A/N: If you've read Reimagined, this first chapter will seem very familiar. That's because it's the same opening. After this initial chapter, the rest of the content is completely different, so I hope you'll continue reading. I dreamed up two different possible outcomes of the last scene of AOS season 2 based on that first chapter, so I decided to write them both. I hope you'll enjoy this second take on what might happen.
Chapter 1
He tries not to lapse into the hand wringing that has become a very obvious nervous tick over the last year. The last thing he wants to do is call attention to what remains of his injury. He has made vast improvement in that time, but there are still days when it is blatantly obvious that he isn't the man he used to be. A few minutes into the attempted conversation, he realizes that his stuttering and stumbling over words is significantly more telling than any kind of fiddling he might do with his hands. She isn't even looking at him, and it's clear that he is starting to irritate her with his continued unsuccessful attempts to ask the question that has been burning in the back of his throat for days.
He and many of the other Shield agents who had been called into action had spent a few days on the carrier trying to sort out the damage the inhumans had wrought under the leadership of Jaiying. Thankfully, most of them had been cooperative once the truth about their leader had come to light, but there were still countless wounds to treat and systems to repair.
One he returned, he found her far too busy tending to Bobbi's many injuries and doing what she could for Coulson's arm to confront her about her parting words to him, and now that she has access to the Kree stone she seems too enamored with her new project to focus on what he is trying to express.
"No. I don't," she responds to his latest attempt with exasperation. "You keep rambling on and on and I still don't know what you mean."
"Dinner," he begins, but he can't seem to get out any of the other words he wants to say. His nerves are getting the better of him.
"Fast approaching, yes," she agrees distractedly. "And we'll eat it, I'm sure." She is attempting to make sense of the readings their equipment is taking from the artifact. She has a sinking feeling that they need to understand as much as they can about this object as soon as possible. Already deeply mistrustful of alien artifacts, she finds this one even more off-putting than usual and it's making her feel on edge.
Resolved not to be deterred either by his linguistic limitations or her apparent disinterest in anything to do with him, he presses on, stumbling to the point that it will be a miracle if she can understand what he is trying to ask: "Yeah, no, no, no. But, uh. Me and you, maybe we could eat somewhere else, you know. Somewhere…nice."
He reaches up to fiddle with the edge of the container, desperate for something to do with his hands and body that don't add to the nervousness and insecurity clearly evident in his voice.
Upon hearing his stuttered question, she finally stops staring at the monitor to face him. At first, she simply looks, the weight and underlying meaning of the question completely eluding her comprehension. Then, she nods slightly as she begins to understand his meaning. At least she hopes she understands it.
She thought he had no intention of having anything to do with her beyond their half-healed, purely platonic friendship. He'd found her attempt at a conversation about their feelings at least ill-timed if not completely unnecessary several days ago, and he hadn't made any attempt to restart that conversation despite her final words. She assumed that he was trying to let her down gently, but now she sees that he was just biding his time.
"Oh," she manages, at a complete loss for words in the face of the enormity of the opportunity he's presenting. Smiling slightly in case she has completely misread the situation, she searches his eyes to see if this is really what he wants or if he is just trying to be kind. The wary hope she sees is enough to convince her that he is willing to give her and them a chance. She is desperate not to bungle it this time and a little giddy at the though of at least being able to make an attempt.
When he shifts a little and ends up losing his precarious balance on the edge of the container, the slight awkwardness of the moment breaks, and she can't help but smile, both at his bashful demeanor and the promise of the evening to come. Just when she had started to lose hope, he'd offered her exactly what she needed to believe in more, just as he had always done.
He finds her initial reaction a little underwhelming, but, as he rambles on, he sees a twinkle in her eyes and her smile deepen, like she knows what he meant to ask rather than what he did and she finds the thought very pleasing.
"Good, okay. Uh, well, you should come find me when you're finished here, and I'll start working on options to run by you…for that," he offers as he retreats out of the room. He's left the ball firmly in her court again, and now it's just a matter of waiting to see what she decides to do with it. He hopes it doesn't take her months or the possible demise of one of their colleagues to reach a decision this time. Still, the brightness in her eyes as he'd caught her gaze just before his departure and the words she spoke just before he left for the carrier give him more hope than he has ever had that he might be more to her as well.
The happiness buzzing inside of him gives him a kind of manic energy that makes him especially productive in the Garage. It's been months since he's been able to think with this kind of clarity or build with this level of precision. His hands hardly shake, but on the few occasions that they do he manages to avoid the feelings of frustration he usually wallows in during those moments because he's too excited about his evening plans.
