Chapter Eleven – He's On Our Side
The Pretenders – Hymn To Her
Author's Note
Before I actually start today's chapter, I was a bit surprised and saddened by the amount of Phil-rage yesterday's chapter got. I actually think that Phil has made some pretty awful decisions since becoming Director, but choosing to tell Jemma what he knew about Remy – while concealing unnecessary information about Remy's past that would definitely hurt her – wasn't necessarily one of them. He's her father-figure, he's genuinely frightened of Remy and what the Cajun can do – as we're about to discover – and he's deeply concerned about Jemma's future. Perhaps he should butt out of her love life. My father was never any good at that, though ;-) And realistically – if my father had that kind of information about a man I was getting deeply involved with, I would WANT him to tell me. Not the womanising thing though. That would be cruel – though Dad would probably have got his shotgun out and delivered a private warning to the man in question.
That said, Phil is the Director and he has a responsibility to use the tools at his disposal in the most effective way to ensure the safety of his team – and everyone else he's trying to protect (the world, from HYDRA!) Remy himself offered Phil a deal he couldn't refuse, effectively telling Phil he'd work for him in exchange for Jemma's safety, and that other thing that hasn't been revealed yet. Considering the circumstances, it would be irresponsible of Phil NOT to take Remy up on that, and to mine him for every bit of information he can get.
Yes, Phil's motives are sometimes a little bit murky and his morals ambiguous enough that he's in no position to throw stones. Remember where he's coming from, though. He's fighting a shadow war on a global scale with no budget, barely any resources and a scant handful of people he can trust. Effectively he's reduced to pissing on spot fires. Frankly, he'll take help any way he can get it. As one of my reviewers commented, sometimes good people have to do ugly things for the greater good. That applies equally to Phil and Remy in this fic (and to Phil and his team in AoS for that matter. And to every real-life anti-terror, police and spy agency in existence).
I was surprised (and not a little horrified) by another reviewer (of Truth In A Bottle) a few days ago who commented that they felt SHIELD and HYDRA were pretty much indistinguishable because of some morally questionable things the AoS crew had done (in the TV series, not fic-land).
Phil, to me, epitomised the difference in S02E09, when he and Bobbi were in San Juan and she asked him what his acceptable casualty rate was, saying that Fury would have had one in mind. Phil told her that was how he differed from Fury; his acceptable casualty rate was zero.
HYDRA's acceptable casualty rate is the entire population of the world.
That's how you tell the difference.
ozhawk, January 2015.
And now, on with the chapter!
"So now you know," Phil said quietly at last. Jemma was just sitting, staring silently into space. "I don't know how or why he's your soulmate, Jemma. I truly don't quite understand. I thought your soulmate would be someone more – well, more like Fitz, honestly. LeBeau is old and dangerous, and frankly he frightens me. And I don't scare easily. Only one other time in my life have I ever faced a being that gave me that rabbit-in-the-headlights feeling – and that one killed me."
Jemma looked at him wide-eyed. "You mean Loki?"
Phil nodded, remembering the awful, visceral terror he'd felt facing the Trickster, despite the brave face he'd put on.
"Remy wouldn't – he's not like that," Jemma said. Denying that look in Phil's eyes. "He wouldn't hurt me." Of that she was certain. "Nor anyone I cared about. You saw how nice he was trying to be, before Fitz antagonised him. He's on our side, Phil."
"Just be careful, Jemma. Please be careful. I'd hate to see him break your heart."
She couldn't help but go over to give him a hug, and though he did his best to look uncomfortable, she could feel from the warmth of his embrace, the tightness of his arms, that he was glad she'd done it.
"I'll be careful. Promise."
May came in after Jemma had left. Sat down opposite him and produced two glasses and a bottle of Scotch. Phil couldn't help but let out a pained little chuckle. "I look that bad?"
She said nothing. Just poured a generous finger of whisky into each glass and handed him one, sitting back to sip at her own.
They sat quietly for a while. Phil reached for the bottle to refill his glass first, though Melinda wasn't long behind him.
"Was I right, to tell her about LeBeau?" Phil asked eventually.
May eyed him over the rim of her glass, before setting it down with a quietly decisive click. "Like it or not, Phil, Jemma looks on you as her substitute father. So do Fitz and Skye."
He winced. "I never had kids; didn't think I'd have to go through this shit," he muttered.
"Hurts, doesn't it? We have to let them grow up sometime, though. Burying your head in the sand won't make it go away. Perhaps you should let Jemma and Remy work it out on their own, yes. But at the same time, you would be remiss in your duty if you hadn't let the rest of us know just what LeBeau is capable of. Telling the rest of us and not Jemma?" May spread her hands. "Recipe for disaster if I ever heard one."
Phil sighed with relief; at least May agreed with his decision. "How is Fitz taking it?" he asked.
"Badly, but hiding it for Jemma's sake," May shrugged. "He won't do anything stupid. Mack told me that Jemma read Fitz the riot act for sheer bad manners, and he apologised. Plus you and Hunter have successfully put the fear of LeBeau into him with your stories."
"They weren't stories, May." Phil shivered. "Look, I know all too well that I wouldn't be alive at all if it wasn't for LeBeau. But that doesn't change the fact that I know what he's capable of. I told Jemma before that I've only ever met one other being who scared me like LeBeau does, and that was Loki. He's more than human."
