Disclaimer: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. is owned by the amazing Joss Whedon.
Author's Note: For those who might be confused about the title: in Matterhorn, the main character mentions that it was a fad of generals to name hills after the Swiss Alps. There are two peaks named Castor and Pollux who, if you read mythology, are the twin boys of Leda and Zeus/Tyndareus of whom, one is mortal and the other immortal. The intent was to hint at the duality of Ward while keeping with the theme of the novel.
"How would I kill someone?" Ward peered over his copy of Matterhorn to look at Skye, hands on her hips. There was a lingering silence as Ward carefully placed his bookmark in his book and lowered it to the coffee table.
"What, exactly, brought this on?" Ward's eyes never left Skye's face as he searched for some tell to clue him into Skye's thoughts. Another uncomfortable silence passed. "Listen, I'm just asking because you're my S.O. and you've killed plenty of people without worrying or thinking about it." Skye crossed her arms in front of her chest and shifted weight to her left foot. More silence. "Forget this. I'll ask A.C. instead." As Skye turned to leave, Ward began.
"Killing someone has nothing to do with thinking. There is no time for thought. It is more a, state of mind." Skye froze, but remained with her back to Ward. "Killing is a part of defending yourself. Like when you have a gun pointed at you. You've been trained to react by disarming. You haven't been trained to disarm and retaliate."
Skye turned and looked at her S.O. "You told me once that you didn't feel very good about killing. Yet you continue without any remorse." She looked directly at him, which gave Ward and strangely uneasy feeling. "That was a half-truth. The honest truth; I love killing. The body is literally experiencing a reward for accomplishing a task, especially if there is an emotional tie to the task. You only feel regret afterwards. And even then," a small smile spread across Ward's lips, "it still can be a feeling of elation."
"Does that mean you'll teach me?" Skye asked, hanging on Ward's words. Almost immediately Ward responded. "No. The idea that you, or FitzSimmons for that matter, would ever have to endure the physiological implications of taking another human being's life will not by my enduring legacy to this team. I will teach you how to defend yourself. I will teach you to deal with the stress of being shot at. (Skye gave a little snort, "done that") I will not teach you how to turn that voice off in your head that makes you hesitate when you have your pistol leveled at another human." Signaling the end of the conversation, Ward picked up his novel and began reading again. And it was not without irony, he thought, that he picked up with Vancouver's heroic stand, holding off the NVA for another ten seconds at the price of his own life.
For some reason, in the back of Ward's mind, he believed that teaching Skye how to kill would somehow mean his life. That little voice nagged him. All the logic in the world couldn't stop the voice from reminding him that maybe, it was more than just his own life he was worried about. Maybe, his soul was worth saving.
"Why did you have me read that stupid book anyway?" Ward looked over at Garrett. "As far as I can tell, it's about a guy who can't get over Vietnam."
Garrett smiled. "It's about us Grant. It's about how we are on the ground, bleeding, and how they don't get it. They think they do, but they don't. Once you're part of the bureaucratic machine, you can never leave, and it take your good sense away. They don't care about us, they only care about the numbers. And if it's a numbers game, then I'm betting that, 9 times outta 10, people will side with their ambition."
"And making me read 700 pages of this…" Ward waved the sizable book in the air, "was easier than just saying that?" Garrett smiled again. "What can I say? I'm a sucker for a good story. Which reminds me, did I ever tell you about that time in Costa Rica…"