2ndJanuary 2015
'On the ninth day of Christmas Grant Ward gave to me, nine ladies dancing, 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…'
"I need… I need help with this one."
The call had come late in the evening, and Skye had wasted no time in answering it. She found herself suited up in tac. gear and armed to the teeth, heading out to 'borrow' an SUV, before she had really registered what she was doing. It was as she had slid into the driver's seat of the vehicle that she had been discovered, by Agent May nonetheless. Her mentor and superior had seemed less than thrilled by Skye's garbled explanation of her actions, but she had still climbed into the car beside her, loathed to allow her inexperienced rookie to head into the potential fray alone. Although May knew Skye wouldn't technically be the only body at the scene, she didn't trust Grant Ward with the woman's safety. Whilst he had proven himself somewhat useful of late, he was still a born liar, traitor, psychopath, and seasoned killer. May would be a fool to allow Skye to go it alone.
"Did he give you any indication at all of what he wanted?" May inquired for perhaps the third or fourth time in a row. Skye was barely managing to check her temper, her fingers gripping the wheel so tightly that they had whitened.
"He just said that he needed me, that's all," Skye relayed, barely managing to work the irritation out of her voice before she spoke. May shot her a look that could almost be described as dubious.
"He said he needed you specifically?" she checked, her mind already racing with a hundred and one ways in which Ward could possibly have been setting a trap for Skye. It wasn't like he didn't have a history of kidnapping her, after all.
Bristling with annoyance, Skye replied, "He said he needed help, May, and I wasn't about to round up the people who hate him most in the world to see if they were feeling benevolent, okay? I'm as good as back up for Grant Ward gets."
Gritting her teeth, her expression murderous, May was silent for the remainder of the journey, her mind no doubt turning Ward's betrayal over and over until her anger had once again been sparked. Skye remained quiet as she surreptitiously sent a message to Ward to check that everything was okay; or more specifically, that he still had a pulse.
They arrived at the location the coordinates indicated only to find themselves in one of the seedy areas of the city, outside a 'gentlemen's club' that looked like the exterior had last seen maintenance during the Nixon administration.
"What exactly are we supposed to be looking for?" May huffed, standing outside the apparently empty building that didn't appear to have opened for business that night.
"I don't know, unusual activity I guess," Skye shrugged, ignoring the brief smirk that lit up May's features.
Shooting a gaze up at the flashing neon signage, where a topless woman was sitting inside a martini glass, May quirked an eyebrow as she imagined the litany of 'unusual' activity that usually took place within the walls.
"We're outside a strip club, Skye. We're gonna need something more specific."
Grumbling under her breath, Skye pulled her cell phone out again and swiped at the screen, preparing to send Ward another message to see where he had disappeared to. Especially since he had yet to answer her last message.
"Wait, you have his cell number?" May demanded, glaring at Skye through narrowed eyes. "Have you told Coulson?"
"I have the number of his burner phone, yes," Skye replied, her annoyance obvious as she planted a hand on her hip and levelled a glare at May.
"And she'll have tomorrow's too," a familiar voice declared. May's head whipped around to the side and she squinted into the darkness of the nearby alley, from the mouth of which Ward emerged, his hands held out in front of his body to demonstrate that he carried no weapons.
"Why the hell haven't you turned him in, Skye?" May snapped, her lip curling as she fought the urge to let out a growl, "why haven't you at least traced the line?"
"Come on, May," Ward interjected, shaking his head and releasing a dark chuckle, "do you really think I'm dumb enough to keep the same cell for more than 24 hours?"
"You really want me to answer that?" May queried, not a single shred of amusement present in her tone.
"Believe it or not, I'm on your side." Ward narrowed his eyes, as if thinking over the last week of 'gifts' he'd left at Coulson's feet and how happy the S.H.I.E.L.D. director had been to accept them. He had certainly skipped off to interrogate each Hydra operative with a spring in his step and no talk of telling Ward to cease his crusade. Although, unlike Skye, he didn't care a single bit for Ward's welfare.
May rolled her eyes as Ward turned his body away from her, purposefully only addressing Skye. He didn't have time for May's attitude; as much as he understood her loathing of him, it wouldn't help current matters.
"The club owners are tied up in their office upstairs, they should be waking up soon. There's a few… casualties. Hydra operatives, nobody who'll be missed," he relayed patiently, watching as Skye nodded her understanding. "This place is a front for human trafficking."
Skye blanched, wrinkling her nose in distaste, "Hardly shocking Hydra's into that shit, I guess."
Ward nodded, looking as if he were for once out of his depth.
