Disclaimer: I don't own Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.

Note 1: That I am writing this is not an indication that I am actually planning on picking this fic up and doing more with it going forward as a regular thing. But my muse was poking me in the eye with a stick insisting I write this addition to the fic, and I can't resist my muse when it pokes me in the eye with a stick. So I had to get it to stop. Hence, this. For all intents and purposes, this fic is still done. More may still come down the line, but not right now.

Note 2: As with the earlier chapter, this is unbeta'd. However, I am looking for a beta that would be willing to help me clean these two chapters up (and I could then post up the edited versions) and be willing to beta-read future installments and serve as an idea sounding board if my muse pokes me again (though I've made sure there's no sticks anywhere near the cage I keep my muse locked up in most of the time, so it can't roam free and collect even more ideas). If you're interested, shoot me a message via Tumblr (my tumblr is alkenifanfiction . tumblr .com) or the FFN messaging system or something along those lines.

A Sight for Sore Eyes

By Alkeni

Chapter 2: How We Got Here

Thirteen Years Before S.H.I.E.L.D. Fell

Grant Ward had graduated military school. He supposed he hadn't had to stay there, these last two years, but he'd really had nowhere else to go. And there were parts of his schooling that he'd liked. He enjoyed the marksmanship training, the regimented rules and structure of the school. They had always been a refreshing change from the arbitrariness he'd faced every day at home. It wasn't like they needed to do anything for his mother to torture him and Christian and Rose. Christian had never needed a reason to hurt Thomas, to hurt him, to make him hurt Thomas.

Grant shook his head, driving thoughts of his mother and older brother out of his mind. He didn't need to think about them. He didn't need to ever think about them, frankly. Or his father. Christian and Mother were in prison, where they belonged, and his Father was a disgraced ex-Congressman, drummed out of office in a landslide after the revelations about the inner workings of the Ward Family came to light.

If Grant had found out about what Christian had done to Thomas before Rose had done what she'd done...

Well, he'd probably have tried to kill Christian. He knew the state of his own mind then. Even knowing that Rose had gone to the police, the press... finally let the world know about all the dirty laundry that the Ward Family had been hiding behind its wealth and prominence...

The media circus had been hell, though at least the school administration had managed to keep him insulated from most reporters looking for a story. It had taken a lot out of him to testify in court, to face Christian and his mother and tell the world exactly what they'd done, but with Rose's support, with Thomas's support, he'd managed it. Rose and Thomas had been taken out of Father's care and given to their Gramzy...

She'd given him the choice of leaving military school, but Grant had chosen to stay. Though he had visited home a lot more often now, given that home was the townhouse in Boston Gramzy lived in, rather than the estate in the countryside he'd grown up on.

Grant shook his head, driving those thoughts out of his head and looked around the coffee shop where he was supposed to be meeting a 'John Garrett'. Apparently an old friend of the Quartermaster at school, Grant was meeting with him now that he'd graduated as a favor to the grizzled old Marine veteran, who had always been one of his favorite teachers. Something about a 'unique career opportunity'.

Not that I really know what I want to do with my life. He had – and still was – entertaining the notion of joining the Army or perhaps the Marines. He liked the idea of being part of something larger than himself, of the structure he'd come to find so comforting. He'd also considered other options – policing... law enforcement had, in the end, been what saved him and his siblings. If he could give that back to others...

But wasn't like Grant didn't have time. But he'd agreed to hear this 'Garrett' out.

The shop was mostly empty, save for a few other people drinking coffee and reading newspapers, the two baristas behind the counter and one older man typing on a bulky laptop computer.

The sound of the door opening draw Grant's attention and he saw a man of middle age – maybe late thirties? - walk in. He was wearing a suit and tie and held a briefcase in one hand. He almost looked like an accountant, or mild-mannered administrator or bureaucrat. He surveyed the shop carefully, showing an unusual awareness of his surroundings. It was only when the man started walking towards him that Grant realized that this had to be John Garrett.

