TW for violence/fighting
They had thought that the longer they waited, the more Ward would finally start to settle down after everything that had happened at the soccer game weeks ago. The threat he had delivered via Trip seemed to be coming up empty, with only angry glares and the occasional shoulder bump knocking Fitz in the hallway standing as any real sign that Ward was paying them any attention at all. Still, Skye couldn't shake the feeling that Ward was biding his time, and she was starting to feel like she spent more time at school looking over shoulder than looking at her books. Her grades reflected the new status quo, as they had given up their feeble climb and instead stagnated in most classes, languishing somewhere around the low C mark. The two exceptions were in science, which had taken another nose dive after their last test, and computer science, which had always been her one shining beacon of an A.
"What happened, Skye?" Phil asked, not unkindly, when Skye had presented her big, red F on the top of her science test for Phil to sign. "I thought the cell stuff was starting to make a little more sense. Did something change?"
Skye shrugged one shoulder half-heartedly. "It's not the same when it's not just homework. I just don't get it. I'm not smart enough to get it."
"Well, I know that's not true," Phil said firmly. "You're plenty smart. We just need to find the right way for you to show it off. You said it's not the same between homework and a test. What's different?"
"Everything," Skye huffed. She plunked down in her chair and folded her arms crossly.
Phil pursed his lips slightly, and Skye couldn't tell if he was trying not to frown or trying not to smile. She wasn't sure which option irked her more. "Can you give me an example?" he asked.
"The room," she said, scowling at the tabletop. "At home you can talk it out and take your time. At school you have to go fast, and there's all this pressure. And nobody's making any noise, and they're all sitting there so still, just writing all their right answers down. So then I start thinking about how I don't understand the questions and I don't know the right answers to write down, and how I'm the dumbest one in the class. And then I start fidgeting or chewing my pencil or bouncing my leg or whatever, so then all I can think about is how I'm the only one moving and I'm making too much noise and everyone's going to be mad at me, but I can't make myself stop. And then there's only five minutes left and I've already flunked."
Phil sighed and ran a hand through his thinning hair. "We can't get those accommodations fast enough," he murmured, more to himself than to Skye. Even though Dr. Garner had sent his paperwork over last week saying Skye could have accommodations at school, the school itself was taking its sweet time putting anything into place for her. Phil gave himself a little shake, like he was reminding himself that she was right there next to him. "Skye, I know it's really hard right now, and I'm sorry for that. Just hang in there a little longer, okay, kiddo? We're going to find the thing that works. Soon. I promise."
"If anything works," she grumbled.
"Something will work," Phil insisted, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "We just need to figure out the right puzzle pieces that fit to you. No puzzle is unsolvable."
It was certainly a nice sentiment, but it wasn't one Skye was sure she believed. As much as she liked putting things together, she was finding more and more frequently that the things that felt most important were the ones that felt impossible to make fit, to make sense of. She couldn't figure out Ward's next move. She couldn't figure out how to do well in school. She couldn't figure out the mystery that still swirled around her parents. She had all but put Raina and her enticing, suspicious promises of finding Skye's father out of her mind – either Raina was lying, or she was telling the truth and her father wasn't a good person – but the gnarling itch to just know, once and for all, who she was and where she came from was a hard one to scratch away.
Mounting frustration at the fruitlessness of it all – her grades, her parents, finding any kind of resolution with Ward – simmered just beneath the surface of her skin almost constantly these days. She was angry and impatient and on edge, and she felt guilty for feeling angry, impatient, and on edge. Everything else seemed to be fine. Everyone else was happy and settled. Jemma had adjusted well to her own tutoring sessions and to seeing Dr. Garner, Bobbi talked often about her friends and seemed less nervous around the house. Skye should have been able to feel like them. But she just couldn't make herself do it.
Instead, she sulked at homework time and drug her feet when it was her turn to wash the dishes or take out the trash. She gave short, stilted answers when asked about her day and found herself more often than not wishing that everyone would just stop paying so much attention to her. Rather than comforting or calming her, Phil's gentle placating and soothing only made her feel irritated, like he was patronizing her, and she found a burgeoning resentment building up at May's pointed reminders to do simple things like pick up her shoes from the hallway or put her homework in her backpack. She knew she was behaving badly, but she was so put off by the 'so-muchness' of everything – the rules, the expectations, the 'supposed-to-be's – that she couldn't force herself to snap out of it.
