Author's note: Thank you all so much! I hope this chapter won't disappoint.
To answer bhut: Jemma was talking about the first time – then they were captured by Hydra it was kind of similar to the situation in the "Ragtag" – sure, Coulson told them to get away but was he really that blind to not even contemplate the possibility that the same FitzSimmons who didn't pass their field test will be spotted? And he sent them without any back-up. I hope it's not too presumptuous of me to repeat it.
I have an exam next week – future chapter will be after that.
I hope you will enjoy eighth chapter.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything but probably plot :) - if you recognize something, it's probably not mine. Some phrases are lifted from the "Ragtag". All rights belong to their owners.
Cross-posted at Archive of our own - works/5596210
Thank you for reading!
Chapter 8
Then Grant finally paid attention to his surroundings he realized he went straight to the FBI office. Not increasing his speed he turned away and calmly walked in the opposite direction not bothering to keep away from the cameras.
It was a good thing that before meeting with the priest he put on a nano mask with some average Joe's face. No reason to bring to the guy any more danger than he already was in.
He's afraid that he's a monster.
Grant forcefully took a deep breath, then held it and slowly released through the mouth.
Damn Raina.
Even if you are one, you don't have to stay that way.
Don't think about it.
He believes he can't be saved.
Don't…
But you want to. You want to be saved. So, so desperately. Like that scared kid at the well.
Grant stumbled and started hyperventilating again. He had to lean on the wall to keep himself upright.
Damn Raina and her mind games. And stupid priest talking about the things he doesn't understand.
And Jemma who was stupid enough to get caught, she and her Fitz!
And Skye. Oh God, Skye. So brave, so naïve, so stupid! What was the meaning in her reckless and selfless attempts to protect her people? She was almost killed, captured and the things they would have done to her…
Why did she insist on helping her so-called friends? Then they weren't even here. They cut their losses with the teleporter, didn't they?
And still she stayed. She was going to try to find something. And will be captured again.
So much loyalty. What good it ever was for?
Where does all that trust and loyalty lead? Abandoned in the woods or dumped at the pound?
Grant shuddered and squeezed his temples.
"…are you alright, sir?" Someone touched his arm and Grant didn't even notice then they got so close.
He violently jerked away and startled a teenage girl.
"Do you need help? I can call an ambulance if you feel unwell." She sounded so genuine that Grant wanted to believe her, wanted to imagine just for a second that someone could be concerned about him. Could care enough to be concerned.
"No, I'm fine, just a dizziness, is all." Grant pushed off from the concrete wall.
Girl obviously didn't buy his assurances but nodded:
"If you say so, sir." She hesitantly bounced on the balls of her feet. "Then I'll be going…nice to meet you, sir." She awkwardly smiled and started going away, putting her phone in the jeans back pocket.
"Nice to meet you, too." He said to her back.
She turned and flashed him less awkward smile:
"Take care of yourself, mister."
ooo
Matthew Kang was more alert than Grant expected from a federal agent but his training couldn't compare to SHIELD's. Or Hydra's, for that matter.
Waiting for him to regain consciousness, Grant looked over his place. Neat and clean, photos of his parents, army buddies, college friends – nothing out of the ordinary, if a little bit Spartan.
Grant picked up the photo with a teenage boy and a dog.
"His name was Rusty." Hoarse voice almost startled Grant. He returned the framed picture to the shelf. Something needed to be done with this loss of awareness.
Agent Kang looked annoyed, wary and calculating. Trying to understand what his visitor wanted?
Good luck, Grant didn't know what he wanted.
"I had a dog once. Buddy." Grant found himself saying unexpectedly. "Smart. And loyal, too. First friend I ever had."
The agent spoke and Grant almost winced in sympathy at the harsh vibrating sounds accompanying the man's words:
"What happened to him?"
"I shot him."
As expected agent didn't like this answer. However, his next question surprised Grant:
"Why?"
It was such a simple question, really. But never before anyone whom Grant met wanted to know "why" he did something.
"I had to prove that attachment wasn't a weakness."
"Did you?"
Grant let himself sigh:
"I'm starting to feel that it's a useless fight. I just can't stop feeling." Nor did he want to.
"What are you doing here?" Did he give up trying to figure it out?
"I'm not here to kill you."
"Am I supposed to be grateful for that?" Seriously, he could dial down the venom.
"If I wanted you dead, you wouldn't have survived your injury." Although, Grant easily could have killed him – there were just too many vital components in the neck to be sure any strike won't be lethal.
"Should I be grateful for that, too? Or maybe the family of one agent who bled to death from the bullet in the shoulder should? Or another three agents who are in for a very long recovery and one of them may be forced to retire?"
