Ward had enough life experience in him to know never to look a gift horse in the mouth, especially if that gift came from S.H.I.E.L.D. and more specifically if that gift came from Coulson. Less than a day into his new living arrangements, though, and Ward didn't really care what it was they undoubtedly wanted from him.

It wasn't a picnic, by any means. The only people he had contact with were his guards, and most of the time they just left him alone, a constant but silent presence. The food was still pretty awful, but at least they were letting him use silverware now, even if it was just a plastic spork. The rooms he had access to were few, basically a simple fitness center (consisting of a mat, a punching bag, a treadmill, and very pointedly, no weights), a bathroom with a shower, and his own sleeping quarters.

But it was a hell of a lot better than that cell he'd been existing in before.

And it wasn't like he didn't know what Coulson was doing. He understood perfectly well the whole point of giving him more freedom as some kind of reward for what he'd done. The information he'd provided had been proven reliable, so naturally he'd be susceptible to share HYDRA intelligence under more relaxed circumstances. There were a few flaws in Coulson's plan, but since Ward knew what his alternatives were, he decided to just take his chances and make the most of what he had.

He'd just settled in his room for the night (ten minutes early, to be on the safe side), and was about to start reading the historical novel that had not-so-mysteriously been placed on his desk, when he heard a hesitant knock on the door.

Ward immediately sat up on his bed, glancing around the room in confusion before he realized there wasn't really anything he had to straighten up. Why would he have had to clean anyways? Who was actually bothering to knock on his door? He shook his head to clear his thoughts. It was becoming painfully obvious how long it'd been since he'd had company.

Or at least company that gave him the courtesy of knocking.

"Uh…come-come in?" he stammered, wincing at his utter lack of social ability. What the hell was wrong with him?

For a while, there was no sound on the other side of the door, and Ward briefly worried whether or not he'd been heard in the first place. He opened his mouth to try again, but before he could speak he heard a soft click. And then there she was, right in his doorway.

"Skye," he whispered, swinging his legs off the bed.

She held up a hand. "Don't get up," she said quietly, and even though she still had the gun strapped to her thigh, she didn't sound half as cold as she had the last time he'd spoken to her. He placed his hands on the bed frame to keep himself in one spot, not wanting to make any sudden movements in case she decided to leave and never come back.

He was more relieved than he'd thought was possible to see that she looked okay, especially considering the circumstances. She still had a few cuts and bruises adorning her arms and face, and her wrist was carefully wrapped in a bandage, but other than looking a little underfed she seemed to be handling her recovery well. Not that that really surprised him. He'd always known she was strong, that she had the potential to be a great field agent. But what she'd gone through hadn't exactly been the normal S.H.I.E.L.D. mission.

Ward waited for her to speak, still in a state of shock at seeing her there at all. Not only had she been tortured to the point of being buried alive just days before, but there was also no reason for her to ever speak to him again. He didn't want to push her into talking, though, so he waited.

After a few agonizing seconds, she finally took a breath. "Coulson wanted me to tell you that we don't have a lot of resources right now," she said, taking a cautious step forward and placing what looked like two rolls of gauze on his desk. "So if you could, like, not rip up the sheets anymore, he'd appreciate it."

Ward stared at the rolls in bewilderment until he remembered the incident on the Bus. And even though the punching bag in his fitness room was much easier on the knuckles than the hard metal of the Cage, he had to admit it would be nice to have proper material to wrap his hands with. He didn't really know what to say in response, though, so he gave Skye a nod to tell her he understood.

She avoided his eyes, turning back around to exit the room. But something still nagged at him.

"Coulson could've sent anybody to tell me that," he pointed out, making sure to stay seated on the bed. "Why are you really here?"

He saw her freeze, one hand curled into a fist while the other tapped her leg, as if she were having an inner argument with herself. He held his breath until she faced him again, her arms crossed. She still couldn't look him in the eye.

