PRESENT DAY
THE BUS
I couldn't wrap my head around it. How does someone like Grant Ward turn to something as awful and wicked as Hydra? I know his past. I know his demons like the back of my hand. And yet I still can't see how or where it came to this.
Given my history, what's in my DNA, I know exactly what Hydra is capable of. In all my dealings with Ward he seemed so normal. Almost even pure. And of course, right on cue, there I go thinking like a girl.
You only thought he was good because he seduced you. The only one ever to do it. Normally romance isn't my speed. Never has been. I'm too busy, too dark. Men don't like women like me. But there was something in me Ward liked, I guess.
I still have no idea what that was, because any sane person I've ever met tucked tail and ran the other way. Because they were smart. I guess that makes Ward stupid? Yes, on all accounts. I groaned and pushed the blanket off, swinging my legs off the bunk as I sat upright.
Clearly sleeping wasn't going to happen. I'm sure I could find something to do on this stupid plane. Then it was on my feet, out of the room, wandering to the touch screen table to check the search. As I expected, no news.
Then it was down the hall, passed the empty lab, vaguely wondering why the lights were all on if no one was even in here. Everyone was asleep. Or, they were supposed to be anyway. Running my hand along the wall.
Wishing I could feel it. The Russia mission fried most of the nerve endings in my left side. I can feel the ghost of things. A hard slap, a sharp stab, the echo of another's touch. But it was never the full feeling of anything anymore.
I spent the majority of my retirement in rehab, learning to use my body again. I couldn't use any of it when I finally got back state side. But a bullet to the head will do that to just about anyone, I guess.
8 YEARS AGO
RUSSIAN HYDRA BASE
I wanted to hold onto it. All of this emotion whirling around inside. Because even it was an ugly storm, it felt like a beautiful daisy. And I'd never felt anything quite like this. But time keeps moving even if you don't.
The evac was in roughly ten minutes and there was still almost a whole mile to trek. So I was the first to break it, inhaling a deep breath. "You gotta go," I reiterated, forcing my eyes open. It felt like maybe the shock was setting in.
My left side was aching more now. I would only slow him down. His jaw was clenched tight as his irises scanned mine a quiet moment, thumb dancing across my cheek bone, shooting a spark of electricity into my veins.
"I'm coming back for you," he nodded once, his voice so certain.
I opened my mouth to protest, but he was up and moving before I could speak. A thought came to my mind just then. It caused me to take a look around. There were no Hydra agents in sight. But that could change at any minute.
With all my might, I used my free hand to push and rolled and wriggle onto my right side. The useable side. And then I pushed down. My muscles were liquid but I was just desperate enough, just high enough on adrenaline, to get myself up to my knees.
Then it was up to my feet and staggering across the dirt path to the grassy, hilly field dashed with sporadic trees. Half-limping and half-stumbling. The pain was white hot for a short moment. But then it was mostly subdued.
And I knew that was a bad sign. If it's so bad you can't feel it anymore then, nine times out of ten, you're closer to death than you thought. So I just kept moving. I still had my S.H.I.E.L.D. tracker, so at least I wouldn't get too lost.
For now I just needed somewhere else. Somewhere safer than this close to the blown Hydra base. The tip of my boot caught something hard and I faltered, taking a dive right into the side of a tree, audible wincing.
And that's when I heard it. A holler. A scream. A shout. Whatever you want to call it. It was coming straight from the direction of the base. That meant there actually were survivors. It seemed more and more these days those cockroaches just don't know how to die.
I inhaled a somewhat deep breath and pushed off the tree, shuffling onward to the next tree, using the staggered foliage as support like Leap Frog. Eventually I'd found a place seemingly far enough away.
I slid down the back of an ascended mass of dirt and grass with an exhale, leaning on my right side. Then another shout caught my eardrums. Causing my pulse to elevate just enough to make me worried.
If there was one thing in the world that had a chance of sending fear into my soul, it was Hydra. The very organization I've tried to destroy only after running from it my whole life. I've only been with S.H.I.E.L.D. two years.
But every mission it's something new with Hydra. And I guess I should have expected that from Fury. Let's send the daughter of the Red Skull into the belly of the beast and hope she doesn't get eaten alive. Of course, I never did.
