Chapter One: A Change Of Scenery
When he wakes this time, he's even more uncomfortable than before. And that's saying something, considering he woke up on a dirty concrete floor with his ribs kicked in. He can tell by the way his shoulders are stiff, he's been in the same position for a while. Arms pulled behind his back, handcuffed to the back of the chair. His neck and shoulders are sore as well, probably from being slumped forward for an extended period of time. His feet are cuffed to the chair legs and the chair itself is bolted to the ground. All in all, it's not the worst situation he's ever woken up in. But it's definitely not the best either.
He wonders briefly why he's still alive, why Coulson didn't just shoot him and be done with it, but then he decides it doesn't really matter. If he's being held for information, they might as well kill him now. Because even if he wanted to, or they tried to torture intel out of him, he wouldn't be able to give them jack shit. SOP for missions gone wrong was dismantling and burning HQ and moving on to a new one. Rescue missions would be set up, but starting a new base like that was the only way of keeping their location a secret. After all, every man had his breaking point, and there's only so much torture anybody can take before they talk.
He takes the time he's still alone to look around the room. That doesn't take him all that long, because there's literally nothing in it, besides the chair he's sitting on. It's a standard interrogation room, like he's seen so many times before. There's a big steel door on his left hand side and a one-way mirror in front of him. The rest of the room is bland gray concrete and smells vaguely of stale coffee. He closes his eyes, to try and get a sense of the place he's in. There's 2 guards outside of the steel door, both heavily armed… no surprise there. He can sense he's in a vast complex, and there's lots of people around, but the amount of steel and concrete blocks his powers a little, so that he can't quite tell how big or how many people. There's also a few people standing behind the mirror, probably waiting for him to wake up in order to start.
If they're trying to make him uncomfortable in the hopes of making him talk, they could be waiting for a long time. Grant's not the type of prisoner who tries to fill awkward silences just to make it less so. He's also not the fidgety type, even if it where remotely possible at the moment.
For now though, they are still leaving him alone, giving Grant some time to go over the facts in his head. Granted, he doesn't know much, but it's a start. He's in NYC, but it looks nothing like the City he remembers. There is seemingly no IH presence here, like there is in his City and any other city he knows. For some reason he wasn't killed by Coulson in Dallas, but he was taken from his own safe house maybe a day later. Whether it was a trick of Coulson so Grant would lead him to HQ or something else, he's not sure. But the strangest thing of all… Skye. She's here, she's alive. Which is the most impossible of all things he's been going through. Grant had watched her die and mourned for her for over 2 years. And to have her suddenly standing in front of him, that was almost too much for him to process.
Suddenly the door opens, and his nemesis walks in. And melodramatic as it might be, there really is no other way of describing Coulson. After everything the man has put him through, after all the lies and the deceit, there's just nothing else Grant can think of him. He's dragging a chair with him, the legs obnoxiously scraping the floor. Most definitely intended to cause Grant at the very least some discomfort, considering his dendrotoxin-headache. He's carrying a manilla folder, like he's some respectable agent, instead of the liar, traitor and murderer he really is. Grant's not the least bit impressed by his theatrics, but he keeps quiet.
Coulson sits down in front of Grant, and Grant's again startled by what his eyes are telling him. He's seen so many things that are strange to him, like the City and Skye. And now Coulson as well. There's hate in his eyes, but not the maniacal, slightly insane sort of look that the man's been sporting for the past 3 years. He's also grayer at the temples, giving him that fatherly look that used to define him, before. And the biggest difference between the Coulson he fought and the one sitting before him now, was the mechanical arm. It draws Grant's stare, and he's not really sure how to connect this to the last image he had of Coulson. Another mystery.
Coulson's voice breaks the silence then, and Grant has to grit his teeth not to growl at the man. The sound of his voice alone is enough to make Grant see red and makes him want to rip his ex-mentor's head off.
"Four severe lacerations to the upper back. A total of 5 gunshot wounds to both shoulders. Two in each arm. Several cuts on both arms, torso and legs and at least 15 broken bones, some of them broke more than once." His voice is detached, like he's reading the list of ingredients off a cereal box. Grant cocks his head, because it's strange to hear Coulson list his battle wounds like that. And it's a little surprising there are so many to list, he really thought he was more suave than that.
"Those are just the healed wounds, there's also the 4 busted ribs, severely sprained ankle and the nice shiner you're sporting at the moment." He closes the file and looks at Grant. There's something strange in the look, like Grant's a puzzle that Coulson has yet to figure out. That, even more than the cuffs, the locks and the theatrics, pisses Grant off. After all, they have been enemies for the past 3 years, coworkers for one year before that and like family for most of his life before that. At this point in their alienated relationship, there's not much that's puzzling about either of them.
