notes:
+ sequel to "edison would spin in his grave". as it turns out, this is becoming a series. so.
+ sidenote idk how i actually feel about canonskyeward at the moment. expect mostly AUs and other pairings, basically. (also reminder i'm grantdouglasvvard on tumblr since i did like twenty promptfics a week or so ago.)
+ title is, like the last one, from "warmer climate" by snow patrol.
Skye sways down the hall, just in front of Grant. She stops at the door to Garrett's office, waiting for him.
He should probably be keeping her closer, but he doesn't feel like she's dangerous at the moment. Maybe it isn't the kind of thing you should leave up to chance. Maybe he shouldn't let himself trust his gut when it comes to an unpredictable alien.
She knocks once he reaches her, a dainty little rap of her knuckles.
'Come in,' Garrett calls from the other side, and Skye slips through the door, leaving it open for Grant to follow.
She smiles brightly (but, Grant thinks with something that might be a twisted kind of pride, it's a different kind of smile from the one she gives him - there's malice in there, not just warmth). She drags a chair over from the corner and sits down, legs crossed. 'Hi John,' she says, like they're old friends.
'Skye,' Garrett says, giving her a nod. He frowns slightly and looks at Grant, who has moved to stand behind Skye. 'Where are the rest of your guards?'
Skye grins, moving from side to side in excitement. 'I killed them,' she says. She looks behind her, up at Grant. She's expecting him to share in her enthusiasm, he realises, and tries to smile back. He doesn't want to disappoint her if it could risk setting her off.
Garrett sighs. He leans against his desk. 'Again?'
She pouts and her eyebrows knit together in what Grant thinks might be disappointment or guilt. 'Yes,' she says, and brightens again in an instant as she realises she can still please him. 'But it's okay, because I just need Grant now.'
She leans her head back into his stomach, and he feels his guts twist.
He'd like to think it's because she could kill him with a breath. But the thing is, she doesn't want to.
Garrett laughs. 'Really?' he asks. 'You like the boy?' Skye nods, smiling placidly. Garrett gets up, walks round the desk to clap Grant on the shoulder. 'Well done kid,' he says, 'you found a girl who actually appreciates all this.' Grant feels like he was probably just insulted. He probably deserves it.
'Sir,' he says. 'You called us here for a reason.'
Garrett grunts. 'Mission for Skye,' he says. He picks up a file and hands it to her. She leafs through it, looking disinterested.
'Easy,' she decides, and gives it up to Grant.
It isn't exactly what he would call "easy". It's to assassinate a billionaire businessman who has been putting too much funding into SHIELD.
But he'll take her word on it.
'When do we leave?' she asks, leading forward. So eager.
Garrett smiles. It's probably supposed to be a smile, anyway. His lips pull back to reveal teeth. 'The jet is waiting outside,' he says. 'Grant can fly. Can't you boy?'
'Yes,' Grant says. 'Sir.'
Garrett laughs. Grant isn't sure what he's done, but Skye is smiling too, so it must have been stupid.
He exhales and hopes it sounds like a laugh. Like he finds it funny too.
Skye stands up. Her chair scrapes against the floor. She slips her hand into his and tugs.
He can feel Garrett's eyes on them.
'Skye,' he calls after them. 'What's the rule?'
'Don't get attached,' she sings back. (She doesn't drop Grant's hand.)
She leads him out to the back of the base. Not that he doesn't know where he's going. But he lets her lead anyway. There are a few planes waiting on the tarmac, but Skye heads straight for the furthest away one.
'This one is mine,' she says. 'John gave it to me.' She looks up at him, all big eyes, looking for something from him. Praise, maybe. Maybe she wants him to ask more, maybe he wants to tell him, to show off. He's not sure. It doesn't matter, anyway, because she doesn't wait. She tells him anyway. 'It was a present,' she says. 'Because I did well.' She's grinning at the memory. 'John said he'd never seen anything like it. I took out, like, thirty soldiers. All on my own.'
She definitely wants praise now. 'Well done,' Grant says. 'I think I heard about that. It's impressive.'
She gives a nonchalant little shrug, climbing into the jet. 'It was nothing.'
