29th December 2014
'On the fifth day of Christmas Grant Ward gave to me, five smuggling rings, four passwords, three henchmen, two armoured trucks and a vow to stop his treachery…'
By the time the following evening rolled around without so much as a bleep from her cell phone, Skye was beginning to think that Ward was finally done with his scheme. It did seem admittedly odd that he would allow his efforts to simply fizzle out on a box full of candy, but after clocking up very little sleep over the past few days she could hardly bring herself to care.
She was just filling the bath tub of her ensuite on when the perfect peace of her day was shattered, this time by an email alert on her phone. Groaning, Skye closed her eyes and blew out a frustrated breath, which mingled with the building steam. She had been anticipating a long bubble bath for the most part of the day, and she was half tempted to ignore her phone altogether. However, a second bleep resounded, somehow seeming even more insistent than the first, and Skye had to admit that her curiosity was piqued just slightly.
Pausing to first turn off the faucet and gather her bathrobe back around her shoulders, Skye then exited the room, making straight for the bedside table where her phone sat charging.
Hastily opening the email and the document attached, Skye sat down on the edge of her bed and hugged the edges of the robe against her skin. She flicked her finger quickly over the document contained within the email and then flopped back against the bed, letting her phone fall onto the mattress beside her. The fresh bed linens beneath her were all too appealing but it seemed she'd be forgoing them in exchange for a last-minute jaunt to New York.
"You know what, Ward?! Maybe I don't want to go trawling the docks at 3 a.m. like some cheap hooker. Maybe I want to take a bath and sleep…" closing her eyes with a whine, she pouted, "oh, sleep sounds so good right now."
Her phone vibrated from the bed beside her hand and she growled in irritation as she picked it up to read his text, which enquired if she'd received his email and the coordinates contained within.
"Yes!" she snapped irritably, "I got it, douchebag."
Although she simply typed 'yes' in response. Almost instantly another message followed from Ward, this time appearing to convey some sort of warning.
'Don't go alone, take Coulson and May.'
That was how, less than thirty minutes later, Skye found herself buckling into the back of a quin jet whilst May and Coulson prepared to co-pilot it towards their destination. As the hangar doors opened and the aircraft took flight, Skye rested her head back against the wall, hoping to catch just a little shut eye in the time it would take to complete the journey. It seemed, however, that fate was conspiring against her because just as her breathing began to even out, Coulson plopped down in the passenger seat next to her. He was obviously intent on bending her ear about some matter or other involving one Grant Ward.
"I just want to sleep," Skye whined, eyelids flickering open. She affixed Coulson with an accusatory glare and his responding smile was almost sheepish.
"If we manage to wrap this all up tonight, you can take tomorrow afternoon off and sleep as long as you need," Coulson stated, holding both hands up to demonstrate his seriousness as he added, "cross my heart."
"Fine, fine," grumbled Skye, sitting up straighter in her seat and barely managing to stifle a yawn as she turned to face Coulson full on, "what's eating you, D.C.?"
"Ward…" he began, stopping suddenly with saucer wide eyes as he realised what he had said. "Oh God no, not like that…"
Shooting him an amused smirk, Skye let the opportunity for mirthful teasing slide. Just this once, of course.
"Look, I know this is crazy, I know it's totally over the top, and reckless, and a crap ton of other things I know you disapprove of," she began, "but I believe him, D.C. I believe he wants to redeem himself. As much as I hate myself for saying this, you guys gave me a second chance. You gave May a second chance. I know what he did was shitty, but if we don't let him at least try to make up for it, what does that make us?"
Coulson puffed out his cheeks.
"I had a speech prepared," he frowned, glancing down at the floor of the plane. Her words had completely taken him by surprise, and his displeasure was clear. "I wasn't expecting you of all people to take his side."
Skye rolled her eyes and folded her arms across her chest.
"I'm not taking his side, Coulson. I'm just saying that he deserves the same chances that you gave us. That's all. If he blows it again, then…" she shrugged for effect, trailing off rather than committing to completing her threat.
Coulson pursed his lips, letting his head drop back against the somewhat comfortable headrests on the plane's interior wall. "Skye… do you still have feelings for Ward?"
Skye's denial was on the tip of her tongue, rising up inside her along with a well of indignance that she had to wonder about the validity of. She swallowed down her impulses quickly and with some difficulty, electing to take a more level-headed approach to answering the accusation instead of simply flying off the handle. Several weeks ago, she more than likely still would have done the latter, and so Skye had to assume that at least some progress had indeed been made by Grant.
