Author's Note: Ches, ches, I know some paragraphs are repeats. They didn't need fixing. The good news in, about a third into this chapter, we take a whole different turn since we're starting in season one. So enjoy!

Rating: T (for language and violence)

Disclaimer: All rights go to Marvel. I own nothing but my OCs. Mainly Nicky Latimer. Yeah, pretty much just him.

Editing: All editing is done by me, I take responsibility for my mistakes.

Chapter One

Nicholas dreamt a lot.

Most of the time they were normal dreams, about girls and cars and…well, that was about it. Other times, they were worse. A lot worse.

The dreams about Dubai started shortly after the incident. They all ended with Nicky dying. Not surviving. Shot through the throat and bleeding out as the compound exploded. He had them every night since the disaster for nearly three months.

Ever since Nicky had gone off the grid, he'd been trying to stay on the down low. But the dreams were getting worse and worse. He knew a psychologist; an excellent one, in fact. He worked at Culver University and Nicky was staying quite close to the college shortly after the incident. He also used to work for SHIELD. Nicky knew he'd be taking a chance, but he trusted Andrew Garner to not report him in.

And luckily, he didn't. Three months after Dubai, Nicky started to visit Dr. Garner. A week after their sessions, the dreams started to slow down. A month after their sessions, the dreams stopped all together. With no reason to continue seeing Andrew, Nicky paid him for the sessions, as well as compensation for his silence. And Nicky's location stayed a secret.

He did keep in periodic contact with Alphonso Mackenzie, though. He talked to him every month or so, and Mack caught Nicky up on what he was allowed to tell him, including the marriage and divorce of Hunter and Bobbi. It was almost ironic when it came to Dubai. A shame, too. They seemed to fit so well together.

In a year or so after Dubai, Nicky moved to Fairfax, Virginia. He was aware of the short distance from Fairfax to the Triskelion and Washington, DC, but Nicky convinced himself it was just bad luck. He didn't want to even think about the possibility that he was starting to miss his job. Because he wasn't.

He wasn't missing Lance Hunter. He didn't miss covert missions or the feel of his M4A1. He didn't miss the thrill of an undercover operation. He didn't miss the jabs he shared with the various teams he worked with over the years.

He didn't. That's what Nicky kept telling himself.

It became a bigger and bigger lie every day.

On the other hand, Nicky was leading a good life. He had gone from Nicholas Latimer, former MI6 agent turned mercenary from London to Noah Logan, Penn State business major graduate from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. He moved to Fairfax and got a job in construction. For a while, Nicky even dated a girl for a solid four months before the two agreed to break up mutually, because of work and the fact that both were too busy for a relationship. The two had stayed friends, though, and got in touch every once in a while.

All in all, Nicky couldn't complain. He was far from his former life as a mercenary and he hadn't heard from Hunter or SHIELD in a year or so. Things were starting to look up. That was only temporary, of course.

September 24, 2013 – Fairfax, Virginia

The dreams came back that night.

Nicky dreamt he was back in the compound. It was the same dream it had been fifteen months ago. Hunter walked away from him. He killed the guards. He unlocked the cell. He got a bullet to the neck. Dr. Killian fled the scene. The compound exploded moments later, killing him and the children inside.

He woke up a cold sweat, sitting up in his bed. Nicky's chest heaved as he took deep breaths, trying to calm himself. His hand flew to the scar on the right side of his neck, right where his collarbone was. It was still there. It wasn't in the back of his throat.

Nicky sighed, leaning back against his headboard. The fan rattled above him, just like it had over a year ago when he'd gotten the call from Fury in Malibu. The only difference was there was no Stacy – Samantha – whatever her name was under his arm. There was no beach view from his expensive mansion. No sixty-two inch flat screen TV, no Jacuzzi tub, no water jet shower. Just a regular thirty-two inch, regular tub, regular shower. And no girl.

The sweat on Nicky slowly dried as he took his time on his breathing. It was in and out, slowly, steadily, thinking anywhere except on Dubai. Except on Hunter and Morse and Mack. Except on the children who died that day.

His little house in the country was quiet that day. Normally, he'd hear the Amish neighbors cows mooing or the chickens squawking. It was nice for a change, albeit a bit strange. Nicky chanced a glance at the clock. It was nearly 5AM. Definitely strange. It was soothing though, so Nicky didn't question it.

Until his phone rang.

Seriously? Now? At 4:49 in the morning? The calls reminded him of his time as a mercenary, and Nicky pushed the thoughts aside before they got too painful. He reached over and grabbed his phone, glancing at the screen. There was no caller ID on the number. That was never good.