"You knew where to find me," she said plainly. It wasn't a question, but he knew she expected an answer anyways.

"I…had my suspicions," he admitted, unsure how much Coulson had told her.

"Because of Raina."

So Coulson had told her. Well, that was probably for the best. Ward still knew it was a delicate situation, though, so he made sure to keep his voice gentle. But he also knew that if he wanted her to listen to him, he had to be honest with her. "Yes," he replied. "Because of Raina."

She looked surprised, like she hadn't expected him to be so forthcoming. "So…" she continued, dragging her words out. "You also know…about-"

"Your parents," he nodded, and when he saw the slight shudder in her shoulders, he had to dig his heels into the ground to remain calm. "It was them, wasn't it?" he asked in a tight voice. "They were the ones that hurt you?"

But Ward must have crossed a line, because she set her jaw again. "That's not why I'm here."

"You don't want to talk about it," he noted, seeing how distressed she actually was under her false indifference. "I understand," he assured her. "Believe me, Skye. I understand probably more than-"

"You saved my life," she interrupted, once again in the form of a statement. She met his eyes for the first time since she'd entered the room, and even though she wasn't questioning him, Ward knew that this was the real reason she'd made the trip down to his quarters. She'd probably backtracked a hundred times before she'd even made it to his door, if he had to guess.

He tried to put as much sincerity into his words as possible. "You don't have to thank me," he told her.

"I'm not thanking you," she replied a little too quickly. "That's…that's not what this is. I am…simply…acknowledging the fact that…even though you probably had some twisted or-or misguided reason for what you did, you still managed to do something that wasn't…completely…terrible."

Ward couldn't remember the last time he'd felt like smiling, but at that moment he had to work very hard at keeping the grin off of his face. Because he knew she still hated him. He could tell. For a second, though, the way she was talking reminded him of the Skye he'd met what felt like a lifetime ago, the Skye who'd hated him for what she didn't know about him instead of what she did. They'd both changed since then, but he could see the remnants of her old self peeking through the cracks of her new armor. And despite everything, it gave him hope. He didn't think he had the capacity for hope anymore.

She cleared her throat, apparently done with her speech. "So…that's all I wanted to say," she concluded, folding her arms and looking like she was about ready to bolt out of there.

Ward knew he didn't have much time left. "I know you don't trust me, Skye," he said softly.

"You're right," she agreed, the stern distaste returning to her expression. "I don't."

He powered through, needing her to understand. "But I didn't do what I did for your forgiveness," he assured her.

"Good," she replied. "Because otherwise you would've just wasted your time."

"I did it..." he continued, "because whether you believe me or not…I care about you." He glanced down at his hands, not wanting to see the judgment in her eyes. "And you didn't deserve to die," he added quietly. "Not like that anyway."

"Oh?" he heard her ask in mock surprise. "And how exactly do I deserve to die?"

"What?" he muttered, glancing up to see her looking at him with disgust. "No!" he protested, his eyes widening. "I-I didn't mean it like that, I…I just meant…when you're older, like…naturally in your sleep or…whatever." He shook his head, realizing he was just digging a deeper hole for himself by the second. "You know, just-"

"Wow," she laughed, and in the midst of his embarrassment he was surprised that she didn't sound very bitter. "You just really know how to win 'em over, don't you, Ward?"

It was the way she said his name that made him pause. It was like she was teasing him again, teasing him for being socially awkward, teasing him for not knowing how to talk to girls, teasing him as if she'd never had cause to hate him. But in the moments that followed, her smile faltered, and Ward knew it would never be like that again. He'd done too much to her.

She had her hand on the doorknob when he spoke up again.

"You have no reason to forgive me, Skye," he said, hanging onto the last string of hope that maybe she'd believe him. "And I know I've lost your trust in me, probably for forever." She didn't turn around, but she was still there, hovering at the door. "But even if I never see you again…I'm still going to do whatever it takes to earn it back."