Maybe that was why, one particularly drab November day, after Ward had "accidentally" collided with Fitz during yet another lopsided basketball game in gym class and sent Fitz sprawling to the ground, Skye found herself at a breaking point. She was tired of waiting, tired of playing games, tired of sitting and hoping someone else was going to fix her problems. As she and Jemma helped Fitz to his feet, Skye turned to look at Trip, who had just jogged up to check on them.
"We have to do something," she told him, the fire in her eyes burning bright, but only half so hot as the fire in her belly. "We can't let him get away with stuff like this anymore. It's time for the plan."
"You sure?" Trip asked quietly, glancing from Skye to Jemma, who was fussing over a wincing Fitz. "We can't take it back once we start."
Skye waited for Jemma and Fitz to give her their nods, somewhat reluctant, but determined all the same. "We're sure."
"All right then," Trip nodded. A faint smile sparked on his face. "Operation Waylay Ward is a go."
They started small, all according to plan. Fitz began to include tiny errors in the homework he did for Ward – a misspelled word here, a missed math problem there – nothing that couldn't be passed off as an honest mistake on Fitz's part, but something just noticeable enough that Ward would start to suspect something had changed. They made sure to stick close to Fitz's side that week, never leaving him alone or open to an ambush from Ward, and always staying within eyesight of a teacher. Trip began leaning even harder into his role as a double agent, feeding Ward intel that they were planning something big, that he needed to stifle their budding revolution before it could take root. Of course, with Skye and Jemma blocking him at every turn, Ward's opportunities to use Fitz to quell an uprising were scant, which naturally only aggravated him further. Skye took pleasure in finding little ways to unsettle him – walking just a few steps closer to his lunch table than she would normally dare, holding his gaze a little longer and with a little more assertion than she ordinarily might – any little thing to signal to him that she was getting bolder and that it was him who needed to be on the defensive, not her.
Of course, they weren't actually planning any kind of attack. That was the whole point of the plan, to make Ward think they were up to something bigger than they really were and goad him into making a drastic move. Once they had him riled up and ready to snap, the plan was for Skye to drop the final bombshell during lunch, with the rest of them plenty close by, just in case. Skye was supposed to deliver the message that she knew all about his homework arrangement with Fitz, and that she was going to rat them both out for cheating. That was when Jemma was supposed to show up with a teacher, just in time to see what they all suspected would be a violent reaction from Ward. It was a risky plan, they knew, but Skye was convinced it was their only option at this point.
Fitz had tried to offer to be the one to deliver the news and draw the ire of Ward, but Skye shut him down quickly. She wasn't about to let Fitz get hurt by Ward again, and she had plenty of experience in weathering attacks from bullies. She knew how to take a hit and hold her own, and if she was being honest, she wasn't sure Fitz could last long enough in a fight to hold out until a teacher arrived. Not that she told Fitz that, of course. Or anyone, really. As far as the others were aware, the teacher would get there in plenty of time to stop a fight from breaking out at all. Jemma in particular was adamant that their plan avoided violence, but Skye had a sneaking suspicion that the rest of them underestimated just how mad Ward might get and how quickly he might lash out. Still, the plan felt solid to her, and it seemed as though everything was lining up accordingly. Until, that is, one wretchedly cold day about halfway through the month, when something none of them could have accounted for threw a horrible, clanging wrench into the works.
Skye had just come out of math with Mr. Bennett and was on her way next door to meet Fitz and Jemma as they exited their own math class when the ashen faces of her friends stopped her dead in her tracks.
"What's—" she tried to ask. Fitz cut her off with a jerky shake of his head.
"We need to move," he muttered, walking as quickly as he could down the hall and towards science. Bewildered, Skye looked to Jemma, whose eyes were pooled with unease.
"We'll explain later," Jemma murmured. She beckoned for Skye to follow Fitz. "We need to get out of the open."
Skye was confused, but she knew Jemma well enough to know that the look on her face meant Skye ought to take her seriously, so she trailed behind obediently until all three were settled at their seats in Mr. DeRosa's class.
"What's going on?" Skye asked again, taking note of the way Fitz and Jemma kept an eye on the door. "What happened?"