"So is Thor," May pointed out, "And Sif. And Steve Rogers, for that matter. Rogers is indeed an earlier product of the program that created LeBeau, and you don't have this reaction towards him, do you? Why is that, Phil?"
Phil opened his mouth to say, But Captain America is one of the good guys, and suddenly realised he was being a hypocrite. "I guess he's got better marketing," he said a bit weakly.
May stared at him open-mouthed for a moment before starting to laugh. Finally, Phil started to laugh along with her. "Oh God. Well, at least, as Jemma pointed out, LeBeau is definitely on our side!"
May poured them a third finger of whisky. "When's he coming back? For that matter, where did he go?"
"To help someone out – and bring them here," Phil shook his head when she gave him a quizzical look. "He asked me not to talk about it until he had the chance to talk to Jemma. There's a possibility she might be upset. But we may well be gaining another team member soon. Part of the bargain I struck with LeBeau. His assistance for our shelter."
"Gotta be worth it," May said immediately. "Just imagine what we could do with LeBeau on our side!"
"He's got some powerful allies, too. He's made a habit of pulling asses out of the fire that later turn out to be very powerful and influential people. And he's still on good terms with Xavier."
May set her glass down again. "Xavier might bring his people in on our side?" her eyes met Phil's, wide with awe – and hope. "My God – if even half what I've heard about them is true…"
"We could match anything HYDRA could throw at us," Phil said quietly. "LeBeau made no promises, He clearly wasn't in a position to, but he did say he'd use his influence on our behalf."
"Well," May smiled, a wolfish, hungry sort of smile, picked up her glass and held it up, "here's to LeBeau and Jemma, then. May they have a long and happy life together."
That, Phil could drink to. He leaned over and clinked his glass against May's before downing the whisky.
Remy cursed as the car sputtered and died. The blizzard had thickened in the last couple of miles, and the snow now was just too thick to get through. They were stuck in a drift. He glanced at his companion.
"It's not far, chère. While we won't freeze to death here," the two of them shared an amused smile at the thought, "it will be a lot more comfortable if we press on. You right to walk?"
She sneezed, but nodded gamely. They hadn't gone more than a few steps, though, before she slipped and fell in the snow. Remy picked her up at once, but she was wet through now.
"Climb on my back, chère, I'll carry you." He took his coat off, made her put it on, took his staff in hand. He could transmit energy through it to create a clear path, easily the quickest way to go.
By the time they got to the base, she was shuddering, her teeth chattering with the cold, her skin bluish. Remy cursed softly, looking at her as he eased her off his back and down to her feet. She'd been sick when he got to her – that was why she had called, of course, she couldn't risk letting anyone else take care of her – and now she was worse. He debated rousing the base, getting Jemma for her medical expertise – but realistically it would be quicker, and less risky for everyone concerned, if he took care of it.
He carried her into the lounge, settled her on the couch, stripped off his wet shirt and bent over her, removing her sodden clothes. He stripped her down to her underwear before sitting down and settling her on his lap, tucking her face against his throat, stroking her damp hair and carefully spreading his energy field to enclose them both.
She roused slowly, pressing closer to his warmth, winding her arms around his neck. "So good," she whispered hoarsely. "So good to touch…"
"I know, ma petite. Shh. I have you. Your Remy is here now." He pressed his lips gently to her forehead.
Jemma and Fitz had been working late in the lab. Jemma hadn't slept well since Remy left a couple of days earlier, though she wasn't sure if it was because of the residual energy he'd shared with her or simply because she missed him so much. Either way, she'd sought to keep herself busy with work, and as always Fitz kept her company. Eventually, though, he said;
"It's past two, Jemma. Come on. We're just going round in circles. Let's go get some sleep."
She sighed and let herself be persuaded. She was probably tired enough to sleep now. They wandered across to the accommodation wing, talking quietly. Passing the lounge door, Fitz saw that it was open and the light was on.
"Hello, someone's up. I hope Skye hasn't been having nightmares again…"
Jemma gave him an anxious look and pushed the door wider so they could both go in.
Remy looked up, startled, and smiled when he saw Jemma. "Chère! What are you doing up?"
Jemma froze, her mouth opening. She could not possibly be seeing this. Not Remy, her Remy, sitting perfectly at his ease on the couch, wearing only jeans and boots, a near-naked young woman curled in his lap, face pressed against his throat, her arms around his neck.
"No," she said numbly, taking a step back. "No."
Remy blinked. "Jemma, this isn't what it looks like…"
She turned and fled. Because there could be no reasonable explanation for what she'd just seen. Behind her she heard Fitz's shout of;
"You utter bastard!" and ran faster, frantic to get away, from him, from the awful sympathy that she'd get from her team-mates, the I-told-you-so looks from Skye, Coulson's sorrow on her behalf. She couldn't bear it.
What. The. Hell.
Remy, mon ami, you gots some fast talkin' to do to 'splain your way out of that one.
So – who do you think the girl is? And WHY are she and Remy half-naked together?
Guesses welcome, but I shall neither confirm nor deny anything until tomorrow's chapter…