"The girls who work here are captives. I've opened the cells in the basement, but… they're not real keen to move. I guess they heard the gunshots, and I don't look like someone they need to be trusting right now. I need you to take them to S.H.I.E.L.D., get them to safety."
"Oh… wow…" Skye breathed, her top front teeth sinking into her bottom lip as she shot a glance at the club, which stood in total darkness.
"I tried going down there, talking to them, but we both know I'm not exactly a people person," Ward said, a wry smile on his face as he spoke. "I thought maybe they'd respond better to you… you always seem to know what to say."
May let out a snort, ignoring the glare that Skye directed at her.
"I'll do my best," Skye agreed as she squared her shoulders in preparation for the task ahead. Thankfully, she couldn't even begin to comprehend what the traumatised women currently hiding out in the basement had gone through; how they had been conditioned, brainwashed, or abused to proportions that meant they would view even their rescuer as a figure of suspicion.
"Well, I never knew you were such a feminist, Ward," said May sardonically. She tilted her head as she regarded the former agent, who couldn't hide his own irritation at the woman's words. Regardless of what May might think of him on a personal level, he had never been one to stand idly by and watch abuse occur, especially after the past he had endured. The situation he had found the nine girls in had genuinely disgusted him, and so he hadn't hesitated in taking down the whole operation in order to secure their freedom. This one was less for Coulson and definitely more for the benefit of Hydra's prisoners.
May's lips drew into a tight line as she suddenly found two incredulous and irritated glares levelled at her.
She let out an exasperated sigh as she shot Skye a pointed look, "I'll be down in the basement… I'm calling this in, so your boyfriend might want to disappear."
Skye watched her go, suddenly self-conscious as she found Ward smiling down at her.
"I'm sorry," he offered with a shrug, "I didn't know who else to call. I figured S.H.I.E.L.D. would be able to help them, get them medical attention… not really my area of expertise."
"It's okay," Skye shook her head, thinking on May's parting shot as she bounced on the balls of her feet and peered up at him.
"You should probably…" she gestured behind him to the street, trying to ignore the dip in the pit of her stomach as he nodded yet made no effort to take his eyes off her face. "I'm gonna make sure they know who rescued them. They should know."
"Not necessary," Ward smiled in response. He blinked quickly when Skye leaned up on impulse and pressed a kiss to his cheek. His skin was warm against her lips, his stubble rough and prickly, and her desire began to grow, setting all of the nerves in her body on edge. He smelled just as she remembered; clean and safe, just a hint of leather and gun powder present, making her bite her lip in longing.
"I'll message you? Let you know how they are?" she suggested, her eyes wide as he reached out and placed his fingertips against her cheek. He moved hesitantly, as if afraid of spooking her, and she audibly gasped when his skin connected with hers.
"Thank you," he murmured, and Skye found herself nodding, although she had put very little actual thought into the gesture. She opened her mouth to speak but a clatter from inside the club drew her attention, and her head whipped around so that her gaze could focus on the unlit window. She waited several seconds, listening for a call for assistance from May, yet none came.
"I…" Skye began, turning back to face Ward. However, he had gone, and all that greeted Skye was a view of the cold, desolate street.
Letting out a sigh, she turned on her heel and made her way towards the building, where her presence was needed.
x-x-x
3rdJanuary 2015
'On the tenth day of Christmas Grant Ward gave to me, ten plots a'leaking, nine ladies dancing, 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…'
Pacing up and down in front of the interrogation room door, Coulson jammed his fingertips down the collar of his shirt and pulled the constricting fabric away from his neck. He checked his watch multiple times, his unease at this 'arrangement' bubbling up from the pit of his stomach.
The man was easily discernible from the other figures in the hallway; tall, dark, and striding towards the cell with obvious intent and some urgency. Drawing to a stop in front of the director, the newly and temporarily appointed 'consultant' landed an even and yet slightly uncertain gaze on the older man.
"Where is he?" the younger man pressed, not wasting time on pleasantries. He folded his arms over his broad chest and awaited instruction, still the model soldier at heart.
"In there," Coulson deflected his gaze to the closed door with a nod of his head, "he's not talking. He's not frightened of May, and he sure as Hell wasn't frightened of me. But let me get this straight here and now; you're here to talk to him. You take your shot, then you leave. You wouldn't even be here if we hadn't found the project plans contained Skye's name. We need to get information out of this douchebag before they make a play for her."
Nodding his head, the hired mercenary shrugged, as if wholly confident in his abilities. They were after all infamous within S.H.I.E.L.D.
"I'm not about to let anything happen to Skye. He'll talk."
Coulson examined him closely, taking a final moment to evaluate the plan before he simply swallowed down his uncertainties and handed over the key card needed to access the interrogation cell.
