I've Grown Familiar with Villains that Live in my Head"
Four
x-x-x
Skye ran full pelt down the corridor, ignoring the raised eyebrows and confused looks directed at her by other S.H.I.E.L.D. agents she passed. Although May had commanded her to stay in the office, with Raina's threat towards Vivi and Grant hanging over her head there was absolutely no way she could just sit tight and hope nothing bad befell them. What kind of mother or wife would she be if that were her attitude?
Finally turning the corner into the corridor that led to the living quarters, Skye picked up her speed even more. She passed other closed doorways, from behind which she could hear laughter or the sound of televisions blaring, but she kept going until she reached the room that was shared by her family. She didn't bother to hammer on the door, instead pushing it open and racing inside. She expected to find Vivi and Grant propped up on the bed, watching Disney cartoons as they had discussed earlier, but she was instead greeted by only tousled sheets. As she stepped further inside the room she realised that someone had taken time to clear up the glass and splintered wood that she had left in the middle of the room, and her heart sank a little. She had hoped to get to that before Grant even knew something had transpired. He was probably as equally worried about her and was perhaps even searching the Playground to find her.
The sound of the shower turning on in the en-suite brought a wave of relief washing over her, and Skye took a moment to steady her nerves before she set out towards the bathroom. She fixed a smile on her face – a gesture which was most definitely forced – and tapped gently on the door.
"Grant?" she called out, waiting for a few seconds with her cheek and ear resting against the wood. It seemed he had turned the shower on full pelt, and she reasoned after she called his name again and received no response that he more than likely couldn't hear her above the roar of the water.
Knowing that he wouldn't be at all concerned with her interrupting his shower – it was after all a fairly common occurrence and usually involved very little by the way of actual showering – she opened the door and walked into the steam filled room.
The absence of any clothing on the counter or even folded on the floor was strange, but perhaps if Vivian was being looked after by any one of her doting 'aunts' or 'uncles', Grant had simply cleaned up the mess in their room and tossed his clothes in the hamper.
It often amused her that one of the things that had turned out to be true about Grant Ward was that he was most definitely a neat freak. Skye on the other hand was resolute in her dedication to making as much of a mess as possible and being something of a reluctant house keeper.
"Grant?" she called out, trying to dismiss the shiver that ran up her spine as she tentatively reached out to pull open the cubicle door, which was too steamed up to allow her to see inside.
The naked figure in the shower turned to face her, and Skye stumbled backwards, this time too surprised to even scream when she found herself gazing upon the bloody and decaying face of Emily Forbes. Her eyes were still frozen wide open in the same manner as they had been at the moment of her death, and blood spilled over her parted lips to drip down her neck and chest. Her whole body was grey, although there were patches of dark purple and blue bruises around her shoulders, which Skye immediately recognised as the hand prints of the Hydra Inhuman that had murdered her. Blonde hair hung wet past her shoulders but the water seemed to be doing nothing to wash away the blood.
"You… killed… me…" Emily growled, perhaps more as a result of her ruined vocal chords than her fury. However, her anger was present within her eyes and behind the grotesque curl of her upper lip.
"I didn't…" Skye stammered, backing right up until she hit the wall. To her horror, Emily's ghost stepped out of the shower cubicle, intent on following her.
"Your… fault…" she hissed, her hands balling into fists at her side. As she approached Skye, the bathroom light blinked on and off, and in the steam coating the mirror a word began to form; murderer.
"I'm sorry," Skye said, swallowing down her guilt and her horror simultaneously, "I'm sorry I couldn't save you, Emily… but this… this isn't right. I don't believe this is who you were…"
Almost as soon as she'd appeared, Emily disappeared, leaving Skye staring into the empty shower with tears coursing down her face.
The lights flickered once again, and Skye turned sharply as she felt something touch her shoulder. When she spun around, heart thumping madly in her chest, she found Emily standing behind her. Strangely, this time the grotesque wound was absent from her throat, no mottled bruises or jagged bite marks marred her skin, and she stood before Skye just as she had looked in life – soft, willowy, and pretty.
Her eyes wide, Emily begged in a ghostly whisper, "Stop him!"
"What?" Skye gasped, surprise and confusion overwhelming her as she realised this 'ghost' was not the same as the one she had encountered only moments before. This version of the late S.H.I.E.L.D. agent looked just as panicked and devastated as the Inhuman before her.
Emily gazed at her imploringly, her body shuddering as she pleaded, "Let me rest…"
"What? Stop who? Emily? Who?" Skye called out, but the spectre flickered from view, leaving her only enough time to turn off the shower before she bolted for the door.
x-x-x
Ward had been reluctant to leave Vivi given the happenings of the afternoon but Lincoln had insisted that a meeting was necessary, and Jemma had volunteered her services as babysitter at the eleventh hour. Therefore, he had tucked Vivian into bed in FitzSimmons' room and then started out to the medical bay, somewhat concerned about whatever it was that seemed to have Lincoln's boxers in a bunch.
When Ward pushed the door to medical open, he found Lincoln sitting at his desk, a bottle of bourbon already cracked open and two tumblers in front of him.
"Well, that's never a good sign, doc," Ward observed, folding his arms as he stared at Lincoln, who only offered a small smile before gesturing for Ward to occupy the chair opposite his.
"Pull up a chair, Grant," directed Lincoln, pausing to take a sip from his glass, "don't worry, I finished a half hour ago so I'm technically not being irresponsible. Dr. Reyes is on call."
Nodding his head, Ward crossed the room and sank into the chair, his hand skimming the glass that Lincoln had already filled for him.
"I'll pass." Ward shook his head with a brief smile, gesturing down to the tumbler. Whilst he didn't want to admit it, he figured clouding his own mind with alcohol was possibly not a good idea given how unsettled Skye seemed. Also, he wanted to keep a clear head in case Vivian needed him further.
"Please yourself," Lincoln shrugged, taking a large gulp from his own glass and sighing resolutely.
