Please be kind, this is my first story on here. It was originally posted on Tumblr, but i thought, why not post it here if I already have an account. I guess I took inspiration from everywhere, especially music and people. And yes, I'm gonna stop talking now. :) Enjoy and please review lovelies.

Disclaimer: I do not in any way own Agents of SHIELD or any affiliated works of Marvel. I also do not own If You Could See Me Now by The Script.

She misses him, that much is clear. Every time he goes away, she's quiet for a few days. Coulson doesn't know what to do, seeing his surrogate daughter lost and helpless without her other half and Fitzsimmons cannot pull her out of her funk. The only thing that seems to help is sitting in solitude with may in the cockpit, staring at the setting sun, then staying until the sun rises the next day. She always manages to distract herself, immersed in hacking the higher levels of SHIELD, finding blackmail for everyone or just pining away, waiting for him.

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Sometimes the rest of the team will hear her having nightmares when he's gone, no doubt due to the absence of him to soothe and placate her subconsciousness. Coulson, on more than one occasion, gaining a black eye trying to wake her from the throes of her imagination. They learn after that, that leaving her be is the best option.

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Everyone sighs a breath of relief when ward returns, one for the fact that the team is complete again and another for coming back to Skye, the glue that held their dysfunctional family together. Watching from the bridge, Coulson and May would sit together, legs dangling over the edge, looking out the cargo ramp as Skye would go running out making ward drop whatever he was holding in order to catch her in a bear hug. He would cradle her head, holding her close and whisper how much he missed her, not a care in the world who saw.

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Later on, in her bunk, he would pull out a daintily tissue wrapped parcel and hand it to her, often containing trinkets or souvenirs from wherever his mission was. although he tried to get her something different every time, dream catchers were the one thing he specifically looked for and he tried to get her one every trip. To do his job of catching her bad dreams when he wasn't there he said to her once, long ago.

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Over time, Skye grew used to having ward go on missions, she still missed him but she buried herself in her CS programming when he wasn't around, often seeking out brotherly hugs from Fitz and giggling with Simmons during sisterly bonding time. She would join May for tai chi in the morning or read up in Coulson's office for company.

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Then one day, Ward never came back.

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Another ordinary black ops mission, requiring ward team up with Strike Team Delta on a highly classified mission to fury knows where. Romanoff and Barton returned limping and nursing more bruised flesh rather than normal flesh looking worse for wear and solemn. Skye, as always, had been sitting up on the walkway, swinging her legs back and forth idly waiting for their return. Upon seeing their state and faces, the smile dying at her lips, she turned and fled once Barton made eye contact. There is that one look, told her everything she never wanted to hear or think.

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They find her, a short while later, curled up in a ball, sobbing her heart out. It was May who found her, nestled in his wardrobe, his clothes strewn everywhere and a black shirt clutched tightly in her hand, pressed to her nose. Her eyes were red and puffy, tears still leaking from the intense brown orbs that normally radiated life.

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And somehow, after all that life threw at her, she had learnt finally to never hope for anything. For in the end, hoping for something and losing it, hurt hell of a lot more than never hoping for anything.