The Knife

by: speedreader1999

"To die would be an awfully big adventure." –J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan

He'd always wondered what it would be like to die. Maybe he'd get shot. Maybe he'd die saving the world. He never knew when it would happen.

But watching her across the room, a knife at her throat, he knew that he'd die to save her.

She gasped as the knife pressed deeper, causing a single line of blood against her skin. He jerked against the men holding him back; he could easily get loose if he was alone. But, seeing how her life was in danger, he could do a damn thing.

And it was killing him.

"Let her go." His voice was low, unsure if speaking would cause more harm. But it didn't; the man holding her let out a low chuckle, but didn't speak.

The agent jerked once again, and this time, a voice spoke. "Stop resisting," it said. "Or I'll kill her before you can even make a move."

He froze, every muscle in his body tensing up. His training was telling him to knock out the guards behind him and then attend to her, but logic was telling him that she'd die before he even took out the first captor.

His lip was bleeding, having been punched long earlier. His head was throbbing, a result of having been thrown against the wall when an explosion happened. But the trail of blood running down her throat and blending into her strapless black dress was enough to keep him from throwing away his own injuries.

The tie that had hung around his neck was long gone, having been torn in the fight. It had been bothering him all evening, so when it was torn he was glad; Coulson was most likely not. That tie cost me a bit of money, he would hear his leader saying. And you tore it?

He must be going delirious, because he was pretty sure he just talking with an imaginary Coulson in his head.

The room, once elegant, full of beautiful drapes and glimmering floors, was now torn to shreds. The bomb had obliterated anything worth of value, which was good for him, bad for the people keeping them captive.

And it might have been best to keep the people threatening them captive.

Her dark eyes met his, and she seemed to be saying, leave me behind! Finish the mission! But the slightest shake of his head caused her lips to thin. Leave me, she pleaded. I'm going to die anyway; you might as well save as many other people as possible.

It was then he remembered the other hostages in the corner, and his eyes swept them. Many were scared, shaking, as multiple of men held guns at them. But then he caught a glance of an Asian woman in the black dress in the corner, her facial features blank, clutching the arm of a man with a receding hairline. At another glance, he found an all too familiar sweep of brown hair and pink lips, paired with a man in a black suit who looked far too out of place.

A rush of relief filled him. His team was here. They'll get Skye out. This gave him the courage, so he opened his mouth to speak. "What do you want?"

The man holding her let out a smooth laugh. "Me? Nothing, of course. My employer however, would like to know what a little hacker," – he jerked Skye's arm, and she gritted her teeth – "and her team is doing at a place like this. Isn't it a little out of your league?"

He knew who they were. "So you know who we are." It wasn't a question that came from Ward's mouth; it was a statement.

"Of course," the man replied smoothly. "My employer sent me here for a single purpose; remove the pain in the ass that had been disrupting his…business…for the past year or so. And now," he said, pressing harder against her throat. She choked. "His wish will be desired."

Their eyes met for one last, and the gleam in her eyes caused him to worry. Then she brought back her arm and elbowed her captor in the gut, just as he pressed the knife to her throat. She collapsed, blood pooling from her neck.

And all hell broke loose.

He played with her nimble fingers gently, watching carefully the gentle rise and fall of her chest. An all too familiar beeping filled the silence of the room, but his thoughts were more than enough to fill it.

Why couldn't I have been faster?

Skye had nearly died twice getting back to the Bus, and he had hovered every step of the way. Fitz-Simmons had done their best to try and help her, but until they had gotten actual medical help, there wasn't much to do but wait.

A sudden cough brought his attention and he jerked straight up in the hard chair, clutching her hand tighter as her eyes flickered. "Skye," he muttered, then cleared his throat. "Skye, can you hear me?"

There was a squeeze to his hand, before her lips parted. "Water, please," she muttered, and he complied, grabbing a cup that he had been drinking and bring it to her lips. Color was starting to come back to her skin, and she weakly tried to sit up.

The IV in her arm jerked and she looked at it as if it was foreign. "What…what happened?" Her voice was raspy.

His eyes met hers. "You nearly died."

"Did…did everyone else…get out?"

"Yes," he soothed her. "Everyone else was fine save a few bumps and bruises."

She sighed and leaned back against the bed again. After a few moments of silence, he stood up. "Well," he said gruffly, turning stoic again. "I'd better go."

He had only gotten a few steps away when he heard her voice: "Wait. Don't…don't go."

His eyes widened and he turned back, but one look at her pale skin and pleading eyes caused him to relent, moving back towards her. She moved over slightly as he crawled in next to her, wrapping his arms around her. She snuggled into his embrace, his finger running gently over her hip.

And that was how Coulson found them, hours later.

The End! That's all. This is a one-shot, so it will not be continued.