The end of the year comes when Ward is in Sharm-el-Sheikh. How he got there is a longish story. He's on his own, has been for about two months now. Kara had wanted to take a commission that would need a long term (read: over a month) commitment, and also didn't really need a two man team, so they'd split up. Ward is all for diversity these days, he takes job after job and not one is similar to the previous. It's a good strategy, because it makes his reputation quickly known in diverse and useful circles, and he's much more at ease with having multiple options than just a short while ago. He gets the hang of choosing - based on gut feeling, based on whether he likes the bidder, based on resources and potential bloodshed or lack thereof. Hell - he'd even vetted a job based on world region and the weather forecast there.

His last job is a smuggling ring out of Afghanistan. The beauty of it is that he doesn't need to go there at all. He comfortably establishes his observation center at the middle point of the smuggling route - Sharm-el-Sheikh is crawling with rich tourists in search of nice warm beaches, awesome coral reefs and illegally exported historical curiosities - and waits for the goods to come to him. He is supposed to recover a stone piece that was robbed from a collection. There are bound to be loads of other items, though, as well as some old fashioned opium, so he hasn't decided on the cleaning up part of the op yet.

The smugglers, when he finds them, prove to be a loud, cruel and well armed lot, the kind that makes normal folk cross the street when confronted with them. It's a little bit pathetic, really. Child's play for a SHIELD operative. Or a Hydra one. Basically, for anyone who is willing to spend some weeks taking down the goddamned ring. The lack of takedown volunteers is obvious in the way the guys walk around the town like they own the place - it looks like the dozens of governmental agencies that operate in the region all have better things to do. Probably plotting against each other, Kara's voice says in his head, and he smiles.

The way in and out of their warehouse ends up paved with bodies, a small round bullet hole in each one of them. Ward finds the infamous stone (it's a literal stone, fancily carved by an ancient culture but a goddamned stone with no paranormal properties nonetheless - the fact that someone is willing to pay the price of a small nuclear device for it is befuddles him) along with three cages containing dirty, weak and drugged to the eyeballs teen girls. Ward anonymously alerts the authorities and hopes for the best.

The stone is quickly passed on to its grateful owner, and he's is all set to hightail out of the region as per his standard procedure, but for one tiny detail. The smugglers had come from the sea, and watching their route had entailed a lot of port surveillance. He had gone with the simplest option for that one: a forged ID as a diving instructor and a place on one of the touristic ships that made daily snorkeling tours out to the coral reefs and, time and clients permitting, diving tours to the deeper places of the Red Sea. The company he got involved with was run out of the biggest five stars hotel of the region. The boat owner was a smooth, business oriented guy who valued the high standards of his trade enough to be atypically-for-the-region legal about it. Long story short, if Ward simply disappeared from his radar one day, specially considering that he'd appropriated and consequently broken the scuba gear in his storming of the warehouse, the guy'd come to the unwanted conclusion that his employee had taken the equipment for a joyride and promptly drowned.

A local news announcement and an underwater search for his dead body isn't something Ward wants to risk, and so he comes up to his boss first thing in the morning, confesses to the unsanctioned use and destruction of the gear, assures the man that he will be gone of his own free will and offers his yet unpaid December salary as payment.

Much to his surprise, the man is unimpressed. It turns out the company isn't looking to replace Ward with another diving instructor anytime soon. It makes sense, and he already knew that he was a good investment for them - 6 languages under his belt and an impeccable eye for making nice with even the hardest marks (customers) seem to be as highly esteemed qualities in the tourist business as they are in the spy one. Further assurances to Tariq that he doesn't really want to stay earn Ward a counteroffer of a fat money raise, but what starts swaying him is the sheer eagerness of his employer.

He's been mercilessly ordered to do things for no reason at all during the most part of his life. Lately, he's become used to negotiate the things he'll end up doing. He does not quite know what to do with the fact that people will all but beg him to do stuff that isn't even on his qualifications list. So he asks for an hour, ignoring the fact that his plane ticket is in his pocket already, walks to the harbor, gets himself an overpriced local cocktail and thinks.