I always came home. But this all felt too final. It felt like my last ride. So I freed my pistol from the holster on my thigh and racked a bullet into the chamber, holding the metal close to my chest as I waited. They must've known I survived.
They'd had to. Otherwise, they wouldn't be getting closer. I can tell by their voices and their footsteps. Echoing closer in every passing heartbeat. A branch snapped and I estimated at least three yards from my perch.
This was it. I inhaled, biting my tongue, and twisted on my left side to see around my backing. It sent a burning up into my bones. But I ignored it. I could see the Hydra agent that'd been shouting. He didn't look familiar.
Tall, bulky, broad shouldered. Smoldering from the burning building. Pieces of his armor singed. He was a guard. He must have been far enough from the blast to get rocketed off instead of burned to a crisp.
My hands trembled aiming my gun at him. One shot. One shot and he'll know I'm here. I aimed for his back as best I could see, and puled the trigger.
PRESENT DAY
THE BUS
I found my way back to the computer to check the scan after a while of roaming aimlessly. Coulson was there when I arrived, already standing at the table. His head turned as I walked in. I raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you supposed to be sleeping?" I inquired, dryly.
"I could say the same to you," he pointed out, before turning back to the screen.
I sighed, stepping up beside him. "Anything new?"
"No," he answered, and I crossed my arms loosely over my chest. He eyed me a moment, before continuing, "What's keeping you up? Something on your mind?"
"Thanks to Ward, there's a lot on my mind."
"You still love him, don't you?" That question caught me off guard. Usually Coulson's never this blunt when trying to get me to talk to him. It was uncharacteristic. But I filed it away to examine later. For now, I only stared at him.
He paused, lifting a brow. And finally I cracked. "I never loved him," I shook my head.
"Really? Never? Should I go into a detailed summary of your mission in Ibiza?" It was a playful threat. But I could detect of hint of seriousness.
I scoffed. "You think that meant something?"
He gave me a look. Slightly tilting his head. Milking the abilities of his pointed expressions for every drop. "I think he thought it meant something."
"He's also a Hydra agent," I pointed out, shrugging one-shouldered. "I wouldn't trust a word out of his lying, back stabbing, conniving, two-timing-"
"I get the picture," Coulson nodded.
"-okay." I nodded once, slowly, in return. Stopping my run-on explanation. A silence fell on the room. My eyes flickered down to the table. Watching the computer scan and search all on it's own, thanks to an algorithm Skye put together.
Coulson exhaled suddenly, causing me to glance up again. Raising an eyebrow at his gaze on my face. "What?" I inquired, somewhat curious.
"Some things don't change, do they? You...you're still you," he explained. He reached up a hand into my dark brown locks to tug on a space I knew to hold my solo red streak. "For example, you're still dying this old thing."
My old bones managed a soft chuckle. "Yeah. It's kind of a habit now."
"I don't think I even remember why you got it to begin with," he said, in light realization. He didn't have to ask. He didn't have to elude. He wasn't even prodding me for information. But my heart always seemed to melt around that man.
Maybe it was the fact that he practically raised me past the age of sixteen? Or maybe it's that he was the only positive male figure in my life until I joined S.H.I.E.L.D.? Maybe it's because he's like the father I never had, but prayed for every night?
Either way, like usual, I spilled my guts. "It's a reminder, you see," I explained, pulling out my heavier German accent. His lips tugged up into a soft smile. "To never become what the red stands for. My mother used to say to me, 'Anfangen ist leicht, Beharren eine Kunst.'"
"Starting is easy, persistence is an art," Coulson translated aloud. "Isn't there some German saying about sitting on your butt too long?"
I nodded a little, seeing where he was going with it. "Wer rastet, der rostet. Or, he who rests grows rusty."
"Yeah, that's the one." He said it like it was just coming to him. The light bulb above his head was just turning on. Though we both knew he knew all along. But I'll let him have this one. "Are you rusty yet?"
"Ward got away, didn't he?" I asked, rhetorically. My eyes instinctively shifted down. To my shoes. To the floor. To some place much lower. "Hey, you'll get him next time," Coulson assured, supportively.
