Disclaimer: Characters don't belong to me. Any references to and lines from Hamlet should be credited to William Shakespeare.

A/N: This story got way out of hand. I'll definitely be the first to admit it. It started innocently enough...there was a funny text post floating around on tumblr about how there should be less coffee shop AUs and more "putting on a production of Hamlet" AUs and then my brain started working independently of my good sense. So this is definitely, definitely an AU and I had so much fun writing Skye, Jemma and Fitz as high school students that I got carried away. So...I hope you all enjoy and let me know what you think!

I.

It should come as no surprise that Skye is only partially listening as her social worker talks about her new placement. At this point, it doesn't really matter what this lady is saying, Skye has heard it all already. Instead she's just watching the city as it passes by the car window; it's a habit of hers, one she's picked up during rides just like this one. She can't stop herself from looking at the houses and cars they pass and wondering about the people who inhabit them. When she was younger she used to wonder if a family that would love her lived in one of those houses or maybe even her real parents. Now she just wonders what kind of weird shit they deal with that the neighbors don't know about.

"Margaret Mary." The social worker says her name sharply and Skye glances away from the window, pursing her lips in a scowl. "Are you listening?"

Skye sighs and leans back in her seat, her head knocking against the headrest. "Yes." She doesn't even bother to correct her about the name thing. There's no point, she's learned that by now. None of the nuns at St. Agnes will call her anything other than Margaret Mary, which is a ridiculous mouthful all on its own plus the fact that she was named after the patron saint of lost parents has never failed to amuse Skye. Right.

Allison Martinez gives Skye a doubtful look but she doesn't press the issue. Instead she just says, "I think you'll really like it here. If you actually try."

Skye makes a noise that might be a scoff crossed with a barely contained scream of frustration. Like she hasn't tried at the dozens of other foster homes she's been stuck in since she was five years old. Like she even wants to be going to this stupid new foster home. She's sixteen, seriously. What's the freaking point anymore? She should have run away with Ward when she had the chance.

"Mr. Coulson is a published author, you know." Miss Martinez says as though Skye will actually care about any of that crap. "He's got a few best sellers." Skye turns to look toward the window once more. "He has a nice big house."

Like Skye cares about the size of the house she'll probably live in for a few weeks. In hopes of getting her case worker to stop prattling about stupid stuff, Skye asks what she considers to be the most important question, "They have other kids?" She feels like it's a natural question after the tantalizing tidbit about the big house.

"No, no other kids." Miss Martinez replies, tapping her fingernails on the steering wheel. "And it's just Mr. Coulson, actually."

This catches Skye's attention. She whips her head back in Miss Martinez's direction, narrowing her eyes slightly. "What? Isn't that…like really unusual?" You can't blame her for being a little bit cagey. She's heard enough horror stories about foster fathers without needing to be dropped into a situation where there's no foster mother to help even things out.

"Well…yes…a little." Miss Martinez mutters. If she realizes the reason for Skye's question she doesn't bring it up. Better to sweep those issues on the rug, after all. "Mr. Coulson's wife recently died, actually. About seven months ago. Car accident. They'd been going through all the paperwork and red tape with the adoption agency and when it cleared I guess he decided to go through the adoption anyway."

Skye doesn't know how to feel about this information. Sure she feels bad about the dead wife but what does this Coulson guy need a surly teenager for? Doesn't he have enough problems? "They wanted a baby." It's not really a question, not the way that she says it.

The social worker just shrugs. "Things change."

Obviously. Skye knows that better than anyone. Which is why she's in the passenger seat of this car, once again, heading to a new foster home, once again, and already mentally ticking off the days in her head until she gets sent back to St. Agnes. Once again.

Thankfully Miss Martinez stops trying to make conversation and Skye is able to watch the houses and cars and restaurants and stores pass by in relative peace. They're only about twenty minutes from St. Agnes but Skye feels like she's entering a whole new planet. That's how she always feels when she gets dropped into a new foster home: new home, new rules, new people to disappoint, new school, new lies to tell her new "friends." She's a pro at it by now but that doesn't mean she's a fan.

Finally they turn into a neighborhood and the houses aren't exactly the mansions that Miss Martinez painted them out to be. They're all modest two-story homes with yards and cute little shutters and gardens in the front and college football team pennants flapping in the breeze. Skye can't help but take in her surroundings curiously as they move through the neighborhood, wondering which home will be hers for the time being. She and Ward used to think of foster homes like hotels, places you checked into for a while when you were visiting somewhere new. As soon as Skye stopped thinking about them as permanent residences, things got better.