Despite his efficiency, he does find his mind wandering more often as the hours wear on. He muses over where they might go, what they might eat, and what they might say. That last bit makes his stomach clinch uncomfortably. There are so many possible directions for the conversation to take, and he hopes that they'll both be satisfied and pleased by the end of it.
He is so caught up in his thoughts that he never notices when he really stops doing anything productive or how quickly the time has passed. When he finally shakes himself out of his trance and glances at the clock, he realizes that it's well past eight in the evening. She must have gotten caught up in her work as well, he thinks. It wouldn't be the first time they had both worked through dinner. Still, in the back of his mind, he can't help but worry that she has changed hers in the last few hours.
He knows that he told her to find him, but he's too anxious to wait for her arrival, so he sets off to seek her out. Of course, the first place he looks is the storage room where they had placed the Kree stone. He is a little surprised when he doesn't find her there and very surprised that she left before making sure the door on the container was closed, especially since she is forever harping about safety protocols and procedures. At least it will give him something to tease her about at dinner.
He wanders around the base for the next twenty minutes, fully expecting to see her engaged in some conversation or pouring over some dataset on her tablet. The longer he searches, the more nervous and downtrodden he feels. She must have changed her mind, he decides. He must have misread her reaction earlier. Though clearly distressed by this latest rejection, he is determined that they will at least attempt to hash out their feelings tonight, whatever they may or may not be. Neither of them can keep going on as they are. It's too painful and awkward.
His feelings of disappointment begin to morph into fear when agent after agent admits that they haven't seen her for hours. Once he has repeated his question more than a dozen times, the fear turns into an icy ball in his stomach. He backtracks to the Garage and uses the holotable to pull up the security feed for the storage room. If he knows when she left, he'll at least have some kind of starting point.
He watches their conversation with a critical eye, thankful that he has left the sound off for now. He winces at his awkward posture and fumbling but feels some of the dread disappear when he sees her smile genuinely after his departure. He hadn't misread her after all. She did want to see where this thing between them could go. His happiness is fleeting.
He swears his heart stops beating entirely from the moment she turns toward the container until the artifact reforms into a solid mass around her flailing limbs. At first, he can only stare at the unchanging image on the screen as the footage continues to play. He is in complete disbelief. What he saw didn't really happen. It couldn't have.
He jabs at the icon that will reverse the video and unmutes the sound. He hears their conversation and notices the faint noise of something unlatching and depressurizing as his hands slips off the container: something he had missed completely in the moment. He holds his breath as the rest of the conversation plays out. His eyes widen almost painfully when he notices that the door is ajar at nearly the same time she does—the door that his clumsiness had apparently unlatched.
He hears her murmur in irritation before gasping as the solid turned liquid erupts from the container. Her aborted scream for help rings in his ears and the sight of her clawing ineffectually at the ground feels like it has been burned permanently onto his retinas.
He allows himself one more moment to gape in horror as he replays the feed again before he tears out of the Garage and sprints to the storage room. What little remains of his heart plummets when he remembers that he had walked into this room less than an hour ago and closed the door on what has become her prison without a single concern for her. His only thought was to tease her. In this moment, he feels sure that he will never laugh again.
Upon entering the room, he flings open the door to the container without any thought for his safety. He slams his hands against the stone repeatedly, calling her name frantically as if she might answer him. He continues his ineffective assault for several moments before crumpling to the ground and giving into the sobs that threaten to tear him apart.
She's gone and he's the one to blame. He is the reason that she has been pulled into some alien rock. He won't give into the thoughts that she might be dead yet. He's seen too many alien objects prevent people from dying or bring them back from certain death. For the sake of his own sanity, he has to believe that she is still alive and that there is a way to bring her back if he is smart enough to find it.
Forcefully stifling his sobs, he presses his palm one last time to the object that now seems like it has only ever been solid stone. He won't get anywhere by sitting here crying. Simmons needs him more than ever before. This is the damn Chitauri virus incident on steroids. He'd helped her solve the problem then, and he'll be the one to solve it now. Rushing back to the Garage, he pulls up the readings from the device and gets to work analyzing its compounds and racking his brain for a solution to the problem. Every so often, he gazes around at his tools, attempting to discern which if any of them will help him bring her back.
A/N: Thanks for reading. The next chapter will be all new content. I hope you enjoy it.