A/N: Here is the first chapter of Terra (Part Two of Genesis). The rest of the chapters will be posted under a separate story. Thank you so much to everyone who has taken the time to read this project! I hope to have this second installment finished as close to the season 2 premiere as possible, because I now know my story will deviate from canon. But in case I don't finish by the 23rd, I hope everyone can enjoy this slightly (or completely) different take on the premiere. :)

PART TWO

"It's a little bit strange."

Skye was pulled out of her thoughts as Trip entered the Bus's comm room, seamlessly continuing the conversation they'd been having before he'd gone for a beer run. She sat up on the Holocom, abandoning the unrealistic notion she'd had of taking a catnap. "I mean, they're exactly the same. You really think they're just triplets?" he asked doubtfully. "Come on."

Skye slid to the edge of the table, dangling her legs over the side. "I have heard all your theories, Trip," she said, grabbing the bottle Trip offered her and taking a sip.

"And Koenig is always mentioning another brother," Trip added, shaking his head. "Every day, another brother. If he brings up one more brother, I don't know what I'm gonna do."

Skye had to admit that she'd also harbored a strange feeling about the situation. But she had a lot more things to worry about at the moment than the fact that every single Agent Koenig she'd met could have been interchangeable with another. "Coulson said we can trust him."

Trip considered her point, but sounded unconvinced when he responded. "There's something fishy going on there, man," he sighed, taking another sip from his beer and turning to see the screen. There were a few moments of comfortable silence as Skye studied the cryptic images displayed in front of her. "You'll go crazy staring at this crap," Trip told her. "What is it again?"

"Not sure," Skye replied, still staring at the screen. "Something Garrett was messing with?" She folded her arms as she moved off of the table. "Coulson put me on it a month ago, searching deep-web contacts, even the Rising Tide, looking for a match." The symbols continued to flash across the screen, almost as if they were mocking her as she stepped closer. "I've got nothing," she sighed, unable to believe that after all that time, she still hadn't been able to find an answer. This was supposed to be her forte, right? She hated being the bearer of unfavorable news to Coulson, especially after he'd entrusted her with more responsibility than she probably deserved. He had enough bad news to deal with as it was.

Coulson himself strode into the room just then. "There he is," Trip smiled as he and Skye turned to face him. "Happy to see you, sir."

"Agent Triplett," Coulson replied. "Skye."

Despite the lack of progress on her most recent assignment, Skye still found herself smiling. As the new director of S.H.I.E.L.D. only just starting to get his bearings, Skye rarely got to see more than a few minutes of Coulson a day. "Sir," she nodded.

He glanced at Trip. "Could you give us a moment?"

Trip held up his bottle. "Watch this," he grinned before sauntering out of the room, leaving the two of them alone.

Skye watched Trip leave with a smile, happy to see him in a good mood. Not that he wasn't usually in a good mood. In fact, it was hard to find something that didn't completely roll off of his back. But his behavior had been worrying her lately.

"Aww, no hugs?" she joked, turning back to Coulson. "He was really looking forward to it."

Coulson didn't look particularly amused, so Skye quickly dove into her update. "I've crosschecked the writing from the lab with the new images you've given me," she said, indicating the screen next to her. "It's mostly the same, but the code breakers haven't found any-"

"That's not why I'm here," Coulson interrupted her, and her eyes fell on a small packet of papers he had in his hand. "The Absorbing Man we encountered on the op last month?" he said as he handed them to her. "We think he's resurfaced again."

Skye stared at the document for a few seconds, recalling how May and Trip had run into the assassin while trying to get Ward away from HYDRA. Coulson had forced her to stay behind for the op, insisting it was too personal for her, but had reluctantly admitted afterwards that Carl Creel had probably belonged on the Index. May and Deputy Director Isabelle Hartley had been able to subdue the guy by tricking him into a fountain, but obviously it had only been a temporary solution.

Skye briefly wondered why he wanted her to focus on her Index duty, when HYDRA was a much more imminent threat at the moment. But then it hit her.