"So… what was it you wanted to talk to me about?" Ward asked, already suspicious about the impending topic of conversation. In fact, he was almost certain he already knew what was coming.
"You get the blood work back from my physical?" Ward smiled, trying to lighten the moment and also perhaps distract the doctor. "I got a vitamin deficiency?"
Rolling his eyes and taking another sip of his drink, Lincoln rebuffed Ward's attempt at humour. "No. And you're not pregnant, either."
Ward managed a brief chuckle of amusement before he leaned back in his chair and regarded the Inhuman with mounting impatience; whatever Lincoln had to say, Ward wished he would just come out with it.
"Ward, I know you and I had an… uneasy start…" Lincoln began.
"Uneasy?" this time Ward did laugh, loud and hard. "I fucking hated your guts, Campbell. But then you were trying to get into my wife's pants, so…"
Holding up his hand defensively, Lincoln replied, "Hey, she wasn't your wife back then, and I didn't know you guys were a 'thing'."
Shrugging absently, Ward regarded his friend with a pointed yet slightly nostalgic smile. "Skye and I have always been a 'thing'… always will be. She's the best thing that ever happened to me, and there's nothing I wouldn't do for her. So, whatever you've got to say about her, let's just get this over with."
"How did you know…" Lincoln began, confusing crossing his features as he regarded Ward, who shrugged and flashed the doctor an arrogant smile.
"You know your biggest tell?" Ward inquired, amused when Lincoln seemed indignant at the very suggestion that he might actually be as easy for Grant to read as an open book.
"I don't have tells!" Lincoln protested, leaning forwards and narrowing his eyes at Grant, who only smirked harder, obviously amused by the doctor's vehemence on the matter.
"Your upper lip twitches, every time someone mentions whatever is making you uncomfortable," Ward revealed, pointing at Lincoln as he continued, "like every time I say the name 'Skye'."
Barely managing to resist the urge to cover his mouth with his hand, Lincoln raised his glass and took a hearty sip.
"Okay, fine, it's about Skye," he answered, watching Grant carefully as he leaned back in the chair with his arms folded, perhaps prepared to listen with an open mind or perhaps poised to rebut everything Lincoln had to say.
"Go on," Ward encouraged, eyes ticking to the table top for just a moment. He had a sinking suspicion he already knew what Lincoln wished to speak with him about; Skye's behaviour over the last few days hadn't escaped his own notice, and he too was concerned with how erratic it had grown, and how she seemed to be looking over her shoulder every few minutes. It wasn't at all like Skye, who was usually the bravest and most unshakeable person Grant knew. Evidently something had affected her deeply, and he didn't think it was just Agent Forbes' death.
"I'm worried about her," Lincoln said, pausing for a moment before he added, "not just as a friend but also as a medical professional."
Ward nodded again but remained silent, hoping that Lincoln would be spurred into continuing. It appeared to work and Lincoln opened his mouth hurriedly to speak again.
"I'm not saying she's crazy or unstable or anything like that…" he said carefully, "it's just that, lately, she's been exhibiting signs of… well… I…"
Lincoln trailed off, shaking his head as he reached for his glass and quickly downed the rest of his drink. Then, he raked both hands through his hair and affixed Ward with a look that communicated just how distraught he was over the words he was about to speak.
"Ward, I heard what she said about Jiaying."
"Look, it's been a tough few days for her," Ward allowed, "and I'm not saying she's been her usual self lately, but…"
Glancing down at his wedding ring first, as if he were somehow about to betray his wife simply by speaking, he continued, "If you'd met Skye when she first joined the team, you'd know she… she was like this… crazy hurricane that swept through the whole damn plane. She and I didn't exactly get off to the best start back then. I thought she was reckless and irresponsible, everything was a joke to her, and… oh man, could she get on my last nerve…"
Lincoln smiled, picking up the bottle and twisting open the cap, "But you were crazy about her?"
"Have been ever since," Ward admonished as he rested his elbows on his knees as if about to quietly impart some sort of secret to Lincoln. "Skye was all of the things I wasn't. Fuck, she still is. She's got this light around her, this need to see good in others, and she cares about people. Although I know she can take care of herself out in the field. I mean, she's… spectacular out there."
A sentimental smile settled on his lips and then promptly disappeared.
"But it's the other part of being a Specialist… the tough calls, the death, the guilt, all those things that take a piece of your soul. That's something she'll never get used to. Because it's not who she is."
Lincoln nodded slowly, "You ever think of telling her this?"
Ward laughed and shook his head, "Do I look stupid to you? Skye will do what she wants to do. My job is just to be here, to love her, and… sometimes to pick up the pieces, and God knows she's done that for me. She loves the job. It's just… she needs more time to deal with shit like this than someone like May, or a heartless bastard like me."
Lincoln shot Ward a withering look as he protested, "You're not heartless, Ward. I know that's the image you like to project out there and I know that works for you, but I see you with Skye. I see you with Vivi too, and that kid has you wrapped firmly around her little finger."
Deflecting the comment with a shrug, Ward folded his hands over his abdomen. Though he commanded respect and a certain degree of fear amongst his students, and certainly among those he faced down in the field, he was proverbial putty when it came to his family.
"Yeah, well I never thought I'd get to have any of this. Kind of makes you want to hold on to it all that little bit tighter. Skye gave me a life, she… somehow found a way to forgive me, to love me. She gave me a daughter. So if you want me to sit here and listen to you tell me my wife's crazy, you and I are gonna have a falling out, Campbell. And that'd be a shame, cos I only recently lost the urge to kill you."
Lincoln said nothing, instead reaching for his glass again, although he didn't raise it to his lips.
"Ward, I don't mean it that way," Lincoln said, shifting in his seat in evident discomfort. "But I can't ignore what I heard. She said she saw Jiaying… that she hurt Vivi. That's… it's highly irregular."