Tariq wants him to stay the high season - which this side of the world usually means the winter months. He doesn't have any other job lined up, so there is no obvious reason to say no. There isn't a good reason to say yes, though. Two months of regular civil work at admittedly very good diving instructor salary sound doable - except what does he need the money for? A couple grand is nothing compared to the amounts of money a specialist is accustomed to move every month. It's not to say that military contract work will make one richer - the turnaround of what must be spent to buy gear, fake papers and secure hiding places makes quick work of the winnings in the end.

He feels bad for leaving these folks hanging, though. And he likes the sea, the sun, the simplicity of it. Diving took care of the last vestiges of his injury, and his lung capacity is better now than it ever was. His chest scars are readily visible because shirtless is the standard gentleman's attire around these parts of the world, but the story of a retired soldier holds up nicely in the face of a couple of round bullet holes. It's the other scars that tell a very different story that must be hidden, but again - it's not strange to wear hand and wrists protectors when working on a boat. He thinks and thinks, and funnily enough by the time his drink is through he has a plan in his mind that he actually likes a lot. He'll stay the winter months, and he'll save the civil salary to get a good plastic surgeon take a look at his wrists. It's not something that he needs, per se, but it's something nice to do for himself - sort of like a gift. A Grant Ward equivalent of doing extra hours while saving for a high tech TV.

He thinks Kara would be proud, and she probably is, but he can't really tell because she actually laughs her head off when he tells her this. She surfaces when December is about to end and is openly impressed with his gig. The hotel Ward works for throws a New Year party that costs over 300 dollars for its guests, and Ward secures them two free tickets from Tariq through a bet. There is a big party of almost university graduates celebrating their upcoming careers, and it takes him only half an hour to befriend the top girls from the trip organizing committee. Another half an hour and the horde is booked for a private snorkeling tour for fifty, which makes both Tariq and Kara very happy.

Which is how they end up celebrating the New Year together in the tropical tourist town of Sharm-el-Sheikh. The champagne and the seafood are excellent, and Kara is rocking her unblemished own face, her new short haircut and her well defined body in a backless red dress by flirting with two guys at once. Ward observes her from his corner, and it occurs to him that while this last year has mostly been literal hell, he's actually looking forward to the next one. The simple fact that there is nothing weighing him down is awesome on its own.

Which is when Kara appears from the left and proceeds to make herself comfortable on his lap while helping herself to his food and drink.

"Having fun?" She asks brightly.

"It's OK," he smiles, and she doesn't pester him further. Ward isn't one for grand gestures or bubbly exclamations of effusive fun, and she knows this well enough to read the smile and be happy for him. "Your friends are gonna get jealous," he points out to her as she makes herself even more comfortable.

She moves her hand to open the top button of his formal shirt and loose the tie a little.

"They'd be wrong. No sex with the hottest guy in the room is our first rule."

"Our only rule," he grins. He likes Kara way too much to screw with her that way, and even if he didn't - the idea of getting into bed with someone mostly makes him feel like he's after a mark again. "You planning to choose any time soon or you're gonna go for both?"

"Scandalized?"

"It'll be your loss. They look like they are a bit too interested in each other."

"I'll take the risk. Gotta do something memorable to say goodbye to this sorry excuse of a year."

"Keep me updated."

"Should I liveblog the details?" she counters, and that's as far as they both go with straight faces before breaking up laughing. Kara jumps off him and waives to the guys, and looks all set and eager for some saucy adventure. She does linger a bit, though, ruffling Ward's hair. It's long enough again to bother with some styling.

"The girls from the organizing committee have a bet on which one will get you in her bed tonight. The main moves will start after they are all done dancing."

"I know."

"The one in the blue dress seems sweet... and interested. Beyond the bet, I mean."

"Nah, I'm good."

"Not really buying it."

"Because all men have an inherent weakness, right?" He smiles, though it's not something he wants to pursue much further. His last time with a woman was Lorelei, and before that there had been a string of ops which he, as always, had performed outstandingly. He doesn't miss it, because there isn't all that much to miss. Physical release is fine, but the manipulative, power gathering aspect of it is so deeply rooted into him that he mostly feels like the bother will never be quite worth it.

Kara's hand is still in his hair, pulling a bit harder.

"Quit thinking so hard, you're making my head hurt. I'm not telling you to go work her up for intel or recruit her for SciOps. I'm telling you to go give her a night to rememberer the holidays by, and coincidentally indulge in your very obvious and as of late rather neglected caregiver tendencies. Right, Grant?"

Right.

