He was supposed to be glad. John was alive and not in danger of dying from failing biomechanics in his body. He finally achieved what they worked for. Then why did he feel hollow?
Grant Ward, former level 7 SHIELD agent, present Hydra agent, Clairvoyant's right-hand man, felt as a toy no longer wanted by its master and transferred to the new one. And he was numb enough to not even feel dread at the thought of being in Dr. Whitehall's command.
The only thought in his head was why. They weren't true believers, John and him, right? Then what was the reason they still were part of Hydra? And why did John leave him? Just like that, as if he… didn't matter?
No, no, it can't be. Grant just didn't understand something. John never did anything without a reason. There was a reason for his actions now, too. There must be. Grant just needed to figure it out. Or better, to wait. Until John came back for him and gave orders.
Yes, that's it. He will wait, and everything will make sense and have a purpose. Again. He will have a purpose. He has a purpose. He has.
Doesn't he?
Screams and laughter echoed in a hallway and made Grant hurry his steps. It never was a good combination even in usual situations. Especially in a Hydra base.
He opened the doors without a sound and surveyed the sight before him. Two SHIELD agents, terrified and covering with the male one trying to put himself before the female, and a whole pack of bored Hydra operatives anticipating some fun.
Grant would have wanted to say that he was disgusted at the scene but the truth was nowadays he rarely felt anything through the emptiness spread in him. And if in the past he was proud of his ability to not feel if he didn't need to, now he would have laughed at younger him.
"Having fun?" He deliberately spoke in the pause between different types of noises made by the present in the room and watched as Hydra soldiers sprang to attention as children found misbehaving. Only on them it didn't look endearing.
"Sir!" One of the braver ones (or just stupid) started coming up with the explanation for their activity but Grant tuned him out and just put a bullet in his head. The rest of the predators suddenly turned meek and unassuming, and if Grant was capable of it, he would have felt pleased. But he stopped finding satisfaction in others' respect for him. In particular, then he understood that it never was respect but simple fear.
"Out." Mutts flew from the room, and Grant turned to two even more terrified agents. By the look of them, probably scientists, early to mid-twenties. Did SHIELD start recruiting in high school now?
"I'm not going to hurt you unless ordered." Grant raised hands in what he hoped was a placating manner and picked a file from the table. The scientists – and he was right about that as a quick glance inside the folder confirmed – didn't look reassured and just cowed in the corner even more rattling their handcuffs.
Grant was contemplating locking them up somewhere to get them away from the general population of the base but then he saw their names: Drs. Fitz and Simmons. The ones wanted by Whitehall himself. Their psychological profiles described them as staunchly loyal to SHIELD which left only one option to achieving their cooperation – one which Whitehall will delight in implementing personally.
He felt sick, and in any other case he would have been relieved to actually feel something other than nothing but right now he wasn't.
He looked at the scientists again. So these were the famous FitzSimmons, responsible for many discoveries and technological advancements. They didn't seem that dangerous but looks can be deceiving as Grant have known and used too often.
"Agents Fitz and Simmons?" He didn't know why he even made it a question then everyone in the room already knew the answer. Maybe some twisted attempt at showing manners?
The scientists' twin looks of annoyed defiance echoed his thoughts. He was impressed. Really, he was. They were terrified but still brave. It took a different kind of bravery to remain defiant before enemy with no hope of rescue. Grant was beginning to suspect that he much preferred this courage to the one full of intimidation and superiority rampant in Hydra.
"Do you know why you were captured alive?"
"Because we're smarter than your entire science department," British accent made otherwise insufferably arrogant answer almost pleasant. Not that she was entirely wrong. They were valuable.
"But we're not going to work for you," her partner's voice was steadier than hers but just as full of confidence.
Grant overwhelmed an urge to smile. They were little silly, true. But adorable. Not the adult way adorable, more like puppies, but still adorable. He even felt the tiniest little bit bad about crushing their spirits.