That's why Grant shouldn't have come. It was easier if you didn't know for sure how many people you hurt. And didn't meet their friends and loved ones.
And also why he considered a notion of shooting in non-vital areas a ridiculous and wishful thinking. Too many variables – you cannot be sure that just a scratch won't kill.
If you're shooting, know you're going to cause someone's death.
"I know it's not worth anything, but it wasn't personal, it was a job."
"Save your excu…"
"It's not an excuse. It's an explanation." Grant was too drained to argue. "If I wanted to come up with an excuse, I would have told you how it was unavoidable situation and spun the tale so you would come to believe that I had no other choice and really am just a victim of circumstances."
He paused trying to get his breathing under control. When did he get agitated?
"It is my fault. Your agents' injuries and death of one of them are my responsibility. I'm not denying that I belong in prison."
Belonged since sixteen.
"But that's the problem, isn't it? Until recently, SHIELD didn't care what I am as long as the people I killed and deceived were the ones they deemed as acceptable targets."
Agent was quiet but Grant wasn't saying all of this to him. It just kept getting out.
"Did Director Coulson tell you how they are the "good guys" and you should let them do whatever they think is necessary because, obviously, only they know what is best and can make the hard choices for the "greater good?"
By his scowling Grant got his confirmation.
"You didn't buy his righteous speech? Good for you."
Grant came near the agent who stiffened on the couch trying to hide that he almost extricated himself from the bonds.
"But he certainly told you that you should stay out of SHILED's war with Hydra. And that's where I agree with him. People don't know what world SHIELD and Hydra live in. What you consider fantasy is their reality. Don't get in it. Let them destroy each other."
ooo
In the foyer of agent Kang's apartment Grant saw Skye. He almost walked in the wall instead of door.
Changing his direction he came up behind her as she was charming one of the inhabitants into sharing where handsome agent Kang lived. Was it true that he was wounded in the terrorist attack at the FBI building?
Grant internally scoffed. Did they really had to blow it out of proportion? Even SHIELD's extraction of their director went unseen – simple bureaucracy mix-up with the transfer during which prisoners escaped.
"Hi, Ms. Perkins, still disturbing the good citizens' lives?" Grant flashed badge too fast to see the credentials inside. "FBI, sorry, miss, noisy journalists, you understand." His winning smile wasn't going to work with this face but his tone sure did.
The middle-aged woman straightened and smiled:
"Oh, I'm so sorry, I almost told this viper there Mr. Kang lives…"
"Don't worry. Everything is under control. Good evening, miss." He held Skye by her arm and dragged her from the building.
"Look, Mr. I-am-federal-agent, I don't know what game are you playing at, but if you don't let me go I'm going to start screaming and we'll see who…"
"Oh, Eve, aren't you glad to see me?"
He let her go and waited.
"Wall-…wait, my favorite terrorist!" She looked around as if to be sure that there were people and she could cry for help if necessary. Grant felt insulted but he supposed "favorite terrorist" was better than "tool bag"…
"Killed many people today? Stole any other relics lately?"
…or maybe not.
"Why do you even think it was me?"
"I don't know that many T-1000s but I have a feeling that walking in the FBI office alone and getting out twenty minutes later with the priceless masterpiece while whole squads of agents run around is at least a little difficult for most of them."
"I am flattered that you have such a high opinion of my abilities, Skye."
"It wasn't a compliment, Robot." She scoffed at him and turned around.
But Grant wasn't ready for her to go. His mood improved in the last three minutes as if this whole evening didn't happen.
"I thought I told you that your teleporting friend is on another continent and you can't rescue him. Why don't you return to your other friends?"
"Maybe because I can't!" She pressed her hands to her mouth while her eyes widened in shock and started running away.
Grant reached her in a few seconds and grabbed by arm. She spun around and hit him in the chest:
"Let me go!"
Damn, people were going to take notice.
He released her almost immediately and backed off raising hands and generally radiating harmless and peaceful appearance:
"How about we talk somewhere and I answer your questions. You have many of them, don't you?"
She suspiciously looked at him and Grant tried not to fidget.
"Fine, but I'm choosing the place as fool of people as possible."
ooo
The mall was too full of people as far as Grant was concerned. And had too many exits and open areas. To say nothing about cameras. Did Skye forget that her picture was in the Hydra's reports?
Sitting at the table in the food court Grant was nervous. He had to convince Skye to drop her self-appointed rescue mission but how to do it?
"You said the base is on another continent, which one?" Grant almost groaned. She was too obstinate for her own continued survival.
