A/N: Fair warning, this contains Tripp being Hydra and Victoria Hand actually being dead, neither of which I accept in cannon, but they fit this piece. Also, mentions of torture. It gets a little on the graphic side. It's a dark piece, certainly, fair warning.
((TW: death, torture, blood, guns, violence, gore))
"Not until I make him kill you, slowly, intimately, in every way he knows you fear!"
-Loki to Natasha, The Avengers (but you probably knew that already)
He only wants to look in the eyes of the man who is not who Ward thought he was.
No, that's a lie. He wants to ask him how he could do this, ask him if everything was a lie, did Grant ever matter to him? How many of the things has Ward done that he thought were for Garrett, for S.H.I.E.L.D., that he thought were right, were actually for Hydra?
He steps into the interrogation room where they're holding Garrett until they can get a plane to the fridge. He's sitting, cuffed hands resting on the table in front of him. He looks up and gives Grant his trademark smirk of a smile. He nods, like he knows that he would come eventually.
Ward doesn't say anything. Just studies him. Tries to see if there's something different there. Or if there's something that's always been there that Grant had just missed.
"Come with me. Hydra could use a guy like you."
"What?" Grant recoils and then his eyes burn and every muscle tightens in defiance. "I would never-"
"Oh, save me the righteous indignation, kid. You'll come with me."
There's a cold, stabbing feeling in the pit of Ward's stomach.
Ward is not a good man, he knows this. But why does Garrett sound so sure that he will defect?
"You know why? Because you've gone soft. You'll come with me because you want to protect your team."
The cold feeling moves up into Ward's chest, paralyzing him.
Garrett ignores his silence and begins to talk.
"My man, Tripp? He's Hydra and loyal to the core. It's not a coincidence that he's been nosing around your pretty little biochemist. All I have to do is give him the word, and he will snap her neck." Garrett snaps his fingers. "Just like that."
Fury roars through Grant. "You wouldn't-"
"No," Garrett concedes, tilting his head, "You're probably right. She's too valuable to Hydra. We'll ask nicely at first, but you know that the girl's not going to help us. Not-" he gives Grant a meaningful look, "Willingly. But they will beat her and bleed her."
Grant draws in a sharp breath.
"They might even throw her out a plane," he adds, tauntingly. "They will not be easy or kind. They will break her, over and over. Until her last words are your name, wondering why you weren't there to save her, even though you promised. And I will make sure you are there to hear it."
This is an image too horrible to comprehend, so horrible that he has not even thought of it, never pictured her lifeless body, bruised and bloody and broken. Laying there because he couldn't get to her in time.
Garrett continues, "And Fitz, well, Fitz," he laughs, a harsh and ugly sound, "You should have seen that poor weak boy try to be a man; to try to defy me. But he'll cave eventually; they always do. No one stays brave forever when their limbs are being shattered and bolts of electricity are surging through their body. But you know how long that will take, how much he'll suffer and wish he were dead, before he suffers enough to give in. I can get you a front row seat for that, too."
The thought of Fitz being tortured, the mental image of Fitz still trying to do the right thing even as his body surrenders to the pain, is unbearable.
He can't catch his breath, and Garrett knows he has him on the ropes, and so he continues brutally on, "I know you think Coulson's a good man. But in the end, good men all die the same way, screaming for mercy, asking for a second chance, crying for their mothers or their lovers."
He is remembering Skye quietly talking about finding Coulson. He remembers how wrecked Coulson had been when they got him back. He is remembering the fear he felt when he thought they had lost him. Coulson is a good man. He doesn't deserve to die at the hands of Hydra.
"As for Melinda May, well, if Coulson doesn't get her killed first, which, let's face it, is a very real possibility," he laughs again, "She wouldn't even make it to the door. She's of no use to Hydra and she's too big a threat. We'll kill her on sight. She won't even have a chance to fight."
It's not possible, he fiercely reminds himself. There's no such thing as no fighting chance for May. But she's already wounded, and if she walked into an ambush—well. Not even the Calvary is bulletproof.
Garrett leans forward with a malicious smile and Grant realizes with horror that he has only one team member left. Ward tries to block out the man's words, but they get through anyway.
"And Skye. Your precious Skye," he sneers, "So in love with you that she would do anything you ask. You're going to have watch her suffer, too. Watch her die. Watch her give her life for Hydra, sacrifice for a cause she doesn't even believe in. And I don't have to remind you that her comfort will be the last thing on their minds."
Ward lunges forward, grabs Garrett, shoves him hard against the chair back. Garrett's sneer widens into a smirk. He's pushed all the right buttons and he knows it.
"But, Grant," Garrett moves his cuffed hands forward; he can only move them high enough to rest on Ward's abdomen. His touch burns. "It doesn't have to be this way." His tone is a mockery of compassion. "If you come with me, I can talk to the Top Brass about taking it easy on them. You can be there to help make sure it doesn't go too far."
It's a lie.
Garrett's a liar.
But he's always believed almost everything his SO's told him, so he gets up. With a nod he knows Garrett will understand, he starts to leave the room.
He doesn't want to do this, but he has to. He is his team's best chance.
"Ward."
Grant turns back, wearily. He is wondering what else his SO could possibly say to hurt him.
"Do something to prove your loyalty."
Of course.
The gun is hot and heavy in Grant's hands. It's never felt that way before.
Focus. Compartmentalize. Do what needs to be done.
Do something to prove your loyalty rings in his ears again as the gun goes off.
"Good choice, kid." Garrett grins, looking impressed, and Ward has to lower the gun so that he doesn't shoot him, too.
Grant sits down. Tries to breathe.
Victoria Hand's blood running down the vents in the floor makes him want to throw up.
She didn't deserve this.
Focus. Compartmentalize. Do what needs to be done.
He's keeping his team safe.
That's all that matters.
-e n d-
A