Skye and Ward, about 2700 words. Skye breaks Ward out of jail with a favor to ask. Set after season 1.

This Far and No Further

"Dustfinger is with him, she thought, trying to comfort herself. Dustfinger is right behind him, and he left all his own fears behind with death. But Dustfinger will stay with him only as far as the castle gates, whispered her heart, and the Piper is waiting beyond them." – Cornelia Funke, Inkdeath (page 304)

Ward was in jail. This was where he expected to go, so it wasn't as though he had been caught off guard. Thinking this, he glanced out of his cell and spotted the man standing down the hall. Off guard. Heh. Okay, he made himself laugh.

And since there was no one else around to make laugh…

Grant Ward had tried bouncing a little ball off the wall, as he had seen people do in movies, but found the action stupid and repetitive. He worked at the wall with a pen, which was more entertaining, but ultimately he became bored of that too. He considered writing a letter. He didn't have any friends, though, so he considered his sister – but then realized that the chances that Rose wanted to hear from him were about zero any way you looked at it.

He did some push ups, and he told himself stories.

He had gotten used to the monotony, for the most part, which is probably why it was such a shock to him when the door opened and she walked in.

She was wearing a long coat, which was not very her, but the plaid was underneath. The coat was anonymous enough, and he wanted to know if she was undercover. Perhaps he should not blow it for her.

"What?" he asked.

"Ward," she said. "I need your help."

He studied her face carefully as he stood up off his cot. "What?" he repeated, slightly more disbelievingly. "I'm in jail."

"Yes, I know," she said, looking for all the world like this was the hardest thing she'd ever done. He could see it killing her a little bit. "I'm here to break you out."

He moved without hesitation to her side, and there were two reasons for that. One, she was seriously offering to get him out of jail. He definitely wanted out of jail. No matter what she was playing, it couldn't get worse. Two, she wouldn't have done this without a good reason.

Ward had some time to think about her and her "bomb" and her hatred of him, and he'd come to the conclusion that he'd sort of like to kill her, but he certainly didn't want anyone else doing it.

"Let's go," he said, and she nodded.

The guard didn't even blink when they stepped outside. "Drugs or money?" Ward asked.

"Money," Skye whispered as they moved quietly out of the hated hallway. "I didn't have access to drugs. Simmons…" She shrugged and moved ahead. She pulled a remote out of her pocket. "We're using a distraction to get out of here," she said. "I totally stole explosives from the cabinet, and I tried for weaker ones, but what do I know?" She laughed awkwardly. "Hopefully it ends up just being a distraction. Ready to run?"

Speaking of distractions. "What were you saying about Simmons?"

She swallowed and pulled her coat tighter.

"Is that why you're here?"

"No," Skye said as she peeked around the corner. "I'm not just here for Simmons. I'm here for all of them."

Before he could ask, she pressed the button.

/

"That was easy," Ward said an hour later as he walked up the bus's ramp. "Certainly solves the part of the jailbreak where you walk across miles and miles of flat land."

"Autopilot is a beautiful thing," said Skye as she sashayed towards the cockpit. She pulled off the overcoat. Ward couldn't help watching the delicate way she arched her back.

"No," said Ward. "Like, it was really easy. Why was it so easy?"

"You can say that," Skye said. "You didn't have to do explosives by yourself with no training except Youtube videos." She shrugged her shoulders uncomfortably. "Look, this is about the team."

"Where are they?" asked Ward. "Why did you have to do it by yourself? Why couldn't Simmons give you the drugs?" He was nervous, as little as he'd like to admit it. There was something very off here.

Skye froze but didn't face him. "I don't know where they are."
"What, any of them?"

Skye shook her head, and when she turned around, her warm eyes were wet. "Someone took them," she confessed. "And I don't know where they are. And I need you to help me find them."

Ward took several steps towards her, feeling that stupid concerned look slip over his face. He was pretty bad at hiding how he felt for someone who had been undercover for so long. "What happened?"

"You're the only one I could go to," Skye told him. "Hill wouldn't answer. Fury's nowhere to be found. It's just me, and I didn't think Miles really had the skills necessary."

"What happened, Skye?"

"I'll give you whatever you want," said Skye desperately. "You don't have to go back to jail. I've already deleted you off the face of the earth, but I can do it again. I can get you off these crimes. Give you a new name. If you'll help."

"Skye," he snapped, finally so close that he could touch her. He didn't. "I will help. Yes, I'll help. Tell me what happened."

She closed her eyes and sank into the couch, only to immediately jump up again. "I've got to get this thing flying."

