A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews. I have to say that I was really surprised, and incredibly humbled. And now, I also have to say that I am terrified for this chapter because I desperately do not want to disappoint. So, here goes nothing...

He was becoming every bit as stubborn as her.

Grant Ward had lost track of the number of times that the other members of the team had "suggested" he take a break or get some sleep; but every time he would turn them down. He needed to be here, with her, with Skye. It didn't matter that she was unconscious; he had resolved himself to staying by her side until she awoke... and probably even after that too.

He exhaled slowly as he gently ran his thumb over the back of her hand. It amazed him a little bit, to be honest. Her hand was so small in comparison to his, and it was by no means a perfect fit when he held her hand in his own – his was large and masculine and practically swallowed hers, and yet when he closed his fingers around it, it felt right. Great. He was becoming a cliché as well as stubborn.

On the way to rescue her he could think of nothing but the sound of her screams, and was sure that there was nothing that would stop him from showing her captors a similar treatment to the one they had given her. He was wrong, of course. Skye had stopped him.

He'd busted into the room, and she was all he could see; all those years of training right out the window. He shivered slightly as he recalled seeing her tiny frame, hanging limp in the chair; if her hands and feet hadn't been bound to the stand alone structure, she would've been on the floor for sure. He'd made a beeline straight for her, completely forgetting about the enemies in the room. Thank god for May – she really was the cavalry. Everything seemed to work out in the end; May had dispatched the enemy, while Ward had gone straight for Skye.

"Skye?! Can you hear me? Skye! Please talk to me!"

Even to his own ears, he had sounded desperate. She hadn't answered him; his only consolation had been the feel of her weakened pulse and shallow breathing, reassuring him that she was still hanging in there. He'd freed her from the chair and carried her out. He knew he probably should have waiting for medical assistance, they weren't in a hurry any more – there were no longer any hostiles to be concerned with, but nevertheless he marched out towards the rest of the team, cradling the rookie in his arms. His rookie.

Ward was brought back into the present by a slight pressure being applied to his hand. He looked down to see his own hand still holding hers; his thumb, apparently now working of its own accord as it continued to stroke a meaningless pattern over Skye's knuckles. Perhaps that was why she had now started to squeeze his fingers with her own.

He tore his gaze from their joined hands to search her face for any signs of consciousness; still none. He continued his visual inspection down her body, seething every time his eyes fell upon a scar or wound that her captors had given her.

She was going to be okay. He had asked the medical staff incessantly, and was sure that he was incredibly close to being thrown out of her room. He smirked slightly at that – he would've liked to see them try. No one would be making him leave, not unless they wanted him to drag Skye along too. He wasn't letting her out of his sight. No way. He'd made that mistake too many times already.

His visual examination was interrupted as she turned slightly. He checked once again to make sure that she was still asleep, she was. But despite this, he couldn't help but notice that she seemed to grip his hand a little tighter than before. He leaned toward her, "I'm here, Skye. You're alright; everything's going to be alright". He leaned back once again, careful not to disturb their joined hands.

He had no idea if she would be able to hear him, but he didn't care. He was here, and she was with him – and to him, that meant that everything was going to be alright.