"You want me to go down there, don't you?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

"You're the only one who can," Coulson replied, the hint of an apology on his face.

Skye tried not to sound too ticked off. "Is this really what it takes for and I to get a one-on-one these days?" she scoffed, realizing just now that she'd unknowingly been a part of his strategy, that he'd had more than one reason for keeping her away from that particular room. He didn't answer her, so she decided to ask her own strategic question. "Why now?"

"Because the technology in play warrants it," he responded simply.

The last thing Skye wanted was to be on Coulson's bad side, but she really didn't want this particular assignment either. "And do I have a say in this?" she asked.

His lack of a reply spoke volumes.

"Copy that," she muttered before leaving the room.

The days passed in the usual way, without any direct contact and in nearly complete darkness. He was still guarded by the same group of people, he was still given the same exact food once a day, and Coulson was still the only one in the rotation that covered his shift within the room. And the days were the same on Ward's end, too. He still woke up uncomfortable, he still never really knew what time of day it was, and he still had to run around or do pushups to take the edge off of his nerves sometimes.

But despite their monotonous nature, the days didn't drag on anymore.

Since that first book had been surreptitiously slid into his cell, Ward had woken up to find a different volume on the corner of the floor every single day. And every single day, without fail, he would read the entire thing, cover to cover, sometimes more than once if he had the time. He never read them during Coulson's shift, and always left the book exactly where he'd found it. But Coulson still switched them out every night.

So while the days had simply blended together before, with nothing giving Ward the desire to even care, now he had something by which to mark the time.

Twenty-eight books. Twenty-eight books in twenty-eight days. And still, out of all of those books, not a single one of them had been on the list Garrett had given him to read as his S.O. It had been a little surprising, but not surprising enough for Ward to refuse reading material.

The volumes varied in subject as well as in nature. Some were biographical memoirs, some were historical fiction, and some were simply tactical instruction manuals. Some were laden with themes of betrayal, others with honor. The selections didn't seem to follow a common pattern, but he had no doubt that each one had been carefully chosen before being placed in his cell.

Ward knew what Coulson was doing. He wasn't stupid. It was just like back at Grissom, a constant inundation of material designed to make him feel guilty. But Ward didn't mind so much this time. Because this time he had the choice every day to pick up the book and read it. He didn't care what it was about. It was something to do, something to immerse himself in.

Something to make him forget about the hellhole he'd been dropped into.

And so when she finally came to his cell one day, actually physically entered into his cell, he couldn't have been more surprised. The copy of Ordinary Men he had in his hands fell onto the cot next to him as he sat up, unsure if he was actually seeing what he thought he was seeing. After months of isolation, it wouldn't be that much of a stretch for him to start having hallucinations.

But his hallucination of Skye wouldn't have had emptiness in her eyes when she looked at him, or the gun strapped to her right thigh.

"Just so we're clear, you make any sudden movements or attempt to get up, you're gonna have a nice little nap for three days," she said calmly, her right arm resting casually above the holster. "No warning, no second chance. Nothing but a tranquillizer dart to the chest and a headache from hell when you wake up." Her tone was clinical, as if she were speaking to any common criminal, and there was absolutely no familiarity in her expression. "We on the same page?"

Ward didn't trust his voice to speak, so he held her gaze as he gave her a simple nod. He could tell she'd been trained, probably by May if he had to guess. And he knew that if she felt confident enough to enter into his cell, she also probably felt confident enough to take him on her own. He had no doubt that she could. The Skye he was looking at was utterly unrecognizable from the one he and Coulson had picked up off the streets so long ago. This Skye was guarded, hardened.

Lethal.

"Let's skip the part where you pretend not to know Talbot was HYDRA," she continued, barely acknowledging his acquiescence. "Or that you weren't aware of the little backfired experiment done on this man." She held out a tablet in front of her so he could see the face displayed on the screen. Ward only had time to briefly examine the man's face and the name in bold letters at the top before she lowered the device. "What's their play?"