Her reply was quiet, nearly a whisper she breathed before she left the room. He heard it, though. He heard it as clear as day. And it was the words she spoke that made him think that maybe, just maybe, that hope wasn't completely gone.

"We'll see."

Fitz finally twisted the last row into place and set the Cube on the table in front of him. "Done," he said before breathing out a sigh of relief. "What was that?" he asked, nudging Jemma's arm.

Jemma had been in the middle of talking to Skye, but she still managed to stop the timer she was holding lazily in her fingertips. "That was…" she answered slowly, inspecting the watch, "five minutes and thirty-seven seconds." Her face broke into a smile. "Oh, well done, Fitz!"

Fitz groaned, pushing the Rubik's Cube to the other side of the table so he could rest his head on his folded arms. "Don't patronize me, Simmons," he grumbled. "That was awful and you know it."

"Still haven't solved one, by the way," he heard Skye comment. "So, you know, just saying."

Fitz remained silent, not wanting to hurt Skye's feelings but still pretty upset with himself. He used to be able to solve the puzzle in under twenty seconds, thirty if he was having a rough day. It used to be that he could simply study the Cube for a few moments and easily see in his head how the colors needed to be arranged in order to correctly align them all. Now, he had to carefully think through each step, moving the rows hesitantly instead of with his previous assurance.

It was just one of the many stupidly frustrating things he had to deal with now, to the point where he thought he was going mad.

But he felt her hand on his shoulder, and it helped calm the panic a little. "No one is patronizing you, Fitz," Jemma said gently, leaning in close so he could hear her. "This is progress. You'll get there, all right? You just need to be patient for a little while, that's all."

Fitz sighed into his arms, gathering all of his happy thoughts before turning his head to look at her. But it wasn't hard to return her smile, not when she was looking at him like that. He nodded, letting her know he heard her, and she gave his shoulder a small squeeze before returning to her food.

"Now eat," she ordered, reaching around him to grab the plate he'd pushed aside earlier. "You promised."

He sighed again, sitting up as the sandwich was placed in front of him. "All right, give me another one," he said, halfheartedly picking at his food.

Across from Jemma, Skye leaned over to the side of her plate and flipped through a few pages of the textbook that was lying open on the table. "Uh…okay," she cleared her throat. "If an electronic device has a resistance of a hundred and fifty upside-down horseshoes-"

"What?" Jemma interrupted in confusion.

"She means ohms," Trip smiled, glancing over at the book.

"Again, didn't go to college," Skye muttered, scooting a little away from him. "It looks like a horseshoe, so I called it a horseshoe. God, just let me read the question." She cleared her throat. "If an electronic device has a resistance of a hundred and fifty…"

"Ohms," Trip supplied.

"Whatever," Skye continued. "And it's designed to operate at fifty-five milliamps, how would you protect it against sudden surges in current?"

Fitz simply stared at her. "You call that a hard question?"

She raised an eyebrow. "I didn't hear an answer, Fitz."

"Well, you'd just put an inductor in series with the device, obviously," he answered with a scoff. "Er…well, after the power turned on, you wouldn't want the current to…to go over seven point five milliamps in the first hundred microseconds, so…so you'd want an inductance of…" He closed his eyes, placing a few fingers on his forehead in concentration.

"Use the paper, Fitz," Jemma said softly.

It took a lot of his willpower not to snap at her, knowing that she was only trying to help. He begrudgingly pulled over the small notebook he had on the table and scribbled in the calculation. "A hundred and twenty millihenries," he murmured, tossing aside the pen and rubbing his eyelids. Fitz had been through some fairly mortifying experiences, but he didn't think anything could top the humiliation he felt at no longer being as smart as he'd once been. What the hell was he doing there?

"I mean, obviously," Skye said sarcastically, flipping to the back of the book to check his answer. He heard the smile in her voice and didn't understand why she was so amused. "Seriously, Fitz, I don't know what you're so upset about, but that was amazing. Jeez, how'd you do that so fast?"

