Archive of Our Own

Skye knows that Miles isn’t The One. But the concept in itself is more than a little weird. In the orphanage, girls would clamor together, waiting for that special day when they turned eighteen. They don't really tell you the part where you wake up at midnight with invisible needles stabbing at a random part of your body. Sometimes, she even heard someone scream.

No one ever said having a soulmate was easy.

When Skye turns eighteen she wakes up in a sweat and watches as words scrawl and scab across her torso in standard black. She couldn’t wait to get rid of her given name as well as the shackles of the state. One thing she wasn’t really waiting for was finding her soulmate.

So she doesn’t look.

Somehow, destiny seems to find her anyway. And it has a cruel sense of humor. Soulmates don’t really seem to matter when it comes to bureaucratic suits who are trying to keep the truth from the public. She’s always been on a mission. Finding a family. Hacking SHIELD. Finding Mike Peterson. Getting to her van.

Always on a mission.

So most of the time she ignores the blemish on her skin. Miles isn’t The One and Miles doesn't care. He didn’t have one of his own and really, Skye’s ink isn’t that visible anyway. Not to anyone in public anyway. Miles notices it, but that doesn’t really matter to either of them.

Like everyone’s soul-ink, the words are pretty lame. And also practically indecipherable. She’s a professional (without the employed part) hacker and the words etched in her skin baffle her.

It’s better this way. Knowing her, the dude probably won’t show up anyway.

(Despite the fact that it’s allegedly the first words they say directly to you. But she never worries about that. It doesn’t matter.)

At eighteen she can finally leave the foster system and constant disappointment. And seven years later she is still little orphan whatever. But the Rising Tide is a community. That’s what’s important. Even Miles is a sort of family to her.

Until the sliding door of her van is breached.

Suits. Dark sunglasses. The epitome of everything she hates. 

The guy in the back never speaks. She can’t see his eyes through his black sunglasses. He looks like he could be a contract killer and has the moves to prove it. He doesn’t say anything at first, so it never really matters. He’s very serious and clearly doesn’t respect her.

Fine with her.

Her entire life before eighteen was a wreck anyway. She doesn’t have to pay attention to mysterious black ink on her torso if she doesn’t want.

He can’t explain it. That’s what he tells himself. There is no rational explanation for any of this. In a world where there is SHIELD, aliens, people with super powers, and magical ink that identifies your soulmate, Grant Ward knows there is no room for him to be so locked down.

But this is how he is conceived. It’s who he is and there’s no changing that. 

When rushing after a Rising Tide operation, it should be like any other day on the job. But he’s never had this job before. Working with Coulson isn’t like working with anyone else. That doesn’t mean he believes in some omniscient power. He trusts logic and the orders that he’s given.

And yet when the door of the van slides open, he forgets all of that. Before she even speaks, he knows that he’s been changed. He doesn’t need to hear those three words out of her mouth. Because he looks at her and knows that he’s been here before.

He doesn’t believe in a lot of things. But he does believe that some things are meant to be.

He looks at the girl named Skye, her disarming smile, and flippant attitude. He throws a bag over her head, but still, he knows.

He knows who she is.

And he knows how annoying she is.

She can’t even take a simple interrogation seriously. It infuriates him.

The first time he sees it is when she takes two slugs to the gut. He has been so good at compartmentalizing up until that point with his conscious decision not to engage her. That only leads to trouble.

Well, trouble finds him.

He locks everything away in a tight little box and that’s where it stays.

She isn’t supposed to get shot. Everything up until this point doesn't matter. Only the mission matters. But now she’s in a chamber filtering her blood and white as death that she might as well be.

This is the moment. This is the moment that he finally admits it to himself. Three little words that some twenty-year-old hacking his way of life had said scrawled on the inside of his arm since he was eighteen and she finally finds him.

And she’s dying.

It scares him.  God, she scares him. Nothing was in a box. Not anymore.

And everyone knows it. 

He forgets. He makes himself forget things all the time. Guilt. Remorse. 

It’s weakness. But Skye is bleeding out and he watches them cut her shirt off, her navel slick with blood that makes him queasy. He can put a bullet in anyone but this is something else.

He sees a glimpse of it. Black ink scrawled up her side. And then it’s gone. Then she is a sea of white gauze and endless tubing.You don’t look that big.

His heart had been cold for such a long time.

And then suddenly, it isn't. Suddenly he is out of control, full of rage and not understanding one second of it.

