Chapter 4: devils don't fly.

Skye

It's not some random noise we heard. Actually, it's SHIELD, and when Coulson and May come storming in, Ward and I are still standing close together and my lips are tingling from his kisses. My head feels like it's on fire and there's a madly inappropriate joy resounding within me that collides with my instincts for common sense and self-preservation. It makes me want to laugh, cry, scream, punch Ward in the gut, get him to say he loves me again, run away, and make love to him right here and now. You know, if we were alone. But we are so not alone.

"Uh..." Coulson begins awkwardly as they halt in front of our cell.

May is smoldering with anger, most likely hating the idea of the mission and even more pissed off seeing the weird, intimate vibe between Ward and me. She doesn't want me to become embroiled with a traitorous fiend, and I know she's just looking out for my best interests. How can I even disagree with her reasoning? She's literally been there, done that.

May gets to work placing a small digital device on the door that unlocks it and springs us loose. Ward doesn't say a word, just holds his hands out for the cuffs. May slaps them on and takes him roughly by the arm, leaving me standing behind with Coulson.

"Thanks for the rescue," I say sincerely, trying to shake off the daze I'd been thrown into by the last five minutes of my life.

Opting not to address the elephant in the room, Coulson says nothing about Ward, but remarks, "Good work. Triplett filled us in on everything, and Hydra won't have a clue that their facility was compromised. That's because you managed to get your program into their system, and now we have an insight into their proceedings we never did before. That's an advantage we'll want to capitalize on as soon as possible."

I nod and reply, "I have some ideas about how we might do that."

"I'm listening," Coulson says, an interesting blend of patience, respect, and suspicion playing across his features.

"You're not gonna like my proposal," I announce with an ironic smile. "It involves Ward."

Several hours later...

"No," May objects aggressively, "hell no."

Coulson exhibits no surprise, and I don't feel any either. I've just outlined a plan I concocted after reviewing some of the intel we pulled from Hydra thanks to my interrupted-too-late hacking. Turns out that a few choice top-ranking politicians are advancing Hydra's agenda by giving a presentation at a black-tie government function where they will show off alien tech that they want to have weaponized, supposedly to protect the US, but really to gain more power for themselves.

I want to crash this event, undercover again, and steal the tech before Hydra can convince lawmakers to approve its use. We'll need a whole team, clearly, and I think Ward should be with us. His knowledge of Hydra methods and his ability to smooth-talk his former associates are too valuable not to use again.

And yeah, I want to keep him near me, selfishly. I don't want him thrown into the darkness to rot and now I've faced the fact that I never really did. The fear that he could've killed himself all too easily and I might not have stopped him in time...that fear won't let me lie to myself anymore. But some of my motivations don't need to be verbalized. May's angry enough just at the barest implication that Ward is still an asset to us.

"Sir, we can't allow Ward out again," Simmons puts forth, then gives me an apologetic glance. "Sorry, Skye. I know your intentions are good, but he can't be trusted."

"I can keep him in check," I claim confidently.

"Just do it, just use Ward," Fitz suggests, crossing his arms with an air of sullen resignation. "I have more reason to hate him than any of you, but even I don't see the point of wasting a valuable tool on a mission like this."

"Agreed," Coulson says finally. May bristles, knowing his decision is definitive.

"Skye, you're in way over your head," May tells me. Her voice is icy but I see the worry and concern in her eyes.

"Everyone, can I have a moment alone with Skye to iron out some details?" Coulson requests, and the room clears a little too quietly, the air full of tension, hopes, and anxieties.

"You can't allow your feelings for Ward to compromise you as an agent," Coulson says to me when we are alone. His kind, yet stern face tells me he knows the line I'm walking and how treacherous it is.

"I asked you not to say 'feelings'," I remind him uncomfortably.

"I can't ignore the obvious, no matter how much I trust you," Coulson explains. "You can't forget what Ward has done. Not ever."

"You don't think I'm really capable of that."

Coulson waits a beat. "No, I don't. But I think you're capable of losing sight of it."

"Fitz is right in front of me every day," I remind him bluntly. What better reminder is there of the need to keep myself in check, no matter how I feel about Ward?

