Chapter Text
A graveyard. They were staking out a graveyard… at night. The idea had not been one that any of them had jumped at, even Ward who went “wherever the mission asked,” though his frustration once again stemmed more from wanting to operate alone. Still, they could all agree it was one of the creepier things they had been tasked with. It also required the four of them, Skye, Ward, and Fitz-Simmons to be stuck in a van together for an entire night as May and Coulson dealt with other tasks at hand, an idea that hadn’t panned out great the previous time they’d done it. The whole mission appeared to be asking for trouble, a fact Ward was keen to repeat.
“Sir,” Ward started for the umpteenth time that morning as the team packed the van for the mission, “I understand that this is what the mission calls for but you are sending me out into the field with individuals who are untrained and unqualified to--”
"Unqualified!” Fitz-Simmons called in chorus, both heads peeking out the open door of the vehicle.
“We happen to be trained agents, thank you very much.”
“Yeah, we are just as much agents of S.H.I.E.L.D as you are, Agent Ward. And, as I recall, Simmons and I have three Ph.D.’s between the two of us--”
“Yes, so we are more than capable.”
Ward’s hands found his hips as he turned his frustrated glare between Fitz-Simmons’ indignant faces and Coulson’s stoic expression.
“I’m not saying that you two aren’t qualified agents. I’m saying that you aren’t prepared for the field.”
As Fitz and Simmons began to argue their points, their voices overlapping as they explained that they had been proving themselves sufficient so far, Coulson raised his hand in a silencing gesture. With a few last grumbles, the scientists grew quiet, ducking their heads back into the van before they began to whisper to one another once more.
“I trust my team, Agent Ward,” Coulson cut, his expression remaining unfazed but perhaps with a slightly tighter jaw, “I think you should as well.”
As Coulson walked up the spiral staircase to the main cabin, Ward huffed so violently his chin hit his chest. It was going to be a long night for Grant Ward.
When they finally arrived at their stakeout spot, the small offshoot team began to set up the equipment, Fitz-Simmons buzzing about within the small radius of the van as they put up and fiddled with their suspect-watching sensors.
“I still don’t understand why we’re just waiting for them to grab the 0-8-4,” Skye commented as she leaned against the black van, “Why not just run in and grab it. Or why we weren’t assigned to just run in and catch the person.”
“Because that’s not the mission,” Ward grunted, having had a sensor pole shoved into his arms by Simmons, with slightly more force than she would normally have done.
Skye rolled her eyes, her hands flying up in her vexation and slamming against the side of the van as they landed back down at her sides. “And we just aren’t going to question why we’re in a creepy graveyard at night trapped in the Mystery Machine.”
“Agents go where they’re asked and do what they’re told. We are all well aware that it’s not quite your style but you’re going to have to get used to it.” Ward pointed at the silver bracelet on Skye’s wrist, her punishment for her last infraction of the rules.
Before Skye could retort, Ward walked away with his boots crunching angrily in the dew-chilled grass and his eyes ever scanning for threats. Skye tried to lock down her emotions as she twisted the baby monitor bracelet, her chest tightening with loneliness as her team buzzed around her without really acknowledging her. Fitz had been shooting her shy glances every now and again, but the friendly spark in his eyes had dimmed slightly after the whole Miles ordeal. Simmons, ever on the same wavelength as Fitz, treated her much the same as the engineer. They, however, were at least kinder than Ward, who had taken to doubting every word out of her mouth and grumbled under his breath when he talked to her. It seemed like he would just decide to be pissed forever, never able to let go of his grudge.
Skye had made her bed and now she knew she had to lie in it, but she was determined to earn the trust of her team back, spooky graveyard or not. Molding her face into one of friendliness and determination, she picked up one of the sensors that Fitz-Simmons were plugging into the musty dirt and walked to the farthest reach of the van’s radius, shoving it into the spot that Fitz had marked off with a little orange flag.
“So what does this do, Fitz?” Skye asked as brightly as she could over her shoulder as the scientist approached, his cheeks pink with chill and exertion. She knew that the way back into Fitz-Simmons good graces was through science, and she was genuinely curious about what all the tech did. If she couldn’t know all the details of why they were there, she could at least try and understand what they were doing.
