Alright, here we go. I know that my writing is definitely slower, and that is mostly because I'm so swamped by work, my original novel, and a crazy cat emergency (don't ask). So here we go. Quake!Skye and Hellfire!Ward. It's definitely going to be much different from the other version of Mr. & Mrs. Johnson. If you don't want to read this one, then you can continue on reading with the main fic, Mr. & Mrs. Johnson. I'm sure you can all find that one.
Also, the beginning of this fanfic is in Mr. & Mrs. Johnson. You're going to need to read it to understand this.
So here we go.
Skye pats down her body, her pockets, her thin dress. Nothing. No more ammunition for her guns. Once again, she drops down another one of Grant's guns. Now, she can only rely on her Glock 19s. Not many rounds, however. 17. Each.
She grips one of her Glock 19s, and then she shoots out the green-colored wall in hot fury. Insulting her short hair… Why doesn't Grant realize that insulting a woman's features is never a good thing to do? Every woman will be pissed off. Enough to burn the world and everything in it. Her gun jams, and she curses him. She's out again. And she is down to her last gun.
Of course… she doesn't need to use her gun to fight.
She fires her remaining Glock 19 at the ceiling. "Grant…" she sings, a bit mockingly. She glances back and forth. Where is he?
Out of seemingly nowhere, Grant sends her sprawling to the ground. She instantly knocks the gun out of his hand with her feet, and he forces her to let go of her remaining Glock. It slides across the wood floors and into the living room.
Out of sight.
Jumping up, she punches him in the face and hisses, "Not my hair!"
"Too late!" he shouts back. He roughly shoves her against the wall, and in the distance, beautiful china shatters into worthless pieces. The shelves fall over, and Skye quickly mourns the loss of so many plates. All gone, broken.
Well, at least she has warranty.
So that is a bit of a plus.
She knocks her head against his, and then she dashes towards the living room. Another one of her guns is hiding in there. In the fireplace. If she can just get to it…
Or… She can finally kill him. Using her own powers.
He grabs her feet, and she falls to the floor. With the casualness of a man drinking coffee on the sidewalk while watching cars pass by, he smiles down at her and happily remarks, "And now, you are on the—"
Whatever his sentence is, he doesn't finish it.
It's probably sexual in nature.
Thankful for the shortness of her minidress, Skye knocks him in the groin, and he falls to the floor. He loudly groans. She stands up and kicks him in the thighs for a good measure. With a grin and cuts all over her arms, she quips, "Who is your daddy now?"
Then he sweeps her off of her feet with a well-aimed kick at her ankles. She grabs whatever is nearby—a white towel—and pushes herself up. She throws it around his neck, yanks Grant forward, and satisfyingly knee him in the stomach. She slaps him in the face for a good measure. That sound is pure music to her ears.
Then he shoves her across the coffee table. Perfume-scented magazines fall over to the ground, and for a quick second, she realizes that it is her fashion magazines that are on the floor. She hasn't even read them yet, and they are ripped to pieces! She clenches her fist and rolls.
She finds herself on the couch, but she recovers quickly. She jumps up and over the couch. Skye rights herself and places her hands in front of herself. She finds Grant immediately in the same position, his hands sparkling. Glowing.
No, that's not exactly right. They are lighting up.
With fire.
Grant stares down at Skye, his breathing fast. His hands are brightened, and fire licks at his skin. He could feel the heat of them, yet he could only see Skye with her hands in front of her protectively. There is the memory of Trip telling him that she is not his wife. But looking at her shiny chocolate-colored eyes, he can't just deny that she is his wife. This is the same woman he married five years ago. This is the same woman he has dedicated himself to. And this is the same woman that has pulled him out of the darkness.
He knows what choice he'll make even before his body moves.
His mouth opens, and he shakes his head. "I can't. I can't do it."
Her jaw drops in surprise, and her hands… Her hands shake. In fear. In surprise. In horror. And he can't exactly blame her. It's the exact same way he felt when he first discovered this power.
The fire dies away, and he lets his hands fall to his side. He straightens out and breathes slowly. He lets out a calm breath, and he prepares himself. With resignation of the fact that he may never truly know Skye yet he loves her anyway, he tells her, "Kill me. With your hands. With the Glock. With whatever. I won't fight." A pause "You'll be free if you do." A pause. "Do it. I know you could."
"Come on!" yells Skye.
"Do it," he repeats, his voice soft. "Skye."
Skye's brown eyes water, and her hands slowly lowers. Making a quick decision, he crosses the distance between the pair and pulls her face against his. She immediately respond, and he breathes quickly. He hasn't felt this in a long, long time. Too long.
And oh, he has missed Skye for years.
How has he forgotten about her in the first place?
He pulls off her dress, tearing away at the rips. The pieces fall down to the couch, and there is nothing to kill or destroy here. There is just Skye, and she forces him to pull off his collared-shirt. He runs his hands through her too-short hair, and he just smiles as she leans down to kiss him again. He palms her back, running his hands over her hips. Then he kisses her on the shoulder as she runs her hands over the back of his neck.