"Cameras are off. He's all yours," Coulson announced, adding hesitantly, "I don't care what you have to do."
Narrowing his eyes, the younger man frowned, as though shocked to hear those words come out of Coulson's mouth. They appeared to take him by surprise but, more than that, he also seemed disappointed to hear them.
"Noted," he said absently.
Opening the door to the cell, Coulson peered into the centre of the room and regarded the stoic Hydra scientist with a beaming smile. The man barely blinked, his hands resting on the table top. He appeared unmoved by the director's intrusion.
"Dr. Eckholdt… there's somebody here who'd like to talk to you."
The taller man stepped from behind Coulson, using his emergence from the shadows to his advantage. He smiled in a predatory gesture as the introduction was made.
"Meet Grant Ward."
"I know who he is," the doctor replied, chuckling scornfully as though he was not at all cowed by Ward's appearance. His lips twisted and in the next instant, he spat on the floor just in front of Grant's boots.
"Traitor," he accused before turning his head away as though both bored by the visitor and yet simultaneously repulsed by him.
"Nothing I haven't heard before, 'doc'," Ward said mockingly, shooting a look at Coulson that indicated he should leave.
Coulson made for the door of the interrogation room, where he paused with one hand pressed against the metal. He hoped he was doing the right thing but there was no way to tell yet; confirmation would only come with the acquisition of information. Surprisingly, even May had supported this play, which Coulson never would have guessed possible in a million years. However, he had seen the look of cold, steely fury cross the woman's eyes when she had skimmed the Hydra document that had Skye's name plastered all over it.
Two hours later, Ward emerged from the interrogation cell, his knuckles bloody and his expression murderous after discovering what the Hydra scientists had planned for Skye; plans he would never, ever allow to come to fruition.
Though Dr. Eckholdt had been confident in his ability to withstand even the most brutal of interrogation strategies, one thing he hadn't been banking on was receiving said interrogation at the hands of the man who perhaps loved their potential test subject more than anything in the world. It took Ward less than forty minutes to break him.
Stretching out his hands and feeling a familiar burn warming his knuckles, Ward slipped unseen into Coulson's office, and the next hour was spent in deep, unsavoury conversation as the Specialist reported his findings.
When it came time for Ward to leave, he shot a suspicious glance at the doorway to Coulson's office, half expecting to find a full S.H.I.E.L.D. strike team present and ready to detain him. When he saw nothing but a darkened, empty corridor, he was nothing short of stunned. Intercepting the look of surprise that flitted across Ward's face, Coulson cleared his throat.
"I'm a man of my word, Ward," he declared, unable still to chase away the edge of bitterness to his voice, "I promised that this time you'd be free to go and so you are."
Ward nodded his head, debating quickly whether to utter a few words of thanks or if that would only pique Coulson's annoyance further. The director didn't seem at all pleased to be allowing a known fugitive to simply stroll out of the base, but he had the information he had sought, courtesy of Ward, and no less than nine other upcoming Hydra plots to begin unravelling. Coupled with the 'presents' Ward had been gifting them with over the last week or so, Coulson had to admit that the man was perhaps of more use to him on the outside of the organisation than he was behind a security field.
Ward halted as the sound of Coulson's voice stopped him in his tracks. Hanging his head down, he jammed his hands in his pockets and awaited the question he'd been expecting since he arrived.
"Ward? What is it you think you're gonna get out of all of this? These… little breadcrumbs, the 'gifts' you've been leaving?"
Turning around to face his former employer, Ward held his gaze, making sure he could see the honesty and sincerity in his expression. Swallowing hard, he replied, "Forgiveness."
Coulson was taken aback for a moment, not having expected that response. He'd thought perhaps Ward wanted to prove his worth to S.H.I.E.L.D. or was simply acting to destroy the Hydra machine that had ensnared him via John Garrett.
Not knowing quite what to say, Coulson merely arched an eyebrow as Ward spoke again, although this time there was a hint of desperation in his tone.
"Whatever you do, Coulson… don't let them get to Skye… please. Keep her safe, no matter what."
"They won't touch her," Coulson said, and it was a vow, Ward could tell. The two men, once team mates and now sworn enemies, exchanged long looks; one was filled with curiosity and the other with only sorrow.
Without another word, Ward walked away, quickly and quietly, as he had promised to do before his arrival. Skye would never know he had been there – never know his involvement in this latest development, which was paramount to her safety. No matter how much it hurt, Ward was acutely aware that it was better that way.
x-x-x
4th January 2015
'On the eleventh day of Christmas Grant Ward gave to me, eleven snipers sniping, ten plots a'leaking, nine ladies dancing, 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…'
Drumming her fingers against the sides of her laptop, Skye fidgeted listlessly with her ear piece, watching the map and street view on the screen. Her anxiety was rocketing, although she had no idea why. Something just felt off, right down to her bones.