"Lincoln," Ward all but snarled, his teeth gritted as he peered across the table at the other man, who almost flinched at the tone he found himself subjected to. He knew he wouldn't stand a chance against the infamous Grant Ward in combat, especially since he and Hellfire were one and the same, but Lincoln would never want it to come to that; he and Grant had made peace a while ago, and that was the way that Lincoln liked things – amicable and as friendly as possible. He was Vivian's pseudo uncle after all - had become like a brother to Skye - and he only wanted the best for their entire family, which was why he found himself speaking out now. If Skye needed help, there was no shame in that, and he wanted to be assured that she would get it.
"Please, Grant," Lincoln said, his palms resting downwards on the table, "it's not just that one incident. Simmons spoke to me this morning… apparently Skye had some sort of… extreme stress reaction over breakfast. Ran right out of the kitchen and May had to follow."
"An extreme stress reaction is hardly surprising given the week she's had," Ward growled, his defences well and truly up.
"Are you honestly telling me you haven't noticed anything out of the ordinary in her behaviour?" Lincoln demanded, his own temper finally beginning to fray.
Sighing in irritation as he ran a hand through his hair, Ward snapped, "So she's not been sleeping lately, and she's been a little… erratic. You and I didn't see what she did. We weren't there, and we should've been. I should've been with her."
Lincoln felt exasperation flooding through every pore, but he knew better than to express it, on both a professional and personal level. "Ward, damn it… her behaviour isn't normal. She needs our help. If you can get her to come and see me, I can arrange therapy… maybe give her something to help her sleep. This isn't normal Ward, and you know it!"
Ward was on his feet in a second, just managing to resist the urge to upend the table and storm out. But he managed to keep his temper in check.
However, he glared murderously down at Lincoln as he pointed at him in warning. "Whatever Skye is going through, it's nothing she and I can't handle together. You don't know her like I do! Just leave it alone, Lincoln!"
Lincoln stood up quickly, noting how Ward's palms had begun to smoke as his temper frayed. As opposed to letting his own temper get the better of him, he drew in a few deep breaths and fought to iron out his expression.
"I'm sorry, I know you think I'm overstepping here," he began, surprised when Ward all but snarled at him, his eyes blazing.
"Understatement of the year, Campbell," Grant growled, shaking his head at Lincoln's perceived audacity. "If you think I will stand here and let you insult my wife…"
"That's what you think I'm doing?" Lincoln demanded askance, his expression suddenly hurt as he regarded Ward, who seemed to deflate somewhat.
"I would never insult Skye," Lincoln retorted, shaking his head as though he couldn't believe the accusations levelled at him, "I'm worried about her, just like I know you are deep down. I want her to get some rest… talk to someone… feel better. We're supposed to be a team, Ward, and we're supposed to look out for each other."
Ward froze, the truth in Lincoln's words striking him full force. He would never allow anyone to insult his wife, who was literally the best thing that had happened to him throughout over three decades of misery. Yet, if he really considered things, was that actually what Lincoln was doing?
The two men glared at each other silently for a few seconds, neither moving nor backing down. Finally, Ward let out a deep sigh, and Lincoln felt his coiled muscles relax just a fraction.
"I'll talk to her," Ward said, grudgingly but with somewhat less venom than before, "see if I can't persuade her to come see you, or Simmons."
Lincoln nodded emphatically, his relief evident in his expression as he replied, both palms raised, "That's all I'm asking… and, if I find nothing, I swear I'll drop this. Hell, I may even apologise."
"But if she says no, you let it go, you understand me?" Ward demanded, "she's had a tough week, all she needs is a little time… not people… calling her crazy!"
The memory of being labelled 'insane' was something it had taken Ward a long time to shake off. Years of therapy and being in a stable environment, having somebody suddenly show him love, and living a life of purpose had all eventually led him to make peace with the past. But he understood what it was to have one's sanity called into question, and he wouldn't ever disrespect his wife by doing the same to her. Especially when her 'issues' were so very insignificant compared to his.
"Fine," Lincoln allowed, "as you said, you know her the best, so…"
"Yeah. I do," Ward snapped, shaking his head in frustration. He was overcome by the sudden need to track down his wife and start a hesitant, potentially awkward discussion about how she was feeling. "We're done here."
Turning on his heel, Grant stormed out of the med bay without another word, unaware that Skye lingered just outside the doorway and had caught the majority of the conversation that had transpired.
Shrinking back behind a wall of lockers, Skye stepped into the shadows, seething with rage at Lincoln's accusations. Ward had defended her, as she knew he would, but even in his tone she'd recognised uncertainty and, dare she say, a shred of fear.
Swallowing hard, Skye turned to face the grinning spectre of Raina, who looked like the very definition of the cat who got the cream.
"See," she whispered, her brown ringlets floating about her shoulders in an ethereal manner, "I told you."
Gritting her teeth, Skye pushed away from the wall and, in her fury, she gave no thought to barrelling into the medical room, where Lincoln still sat at his desk. His eyes widened faintly in surprise as he glanced up at Skye, his ready smile immediately fading as he took in the furious and simultaneously distraught expression crossing her features.
"How could you?" she spat, her eyes blazing as she regarded the doctor, who appeared momentarily confused.
"Skye, what are you…?" he attempted, shaking his head and clambering to his feet again.
"You go behind my back and try to convince Grant that I'm losing my mind?" Skye demanded, her voice trembling as a consequence of the rage threatening to bury her rationality completely, "you didn't even talk to me… you just… you tried to convince my husband that I'm insane, Lincoln!"
"No!" he said firmly, holding up the hand that clutched his glass, "I'm just worried about you, we all are, Skye. Even Grant, although he doesn't like to admit it."
Skye widened her eyes and folded her arms across her chest, "Oh so you know what my husband's thinking? You're a fucking mind reader now as well as a doctor, Lincoln?"
Suddenly recalling the urgency of her mission, Skye shook her head dismissively as she flung out, "I don't have time for this now. But just so you know, if you want me to 'talk' to someone, it's not gonna be you."
Lincoln sighed heavily, sitting back in his chair and watching as Skye practically ran out of the room, the doors swinging practically off their hinges in her wake.
