…
A vast field lies ahead of them. It looks almost like an airport at night time, except that the night here is even darker than usual, and all the lights shine with a strange red intensity.
That there are what seem to be sleek black spaceships rather than airplanes only aid in the assumption that this, then, is the aliens' port to the world.
A massive clear dome spans across the vast place, keeping a breathable atmosphere contained, a fact that makes Grant Ward breathe a sigh of relief.
Life has not exactly been easy in the last few months (hell, make that years. Life has never been easy for him…). So it is a nice surprise that things are finally working in his favor for once.
First he and Lincoln both make it out of the place in one piece, and now they even find the one spot on this godforsaken planet that will get them home.
He is still staring up into space, mesmerized at the stars above him, when he eventually pulls himself out of his thoughts and forces himself to focus again.
This is not over yet. They're not safe. Quickly, he turns around to check on Campbell, who is slowly walking closer to him, staggering and limping with each step he takes.
Ward watches as the kid closes his eyes, swaying a little, probably getting used to the feeling of the cut soles of his feet against the hard ground. He can relate, his own poor feet are burning with the same pain. But there is no time to allow that sensation to slow them down.
"Come on," he cajoles, briskly stepping over to the other man and helping him walk onto the large field in front of them. It probably looks a bit funny to an outsider, how they're more hobbling than anything, but clearly in a hurry.
Above them, the red lights are blinking, glaringly so, and Grant can only hope that no one pays any attention to the two small broken figures stumbling onto the airfield. Any minute now, he thinks, there'll be a blaring alarm and their captors will be onto them in seconds after that. He needs to guide them over to one of the smaller space crafts before that happens.
"I can't walk anymore," Lincoln pipes up, his voice barely above a whisper, but Grant ignores him, has to ignore him. He quickly scans his surroundings, assessing the situation. There's a smaller spaceship to the very side that he sets his eyes on almost immediately. It's far enough away that it won't draw too much attention if they try and board it. Also, it's so small that any crew still aboard should only consist of a few core people. Anything beyond that and they won't be able to take them on.
Fighting anyone will pretty much be futile in their current state, so he hopes they won't actually have to face any enemy aliens at all, at least not anytime soon.
He turns to face his companion and gives him a very stern look. The kid's jaw muscles are moving as he listens to Grant speak, something working in his mind.
"We'll get out of here, okay? Just need to get on one of these ships. - The one on the left." He is not pointing directly, just subtly nodding his head in the direction of the vessel. "We need to make a dash for it; I'll be going first, but I need you to stay right behind me in case there's anyone on board. We need to be swift in order to take anyone out and figure out the flying mechanism. You any good with that kinda stuff?"
Lincoln nods in understanding first, then shakes his head no at the latter part.
Ward grimaces, although he hasn't expected anything else. "No worries. I got my fair share of lessons from May." A small grin appears on his face at the memory before he turns earnest once more. "Alright. Any questions?"
"Ward, I…" Lincoln pauses, going over whatever he wants to say, but Grant already knows it.
"Not leaving you behind, kid, so you better pull yourself together and get a move on if you don't want to ruin both our chances at escape. - You with me here?"
Lincoln hisses in air, then nods briefly. It's obvious to both of them that he wanted to back out and give up, that he wanted to stay behind, maybe even help giving Ward a fighting chance by creating some distraction down here, then blowing himself to smithereens. But it won't be happening like that now.
Whatever does happen, it'll be the two of them together against the aliens. Either they'll both die, or they'll make it. It has been their plan for a long time, and Grant is not allowing his companion to back out at the last minute.
What would Skye say if he showed up and didn't bring her boyfriend back with him? What would they all think if he came back and Campbell didn't?
They'd most likely think he used the kid for his own good, then killed him to save himself. Old Ward would have done it. Part of him is still trying to talk himself into doing it. But he has changed profoundly, even if he doesn't understand why or how, and this new version of Grant Ward, even with all the nasty baggage from the past, is not willing to add anymore gruesomeness to his rap sheet.
