A brief observation: I spent a lot of time trying to have an idea about a mission that would lead to this story, and I couldn't plan the plot as well as I'd like to, so I decided to focus solely on Skye and Ward. The "retrieve an alien weapon" thing is loosely based on Marvel's one-shot "Item 47" (from SHIELD's point of view) and has no actual relevance in the story.
Also, thank you so much to everyone who left reviews on my last story ("3:00 AM"). It means the world to me. :) Hope you enjoy this one!
The bullet came out of nowhere.
In one moment, the woods were silent, except for their stepping on dry leaves and fallen branches, added to their voices, talking about the most random stuff. Then it happened so quickly. Ward sighted a man hiding behind a tree less than half a mile away from them. He drew his gun immediately, but the shooter was faster. A second later, the silence was gone; he had already heard the three gunshots from the man's weapon echoing across the woods, plus the single shot from his own gun that had been enough to take him down. But it was too late.
Two of the shots rang out across the woods, showing off the shooter's not so great aiming—until the third bullet dropped Skye to the ground. The sound of her body hitting the soil made Ward freeze. He looked around warily, scared that the first shooter had a partner, but apparently he'd been alone—or so the agent hoped. He ran toward Skye and knelt down beside her, whose purple shirt was promptly turning into a giant blood stain. The bullet had hit her waist, and the girl's breathing was accelerated and unstable. Her beautiful brown eyes were filled with tears as she emitted grunts of pain.
"Oh, shit", Ward hissed. If there had been another shooter, they'd both have been killed, since his mind was entirely focused on Skye right away. Ward was so used to being quite controlled when in the field, that the panic he felt caught him off guard. He pressed Skye's wound and took deep ragged breaths. Although he was usually okay with seeing blood, having his hand drowned in her blood was making him sick.
"Ward," she muttered under her erratic breaths. "Is it that bad?"
His chest tightened in desperation. Skye grabbed his wrist firmly, her nails piercing his skin.
Out of a sudden, he was surprised by Fitz's urgent voice in his earpiece, abruptly reminding him that he wasn't alone with Skye.
"Ward! What the hell happened?"
That was when he finally realized that Fitz had been shouting his name for the past minute, and he didn't even pay attention.
"Skye was shot," Ward's voice faltered. "We need to get her to a hospital. Now."
The team had been just finishing a mission. After retrieving the alien weapon they'd been looking for, Fitzsimmons stayed in the car while Coulson, May, Ward and Skye split up in pairs to search the perimeter of the warehouse. At this moment, Skye regretted having said the mission was too simple. And Ward was obviously blaming himself for taking so long to see the shooter. Hadn't he gotten distracted by the conversation with her, she wouldn't be barely conscious on the ground.
"Grant," Skye whispered. Her forehead was shining with sweat. "It's really bad, right?"
"No", he lies. It's bad. She's losing a lot of blood.
"Bloody hell, Ward!" Simmons yelled through the comms. "Why aren't you moving yet? Bring her to the S.U.V., we need to take her to the emergency!"
Skye raised her shaky hand in order to remove her earpiece. Ward took his hands out of her wound for a few seconds to rip of his jacket in order to use it to contain the bleeding.
"Skye, I'm going to need you to press this," he grabbed her hands gently and put them over the jacket. She pressed the wound as strongly as she could at the moment. "Okay. I will carry you to the car and we'll take you to the nearest hospital.
"Oh, god," she sighed. The image of her waist bleeding out made Skye want to throw up. She transferred the focus of her eyesight from her injury to Ward's face. He was a total mess.
"You say it's not bad… Your face says otherwise," she whispered to herself while trying to regulate her breathing. She could feel the veins in her forehead pulsating as she thought about how awful the pain would be when Ward lifted her.
And she'd been right—the pain was the worst she'd ever felt. She had the impression that the burning was consuming her body in a matter of minutes. In an attempt to contain a scream, she bit her lower lip to the point where she felt the taste of blood in her mouth. Keeping her mouth shut was worth it, though; she didn't want Ward to feel worse than he clearly was already. He was about to lose it.