Ward looked back and forth between Skye and the tablet she held in her hands, completely baffled as to what she was asking him. "I've never seen that guy," he croaked, immediately trying to clear his throat.

"Let's try that again," Skye replied, her expression telling him that he was dangerously close to getting a dart in the chest. "What does HYDRA want to use him for?"

He opened and closed his mouth in confusion. "You think I know?" he asked, glad to hear his voice no longer sounded like that of a dying frog. "I'm telling the truth."

She scoffed. "You honestly expect me to believe that in all your pillow talk with Talbot you never discussed this?"

"Pillow talk?" Ward repeated in bewilderment. "I had one conversation with him."

She folded her arms. "And?"

Ward still wasn't exactly sure what that meeting with Talbot had been about. But for some reason he wanted to make sure Skye knew that he wasn't lying. "He offered me a…" he hesitated, unsure what word to use. "Job," he finished uncertainly.

"Really?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "Doing what?"

Ward shook his head. "I don't know."

"Doing what?" she repeated, any trace of amusement gone from her face.

"Uh…" he stammered, quickly trying to recall the words Talbot had used. "Undercover work…gathering intel…that kind of thing. He didn't give specifics, okay?"

Ward was spiraling, he knew that, much to his dismay. How the hell was this girl able to make him abandon any and all interrogation training he'd ever had? He'd sat through dozens of May's and Coulson's and Hartley's shifts with the resolute determination to keep his mouth shut if they started asking questions. And here Skye was, in his cell for the first time, and he'd caved in less than a minute.

But maybe that had been the plan all along. Starve him of contact for so long that he'd practically ask for it himself. And send in the one person who could crumble his resolve in a heartbeat.

Skye didn't look convinced, though. "Sure he didn't," she scoffed quietly, a bitter smile on her lips. "And let me guess. You never got a chance to find out."

What she'd said was the truth, but Ward had a feeling it wasn't what she wanted to hear. He let his silence answer for him, and before he knew it she had turned around, obviously convinced that he had nothing of value to give her. And he didn't know why, but he suddenly needed her to stay for just a little bit longer. Something told him that she wasn't going to come back, not if he didn't have any useful intelligence for them.

So he said the first thing he could think of. "Look, that guy isn't your biggest threat right now."

She froze near the cell door, and Ward inwardly winced at his poor choice of words. "You wanna talk about threats?" she asked as she spun around, and it was the first time since she'd come in that she actually sounded angry. "HYDRA has literally been hunting down S.H.I.E.L.D. agents-"

"I'm not talking about a threat to S.H.I.E.L.D.," he quickly assured her, shaking his head. "I'm talking about a threat to you."

Again, could he have been any creepier? He blamed his lack of recent social interaction.

"Careful where you step there," she warned him quietly, her right hand resting atop the gun at her side. "I won't hesitate."

He sighed, frustrated that she couldn't understand him. "There are people out there that are gonna be looking for you, Skye," he said, hoping she would take him seriously. Because despite the fact that he was spiraling, he was also telling the truth. And even though he knew she could take care of herself, he also knew that the people searching for her were a lot more lethal than she was.

But the scowl on her face told him she wasn't buying it. "All I'm saying," he finished, hoping she could hear the sincerity in his voice. "Is just…be careful."

Skye shook her head. "Wow," she said harshly. "You really are a piece of work. You'll say anything to get out of here, won't you?" She turned her head to the side, studying him with a wry smile. "But you don't actually know anything. You were just…HYDRA's puppet the whole time." She turned around again, opening the cell door to leave. "You've got nothing worth my time."

"I have information," Ward insisted, hating the way he sounded but unable to stop himself. "Information you might need one day."

"You keep telling yourself that," she responded without looking back, the door clanging shut behind her. "But don't hold your breath."

Fitz hurriedly stuffed the papers he'd been staring at for the past hour into a drawer as he heard her footsteps coming in from the back of the lab. He placed his protective glasses on his face and leaned forward over the device, pretending to be deeply engrossed with what he was doing.