"I don't want a text time, Phil," I vented, on a sigh of an exhale. "I left S.H.I.E.L.D. the first time because he got in my head. That can't happen again. Especially not now."
"I know," Coulson nodded. He looked to be about to continue. Opening his mouth to speak. But a familiar ring caught both our attentions. A SAT phone. I didn't want to tell Coulson that I was keeping one on hand.
Guess the cat's out of the bag now, huh? I sighed and unearthed the tech from my back pocket. "Sorry, it's mine," I apologized. My thumb darted over the 'end call' button. But I stopped. The number flashed on the screen.
Something in my chest tugged. I knew that number. How did I know that number. "Samantha?" Coulson tried. "Everything okay?"
I nodded quickly, swallowing. "Yeah, yeah- I just need one second."
It was mostly a lie, but he'll never know truly. I pressed the answer button and hurried from the room, into the hall, not stop as I started to speak into the phone. "You have some nerve, Grant," I remarked, keeping my voice low.
I moved fast, heading straight for my bunk. "It's not what you think," he said, only confirming my worst fear. It was truly Grant Ward calling me in the middle of the night. "If this is your sick, twisted idea of a booty call-" I started.
"Sam," he interrupted, stopping me quickly. "It's me."
"Yeah, and I'm me. So what?" I turned the hallway corner and landed at my door. My fingers entered in the code and the door slid open. I darted inside while he replied, letting the door zip closed behind me.
He exhaled tiredly. I can't imagine why. It is only six o'clock in the morning. "Listen closely. Everything in your life has been ultra classified and kept under lock and key since you joined S.H.I.E.L.D., but you told me something about where you lived."
His voice sounded hushed. Almost as if he were trying to whisper. It made my brow furrow, but I continued on. "And?" I prompted.
"Munich, Germany. You were born there but your mother took you to Vienna to live with your Aunt Christa. The next time so you saw your mother was at her funeral," he finished.
That caused me pause. I had in fact told him all of this. And obviously he was trying to prove something to me. But it didn't click for a split second. Then I got it. I ran my hand back through my hair with a low exhale. "Ward, no. Don't play games with me."
"It's not a game, okay? I'm telling the truth. I've never lied to you."
I crossed my arms. "Oh, really? How's your shoulder?"
"Just hear me out. My orders came straight from Fury, okay? I couldn't tell anyone- not even you," he explained, talking fast. "I don't have much time. But you need to know that Garrett has your file."
"My what?" My eyes widened.
"Your file, Garrett has it. He's almost decrypted it with the hard drive from Denver."
"How did he get my S.H.I.E.L.D. file?" I demanded.
He sighed on the other end. "Not S.H.I.E.L.D. It's your Hydra file. He needed the drive to decrypt it. He wants to know who you are."
I was fuming now, my blood boiling. "Grant Ward, you slimy little-"
"I had no idea what he was going to do with it, or what it was. My orders were to get the drive and get it to Garrett- that's it! I swear, Sam. I'm trying to get it back, but-"
"Get the drive, wipe the file, and meet me in Oregon- you know the place. Come alone."
At that, I ended the call. There was no word to describe this emotion. Anger. Depression. Sadness. Anxiety. And a little dash of old fashioned rage. I promptly exited my bunk and jogged back to Coulson.
He was still waiting. Somewhat patient looking and everything. And I had to go and burst his bubble, his expression turning serious at the look of my steeled features. "Garrett's about to get access to whatever information Hydra has on me," I announced, bluntly.
He paused. Like a doe in the headlights of the vehicle about to hit them straight on going ninety in a fifty-five. "What? How do you know that?"
"Ward called," I wiggle the SAT phone in my hand with bitter sarcasm. "Apparently he's trying to stop him, but that's not very likely considering the source."
"We need to find wherever they're hiding, now." I've never seen Coulson this direct, this impatient. But I stopped him by holding up a hand, my eyebrows knitted. "What's on the drive? My real name?" I questioned.
He sighed. "Everything. It was where we got our intel on you before you were recruited."
"Wait- so- wait a minute...does my father know I'm alive?" My stomach was turning into a mosh knot of anxiety. Never have I ever felt fear like this. Coulson remained quiet a moment. Judging his words carefully, no doubt.
Finally, he answered, "Yes."
