notes:

+ this is the last real chapter! next up there's an epilogue, and then we're done. for good. forever.

+ again this was actually written months ago, i'm just terrible and lazy and sorry.

+ title from "what i wouldn't do" by a fine frenzy.


It's been a little more than three years, and the official search for them was called off nearly a year and a half ago. Natasha's updates only report people who bare little resemblance to them occasionally being called in by agents who vaguely remember them from Wanteds. Otherwise, she sends pictures of food, selfies with the Avengers and stories from missions, told mostly through emoticons.

They've slowed down. Moving all the time is no longer necessary, and they've been staying in Lyon for a couple of months. They've got a cute little house with roses growing in the garden, overlooked by the kitchen in which Grant attempts to teach Skye how to make something other than chocolate chip cookies.

Normally, he fails.

During the day, he's got a job at an accountancy firm and she's on the reception at an international school. They go for lunch together at a cafe where they're considered regulars. In the evening, Grant teaches her French, they train in the back room, and Skye plays on her new laptop or beats his ass at boardgames.

And it's nice. A kind of domesticity she's never experienced before and never expected to enjoy.

But strangely (or maybe, not strangely), she's never been happier.

Not that she doesn't miss the Bus. Or at least, everyone on the Bus. (She's not sure she could miss her tiny bunk when she currently sleeps in a big double bed with Grant.) But Natasha reports that Coulson is heading to the Triskelion in a couple of days to discuss their situation, now that everything's calmed down.

After that, Nat goes radio silent. It isn't unusual, if she goes away on a mission, but Skye always finds herself a little on edge, waiting for a picture of Thor holding an ice cream or Captain America in a onesie, because it means everything is okay.

Grant finds her staring at the phone in the kitchen when he gets home from work. 'You okay?' he asks.

He's getting the ingredients for brownies out before she can even answer. (He always knows what she needs, and right now, what she needs it a distraction.)

Brownies are one of the few things she can get the hang of. He says that her sweet tooth makes it impossible for her to bake anything sensible (she sticks her tongue out to that, and comes back with something clever and witty, like 'whatever').

She's stirs brownie mix with one hand and holds the bowl with the other. She's got hair falling out of a bun and her tongue is poking out between her teeth in concentration, and honestly, she's pretty sure she looks like a total idiot.

She sees him still across the room. She lifts her head and blows hair out of her eyes with a puff of breath.

He's looking at her like she fell from the sky.

(The irony is that she probably did, but that's not the point.)

Three years, and it still scares her a little, that he can love her so much.

'What is it?' she asks.

He shakes his head, a smile growing across his face. 'It's just… you,' he says, taking a few steps forward until his hands are circling round her forearms, and she sets down the bowl on the counter, letting him tug her close.

'Me?' she repeats, raising an eyebrow in question.

He doesn't reply, just pulls her in and kisses her, leaving her breathless.

When he draws away, he looks determined, not dazed like she's sure she must.

'What?' she breathes.

'Would you marry me?' he asks.

'What?' she repeats, and she can feel herself suddenly being pulled back to her senses.

He looks suddenly uncertain. 'Sorry,' he says. 'Maybe it hasn't been long enough. And I don't have a ring. But I -'

Skye breaks into grin and cuts him off with a kiss.

'Yes,' she says. 'I'll marry you, dumbass.' She feels a little giddy, like she can't quite believe everything could be this perfect.

She jumps up onto the counter to give her a better vantage from which to kiss him again, with one hand on the back of his neck and her legs round his waist. He's got an arm round her, holding her to him, and his other hand is in her hair.

It's moments like these when she's glad she had to run away with him.


They go ring shopping the next afternoon, and Skye picks out a little cluster of diamonds that she's going to have to hack several bank accounts to be able to afford.

(But fuck it, she didn't get nice things for most of her life. She will damn well overcompensate.)

She'd missed the team before, but now she can't wait to see them again and tell them the news.

