AN: Agents of Shield is one of my favorite TV shows, and I have always really loved reading adoption AUs for it, so I wanted to try my hand at writing my own! I've never posted anything I've written before, so any and all feedback is welcome! Hope you enjoy :)

Skye knew the second that she and Jemma walked through the front door of St. Agnes' Orphanage that something was up. Sister Beatrice, one of the nicer nuns, was waiting in the entry, a tight look on her face.

"Jemma, could you come with me?" the sister asked. "There's someone here to meet you." That explained it, Skye thought. Yet another foster family had seen Jemma's file and wanted to take in the well-behaved girl with the sky-high IQ, without knowing the full story. Skye gave Jemma's hand a quick squeeze and leaned in close to whisper in her ear.

"I'll be waiting for you upstairs," she murmured, trying to inject confidence into her voice. She knew Jemma must be terrified. This sort of thing had happened more than once, and every time it did, it didn't get any easier on Jemma. Foster families were entranced by her file and were eager for an "easy" foster kid, not realizing that Jemma, although brilliant and kind, would not be the poster child they assumed she was. Jemma was painfully shy, and often couldn't speak in front of anyone besides Skye and a few of the sisters. She had a number of odd habits as well, things she and Skye referred to as her quirks, although many foster families had found them to be more irritating than quirky.

Sister Beatrice gave Jemma a stiff smile, the kind grownups give to kids when they're faking like everything is okay even though everyone can tell that it's not, and gestured her towards the door of the main office.

"Just… be yourself, Jemma," the sister encouraged. Jemma gave Skye a small wave before she disappeared behind the heavy wooden door. Skye waited until the count of ten, then made her way quickly over to the door. Kneeling down on the part of the floor that didn't creak, Skye held her ear close to the small gap between the bottom of the door and the floor to try and catch snippets of conversation.

"Ah, Sister Beatrice, Jemma, come in," came the voice of Sister Margaret, the woman in charge of the orphanage. The sound of chairs scraping across the floor made Skye recoil slightly, but she resumed her position as soon as the noise had stopped.

"Jemma, this is Mr. and Mrs. Coulson," said Sister Margaret. "They were hoping to meet you today. They'd like for you to come and stay with them." There was an awkward silence. Skye could picture Jemma sitting silently, feeling awkward as all the adults stared at her. A faint tapping sound began to drift under the door, and Skye knew that Jemma had started drumming her right middle finger against the chair leg to try and calm her nerves. Tap-tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap.

"Hi Jemma." A man's voice, gentle and friendly sounding. "I'm Phil, and this is my wife Melinda. Sister Margaret's told us some wonderful things about you. We'd really like to get to know you." Tap-tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap.

"Jemma, can you look at Mr. Coulson while he's speaking to you?" Tap-tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap.

"Oh, that's okay Sister Margaret. You're welcome to look wherever you're comfortable, Jemma," said the man. Mr. Coulson, Skye supposed. She was a little surprised at his flexibility. Often foster parents found Jemma's staring at the floor to count floorboards unappealing.

"Are you counting something, Jemma?" This voice was a woman's, unfamiliar. It must have belonged to the man's wife. Skye was impressed that she could tell that Jemma was counting, not just muttering under breath like a crazy person.

"Floorboards," came the quiet, slightly accented voice of Jemma. She had been raised in England by British parents for several years before moving to the US, and she still retained some of her original accent.

"Jemma's got quite a mind for math," Sister Margaret interjected. "She's always working out numbers in her head."

"How many floorboards have you counted up so far?" asked the woman, apparently ignoring the harried explanation offered by the nun.

"Thirty-one," Jemma replied after a beat, her voice small. Skye knew that Jemma must have been debating in her head. The nuns always wanted her to be as normal as possible with potential families, to try and get her fostered, but this couple seemed to be genuinely interested in meeting the real Jemma, floorboards and all.

"Do you like to count other things?" the man asked.