"You can fly it?" Ward asked as he followed her. "How long have I been gone?"

"I wake up, the team's gone," said Skye. She sat down in the cockpit. Ward took the copilot seat. Wasn't this a switch? "I go into the lab, and Fitz has used invisible ink to scrawl out 'help' and some instructions – go to the diner where you caught me the first time."

"How did you know to look for the writing?"

"He'd changed out the lightbulb. All I did was turn on the light."

"And you know it was Fitz?"

"I think I'd recognize his handwriting."

"So why me?" Ward asked.
"I can fight," Skye said. "But not like you."

Ward nodded solemnly and they sat in silence for a little while. And then he cleared his throat. "Fitz," he said.
"What about him?"

"Coulson just said he was… not the same. No one ever told me…"

"He's not the same," Skye said sharply. "But he can function."

"Look, Skye, I am…"
She stood up sharply. "We'll be there in four hours," she announced. "You need food or sleep before then?"

"No," he said, and she left the cockpit, and he let her go.

/

The diner was awkward.

She sat on the same side she had sat with Mike Peterson a lifetime ago. She pulled out two sugar packets and her laptop. She played around with both.

Ward sat across from her and kept an eye out. No one was following them, it seemed. There were no police this time.

Skye was nervous as ever.

"Do I make you nervous?" Ward asked. "I can go to the bathroom."

"Buy me a milkshake," she told him, tapping away. "No, it's not you, it's the team. I'm worried about them."

Ward was worried about them too. Which was funny. Very funny. Because he'd spent a while in that jail cell telling himself that if he saw them again, he'd win by not caring at all. He'd wanted to punch May over and over again. He'd wanted Coulson to be miserable, too. Well, he had, and then he just hadn't had the energy anymore for a while, so he'd moved into indifference.

And now they were in danger and he was worried about them.

That was either a cruel trick of fate or he was even weaker than he'd thought. He sat and thought about that for a while.

"Oh," said Skye suddenly. "That's what he meant."

"What is?" Ward asked.

"I was wondering how Fitz had managed to hide something here from the bus," said Skye. "But he didn't, of course. It's in my computer, we just had to come here for it to work."

She explained, but Ward didn't understand a word. He nodded intelligently enough, but Skye had him outsmarted when it came to computers. Something about a program, she said. And a message. And the message on the program told her where they needed to go. Apparently.

"So they are at this… warehouse?" Ward said.

"Or maybe there's a clue there, who knows," said Skye, swallowing hard and looking even more nervous. "That's just Fitz's message. It's really very brilliant." She was blinking excessively. "I just hope they aren't hurt," she said, clearing her throat.

Ward's eyebrows drew together and he leant forward. "Skye…"

"Let's go," she said, standing up. "Come on, finish your fries."

Ward paid and followed her out of the diner.

/

Two hours to the warehouse.

Ward checked the plane's flight and went to go find Skye. He found her in the kitchen, leaning over her phone.
"Who you talking to?" he asked.

She looked up and put her phone down. "I missed you," she said, jumping right into it as though she was afraid she'd never say it. "I really did."

"What?" Ward was caught off guard.

She walked towards him, looking at the floor. "I thought maybe you wouldn't help," she said. "I know I offered to get you out, but I thought you'd at least be unsure. You just knew you wanted to help. That's… nicer than I expected."

Ward looked uncomfortable. "I'm not as much a monster as you think," he said.

"Did I say that?" she said, stepping closer still. Then she stopped and looked up at him. "I'm sorry," she said, looking so sincere that it hurt him right in his heart. "I get so sick of all this SHIELD-slash-Hydra stuff, don't you?"

His heart was trapped somewhere in his throat, beating like a war drum. "Yeah," he said.

She kissed him, pulling him really close, smiling onto his mouth. He shifted uncomfortably. "Skye," he said, though it took all his willpower. "You don't have to…"

"I know," she told him. "It's not a promise. Just a kiss."

She kissed him again, up on her tip toes. He felt his head go nice and fuzzy, and he kissed her back.

/

They both had a gun in their hands, and they were decked out in all black. The warehouse was rusty and falling apart on the outside, but when they peered in, they could see computers and small lights that denoted technology.

"Did someone put a whole house inside of here?" Skye hissed.

"Looks like it."

He felt Skye's arm caress his arm from behind, and he fought back the thrill. No promises, they had said, but still – she didn't hate him. She liked him. It was a start.

"Just walk in?" she asked.

"You see any traps?"

"Clear."