They end up in the girl's room on the tenth floor. He rather likes her, actually - she's clever and self assured, and not at all impulsive. For all the obvious interest between them, it takes Ward a respectable length of conversation to earn her stamp of approval. Her precaution of flat out telling her peers where she is going and with whom gets her his approval in turn. He actually tells her so, and whatever uncertainty was left between them ends up dispelled.

What happens next is a concentrated, highly attentive and very professional lavishing session, starring Ward's companion. Kara gives some awesome pointers from time to time, and this one has been spot on. Concentrating only on making the girl feel good with no further goals in mind goes a long way to putting him at ease. She's a bit embarrassed in the beginning about the fact that she doesn't get to reciprocate enough, but promptly forgets that she was supposed to be a responsible and active participant and just lets herself be taken care of. It's perfectly alright with Ward because her little cries of ecstasy are pretty much their own reward and he could be going this - and nothing more - for ages.

With some imagination and a lot of patience, he keeps at it for almost two hours, until the girl is so spent she just lays there blessed out and grinning. And she's clever, his almost engineer, because for all that she's tired, as soon as he stills she slides her gaze over him, takes in his body and his scars and the expression of his face, and suddenly moves up to flip them over. He lets her, otherwise it wouldn't work - and she presses down onto him, scraps her fingernails against his skin and whispers in his ear how much she liked it, how great he was and what a good boy he'd been, and he just... He had been having quite a memorable time already, but just like that he's completely gone, and the world is a dense liquid slowly flowing by while he slides under and stays there, wondering why it took him so long to figure out that something as straightforward as sex could be this intense. He isn't even sure it's an orgasm in the proper sense, because it doesn't end in seconds like all the orgasms do, and just goes on and on as the girl racks her nails against the back of his neck, and his mind keeps sliding down toward a space so deep and slow and safe that hidden knots he never knew existed inside him come loose and pliant and slowly dissolve.

He falls asleep with another person in the same room for the first time in his adult life. It doesn't last long - twenty minutes maybe, and as he wakes up he's himself again, but whatever came loose hasn't hardened again. The girl wakes some time later and they shower and come down so that Ward can safely leave her in company of her friends.

Not one minute after taking his leave, his phone vibrates.

"How was the threesome?" He asks in a way of greeting while scanning the lobby. He can't see Kara immediately, but then again he isn't trying all that hard.

"A bust. The SHIELD girl is looking around for you," she says like it's an everyday occurrence. "Wanna talk to her or wanna pass?"

He feels like groaning, if not at the situation then at Kara's handling of it, but he's too aware of the favor she's doing him. If she asks him about wanting to meet Skye, she'd of course already scouted the hotel and their surroundings for SHIELD or other parties. If someone else was nearby, Kara'd have let him know. If Skye had something ungainly up her sleeve, Kara'd warn him. She has his back so thoroughly, he needs to worry only about making the decision.

"Sure thing," he says. There is some professional curiosity and some personal curiosity, and overall? It's a why not feeling. "Tell her to come by?"

"I'll stay close," Kara says, and her tone makes it clear it's not an offer.

"Chill." He's not the mess he was after the vault, he can handle Skye or anyone, really. "Let's all go eat breakfast or something."

"Breakfast?"

"Well. Party leftovers. Bring the coffee?"

There is still enough expensive food on the tables to feed a small army, and the rare party guests who stayed behind are either too sleepy or too drunk to represent a security risk. Ward gathers some fresh fruit, some more champagne, some bread and cheese and three clean plates, and kicks back to wait. And fine, it's not exactly a "why not" feeling that he's having. It's, weirdly, an "always knew that this would come" one, for all that each and every one of their previous encounters had been unwanted, tense and cold. He has no idea what to expect of this, except that he must see it through.

It takes Kara some time to relay the offer to Skye, which makes it clear that Miss Bullets in the Back is in turn scared of ending up backstabbed. Finally both women come in through the main door, Kara first, no weapon in sight except three paper cups of coffee (which could be counted as a weapon depending on the temperature, the thickness of paper and most importantly on Kara's present mood). Skye trails behind, also weaponless. Her hair is matted, expression pinched and worn, clothes rumpled from days of travel. The word lackluster comes to mind, and it's not fair to her so he cuts all his profiling short and centers on helping Kara deal out the coffees.