The house that Miss Martinez pulls into has a wraparound porch and a few potted plants on the stairs and a few more hanging from the eaves of the porch. There's nothing else that sets this house apart from the others on the block; even the welcome mat is painfully generic. Skye hefts her computer bag onto her shoulder as she studies the house. She likes it better when they're like this, when it could be any house in any city in any state.

Skye follows Miss Martinez up the driveway, ignoring the look her social work gives her when she lets her suitcase bump loudly up the porch steps. She waits for Miss Martinez to ring the bell and tries to fight down the nerves that she's suddenly feeling. Skye feels childish for the butterflies in her stomach; she should be over this by now. She's disgusted by the little part of herself that still wants the person on the other side of the door to like her.

The door swings open and Skye finds herself face to face with her new foster parent; much like his house, Phil Coulson could be any man in any city in any state. He seems to have accepted middle-age gracefully and Skye might even go as far as to call him handsome for an old guy, of course. His smile is warm enough but she notices that it doesn't reach his eyes.

Coulson greets Miss Martinez with a handshake and then surprises Skye by doing the same to her, as though they're about to sit down to a business meeting or something. She's used to the nervous chatter or the awkward and uncomfortable hugs or high-fives. But she's never gotten a handshake before. Interesting.

"You must be Margaret Mary." Coulson says and Skye just grunts because duh, who else would she be? And again with that stupid name. Ugh. "Welcome."

Skye doesn't say anything. Coulson doesn't seem bothered by this silence, turning around and gesturing for them to follow him down the hallway toward the living room. Miss Martinez glares at her and jabs Skye sharply in the ribs. "Manners." She hisses. "What about trying?"

This is me trying, Skye wants to remark but it would probably just lead to another rib jabbing. She really just wants to know where her bedroom is so she has a place to hole herself up in with her computer.

Miss Martinez sits down on the couch next to Coulson and pulls a huge file out of her attaché case. Skye knows that's her file, bursting with paperwork about how she's a behavioral problem and full of the stories of her failed placements. She doesn't really want to sit around and listen to this conversation again, so while Miss Martinez starts going over the particulars with Coulson, Skye takes herself on a tour of the living room.

The house, as far as she can tell anyway, seems impressively neat and tidy, with everything arranged just so. There are rows and rows of books on shelves and she realizes that they're arranged alphabetically by author and the DVDs in the entertainment center are set up by title and genre. She scoffs and rolls her eyes. No wonder Coulson wanted an older kid.

Skye walks over to the mantle above the fireplace (she's never had a real fireplace or mantle before, it's annoyingly picturesque) and studies the framed pictures arranged on top. There are about a half dozen of Coulson and a smiling woman that Skye assumes was his wife: two from their wedding day, a few from various vacations. They look pretty happy. There are two of the woman by herself and Skye wonders if Coulson took them or if it makes him sad to see them in the living room every day. There's one of the wife on the beach, shielding her eyes from the sun and another of her sitting with a huge violin looking thing propped against her legs. Skye wonders if they were really as perfect as they pictures make them seem.

When all the papers have been signed and Skye is pretty sure that Miss Martinez has told Coulson fifteen times to call at the first sign of trouble, the social worker finally takes her leave and Skye is alone, once again, with the person who has had the bad luck of letting her into his home. Skye looks at Coulson expectantly, not interested in being the one to make the first move. She gives them four weeks, tops. And that's being generous.

Coulson is the first one to break the silence but he doesn't seem flustered by this fact or desperate for anything to talk about. "Let me show you to your room. I'm sure you want to get yourself all settled in."

Skye scoffs once more and shakes her head slightly. Settled in, yeah right. She never took her stuff out of her suitcase at the last foster home. Two weeks. She called that one too. But she grabs her suitcase and Coulson ignores her as she drags it noisily up the staircase.

There are a few more framed pictures on the wall and a few pieces of artwork that ascend as they do. Skye studies them out of the corner of her eye as they pass, taking in the perfect snapshots of a seemingly perfect life.

"There are two guest rooms." Coulson explains once they reach the second story. "You can take your pick." He points to the door at the end of the hallway. "That's the master and that," he gestures toward the closed door next to it, "is my study. I can't think of why you'd need to go in there but just ask, okay?"