They walked in on full alert. "Come on," Skye said. "Stairs."

"Careful," Ward hissed as he followed her. Someone must have added an entire downstairs section. At the end of the steps there was only a door. It reminded him of his prison cell, with large iron bars and a heavy lock. "Whatever goes in there is not supposed to come out."

"The team?" Skye hissed, stepping in front of him to enter.

"Woah!" he cried, but quietly. "What part of 'careful' did you misinterpret?" He stepped deeper into the darkness with her.

When the lights flared on, it hurt his eyes.

Blinking roughly, he turned to face what appeared to be a veritable army; there were at least ten or fifteen men, all armed to the teeth. Ward lifted his gun and stepped in front of Skye, pushing her behind him. He made eye contact with one man and didn't break it.

Skye's hand was on his. "Give me your gun," she whispered. "I've got an idea."

"What?" Give up his gun? In the middle of a confrontation?

"Grant," she said, using his first name with a tight voice. "Give me your gun!"

He relaxed his fingers but didn't break eye contact with the enemy, and he let her take it away while he listened to his blood pulse in his ears. This idea had better be good, or they were both dead. And now he was a sitting duck, a human shield…
He waited a second or so before his nerves got the better of him. "Skye? Are you –"

The door clanged shut behind him.

Maybe you two can be monsters together.

He couldn't say, not even in his own head, that he had suspected. In all honesty, he hadn't had a clue. Not a glimmer of the idea that this was where it was going to end up. But the moment he heard the door, the truth clicked into place and he knew it all as surely as he knew his own name. His escape had been much too easy. Her technological gibberish hadn't just sounded like nonsense. Every important question he'd asked, she'd managed to duck around. She'd been on edge since he saw her.

Loud and clear like a gunshot to the heart. Before he finished turning around, he knew firmly that she had taken his gun and abandoned him here.

The only surprise was that she was still standing there on the other side of the door.

"Skye," he said out loud, and wished he didn't know that it sounded like he'd had his heart ripped out. The door was closed. He thought he'd gotten used to the small, dark space, but that was because he had forgotten how intoxicating freedom was.

She looked up at him with blazing eyes and pushed her hair back. "They have the team," she told him. "And they just wanted you. You know that's not a bad trade."

He knew there were men behind him, waiting to take him, but he crossed the distance between her and himself anyway and grabbed at the door. "Don't do this," he said, clearly. It wasn't quite begging. Not yet. "Skye, I was going to help. I wanted to help. You lied."

She wrinkled her nose and looked down at the two guns in her hand. "I had agreed," she said.

He reached through the bars to catch her hands, but she jerked away, and he was left pressed against the bars, glaring at her. The metal didn't bend. "Don't," he said. "Please, Skye." He caught her gaze, and it seemed she either couldn't or didn't want to shake it off. She didn't bend either.

"What do you want me to do now?" she said to him. "It's a bit late. I can't open the door. And don't be like that – you started this. If you hadn't been lying to us from the first…" Her words died abruptly. Her mouth shook for a second. She used to be a better con woman than this.

"I wasn't lying when I kissed you," he said. He could hear himself begging. "You said that – you said… You wanted us to –"

"No," she snapped, stepping back again. "No, you wanted. You wanted us. Not me. You did. Stop it, Ward, stop with that face – you're so clingy. No one cares, okay?" Her eyes were burning still and her mouth was clenched. She was nearly yelling through her teeth. "No one cares what you want. Who has ever cared what the hell you want?!"

His heart beat was raging, now, and the staff – always there in the back of his mind – was pressing up towards his eyes. He snarled at her, and she took her cue to turn and walk away. But she didn't run – so he knew she wasn't in a hurry to get away from him. She wasn't scared, her walk said.

"Skye!" he yelled. She didn't so much as jump. "Skye! You backstabbing bitch!" He felt his hands slam against the bars. There was no give there, either. "You're not a woman!" he said. "You're a demon! Damn you, Skye! Damn you to hell!"

When she reached the top of the stairs, the men behind him were moving. There was no point in fighting, he realized. He could probably kill some of them, maybe even most of them, but he had no weapons, no knowledge of them, and no backup. And no friends.

He felt himself starting to give, to sink, to collapse, but his knees didn't even hit the ground before the enemy caught him. He wondered distantly what it was they wanted him for as he stared at the last spot he saw Skye in.

"Please," he couldn't stop himself from saying, but he thanked God that Skye could no longer hear him. "Don't leave me here. Don't do this."

He kept staring at the light at the top of the stairs as they pulled him away, but Skye did not reappear.