Sequel to 'Guide You Home', so you should probably read that one first. If you want.
Seven months apart had taken its toll on them both. Physically, mentally, emotionally. It would take time to recover and regroup, time to reclaim their equilibrium and establish a new status quo.
But they'd get there.
They'd get through it.
Together.
Debriefing over, psych evaluations passed – barely, but enough to be given clearance to leave the base and rejoin his team – Grant Ward was finally, truly, back where he belonged.
The team had welcomed him with open arms – literally, where FitzSimmons were concerned. May had given him a nod and a small smile, relief visible in her dark gaze. Coulson had clapped him on the shoulder and waited until they were alone before offering to talk, anytime Ward wanted. It was an offer Ward was certain he'd one day accept.
As for Skye... She'd barely left his side since finding him in the gym and Ward was thankful for it. Though he wouldn't let himself hold her the way he wanted, the slightest brush of her hand against his or even just being able to sense her presence nearby was enough to keep him ground, enough to remind him that the nightmare, for the most part, was over.
The psych evals had been rigorous, and painful. They always were but this time, the psychologist had needed to push him harder, press him for the difficult answers. Needed to push and push until she was convinced he wasn't truly a Hydra spy.
It meant talking about his childhood. About his absentee father, vacant mother. About Maynard, the older brother who'd taken vicious pleasure in beating him and Jonas, his younger brother.
About the day he'd joined SHIELD, desperate for a place to hide and blend and be someone else.
About the day John Garrett had walked into the Academy and offered, after just a few hours, to be his SO.
Garrett was the first person to believe in him; Ward was slowly starting to believe he wouldn't be the last.
It meant talking about Coulson, about how he hadn't wanted to join the team but had eventually warmed to the idea.
It meant talking about Skye, because it was down to her that he had.
It meant talking about Skye a lot, actually, and he was damn thankful the majority of what had been discussed wouldn't be recorded in any official documents anywhere because SHIELD were still wary about creating records and files that someone could steal or use against them. That would change one day but Ward was thankful today was not that day.
It'd helped, really. More than he'd expected. He wasn't one to talk about his thoughts and feelings, about his past and his present and the hopes he harboured deep down inside for the future.
Though he'd kept those hopes to himself, not wanting to share them with the psychologist, not wanting to share them with anyone, really, except maybe the woman sitting next to him at the bar on the Bus, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye every so often as though afraid if she stopped he'd disappear.
He understood the feeling.
Shared it, in fact.
That was why he kept glancing back.
When all was said and done, and he'd felt as emotionally exhausted as he was physically, the psychologist had been happy to clear him for duty – light duty, Coulson had told Ward with a stern almost father-like expression that somehow made Ward want to roll his eyes in frustration and weep in gratitude at the same time. It was that moment that made him realise Coulson had always been something that Garrett never had; someone who accepted him as he was, not for the person he could be twisted into.
Being back on the Bus after so long away was a strange sensation but, at the same time, it felt right. He'd missed it almost as much as he'd missed the people who made it home rather than just a plane and he was glad to have a moment alone when everyone went off to do their own thing and let him settle.
Well, almost everyone.
Skye was unusually quiet but he knew she was there, watching him from a short distance.
Making sure he didn't disappear again.
He knew the feeling; understood it well. He'd done the same thing to her when she'd been allowed to leave the med pod after being shot. Well, he had before everything had gone to hell but he was trying not to think about that too much.
Feeling her watchful gaze on him, he made his way through the plane, staring at the missing frame where there'd once been a glass wall. He supposed getting it fixed hadn't been a priority, not with SHIELD so depleted in numbers and resources, but he hated the reminder of that day.
The day his world had been turned on its head.
He walked past the bar and sensed more than saw Skye take a seat. He made his way to his bunk and reached a hand out to put in his code when he stopped.
His hand was trembling.
Why was it trembling?
He drew his fingers back, clenching his hand into a fist.
