AU from season two, episode six: A Fractured House.

Summary: Coulson and Skye want to deliver Ward to the senator themselves. When Hydra makes an unexpected appearance to get their soldier back, Skye gets caught in the crossfire.

Even she's surprised with who she chooses to go to for help with her recovery.

TORTURE WARNING. At least for the first two chapters.

~
Chapter One
Caught Between Devil and Deep Sea

He had no idea. Not a single clue they would come for him.

Why should Hydra care about Grant Ward? Garrett cared about Grant Ward. When people needed a soldier they cared about Grant Ward.

But he never once expected to be rescued.

"Son of a bitch!" Skye shouted. "I told you, I told you, we can't trust a word that comes out of his mouth. He's crap!"

"That may be true, but we can't know he's the reason for this," pointed out Coulson as he tried to cling to the drastically flipping plane. "How would he have gotten any information out?"

Skye scoffed. "I don't know! But he's been out of the base for point three seconds and you don't think it's his fault? He's a lying, traitorous, fu-"

"Agent Skye!" Coulson ordered. "Secure the prisoner or find a way to get Fitz or Mack on the line. I don't want to have to tell you again."

She was fuming. She was pissed. But she was obedient.

The soldier they were turning her into was going well.

"Get up," she told him, and he realized by her harsh voice she'd make a nice officer too.

Even if it disgusted him, even if he hated asking her to do it, Coulson knew there was less of a chance Ward would try anything with Skye directing him. That's why she was included on this mission to move him. Not because she cared, of course not. But because she was a fail safe he wouldn't make an attempt. And it was true.

That still didn't stop the Director from sending five armed guards with them.

Skye took his arm, guiding him through the plane he already knew so well. Her grip was firm but her facial features told a different story. She was repulsed. She wished she didn't have to touch him.

He wished that too.

Even from the cell it was loud. Bumpy. He had to sit down or he'd fall over, the plane twisted and turned as though it were stuck in it's own tornado. It could have been, for all Ward knew. There were no windows.

But in fact it was something much, much worse.

His door opened.

There were at least ten men positioned just outside. Soldiers dressed in camo, the multiple legged skull-creature that they followed emblazoned on each of their uniforms. The undercover agency he'd once been a part of was no more. They were in the light, out in the open, and they were planning to stay.

One stepped forward out of the group. Grey hair, but only about forty years old. His face was hard and stern. Vicious too. He had incredibly noticeable crow's feet on his face along with a smirk they said he felt in charge. Ward knew him, but only through reputation.

Blackwell.

"Agent Grant Ward. You are a difficult one to find."

Ward was out of practice. He wasn't intimidating. Clothed in prisoner's attire, shackled hands and feet, beard unshaven. His arm still held the mark of his failure. His mind was still lost and still moved unsteadily.

But he gathered his thoughts.

Be Grant Ward again.

His arms crossed gently across his chest, trying to be casual.

"S.H.I.E.L.D.'s been staying in the shadows pretty well, I presume."

Blackwell smirked, just barely. "A plane with the ability to be cloaked helps. This will be a nice additive to our collection."

Ward nodded. "Glad to hear it."

"Are you?"

They knew. Shit they knew.

He still didn't move.

"Of course," Ward told him. "I am Hydra." He snickered, allowing himself a step forward both physically and metaphorically, a rather bad attempt at changing the subject. "Your reputation precedes you, Agent Blackwell. To send you is… significant. So I'm guessing this rescue isn't just because I'm a valued member."

"Afraid not," Blackwell said. His green eyes moved precariously, up and down. Appraising. He was studying Ward. Ward tried not to give him anything to learn. "We're here to get some of the more… intimate details of John Garrett's plans. With Centipede disbanded, and Garrett dead, his first in command is the only one left with the information. And we're aware he was keeping more than his fair share to himself. So now, we need to know."

"Fine," said Ward, without hesitation. "But can we not do it here? I've been in cages a little more than I'd like and from when I was undercover here, I know there to be a pretty nice bar upstairs. I'm assuming you've crossed out the agents and taken control of the plane?"

Blackwell tilted his head, somewhat with disappointment and somewhat with amusement. "The aircraft is in our control, yes. But you'll be happy to hear the agents are indeed alive."

Skye was alive. His body pulsed with the overwhelming relief. Screaming with joy inwardly.

Outwardly, he was static.

"And why would I be happy to hear that?"

