A/N: Title comes from the Vienna Teng song.
Content Warnings: Non-descript abuse, neglect, some Biblical imagery, mildly implied suicidal/homicidal ideations
Grant is nine years old and he's staring out the window at the storm that's rolling in. The lightning illuminates his yard and he thinks that it almost makes it beautiful. Almost. If he didn't hate it so much. The rain pelts down and he thinks of a story he read, in the old Bible he found in the attic, of a great flood. The flood was important because it cleansed the earth. It was hard for him to understand, exactly, but what he got from it was that the earth was being cleaned of all the bad people.
Grant liked that idea. Because he thought this place could use cleansing. A great big wonderful flood that would get rid of his parents and Maynard.
The thunder rattles and the door creaks open. Instantly alert, Grant jumps and whirls to face the door. It's Finn, holding Lizzie's hand. Lizzie is clutching a worn teddybear in the crook of her arm and is sucking her thumb. Finn looks up at him with wide eyes. "Can we sleep in here? I know we're not s'pposed ta, but—"
Grant sighs and takes in the pitiful sight. Lizzie's wearing one of his old t-shirts. It's a hand-me-down from all three of her older brothers and it's way too big for such a tiny thing. She hasn't said a word since she came in, but she doesn't really talk much. Ever. Finn's wearing pajamas that are much too small for him—Grant makes a mental note to see if he can find anything in his own meager clothing collection that will fit his younger brother. He needs to send them back to bed. He's tried to break them both of this habit so many times, because he's afraid his parents will find out and punish all of them. What for, he's not exactly sure, but they've never needed a reason. He just knows that if they find this out, it will be be bad for all of them.
He doesn't need his parents or Maynard to know that they're afraid of storms.
To be afraid of something is to let it have power over you.
To let other people know what you're afraid of is to let them have power over you.
He sighs again. "Ok. Just this once."
It's not that he minds. He likes having his two younger siblings with him. He likes making them feel safe. He likes being able to protect them.
Finn grins. "You're the best, Grant."
Lizzie reaches her arms up and Grant picks her up. She's so small. He makes a mental note to start saving up a little from his meals to give her later. She needs it more than he does.
He puts his other arm around Finn's shoulders and they walk over to his bed. He keeps Lizzie on his right side and puts Finn on his left side. He pulls the blanket over all of their heads and pulls his knees up to make a sort of tent over them. A blanket fort, if you will.
"This blanket is like Superman's cape. It's going to keep us safe." Grant says softly. It's a familiar speech.
The blanket doesn't do much to mute the storm, but it helps a little.
"See? The storm's not so scary in here."
He can feel Finn nod against his shoulder.
"Ok, time to sleep." He kisses them both on the forehead.
He falls asleep, listening to the gentle rhythm of his siblings breathing beside him and the soothing sound of the storm outside.
Some day, some day soon, the rain will wash away his parents and Maynard, and the three of them will finally be free.
The rain pours down, dousing his house. The flames go out. His parents and Maynard scream. The police come.
From the back of a police car, Grant watches his parents standing in the rain, holding his siblings and shrieking and sobbing to the cops taking their statement and thinks I got it wrong.
The rain wasn't coming for his parents or Maynard.
It was coming for him.
The rain pours down, soaking Grant to the bone.
Buddy snuggles up against him and Ward is stupidly grateful. He's just a stupid dog and he's as cold and damp as Grant, but still there's something comforting about him.
He wonders if anyone is comforting Lizzie and Finn. He hasn't for a very long time. He wonders if thunderstorms still scare them. Or if they're more scared of him now. If they have learned one of life's cruelest of lessons yet: that the monsters outside are not the ones that kill you, but rather the ones inside, the ones who invite you sleep in their bed beneath a blanket fort, and hold you safe.
Mostly he wonders if the rain has to come to destroy him at last.
They're thirty-five thousand feet in the air and flying almost directly beside a thunderstorm. Ward feels the old unease as he watches the rain wash the windowpanes.
He hears footsteps behind him and he's so lost in his thoughts that he startles. Not enough for Fitz to notice, of course, but Ward's heart rate speeds up and he curses himself for letting himself be taken unaware. It's Fitz. He appears to be pacing. He's agitated, although Ward has no idea why.
Without invitation, Fitz babbles, "Sorry to bother you. Normally I would go be with Simmons, but she's sound asleep and I can't bear to wake her. She's been so busy lately and she needs her sleep…"
Grant's not following at all. What does Simmons being asleep have to do with anything?
"I mean, is it even safe to fly in this bloody weather? Couldn't we get struck by lightning?" Fitz's voice is getting that high-pitched agitated sound that he only gets when he's scared.
Oh. Ohh.
"If we were at any risk, May would ground the plane. It's not that bad. We're able to fly around most of it." Ward replies in the most soothing tone he can manage.
"Well, w—well, that's alright then. I—I'll just go back to bed, shall I?"
Grant shrugs nonchalantly. "I'll be up for a while anyway. Want to watch something?"
Fitz also shrugs, trying to look nonchalant. "If you insist."
Ward turns away to hide his grin. "So, Bond or Bourne?"
"Bond," Fitz sniffs disdainfully, "It's not even a competition."
Ward picks one of his favorite of the Bond films and pops the DVD in. The movie starts.
It's not a blanket fort, but it's something. A warm feeling floods his chest. It feels like one of the best things he's done in a long time.
"Ward?"
"Hmm?"
"You're absolutely sure it's safe to be flying in this weather?"
"Perfectly."
Fitz nods, so trustingly. It makes Ward ache. He is the last person Leopold Fitz should ever trust. And, just like that the warmth is gone.
The movie plays on and Fitz is thoroughly enjoying it, but the moment is ruined for Ward. He is thinking about the rain, hounding his steps. Rain that cleanses the evil from the earth.
There is a rumble of thunder. Fitz doesn't notice. He shouldn't. He is good and pure. Innocent, even. The deluge that destroys would never touch him.
But, one day, very soon, it will drown Ward, as he deserves.
He should be thankful for a cell with a window.
He usually is.
But tonight there is a thunderstorm, with the rain beating down in torrents.
Rain that cleanses. Rain that destroys. Because rain is both. Because when something is cleansed, purified, something is destroyed. It's two sides to the same coin.
It's a shame the rain can't get inside to drown him.
-end-