*screams and runs around the room while scaring the hell out of my dog* Oh my god guys! Last night, I got my 100th follower! AGH! KrzyRiver is the 100th person to follow me. EKK! That makes me so happy, you guys, you have no idea.
Anyway, this is only a little drabble, nothing much, only created to tide me over until tomorrow's episode...It was inspired by a picture I saw on Tumbr from the new promo for the episode, one where Skye is handcuffed and Ward is looming over her.
I really can't wait to see how that plays out.
Also, in relevance to the quotes below; I discovered this and I made me laugh so hard, I dunno know why, but I did. Kay, one more note guys: I know that Chloe Benett (Also known as Chloe Wang in the music world) has released Uh Oh, only yesterday did I did I discover her other song, Every Day In Between. I found this song beautiful and amazing and if you can, you should check it out.
"When angry, count four. When very angry, swear." -Mark Twain
Her arms are pinned carefully to her sides, preventing her from jabbing backwards with her elbow and throwing even the slightest of punches; her feet are jerking, painfully, against the floor, trying to stop him from moving as he drags her across the open space, his grip rather tight on her arms. She can almost feel the bruises forming as he forces her to sit on the spiral, metal staircase, pinning her hands together in one of his large ones while he draws a pair of handcuffs from his right pocket.
She's thrashing, trying to keep him from being able to pin her there. Her foot jabs out, landing neatly on his upper thigh; but there's nothing more than a grunt from him before he, rather clumsily, draws one of her wrists into the small wire while clipping the other to the railing inches beside her.
He steps back, out of her reach as she lunges at him, only to be pulled back harshly by the metal. It digs into the skin of her wrist, already twisting into a harsh, burned color of sorts; he hadn't wasted any expense with keeping it tight.
With the reflex of terror creeping over her skin, she grits her teeth, the hand that had been reached out — as if to try and strangle him — falling limply by her side. She feels a flicker of satisfaction at the flick of a rather nasty cut on his cheek and the slight imprint of a palm, a result of her nail having dug itself there after he had realized that she knew the truth about him. "Monster," she hisses. "You no good, son-of-a-bitch—"
But she never gets to finish the sentence, her throat burning with the words as he's suddenly stepping closer as she, instinctively, takes one back. "Skye," he tells her, his fists balled up by his sides. "I'm sorry."
Her eyes flash and her free fist clenches. "Sorry?" she spits, an echoing, horrible laugh remaining in her throat. "No. You're not sorry; you twisted — no. You're doing this for yourself, you selfish bastard."
His jaw twitches; he's still beyond her reach. A coil of anger rises in her, her eyes narrowing with her resentment. "Someday," he tells her, his eyes blinking to reveal an emotion of sorrow. "Someday, you'll understand."
"Never," she swears, using every ounce of her breath to make that promise.
Her knees bump against the metal step and she nearly falls, only saving herself barely with the reflex of throwing her hand behind her. Her head does bounce against the railing and she hisses, already feeling the bump rising.
When she looks up again, he's gone.
Her eyes flicker for a way out; but there's nothing, only the dim lights of the training area looming above her. FitzSimmons' lab is dark and her foot stomps, lightly, against the floor as she frantically searches for something, anything, that would help her.
But there's nothing. He must have been planning this for a long time, because everything that could have been used as a weapon has been moved at least four feet from her. She's trapped, and it's in the exact moment that her teeth dig into her tongue, her fingers twitching. There's nothing she can do.
A feeling of panic rises in her as she hears footsteps again, but she forces it down. "Back for more?" she asks, trying to take deeper breathes. "I'll give you another scar to match, you evil, manipulative little piece of—"
(She takes to cursing when she's angry, a habit she'd picked up after only a few weeks in the orphanage.)
But then the owner of the steps come into view and she freezes, her heartbeat picking up. Because it isn't her former S.O; instead, it's the all too familiar figure of a man she thought had died in a fiery accident — that is, until he nearly killed her.
"Mike," she bites, the fury flowing out of her voice.
The man keeps his eyes on the floor. She can't see his face. Skye," he chokes out, his voice low. "I'm sorry."
But then the pure hot resentment rises in her and she jerks against her bonds. "How could you betray S.H.I.E.L.D? How could you betray us?"
He's still facing the ground. "I had no choice," he responds. "I'm sorry."
"Liar," she spits. "Traitor."
He doesn't look at her, only eventually whispering, quietly, again, "I'm so sorry." He's leaves then, as quickly as he had came.
She's alone; she keeps a brave face, her eyes flickering again, her thoughts flying. She needed to find a way out of here.
Before HYDRA truly took away the only man she had ever loved.
And...that's a wrap! Crossing my fingers that SkyeWard is endgame!