Chapter 5: Take me to wonderland
Ward
Here I am, going through the motions with these Hydra asshats again, pasting on my old smarmy and opportunistic mask to insinuate me and Skye into their conversations. We're actually a big hit, even though I constantly have to explain away her awkward flourishes to our cover story. That's because lying is my game, not hers. Honesty, that trait that comes to her like breathing, was always one skill I thought I'd never get trapped into having to hone. Until recently.
Truth be told, that shock red dress of Skye's is distracting everyone to a perfect effect, and I'm collateral damage, trying to keep my head on straight. She doesn't have a clue how radiant and sultry she looks as she slides her foot in and out of her shoes, clearly dying to get to the end of the night so she doesn't have to wear them anymore. "What?" Skye asks me, as if worried by my pensive gaze landing on her so searchingly, "do you think they're onto us?"
"No," I answer as we watch a clique of politicians, trophy wives, and wealthy benefactors striding away from us. "They love us. We'll be hearing from them again." Part of the goal of this night is to make contacts who will follow up with us and provide chances for more undercover ops. We can root out Hydra from within like they did SHIELD. Pretty soon, they'll run out of heads, and maybe even the ability to grow new ones.
A tray of hors d'oeuvres goes flashing by in the hand of a busy server, and my stomach growls. "Food that's not prison slop," I pine, salivating.
"Go ahead," Skye smirks, "it'll give us an excuse to sit down if you're eating and then I can rest my feet."
I pile my plate with plenty of everything, adding extra helpings in case Skye wants some. Then I get a bad feeling, like a laser of pure hatred just landed on me. I look up to see May standing there, resentful in a forest green evening gown.
"I know, okay?" I say, trying to stave off her angry rant, "I'm horrible, you'll kill me if I betray the team again, you'll kill me if I so much as look at Skye...basically, you'll kill me. It's on your wish list."
"I'm aware that you already know all that," May answers in a clipped tone, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world, which it might actually be. "I want to tell you something you don't know."
"What's that?" I ask, throwing on a nonchalant expression, my fingers itching to grab some of this expensive and fragrant food.
"Loving Skye is the only thing human about you. It's what gives you the chance to rebuild yourself and make a difference for the better, even though you don't deserve to. But it's also the same feeling that should tell you that you have to leave her alone. Don't drag her into your mess. What do you think her life is going to be like, tethered to a cold blooded killer who has destroyed every chance at redemption he's ever been given? Right now, the best chance you have for real redemption is to walk away from Skye and set her free from all the ways you're going to ruin her life if you don't." Even though May's voice is harsh and her words sting like grain alcohol on a gaping wound, there's a tiny glimmer in her eyes that almost amounts to sympathy. That's the worst part of all.
My hunger flees in an instant and my mouth feels like it's full of sandpaper. May's right, and I've come far enough into the light now to see it.
She gets a buzz in her ear from the other team members, who are busy retrieving the tech. As May slips away to confer with Coulson via radio, I find Skye sitting in front of an untouched martini that a slick, silver-haired man is sliding closer to her.
"Honey!" I grin, sitting next to Skye and wrapping an arm around her shoulders, "I got your shrimp puffs!" I place the absurdly over-piled plate down and let my eyes drift from Skye's grateful face to the debonair guy who's now staring at me inquisitively.
"Grant Ward," I introduce myself in a warm, confident, self-congratulatory tone, reaching across to shake his hand.
"Mark Jeffries," he replies, laughing as he adds, "had I realized that this stunning creature was not here alone, I wouldn't have tried to bore her with my attentions."
Creature? She's not a zoo exhibit. I smother my irritation and my desire to break Jeffries' arms for the way he's still eying the neckline of Skye's dress.
"No problem. Skye has admirers everywhere we go. Isn't she lovely?" I move even closer to her and place my hand across her lap, lightly touching her knee.
"Aren't you laying it on a little thick, baby?" Skye asks, shivering against my touch as if involuntarily. I wish that she called me that every day instead of tacking it on to sell a cover. I wish I could take her far away from here where we could just breathe and fall together without outside judgement or interference. But as it is...