"My feelings for Ward are complicated," she murmured, surprised by the softness of her own voice as she gazed at Coulson, eyes sweeping his face to search for a shred of understanding, "I thought I loved him once, but...you know how that turned out. I should still be furious with him but… the more time passes, the more I just… I feel sorry for him."
"Sorry for him?" Coulson repeated askance, as though Skye had just admitted to being a fan of waterboarding puppies, "how can you feel sorry for Grant Ward? He murders people like I change my underwear."
Pursing her lips, Skye shot back, "Maybe because nobody else ever has, D.C. Ward has never known real love… compassion… empathy… kindness… and yet we were all so surprised when we realised he'd been moulded into a monster."
Skye thought back on the details she'd read in Ward's file – a file Coulson still didn't know she had hacked, although he'd probably surmise that now.
"He was just a kid, and I know what it feels like to grow up thinking nobody cares about you. I know how easy it would have been for me to do exactly what he did; to follow a parental figure like that. It probably hasn't escaped your notice but… I guess I look up to you, you know? You're like my Yoda. It's just that Ward's Yoda was a lying psychopath."
"Makes my Captain America memorabilia collection pale in comparison, right?" he managed a weak smile, giving Skye some hope that she was making a degree of headway.
She yawned behind her hand and regarded her mentor with a pleading expression behind her weary eyes. "Please, D.C., give him a chance… for me?"
When Coulson only remained mute, Skye sank lower in her seat and resisted the urge to let out a sigh born of frustration. Whilst silence was not an outright refusal to heed her words, neither was it a comforting agreement, and it didn't seem to bode well when the rest of the flight passed without another word being exchanged by any of the three agents.
They arrived a short distance from the dock some time later, and made their way to Ward's co-ordinates once they had safely stowed away the jet and also armed themselves in case of surprises. Whilst Skye found herself eager to begin placing a degree of trust in Ward again, she was by no means an idiot, and May was working hard to instil in her the importance of always being prepared. In their line of work the old adage of bringing a knife to a gun fight could quite easily become literal, and Skye had big plans for the new year that did not involve dying, so it was with an actual handgun placed in her thigh holster that she set out to unearth Grant's latest 'present'.
What they found certainly did not disappoint. Once Coulson had managed to jimmy open one of the enormous wooden crates with a discarded crowbar, the three agents had fallen into a silence that this time was born of awe alone. Being faced with copious quantities of white powder that highly resembled cocaine would do that to a person.
The three S.H.I.E.L.D. agents adopted comically similar poses – even May simply staring at the illegal bounty before them with an open mouth.
"So, I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say that's not powdered sugar, is it?" Skye drawled, turning to look at Coulson, who remained silent. His eyes took in the hundreds of packets stacked top to bottom inside the crates. A couple of bags had burst open during transit, spilling cocaine out onto the floor of the shipping container.
Suddenly coming to his senses, Coulson cleared his throat, "No, that's… that's… a whole lot of drugs."
May turned on her heel and strode over to the next container, wasting no time in opening it and swinging her flashlight around to peer inside. Yet again, she discovered that the crate contained a stack of drug bundles. She had to admire Hydra's brazen approach to drug running; they hadn't even tried to hide the contents, no doubt already having either bought off or terrified the relevant authorities into silence.
"I guess now we know how they paid for those shiny new toys," Coulson mused. He had long suspected Hydra's involvement in the criminal underworld to fund their 'business'. "How many crates are there?"
Stepping out of the second crate, May cast the beam of the flashlight across the dock yard, noting the red and grey metal containers that still had to be investigated.
"Twenty? Twenty-five?"
Skye peered with wide eyes around the docks, realising that this time even Coulson himself appeared impressed with their little 'gift' from Ward. Deciding to test the waters, she cleared her throat pointedly.
"So… he did good, right? I mean, this stuff can't hit the streets now and Hydra aren't making any pocket money."
Jamming his hands into his pockets, Coulson swept the yard, his blank expression leaving Skye slightly irritated. Out of all of Ward's 'redemption gifts', this was undoubtedly the most significant. Just how he'd gotten this information she didn't want to know, but she couldn't help but be impressed that he'd managed to pull it off.
"I guess he did," Coulson allowed, suddenly diverting his attention to May, who appeared once more at his side. "May, we're gonna need a couple of teams out here. This could take all night."
