COULSON
He gathered them in the rec room – Skye, Trip, May, even Koenig – and relayed everything Hand had told him, starting first with everything he knew about Ward's childhood. He finished with Koenig, using the same Arc protocol code Hand had used.
By the time he was done, May was shaking, which was unnerving. Skye was crying, her face buried in her hands. Trip was stoic as usual. He knew that like him, they were probably all replaying old scenes in their minds, making some of the same connections he'd made.
SKYE
Skye, I'm trying to protect you! That was what was replaying in Skye's head. Ward being cuffed by the cops in Rosie's Skillet, yelling her name, then chasing her outside. She remembered looking in the rearview mirror, seeing him just standing there, his hands on his head, and a look of exasperation (and desperation?) on his face. She had remembered it before, lots of times, but always in a different context. Always.
Someday you'll understand. That's what he'd said on the Bus after she called him a Nazi, and she'd told him she would never understand. And I will never – EVER – give you what you want! He'd looked exasperated then too, his brows knit together; she'd thought back then he was worried about failing Garrett. But no, he'd been worried about failing her, about what Garrett would do to her, or rather, about what Garrett would have Deathlok do to her. She started shaking again, and fresh tears streamed down her face as she remembered what Deathlok actually had done, though not to her, but to Ward.
MAY
May sat on the couch and shook, shivering as if from the cold, but it wasn't cold in the room. She wrapped her arms around her shoulders and relived every moment of her battle with Ward at Cybertek. She'd thought she was in the right, obviously, and for all they knew at the time, she had been. She had no regret about attacking him. She did what needed to be done. But then she'd done more. Replaying the fight in her head, she forced herself to admit that he had not fought back, not at first; he'd put up defensive moves, blocked her punches, tried to talk to her. But she'd have none of that. She was angry, she was pissed, she wanted blood. She had brought power tools into the mix, tried to take off his face, and he'd deflected that as well, shoving the saw into the wall – barely. She'd almost hit his face, could still see the sawblade as it grazed his cheek, and then like that, she saw it, the instant where his defense turned to offense, where his instincts took over, his rage got the best of him, and he'd started fighting back.
She shook her head, angry at herself for having lost control, for not just stopping when he tried to talk and cuffing him. No no no, May, listen. She heard him say it, saw his hands up, his face pleading, his foot nailed to the floor, just asking her to listen, to listen (I nailed him to the damn floor and STILL wouldn't listen to him), and what did she do? How did she react? She took away his voice. She, Malinda Qiaolian May, didn't even give him the opportunity to explain. She wondered now what he would have said? Would he have confided in her, told her that he was working for Hand? Would he have broken his cover?
TRIP
This was the thing about Trip. Trip hadn't been part of the team long enough to get to know all of the players as well as they knew each other. Yeah, he was Garrett's last…last what? Mentee? Is that what I was? His grandfather was a freakin' Howling Commando, and his SO was a nutjob? He'd spent the last several weeks, since they took down Garrett, wondering what these people thought of him, if they really trusted him in their midst, this virtually unknown man whose SO was the mess formerly known as John Garrett.
He'd stood outside Ward's cell every time May went in, stepping in and pulling her out when he couldn't take it anymore, couldn't handle watching a grown man stand in the middle of the room and let the Cavalry wreck him. What's wrong with you, man? he'd wonder, looking down at Ward when he would sink to the floor as he shut the door on him. Are you that broken?
It wasn't his place to stop them. Who was he to them? Looking around the room now, he wanted to slam his head into a wall. Why wasn't it his place to stop them? Why hadn't he sat Coulson down – last week, maybe the week before – and said, "Dude, enough with the punching bag routine. It's time to put him in the interrogation room and start getting some answers." Instead, as the new kid on the block, he'd let them handle it the way they wanted. They were a team, right? No. That's not right. I'm part of that team now. I've been part of that team since Garrett outed himself as the Clairvoyant. I went into hiding with these people, fought side by side with these people against a man who betrayed them AND me AND everything we stand for. Everything we stand for. What do we stand for?
Yesterday, he'd done the same as usual, watched Ward sink to the floor after he pulled May out of the room and said silently to himself, "Are you that broken?" Now he looked around the room and realized that Ward was not the only one who was broken.
