Miranda slipped into Lola's passenger seat. In the cool of the night, the leather interior was chilled. Coulson slipped into the driver's seat and pulled out into the moonlit city of Miami. Neither spoke until they had driven at least ten miles.
"He's struggling," Coulson finally broke the silence.
"He's progressing," Miranda countered. Her eyes were closed, hair billowing back in the breeze of the drive. "He's letting himself start to feel. Something that was denied to him for years as a mere puppet to others."
Coulson took a deep breath. "It's affecting my team."
"I should hope so. If it didn't, they'd be in the same boat as Grant."
"I don't like putting them through this."
"I understand that, Phil. But if they knew what we were doing, then it would all be for nothing." Miranda put her hand on his. "It's going to be okay. It's going to show us who he really is."
Ward hung back a few car lengths. Miranda had thought that she'd slipped out of the bunk without waking him, but the master spy had detected her movements and knew something was up. When she left with Coulson, his suspicions were confirmed. He took one of the SUV's and followed.
Ward was a little surprised when they simply ended up at the beach, parked. He didn't see Coulson as the type to go parking with a girl. He parked down the block and crept out to get as close as he could. But the bare shoreline didn't give much cover.
Although, he could fit under Lola...
"When you called me, what did you say?" Miranda stretched her arms above her head and yawned some.
"I said that the belief that drives us all is the same, whether it's one man or all mankind, that they're worth saving." Coulson sighed and slumped back in his seat as he watched the waves. "Maybe I was just reciting a line."
"Or maybe the things we believe truly stick with us." She shrugged. "The truth is, Phil, is that you really do, on some level, care about this man."
"But does that mean I should endanger the team?"
"You're not putting them in danger. You know that if I thought he was a threat, I would take care of it."
Coulson relaxed a little. "That's true."
"You know that if I thought he was a threat, I would take care of it."
Ward had heard enough. Enough to know that he had work to do. He rolled out from under Lola and made his way back to the SUV. Pulling out his cell, he took a deep breath and dialed.
"This had better be important," Romanoff groaned, obviously woken from a good sleep.
"I give up. Who's Miranda?"
"Ward?"
"No, that's me. Try again."
He could hear her roll her eyes. "Miranda is a madame."
"Yeah, I get that. But what else is she?"
Romanoff hesitated. "I'll get you the file."
May was at the bar when Coulson came back up. "Three AM joyride?" she queried.
Coulson tossed his jacket aside. "Couldn't sleep."
Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Neither could Miranda, I take it?"
"I'm going to bed."
"Are you having sex with her?"
Coulson stopped in his tracks, sighing heavily. "No, I'm not. Why is that the first thing people think when I bring a Madame on the Bus? Is it the irony? Or does everyone think I just really really need-"
"It's the trust you have in her," May interrupted.
"That has nothing to do with sex." Coulson sat next to her. "You trust me. I trust her."
May gave a small snort. "So, by that logic, I should trust her?"
"You should give it a try."
"We've seen what happens trusting people."
Coulson nodded. "Yeah. Both sides of it. But if I had just trusted you the whole time, I could have come out with less scars on this team."
Ward read the file three times. It didn't make sense. No sense at all. But Romanoff's intel couldn't be refuted. He turned off his tablet as Skye walked into the kitchen. "Morning," he offered.
Skye hesitated but nodded. "Morning."
It was a start, and that made his heart warm ever so slightly.
Coulson came down next, looking like he'd had a full night's sleep when Ward knew he hadn't. "Coffee done?" he asked the room.
Ward nodded. "Yeah, I made a pot. Sleep well last night?"
Coulson gave a nod without a hesitation. "Yeah. You?"
"Sort of."
"Not the plush mattress you were used to at Casa de Miranda?" Skye asked.
Ward groaned inside. "So, this thing you need Miranda's help for, is it going to take long?"
Coulson shrugged. "That depends on what Miranda finds for us."
"What is she looking for?"
"That's classified Mr. Ward."
Ward's eyes narrowed slightly. If he hadn't heard what Coulson and Miranda had discussed, he would have walked. But they cared. Actually cared. And while he didn't understand it, he wanted to see what that actually meant.
Miranda gasped as Ward shut the door behind him in the bunk. She was making the bed and hadn't heard him come in. "Grant!" She put a hand to her chest. "You startled me."
"You're not Miranda."
She furrowed her brow. "Excuse me?"
"I looked up the previous owners of your business. Jessica Powell, born September 5, 1889, died January 5, 1934. Pamela Cornell, born April 7, 1919, died July 7, 1967. Annalee Briggs, born May 8, 1947, died December 9, 1989. Barbara Tate, born August 19, 1968, died March 28, 2003. And now you, Miranda Headly..."
"You took the time to memorize all that?" Miranda rolled her eyes and fluffed her pillow.
"Funny thing is, all documented photographs of the previous owners were redacted by SHIELD."
"And?"
"Were. Until Hydra's exposure. At that time, unredacted documents were released."
Miranda froze on the spot.
"All un-redacted photos are of you."
