Grant Douglas Ward, ex-SHIELD specialist and former HYDRA double agent, stood in quiet reflection as he wiped the blood from his hands.

He surveyed the scene around him with a critical eye, carefully cataloging every detail of the carnage in his mind. The ache from his dislocated thumb when he slipped free of his restraints bothered him very little – he had learned long ago to compartmentalize pain and this discomfort was nothing compared to his lifetime of battle wounds.

He glanced again at the crumpled bodies lying at his feet.

I am a monster.

The three corpses of the guards were strewn on the floor of the transport vehicle, lying at awkward angles, half covering each other in a morbid embrace. Subduing them had required next to no effort at all. His combat skills hadn't diminished in the slightest, in spite of being locked up for months in Coulson's dark dungeon.

Still, he was mildly surprised by the ease of it. Perhaps it was his desperation to be finally free combined with his fear of being stuck in another hole that aided in the facility of his escape.

The fact that he felt a twinge of regret – now that was new, however. He didn't have to delve too much into his own psyche to uncover the source of this newfound remorse.

Skye ...

She had awakened a weakness in him that somehow managed to encompass a strange and unfamiliar sense of compassion. He wondered whether he would've spared the lives of these men if there was any other way of gaining his freedom. He entertained this train of thought only momentarily before his survival instinct kicked in and he put a bullet between each of the men's eyes.

It was simple - kill or be killed. He had no doubt that the agents would've taken him out, if given the chance, despite Christian's orders to keep him alive for his trial.

Taking life (innocent or otherwise) never bothered him before - he was a good soldier who was conditioned to follow Garrett's orders without so much as a second thought. But now ... Now he thought of what she would think of him when she found out he had killed again - this time adding three FBI agents to his murder tally. He didn't like the unease he felt in the pit of his stomach at the thought of disappointing her. Again. He sighed.

Death and destruction … Is that all I'm capable of?

His thoughts were never far from a certain petite brunette agent who held him prisoner still. Held him forever captive without the aid of shackles or a locked cell.

Skye … I need you.

His desire for her was unlike anything he had ever experienced. His heart ached at the thought of her perfect face, illuminated by a pair of innocent doe-like eyes, juxtaposed by a full sensuous mouth that was always on the brink of a teasing smile. His dreams were dominated by her soft lips, feminine curves, a tiny waist … She would call to him, reach for him, only to have him awaken, trembling with need yet to be satisfied, an urge so primitive and carnal it threatened to consume him. God, he needed her.

His feelings transcended mere physical attraction and simple lust. True, she was beautiful and alluring, sweet and seductive, but his emotions went far beyond aesthetics. They were all-consuming, a yearning he felt with every beat of his heart. His need for her surpassed even that which he felt for the sorceress Lorelei when he was under her hypnotic spell.

No, this was different. Pure. Uncorrupted and incorruptible. Skye was able to see inside his very soul, to calm his rage, and soothe the beast that lurked within. She was his elixir, his muse, his rock, the only thing that anchored him and gave him purpose now that Garrett was dead.

His knowledge of her 0-8-4 status did nothing to diminish his longing for her. In fact, it only served to make the pull towards her even stronger. She was an enigma, a puzzle he desperately needed to solve and maybe in doing so, he would finally figure out how she was able to hold him hostage. What dark alien forces were in play that kept him bound to her?

She wasn't without her flaws. She was damaged, just like he was. He was able to see through her walls of resilience that she had built up to cover her vulnerability, her insecurities that she did well to hide from others with a brazen wit and sharp tongue.

There was no doubt she was strong; she was a fighter and survivor but she was also as fragile as a porcelain doll. A paradox ... Her fragility called to his instinct to protect, just as he had tried and failed to do so with his younger brother Thomas all those years ago.

He wouldn't make the same mistake with Skye. He would do anything in his power to protect her. She didn't understand yet but he would make her understand. He would storm her defenses, seduce her until she also surrendered to the power of their bond. He would not give up until she succumbed to its inevitability and no longer fought against it.

He would soothe her fears and help her discover her true nature, in whatever form it would eventually reveal itself. However monstrous, however horrifying - he was prepared and would stand by her side until the very end.

We could be monsters together.

Clarity was one thing he gained during his time in captivity, the epiphany coming to him as he lay in the infirmary recovering from his self-inflicted wounds. He had spent his whole life following and taking orders from the wrong people – first his brother Christian, then his surrogate father, Garrett. And Coulson too, if you counted his time with SHIELD.

They were all unworthy of his devotion - he was convinced of that now. He knew now, without a shadow of a doubt, what his destiny was and how to fulfill it. He would find her, and he would serve her, he would be her willing captive - a loyal subject to do her bidding.

The world is going to change. And when it does ... she could be yours.

With Raina's words from a lifetime ago echoing in his head, he quickly donned FBI agent number two's uniform and boots, and stripped the men of any valuable items.

His path ahead was clear and his motivation strong. He was no longer tethered by loyalties that benefited someone else's interests other than his own. He emerged from the van unnoticed, stepping briefly into the bright sunlight, before slipping once more into the shadows.