"Here's the things that are missing from this file. Two GSWs to the left shoulder, four to the torso, a laceration on the left forearm and a crushed ribcage. My team tells me that there was no surgery to get rid of any of the scars or the internal damage. That it seems like those wounds never even existed. Which is strange, because pretty much all of those wounds were inflicted on you by somebody on my team or while you were in our custody." When Coulson stops talking, all Grant can do is stare, slack-jawed and dumbstruck. He tries to think back to the wounds that he got from getting into fights with Coulson's men. There aren't so much that he can't remember them all, but the worst of the scars don't actually show up on his body.
The lacerations on his back, for sure. Those he got by protecting Skye's body from being taken by Coulson's team. One of them had a serious Indiana Jones thing going on, with the whips and stuff. Personally Grant feels like there's only one guy that can pull off the whip thing, and that's Tom 'Indiana Jones' Selleck, but whatever. Anyway, the guy got in a few good shots at Grant's back before he was shot by one of Grant's men. Even though the wounds had hurt like an SOB, it was nothing close to being the pain he felt because of Skye's death.
Of the GSWs there were only 3 or so caused by either Coulson or one of his goons and none of them had been very life threatening. He never got scars on his chest, always wore a vest to prevent just that. And he's never been cut on the wrist before, even though he had briefly contemplated doing that himself when he lost Skye.
It had been dark days, when he locked himself in their room and wished she was still with him. And even though everything around him reminded him of her, and it broke his heart time and time again, he couldn't leave. They'd spent so many wonderful moments in that room, and with everything just the way it was, it was easy to imagine her walking in again. Though it broke his heart even more when she never did.
Throughout all his musings, Coulson just keeps staring at him, like he's meant to talk now. But Grant's just too confused to even make a coherent sentence in his own head. It felt like Coulson really expected different scar-marks on his body and was now waiting for him to give him a reasonable explanation of how they're not the same as he remembers. An explanation which Grant can't give him, even if he were inclined to.
Coulson seems to read his reluctance to answer on his face, because the man gives a great deep sigh and crosses his feet differently. "There's also traces of isotopes in your blood that are… inconsistent with the data we have about your whereabouts and there's no sign of you ever going off world. We've searched for anything we could think of, Fitz going even as far as cloning, but there's no reasonable explanation we can think of, of why you are different. You're Grant Ward in every biological way, and yet…"
There are several things in Coulson's statement that sort of shock Grant. The first is that if Coulson took the time to do a full scan of him, including bloodwork, did he find the Gen Grant's been trying to hide from him for over 3 years. The second causes a little warmth to spread out in Grant's chest, and that's when Coulson refers to his best friend in the present tense. There are few things that could make Grant almost as happy as knowing Skye was still alive, but Fitz being unharmed and doing lab-stuff definitely qualified.
The third thing that strikes him is how everybody keeps calling him 'Ward'. He'd heard Skye call him that before the got drugged, and now Coulson is calling him that as well. It's been a long time since he's heard that name, and there's always a pang of relief that accompanies it.
"That's a name I haven't heard in quite a while." He finally says, because... why not. Something strange is going on and Grant's too tired to fight at it alone. Skye is alive, Fitz appears to be in good health, and Coulson is not the same man he was yesterday. Or at least he doesn't appear to be. Grant's not going to figure out what's happened on his own, and since there's nobody else in the room, and he's not dead yet, it might as well be Coulson.
"I haven't heard that name in… about 26 or so years. And I can't say I'm very fond of it, honestly. The Wards weren't very good people, and I don't know how I would have turned out if they hadn't died when I was 4 years old. But I'm glad I don't have to imagine it. I don't even consider the name as being my own, I've not actually been Grant Ward in a very long time."
There's a look of disbelief on Coulson's face, but behind that there's a little flare of curiosity that makes Grant believe he's not the only one trying to figure out what the hell is going on here. Before he went coo-coo for cocoa puffs, Coulson had been family and the Coulson that's in front of him right now, feels a lot like the man he used to know. The man who always wanted to know the truth and the one that always listened before jumping to conclusions.
"If Grant Ward isn't the name you go by, then what is?" he asks, and Grant swears he hears the trace of interest in Coulson's voice, the same kind he spotted in his eyes just seconds before.
"It's been Grant Garner since I was 5 years old."