Skye just nods. She wonders if she'll get sent back to St. Agnes for somehow messing up his museum-like house. Everything looks so white and new and perfect. She almost feels bad for walking across the carpet.

Coulson hangs back as Skye peeks her head into the guest rooms before picking the one to the left because one hotel room is as good as any other, right? "Do you prefer Margaret or Mary?" He questions, then pauses. "Or Meg?"

"Actually, I prefer Skye." She informs him frankly as she throws her suitcase onto the bed. She's said the same thing to everyone else that she's ever come into contact with but most of her foster parents just end up calling her Margaret. There was one really annoying foster "dad" who insisted on calling her M&M. Coulson doesn't look like he's going to call her M&M at least.

Coulson nods. "Okay, Skye it is." He says with a little shrug. "Don't let me crowd you. I'll be downstairs if you need anything or have any questions."

Skye stares after him, her surprise evident on her face. She's used to the hovering parents, the people who are still trying to be the upstanding members of society that help poor little orphans. Eventually they get tired of the fake smiles and trying to be understanding of her surly attitude. Or they realize that having a kid around isn't all it's cracked up to be. But Skye has never had someone who just gave her space or acted like it was perfectly normal for her to be there. It's kind of nice…normal. Weird.

She doesn't like it.

The only thing Skye unpacks is her laptop, which she sets on the desk that is already in the room. The room is sparsely furnished, with only a bed, desk and dresser and they all match. There's a painting on one wall of a field and a barely visible figure frolicking through it with a dog. At least Coulson didn't try to decorate it for her. The last people she stayed with decorated the room like she was still ten years old. Of course, they already had two younger kids so maybe that was just their default setting.

Skye connects to the Internet with ease even though Coulson is on a secure network and goes to the dummy site that she and Ward set up so they'd have a way to contact each other no matter where they were. Now he's the one that's gone to parts unknown and Skye is a little disappointed to find that there's no message from him updating her on his whereabouts. But she leaves him one anyway: new foster prison, oh goody. Short and sweet. Hopefully it'll get his attention.

Skye stays at the desk for the next several hours, happy to let time get away from her as she surfs through the Internet and watches videos of cats and kids doing ridiculous things. When Coulson knocks on the doorframe she jumps in surprise; a part of her had forgotten where she was, she'd been savoring the solitude so much. There's not much of a chance to do that at St. Agnes. There's always someone hanging around, trying to peek over her shoulder or get her attention.

Coulson smiles apologetically. "Dinner is ready." He doesn't ask her if she's hungry or if she would like to come down and eat together. He just turns and disappears back down the hallway and Skye has the feeling that her presence at dinner isn't so much requested as expected.

Okay, whatever, she can roll with it. All of her new foster homes have the rules and traditions they expect to be followed and if Coulson wants to enjoy dinner with her sunny personality than how can she deny him?

Skye's stomach rumbles embarrassingly loud when she walks into the kitchen and smells spaghetti and garlic bread and there's even a salad sitting in the middle of the kitchen table. In a salad bowl. With actual wooden salad…implements. What kind of place is this?

"I wasn't sure what kinds of food you liked but I figured that everyone likes spaghetti, right?" Coulson says with a smile when he sees Skye walk into the kitchen. He pauses and then says, "right?" again with a hint of nervousness in his tone.

Skye purses her lips to hide the slight smile on her face. "Right." She's actually so hungry that she's pretty sure she could eat the entire pot of sauce and noodles by herself. But Coulson doesn't need to know that.

While she waits for Coulson to put the finishing touches on everything, Skye studies the pictures on the refrigerator. There are more of Coulson and his wife and some pictures of places and sunsets and snapshots of daily life.

Skye's gaze lingers on another picture of Coulson's wife with the giant stringed instrument. "That's my wife." Coulson says when he notices where her attention has been drawn. "She was cellist. As you can see." Again, when he smiles it doesn't reach his eyes.

"Oh." Skye clearly doesn't know a cello from a violin or a guitar or whatever. But good to know. "She was pretty." She adds lamely because she feels like she needs to say something about this dude's dead wife. Since he cooked her spaghetti and all.

Coulson nods and smiles sadly. "Yes, she was." Skye opens her mouth to say something more but he doesn't give her the chance. "Grab a plate and help yourself." His tone is friendly enough but Skye gets his meaning anyway: conversation over.