"No afternoon off tomorrow?" Skye asked, her eyes widening and her bottom lip beginning to push out in a pose that highly resembled a pout. Blowing out a breath and then wincing, Coulson shook his head.
"Sorry, Skye," he lamented, patting her on the shoulder, "no afternoon off tomorrow."
Skye let out a loud and highly irritated groan, which only succeeded in prompting a smile from May, who wasn't quite ready yet to begin viewing Ward in the same semi-benevolent light that Skye appeared to be.
"But… he did good, right?" May teased, arching an eyebrow at Skye but not even bothering to conceal her smirk.
Gritting her teeth, Skye managed to grind out, "Shut up, May."
x-x-x
30th December 2014
'On the sixth day of Christmas Grant Ward gave to me, six heads a'plotting, five smuggling rings, four passwords, three henchmen, two armoured trucks and a vow to stop his treachery…'
Ignoring the wide-eyed, frightened stares of the five men bound, gagged, and slumped against the wall, Grant Ward tested the weight of the knife in his hand. He held the glinting edge of the metal up towards the light whilst each man stared at it with mounting terror.
Sighing in annoyance as they began desperately struggling to make noise despite the tape covering their mouths, Ward cast them a wholly derogatory glare.
"You know, you boys don't have to be conscious when I hand you over."
If truth were to be told, not all of them had been awake when he'd assembled them in the hotel room, and if they continued to grate on his nerves they'd once again find themselves revisiting varying level of consciousness.
Ward regarded them with unbridled loathing – each of the Hydra 'heads', a leader within their specific, strategic unit; logistics, operations, finance, recruitment, research - and each of them cold blooded murderers in their own right. They were pieces to the puzzle of the Hydra hierarchy that Ward was keen to disassemble, especially given the recent plots he had uncovered that would surely put one former hacktivist and friend in more danger than she could possibly fathom.
Whilst Skye may have been aware that she was known as an 084 to both S.H.I.E.L.D. and Hydra respectively, Ward was fairly certain that she had yet to gain the knowledge regarding her past that several of the men before him were privy to; more specifically, her Inhuman DNA, how to unlock it, and what they might hope to achieve with the emergence of her abilities. Ward would die before he would let any of that happen. He had singlehandedly caused Skye enough pain over the previous few months to last anyone a lifetime, and so if he could act now and secure her safety for at least a while longer then he would do it, no matter the personal cost. After this latest stunt, he was fairly certain that his ambiguous status as a Hydra loyalist would be clarified beyond doubt.
A sudden knock on the door of the hotel room drew his attention, and Ward smirked as he shot a final glance at his hostages before making a show of raising his finger to his lips in an exaggerated shushing gesture. The closer of the men – the head of research, who had written a particularly sickening report about Skye – began to bounce up and down on his rear, doing his level best to make himself heard over the tape wedged in his mouth. Shooting the man a murderous glare, Ward drew back his right leg and then delivered a swift and brutal kick to his face, which almost immediately rendered him unconscious. Turning off the bathroom light and plunging the prisoners into darkness, Ward moved out into the bedroom.
The knocking halted and, from his position behind the door, Ward pulled it open, giving the man on the other side no time to even shout for help before he grabbed him around the neck. Swiftly, he had added the Head of Technology to his quota.
Grabbing the shorter, older man by the throat to subdue him, Ward slammed the door closed and then threw the man against it, his arm pressed against his throat.
Gasping for breath, the man grappled helplessly with Ward's forearm, his eyes narrowing as he struggled to breathe.
"Traitor…" he wheezed, his features stricken with panic as Ward spun him around.
The man shuddered as he heard Ward's laughter behind him.
Looking at him incredulously, Ward shook his head, "I was never loyal to Hydra. I was never one of you."
"Whitehall should have killed you when he had the chance…" the man spluttered, his pudgy fingers digging into Ward's arm as he attempted to work himself free, but to no avail. He was certainly no match for the muscular and lean Specialist, especially given his penchant for ordering late night pizzas and his long-standing aversion to the annual Hydra fitness test.
Ward let out a bark of laughter that did not sound at all friendly, and the man found himself flinching.
"Whitehall never had the chance," Ward replied, his voice a low and dangerous purr. He felt the man shudder in his grip and a ripple of pleasure coursed through his coiled muscles; Grant was by no means proud of what he had done in his past, but he certainly was nowhere near on the same level of evil douche-baggery as the men he now held captive. They seemed to relish their roles and their power, both of which had sealed the glum fates of many innocent men, women and even children over the years. Although Ward might view himself as a monster still, he did possess some form of moral compass, which he was doing his best to utilise more and more to navigate him through the minefield of life.
