This is a funny little story. Its tone is much different than I intended, but we'll just roll with that for now. It's Ward and Lincoln centric, and eventually Fitz. Chapter 8 marks a bit of an end, while chapter 9 propels the story forward again, where to, if anywhere, we shall see.
It might just be this story and my writing, or the focus on the not too popular Lincoln and StaticQuake, or maybe that Ward is in this yet again, or because I'm new to writing for this fandom, but reviews are sparse so I have no idea whether anyone even cares about this. But since it exists, I might as well put it out there for someone else who might stumble upon this and has a soft spot for weird bromances.
This, then, is for you!
If you happen to read this, I'd love to hear your thoughts. And: Thanks for giving this a chance.
...
After Life
...
...
Lincoln: Well, I got to see the world.
Hive: It's beautiful. Smaller than you imagine.
Lincoln: Yeah.
Hive: I only wanted to make it better.
Lincoln: I know.
Hive: To feel a connection. But you must feel that already… to sacrifice for them… with all their flaws.
Lincoln: They're only human.
...
[Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. Season 3. Episode 22]
…
…
"They're only human…"
The words drift out of him like the last breaths he's taking, a little wistful, a little melancholic, and it's a strange feeling, dying, knowing that he's here with Hive, and realizing that he doesn't hate his fellow Inhuman. Or, not anymore.
They both look on, their thoughts going a mile a minute before slowing down again, zoning in on just a few faces, feelings.
Daisy.
Skye.
So this was his purpose then. He, too, was meant to save her, to save humanity. In the end, he will save more lives than he could have ever saved as a doctor, and he chuckles briefly at the thought, stopped only by the icy-hot pain in his side.
He's dying, the question now is just whether he will still feel the explosion tearing him apart, or not. And will there be a real "Afterlife," after death? He feels strangely at peace, he told Daisy he loves her, he saved the day, he…
...
Lincoln's unconscious, almost dead body drifts on for another few seconds, toward Hive, or Ward, or Will, or whoever he now is, and for some odd reason Hive/Ward/Will finally feels a real connection to someone, to this kid, now, when facing certain death. He chuckles briefly at the irony as the body floats so close to him that he can reach out and pull it close. He is not sure why he is doing it, but he keeps holding on to Lincoln Campbell with a desperate fierceness, both of them not alone now, and it gives him peace.
He is in awe at the other one's devotion to a race not his own anymore, and more so, at the kid's forgiving tone. There was no hostility between them in these last moments, just acceptance, and finally, finally his own anger and emptiness just float away, too, out of him, away.
...
The explosion happens without a sound - they are in space after all - and they don't feel anything anymore, don't see anything anymore.
...
But Daisy, Daisy down below is devastated, like someone pulled the floor out from underneath her feet and she is falling falling falling…
He never had a chance. She never had a chance. They didn't have one. Now Lincoln is gone. Ward is gone, too, and that at least should feel good, but it doesn't. It doesn't.
It's all a gaping wound and it hurts so much. So much, and she can't…
... breathe.
…
...
There's a beam coming down, invisible to the human eye, as the two bodies get extricated right before it is too late and they would have been blown to smithereens.
It's not the Chitauri, or the Kree, or anyone they know for that matter. But while space is quiet, it's not empty, and there are things to be learned and things to be detected.
They studied him, Hive. Wanted to see how he takes on the humans and destroys them, or ensnares them. They were impressed mostly, but then something went wrong.
Now they get to study both him and one of the ones who defeated him. They'll get to figure both of them out, and when the time comes, they won't make the same mistakes.
They'll be better. They'll be the ones conquering this lush planet for themselves, and one thing is sure: they won't need to enslave all of humanity. It's better to get rid of most of them, maybe hold onto the few advanced ones, as laborers. That should suffice.
…
As life goes on down on earth, as Daisy fights her demons, as Coulson gives up and gains back responsibilities, as S.H.I.E.L.D. emerges back out of the shadows, Grant Ward wakes up in a too bright cubicle or cell or… He really isn't sure what it is, all he knows is that his eyes hurt so bad that he can barely see, and when they finally adjust a bit, he notices that he is strapped to a gurney, fluorescent lights above him, his body naked and too cold. Way too cold.
He tries to yell out, but not a sound escapes him, and only then does he realize there's a tube down his throat and he fights the panic bubbling up inside of him.
He's hyperventilating. Not good. He needs to concentrate. Concentrate! With jerky movements, he swivels his head to the sides, trying to assess his situation.
White walls, looking shiny and as if they are alight with an inner luminescence. The gurney is surrounded by strange monitors, beeping and humming, but he can't read any of the signs he sees, as if this is not…
Human.
