Chapter Text
Grant Ward has been presumed dead for three years until his prints surfaced in Cambodia. No one really knew how or why they had obtained this information or if Grant Ward was even aware he had been flagged. Most evidence would point to it being a carefully laid trap. The only thing that was known SHIELD would have just happily gone on pretending that he was gone forever. Most of his files had been purged after his failed project and those that weren’t had been redacted. The only file that remained was one page that read: “Case worker: Johnson, Daisy. Closed.”
“Who the hell is Daisy Johnson?” Director Coulson had asked upon hearing this news. The name Grant Ward meant even less to him than Daisy Johnson, though he did vaguely recall after taking the reigns from Director Fury about a failed experiment called The Hydra Project. That hadn’t gone much better than Project TAHITI, but he couldn’t recall much more than that. The crown he had inherited had been heavy with miscommunication and secrets.
“Sir?” The timid voice of one of his top engineering analysts spoke up.
“Fitz?” Coulson addressed him.
“I know who she is, sir.”
“How have I never heard of her?”
“That might have to do with it being a secret project,” May replied dryly.
“You have heard of her,” Fitz said. “That’s just not her name.”
“Daisy Johnson is an alias?” Coulson asked.
“Not exactly,” Fitz said. “It’s her legal name. She just never uses it.”
“Who?”
Skye started her morning like she had since her fall from grace. The Comminations pool was the lowest key of all the departments. Simmons constantly had to remind her of that. But she didn’t mind being able to wear flannel to work and take breaks whenever she wanted. It wasn’t the most glamorous or exciting job, but she had had enough excitement for a lifetime.
Skye had been typing in her workstation for only about an hour before she become disappointed that Fitz hadn’t snuck in the new hardware that he had promised. She had to convince him he wouldn’t get in trouble for about a month before he would agree to it. No one really monitored them in this lowly Communication station anyway. The Triskelion was a big place.
“Agent Skye.”
Skye looked up at the familiar voice. Coulson had become a favorite of hers at the academy, though even when offered a promotion after he took the reigns, Skye turned him down. He would visit every so often since then trying to change her mind.
This was different. She could hear it in his voice. He hardly ever sounded that stern with her before. When Skye looked up, she could see Fitz avoiding her eyes, hovering behind Coulson.
“You know I’m not an agent anymore, sir,” Skye smiled.
“Let’s take a walk,” Coulson answered. “I think there are some things we need to discuss.”
Skye hated The Cage. She had been there too many times to count and not many of those times were pleasant. It felt like an interrogation, sitting across from Coulson. Though for some strange reason Fitz was there too.
“Does the name Grant Ward mean anything to you?” Coulson asked.
Skye’s eyes flicked to Fitz’s unassuming face and then back to Coulson. “Should it?”
“We’ve got a file here connecting the two of you,” Coulson said.
“Then why did you ask if you already knew the answer?” Skye sighed.
“This isn’t a game, Skye,” Coulson said.
“No,” Skye agreed. “Just something I’d rather forget.”
After that, Coulson softened. “Did something happen?”
“A lot of things happened,” Skye said. “Grant Ward’s dead. So what’s the point in talking about it?”
“Because he’s not,” Coulson said. “We’ve got him.”
She thought he would be pacing. The last time she saw Grant Ward (alive) he had his five o’clock shadow and was smiling at her through a bloody grin. She had thought – not for the first time – about how much she loved him. This cocky, arrogant, complicated person that she had felt the entire spectrum of human emotion towards and finally felt love for. Long after she saw it in his eyes first. He got up early the next morning for a job and she never saw him again.
This man was not that Grant Ward. This man was clean-shaven, dressed in a button down polo and sitting up straight in his chair, like one of his covers. Maybe that was it. Maybe he was just pretending. She would be able to tell when their eyes met. Even if he couldn’t say it, she would know it. That was what she was sure of. That was the only reason she let Coulson coerce her through that door. Her face remained passive throughout the entire meeting but the second his eyes met hers, her heart shattered.
Ward lurched to his feet. “What’s going on?” He took a step aggressively towards her. And then she understood.
“You don’t recognize me,” Skye said, “do you?” She skirted around his large body barricaded in front of her. Touching him would make it worse. Ward’s eyes followed her for a moment as though he couldn’t trust his own judgment.
“Should I?”
For the past three years Skye didn’t think there would be anything more painful than assuming Ward had been murdered and she would never have anything but assumptions. She had been wrong. This was worse.
“No,” Skye said. “There’s no reason you should.”
Skye looked over her shoulder at the mirror. Real Ward would know that was a double-sided mirror so they could monitor even his breathing patterns. She didn’t know what This Ward did or didn’t know. She was here because of one little piece of paper and the probability that she knew a lot about Ward’s condition. She knew nothing, but that was still more than everyone else.