"Not in the least," I insist, kissing her hand gallantly, "What's your line of work, Jeffries?"
Jeffries blinks his grey-blue eyes a few times and then sits back, crossing his legs. He takes a sip of whiskey and replies, "Talent acquisition. Your name is familiar to me, actually. John Garrett has always spoken highly of you, Ward." The way we both call each other by last name reflects a friendly rivalry mixed with camaraderie I find both hilarious and slightly nauseating. "Though I must confess he said nothing about this enchanting nymphet."
Is this guy for real? Skye covers up a giggle by finally taking a gulp from the drink he brought her, which I seriously hope isn't drugged or anything. Smooth or not, Jeffries is an evil bastard and and obviously, he doesn't particularly care who can tell.
"Hydra depends on my discerning skill for identifying agents with special abilities which can be applied to get in and out of..." Jeffries winks at Skye. "Tight places," he finishes with an oily panache.
"What kinds of tight places?" Skye wonders, mainly to cut the tension she can feel stiffening my posture.
"Well, for example, I've got just the kind of job that an attractive and brilliant young couple like yourselves could pull off to perfection. It requires a bit of deftly engineered subterfuge to extract a valuable and ancient book from a highly guarded location. I know we just met and perhaps I'm being presumptuous, but…any interest?"
Skye's eyes sparkle and I can tell she'd love nothing more than to ruin a Hydra plot like this. Whatever the hell's in that ancient tome, surely it's dangerous and powerful, or they wouldn't want it. "Where do we need to go?" She asks, closing her fingers around mine as they rest against her knee. Getting the bad guys makes Skye so damn happy. I wish I had the ability to bring her joy like that. And I envy the simple, knee-jerk purity of her goodness.
Jeffries lays out a plan where he would arrange accommodations for us in Paris, as well as supplying us with the tools needed to access a secret chamber in a very old library. Without so much as glancing in my direction for some much-needed silent advice to say no to this creep just on principle due to the way he makes my skin crawl, she agrees excitedly to his proposal. Wait. Did I just think the word "principle"? I really am losing it.
When Jeffries slinks away, promising that he'll be contacting us shortly with further details, I turn to Skye, reluctantly pulling back from her slightly so that we can have a more serious conversation.
"You can clearly see that this guy is a thinly veiled psychopath. And the veil is made out of letch. Any object he's after is guaranteed to be full of trouble we might not be ready for, the kind we can't predict." I shoot Skye a glance that's slightly accusatory.
"So? Since when are you afraid of a little trouble? I thought trouble was what you were made of," she reminds me challengingly, finishing her drink and leaning back in her chair like the coolest customer in the world. She's so adorable, it kills me.
"You'll do anything to stop Hydra, won't you?" I can't help asking out of wonderment at her unstoppable attitude and bravery.
"No, not anything. I won't stoop to their lows. But aside from that, yeah, anything goes." Skye stands and slips the heels back on, wincing slightly. "Let's go. I've got to check in with Coulson and find out if they're finished. Then we can get his okay to head for Paris as soon as possible."
"And they say I'm crazy," I mutter.
Two days later…
It's eight hours nonstop to Paris, and since we leave at night and end up there in the morning, the smart thing would have been to sleep on the plane. But instead, I spend almost the whole time shifting nervously, flipping listlessly through the on-air entertainment channels, twisting empty packets of peanuts and watching Skye slumber peacefully, as if this is some kind of a vacation journey. I guess maybe this is karma for my flippant attitude the last time we were on a plane together. I've sobered up and repurposed myself a lot since then. Once blinded by selfish hopelessness and despair, now having held Skye again and kissed her, having heard her plead for me to keep trying even though everyone else had written me off…I've changed and there's no turning back.
She literally sleeps until the plane touches down, and the slight jostle of landing makes her stir slowly before her eyes flutter open and she sees me regarding her with an expression that must read near-panicked.