But this is proof. He was holding it back since the beginning. Maybe he had even done a good job of pretending it was there. That is, until Dublin. Until she takes his hand and he has to be even more closed off. 

It's the only way.

But this is proof. This is the essence of his weakness.

This was the lesson he had been taught from day one. Not just by Garrett. But every second of his pathetic life. 

And then she smiles. And then she laughs. And then she opens her big eyes and he can breathe again. Just because she is. 

She rubs her face as if he cared whether she was wearing make-up or not.

He never believed soulmates existed before. The idea terrifies him.

For a moment he entertains the thought that when this over, he can lead some normal life. He doesn’t have to lie to her. He can be honest and they can be an us.

But then he forgets about it. When this is all over, she will hate him. There is no denying that fact.

Now there are words like life support and to keep her comfortable. It's over too soon. He hasn't known her long enough. It can't be her time yet. 

And still all he can ask is “what are our orders?” 

To Coulson, to John, it’s all he was ever capable of. Loving her is an anomaly. 

An impossibility.

But it happened. 

When she was still sleeping, sometimes he would come in just to watch her. Just in case. Maybe the next day she would decide to stop breathing. This way he can spend just a little more time with her, even if she doesn’t know it. 

Even if she isn’t talking, which was a feat in itself.

Most of the time Simmons is there, checking her vitals and making sure she’s comfortable. And Coulson is by Skye’s side whenever he has a free moment, which is more often then you would think. Ward comes in at night when everyone else is sleeping. 

Her stomach is still bandaged. He can’t see her tattoo through the thick gauze. But he knows it’s there. Just like he knows his corresponding one mirrors hers on his own flesh.

“What are you doing?”

Ward is never one to jump. He doesn’t, but Simmons is still a stealthy one. He half expects her to look suspicious. He can’t doubt he’s acting suspiciously.

He smoothens Skye’s blanket back over her. For the most part, Jemma just looks tired. He’s sure that they all do.

“I just…”

He doesn’t have a cover for this one. He always has a cover. 

Always. Until Skye. 

He watches Simmons readjust her IVs and check the monitors. Standing there in the dead of night, cold certainty seeps over him. He knows for sure that this is one of the worst things that could happen to him. He planned for everything else. He calculated all his missions and plans. 

Until Skye.

And until this very moment, he had kept it locked down. He had kept her away from him, and even used sexual liaisons with May to fool even himself. But Skye’s chest now moves of its own accord. If he could ever rest easy, he would.

“Can’t sleep either?” 

Ward relaxes. Paranoia isn’t something that he’s completely familiar with. For the first time while under Coulson’s command, he’s not doing what he’s been ordered to do.

“You don’t have to worry,” Simmons says, brushing back some of Skye’s dark hair. “She’ll regain consciousness in a matter of hours. You should get some sleep.”

“How will she be?” Ward asks hesitantly. Simmons still doesn’t look at him. He doesn’t blame her. Everyone’s eyes always go to Skye. She’s a magnet of sunlight and infectious brilliance. 

That’s part of the problem. The main problem, really. If he could just stop looking at her that way, maybe he could accomplish the jobs he’s given.

But he knows that isn’t in the cards.

“Who knows?” Jemma replies. He understands that she has difficulty admitting that. No one at SciTech would. But he can sympathize. Injecting Skye with some sort of mystery blue substance hadn’t sat well with him. But he knows better than to question orders. “We’ll know better when she wakes up. But I think she’ll be alright.”

She isn’t turning blue so that’s a good sign.

Jemma finally looks up from Skye. “Are you alright?”

Well now he’s really screwed.

This isn’t some cover. This was real. Whatever he’s feeling – though he can’t quite discern it yet – is certifiably genuine. He isn’t allowed to feel this way.

This is weakness. 

But if it’s weakness, why does it feel so good?

“Fine.”

John Garrett makes Skye nervous. Not in any alarming ways. But there is something to the air around him. She isn’t a super spy like May or Ward. She can’t detect these sorts of things. But she's lived on the street and has the normal sense of when something is off. When John Garrett looks her in the eye, she knows she doesn’t like it.

What she likes even less is being trapped in The Cage with him that has sealing doors and an airlock.

“You’ve had a big impact on him,” Garrett says. She intended on thanking him for helping save her life. The subject of Ward is sudden when it comes up and makes her feel like he knows more than he's letting on. His piercing gaze is a test. She knows that this is a pointed statement. “He’s different that I remember him.”