"You won't get away with this…" the man tried again, hoping perhaps to instil some sort of fear in Ward, who only glared back at him through those dark and unblinking eyes. "You will die for this… you hear me?"
"Then at least I'll die putting things right," he bit back, the muscles in his lower jaw clenching as he continued to stare down at his prisoner. Six potential heads of the organisation would be toppled by the end of the night and yet it still didn't seem enough to Grant. He was starting to think that perhaps nothing ever would.
Once happy that the men were securely bound, gagged, and not likely to cause issues, Ward pulled out his cell-phone and began to type in a message. Hitting 'send', he let out a sigh as he watched the message delivery icon blink, and then he sat down on a chair near the window to await Skye's response.
He was under no illusion that she could ever love him again; not now she knew who he really was, not now he had hurt her so badly. But he was going to do everything in his power to prove he was not one of them - a Nazi, as she'd accused. He'd blindly followed Garrett out a sense of duty, his loyalty misplaced before he'd realised how utterly insane his former mentor had become.
His phone suddenly buzzed in his hand and a brief smile tugged at his lips as he read the response.
"I miss you," he said aloud, his voice little more than a whisper for fear that his captives might overhear him.
Ward would wait until he knew S.H.I.E.L.D. were nearby before he left his hostages to be found and taken into custody. In the meantime, as he kept his vigil, he allowed his mind to wander over the possibility of forgiveness.
x-x-x
31st December 2014
'On the seventh day of Christmas Grant Ward gave to me, seven guns a'gleaming, six heads a'plotting, five smuggling rings, four passwords, three henchmen, two armoured trucks and a vow to stop his treachery…'
"But… what is it?" Coulson demanded, arching an eyebrow as he continued to stare down at the components that were spread out across the lab bench.
Simmons and Fitz stood in front of the counter, both wearing reinforced rubber gloves and with goggles pulled down to shield their eyes. Skye stood in the far corner of the lab, her arms folded over her chest and her back pressed against the wall as she observed with interest.
A crate had arrived at base first thing that morning, and Coulson had practically skipped down the corridor from his office in order to open it. Although he had been loathed to admit it at first, he was beginning to anticipate Ward's little gifts with a real sense of excitement. He wasn't about to grant the boy forgiveness or anything as rash as that but he could at least admit that he was beginning to develop a sliver of respect for Ward again. The disgraced Specialist had undoubtedly risked his life numerous times over the last week to provide S.H.I.E.L.D. with valuable intel, not to mention the fact that the newly reopened Fridge was suddenly filling up with Hydra lackeys thanks to his efforts.
"It's a gun, sir," Simmons supplied, directing a roll of her eyes at Fitz, who discreetly nodded his agreement at Coulson's perceived stupidity.
"I already knew that, Agent Simmons," Coulson retorted, his temper beginning to fray in the wake of Simmons' open scorn. "It looked very much like a gun when I opened up the box. Now, not so much, so I'm guessing there's a very good reason you've disassembled it?"
Clearing her throat with increasing impatience, Simmons gestured to the crate beside Skye, "Well in our defence, sir, there are six others in the box!"
Skye glanced at her side and peered over the rim of the wooden crate with a building sense of curiosity. During their brief and wholly off the cuff experiments with the new, as of yet unknown weapons, the pair had been strangely excited at the prospect of getting to grips with Hydra's latest invention. An invention they were certain was not destined to be used for good.
"So… best we can surmise here," Fitz began, noting the slightly narrowed eyed gaze Coulson shot him, "in the two hours we've had to take a look at these wee things… is that they're some sort of DNA recorder."
Coulson rubbed his chin thoughtfully, his expression ever so slightly crestfallen. "So, they're not weapons?"
"Oh yes, they most certainly are. They pack quite the punch on impact," Simmons helpfully filled in, and yet again Coulson's gaze drifted between her and Fitz like he was watching a tennis match. "This takes the 'night, night' gun to a completely new level of incapacitation."
Fitz nodded vigorously, "Aye, see these babies deposit enough dendrotoxin to incapacitate your average sized African elephant."
"Possibly your average Indian elephant too," Simmons folded her arms across her chest as they regarded their boss with growing excitement.
"But why would you want to do that? That'd surely kill a human, right?" Coulson interjected.
"Ah, but these aren't built to counter a human threat. We think these are something new, for Inhuman targets," Jemma corrected him, the excitement on her face wholly inappropriate given the topic of conversation.
