The Aftermath

Coulson slammed the file down on the table, a single piece of paper clipped to the front of it wafting slightly as he did so. May had never seen him as angry as he was- practically quivering as he glared at Quinn.

"You tell me this isn't true!" he yelled, causing Quinn to flinch. "Tell me!"

Quinn said nothing, staring down at the file. He was, in a way, glad that they had found out. It wasn't that he couldn't take people thinking him to be the bad guy- to many he was the ultimate enemy, and it hadn't ever bothered him. It was more that he wasn't sure how to proceed. He hadn't been sure whether to keep up the act, or just stay silent, but he knew he couldn't tell the truth. Not until he had permission. Now the decision had been taken out of his hands.

"I can't," he said, his voice a little croaky due to the fact that he hadn't spoken for a few hours. "It's true."

Coulson bowed his head, his jaw tight, and leaned on the table. He felt sick. This meant that he had no-one to blame. Except himself.

"Explain," he snapped, sitting down opposite Quinn at the stainless steel table. "Now."

Quinn looked at him, and when he spoke his voice was still husky.

"I'm sure they already did," he said quietly.

"I want to hear it from you." Coulson pushed the file forward, the cover note bearing the official symbol of S.H.I.E.L.D. and Fury's signature at the bottom.

Quinn sighed, clearing his throat. He didn't want to explain, he just wanted to know if she was alright. He'd thought about asking several times, but he hadn't felt he had the right.

"I had to," he started.

"See, that's the part I'm struggling with," Coulson half shouted, folding his arms so that Quinn wouldn't see his hands shaking. He didn't want to hear Quinn justify what he'd done- it was made worse only by the fact that it appeared to be true.

"Naturally, agent Coulson- I can see how this would be hard to understand, especially for someone who cares..."

"WE ALL CARE," Coulson shouted. "Now why don't you tell my team why you put two bullets in our friend?"

Quinn sighed. He wasn't going to get away with asking them to just read the report Fury had sent.

"Director Fury approached me a few months ago and asked me for my help. I've been... playing... the Clairvoyant, working to establish an alliance. No-one has ever gotten close to shutting this down by being the Clairvoyant's enemy, so Fury thought it was worth a shot by... being allied. I agreed."

"And why on earth would you do that? You don't care about anyone but yourself."

Quinn shrugged.

"Survival of the fittest, in the beginning. Fury made me an offer I couldn't refuse- and before you ask, Agent Coulson, I'm not going to disclose the nature of it. That's down to your director."

Coulson couldn't believe what he was hearing. Fury had played him too. He'd never even mentioned an alliance with Quinn, even when he'd asked for permission to shoot his private plane out of the sky. It just didn't make sense.

"Go on," he said.

Quinn swallowed.

"Skye should never have made it to the mansion. She wasn't supposed to be there. Once I realized that the Clairvoyant knew that she was, I had to make a choice."

"So you chose to kill her. Fury give you permission to do that, did he?"

Quinn stared at him.

"Think about it Coulson." He was beginning to lose his patience. "Think about the alternative to what I did. If I had let her go, the Clairvoyant would have known about it straight away. I would have been dead, but what do you think would have happened to her? You think she'd have made it out? It would have been way worse for her if they'd caught her and you know it."

"Don't you dare try to play the hero, you shot her to save your own skin." Coulson stood up abruptly, his chair flying out behind him and crashing to the floor. Quinn stood up too, facing Coulson.

"I shot her because I knew it was her best chance! Once I found her there I knew you'd be right behind! If I'd left her for them to deal with they would have finished the job, and you know it!"

They were both yelling, both angry. Both desperately trying to justify things and relieve some of the guilt they were plagued by.

"How could you be sure we were coming?" Coulson asked, his voice suddenly soft. He wasn't sure how much longer he could keep it all inside.

Quinn looked down.

"I couldn't," he replied. "But you have an annoying habit of turning up right on cue. I tried to buy her time. I... I shot her so that she'd... have some time..."

It had never crossed Coulson's mind that Quinn might actually feel things. He had never been anything other than an enemy to cross off a list, a rich man with a heart of stone and no moral code to govern him. He almost seemed to be... mournful... of his actions. The man wasn't an idiot. He was pretty sure that if he'd meant to kill Skye outright, Quinn would have been able to. Especially at close range with Skye having no way to defend herself. Perhaps there was some truth in Quinn's story. And then there was the fact that Fury had verified it.