And still she wants to know. “Different how?” she asks curiously.

“Well the tough thing about being a specialist is being alone. A team – it gives you a whole new perspective,” Garrett explains. “I guess it’s the difference between fighting against something and fighting for something. Or someone.”

Skye smiles tightly. She knows she shouldn’t have asked.

“Ward’s got that now.”

If she were a naturally suspicious person, maybe she could have caught it.

Maybe she could have caught the danger.

She never sees it coming when Ward’s gun goes off in the field. It isn't an accident.

"What just happened?" But she already knows. Nash flat lines.

Skye feels as though hers does along with it. But all she can think of is Garrett’s words. Ward’s actions scare her. She’s never been more scared in her life. Not by him, but by the implications. She never brings it up. When she goes into the cage this time to visit him, she isn’t nervous. She could never be afraid of Ward no matter what he does.

It's his reasons that make her uneasy. He's killed someone. Shot them point blank. But what is really tugging at her are his motivations. When he speaks, she can hear the lilt in his voice. She knows when he’s passionate, he’s being real. 

He isn't hiding from this.

“He wasn’t going to stop, Skye. Not until you—" 

Ward could have continued but he cuts himself off. She knows this game. He’s a specialist and he can’t admit that there is something in his life that he can’t control. He knew it the moment their eyes met.

Skye looks away quickly now. Something has changed between them. Maybe it had been changing since the first time they met. But she knows that he’s closed off enough to not say what he’s really feeling. What they’re both feeling. She knows that they both have it in them. If he can’t say it, he sure as hell showed it when he fired. It’s cold and calculating but she can’t hate him for it. It just makes her heart ache. The bones beneath her torso seem to vibrate with that knowledge.

You don’t look that big.

At this point, she doesn’t think either of them will ever really be able to say it. And even if Ward kills every single person that hurt her, she can never hold it against him. Not when she’s guilty of not being honest about whatever this is either. Ward will hold it close to his chest until the day he dies. That, she’s sure of.

“I wasn’t going to let that happen.” He’s so sure of himself. “Whatever the punishment is, I’ll take it. I deserve it.” 

The next part comes out icy. 

“But I don’t regret what I’ve done.”

And in the end, that’s who Ward is. She knew it even then. He is a constant contradiction. There will always be two sides of himself warring with the other. He can never truly know who he is because he’s such a compilation of confusion. He is duty and he is revenge and her heart beat for every single inch of him.

“You don’t?” 

“No. Not if it means you’re safe.” He stops suddenly, realizing what he's just said. He finishes hastily, “you and the rest of the team."

She absorbs this. Something inside her warms to the sentiment. Maybe this is what soulmate means. The road to true love never did run smooth or whatever.  That’s something she used tell herself in her more romantic moments.

Not any more.

This is different. This isn’t some petty fight or spat. She broke up with Not the One just because he was selling information. This is something on another level.

Grant Ward’s words are tattooed on her so that even bullets can’t strip them away.

It’s all red.

Maybe Ward did tell the truth when he said he believed some things were meant to be. 

But as of this moment, she will never believe a word out of his mouth again.

His neck is slick with blood and she wants to go on kissing him. She wants what he wants now, to pretend that the world outside doesn’t exist.

But it does. 

And the blood on his neck is not his own.

She cries.

She wants to hate him. She thinks she actually does. At least a little bit. But that’s only a percentage.

She doesn’t know what the other percentage of her is devoted to. She doesn’t want to know. She doesn’t have that potential for darkness in her like he obviously does. She just can’t.

In retrospect, it all makes sense. All of the red flags. He might have been undercover, but there were certainly signs. Ward might care for her, but that compromises him. Him and his morals. His caring for her means he will do anything in his power to protect her.

No matter how bad it is. 

She learns that soon enough.

His lips are fierce and passionate against hers and she feels blood on the back of his neck.

Her perception of Ward is all convoluted and confused. The same lips that had kissed hers has also told her millions of lies. The hands that touched her has killed countless people.

Tears tear her apart and she realizes she still cares. Even after everything. And she won’t be able to stop.

“What do you want?”

It’s the first time she tries to get the truth from him. She watches his eyes and she determines that her soulmate is a sociopath. He never wavers. But when they kiss, she can almost forget. She’s almost convinced. 