"Go," Coulson says, conceding my point, clearly seeing the strength of our new mission plan and still trying to balance it with the whole massive problem of Ward. He trusts me, and I won't undervalue or disrespect that trust. I will live up to it. I have to. "Brief Ward," Coulson directs me.

"Sir," I say, turning back, trying out a title I rarely use to address Coulson. This is that serious and important. "My allegiance and loyalty are to SHIELD. Ward is a prisoner we can use as an asset. He's also an issue I have to solve on my own terms and I don't know yet what that means. I promise you," I say tremulously, "I will do the right thing. Whatever that is."

"Okay, Skye," Coulson agrees. "Keep me apprised." His nod tells me that he can believe me and keep a questioning eye on me at the same time. Frankly, I have to admit that might be the best thing for everyone.

The next day…

"Hey," Ward says when I let myself into his cell. He's sitting on the floor with his back against the wall, just like the last time I was here. Everything else seems to have changed immensely since then. I toss the file down to him and wait as he sifts through its contents. After glancing back at the front of the folder, he asks, "You guys don't have a 'Confidential' stamp?"

"Are you coming or not?" I question, crossing my arms.

"Like I have a choice?" Ward replies, looking confused. "Of course I'm coming. The alternative is staying in here, apart from you, staring at the wall and thinking about all my deep-seated personal flaws. I think I'd rather get out there and do something…anything."

"But this isn't just anything," I remind him. "This is a chance for us to prevent Hydra from using alien technology to take over the world. It needs to be meaningful to you that we do this."

"Why?" Ward wonders, looking up at me as if he truly doesn't get it. "What's the point? I've already thrown away every shot I had to be…good." The word sounds weird and inconceivable coming out of his mouth.

"Some of those chances were taken away from you pretty early on in life," I observe, sensitive to the reality of Ward's sad saga. "It's not too late for you to try and be better."

"What are you saying?" Ward asks, rising to stand before me, taking my hands as I do nothing to prevent the physical contact.

"Make amends," I urge him. "It's the only way for you to go on living and be able to look at yourself in the mirror."

"It's the only way for us to be together," Ward adds, pressing his forehead to mine and closing his eyes for a moment.

I cup his face in my hands and stare into his eyes as they flicker back open. "Don't let that be the only reason," I implore him, "Do it because it's right."

"I don't know how to separate those things out," Ward admits with a chuckle that's somehow serious and self-deprecating.

"Think about the people who suffered from what you did. Think about our team, and what happened to SHIELD because of Hydra. You have to understand the damage you caused and feel sorry. Not to please me, not because you feel sorry for yourself. But because it's the right way to feel." I sound like I'm coaching him on how to be a human being, and I guess that's just the crazy reality of the situation. But actually, I also know that Ward is sorry, but he routinely buries it inside himself to avoid the pain of dealing with the consequences for his actions.

Ward pulls me closer and I let his arms draw me in until my head rests on his shoulder. I'm exhausted. Especially from trying to hide that I love him.

"Why do you keep putting yourself out there for me, Skye?" Ward's honest incomprehension of this reaffirms his total lack of a sense of self-worth and shows me that vulnerable side of him that he keeps concealed from others. He strokes my back and I sigh against his neck.

"Why did you tell me you loved me?" I ask, stepping back and looking at him matter-of-factly.

"Because I do," Ward replies in that intense way of his that captivates and unravels me.

"Then you have your answer," I respond, watching as his face registers an understanding of what I'm saying, that I feel the same about him even though I'm not ready to put it in the exact words that he gave me so simply, easily, and freely. I can't be defenseless with Ward, not yet.

"Skye," Ward calls as I'm on my way out. I turn back around and he asks, "How do I start…making amends?" More words that sound like incredibly hard work for him to form and process.

"Talk to Fitz," I answer without hesitation. "See what he's going through. Apologize. Help us complete this mission to take a little bit more back from Hydra for everything they took from us. Start making up for what you've done."

Ward swallows hard, doubtless thinking about this suggestion and how it goes against everything he's ever been taught to believe about himself or how life worked. Garrett didn't instill a moral compass in his protege, instead leading Ward to value his own survival above all else, except following orders. "That's the worst, most impossible thing to do," Ward responds finally.

