her newly stashed rifle. “We’re still out here Coulson, decide what you want but we are agents of… something. Plus I’m way too used to calling you AC. Deal with it.”
She tapped her earpiece again, disconnecting as she crossed the street on her way to the Cybertek building. She could deal with Coulson’s identity crisis later.
—
By midafternoon Skye had her phone paired with the target’s and no leads on anything suspicious. Apart from the fact that the woman, Simmons, was avoiding everyone in her life. Multiple calls came through from her parents which Simmons promptly ignored and Skye watched a saddened look on the woman’s face as she listened to a voicemail from someone labeled in her contacts as Fitz. Something about dropping off the face of the earth and a bunch of science crap Skye wasn’t putting any effort into trying to understand.
Coulson was right, Simmons was clean.
For the rest of the day Skye diverted her attention to the people around the woman, gaining information to pick out any possible threats to the number’s life.
She posed as a tech assistant and got herself behind a computer, something she actually understood in that place. Cybertek was like being on another planet. Every so often Skye would catch an earful of big words she was sure these people were making up and it made her crave a cheeseburger. Some psycho-automatic response to boredom.
Simmons kept to herself, the quiet type it seemed. The woman entered her lab, donned a lab coat and had been hunched over a table for hours.
The job couldn’t get any more dull.
Even the company was clean. Skye dug deep into their network and all she was coming up with was a few shotty expense reports and a discrepancy in their overall funding. Besides their terrible–- terrible network security they were the boring run of the mill research company.
“Am I being punked?” Skye asked discreetly through the coms, stretching back in the uncomfortable office chair. “I could get better action at senior bingo night than this place.”
“Be careful what you wish for.” Coulson warned.
“Right. Well, whatever. Do you have something because I’m still coming up empty.”
“No, everything is checking out on my end. Hey, aren’t you supposed to be at work by some point today?”
Skye lifted her legs up on to the chair and gave the desk a good shove to get spinning. “Nope.”
“Skye…”
“Temporary suspension.” She admitted. “Detective Johnson got a little too rough with a scumbag bullying his foster kids into pedaling all his illegal dealings.”
“Skye.”
“Are you just going to keep saying my name or is this conversation going somewhere?”
“You need to keep your cover. If Hydra gets ahold of your real identity all of us are in jeopardy. You know that.”
Skye stopped spinning and let her head fall back, eyes cast up to the ceiling. “I know.” She said, softer than she had meant to. “Don’t worry, it’s only my second strike. Daisy has a temper.”
When the room stopped spinning from her boredom induced foolishness with the chair, Skye realized she didn’t see Simmons anymore. The scientist had been in the same spot a room over where Skye could easily keep an eye on her through the large panes of glass all day but she was nowhere in sight.
“I lost visual.” Skye said, bolting upright. Damn attention span.
“GPS puts her on the east side of the building.” Coulson supplied without missing a beat. “She’s headed down the elevator.”
—
By the time Skye caught up with Simmons she was already on her way out the back of the building, into the alley. The first sign of suspicion all day and in three seconds flat, all hell broke loose.
Skye heard the squeal of tires down one end of the alley before the black van came into view and Simmons, who at least looked startled, was oblivious to the men flanking her from behind.
“Get down!” She shouted. Her pistol was already in her grasp, two skilled pops of gunfire sending both men crumbling to the ground in pain. Skye would have been smirking if she weren’t preoccupied.
She managed to grab Simmons by the side of her sweater in time to tug her behind a dumpster, narrowly avoiding a spray of bullets thrown at them from the van’s passenger window.
The woman squeaked, landing against Skye with the force of the tug.
“Keep your head down.” Skye ordered, huddled up against the rusted metal of the foul smelling dumpster.
“What the bloody hell is happening?” Simmons nearly yelled over the sound of bullets clinking into metal.
“Yeah, you tell me.” Skye gruffed out, leaning toward the edge of the dumpster to return fire. “What the hell kind of mess are you into?” She asked but she really didn’t have time to hear the answer. “Coulson, it’s a strike team.”
“Who would want this woman killed?” Coulson asked on the other end. “Skye, be careful.” He added in, his standard worried tone embedded into the words.
