Masquerading as a Clean Conscience
Skye ascended the stairs and tried not to stumble over the hem of her ball gown. It wasn't that she was clumsy, not at all. It was most certainly due to the feathers on her mask, which seemed to have been attached with little more than spit and optimism, and were now drooping into her eyes. She made a mental note to leave a snotty review on Amazon if she survived the night.
The mezzanine gave an unobstructed view of the ballroom and put her at eye level with the huge decorative chandeliers. Personally, Skye thought they looked a bit past their prime but considering the age of the building, she supposed she was just grateful they were still clinging onto the ceiling. She'd avoid walking underneath them, just in case.
Truthfully, Skye was anxious. There was only so much a girl could do when undercover and endlessly circling the dancefloor with Trip had only served to agitate her further. They'd split up and, since she was currently cocooned in layers of black satin (thick enough to disguise the gun strapped to her thigh), he had taken the more active job. Trip was now sneaking around the lower floors looking for their target, Skye could hear him sweet talking kitchen staff over the comms.
She surveyed the room again from her vantage point, fingers slipping into her clutch bag and brushing the handle of her ICER for reassurance.
"Hello Skye."
It was lucky that she'd taken her hand out of her bag because she jumped about a foot in the air and span around, heart thudding. If she'd been holding her ICER she was pretty sure she'd have shot someone. She gathered herself quickly and feigned indifference which was hard considering she'd almost shrieked in terror only moments ago.
"You recognised me," said Skye, more unnerved than she liked to admit.
"Of course I did."
"You planned this?"
"Yes, I needed to speak to you. Just once before it all kicks off. You and I both know this won't end well for me. I just hope that, when everything comes to light, you'll believe what I'm telling you now. I didn't betray SHIELD, Ward framed me because I was too bloody trusting and I didn't, god I can't even say it… I didn't kill Fitz. Do you really think I could have?"
It was then that Jemma Simmons started to tremble and Skye saw through the despair and the suppressed rage to the girl she'd fallen in love with so long ago. Simmons hadn't worn a mask, Skye saw the muscles tighten in her jaw as she steeled herself for what was next. Trip had heard their conversation over the comms and he was rushing to them, barking out orders to the rest of the team scattered around the venue. Simmons knew, Skye could see the resignation in her eyes.
"Manscaping ," said Skye so softly she wasn't sure if she'd really said it.
Simmons breath hitched and she looked at Skye with such overwhelming relief that Skye was surprised the girl hadn't folded in on herself. Even when Trip reached them, panting and unsure, Simmons looked at Skye with hopeful eyes. Trip cuffed her, hands shaking and incredibly gentle because it was Simmons and he'd loved her too.
With agents lining their route out to the jeep, Trip marched Simmons away.
Skye's heart beat bloody in her chest.