"Fuck," he muttered, rubbing his forehead with his fingertips as he considered the possibility of a well and truly ruined friendship.
He slammed his glass down on the table, electricity crackling at his fingertips. Gritting his teeth, he managed to force the static charge to subside, but he could not get his unease to wane along with it. As much as he hated being the cause of pain for his friends, he could not shake the feeling that there was something not right with Skye.
He expelled a breath and watched it form a cloud of white smoke in the air before him, mystified by the sudden drop in temperature in the medical bay, where the heating was usually turned up full blast throughout the year.
Seconds later, the bottle at his fingertips exploded, and the overhead lights flickered out.
x-x-x
Realising that Vivian was safer on the base, Skye wasted no time in procuring a car and driving off site at speeds that certainly exceeded the legal limits. She hadn't been entirely sure where she was going, and the tears of anger and frustration that were flowing freely down her cheeks made it hard to see straight in the darkness or to concentrate on the road.
As did the ghostly apparition sitting beside her, who was clearly taking great delight in the entire situation.
"Poor Grant, he seemed so upset to find out his wife is losing her mind," Raina crooned, "those puppy dog eyes he always looked at you with… nauseating as it was… I always hoped things would work out for you kids. But now?"
She shot Skye a vaguely sympathetic smile that stopped short of being genuine when she suddenly threw her head back, cackling.
"What do you want from me?" Skye snarled, glowering at Raina so hard that she almost ran a stop light. She managed to slam the brakes on at the last second, much to the obvious annoyance of the driver of the car behind her, who leaned on his horn repeatedly. Skye startled but did not remove her eyes from Raina's pasty face.
"Oh you do disappoint me, Skye," she said through her mock pout, "I thought you were smarter than that."
"So I'm supposed to figure it out on my own then," Skye retorted, nodding her head emphatically, her manner less than composed. Her fingers drummed against the wheel as she waited for the lights to change, which seemed to be taking an age.
"Ugh," Raina grunted, eyes rolling in her head, "that would probably take too long so let me put you out of your misery. One, short, sweet word, Skye; revenge."
Skye felt a ripple of annoyance run through her shoulders right down her spine and she barely just managed to restrain herself from trying to punch Raina. She doubted it would have done much good anyway; she was willing to bet that the spirits could make physical contact with the living only as and when they themselves desired. And it was highly unlikely that Raina desired to become Skye's punching bag.
"What exactly do you want revenge on me for?" Skye demanded. She kept staring at the lights but still they refused to change, and she began to wonder if Raina had something to do with that.
"Why, for all your past wrongs, of course," Raina declared, her sickly smile back in place, "for all the blood that's on your hands. Why should you get to live this perfect, charmed life when there are so many of us who are worm food now because of your choices?"
"I never meant…" Skye protested, her lips twisting in anguish. For as much as she might hate Raina, she knew that she did not relish the taking or loss of a life; she would always rather find another way where one existed.
Skye squirmed in the driver's seat, uncomfortable under the weight of Raina's gaze, which was trained on her as she continued to peer out of the windscreen. She began to lose hope that the lights would ever turn green again.
"And Jiaying?" she asked, more quietly, "what about my mother? Does she want revenge too?"
Raina actually shrugged as she replied nonchalantly, "I don't really give a damn what that murderous bitch wants. You'd have to ask her yourself… but if it makes you feel any worse, which I truly hope it does, I have a feeling that she just wants the two of you to be together. Forever. A mother's love never dies, I guess."
Raina laughed maniacally and, with a wave of her hand, the car lurched forwards, straight through the red light. Skye slammed her foot down on the brakes but nothing happened, and she let out a scream as she realised that her car was positioned across the intersection with another vehicle headed straight for it.
The other driver honked his horn, doing his best to slam on his own brakes, but it was evident that impact would be made. Skye screwed her eyes closed and waited; waited for the crash and the noise of metal twisting and the pain, but none of those things ever came. At the last second, Raina threw her hand forward and the car picked up speed, hurtling away from the scene before the other vehicle could connect with it.
Sighing as if she were now immensely bored with the situation, Raina shot Skye a withering glare, "Where exactly do you think you're going, Skye? You know we can get to the brat any time we want. One of the perks of death is that we can pretty much show up wherever, whenever."
"But you won't," Skye retorted, hands gripping the steering wheel as she made a turn and slowly began to navigate her way through a residential area with an array of Victorian homes dotted about the streets. "Because this is all about me."
"Shit…" Raina drawled in a pained groan, suddenly sensing the presence of another member of the deceased in the back seat of the car. "What the hell do you want, Madam Wu?"
Skye glanced in the rear-view mirror, her heart stuttering as she saw Jiaying's impassive face staring back at her.
"I want to talk to my daughter. If I need someone to whine incessantly in the background whilst I do, I'll give you a call," Jiaying replied with a perfectly measured, sweet smile spread across her lips.
"This is pathetic," scoffed Raina, looking from Skye to Jiaying and back again. "At least now I see where you get it from."
"Shut up, both of you," Skye ground out through her clenched teeth, finally making a turning into a cul-de-sac that by now looked very familiar.
"Skye, sweetheart, it would be so easy," Jiaying whispered, a single tear sliding down her left cheek as she continued to stare at her daughter, "there wouldn't have to be any pain. I could make sure of that. Then we could be together, like we never had the chance to be before. We can even bring Vivian if you…"
"Do not even speak my daughter's name, you evil bitch," Skye snarled, practically stomping on the brakes to bring the car to a complete halt on the street in front of a tall, red brick house. It had a black slate roof, a wrap-around porch, and a generous front yard containing several apple trees, but perhaps the most impressive feature of the home was the small turret that it boasted on the right-hand side. Skye and Ward had fallen in love with it from the moment they had laid eyes upon it. The turret room was to be Vivi's, since she already fancied herself a princess.
"You were right, Raina," Skye said, nodding briefly at the spirit, who appeared confused by the unexpected praise, "I had to figure things out by myself. I guess I just did… because you ghost types are all about the unfinished business, right? And that's what I am to you; the daughter you couldn't have, the girl you couldn't kill… the woman who didn't save you in time. So, by my reasoning, where I go, you go… and if I don't go anywhere near my family, then neither can you."