May was leading a recon. team to track down an Inhuman, who had apparently been caught up in a series of arson incidents all over the East side of the city. Intelligence had tracked him to an abandoned factory in a less savoury part of town, but something about the ease with which they received the information made Skye – and the rest of the team – incredibly nervous.
"Anything?" Coulson barked into the communications device, his arms folded across his chest as he stared up at the main screen, where he could see the green dots that represented his team blinking away.
"Nothing," May relayed, and he heard her sigh across the mouthpiece, "this feels like a trap, Coulson."
Jamming his hands into his pockets, he replied anxiously, "Alright, get out of there, May."
Skye tapped away at the keyboard, fingers moving so fast and fluidly that they were a blur. She pulled up the feed from the security cameras lining the neighbourhood and maximised the window on the one that gave her the best view of May and the small team accompanying her.
She watched for several minutes as May proceeded around the back of the factory building, her hand floating at her hip as she prepared to draw her firearm at a moment's notice. Everything appeared to be running smoothly, up until the moment that the agent immediately behind May overtook her and turned the corner of the building.
A gunshot rang out and his body hit the ground hard. His eyes were still open, frozen wide in the moment of death.
"Shit…" May cursed over her comms. device, and Skye could only watch with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach as the S.H.I.E.L.D. team flattened themselves against the wall. Another shot resounded and Skye's eyelids slammed closed as her heart rate begin to pick up. She would never get used to watching her colleagues fall, especially when it was over something as impersonal as a computer screen and she was powerless to do anything practical to help.
"May?" Coulson all but yelled, the control now gone from his tone, "get out of there!"
"That's what we're trying to do," she ground back, and Skye could almost hear the grimace on her face. "There are hostiles in the building overlooking the railway tracks, snipers on the roof…"
Another shot rang out and Skye was very tempted to close her eyes. "… And on the fourth floor… second and sixth windows…"
Skye's fingers tapped away on the laptop and almost immediately a refreshed image appeared on the screen. A glut of red dots swarmed the abandoned building, effectively cutting off May's escape path.
Fitz, who had remained pensively silent until that point, suddenly gestured emphatically at the screen, "There's eight… nine… ten of the bastards… no wait, eleven…"
He furrowed his brow as he counted and then recounted the heat signatures blinking into existence.
The group watched as one of the red figures seemed to approach another, almost ghosting over it. The images merged and then flickered, but just as quickly parted. The second dot suddenly glowed orange, it's heat signature ebbing away.
"Wait… wait a second, what is that?" Coulson held up his hand to ensure that Skye didn't change their current view.
Skye peered at the screen through narrowed eyes, watching as the red figure approached another and then another of the Hydra agents; each time their heat signature began to fade away to nothing.
"Is that… is that guy taking out the others?"
Skye sucked in a breath and held it, her fingers gripping the edge of the table hard. Fitz moved out of his seat and leaned over Skye's shoulder, his nose almost pressed flush against the laptop screen.
"Just like Russia…" he murmured, a small smile beginning to twitch at his lips.
On the screen, dot after tiny red dot began to blink out, whilst bullets continued to rain down on the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents.
"May, there's five hostiles left in the area," Skye relayed, springing back into life as another red speck flashed off the screen, "can you get to cover yet?"
"Negative," May said, clearly through gritted teeth, "there's still a sniper on the roof."
Almost systematically the red figures were eliminated, leaving only one within the building and two on the roof. The team watched engrossed as rapidly the inside of the building was cleared.
"He's going up onto the roof," Fitz stated, all three transfixed by the scene playing out before them.
"Or she," Skye replied playfully, chancing a smile since it looked like their fortunes out in the field may be changing for the better. Unless, of course, their renegade figure was to suddenly turn on May's team. But the odds of one versus six were better than the odds the Cavalry's team had walked in to.
"Nah, that's a guy, that's… that's…" Fitz's eyes grew wide as all three paused to watch the two heat signatures on the roof be joined by a third. Almost at the exact same time, the two dots disappeared from their posting on the warehouse roof.
"That's Ward."
Realisation striking him, Fitz sat down heavily on the seat next to Skye. The three watching agents floundered and gaped in abject shock at the screen.
Suddenly remembering May and her team, Skye spoke hurriedly into the comms.
"Uh… the hostiles have been… cleared," she said askance, "get your asses out of their, May!"
"Copy that," May replied, too busy leading her team to safety to even ask to whom she owed their break in luck.