Fitz rolled his eyes as he lowered his hands. "It's basic algebra, Skye."

She glared at him. "Fine," she huffed, turning the pages to the front of the book. "You're getting a conceptual question then."

"Oh, for bloody Michael Faraday's sake, Skye," he groaned.

"Nope," she shook her head, scouring the pages. "You asked for it."

Fitz kept his annoyed comments to himself, because he knew Skye wouldn't relent until he'd answered the question to her satisfaction. "Okay," she smiled triumphantly, leaning back so she could rest the book on the edge of the table. "What is the first law of thermodynamics?"

In the pause that followed, Fitz could hear his own heartbeat hammering loudly in his chest, and next to him he felt Jemma go still. He didn't look over at her, but he could see that she was staring at her lap, probably waiting for him to answer the question. Across the table, Skye's face fell. "Is that…is that too obvious again?" she asked uncertainly, glancing between the two of them.

"No," Fitz shook his head, clearing his throat. "No, um…well, the first law is that..." He took a deep breath, unsure why it was so hard for him to get the words out. "That no energy in the universe is created or…or destroyed."

Skye looked a little confused, but she gave him a smirk after a few seconds. "Now, that wasn't so hard, was it?"

"All right," Trip cut in, grabbing the book next to him. "My turn now. I think he needs some bio review."

Fitz was about to argue that his focus would be much better spent on his own field, but before he could open his mouth, Coulson entered the kitchen and immediately walked up to their table.

"Agent Fitz," he said, skipping the pleasantries of greeting everyone else. "Could I have a word please?"

Fitz glanced up at him in mild terror, the memories of every stupid thing he'd ever done flashing through his head. "Er…yes, sir," he nodded. "What is it?"

"In private," Coulson clarified, turning around to head out into the corridor.

Fitz scrambled out of his chair to follow him, feeling a burn on his cheeks as he prepared himself for whatever punishment he was undoubtedly facing.

"Ooh, somebody's in trouble," Skye sang from behind him. He tried to ignore her taunts, but she was probably right.

He'd been following Coulson for about a minute when he couldn't take the suspense anymore. "Sir, if this is about the fire, I can assure you-"

Coulson glanced back at him, his brow furrowed as he pushed open a door. "What fire?"

Fitz wracked his brain for a response that wouldn't completely give himself away. "Uh…did I say fire? That's funny, because what I meant to say was that-" He stopped talking, realizing that Coulson had led him not into his office but Homerun's hangar. "Er…sir?" he asked. "Why are we…"

But Coulson simply smirked at him, walking over to one corner of the hangar, where a very damaged red 1962 Chevrolet Corvette forlornly sat.

"Finally picked her up from L.A.," Coulson explained, running his hand over one of the cracked wing mirrors and giving Fitz a sad smile. "Cost a fortune at the place we left her," he sighed. "She sustained a lot of damage from Deathlok and Ward. Her flight capabilities are shot, and the flamethrowers are…operational, but not stable enough that I would try to use them. GPS still works though, which is…weird." He folded his arms, leaning against the car as he turned to face Fitz. "So what do you think?"

Fitz stared at him blankly. "Uh…what do…what do I think about-"

"Can we get her fixed up again?"

"Oh," Fitz said, feeling like an idiot. He slowly made his way around the car, examining the damage with his hand on his chin. "I mean, it might take a while, because you'll have to replace most of the tech and readjust the rotors to get her flying again, but…sure," he shrugged. "I don't see why not."

"Good," Coulson replied, giving him a nod before walking back towards the base. "I'll expect weekly reports on your progress."

Fitz opened and closed his mouth in panic. "Uh…sir?" he asked, starting to follow him. "Are you-"

"Yes, Fitz," Coulson sighed, turning around. "I'm revoking the no touching rule for you temporarily. Just don't abuse it."