Fitz reached down onto the table and almost gingerly used his thumb and forefinger to pick up what appeared to be a small, round pellet.
"Bullets?" Coulson estimated, frowning as he peered at the object Fitz wielded. Shaking his head, the Scot lowered the metallic looking item back onto the counter.
"Not exactly," Fitz replied, "more like a super compact microchip contained within a metal casing that when fired at a high enough velocity possesses the capability to enter the blood stream of the target. Once in there, it begins to evaluate and record the DNA of the host subject, specifically focusing on things such as latent or manifested abilities, and potential genetic weakness."
"So… a bullet with a notepad?" Skye queried, finally stepping forward and shooting a look of disdain at the pieces of the weapon.
"They're preparing for an Inhuman war," Coulson speculated, his mind suddenly fixed on the 084 status of a certain young hacker in the room.
Clearing her throat, Simmons added, "Or for an Inhuman genocide. This weapon will allow them to code, catalogue and perhaps even… replicate their genomes. In the wrong hands…"
"And I think we can all agree that Hydra are the worst hands, like… in the whole world. Ever," Fitz supplied, gesturing emphatically towards the table with a nod.
"This could be catastrophic," Coulson replied, his expression a mixture of shock and awe at what their scientists had been able to do. S.H.I.E.L.D.'s own research and tech department were nowhere near this level of development in regards to weapons, a reality which was deeply troubling.
"We're nowhere near this level of research…"
Skye shrugged, suddenly standing up and skirting as far as possible around the table as she joined their boss.
"Well, that's probably because S.H.I.E.L.D. spend less time thinking about killing people than Hydra do. Murder's like, way, way up on their 'to do' list."
Simmons nodded, her face expression brightening slightly as she added, "What we really need of course is to speak to one of the people responsible for designing this weapon. That would enable us to understand the technology behind it much quicker than it's going to take us to run trials and conduct our experiments."
"Want me to see if Ward's taking requests?" Skye deadpanned, her thoughts lingering on her former 'almost' lover for perhaps a little longer than they should have. Yet again she found herself worried about his safety, unable to imagine just what he was currently up to in his rabid quest for forgiveness. She'd started to think that perhaps that was something she might want – and like – to let him earn.
"Well, we do have six new recruits sitting in the transport module, just waiting for a nice, comfy cell in the Fridge," Coulson said, directing a look at FitzSimmons, "it's possible that one of them knows at least something about all this."
"Not unlikely," agreed Fitz as Simmons nodded her head.
"Draft a list of pertinent questions and I'll see they're asked," Coulson stated, an almost wicked smile curving his lips upwards as he added, "by someone highly persuasive."
"That sounds fun and, kind of deserved," Skye supplied, a flash of anger coursing through her body as she glanced back down at the weapon that would perhaps enable Hydra to wipe out an entire people.
Slowly pulling her phone from her pocket, Skye glanced cautiously around at her colleagues before she stole away towards the back of the room, leaving the three of them happily caught up in conversation.
She peered over at them guiltily even as her fingertips began moving over the keys on her phone. The number was now committed to memory. She hurried to type out the message, her thumb hovering over 'send' whilst she gnawed on her bottom lip as she debated committing to taking this step forwards.
'D.C. says you did good. Thank you.'
The message left her phone a moment later – not wholly truthful, of course, but also not completely a lie. The truth was too complicated to convey, but she felt Grant Ward's latest actions deserved the praise they were due.
Before she could stop herself, she sent a second message.
'Be safe out there, Robot.'
When seconds later the only response she received was a tiny, grey robot emoji, Skye couldn't help the smile that consumed her.
x-x-x
1stJanuary 2015
'On the eighth day of Christmas Grant Ward gave to me, eight moles a'sneaking, seven guns a'gleaming, six heads a'plotting, five smuggling rings, four passwords, three henchmen, two armoured trucks and a vow to stop his treachery…'
She couldn't help the guilt gnawing away at her gut as she slid into the diner booth, the peak of her baseball cap pulled down low in order to partially obscure her face. The man sitting parallel to her didn't bother to lower the menu he appeared to be examining, just waited for her to shrug out of her coat before he even glanced up. His eyes pierced her, and she resisted the urge to shudder, having forgotten just how intense those brown orbs could be. This whole thing felt like a betrayal somehow; a betrayal of S.H.I.E.L.D., a betrayal of her friends, and overall a betrayal of her own dignity. Ward had hurt her beyond measure and yet here she was, consenting to meet him in a backwater diner somewhere outside of Washington, for reasons he had yet to reveal to her. She couldn't help but feel slightly ashamed with herself when she realised just how readily she had agreed to the meeting. Skye knew that the ache she felt in her chest whenever she thought of Grant had in no small part played a role in that eagerness.