Not quite what I expected. I didn't know Quartermaster Miller was friends with any suits... or that he'd call suit-work 'interesting'.

The man stopped near Grant's table. "Grant Ward?"

Grant nodded. "Yea. John Garrett?"

The other man shook his head. "John is unavailable, unfortunately. I'm Phil Coulson – John and I work together." He held out a hand, and Grant shook it carefully, just a little hesitant. "Can I sit?"

"Free country." Grant said, shrugging. The man - Coulson - pulled out the chair opposite Grant and sat down, setting his briefcase on the table long enough to open it, pull out a file folder and set that on the table. With smooth, clearly practiced efficiency, Coulson closed the briefcase, set it next to himself on the floor and opened the folder in front of him. Grant wasn't good at reading things upside down, but he did recognize his photo near the top of the first page.

"You're a remarkable young man, Mr. Ward." Coulson told him. "Your hand-eye coordination is off the charts, your physical skills put you at the top of your class and your analytical skills aren't anything to sneeze at either."

Off the charts? Grant hadn't heard that. He was at the top of his class for unarmed combat and marksmanship, but he hadn't even tried for either. Guns... they calm almost naturally to him... and well, he'd had to learn how to fight the hard way before going to military school. "And you're here to tell me about an exciting career opportunity?" Grant couldn't help the slight sarcasm that managed to make it into his voice. Whatever this guy did, he couldn't do anything that exciting.

"Have you ever heard of the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division?"

What kind of name is that? Either the people who named it were idiots, or they'd really wanted the initials to spell out 'shield'.

"Nope. Never heard of it. I'm guessing someone really wanted the initials to spell out S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

Coulson smiled just a bit. "I'd imagine so, but I wasn't around when they founded the agency. We're a specialist organization – we deal with certain... unique issues, world-wide. We keep a fairly low-profile. But we're always looking to recruit promising young individuals like yourself."

"You want me to join a secret government organization?" Grant looked around, almost wondering if there were hidden cameras around. But he didn't think QM Miller would do that to him.

"Essentially yes." He reached into his coat pocket and handed a business card to Grant. "S.H.I.E.L.D. is an organization founded on protection. It's a dangerous world we live in. You've got a lot of native skill, and you could put your talents to use in a lot of places. But if you join S.H.I.E.L.D., we can help you hone those talents to the the utmost. And I can garuntee that you'll wake up every day knowing you're making a difference in the world." He closed the file folder and slid it across the table to Grant. "Read that and give me a call if you decide you're interested." He nodded to the business card and stood up.

Today

Ward was driven out of his reminiscence by the sound of Coulson's voice. He'd been sitting in the kitchen – it was six in the morning, and he could usually count on being alone here most mornings – drinking coffee and eating breakfast, when his thoughts had drifted. He'd done his best to keep them off... keep his thoughts off of her, and he'd managed it... but...

"Penny for your thoughts, Ward?" Coulson asked, pouring a mug of coffee for himself and coming to sit down at the table.

"Just... thinking about the first time we met, Sir." Ward admitted. He looked away for a moment. "Do you ever wonder if things would have been different, if Garrett hadn't been called away to deal with that situation in Madrid right before he could come meet me in that coffee shop? If Garrett had been the one to recruit me to S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

Coulson shook his head. "I don't think anything would be that different. He was your S.O. You served with him for years, and you didn't join Hydra. You're a good man. There's no doubt in my mind that you would never have betrayed this agency."

"You thought Skye was a good person too. Look how that turned out." Ward pointed out, finishing the last of his coffee and standing up, picking up his plate and scraping the rest of his food into the trash. He wasn't hungry anymore.

What if it had been Garrett? Would I have turned out like Skye? Ward didn't think he would have, didn't want to think he would have. Some people were just evil. That was Skye. That's what it had to be.