A/N: This is a story I have been meaning to write for ages and since none of my other works are very cooperative right now, I've finally decided to sit down and get it out of my system.

Three Hours – Chapter 1

At least they had given him a car, Hunter mused as his fingers traced over the smooth steering wheel in front of him. Sure, it probably came with a tracker embedded and he was going to ditch it at the next opportunity, but considering the alternative, that Talbot's men could have dropped him in the middle of nowhere again, only without a helicopter picking him up this time, he actually appreciated the fact that they had provided him with a car to return to the SHIELD base.

Aside from the tracker, there was also of course the four-man detail that had been trying to tail him without arousing his suspicion ever since Talbot had sent him on his way – and was failing miserably at it. They were back in the city by now, but even in the accompanying traffic, Hunter had no trouble spotting his pursuers.

He briefly checked the rear view mirror to confirm that the grey sedan three cars behind him was still there, and was quickly greeted by the now all too familiar sight of a black pair of sunglasses beneath a sharp buzz cut in the driver's seat. The mercenary scoffed at the idea that Talbot seemed to be serving as a role model for his men when it came to fashion choices, despite how unfavourable this look was for undercover work.

Even without their lack of inconspicuousness, Hunter wasn't too worried about his shadows. He had played this game far too many times already to be bothered by a tail – or four – and he knew that it was only a matter of time and patience before he would be able to shake every last one of them. Not that that would do him much good, though, if he didn't get rid of this car first and the tracker in it that had to be broadcasting each of his movements right now.

Hunter sighed and rubbed the back of his neck out of habit, but winced as he brushed against the cut at his hairline that he had suffered during the crash earlier. The pain was sharp and abrupt, but ultimately it was nothing compared to the constant pounding in this head that was plaguing him ever since the accident.

'Accident', yeah, right…

Hunter groaned as he pressed the palm of his hand against his temple, trying to stifle at least some of the pain, but to no avail. He knew he probably had a massive concussion, but as there was nothing he could do about that right now, he chose to focus on his task ahead instead: Find a new mode of transportation.

"I suggest you pick one with an air conditioning this time. The military really gets cheaper every year," a female voice beside him suddenly complained, causing Hunter to completely lose sight of the road ahead of him and swerve dangerously in his lane. With a slack-jawed expression, he stared at the dark haired woman sitting in the passenger seat next to him, unable to think straight, let alone say anything.

Yep, definitely a concussion…

It took him a long moment, until he managed to regain at least some of his composure, even though shock and confusion were still written all over his features.

"Izzy…" he choked out, his headache intensifying as his mind was scrambling to make sense of the situation. His friend was looking exactly the same as the mercenary had last seen her, minus the fact that both of her arms were in perfect condition and she appeared to be very much alive.

"Hunter," the agent replied in a mocking tone, a sly grin on her lips.

"But… But you're—"

"Dead? Yeah, I heard," Izzy replied casually, a good-natured sparkle in her eyes. "Kind of sucks, doesn't it? Let me tell you, if I ever meet Idaho in whatever comes next, I'm seriously going to have to kick his ass for that driving. I mean, just keep your eyes on the road, it's not that hard, really," she pointed out, prompting Hunter to glance at the street ahead of him once more, to make sure he didn't repeat his friend's mistake.

For a second, Izzy's lips had hardened into a thin line, a deep frown creasing her eyebrows, but then her expression quickly mellowed, leaving nothing but slight annoyance. In the end she shook her head, conceding. "I didn't want to die, Hunter, but what's done is done. I guess I might as well move on now, you know?"

The mercenary glanced around the inside of the car for a second, before looking back at Hartley, one eyebrow cocked slightly.

"So this is you moving on?" he asked sceptically, still uncertain about whether he was losing his mind right now or not.

"No, I don't think so," Izzy chuckled while she regarded Hunter with a fond expression. "This is either me haunting your lazy ass for a while, just because I can, or you hallucinating after having your head bashed around the inside of a tumbling car. But really, take your pick, either option works for me," she pointed out with a carefree grin spreading on her lips.

Hunter sighed once more and pinched the bridge of his nose as he closed his eyes for a moment, his other hand maintaining only a loose hold on the steering wheel. The pain in his head had already been bad enough before, but now after Izzy's appearance it seemed to have become even worse. Although, a part of him was glad that it had at least been distracting him from the hollow ache in his chest that he knew had nothing to do with any physical injury.