"Europe. And no, I don't know anything else." Concretely. "And as I told you not even SHIELD would be able…"
Huh, that just might work. And if it had the added bonus of giving Grant the reason to keep seeing her, well, never have one reason to do something then you can have more.
"I can train you." Her horrified expression wounded Grant. Really, it did.
She gaped at him and while she tried to come up with words no doubt expressing her indignation at his utter and unabashed presumption he continued:
"You want to storm that base? Fine. But at least don't make a pathetic attempt. With your current abilities – and I'm not talking about supernatural ones because, obviously, you haven't been through the mist yet – the only thing you will achieve is put the Hydra guards in danger of laughing themselves to death. And no, your hacking skills can – and will – be incredibly useful but not at the actual assault itself."
Skye leaned back in her chair and crossing arms scoffed:
"Why so sudden charity?"
"I don't want you dead."
"Why? Why do you care?"
Grant flinched. He didn't care about her, why would he…
You already do. Hydra agents killed, stolen files, desperate rush to Washington…admit it.
He clenched his teeth and forcefully exhaled:
"Just accept that I do."
She skeptically looked him over and wryly smiled:
"Sure you don't want to get me in bed?"
He barely kept his face impassive.
Skye uncrossed her arms, slowly took off her jacket and leaned to the table "accidentally" bringing attention to her chest:
"You thought I wouldn't notice how you look at me?"
She seductively smirked and batted her eyelashes at him:
"Like what you see?"
Grant managed to keep his eyes on her face and not…lower. Damn, just how did he look at her?
He admitted that he found her attractive (very attractive) but never before any woman evoked in him something comparable to what he was feeling now.
It wasn't just her body he wanted (although, he won't say "no") but he felt…lighter every time he saw her, as if her mere presence created the barrier between him (them) and the rest of the world.
He forgot about missions, orders, SHIELD, Hydra – he forgot what and who he was. And it was heady feeling – this illusory freedom. Like he was under water and suddenly could fully breathe without struggling for every gulp.
And her reactions – so unrestrained, honest, vivid. She was talking to him without any fear even though she knew who he was and what he was capable of.
At their first meeting he tried to explain to Bobbi that her lack of fear towards him was liberating, and that was what he liked so much in his interactions with Jemma, too. But it wasn't enough. Bobbi was a specialist, cut from the same cloth as him. However much he liked and respected her, he won't ever be able to trust her. If needs be, she will make a hard call.
He understood and wasn't going to hold it against her when the time came. But still he longed to have the real thing. As one he saw between Jemma and Fitz. Before.
And Jemma. Oh, Jemma. Whatever trust and affection he managed to instill in her towards him – it was a lie, because if she was herself, she wouldn't have ever looked at him like a friend. It was necessary to help her, but it couldn't be real.
He didn't want to be alone. Especially after he had a taste of the opposite. He was sick of emptiness inside him and if anyone can fill it…he hoped it will be Skye. He saw something in her – familiar – that same fear to be left alone and desire to belong.
He hoped that she can understand him. Because John said that no one aside from him will ever be able to do it. And then he left Grant.
Grant was sick of being left.
"What if I do?"
Skye's over-the-top flirtatious act abruptly stopped and she narrowed her eyes at him:
"Don't even think that I will sink so low as to sleep with the Nazi scumbag killing people for a living."
Grant laughed. He tried not to but this – this was hilarious:
"I won't touch the Nazi thing – it's useless to explain what Hydra is actually about if the one thing you noticed was this." Grant ignored her disbelieving huff. "But the part about killing – weren't you and your teleporting friend the reason why seven people are dead?"
Skye stiffened.
"Well, I suppose it doesn't count because you weren't the one who caused the crush. You were just along for the ride. And it's not like terrorists are people, is it? You cleaned the world from the dirt, world must be grateful for your selfless service."
She clenched her jaw but didn't say anything.
"How long did it take for your new friends to convince you that death of enemy combatants is necessity?" Grant slowly smiled and gently ended. "For the good of your people."
She crossed her arms and straightened in the seat:
"It is for my people – which is more than you can say."
"Oh, Skye, you're wrong." He leaned back. "Everything I do is either for my survival or survival of the people I care about."
The one person – even if he didn't appreciate what Grant have done for him it didn't stop Grant from caring.
"I'm not going to ask for anything in return for my help. I promise."
She defiantly glared at him:
"Why should I trust you?"
"You shouldn't. Don't trust anybody, ever, especially me." Words spilled out before Grant could register what he was saying.
Skye mulishly continued glaring at him but he could see how some tension eased from her shoulders.
By being honest about his untrustworthiness he subconsciously made her believe in his trustworthiness. Reverse psychology at its best.
The only problem was – these words weren't his.