Nicky thumbed it open. "Noah Logan speaking, how may I help you?" His voice was thick and hoarse as he spoke. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed to get a glass of water.

However, when Nicky heard the voice on the other end, his blood turned to ice.

"Nicholas Latimer? My name is Phillip Coulson and I believe we've worked together a few times within SHIELD. I don't have the wrong number, do I, because this would be terribly awkward."

Nicky dropped the American accent and his tone became cold and distant as he made his way to his small kitchen. It was déjà vu, and Nicky felt like he was back in Malibu. "Nicholas Latimer speaking. I remember you, Agent Coulson, but I'm sure you're aware that my days as a mercenary are through. You could ask Lance Hunter all about it."

There was a pause on the line. "Mr. Latimer, SHIELD hasn't collaborated with the likes of Lance Hunter for a good fourteen months. We're not calling on behalf of Hunter or Agents Morse and Mackenzie. We're calling in because we need your skill set."

Nicky laughed harshly into the phone. "I told you, I'm done with SHEILD, Phil. I like you, I really do, but –"

"Mr. Latimer, please, hear me out. A new threat has arisen and SHIELD takes threats like these very seriously. Your abilities would be an amazing asset to the team I'm forming to help neutralize this threat. We're need you to come in, Nicholas."

Nicky's answer was short and simple. "No." And he hung up the phone. Nicky slipped it in his pajama pants pocket and made his way to the kitchen. After he got a drink, his phone rang again, the same number popping up on screen.

Nicky wanted to ignore it. He really did. But who was he kidding? He'd been trying to convince himself for months that he didn't miss his job and the excitement that had come with it, but he did. With a defeated sigh, he slid the bar and answered. "Coulson, I don't think –"

"Nicholas, I'd highly suggest considering my offer. Just listen to me, okay? Let me finish."

Nicky groaned and filled a glass with a couple ice cubes and some tap water. After taking a long drink, he bit out, "Make it quick."

"We'd be bringing you on board as a consultant. I'm forming a strike team, a small one. It consists of me, two highly dangerous agents and two Einstein level geniuses if they agree to my proposition, which is very likely. I'd like to add you into the mix. And one more, if we can."

"And who's this other person?"

"That's the catch. Los Angeles, California. There's a girl there who've we taken a recent interest in. She's a hacker, or so we assume. She's brilliant with technology and she could be a possible threat. She's young though, and impressionable. We want you to bring her in."

"LA? Really? You act like I can just hop on a plane and get outta here."

"There's a quinjet waiting for you in your front yard. I think we scared away the chickens." The line was quiet for a moment. "I know you've built up a good life for yourself, Nicholas. Agent Mackenzie has told me bits and pieces under an agreement of silence. But we do need you, Nicholas."

Nicky ground his teeth together and slammed his glass of water on the counter, hurrying to his bedroom, throwing a suitcase together.

"You got a name, Coulson?"

"No name. She's young, early twenties at the oldest. Dark, long, curly hair. Asian, Chinese at our most accurate guess. About 5'6". Slim figure. Is that sufficient, Mr. Latimer?"

"Yeah," Nicky grunted into the phone as he pulled on a pair of jeans and black Henley. He was throwing clothes into his suitcase, along with toiletries and a few other miscellaneous objects that he would need.

"I take it you'll be joining us then, Nicholas?"

Nicky didn't respond. He stood up straight, looking around his little room, taking a moment to think before really diving in. After all, he hadn't agreed to anything yet. Hunter was right about one thing. Nicky's life was good. The construction job was keeping him in shape. He was going on five mile runs every day before and after work. He'd even go to the gym twice a week and lift weights.

He had his regular coffee shop and he'd been hitting it off with the barista, a cute little redhead from Alabama. She was a sweet girl and Nicky really felt he could settle down with her, given the chance, given that he trusted her enough. Italy was always a reminder of what happened when he let girls get too close, which was why he was a one night stand kinda guy for a long time. He'd finally given up the playboy act when he'd given up his work as a mercenary and it was truly amazing to have someone to genuinely care about, not just for the pleasure of things. He had to be careful, but some aspects were worth it.

Nicky had made a ton of friends through his co-workers. He even dared to one of them his best friend since Hunter. They went to the bar every Friday and got drunk off their asses, singing karaoke with the manager of the joint. He and his little group of friends even went bowling on weekends and he'd helped the majority of them find steady girlfriends.