“These,” Fitz beamed, holding up the silver rod, “are state of the art, one of a kind infrared sensors we like to call “The Consulting Detectives.” Simmons and I designed them to pick up minute facial expressions in the dark from long distances. But--and this is their genius--they also are able to scan other things like walking gait, shoe imprints, height, etc. That way there is little chance of the evidence being covered up.”
“But, why not just catch the person?” Skye asked once more as she drove the sensor into the ground.
“Because that’s not always the mission,” Simmons added, appearing at Fitz’s shoulder with the glowing tablet, “Sometimes it’s an agent’s job to simply observe, as we are doing tonight!”
“Exactly. And once we get these miniaturized we’re going to add them to the Dwarves.”
“Which will help improve the range of capabilities!”
The two scientists grinned at Skye, forgetting that they were still supposed to be wary of her, before looking at one another beaming.
“Cool,” Skye replied, her eyebrows raised to her hairline as she nodded at them. It was like the two were physically linked and she highly doubted there weren’t any romantic feelings between the scientists, not with the way they smiled at each other. Feeling suddenly like a third wheel, she turned back towards the van, shivering as the night air took a rapid downturn from chilly to cold. Looking up into the dark star-spotted ceiling above her, Sky noticed the glowing round orb of the moon shining above them, making its appearance from behind a cloud and drowning them in its silver glow.
“Full moon. You’ve got to be freaking kidding me,” she muttered into the dark, the words breaking slightly as she tripped on a stray stone. It was a good thing Fitz brought snacks because Skye needed some sort of comfort from the spine-chilling scenario that they had been shoved into.
Once the sensors were set and the team was once again piled into the van, the only thing left to do was sit and wait. They were less than half an hour into the mission when Fitz’s stomach rumbled and snacks were opened, the team digging into the sweets he had brought as well as the healthier options that were provided by Simmons, though it was mainly Simmons who ate them. To everyone’s surprise, Ward even partook in a pack of M&M’s.
“What?” he asked as he tore open the paper packet.
Skye grinned as she put a popcorn puff into her mouth, “Nothing. We just didn’t know the tin man was fueled by anything other than protein shakes and lean-cut chicken.”
Ward’s eyes narrowed as Fitz and Simmons chuckled, but his face didn’t appear angry, landing more in the “normal reaction to being teased” territory.
“I enjoy a good M&M, okay.” He looked around at the vehicle’s occupants, who all stared back with surprised looks on their faces, Fitz-Simmons even sharing smiley glances. Skye held up her hands while a little smirk tugged up the corners of her lips before popping another popcorn puff into her mouth.
It was surprising how much they all actually got along as the cramped van gave them little room to escape one another. They weren’t all buddy-buddy but they weren’t ripping each other’s heads off, which was good. Every fifteen minutes or so they would check the sensors for signs of life, Fitz-Simmons tapping at their tablets while Ward scanned out the front window.
They were encroaching on three in the morning when Skye noticed a roll of fog moving in, steady and billowing like there was about to be a stage production of Hamlet performed in the quiet graveyard.
“Uh, guys, is that normal?” Skye asked, turning from the passenger seat to face into the back of the van. Fitz was half asleep on Simmon’s shoulder while the biologist quietly tapped in the bluish glow of the tablet. As she looked up, her sudden movement caused him to jerk awake, his eyes bleary as he tried to adjust himself back into his surroundings.
“Is what normal?” Ward asked, putting down the paper he was filling out, some sort of report or other.
“That fog moving towards us?”
Ward jumped up from his spot and walked to hop in the front seat, his back bent to fit the van’s short roof like he was a kid too big to be in a play-place.
“It just looks like fog,” he remarked as he squinted out the condensation-covered front window.
Fitz and Simmons walked up to the front as well, their heads together as they fit them into the spot between the front seats. “I think Ward is right. It’s just the air being cooled by the ground--”
“It really is an interesting process--”
“Guys!” Skye snapped, cutting across Fitz-Simmons as her finger shot forward, focusing on a spectral figure in the distance.
At the sight of the shadowy, fog-masked phantom, Fitz and Simmons immediately fell backward further into the van, Simmons more gracefully reaching for the tablet while Fitz tripped over his own trainers.
“That’s odd,” Simmons faltered, her eyes roaming over the scans.
Fitz, finally righting himself, looked over her shoulder, his eyes following in the same path as hers as his mouth fell open to form a little “o.”
