Epilogue: activate my heart

Skye

I know it's crazy, but somehow, I can't sleep unless I go to him. It's easier now that I've gotten used to the feeling, though.

I have to fight the urge to take two stairs at a time as I descend into the depths of the bunker, where Ward has once again been hidden away. But once I've found my way to his cell, I feel my heart almost stop when I find it empty and abandoned. Panic washes over me, and I lose all pretense of normalcy, calm, or decorum as I rush straight to Coulson's office.

Okay, I never had decorum.

"Skye," Coulson begins, putting a hand up as if he can somehow prevent my tirade by foreseeing it. I don't think so.

"Where is he?" I demand tempestuously, my hands perching on my hips of their own volition. If it were actually possible for steam to be coming out of my ears, I'm pretty damn sure it would be.

"He's in his room," Coulson replies in a slightly strained yet patient voice, topping it off with a small smile. A complex expression indicating a unique blend of hope and trepidation, mixed with affection for me.

As surprise hits me again, I relax my grip on the anger towards Coulson I'd been so ready to unleash when I should have known better. I guess Coulson can be so tolerant of my temper because the motivation hews close to his own attitude towards Director Fury after learning about well, Tahiti.

"His room?" I repeat incredulously, dropping exhaustedly into a chair.

"I decided that after recent events, Ward had earned an upgrade in accommodations," Coulson explains, the sternness he tempers the words with showing me that this concession is not intended to dismiss Ward's past crimes. "He can be allowed back out in the field when his skills are called for and when we know we can control him," Coulson continues, "and that's it."

"That's more than enough," I concede, smiling in gratitude that Coulson recognizes Ward's capacity for redemption. "If you give him time, I know he'll prove that he's changed," I add eagerly, still hardly able to believe the change in myself lately where Ward's concerned.

"It's not going to be easy, Skye," Coulson says fairly obviously. "As you can imagine, May and FitzSimmons are not happy about giving Ward another chance to prove anything. And none of us trust him or can actually be around him without our skin crawling a little."

"But?" I ask, knowing there's more to it.

"But," Coulson acknowledges with a nod, "there's always that hope."

I lean forward, a conspiratorially joyful glint doubtless flashing in my eyes. "Exactly."

That hope, that the guy who was our trusted teammate, who we cared for and believed in, was at least a part of who the real Ward is? That he could evolve past years of Garrett's conditioning to be the good man he somehow seems to long to become? It's what I'm holding onto with all my might. I love Ward too much to ever let go.

Ward

"So you heard," I greet Skye as she enters my new living quarters, looking like she's still reeling from this unexpectedly positive turn of events.

"Ward," Skye entreats me, reaching up to take my face in her hands, "this is your chance. You have to show that you deserve it."

I gaze at her beautiful imploring face, alight with a love I never thought I could warrant or be worthy of. That's something I still don't know, as hard as I strive to become the guy she needs me to be. How could I ever deserve this chance after everything I've done?

"Don't do that," she groans, pulling me lightly by the arms until we're both sitting on my simple, but considerably improved bed.

At my raised eyebrows, Skye rolls her eyes. "Don't do that thing where you doubt yourself, doubt us," she clarifies warily. "You are not a bad man, Grant Ward, so don't give me that speech again."

"I could never doubt us," I insist, pulling her into my arms and sighing into her shoulder. I raise my head and run my fingers through that ridiculously gorgeous hair of hers. "But as for trusting myself? I'm a long way off. I've done things no one should be forgiven for."

"I know," Skye agrees, looking pained as she's forced to again swallow the bitter pill of loving someone so depraved when she herself is so unbelievably good. I can't stand putting that burden on her, but she cuts me off as if she knows I'm about to offer to let her go. To free her from me, now that - through much trial and error - I've woken up to myself, to reality.

"But you have to stop thinking it's too late," she insists softly, more serious than I've ever seen her. As if to prove the conviction of her words, Skye presses her lips to mine and I feel all my resistance to her, to the insane hopes she incites in me, evaporate.

At different times, it's terrified, disturbed and amused me, or kept me going when I thought there wasn't a hint of decency left in me, but there's one simple fact I've never been able to hide from. I love Skye, more than I thought myself capable of caring for anyone or anything. She makes me believe anything is possible...even that I might be more than a hideous blight on the universe masquerading as a slick career criminal. Even that.

"I want to tell you I'm a lost cause, to stop fighting for me, stop believing in me, to leave me alone to try and make something out of my life that's worth anything...but to spare yourself from the inevitable wreckage of what a total ass I am." I feel the words falling out of my mouth so easily, the truth unfurling.

"But?" Skye remarks archly, smirking like the total know-it-all she is. It drives me crazy, like everything about her does.

"I can't say no to you. I never could," I confess with a helpless shrug. She smiles at me and I watch the purity of her being light her from within. Whatever she is, whatever the big secret is about Skye's origin, she's no monster, despite Raina's foreboding words and Jeffries' shady implications. Everything I know tells me that if anything, she's about as close to an angel as a human can get. Skye's ability to love the devil is the ultimate irony of this.

"Then don't," Skye demands irresistibly. "Come with me on this journey. Let's do this together, let's see what you're really made of."

"You know I'm just going to let you down," I say in a last ditch kind of a way.

"Maybe," Skye admits like she doesn't believe it at all anymore, like she's just humoring me.

"But?" I ask, curious about her reasoning.

"Ward," she replies, tracing my cheekbone with her fingers as her eyes blaze with the conviction of sweet, complete devotion. "You should know this by now. There's always that hope."