Ward walked through the Ritz hotel suite. The opulent decor making him feel more uncomfortable than his cell at the hub. He sat on the bed next to the 14 year old boy.
'Your father. We need to talk about him'
The child. Who had obviously been crying spoke with his head down. Slowly he whispered. 'I don't want to talk with you'
Ward thought that was fair. He didn't want to talk as well. But wanting something and doing something was usually not the same thing. At least not for him.
The child then said with spite 'Tell me dear godfather, how many people did you help my father kill?'
Ward looked motionless. Only a few people in the world would have seen the imperceptible signs of a flinch
He could almost hear the word 'monster' spoken with loathing and disgust
'He helped me' Ward said with utter calm. 'Do you want to know how'
No response
Grant got up and walked to the cabinet picked up a glass of water and drank.
'You ever been waterboarded.'
The kid looks at him in astonishment. Then quickly put his head down again.
If Grant could start this conversation again he would. Obviously he hadn't been waterboarded. Not everyone had his childhood.
'Waterboarding is… well… You cant take in air obviously. But you can't also shout or scream or beg. All your instincts that have evolved for millions of years they all scream at you. Do something. Anything. You can't. You would give everything for a simple gasp of air. And I do mean anything. And once it is over. You realise you are nothing... You are weak… When I met your father it felt like I was going through and endless cycle of being waterbaorded. And John. Well he took away the water…. He… Your father… He didn't just save my life. He saved my sanity. He turned me from a victim to a surviver.'
As Ward sat down he hoped he had made it clear to the kid, he could barely understand it himself.
'Why?' The child said that one word with such fervour.
And that was it. The question he needed to answer. And it had to be him. Because only he cared enough to overlook everything. Context mattered after all. And well who else was going to defend John Garrett.
Damn he was tired.
'There is a book written by George Orwell. 1984. The one with the big brother references. In that book theres this guy Winston Smith. Now Winston is a good man. Good, noble, everything you would want in a hero. But he gets caught and he gets… interrogated… He breaks. That is the moral of the story. Everybody breaks. No matter how tough. How noble. There is a breaking point and when it is pushed we all shatter.'
Grant walked back to the cabinet and put the glass down. willing his hands to stop the shaking that had begun. The white scars on his wrist protruding.
'There was a time I used to think that was all a lie. I used to think that I would never break. After all I had survived… Well I had survived a lot… But I broke. And I realised your father had also broken. The only difference was that, I broke because I hurt… people. Your father broke because he was hurt. It is not fair, its not just. But it is what it is.' Grant shrugged 'It is what it is.'
'What happened?'
'Shield gave him a mission and when it came to time to extract him. They decided it would be more politically expedient not to. John taped up his guts that were leaking out and walked almost a mile. That was his fear you see. his greatest fear. Of being tossed aside by the agency that he had given EVERYTHING to. People in Shield view HYDRA as not human. Simply as the enemy. And your father… well?
'He viewed Shield as the enemy' the small boy whispered
'He would have died for me. He would have died for you'
'He was evil. Your evil. I will be evil' The kid said trying his best. Trying very hard, too hard, to keep a cold facade going.
Grant slowly lifted his hand and put it on the child's hand. 'I would die for you'
And just like that. The facade was broken