It was normal. It was nice. It was honestly the American dream. Nicky didn't want to give his new life as Noah Logan, not in a million years. It was going so perfectly.

Nicky gave a little sigh before he responded as he zipped up his suitcase, knowing the answer.

"I'll be out in five."

September 25, 2013 – Ruthie's Skillet, 2:39PM
Los Angeles, California

Nicky took another drink of his beer and frowned at the flat taste. He'd been at the little bar and restaurant called Ruthie's Skillet for the past two hours and he was tired of waiting for this woman. No one that matched Coulson's description had entered the bar in the time he'd been there.

Part of Nicky was bored with waiting, but the other part of his didn't necessarily mind it. It gave him time to think and time to process. Process the fact that, yeah, he was officially back in the field. He didn't have Hunter by his side, but that was a minor difference. The fact was, Coulson had managed to wiggle his way into Nicky's conscience and convince him to join SHIELD once more. Not officially, but as a consultant, which was official enough.

Nicky had arrived in Los Angeles at around 11:30PM. He took Coulson's phone call, dropping his stuff at a cheap motel just outside of the city limits, and hailed a cab to this little diner where Coulson was tracking the girl's signature. There was the small complication that she wasn't actually there, but Nicky figured Coulson knew what he was doing.

Well, he figured Coulson knew what he was doing the first hour he'd been there. Now it was just a bit ridiculous. He had resorted to watching football. Nicky hated football.

Just then, his burner phone that he had picked up at the airport rang and Nicky flipped it open. "Nicholas Latimer speaking."

"She's entering…now." It was Coulson. Just as he spoke, the bell to the diner rang on the front door. Nicky turned from his seat at the bar to look at her. Sure enough, she was just as Coulson described. Long, curly dark hair. Asian. Gorgeous. What Coulson hadn't mentioned was that she looked to be about nineteen. Yes, he said young, but not this young. She slid into a booth with an African American man and Nicky returned his gaze to the TV screen, but he wasn't really paying attention.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Do your best to listen to their conversation. After she's alone, stall her. Ward and I are going to look through her van. Be as long as you can. Strike up a conversation, hit on her, I don't care. Just distract her for as long as humanly possible, I'll text you when we're out. Got it?"

Nicky glanced over his shoulder at the woman and the man. The woman was talking animatedly with her hands the man was looking at her like she was insane. Nicky didn't exactly blame the guy. He was pretty sure, judging the man's reaction, that he had no idea who she was.

Their conversation was quiet, which wasn't necessarily the issue. Nicky had good hearing. But the problem was that the bar was particularly crowded for a Wednesday afternoon. He picked up pieces of their conversation, mainly about the man being a 'hero' and that he should flaunt it. Whatever that meant. Among that, Nicky picked up conversations about the football game, an argument about whiskey brands, and something about a 'side-hoe'. Classy, right?

Nicky looked back over his shoulder, but the pair was gone. He frowned and nearly choked when the man stood right next to him. After recovering from the initial shock of his targets dropping literally right in front of him, Nicky watched the football, listening to their talk.

"You have an office?" the man was asking skeptically. His eyebrows were knitted together judgmentally.

The woman scoffed. "Yes, I have an office." She began trailing off, "It's a mobile…office…" The girl re-shouldered her backpack and Nicky snorted into his beer glass, despite the terrible taste, to cover up the laugh. "It's a…van. I live in a van – by choice. But it's always in the alley around the corner, free Wi-Fi, and you can come by anytime," she finished with a hopeful smile.

The man looked a bit overwhelmed, but he still offered a timid, yet polite smile. "Thank you." Without another look or word, he turned around and made his way out of the diner.

The woman waved to his turned back, "They're coming for you."

The man looked back at her weirdly before disappearing out of the door.

Nicky glanced over as the girl studied something in her hand. A small, plastic rectangle. The man's driver's license.

"…Mike," she finished, but of course, he was gone.

Nicky set down his glass and smirked at her. Time to stall, he supposed. "That was a cool party trick."

The girl jumped a bit, clearly not realizing that Nicky was so close to her. "What are you talking about?" she stammered, shoving the license in her pocket, "I don't know what you're talking about." She closed her eyes in frustration. "And that was redundant."

Nicky lowered his voice a fraction. "You may be good when it comes to pick-pocketing, but I'd work on the whole 'subtle' thing afterwards," he advised.

"Thanks, but I have to go –" she turned to leave, but Nicky caught her arm with a small, disarming grin. It was his 'hey, you can trust me' grin and it rarely failed.

This time wasn't an exception.