The sound of her shoes on the lab floor stopped as she came in through the door, almost as if she hadn't expected him to be there. "Have you not left since last night?" she asked, walking around the lab bench to look at him.

"What?" he muttered distractedly, glancing up from his work. He was surprised to see that she'd recently washed her hair, and that the rosiness in her cheeks hadn't faded like it usually did by the end of the day. "Oh," he said in confusion, looking around for his watch. "No, I-I…guess I just lost track of time. Is it morning already?"

Jemma sighed in mild exasperation, and the look in her eyes told him exactly what she was going to say. "Fitz, you shouldn't be overworking yourself," she admonished him. "Despite your progress, you still sustained a traumatic brain injury, remember?"

How could he have forgotten? It wasn't really something he wanted to discuss, though. "I'm fine," he said dismissively, arranging the objects neatly on the bench in front of him. "Besides, I needed to finish these before we head out."

But Jemma wasn't paying attention to his inventions. "You haven't eaten anything either, have you?" she asked in a disapproving tone as she folded her arms. His face must have given his answer away, because she gasped quietly. "Fitz!"

"Jemma, what the hell?" he laughed, wondering how on earth this girl could worry about him so much. "Okay, could you just stop doctoring me for one bloody second?"

Jemma wasn't laughing with him. "I wouldn't have to doctor you if you'd simply take care of yourself better," she insisted, and Fitz's smile faded at hearing how genuinely upset she was getting. "Honestly, Fitz, I figured I shouldn't have to remind you to eat of all things, especially considering your-"

"All right, all right," he sighed, holding up a hand to stop her. On his list of things he didn't want to talk about, his hereditary condition of hypoglycemia was very close to the top. "Might as well take a break, I guess," he conceded.

"Right, you are," she replied sternly before heading out of the lab.

Fitz set down his glasses and quickly caught up with her. "Well, I can't exactly expect to get any work done with you chattering away in my ear, now can I?" he joked.

"Oh, hush," she reprimanded him, but she was smiling as she reached into her bag. "Here," she said, holding out something for him to take. "I was over on the Bus earlier grabbing some supplies and picked one up for you. It's been ages since you've solved one."

He glanced down at the Rubik's Cube in his palm and inexplicably felt a pang in his chest. "That other one," he said as he tried to hide his disappointment. "It got left behind at the Playground, didn't it?"

"You have dozens of them, Fitz," Jemma remarked with a laugh. "What's losing one going to matter?"

Fitz wracked his brain for an appropriate response, one that wouldn't involve him telling her why that particular Cube had mattered to him so much. But thankfully they ran into Coulson on their way to the kitchen.

"FitzSimmons," he greeted them quickly before heading in the opposite direction. "Mission briefing in five," he called over his shoulder.

After Jemma had insisted they grab some snacks from the kitchen, Fitz gathered his supplies in the lab and met everyone else in the main briefing room. Coulson was standing in front of a wide screen, which was displaying both a file from Skye's Index as well as what looked like a series of security photos.

"We've got reports of sightings near a warehouse just outside of Wichita," Coulson announced once everyone had gathered together. "Carl Creel…" he said, gesturing to the man pictured on the screen, "was a HYDRA experiment gone wrong. But if he's shown up again, after having disappeared in a known HYDRA facility, it could mean that HYDRA's found a way to control him." As he spoke, Skye flipped through more images on the screen, showing Creel terrorizing a small Air Reserve base in Indiana. "This man has the ability to absorb the properties of anything he touches. Deputy Director Hartley and Agent May were able to subdue him, but Creel has apparently found a way to return to his original form."

The screen changed to show diagrams of the locations of Creel's last known sightings. "Our mission today is to follow him, see if he can lead us to HYDRA's current base of operations. But make no mistake," he assured them, his grim face reminding Fitz of how Creel had murdered Colonel Talbot with his bare hands. "This guy is deadly. So we will not engage with him unless the situation calls for us to do so." Coulson looked around the room to make sure everyone had heard him before turning to Fitz. "Agent Fitz?"