He takes the pilot's seat beside her, prepping them for takeoff. She's watching him. He feels like this might be a test.
He glances over. She's studying him, head tilted slightly to one side. 'Everything okay?' he asks.
'I didn't like it when the other guards flew my plane,' she says, frowning. Her eyebrows draw in, her nose wrinkles and she pouts, and it's disconcertingly endearing. 'But you're allowed to. You're good.' She leans over to poke his chest, just above his heart. 'I know these things.' She taps her temple to illustrate her point and smiles, bright and brilliant and sweet as always.
'Thank you?' he says. He's not sure if it's a good thing. He doesn't know exactly what she means. He's not good, not in the moral sense of the word, or he wouldn't be here, on a mission to kill someone.
She takes his hand again. She threads her fingers through his and studies them. It makes it a little difficult to fly, but he doesn't dare move.
(He doesn't want to.)
She falls asleep an hour later, curling up like a cat and finally letting him go.
(He misses the warmth.)
They touch down at an airfield as the sun is setting. Skye wakes as the wheels hit the ground, uncurling and looking around. She makes a tiny sniffling noise and stretches, arches her back, and rubs her eyes.
He tries, and ultimately fails, not to stare.
'Are we there?' she murmurs, crawling up to look out the window.
'Yes,' he says. 'The target lives about twenty minutes out.'
'You should have woken me,' she complains. 'I would have changed.'
He flinches back a little, scared he's angered her, but there was no malice in her voice. 'I'm sorry,' he says, anyway.
She shakes her head. 'S'okay. I forgive you.' She gives him a sleepy smile and rubs her eyes again, then turns and slides out of her seat and disappears into the back of the jet.
He can hear her rustling about, and when he looks back she's pulling the blue hospital gown off over her head.
He looks away sharply, but she'll have noticed.
'It's okay,' she calls. 'I don't mind.'
He doesn't turn back anyway, but pointedly works on turning the plane off and doesn't look up until he feels her standing above him.
She's in a bodysuit that clings to her body and shines like petrol in black puddles.
Fuck?
'What do you think?' she asks.
Words. He needs to make words. Fuck, what's the right answer. 'Um,' he says. 'Good. You look. You look good?'
'Really?' There's something genuine in her voice that throws him off guard.
'I wouldn't lie to you,' he says.
She smiles, leans down to kiss him on the cheek, and is gone.
By the time he catches up with her, she's sitting in the passenger seat of an SUV, waiting for him. There's no sign of forced entry, but the engine is running with no key in the ignition.
He nearly asks her how she did it. Nearly. Then he remembers who he is dealing with.
Whatever she might look like, legs crossed, waiting placidly for him, she is not just a girl.
She is so, so much more.
They pull up a block from the target's house. Grant checks his weapons. Skye fidgets impatiently.
'Are you ready?' she asks, and as soon as he nods she's out the car and standing on the pavement, almost shaking in anticipation.
He follows her up the street. It's quiet. Still. She's not trying to hide. Maybe she doesn't have to. She blends into the darkness, but the streetlights catching on her every now and then to create strange slices of light across her body.
He thinks he would see her. Maybe he's different.
She lets herself through the gate and stops on the step outside the house to wait for him again. She's flexing her fingers, rolling her wrists like she's preparing herself.
'Should we ring the bell?' she asks. 'Or is it more fun if we don't?'
'I'm not sure,' Grant says. She looks a little disappointed with his answer. 'Don't,' he decides. 'Don't is more fun.'
'I thought so too,' she says. She puts her hand against the door, and he can hear the sound of metal on metal, of locks clicking open, and then the door swings slowly away from them.
It's dark inside.
Skye sighs. 'Do you think he's asleep?' she asks. 'I hate it when they're asleep. It's boring.'
'You could wake him up,' Grant suggests. He takes his gun out. Not that he'd need it. But he feels a little useless without it.
She looks thoughtful. Like this hadn't occurred to her. 'I could,' she says. She slips her hand into his free one. 'Come on.'
They walk down the hall, her slightly ahead of him. His footsteps feel a thousand times louder than hers.