Fitz let out a nervous laugh. "That's…that's not what I meant. I mean are you sure this is the best-"

"You're the only one I trust with this," Coulson said simply. "Are you up for the job?"

Fitz stood there in silence for a few seconds, wondering how Coulson could possibly think he was capable of fixing one of his most prized possessions. But he didn't want to disappoint him, either. "Yes, sir," he answered quietly. "But I'm just not sure-"

"Then I'll expect you to get it done," Coulson interrupted. He began to head back inside, but turned around just as he reached the doors. "Oh, and Agent Fitz?"

"Yeah?"

"Next time you want a cake, just…go over to the bakery or something," Coulson said. "Or leave it somebody else? We've only got one mobile command center."

Fitz's eyes widened. "I…er…"

"Come on, Fitz," Coulson scoffed. "I'm the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. now. And the Bus has security cameras. Did you really think I wasn't gonna notice?"

Thankfully Coulson didn't wait for a response from Fitz before disappearing into the corridor. Fitz ran a hand through his hair as he let out the breath he hadn't known he'd been holding in. "You all can come out now," he said loudly. "You're not being discreet at all, by the way."

Three heads peeked around one of the corners, and if Fitz had been more inclined, he might have burst out laughing at how sheepish they looked. They all stepped forward to gather around the car while Fitz began making closer inspections.

"Oh, my God, Fitz, this is huge!" Skye squealed.

Fitz almost smiled at her excitement, but his amusement faded as soon as he saw her hand reach out towards one of the handles. "Don't," he admonished her, briefly tapping her wrist and thankful it wasn't the one she'd broken. "Don't touch Lola."

He saw her mouth hang open in shock, but he quickly addressed Jemma and Trip. "In fact, all of you should take at least two steps back, all right?"

"We won't bother you, Fitz," Jemma promised.

He straightened his back, the sheer magnitude of the task he'd been given starting to hit him as he began to see how much damage the car had seen. "Jemma," he murmured. "I don't think I can-"

He felt her hand brush against his elbow. "You underestimate yourself, Fitz," she whispered. "Coulson knows you can do it. And so do I."

Somehow, even though her words were encouraging, Fitz didn't feel any more confident about the situation. He slowly walked up to the car, running a finger along a deep crack in the door. "I don't understand why Coulson's so sentimental about this thing," he said quietly. "I mean…right now, it's just a car. Can't really do much of anything anymore, and the effort it'd take to fix it would probably be better spent somewhere else, yeah?"

He turned to Jemma. "You said it yourself, Simmons. We're basically fugitives fighting for our lives right now. It's times like these you cut your losses."

And the sadness in her eyes told him that she knew he wasn't just talking about the car.

But it was actually Trip who replied, and Fitz realized that he'd understood too. "Nah, man," he smiled, shaking his head. "It's times like these you stick with the guy you believe in."

He quietly made his way down the empty hallways, not exactly aimlessly but not really with much of a plan either. His nights were mostly like this, wandering Homerun's corridors for a few hours after his shift in Ward's quarters. Sometimes he got in a few hours of sleep, sometimes he didn't. Sometimes he resisted the urge to fill an entire notebook with the strange symbols he still didn't understand. Sometimes he couldn't fight against it. It was always pretty much the same.

He knew he needed sleep, though. Not only was everyone constantly asking him if he was okay, he was starting to feel the exhaustion in every muscle of his body. And yet every night, he lay there in his bed, the symbols flashing across his mind, the unsettling static ringing in his ears, keeping him awake for hours.

Was he going crazy? He really didn't know anymore. It sure seemed like it.

The thought terrified him, more than he would ever want to admit. And he couldn't tell anyone, because he knew what they would all think. Hell, he was thinking it too. How Garrett had done the same exact thing. How he'd carved the same weird symbols into the wall, eventually succumbing to the madness that was now threatening Coulson. It was absolutely terrifying.

Who would trust a madman to rebuild S.H.I.E.L.D.?

Coulson wrestled with that very question every night.

