Turn Back the Clock

"I can't get my head wrapped around this."

Skye just sat at the edge of the bed, in their cheap motel, stared past him.

He was standing there, arms crossed, wearing his Agent face. The concern, the boundary in place, it felt like she'd somehow gone back in time. The way, way back machine.

"Don't look at me like that," she continued, avoiding his gaze. She just wanted him to stop it. Whatever had changed in the last 48 hours, it needed to go away. Now.

Stared through her, or tried to. After all, he'd confronted her. So now, he was thinking, trying to put her in a safe category, open her up. Something that would keep them focused on what they had to do.

"Garrett wouldn't have let Ward die." He decided to start with that. See where it went. "Yes, he played on you not being able to hold responsibility for it, but it was never your choice, Skye. It was Ward, and Garrett's."

Yeah, that made sense. Good point, really. That wasn't the problem. The problem was she wasn't really much of a SHIELD agent. She wasn't "the Calvary" like May. She couldn't just wait for the ultimate revenge and store up hatred like a battery. In fact, she was dreading confronting Ward, because she knew, she *knew*, she couldn't do him, no matter what he did.

She didn't have what it would take. And Coulson had announced it in front of everyone, "You had compassion. That's harder."

Like she was a schoolgirl.

"I don't want to have compassion," she said, finally turning towards him. Here it comes. "I'd love to be able to put 'two in the back of his head'," she spat. "Because the world would be a safer place."

Coulson just let her continue.

"People like me," she started, and the angry tears started coming, "Get people killed."

He felt his calm facade begin to melt away. No, he though, no, no, no. This was the problem. He had work to do, and it was revenge, Fitz was right. It was revenge, and that just might get him killed. Because, he was pretty far gone. They were the underdogs. For pete's sake, they were using spycraft from the 40s along with their plucky wits, and what chance did they have? He just couldn't let go of it, what Ward and Garrett had done. What HYDRA had done. What HE had done.

"You're right," he said, turning away from her, blinking. This was safer. He could leave now and just walk back to his room. May would come by, he could just be like he was before. Before TAHITI, before Skye. Turn back the clock.

She glared at his back as he shut the door. Then, reached for her laptop. She pulled up the readouts to see if her Trojan Horse had added anything helpful, anything new.

***

"The only decent thing they had was Jack Daniels," he said apologetically. He closed the door behind him, and brought the plastic cups and ice with him over to the small table.

May looked at him, grinning, "I've had worse."

"Yes, yes we have." His eyes lingered on her, while taking off his jacket and tie, throwing it aside, flopping down in a chair.

"May I?" she asked, and when he nodded, she poured him a drink.

"We deserve it," she said, lifting her glass in a mock toast. "Not everyday you survive a full-on CENTIPEDE assault."

"I think you and the Berserker staff are friends for life," he grinned. "I knew all it would take was for you to get that away from him."

She looked at Coulson over the rim of the glass and then tossed it back.

"When in Rome?" he tossed back his own glass, challenging, began pouring them both another. May's eyebrows furrowed.

"Hey," she said, looking at him seriously. "You want to tell me what's really going on?"

He swallowed. This is not what he expected. Not where he wanted this conversation to go.

"Not really," he said coldly, and got up. She just stared at him, waiting. So, he went for his jacket.

"Phil, hold on," she said, already up and her hand on his arm, stilling him.

"I see what you're doing..." she started. "And that would be so, easy..." she stopped herself. He looked at her pleadingly. "But, you can't go backwards."

Shit.

"You need to go forward," she said. "Whatever that looks like. But don't go backwards," she said, deadly serious. "Because, I won't."

There was a lingering silence, and then he grabbed her, kissed the top of her head, and walked out.

***

Skye craved freedom. Needed to slip into the stream of the everyday. She had lived in motels before, but now the motel felt as confined as the Bus. She wanted to be missionless. Just for a few hours.

Sliding her backpack over her shoulder, she swung open the hotel door to find...

Coulson. Standing in front of her, hand out to knock. His jacket slung over his shoulder, looking a bit of a rumpled mess.

She narrowed her eyes, demanding that he remove himself with a look.

He did not get the message. Instead, he awkwardly began talking, more than he usually did.

"You don't get people killed. What you do is give people a second chance. And sometimes a third, and I realize that I'm on my third right now, and that I don't know what I'm doing at all..."

She just rolled her eyes and pushed past him, just not willing to deal with it right now.

"Skye, I need you." He finally said, just as she was at the gate.

Turning around, she just stared at him. He shrugged.

"Sorry," he said. "I don't have anything more profound. But, can we talk about it? I'd like to be more profound."

Ugh. He was doing that thing he always did. That thing that could only sound so absorbingly attractive on 50-year-old Coulson. She looked up at the sky, at the stars, gritted her teeth. The Universe was having a laugh at her.

"You get five minutes," she said.

He only needed two.