Skye stared at the house, feeling a sudden sense of loss as she realised she was tainting it with whatever events would unfold that night. Briefly, she mourned the chance she would lose to make their first memory of their new home a good one; watching Vivian run up the stairs to her room, eating dinner as a family at their own dining table, or making love for the first time in a bed that had only ever been theirs.
Shooting a murderous glare at the now vacant spaces in the car, Skye turned off the engine and exited the vehicle, slamming the door shut before she dug in her pocket for the keys.
Opening the front door with a somewhat hesitant pause, Skye was met by the smell of drying paint. She noted the buckets, tarps, and boxes of tools that the builders they had hired had left behind that evening, and a wistful sigh escaped her.
As she stepped into the hall and closed the door, Skye pulled her cell phone out of her pocket, keen to let May know where she was; she wasn't stupid enough to think she could handle the situation entirely by herself, after all.
"Fuck," she cursed as she discovered the 'no service' message flashing in the corner of her cell screen. She took a few minutes to wander from room to room downstairs, then even back out onto the front porch, hoping against hope that the signal bars on the phone screen would suddenly light up. They didn't.
Skye let out a screech and barely managed to resist the urge to fling her phone against the wall. She could only assume that otherworldly activity had had a hand in her sudden enforced radio silence. She would need to wait, until perhaps the spirits' powers were beginning to wane, and she could get a message through to the base.
"Fine. Fine!" Skye yelled, peering up at the ceiling with her rage bubbling away steadily inside her, "you wanted me, now you've got me."
Cursing under her breath, she stormed over to the corner of what was to be their lounge, where a collection of empty plastic crates had been abandoned by the decorators. She upended one quickly and sat down on top of it as though it was a stool, her arms folding across her chest.
"Don't be shy," she encouraged, tilting her head as she stared across the room at nothing in particular, "we've got all night to talk things through; death, taxes, unfinished business, whatever."
Skye received no reply - only perfect silence. She should have figured that the women haunting her every waking moment would be less than receptive to the prospect of moving on.
Heaving a sigh, she settled in to wait. For now, as long as she maintained a distance, Grant and Vivian were both safe, and that was all that truly mattered.
x-x-x
Puffing out his cheeks, Coulson folded his hands on top of the surface of his desk and took a moment to reflect on the information May had just provided him with.
"I mean, I knew there was something going on with her, I just… I didn't think it was… ghosts." He scowled, obviously worried about his young agent – the woman he had come to view as a daughter. "And she hasn't told Ward?"
May shook her head, "No, she didn't want him to worry. I think she was also a little afraid he'd think she was nuts… which is insane because she could say she was having visions of the Stay Puffed Marshmallow Man and Ward would volunteer to make her smores."
Coulson smiled briefly, "I remember when I first told you about my little festive encounter, I thought you were gonna lock me in Vault D and have me sedated."
"Well I'm full of surprises." May arched an eyebrow, her expression suddenly growing serious once again. "What are we going to do, Phil? This isn't usual S.H.I.E.L.D. business. I have a friend I think may be able to help us, but…"
Turning around his laptop so that May could see the screen, Coulson gestured to the photograph of the late Emily Forbes' husband, which occupied much of the available space.
"It seems Agent Forbes' husband is a Parapsychology Professor at the local university." Pulling his lips into a briefly contemplative frown, he eyed May pointedly, "That can't be a coincidence, May. His wife dies, and suddenly the waiting room for the tenth level of Hell is dropping by for social calls?"
May chewed on her bottom lip, contemplating the accusations Coulson was levelling at a grieving man they knew very little about.
"Word on the grapevine was that Agent Forbes was involved with Agent Robbins," she revealed, almost chuckling at Coulson's shocked expression.
"Jake Robbins?" he checked, his mouth twisting a little more with his displeasure, "her partner? Do my agents even listen to that 'no fraternisation' rule anymore?"
May arched a brow as she countered quickly, "With all due respect, Phil, we have living, breathing proof running around the halls of this base singing Disney songs that suggests they really don't."
"Yes but Skye and Grant are… different…" he argued, sniffing as he waved one hand at May to indicate the conversation on that subject was over. "And don't tell me you don't love that little girl, Melinda, because I've heard you singing her lullabies. I've seen you kiss 'owies'."
Ignoring his goading, more than likely because it was all true, May cleared her throat.
"Hunter and Morse… some of the time… FitzSimmons…" she deadpanned, watching as Coulson merely scratched his chin, lost for a counter argument in the face of the truth.
"So… back to the case at hand, we need to figure out how we're gonna deal with this… this… incident," Coulson stated in his best 'director of S.H.I.E.L.D.' voice, "get Skye in here, will you? We need to figure out a few things, I…"
Eyes wide, Coulson and May turned towards the door as Lincoln abruptly came storming in, his face a mask of concern and his hands flying up erratically so that both agents considered taking cover in case any undue jolts of electricity should escape the man's fingertips.
"Stand down, Agent Campbell! And… stand still," Coulson demanded swiftly, looking over at May, who appeared equally confused by the interruption.
"Skye… I'm worried about her. She's… she's not herself, she's… well, she's… I'm pretty sure she's having a nervous breakdown," the young doctor stated bluntly. There was little time to attend to his concerns, however, as Ward came striding in behind, his own demeanour somewhat frenzied.
"Hey, has anybody seen Skye?"
"She's not with you?" Coulson asked, a familiar sense of trepidation and dread beginning to wash over him.
"I left her in my office, relax Ward, she's fine," May replied dismissively, batting a hand at the younger agent.
Ward shook his head, his own concerns beginning to exponentially increase by the second. "No. I went by there on my way here. She's not there, she's not in our room, she's not in the gym. I've looked everywhere. She's not here."
Ward shook his head, looking almost helpless, and instantly May sprang to her feet.
