It’s been several months since the team was informed that Jemma Simmons had disappeared, presumably killed during her undercover mission inside Hydra. By then, Skye didn’t even know she’d been undercover. She lost Jemma after months thinking her friend had simply abandoned the team.
That changed her drastically, even more than anything else before that; the sheer remainder of Skye’s happiness, the rare displays of snarkiness in between her intense training, it was all gone. For quite some time, she could barely see the point in fighting, but that motivation was the last thing she had. She was there to fight for SHIELD as hard as she could—for SHIELD and for all of those who lost their lives in the same fight—, and that was it.
Their war against Hydra isn’t over and doesn’t seem like it will be anytime soon, but Skye’s part in this fight might likely come to an end today. Her battle against a masked enemy from the other side feels like has been going on for way too long, but it probably has lasted less than a minute so far, and she’s seriously struggling; she has no weapons, no backup, her nose and various other parts of her body are bleeding, and she’s in an insane amount of pain. That would’ve been possible to recover from—she’s been through worse before—except this enemy isn’t a regular one like the ones they usually face. It seems like some kind of invincible gifted who doesn’t appear to be even close to tired; Skye’s blows and kicks have no effect. She’s not only losing, it’s worse than that: Skye is afraid her unconsciousness and unability to keep fighting won’t be enough for them; the cruelty of their jabs makes her pretty sure they won’t be done until her body is laying dead on the ground.
Suddenly, though, in a lucky move, Skye manages to rip out the enemy’s mask. Ultimately, she wishes she hadn’t done it.
"Jemma?" Skye gasps, her eyes filling with tears, and she’s not sure if it’s because of the sting of the multiple injuries around her face and torso, or the way her heart is squeezing painfully. Her arms, previously positioned in front of her face, ready to defend herself or attack, now fall flat beside her body. Skye stares at her, eyes wider than ever in utter shock, but Jemma doesn’t even flinch. Her eyes are empty; she shows no confusion, no recognition, nothing. Skye feels like the breath has been kicked out of her lungs, but it hurts more than the many times she was literally kicked in the chest. In fact, it hurts more than anything she’s ever felt. This woman standing in front of her is not at all the Jemma Simmons she knew and loved except for the physical appearance. This version of her is nothing but a weapon; a weapon sent by Hydra with the mission of taking Skye out, and it looks like they’ll win this one.
The brainwashed assassin steps closer to Skye, and Skye can’t make her feet move, because what’s the point anyway. It’s over. Skye has always been aware of the huge possibility that she’d be killed in the field someday whatsoever, she just wishes the enemy to do it didn’t look so much like Jemma.
Her Jemma, whose eyes have lost the sparkle they had when she talked so passionately about science, whose bright smile Skye will never be able to see again. Whose hands, instead of softly stroking Skye’s hair like they’ve done so many times, are now the cause of the pain all over Skye’s body. Whose arms, who used to be wrapped tightly around Skye’s waist as she trembled with nightmares, have just been wrapped around Skye’s neck seconds ago, nearly choking her to death before she managed to escape. And whose inability and unwillingness to get into physical fights have been replaced with ruthless skills way above Skye’s.
So she just lets herself be knocked out, and it doesn’t hurt as much as her chest aches. It certainly doesn’t hurt as much as when the assassin stared blankly at her, right before the last move, and said, “Who the hell is Jemma?”