She could use her hands to kill him right there, and he would die happy.
In the living room, she could hear a knock at the door. Moving out of Grant's arms, she quickly finds the nearest cover—the couch's blankets—and walks slowly to the door. She takes a peek through the hole and then opens it with a smile. "Hello? How may I help you, Mindy?" She nods at the police officer and quietly thinks of a good lie.
"Mrs. Johnson? We have reports of a loud commotion. Is there something going on?" asks the police officer, his hand on his hostler.
Skye chuckles, her cheeks heating up. "Well, we were watching a movie pretty loudly." She turns her head and shouts, "Honey!"
Grant silently paddles across the wood floors, and he peeks around the door with an awkward smile. His black tie is still on his neck, and he is dressed in white boxers. There are a few cuts here and there, but they aren't too bad. "Hey…" His eyes quickly narrow, and his muscles tense a little.
Skye turns back to the police officer and happily says, "It's okay. Everything is alright, Mindy." And as she says those words, she feels like everything is alright.
And she smiles.
They put on some not-so-torn clothes from the walk-in closet, and Grant could feel Skye's gaze as he cooks. Gripping his shoulders and resting her head on her back, Skye notes, "I should have been making you cook breakfast for the last six years."
"Five," he corrects with a chuckle.
"Five or six," she concedes.
He grins at her, and then he waves his hands. The fire quickly goes out, and Skye's eyes widen at that movement. Surprisingly, she doesn't ask—at least, not yet. Together, they eat an omelet out of the frying pan on the floors of the smoked kitchen. Skye pulls out orange juice, and they make some small talk.
Skye gestures to his hands. "So what happened there? How did you—?"
"Get this power?" Grant snorts, but he could remember the cave as clear as day. "It's a long story. But Whitehall, my boss, wanted me to find a weapon. Find it personally, because he didn't trust very many people to carry out top secret missions and such. So I managed to track this object called the Obelisk. A woman was trying to use it, and I followed her into the cave. Unfortunately, she was on Hydra's kill list." A pause. "You know what happened."
"You killed her."
"Yes," he acknowledges, closing his eyes. "It happened two years ago. Anyway, while I was cleaning up the mess, the cave… closed its door or something. I didn't know exactly what was happening, but the next thing I knew, my hands were turning to stone or something like that… I panicked and probably fainted too. When I woke up, all I could remember is fire. It took me a while to figure out how to control it, and I rarely used it, because if Whitehall finds out…"
"What would happen?" Skye tilts her head.
"He would experiment on me."
Silence.
Then Skye remarks, "The eggs are good."
More silence.
"So where do you think we are going from here?" asks Grant, shoving yellow eggs into his mouth. He stares as Skye leans her head against the wall, and she shrugs.
"I don't know," she replies.
"Well, we are going to redo every single conversation we ever had," suggests Grant, trying to start from the very beginning. That day in Egypt. He could probably think of hundreds of truths he has never admitted to Skye. "So anything? Any lies in our background?"
"Tons." Skye snorts. "My parents are…" She shrugs, and then she answers, "Well, my mother is dead."
"I'm sorry."
Stuffing eggs into her mouth, she shrugs again. Then she swallows. "Well, I had a few months with her. It wasn't much, but… it was something."
Grant can tell that there's something bothering her, but he doesn't push it. Instead, he offers up another little detail about himself. "I actually have three siblings. Not one."
"Not just Thomas?"
"Nope," he answers truthfully. He can think of his brother and his sister. He hasn't thought of them in a very long time, and he marvels at the last time he has seen them. It's only Thomas he really cares about, and it's only Thomas who he has seen most recently—just two weeks ago. "You know my older sister as Congresswoman Ward and my older brother as Senator Ward. My sister is of Rhode Island. My brother is of Massachusetts. Thomas and I try not to see their faces in the news."
"Wait…" Skye snaps her fingers. "Senator Christian Ward?"
"Yep," he confirms.
"Wow," she mouths.
Skye doesn't know which one is more shocking—the fact that Grant is an Inhuman or that he is related to a powerful family in Massachusetts. Senator Christian Ward is definitely a name thrown around Shield. Not very often, but more than Congresswoman Ward—whoever she is. But Senator Ward has an influence that can sway the Senate, which is definitely why DC is considering approaching him for some political power in Washington.
But the fire…
"You're related to him?" Skye shakes her head. "But there is no record…"
"Wiped clean," he says, nodding. "My parents and my other siblings like to pretend that Thomas and I have never existed. Oh, and Gamsie. Christian buried our files more than six feet deep, and he made sure that the press will never know our existence, much less what happened to Thomas and I. Hydra helped Thomas, Gamsie, and I build a whole new life. Another identity separate from the… Wards of New England." He huffs, a bit of resentment clear in his voice. "No one really remembers us anymore."
"Then how were you recruited by Hydra?"
But he doesn't answer. His eyes run over her head and widen. Moving quickly, he shoves her to the floor just as bullets rain over their heads.
Yeah. This is a bit similar to the other chapter in the sister fanfic, but it will start differing. The plot is going to diverge.