"Sometimes," Jemma told him. Skye noticed that the tapping sound had stopped. There must be something about these people that made Jemma stay calmer than normal if she could talk to them without tapping.

"Well, Jemma, how would you feel about coming to live with us for a while?" asked the man. "Your social worker, Miss Hand, thinks we might be a good fit. What do you say?" There was a long silence, and the tapping resumed.

"Jemma, you know shrugging is not an acceptable response to a question," Sister Margaret said crisply. "I'm so sorry, we try to teach the girls manners, but some habits are hard to break."

"It's perfectly all right," the man reassured her. "It's a big question."

"And very thoughtful of you to ask," Sister Margaret added. "Although Jemma doesn't really have much of a choice. Miss Hand has already assigned Jemma's care over to you, so this is really more of a formality."

"People always deserve to have a choice, Sister Margaret," said the woman. Skye cocked her head to one side. Something about this woman seemed brazen. Skye would have liked to have seen the look on Sister Margaret's face at that response.

"Of course, that's not what I… I only meant that the social workers are responsible for the girls' placements, and—"

"We understand," Mr. Coulson said gently. "Nothing implied. We just think it's important to make sure Jemma feels comfortable with us."

"So Jemma," Mrs. Coulson prompted, "how would you feel about giving it a try? Would that be okay?" Tap-tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap.

"Wonderful!" Sister Margaret exclaimed. Jemma must have nodded her head. "Jemma, why don't you and Sister Beatrice go upstairs to pack your things—" The sound of scraping chair filled Skye's ears again, and she scrambled away from the door quickly before Jemma or Sister Beatrice could find her crouched there. Unfortunately, her scrambling wasn't quite quick enough, because the heavy wood door collided solidly with Skye's shoulder and sent her sprawling across the entryway in full view of everyone. Sheepish, Skye looked up from the floor and took in the scene in front of her. Jemma was standing slouched in front of Sister Beatrice, whose guiding hand was placed on her shoulder. Sister Margaret stood behind her large desk, mouth agape at the sight of Skye splayed out in the doorway. A white man with thinning brown hair and a warm expression sat in a spindly chair next to an Asian woman with shoulder-length black hair and a steely glint in her eye. Both the man and the woman looked amused to see Skye obviously caught in the act of eavesdropping.

"Mary Sue! What on earth are you doing down there?" Sister Margaret demanded. Skye felt the weight of five sets of eyes on her as she got to her feet.

"I um… tripped. I was coming downstairs, to go to do some homework, and I kind of fell… in front of the door," Skye said lamely. She knew no one would believe her, but she was more focused on trying to get a read on Jemma than convince the adults in the room that she hadn't been spying on them. Jemma smiled when Skye gave her a glance, but it didn't extend to her eyes, which were pooled with fear.

"Are you a friend of Jemma's?" the man, who must have been Mr. Coulson, asked. Skye nodded.

"I'm Skye," she told him. She didn't offer any other information, despite the inviting smile of Mr. Coulson. He seemed like he might be nice – his voice was friendly, and his eyes crinkled when he smiled at her – but Skye knew better than to talk too much.

"Mary Sue, why don't you go upstairs with Sister Beatrice and Jemma to help her pack?" Sister Margaret suggested, clearly trying to shuffle Skye out of the room. Skye nodded, and quickly took Jemma's hand. As their hands met, Jemma melted into Skye's side, and she stood up a little straighter. Skye noticed the Asian woman, who she assumed was Mrs. Coulson, watching them closely as the two girls made their way towards the door and up the stairs, Sister Beatrice behind.

Up in their dormitory, Jemma and Skye made quick work of filling a battered duffel bag with Jemma's clothes under Sister Beatrice's watchful eye. When the nun saw that the two girls had the packing well in hand, she turned to go back downstairs.

