AN: In which Kara and Mike play a board game that holds strong memories for Grant, and his mind wanders to dark places.

He felt like a loner, even in the midst of his two best friends. He felt unwanted, like he didn't matter to them, even though that was a completely unfounded thought. And he knew it. Still, he felt it as he watched them laughing away playing Battleship. Briefly, he wondered if Kara was ever going to ask Mike out, but soon the thought was replaced by him and Skye relaxing and playing the very same board game that his friends were currently engaged in. He brought the cold tip of the beer bottle to his lips, taking a long drink.

"Did you just give me a compliment?"

He loved the wide smile she gave him, her eyes shining with happiness.

"I-no, I made a comment," he responded, his smile giving away his enjoyment.

"A kind one," she noted with a smirk. Leaning forward, she added in a soft whisper, "Did it physically hurt to do that? Do you need an icepack?"

They both laughed, his quiet and reserved and hers bright and full of life. That was one of the things he had really come to like about her, that no matter the situation she seemed so jubilant.

"A compliment and a smile," she giggled as his small smile turned into a wide grin at her behavior.

He watched them tease each other. From where he was sitting, he could tell Mike was winning. Kara was doing her famous pouty face, blowing out her cheeks and scrunching her eyebrows together.

"This is not even fair. You're so cheating," she groaned.

Mike laughed brightly. "I don't even think it's possible to cheat at Battleship, Kara. It's a stab in the dark kinda game."

Mike's words caused him to stiffen as Skye's voice rang through his skull. "Nope. This isn't thinking. This is stabbing in the dark, but it's nice to take a break from the workouts."

After several more minutes, it looked like their game was finished. He watched in amusement as Kara's frown deepened and she crossed her arms.

"Gah, you won again," she snorted indignantly.

Mike gave her a lopsided smile. "I'm that good."

"Let's go another round," challenged Kara.

"Say it Ward, say it," she chanted, her entire face showing just how much she was relishing her victory.

He sighed in frustration, tapping a finger against the table. "You sank my battleship."

"Yes!" snickered Skye.

"Alright!" he said, leaning forward. "Best two out of three."

The comparisons kept flashing in front of his eyes. Every little thing that Kara and Mike did reminded him of how everything was before Hydra. The stolen glances Kara shot at Mike reminded him of the ones he saw Skye give him during dinnertime. The way Mike laughed so happily around Kara, and only Kara, reminded him of how Skye was the only one who could coax a real smile out of him.

Suddenly, he found it hard to breathe in the same room as them. He shook himself from his thoughts, leaving the cool bottle on the counter as he walked to his room in their temporary safe house. Grumbling to himself, he pulled on a black hoodie and black gloves to go with his navy blue t-shirt and black jeans. Returning to the living room, he grabbed his SIG Sauer from the counter. He made sure the clip was loaded and the safety on before tugging it into the waistband of his jeans.

Grabbing a key from the little bowl on the counter, he called over his shoulder. "I'm going for a walk."

Locking the door behind him, he slipped the key into his pocket and trudged forward, head hanging low. He pulled the hoodie over his head as his legs led him throughout the empty streets. In the back of his mind, a small voice told him to keep a better eye on his surroundings, especially because it was getting dark, but he couldn't bring himself to listen to it. So, he continued on, just another shadow in the night.

When he stopped to look up, he blinked in confusion as he stood in front of a pond in the middle of a large, grassy park. Skye loved to be anywhere near water. It was one of her favorite places to be and she had told him it was something that helped her relax. As he stared at his dark and gloomy reflection that was barely visible, he wondered what she was doing at that moment. Was she sleeping? Hanging out with FitzSimmons? On a mission? Thinking about how much of a Nazi traitor he was? Had she moved on from him? The thought made his insides churn and he wiped at his face furiously as he felt his eyes water. He crushed the thought quickly because it would destroy him if he dwelled on it for too long.

Running his hand through his messy hair, he thought back to Garrett's instructions before joining the team.

"Listen kid, you don't need to know much," he had said. "Just that your orders are to investigate Coulson and find out how he is still alive. I need your help in this. We've come so far and now we are so close to the answer that will save my life. Do not get attached to anyone. Keep me updated on any changes within the team, as well as possible threats. Once this is all done, we can quit. Leave Hydra and S.H.I.E.L.D. behind, scrub our identities, and drink Mai Tai's in Maui for all I care.

It was supposed to be a simple undercover job. That was all it was. He never expected to like any of them, much less every single one of them. Fitz and Simmons reminded him of his younger siblings while Coulson and May were parent figures. And he had fallen hopelessly in love with Skye. If all had gone according to plan, nobody would have even found out he was Hydra. But then one day, Hydra activated its sleeper agents. He wasn't even informed that it would happen. He was devastated, but followed John's orders in that situation.

"If Hydra activates its sleeper agents, you figure out a way to get away from the team and haul ass to me. We'll go from there, son."

But toward the end, John had gone insane, dragging Grant into the depths of hell with him. And now, there wasn't a day that went by without him realizing how much of a screw-up he was. He regretted almost every single decision he had ever made in this life. The gun in his waistband felt heavier now and his fingers itched to grasp it and put an end to everything. His hand reached down, fingers tightening around the grip. And then, he thought of Kara. Kara, lost and confused, after Whitehall's death. She was pushing through it, trying to survive. He released his grip on the handgun. If she wasn't taking the easy way out, he didn't get to.

As he stared unwaveringly at the water, he knew he should move on.

But he couldn't.

The team was like a thread he couldn't cut.

She was a thread he couldn't cut.

He turned away and lowered his head once more, shoulders slumping forward in defeat.

How can someone move on if they can't let go of what once was?