Authors Note; Please don't shoot! I'm so sorry its taken me so long to get this up! My muse had abandoned me and I just couldn't find the best way to continue! But inspiration struck this morning in the form of a lovely review from Credit18! So thank you, sweetheart :)
Anyway, think of this as sort of Part 1 of 2. I'm thinking next chapter may be from Skye's POV, and then the second part of Grant's. What do you think? Who's point of view is it you want to see?
But read on! Review, favourite, review, follow, review! Please?
"You mean you're going to come in here with a gun and shoot my partner - my best friend! - and you just want me to leave and go upstairs and have a cup of tea and that's that?! Not going to happen, Ward!"
Ward froze where he was staring at the furious Scotsman on the other side of the glass doors. He had known, since seeing that last rat begin to float, that that was going to be the outcome, but wasn't prepared to hear it thrown at him like the young engineer just had. Skye's panicked words were heard, but he didn't register them as he continued to stare at the younger man, the guilt and self hatred crashing down on him all at once. For the first time in his considerable amount of fieldwork Agent Grant Ward didn't know if he could carry out an order because his emotions were affecting him.
Skye hammering her fists into his chest was what brought him back to the present, but he did nothing to defend himself. It was the least he could do to make whatever grieving process Skye had started easier, and he knew that it was the only bit he would be a part of. She wouldn't be able to work with him after this, he was sure of it. So he let her continue, absorbing the impact her fists were making and the screaming.
And then it was over.
May had come and bodily removed Skye from him and was dragging the screaming girl to the upper deck. For the first time he looked at Coulson, and the older man tried to hide how much he was struggling with the situation by giving a curt nod before following the female agent and resident hacker up the stairs. The door hissed shut behind him and Ward found himself suddenly struggling to breathe. The sidearm on his hip felt like it was made totally of lead, and he became so hyper aware of the weapon. And he didn't like it.
A rapping noise once more drew him back into the horrifying situation he was in, and he looked up to see Simmons - young, beautiful, lively, genius Simmons - looking like she was going to drop from exhaustion, despite the slight tug at one corner of her mouth. Registering that he couldn't hear or see the Scotsman trying to reason with her or hanging off of her prompted him to look around. Maybe she convinced him to go, he hoped. He didn't think he would ever be able to do what was necessary if the other young man was present. Looking passed Simmons he was shocked to see Fitz lying on his back on the floor.
"Wha-" he started, but she cut him off.
"He's just stunned," she said quickly, her voice sounding stuffy and he knew it was because of the tears that were swiped from her cheeks haphazardly, "It was the only way.."
She didn't need to finish the sentence for him to understand. But at the same time he was so confused. How had she been so focused on how everyone else was feeling or how everyone else was going to be affected in the face of her imminent departure from this world? But he couldn't deal with that now.
Ward had never been more thankful for his training when he flipped that mental switch and turned off all his emotions. Things became clearer. He began assessing the area as if from a detached perspective, like he was back at the Academy watching simulations before quoting procedure. He unsealed the doors and turned, positioning himself where the punch bag usually hung, squaring his feet and concentrating on his breathing.
"Is it- Will it hurt?" The target spoke and he had no control over himself. She overrode his switch, flicking all his emotions back on. He recognised that she needed an answer, but he didn't give her the truth.
"Only if I miss." He tried to go for joking, but knew it failed. He had heard the three younger team members in the lab that morning, doing terrible impressions of him, knew they were joking about how he was such a good shot (as long as there wasn't wind), so he idly thought that it may reassure her some. He was surprised when her lips ticked up in a smile.
"Oh, well then I guess I'm never going to know what hit me."
And just like that he switched it all off again. He un-holstered his weapon and prepared himself to eliminate the threat. As he raised his weapon she turned quickly to the control panel in the wall and he heard the beeping that indicated that she had once more sealed the laboratory doors, rendering them useless to the young man now trapped alone inside. He ignored the way she flinched when she faced him and found the barrel of the gun levelled at her head. (A gun that she and her partner modified, his cruel mind reminded him of his and Fitz' argument just a few weeks prior.) The rest was so ingrained in him he could totally shut down. Square his shoulder. Ground his back foot, tipping his weight ever so slightly forward. Sight the target. Deep breath in. A quick tightening of muscles. An explosion-
"JEMMA!"
And with that split second what had been the worst situation imaginable got infinitely worse.
No longer on autopilot Grant tossed his weapon aside and fell to his knees, desperately checking for a pulse. He was in two minds. If he couldn't identify a pulse it would be a good thing - she wouldn't be suffering. She wouldn't be in pain. If he did find a pulse, it could be both good and bad. The good - she would be alive. The bad - she would most likely discharge her electromagnetic pulse and knock the plane with them in it out the sky.
And he hated himself for hoping that she was dead.