"Because we've seen the tapes. We've found the servers to the base known as "the Playground", even if we don't know where it's located. We've seen your months of imprisonment," said Blackwell, eyes gleaming darkly as he took large booted steps farther into the room. "You're a broken man, Grant Ward."

"I'm the same man," he lied. "I've been exploiting weaknesses. Playing them."

Playing you.

"Then this should be easy for you. It's a simple question really. You left their base willingly. Restrained, perhaps, but you were prepared to help them."

"To get out."

"And now here we are," Blackwell appraised, gesturing around himself with open arms. "But my first question will be answered here and now. Let's call it… a test. For your loyalty."

Ward wasn't entirely sure where his loyalties lied anymore. Maybe Skye. Maybe the team he hoped to still be a part of. Though maybe, if he was honest, just to himself.

But not Hydra.

He waited.

"What is the drug John Garrett injected himself with just before his death?'"

Ward paused. Skye would kill him. Well, Hydra would kill him too.

He would get out. Freed. But at a cost. He could never keep his promise to Skye. Never help her find her father. He would never even see her again. He'd meant it when he said he wanted to help her. As much as he wanted her to understand for the purpose of getting out of that cell, he'd meant what he'd said as well.

Every word I tell you for the rest of my life will be the truth.

He answered.

"I don't know."

"You do."

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

Blackwell nodded before sighing as he turned to walk out of the room. "How unfortunate."

With a flick of the wrist, a soldier moved forward with a pointed gun. A stunner.

And Ward was out.

He came to with a gasp, frustrated at how he couldn't control the reflex. He could have in the past, but everything was so much harder now. The way his heart would beat near out of his chest and his breathing would constrict, it was hard to get through a serious sentence without wavering.

That all multiplied when he saw his situation.

He was bound to a metal chair, and that chair in turn was bound to the ground in it's own sense. Handcuffs on his arms, on his legs. He was chained down and he wouldn't be able to move, no matter how hard he tried.

There was a man in the corner of the room, hidden in the shadows. He reminded Ward of rat in nearly every way possible. Small, twitchy, ugly. Creepy would be an optimal word.

Instruments lined the table in front of him. Sharp knives and tools that he hadn't even seen before, and he'd seen a lot. He'd done a lot to, though it wasn't his expertise. Still, that didn't scare him. He may be changed, run down, but the scariest goddamn thing in this room was the girl bound similarly in front of him.

Blackwell stood behind Skye, his hands waiting patiently behind his back as he watched Ward orient himself. Skye stared straight ahead. It could have been at Ward, but he had a feeling her eyes were unseeing, unfocused. She wasn't shaking. She wasn't crying, even though her nose bled. But Ward could sense her rage.

He wondered if it was still directed at him.

"Glad to have you back," said Blackwell, now stepping beside Skye. "You appear surprised, Agent Ward. I told you we'd seen the tapes; I thought you would have expected this." He let out a breath, as though Ward had disappointed him. He supposed he had. "It appears you really have changed."

Ward didn't move and didn't budge, not an inch. Neither did Skye. He hoped she was placing herself somewhere else. She could do this. He saw it, she was trained now. She could hold herself.

Could he?

"Why is it that you would only talk to her?" Blackwell said, now directing his full attention at the girl, as though he could find the answer on her. "Is it so you could look at something pretty to distract you while you gave away your allegiance?" He glanced at Ward. Cocked his head. "No, it's deeper than that."

Skye stared. All she would do is stare. And breathe. Ward watched her chest moved up in down in even strokes, taking in as much air as she could with each inhale.

Then he hit her.

One quick powerful jab to the side of her cheek and Skye's head turned with the punch as her hair fell over her in waves, covering the side of her face. He'd heard the gasp. He didn't hear anything else.

Grant tried to pounce. It was impulse. Old him wouldn't have done it. Old Ward wouldn't have shown the weakness, but he did. He was angry. He was so so angry for the first time in some time.

"Much deeper, apparently," said Blackwell, caressing his knuckles gently, as if Skye's soft cheek was the cause for their harm.

At least ten guards, thought Ward suddenly. He didn't know if the team could handle that, even if they could manage to find them, cloaked in midair. He looked back to the girl in front of him.

Her head still hadn't moved, her carpet of hair blocking her face.

"Skye, you're ok," Ward tried to soothe her. It was stupid. She didn't want him.

"I know I'm ok," she growled through what sounded like gritted teeth. Frustrated. He'd pointed out her weakness, her vulnerability, and it made her mad. He wouldn't do it again.

