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It was chaos.
Skye knew it was too cliché, but it was the best word that could convey what was happening before her eyes.
Afterlife, the place she could’ve once called home, was on fire. Her two families, the ones she loved more than herself, were fighting to death. And she…
Well, she was in deep shit.
She’d try to talk, to both parts. She tried to tell Coulson that the Inhumans were harmless if they were left alone. She tried to tell her mother that SHIELD weren’t like Hydra. That they were good.
They didn’t listen, and she felt invisible. This wasn’t supposed to end like this. This was her fault. For a moment, she wished she’d died in that temple, instead of Trip.
She runs through the fire, searching for something familiar. A face, a figure, a voice. She hears them, their strong terrified accents loud in her ears. Why the hell were they in the field. She’d have a long talk with Coulson. That is, if he survived, if they all did.
Fitzsimmons were pointing ICERs to a woman. Skye remembered little about her. She could change appearance, she remembered. Something of little use in a war. But she had something in her hand, something blue. And Skye knew exactly what was going to happen.
“No!” She screamed. And her scream might have done something, cause the scientists were violently thrown to the side, just when the woman let the crystal fall.
The woman fell too, ICER bullet in her shoulder. But she paid her little attention as she run towards her friends. They were okay. But something was off. Fitzsimmons were still looking at the woman. Fitz with a mask of horror, and Simmons with dread and confusion. It wasn’t until Skye looked in that direction that she realized what had happened.
A figure stood in front of the unconscious Inhuman. A figure that, no matter how much she tried to forget, was imprinted in her mind like a tattoo. The seconds passed slowly, until he dropped the ICER and dropped to his knees. Then she ran.
“Ward!” She exclaimed kneeling besides him.
He looked at her, breathing heavily. “Skye”
No, no, no, no. This could not be happening again.
Two memories roamed in her mind in that moment. Trip, falling apart in front or her, forever. And one that could’ve happen a thousand years ago. Ward, with his hand in his chest, whispering her name, dying.
Someday, you’ll understand, he’d said. She did now, she did and it was killing her.
She tried to think of something. But his body was turning into stone, fast. It was too late.
“No, no” She sobbed, caressing his face.
He looked at her, one last time, and smiled, before turning completely.
She felt a pair of arms driving her away. Fitz. She looked at Simmons but her friend was in a daze, looking at Ward, or what was left of him.
“Close your eyes, Skye” Said Fitz. And so she did.
A strangled gasp was what made her open her eyes again. It was the first time she hears Simmons voice since what had happened. She looked towards Jemma, who was looking with her mouth open, towards Ward. Skye turned her head and gasped too.
The stone that was supposed to be Ward didn’t turn to dust. But tiny cracks were appearing, and each one of them was smoking. The three agents gave a step back, while the cracks grew bigger. And now there wasn’t only smoke, but light. Hot blinding light. Ignoring her friends warnings, Skye started walking towards the light. There’s a metaphor out there, somewhere.
Suddenly, all what was left of the stone fell, leaving only fire. It shone bright for what it seemed like hours, until it started to dim. The fire grew smaller and smaller until it was the shape of a person, and then it was off.
The three friends were left looking with her mouths open at a very dirty, very naked, but very much alive Grant Ward
The ex-agent looked at them, with the same mask of confusion, and not knowing what to say, he whispered:
“Where’s my clothes?”