"It's alright, I'm not going to turn you in. In fact, I think you have a noble cause in all the government junk that's going on."

The woman looked conflicted for a moment, but she settled on the stool next to Nicky. "Fine. But only because your accent is cute."

Nicky waved the bartender over with a grin, "Jack and Coke and whatever she wants," he says, jerking a thumb to the woman. He then eyed her. "You are old enough to drink, right?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, I'm old enough to drink! I'm twenty-five. I'll have what he's having."

"I'll still need ID," said the bartender as she returned with a polite smile.

The girl huffed and pulled out her wallet, showing the waitress her license. After satisfactory sweep over the card, the waitress nodded and set the two drinks down.

"So, are you gonna give me a name?" asked Nicky innocently, before taking a swig. "You know, I usually wait for a name before buying a girl a drink. You're a lucky one."

She raised one eyebrow over the rim of her glass, when she set it down, she held out a hand. "Skye."

Nicky grasped her hand and he didn't notice that it was soft and warm under his calloused fingertips. Nope, not at all. "Just Skye?"

"I'm a foster kid. Somehow, I didn't think the name 'Mary Sue Poots' did me justice."

"I dunno," mused Nicky. "I could see it."

Skye rolled her eyes and slapped Nicky lightly on the arm. "Aren't you going to return the gesture? Or are you one of those guys who pretends to have an interest in me, gets me drunk, we have a one night stand and you're gone in the morning?"

Nicky laughed a bit and shook his head. "Nicholas Latimer. You can call me Nicky. And no, I'm not trying to sleep with you, no matter how much my inner teenage boy says otherwise."

Skye laughed and took another sip of her beverage. "Sounds like a girl's name to me."

Nicky scowled and waved his hand aside. "Too many 'Nick's in the world. It's overrated. I put up with the quips in exchange to be different," he said with a mockingly reverent look on his face.

"Well, I think your name is cute," Skye said with a playful grin.

"D'aww, thanks!"

A silence ensued as each of them took a drink, staring at each other over the edges of their glasses. Finally, Skye broke it. "Wow, your eyes are really green."

Nicky laughed and rolled said green eyes. "And yours are like vats of melted chocolate. I could lose myself in them for hours."

"Something tells me you're a washed-up, hopeless romantic."

"I'm trying the routine out," said Nicky with a shrug.

"So. You said you like what I'm doing…and how much do you know about me exactly?"

Nicky set his glass down and sighed. To business, then. "I know you don't like SHIELD. I can definitely side with you on that one. Annoying pieces of work, they are."

Skye looked surprised. "How much do you know about them?"

"Enough. I have friends who are in the line of work. Shady buggers, the lot of them. We had a falling out a while back and I guess I blame SHIELD for taking away my friends. I know what they're about. Containment for the 'greater good'," said Nicky, using air quotes. "It's not that. It's all secrets and lies. Hell, their secrets have secrets. They've gone far enough, took too much from me, broken me down. I want to see them broken in return."

Skye's finger traced the rim of her glass while she watched Nicky intently. She hadn't taken her eyes off of him the entire time he had been speaking and he felt a moment of triumph. He hadn't lied to Skye, not really. Quite the opposite, actually. Everything he'd said was true. They took Hunter and…and a few other close friends.

Despite Nicky's best interests, his mind wandering to the incident in Italy that seemed to long ago. Just envisioning it made Nicky's jaw set and fists clench involuntarily. He hated SHIELD for turning Hunter to the point where he'd leave Nicky in the stairwell. He hated SHIELD for the accident in Italy that left him a broken man. He hated them for that, it was true. The only thing that wasn't was what he said about SHIELD being broken. He didn't want the organization broken; they were paying him good money. But the tiny lie was a small price to pay for Skye's cooperation and rapt attention.

"I work for an organization called the Rising Tide. We're calling ourselves a hacktivist group, meaning most of our messages are sent out virally. I'm good with computers – like, freaky good. We've made it our mission to expose SHIELD for what they really are. Lots of people want to know and we deliver. As much as SHIELD wants it to, something like the Battle of Manhattan doesn't just disappear, and folks ask questions. We just want to answer them."

"So what was that about…Mike, you said?"

Skye grinned. "He's the Hooded Hero."

Nicky raised an eyebrow at that. He'd watched the news waiting for Skye, and there was something about this 'Hooded Hero'. Wearing nothing but a hoodie, the man had saved a woman from a burning building and jumped out the topmost window, cracking the pavement, landing on his feet. The man wasn't even fazed. He put the woman down and ran off without a word.