Coulson sat down slowly, glaring at Quinn.

"It had to be convincing, Coulson... If they had suspected- if the Clairvoyant had suspected even for a second, that I was trying to help Sky to survive, we'd have both been dead, and there would have been a much bigger mess to clear up."

He'd told Skye when he'd laid her down, that he had his orders too. He had meant that. The Clairvoyant had ordered him to kill Skye, without hesitation. She wasn't a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, but she was dangerous. The Clairvoyant had refused to tell him why, but Skye couldn't be allowed to live.

Fury on the other hand, had ordered him to protect her, whatever it took.

There was something about Skye that was secret, and he didn't know if Coulson knew, but how could he tell him when he didn't know what it was?

He sat down too, swallowing as he looked at the blood spatter on his hands.

"Did she make it?" he asked, trying not to think about it being her blood.

Coulson sighed. It was all so much to take in.

"We don't know." He wasn't sure how much to say. He'd spoken to Fury after he'd received the faxed letter, wanting to make sure that it was genuine- even though it had passed all the high tech tests that Fitzsimmons used to identify genuine S.H.I.E.L.D. correspondence- encoders, decoders etc. Fury had told him not to treat Quinn as a prisoner. This he had ignored for now, keeping it from the rest of the team.

"She's... she's in the hyperbaric chamber that we found in the room where you... Simmons isn't sure she'll make it. It's very serious."

Quinn nodded. He'd tried to hit her where it wouldn't do too much damage, but he'd had no way of knowing how far away Coulson's team were. He'd anticipated massive blood loss, but it had been her best chance...

"So I'm guessing that Fury's told you not to keep me prisoner," he said, anticipating Coulson's reaction.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The room was hot- Italy, in fact, was hot- and wearing a suit didn't help. He hadn't anticipated her showing up, and they'd been almost sure that none of Coulson's team had managed to track them to the mansion. He should have known that if any of them would have it would have been Skye. He'd met her before and despite her having totally played him, he'd liked her.

And here she was, standing in front of him giving him a terrible decision to make. Fury's words echoed in his ears, as did those of the Clairvoyant. She looked at him with wide eyes full of confusion and contempt, desperate to know what had happened to Mike Peterson. The gun had felt heavy in his hand- he'd tried so hard to pass the decision into someone else's lap, but Mike hadn't budged. Deep down it hadn't surprised him- the man was under duress, a hero trapped inside himself. Skye had helped him, and with no clear direction to do so by the Clairvoyant he'd never harm her. Once Mike had left the room, he'd had only seconds to decide what he was going to do. Sky turned to face him, her anger evident.

"What the hell did you do to him?" she'd demanded. The gun was cocked, and he raised his arm. She'd looked surprised, and it all seemed to run in slow motion. He'd made his choice. As soon as he'd pulled the trigger it was as if the bullet had ripped through him too. She'd done nothing wrong- she'd gotten caught up in a mass of evil that wasn't hers to deal with, and here he was having to put her in agony just to save her life. She hadn't fallen- she just stood, staring at him with a confused, surprised expression. She clutched her stomach, the blood starting to spread through her clothes. Seeing her sway, he couldn't let her fall. He ran forward, grabbed her as she collapsed and held her as he lowered her to the floor.

"Sshh," he'd whispered in her ear, thinking how absurd it was to try to reassure someone whilst supposedly killing them. Closing his eyes and wishing there was any other way, he pulled the trigger again, still holding her so that she didn't fall. She jolted, and gasped, holding onto him desperately, clutching at his jacket, the light in her eyes beginning to fade. She was silently begging him for help, and it was so much harder than he'd ever thought it could be to deny it.

He laid her down- on her back so as to cause the least amount of pain, and sat back to wipe the blood from his hands.

If she made it, how could he ever look her in the eye? It played over and over in his mind, in far too much detail. It had been the hardest thing he'd ever had to do, but if he'd had to make the decision again... he'd have done the same thing. The second she'd set foot in the mansion she'd had next to no chance of leaving it alive. She might be unconscious in a hyperbaric chamber, but she was alive, so he'd accomplished his goal.