It took her a moment, but she raised her head back to position. It shook, only slightly. Only for a second. And she tried to resume her angry staring, but he could catch the panic on her face now.

"Sorry, that was rude of me," he told Skye, smoothing her hair back into place. He was trying to elicit a response from her, get her talking to get Ward desperate, but she was silent. Again, her training showed. "I'm not usually the one dealing with this sort of thing."

The man in the corner suddenly stepped forward, an anticipatory smile plastered all too eerily on his face.

"That would be me, hmhm," the man said eagerly, in breathy tones, a strange laugh passing his lips afterward. Even Skye's eyes widened with shock, but not so much in fear as with an expression of "is this guy for real?"

There was fear too, though.

"This is Agent Payne," introduced Blackwell, and Ward heard Skye snort. All eyes turned to her.

"Seriously? Payne?" she asked with a cocked eyebrow.

"Yes…" said Blackwell curiously.

"It's just that, I'm guessing he's the one that's going to be cutting into me with all those pointy objects there, so it's a little funny."

Good. Quip on your terms. Not when they provoke you. Ward couldn't even hold in his smile. Blackwell noticed this, his lip turning up in a snarl as he nodded at Payne, who in turn nodded back.

And stuck a knife into Skye's leg.

"Ahah!" she half-screamed, half-gasped. Her head craned upward in anguish. He heard her breathing, trying to control it. She gritted her teeth, set her jaw, muttered curses only audible to herself.

"Stop!" growled Ward, sitting forward in his restraints. He tried not to struggle, but he couldn't help himself. The disgusting rat-man was laughing at Skye's pain.

"Agent Payne is incredibly precise, so I wouldn't worry about her bleeding out," Blackwell told Ward. He smirked. "Or, perhaps rather, hope for her bleeding out. She's here for the long haul. Unless that is, you have some information…?"

"Don't give them a thing, Ward! Don't you dare!" Skye demanded dangerously, breathless and pained. "Even if I lose my nerve, don't give them a god damn thing!"

Or I'll never forgive you, she left unsaid.

This was like the ultimate test: to betray Skye or to save Skye. But he knew which one she wanted.

"I won't," he promised her, voice strong and ringing truth. Sincerity. More sincerity than he'd had any other time he'd spoken with her, he noticed. It surprised him. He always told her the truth. But it sounded more real now, solid. Even to himself.

Their eyes locked. Skye's mouth was open, she was heaving, but she saw his resolution. It seemed to calm her.

Like she trusted him.

"Oh, but that was easy. The knife cuts in, slices your nerves, and then you're fine again," said Blackwell. "Child's play."

Bullshit. They all knew it.

But Skye wouldn't say otherwise, so neither would he.

"How about we try something a little more lingering?" Blackwell continued, stepping out of the way to reveal Payne had picked up another toy: a syringe.

He peeled back the sleeve of Skye's silky pink blouse. It struck Ward as odd on the girl, but she was to go undercover. Be their eyes from a distance for the exchange. Still, Ward noticed she didn't dress as used to. More practical, field ready outfits. Maybe this part was new, too.

As he revealed inch after inch of her precious skin, her hand began constricting into a fist. Ward's were still balled up from the use of the knife. They'd left it in her leg like a flag marking conquered territory.

"You have quite large arms," said Blackwell in passing, though Ward wasn't entirely sure why. To insult her femininity?

"All the better to hit you with, my dear," Skye sneered sweetly. The words were fairly even. She had a knife in her leg.

"This formula is my favorite," the torturer whispered abruptly into Skye's ear with excitement, as though expecting her to return his enthusiasm. She didn't. "Travels farther. Works longer. Keeps you with us too, hmhm."

Ward watched the needle hover just above her skin.

"Did you catch that, Grant Ward? It's Agent Payne's favorite. Though, I'm wondering if she may have, perhaps, a different opinion. We don't have to find out. Just tell us what the drug is. Tell me about Centipede's secrets. What didn't Garrett want anyone to know but himself?"

Ward's gaze had never left Skye's face, even when the man spoke directly to him. When she minutely shook her head, it only affirmed what he knew she wanted. Ward dragged his eyes away from Skye to give Blackwell a cold glare. That gave him a clear answer.

So Blackwell nodded to his agent. The needle went in. Skye screamed.

Not at first. No, she braced it for a while. Unmoving, as the serum rushed through her veins like a wildfire, Ward knew. But soon the trembles started. Gritting her teeth and squirming, legs bouncing up and down like a child trying to be brave.