He started to walk fast to the car that seemed ten times further away from them than it actually was. Every step he took sent so much pain through her body; she could barely avoid the sobs that were forming a lump in her throat. Ward was trying to hurry as quickly as he possibly could without putting her in such an amount of pain that she'd pass out.
Skye's sight was starting to get blurred. The agonizing look on her face was replaced by a peaceful one. She was starting to slip away. She almost fully closed her eyes for a moment, and Ward didn't even hesitate to start running with her.
"Hold on," he supplicated. "We're almost there."
"I think I'm dying," she moaned, letting the wind hit her closed eyes for a while during the run.
"Shut up," he complained, although it was calming to hear her voice at this moment. He simply couldn't bear the possibility of losing her.
Truth is, as much as Ward had wanted her to work hard to be a field agent, being on the field with her was stressful. He couldn't thoroughly focus on the target, the mission—a big part of his attention was dedicated to being worried about her safety all the time. That wasn't good. The irony was, if he had paid a little more attention to the woods instead of Skye, he'd have spotted the shooter early enough. In that instant, she felt so small and helpless, bleeding out in his arms, and he couldn't do more than take her to the hospital and hope she'd be okay. Partly, for his own sake, because if she died... He tried to suppress the thought.
"Sorry," she said, "but I can see you looking at me like I'm already dead."
"Don't worry," he assured her. "You're not going to get rid of me so easily."
"I don't want to."
That hit him hard. For the first time, he completely understood what people in his line of work said about getting emotionally attached to partners. It was exasperating.
As soon as they spotted the team's S.U.V., Fitz jumped out of the car and opened the door. Ward carefully laid Skye on the back seat with the help of Simmons, who held Skye's head on her lap and pressed the wound. Fitz quickly took a seat next to the driver's. The last thing Skye saw before her view faded to black was Ward's afflicted look at her, as he started the car.
Simmons and Ward had been sitting near Skye's hospital bed for the past hour and a half, without breaking the silence a single time. They were both looking at the unconscious hacktivist, whose face had never been so pale. Her long, brown hair was messy and she was wearing one of those ridiculous hospital gowns. Despite the sick aspect, she looked so serene that he missed her usual talkative, excited state. He slid to the border of the couch they were in, and held Skye's motionless hand, drawing circles on her palm with his thumb.
The silence remained until the scientist couldn't handle it anymore.
"It wasn't your fault, Ward," she said sympathetically.
"Not directly, but I could've avoided it", he responded in a cold tone.
Ward waited for her to counter his argument, but she didn't.
"Skye is strong. Soon she'll be just fine," Simmons promised. Ward didn't know how to answer, so he just shot her a thankful look as he continued to play with Skye's fingers.
About 30 minutes later, Simmons left the room and joined the rest of the team outside. It had been nearly six hours since Skye's surgery was finished, and she still hadn't woken up. Consequently, Ward had left the room only once, and even then he ran to the restroom, grabbed a cup of water and raced back. Besides him, Simmons had been the one to stay in the room the longest time. The two girls' friendship had grown a lot stronger after Simmons's near death experience, when she jumped out of the Bus. It was good to have the scientist's company while waiting for Skye to wake up, but he felt bad that he wasn't nearly as optimistic as she was.
Almost an hour later, which felt like another decade, Ward was still holding her hand, and burying his face in his free hand.
Suddenly, the grip of her fingers strengthened.
"Dude," she said in a husky voice, blinking swiftly as her eyes adapted to the sudden presence of light. "You really need a shower."
Ward's face lightened up with the biggest smile she'd ever seen in him—a grin so full of relief that she smiled too.
"I'm not the only one," he joked, getting up from the couch.
"Yeah, well, I did get shot." She said, and her smile disappeared, like it had just hit her. "So, what happened? All I can remember is the pain. So. Much. Pain."
"Well, we brought you here and you were operated immediately." He explained, leaving out the part in which he waited for her to wake up for the longest seven hours of his life. "You're staying here for observation for as long as necessary."
