01 (randomizer, family):

"Mary?" A nun came into her plain, white-walled bedroom at the orphanage. Her metal bed frame was painted black, but some of the paint was chipping off. The woman was soft-spoken, gentle, kind, and came to usher her out of bed. Skye felt small beside her, and she wandered down the seemingly endless halls of the orphanage, decorated with hanging crucifixes, pillar candles, and illustrations of Jesus and the apostles.

The nun brought her out front, and just beyond the St. Agnes Orphanage sign, a red sports car was pulled up to the curb. A tall, white man in a business suit stood there, smiling as he leaned against the car with his arms folded. Beside him, an asian woman in black with a severe expression looked on.

"We found you a new family," The nun told her. "Can you go say hello?"

As Skye moved closer, she heard them talking. May's terse voice noted, "She's a risk."

"Maybe. But she's also a child, and I think we can help her."

Then she was swinging, in a backyard that was covered in grass and lined with a white, wooden fence. The creak of the swing chain felt rhythmic, punctuating each even forward and back motion. Fitz and Simmons were on either side of her on the swingset, matching one another's cadence but opposite her own.

"We need to talk," May told her, coming to a stop in front of the swing set. Forward. Back. Forward. Back. The swing slowed. Skye dragged her heels against the grass.

"Yeah, I can tell you're really excited about it."

"Coulson doesn't want to tell you the truth," She snapped quickly. Skye jerked to a stop, heart twisting in her chest. Lies had a way of creeping up on her, forming a welling dread. "The truth is you have to decide why you're here. We have a mission, and if you can't put aside your personal attachments, then you don't belong here."

02 (randomizer, getting shot):

The dark of the basement gave way to a single source of light just to Skye's left: a hyperbaric chamber. Mike Peterson, Deathlok, stood before her on a robotic leg, dark face marred by horrific burns from the bridge explosion. His expression was cold and unfeeling, and her heart ached as she watched Quinn approach him through the dark.

"Every piece of technology in you is top of the line," the man said, swagger in his step as he gestured widely in Peterson's direction. His voice dropped into something softer, but it was an imitation of gentleness because his words were sharp, "I just wonder if I'm getting my money's worth." He closed in on Mike, and in that moment, Skye hated herself for being paralyzed in her spot. "I know you get your orders from the Clairvoyant, so that means you're not allowed to hurt me, right?" A brief nod followed as he found his answer in Mike's unrelenting expression. "No."

From the inside of his suit jacket, Quinn pulled a gun—small, compact, but still lethal. Skye drew in a sharp breath. "What if I tried to hurt you?" He pulled the slide and pointed the barrel at Mike. "Would you stop me?"

Mike's eyes followed the other man's arm down to the gun barrel, then coldly answered, "No. I would not." She'd never seen him like this. He was good, he was a hero, he was—

"Mike," Skye interrupted in an insistent voice. "Listen." He looked over at her and, relieved, she carried on. "I don't know what they're doing to you, but we have to get out of here. Now."

As if she hadn't said a word, Quinn continued. "And …" He turned the gun around, placing it in Mike's palm, and slowly guided it to point at Skye. She stopped short, and her heart missed a beat in her chest. "If I wanted you to … to hurt her. You know. Kill her. Will you? I mean, what would hurt Agent Coulson more than to lose his pet project?"

Skye's gaze traveled from the gun barrel to Mike's face. She shook her head, watching him struggle with the force of resisting. Finally, he shook his head, and she breathed a sigh of relief. He looked back at Quinn as he said, "Those aren't my orders." He pressed the side of the gun back into Quinn's chest, handing it off. "She's not who I'm supposed to kill."

The clarification incited panic in her, and as Mike headed off, Skye followed him to the basement door that led back upstairs into Quinn's villa. "Wait." She called, "Wait!" He disappeared from view, and Skye turned back to Quinn, crossing the room. "What the hell did you do to him?"