When he smiles at her it’s as if he isn't a lying murderer.

She smiles back. It’s the only thing she can think of to do.

She thinks he buys it. 

There’s something strange about that. The ultimate killer spy who was betraying them the whole time can’t tell if she’s lying to him or not. There’s that voice at the back of her mind. That voice that says maybe he wants to believe her. If he didn’t care he wouldn’t—

But neither of them ever had a choice in that. She knows that now. Even as she goes along with his plan to decrypt the hardrive, she can feel that other thing too.That he is hers. If she could forget him, then she would. Being with him is pure torture, but still, she goes along with him to the diner. 

“I have a question.”

His shoulders are hunched in clear agitation. She couldn’t censor her annoyance with him before. The super spy in him still didn’t realize she wasn’t angry about pie but rather his obvious - to her now - deception. He wants to leave, she knows. But still, he softens to her. He doesn't want to make her upset, doesn't want to fight. If he weren't so completely evil, he would be a gentle lover. 

She forces herself to believe that it’s because he just wants something from her. Even his I’m not letting you out of my sight, and his promises to protect her and embracing her – it all seemed so… sweet.

It's repellent. She can never know what is real and what isn’t. His is such a strange compilation of duty and… finesse. Like he really wants her near him.

He wants you to trust him, you idiot.

Skye scowls at her laptop screen. Every sweet word from him is just another lie. She has to understand that. 

But even so. 

Okay, who am I pretending to be?

My impatient boyfriend.

I like that cover.

She hates him. He can’t do this to her. He just can’t. Lying through his teeth - he can’t let her think that he cares.

“Okay.”

There’s an uneasiness to his eyes. She knows he wants to get out of there and she’s dragging it out. His senses are on high alert as if he knows already that the cops are coming. But she just has to know what's in his head.  She’ll know sooner or later anyway. The truth of his duplicity will come out. But before it does, she has to know what’s real for him. She’s never seen his tattoo, but she knows it’s there. The way hers is. 

She has to know if it’s all a sham. Even though at her very foundation she knows that it isn’t.

Ward looks out the window again.

He’s very conspicuous for a spy.

“What do you know about the tattoos?”

If it’s possible, he looks even tenser now than he did before.

She knows she has him.

“I don’t think now is the best time—“

It was okay when you were making out with me, though, I guess.

“I’m just curious,” Skye cuts him off. Distracting him will be the only way to get through this. “I mean who decides that, you know? Fate? Destiny? A Clairavoyant who can see who you’re supposed to end up with?” 

Ward regards her carefully. She’s put him on edge. “What are you saying?”

“I’m just having a conversation,” Skye says. “What do you think? And what constitutes a soulmate? Is it the person you’ll end up with forever? Or just the person you’re supposed to end up with and due to unforeseen circumstances they end up breaking your heart?”

Smooth, Skye. Real subtle.

“I don’t know what you’re getting at.”

But he does. They both know it.

“What do you think it is?” Skye asks. She’s sure he won’t answer her for a moment.

“I think it’s your other half,” he finally says. “For better for worse.”

Anger and indignation builds up in her. “And what would you do? If yours broke your heart? Would you stay by their side, even if their actions were reprehensible and disgusting?”

"I never said I had one," he says evenly. He isn't going to pull that crap with her. Not here. Not now. “What are you doing?” 

He’s about ready to spring from the table. She gave the game away. It was over anyway.

“Do you have one?” Skye demands. “Right now. Yes or no.”

She wonders if the cops hadn’t filed in right then in there if he would have given her an answer. His eyes follow them carefully. He leans forward and she just barely hears his words.

“I know that it will just never be what you expect," he says. "You’ll never see it coming.”

The cops give them just long enough for her heart to break again before they throw the both of them to the floor.

“Be careful,” Skye warns them. “He’s armed.”

Ward’s eyes send a chill through her but she will never be afraid of him.

“Hail Hydra,” she spits.

She never expects Ward to go quietly. He’s just finished with smashing a glass into the face of the third cop before she takes the opportunity and stuffs her computer into her bag, making a break for it. 

He’s too preoccupied, but she still hears him scream for her.

“Skye." 

For a moment, his desperate yell pulls at her heart. But she only lets it for a second. It takes her mere moments to get the cops to throw her against the squad car.

If she looks back, she’s lost. Absentmindedly, she wonders if it’s possible to get a soulmate tattoo lazered off. She has never heard of such a thing. Who would want to erase their soulmate from their skin?