They all sit down. Skye makes the point of looking him right in the eye, unflinching and defiant, of saying "hi" and "took some time to find you" and "your partner here is an awesome spy" in falsely assured voice.

"And an even more awesome friend," Ward smiles, because if it's the same post-vault you-are-a-psycho bullshit game Skye is after, this time he isn't exactly adverse (he'd win hands down today, and he feels like he should be given a pass for wanting to, after being on the condescending end of her remarks for way too long).

Kara grins, and it's a wolfish expression. Skye quickly becomes uncomfortable at the remark, a look Ward has never seen on her before. She had always been independent, sure of herself and outspoken, and it makes him wonder what happened to her to lose every of these unique qualities that made her Skye. There is an undercurrent of something that she has to say but doesn't want to come out with, and Ward chews the bits of sweet pineapple on his plate and waits politely.

"I'm not with SHIELD anymore," Skye comes out finally.

Which he already knew, of course, based on Kara's lack of consternation at her appearance in their town. How Kara knows, he's not quite sure, but the fact that she's unconcerned is good enough.

"You aren't really surprised," continues to press Skye.

"Sure am," he says. His knowing about her being on her own doesn't mean he could have easily predicted it. Last time he saw her, she stood unflinching guard over Director Coulson. He can't imagine just what kind of conflict Skye got into with him. Except the most obvious one, of course. The thing about Skye is - she might become an awesome operative, or a mediocre spy (she's too emotional for that), but she will never be a follower. No matter what desires had made her to heed someone else's orders for a while, her nature's free. It was the reason Ward was drawn to her in the beginning, the reason that - when she'd already given up her freedom for a cause stopped - he'd still tried to clumsily reset her on that old forgotten path.

"I used to call them governmental toolbags when I first met them," she huffs. "I joined up to spy on them... How do you figure that makes me a faithful SHIELD agent?"

"You weren't ever a SHIELD agent. Sure, you liked them all a lot, and you agreed with their policies from time to time, but you were no more SHIELD agent than I was. Everything you did, you did because of Coulson. If Coulson had told you to stop being an agent, you'd have gone away. If he had asked you to jump, you'd have jumped. Maybe not too high and not too eagerly, but you would have."

Skye frowns, which is how he knows not only that he's right, but that she knows it too.

"Which is precisely why I got away. I had to go before I could become you," she says, and it's a cold and mean thing to say, but he can't figure out if she wanted it quite that way. Probably not, because she frowns again and tries to soften her mistake a little. "Before I did things for others I'd never do for myself. Before I did something unforgivable."

"Happy to have been of use," Ward grins.

And maybe she's truly trying to insult him, and the words should sting, but the truth is - they don't. He never wanted her, or anyone, to go through things that he'd gone through. To burn down everything they'd hoped to one day hold dear, and only realize it after watching cinder cover the ground. To try to burn themselves in desperation afterwards - no, that could never be something that he wished on anyone. So yes, if knowing what he did and how he ended up did help her, then he's not going to resent it.

Skye frowns and raises her hand, and it's a telegraphed and somehow intimidating move for all its harmless appearance. She touches the champagne bottle between them and bubbles raise as soon as she disturbs the glass. She looks at the spectacle of twirling gold as if it was a revelation while bubbles continue to raise and the bottle overflows, all the while shaking visibly. Which is when she looks up at Ward with a wicked, daring expression, making it quite clear that she's the one behind it all.

"Cool," Ward says.

The glass explodes at Skye hearing this, the mantel gets all wet and crystal shards fly in his general direction. Ward puts his fork aside, because nothing on his plate is safe to eat after being peppered with glass. Skye's eyes go even darker and she gets a weirdly triumphant expression, like she had finally succeeded in driving the point home and making him afraid of her.

"I can destroy this entire town in just under an hour" she hisses, and at least half of it is poisoned bravado. Ward wonders if the half that remains hidden is a cry for help.

"Me too," he says as evenly as possible and hears Kara snicker to his left.

"But not in just under an hour," she says with mocking seriousness, as if this was some contest in destruction and depravity.

"No," he quickly concedes. "In under a day, though. The water depuration installations are some 50 km out, but I'd still need to find the best poison. Alternatively, there is an actual black weapons market 200 km north of here that handles nuclear, or so they say."