"Mrs. Larimore gave us a pop quiz," Fitz said darkly, as if that explained everything.
"So?" Skye certainly wasn't fond of pop quizzes – she did even worse on those than the ones she had time to study for – but she couldn't imagine that Fitz or Jemma had had much trouble with it. Those two were made for pop quizzes.
"She never gives pop quizzes," Jemma explained. "And not everyone was prepared."
Slowly, things started to click into place. "You mean Ward, don't you?" Skye asked.
Fitz nodded. "I caught a glance at his paper when I was turning mine in. He didn't have a clue what he was doing. I'd be surprised if he got a single one right."
"Well, that's what happens when you don't do your homework," Skye pointed out. Of course, in her case, that's what happened sometimes even if you had done your homework, but she didn't find much room for pity in her heart for Ward. "So he gets a bad grade. It's one quiz, it's not that bad."
"To him it is," said Fitz. His expression was deadly serious. "That's why we had to get out of there so fast."
"He's livid," Jemma added softly. "We need to be careful. And we ought to find Trip right away at lunch."
"What, so he can protect us?" Fitz asked, a little taken aback. "Because we can protect—"
"No, so we can tell him what happened," Jemma replied. Her brow scrunched in confusion at Fitz's abrupt reaction. "And what's so bad about having another person looking out for us? Trip is nice, and he wouldn't let anything bad happen."
"I wouldn't let anything bad happen, either" Fitz said. If Skye hadn't known any better, she might have said that Fitz was almost pouting. "I'd never let Ward lay a hand on you."
"We know you're tough and brave, Fitz," Skye teased, grinning. "I'm not sure I'd put money on you in a fight against Ward, but your chivalry is noted."
"Nobody should be getting into a fight with Ward," Jemma stressed. Her worried eyes stared hard, first at Fitz, then at Skye. Skye opened her mouth to offer some reassurance, but there was something about the stiffness in Jemma's shoulders and the rapid pace of her tapping that stopped Skye short. It was the way Jemma looked when had something on her mind and she was trying to figure out how to say it. "I…" Jemma faltered. She looked uneasy, like she knew no one would like what she was about to say. "I think we should go to a teacher. Miss Hill or someone. I don't think our plan is safe anymore."
Skye's jaw fell open. "What?"
"We've let things get too far out of control. We need help."
"No we don't," Skye said firmly. "Not from teachers. You know how that always goes. They won't believe us, not against somebody like Ward. The school thinks he's perfect, and we're… not like him."
"Miss Hill might believe us—" Jemma tried to say, but Skye could barely hear her over the angry roaring that was crashing in around her ears.
"The school has my records, Jemma, they know about all the trouble I've gotten in before. They know about me cutting school and that I'm failing my classes and that I'm… that I'm…" Not as good as everybody else, she thought. Not worth even half a Ward to them. "They know we don't fit in here," she finished lamely. "They're just going to think we're making it up or being sensitive or lying to cover up something else bad we've done. They're going to take his side. They might even get Fitz in trouble for cheating."
"I'm not the one cheating," Fitz protested, indignation coloring his cheeks.
"They won't care," Skye said hotly. No one ever did. Her neck felt warm and her arms were buzzing. "People like us are the ones who take the fall, not people like Ward. That's why we have to do the plan. So a teacher can catch him in the act. So we have proof."
"I think you're wrong," Jemma said. Her voice was quiet, but there was a firmness to it that Skye hadn't expected. "I know you've been… angry lately. But picking a fight with Grant Ward isn't going to fix anything. It's getting bigger than we can handle by ourselves and I think we need to tell someone."
"I'm not angry," Skye said, in a tone that did little to help her case. She paused to take a sharp breath and pull herself back under control. "And I'm not trying to pick a fight. I just want to stick with the plan we all agreed to. I don't want to let Ward get away with everything he's done." Out of the corner of her eye, Skye saw Mr. DeRosa come into the classroom, ready to start class soon, no doubt.
"What do you think, Fitz?" Jemma asked suddenly. Fitz paled slightly under the dual gazes of Skye and Jemma, each waiting expectantly for him to take their side.
"I… I don't know," he stammered. "Our plan should work, but… you didn't see him just now, Skye. He was angrier than I've ever seen him. We might be in over our heads."