"Ward?" Coulson asked askance, "but… he just took out an entire Hydra away team."
Skye nodded, thinking back on their earlier days on the Bus, when she'd awarded him the moniker 'Seal Team 6'.
"Not like he hasn't done that before… I've seen him take out 12 guys without breaking a sweat. He's the best," she said quietly, watching as Coulson's eyes wavered from the screen and he yanked his tie away from his collar.
"But… but why?" Coulson demanded, shaking his head even as his gaze ticked back to the monitor, which he watched intently for a while. The red dot that they had realised was no other than their former Specialist appeared to be making its way down the fire escape of the opposite building, meaning that he would not cross paths with the strike team, who were heading to the roof of the factory in order to be extracted by a quin jet.
"I think you know why by now, D.C.," Skye replied, shooting Coulson a significant look. The director frowned, raking one hand through what remained of his hair.
"Forgiveness," Coulson scoffed, as though such an idea was truly insane. He glanced away from Skye when she narrowed her eyes at him and affixed him with the full weight of her irritated stare, but she said nothing.
Skye swallowed hard, looking up at Fitz's expression to try to read him. Seeing that he appeared to be in at least semi-agreement with her, she continued on, "Yeah, well maybe we should think about that, D.C."
Feebly holding up his hand, Fitz cleared his throat, "I um… I wouldn't be totally opposed to it. I mean, I'm not saying I forgive Ward for what… what he did, but… maybe he at least deserves the chance to try?"
"What he said," Skye agreed, gesturing to Fitz with one hand. For a fleeting second, she looked down at her feet, almost as if she were ashamed of the memory. "I've read his file, Coulson. I've read what Garrett did. Ward was just a kid and he was abused, he was… made into somebody he's not. We didn't try to help him, we just… turned him over to his abuser. And that makes us no better than John, or his brother, or his parents. Let him try."
"He tried to kill FitzSimmons!" Coulson protested, lips twisting into a frown that communicated his own displeasure at the topic of conversation.
"Yeah, I was there," Fitz retorted. He perched on the edge of the desk, watching Skye from the corner of his eye as she closed the lid of her laptop. The extraction was well under way and now there was nothing else to do but wait for May and the remaining agents to make it back to base. A second team would be sent to retrieve the body of their fallen comrade.
"That's not what I…" began Coulson, his cheeks colouring in embarrassment as he found himself subjected to Fitz's hard stare, "I know that, Fitz. I'm sorry that we failed you. I won't ever forgive myself for that. But Ward is a coldblooded killer and we can't just…"
"You failed him too, you know," Fitz stated boldly as he crossed his arms over his chest and stared levelly at Coulson. The director's mouth fell open and a look of sheer horror crashed across his features.
"What?" he demanded. He could hardly believe what he was hearing; after the brain damage Fitz had suffered as a result of Ward's actions, Coulson had believed the Scot would be the very last person advocating for the man's forgiveness.
"I failed him?" Coulson repeated, his tone increasing in volume and pitch, "I gave him a team… a purpose… a roof over his head, Agent Fitz, and he threw that all back in my face. He sold us out, risked our lives, and he didn't care a damn."
Fitz batted his hand at his boss, his brow furrowed.
"Yeah, well it looks a heck of a lot like he does care," he gestured to the screen where the heat signatures of the fallen men had now all but vanished. "You've made thirty-seven arrests this week, Coulson. Every single one of them came from Ward. I don't… I don't think he was trying to kill me and Jemma. In some desperate, misguided way he was trying to save us. Even we didn't know the bloody pod would sink. But I tell you what - Garrett? He would have killed us and not thought twice about it."
Coulson sat down heavily, yanking his tie clean off his neck and tossing it onto the table. He bent down and rested his face in his hands, letting out a truly weary groan.
"Call him in for a meeting," Coulson muttered, his expression belaying that he wasn't even close to happy with the plan. Glancing at Skye, he added shortly, "I'm assuming you know how to contact him."
"Yeah, I do," Skye said with a shrug, not even pretending to be ashamed of the revelation.
Coulson shot the young agent – the woman who had become his pseudo daughter – a look that more than conveyed his concern.
"I hope you know what you're doing here, Skye," he murmured, ignoring how her eyes flashed with irritation as she regarded him. Just a few weeks ago, she would rather have died than place her trust in Grant Ward again, such was the pain of his betrayal, and yet he had somehow managed to worm his way back into her good graces. That didn't sit well with Coulson at all. He often saw Skye as emotionally vulnerable due to the traumas of her past and he would be damned if he allowed Ward to take advantage of her again. However, he had to admit that the assistance he had provided S.H.I.E.L.D. with of late had been invaluable, and Ward had seemed especially keen to ensure that Skye stayed out of Hydra's hands.
