Thanks to all for your reviews! I love hearing from you. Honestly. I love it.

We're building up to confrontations, so don't worry. They will be explosive. Here, Coulson gets sneaky, we meet Fitz, and Ward gets a little screentime with his two leading ladies.

COULSON

Under the circumstances, the situation is fairly ideal. May tears off the Bus first, followed by the Lady Sif and several female agents toting the heavy artillery. That means, unfortunately, that Ward is still on the Bus, but he's confident that he can take Ward out if he needs to. Particularly since he's not planning on fighting the man in hand-to-hand—his gun will do nicely, and Coulson doesn't miss.

So he waits until May and her troops disappear into the small, seedy casino from which he conveniently dropped Skye a little hint to his location less just over 20 minutes ago. Skye is fast, something he was counting on but can't help but be more than a little proud of, though he'd never admit it to Lorelei. She might get jealous, and while he'd do anything for her, anything in the world, but he wouldn't particularly enjoy crossing off Skye.

As soon as the last bullet proof vest vanishes through the door, he nods to Lorelei, who comes forward out of the shadows with that beautiful, seductive smile and touches him lightly on the arm.

"Well done, my warrior," she purrs, and he grins with pride.

"Yeah, not bad. Come on. It won't take long for May to realize we're not in there."

The Bus is parked on the long, flat roof of the considerably more upscale casino next door, and from their position on the ground out back, it's a straight shot in through the back door, up the stairs, out through the "employees only" door on the roof, and a sprint across the roof to the hangar.

Inside the Bus is a little trickier—fortunately, it looks like May has taken all of her back-up inside, and the corridors are empty. He leads Lorelei up the stairs and around corners, senses pricked for Ward or FitzSimmons, but the way is clear, as he hoped. The going is slow, because he doesn't want to be jumped by a lurking specialist, nor does he want to put Lorelei in any undue danger.

And then, just before they reach the cockpit, Fitz appears suddenly and unexpectedly from around the corner ahead of them, clutching Lorelei's golden collar and several of Coulson's favorite knick-knacks he has apparently just retrieved from Coulson's office.

Which is not ok.

The look on Fitz's face is priceless, however, and Coulson would be tempted to laugh had his engineer not been holding the means to torture his beloved Lorelei. And a watch from the 1930s, and a paperweight that had belonged to his great, great grandfather.

"Sir!" Fitz yelps, and Coulson lifts his gun, cocks it, and levels it between Fitz's eyes.

"Drop the collar, Fitz," he says. "And put the watch down. Carefully. On that table. What do you think you're even doing with that?"

"Uh, trying to locate, to locate you, sir," Fitz says, eyes darting from the gun to Lorelei and back again. The color has drained from his face, and his puppy-dog eyes are huge with fear, though he is still obstinately clinging to the collar. "And her. Lorelei. And, um, repairing the collar, because it…it broke, so I fixed it, and I'm sorry, sir, but I'm going to have to…to, um…"

"To, um, what, Fitz?" Coulson mocks, and as much as he likes his rocket scientist, he's starting to get pissed. "Put it down. Now."

"Fitz? A curious name," Lorelei says, and she steps up from behind Coulson, brushing her hand up his back on her way past him and sending cold shivers up his spine. Fitz's eyes jump from the gun to her face, and his eyes, if possible, get even bigger. "But you are a clever one, aren't you? I would have use for you in my army."

"Yeah, fat…fat chance of that," Fitz stutters, and he clutches the collar even tighter to his chest. "I'm…I'm going to bring this to Ward, and I'll have to ask…have to ask you to just step aside…"

"We're not playing games, Fitz," Coulson says, but Lorelei hushes him soothingly and he settles back, fuming. She's going to take Fitz, of course, but surely he can't be replaced, won't be replaced by this adolescent squirt. Lorelei wouldn't replace him. And if he needs to eliminate said squirt to ensure his position at Lorelei's side, he doesn't think he'll lose any sleep over it. His fingers tighten reflexively on his gun, and he waits.

"Fitz. You do not wish to harm me, I think," Lorelei is saying. "We could be so much more if we work together." At this point, she is only a step or two away from arm's reach, and Fitz is visibly struggling. He is blinking rapidly, and his fingers are clenched so tightly around the collar that his knuckles are blanched white.

"Don't touch me," he says weakly, but now her fingers are brushing across his shoulder, and that's that.

Fitz is more than willing to plant the collar in the Cage and lure Sif there as soon as she arrives back on board, and, almost as importantly, he relinquishes Coulson's relics with a swift apology. Coulson forgives him because Lorelei has wrapped her soft, strong hands around his bicep and is brushing her lips across his jaw and neck, and he's finding it hard to concentrate properly on anything. With her here, what does an old watch matter anyway?