Skye doesn't even care about the huge heaping of noodles and sauce she drops onto her plate and she grabs three pieces of garlic bread and dumps half the salad into the bowl already waiting at the table. St. Agnes food definitely leaves a lot to be desired so you can hardly blame her for taking advantage of a home-cooked meal. Her last foster home was a take-out food and leftovers kind of place.

At one point, Skye catches Coulson looking at her with an amused expression on his face as she digs into her food and she blushes and tries to remind herself to eat like a normal person.

"I've already taken the necessary steps to get you enrolled in school." Coulson says after they've passed most of the meal in silence. "I hope you don't mind transferring. Your old school is a little bit out of the way."

Skye shrugs. "Whatever. School's school, right." She finishes her second piece of garlic bread.

Coulson mimics her shrug. "Your social worker mentioned problems with your attendance…" He trails off, looking at Skye expectantly.

"Oh. Yeah." Skye clears her throat, pursing her lips. "I've got a busy social schedule, you know." She hitches one shoulder in a shrug. It's not that she doesn't like school it's just…school is a weird limbo place for an orphan from St. Agnes.

Okay, let's be honest. She doesn't really like school. She's perfectly happy with her computer and the Internet.

This response doesn't seem to surprise Coulson. "Well, maybe you can put your social schedule on hold. At least until you graduate."

Skye thinks it's cute that he's making such long term plans for her.

"And who knows, maybe you'll actually enjoy going." Coulson continues, unaware of the thoughts running through Skye's mind at the moment. "The Belford School has a great reputation."

Skye's brow furrows. "The Belford School?" She repeats skeptically. "Sounds snobby."

Coulson arches his eyebrows, seemingly amused by her comment. "It happens to be the top private school in the state." He tells her. "So…yeah…a little snobby I guess."

Skye smirks and goes back to her dinner. Okay, she can work with snobby. She's pulled off everything else, why not pretend to be the spoiled little rich girl for a while? Might even be fun.

But when Skye goes back to her room and finds a message waiting for her from Ward, she can't help but rethink her whole approach to things. Don't let them drag you around like that, the message reads, don't you want to be in control for once? Where are you?

The words are so similar to the ones that Ward said to her when he was trying to convince her to run away from St. Agnes with him. Skye still isn't sure why she refused to leave with him that night; maybe there's a part of her that isn't nearly as brave as she likes to think that she is. She wonders if, given a second chance, she'd be able to follow him this time.

Ward is the only friend that she feels like she has in this entire God forsaken world. He's the only person who truly understands what it's like to be her, to not know who she is or where she comes from. Though, at least his parents named him before dropping him off at the orphanage, never to be seen again. He was the one who convinced her that she should name herself, though that didn't really do a lot of good in the long run seeing as everyone still calls her Margaret Mary. Except for Ward. And now Coulson. Ward has been gone for almost two years and Skye misses him like crazy; he's the only family she's ever had, the big brother who has always been there for her no matter what. She can't resist writing him back quickly with her address, even though she already has the feeling that nothing good could possibly come from this decision. But that's not exactly new. She makes bad decisions all the time.

That night when she finally goes to bed, Skye can't help but lock the bedroom door, just in case. Coulson seems like a decent guy. A standup guy in fact. But she knows from experience that looks can be deceiving. She spent six weeks in a foster home with other wayward children and a foster mother that was such a picture of calm and composure in front of everyone else because she liked to take her aggressions out on her wards. Skye got used to hiding the bruises long before anyone thought to ask questions. So, better safe than sorry anyway.

But there's not so much as a footstep outside her door and Skye falls asleep effortlessly.

She and Coulson don't talk much over the next few days but for some reason Skye would never catalog it as awkward. Coulson is far from overbearing but he makes his interest known. Skye still spends the majority of her time on her laptop, listening to music and surfing through the back channels that most people don't even know exist but she had no idea that Coulson noticed. Saturday he invites her to bring her laptop into his office while he does some work of his own and at first Skye resists the idea because two perfect strangers sharing the same small space is the definition of awkward to her. But there's something about Coulson that strikes her as sad and lonely and for some reason that matters to her and she doesn't really know why. So she carries her laptop into the office and sits down in the corner with her computer on her lap and Coulson sits at his desk and the sound of their respective keystrokes is actually soothing and nice, not that she'd ever admit it.

Finally Skye puts her computer aside and comes to stand behind Coulson, even though she used to hate it when people did that to her. "Whatcha working on?"

Coulson closes the document that he's been typing in, turning around to face her. "I'm a writer. If you could really call it that." He gives her a wry smile. "I like writing and apparently people like buying my books."