She can just imagine Coulson turning into an overprotective dad. And Jemma will want to plan the whole thing meticulously.

The evening is dinner, training, board games. The usual.

And then.

And then it all shatters.

And then Skye turns on the TV.

On the screen she sees D.C. in chaos, she sees the Triskelion turned to rubble, she sees destruction.

Grant is there, behind her, and his face is dark.

He swears under his breath.

'I have to make a call,' he says.

He swipes the phone from the table and leaves the room.

Skye sinks to the floor, staring at the TV screen, and waits. He's gone half an hour, and she can hear him shouting at whoever is on the other end of the line.

When he returns, he looks pale, visibly shaken.

'What did Natasha say?' she asks.

He sits down beside her. 'I couldn't get through to her.'

'Coulson?' Skye tries, but Grant shakes his head. 'Who was it?' she asks, frowning.

His expression holds a sad sort of weight she hasn't seen in a long time. Not since the last time they talked about life before the Bus.

(He's opened up slowly, over the last three years. Bled her the details of his childhood, of his time in the woods and under the command of Agent Garrett. She knows the monster Garrett is, even if he won't say it outright.

She thinks he might see it now, too, though.

In return, she's told him all she knows about herself, what little she has. Everything from the orphanages and foster families she was moved between to the little things that didn't make sense, but she now attributes to being an 0-8-4.)

'What's wrong?' she asks, when he doesn't answer.

'There's something I didn't tell you,' he says. She can hear the hesitance in his voice, and he threads his fingers carefully through hers, like he's scared she's going to jump away. She gives his hand a reassuring squeeze and waits.

'This,' he says slowly, pointing at the the TV. 'They've said it's Hydra?'

She nods in confirmation. 'An organisation working within Shield to bring it down,' she says - it had practically been page one of Shield's handbook.

Grant closes his eyes, like he's in physical pain. 'Agent Garrett recruited me,' he says.

Skye feels her stomach drop. 'To Shield, you mean?' she asks, hoping desperately.

'To Hydra.' He won't look at her. She can feel the tension in him - he's just waiting for her disgust, but when she doesn't move, he goes on. 'We were never true believers,' he says. 'Garrett was dying, and he say it as an opportunity to find a cure. And to find power. And I...'

He pauses. She sees him glance at her, and she nods him on.

'I followed him. Because I owe him. I owed him,' he corrects himself. 'I thought I owed him. He put me on the Bus to watch Coulson and find out how he came back from the dead.'

Skye stares at their hands, unable to bring herself to move. 'But you're not on the Bus,' she says slowly. 'You're here. With me.'

'He was the Clairvoyant, Skye,' Grant says. 'He was the Clairvoyant. He had you shot. I'm so sorry. But even back then, I promise, I couldn't bear the thought of losing you. I cared about you too much.'

She doesn't know what to do. She feels… numb. Maybe it's shock. And she feels like she should hate him, but his story adds up. It makes sense.

'I'm out now, Skye,' he says. 'I swear. I was on the phone to him, and I told him. I'm done.'

She looks up, and he meets her eyes. 'How do I know I can trust you?' she asks.

'Because you know me,' he says. 'Like I told you three years ago. I made mistake. I did terrible things. But I'm done with it now. I want to make it right.'

Skye frowns. 'Make it right?' she repeats.

'We need to contact Coulson. Garrett would never share many of Hydra's secrets with me, but I have to tell them what I can,' he says, picking up the phone again and dialling. 'I'm sorry, Skye,' he says, kissing her forehead.

She nods slowly and lets him, because honestly, she's okay. She does know him. And she believes him.

Three hours later, the Bus lands at the airport where Skye and Grant are waiting for it. He's holding onto her hand like he never wants to let go. And she's confused as hell and tired and feeling a little like the world just dropped out from under her feet, but she's not sure she wants him to.

The cargo ramp opens and their old teammates descend, looking nothing less than exhausted.

And their engagement has slipped a little in terms of priorities.