"Can we at least talk to Trip about this?" Skye asked, sensing that she was about to lose Fitz's vote. "Before we go and start telling? He's a part of the mission, too. He should get a vote."
"Of course," placated Jemma. "We'll talk to him at lunch, fill him in on everything."
"All we have to do is stay alive until then," Fitz mumbled, as Mr. DeRosa called the class to order. Skye thought Fitz was being more than a little dramatic about the whole thing, but she kept her mouth shut. It ended up being a good decision, given how wrong she turned out to be.
The ambush came out of nowhere as they rounded a corner on their way to the cafeteria. If Skye had been paying more attention – if she'd taken Fitz and Jemma more seriously – she might have checked the hall, might have noticed the shadow lurking right on the other side. Instead, she had been caught completely off-guard.
Ward's arms materialized in front of them, grabbing Fitz roughly before she or Jemma had a chance to process what was happening. In a flash, Ward spun Fitz around and wrapped him in a headlock, his tightly muscled arm flexing against Fitz's neck. Fitz gasped and spluttered, his hands scrabbling at Ward's arms.
"Let him go!" Jemma cried, almost a shriek. Ward's eyes flashed dangerously, and a cold feeling oozed into Skye's veins. This wasn't the same Ward she was used to. Something was different about him – less controlled, more hostile.
"You shouldn't have done that, Fitz," Ward growled. "We had a good thing going and you just had to run to the teachers about it, didn't you?"
"Don't know… what you're… talking," Fitz choked out. Ward's expression hardened, and the headlock tightened.
"I know you convinced Larimore to give us that pop quiz. Thought you'd make me look stupid in front of her, thought you'd trip me up. You blabbed about the homework and cooked up the quiz to take me down."
"He didn't," Jemma insisted, desperation running ragged through her words. "He didn't know about the quiz. Let him go!"
"Stay out of this," Ward spat. He returned his attention to Fitz, whose face was starting to grow red. "You really screwed things up for me, egghead. Time to break your shell, I guess."
Before she knew what she was doing, before Ward had a chance to do anything worse to Fitz, Skye lunged at him with a bellow of pent-up rage. She aimed herself at Ward, trying to grab his arms and force him to let Fitz go, but Ward was too quick for her. He spun around so that Skye careened into his side, keeping Fitz out of her reach and managing to retain his balance with ease. Skye reeled backwards, a little stunned by just how solid Ward was. Ward smirked at her and tightened his grip on Fitz, who let out a strangled gurgle of a sound.
"You're going to kill him!" Skye shouted as she flung herself back Ward's way, only to be tripped up as Ward aimed a kick at her ankles. She splayed across the floor, banging her chin painfully onto the tiles. Her eyes watered at the stinging scrape she was sure now graced her chin, but she scrambled back up to her feet without hesitation.
A small crowd was gathering, but there were no teachers in sight. Wildly, Skye looked around for something, anything, that she could use to her advantage. There was nothing. No friendly faces, no adults pushing their way forward. Just Skye and Ward, who was a foot taller and twice as strong. She could hear the rumbling of the growing crowd, Fitz struggling to breathe, Jemma's shuddery fear interspersed with sharp intakes of anxious breath. Ward leered at her, his smug face daring her to try again. So, she did.
Skye barreled forward a third time. She knew she would never beat Ward head-on, so she had to find other ways to give herself the upper hand. He was bigger than her, which meant going low would give her an edge, and getting him off-balance would be the only way to bring him down. As she drew closer to Ward, Skye made a split-second decision and dove, avoiding another well-aimed kick, and plowing headlong into his knees, which buckled in surprise.
Ward twisted as he fell, trying to right himself before he hit the ground next to Skye. In his efforts to stay on his feet and free his hands, he shoved Fitz away from him, much to Skye's satisfaction. That satisfaction was immediately siphoned out of the air, however, as Fitz stumbled limply, clearly disoriented by Ward's chokehold and the force of the shove. Fitz toppled to the ground and landed hard, his head connecting to the tile with a sickening crack. Someone screamed, Skye couldn't see who, and she looked up from the floor where she and Ward were now tangled to see Fitz's body go slack and his eyes flutter shut.