When she finally did let go, allow herself some release, she couldn't seem to stop.

She screamed for so long. She screamed until her voice was strained and hoarse, for minutes without stopping. Ward stared at her the entire time. His gaze couldn't shift away. He hated it. He hated watching her eyes water and her body start to shake and that horrible, cracked noise coming from her throat. He could barely register the man next to him demanding questions. But he wouldn't get answers. Not from Ward.

Though that was why the moment the girl stopped screaming, the process repeated.

And it repeated more than once. At least five times, Ward thought. Though it was hard to focus. Hard not to give in. Harder than anything he'd ever done in the past as a specialist. Which was so, so selfish to think when Skye was in her own world of pain in front of him. He had to be strong for her.

When it stopped the last time, Skye let herself slouch forward with a shaky breath, trembling. Some of the punctures were dripping blood. The man hadn't been careful.

Ward noticed her strained attempt to straighten herself, ready for the next attack, but it never came.

They were changing their approach.

Blackwell grabbed the sides of her blouse and ripped them apart, buttons spastically flying around the room. Ward was grateful she had a tank top underneath.

He feared it wouldn't be there long.

Skye hadn't flinched at the sudden attack though. Hadn't responded at all. Not even when a stray button hit her face.

That scared him more.

As Skye still focused on her measured breathing, - and what Ward hoped was focusing on trying to be somewhere else - Blackwell's hand began lifting Skye's tank up from the bottom. Ward tensed.

But he stopped.

"Well, what do we have here?" sang Blackwell.

Skye seemed to be able to ground herself somewhat when she felt his fingers graze her scar, trailing her head down to stare at them. Watch them dance over her marks.

Ward felt sick.

"Two shots I see. You brave girl. Did you like the feeling?"

Ward's jaw clenched at the horrific question. It made him squirm. Skye gave no response, she shouldn't have. The man was baiting her. But she may not have been capable to respond as well.

Blackwell suddenly reached behind himself and pulled out his pistol; placing the nozzle on Skye's abdomen. The marks residing there made it so the tip fell into place as easy as if it were a puzzle piece. As if the holes had been carved specially for his weapon.

"Wouldn't it be funny to die the way you were perhaps fated to?" Ward watched Skye's face. Eyes wide. Glued to the gun. Maybe for a moment she glanced up at Ward, but they quickly retreated back to what had to be her worst nightmare. "What do you say, Grant Ward?"

Don't lose it. If you're going to speak, be strong.

The man's voice was sing-song. Taunting. That could be an interrogation method, but he'd heard of Blackwell before. He was sadistic. He enjoyed questioning those who were the hardest to break.

It would last longer.

"I say you're enjoying this too much," sneered Ward, making sure to leave out to let her die now. There was a balance to this. He couldn't antagonize.

Blackwell stared at him. Ward counted the seconds. One, two, three… he hit sixteen when the Hydra commander finally nodded, another infuriating smirk taking residence on his face.

"You're right. Not yet."

The man holstered his weapon. His fingers gently pulled Skye's white tank back down, and in an off-putting gesture tugged it a few extra times to make sure to smooth out the creases. It was too tidy. Too wholesome for what was going on. And even if it wasn't:

He was still touching her.

It was then that a glimpse of red and blue and orange caught Ward's eyes, and Skye's head whipped to face the colors as well.

Payne was playing with a torch blower, letting the thing breathe out its flames a few times in preparation. Or in show. It didn't matter, it was sure to be both.

Skye whimpered. It was abrupt and short, but Ward had heard it, much to her dismay as her eyes darted down. Immediately ashamed, possibly from the sound coming in just anticipation rather than actual pain. But she was doing amazing. She was amazing.

Six months they'd been there. Six months in that base and Skye, the bubbly hacker with no reasoning for rules, had learned every protocol, become strong, become disciplined.

Ward was so proud of his rookie.

But she didn't care about that.

"Hey Skye, look at me," Ward said, and her head lifted slowly, revealing her distressed face.

Her pride had taken a beating. He'd told himself he wouldn't do it again, but she needed something. Comfort, even if it had to come from him. She couldn't go through this alone. He tried to bring reassurance by softening his face as he looked at her.

"You're ok. Just remember that."

Skye seemed to be caught between accepting the words and yelling at him for them, her stare blank as she nodded. The simplest form of an answer in silence.

I'm ok.

"Straight or a brand?" asked Payne from behind Blackwell, who was staring at Ward.

"Do you have a preference?" he asked Grant.

