#silvertempest

Skye looked up in dull surprise to see May closing the door quietly behind her. Those dark eyes were fixed on Skye with no hatred, no distaste, no mistrust, just the same serious regard they usually observed Skye with. Trying for a joke and succeeding only in sounding bitter and sarcastic, she said, “I don't think I'm up for training right now.”

“I don't think so, either,” May agreed. “That's not why I'm here.”

She crossed the cell and sat on the cot next to Skye, who looked at her a little apprehensively. “Then why are you here?”

For an answer, May put an arm around Skye's shoulders and pulled her close. Skye stiffened for a moment, then slowly began to relax. Gradually, her head dropped onto May's shoulder, her legs tucked to one side instead of curled in a defensive knot. May's response was to wrap her other arm around Skye, cradling her comfortingly. She began to rock back and forth slightly, as if Skye was a baby she was trying to soothe.

In Skye's mind, the walls turned a faded yellowish-tan, the ceiling lower with soft, pastel-colored shapes dangling on lengths of string. Without thinking, she began to hum the little tune she remembered, the one that got stuck in her head every so often, usually when she was scared or upset.

“'Bicycle Built for Two?'” May asked.

Skye looked up at May without lifting her head. “Is that what it's called?”

“You don't know the words?”

“No, I just remember the tune. My—” Skye choked slightly, then said in a lower tone of voice, “My mom used to sing it to me...”

May went back to rocking Skye, then began singing. She had a surprisingly melodic alto.

“Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer, do I'm half-crazy all for the love of you It won't be a stylish marriage I can't afford a carriage But you'll look sweet upon the seat Of a bicycle built for two...”

Skye closed her eyes, feeling the tears begin to brim. “That's what—that's what he called me,” she whispered. “He called me 'Daisy...'”

“I think most parents who find a song with their child's name in it will sing it to them,” May said. “Maybe not as a lullaby, but just when they're playing around. When I was a little girl, my dad used to sing 'Melinda' by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers all the time.” She looked down at Skye. “I doubt your mother sang the other verse to that song, though.”

Skye looked up. “What other verse?”

The faintest hint of a smile flickered over May's lips as she began to sing.

“Henry, Henry, here is my answer true I'm not crazy over the likes of you If you can't afford a carriage Forget about the marriage 'Cause I'll be damned if I'll be crammed On a bicycle built for two.”

Skye couldn't help but laugh. The mirth didn't last long, however. “I wish I could remember anything about her, but...all I remember is that tune.” Unconsciously, she tucked herself against May's side, curling into her like a cat, or like a small child.

May tightened her arms around Skye, resting her cheek on the top of her head as she resumed rocking. “I wish I could help you unlock those memories. I'm sure your mother loved you very much.” She pulled back for a brief second to look down at Skye. “Do you want us to start calling you Daisy?”

“No,” Skye said softly. She'd thought it over, in the few quiet moments she'd had since escaping the Kree city, and she'd made up her mind. “I don't—that name doesn't belong to me anymore. That's who I could have been. I'm not her. I'm Skye. It's the name I picked for myself and...it's the name that belongs here—with you guys. If I start calling myself Daisy I'll start thinking I belong with—” She broke off, unable to bring herself to say the words.

“The doctor?” May supplied, a flash of anger in her voice.

Grateful for the neutral term for the man whom Skye had wanted to meet for most of her life, and who had nearly destroyed her entire world when she did, she nodded. “Yeah. I—I don't want to go to him. I know it's...all my life I thought I wanted to meet my parents, to find out who I really was and...but that's not what I wanted. I wanted to belong. I wanted a family.”

“You've got that,” May said firmly. “Whatever happens, wherever you go—Skye, we will always be your family.”

“Thank you,” Skye whispered, feeling the tears well up in her eyes again. “He—he told me I'd run to him eventually. That when I—when this happened—he'd be the only person who stood with me...”

“He lied.” May began stroking Skye's hair lightly. “Fitz told me what happened—what you overheard. I wouldn't put too much emphasis on what Mack says. You know what he did after Coulson came clean about the symbols.”

“I know he wasn't too happy about the way he was acting.”

“He was going around trying to convince everyone—well, not you or me, I think he knew better—but both Fitz and Hunter said he was talking to them about how crazy Coulson was acting and trying to get them to be suspicious.” May sighed. “Mack's not a big fan of things he can't explain.”

“I don't want to cause trouble,” Skye said. “I know we're shorthanded. If me being here is going to make it hard to get agents...”

May shook her head. “Any agent who won't work with you isn't an agent we want on this team.”

“Thanks.” Skye swallowed hard. “But...I don't want to make trouble between the team, either. I already made trouble between Jemma and Fitz...”

“You didn't. Fitz told me that he was the one who wouldn't let you tell us about your...powers. And I'm pretty sure Simmons and Hunter are both on your side. They're not upset about what you can do. They're upset that Fitz lied to them. Which, again, was his call.”

“But still...”

“Skye, you're like a kid blaming herself for her parents' divorce. It's not your fault. It's not. Just breathe, honey.”

The ghost of a smile flickered across Skye's face, even as she tried to comply with May's instruction. “I don't think I've ever seen your sentimental side.”

“Yeah, well, usually my way of being sentimental involves beating the shit out of something,” May said with a brief smile of her own. “But the last time I let my guard down around you, you were unconscious.”

“I didn't think you liked me very much,” Skye admitted. “Even after...not until Ward stole the Bus.”

May was quiet for a moment. Finally, she said in a low voice, “I didn't want to like you. I didn't want to start caring. Not just for you. For anyone. Coulson was my second SO, so I already cared about him, and...I didn't want to bond with anyone else on the team. I wanted to keep my distance. Partly it was that I was reporting back to Fury and I didn't want to feel like I was betraying anyone else. Partly it was that I was afraid of exactly what did happen—one of you getting seriously hurt and me feeling helpless. I thought it would be easier to do my job if I looked on you all as nameless, faceless agents who just happened to be assigned to the same mission.” She looked down at Skye. “But I did care. I started caring about all of you—and somehow, somewhere along the line, I started caring about you more. I never had a daughter, Skye...but you've come pretty damned close.”

The tears Skye had been fighting back overflowed then. Without thinking, she reached up and took a handful of May's shirt, clinging to her like a child. “I don't remember my mom—but you're the closest thing to one I've ever had,” she whispered.

May rested her cheek on the top of Skye's head, rocking back and forth. After a few moments, she began to hum, then to sing softly. Skye closed her eyes, letting the tears flow unchecked as she began slowly drifting off into slumber, feeling comfortable and warm and safe for the first time in a long time.