In short, Coulson's emotions were waging an internal war – the very human longing for vengeance pitted against his true desire to be able to say that the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. did indeed offer everyone a second chance. The problem was, Coulson wasn't sure if he really was capable of being the bigger man. He supposed he would find out, sooner rather than later.
x-x-x
5th January 2015
'On the twelfth day of Christmas Grant Ward gave to me, twelve doctors dealing, eleven snipers sniping, ten plots a'leaking, nine ladies dancing, 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…'
Cursing under her breath, Skye stabbed the 'call' button on her phone, only to be once again greeted by a message telling her the phone she was calling was currently unavailable.
"God damn it, Ward," she snarled as she slid the phone back into her pocket and finally consented to lift her gaze to Coulson, who was staring at her. He had been staring at her for fifteen minutes straight, since the time for Ward's arrival had been and gone.
"He's not showing, Skye. Honestly, I don't know what I'm more disappointed by; the fact I gave him a chance to begin with, or the fact you're so clearly invested in him again."
Rolling her eyes, she held up her hand to try to deflect the disdain so easily discernible on Coulson's features.
"No, something happened. Ward wouldn't have missed this meeting, he… he promised me."
Coulson allowed a snort of laughter to escape his lips, and he stood from his desk chair and regarded her with equal parts sympathy and withering annoyance.
"When did you start believing a word that comes out of Grant Ward's mouth?"
"Sir," Simmons said, quietly but firmly as she raised her eyes from the table top they had been fixed on to Coulson's face, "that's not really helping anyone."
Arching a brow, Coulson directed an almost disbelieving look at Simmons, who he would have believed to have been the last person to leap to Grant Ward's defence.
"I would have thought that you of all people would have been thrilled, Jemma," he retorted, somewhat testily. Jemma bristled and folded her arms over her chest, refusing to rise to the bait by snapping back at the man, who she was forced to remind herself was her boss.
"Giving up hope for another human being doesn't exactly 'thrill' me, sir," she countered, her tone polite and yet somehow also ice cold, "and I certainly don't take pleasure in a friend's disappointment."
"I'm not disappointed!" Skye insisted, shaking her head as she pushed back from the meeting table and rose to her feet, "we just need to give him more time. He wouldn't let me down again, I know it."
Coulson released a sigh that indicated he was truly fed up waiting for the errant former Specialist, and that 'more time' was not on the proverbial menu for that evening.
"I have things to do, Skye, I…" Coulson began, suddenly halting as Skye's cell phone began to ring and she looked at the number on the screen with obvious relief.
Simmons offered her friend a brief smile as Skye stabbed the 'connect' button and turned around, phone held to her ear.
"Ward?" she hissed, "where the hell are you? We gave you a chance, and you… you…"
Brow furrowed, Skye looked over at Jemma, who sat up straighter at the action.
"May?" Swallowing hard, Skye demanded in a rush, "Where's Ward? Is he… is he… What?"
Her face contorted in shock, and Skye glanced rapidly from Coulson to Simmons and then back again.
"Okay, we'll be right there."
Skye dropped the cell on the table as though it had burned her, and wasted no time in rounding on Simmons, who was watching with interest and slight confusion.
"We have to go, now," she demanded, seizing the scientist gently by the arm and encouraging her to her feet. "I need your help."
"Skye, what's…?" Simmons replied, shooting a glance at Coulson when the sound of someone singing, loud and offkey, shattered the quiet of the outer hallway.
"May found Ward," said Skye, half a smile twitching at her lips, despite the severity of the situation. The tuneless strains of 'Walking in A Winter Wonderland' that reached her ears were doing very little to thwart her amusement, regardless of how inappropriate it might be in that moment.
"She said we should meet her in the med. bay but I guess Dean Martin had other ideas," she replied, managing to swallow down a chuckle as she heard May bark something sharply to her companion, whose spirit didn't seem to be in the least dampened.
"Little help out here!" yelled a familiar voice that bore a thick Scottish brogue.
"What the hell is going on here?" Coulon snapped, thoroughly irritated now by proceedings, and simply eager to carry on with his day, after hopefully banishing all thoughts of Grant Ward from his mind. The former Specialist was beginning to cause him a bigger headache in trying to be of assistance to S.H.I.E.L.D. than he had when he had betrayed the organisation.
"What on earth?" Simmons gaped, rushing to help May and Fitz as they struggled to drag Ward's sizeable and apparently semi-conscious frame towards the med. bay door, which was located several feet down the corridor.