So they send Fitz away and settle into the cockpit, where Lorelei is more than slightly disappointed to discover that Coulson cannot actually fly the thing. He quickly eases his way back into her good graces by wrapping his arms around her waist and explaining that once they capture Sif, eliminate May, and take Agent Ward (though he is slightly nervous about this part, because Ward is taller and broader and stronger than he is, and Lorelei might find him attractive and useful, which might lead to difficulties between them), his specialist will be able to fly them anywhere. It's going to be an elaborate sort of plan, but he's confident in her and confident in himself, and there isn't anything that he isn't willing to try.

Not if it means he can belong to her.

MAY

"He set us up."

"What?" Ward meets May and Sif in the hangar, looking irritable and ready to punch someone. He is obviously climbing the walls, trapped here on the Bus, and May would feel sorry for him if she had the time and emotional willpower to spare.

"He set us up," she repeats. "He wasn't there, it was a set-up, or a distraction, or something. Classic Coulson, and stupid of me to fall for it. Diversionary tactics 101, and I fell for it."

"Diverting you from what?"

"I don't know." May folds her arms across her chest. She is tired, unbelievably stressed, and starting to really appreciate Coulson's leadership abilities. He makes running the Bus, directing ops, and managing intel and personnel on little or no sleep look so easy. "Something. But he wouldn't slip up like that, use his credit card on a purchase…it was way too easy and I should have realized."

"Giving yourself the blame will not aid our mission," Sif says, and though her voice is firm, her eyes are kind and May appreciates the sentiment. If anyone is allowed to attempt to cheer her up when she's feeling like this, it's Sif. "Son of Coul is proving to be far more elusive than I might have anticipated. Lorelei has chosen well."

"Very well," Ward says, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. "Didn't think Coulson had it in him."

"There's a reason he's the man in charge," May growls. "Don't underestimate him. Ward, any news from Skye?"

"Nothing yet." Fitz has come up behind Ward, and his face is a familiar combination of exhausted, anxious, and pleased. "But I do have a bit of good news. I've managed to repair Lorelei's collar."

That is good news, and it takes the edge off of May's anxiety. At least now they have a way to neutralize Lorelei once they catch up to her.

"Let me inspect it to be sure," Sif is saying. "Asgardian metal is much different than your earth's ore."

Fitz is more than happy to show off his handiwork, and he leads Sif up the stairs and they disappear into the belly of the plane. May is left with Ward, and they stand in a moment of awkward silence before Ward holds out both hands, palms up, and stares her squarely in the eyes.

"May," he begins, but she cuts him off.

"Not now."

"Yes, now," he insists, and he so rarely questions her authority that she settles back on her heels and fixes him with her best glare, which he ignores. "I'm not stupid, and I've seen the way you've been these last two days with him gone. Which I understand. We're all walking on pins and needles, and we're all anxious to get him back. But I also know you've been treating me differently, and I know why. I just wanted to let you know that it's fine."

"I haven't been treating you differently. I'm in charge. I have responsibilities to the team and to Coulson." Monotone. Lies. Obvious ones.

"Yeah, I know," Ward says, but he is looking at her somewhat affectionately, and she knows it's pointless to lie anymore, either to herself or to him.

"No strings attached," she says. "That was the deal."

"No strings," he echoes. "But May…if what I see is real, you're not being honest with yourself, or with him. Maybe it's time to give that a shot."

And without another word he turns on his heel and walks away, back towards the med bay and Skye and Simmons, and she is left searching for something to throw at his back and coming up short.

In some ways, it's a relief that it's over between them. In other ways, it's going to be harder than she anticipated. She'll miss their easy companionship on those nights away from the Bus, miss the stress relief and the chances it gave her to forget everything for just a little while. She doesn't really know how she feels about Coulson, and Ward was more an excuse to set her complicated feelings and their complicated history aside and pretend they didn't exist. With Ward out of the picture, she is going to be forced to face those feelings again and sort through what is real and what isn't, and what exactly she feels for her best and oldest friend that may or may not be as friendly as she might hope.

But there is time for all of that later.

She is making her way up to the main deck to check on Sif and the collar when Simmons hails her from the direction of Skye's chamber. She looks fairly excited about something, and May can't stop the hope flaring in her chest. "Agent May? Skye has found an image of Agent Coulson and Lorelei taken just after he used his card, and we thought you might like…"

May doesn't give Simmons time to finish—she grabs the tablet from the younger agent's hands and stares at the grainy, black and white screenshot. Coulson is in the forefront, standing with his gun in one hand and the other stretched out behind him, towards the shadowy figure of Lorelei in the background. He is staring intently at something that May can't see, but she recognizes the surrounding buildings immediately.