Hunter took a few deep breaths, his eyes squeezed shut tightly as he was trying to fight off the wave of nausea that now accompanied the pounding in his head. He couldn't help slumping down in the driver's seat, though, just before Izzy's voice called him back to attention.

"Hey, eyes on the road, soldier!" she ordered harshly, but also with a strong underlying tone of concern. This finally got Hunter to focus on the street ahead of him again, just as he had been about to drift out of his lane.

"Bloody hell!" the mercenary pressed out in shock, his words being drowned out by the angry sound of a horn blaring at him from the oncoming car he had just barely avoided hitting.

Hunter's fingers tightened into a vice-like grip on the steering wheel as he took a rattled breath, trying to compose himself. He knew it was about high time to get off the road and so his eyes started scanning his surroundings, looking for a nearby place that would also give him the opportunity to find a new vehicle, once he had had a moment to recover.

The mercenary was well aware that here in the city, the risk of prying eyes couldn't be avoided completely, and yet he was relieved to find a half empty parking lot only a little further down the road, that he immediately headed towards. The restaurant it belonged to seemed to have seen better days, but the lack of passing by customers only agreed with Hunter's desire for a moment of peace to calm both his nerves and his resounding headache.

After he had turned off the engine, he sat in silence for a while, unmoving, painfully aware of Izzy's gaze resting on him. He knew of course that she wasn't really there, that his messed up brain, combined with the trauma of losing her, was causing him to imagine her sitting next to him, but that wasn't diminishing the sting he felt in his heart every time he looked at her.

"I'm sorry, Izzy," he finally began, only for her to interrupt him immediately.

"For what, Hunter? For trying to save my life?" The agent didn't give him a chance to answer, however, as she continued in a stern voice. "You did what you could. You even had the guts to cut off my arm, for heaven's sake, and if this absorbing guy hadn't crashed our car, I probably would have made it. Thanks to you," she emphasised. She had turned in her seat by now, one arm resting on the dashboard, and was staring at the mercenary with the same intensity he had seen in Izzy's eyes countless times before.

"Yeah, but you didn't, because we were out here alone, thanks to me," Hunter objected, his voice filled with guilt and regret. "Maybe the others were right and we should have stayed with the team. Maybe then you'd still be—"

"'Maybe' doesn't mean shit, Hunter!" Hartley suddenly burst out, causing the mercenary to fully turn his head towards her. "We weren't prepared to take on Creel – I should know, I was there – and everything either of us did on that mission was us trying to do the right thing while under extreme pressure. Hell, looking back, I probably shouldn't have grabbed that damn 0-8-4, but it's not like you forced me to leave afterwards. I mean, please, as if you could have." The dark haired woman scoffed and rolled her eyes at the mere idea of Hunter forcing her to do anything.

Then Hartley became quiet for a long moment, her eyes studying the Brit, and her tone was much more subdued as she finally spoke again.

"If I had thought staying with the team was best, I would have told Agent May to kick your ass back in line, but I didn't. I was scared, Hunter, probably even more than you," she let out a soft chuckle at this, "and getting out of there to find a doctor didn't sound like the worst of plans. I mean, it's not like you dragged me out of there by my hands and—"

Hartley broke off at this and looked down at her left arm, which was suddenly in the same condition as it had been in her final moments – cut off right above the elbow.

"Oops, sorry, bad choice of words, I suppose." The agent actually managed a lopsided grin at this point, but for Hunter, seeing what he had done to his friend earlier, ultimately completely in vain, was the final straw. It allowed the pain and nausea he had been trying to suppress for a while now to completely take over.

He realised he had to get out of the car, now, and after struggling with the seat belt for several frustrating seconds, Hunter bolted out of the door. He only made it a few steps, however, before he stopped, swaying dangerously, and bent over to start hurling.

Once he was done throwing up the remains of his breakfast, Hunter wiped the back of his hand across his lips, doing his best to ignore both the bitter taste in his mouth and his sudden light-headedness. He threw a glance back at the car at this point, and realised with a confusing mixture of relief and disappointment that the passenger seat was empty now, Isabelle Hartley nowhere to be seen.

The mercenary let out a deep breath, but just as he was about to force himself to move forward again, another familiar voice held him back; a male one this time.

"Feeling better now?"

Idaho.

To be continued…

A/N: I know Hunter's injury here is significantly worse than what was displayed in the actual episode, but I figured that if his concussion was bad enough to let him see dead people, it would also be a lot more painful than what we've originally seen. I hope you don't mind the departure from the show at this point, as I felt it was necessary.