“I’m sorry,” Skye said. “I don’t really know how to help you.”
“Is that what you’re here to do?” Ward asked. It was like she was meeting him for the first time again. She had almost forgotten what that had been like. She didn’t want to remember.
“I guess,” Skye said. The truth was, she didn’t know. It wasn’t very intelligent of SHIELD to think that even if Ward was completely coherent and still know her that he would spill all his secrets. The truth was, she was expendable now and was the only lead they had. “It would help if I knew how to do that. Is there something that you want?”
“Is there something I want?” Ward asked, his voice sharp and angry. He almost sounded like himself. “Yeah, you could say that. I want some answers.”
“You really don’t remember anything?” Skye asked.
“Everyone keeps asking me that.”
“That must be frustrating,” Skye said.
Ward took a step back. “Yeah. It is.”
What this stranger in front of her wanted was his life back. That much was obvious. She was no more qualified or able to give him that than anyone else. But she could give him one thing.
“Open your shirt,” Skye said.
Ward stared.
“I’m not playing around,” Skye said. Memory or not, he was still so obtuse. “Just open your shirt.”
There was no real reason for him to do what she said, but she doubted that was any better than having no real reason not to do it. Ward slowly began to unbutton his pressed shirt. Anxious and impatient, Skye strode forward and undid the buttons for him, stopping at the panel of scar tissue she had been looking for. She put her hands on the scars of the three bullet wounds on his torso.
“Hi,” she said. “My name is Skye and I did that.”
After a moment she realized that her hand was still on his hot skin and let it drop away. Ward looked down at his body as though it belonged to someone else.
“You did that?”
She couldn’t help but take his tone personally.
“That’s point blank range,” Ward said.
“Surprised?” Skye sniffed.
“Sorry,” Ward said. “I didn’t mean to offend you. It’s just… I figured it was…”
“A man?” Skye asked.
“A professional,” Ward amended.
“I don’t strike you as the type?” Skye asked.
Ward seemed to flush with embarrassment. She had never seen him do that before. But this was another set of circumstances that she understood about as well as he did.
“It’s not that,” Ward said. “They just sent you in here to talk to me. And you seem really nice.”
“I do?” He had never in his life said that to her.
“You don’t agree?” he asked.
“I’m just used to arguing with you,” Skye said.
“So you and I,” Ward said. “We knew each other.”
“You could say that.”
“So why’d you shoot me?” he asked conversationally.
Skye couldn’t help but laugh at that. “You shot me first."
Ward looked alarmed. Not something she was used to seeing on his face either.
“I’m not kidding,” Skye said. “People always seem to think I’m kidding. For the record, I’m not kidding.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” Skye said. “It was a long time ago and you weren’t sorry when it happened.”
“I’m sorry I hurt you,” Ward said definitively. “Why would you come in here and talk to me if I did that?”
“It’s complicated.” Skye colored. This was definitely not something she had planned on getting into with the ghost of SHIELD agents’ past. Not on the first day, at least.
“They told me you were my case worker,” Ward said. “Was that before or after I shot you?”
“After,” Skye smiled. “Like I said. Complicated.”
“So why’d I do it?” Ward asked. “Just for the record.”
“Another long and complicated story,” Skye said. “We don’t have to get into it now.”
“What else are we going to talk about?”
“I never thought we’d get this far,” Skye admitted. “I’m not really here for that.”
“Oh,” Ward said. “You want to find out what I know. I can save you the time. I don’t remember anything.”
“I gathered that,” Skye said.
Ward studied her with his spy eyes. “That doesn’t make you happy.”
“I’m not an agent,” Skye said. “It doesn’t make me anything.”
“But you were my handler,” Ward said. “That’s what they told me.”
“I was an agent then,” Skye said.
“More of that complicated past?” he asked.
“Kind of.”
He looked disappointed.
“Look,” Skye said. “Would it make you happy if I told you the parts of you I know?” Otherwise known as everything. But she couldn't say that to him. That would be too painful.
“I don’t know what it would make me,” Ward said. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”
That made two of them.
“I’m not really supposed to agitate you,” Skye said.
“Good thing you’re not an agent.”
It was a spark. Not the flame of the old Ward, but something that she recognized that she missed. It made her heart ache but she smiled all the same.
“Good point,” Skye said. “You didn’t mean to shoot me. Or at least, that’s what you told me after I got three rounds in you.”
Ward smiled secretly. He seemed to be enjoying this story and the way she was telling it. That gave her confidence and maybe a little bit of hope. Hope was a dangerous thing but she couldn’t help herself.
“You weren’t after me,” Skye said. “You were after the guy I was with.”
“Boyfriend?” Ward asked. He looked curious but the question weighed heavily on her.