Skye smiles and nods. "It's a win-win, I guess." She points out. "What are your books about? Are they cheesy romance books?" She teases.

Coulson laughs like he's not entirely used to that particular sound coming from his vocal chords. "No, definitely not. They're more like…cheesy spy books." He admits.

"Like James Bond?" Skye arches an eyebrow. She definitely wouldn't peg Coulson as the type to write about action and adventure and espionage. She'd picture him as more the type to write about gardening or something equally mundane.

"No, not that exciting I'm afraid." Coulson replies. "So what has you so attached to your computer?" His eyes flick toward the laptop, waiting patiently for Skye's return.

Skye shrugs, toying absently with the ends of her hair. It's an annoying habit that she's never been able to shake, one she's done since she was a little kid and got nervous talking to adults who didn't work at St. Agnes. Even though Coulson is far from scary, apparently old habits die hard.

"Nothing really. Just Facebook and stuff." Skye tells him. She's found that it's usually better to keep her particular computer talents hidden. People get unnecessarily wary when they find out that she knows how to hack into practically any e-mail and bank account.

Coulson makes a noise like he doesn't quite believe her. "You know, Miss Martinez mentioned why you were asked to leave your old foster home."

Skye has discovered in the past three days that she really hates this particular talent of Coulson's. The fact that he makes a statement but manages to make it sound like a question even though it's obvious that he already knows the answer. Even still, he seems to have the ability to make her feel compelled to answer. "Yeah that was…a misunderstanding." She mutters.

Coulson gives her a skeptical look. "You didn't hack into your school's database and erase all the files?"

Skye purses her lips and shifts nervously. "I…might have done that." There's no point in dancing around the topic. The sooner Coulson realizes that she's a little shit, the sooner they can stop pretending and she can get back to St. Agnes. Before she actually breaks her cardinal rule and gets used to anything about this place.

But Coulson doesn't seem to find this particular admission all that surprising or worrisome. "My wife…she could barely figure out how to shop on Amazon." He remarks. "She could have benefited from your skills."

Skills. Huh. Skye has never heard anyone refer to her proclivity for finding ways to places that she isn't supposed to be with a few keystrokes as a skill before. Weird.

Skye takes a step away from Coulson, gesturing toward the door. "I'm just gonna go…make something to eat." She leaves the office before he can say anything more.

Weird. It's all just weird.

Skye doesn't feel any less weird when Coulson takes her shopping the following day for the things that she'll need for school. Thankfully the Belford School doesn't require uniforms but while Skye doesn't have to suffer that particular indecency, she does have to undergo something worse: having someone buy things for her. Coulson doesn't listen to her protests when she assures him that the ratty backpack she uses for her computer will be just fine for school or that all she really needs is a pencil and she'll be set. She finds herself with a new backpack and school supplies that she's never used in her life and he gives her his credit card and lets her go shopping for clothes on her own while he sits at Starbucks with his laptop. Skye feels like the card is burning a hole in her pocket as she tries to focus on browsing the racks. It would be embarrassingly easy to slip out of the store and take off before Coulson even realized that she was gone. She could probably get pretty far before he canceled the card; at least, she could be far enough away that she'd make it hard for anyone to track her down again. She could find Ward, she could be free of St. Agnes and all this up-and-down foster hell. Free.

Instead Skye just buys a few shirts and two pairs of jeans off the clearance rack. Apparently she still isn't as brave as she'd like to pretend that she is.

If Coulson ever doubted that she'd show back up at the Starbucks, he doesn't let on. Instead he just smiles that strangely enigmatic smile of his and that's that.

There's no message from Ward when they get home or when she checks her computer for the last time before going to bed. Skye tries not to be disappointed.

Coulson does most of the talking at the "welcome to our school, foster child, don't fuck it up" speech that Skye has gotten from countless principals throughout her life. Skye just taps her fingers on the arm of the hard wooden chair that is making her back hurt and thinks about this strange new institution of learning. From the outside, the Belford School looks a little bit like a castle; it's bigger than any school she's ever been in before and the place practically screams money. Skye doesn't want to think about how much Coulson is shelling out to carry on this weird dream of his to be a parent. She hopes that he'll get a refund when he sends her back to St. Agnes.

Even the principal's office is ridiculous. There are fancy statues and gilded picture frames on the shelves full of thick books with titles like Teaching the Future and Children: Our Passion. Skye is going to stick out like a sore thumb in this place; maybe she should go for surly outcast instead of snotty rich girl. That might work better in her favor.

