This was inspired by a post I saw on tumblr + promotional photos of 1x20. Warning: it will tear your heart in two. Not a happy ending.
"A broken heart bleeds tears." -Steve Maraboli
He keeps his breathing low, soft, when he catches glimpse of the rather large machine and realizes what it is. A lie detector. The word echoes through his mind, bouncing around, and he keeps his teeth clench and his lips in a firm line as the man in front of them explains what exactly it is and what it can do. He shifts when the stranger tells them that not even Romanoff beat it — and its in that exact moment he knows he's screwed beyond the depths of his imagination.
But then Skye's at his side, looking up sideways at him. Her look is soft, peaceful, and when she mouths, are you okay? her lips form in little perfect circle, giving him a vision of nearly perfect innocence.
It hurts his heart; because he isn't the man she thinks he is. He's her enemy, part of the organization that was hunting her down. He mouths back, I'm fine; internally, however, his mind flashes to the amount of hours he has left before he has orders to kill the team and bring her in: 3 and a half. He swears under his breath, but that's unheard by all (he hopes) before the stranger speaks.
"So," the man says, clapping his hands together. "Who wants to go first?"
His gaze spreads across the room, catching each and every one of their eyes. But Grant holds his head high, giving him the perfect illusion of not worried at all, goddamnit. Then the man's hand shoots up, his fingers pointing straight at Ward.
"You, in the back, newcomer. You're first."
His footsteps seem like the background melody to a funeral as he pushes past the people he's called a team for the past few months, trying to keep his face blank. Instead, inside, his heart is beating wildly and his mind is rushing for a plan; but it's coming up blank and his eyes flicker as he sits into the chair, his hands gripping the armrest.
He's trapped.
But then his eyes catch Skye's, and she's looking at him as though he's the last person who'd ever betray the team. You'll be okay, she mouths. It'll be over before you know it.
He takes a chance though, just as the man clears his throat.
I love you, he mouths back. He doesn't look at her reaction.
"What is your name?"
"Grant Ward," he replies, his voice quiet.
The questions continue, multiples and multiples of them until his head is spinning. But then the man says, "Last one," and he breathes out, quietly.
"Who do you work for?"
He keeps his voice calm as he says, "S.H.I.E.L.D."
There's beeping then, and then it's at that exact moment he knows he's caught. The beeping is loud and harsh as he breaks from the chair, throwing a right uppercut at the stranger beside him. The man crumbles with a harsh sound, hitting the floor with an echo, and he hears their shouts. But as he draws the gun from his side, his face blank, his eyes catch hers. She's nearly broken down to tears, with a hand over her mouth.
It's then he bolts forward and jerks her arm; she had been standing away from the others in the first place, but this only makes it even more easier and May's bullets cease as he pins Skye to his body and holds his gun to her temple.
He whispers, "I'm sorry." And he means it.
She lets out a choked sob. "Traitor," she spits.
There's no noise in the room as they all stare at him, the man they thought he knew. He can see different emotions flashing through her eyes, but then he sees Coulson; there's only pure, unhidden anger spread across the man's face.
"Let her go, Ward," Coulson hisses.
"Back away from the door," Ward replies, his voice low, as he begins to move in that direction. "Or I'll shoot."
His heart is breaking with every moment and he feels like the monster.
They let him through with him keeping Skye in front of them to ensure they wouldn't shoot. He makes it out of the building, into the snow, as a helicopter lowers down in front of them. Garett is at the wheel, his eyes gleaming with he sees Skye. But then she speaks, the cold metal of the gun pressed against her head still.
"How could you?" she asks, her voice quiet and full of carefully controlled anger.
His eyes flicker. "I'm sorry," he only replies, before bashing the gun against her temple. She crumbles in his arms, unconscious.
"I'm sorry," he repeats as he slips one hand under her thigh and the other around her back, lifting her up. "I'm so sorry," he says quietly as he chokes back a sob.
He feels like his heart was shattering in two.
Now I'm sobbing.