His only answer was to squeeze the trigger. A loud bang echoed through the basement, and sharp pain blossomed from her abdomen. Startled, Skye looked down, pressed her hand to her stomach. A dizzy feeling took over her, and as she took her hand away, she saw blood smeared over her palm. Her vision blurred, and she felt hot. Looking up at Quinn, she saw two of him advancing on her, then felt one of his arms scooping around her back to keep her upright. Her chin rested against his shoulder, and as he shushed her, she almost thought she would be okay. For a moment, for a moment, but then—

Bang.

Her whole body lurched with the force of the bullet this time. Seized against the recoil, and a choked noise escaped her throat. No. What was she expecting, coming in here alone? It was stupid. Stupid. Equilibrium upended as Quinn lowered her, gently enough to be ironic, to the stone floor of the basement.

"I'm sorry," she heard him say. As he sat back, kneeling before her, Skye's eyes never focused on him, but in her peripheral vision, she watched him begin to wipe down his gun. "I have my orders too."

03 (bones, ward/drowning nightmare):

They were hiking on trails sparsely littered with tall, ancient trees, leather jackets to fend off the breeze.

"This is stupid: we're in the middle of nowhere. Just admit it, Ward." With a sigh, she carried on, "I'm texting Simmons." Skye pulled her phone to fire a text off; the contents didn't seem important. A moment later, she bumped into Ward's back, dropping the phone to the dirt. "Ow— Hey!"

"I lost it," he admitted without turning back to her. A moment later, "You should get that, before they come here thinking I've hurt you."

Confused, Skye furrowed her brow. When she looked down, her phone read the preview of a new message from Simmons: Skye, listen to me. You need to get away from him as fast you can. Crouching, Skye scooped the phone up. "What are you—"

He grabbed her by the shoulders, manhandling her backwards as he implored her, "Think about what the Clairvoyant said. What he's done. Think about the Centipede program, how he experimented on innocent people like Mike Peterson, how he kidnapped and tortured Coulson, how he ordered Quinn to shoot you."

The back of her legs hit a low half-wall made of stone. She didn't turn towards it, only felt it at the back of her calves. Skye flinched away from Ward's touch, shaking her head. "Coulson said the mission was to capture, not to kill."

"I don't regret what I've done," He admitted, something vulnerable and reflective in his distant gaze. "I didn't want anyone to know the truth, so I shot Nash to protect Garrett and myself."

"What?" She blinked, jarred by the confession, and searched his expressionless face.

"I care about you, Skye," he told her, right before pushing her back over the short stone wall. She fell back, plummeting fifteen, twenty, what felt like a hundred feet down, she shouted for him. Water rushed into her open, screaming mouth as she splashed in the bottom of a deep, algae-slicked well. She kicked to fight back to the surface, gasping and choking on the water she'd downed.

"Ward!" She called for him, reaching up. By the time she surfaced, he wasn't Ward anymore. His face was gone, smooth and featureless, and the opening was much closer than her fall had felt. Close enough for him to reach down, touch the side of her face. The affectionate caress turned quickly, and he gripped the back of her head, grabbed a fistful of her hair, and pushed her head under the water.

As she kicked, panicked, swallowed water, he held her there.

05 (sam winchester, alien drug):

S: I know that face, and something gives me the feeling I should be sitting down for this
C: I've been looking for a way to tell you this, looking around for some answers, something to help explain (fumble) but I don't have any. So. The drug, the one that saved us both, (Skye eyebrow raise) when we found it, I discovered something else: its source. It was … alien.
S: Alien as in unfamiliar?
C: No.
S: (blinks hard, gaping, processing) Wow.
C: The minute I learned what it was, I tried to keep them from injecting you with it, but I was too late. I am so sorry, Skye.
S: You were trying to save my life. You did save my life.
C: I was desperate to, and soI subjected you to unknown ramifications or side effects
s: I'm sorry to say this, Sir, but so what? We are alive. And you've had that stuff in you for (flounder) some time now and you're okay, right? Plus you're not sprouting a pointy tail or anything, so. Bonus there.
C: I know nothing fazes you, but this should faze you. We are completely in the dark on this.
S: That's where we live. (head shake) I'm an 084. Who knows what the hell that means. At least we're in the dark together.

06 (bucky, shield/training with ward)

stuff

01 (derek hale, ???)

02 (thomas, ???)