Finally Skye is given her class schedule and a map of the campus (campus, seriously. Who calls it that?) and Coulson wishes her luck on her first day and tells her that he'll see her this afternoon. Skye slings her fancy new backpack over her shoulder and looks at the map with her classes and routes highlighted for her. She walks out of the front office and looks down the hallways, which are already empty because the meeting carried into first period. She shakes her head and throws the map and schedule into the trashcan and turns toward the front door.

But for some reason, Skye stops before she can actually step outside. Coulson has been nothing but nice to her, quiet and understanding and he even told the principal that she preferred to be called Skye no matter what her stupid records said and damn it! This is why she doesn't do feelings and emotional shit! It just makes everything so much worse in the long run. Stupid Coulson, stupid St. Agnes, stupid foster system. Stupid Skye.

Skye groans and turns around, fishing her schedule and the map out of the trashcan. Coulson did buy her this nice new backpack, after all. She should at least try and make it through the first day.

Her first class is chemistry and thankfully the teacher doesn't make her stand in front of the class and introduce herself in some weird getting-to-know-you activity that some high school teachers seem to really enjoy. She just gestures for Skye to find a seat and the only open desk is in the second row behind a girl with an eager expression on her face and her mousey brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. Skye just sits down and resists the urge to put her head down on her desk.

"Okay," the teacher claps her hands together as she directs the focus of the class away from Skye and back toward the lesson at hand, "who can refresh our memory about last Friday's lesson on ionic bonding?"

The girl in front of Skye shoots her hand up so fast that Skye actually feels her desk rattle. Skye can only see the back of her head but it's not hard to imagine the eagerness on her face. The teacher hesitates even though no one else has bothered to raise their hand and Skye is pretty sure that the girl is seconds away from having a meltdown.

"Okay, Jemma." The teacher points at her. "Briefly, please."

When the girl starts talking about ionic bonds (whatever the fuck), the only thing that Skye notices is that she has a particularly lilting British accent. Like, of course she does. Skye would end up in class with Hermione Granger.

At the end of class, Skye grabs her backpack and starts to move toward the door but Hermione, er Jemma, steps in front of her before she can get more than a few steps. Skye looks at her curiously, trying to figure out if she would get to the door if she just tried to walk around her.

"I thought you might like to borrow my notes and worksheets." Jemma says without preamble, a smile still stretched across her face. "Since this is your first day."

Skye shakes her head. "No, that's okay."

Jemma matches her step for step and Skye figures that she's not going to be able to shake her. At least the confused expression on her face is particularly entertaining. "But…don't you want to catch up? Aren't you worried about falling behind?"

This seems like something Jemma can't possibly wrap her head around. So Skye takes too much gratification in saying, "Nope" just so she can watch Jemma's expression fall. This time when Skye goes to leave, Jemma lets her.

When Coulson asks her about her first day of school, Skye doesn't get away with the typical teenage answer of "fine" and actually finds herself being forced to recount her day in excruciatingly boring detail. She leaves out the part about how she almost walked out the front door before first period or how she ate her lunch alone in the library so she didn't have to be that first day of school loser who was sitting by herself in the cafeteria. She also leaves out how it was embarrassingly easy to bypass the school's firewall systems so at least she was able to surf Reddit while she ate. See, silver linings.

The next day is much of the same, only without Skye's inner struggle about whether she should actually go to school or not. She just bites the bullet and walks into her first period class and Jemma smiles at her and waves like they're best buddies but at least she's not trying to push her notes and apparent academic success onto Skye anymore.

On Wednesday, when Skye walks into her first period class, she's surprised to find Jemma engaged in conversation with a lanky, curly-headed boy who is still clearly going through that awkward growing pains stage that has probably left him the butt of many jokes in gym class. Jemma has a big grin on her face as she's listening to this guy talk (seriously, he has an accent too? What kind of school is this?) and Skye wonders if he's her boyfriend and if they were bonded by their weird accents.

Okay, Jemma's accent isn't weird but it's not like you're going to get Skye to use the word "cute."

"Hello, Skye." Jemma says brightly as Skye walks past them on the way to her desk. She even gives her a chipper wave.

Skye raises her hand in what might pass as a wave. She's not sure if it's the fact that people are actually calling her Skye or the fact that Jemma is always so intent on greeting her that throws Skye for a loop.