It was a good question. On everything they tried to dig up, Jemma Simmons was the most unassuming New York resident but of course, Skye knew first hand that appearances could be deceiving. The trouble was that it was obvious that they had severely missed something.
She pulled a second gun from her inner holster and handed it over to the scientist.
“Here, take this.”
Simmons looked horrified. “You want me to shoot this?”
Skye rolled her eyes. “No I just want you to hold it.”
The woman stared at her, mouth open and Skye shook her head, a tug of pity or something like it grasping her.
“Look, it’s easy.” She explained as she made quick work of reloading the pistol in her hand with a new clip. Heavy footsteps were making their way toward them from down the alley and they were running out of time. “Point and shoot. We have to get out from being pinned down. I’m going to fire and you’re going to run that way.”
Putting her faith in a stranger was not ideal but otherwise they would both be sitting ducks.
“Get around that corner then shoot straight at them.” Skye spared a second to look at the woman and at least make sure she heard her but got right to it and turned to fire at the approaching danger.
“Go!”
—
“Skye… Skye?! What’s happening?” Coulson’s voice erupted through her earpiece.
“You’re bleeding.” Simmons added in next from beside her.
As if Skye couldn’t feel that she had been hit and needed to be informed.
They had made it out of the alley and down a few blocks but Skye was getting dizzy and at first chance she ducked them off the street and found herself panting against a brick wall.
Skye tapped her earpiece.
“We need somewhere to go, AC” It wasn’t an explanation but Skye knew he was just looking for confirmation from her that she was alive.
“There is a foreclosed apartment complex three blocks down.” He supplied.
Skye pushed off the wall and to her surprise the woman slipped herself under her arm to help support her.
“You need medical attention.” Simmons said with a surprising amount of force to her tone.
“First we have to avoid getting shot at again.” Skye replied. She leaned her weight into Simmons when she needed to and they made their way to the address with Coulson’s help.
The complex was run down but not entirely abandoned. There was evidence of straggling tenants and squatters throughout the building.
Detaching herself from her company, Skye limped her way down the fourth floor, knocking on doors and listening for movement behind them. The third was abandoned and with the ease of practice Skye picked the lock and shut the door behind them.
She had barely taken a breath when Simmons nudged at her, guiding her toward a ratty looking yellow couch at the center of the otherwise empty room.
“Sit.” The woman demanded.
“Hey… easy.” Skye complained but her lips were quirked up. Quiet scientist was not the type she would have pegged for bossy.
Simmons got right to inspecting the wound with an expertise Skye recognized.
“I thought you were a chemist.” She questioned.
“Biochemist.” Simmons corrected and shook her head. “I’ve had medical training.”
“Must be one of those PHDs”
Simmons looked up at her strangely, obviously assessing how Skye knew that. For someone who had just been introduced to their own personal hit squad the woman was relatively calm.
“You’ll need to take your pants off.”
“That is second date territory.”
“The bullet is lodged in your thigh. You are incredibly lucky that it wasn’t a few inches right, it could have severed your femoral artery and you would have bled out before we got here. All I was doing was minding my own business and then I’m being shot at and you… you come along and–”
“Saved you.” Skye cut in before Simmons could work herself up anymore. The panic had apparently been delayed.
“Yes, well, it seems I will continue to require your assistance in the area and I’d prefer you not to bleed to death on this horrid looking couch. Goodness, I hope there aren’t bed bugs.”
“Comforting.” Skye remarked, unsure if she was amused or annoyed with the woman.
“I don’t even know your name.”
“Yeah and you’re already trying to get into my pants.” Skye said with a grunt as she stood for a moment to rid herself of the material down to her ankles.
“I find busy work tends to help in keeping my anxieties at bay.”
Skye scoffed. “Glad to be of help then.” She hesitated. “It’s Skye.”
“I’m Jemma S–”
“Simmons. I know.”
The glint of curiosity showed in Simmons’ eyes again when she looked at Skye but she didn’t say anything, only nodded and began distractedly looking around.
“There is a dishrag there.” Skye pointed out, tossing her chin toward the counter at the far end of the adjoining room.
Simmons scrunched her nose. “That is hardly sanitary.”
Skye almost laughed. “Neither is the steak knife you’re going to use to dig this thing out of me.”
The woman blanched and then, at that, Skye did laugh. She didn’t know why but she did.