"What did you—" she tried to ask, but she was cut off by Ward, who had shoved himself up from the ground and flipped around so that he was looming over Skye, a knee pressed into her chest. The pressure on her lungs killed the words before they left her throat and she felt her breath turn into a wheeze.
"You really should have stayed out of this, Skye," he snarled. "You can't touch me. You're nothing."
In an instant, Skye's vision went blood red, and the raucous sounds of the onlookers were drowned out by an angry buzzing. There was nothing around them anymore – no people, no Jemma, no hallway. Just her and Ward, and the gut-wrenching image of Fitz, lying unmoving a few feet from them, that was burned into her brain. Enraged, Skye swung her fist as hard as she could, determined to connect with whatever part of Ward she could reach. She felt a shockwave radiate through her knuckles as they collided with soft skin and hard bone and it surprised her how good it felt. She swung with the other hand, before Ward could regroup and pin her arms down, and she watched as this one connected squarely with Ward's ear.
Ward shifted his weight backwards, caught off-guard by the force of Skye's punch, and the change in his position was enough for Skye to writhe free of his knee, finally breathing deeply. They both scrambled to their feet and Skye wasted no time in launching another punch up at Ward's loathsome face. She wanted him to feel how nothing felt when it slammed into his jaw.
The hit to his jaw was the last punch she landed. After that one, Ward had gotten his bearings well enough to block her next attempt easily, catching her arm and twisting her wrist painfully. Taking advantage of Skye's temporary incapacitation, Ward wound up and sent a right hook plowing across her face. It took all Skye's willpower not to crumple then and there, but she forced herself to stay upright, just as she had so many times before. She was tired of letting the bullies win, of curling up and letting all the bad people of the world waltz over her huddled self.
Feebly, Skye aimed a punch towards Ward, but he knocked it aside as if she were a moth fluttering too close to his face. He took a step towards her, closing the distance between them. His face was contorted with malice and his lip was bleeding from where Skye had hit him moments ago.
"I don't usually fight girls," he sneered, backing Skye into a corner. "But you're a special case." He struck, quick and hard like a cobra, and pain erupted, fireworks popping in her stomach, on the side of her head, under her eye. She couldn't breathe, couldn't see. How many times had she been in this position? More than she would ever care to admit. There was always somebody bigger, somebody older, somebody tougher. Somebody who's mission in life was to show Skye that her place would always be crumpled down in the dirt, an old cigarette crushed under the heel of a boot.
Then, suddenly, the blows stopped falling. Blinking past the swelling that was already puffing up her eye, Skye looked up and saw that Trip had materialized and had tackled Ward, fighting to keep him pinned on the ground. Without thinking, she lunged back at the pile, swinging wildly at anything that looked like Ward.
"Stand down, man," Trip ordered, struggling to keep Ward from pummeling Skye further. Ward let out a cold, barking laugh.
"You're so dead, Triplett," he said, panting slightly and planting an elbow hard across Trip's nose. Trip let out a cry and clutched at his face, but didn't let Ward up from the ground. Skye was about to come in for a revenge shot at Ward's own nose when a booming voice rang out over all their heads:
"Hey! Break it up!" A strong pair of hand grabbed Skye by the bag of the shirt and dragged her away from Ward. Mr. Bennett was hauling her backwards, while Coach Garrett had forced himself in between Ward and Trip, keeping them at arm's length from each other.
"Cool it," he snapped at the two boys. "This is over, you hear me?" Slowly, Trip's muscles relaxed, and he sagged in surrender. Ward had stopped trying to surge forward to Trip, but there was still venom in his eyes and his fists were still clenched.
"Clear out," Mr. Bennett ordered the group of students who had been watching the fight unfold. "Get to lunch, all of you. Not you four," he added, looking from Trip and Ward to Skye, who was still struggling against his grip, to Jemma who was crouched over Fitz's form, hands shaking. "You four are going straight to the office."
"But Fitz—" Skye protested, wrenching herself free of Mr. Bennett's grasp.
"The nurse is on her way," Mr. Bennett said firmly. "She'll take care of Leopold, and Coach Garrett will be escorting you all to see the principal. Now."
Welcome back! Sorry we had to jump straight into such a painful chapter, but at least we have the next two to deal with the fallout... Thanks for being here and reading :)