Ward hadn't felt the urge to hurt someone who wasn't himself in months. He was thinking of scenarios in his head to rip the man apart, to burn him to a crisp. Or give Skye the torch to do it herself.

Realizing Ward wasn't going to answer, Blackwell did the honors.

"I think… brand."

A metal rod seemed to appear out of nowhere. It was heated, turned hot red and yellow. He watched Skye stiffen, and then it bore into her skin.

Screaming.

One, two, three.

Arm, hand, stomach.

They didn't waste any time with this one.

Well, apart from the long seconds they left it on each time.

It had gone straight through her clothes, burning away the fabric to sear little marks in her skin. The last one was the worst. She was shivering and dry heaving by the time they were pulling it off the area that was dangerously close to where she'd been shot.

Then Blackwell twisted the knife in her leg.

Skye screamed again.

"The information, Agent Ward!" shouted Blackwell.

The man was getting antsy. They didn't have much time.

Skye's worried glance through her anguished face showed that she knew it too.

Ward appraised her: Black eye blossoming. Bloody nose. Burns. Puncture wounds. The knife standing up in her thigh. They were burning through the methods fast. Too fast.

Blackwell's hand still lingered on the knife, fingers twitching idly, as his angry eyes bore into Ward. He wouldn't answer. The man knew Grant wouldn't answer, so long as Skye didn't want him to. And she would never want S.H.I.E.L.D. compromised.

She was staring at the man's hand. She was shaking, crying, near biting her lip off, but the fear wasn't the most present emotion on her face. Nor was pain. Or worry.

It was contempt.

Blackwell followed Ward's gaze to see what he saw. The fury lessened in his green emeralds of eyes, and he lifted his fingers off placidly from the knife, bringing them to Skye's chin as he forced her to take in his face.

Her expression remained the same.

"Tell me, girl, where do your loyalties lie?" the Hydra man asked her.

Skye's eyes shifted down. She contemplated. Not the question, but whether or not she should reveal the answer.

"S.H.I.E.L.D." she forced out in proclamation, her cracked voice prompted her to swallow.

"And what do you hate, hmm?" asked Blackwell. "What do you despise?"

She scowled. Merely blinked up at him.

"You don't have to answer," he assured her. "A good little soldier like you, I already know. You root for the greater good. You are loyal to S.H.I.E.L.D. because you honestly, truly, care."

The man began taking something out of his pocket. A wallet.

No, a badge.

Hydra had badges now. Made sense, as the organization seemed to putting their brand on everything they owned. Probably a reflex from S.H.I.E.L.D. days.

"I can see why you like her, Grant Ward," Blackwell praised. "She's not just a typical soldier, oh no. We had to stop her from trying to shut down our systems when we took over this aircraft. She was hacking us right back, despite our precautions. Quite the little genius. And Hydra needs those."

He picked something out the badge, tossing the gold piece abruptly to the Payne. The tiny man almost didn't catch it, the badge flitting around his hands like a jumping bean. But eventually it landed securely in his palms, and the man looked up at the other curiously. When Blackwell gave him a pointed look, the torturer smirked in understanding as he let out another small infuriating laugh.

Skye struck Ward as confused, glancing around between the different eyes in the room. But she was bracing herself. She recognized the speech of her praise could lead to nothing good. Ward wasn't sure if she hadn't seen the badge or just hadn't put the pieces together yet, but he knew.

She gathered her nerve, snarling, "I would never work for Hydra."

The declaration was made with a spent voice, but she managed to put strength behind it.

Blackwell grinned. "You will. Assuming you don't die from this little excursion that is. Still, something tells me you'll need a reminder. Something that tells a spirited person like you that you're now owned. Garrett was too easy on you, if you ask me," Blackwell chided, and Ward took a moment to realize he was speaking to him. "And look where we are now. Hydra won't make such mistakes again."

Payne took that as his cue to turn around, grinning madly as he held out the metal rod. On it's end was the Hydra insignia. The badge.

Skye's eyes grew larger than quarters.

It was big. At least four times bigger then the poker they were already using to brand her, already using to singe her skin. The evil skull creature caught the tiny light amount of light in the room in a sinister foreboding, already glowing red from the heat that had been added to it.

Suddenly Blackwell's hands smashed down on top of Skye's. The man had burned one earlier. He squeezed around the armrests, fingers clawing around her wrists. Ward watched her bite her tongue to keep from crying out.