"You will. Dr. Whitehall can be very persuasive then making people comply." They didn't look more afraid as they should be. So Grant continued. "He'll put you through brainwashing, and by the end of it you will comply. The question is how much pain you will go through, and how much of your identity will be erased before you will happily carry out his every order."
Now, they started to see just what fate awaited them. They looked at each other paler than before and just silently hugged each other. It was so low-key that Grant found himself jealous just watching their closeness and strength they derived from simply being together.
How will they look after being put through the Faustus Method? Will Whitehall let them stay together and have some vague idea of the bond they shared? All reports and rumors said that these two worked better then put together but who knows what Whitehall would decide. Maybe they will pass each other in corridors and not even recognize the other.
For some reason this thought didn't sit well with Grant, and he found himself thinking about doing a stupid and dangerous thing. No, scratch that. More like a suicidal – because depriving Dr. Whitehall of his toys was a very bad idea but here he was, wanting to do it, nevertheless.
This out-of-left-field thought shocked Grant. He didn't want anything for himself in a while, his entire universe spinning around John but… John still didn't return for him, did he? And Grant never was loyal to Hydra, only to John, and if disobeying Whitehall will disappoint John, when he damn sure should have given Grant orders that said so and not leave it to freaking Kaminsky to give him news.
No, don't think that, John has a plan, he always has a plan… then why is he, Grant, not in it?
This pissed him off so much that he struck the table, making scientists jump but he paid them no mind. This sudden overemotional state was scaring him. He went for months feeling numb and lost without John, and now he actually wanted something and couldn't shut down like he usually did then feeling something uncomfortable.
Uncomfortable? Since then he thought of being mad at John as uncomfortable? Maybe this will reach John, and he will finally show up if even to finish Grant off after Whitehall was through with him. Assuming there will be anything left after dear Herr Doktor's displeasure.
Grant shivered remembering electrical jolts through his body and Whitehall's voice promising him that compliance will be rewarded.
He didn't fully register what he was doing as he pulled his sidearm out again and aimed it at the scientists. They were so paralyzed by fear and confusion that Dr. Fitz stammered, "W-what a-are y-you do-oing?!"
"Showing you mercy." Grant aimed his gun a little higher, to the forehead wanting to make it as painless and quick as possible. "Believe me, you'd wish you were dead after he starts with you."
"Wait! That's not mercy!"
"Yes, there's got to be another way!"
"Please don't!"
Grant felt disconnected with his body as desperate pleas faded, and Thomas' screams tore through his carefully locked boxes.
He was too afraid to help his brother then. But he's helping now, these two kids, they'll be better off dead.
Are you? Helping them? Or just easing your conscience saying you did what you could?
Thoughts were unwelcome and unpleasantly had Raina's voice. Raina, who always made him feel as if his scores in espionage – second only to Romanoff's, damn it – were nothing. She saw right through him. And his only consolation was that she was dependent on him to continue protecting her from gaining Whitehall's attention and just generally covering up her lack of faith in Hydra's ideals. It was funny but he couldn't explain why he even bothered. Maybe because she was left behind just as he was.
John didn't leave him behind, he had reason, he has…
Grant was thrown back in the real world just as violently as out of it. The scientists were almost hysterical, and involuntarily he lowered his gun. He didn't know why. Not even once before he hesitated to pull the trigger.
Not true, he couldn't shoot Buddy.
Buddy was different, and John was so disappointed in him. Grant promised John that he would fight that weakness inside him. And here he was, not being able to put two enemy agents out of their misery.
But maybe, maybe there was another way. It was terrifying, and John wouldn't like it… John is not here, is he?
Grant holstered his sidearm and turning around left the room not sparing a glance at two captive agents.
Getting two scientists out of Hydra's grasp wasn't that hard as Grant imagined. Tipping police off about a suspicious truck possibly involved in drug trafficking, and prisoners slipping away during the firefight – proving to be as smart as Grant hoped they were – were oddly exhilarating. Grant didn't know if it was mostly excitement of not getting caught or childish desire to stick it to Whitehall. Either way he felt alive as if last several months spent in constant state of numbness never happened at all.
Grant found himself wanting to feel like that all the time.