But what if your soulmate is part of a terrorist organization? She feels like there should be some sort of rulebook for this. Or an online manual.  But she can’t hear him. After everything he did. After every time he lied to her face and manipulated her with kisses and soulful dark eyes, how can she ever believe him? How can she even believe the ink on her skin?

The scars of her bullet wounds streak across her stomach, the raised edges grazing her ink. From minute one she’s been skeptical. In a world where gods came down and send alien hordes on New York, is it really that improbable that a terrorist cell can beam permanent ink on your skin?

The correct answer is often the simplest one. She can’t remember where she heard that, but she knows it’s true. 

Ward is Hydra.

Her soulmate is a Nazi.

“I’m not trying to hurt you."

She stomps on the gas pedal before he can get her door open. Something about his voice is genuine. His need, his desperation. It could all be lies. And so it is.

Because he is a lying, backstabbing, traitor and that is that.

She hears his pleading. She sees his sad eyes in her mind. And as she looks in the rearview mirror, she sees him hanging back holding his gun, but his hands on his head in defeat. 

She drags her eyes back to the road.

His betrayal hurts more. Her heart is split open and she wonders if she can carve his words off of her. Her bullet scar seemed to be heading in that direction anyway.

He seemed so genuine. He is too good of a liar. Even in that room, his fingers hard against the back of her head as he kissed her fiercely. She had never witnessed him be so fervent about something before. Is that a part of the act?

Of course it is. 

Even if she hadn’t felt the blood at the back of his neck and his impending guilt – would she feel the same way? She knew where it was going. She could feel it in her bones. She had made an offer for talk, not sex. But when she was with him, the whole world melted away. 

And he had said as much.

She can buy the latter. She fooled Ward enough. She can lie almost as well as him. But that doesn’t mean they’re supposed to be together. Soulmates to her mean genuine and mutual love. 

Right?

Can he be both? Can he be a liar as well as honest? Can he be a traitor as well as genuine when it comes to her?

It’s easier to shove it all away. This is better. Looking at him just makes her confused. 

Looking at the road is better. 

That is until Mike Peterson smashes into the hood of the car.

The first thing she hears is his voice.

She always used to cringe away when he was angry. She remembers him as a blank slate but when his rage stirred, it could bring down houses.

She wonders if the story he told her about his brother was true.

“I had it under control.” 

“Garrett had me shadow you. He said you had a weak spot for the girl and she would take advantage of it. Looks like he was right.” 

Her head is pounding. She can’t remember how she got back on the plane. All she remembers is his voice.

You don’t understand.

I’m not trying to hurt you.

The voices have stop. Two pairs of eyes are on her expectantly.

She focuses on Mike. It’s easier that way. Ward is the evil one. Whether he’s being controlled or not, Mike is the victim.

Ward can only ever be the monster.

Before she knows what she’s doing, she launches herself at him, her hand balled into a fist. It connects with his face. For a moment, she thinks how Ward would scold her for her bad stance and incorrectly holding her hand.

Then she remembers that wasn’t really Ward.

He barely moves an inch. She never really considered how powerful he was before. His skills had always been focused on the other side. But now he’s working for the other side. 

Or he always was. 

His hands crush her in an instant in a vicegrip. He could do anything to her if he wanted, and she wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. 

It’s a dark thought and one she instantly knows is incorrect.  Somehow, she at least still believes that.

That doesn’t mean she’s going to go down without a fight. Without her hands free, she does the only thing she can think of and collides her head into his face. This time he does stagger backward, blood streaming from his nose.

“Stop fighting me. You can’t win.” He pulls her easily against him, this time knowing what mistake not to make as he cuffs her to the staircase railing. And even with his hard voice and frustrated hands, somehow, she can still see regret in his eyes. 

Falling for a complicated murderer is probably worse.

He doesn’t move away. She looks over her shoulder to see him staunching the bleeding. Their eyes lock.

“That was very smart,” Ward says. “And very brave.”

“Yeah, I kind of get that way when I’m being kidnapped and restrained against my will.” 

“You must have been listening to the things I was teaching you,” Ward says. “You had me fooled.”

He actually seemed almost proud of her. She felt her stomach roll.

“Gee, what’s that like?” Skye snaps.

His face is even more inscrutable than it was known to be in the past. If he doesn’t want to let her in, he won’t.

“I would never hurt you,” Ward says.