"I told her to stay put in my office, I said… 'don't move'. Does she listen? Of course not. "
Sounding every inch the exasperated parent, May seemed poised to storm out of Coulson's office to locate (and potentially strangle) the young woman in question, when another body came bustling into the room, a much smaller one clumsily balanced in her arms.
"Hello! Just me… and um… the youngest Ward, here," Simmons began, her polite and somewhat overly whimsical tone at odds with the wild, terrified look in her eyes as she pushed through the growing crowd of agents assembled around Coulson's desk.
Shaking his head in disbelief, Coulson stared around his team in confusion.
"Seriously, is this like the S.H.I.E.L.D. version of clowns in a station wagon? Even the damn Avengers don't assemble this quickly." Sighing resolutely, he pointed at Jemma, "Simmons… what is it?"
Hoisting a sleepy Vivian up in her arms, Jemma seemed visibly thrilled to find Ward present, and she wasted no time in handing over the child to her father.
"Oh well, the thing is… the thing is… that um…"
"Tonight, Jemma," May growled, her fears for Skye's safety already making her heart pound uncharacteristically loud in her ears. There was precious little time to waste, and Jemma did have a tendency to ramble that was infamous.
"Well… Vivi… that is to say, Vivian… was asleep in my bed, and I was at my desk looking over some reports and… and I heard her talking to somebody. Only I couldn't see anyone there. I thought perhaps it was just an imaginary friend - I had one of those as child. His name was Jeremy, we lost touch when his parents sent him away to boarding school in Austria… and my mum said nine was far too old to be carrying on with that nonsense, but…" pausing to finally draw breath, she concluded, "Vivi said a man was talking to her, and… and she just wouldn't be persuaded to settle. I tried reading a story, I… I sang songs… but she was insistent that there was a man there. Talking to her. In my room. And then… then she said his name was 'Gawett'. Which I'm going to assume is toddler talk for… for… you know who."
Frowning, Lincoln cocked his head as he inquired, "Voldemort?"
May rolled her eyes at precisely the same time that Coulson huffed an exasperated sigh and Ward shot the doctor an incredulous look.
"You do have an MD, right?" Ward deadpanned, earning himself a scowl from Lincoln, who only seemed to be growing more agitated by the moment.
"Can anyone tell me who the H-E-L-L…" he shot a pointed look at Vivi as he spelled the word aloud, then continued, "we're talking about here? And why we're not more concerned by the fact I just told you a member of our team is having delusions?"
"She's not delusional," May objected, crossing her arms in front of her chest and immediately shooting Lincoln such a fierce glare that he was almost on the verge of backing down. However, he swallowed his admitted fear of the woman he knew could take apart any agent in the base in precisely three seconds flat, and directed an imploring look at Coulson.
"She's seeing her mother," he interjected, rubbing the nape of his neck with the palm of his hand as he was prone to do when he was stressed, "she said Jiaying…"
"The bad lady," Vivian immediately piped up from her position nestled in her father's arms. Suddenly, she seemed alert and awake, her eyes widening as she peered at Lincoln.
"Dat lady's mean, daddy! She helped me climb up and… and then she pushed me over," holding aloft her bandaged arm with an anguished frown on her baby face, Vivi added sadly, "and I got an 'owie', Gamma."
She looked to May for reassurance. Surprised and also somewhat pleased that Vivian had chosen to include her in her rant of indignation, May stepped closer and caressed the girls' cheek.
"I know, sweetheart. But don't you worry, Gamma May's gonna… gonna give her a very stern talking to."
"Okay," Vivian nodded sagely, her expression indicating that she felt her unprovoked attacker deserved nothing less. Leaning her head back against her father's chest, she huffed out a sad little sigh.
"Viv, who was the man you were talking to?" Ward asked, rubbing her back gently in an attempt to coax her into talking, particularly as the room full of agents were all now staring at her with varying levels of impatience.
"Gawett," Vivian leaned back to look up at her father, suddenly furrowing her brow in an apparent attempt to recall something. It was the face he recognised from his daughter every time she was asked where her shoe was, what she wanted for lunch, or who the mystery perpetrator of messes in her room might be. "He lives in my closet. He said… he said he's very sorry, Daddy."
Ward froze, clinging tight to Vivian's body as though both their lives depended on it, and yet he couldn't speak. He knew he should reassure her, speak to her gently as a father should about such terrifying things, but he simply couldn't find the words, or his own voice. He had thought years ago that he was free of Garrett, given the finality of death; it appeared he could not have been more wrong.
"I… I don't know what…" Lincoln began, shaking his head from side to side and then staring at Coulson, who seemed perhaps to be the least affected by Vivian's declaration. "Who is Garrett?"
"Long story," Coulson immediately shot back, sparing a sympathetic glance for Grant, who was holding Vivian close as she buried her face in his shoulder, "one we'll gladly get to later. But right now, you all need to know a few things."
"Number one, Skye is not crazy or stressed or hormonal or any of that other shit you're contemplating," May declared, pointing a warning finger at Lincoln, who backed off visibly with both hands raised.
"Gamma!" Vivi protested, raising her head to peer at May in as stern a fashion as a sleepy four-year old could achieve, "bad word!"
"Number two," Coulson interrupted, pausing before he looked at each team member in turn, something almost reluctant in his gaze, "ghosts, spirits, poltergeists… whatever you want to call them… they're as real as you or me, and right now we know of at least one of them that wants to hurt Skye."
"Mommy?" Vivi inquired, her eyes widening and watering as her bottom lip trembled. "Daddy, where did Mommy go?"
"Shhh. It's okay. Daddy's going to get her, I promise," Ward assured her, rocking her gently and pressing a kiss to her cheek, where a steady stream of tears tripped her soft skin.
"We don't know where she is," Simmons pointed out, finally speaking out from her position on the couch, where she sat bolt upright, her hands grasping her knees. For a scientist as absorbed in her work as Jemma Simmons, the possibility that a whole other world existed that they had no understanding of was jolting to say the least.