"It seems like you two have got this covered. I'll be downstairs helping the other children with homework if you need anything," she told them. Skye could tell that Sister Beatrice was giving them a moment alone to say goodbye, and she was grateful for the privacy. Jemma didn't say anything as she folded up her map of the stars and tucked in between the pages of her well-worn biology encyclopedia, a big book full of pictures and information on all sorts of plants and animals and other living things that had belonged to her father. Skye watched as Jemma's hands shook while sliding the massive book into her backpack, and quickly crossed over to her, taking Jemma's hands in her own.

"It's going to be okay," Skye assured her. A gentle squeeze from Skye helped to steady the trembling, and Jemma took a steadying breath. "They seem okay, those Coulson people, and if it doesn't work out, then you always have me to come back to." Skye offered Jemma a slightly crooked half smile, that Jemma managed to weakly return.

"I hate having to do this all over again," Jemma admitted. "I'd rather just stay here with you than go back and forth all the time. They always send me back once they see how odd I am." Jemma's voice caught in her throat as she spoke, and she swallowed hard to keep from crying.

"You're not odd," Skye said stubbornly. "You're the smartest person I know."

Just then, Michaela Dodson, one of the girls who shared the dormitory with them, came into the room, flanked as usual by her miniature pack of cronies. Michaela was a year older than Skye, and about a foot taller. She was the kind of kid who was always up to no good but somehow never seemed to get in trouble for her bullying, cheating, or stealing.

"Heard you're going away again, freak. How long do you think it'll be before these ones send you back to the pound like the rest?" Michaela sneered. Skye felt Jemma shrink next to her. She had always been a favorite target of Michaela's, a fact which made Skye's blood boil.

"Remind me again when the last time anyone wanted to take you home was, Dud-son?" Skye shot back. Michaela's face darkened, and she took a threatening step towards the girls.

"Like that matters. Nobody wants kids like us, especially not mixed breed mutts like you or spazzes like the blubbering wonder girl over there." Michaela started rocking back and forth on her heels and slapping her palm against her thigh in a cruel imitation of Jemma. Her goons howled with laughter behind her. "You know, for a genius you sure do act like a re—"

Before Michaela could finish the hateful word, Skye had lunged at the bigger girl, driving her shoulder into Michaela's stomach and knocking the wind out of her. Michaela stumbled backwards and landed on her backside, Skye on top of her. Skye tried to push Michaela down and pin her between her knees, but Michaela gave Skye a mighty shove and sent her flying in the opposite direction. Both girls scrambled to their feet, while Jemma edged towards the back wall and Michaela's gang pressed in close, forming a circle around Skye. One of the girls grabbed Skye's arms, pinning them behind her back, and Michaela moved towards her, a hungry look in her eyes. As Michaela drew back her arm to launch a punch, Skye flung her weight backwards onto the girl holding her arms, giving her enough momentum to bring her feet up into the air and land a hefty kick under Michaela's chin. Michaela reeled backwards, but rebounded quickly with a look of pure loathing on her face.

"You're going to regret that, runt," Michaela snarled, winding up and landing a painful blow across Skye's cheek. Skye winced with pain as Michaela's fist cracked across her face, but forced herself not to cry out. She struggled fiercely against her restraints, but the other girls had joined in pinning her after the kick and it was to no avail. One of the girls had her arm pressed against Skye's throat, and Skye was struggling to breathe. Just as Michaela was preparing to take another swing, a harsh voice rang out.

"What is going on here?" Everyone whirled around to see Sister Margaret and Mrs. Coulson standing in the doorway. Each woman wore a displeased look on her face, and the girls quickly released Skye, trying to look as innocent as possible.

"We caught Skye trying to steal some of our things and hide them in Jemma's duffel bag," Michaela lied, her face rearranged into a picture of saccharine sincerity. "We were just trying to stop her from becoming a thief, Sister, when she attacked me out of nowhere. We were trying to keep her from hurting anybody."

"Be that as it may, you girls know the rules against fighting. You'll be on dishes all week. And you, Mary Sue, do you have anything to say for yourself? Theft and unprovoked violence?" Sister Margaret asked. Skye opened her mouth to defend herself, but closed it just as quickly. There was no use in trying to convince Sister Margaret of what really happened. Skye had gotten in trouble too many times before for the sister to believe her now.