Without knowing what he was doing, Coulson found himself in the hangar, wandering around the Bus. He still wasn't used to the new office at Homerun, so sometimes it was therapeutic for him to get work done in his room on the plane, or to shred up the thousands of sheets he'd adorned with his unintelligible scribbles.

He was just about to head towards the staircase when he heard a strange noise coming from the Bus's comm room. He checked his watch in confusion before reaching for his ICER, confident that no one should have had a good reason to be on the plane at three in the morning. But when he rounded the corner of the room, he lowered the pistol.

The lights weren't turned on, but the glow from the Holocom illuminated the room. Symbols flashed across the screen in the back, the same symbols that had been haunting him for months, symbols that now surrounded him on all sides, reflected in the glass windows and covering the walls. Skye was there, too, but she didn't pay any attention to him. Dozens of papers were scattered around her, and she scrawled something on one before turning her focus back to the screen. He didn't understand what she was doing, but her hands were flying across the keys, and various parts of the symbols lit up systematically.

"Skye?" he asked quietly, hoping he wouldn't startle her.

She turned her head to look at him, but her eyes were out of focus, as if she weren't really seeing him there. And when she spoke, it sent a chill down his spine. Because even though her behavior was scaring him, it was something he'd been waiting to hear for a very long time.

"I know what it means."

FIN

A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who has stuck with me during this crazy ride of a story. Five months, almost 130,000 words, hours of research, and countless tears later, and I'm finally finished. I started this the day of the season one finale, and even though I didn't finish it before the season 2 premiere, it has been such a thrill to get my predictions and hopes out there. I really can't thank you enough for all the support and encouraging comments I've had in writing this. It's bittersweet to end it, but it's also kind of a huge relief. So really, thank you thank you thank you! :)

Shout out to my sister Chloe for 1) being my beta reader, 2) giving me encouragement when I desperately needed it, and 3) lending her amazing voice to the soundtrack. You're the best! :)

I didn't explicitly state it, but the treatment Skye underwent was supposed to be a reference to Terrigenesis. In fact, the title was supposed to be a not-so-subtle hint, with more than one meaning thrown in there (Genesis/Terra).

Also, to the guest who called me out on it, yes, that was a Toy Story reference in chapter 3. I couldn't help myself.

Below is the track listing for the soundtrack, which can be found on 8tracks (under the username msdevindanielle). These are just a collection of songs that I was inspired by while writing this. It's in some semblance of a chronological order, but most of the songs can be applied to more than one scene/character, so feel free to make your own interpretations.

Genesis

1. Marvel Studios Fanfare - Brian Tyler

2. What the Water Gave Me - Florence and the Machine

3. Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This) - Emily Browning

4. Shipwrecked - Shane Alexander

5. Get Up - Barcelona

6. Don't You (Forget About Me) - Chloe Elizabeth

7. Yellow - Coldplay

8. Iris - Goo Goo Dolls

9. Comes and Goes (In Waves) - Greg Laswell

10. Medicine - Daughter

11. Creep - Scala & Kolacny Brothers

12. Only You - Matthew Perryman Jones

13. Easier to Lie - Aqualung

14. Start of Time - Gabrielle Aplin

15. Highway to Hell - AC/DC

Terra

1. First Floor People - Barcelona

2. Running Up That Hill - Placebo

3. Rubik's Cube - Athlete

4. Wicked Game - Phillip Phillips

5. Break Me Down - Red

6. Hurt - Johnny Cash

7. The Mechanic - Brian Tyler

8. Save You - Matthew Perryman Jones

9. I Won't Let You Go - Snow Patrol

10. The Final Battle Begins - Tyler Bates

11. Salvation - Gabrielle Aplin

12. Battleships - Daughtry

13. Fix You - Coldplay

14. I Won't Let You Go - James Morrison

15. On Your Side - SafetySuit

Thank you again from the bottom of my heart!

Much love,

MsDevinDanielle