"So every time you look in the mirror, every moment you see yourself in your own mind's image you can remember that something you despise touched you. That something you find disgusting, is on you, and owns you, forever. You won't ever be free of it. You won't be able to escape it. It's going to eat at you from the inside until there's nothing left but us. You're Hydra's property now, Skye, and we're going to make damn sure you remember it!"

Skye's eyes were wide. Her trembling increased tenfold and her face looked like a stream as the tears poured down it. She was terrified. She was terrified and she was showing it, outwardly noticeable.

Shit.

Grant made note of this all within a half a second, because at the end of his proclamation Blackwell ripped the rod out of Payne's grasp and began spearing it towards Skye's neck.

"Shit, wait! Stop!" she whimpered, and Blackwell froze just before her neck, the insignia of the creature hovering there, taunting. Skye let out a shuddering breath before her face scrunched up with tears. She looked to him. "Ward, I can't do this!" she pleaded hoarsely. "I can't have that… I can't… Please don't let them."

He couldn't stand what he'd just witnessed.

Skye broke.

Ward's heart fell into his stomach, far harder and faster than during any other moment of her torture. It wasn't her fault. Goddamn it, it wasn't her fault.

He was going to give it up. Give up everything. Everything Ward had told Skye when she came down for visits, everything he'd promised Garrett he'd never reveal. It would put a large dent in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s armor, cut down their high ground, but it didn't matter. He knew he couldn't subject her to this.

But he also knew she wouldn't forgive herself for letting him.

And Ward couldn't allow that to happen. She may never forgive him for his betrayal for being Hydra, or even now if he let them put that thing on her, but she could never forgive herself if she gave up her team. Her friends. And with the information Ward had, S.H.I.E.L.D. would be more vulnerable than ever.

"Well?" prompted Blackwell with impatience.

"Do it," Ward sneered, summoning his old self. No beating around the bush. If he gave no information, they would do it anyway. This way his nerve showed. That was needed.

Blackwell twitched. It was the first time he'd been surprised that Ward could tell. Grant couldn't feel even an inkling of triumph though. Not when he'd just made Skye sob. Not when he'd just made her despair with his own words.

"If that's what you wish, Grant Ward," Blackwell said calmly, bringing the badge back to Skye's neck, teasing her with heat and chuckling as the girl begged hysterically for him to stop. Repeated "no" as fast as she could, her head whipping back and forth shakily. Blackwell stabilized it as he cupped her chin.

With a steady nosedive Skye's teeth found flesh in the man's hand, but it barely delayed him. Just a hiccup, just a moment more before the inevitable was coming. A tiny blip of pain was all it cost him. A backhanded slap to the cheek was all it earned her, making it only that much easier for the man to hold onto the girl's now stunned face.

Ward prayed, to whatever deity may be in the world, that the team would come. That the team would stop this. That someone would burst through that door.

But Ward didn't believe in god.

"Ward, please!" she tried one last time, shaky and spit filled her voice was. Broken, gurgled vocal chords fighting so hard to beg to him. "Please, give them something!"

Blackwell hesitated. He looked to Ward. Gauged his reaction. Ward wasn't proud of it was.

He turned away.

Skye's cry of pain was softer than previous ones. In fact, she barely made any noise at all. Maybe because she had little voice left or because of what they both knew so well was it wasn't that the horror of this method wasn't just about pain. Even though that was very much present as well.

Ward was unable to move his eyes away as the rod left her skin, yearning to pull some of Skye away with it as the thing left. The skull was red, irritated, large, and puffy on the skin of her neck, but it was there. It was her mark. Her burden to bear for the rest of her life.

Blackwell didn't speak for a while. He walked off to the side, leaving Skye as she fought to control her sobs, choking on her own spit and harsh breathing as she attempted to quiet herself.

Ward didn't know what to say. He didn't know if words of comfort would end the small break she was getting, even if the only reason they were doing it was so Ward could watch her cry. It was still a pause in pain for her. But the method was also working, and Ward couldn't help but wonder.

Had he done the right thing?

Skye finally managed to control her sobbing enough, had her breathing at an even pace, to lift up her head to finally look at him. He waited for her eyes to trail upwards. Waited to see the hate in brown almond-shaped eyes he knew so well.

But he didn't. He didn't see anything. Not her eyes and not the men. The lights had turned off.

They were in the dark.

A/n: I hope you enjoyed! Follow and review if you'd like me to continue.

I actually wrote this before that episode aired, but I wanted to wedge in the current plot. Hope it all works. I think as long as it's about Skye, it's always possible for Ward to have motive.