It's nice, actually.

Being called Skye, that is. Not being greeted by Jemma.

Fine. That's nice too.

Skye puts her head down on her desk like she always does when she's waiting for class to start and listens as Jemma and her friend (boyfriend?) talk about auditions for some drama club production and when Jemma starts talking about someone named Ophelia she gets almost as excited as she does when she talks about covalent bonds and electrons.

When the warning bell rings, the guy gets this panicked look on his face before practically dashing out of the classroom and Skye has to bite her lip to keep from bursting into laughter. People who are always so desperate to adhere to the rules have always been a source of amusement for Skye. Maybe that's why she finds Jemma so intriguing; she's pretty much the definition of goody-two shoes, right down to the Hermione accent.

Later that night, after dinner with Coulson and watching some old black and white movie with him, Skye is finishing up her reading in The Blithedale Romance (really, she's just trying not to fall asleep) when she hears something knock against her window. She tilts her head slightly, listening. The house is silent around her, not a creature is stirring.

But as soon as Skye returns her attention to her reading, she hears the knocking again and when she turns her head toward the window, there's definitely a face staring back at her and it's a miracle that she doesn't scream and fall out of her desk chair. Her terror quickly turns to annoyance when she realizes who is staring back at her.

"Ward." Skye grumbles as she throws the window open, resisting the urge to give him a shove. "You just scared the shit out of me. What is your problem?"

Ward seems to find the whole thing hilarious, chuckling as he crawls through her window. Skye reaches out to steady him so he doesn't drop to the ground and alert Coulson to his presence. So far Coulson has proved to be a pretty laid back guy, but she doubts that he'd be too fond of strange guys climbing through her window. Even though Ward is hardly a stranger.

Ward. Skye forgets her annoyance and the fact that her heart is still pounding in her chest and throws her arms around him, hugging him tightly. Ward gives her a squeeze and ruffles her hair when they finally break the embrace. "Hey." He says casually like it hasn't been almost two years since they've last seen each other. "Sorry it took me so long. People are not as willing to pick up hitchhikers are they used to be. Not even devilishly good looking ones." He grins at his own joke.

Even though it really isn't far from the truth. Skye has always found Ward handsome, even though she's never seen him as anything more than her big brother and he's never acted like anything more than a protective older sibling. Sure there was that one time they kissed when she was thirteen because she was curious to see what all the fuss was about but she discovered a year later that she liked kissing Catherine, another girl at St. Agnes, a whole lot more.

"What are you doing here?" Skye questions. She knows there's a ridiculous grin on her face because she feels almost giddy. Having Ward here…it's practically perfect. Out of all the people who have come and gone throughout her life, Ward is the only one that she's missed. She's wondered dozens of times how her life would be different if she had gone with him on the night he'd run away from St. Agnes.

"I'm here to break you out, of course." Ward tells her. "Pack your bag, let's blow this joint."

Skye just stares at him. "What?"

"I thought you were tired of these foster prisons." Ward remarks with a shrug. "So I'm staging a jailbreak. You have no idea how much better it is to be free from all this crap. No one is shuffling me around from place to place anymore. I get to decide where I go and what I do. You'll love it, Skye. It's like being free."

Free. The magic word to all foster children everywhere, Skye assumes. Free from being moved around against her will, free from not being wanted, free to make her own decisions for once.

Skye suddenly has an extreme case of déjà vu, only now instead of standing in St. Agnes, they're standing in her bedroom at Coulson's house, having the same conversation.

Skye glances toward the door, thinking about what lays beyond. Coulson, no doubt sleeping soundly, unaware of what is going on just a few doors down. He's been nice to her, generous and understanding. How can she just…

But it hasn't even been a week. Everything always goes so well at the beginning. And then she's packing her suitcase again and being given some generic speech about not being a good fit. Like she's a pair of shoes that can just be returned to the store and exchanged for a bigger size.

She made the mistake of not going with Ward before but she's not going to do that again.

Skye spurs herself into action, grabbing her old ratty backpack and sliding her laptop and power cord inside before starting to add as many clothes as the bag can hold.

"This seems like a pretty nice place from the outside." Ward remarks as he watches Skye pack. "What do they do?"

"He's an author." Skye replies as she rolls up a pair of jeans to stuff into the bag. And though she doesn't know why, she adds, "She plays the cello."

Ward nods appreciatively. "An author, huh?" He purses his lips. "I bet there's probably a lot of shit in this house we could pawn for a few bucks."