"Gah!" Skye complains, rolling her shoulders back and forth. "Why are you staring at me like that while I'm sleeping?"
"You're awake now," I note. "And I'm staring at you because I'm worried. I don't like the idea of this mission. You going deep undercover like this. You're not trained for it."
Skye frowns at me for giving her this speech for the thousandth time. "Well, I've got you with me, mister number one deceitful lying deep cover mastermind deluxe. How can I go wrong?"
"Thanks a lot," I grumble, following her down the plane aisle then through the airport where we retrieve our bags and head for the hired car that sweeps us away to a swanky hotel milling with mysterious and shady looking guests, all dressed to the nines.
"Well, this is definitely the fanciest place I've ever been in," Skye observes, turning a little circle in the hotel lobby.
"I would take you wherever you want to go, if you'd let me. Safe places." I'm still surprised that Coulson didn't seem to suspect that I'd kidnap Skye or just knock her out and escape, what with us finally being completely alone together. Is Coulson rolling the dice that my attempt at redemption is sincere? I'm oddly intimidated by the idea, and by the thought of living up to that whisper of the chance he might trust me again.
"This is where I want to go," Skye informs me emphatically, making me roll my eyes. But she slips her arm through mine and draws me into her orb of excited energy.
When we get to our suite, Skye is taken aback again by the extravagance of our accommodations. Everything is silk and cushion and smooth, fresh luxury. Huge, over-the-top floral displays top every table, and expensive chocolates lay atop each pillow. Skye unwraps one and pops it in her mouth, flopping down on the bed and bouncing slightly from the buoyant soft plushness of the mattress and its gazillion count sheets and duvet.
I sigh heavily and sink into a chair by the window, scowling out at the gorgeous view of the city that lays out before us like a promise of adventure. Dammit. What if I can't protect her?
"Lighten up, Ward. Holy role reversal!"
"Someone has to have common sense here," I remark, wondering where the words are even coming from.
"You're acting like you did when I first met you, and I thought that personality was a front. Where's your sense of fun and mischief?" Skye turns over and props her face in her hands, her hair billowing out around her. She's back in her usual, casual attire of flannel and leggings, and could not be more beautiful.
I have to let out a chortle. "Mischief? What am I, an animated tomcat?"
"You know what I mean, Ward," Skye says, hopping down from the bed and getting perilously close to me. She pulls me by the hands back to the bed, where she kneels beside me and leans in seductively.
"Skye," I murmur, hesitating, "Maybe this isn't a good idea. How can you trust me like this? You know who I am, what I've done. If I really love you…" I gaze at her lingeringly. "…and I do, I should let you go. Just be here with you to assist with the mission and make sure you get out okay."
"Is this you talking, or May?" Skye asks, leaning back on her hands and giving me an annoyingly all-knowing look.
"How did you know?"
"Because you'd never think of something that honorable on your own," Skye explains, not looking as disappointed about that as she probably should.
"Fake Me would," I point out, dejected and bitter. "'Grant Ward, Agent of SHIELD.' The guy you fell in love with."
"Hey," Skye says sharply, tipping my chin with her finger so that our eyes meet. "I love you." I feel my heart stop for a second in total disbelief that she just said that. "The guy underneath," she continues. "Despite all the problems and the trouble and the darkness…I see the real you and that's who I want. Not some artificial ideal of a perfect soldier. I always knew there was something more underneath, and that's what drew me to you. And yeah, you've terrified me on more than one occasion. Sometimes I've hated you, and wanted you to pay for what you did. But even then, I loved you, too."
"Skye…" I trail off, not knowing if I can keep up my honorable approach in the face of this.
"Ward," she answers, brushing away my inhibitions. "We're here, now, in this amazing place, and we actually have some time before we have to leave and risk our lives to get that book back to SHIELD. I thought we'd never get a chance like this, so let's not waste it. Please, be with me."
*Author's note: the title of this story as well as the chapter titles were inspired by songs from the albums Trouble and The Perfectionist by Natalia Kills.