Fitz gestured towards the table in front of him, where he'd laid out about a dozen handguns, and picked up one of the bullets. "These are Hydration Yielding and Delayed Release Armor bullets, which I designed specifically to incapacitate Creel."

Fitz could almost hear Coulson's inevitable eye roll. "Really, Fitz?" he asked skeptically. "H.Y.D.R.A. bullets?"

"Unlike an ICER," he continued, ignoring anyone who didn't appreciate the painstaking care that had gone into the brilliantly appropriate name, "these bullets break upon contact rather than under the subcutaneous tissue, while still retaining an ICER's stopping power." He set the bullet down and picked up one of the weapons. "The fully automatic handguns shoot out four bullets at a time, and each clip contains ten fluid ounces of water, so you shouldn't find yourselves running out."

One of Coulson's newest recruits, a former mercenary named Hunter, spoke up from the back. "You just described a water gun, mate."

"Oh, is that so?" Fitz replied defensively. He didn't want to point out that the bullets had taken him weeks to design, much longer than he'd anticipated, but this guy obviously needed some further explanation if he compared sophisticated machinery to a toy. "Well, I'll have you know that these bullets can fire out at a speed that-"

"Okay, okay," Coulson interrupted, holding his hands up in the shape of a T. "We get it, Fitz."

Fitz glanced away from Hunter in irritation as Coulson continued. "Each agent will carry an ICER as well as one of these…" he paused, obviously annoyed with having to say it. "H.Y.D.R.A. guns," he sighed, shaking his head. "I'll be accompanying the team on the op, but in the meantime the deputy director will be holding down the fort."

Isabelle Hartley was leaning against one of the briefing tables, her arms folded as she smirked over at Coulson. "Pretty sure I was doing that anyway."

Coulson didn't retaliate, but there was a bit of a crinkle near his eye. "Agent Skye will also be coming, so we'll need someone on Index watch."

"Staring at a computer screen all day?" Hunter asked sarcastically before pointing to the man next to him. "I nominate Iowa."

"For the last time, Hunter," the man replied, closing his eyes in frustration. "It's Idaho."

"Do you kiss your mum with that mouth?"

"She's the one who named-"

"Hunter," Coulson spoke over them. "I'm gonna have to ask you to remain on base. You're still not an official S.H.I.E.L.D. agent yet, so I need your-"

"Is there even such a thing as an official S.H.I.E.L.D. agent anymore?" Hunter pointed out. "All due respect, sir, but I thought we were all just trying to get by doing the right thing."

"And that's exactly the kind of attitude I need from my agents," Coulson said. "But I'm still gonna need you to fill out the paperwork. I've been asking you to turn it in for a while now." He didn't bother waiting for a response, and turned to the other man, giving him an apologetic smile. "Idaho, I would appreciate it if you took Index watch."

Idaho stared at the ground. "Yes, sir," he mumbled.

"All right," Coulson announced, his eyes scanning the remaining agents in the room. "Let's roll out."

May leaned up against the south wall of the warehouse, keeping within the building's shadow to avoid being seen. "I've got eyes on the target," she murmured. "He's entering through the southeast doors."

"Copy that," Coulson replied through her comm. "Remember, we just want to see where he goes, if he talks to anyone, that kind of thing. Do not engage him."

"Yes, sir," Triplett said, but May noticed him moving closer to the door.

"Trip, what are you doing?" she asked, taking a step forward in case she had to run.

"Relax," he assured her. "I'm just following him, and I'll stay far enough back so he doesn't see me. But how else are we going to find out what he's up to from out here?"

"Agent Triplett, get out of there. You are not-"

But Coulson stopped giving his order as the sound of Triplett crying out in pain came through the comms. May was at the southeast entrance in two seconds, entering through the door to see that Creel had Triplett in a chokehold. The man must have known he'd been followed, and had hid near the entrance for the first person to wander in. Triplett fought hard against him, but he was no match for Creel, who had absorbed all of Triplett's strength on top of his own.