Skye pauses in her packing, looking up at Ward. "What?"

"Yeah, I mean it's a lot harder to find work then you'd think." Ward tells her. "Every little bit helps."

Skye zips up her bag and slips it over her shoulder. "No." She says, surprised by the forcefulness of her own voice. Ward looks surprised as well, the expression on his face one of confusion. "I mean…he's really nice."

Ward laughs in her face and shakes his head and Skye feels her cheeks color in embarrassment. "No one is nice." He assures her. "Especially not these people."

"You don't even know him." Skye snaps, even though she knows that Ward is right. How could she forget that, how could she forget that the only person she can really trust in this world is herself. And Ward. "He is nice. He's sending me to this super fancy private school and everything."

This seems to catch Ward's attention and he arches an eyebrow. "Fancy private school?" He repeats with a growing smile. "Now that sounds promising."

Skye thinks about all the useless decorative stuff that adorns that hallways and the principal's office and how the principal's office is right next to the bookkeeper's and even though she's not entirely sure there's going to be much worth stealing, it's better than letting Ward entertain the idea of stealing from Coulson.

So Skye just nods and smiles.

And that's how she finds herself breaking into the Belford School.

In a way, it's just like old times, getting into all sorts of antics with Ward back at St. Agnes. Though making faces during Sunday service to see who would laugh first or stealing cookies from the kitchen is hardly the same thing as breaking into her new private school with the intention of stealing a bunch of shit.

They make it into the bookkeeper's office and are rifling through the drawers looking for the keys to the deposit box when Skye is hit in the face with a beam of light and can just barely make out the shape of someone standing in the doorway. When the figure lowers the flashlight, she can see his security uniform and the very pissed off expression on his face.

Clearly Skye was wrong about thinking she'd make it four weeks with Coulson. She barely made it one.

It's the cops who call Miss Martinez because hers is the first number listed in Skye's records, just above Mother Superior at St. Agnes. Skye figures that her social worker is the one who calls Coulson and when Skye sees him walking across the parking lot she feels her heart fall down to her feet. He doesn't look angry or annoyed to be up at one in the morning, he just looks a little bit sad and disappointed and that's somehow worse. Why is that worse?

Skye looks down at her feet instead of at Miss Martinez or Coulson. Ward is standing beside her, silent and stoic but she's certain that he's internally freaking out for a completely different reason. He's over eighteen now, so they can't force him back into the foster system but they can throw him in jail and she's pretty sure that won't mesh well with his philosophy of taking his destiny into his own hands. She feels like this is all her fault somehow, like she's to blame for the possibility of Ward going to jail and for Coulson being disappointed in her and for the mess that everything has become.

Miss Martinez finally walks over to her and shakes her head, her face puckered into an expression of anger and disappointment. She looks from Ward to the backpack at Skye's feet and just narrows her eyes. "Congratulations, you managed to go six days without proving what a disappointment you are." She hisses as she grabs Skye's arm, pulling her away from Ward. "The Sisters will be so pleased."

Skye doesn't bother to ask if she's going back to St. Agnes. It's pretty obvious at this point. She still can't bring herself to look at Coulson as one of the police officers takes the cuffs off her hands and surrenders her to Miss Martinez.

"Let's go." Miss Martinez pushes her toward the car that Skye had ridden in only days before. "It's going to be a long ride, Margaret Mary."

"Miss Martinez," Coulson's voice keeps Miss Martinez from saying anything more, "I think I'll take it from here." He lays a gentle hand on Skye's shoulder.

Miss Martinez looks surprised by she doesn't say anything, just wordlessly hands over Skye's bag and watches as Coulson leads Skye over to his car instead. Skye clinches her hands into fists as she follows Coulson, her nails pressing against her skin.

Coulson doesn't say anything as they pull away from the Belford School, keeping his gaze fixed on the empty road ahead of them. For the first time, it's Skye who breaks the silence. "You're not sending me back?" Her voice is small and childlike to her own ears.

Coulson looks over at her, his brow knitting. "What?"

Skye swallows, toying with the ends of her hair. "I…I mean…the last family…" They hadn't even bothered to say goodbye, just sent her stuff back with Miss Martinez after they received word of her expulsion for hacking into the school's computer system.

Coulson's expression softens and he just shakes his head. "No."

Skye clinches her jaw so tightly that it starts to ache but at least she stops her tears from falling.

tbc