This is my little insight into Skye's mind, her childhood, where she comes from, and her hidden secrets. It's all from my own mind, with little bits from the show, but mostly from my own mind wishing to come up for an explanation why she is clearly denying that she is in love with Ward.
"Perhaps it's impossible to wear an identity without becoming what you pretend to be." -Orson Scott Card
She knows what it's like to pretend. She's known what it's like to pretend since she was a little girl, wondering why on earth she was abandoned in an orphanage that was no better than a prison. She's pretended that she had a family; one that loved her and cherished her more than her little heart could take.
She's pretended she didn't steal toys from the other children. She's pretended that she's not a thousand times smarter than any of those children, the ones that bullied her, and the ones that pushed her to the ground and called her names. She just clenched her fists and thought, if I was normal, none of this would be happening. If I was normal, I wouldn't be here; I'd be here with my family, with my mom, with my dad, maybe a few sisters and brothers too.
Her whole life was built around pretending. Hell, she pretended that her name was Skye and that she wasn't special, that she was just an ordinary person. She didn't even remember her real name anyone – by the time she had enough sense to try and find out, the orphanage had been burned to a crisp and their records had never been computerized. She had pretended that she couldn't hack her way into anything, couldn't do anything a normal human being couldn't do – she refrained from hacking the moment she turned eighteen and was cut loose from the foster system, sent to live on her own.
But then she had been discovered by people who wanted to put her talents to use; and her pretend life was destroyed, shattered into a million pieces like that one corner of the window that never gets fixed. She was brought up from the ashes she had burned herself, by pretending that Skye was her name and she wasn't and never would be special.
She was special; she knew that now. She was special in ways that the little girl trapped inside herself never could have imagined, never could have pretended. She was special in ways that got people like her killed, with their bodies unidentifiable and left in dark alleys. She was special in a way that made her dangerous to everyone around her, in a way that cut off her life form ever finding that one person that understood her, because he would be hurt too.
Miles had been a release, an escape against the harsh realities of life. He taught her how to unleash her hacking skills beyond her imagination, beyond her wildest nightmares and dreams. But he wasn't Prince Charming; no, he was far from it, with a smile as sly as a fox waiting to pounce on it's pray. He was also rather dangerous, disappearing for days at a time, hiding guns underneath the piano in the brief time they had shared an apartment together. But she had ignored that, telling herself, it was all pretend.
And it was; Miles was pretend. Her whole damn childhood was pretend. Her name wasn't Skye. She wasn't normal. She was dangerous and deadly and special in a way that made people want her, to use her for their own personal gain. She wasn't good or evil – she was the person that walked along the barriers of both, all by telling herself that it was all pretend.
All kids played pretend, pretended that maybe their lives were better, that they had betters toys and better videos games; yes, she played pretend just like those kids, but her pretend was much different from theirs. She pretended that she didn't make objects in her room move by the touch of her hand, that she didn't dream of a man with wide eyes and slicked-back dark hair, calling her daughter, that she couldn't hack her way out of any situation, talk out of any situation.
She pretended that she was a normal girl, and normal girls didn't act abnormal.
She lies away know, wondering, praying, to know when she was going to stop pretending. Was she ever going to stop being that little girl who was called monster by the other children when they had seen what she was capable of?
Was she ever going to stop denying all she had known?
A rustling allowing her eyes to snap open and she froze stiffly; but it was only the rustling of the wind outside and she allowed the lull of the engines combined with the overpowering hand of sleep reaching over her to close her eyes, drawing herself into dreamland once again.
She dreamt of powers and the same man she had when she was younger, the one who dressed in robes of green and only carried to power of his silver tongue – that was what he had called it, when he cupped her head into his slick palms once, the only time he had touched her in dreamland – that brought pure cities down under him.
He was powerful and he called her daughter, never Skye – he called her daughter and my precious darling and a name in a language she did not understand. But that name had swept over her any time he had said it, giving her a sense of power of some sort. His finger had touched her forehead before –
She woke in a panic, a hand cupped around her shoulder and shaking her. There was screaming and with a start, she realized it was her. Her lips sealed shut and she took a shuddering breath, giving herself time to breath.
And when she looked up, she saw the face of a man she had long known as her S.O, someone she had grown to trust and even love; but then the word pretending had come back into play and she kept her features blank, shrugging him off of her.
She pretended that she was not called daughter by an evil man. She pretended she wasn't carrying the burden of a thousand secrets. She pretended that she was Skye, not daughter, not rookie – she was Skye, built of a hundred names and a million cities, built by a way forged through pain and memories that she could not forget.
And most of all, she pretended that she did not love him.
I've always been fascinated with the idea that Loki could be Skye's father, so I incorporated that little bit of information into this story.
Tell me what you thought.