So he’s telling the truth now, she supposes. But it doesn’t change anything. It never could. No matter what she feels, these are the facts. And he turned her world upside-down. 

“You are, though,” Skye says in a moment of weakness. This catches him off guard and he looks even worse than he did before. Looking at his remorseful face makes her sick, not knowing if it’s true or if he’s even more of a sociopath than she originally thought. “Have you even thought of that for one second?” 

This version of Ward is frightening to behold. And despite the disgust of the things he’s done, it isn’t because he’s a murderer or a liar. 

It’s because he’s unsure. For a moment, it looks as if he’s just as confused about who he is as she is.

“You would just watch me bleed until it was your turn to pull the trigger,” Skye says.

And then he looks sure. He looks angry and he looks devastated. 

“You think I had a part in that?” he asks imploringly. “That I would let that happen to you?”

This isn’t an act. His voice cracks. Somehow he’s rationalizing all of this in his mind. His logic is all backwards. Like every Hydra recruit. No matter what he feels, even if he didn’t have a part in her almost dying, even if he had plausible deniability, he is Hydra. It’s that simple. It has to be.

“You know how I feel about you, Skye.” He holds her face and tries to edge away. "And you and I both know it's not just me."

Still suppressing the urge to be sick, she can’t help but look at him. And she knows what he’s saying.

“You know I’m not the only one in this,” he says. 

“You kind of lost your footing when I realized you were a backstabbing traitor,” Skye says evenly.

“That isn’t what I’m talking about.” 

He’s right. She does know that. But talking about this isn’t going to help her right now. It’s going to make it worse. 

“Ward—“ 

“I was never going to just hand you over,” he says.

“You kidnapped me, killed those cops—“

“For the drive,” he says. “Not for you. Never you." 

“That’s not a very large distinction.”

“Look,” Ward sighs. He takes the key and unlocks the handcuffs. “If you would just listen—“

She takes a swing at him again.

He’s been anticipating and deflects it easily. “Skye.”

“It’s time.”

Skye looks up to see Mike standing there. She never truly absorbed how terrifying his transformation is. But even so, she can see the differences between the cyborg and the monster. He has machinery implanted in him. Ward is just twisted.

This isn’t going to end well for anyone.

She thinks that’s what a soulmate means. 

“Are you going to torture me?”

Ward looks stricken. She blocks out his face. Always manipulating her. She can’t look at him any more. 

“Garrett wants what’s on that hardrive,” Mike says.

“And I’m getting it,” Ward says fiercely.

“No,” Skye retorts. “We’ve been over that.” 

“Dammit, Skye—“ 

“I’m under direct orders,” Mike says.

She shot her. They tried to kill her - 

loved her, kissed her, lied to her

-       She has no doubts about how far they’ll go.

“Then do it,” Skye says. “You never did end up teaching me how to survive under torture, remember?”

“Skye, please.” He really is begging now. 

But he isn’t for long. 

The shot leaves Mike’s arm. It doesn’t hit Skye like she expects. 

Ward’s limbs lock. He has no choice but to fall to the ground as the red disc sears into his chest. 

Torture she could have handled. But this is something different. This is something she never anticipated. This is what hurts. She hates Hydra. She hates Centipede. She hates them all just because of this traitorous bastard on the ground.

“What did you do to him?” Her breath is quick and she feel like she can't breathe.

“Stopped his heart.” It’s matter-of-fact and she shouldn’t care.

But she starts to shake and she realizes that she does. “His heart…” 

That’s what it comes down to, isn’t it? Grant Ward’s heart or lack thereof. She watches him sprawled on the ground, gasping for breath, eyes practically rolling to the back of his head. 

“Isn’t beating,” Mike finishes. “He’s having a heart attack.”

And even as Ward fights for life, he can still utter one syllable. She doesn’t know if he’s pleading for her to save him. Or if he’s just pleading.

“Skye.”

She stares at him, feeling every bit of pain that he is.

She can do it. She can watch him hurt. “You think I don’t want to watch him suffer?” He deserves every bit.

“Not suffer,” Mike says. “Die. Garrett doesn’t think you’re going to let that happen.”

Garrett the master manipulator. He would kill his own protégé just for whatever Skye has. She should let him go. She knows she should. But every second he fights for his life is a second she doubts herself.

He’s dying.

Dying.

His eyes start to unfocus, his breathing slowing. It would be so easy to let him go. She could forget all about this. 