The ground floor is empty, but on the second is bedrooms and the quiet sound of sleeping breaths.
The door of the first is ajar. Skye peers in, but shakes her head. 'Just a kid,' she whispers.
She checks the second and comes back with a bright grin, white teeth showing. 'In here,' she says, pushing the door open.
The target is sleeping on the side of the bed nearest them, and his wife is beside him.
Skye stands in the door. 'Should I let her sleep?' she asks. 'I think I will. I don't like the screaming.'
She lifts a hand, and Grant could swear he sees a faint glow, an almost imperceptible pulse of energy directed at the sleeping woman.
Skye moves to the bed. She shakes the man's shoulder. 'You need to wake up,' she says. 'I want you to wake up.'
He does, slowly, and then his eyes fly open and he's scrambling back across the bed, terror in his eyes.
Skye claps her hands together and looks back at Grant. 'Look!' she says. 'He's awake!'
Grant nods in encouragement, and she goes back to the mark.
He watches as she tilts her head, wiggles her fingers. She points her index finger at the man, lifting it slowly.
He raises slightly off the mattress. He looks like he's trying to scream, but there's no sound coming out of his mouth. Skye brings up her other hand, palm facing him. She slowly, agonizingly slowly, brings her fingers into a fist.
Grant can see the man clawing at his throat, fighting for breath.
Skye seems to get impatient. She releases her fist and brings her hand across, slicing in a sharp movement.
He goes limp. Blood bubbles out of his mouth. Skye lets him drop on the floor by the bed. She wipes her hands down on her clothes. Even though there's nothing on them.
'Do you need anything?' Grant asks.
She turns to him. There's something in her eyes that wasn't there before. Something dark and… monstrous.
'Sorry,' she says. 'I should have let you have a go. But he was weak. He was never going to last long anyway.' She sighs. 'You could always try one of the others. I'm sure John wouldn't mind.' She waves her hand, and Grant takes an involuntary step back.
'No,' he says. He's just here to keep an eye on her. Not to… partake. 'I'm good. Thanks.'
She shrugs. 'Could you see if they have anything to eat? I'll be down in a minute.'
He probably shouldn't leave her alone, but he goes down to the kitchen anyway. He goes through the cupboards and tries not to think about how strange it is.
He makes them hot chocolate and waffles. He hears her come down the stairs two at a time and slide in.
(Her eyes are a little lighter again. He's glad.)
She hops onto the table and he hands her a plate and a mug.
'Do we have to go back tonight?' she asks, through a mouthful of food.
'Why wouldn't we?' He leans beside her, frowning.
'Because,' she says (there's something quiet, resigned and almost desperate in her voice that he doesn't quite understand but might recognise), 'I don't want to. I don't want to go back to my cell.'
He shouldn't say yes. He's not sure he can say no.
'Okay,' he says. 'But we've no where to sleep.'
She finishes the last bite of her waffle and wipes her lips with her sleeve. 'I know somewhere.'
He drives again, and she directs him. They go out of the leads them south, for an hour or so, away from the lights, until they've found forest.
They leave the car at the side of the road and walk into woods on foot. Skye seems to know where she's going.
She stops in a little clearing. She slides onto the ground, onto the ground, and lies on her back, looking up.
Grant stops above her.
'You're blocking my view,' she says.
'What?' he asks. 'Is this where we're sleeping?'
She reaches up, grabs his hand, and pulls him down beside her. 'Look,' she says.
She points up. It's a hot, clear night and the stars are clear.
'What am I looking at?' he asks.
'The scientists say I'm from up there,' she says.
Grant nods. 'I know,' he says. 'Do you know which one?'
She's quiet for a moment, looking up, and then she curls into his side, head resting on his chest, fists gripping onto his shirt like she thinks he might try and leave.
She can probably feel his heartbeat.
'No,' she breathes. She glances up. 'Just not here.'
She falls silent again, and within minutes her breathing has slowed and her eyes have slipped shut in sleep.
He lies awake. He keeps staring up, up at the little pinpricks of light.
He wonders if she wants to go back there. He wonders if she's going to leave one day. If she has a family, looking for her.
He wraps an arm, almost unconsciously, around her.