"I do!" Vivian interjected, clearly a little peeved that the adults were not taking any notice of the very important information she had to impart. "Gawett said Mommy's gone to the big house."
The team was silent for a moment before Simmons finally spoke up.
"Prison?" Jemma shook her head in confusion, earning a sigh and an eyeroll from Ward.
"Our house, sweetheart? Our new house?" Ward checked, watching with some relief as Vivian nodded her head. Turning around, Vivi shot the rest of the team a mildly smug glare, pleased that yet again her father seemed to know what she was talking about.
"Alright, we know where she is… Ward and May, go get her back," Coulson directed, standing up and immediately beginning to stalk towards the door. "Lincoln, you're with me."
"Where are we going?" Lincoln pressed, clearly anxious as he shot a glance at May and Ward, "shouldn't we be helping them get Skye back safely?"
"We're going to pay a visit to Mr. Forbes," Coulson declared, his expression darkening as he clapped Lincoln on the shoulder and gestured to the door, "see if we can't find out if he has anything to do with the crazy stuff going on around here."
Pressing a kiss to Vivian's head, Ward craned his neck to address the little girl.
"Daddy has to go and help Mommy right now so you stay with…" looking around the room at the one remaining contestant, Ward sighed resolutely, "with Aunt Jemma, okay? You be a good girl, and go to sleep."
"Will Mommy be home when I wake up?" Vivian asked, clinging onto Grant's sweater as he carried her out of the office with Jemma almost jogging at his side to keep up.
"Yeah, baby. She will," Ward promised his daughter, hoping against hope that it was a promise he could keep. He couldn't imagine his life without Skye, and he didn't want to think about Vivian growing up without her mother.
"Everything will be okay, darling," Jemma agreed, shooting a pointed look at Ward as she added, "remember, Mummy and Daddy are practically superheroes."
Vivi giggled, assuaged finally, and held out her arms to Jemma, who scooped the girl up once again without hesitation.
"Let's see if perhaps I can find some cocoa, eh?" Jemma whispered into the child's ear, grinning when Vivi nodded emphatically. "Uncle Fitz might even have some of those delicious tiny marshmallows you like."
Ward watched in silence as Jemma walked away down the corridor with his daughter clutched to her chest, and he felt his heart flutter as his levels of anxiety soared. May approached behind him, but of course he sensed her presence a few seconds before she laid a hand in the centre of his back.
"It will be okay," May soothed, her tone as strong and unwavering as always, "Skye would never give up without a fight, you know that."
"I can't believe something like this was going on with her right in front of me and I didn't even notice," he lamented, guilt flashing behind his eyes, adding to the troubled appearance of his gaze, "I'm her husband, for Christ sakes, May. I just thought maybe it was a little PTSD from what happened with Forbes. I never imagined…"
"How many people do you think imagine a loved one being haunted by psychotic, malevolent ghosts, Ward?" May queried, cocking her head as she surveyed him.
Ward shrugged, clearly unconvinced that he had not failed as a husband somehow; although he allowed that most people's thoughts wouldn't have instantly drifted to malicious entities. In truth, it was a concept he was finding more than a little difficult to swallow. He supposed there was a reason for the phrase 'seeing is believing', and he wasn't quite there yet.
"I just want her back, May. What was she thinking, running off like that?!"
Shooting him a wry smile, May scoffed, "You've met Skye, right?"
Managing a brief smile, Ward nodded in understanding; his wife's impetuous and impulsive streak was one of the things he both loved and feared about her in equal measure. Skye had a propensity for finding and meeting trouble head on.
"Besides, she probably ran away believing that would keep you and Vivian safe. You're all Skye cares about, Ward. You know that," said May as they climbed aboard the quin jet and took their seats in the cockpit, side by side. Both seasoned pilots, they started to flick switches and pull levers even before clipping in their belts, and the small aircraft began to taxi out of the hanger onto the runway of the Playground in no time at all.
"She'll be fine…" Ward stated, trying to infect a confidence in his voice that he did not feel. His fear was betrayed, however, when he pressed just a fraction of a second later, "Right?"
May nodded her head, eyes already fixed on the horizon.
"She just needs to sit tight for a while," she replied, taking a moment to flash Ward a smile that could be considered predatory by some, "the Cavalry's coming."
x-x-x
This time, when the air turned frigid, Skye was ready for what was to come next.
She straightened up on the box she still perched on, her hands readying at her sides as though her powers might actually be of some use. Logically, she knew they would not be, but they were such an ingrained part of her natural defences now that she didn't bother to lower her hands again.
"Come on, Casper, show yourself," she demanded, all traces of fear gone, even though her breath billowed from her lips, white and cloudy. She started just a little when she heard a faint cracking sound, and her gaze shot to the lounge window as she realised that it was suddenly and quickly becoming encased in ice from the inside.
"Cool party trick," she called out, annoyance flaring within her, "but we just got these windows replaced so, you break it, you buy it."
Nothing happened. Skye tensed a little more. Then, a voice answered from behind her, so close that if the speaker had still been alive, their breath may have been hot on her neck.
"I'm a little past that point, don't you think, sweetheart?"
Skye paled, standing up and spinning around so fast that she made her own stomach lurch. She stared incredulously at the spectre of John Garrett, who was beaming back at her as though they were suddenly the best of friends. He still wore his old, brown leather jacket and a black turtle neck, and there was not much about him that appeared to have changed on the surface.
"What the fuck?" Skye demanded, actually breaking into a series of giggles as hysteria threatened to overcome her, "don't you people think I've suffered enough? Is this your last attempt to get me to hurl myself out the upstairs window or something?"
Holding up his hands by way of surrender, John raised both eyebrows. "Hey, I'm on your side, darlin'. As hard as that is to believe. I know I messed up, I…"
Eyes wide, Skye guffawed at the apparent lack of self-awareness shown by the spectre she thought she perhaps hated the most. "Messed up? You messed up? You abused, tortured, and brainwashed my husband… He was a child, Garret. A kid. And you took him and you used him, and you almost destroyed his life. There aren't words for how much I hate you."
