‘Stop!’ her mind screams, but Skye doesn’t say a word.
It’s quiet, not silent, she can still hear Mike’s breathing, heavy and irregular, as if each breath is a strain. After what they did to him, she wouldn’t be surprised if it was. She can still hear the sound Ward makes, choked and desperate, and gasping for air. She searches for the part of her that should want to relish in that pain, the part that should want him to feel the way she does, hurt hurt hurt- and she comes up empty. This is Ward, this is a traitor, but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s wearing the face of a man she thought she knew.
It’s quiet, until Mike starts the clock, and he’s smart, she knows; putting pressure on a situation leads to more impulsive decisions, less time to think it through. You don’t have to be an agent to know that.
It’s quiet, and not for the first time Skye thinks of setting back the clock, reversing to a time where the BUS was filled with clattering; Fitzsimmons bickering, May and Coulson’s murmurs, fist hitting a bag. Skye just wants this ugly, awful quiet to be gone, she just wants some noise.
Mike keeps counting, Skye is still.
It’s quiet, and her thoughts, her thoughts are far too loud.
This is Ward. Ward. He betrayed them, he betrayed her. This is Ward, she thinks, but this is not the man she knew. This is Ward, and she hears Petersen counting down from ten in the background, and she sees his body slinking onto the floor, and somewhere in the back of her mind, a glass shatters.
This is Ward, and she can’t let Mike kill him she can’t, she can’t.
Skye stares down at him, and she thinks she can hear the sound of his heart trying to keep him alive. Skye stares, hears Mike getting closer to one and she says nothing.
This is Ward, and how can she let him live.
Skye stares at Ward, thinks of her team, the one he used to be a part of, and she lets him die.
______
Later, when it’s all over, when the adrenalin fades, when the fear eases off to a slow, anxious beat- later, May pulls her aside.
She must have seen something in Skye’s eyes, she must have seen the haunted look, the feeling that’s been sitting over her heart for years now, only now it was starting to pool out. She must have seen Skye’s red rimmed eyes, she must have seen the way her hands trembled, the way her gaze tilted upwards, trying to hold in the tears just one more time. May must have seen something she felt in herself, she must have seen something.
May pulls her aside, studies her intently. A moment passes and Skye is still glaring at the floor, hoping that averting her eyes will help deflect the intensity of May’s own. It doesn’t work.
May pulls her aside, hesitantly places an arm around her shoulders. Skye knows she’s trying to mimic Coulson, trying to bring back his natural comfort and ease. It’s not the same, but Skye manages a smile nonetheless, because this is May, and she has her own way of loving, and Skye knows she tries.
“Are you ok?” May’s voice is ever the same, if a little gentle, and Skye knows she already knows the answer, but she’s glad the older woman asked anyway.
May pulls her aside, and Skye is almost surprised that she came around to liking her so fast. May pulls her aide, wraps her in a hug, and Skye knows she’s never been truly loved before that moment.
May pulls her aside, Skye tightens her arms around the woman’s waist, and cries.
_______
There is guilt, a lot of it, and the feeling makes her sick, because he was a traitor, he was evil, he was bad bad bad-
But guilt has a mind of its own, and it settles into her bones, and it never, ever lets her be.
She doesn’t blame Mike, she couldn’t if she tried. There is always a choice, she knows, but this is his son, and he’s all Mike has to live for. So no, she doesn’t blame Mike. She blames herself, she listens to those voices in her head, the foster parents, the nuns; they tell her ‘Your fault, your fault, your fault’- and this time, she listens.
May is the only one who notices, and Skye isn’t really surprised. Fitzsimmons has never killed anyone before, they don’t understand, and she hopes they never will, no matter how unfounded that hope is. This is Shield, and they are in the field now, killing is part of the job description.
Coulson is busy in his office, worrying. He’s always worrying, so when he’s around, she focuses on decreasing that worry, and hides her pain behind smiles and sarcasm and dry humor. She’s not as good at it as she used to be, but he sees what he wants to believe, she thinks.
May notices, and she understands, and there is nothing she can do, except try to help. She teaches Skye Tai Chi, she teaches her how to channel that guilt, and the anger, and the pain; she teaches her how to channel it all, and store it for later. It helps, in a way. Skye hasn’t quite mastered it down yet, but simply the tranquility of it all helps quiet her mind, if only for a moment. May’s steady presence helps more than anything else, the older woman is calm and sure, and it helps tether her against the wave of her emotions.
Skye thinks of Ward, a lot, and she knows he didn’t need to die, and eventually, she knows that she didn’t kill him. Ward was killed by bad choices and men who take advantage of malleable teens. Ward was killed by Hydra, and that’s the thought that finally lets her sleep.