Recap:

" So what's a CEO of a billion dollar corporation doing inside my nice yet slightly cramped second hand vehicle?"

"That's too long of a title." He chuckles. "Call me Ian."

"How about I don't call you anything." Skye retorts. "Do I owe you money or something?"

"No, not at all." His hand suddenly goes inside his suit pocket, making Skye tense. For some insane reason, she's so convinced that he'd be pulling out a pistol, breath almost got completely knocked out of her lungs.

"Easy. Easy. " Sensing her distress, Ian slowly drags out his hand from his coat. He then raises both his hands in front of him, a universal sign of meaning no harm. It didn't calm her at all.

"Sorry." He says, a small calling card is now dangling on his grasps. He wiggles it in front of her, urging her to take it. "Force of habit."

She eyes the object warily, making no move to grab it. Why does her instincts keep on telling her to flee? To run as far away from him as she can. She doesn't like this.

"What did you think I'd do? You thought I was going to shoot you?" He chuckles to himself, looking smug. It is as if he just made a very sneaky inside joke that only he and his filthy rich little brain could appreciate. "Been there, done that, sweetheart."

Skye doesn't even what to know what he meant by that, but she doesn't care. She needs him gone. "What do you want from me?"

"Mike sent me."

She scoffs. "Hey, I'm not trying to sound too judgmental here, but seeing the way you barged in my van unannounced, with a truckload of armed guards no less, I got this tiny little feeling in my gut that tells me it is you who does the sending, not the other way around."

He gives her a look that says, 'touche', shrugging. "He is a friend."

She notes how he momentarily loses eye contact as he spoke. He is lying. She could tell. "Oh?"

"He needs my help." Ian tells her. "But I can't do it without you."

"Why? Where is he? Is he in trouble?" She asks, pretending to buy into his farce. She just hopes that she isn't overselling it. There must be a reason why Mike failed to meet with her the other day, and something tells her that that reason looks a lot like Ian Quinn.

"I don't know if he has told you this but," he hesitates, trying to look unsure yet failing to convince Skye one bit, "someone's got his kid. He tried rescuing him himself, but he got himself caught. I haven't seen him since."

She frowns. She has forgotten about that. Involving a kid in this mess sure makes things more complicated. She needs to thread cautiously. "O-kay. So what do you expect me to do? Go get the guy, guns blazing and all that?" She briefly glances at Quinn's men. "Because I think you already got that covered."

"You're a bright little computer girl. And we're looking for a cyborg." Ian says, patience thinning. "Surely, there's no need for me to spell it out."

Little? Little? She wants to punch the shmuck in the face. "Please," Skye mutters, still carefully eyeing the men standing guard outside her vehicle. Some are covertly gazing at her direction, as if preparing themselves to chase after her when she suddenly decides to just jump off then van and run. Which she isn't planning to do. Clearly. "There must me more into this. You're a billionaire, for christ's sake. You could pay anyone else to do that for you. Why hunt me down specifically?"

"Why not?" He shrugs, "I can pay you if that's what you want."

"Gee, thanks, but that's not my point, Mr. Quinn." She puts down her bat and initiated a quick search about missing children around the area. She doesn't trust the guy, but that does not mean he's lying about the missing kid.

"Oh, I know it isn't."

Skye's fingers twitch minutely on top of her keyboard. She itching to grab the baseball bat beside her again, just to have anything to defend herself with. But good would that give her? What could a mere stick do to hoards of men with guns? Skye's jaw clenches. "Why do I get a feeling I can't say no to this?"

"Well, two reasons," Quinn shoots her a sly smile, "for one, nobody says no to me."

"And the other?" Skye prompted, dread slowly crawling through her veins like a slow acting poison.

"It's your former team that has him."

"So you are telling me, that I, a hacker-activist that absolutely hates everything organized, from sporting events down to my very own underwear drawer-not that I have drawers, but that's not the point-was a member of SHIELD? The SHIELD?" Skye is half chasing Quinn down the airstrip where a nice little chartered plane seems to be waiting for them. "Where are we going?"