"The guy in the fire?"

"That's the one. I took that video," she said proudly.

Nicky grinned. "Top quality stuff, then."

"Awh, you're going to make me blush." Then Skye's face lit up. "You want to come check out my office?"

Nicky's gut screamed red alert, but he kept his façade going. He chuckled nervously, but if it sounded tentative, Skye didn't seem to notice. "Are you sure? I mean, I just met you."

Skye tilted her head slightly and smiled. "Yeah, but you seem trustworthy. Maybe it's your accent, but hey. An enemy of SHIELD is a friend of mine. C'mon!" She took Nicky's hand, dragging him off the stool and towards the door. Nicky couldn't do much to protest. He threw a twenty dollar bill on the bar and let Skye pull him away.

Trying to be as unobvious as humanly possible, Nicky pulled out his flip phone and typed out a quick message to Coulson. On our way to the van. Get out.

He didn't wait for a response before shutting it and slipping the device back into his pocket, hoping to god that Coulson and the agent he'd mentioned that would be tagging along were gone.

Skye still hadn't let go of his hand, but when they rounded the street corner, she finally did. She looked at Nicky a bit nervously and rubber her hands together as she spoke. "I know it's a bit rustic and not in the best shape, but it's perfect! I mean, I don't need much, so I figure it's enough, ya know?"

Nicky had lived in his fair share of trailers for a while, even tents, and he understood perfectly. He smiled at her. "I know all too well. I'm sure it's wonderful."

Skye beamed at him and unlocked the door, sliding it open. "It's a bit cramped for both of us, but we can make it work."

Once he was inside, he slid the door shut and sat in the back, cross-legged, while Skye sat on a little chair-type thing. The van was flooded with wires and screens and she sat in front of what Nicky assumed was the main monitor. Scraps of newspapers and maps littered the walls. She gestured to the screen proudly, "This is where I broadcast. In fact, I'm about to record a segment now! So, uh, just stay quiet for a moment, and we can talk after, yeah?"

Nicky nodded with a grin, "Sure. Take all the time you need."

Skye smiled, a true, genuine smile that warmed Nicky to the core. He felt bad that he was betraying this girl. She was nice and definitely tolerable with a sense of humor and a rebellious streak that Nicky could relate to. Dare he say he even liked the girl. There was something about Skye that was just so charismatic and when Nicky read his newest text message, his breathing constricted and guilt consumed him.

We're clear. Engaging target.

Then Skye began to speak and Nicky shut his phone, his eyes trained on the girl. "How will you come at us? From the air? From the ground? How will you silence us this time? How can you? The truth is in the wind. It's everywhere. You cannot stop the Rising Tide. You will not find us. You will never see our faces. But rest assured, we will rise against those who shield us from the truth. And nothing – nothing – can stop us in the –"

On Skye's second 'nothing' the van door slid open. There stood Phil Coulson in a black suit, a little, amused smile on is features. Beside him was another agent. Nicky figured he was the one Coulson had told him about. He had carefully styled black hair, a pair of aviator sunglasses, and suit matching Coulson's. His expression wasn't amused.

Skye cut off midsentence and looked at Nicky, the two men, then back at Nicky. "You work for them, don't you?" Her tone was harsh and free of the joyful tone that Nicky had become accustomed to.

Nicky shook his head quickly. "I work myself. Mercenary, actually. Everything I told you was true. They are annoying prats." He tried for a smile, but it was weak beneath Skye's condescending glare.

Skye looked back at the two men and gave them a fake grin. "Hey. What up?"

Before she got another word out, the special agent covered her head with a black bag and wrestled her out of the van. Nicky followed her out, watching Skye kick and scream against the tall man in protest, but it wasn't going to make a difference.

"So?" asked Coulson.

"So what?"

"What did you think of her?"

"I like her," Nicky admitted after a few moments of silence. "She's got spirit, wit, and a sense of humor. SHIELD seems to be lacking all three these days."

"So you're accepting our consulting job, then?"

Nicky kicked a pebble, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets. "Yeah. I suppose I am."

"Then I hope you like heights, Mr. Latimer. I'll have your quarters' arrangements made. I'll send someone to pick you up from your hotel room in an hour?"

"Yeah, I can do that."

"Fantastic. Welcome aboard, Mr. Latimer." Coulson held out his hand.

After Nicky's eyes flicked to Coulson's hand, then back to Coulson's face, he shook the man's hand firmly. "It's nice to be back, sir."

And despite the fact that he didn't want it to be true, Nicky wasn't lying.