"No, Sister."

"Well, you know well enough the punishments for those sins. You'll report to Sister Francis for kitchen duty for the next two weeks, and your free time has been reduced by an hour a night until the end of the month. Now, Jemma, are you all ready to go?" The nun's demeanor shifted radically as she turned to address Jemma, who had practically wedged herself in the corner during the midst of the fight. Jemma stood frozen for a moment, then shook her head frantically. Skye could see Michaela and her girls mocking her behind Sister Margaret's back, whipping their heads back and forth and shaking with laughter. Her face grew hot with anger, but she forced herself to choke it down. She didn't need to get in any more trouble at the moment.

"All right, then, you have just a few minutes more. Come downstairs once you're packed, and then we can send Mr. and Mrs. Coulson on their way. Come on, girls." Sister Margaret beckoned for Michaela and the others to follow her as she left the room, which they did, although not without a final sneer at Skye and Jemma as they left. Once they were gone, Jemma rushed over to Skye's side and brushed her fingers over the welt that was blossoming under Skye's eye. Her other hand tapped lightly on her thigh, a soft pat-pat-pat against her jeans.

"You shouldn't have done that," Jemma murmured, her eyes sad. "You'll be in awful trouble with them and with Sister now."

"It's okay, really. You know I could never let her get away with saying all that crap." Skye watched as Jemma's face fell at the mention of Michaela's hurtful teasing. "You know it's not true. There's nothing wrong with you." The sound of a throat clearing snapped the girls back to attention, and they turned to see Mrs. Coulson still standing in the doorway. Jemma's face went scarlet, and Skye could feel her own cheeks flushing. She hadn't realized anyone was listening.

"I figured there was more to the story than what that girl said," Mrs. Coulson remarked. "You weren't stealing, were you Skye?"

"No," Skye admitted, her brow furrowing. "I'm not a thief. Michaela just… she said some stuff and I couldn't let her get away with it."

"I see," Mrs. Coulson said. She seemed thoughtful. "I'll be downstairs with Mr. Coulson. You two can meet us down there when you're ready." She turned then, and left without another word.

"That was weird," Skye said. "At least she's going to let me say goodbye, though." Jemma nodded. Her tapping has gotten louder, and Skye could see the fingers on her other hand twitching as well. She slipped her hand into Jemma's non-tapping one, and squeezed it as she took a deep, deliberate breath in. Jemma followed suit, inhaling as slowly as she could. As both girls exhaled, Skye stopped squeezing, but didn't drop Jemma's hand. They continued in the same way for another minute or so, Skye squeezing and releasing in time with their shared breaths. Neither one could remember where they had picked up the trick, but it was a go-to any time either one of them needed help calming down.

"It's going to be okay," Skye said again, trying to convince herself just as much as Jemma. "You're going to do great with the Coulsons, and I'm going to be fine here." Jemma nodded, her face solemn. Both girls were aware that the other one was putting on a brave face, but there wasn't much more either of them could do at that point. One more quick sweep of the room to make sure Jemma hadn't left anything behind complete, the pair made their way to the door and down the stairs to say their final goodbye.

As they neared the main office, Skye immediately noticed that something had changed. Sister Margaret's voice was tight and had a bite to it, which Skye knew meant she was unhappy about something. A voice that Skye now recognized as Mrs. Coulson's cut curtly across Sister Margaret's words.

"Surely you can get Miss Hand on the phone right now to make the proper arrangements," said Mrs. Coulson. "I would think that your organization would welcome a second suitable placement."