The ground shakes, and maybe he'd do well to stop fooling around and act as scared as Skye seems to want him to. He can see why she'd want to distance herself from SHIELD for now, knowing a thing or two about gifted and the battlefield that is the control of their abilities. He can't see where the raw fear of herself comes from, though. He only knows that he doesn't like it. Both because it reminds him of the hatred he used to feel for himself down in the vault, and because it's Skye. There is something inside him that won't allow him to stand by when she's hurt. He'd discovered it the moment she closed her hands around the straps of his chest plate after running to him dripping wet through Quinn's Malta mansion. No matter the changing sides, no matter the hurtful words, no matter even the goddamned bullets, he simply won't do it.

And for the first time in forever, he's completely alright with knowing it. There is no desperate shame clawing its way from inside, hissing in Garrett's voice that he's weak for it. There is no condescending voice ringing in his ears saying that he's a psycho or a stalker. There is no fear that everything he touches must be lied to and used by him, or else he will be the one to end up used. There is just him and Skye, and Kara looking on ready to slap him out of the worst screw ups

"In fact, each of the untrained, completely normal people you met walking through the lobby could take their car and drive it into the morning market crowd, each killing dozens. Except why would they? Or me? Or you? Weird powers don't make for dangerous people, Skye. Desperation does."

"And pitchforks," chimes in Kara. "Specially pitchforks held by righteous governmental agencies."

And knowing her, she has an entire speech lines up, because Kara's good at summarizing things up in a way that helps even the most confused souls find its way to safety. She doesn't get to start delivering it, though, because Skye's face just simply crumples. She doesn't cry, but it's a close thing, and she folds into herself trying to hide her not-quite-crying from them both, and this is not at all what Ward had hoped his mocking of her worries would do. It was supposed to put Skye at ease and to remind her that he'd been there and worse places. But then again, nothing he's ever tried with her has brought the desired effect.

"Sorry," he says quietly, but she doesn't react except to fold even further in her misery. The festive table is too big for him to lean across, so he stands up and kneels at her side to avoid hovering. He feels ashamed without knowing why, except he does - he'd started out this conversation enjoying the fact that he was happy and she was not, and what the hell is wrong with him? He'd never wanted to hurt her, not through misunderstanding and surely not in revenge or for whatever other reason. "Please, I didn't mean to make light of you, just tell me what you need and we'll figure it out, alright?"

Which is when he realizes that Skye is crying in all seriousness, big fat sobs racking her frame.

"Shut up," is the first thing he manages to understand, followed by a much clearer "you don't get it, so shut up!" He does, and also allows her to push his hand off her, except the moment that he lets her go she seems to get a grip and clutches his hand in hers tightly. "You don't get it, Ward. I'm the one who's sorry. I'm the one, OK? I. Me. I've been so blind and so... So proud of it... And... And... And..."

She slides down from her chair and they end up on the floor clutching at each other, saying sorry again and again like they can never say it enough times, yet both knowing that words are unnecessary between them by this point. It's awkward and disconcerting and pretty much throws a wrench into all Ward's plans, and he ignores the little voice in his head asking why all such moments in his life just have to do with Skye. He simply sits there and holds her, just like he sat on the floor of that Hydra base without making any attempt at standing up. It's different this time, though. Safe, for once, but also - this feels right. Not forced, not coerced, completely up to him. He chooses this, because he wants to. He chooses to think back on that one time they played Battleship and she made good natured fun of him for not knowing how to smile, and not the way she scolded him for not being able to kill himself efficiently enough. He chooses to remember the way she pulled him up after he'd collapsed under the Berserker staff and not the way she walked past the puddle of his blood on the ground and called herself his enemy.

Some time later, he feels Kara's hand shake his shoulder and hears her announce in her trademark stage whisper that she off to finally enjoy her damn threesome, and he better be up to watch his own back for a while, or else.

He nods gratefully and waves her off. He doesn't know where it all went wrong with Skye but he tells her that they'll figure it out together and urges her to get moving and to help him up (he might not be bleeding out this time, but sitting on the floor under her weight has left his legs almost asleep). For once, he feels completely confident in his assessment.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

This piece is now complete, but the series have been officially expanded to contain three fic. The second one will be a companion "5 times" piece from Skye's point of view in order to show her evolution during this time. The third one will be a conclusion with - drums roll - honest Skyeward interaction.

And Happy New Year to all!