"Less talking, more helping!" Fitz yelled, his knees almost buckling with the strain of holding up one side of the 6' 2 Specialist.
"What happened?" Skye demanded, looking askance at Ward as his eyes rolled back in his head and he grappled with thin air in between bouts of nonsensical laughter. He couldn't have been any less the fearsome Specialist if he had tried.
"It's anaesthetic gas," May explained with a wince, gritting her teeth as finally Simmons and Skye each grasped one of Ward's legs and they staggered towards a gurney with a collective grunt of exertion. Ward, for his part, began serenading them with another Christmas classic.
"Yeah, that's great Bing, but we really need you to use your legs right now," Skye demanded, eyes wide as Ward's stare appeared to settle on her.
"Skye…" he sighed almost airily, beaming at her as he repeated her name over and over again as if the sound of it alone made him blissfully happy.
"Oh dear Lord…" Simmons ground out, rolling her eyes so hard that they were practically in danger of sliding right out of her head.
"Where did you find him?" Coulson inquired, pausing in the doorway of medical and leaning against the frame, where he stood to observe Ward. The Specialist's eyes closed for a moment and an inane grin overtook his lips. He moved as though to get up off the bed and immediately four sets of hands were upon him, holding him down.
"Hey, hey, big guy," Fitz coaxed, sounding as though he was addressing a very young child, "how about a little sleep, huh? Does that sound good?"
"I can't sedate him," Simmons replied, shaking her head firmly as she grasped Ward's wrist and began to measure his pulse, "I have no idea what's been pumped into his system and there's a very real danger I could OD him."
"That's a risk I'm willing to take," supplied Coulson, wincing as Ward started up with another festive tune, belted out at the top of his voice.
"He was at a clinic downtown," May said, addressing Coulson's earlier question as she moved away from the bed, satisfied that the three younger agents could handle Ward for the time being. If he started to resist then she'd step forward but for now he posed no real risk to any of them.
"Hydra cover?" Coulson guessed, his expression souring rapidly when May nodded her head.
"Black market organ harvesting, not typically from willing donors," she stated, and Skye's head whipped around to affix the two senior agents with a horrified look.
"Is he okay?" she demanded, her hands leaving Ward's arm to hover over his torso, "I mean… everything's still in there, right?"
"Depends on whether you think he had a heart and a brain to begin with, but yes…" May snarked, sighing as she watched the team try to subdue him.
"Hey, hey Grant?" Skye tried, gasping as Ward suddenly rolled onto his side and clutched her hand to his chest as if trying to hug it. However, the action only propelled her forward until they were nose to nose.
"I don't think I should have another… another drink," he slurred, his handsome features suddenly lit up as he found her chest directly within his line of sight.
"Okay, Ward, work with me here," Skye pleaded, trying unsuccessfully to wrestle her hand free. "You just need to sleep this off and then… then we…"
Letting out an airy little groan first, he then began to chuckle like a naughty child. "Your… your… boobs… are awesome."
Feeling her cheeks burn a violent shade of red, Skye managed to bite a snort of laughter.
"Yeah, I know, pal. Eyes up here…" she directed, placing her free hand on his cheek and directing his gaze to her face instead in order to try to snap him out of his stupor.
"Pretty eyes…" Ward slurred, his grin widening and somehow simultaneously managing to grow more absurd at the same time.
"Are you really sure you can't knock him out?" Coulson checked, shooting a glare at Simmons, who shrugged her shoulders.
"Maybe not with drugs," May quipped, a smile lighting her features as she cocked a brow at the director, just waiting for the green light.
"Don't you dare," Skye growled, doing her level best to help Ward shrug out of his signature brown leather jacket, which was a harder venture than it first might have appeared to be. He almost overbalanced and tumbled off the bed twice, until they finally managed to wrestle his arms and considerably muscular bulk free.
"Do you… remember… when…" Ward began, chuckling merrily as he finished in a wobbly falsetto, "we used to say… sha la la la la laaaa…"
"Can we please do something before we end up subjected to the entire Van Morrison back catalogue?" demanded Fitz, raking a hand through his hair. He shot an accusatory glare at May as he scoffed, "You couldn't have busted him out of there before they had him flying as high as a bloody kite?"
"He made it out with both kidneys, he should be thankful for that," May retorted, arms folded across her chest. Relenting slightly, she added, "Although in fairness, I suppose we do now have twelve Hydra doctors and their medical team in S.H.I.E.L.D. custody. He's lucky I slipped that tracker inside his damn jacket a few days ago."
Coulson appeared momentarily taken aback, and he cleared his throat as if uncomfortable with the direction his thoughts were taking him.