This prison is not man made. Wherever he is, it's probably not earth.
The realization is mind boggling, and so vast that he simply has to turn his focus elsewhere. Inside…
There's a strange emptiness inside of him, like he is missing a part, and suddenly he remembers. Bits and pieces at first, then a whole avalanche.
His family, the abuse, the pain, the loneliness. The dog. Garrett. His parents, his brothers, the things he did. And why did he do that, he only wanted to protect Thomas, how could things have gone so wrong, how could he go so wrong, become a monster, a killer, a man who hurt his friends, who…
The beeping in his ears grows too loud.
He is Hive, he is the bringer of evil, no no no no no - and all he ever wanted was for the pain to stop and the loneliness to go away, and…
Skye.
That kid's words. "I know…" Lincoln; Skye's Lincoln (of course...). His sudden surprising understanding for someone like Hive, something so… evil.
A connection. He is not alone anymore. He is not really Hive anymore, he is—
The beeping calms again, then abruptly picks up as he sees…
Them.
…
He wakes up without remembering falling asleep, or… losing consciousness is probably more like what actually happened.
His eyes dart around the room and he doesn't need long to notice that he is somewhere else now. He scrambles up where he has been lying slumped on the harsh cool floor, and waits for his eyes to get accustomed to the much darker light. It's dim and too humid. Still cold, too. He can feel the goosebumps erupting on his skin and is glad that whoever his captors are bothered giving him a shirt and some sweatpants, nothing much, but better than the nakedness by far.
He looks around some more, feeling slightly dizzy, and a bit angry, too, that he doesn't remember what happened. He stands up, very slowly, feeling aches and pains in his body. His throat is sore from where the tube had been stuck down, and when he now lifts his shirt gingerly, he notices random cuts, his features darkening as his mind puts the pieces together and he understands what is going on.
He is being experimented on. By whatever creepy alien race fished him out of space. Perfect. If that doesn't seem like a bad cliché.
He shakes his head, sniffling in the cold as he continues scrutinizing his surroundings. The place is surprisingly large, maybe twelve by twelve feet, and rather barren. There's a cot in one corner, with a heap of blankets on top, and behind a half wall, a small wash stand and a toilet, at least more private than a prison cell on earth, he randomly thinks before a sudden movement catches his attention and he realizes that under the blankets, there's actually another body.
With his memories having caught up with him before, harsh and unforgiving, he thinks this can only mean one thing: that the man who stopped him (or what he was at the time) is here with him, incarcerated just like him, and he scoffs a little at the poetic randomness of it.
Guess fate doesn't care whether you overrule or safe the world. If he was religious - which he really isn't anymore (because, frankly, working with S.H.I.E.L.D. and HYDRA, and turning into Hive have taught him otherwise) - but if he was religious, he would now know that even god doesn't care whether you give your life for the good cause. Because if Lincoln Campbell is here with him, in this... this hell, then god has left them to their fates long ago and there is no justice.
…
...
Pain is the last thing he felt and pain is the first thing he feels now.
Lincoln's eyelids flutter as he tries to peel them open, but it is so damn hard, and his side is on fire, when it really shouldn't be. Not anymore. Because he should be dead, right?
Daisy saw it happening in her vision. He saw it, too, sitting there, with a warhead so close, with Hive even closer.
He remembers their last conversation, his sudden… almost compassion for that lost Inhuman, and then…
Nothing.
Death came swiftly, but what he doesn't yet know and will soon find out, is that someone else came to his "aid" just in time, and just as swiftly. And here he is, his bare back against the almost freezing surface of a gurney of some sort, and the searing pain in his side is back full force, consuming him, and when he tries to look, tries to make a noise - a moan of pain perhaps or an involuntary whimper - he can't, because his whole body is paralyzed and he can't move. There are… people around him, or… he isn't sure. They don't look like people, more like… aliens? But that can't be right, his body and mind are probably just shutting down and he's in a state between life and death, because sure as hell this can't be the actual afterlife, that which comes after death.
He doesn't feel dead, though, the pain is way too intense for that.
No. Shit. This can't be it. It can't be. It can't be…
Daisy…
He tries to focus on her, then on taking a deep breath, but he can't, some machine is doing it for him. This is not good.
Frantically, he tries to look around, tries to move his arms, but he feels the hard pull of restraints of some form and then the pain in his torso grows even more, if that is even possible, and he hears the clicking noises of another machine… or, no, of the aliens, all closing in on him with their beady eyes and too long limbs and he feels a panic come crashing over him like a wave of a darkness as alien as the faces around him, something he wants to fight, needs to fight, but he can't. He can't, because the pain—
...