“Sort of,” Skye said. “We were on this bridge and I happened to be driving. Your orders were to take him out. He was laundering money to some bad people and he was what you would call a high-risk target. So you figured it would be cleaner to take us both out.”
“I shot the car.”
“No,” Skye said. “You shot me. Twice. In the abdomen. I slumped over and the car went into the water. End of.”
“That’s it?” Ward asked. “That sounds sloppy.”
Skye had to smile at that. “It was. You were banking on him to drown but he thought you killed me so he did a Charlie’s Angels’ roll out of the car.”
“He just left you there?”
“Pretty much,” Skye said. “Didn’t have much interest in finding out if you finished the job or not after that.”
She wanted to apologize again, but the words were becoming tired in her mouth.
“So that’s who I was,” Ward said. “A killer.”
“You were a trained specialist,” Skye said. “And this whole thing…”
“My memory.”
“It’s a consequence,” Skye said. “But that wasn’t you. This was done to you. I promise you that.”
“That was still me, though,” Ward said. “Whether they wiped me or whatever. I did those things.”
“I know this isn’t what you wanted to hear,” Skye said.
“I asked for it,” Ward said. His self-pity evaporated in an instant.
“Ward,” Skye said. His name felt unpracticed and alien. She hadn’t said it out loud in years. “I knew you. And you weren’t a bad person. You were dedicated. And the most loyal man I had ever met.”
Something behind his eyes flared. She knew she shouldn’t have said that. She couldn’t let him know what they ended up being to each other at the end. It would just hurt too much for the both of them. And Ward would torture himself with the knowledge of what he couldn’t remember. No matter how much of him was erased, that part of him was still there.
“I wish I could remember,” Ward said.
She knew that he meant it. She wished that could mean more to her. She couldn’t say what she was thinking. Me too.
“I have to get back,” Skye said. She hoped to god Coulson just wanted a report and then she could go back to the typing pool. That seemed unlikely.
“Will I see you again?” Ward asked as she turned for the door.
“I don’t know.”
The selfish part of her hoped that she would. The weak part of her closed the door behind her and found The Cage empty across the hall. When the door closed behind her, she finally allowed herself to break down. She couldn’t break while on a job. It wasn’t what Ward would have wanted.
The tentative knock on the door made her know that it wasn’t Coulson. That was the only reason that she opened it. Fitz’s face was apologetic and his arms around her were welcome.
“Are you okay?”
“He didn’t make you see him, did he?” Skye asked. She returned his embrace.
No. She was the only one being forced to answer questions from the ghost of Grant Ward.
“Coulson didn’t mean for it to be cruel,” Fitz said. “He just didn’t know.”
“He didn’t mean it,” Skye said. “But it was.”
“Skye isn’t your real name.”
Her second session with Ward had only gone marginally better than the first. Coulson had decided to reinstate her status only for the sole purpose of poking around Ward’s brain. It was callous and nauseating. But she couldn’t help but find that she was getting something out of this to.
“It isn’t?” Skye asked. For a moment, she could almost pretend like the last three years hadn’t happened.
“It’s your hacker name,” Ward said. “You’re astonishingly good.”
Even now, it was clear it was hard to impress Grant Ward.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Sorry,” Ward said. “I just don’t understand. You should be an agent. Why are you in the typing pool?”
“How did you get this information?” Skye asked.
“I Googled you,” Ward said. “They let me on a computer fifteen minutes a day.”
“You checked up on me?” Skye asked. The pleasure spreading through her was quite unwanted and she did not appreciate it. “They don’t give you books or anything?”
“I didn’t think I should ask for anything,” Ward said. “They’re afraid of me. Like I’m a time bomb. I’m dangerous.”
“You must have some idea,” Skye said. “Of who you were.”
“I found the passports and a gun,” Ward said. “Someone tried to mug me in Cambodia. I did things I never knew I had the ability to.”
“That’s how they found you,” Skye said.
“I just woke up one day and everything was gone.”
“I know.”
“You do?” He almost sounded betrayed. She knew how much that could hurt.
Skye smiled enigmatically. There was nothing else to say.
“You can’t tell me.” Ward was still good at reading people. He hadn’t lost that. “Confidential?”
“I don’t even know what they’re doing, Ward,” Skye said. “I don’t have the clearance. They just want to know what you know.”
“They think I’m lying,” Ward said. “Did I do that a lot?”
“You were a spy,” Skye said. “You excelled at espionage.”
“I was good at it?”
“You were the best,” Skye said. “The best I ever knew.”
“What’s Project Hydra?” His eyes searched hers and she knew there was no escape.
“Where do you get your information?” Skye asked with exasperation.
“I’m supposed to be a spy, remember?”
“Well you haven’t lost your edge,” Skye said. “I’m not allowed to say, remember?”