"Alright, look… get him straightened out, let him sleep this off, and tell him we'll reschedule our meeting when he's… less musical."
Shooting them one final incredulous glance, Coulson exited the medical bay, mumbling to himself as he went.
Ward, suddenly sobering as if struck by a frightening thought, lifted his hand to Skye's cheek, his expression fearful.
"I won't… won't let them… I'll keep… keep you safe… always," he said solemnly, although his words were somewhat muddled there was conviction in his tone of voice.
Leading him to lay back against the pillows, Skye touched his forehead with her fingertips.
"I know," she offered him a brief smile, placing her free hand over his and slowly leading his palm away from her cheek, back onto his own chest. Simmons hooked him up to a plethora of monitoring machines as Skye worked to settle him better in the bed, neither woman communicating as they moved past each other.
"Kinda sleepy," he slurred, peering up at Skye through half closed lids. Still, a smile found its way across his lips as he added, "You're being nice to me… why are you being nice to me?"
Biting her cheeks to keep from grinning, both at Ward's words and also his uncharacteristic state of openness, Skye reached for his hand again. Simmons was watching from the corner of her eye, as was Fitz, and so Skye was almost hesitant to complete the gesture. However, she did, momentarily pushing aside concerns that either he or her friends would see it for something it wasn't. She hadn't forgiven him yet, she told herself. But maybe, she was just that little bit closer to it.
"Get some rest, Grant," she encouraged, her thumb smoothing over the skin of the back of his hand. She noted a scar shaped like a crescent there, and she found herself wondering about it. Was it a souvenir of his Specialist days, or a memento gifted to him by his older brother or Garrett? Skye swallowed hard and pushed such toxic thoughts aside. She couldn't change the past, but she could carve out a better future.
Perhaps if given the opportunity, Ward could too.
"Don't… don't go…?" Ward asked, wincing as he let his head fall back against the pillows and he felt his ribs begin to ache.
Taking it as a sign that he might be coming to his senses, and therefore not about to serenade her with easy listening classics, Skye nodded in agreement.
"Fine. But… you close your eyes and sleep. No more med. bay karaoke."
"Huh?" he frowned sleepily, now in the latter stages of his drug induced euphoria, where his memory of singing to his former colleagues was fleeting.
"You don't remember singing… just now? Like… Christmas songs and shit?" Skye checked, watching as he licked his lips and shook his head slowly.
"Oh, I am gonna have so much fun with this when he wakes up," she glanced up at FitzSimmons, who were eying the pair closely.
It hadn't escaped Skye's notice how Jemma's arm had snaked around Fitz's waist, pulling him close to her body in an effort to offer him comfort, should Ward's presence mean that he suddenly required it. Whilst Fitz had made amazing progress in his recovery from the incident that occurred that fateful day, he would bare both some mental and physical scars forever. Skye couldn't expect him to just welcome back the former Specialist with open arms; whilst they had once been like brothers, Grant had shattered that relationship with his betrayal, perhaps irreparably. Skye thought that she was beginning to realise that her feelings for Ward were just that; hers alone. Whilst she might hope for a time when the team would find it within themselves to forgive him his transgressions, she couldn't force the issue, and she could have no way of knowing when or indeed if that moment might come. It made her heart ache to consider it, but there was no escaping reality.
"I understand if you guys don't want to be here," Skye said quietly, tearing her gaze away from Ward's face and licking her suddenly dry lips as she surveyed her friends. "I can watch him and then come get Coulson in a while when he's… more himself."
FitzSimmons appeared to mutually ponder this for a moment, first casting analytical gazes over Ward's sleeping form, and then over Skye. Deciding that Ward posed no risk to their friend, the scientists nodded, gratitude spread across Jemma's face at least.
"Alright then, but just shout if you need me!" Jemma informed her pointedly. Pausing to check Ward's vitals on the monitor screens beside the bed, she offered, "Everything looks normal, I suppose he'll be up and about once he's had a chance to sleep it off."
"Thanks," Skye smiled at her friend before rising to reciprocate the hug that Fitz offered her. "See you later, guys."
Slipping her hand free from Ward's, she searched the room for a chair before she carefully and quietly relocated it beside the bed. Turning the light off above the med. bay gurney, she settled down into the seat, grabbing the spare blanket at Ward's feet and wrapping it around herself like a shawl.
It had been a strange, certainly eventful, and most definitely tiring twelve days, and Skye was looking forward to getting some sleep now that Ward himself was finally at rest. She doubted his current state would last long and so she relaxed back in her chair, resolved to make the most of his silence and inactivity. Because Heaven help her, he would soon be up and about, and ready to rain chaos down on her world once again.
She could hardly wait.