V.

Undercover

…

He doesn't say goodbye.

It all happens so fast - one minute, he's struggling to understand that Garrett, the man he looked up to, the man who was like a father to him, is the real Clairvoyant and the next, Coulson is pulling him aside and asking him to be a double agent.

We need eyes inside Hydra, he says. You're the only one who can get in. There's an urgency to his tone, an intensity on his face that Ward had only seen a few times before, and he knows he doesn't have a choice, but a part of him still wishes it didn't have to be him. The idea of spending time with the man who trained him, who hurt Skye and betrayed them, it sickens him and he's not sure he'll be able to pull it off. He's not sure he'll be able to hide how much he hates him.

Ward? Coulson asks, shaking him from his thoughts. I know how much I'm asking of you, but we need you for this. It's the only way to protect what's left of the agency. It's the only way to protect… he pauses, looking at him knowingly. The team, he finally says. It's the only way to protect the team.

But they both know it's not really the team he's thinking about, and in that moment, Ward is grateful that he doesn't say her name, that he doesn't try to manipulate him by using her as motivation. No, Coulson would never do something like that. He's not like Garrett.

And that's all it takes. The thought of that man and everything he's done to them, everything he's done to her. He'll take the mission, of course he will. He'll do this, this, and so many other things for her, but the irony is not lost on him that the only way for him to protect her now is to leave her behind. His chest tightens at the thought and he wonders how long it will be before he sees her again. He wonders if he'll see her again.

This isn't like other missions. This time, it's personal, and when emotions get involved, that's when mistakes happen. That's when things go south. He knows this, and he knows he needs to keep a level head, but when the time comes, when the time comes to face Garrett, he's not sure he'll be able to keep his emotions out of it. He's not sure he'll be able to choose justice instead of revenge, and when the time comes, he's not sure he'll want to. Either way, this is the first mission he knows he won't return from unscathed.

Coulson looks at him expectantly, waiting for him to speak, and there's only one thing on his mind.

Sir, if something happens, if I don't make it back… He struggles to find the right words, an accurate representation of what he's feeling, what he's afraid of. If I don't make it back…

I'll keep her safe, Coulson finishes, a determined understanding in his eyes. He doesn't try to reassure him that everything will be fine. He doesn't bother, because more than anyone else, Coulson knows what it's like to not make it back from a mission, and even worse, what it's like to return a different man than the one who left.

I'll keep her safe, he promises, and when he says it, Ward believes him. The weight in his chest lifts, just barely, and he nods, content in the knowledge that she'll be protected. It doesn't matter what happens to him or how long he'll be gone or whether or not he'll return.

She'll be safe.

That's all that matters.

…

He returns to the Bus two months later, with Garrett and a squad of Hydra agents. They swarm the plane, under orders to seize the team for questioning, but Ward notices a glint in Garrett's eyes and he wonders how many of the agents have actually been told not to capture, but to kill.

It's eerily quiet when they make their way on board, almost suspiciously so. The lights are dimmed and as he makes his way through the cabin, he smirks with the realization that they're walking straight into a trap. Sure enough, as they round the corner, May emerges from the shadows, swiftly dispatching three agents, and he takes advantage of the ensuing commotion to knock out a few of his own.

Where's Garrett? She calls as the remaining agents crowd them, and he looks around in vain, but the man's nowhere to be seen. Before he can respond, a scream cuts through the air and a chill runs up his spine when he realizes whose voice it is. He shoots May a desperate, pleading look and takes off as soon as she nods, racing through the hallway, hoping all the while that he's not too late.

Skye!

There's no answer, just more fighting by the stairs - Coulson against a group of agents while Fitz and Simmons provide surprisingly good cover from behind the couches. I think they're in the lab! Coulson grunts as a fist catches him in the chin. Ward, hurry!

He nods sharply, racing down the stairs, his weapon drawn and ready, as he prepares himself for whatever he'll find. But no amount of preparation could steady his hand when he finally walks through the door, when he finally sees her and freezes where he stands.

Her face is ashen and there's a bruise on her cheek, a split in her lip, and he feels rage well up in his chest at the thought of anyone raising a hand to her. Garrett's arm is pulled tight against her throat and his hand presses a gun to her temple, but that doesn't stop her from squirming and clawing frantically in his grip.

So she's a fighter to the very end. He wouldn't expect anything less, and if the situation weren't so dire, he'd be proud of how far she's come, but right now, the only thing he can feel is fear. His eyes narrow as Garrett holds his gaze, slamming the butt of his weapon into her face. The fight leaves her instantly as she whimpers and falls still, and Ward can't help himself from lurching forward, stopping only when he sees the gun digging under her chin.

Drop your weapon, Garrett sneers. You know I'll put a bullet in her faster than you can pull the trigger.

I'll take my chances, he retorts and holds the gun steady in his hand. Skye mumbles something, so soft he can't hear, and a muscle twitches in his jaw as he watches a thin trail of blood drip down her face.

Garrett lets out a bark of laughter. No, you won't, he scoffs. Deep down, you're still that same scared boy, who couldn't save his little brother in the well. You're still helpless, he spits out. Weak.

Ward doesn't respond. He won't give him the satisfaction of getting angry, but there's another part of him that knows it's true. He is weak. He is helpless.

You know, Garrett continues, I thought you might've been a double agent from the very beginning. I actually considered torturing and killing you. He tightens his grip on Skye, drawing another soft groan from her blood-stained lips. But I'm glad I didn't. It's much better this way, making you watch as I kill the woman you love. Isn't it poetic? He smirks, chuckling humorlessly. And I don't even like poetry.

Ward risks a step forward, about to throw down his weapon and bargain with him, his life for hers, when she opens her eyes and whispers his name.

Grant.

Her speech is slightly slurred but her gaze is sharp and focused on him. Grant, take the shot.

He blinks, startled, and Garrett frowns, jerking her backwards. Grant, you're not weak, she tries again, her voice louder this time. You're not helpless. You can beat him, you can end this! She lets out a strangled squeak as the arm digs into her throat.

She's a fighter to the very end. She believes in him to the very end, the way no one ever has before, and the least he can do is believe in himself too. He won't stand by and watch, not this time, not again.

Take the shot, Grant, she chokes out, and her voice moves him, spurring him into action. He tightens his grip on his gun and memorizes the burning look in her eyes when she nods. By the time Garrett realizes what's about to happen, it's already too late.

He pulls the trigger, and they both fall down.

Skye! Her name is raw on his lips as he rushes to her side, pulling her into his arms. He hopes he hit the right spot, he hopes she's not dead, and when he turns her over and sees the wound, he can't help but sigh in relief. It's a clean shot - straight through her shoulder, straight through Garrett's heart.

Her eyes flicker open as she sputters, coughing and gasping and bloody and moaning and most importantly, alive. She's still alive.

Can you believe, she wheezes, that this is the third time I've gotten shot because of that bastard? She sits up in his arms and flashes him a cheeky grin. Though if it had to be by anyone, I'm glad it was you.

He shakes his head in disbelief. Even now, nothing phases her, not a bullet hole, not almost dying. He tears a strip of fabric from his shirt and presses it against her wound, whispering a soft apology when she winces.

Is it true, what he said?, she asks after a beat. That I'm the woman you love? She lifts her head and looks into his eyes as his hand stills against her shoulder. He doesn't want to answer her, not now, while she's bleeding, but when she looks at him like that, like he's the only one that matters, he feels the words fall from his lips before he can even think to stop them.

Yes, he murmurs, leaning his forehead against hers. Yes, it's true. Of course it's true.

I love you, he whispers gently as she sighs into his lips.

It's the only truth he knows.