"Not quite," I smile archly, "I could have told you to apologize to May."

"She shot my feet full of nails and rendered me incapable of speech for weeks," Ward argued, raking a hand through his hair. "Don't you think she owes me an apology?"

"No," I reply simply. "Trust me. Start with Fitz. This is the way to move forward."

"Oh, and I almost forgot," I add, reaching around the door of the cell to retrieve something I left outside. I hand the garment bag to Ward. "You'll need this for tonight."

His fingers cover mine on the hanger and my heart pounds incessantly. When Ward kisses me, his lips warm and inviting, his stubble deliciously rough against my skin, it's all I can do not to get swept away by desire and the craving to be closer to him. But this isn't the time or the place, and I'm not ready for that surrender. I force myself to leave, wondering all the while when we'll have a chance to touch again. Needing to know that the time will come and that someday, the towering impediments between us will topple.

A couple of hours later, I'm squeezing into a bright red cocktail dress that is totally not me…but I suppose that's what going undercover is all about. I smooth the skirt out and sigh as Simmons hands me a stick of equally loud lipstick. Stepping back to survey my look in the mirror, I give a fire engine colored pout, and Simmons laughs.

"You haven't even seen the shoes yet," she notes, dressed considerably more subtly herself in a little black dress.

Simmons' job is to fade into the background and sneak around, while mine is to be a distraction when I need to. Mainly, it's Simmons' scientific knowledge, along with Coulson, May, and Tripp's tactical skills that will be called upon to get this done. Fitz will stay behind to monitor our progress and arrange help if needed. I'll be hacking the security system to gain the team's access to the tech. But otherwise, me and Ward are there to reprise our roles as Hydra wheelers and dealers, and hopefully this time we won't get busted mid-performance. We'll have the chance to more effectively establish ourselves with Hydra and gather additional insider details on upcoming operations.

"You look beautiful," Simmons remarks, patting some lip gloss onto her mouth and sitting delicately on my bed, pulling out her tablet and punching in some numbers.

"So do you," I say warmly, but she's clearly not thinking about dresses or makeup anymore.

Without making eye contact, Jemma murmurs quite distinctly, "May was right, you know. You need to be careful."

"I know that," I nod, realizing that every time someone else says that to me, my heart sinks lower in my chest. Balancing my relationships with my teammates and being true to my own integrity as well as my need to help Ward find redemption is a tricky proposition.

We head to the entrance area where the rest of the team is gathered, and there's Ward, looking somewhere between astonishingly sexy and distractingly handsome in his tux. His eyes meet mine and I can tell that he's a fan of the red number, so I fight off a blush that threatens to make my face match the dress.

Before we set out for the evening, May turns to Ward and says, "Put one foot out of line tonight. I'm begging you."

Ward just smirks and falls in line, impervious to her intimidating words. "I talked to Fitz a little while ago," He tells me quietly as we walk to the car.

"How did it go?" I'm dying of suspense to know what happened.

"About as badly as it possibly could have," Ward admits sheepishly. "I apologized and tried to explain that dropping the pod into the ocean was the only way I could think of to avoid killing him and Simmons. Fitz just glared at me and said, 'apology not accepted,' and then he left." I have to smile ever so slightly at Ward's exaggerated Scottish accent.

I stop, knowing we can only steal a second before we have to get to the car with the others. "Can't say I blame him, but at least you said you were sorry. Do you feel better?"

"I actually do feel strangely better," Ward confirms. "Just don't ask me why. I mean, there's nothing I can do to make it up to him, so what good are words?"

"You'll figure it out," I promise him, and we start moving again, his arm brushing against mine. I bite my lip, trying not to explode from sexual tension and emotional pressure, and trying not to trip in my satin heels.

"We should do this more often," Ward winks, "The high society look suits you."

He's shoved rather unceremoniously into the vehicle by May after that, but his eyes stay locked on me as I slide into the backseat across from him. It's going to be a very treacherous evening, I can already tell.

*Author's note: the title of this story as well as the chapter titles are inspired by songs from the album Trouble by Natalia Kills.