"He was there," she breathes. "They were there, watching us as we stormed into that casino." Her mind is racing, ideas and implications tumbling over themselves chaotically. "He knew we'd go in there…he was waiting for us, he drew us out so that…so that he could…" she looks up at Simmons who is looking properly concerned and confused, and the answer clicks abruptly and unpleasantly into place.

"They're on the plane."

SKYE AND WARD

Ward has sent Simmons off to find May, and he has sunk down onto the edge of Skye's bed, fiddling with a tablet. His shoulders and jaw are tense, and Skye understands exactly how he feels.

"Kind of horrible, isn't it?" she says. He looks up at her, and she clarifies, waving her hand around at the tiny little chamber in which she has spent what feels like years. "Being stuck. Not being able to do anything. Not being able to help."

"You've helped," Ward says. "You've done great. I'm the useless one."

"Yeah, sure, I helped," Skye says, infusing a thinly veiled layer of sarcasm into her voice in an effort to diffuse his mood. "I sent May into a casino so that Coulson could what, sneak around outside it and laugh at how stupid we all are?"

Ward frowns, but he's staring back down at the tablet again. "Sneak around outside? What makes you say that?"

"This is from a camera just outside the casino he pulled his little prank in," Skye says, flipping her laptop around and showing him the specs. "See? They were right there, just a few hundred yards away. Who knows what they were doing, unless he actually did screw up and swiped his card, but you said that May said…"

"He played us," Ward interrupts, and she breaks off, feeling that she's missing something big as Ward rises, his eyes jumping from the tablet to hers. "He played us like a deck of cards, and we fell for it. They're here, on the plane. They lured May and Sif off. They could be on board right now, taking over the Bus. That's what I'd do, what I would have done…they can't hide forever, and Coulson knows that. So you know what he's doing?" His face is twisting up in that grim, close-lipped smile that means he's furious and going to do something about it. "He's eliminating their biggest threat."

"Us," Skye breathes. "You've got to warn May!"

Ward spins and reaches for the door, but it just rattles under his hands and her heart drops to her stomach. He slams his fists against the glass, but they're both Ward and bullet-proof. "Yeah, I would." He turns back to her, fists clenched, and she doesn't need to hear him say it. "We've been locked in."

"Yeah, gathered that," she says. A few swift keystrokes tells her that the door isn't locked mechanically. "They've jammed it. I can't do anything from in here!"

Ward starts whaling on the door, but it doesn't budge and after 30 seconds of his hammering she can't take it anymore.

"Ward! Grant! That door isn't going anywhere. You know that thing about not being helpful? Yeah, this is that."

He pulls back with a scowl, clenching and unclenching his fists.

"So what do you suggest we do? Can you contact May? Where did Simmons run off to, anyway?"

Skye shakes her head. "I don't know." But hope has blossomed in her chest, along with a healthy dosage of fear. "Once she delivers the picture to May, she should come straight back here. She can let us out."

"Unless May has figured out what we just did," Ward says. "In which case they'll probably make a move to head Coulson off at the pass…if he's not already on board."

"In which case they may have already taken May and Simmons out."

"Not May." Ward shakes his head. "She can hold her own."

"Against a freaking goddess?" Skye wants to believe in May, wants to believe that she could hold her own, but she's seen Sif and videos of Thor, and as terrifying as May is, she's got nothing on the Asgardians. "Yeah, no. Against Coulson, maybe. She could kick his butt."

"I think she's planning on it."

"But she won't tackle them without you," Skye says reasonably. "They've gotta come back and strategize."

"Unless they were ambushed."

"Okay, sunshine."

"I'm just telling it like it probably is," Ward says, holding up his hands in a gesture of defense. "What, you think I wantthem to be taken out by a psycho crazy alien from another planet who wants to take over the world and enslave all men? No, thanks."

"I think the definition of alien is that they are from another planet."

"What are you now, the grammar police?"

Skye isn't sure how much more of this conversation she can handle, and Ward obviously feels the same way because he throws up his hands and starts pacing.

"This isn't getting us anywhere."

"Roger that."

"Let's just stop speculating and focus on getting out of here," Ward says evenly. "We can't count on FitzSimmons or May. So think, Skye. Coulson and Lorelei are on board, and they're going to start shutting off…"

But before he can even finish the sentence, Skye spins her computer around and shows him the lit, skeletal structure of the plane with all of its color-coded systems, all of which are, one by one, starting to misbehave.

"Yeah. Got that. They're disabling the entire plane."

Ward's eyebrows furrow and he bends closer to the screen, watching as the cargo ramp is lifted and locked, the comms systems are shut down, and every other system is locked down manually, systematically, thoroughly.

"Coulson doesn't even know how to turn on the holotable," he says. "How is he…"

But Skye has an answer for that one too. "Fitz."

"Fitz. Of course." Ward shuts his eyes and his lips press tightly together. He scrubs a hand across his jaw and looks up at her. "We're screwed."

TBC...