May quickly raised her H.Y.D.R.A. gun and fired repeatedly, causing Creel to release his hold on Triplett. As Triplett fell to the floor, gasping for air, May continued firing, relieved to notice that Creel's body had started to disintegrate again. "We're gonna need a containment case," she shouted, loading another magazine in order to keep a steady flow of water streaming onto him.

Despite having seen Creel melt before, the sight was still gruesome to behold, and she found herself relieved when FitzSimmons came rushing into the space.

"All right, just keep the water coming," Fitz told her as he and Simmons began using a variety of instruments to collect the puddle that had once been a man. Fitz took care of the larger samples, while Simmons worked dutifully at using a pipet to get all the miniscule droplets, taking care to never let an ounce of water remain in her hands for too long.

The entire process took less than thirty seconds. Fitz quickly closed the lid of the plastic container they'd deposited the water into and placed it within a locked metal box, which was then placed into an additional S.H.I.E.L.D. containment case.

"That should do it," Fitz huffed, looking like he was trying to catch his breath as he pulled out his tablet. Simmons quickly ran over to Triplett, helping him to his feet and letting him lean on her as they made their way back to the van.

"Is it clear?" May asked Fitz, angling herself so that he was closer to the doorway, just in case HYDRA decided to emerge from the darkness this time.

Fitz was busily examining the screen in front of him. "Yep," he finally nodded. "No thermal or electrical activity." He slid his backpack off of his shoulders, taking out the D.W.A.R.F. case. "It's just us now."

"All right," May replied, grabbing Creel's containment case. "I'll take this back to the van. You and Skye examine the area, see if you can find anything tying this place to HYDRA."

"Got it," he muttered, using his tablet to send off one of the bots.

May passed Skye on her way back, and listened carefully as she and Fitz spoke through their comms.

"I'll check upstairs," Skye said as soon as she'd entered the warehouse. "This place is a ghost town. What the hell was this guy doing here?"

"No clue," Fitz replied. "I'm not getting any kind of heat signature, no radiation, nothing."

When May entered the van, Simmons was pulling an ice pack out of the cooler. "All right, just keep that on your throat," she ordered gently as she placed it on Triplett's neck. "It'll help reduce the swelling." Triplett began to nod, but she placed a hand in front of his face. "No, no," she admonished. "Keep your head in a neutral position. And don't lie back either. I don't think you have a fracture, but we wouldn't want to make it worse in case you do."

Triplett looked a little disappointed at Simmons's words, but May realized that it was because he didn't know how to thank her without speaking or nodding his head. Eventually he settled for giving her a thumbs up.

"I'm not seeing anything up here, you guys," Skye reported. "But I'll keep looking around."

"Sir, the D.W.A.R.F.s haven't found anything worth mentioning either. It looks like this warehouse has been out of commission for a while. There's not even…" Fitz's voice trailed off. "Wait, hang on."

"What is it, Fitz?" Coulson asked.

"I don't know, there was just…my tablet just turned off all of a sudden," he muttered, sounding confused. "Oh, well now it's back on," he added sarcastically. "Weird. Skye? Did you notice anything? I think my heat signature device must be acting up because you're not…"

Fitz stopped talking again, probably realizing that Skye hadn't responded. "Skye? Did you go back to the van? You're not showing up on the thermal detector."

May stepped out of the vehicle, looking around the empty street for any sign that Skye had exited the warehouse. And in the silence that followed, May felt her stomach drop.

She ran into the building, her legs tearing her past the abandoned D.W.A.R.F. case in the middle of the main floor. She sped up the only staircase, racing over to where Fitz stood. And even if she hadn't seen the H.Y.D.R.A. gun lying on the floor, her worst suspicions would have been confirmed by Fitz's white face as he stared uncomprehendingly at the tablet in front of him.

"She's gone," he whispered.