Besides, he can honestly say that Lincoln Campbell will probably be the only person that does care whether he lives or dies now, and he won't give that up.
He won't give up on the kid.
…
Lincoln doesn't know how they even make it, but they do. After they finally figure out the lock mechanism of the spaceship and rush inside to check the small machine for any signs of life, he feels ready to collapse on the ground, his feet burning, his arms feeling heavy with a searing pain, his mind muffled and foggy, and his insides feeling like mush.
But they are not done yet.
They got lucky. Other than one surprised alien that they managed to overpower quickly, the spaceship is completely deserted. Using its own weapon against it, Ward shoves the alien into the tight looking cockpit, waving his arm to indicate the instruments in front of them.
"You'll help us fly this thing," he informs the creature, who seems to have no clue who they are, or what they are, and why they are even here. Probably just a mechanic. Lincoln shakes his head. Maybe he should pity this alien, but he doesn't. It looks exactly like the others, like the ones that tortured him and Ward for hours upon hours, although this one doesn't wear its human suit.
"Let's throw him out and get on our way," he rasps, his voice sounding so hoarse as if he has just begun to get over a bad case of laryngitis. (Which could very well be the case…)
Ward squints, then shakes his head no. "We can use him. If not for the flying, then at least as leverage. Or to show earth what the next big threat to humanity looks like. No one will believe a word of our story otherwise." He chuckles, a throaty sound without a trace of humor. "Come on, kid, strap in. We're leaving."
Lincoln exhales slowly, but doesn't argue. He's too exhausted. And frankly, what is there to argue? Ward is probably right. If they really make it (and for the first time in forever he actually feels a bit hopeful again that they will), no one will believe them. Not a word.
That day he went into space to save the world (and Daisy. To save Daisy above all…) by blowing up Hive and himself seems like it happened aeons ago. More than a lifetime. Maybe Lincoln did die back then; this new version of him surely does only feel like a shadow of his former self. He feels hollow at best, filled with pain and an unspeakable darkness at worst, and part of him almost wonders whether it would be better for everyone involved if they never do make it back.
What will Daisy say? What will she think of him? What about Coulson and the team? Will they want to lock him up, examine him? Leave him to die in a containment chamber? Will they consider him a threat, or fraud, or just a sad crazy lunatic?
And how is he going to explain to them that they can't kill Grant Ward? That the man has changed, that he thinks Grant deserves another chance, and that Lincoln will fight whoever won't give it to him? How is he even going to explain that to himself? Or Daisy? She hates that man… But she loved him once, and that, too, makes Lincoln feel strangely uneasy. Things are freaking complicated, when they really shouldn't be. All he wants is to get the hell out of dodge, and for this nightmare to finally end.
That is the thing with dreams, however, sometimes waking up after a nightmare means that the terror still lingers, seeps into every corner of life, and informs your decisions. Waking up doesn't always end the horror. Plus, eventually, you'll always have to go back to sleep…
"Kid? Lincoln!"
He swallows, coming out of his dark spiraling thoughts when he hears Ward's distant seeming voice. Looking over to where the man is sitting strapped in, next to the alien, Grant motions for Lincoln to sit down and fasten his seatbelt too.
"Time to move!" the man yells over what seems to be the roaring of an engine that Lincoln hasn't noticed until now.
It's happening. It's really happening. They are off.
"We don't even have any freaking idea where we are!" he shouts back over the noise, but Ward merely shrugs at him.
"Anything is better than what we're leaving behind," he simply states, and Lincoln's lips form a thin, yet determined line before he nods briefly. The older man is right, of course. Nothing can be as bad as what they are leaving down there on the ground underneath them, their own personal hell.
Time to go home.
Lincoln feels his throat close at the thought, an almost panic rising in him that only gets washed away when their spaceship makes a sudden jolt as it heads into what can only be FTL speed.
With a woosh they're off, Grant grinning at Lincoln briefly before he directs his gaze out the window and all Lincoln can wonder about are all the stars and the deep darkness out there.
And the one inside of him.
Will they finally get a chance to heal? Is there healing after what they've been through? He is about to find out.