“I seem to recall our loophole for that,” Ward replied. He was already bonding the two of them in his mind. Maybe there still was a part of him in there somewhere. That made it worse, somehow. “Do you know what it is?”
“Yes,” Skye said. “It was an experimental project.”
“I’m an experiment.”
“Not in so many ways,” Skye said. “You suffered from post traumatic stress disorder. SHIELD only meant to find a way to help agents like you.”
“But that didn’t happen.”
“You were the first subject,” Skye said. “It wasn’t their intention to wipe memories or brain wash or anything like that. They just wanted to figure out a way to distance the emotional connection to the assignments you had to do.”
“That sounds like turning me into a sociopath,” Ward remarked.
“No,” Skye said. “It wasn’t like that. You were so torn up inside by things you had to do for the job that they wanted to find a way that your memories didn’t tangle up your brain like it did.”
“I was unhappy?” Ward asked.
“Yes,” Skye said. “You were… inconsolable. I didn’t… I couldn’t…”
Skye didn’t know how to truly articulate how horrible it was. Words could not describe. And she couldn’t tell him the truth. She couldn’t tell him how it tore her apart to watch him suffer. How he would wake up in the night screaming, his dreams driving him to the brink of insanity. She couldn’t tell him how it killed her.
“I was sick,” Ward said.
“Yeah,” Skye exhaled. She hadn’t known how tight her body had been compacted from this conversation.
“I understand why they wouldn’t want me to know,” Ward said. “But they did what they set out to do. I don’t feel that way."
“You still lost something,” Skye said quietly. He was silent, but his eyes were penetrating. “You don’t have dreams?”
“Sometimes,” Ward said. “But nothing specific. Sometimes it’s an apartment number. Or an airline name. But I don’t feel anything when I see it.”
Skye nodded, watching her fingers entangle and entwine with each other on her lap.
“Are you okay?” Ward asked.
“Definitely,” Skye forced herself to say. She picked herself up and headed for the door.
“One more thing,” Ward said.
Skye paused.
“You said we were close,” Ward said.
Skye nodded.
“Did you ever call me Grant?”
“Only when we were alone,” Skye said. And she walked out the door.
Fitz had been putting off seeing Ward. Skye’s ultimate failure to keep it together had made him hesitant. But this was his friend and he couldn’t put it off any longer.
“Skye mentioned something about post traumatic stress disorder,” Ward said.
“Very common,” Fitz said. He was technically only here to check Ward’s vitals. He hooked Ward up to a monitor as he spoke. “You know statistics prove that more soldiers have committed suicide than were killed in battle?”
“Fascinating,” Ward said, uncomfortably.
“Sorry,” Fitz said. It was easier to hide behind numbers and science sometimes.
“What was it?” Ward asked. “What was so bad that I didn’t want it in my head?”
“A number of things,” Fitz said. “You were a specialist and it was your job. It was never the kills that complicated this for you. It was the emotional tie connecting you to the violence in the end. You weren’t always like that.”
“What was the trigger?” Ward asked, trying to understand. “What was so emotionally violent for me that it gave me nightmares? I must have cared about something.”
“You did,” Fitz said.
“Did I kill someone?”
“It wasn’t that,” Fitz said. “You shot someone. Someone you cared about."
Realization dawned on Ward’s face. Fitz never wanted to be the one to remind him of everything that had happened. But he was just so persistent. Whatever Skye had been saying to him in their sessions must have brought something out. For a minute, Fitz was sure he could see Ward’s grief looking at him through stranger’s eyes.
“I loved her,” Ward said quietly. “Didn’t I?”
A difficult question. One with an obvious answer. For clear reasons Fitz couldn’t tell this man about the engagement ring the cleaners had found in his apartment after he had disappeared. But that wasn’t even the answer he was looking for.
“You were committed to the job,” Fitz said. “You were one of the best agents there were. The job was all that mattered. Until Skye.”
“Did I say that?”
“Oh, it was quite obvious,” Fitz said.
“Why would she be in there with me, then?” Ward asked. “That seems unfair to her. If one day I just fell off the face of the earth. No closure.”
“It was unfair,” Fitz said. “But Skye is a sensitive person. No matter what, she’s glad you’re alive. And she can’t look the other way when you need help.”
“Are you here to help me?” Ward asked. “Were we friends?”
“Yes,” Fitz said. “I’m here to help.”
“I want it back,” Ward said. “I want to remember.”
“It’s not that simple,” Fitz said. “You don't even know if you want to remember everything that happened. And there are a lot of things to take into account. Brains don’t just delete files. They lose connections. The information is there. But you have to be sure that you absolutely want it.”
“I can’t be a blank slate,” Ward said. “I can’t be no one.”
Fitz nodded. “I can’t promise anything.”
“I want to try.”
There was no other option.