It's just like when HYDRA had him. Maybe even worse. He can't do this again. He almost died the first go around, and back then he hadn't started out with a bad injury and a miraculous rescue from a suicide mission.
He swallows, his mouth too dry, his lips cracked, and he gives up, using his last strength to focus on something, anything to take his weary mind off things.
Daisy… Always her.
All he ever wanted was to live a quiet peaceful life. And to help people… He almost chuckles, before a new wave of pain washes over him, radiating through his entire body from the site where James hit him what feels like ages ago. In another life.
At least he spared her this fate that is worse than death. He couldn't bear to think Daisy had to go through this, too. Or anyone, for that matter.
Freaking Afterlife. He kind of wishes someone could come and destroy this one, too. But why would they. No one even knows about it. There is no hope. He is alone.
The next time the pain explodes in his body, his conscience shows mercy and whisks him down a dark spiral until there is nothing anymore.
…
"Lincoln?"
He hears the voice but he's too exhausted, too spent to open his eyes and look for its source. Who here would really know his name anyways? Unless… the aliens can probably read his mind.
"Lincoln. Come on, kid."
Kid? That's new. He is no one's kid anymore and he doesn't think anyone here would call him that, either. He can hear someone's loud sigh, feels a weight shift right next to him, as if someone just sat down.
"Kinda fitting that I'd end up stuck here with an almost dead boyfriend of Skye's…"
Skye. Not many call her that anymore. Even Coulson rarely slips up anymore. Ward, on the other hand...
Lincoln manages to finally open his eyes and turn his head the slightest bit. Everything hurts, even that small gesture, just like the shocked gasped breath he takes next and that burns in his lungs like mustard gas.
"Ward?!" Incredulity makes him momentarily forget his current state and he tries to pull himself up and into a sitting position too quickly, instantly regretting it.
He hisses out, grimacing, and doesn't even mind or care when he feels Grant freaking Ward gently pushing him back down.
"Easy, kid. Don't want to rip out your stitches."
"Stitches. Wha'?" Still confused, still out of it, Lincoln tries to sit up again, but Ward's strong hands are still on his chest and the man shakes his head at him, a surprisingly soft and friendly… smile on his face.
"You're in even worse shape than I am, and that's saying something, seeing as I… my body was dead for much longer than yours." Grant grins briefly, finally easing up on his grip. "Stay down, okay? We'll have to try and get you back to health. I'm afraid you and I will have to work together if we ever want to escape this godforsaken hellhole."
He gives Lincoln a gentle pat on the arm, but even that makes him grimace and Ward actually apologizes, leaving him more confused than before.
So he's not alone after all. Instead, he's stuck in hell with one Grant Ward, formerly (or is he?) Hive, formerly S.H.I.E.L.D., formerly HYDRA, formerly a friend to his team, also a torturer, a killer, and the ex-boyfriend of his girlfriend - if he can even still call her that after... this. She probably thinks he died. As he should have.
"We should be dead…"
Grant swallows, his throat moving as he does. "Yeah, well. I've come to accept that strange things happen to me. But, consider yourself lucky. I may not have an Inhuman in me anymore - at least I don't think so, but I'm a human cockroach if ever there was one, and you know what they say about those." He pauses briefly, but not because he wants an answer. Lincoln doesn't have the strength to talk more anyways. "So, you're in the best company you probably could be under the circumstances. And since I need your help, or more like, your powers, I'll do my damn best to make sure we can get you strong enough to spark this place up."
Yeah, Lincoln thinks. He really should be dead.
But he isn't. And neither is Ward. He looks up at the man, his gaze clouding over, and he wants to try and stay conscious, wants to try and talk options, be hopeful, but it's so hard and he is so exhausted and Ward's gentle touch against his neck, as if making sure he still had a pulse, is the only thing clueing him in on the fact that he's lost the fight against unconsciousness yet again, at least for the time being.
They'll have to make plans another time. At least now he knows there is still hope, if little. Maybe, maybe they will get out of this. Maybe he will see Daisy again after all.
...
"Good. You rest, kid." Grant is mumbling to himself. He slides off the cot and sits down leaning against it, where he can hear the labored breathing of his cell mate, where he feels like he is not alone. He'll get the kid back in shape somehow, at least enough to light a spark. He has to. And then... "We'll get out of here. I'll even get you back to Skye. If she doesn't kill me first..."
He chuckles, but without humor. He knows he's done too much bad in his life and he doesn't even understand why he of all people gets so many extra chances, but he'll be damned if he doesn't take this one.
There is still hope for them, there is still hope for Grant Ward, and this time, he's going to make amends and earn it.
...
Time to escape this freaking afterlife...