She swept impatiently at the tears that tripped her cheeks, unwilling to let John see how he was getting to her, despite the pain that stabbed at her heart as she thought about all Ward had been through at the hands of his abuser.
John scratched the back of his head and winced, "Yeah, look, about that, I'm sorry. I really am. Fuck, I've spent the last eight years paying for what I did, believe me. I know this might be hard to swallow but I helped Ward a few years back… and I'm here to help you now."
Skye's features contorted into a frown, and she suddenly realised that she understood Vivian's ramblings from the previous night when she had climbed into bed with her parents. There had been a man in the closet after all. Skye felt awful for not believing her child, especially given her own interactions of late.
"It was you," she breathed, grimacing as she continued, "you were the monster in the closet. What the hell have you been saying to my kid? She's a baby! Why have you been scaring her? Was tormenting her father not enough for you?"
"Hey, calm down now," Garrett demanded, his lips twisting into a familiar frown, "I didn't mean to scare the little rugrat. I was trying to warn you. I knew what was coming. Kids can see us when adults can't. She was my only option."
"Oh well I guess that makes it okay, then," Skye scoffed, shaking her head hard and glaring at Garrett with folded arms, "you're still one deluded, crazy son of a…"
"Okay, I get it, you hate me," Garret cut in, his patience fraying finally, "and whilst that is well deserved, you need to listen to me right now."
"Oh I need to…" Skye continued, her eyes narrowing as she prepared to launch into another rant; she had wanted to tell Garrett what she truly thought of him for years, ever since she had read Ward's S.H.I.E.L.D. file and realised the extent of the abuse he had suffered at his mentor's hands. However, she had assumed that was a possibility long since lost to her, given Garrett's timely death. Now that she had a second opportunity to do it, she would be damned if she allowed that chance to slip through her fingers, whether she was in mortal peril or not.
"Will you just shut your pie hole for a God damn second?" Garrett shouted, eyes bulging as he glared at Skye, who actually did fall silent. Her mouth hung open though, as if she couldn't quite believe the gall of the man who was yelling at her after all the sins he had committed in his life.
"Skye, they're coming for you," he whispered, something resembling fear flashing within his eyes, "she's going to kill you… you have to get out of this house, now, before it's too late."
"My insane mother and Raina? Yeah. Not really shaking in my boots here, John," Skye scoffed with a roll of her eyes. Folding her arms across her chest, she scuffed the tip of her shoe across the shiny wooden floor, refusing to look at Garrett again.
"You don't understand, Skye… they're not here because of you. He summoned them… he's the one controlling them. And all of the hatred and bitterness they feel towards you is only fuelling their power, making them stronger."
"He?" Forgetting momentarily her vow to hate the man before her, Skye regarded Garrett with a quizzical frown, understanding suddenly dawning as she remembered her earlier encounter with Agent Forbes' ghost. She spoke in barely a whisper, her own conscience and guilt resurfacing. "Emily's husband… he's doing all of this. Because he blames me for her death?"
Garrett nodded his head, his eyes conveying the conviction in his next words, "And he's pissed, Skye. He's irrational. He's hurt. That's a shitty combination."
"What would you know about feelings?" Skye shot back, lips twisted into a snarl.
"Like I said, I'm on your side here, sweetheart," he repeated, offering her what he hoped was a warm smile. However, it looked a lot like Skye was nauseated by the gesture, if the expression on her face was anything to go by.
Unable to prevent his trademark grin from surfacing, John added, "Of course, this whole thing would blow over a hell of a lot quicker if he knew his wife was doing the wild thing with her partner... But, I guess that's married life for ya, huh?"
Her expression withering, Skye retorted, "Maybe for you. But not for me and Grant. We're just fine, thanks."
Garrett nodded his head sagely and shrugged, as if Grant and Skye hadn't even figured into his summation of marriage.
"Yeah, well he's crazy about you. Always has been. Ward's a good boy, and he's loyal to a fault."
Staring silently, as if she couldn't quite believe what she was hearing, Skye huffed out a sigh of immense irritation.
"I know my husband. So how about we make this less about Grant and more about my dead fan club?!"
"You need to get out of here, is what I'm saying… repeatedly…" Garret said, emphasising the last word with a pointed smirk.
"I can't," Skye countered, readopting her perch on the overturned box and then folding her arms to demonstrate her reluctance to leave. "Maybe they're not here of their own free will but they're still tied to me. They still hate me. Wherever I go, they follow."
"So go to Dunkin' Donuts or the Arby's down the street, I don't care!" Garret argued, running one hand through his hair in exasperation, which was a mildly comical sight to behold when it was a ghost doing so, "just get out of this house. Be somewhere public."
Almost physically pained to admit that John was right, Skye rose slowly from the box, digging her hand in her pocket for her car keys. "Fine."
"Oh, holy Mary mother of Jesus. She sees sense!" Garrett crooned, deflecting her glare with a chuckle of amusement. "Hey, when you're dead you have to get your kicks where you can."
Skye had taken only one step forwards when, all of a sudden, the floor beneath them began to shake, the tremors growing in strength by the second.
Garrett's eyes grew wide and he peered anxiously around the room as though searching for something he hoped not to find. "Is that you?"
An enraged shriek left Skye's lips at the accusation. "No! No, it is not me!"
"Shit."
Garrett appeared visibly nervous and that in itself made Skye uneasy. First of all, he was dead, so whatever was serious enough to bother a dead guy was probably something that should bother her. Second, Garrett was the most callous, cold-hearted asshole she'd ever met, and if something perturbed him then Skye knew she should probably be giving serious thought to running fast and far away.
Suddenly stilling for a moment, Garrett's gaze ticked behind Skye to the hallway, from which a rush of frosty air whipped up around the young woman, forcing the hairs on the back of her neck to stand erect.
For once, Skye found that she didn't dare turn around to meet her foe. By the stricken look stretching Garrett's features taught, she quickly deduced that was the right decision.
"She's here."