It would be so easy. 

She doesn’t know how she chooses the harder path.

“Stop.”

“Tell me how to open the drive.”

“Bring him back.”

He’s dead for sure.

That’s how she rationalizes falling to his side and feeling for any signs of life. He has to be dead. Mike restarted his heart supposedly. Maybe it’s too late.

She almost feels relief. She wouldn’t have to go through her life constantly questioning every single thing he ever said to her.

She’s relieved.

And she’s devastated. She knows that, the instant she touches the cold flesh on his neck, feeling for any signs of life. If he’s dead—

She can’t think that. That would lead to something bad. It would lead to truths that she can’t face. 

For now, she’s just scared.

And then his eyes open.

She can go back to hating him again. His fingers twine with hers at his neck. She tries to snatch herself away from him. But he’s smiling. 

Not really smiling. 

Smirking. His smugness makes her want to clamp that heart attack generator thing back on him. But his hands are soft on her.

“You should have let me go.”

But he’s happy she didn’t. She knows she’s revealed her hand. She doesn’t want to be a murderer, but being even Ward’s murderer – having him simply cease to exist – is not something that she’s ready for yet. 

“I know.” 

He’s smiling at her like she’s surrounded in light or something. 

She wishes he didn’t have the ability to break her heart every time she even looked at him. She doesn’t brush his hands away. His holding onto her and she’s sure it’s him literally holding on for dear life. His heart only just started back up again.

If he even has one.

His sleeve was pushed up when he fell. 

And there it is. She can see tiny black scrawling beneath his arm. She runs her fingers over the flesh of his arm. His eyes never leave her face as she pushes up his sleeve and sees it there. 

Damn him. 

How can she love someone she doesn’t even know anymore?

It doesn’t matter. The proof is right there, scrawled permanently on his arm. That stupid little sentence she said the moment the doors to her van slid open and she laid eyes on him.

Hey.

What up.

It's even more stupid now. But he's still gazing at her. And the world outside doesn't exist. She feels his fingers feeling the ends of her hair.

“This isn’t over.” It’s a promise. 

She almost hits him again. Instead, she turns her face away, refusing to let him see the weakness welling up in her eyes.

She says the only thing she can say this time. The only real thing she knows.  “I know.” 

“Going to watch me bleed?” Ward asks. “Until it’s your turn to pull the trigger?”

“If I have to,” she whispers.

He’s the one that says it this time, a hand on her waist, long fingers spreading across her torso. His touch burns into her skin like hers burns into his. “I know.”

When they meet again, Ward has a gun trained on her. But she can’t figure out why. He won’t kill her. 

Maybe he’ll shoot her. But he won’t kill her. 

“Are you going to kill me?” she asks anyway.

“Maybe.” 

“You don’t scare me."

“You couldn’t kill me before,” he reminds her.

“And what does that say to you?” she asks.

“That it’s all true.”

“What is?”

“Every legend that was ever recorded,” Ward says. “How can it not be? Aliens come down and people with super powers are running around. Is the idea of soulmates recorded on you so hard to believe?”

“I don’t know.” 

“You asked me,” he says. “In that diner.”

“It doesn’t matter.” 

“That’s the thing,” Ward says. “It really does. Now more than ever. The only one that could kill me is you. That’s what a soulmate is to me.”

“Romantic sentiment.”

But somehow, she knows where he’s coming from. Having a soulmate is pain. That’s all it is. She sees that now.

“Is it your time to pull the trigger?” he asks her.

“No,” she says decisively. “Is it yours?” 

She can see the answer in his eyes, but doesn’t know what it is.

“Did Garrett order you here?” Skye taunts. “Like the little lapdog you are?” 

“Yes,” Ward says simply. “I wanted him to. So I could see you again.” 

“To what?” she asks. “Kill me?”

He holsters his gun. 

“Last look.” 

She steels herself. But instead of a blow, he lands a kiss. She isn’t bleeding. She isn’t dying.

But it feels like she is.

Maybe he’s right. Having a soulmate is pain. The most pain you will ever feel.

And she’s been shot in the stomach. Twice.

“This is only over until one of us dies.” 

There, she agrees with him. She knows that without a doubt. 

When she sees him again she doesn’t know if she’ll shoot him or kiss him.

It’ll be one of the two. But she does know that it will happen. 

She’ll see him again.

Her killer, her lover.

Her soulmate.