Shaking off her gloves, Skye settled behind the table and leaned against the ripped leather seat. She did her best to affix Ward with a stare that demanded immediate explanations, but she couldn't help but be a little concerned that her expression was coming off more as relief at seeing him. Especially if the warm smile curving his lips upwards was any indication to go by.
"You look good," he said by way of greeting, and Skye blushed rather than bark out a protest as she may have done a fortnight ago. That man who had peered back at her through the barrier in Vault D, unkempt looking and near desolate, seemed like a distant memory now. Ward looked well, she found herself pleased to realise; he had lost the mountain man beard and the dark shadows beneath his eyes, and he just somehow looked a lot less hollow than he had done the last time she had seen him. When Coulson had been shoving him down the corridor of the Playground to prepare to hand him over to his childhood abuser.
Shrugging self-consciously, Skye managed a smile, "So do you."
Feeling more and more ridiculous by the second, Skye pulled off the baseball cap and placed it down on the booth beside her. She paused as the waitress appeared next to the table - an older, rounded woman with hair arguably the colour of Santa's suit.
They relayed their order quickly, and it was only as Skye skimmed the menu Ward passed her that she realised how hungry she was. He watched her fondly, apparently thrilled that she felt comfortable enough to share a meal with him and, according to the length of her order, a pretty big meal at that.
"S.H.I.E.L.D. stopped feeding you or something?" he chuckled, his grin widening as she rolled her eyes at his teasing. Familiarity clenched at his heart.
"I eat when I'm nervous," she dismissed him with a shrug, "besides, those burgers smell really good."
Ward's brows knit into a frown and he regarded her intently, as if her words had somehow upset him.
"You're nervous? I make you nervous? Skye… you never have a reason to be afraid of me, I would never…"
Cutting him off with a shake of her head, she offered him a smile as she explained, "I'm not afraid of you, Ward. I just… it makes me antsy going behind everybody's back."
Ward nodded his understanding, barely managing to lock down the look of regret that crashed across his features. Still, it was there fleetingly, and Skye caught it. It gave her pause, and perhaps hope that maybe Grant really did wish he could turn back time to the moment where it counted.
"I'm sorry about… putting you in this position," Ward declared, clearing his throat roughly and almost squirming in his seat.
"Me too," Skye replied as she folded her hands on the table top, "for what it's worth, I've thought a lot about things and, well, as much as you're still a duplicitous asshole, I realise now that what we did… what we were going to do… was wrong."
This time, Ward couldn't prevent the look of astonishment from crossing over his face, but he managed to nod his head.
"I know why you are the way you are, Ward," Skye said, biting her bottom lip as she hesitantly reached across the table and rested her hand on Ward's arm, "whilst I can't forgive what you've done, I can understand it. I can recognise how easily it could have been me. I remember what it was like to be a scared kid, nobody there to look out for you… how desperate you can become."
"I wish neither of us knew what that was like," Ward mumbled, his voice tight and unnatural sounding.
"Yeah, but we do," Skye smiled wistfully, running her fingertips over his arm, too lost in thought to realise her own actions. "I want you to be telling me the truth, Ward. I want to believe you so badly. Because I know the guy you... I know that wasn't all an act and there is good in you. You don't have to be who Garrett made you. You can still be the man I thought you were. He's in there somewhere."
Ward gaped, at a loss to either reply or even comprehend that the woman he had hurt so badly - the woman he thought he would always love – could be sitting in front of him, all but offering him a second chance to prove himself.
"That's what I'm trying to do, Skye. To make amends," he offered simply.
Chancing her anger, he moved his hand towards hers where it still rested on his arm, and he very hesitantly stroked his fingertips over hers. Skye stared at him silently, swallowing as she felt her mouth run dry and Ward kept staring at her with such hope and brazen adoration that she felt like she couldn't breathe.
"You must be pissing off an awful lot of people right now," she stated, "Hydra's golden boy goes rogue? They'll have people after you, Grant."
Ward shook his head in confusion, seemingly desperate to set her straight.