"B-b-but- no! No, you told me...how is that possible?" I asked, my anxiety turning my words upside down. "He never knew I existed. I've never even seen him in anywhere but official S.H.I.E.L.D. photos and files. How could he know I'm alive?"
"We don't know," he shrugged a little, his expression a tone of helplessness.
"Well. That's reassuring. I'm going to my room now." I nodded once, unamused. Then I exited into the hallway. I couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't take looking at him. Since when did he keep secrets from me? Especially with something like that?
My father, founder of Hydra, knows I exist. And here I thought I'd been safe all these years. When, in reality, he could have shown up and murdered me at any time. There's no concrete proof of his death. So, until there is, I'm going to be ready for him.
8 YEARS AGO
RUSSIAN HYDRA BASE
My bullet left the chamber. But something was off. A shake of my hand, a tremble. Whatever you want to call it. It missed. I had one shot, and it missed. I quickly shrank back behind the safety of my hiding spot, but by then it was too late.
I'd given up my location. So I wriggled the knife from the sheath on my boot. It was just barely in my hand before the Hydra agent rounded my perch. Instinctively, I lunged, sinking the blade deep into his thigh.
He stumbled back with a pained cry and I took the second's opportunity to throw myself onto my right side, practically crawling. Clawing at the dirt to pull myself forward. All other functions of my limbs useless from the blood loss.
I only made it a few sparse inches. Then I heard a hard click. And everything went black. Next I saw light. But I was on my back, staring up at a white ceiling. Nothing made sense. I couldn't think. It was like my brain was an endless void.
All I could manage was a short flicker of my gaze left and right to survey the room. At first I'd thought maybe, just maybe, Hydra had done something to me. That I was one of their facilities. Being experimented on.
But then my eye caught sight of a S.H.I.E.L.D. logo. And the most unsuspected familiar face. Grant was slumped in chair to the right of the bed I lay on. Still in his mission gear. Though I noticed the butterfly bandage on his temple.
The white bandaging on his leg. Red stained the front of his attire. Blood, no doubt. Was it mine? What happened to me? I don't remember. I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. I was pulled back. Back into sleep.
I didn't want to. I wanted to stay awake. I wanted to ask him, ask someone, what was going on. I had no choice in this. The next time I saw light, I was alone. This time I could moved my head a little to get a better look around.
But not by much. Not without a headache throbbing through my skull. The hiss of a door opening moved my eyes up. Just in time to catch Grant entering the small hospital-like room. Even though I knew there was no way this was a real hospital.
Not with what was inside me. My DNA. They'd ask too many questions. He looked surprised when he saw my eyes, but if anything he just looked relieved. It spread across his features in smooth waves, causing his shoulders to lower.
"Hey," his voice was quiet, soft. Like he somehow knew my ears were sensitive. "How do you feel?" He lowered himself into the chair to the right of me. Leaning forward to rest his forearms on the mattress beneath me.
A hand interlocking with mine. As if it were natural. Just something we've always done. But I don't remember a time when he ever held my hand. For a second, I couldn't formulate a reply.
How did I feel? How does one describe this feeling? I swallowed hard, opened my mouth. My first words were too quiet to hear. Extremely low and mumbled, garbled, and rasped. So I cleared my throat.
Only causing a sharp sting. But I tried again, my words louder this time. "I...feel terrible," I answered. "What happened...to me?"
Grant was quiet. I could tell he was thinking, trying to choose the right words. "You were shot, Sam, in the head. Almost point blank. I thought-" he stopped himself then, moving his gaze down. Away from mine.
If I could find a way to move them, I would have knitted my eyebrows. This was uncharacteristic. Very much so. What wasn't he saying? It ate at me. In a way I'd never felt before. It was like I couldn't breathe until he spoke again.
"I thought you were dead," he finally said, his eyes meeting mine once again.
I didn't know what to do. What to say. I don't comfort people. That's just not me, and it never has been. I tell you to rub dirt in the wound and walk it off. Be a big boy, Grant. That's what I would've said.
But that's not what came out. Instead, I returned the grip on my hand with what little strength I could pull from a muscle not completely shot. "I'm okay," I reassured. "I'm not leaving you." Oh, how I wish I'd known what came next.