He'd been gone for seven months, he reminded himself. Seven months was a long time. It was unreasonable to think his bunk would still be his, unreasonable to think its contents had gone untouched.
They'd thought him a traitor, he remembered, and that meant his bunk would have been inspected.
His things rifled through, possibly destroyed.
His room probably occupied by someone else.
Taking a deep breath to brace himself, he punched in the code with a little more force than necessary and slid the door dividing it from the rest of the room back.
And stared.
His jaw dropped and his brow furrowed and still he stared.
"We had to search it," Skye said from behind him, her voice quiet and apologetic. "We tried to put everything back where it was. Well, almost everything. You might find you're missing a shirt or two but they'll probably show up eventually. Probably. And when I say we, I kind of mean me so if something's not right, it's my fault, not the others."
He turned to face her, his expression incredulous. "It looks exactly as it was." His frown deepened. "Where did Trip sleep?"
He knew that Agent Antoine Triplett had been working with the team in his absence – Ward was loathe to use the word 'replacement' – and had assumed his bunk would have become Trip's over the course of his seven month absence.
"When he was here, he slept in the interrogation room or out in the lounge." A faint blush rose in her cheeks, telling him there was more to the story. She bit her lip when he continued to stare at her and shrugged a shoulder. "Okay, so I might have slightly freaked out when it was suggested he have your room and I might've kind of staged a little bit of a sit in but in my defence, he wasn't here all of the time and when he was, he seemed to like sleeping on the sofa so..."
"You wouldn't let him have my room even when you thought I was a traitor?" The feeling in his chest wasn't entirely unfamiliar; it was just one he'd gone seven months without being able to feel unaccompanied by a pang of bittersweet longing. "You had no way of knowing –"
"That you'd be back?" Skye's smile was self-depreciating, shy. "I never stopped hoping, Grant. Even when we thought... I hoped it was a mistake somehow. Or that something would happen and you'd find your way back. And you did. You're here. You came back."
He nodded, a promise spilling out of him before he could stop it. "I'll always come back."
As soon as he said it, he knew he'd move heaven and earth to make sure he could keep it.
Skye's smile widened and she glanced around before holding up a bottle she'd swiped from the bar and held for the entirety of their exchange without him noticing. "In that case, I believe you owe me a drink. In private?"
The bottle sat untouched on the small cabinet beside his bed.
Skye lay mostly on top of him, her weight both an anchor to keep him grounded and a shelter to keep him safe. His arms were wrapped around her, one of his hands tangled in her hair as she kissed him, the other pressed against the warm skin of her back.
Their bodies were entangled, tangled with the sheets he suspected had been freshly laundered ready for his return, and he imagined he could feel her heart beating in time with his.
He couldn't remember who'd made the first move but was reasonably sure it was Skye. He opened his eyes when she broke their kiss, the corners of his mouth lifting into a smile that matched the one she wore.
Given how long it'd been since he'd smiled, Ward was pleasantly surprised that he remembered how.
"We... You didn't have to do this." He kept his gaze locked with hers, wanting to make sure she didn't misunderstand. "Not that I'm complaining but –"
Her lips claimed his again, cutting him off mid-sentence. When she pulled back, she was smiling, her cheeks were flushed and her lips were still swollen from their kisses.
"I didn't do anything I didn't want to." She shifted slightly, manoeuvring so they were sharing the pillow but still otherwise were still entwined. She let a hand rest on his chest, fingers gently tracing the remainder of a scar just above his heart. "Welcome home," she murmured, her smile tender and her eyes bright with a suspicious sheen.
The last knot in his chest eased, and he found he couldn't speak past the lump in his throat. He covered her hand with his instead, lifting it to his lips so he could press a kiss against her palm.
He was home, he thought as she nestled closer and closed her eyes, a contented sigh escaping her.
Finally, he was truly home.
End.
A/N: This isn't how I imagined the story ending but it's how it wanted to be told. I feel like I should be apologising for some reason so... I'm sorry? :)