and the fire that is starting to go out,

written by wickedsong.

Disclaimer/Note: In the first part. So this is a companion to the first part, and, as you can imagine, it is from Ward's POV on the other side of the door. I don't have that much to say, except please don't hate me (again), okay?

The minute he pushes the button to the door, he knows it's the last time he'll see her face. She tries to pull him with her and their hands brush but he pushes her back at the last minute, slamming the button and bringing the door down between them.

She looks shocked, eyes wide, a question dying on her lips and he can only afford her an apologetic look. She has to know why he's doing this. He hears footsteps, running down the corridor towards him, and knows he only has a second to consider his options.

There's only one.

Please forgive me.

When all is said and done, he knows he's dying. He knows that Coulson and May will find Skye and FitzSimmons and they'll get them as far away from here as possible. Maybe that makes it better. He knows she'll be safe.

The taste of blood is filling his mouth, as he keeps a hand leveled on the wound to his chest. He's not got a lot of time either.

Desperately he fiddles with the comm in his ear, wondering if anyone will pick it up. There's still static. There's a small gasp of recognition on the other end, and he smiles – the pain turning it quickly to a grimace – as her voice fills his ear.

"You shouldn't have done that."

Of course she's scolding him. But as long as she understands. He's finding it difficult to breathe and he's never been the best with words, but as long as she understands.

Please let her voice be the last thing he hears.

"You're safe aren't you?"

She's an 0-8-4. He's known that for a while now. She told him herself. He still isn't sure what that means but he knows she's something he has to protect.

"I didn't need you to protect me, Grant."

0-8-4 or not, he would have protected her regardless. Seeing her at the doors of death once was enough. He knew he didn't have the strength to go through that again.

Is that selfish?

"No. You didn't. But I wanted to protect you, Skye."

She doesn't answer him. He wonders if that is all they get. So much he still has to tell her and-

"It was my choice."

"How bad is it?"

You said I was a robot.

He refuses to give her an answer. He wants to fill the silence with something else; anything that isn't the bullet hole in his chest and the way his body feels like it's made with ice. He shivers.

She can't know.

It's for the best.

"Please, Ward. I-"

"It's cold."

His back is up against the door he used to separate them. He wonders if they're already halfway to the bus by now. He hopes so.

He thinks most of the guys were taken out in this; what he now knows is his last stand. They won't be able to get to her and the team will be on the other side of the world before the mysterious higher-ups who want her for whatever purpose catch on. At least that's his wish. If he has to die here, and leave them all, then he thinks the universe at least owes him that.

Am I a hero?

"I'm sorry."

What does she have to be sorry for? She didn't ask to be an 0-8-4. She didn't ask to be hunted. She didn't ask for any of this. But she took it. And she hardly let it get to her. She was still the same Skye he had come to know. She still cared, was still compassionate. If he was honest, sometimes he was jealous of the way she could just handle things.

"I'm sorry."

Please forgive me.

Even though he was always sure this was how it would end - there is no other way in his line of work - he's not sure he even contemplated the stark reality of it. Maybe he always believed someone would be there in the end anyway.

Maybe she is.

"There are…so many things I should have…I should have…"

He hasn't regretted anything so much in a long time.

"It's okay, Grant, I know."

She understands and that's all he wanted. Maybe that's enough to let go. He can barely keep his eyes open.

Pieces solving a puzzle.

one

Super spy is ticklish.

two.

If you ever need to talk, my shoulder's free.

three.

Maybe he'll be forgiven but he just needs to know or needs to say .

He needs to breath.

"Skye, I-"

The words die on his lips, unsaid and unfinished.