Skye lingers outside Vault D for what feels like an eternity.
One more step, one flight of stairs, one opaque barrier, and all she does is take her time.
Skye doesn’t know what she’s doing, how she feels. She’s been here countless times, but none have felt like this, the atmosphere has never been this heavy.
She approaches the door with an unregistered urgency, grasping the handle and pushing herself inside. Skye descends the stairs quietly, careful not to alert Ward to her presence.
“Hello?”
Of course he’d hear, not only is he a world class super spy, Ward’s the best since Romanoff. Also, Skye thinks that if she was this attune to silence, the slightest noise would alert her of change.
His voice is hoarse and broken, still healing from May’s attempted ambush. Skye doesn’t want to think about that, about the fact that she couldn’t hurt him, the fact that she still can’t.
She takes a deep breath, allowing the limited oxygen in Vault D to fill her lungs. Skye places the tablet down and flicks the ‘highly admitted laser disturbance’ - as Fitz would call it - to translucent.
“Skye!” Ward looks both relieved and surprised, she notices immediately that his fists, once tightened at his side, dissolve at the sight of her, the realisation that she’s not a threat.
Skye doesn’t shift her stance, nor does she look him directly in the eyes.
“Don’t show weakness. If he sees weakness, he’ll exploit it.”
She repeats May’s words over and over, constantly analysing every word.
“I looped the cameras, they don’t know I’m here.”
Ward looks at her as if she’s the centre of the universe, his universe, and it’s incredibly crushing because Skye wants him to know that he’s the centre of hers, even if she doesn’t want him to be.
“Coulson,” she takes a breath, attempts to steady her insistently hammering heartbeat. “He wants to transfer custody to Christian,” Skye tries not to fumble for words, she tries to deliver the news in a way that won’t upset him, she fails.
Ward’s demure shifts, he looks petrified, shaken to his core. His chest begins to rise and fall at an alarming rate, Skye wonders if she accidentally turned off his air flow. Skye lowers the barrier and Ward enters a state of further panic. “Grant,” she calls softly, “he won’t hurt you.”
Ward looks at her in disbelief, as though she hadn’t devoted her attention to his trauma inducing past.
“I can’t leave,” Ward manages to mutter between the throws of his panic attack, his head moving rapidly from left to right, the veins along his neck becoming increasingly more visible.
Skye takes a step forward, Ward takes a step back, his knees hitting the shockingly cold frame of his prison bed.
She pretends not to be disappointed, she knows that she shouldn’t be comforting him, but Grant Douglas Ward is broken and Skye knows exactly what that feels like.
“You don’t exactly have a choice, Grant.” Surprisingly Skye maintains her composure, manages to scruff her feet along the dusty concrete floor, rest her hands in her jean pockets and pretend that the tears threatening to fall from the corners of his eyes don’t affect her.
Spoiler alert; they do.
“I don’t want to leave, Skye, please don’t make me leave you,” he pleads, Grand Douglas I-can-shoot-the-legs-off-a-flea-from-five-hundred-yards Ward begs to stay with her.
Skye was right, it’s not about S.H.I.E.L.D or Hydra, this is about her, she knew it all along.
Some things you just can’t fake.
She doesn’t know what to do, so instead she stands awkwardly, her arms folded, lip between teeth and bangs obstructing her vision, in the centre of her former SO’s solitary confinement with nothing between them except a few meters and a lifetime of baggage.
This could be it, this could be the end of Skye and Ward, Robot and Rookie. Skye could walk away and never have to see him again, yet, something about that feels wrong.
Skye clears her throat while adjusting her stance, “you’re being transferred in a van, one driver, three guards.” Ward appears startled for a moment, more than confused as to why his former prodigy would reveal such classified information, not just to a prisoner, but to him.
He doesn’t have time to recover from his shock before Skye continues talking, “I’ve seen May break her way out of handcuffs and I’ve seen you take on more men than I can count on one hand- “
“Okay, I break out? Then what happens, I go on the run for the rest of my life?” Ward interrupts, attempting to put an end to Skye’s far-fetched fantasies.
“Maybe.” Skye shrugs, seemingly unaffected by Grant’s attempt at skewing her course.
Ward drastically rolls his eyes at her feeble quip, for a moment she feels reminiscent, memories of her pre-hydra family playing scrabble and teasing her stubbornly overdramatic S.O. begin to surface, she has to shove them down, there is no time for this now.
She swallows her pride, her memories and harnesses everything May has taught her about control before she continues talking, “being on the run is better than being locked up and tortured by Christian.”
Ward pauses, they appear to come to an understanding.
"So this is goodbye?" Ward asks, well, states. He knows a goodbye when he hears one. And this? This as close to an emotional farewell as Ward will ever get, as he will ever deserve.
Skye meets his question with a shaky exhale, not looking in his eyes for more than a moment.
"What if I don't want to say goodbye?" Ward questions, taking a step towards her.
Skye looks up at him, all sad eyes and tear stained cheeks, "Coulson doesn't care what you want."
"Do you, Skye? Do you still care?"
She's biting her lip to keep herself from bursting into hysterical sobs. Skye doesn’t know how to respond. Does she still care? Why would she be here if she didn't?
Skye sighs, “I believe in you, Ward. I believe in the man you want to be.”
Ward looks confused for a moment before a small smile makes its way across his face, “I guess someone has to.”
Skye offers him a smile in return before taking a step back, preparing to re-engage the laser barrier. “Don’t dig yourself down about things you can’t change. Let your past choices motivate you to make good ones.”
Someone does have to believe in him and she’d be damned if it wasn’t her.
Ward recognises the finality of the moment, takes a second to breathe in her scent for what feels like the last time. “Take care of yourself, Skye.”
She looks to him, offers a half smile and utters two words in a way that makes his heart clench in angst “stay safe.”
By the time Skye reaches her bunk she can feel the residue of previous tears coating her cheeks. The only conscious thought in her mind is that their exchange felt way too much like a goodbye, and she is not ready for that.