"Of course, but this is highly unorthodox," Sister Margaret protested. "And besides, as you saw earlier, Mary Sue is one of our more difficult children—"

"I have reason to believe you were not given the full story upstairs," Mrs. Coulson said stoutly. "Please call Miss Hand, or my husband and I will do it ourselves. Victoria is an old friend, I'm sure she will understand the situation." Jemma and Skye looked at one another, each silently asking the other what was going on. Skye shrugged, and crept closer to the office door, trying to get a peak inside. She didn't have a very good view, but she could see that the three adults were all standing around in the office. Both Mrs. Coulson and Sister Margaret had stern looks on their faces, and Mr. Coulson seemed a little befuddled, although still resolute as well. As Skye watched, he turned slightly and spotted her peering through the doorway. He caught her eye and winked, flashing her a small smile.

"If it's all right with you, Sister Margaret, I'm going to step out for some air while you and my wife contact Miss Hand," he said, crossing towards the door. Skye scampered back towards Jemma, and the two girls watched as Mr. Coulson came out into the hall.

"Jemma, Skye, hi there," he grinned. "Skye, I don't think we've been properly introduced. My name's Phil." He stuck out his hand, which Skye shook hesitantly. The guy seemed nice, but Skye had a lot of questions for him. "I was hoping to go outside and get some fresh air. Maybe you girls would be able to show me a good spot?"

Skye glanced at Jemma, who seemed open to the idea, then turned back to Mr. Coulson and shrugged. "Okay." The three made their way outside, Skye leading the way, and settled by a bench under a large oak tree out front. Before Mr. Coulson had a chance to open his mouth, Skye blurted out the biggest question that was on her mind.

"What was going on in there? Why are you calling Miss Hand?"

"Did we do something wrong?" Jemma asked, her face paling slightly. Miss Hand was their social worker, and while the woman was very nice, she often only got called when there was trouble.

"No, no, not at all!" Mr. Coulson assured them. His smile was gentle, and his voice seemed comforting. "I don't want to get your hopes up, but Melinda – that's my wife – she wants to see if Miss Hand can't work something out for us. We noticed how important you two are to each other and… well it just seemed like such a shame to split up a team as good as yours…" He looked sheepish. "Melinda would tell me I'm saying too much. We don't know yet if it will work, but we'd really like it if both of you could come home with us." Skye felt a balloon inflate in her chest, and a quick look at Jemma's stunned expression told her that she felt something similar.

"You mean, you want to foster both of us? Together?" Skye asked. Mr. Coulson nodded.

"Absolutely," he said. "Melinda told me about how you stood up for Jemma against those other girls, Skye, and she told me about how you took care of Skye afterwards, Jemma. It seems like you two are pretty good friends. It's important to have good friends in this world." Skye's face split into a grin. As many times as she and Jemma had been placed in foster homes, they had never been able to go to one together. Usually they just had to wait until the foster parents sent them back to St. Agnes before they could see each other again. She didn't really know anything about the Coulsons, and she knew that there was a real possibility they could be just as bad as every other foster family she'd ever had, but somehow knowing that she and Jemma would be together made it feel okay.

"So, tell me a little bit about yourselves, girls," Mr. Coulson urged. "I'd love to get to know you." Both girls were quiet for a minute, trying to decide exactly what to say. Mr. Coulson seemed to notice their hesitation. "I can start, if that helps," he said. "You already know my name, and that I'm married. I teach history at the high school where we live, mostly American. I love eating pancakes, and watching Star Wars movies. I also really like comic books." He smiled at Skye and Jemma, inviting them to share. Something inside of Skye told her that it was okay to open up a bit.

"I'm Skye. The nuns all call me Mary Sue, because that's technically my real name, but I like to go by Skye better. I'm thirteen years old. I don't really have a favorite subject in school, but I like when we get to use computers, I guess."

"What about you, Jemma?" Mr. Coulson asked. He was a very attentive listener, and he seemed like he genuinely was interested in what Skye and Jemma had to say.

"I like all my subjects," Jemma said. She spoke very quietly, and her eyes were glued to the ground, but Skye was impressed that she was talking to a stranger like Mr. Coulson at all. Granted, he was a very nice stranger, but usually Jemma avoided talking to anyone she didn't know. "Science the best, though."