"Skye, I was never loyal to Hydra. I wasn't a part of that. It was John, I… I was loyal to John. I figured I owed him, but… I never wanted to hurt you. You're the only thing I've ever cared about in my life, Skye, and when I realised…" he swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth that memories of John Garrett evoked, "when I realised what he'd become, what he'd done to you… I hated myself more than you or Coulson, or any of the team ever could. I want to make it right, I need to."
Skye finally withdrew her hand, mindful that she shouldn't give Ward the wrong idea. His atonement could not be solidified in a week, and she couldn't allow him to believe that there was presently more between them than some sort of uneasy comradery. He seemed to understand that and so he leaned a little further away, still wearing a soft smile.
"Well, this is a good start," Skye replied, and she straightened up again in her seat. She cocked her head as she regarded Ward, this time with a no-nonsense purse of her lips, "So, what have you got for me?"
Reaching into his inside jacket pocket, Ward carefully withdrew an envelope, which he slid across the table quickly and without fuss. Following his lead, Skye covertly pulled the envelope off the table and wasted no time in jamming it into her messenger bag.
"Do I at least get a hint?" she inquired, a grin lighting her features, "because that burger isn't going to taste half as good if I'm still thinking about what's in that envelope."
Ward chuckled and took just a moment to sweep his gaze around the diner, searching out any potential threats. It was a force of habit by now, and one that he would not neglect even though the restaurant was essentially deserted, save for a couple of waitresses and what appeared to be a table of off duty truckers. It was a miserable way to spend New Year's Day, but Ward had endured worse.
Cocking his head, Ward leaned in closer and replied, "That's a list of all the Hydra sleepers within S.H.I.E.L.D. Their names, badge numbers, private addresses… everything you need."
Skye's mouthed dropped open and she stared at him in bewilderment, "There's more of them? Like, inside S.H.I.E.L.D.? Right now?"
Ward simply nodded, glancing up as the waitress placed their meals down in front of them.
Offering a brief smile of thanks, Ward watched as Skye picked up a fry from her plate and bit into it. Her enthusiasm for the meal seemed to have been dampened somewhat.
"Holy shit," she breathed, sitting forward in her seat as she stared at him urgently, "how are you finding all of this crap out, Grant? You said you weren't a part of Hydra but…"
"I wasn't. I'm not," he assured her, offering her the most honest response he could. "But I can coast by on Garrett's name. For now, anyway. Plenty of people owed Garrett a favour, so they help me out… not realising that…"
"That you're using them to get at what you want?!" Skye finished his sentence, noting how ashamed his expression had become. Not due to his current actions against Hydra, but for how she may be once again reminded of his deeds all those months ago.
Skye pushed her plate away, her appetite having dissipated.
"Ward, this is dangerous as hell," she protested, shaking her head, "you have to stop."
"I can't do that," Ward replied immediately, mirroring Skye's gesture of shaking his head.
"This can't be negotiable," Skye snapped, glancing around her quickly before she hissed, "you are going to die, Ward."
Ward paused, frowning, seeming to deliberate over his next words. Finally, he muttered, "Just a couple of weeks ago you would have said that was a good thing. Should have run faster, right?"
Skye looked crushed; even the memory of the terrible things she'd said to him made her feel sick to the stomach and she shook her head furiously.
"I was hurt, and angry, and… I wanted you to feel the same kind of pain I did. You broke my heart, Grant, what did you expect? But this is insane, I won't let you carry on this way."
Ward glanced down at the table before he sought out Skye's eyes, his expression bordering on desperation. "I have to do this, Skye. I have to finish it."
Her jaw clenching in anger, she shoved her plate into the centre of the table, attracting the gazes of a couple of truckers who sat across the diner from them.
"Fine. Kill yourself, Grant."
Ward was visibly stunned by her outburst, left wondering just when it was that she had decided she cared if he lived or died.
"What makes you think I'm gonna get myself killed? I can look after myself. I escaped S.H.I.E.L.D. custody, remember?!" trying his best to sound confident, he added, "I'm a Specialist, it's what I do. And I'm the best, we both know that."
"You are not invincible, Ward," Skye spat back, her hand clenching into a fist as her frustration overcame her.
"I don't need to be invincible, I just need to be better than them," he countered, pushing his food around his plate with his fork. "You don't need to worry about me. I don't deserve that after everything I did."
"Don't you think I've lost enough?" Skye all but shouted, slamming her balled hand down on the table and glaring at Ward. She was breathing hard through flared nostrils, her mouth pressed into a thin line and her chin wobbling dangerously.