“Uh, fill us in please,” Ward called before Skye screamed, the figure disappearing through the solid granite door of one of the mausoleums. The van shook as everyone simultaneously jumped at the sound, sending snacks and spare equipment parts clattering.
“What the hell was that! Did none of you see that?” Sky shrieked, her eyes mimicking the full moon. “There was a freaking ghost!” A deep chill had settled within the van, so strangely cold that they could all feel it through their S.H.I.E.L.D grade jackets.
Fitz scoffed, though his eyebrows were knit rather close together. “There’s no such thing as ghosts. There is a reasonable, scientific expla--”
“Fitz, look at this,” Simmons said, tapping his chest to get his attention. The dark blue-grey screen was devoid of anything, the world a cold, colorless reality of rolling hills and gravestones.
“What does it say,” Ward barked, jumping into the back himself as Skye continued to look at the outside world around them.
“It says we're surrounded by nothing,” Fitz replied but his face was laced with confusion. “Visually, because of the fog, we can’t see anything and we aren’t picking up any heat signatures on the scanners. Yet the scanner is picking up footprints. We should be able to pick up a heat difference, even in the fog. So these readings can’t be--”
Skye flipped around from the front. “It’s because we’re surrounded by ghosts ,” she articulated before swinging her legs to jump into the back, sitting on the center console.
“There’s no such thing as ghosts,” Fitz-Simmons shot back in unison.
“I just saw a dude walk through a solid wall, so I think he and his lack of bones beg to differ!”
“Skye, you don’t know what you saw,” Simmons commented as Fitz took the tablet from her grasp, “Chances are it’s just an elaborate scheme to get the 0-8-4 without detection.”
“Well, we should at least go out and check!” Skye retorted, her voice clenching with exasperation.
“Our mission was to stay in the van,” Ward shot back. His eyes were alight in the darkness but were quickly drawn away at the sound of humming.
“What the bloody hell is that?” Fitz muttered, his shoulder drawing up and in, only dropping down to place his hand on Simmons’, her hand having flown up to grab onto his jacket sleeve in fright.
The van went quiet as they listened to the voice of a woman, strangely sweet as it hovered within the fog. It was as if it had gotten caught in every small particle of water in the air.
Skye’s eyes drifted out of focus as she listened to the voice, the woman’s haunting melody transforming in her ears. “She’s singing.”
“Singing?” Fitz muttered, his wide eyes looking incredulously to Simmons.
It was an eerily soft rendition of “Daisy Bell” and for some reason Skye felt her feet moving of their own accord, her hand reaching for the door handle of the van. Another jacket-cutting chill hovered into the van as the door slid open with a mechanical whir-click.
“Skye, what in the hell do you think you’re doing!” Ward shouted, grabbing onto the hacker’s shoulder as she sat on the floor of the van, her legs swinging out to float off the side.
“She needs help.” Skye’s mouth moved, the words spilling out like liquid nitrogen, but she didn’t remember thinking them up.
Fitz and Simmons exchanged frightened glances as Skye’s body seemed to almost float out of the car, her feet unbelievably light as they hit the ground. Ward’s boots, on the other hand, hit the ground hard as he jumped out after her, the dread drenched mist clouding his vision as Skye moved deeper into the fog.
“Fitz-Simmons!” Ward tossed over his shoulder, “Figure out a way to cut through the fog and get me some visuals. Try and figure out what the hell is happening! I’m going after Skye.”
He slid the black door shut with all his strength, closing it with a heavy thud before chasing Skye out into the graveyard. As Ward disappeared into the dark vapor, the two scientists scrambled within the van, jumping over and around one another, their voices etching out ideas as if the air was a whiteboard.
As Fitz tapped on the tablet looking for data on the lack of heat signatures, his fingers flying across the screen as he tumbled, hunched over, within the vehicle, Simmons began analyzing the extra readings coming off the sensors. Suddenly, her eyes on the screen, she halted, causing Fitz to nearly run directly into her.
“Simmons? What’s the matter?”
“The fog,” she whispered, her eyes looking fearfully into Fitz’s.
“What about the fog?”
She shook her head, her next words slow and terrified. “It’s not fog.”
Fitz gulped. “Well, then what is it?”
“I don’t know. But whatever it is, it’s not of this world.”
“Simmons… what are you saying?”
“I don’t think we’re looking for an 0-8-4, Fitz. I think we’re in the 0-8-4.”