"We both like pancakes, too," Skye offered, trying to keep the conversation going while also shifting it away from school.

"And grilled cheese," Jemma added, the smallest of smiles dancing across her face. Both girls were beginning to relax more, and the conversation started to come more naturally. Before long, all three stretched out under the oak, soaking up the late afternoon sun and swapping favorite things back and forth.

"Lord of the Rings," suggested Mr. Coulson.

"Harry Potter," Skye returned.

"Doctor Who," came Jemma's addition.

"What's all this?" asked a friendly voice. All three turned to see Mrs. Coulson approaching wearing a triumphant smile. "Are we naming as many British things as we can?"

"No, we're talking about things we like," Skye said, clambering to her feet and dusting dirt and leaves from her jeans. "Mr. Coulson said you were going to try and foster me and Jemma together. Did it work? Did you talk to Miss Hand?"

Mrs. Coulson swatted playfully at Mr. Coulson's shoulder. "You couldn't resist telling them, could you?"

"What can I say, I'm a man of weak resolve," Mr. Coulson shrugged. "I just get so excited…"

"Well luckily for you, you didn't raise any hopes for nothing," Mrs. Coulson said. She turned to Jemma and Skye and spoke to them directly. "Your social worker, Miss Hand, is an old friend of mine. She had already recommended that you be placed with us, Jemma, but I was able to speak with her just now and explain that we were really hoping to take two girls home today, and we had met one who seemed like a good fit. Miss Hand is finishing up some paperwork, but she's sending it over in an hour, so Skye, if you want, Phil and I would very much like to be your new foster parents." Skye felt her heart swell with excitement. It was really happening. She and Jemma were leaving St. Agnes, at least for a little while, and getting fostered together. Skye knew that the situation likely wouldn't be permanent, no foster family ever had been, but the idea of sharing a home with Jemma away from the nuns and bullies of the orphanage was just too good to pass up. She glanced at Jemma to check for her approval, and the relief that was washed over Jemma's face was more than clear enough to tell Skye that Jemma was feeling the same way. Skye looked back at the Coulsons and nodded firmly.

The next hour or so felt like a blur to Skye. She and Jemma went back up to the dormitory to pack her things, and it didn't take long to throw her clothes into the same duffel bag that held Jemma's. It took a little longer to un-wedge the loose floorboard under Skye's bed and pull out the pieces of broken hardware she had been saving up. For several months, Skye had sifted through garbage and pawn shops and curbside dumps, grabbing any broken or discarded pieces of computers that she could. Eventually, Skye was hoping that she'd be able to figure out how to assemble the good pieces into a computer of her very own, but for now, most of her progress had been fairly limited. Still, she wasn't about to abandon all of her hard work now.

After the last piece of half-fried motherboard was jammed into her backpack, Skye and Jemma went back downstairs to the office, where they waited anxiously for Miss Hand to send the correct paperwork to Sister Margaret. The waiting was excruciating, but Skye managed to entertain herself by watching the puzzled expressions of other girls from the orphanage as they passed by the office on their way to dinner. Next to her, Jemma counted the floorboards, then the ceiling tiles, and then every tick that the second hand on the wall clock made as it circled endlessly around. Fortunately, she counted quietly enough that only Skye could hear her, but even still, it started to drive Skye the slightest bit crazy once Jemma hit the five-hundreds.

Finally, after Jemma had counted to 2,164 ticks of the second hand, Sister Margaret's computer pinged with the sound of a new email, forms were printed, and signed, and suddenly, everyone was standing up and shaking hands and saying their goodbyes. It was time to go. The girls shouldered their bulging backpacks, and Mr. Coulson picked up the duffel bag they had packed together, and then Skye, Jemma, and the Coulsons all headed out of St. Agnes and over towards their car.

"So long, Agnes," Skye muttered as they left. "Can't say I'm going to miss you."

Jemma giggled, and nodded emphatically. "Good riddance," she whispered. "At least for a while."