"Italy." Quinn says nonchalantly, as if he is merely telling her that they are about to cross the street, and not visiting another continent entirely, "Ever been there?"

Skye practically stumbles on her feet at the question. The man seriously needs to slow down; she can barely keep up with his cantering. The first chance she gets she'll make sure to up her cardio. It's evident she needs the exercise. "Barely even crossed the border to Canada." She replies, and then she suddenly stops him, pulling his arm back. "Wait, won't I be needing a passport once we land? Or-I don't know-an ID?" It's not that she doesn't have a passport; she does have it. In fact she has lots of it. Fake ones, that is. She just does not have those the legit, above board, government issued ones that won't guarantee you a one way trip to prison for falsification.

Quinn gazes heavenward in frustration but says nothing. He walks on.

"Hey, answer me." Skye blocks his way, waving her arms wildly to get his attention.

He grits his teeth in irritation. "Do you sometimes get this deep sense of regret slowly churning in your gut whenever you are faced with blatant reminders of your unfinished jobs? This feeling that you could've done something to make things different but didn't?"

Skye falters at that. Something in his eyes tells her that she actually has to back off this time. He's staring at her as if all it would take is a little push and he'd get someone amongst his guards to silence her for good.

"Do you sometimes get this overwhelming urge to correct your mistakes, shoot them down and just let them… die?"

"Ohhh-kay, geez." Skye backs down, feeling lost and frightened at the same time. She does not know what she did exactly to elicit such reaction from him. She barely knew the guy. "Shutting up now."

They touched down in Italy in just a couple of hours. Thankfully, nobody ever bothered Skye for identification. Hell, she and the guys didn't even go through airport security. They just breezed past everyone else and then they are off to those flashy rich people cars in minutes.

Fucking billionaires and their endless privileges.

After a few hours of boring window watching, their car finally screeches into a halt in front of those fancy little Italian hotels Skye has only ever seen in Bond movies. She turns to Quinn. "Are we staying here?"

"You are." Quinn tells her. "I just have to take care of something, then I'll pick you up in a few days."

Few days? "Aren't we supposed to be in a hurry, you know, with the whole our-common-cyborg-friend-has-been-kidnapped, and everything?" Skye asks, frowning. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I truly appreciate your generosity for letting me stay in that very posh place, but-"

"My head of security will see to it that you are well taken care of." Quinn cuts her off, completely ignoring her concerns. "Now, go."

"But-"

"Do I have to get you dragged out of my car?" Quinn tiredly warns.

Skye huffs. "Fine." What a pompous entitled arsehole.

Quinn turns to glare at her when she still fails to move from her seat. "What the hell are you waiting for, Skye? A red carpet?"

Sheez. What is wrong with this guy? Skye wonders to herself. "Yeah, I'm going. I'm going." She almost snorts aloud because as soon as she opens the car door, an actual red carpet is there, waiting for her to step on.

She looks up the moment her feet touch the ground.

Skye takes a moment to gape at the sight before her. The hotel facade sure looks better without Quinn's heavily tinted car window. She can get used to this.

"Let's go." A low grumbling voice suddenly booms behind Skye, startling her back to reality.

"Go where?"

"In."

Her new pal sure got some serious stick up his ass. "Whatever you say, Mr-?" She prompted, hoping to establish even the smallest bit of friendship with the guy. If he is going to be looming over her shoulder for the next few days while she searches for Mike, she might as well get acquainted with him.

"None of your business."

"Well, not so nice to meet you, Mr. None-of-your-business." Ass.

Unbeknownst to her, just a few miles away from where she stood, her old SHIELD team had just landed.

A/N: Who's loving the new season? And no, i haven't forgotten about this fic. I just don't have enough time to write. Hospital's been super crazy the past few months.