Skye stared at her own waist, too afraid to take a peek under the gown and check the scar. She touched the sewed line through the thin fabric of the gown and the contact sent a chill up her spine, forcing her to retract the hand.
"I must be really high on painkillers right now," she said, letting out a muffled chuckle. "Come here," she asked him. "Help me sit."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm feeling sick and I may throw up. Believe me, I don't want to be lying down if that happens", she guaranteed.
Ward approached Skye and lent her a hand to seat herself, but, for some unknown reason, she was trying to slide to her side. He grasped her arms more steadily, worried that she was disoriented.
"Are you trying to fall out of the bed?" He questioned.
"Of course not, weirdo," she replied, letting go of his grip and tapping the space beside her on the bed. "C'mon, sit here."
He shot her a confused look.
"Oh, for god's sake, don't ask me anything", she begged. "I'm fine. Will you just do what I'm asking, please?
She basically punched the space beside her, demanding him to sit there. The dizziness she was feeling forced her to close her eyes and take a deep breath, hoping that she'd be able to see straight once they were open again.
Ward gave up on arguing with her and climbed into the bed beside her. There wasn't much space, so he put his arms around her shoulders, holding her so neither of them would fall. (Or so he told himself. Maybe he just wanted to hug her.)
A groan of pain escaped from Skye's mouth, and Ward clenched his jaw.
"Are you okay?" He asked, looking at the place of her wound and then at her face.
"Keep your shit together, man," she mocked. "It's hurting anyway; you sitting here isn't going to change that."
Ward didn't know how to respond to that, so they quiet silent for about two minutes while he tangled his fingers in her hair.
"Hey," she grabbed his hand firmly. "Thank you."
He was confused. His brain was really slow at this moment. "For what?"
"For dragging my sorry ass to the hospital and consequently my life, you moron." She joked, looking down, because she was too embarrassed to look him in the eyes.
"Oh, no need to thank me," he said, honestly. "By the way, you better recover fast, so we can resume your training as soon as possible."
She sighed. The thought of hitting the punching bag and feeling the pain burn through her torso made her cringe.
"Don't ruin the moment", she complained.
"We weren't having a moment", he denied. (But he actually knew were having a moment.)
"I was being all lovely and you—"
Out of nowhere, Ward's lips against hers cut her off in the middle of the sentence. After having Skye's blood in his hands and going through the desperation of waiting to see her eyes open again, he couldn't help it. The kiss was so quick she didn't even have time to get used to their lips moving together. As soon as they parted, Skye kept her eyes closed and glided her neck back.
"Oh, crap," She sighed, taking long breathes. What a great moment to feel nauseated!
"What?"
"Nothing, I'm just dizzy," she answered.
For her surprise, he giggled softly—she'd thought he'd be apprehensive and wouldn't kiss her again anytime soon.
"Did I make you dizzy?"
She raised her eyebrows and stared at him in disbelief.
"Don't be ridiculous," she said. "You know I'm talking about—"
"I know." He interrupted, switching back to his usual seriousness. "I was joking. You really need to take a nap and rest."
"That would be debatable... If I wasn't so beat."
Skye automatically leaned on his chest with her eyelids sealed. At first, being like that was a bit awkward, since they had never been so close for that long. Apparently, Skye's near-death experience demolished the walls between them, and since she didn't die, she'd have time to get familiar with this new state in their relationship.
"What if anyone of the team walks in here and sees us like this?" Skye asked.
She couldn't see his face but she was pretty sure he rolled his eyes.
"Do you want me to get out of here?" He asked impatiently, knowing the answer beforehand.
"No," she muttered. "That's not what I was saying—"
"Great," he said sarcastically, "so stop saying things and go to sleep."
"Are you always that bossy after just one kiss?" She whispered jokingly.
Ward let out a low chuckle.
"You're indeed drowning in painkillers," he said. "Shut up, Skye."
And she did. As soon as she managed to stop overthinking everything that had just occurred, she crashed. Feeling quite happy, to be honest—Ward was one hell of a painkiller.