Ward regarded her coolly but not unkindly. For once, his own heart thrummed in his chest, suggesting fear and also a degree of shock. He hadn't expected her reaction, her words, and he wasn't wholly sure what to do with them now. He still loved her, it was true. He would probably always love her, but he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he didn't deserve her. He couldn't delude himself like that anymore, and he certainly couldn't bring himself to ruin her even more than he previously had.
"You don't have me, Skye," he replied, quietly but firmly. His eyes dropped to the surface of the table and he allowed his fork to clatter down to meet his plate.
Regarding him evenly, Skye retorted, "I never will if you're dead. Then what's the point in any of this?"
Ward stared down at his plate for a few moments, hesitant to lift his gaze. He could feel her eyes burning into him, and he kept his tone low as he replied.
"To prove to you that I'm sorry. That I can be… at least something like the guy you thought I was." Gesturing to her plate, he added with a fleeting smile, "Please… finish your food."
Skye felt an overpowering urge to punch him, but she reined it in admirably; this time though, her anger was born out of frustration and fear rather than loathing. Not fear of him, but fear for him. Of losing him once and for all, and never being able to even explore a future where she could find it in her heart to forgive him. She suspected the pang in her chest indicated that she could very easily love him again.
"Got somewhere to be?" she probed, picking up another fry with reluctance.
"Yes," he nodded, chancing a brief glance at his watch, "but not for a couple of hours. I have no right to ask you for anything, but… please… just stay."
Skye said nothing, just continued to eat her fries whilst she stared almost aimlessly out of the window. She had gotten so much better at locking down her emotions, Ward noted, and he gathered that latest development could be attributed to her training with Agent May. It made him sad to witness in a way. Skye's tendency to be overly emotional, excitable, and everything that a staid agent shouldn't be was one of the things that he had first found most attractive about her. It was certainly one of the first things about her that he had grown to admire. She cared deeply about anything and everything, and nothing ever seemed too trivial for her attention. Ward found himself hoping deeply that May wouldn't succeed in turning her into just another S.H.I.E.L.D. robot.
"I forgot to say…" Ward spoke up, surprising even himself by fracturing the silence. However, he found that he just couldn't endure it anymore, and he no longer wanted to feel Skye's quiet anger radiating towards him. "Happy New Year, Skye. I hope… I hope this one is everything you've ever dreamed of."
Skye swallowed hard before dabbing at her lips with a napkin. Then, she looked up at Ward, her eyes sweeping his features as though she was looking for something specific. Whatever it was, the disappointed quirk of her lips told him that she hadn't found it.
"I don't make resolutions," she said finally, balling up the napkin and tossing it onto her plate, which indicated that she was done with her meal even though she had eaten less than half. "But maybe I will this year."
"Got anything in mind?" Ward asked, his curiosity absolutely genuine. He examined Skye's body language for any clues but came up empty, which was frustrating to say the least.
Pursing her lips, Skye shrugged. "I haven't decided yet. But if you're still alive next week maybe I'll tell you."
She held his gaze longer than she intended, releasing a heavy-hearted sigh at the turn events had taken recently; or more accurately, over the last six months.
A grin tugged at his lips, and Skye felt a slow, lazy smile blossom on her own face despite her misgivings.
"Deal," he said, glancing back towards the counter and arching an eyebrow as he led Skye's gaze in that direction. "You know I think they have cheesecake back there."
She rolled her eyes and laughed, folding her arms across her chest whilst she gazed at him almost analytically.
"You're buying."
Smirking, Ward gestured for the waitress to return to the table as Skye shoved the envelope deeper into her bag, then secured the straps for good measure.
They remained in the diner for another thirty minutes before they were forced to admit that they were perhaps pushing their luck a little when it came to potentially being discovered. Almost reluctantly, they said their goodbyes and Skye left first, not once shooting a backward glance over her shoulder.
Ward kept his eyes trained on her all the way to the door, watching her retreating figure with longing. Just sometimes, in her presence, he dared to hope that one day his mission would be achieved, and perhaps he would find absolution for his crimes. Yet when he lay in bed at night, alone and simultaneously lonely, he was forced to admit to himself the cold, hard truth; some things were just unforgiveable. It was with that realisation that Ward had come to accept and even embrace the possibility of his own death. After all, he wasn't certain that he wanted to live any more with the knowledge that he was damned. He had always been a man who preferred to cut to the chase. He had sealed his fate when he had blindly followed Garrett into Hell. There was no use prolonging the inevitable.